Dark Obsessions - Volume 2: Four Dark, Delicious Capture Fantasies

by Claire Thompson

  Not for the first time, Eric had thought about letting him go, but now he had a better idea. He leaned across the desk, spreading his hands flat. “Not everyone is cut out for sales. You used to work in accounting, right?” As Blake nodded, he continued, “I can show you the basics and you can take over as office manager. You can keep working your existing accounts, too. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds fantastic,” Blake gushed, his relief palpable.

  Eric sent Tony and Blake out, pretending he was expecting an important call, asking them to close the door behind them. Once they were gone, he opened the right bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the bottle of fine cognac he kept for special occasions, along with a brandy snifter. He poured a few fingers into the glass and raised it in a silent toast to himself.

  He’d done it. All the groundwork was now laid for the accepted, unquestioned disappearance of his office manager. He’d tidy up the loose ends with the apartment and the website and that would be that. He rinsed the snifter in the bathroom just off his office and returned it and the bottle to the drawer, energized and excited.

  Packing some work to take home, he walked out of his office. To Blake he said, “Log onto Jessie’s laptop and familiarize yourself with the files.” He’d been careful to wipe the hard drive clean of anything potentially incriminating. “I have to go to an appointment. Answer the phones and handle the mail. If I’m not back this afternoon, we’ll connect in the morning and get you started with the accounting software.”

  His briefcase and laptop in tow, Eric headed out of the office, eager to get home and check on his charge. As he drove, his mind was filled with his plans for breaking J. down and then rebuilding her into his submissive sex object, with no mind or will of her own, existing solely for his perverse pleasure.

  He knew he was becoming obsessed, but couldn’t have stemmed the obsession, even if he’d wanted to. It was like eating a forbidden fruit that had caused an instant addiction, its dark, sweet juices dripping from his lips as he stuffed it greedily into his mouth.

  Slave J. was his forbidden fruit, and the more he tasted, the more he wanted, the more he needed. He couldn’t get enough.

  Chapter 6

  The light flicked on and Jessie opened her eyes, squinting. She had no idea how many hours had passed. Since he’d left her, she had drifted in and out of troubled sleep. When she was awake, she tried to plan her escape, but mostly she just cried, too scared and miserable to think properly. She supposed she should be grateful he’d provided the urinal. Though it had been awkward to use without being able to sit up properly, at least she didn’t have to add a bursting bladder to her list of woes.

  Now she gripped the bars, listening as Eric came down the stairs. Please let him have food and water. Please, please, please.

  He appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a tray in his hand. Jessie’s mouth watered and she licked her dry, chapped lips. She stared at the tray, on which there was a sandwich on a paper plate and two bottles of water.

  Yes!

  The tall, burly man sat down cross-legged in front of the cage, placing the tray next to him. He was dressed in shorts and a tank top, his feet bare. She had never really appreciated how muscular he was before he’d imprisoned her, his body hidden beneath his suit and tie at the office. Now she appreciated it all too well.

  Her focus shifted from his body to the food. “Good afternoon, J.,” her jailer said. Was she supposed to answer?

  God, the sandwich looked good. She could see peanut butter and jelly oozing between the pieces of white bread. Not her favorite, but right now she would do anything to have it.

  The water looked cold, beads of condensation on the plastic. Her tongue felt thick and sour in her mouth. She was thirsty, so thirsty.

  She realized Eric was staring at her. What did he want? It was so hard to think. Not only her body, but her mind, too, felt empty—hollowed out. He had greeted her. He was waiting. Did she dare speak? He hadn’t given her permission. He hadn’t asked a question.

  Hungry, thirsty, hungry, thirsty. Give me that food. Water, water, water.

  “When I greet you, slave,” Eric said slowly, as if she were a stupid child, “you greet me in turn, with the proper respect.”

  And then she could eat?

  “Good afternoon, Sir.” It came out as a croak, barely intelligible, even to her own ears. Her eyes were glued to the tray. Please, please, please.

  “Have you learned your lesson, slave?”

  Lesson. What lesson? The fucking rules? Rule one…rule one… Where was that paper? Her mind refused to work, her body screaming for the food and water. She could smell the peanut butter now, so rich and creamy. She could almost taste it, blending with the sweet preserves, exploding against her teeth and tongue as she bit into the soft bread surrounding it.

  Lifting herself, she leaned forward, trying to reach through the bars. There was a strange, distant whistling in her ears and black spots danced before her eyes. Her head was spinning…

  “J. Slave. Jessie! Can you hear me?”

  Jessie opened her eyes. Eric’s face was close to hers, no bars separating them. “Wha…?” Some of the fog that had been swirling through her brain lifted, and she realized she was lying on the carpet, her head cradled in Eric’s lap.

  “You passed out,” he said, his tone almost kind. “Your eyes just rolled right back and wham, you were out like a light. Are you okay?”

  What kind of a stupid question was that? She was terrified and starving, naked and held prisoner in her former boss’s basement, for fuck’s sake. Was she okay?

  “Yes, Sir” she said. “Thank you, Sir,” she managed to add.

  She was rewarded when he reached for the bottle of water. He helped her to sit up and then put the bottle to her lips. She wanted to hold it herself, but didn’t dare. He tipped it, letting the cold, delicious water spill into her mouth. She drank greedily, nearly choking as the water gushed down her throat. He let her finish the bottle, the last bit dripping down her chin and onto her chest.

  As he placed the empty bottle on the tray, the smell of the peanut butter and jelly wafted toward her. Now that her thirst had been slaked, her stomach was begging for attention, contracting and burbling, literally aching for food.

  “Kneel up at attention, slave.” The kindness had left his voice. “Let’s see if you deserve to eat.”

  Jessie scrambled to obey. As she placed her hands behind her head, the dizziness returned. She felt herself swaying. She took several deep, slow breaths and the dizziness receded. It took every ounce of self-control not to fall onto the food and gobble it up before he could stop her. If she could just get through whatever the fuck it was he wanted, maybe he would give her the damn sandwich.

  “You were very disobedient yesterday,” Eric began. He stopped, interrupting himself. ”Hey! Where’s your collar? I didn’t tell you to take it off.”

  Alarmed, Jessie touched her throat. “I—I didn’t know I was supposed to keep it on.” He’d removed the leash at some point when she was cuffed to the cross, but had left the dog collar strapped around her neck.

  She’d taken it off once he’d left the basement, feeling it with her fingers, buckling and unbuckling it over and over for something to do, counting the tiny perforated holes in the hard leather, thinking about James, the sub boy she’d bought it for, who liked to be treated like a puppy, begging for treats and getting his nose smacked with a rolled up newspaper when he was a bad dog.

  “If I put something on you, you leave it on, you got it?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Jessie forced herself to reply, her eyes sliding toward the food.

  “Where is it? Where’s the collar? Give it to me.”

  Jessie, grateful at least for the reprieve for her arms, twisted back and reached inside the cage, feeling beneath the sheet. She handed the collar to Eric, who snatched it from her. “Lift up your hair,” he ordered as he stood over her. “And this time don’t take it off. This is your training c
ollar. If it comes off again without me being the one to remove it, you won’t eat for a week, you hear me?”

  He wasn’t a Dom, he was a bully and a bastardo, but he had the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she wanted. “Yes, Sir.” She leaned forward, bowing her head submissively as he re-buckled the hard leather collar around her neck.

  “Back in position,” Eric ordered, as he sat again beside her. Her eyes were riveted to the food. Jesus god, stop with the posturing and let me have it!

  Eric followed her gaze. “Hungry?”

  Duh. “Yes, Sir,” Jessie replied. Her arms felt like rubber. She couldn’t do this much longer.

  Instead of reaching for the sandwich, Eric picked up a pen and small pad of paper Jessie hadn’t noticed before from the tray. “I need something from you first. I need your email log-in and password, both for the site and your personal email.”

  He held the pen poised over the paper, waiting for her to speak. Jessie knew she should refuse but what choice did she have? She was so hungry she couldn’t think clearly. And what difference did it really make? She was trapped and at his mercy. She had to pretend to go along until she could figure a way out. And so she told him, her eyes on the sandwich while he scribbled the information.

  He tore off a page from the pad and folded it, shoving it in his back pocket. At last he reached for a sandwich. “Open your mouth.”

  Jessie complied, her mouth watering as he tore off a piece. He placed it on her tongue and Jessie chewed and swallowed, ravenous. She hadn’t had PB&J since she was a kid, but could honestly say she’d never tasted anything so good.

  He gave her another bite, and another, until, all too soon, the sandwich was gone. He followed it with more water. Jessie tilted her head back to keep the water from spilling. She rubbed her tongue over the roof of her mouth and along her teeth, searching for any bit of missed food, wishing there had been a second sandwich on that paper plate. Her arms were shaking but at least she felt alive again.

  Eric stood and stared down at her. “I hope you learned your lesson. Disobedient slaves don’t get the privilege of food and water. Next time you disobey it will be much worse for you.”

  Jessie kept her eyes down, hoping her face didn’t betray her rage. She had to play the game better. She had to convince him she was going along with his insanity.

  Eric hauled himself to his feet. “Time for your shower, and then I’m going to groom you. I don’t like hairy twats. Once you’re more presentable, we’re going to have some serious fun.”

  ~*~

  J. might have thought she was fooling him, but she was so easy to read. He hadn’t yet broken her spirit, but he would. Meanwhile it was almost fun watching her struggle to present herself as docile and submissive. Her dark eyes would flash and he thought if looks could kill, he’d have been murdered a dozen times over since he took her captive. He didn’t care. It was part of the thrill—taking a strong, feisty woman and breaking her down, bit by bit.

  She’d been plenty submissive while waiting for that food and water. And if she hadn’t been precisely submissive when he’d tied her down on the bondage table and shaved her cunt, she’d certainly been cooperative. He’d only nicked her once, and that had been her fault, since she’d twitched. She’d started to tremble after that, but she’d stayed very, very still while he finished the job.

  He’d left her there bound on top of her sleep cage while he went up to get the inversion table. The idea had come to him on the drive to the office and he couldn’t wait to try it out.

  He’d stopped at his favorite sex boutique on the way home and picked up a vibrating wand just like Sir Stephen and Maestro used on their girls. The guy behind the counter had also convinced him to buy the “forced orgasm” harness that went with it. The harness was a leather belt that went around the waist with a hanging leather holder designed to accommodate the vibrator. It had a two belt buckle system to keep the head of the vibrator firmly in place against a slave’s cunt, hands-free.

  J.’s eyes were closed when Eric reentered the dungeon, the folded inversion table in his arms, the toys in a bag slung over his shoulder. He’d bought the table several years back when he was suffering lower back pain after a car accident. He’d almost forgotten he owned it, having consigned it to an unused corner of the guest bedroom, which he rarely entered.

  Now he couldn’t wait to try his idea on his slave.

  He set up the inversion table in the center of the dungeon and moved toward J. to untie the ropes he’d secured her with. She opened her eyes. “Get up” Eric ordered. “It’s time for a session.”

  Once he had her standing, he opened his bag of tricks and removed the wand harness. “Lift your arms over your head and don’t move,” he instructed. He buckled the thick leather belt around her waist, the holder, which consisted of two strips of leather with a large O-ring at their center, dangling in front of her denuded cunt.

  He led her to the inversion table and directed her to lean back against it and place her feet on the footrest. She looked hesitantly at the contraption but after a glance at him, she obeyed.

  She held onto the handles on either side of her body as Eric positioned the thick foam rollers over her ankles to hold her securely in place. Making her grip the top bar of the frame over her head, he used leather cuffs and clips to secure her wrists. This girl wasn’t going anywhere.

  Now for the fun.

  Eric took the battery-operated vibrating wand out of the bag. J.’s eyes widened as she took in what he was holding, and it was clear she knew what it was. There was just room between her legs to slide the wand in place. He squirted some lube over the fat head of the wand and then pushed it into the hole in the harness, pressing it firmly against her cunt.

  Staring at her naked body with the vibrator tucked between her legs, Eric dropped his shorts and kicked them away, his cock already hard with anticipation. “Get ready, here we go,” he said, as he tipped the inversion table, shifting her position from upright to upside down with a push. J. gasped in evident surprise. Her long, dark hair brushed the ground. She looked so deliciously vulnerable, naked with her arms extended over her head, held in place by the bar at her ankles.

  “Hey,” she shouted at finding herself upside down.

  “Relax,” Eric said, deciding not to punish her for speaking out of turn. He was too eager to get this session going. “You’re not going anywhere. This is an inversion table—it’s designed for this. That is, it’s designed to safely hold you in position while you’re upside down.”

  Leaning over her, he flicked the wand to life. It began to vibrate against her clit, pulling a single word from her lips. “Oh!”

  Eric massaged his shaft as he positioned himself at her head. He pulled at the top bar of the frame, lifting her until her mouth was level with his cock. He could feel the vibration of the wand through the metal of the frame.

  “Open your mouth,” he ordered, pressing the head of his cock to her lips. A slap to her cheek helped spur her to obey. He pushed his cock into the wet warmth of her mouth. “This is your first lesson in discipline. Make me come. You are not to come before I do, or you’ll be punished.”

  He slid his cock deeper into her mouth, supporting the frame against his thighs to hold her in the correct position. She gagged, the muscles of her throat contracting against his shaft. It felt so fucking good. He eased out a little, and then pressed back again. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. From the sound of things, she wasn’t going to either. Her high-pitched mewing was muted against his cock, a staccato tune against the bass line of the vibrating wand.

  It felt good, but he needed more. Eric held her face in his hands and began to fuck her mouth in earnest, thrusting deep into her throat and pulling nearly out, over and over in a steady rhythm as his orgasm began to mount.

  All at once J. began to shudder, her hips undulating as the fat head of the wand vibrated relentlessly against her cunt. It was obvious she was coming, and coming hard, completely out of control.


  Naughty girl, Eric thought gleefully, as he began to spurt down her throat.

  She was bucking hard, her body arched and straining, even while she choked and spluttered on his come. Eric eased out of her mouth and leaned over her shaking, sweating body to flick the wand’s switch to the off position.

  J. sagged against the frame, her breathing ragged, her chest heaving. Eric pushed the inversion table slowly back into its upright position. J.’s face was flushed, her hair wild. There were tears on her cheeks and her eyes were burning and over-bright, as if she had a fever.

  A trickle of his come dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Eric wiped it away with his thumb. “I can see we have a lot of training to do, J. You have absolutely no discipline.”

  “I couldn’t help—” she began breathlessly.

  “Unh uh.” He cut her off, putting two fingers over her lips. “No excuses. A slave obeys her Master. End of story. I told you not to come before I did. You fucked that up, didn’t you, J.?”

  He took his fingers away. “It wasn’t my—” she began again.

  This time he cut her off with a backhand across her face. “Answer the question, cunt!”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes wild with fear.

  Eric felt his cock hardening again at the sight of her in the restraints, her cheeks flushed, her naked body exposed for him. She was completely at his mercy and the terror in her eyes made him harder still.

  “Yes, what?” he said, placing a hand on her throat. He could feel her trembling as he squeezed.

  With a gasp, she blurted hurriedly, “Yes, Sir! Yes, I fucked up. I’m sorry, Sir.”

  He took his hand away and stepped back, nodding. “That’s right. You fucked up. What happens to slave girls who fuck up?”

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t reply.

  He moved to choke her again.

  “I don’t know!”

  “Yes, you do. Think back, Princess Lola. It wasn’t so long ago you were the one lording it over those sissy boys, making them lick your feet while you beat their pathetic asses. I’ll ask once more. What happens to slave girls who fuck up?”