by Kitty Thomas
The gag is worse than the restraints. With restraints, I can still beg. Even though I know there’s nothing human in him, it still seems to amuse him and please him enough to offer me small indulgences. But I don't even have the power to beg now.
I watch warily as he lies beside me. He props himself on his side and observes me. I look away from his cold gray stare. It's too much to have that gaze leveled on me, taking me in, analyzing, deciding my fate.
“Look at me, Pretty Toy,” he says. There’s a warning wrapped inside the command.
I take a breath and look back at him, trying to hold his gaze. I flinch when he brushes my hair out of my eyes. Then he spends a small eternity just stroking my breasts and watching my reactions. He massages them first gently, then more roughly. He pinches my nipples into hard points and then releases the pressure.
Eventually, the tension eases from my body. I become soft and yielding. I find myself pressing into his hand, moaning behind the gag, my eyes drifting closed as my body arches into each caress.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
These words unlock the need between my legs as the arousal pulses to life again.
“If I put my fingers inside your pussy, will you be wet for me?”
I nod.
His hand trails over my belly and between my legs. I can hear my wetness as he presses a finger inside me. He smiles, satisfied with my body's response.
“This is mine. And because I allow it, Seven's. You're going to be our good whore. No more silly escape attempts. No more denying your desires. You want this, don't you, Pretty Toy?”
I could lie to myself. I could say that I only nod in answer to appease him, to try to stay safe. But I do have needs. I'm only human, and they are both so beautiful. There’s no resistance to Seven. But our captor? I wish it was somehow okay to want what he's doing right now, to just exist and float on this haze of erotic satisfaction.
I'm supposed to fight. I'm supposed to struggle and cry and beg him not to touch me. But I just open my legs wider, holding his gaze, arching up to meet his fingers as they slide in and out of me.
“You will give me your pleasure. It belongs to me. The first thing you need to learn is how to come for me.”
I'm pretty sure I already know how to do that. I feel myself blush at the memory of what he did that first day on this bed.
He chuckles. “No, I mean you're going to learn how to come for me. You're going to come, and then come again, and then again, until I say it's time to stop. Sometimes pleasure can be so much that it becomes pain. You'll learn that, and then you'll learn to accept it and push through it to give me more of your pleasure. Until I allow you to stop.”
My eyes widen at this. I'm not that woman who has multiple orgasms. I don't know that I can't, I've just never tried. I'm satisfied after one. Again I find myself wondering what happens if I can't give him what he wants. A punishment of some type? I'm growing less afraid that he'll kill me. My escape attempt didn't push him to it so I now feel irrationally safe from death—at least for the foreseeable future. I'm not sure how accurate this assessment is, but it makes me feel the tiniest bit less guilty for the way I crave his touch.
He gets up and stretches my arms and legs out and binds me to the bed, much like he had me that first day. He produces a blindfold from a drawer in the base of the bed and secures it around my eyes.
I feel the panic edging in. Bound, no sight, no ability to cry out.
“Shhhh,” he says, stroking the side of my face. “I will remove the gag on one condition. You're not allowed to beg. You can make any sounds you want but no words. Do you accept these terms?”
I nod, desperate to have even the tiniest freedom.
“I want to be sure you understand. If you beg me, if you say a single word to me that I don't command, you will be punished. I can leave the gag in. It won't be comfortable, but you'll be safe. Do you want me to leave it in?”
I shake my head.
He sighs. “All right. Be careful with this favor, Pretty Toy. It may bite you in the end.”
This scares me a little. Can I resist the urge to beg? To try to reason with him? To speak the title he's demanded from me over and over?
I don't know, but the gag is starting to hurt, and it makes me panic and feel like I can't take in proper breaths. He unfastens the straps and pulls it off me. I lick my dry lips, then something plastic prods at my mouth.
“Drink.” When I hesitate, he says “It's only water.”
I take the water he offers, then lie back when he pulls it away.
A moment later, I feel his tongue between my legs, and I’m already past the point of even pretending to resist him. I don't speak. I don't beg. I just arch up toward his exploring tongue, whimpers and moans flowing out of me.
My first orgasm comes after only a few minutes. But he doesn't stop. He drinks me up, never slowing in his assault on my senses. He pulls away, and I'm panting.
He leaves me for a moment, and I take a long shaky breath. I know he isn't finished with me. Upon his return, I hear the distinct buzzing sound. I can tell he has it on the highest setting.
I cringe away before he reaches me, but he spreads me wide so that he can press these intense vibrations directly against my clit. I struggle away from the sensation, but there’s nowhere to go. He grips my hip, stilling me.
“Be good and accept it, Pretty Toy.”
I breathe slowly. After a little while, the sensations start to feel like pleasure again as another orgasm prepares to crest over me. But before it can, he pulls it away from my clit.
The words “Please, Master” are at the edge of my tongue before I bite them back, remembering the promise of punishment.
He chuckles at this. He pushes the vibrator inside me much as he did that first day. This time I know I'll come. And it's as earthshattering as it was the first time, building from some place deep within me and then exploding outward. I buck my hips with it, trying to fuck the toy instead of the toy fucking me.
I'm panting and whimpering when it finally subsides, and he pulls the toy away. But he only allows me a minute of rest before he's started in on me again. He uses multiple toys in a rotation as he drags orgasm out of orgasm from my quivering pussy.
My legs shake with the force of each release, and I bite my tongue to stop myself from begging please, no more. Please, please, Master, stop. But I hold these words in. I don't want to be punished. But in its own way, this is becoming a different kind of punishment.
Still, I don't allow myself to beg.
Some of the toys vibrate, some of them don't. One feels similar to oral sex against my clit. Some are larger than others, stretching me as they make me come for him. Sometimes he stimulates my clit, and other times he brings my orgasm out from the inside, training me to produce these new and exciting pleasurable pulses at his command.
I've lost count of how many orgasms I've had.
The next thing that slides inside me is his cock. He's on top of me, his movements so achingly slow that even with all the pleasure I've already had, I find myself arching up into him.
He leans close to my ear. “This time, you will come.”
I've come so many times since we've been down here that it's nothing to my body to do it just one more time for his cock. He shudders and releases inside me as my pussy grips onto him, milking him while riding out my own orgasm.
Finally, he collapses on top of me. And then he's peppering kisses over my throat, moving to my mouth, causing me to jump as his tongue slips inside. His kiss is consuming, possessing. I didn't expect him to kiss me, and I'm so confused by how it makes me feel.
After a few more minutes, I hear him collecting and moving things about. Water runs in an attached room, probably a bathroom, as he cleans things up. He returns and unties me but leaves the blindfold in place. I feel unsteady as he helps me to stand.
“Come with me,” he says. He guides me slowly across the floor and up the stairs. When we leave the dungeon I sense we're
moving back down that same hallway.
I think he's returning me to the cell, but there’s a shift in direction. Then we're climbing another set of stairs. Another hallway. After what just happened in the dungeon, I feel so tired, I'm afraid I'll collapse. But before I can, he picks me up and lays me down on a bed.
He locks a chain around my ankle and removes the blindfold. He covers me with blankets. I'm dimly aware that he's brought me up to what must be his room.
“Sleep.”
He pulls the shades down and turns out the light, then leaves me alone in his bed. I haven't been awake that long, but after all that happened this morning, I’m so exhausted that it doesn't take very long for sleep to claim me.
Chapter Seven
Several days pass, and a routine is formed. I sleep in my captor's bed with him each night. He fondles me. He fucks me. He lies behind me and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into him—the little spoon—as though we’re normal lovers. As though I mean something to him. This intimate cuddling is what unmakes me the most; it's the thing that makes it harder and harder to think of escape.
He's trained me to wake him with a blow job each morning and to swallow like a good girl. When I complete this task, he rewards me with those words which fill me with an inappropriate pride each time I hear them. After that, he feeds me, bathes me, and then takes me to the dungeon where he forces orgasm after orgasm out of me until he's satisfied.
It's easier to please him with blow jobs. In the dungeon, he never seems to want to allow my body rest. It's his fingers, his tongue, the vibrator, his cock. Over and over until I've lost track of the orgasms. And I'm supposed to count them. When I forget to count or lose track of how many, he punishes me.
His punishments hurt but haven't been overly harsh. I've never felt I was in true physical danger from them.
And every day he spends a lot of time on my ass. First it was his finger, lubed, pressing into me. I squirmed away at first, terrified, but he petted my hair and spoke soft words and was so gentle that I let my body relax until it did feel good. Strange, but also somehow pleasurable.
Since then he's been working me up with toys and butt plugs, slowly stretching me. I know what he's preparing me for, and a dark part of me is excited.
There’s a strange comfort in this routine, much like the one I'd formed with Seven for those few days when he touched me in the dark at night.
I'm worried about Seven. Is he alive? Is he hurt? Is he being neglected? Is he being fed? I wish I knew what was happening to him. Does our captor feed him when he's not with me? I've been afraid to ask. He hasn't given any indication he doesn't still want to share me, so maybe that guarantees Seven's safety and continuing existence.
Today after our daily routine, he takes me to a small room with large screens along the wall, revealing different angles of the cell Seven is in.
“Sit,” he orders.
I sit in the rolling leather chair, and he binds my wrists to the arms using cable ties from a desk nearby.
“Stay. And watch that screen.” I couldn't disobey the first order, unless I got out of the room and rolled down the hallway.
Before I can respond, he's gone. I turn my gaze back to the screen. Seven is chained in the cell. He can't have been chained the entire time because he looks clean, and the cell is clean. He's obviously used the bathroom and shower facilities. So that means our captor must be drugging him multiple times a day. This thought upsets me.
You can't just keep someone drugged like that without causing serious health consequences. Our captor never drugs me, but what happens when Seven starts to get sick from all the drugs building up in his system?
I'm relieved at least to see he's still alive. If he was beaten again, I can't find evidence of it. But his back is against the wall, so I can't know for sure. I tense as I watch the metal door slide open in the cell. Our captor pushes in a giant screen on wheels. From one of the screens in the control room I can see Seven clearly head on. From another I can see the screen that has been rolled into the cell.
“Where is she?” Seven demands. “Is she alive? If you've hurt her...”
“Relax, Hero. She's alive. She's fine. No permanent marks anywhere but her soul. She's still with me, learning to be good. Don't worry, I'll share her with you again soon. You still have to be trained to take proper control of her.”
Seven says nothing in response to this, but his glare tells me everything. I wish I could reach the microphone and the button on the control panel to talk to him and let him know I'm okay.
“I have a treat for you,” our captor says. “I felt bad that you weren't there for that first day when I took her into the dungeon. You missed watching the way she surrendered so sweetly to me. But I made a video. Would you like to see it?”
“No,” he says flatly, but he can't hide the curiosity and desire in his eyes.
Our captor laughs. “Yes, you do. Don't worry. I won't tell her you watched.” He pushes a play button on the screen and leaves Seven alone in the cell.
I'm horrified to see myself as he spanks me while I beg then asks if I want pleasure or pain. I don't want to watch myself like this, but I am riveted by the erotic display in front of me, so much so that I've forgotten Seven altogether.
Several minutes pass as I watch the kind of porn men would pay for. I jump when I hear the door to the control room open, and he's with me again.
“Wrong screen, Pretty Toy. Watch Seven.”
I turn my gaze to the other screen, shocked to find Seven's cock freed of his jeans as he watches and jerks off to the images in front of him.
My master leans close to my ear. “See, Kate, we're all the same. He's no better than me. He's sitting there, getting off knowing you were terrified and tied up at my mercy. He's getting off watching me make you come. And he does this, even without knowing what I've been doing to you the last week. If I've starved you, if I've beaten you. He just can't help himself. We're all animals in the end.”
His hand moves between my legs, and he chuckles. “I've trained you so well. So fucking wet. Are you ready to go back to Seven? I think it's time we both fucked you, don't you? Admit it, you want us both inside you.”
I strain for more contact, trying to grind my clit against his hand, but he pulls away. “Save it for Seven.”
I turn back to the screen in time to see Seven come on the concrete floor with a satisfied groan as if he's been saving it up the entire time I've been away from him.
Our captor flicks a switch on the control panel and leans into the microphone. “Kate is here with me, watching you come like a horny teenager. But I kept my word; I didn't tell her you were watching.”
Seven's hand stills on his cock. When he looks up at the screen, he looks guilty.
“I'm bringing her back to you now, so you'll be able to offer your sincerest apologies. I'm sure she'll be moved.”
***
When I'm returned to the cell, Seven can't meet my gaze. I run, flinging myself into his arms. He holds tightly onto me, clearly surprised that I'm not hurt or angry, pushing him away after what I just saw him do. I bury my head in his chest, breathing in his clean masculine scent, feeling his heartbeat thud against my own skin.
I expect our captor to stay, but he leaves us alone in the cell. A minute later, I hear a metallic sound as the silver key drops through the slot again. I go get it and unlock Seven's wrists. This time I'm shaking because I've missed him so much and just want to get the damn chains off him.
When he's finally free, he stands and pulls me into his arms for a real hug.
“Are you okay, Kitten?”
“Yes, Master.”
He doesn't flinch when I say it this time. After he just jerked off to a video of me helplessly coming for our captor, this title I offer him no longer seems like such a big deal.
He doesn't ask any more questions about what happened to me. I know he doesn't want to know, and I don't want to tell it. The main reason I don't want to tell it is bec
ause what happened to me wasn't nearly as terrible as I wish I could say it was.
We soak together in the tub, and he takes me again in the shower. At night, we lie in the darkness, and he resumes his pattern of stroking me to orgasm, my moan filling the cell before we both drift off to sleep wrapped in each other's arms.
This temporary peace is broken the next morning.
“Breakfast time, inmates,” our captor says cheerily over the speaker.
Seven goes to the slot to collect the food. It's sausage and gravy biscuits. A white plate and a blue plate. I know what this means even before our captor's voice rings out again.
“The blue plate special is for Seven.”
“You can't keep drugging him like this,” I say. “You'll kill him.”
Our captor laughs. “Awwww, Seven has a girlfriend. So sweet. He'll be fine. He's tough.”
A couple of water bottles are dropped in through the slot.
We sit on the floor of the cell and eat in silence. Seven goes to sit against the wall when he's finished. After a few minutes, he's unconscious.
I move back to my corner when the door slides open and warily watch our captor. He drags Seven to the door.
“Don't hurt him,” I say.
“Careful, Pretty Toy. I might get jealous of the affection you lavish on him.”
I don't say anything else. Afraid that if I do, he might take it out on Seven. He presses his thumb against the scanner and takes Seven out of the cell.
He returns a couple of hours later, and I'm terrified by what he may have done to Seven in that time and why he hasn't brought him back.
“Come,” he says, beckoning me toward him. I slowly get up off the floor and walk even more slowly. Even just a few hours away from our routine, and his constant attentions has made me afraid again.
