by J. M. Dabney
With all the strength I had left, through tears and sobs, I washed myself, then returned to my mattress. I didn't feel like myself, I was confused and lost, and I didn't understand what was wrong with me. If I ever made it out of here, nothing would be the same, because my captor had broken something and I didn't know how to fix it.
Chapter Thirteen
Cowen
When I'd returned home from the office after allowing law enforcement to go through Harrison's computer, I'd reached my limit of interacting with people. I'd started a casserole for lunch. I'd searched recipes online in order to find something quick to make. Once I'd done that, I'd put my mask on and headed up to my bedroom. Harrison had pretended to sleep and badly, the pace of his breathing had given him away. Last night I had allowed him to settle into his new room. I'd treated him kindly and even dressed him.
Today was about learning his new role in our home. He'd taken the paddle beautifully. His screams and whimpers were perfect. When my penis had hardened, I'd waited for it to deflate as soon as his punishment ceased. I'd even prolonged his training so that I could enjoy the strangeness of the situation. To my shock, my length hadn't softened, and the ache was pleasurable.
I hadn't planned to reward him, but I wanted to test his tightness around my fingers, and I found jacking his cock enjoyable. My intent wasn't to gift him pleasure, that didn't give me the experience I required. Pain and humiliation were so much more complex sensations. Pleasure was fleeting—a momentary respite. For an unwanted moment, I had imagined replacing my fingers with my length. Coming was such a vulgar act, sharing bodily fluids with someone else. There was sweat and seed.
While I'd attempted sex before, I stopped when I didn't find anything appealing about the process. He tempted me, and when I'd exposed myself, he'd turned away. Something had flared hot in my chest, and I forced him to clean up his mess. I'd left him alone for hours allowing him time to think, but it was time for lunch. First, he was going to give me something.
I made my way upstairs to find him curled on his side beneath his blanket. The tie on my dresser caught my attention, and I grabbed it, then approached him. I leaned forward and ripped the cover from him, and he jerked away, pressing his back to the footboard of my bed. Without giving him a warning, I looped the tie around his throat. I wrapped the silk in my fist until it was tight around his neck, a turn of my wrist would tighten it further to control him.
He stared up at me with wide, frightened eyes, and when I started to undo my pants, I saw the second realization filled his gaze. I fisted my hand around the base of my cock and removed it from my pants. It was flushed with blood, the veins stood out starkly and fluid beaded at the slit. I painted his lips with precum. His breath was a warm caress across the damp head.
“Suck me,” I ordered, and I waited out the indecision I observed on his face.
“I've never—”
“You only need to know how to take mine.”
He opened his mouth, his tongue peeked out, and at the first lick, my length jerked. I barely kept in a groan.
“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
He did as I ordered, and I placed my fat head on his tongue, tapping it then pushing forward to give him a few inches. I paused taking in the wetness and heat, the texture of his tongue and palette, the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his beard. I pulled the tie until his mouth opened wider on a gasp and gave him more. While I debated whether to fuck his face and teach him a lesson or draw it out to analyze the newness, I slid slowly over his tongue.
I didn't know how to react. I was feeling, and it was too foreign. I released my dick and tied the strip of fabric around one of the slats of the footboard until I knew he wouldn't be able to move. Stepping forward, I planted my feet on either side of his legs and took his head in my hands. The strands of his hair felt like raw silk against my wrists. His lips were stretched tight around my girth. As I started a slow thrust and retreat, I never took my attention from his expression. I cataloged every gag, the saliva that ran from the corners of his mouth and his grunts when the head tapped the back of his throat.
Occasionally I would pull him forward until the tie tightened and restricted his breathing, I didn't relent until he frantically tapped my thigh. The slender muscles in my thighs contracted until they shook and I continued to fuck his face. I waited for the graze of teeth or him taking advantage, because like this, he was more in control than I was. He had every opportunity to hurt me. I dropped my head back as I increased my pace, restricted his breathing, and repeated until the nasty, wet sounds of my cock fucking his throat became all I could hear.
I'd never felt anything like it, and I barely kept myself under control until I felt and heard his first moan. I jerked my head up to stare down at him and found his eyes closed, and he sucked loudly as I tried to pull out. The strength drawing me back in and I noticed he even choked himself to get at my cock. He was drooling, grunting and gagging, it turned louder and messier every time he tightened the tie around his own throat.
“Is that what my boy wants?”
I didn't recognize my own voice since it was deeper and harsher. I curled my hands around his throat, pressed my thumbs tight to either side of Harrison’s windpipe until his breathing was only a rasp from his throat.
“Such a good little slut. You want sir's cum. So greedy for it.”
I released his throat, and he choked as he tried to breathe in around my cock, then he drew ragged breaths through his nose. My sac drew up tight, and I was done playing with my boy, I held his head in place and fucked his mouth until I thrust forward all the way. His beard tickled my nuts, and his nose was buried in the hair at my groin. I came so hard my body curled forward, and my frame jerked with each pulse. I shallowly ground against his mouth and didn't stop until the pleasure ebbed.
“Grab the footboard, now,” I ordered as I pulled out and dropped to my knees.
I ripped the front of his pants down until the fabric was tucked under his hairy balls. When I laid my forehead to his, I started to jack his cock that looked red and angry making him whimper, and I loathed the leather of my gloves that kept me from feeling his skin. Without thought, I moved in close enough to wrap both our dicks in my hand. The skin along his length was hot and soft. It only took him a few strokes, and his release covered my hand and head of my cock. I suddenly realized I found his scent pleasant. His body was twice as broad as mine. His own length was shorter and slenderer than mine. His body was covered in hair and I…liked it in comparison to my hairless one.
My head was too full of information and details. Too many scents. I untied him and lifted my hand to his mouth.
“Clean up your mess, boy.”
He seemed in a trance or as if he'd come out of deep sleep. He didn't rush the cleaning of my glove, as he sucked two fingers into his mouth, I remembered what it felt like around my penis.
I needed to think. I unlocked Harrison’s shackle, helped him to his feet and took him to the bathroom to clean up. Fifteen minutes later, I had him seated at the island in my kitchen and served him food and drink. He had yet to say a word, and I didn't complain. I required quiet to work through the new developments.
He ate his food slowly as I drank a glass of water. He refused to look at me, and I wondered if he were as confused as I was. He was supposed to take my punishment. Take care of my home, and when he had agreed that he was mine, I would return him to civilization but not until he pledged himself to me. He was greedy, silently begging me for everything I gave him.
Keeping him was only supposed to be temporary, and in a matter of days, something had changed. I needed to figure out what it was because I didn't like loose ends. Everything needed to be in its place. My routine was key to existing. He had perplexed me, and I didn't like it. It didn't fit.
Harrison, my assistant, was shy, silent and frightened of me. But my captive was greedy, and he was beginning to find pleasure in the pain. Was he leading me into a false sense of secu
rity or did he want to remain as mine—my thing to care for and use for pleasure I wasn't supposed to feel.
I turned away to refill my glass, and I felt his gaze on me in the sensation of the hairs lifting on the back of my neck. Did he plot even now to escape? He would be mistaken if he thought I'd ever free him. He was mine, and I would prove it in pain and pleasure, I owned him. Would always own him. If pain was what he needed, I was the one to give it to him.
Chapter Fourteen
Harrison
I still felt the thrust of his cock, the slight soreness from his strong hands and the tie around my throat. My dick hardened at the forbidden thrill of him controlling even the breaths I took. He was gentle afterward, jacked my cock until I came for him and then bathed me, and fed me. I was more confused than ever. This was the first day I was left on my own.
For hours after he left, I'd stayed on my mattress waiting for the setup. Was he lurking quietly downstairs to punish me? What if I tried to escape? It had taken two hours of pep talk before I'd headed to the kitchen. The list of chores tacked to the front of the fridge with a plain steel colored magnet caught my attention. The block letters were perfectly aligned, so they possessed no clue to his identity. It didn't show personality—no flourishes.
The items were normal things that I did at home every day except for the last item, but I didn’t want to think about that. I'd made my way through the list quickly. As I cleaned, I didn't spot any pictures. The cabin interior looked like staged sets for a design magazine shoot. It was a cold, sterile environment, very much like the man. Along with an absence of personal touches, he didn't have a television or even a radio. The laptop in his office was password protected.
I liked noise. I'd even taken extra care with the vacuuming just to listen to the whirr. I felt stupid cleaning a spotless house. My captor screamed OCD. While I was afraid of him, I was also disturbed by my fascination with him. For most of my life I'd taken care of my mother, and while I loved her, it was freeing to not be in charge. I didn't have to worry because he provided everything I needed.
Although, wasn't that a part of Stockholm Syndrome? Our will broken to adapt to life as a captive, but I almost felt content. I broke the rules, and I was punished. I did something right, and I earned a reward. No one liked punishment, but weren't we under the will of laws in the real world?
I didn't have anything else to clean, so I put away the vacuum and cleaning supplies. My list of duties said to have dinner ready at six. I'd checked out the kitchen that morning. It was fully stocked. I loved to cook, but it always seemed a waste to do it for one. I lived on takeout and snacks.
I closed the hallway closet and turned toward the front door. I'd stood there earlier, on the precipice of escaping. For a few seconds, I had the door open. The scent of trees, a cool breeze, and I could've easily run. If he was in the city, I could be far away by the time he made it back to the cabin. Instead, I closed it and went back to the tasks. He wouldn't keep me forever. Soon he'd grow tired of me and maybe want to move someone else into the cellar.
Part of me hoped that he wanted to keep me—how sick did that make me? I'd started to believe that even within the punishments and humiliation that he cared. He kept me on edge. One minute he hurt me and the next he was gentle. It was as if he were conditioning me for something, but I just didn't know what.
As I kept a close eye on the time, I began to prepare dinner. When he fed me, I hadn't once seen him eat. He was slim but strong, and a little over six foot tall. My curiosity grew at what the mask concealed. I studied the voice and tried to remember if I'd heard it before. He always concealed himself in every way. He'd yet to touch me without gloves. My captor seemed to keep a physical and emotional distance.
I wanted the mask gone but also didn’t—once he removed it, I’d know his face and didn’t that mean there was the potential to identify him. Uncertainty and fear caused me to shake as I checked that last item on the chore list.
Be naked and waiting when I arrive home.
As soon as the clocks little hand touched six, I heard the door open, and I hastily shoved my sleep pants down my legs. My full focus landed on the soft fabric I folded carefully. I’d made pasta and sauce, but I didn’t have time to...I felt his gaze boring into me, and I didn’t like his silence. I slowly lifted my gaze, taking in the expensive black suit paired with a charcoal dress shirt and black tie. I paused there waiting for some order—anything, but he just remained silent.
“I see you’ve done as I asked.”
At the sound of the voice, I jerked my head up in surprise and looked right at Cowen.
“What…”
“I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out by now. But I must admit my work voice differs from my real one.”
The tone Cowen used at work was smoother and enunciated, while my captor's was low and almost growly. It was an odd contrast. Why hadn't I noticed? I'd studied the man while I was sure he wasn't looking. My embarrassment over my misplaced crush on him came back, and all the fantasies I had of Cowen set my cheeks on fire.
“Why?”
“Well, you did see me in the middle of my second job. And while I thought about killing you, keeping you held a bit of”—he paused—”fascination.”
I backed up holding the sleep pants in front of my groin. Memories slammed into me. I'd caught sight of a man striking another and the sound of the victim's skull hitting concrete. “Is he dead?”
“Very much so. I was paid well for it.”
“Why?”
Cowen looked confused at my question. His heavy dark brows were meeting as his forehead furrowed. “It was a job.” His gaze drew down my body, and I hid behind the pants. I'd gotten used to my unknown captor keeping me naked, but I didn’t like Cowen looking at me.
“Why did you do this to me?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“I want to go home.” Mortified at what I’d done—what I’d allowed him to do—all I could think about was getting away from him. I didn’t even care if he killed me.
The silence became oppressive as I backed farther away, tucked myself into a corner. My gaze didn’t leave the floor, even though I didn’t hear one step, the toes of Cowen’s dress shoes appeared. Once he was right there, I noticed he was shorter than my captor and seemed slimmer. “You’re different.”
“Lifts in my shoes and padding here and there. Do you like your captor better?”
I rolled my lips between my teeth and refused to answer. A choked yell turned to a groan as it left my compressed throat when Cowen squeezed cutting off my oxygen. It wasn’t like when I’d given him a blowjob. My hands came up to claw at his hand and wrist, the pressure built in my face and my chest ached as I struggled to take in even a small breath. Just as my eyes started to roll and I felt my vision fading, I wheezed as the fingers unexpectedly loosened and I fought to draw air into my lungs.
“You think you have power here? You do not. I could kill you without remorse just as I originally planned. You liked it when I was a stranger…you begged for my cock.”
“You hate me.”
“I should. Yet, I don’t.”
He released me quick enough that I stumbled and he put distance between us. He casually checked over what I'd made for dinner as if I wasn't losing my mind. My head hurt from memories and stress. I bent to grab my sleep pants.
“No. I requested you be naked.”
I straightened and cupped my hands over my crotch. It was stupid. Cowen knew every inch of me. I was hiding a body he'd studied countless times over the weeks I'd been there. The calendar on his desk had told me I’d been there nearly a month, and I didn’t feel as if so many days had passed.
“I purchased you a present, but you've failed to earn it with your actions. It may be appropriate to move you back to the basement.” His voice was cold and gave nothing away.
The disappointment at his words sickened me, and I almost started crying at his disapproval. “Why…why are you keeping me?”
/> “I own you.”
“Why?”
Earlier I'd felt I was settling into what I'd come to think of my new life. Again, I felt as if something was broken inside me. That I'd allowed Cowen—a stranger—to use me as he saw fit and I submitted.
“I don't know. I was quite happy with my celibate life. Sex is a vulgar and disgusting act, but I enjoy playing with you. You look pretty sucking my cock.”
He stated it with the same emotion someone would relay the weather for the day.
“Don't you feel anything?”
“Emotion is a waste of energy.”
“Then why keep me if you're—”
“Once you pledged yourself to me, you were to be allowed to return to work, but I see that we've lost ground. Therefore, gather your things so that I may return you to the basement.”
A sob caught in my throat because I didn't want to be put back in the darkness. “I don't want to go back down there.”
“Then you earned punishment. Return to our room and place the shackle around your ankle. You will wait for me on your knees.”
Neither of my options made me feel safe, pain or darkness, both I hated. I dropped my chin to my chest and did as he ordered. Just as I passed him, he fisted his hand in my hair, winching my head back. His slim body pushed flush to my back, and his breath was hot behind my ear. I existed in this limbo between pleasure and pain, the burn of my scalp, but I hated when he punished me. How did he reduce me to whimpering with nothing more than jerking my head back—using me?
“You can deny, but you love it when I use you. You love someone else in charge—guiding and punishing you when you make mistakes. You may lie to yourself, but for three years, I listened to those submissive yes, sirs that fell from those pretty lips. You wanted me to hurt you.”
“I don't—” I cried out when his grip twisted my head until his lips almost touched mine. His gaze was cold and vacant. I nearly came when he grabbed my dick in a tight hold.
