by J. M. Dabney
“Does he have any friends? Maybe he mentioned a…partner.”
Partner was pushed like a curse between compressed lips.
“His personal life or his sexuality is of no concern to me. As long as he did his job up to my standards, I didn't interact with him.”
“Is that how you usually treat your employees?”
“He's only my second one. His predecessor was with me since I opened the office nearly fifteen years ago. She was irreplaceable.”
She'd excelled as my office manager. Not only did she do her job as I required, but she rarely spoke of anything other than work-related subjects. When she retired, I realized how difficult it was to find a person such as herself. She was one of the only people I hadn't thought about killing once. She had a ruthlessness about her that I had greatly respected.
“Can we check his computer and desk?”
“I will have to ask that you refrain from accessing client files, that would be a breach of attorney/client privilege, but I see no issue with checking his search history and such. I restricted his use of the computer for personal emails or searches, but that doesn't mean he didn't.”
“We'll send one of Computer Crime guys over the go through his desktop.”
“Do you have a time so that I can arrange to be here? I'd leave the door open, but it's not the safest neighborhood, and I'll be out of the office for the weekend.”
“The number you gave me earlier, is that the best one to reach you? I'll have them give you a call later or in the morning.”
“Yes, that's my personal phone. I have problems with insomnia, but if I don't answer, they're welcome to leave a message.”
“If you hear from Mr. Clapton, please keep us updated.”
“Of course.” I stood and steeled myself as I extended my arm across the desk to shake the man's hand. I tried not to grimace at the cool, clamminess of his skin. I slowly released the offending object.
We exchanged unnecessary pleasantries, and I let out a heavy relieved sigh as I closed the door behind the man. I was a half hour past the usual time I headed home. I gathered the items I would need for the weekend and adjusted my schedule to reflect the fact I would need to come to the office tomorrow for them to check Harrison's computer. Until then, it was time to confuse my boy more. I required him to question, and the more his confusion grew, the less chance he'd brace himself for my next move.
I needed to intensify his training in order to teach him that I owned him. I'd always assumed that if I ever found someone to keep, which I found naive, that I'd need to build a sense of trust. While I'd studied BDSM, and my urges seemed to lean toward sadistic, I didn't altogether see myself as a Master or Sir. In order to make Harrison mine, I'd have to adjust my thinking to the safe, sane and consensual mandate.
Would I be able to teach him to submit to my punishments and gain his trust?
My irritation grew with my confusion at my thought process. My drive home was riddled with mental contemplations of odd musings. I'd paid people well over the years to let me whip them or to watch them fuck themselves as my body wouldn't allow me to do it. I could remember a handful of times that I attempted to fuck, and in the end, I accepted my impotence and adapted. In my younger days, I'd masturbated as other boys had, but I found the pleasure that I received from it minimal at best.
My body and brain were broken, I accepted and didn't ponder, but when I'd watched Harrison fuck himself, I felt the stirrings of arousal. I'd purchased an instrument of humiliation as close to my penis as I could find. For a few moments, I'd actually wondered what his hole would feel like around my penis. I'd cupped my firming length behind the front of my slacks and was shocked that I'd felt something other than disinterest.
After my usual routine of making several wrong turns and the drive through the countryside, I pulled into my garage and leisurely made my way inside.
I finished the preparations I'd begun that morning. The metal plate under the end of my bed held the hook that I'd welded into place. At the end of the chain rested a shackle for Harrison’s ankle. I'd provided him with a thick futon mattress on the floor at the foot of my bed. The chain was only long enough for him to reach the bathroom.
I walked to my dresser, changed my clothes and slipped the mask over my face. Then I placed the lifters in my shoes to add a few inches to my height. The leather of my gloves stretched and caressed over my hands. Whether it was Harrison’s fear or the fact I hadn't allowed him near me in the years he worked for me—he hadn't worked out my identity. I had altered the tone of my voice when speaking with him while he's been my guest and I used my normal voice. Low and guttural, spoken sparingly. In my disguise that I used as a lawyer and normal human, I changed myself to fit—to blend with the more acceptable members of humanity.
On my way down to the basement, I retrieved the box I'd picked up for his items and the single bulb. I unlocked the bolts on the door and changed my steps to a heavier tread as I descended the stairs. My unhurried stride carried me to the center of the dark space to screw in the bulb. Then I approached his enclosure. He was lying on his side and tears were dried on his cheeks, his lashes matted. He shivered as he'd left the blanket off his body, but it was hugged to his chest.
I neared and crouched down, setting the box down and placed my hand over his side. Without touching him, I traced the curves of his body, and I wondered what his body hair would feel like under the planes of my hands. I leaned slightly to the side to find just the head of the dildo still inside his hole. His rim was swollen and red from the abuse. I slowly grabbed the base and shallowly fucked him with it. He was sufficiently stretched that it moved in and out of his hole smoothly. He whimpered in his sleep, but his exhaustion was clear as he didn't awaken. I knelt in the dirt and used my right hand to tug his cheeks apart to get a better view as I pushed the entire length into his hole.
I stopped as his back arched and then I roughly removed it. He yelped and put as much distance between us as possible. “Gather your things, place them in the box.” I surged upward and backed up until I was just outside the opening.
“W-why?”
“Gather your things, place them in the box.”
Tears once more filled his eyes, and an odd sense of excitement tightened my chest. His hands were shaking as he set each item in the box including the snacks he'd squirreled away under the mattress. The lantern and books were the last things to be tucked into the box.
“Stand and precede me upstairs, do not attempt to run…it will just make your punishment worse. Also, take your toy…you will wash it when we're upstairs.”
He was barely able to get to his feet because he was trembling so violently. I knew what he was thinking, that he'd outlived his usefulness and I felt a sense of exhilaration at his fear. His steps stuttered, and he tripped as he froze at the bottom of the stairs. I pulled the chain to kill the light, and as soon as darkness took over the space, he moved upstairs.
His feet were caked in dirt, and he had smudges all over his body.
“Set your box aside and sit on the stool.”
He obeyed so beautifully, and it caused an alien moment of feeling. I was unsure of what it was and pushed it aside for later analysis. I served him food and wine, all of which he consumed as a man savoring his last meal, and when I gave him a slice of cheesecake, the tears he'd restrained finally fell over his thick bottom lashes. That's when I realized his lashes were so thick and dark that they looked as if his eyes were lined with makeup. His beard that had started to turn shaggy didn't take away from how pretty I thought he looked.
I'd found people aesthetically pleasing. I recognized the superficial trappings of a person as beautiful or ugly, but I'd never felt pleasure in observing people. Except it wasn't any random person but Harrison.
“You will wash your dishes and your toy.”
As he carried out his tasks, I drank a glass of water, and when I was satisfied, I ordered him to pick up his box and gave him directions upstairs to my bedroom. I
didn't spend much time in my cabin and was impatient to return to my apartment, but until he'd accepted his place, we'd have to carry out his training here.
Over the next hour, I tended him without speaking. I bathed him, playing close attention to his genitals and his sore hole. He shied away but made no protests. I found it strangely satisfying to care for him. I even provided him with silk sleep pants that I dressed him in, and his suspicion grew the longer I didn't cause him pain. It was there in the way he stared at me.
I secured the shackle around his ankle, tucked him in bed and left him without a word to return downstairs to take care of my evening tasks, then clean myself up in the guest bath. Tonight, I'd let him believe whatever is going on in his head, but tomorrow I would begin the process of showing my ownership.
The act of forming attachments to things, people or places were as foreign to me as emotion. I was in territory I was unfamiliar with, and my own adjustments would take time. It was odd not to feel…homicidal.
Chapter Twelve
Harrison
Before I'd opened my eyes that morning, I'd almost forgotten being held captive wasn't a nightmare. The bed was soft and the covers warm, the sleep pants comfortable on my skin. That had all dissolved at the intrusion of reality at the weight of the shackle and my view of an open bedroom door and feet of highly polished wood floors between me and escape. I'd found that the chain was long enough for me to reach the toilet and sink, but not the windows with the sheer curtains. What I could see of the view outside was acres of treetops.
It didn't give me any indication if I was still near home or not. I sat on my mattress, and the soreness of my hole further reminded me it wasn't a dream. My cheeks heated as I remembered the way he'd awakened me last night. I'd fallen asleep after an overwhelming sense of exhaustion had taken over me, and I'd cried until I had a headache. Before I realized it was my captor using the toy on me, I'd enjoyed a few moments of pleasure of being filled.
In the seconds after I awakened, I'd studied his face. Yes, he wore a mask, but the line of his unsmiling mouth didn't change. His eyes were still emotionless inside the holes of leather. The thinness of his frame made me wonder if he was naturally slim or did he not eat regularly. His clothes were always clean, wrinkle and debris free. I tried to assess if he was deranged and impulsive, but he rarely seemed to lose his calm even during the numerous punishments.
Afterward, when he'd ordered me to pack up the things he'd given me, or I'd collected, I knew he was going to kill me. He'd given me a full meal, the wine hit me harder than it should've, but I didn't normally drink alcohol. I ate each bite slowly as I was trying to prolong my death that I was sure was coming.
Although, that's not what happened. He'd bathed me, and he was gentle as he'd used a sponge with a soap that had a clean scent. I kept opening my mouth to demand that he get it over with, but I'd bitten my tongue until it hurt. The moment he'd tucked me into bed and drew the covers over me, I'd started to relax my guard.
He was being too…nice. I got up to use the bathroom and drink from the sink, then returned to my bed. It was the first time he'd left the house since I'd arrived without leaving provisions for the day. Part of me hoped that meant he wouldn't be gone long and another side told me I could stand to lose a few pounds. His punishment had to make up for the tenderness he showed.
No matter how much sleep I got while I was alone, the emotional and mental repercussions were taking their toll on me. I felt my fear should be greater, but I'd resigned myself to the fact that my captor could kill me at any time. It was the uncertainty of when it would happen that I couldn't take.
The closing of a door caused me to curl back up under the covers to pretend I was asleep. I didn't know how much it would help, but I had to try to see if he would ignore me. I listened so I could follow his movements. He didn't seem in a hurry to come to the bedroom. From what I remembered of the first floor, he was in the kitchen. The sound of pans banging carried on for a few moments and then it was all eerily silent.
I was about to relax until I heard his heavy steps on the stairs. He always seemed to warn me when he was coming, and it amped up my anxiety. I was sure that's why he did it. It was the anticipation of pain and now humiliation.
“Your respirations are too high to be sleeping.”
I almost did a double-take at the odd dry humor as if I was stupid for trying to avoid him. I had a feeling the man didn't have a clue as to how to be human.
“Stand up. Place your hands on the wall and wait.”
I peeked at him to find a thick, black paddle in his hand and he tapped it against his left leg. I struggled to my feet as I was already anticipating the pain. Unlike the whip or his hand, the paddle was an unforgiving surface. I almost wished he would just spank or whip me, yet that didn't seem like his plan. He motioned to the empty wall between the bedroom and bathroom doors. There was no chance of escape if I ran. The padlock secured my tether to a steel plate. I'd studied it a few minutes before I'd fallen asleep last night.
Approaching the wall, I raised my hands to place them on the flat, cool surface and felt the subtly of brush strokes. I wanted something other than the punishment for an unknown offense to focus on. If I just braced and took it, the sooner the torment would end. My sleep pants were pulled over my ass with such force the waistband cut into my skin.
“I'm sure you've noticed your new situation.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“New rules are in place. You will repeat each rule. The paddle will teach you what to expect if you break my rules.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. Let us begin by repeating your previous rules. Rule one…you will follow each order as given.”
The first strike of the smooth surface forced me onto my toes. “I will follow each order.”
“Rule two…you will thank me for each lash, paddling, and spanking given.”
The second was harder than the first. I screamed. “Thank you for each…lash”—a leather-covered hand squeezed my right cheek—”paddling and spanking given.”
My body twisted and I pressed my hot cheek against the cool wall. “Rule three…you will be ready to please me.”
“I will please you, sir.” Instead of squeezing my cheek as he'd done before, he slid his fingers into my crease and teased over my already sore hole. Then his chest was to my back, and his cock was a firm ridge. Usually, he wasn't hard when he pressed against me. As quick as he was there, his overwhelming presence behind me disappeared, and I didn’t like where my thoughts were headed. If he was hard, didn’t that mean he was going to use me in other ways to amuse himself? But he didn’t disgustingly rut on my ass or paw at my crotch.
He confused me with the quickness of his mood changes. One minute his voice soft and caring, then next hard and unforgiving. I didn't prepare for the next hit and heat bloomed viciously as the pain radiated throughout my body.
“Rule four…you will not attempt to escape. I will kill you.”
“I will not escape or you will…kill me.”
Each rule seemed to intensify the strength of his strikes. I was told not to pleasure myself without his permission. I would prepare meals and clean, a small sliver of hope infused my agony at the thought that taking care of the house meant I wouldn't be chained.
My ass was on fire and the skin tight from the abuse. I whimpered as he grazed over the ravaged curves with the hard edge of the paddle. The touch barely there, but the paddling had inflamed the nerves, and it almost felt like another hit. My vision was blurry from tears, and my jaw ached from clenching my teeth. I sagged in relief as I noticed from the corner of my eye that he leaned the offending weapon on the wall. My reprieve didn't last long as his long, slender hands came to rest on my hips and curved around to the thick nest of my pubes.
Then his left hand was gone, and when it returned, so did my fear. After days or weeks of my cock in the cage, he removed it, the metal clanking to the floor between my feet. Suddenly
he stroked my flaccid cock, and his other hand was shoved between our bodies. I heard no change in his breathing or any sound come from him as he finger-fucked me and jacked my cock. Shame came over me as my dick started to harden. He was pressed fully to my bruised ass sending mixed signals of pain and pleasure.
“So good.”
My chaotic thoughts couldn't tell if he was saying I was good or if he was implying something else. Instead of pain taking me to my tiptoes this time, it was ecstasy. I fought it with everything in me, but no one other than myself had ever gotten me off. He'd hurt me, but now he seemed to want something else. If I gave in, what did that say about me? His thrusts and strokes grew in speed and roughness, and then my body betrayed me. I slammed my ass back against him and came with a shout, and he kept working me until I whimpered.
I was left adrift when he was just gone. I turned to find him observing me as if he were trying to work out an experiment. From the tenting at the front of his pants, he wasn't completely unaffected, but nothing in his expression gave it away. He must have caught me staring at his crotch because without preamble he undid the belt, button, and zipper. I realized that the dildo he'd made me fuck myself with was an inch shorter and notably slimmer than the cock he exposed. The black hair at the base of his cock was sparse, and his balls were bare.
I turned away as he started to stroke himself.
“On your knees, clean up your mess with your tongue. Wall and floor.”
I clenched my fists as I knelt and tears once more filled my eyes as I licked my release where it splattered on the wall and the drops on the floor. As soon as I was done, all I heard were his steps retreating and leaving me alone. I struggled to my feet as everything hit me at once. My captor, the man who punished me for breaking his rules, had gotten me off, and my body had let it happen. For a second in my weakness, I had forgotten that I was a thing to him. So starved for touch that I'd allowed the man to paddle me, to fuck me and then he humiliated me further by making me clean my own cum up with my mouth.
