Dark Obsessions - Volume I: Four Intense Capture Fantasies in One Sizzling Collection

by Claire Thompson

  “Julianna,” he said softly. “The connection between a trainer and his slave is a very intimate one, especially the type of sexual training I do. One has to be careful to keep one’s feelings separate from the task at hand. It’s one reason Stephen gives the girls numbers.”

  Julianna showed no reaction. He had asked no direct question, therefore she need do nothing but keep her position. She was a statue. She was made of stone.

  “Julianna. Look at me. Look into my eyes.” She obeyed, lifting her eyes to his face, to his piercing blue eyes beneath the straight blond brows. “When they took you away tonight for your audition with the client, I tried to tell myself it was a good thing. You were deemed ready enough to be offered for sale. I had done my job and that was that.”

  He took a breath. “I’ve trained many slave girls. This is the first time…” He trailed away. What the hell was he trying to say? Why couldn’t he at least ask her up onto the bed to say it? Her knees were killing her and she was exhausted from the night’s ordeal.

  As if he’d read her mind, Anders patted the bed beside him. “Come here. I want you close to me.” Julianna rose and sat beside him. He took one of her hands, holding it in both of his. “I know it’s been hard for you, Julianna. To be taken from all that you know and forced into this strict training regimen. But you have blossomed under my careful hand, along with your other training here. You have learned that pleasure and pain, along with submission and obedience, go hand in hand.

  “You were a spoiled young American girl with no sense of a woman’s proper place, but in only a few weeks’ time you have been remolded into a yielding, compliant and very sexual slave girl. I see how you respond to my touch—the quickening of your heart, the sweet blush on your cheeks, your cries of pleasure at the moment of ecstasy. I know you long to serve me, not as a numbered slave-in-training, but as my slave girl, my possession.”

  Julianna realized her mouth had fallen open. She pressed her lips together, trying to figure out what the man was saying. Did he really have the gall and complete lack of insight to imagine for one fraction of a second that she liked what was being done to her? That she was somehow complicit in all this? Had he really mistaken her physiological reactions to constant sexual stimulation as some kind of adoration, even love, for him?

  Anders stroked her cheek, his touch gentle. In spite of herself, Julianna leaned slightly into the caress. “Tonight really brought home to me how easily I could lose you. The client didn’t choose you, but that Kuwaiti gentleman might well snatch you up. I’m thinking of making a counteroffer for you. I’m thinking of taking you for my own; making you my personal slave girl. Perhaps, one day, if you merit it, you might even become my lover.”

  He regarded her intently, a small, superior smile playing over his lips, as if he’d just offered to make her his queen. Was he expecting her to kiss his feet, tears of gratitude spilling as she thanked him for the huge honor of becoming his personal fucking property?

  She kept her face as impassive as Jorge and Pete did, but inside she was reeling. Too many thoughts and emotions were crowding her head. Would it be better to be owned by Anders, a known quantity, than some Arab sheik? She imagined this Mahmud guy as short, fat and old. Would she become part of a harem, imprisoned in a strange country on the other side of the world? Was the devil she knew better than the one she didn’t?

  “Before I make my decision,” he went on, “I need to claim you completely. That’s something I rarely do with the slaves-in-training. I reserve the benefit of my body for only the select few. Tonight I will make an exception for you, Julianna. I’ve chosen you.”

  A sudden nearly uncontrollable impulse to giggle welled up in Julianna. She suppressed it, aware Anders wouldn’t take well to being laughed at. What a pompous, deluded asshole he was. Yet, he held her very life in his hands. The urge to laugh quickly died.

  He stood, stripping off his shirt to reveal a smooth, tan chest with well-developed pecs, the nipples like flat brown coins above six-pack abs. He pulled down the zipper of his pants and slid them past muscular thighs. She couldn’t help staring. Despite who and what he was, not to mention his absurd delusions of grandeur, she couldn’t deny he was absolutely gorgeous. His cock, even only half erect, was long and thick.

  “Like what you see?” His voice was full of self-congratulatory confidence. It drew her up short, reminding her that the man was out of his fucking mind. He wasn’t some potential lover misguidedly trying to impress her, he was a stone cold bastard, a cruel and evil man who took part in abducting innocent women and destroying their lives for profit and whatever twisted sexual motives he had.

  She didn’t answer, but he didn’t seem to notice. He took a condom from the small bowl on the side table near the bed. Tearing it open, he rolled the sheath over his now fully-erect shaft. His expression hungry, he fell onto her, pushing her down on the mattress.

  “I know you’ve longed for this moment,” he whispered huskily into her ear as he maneuvered himself between her legs. “What torture it has been for you, brought over and over to the edge of sensual pleasure at my hand, only to be denied my cock. Well, no more. No more, Julianna.”

  His body was heavy and hard over hers. He pushed his thigh between her legs, forcing them apart. He licked his fingers and reached for her, pressing one of them inside her. He pushed a second finger into her, quickly finding that sweet spot that made her moan, despite what was happening. After untold hours of intimate exploration of her body, the man knew precisely how to touch her to draw out her reactions, and now was no exception.

  He brought her quickly to the edge of an orgasm with his fingers, but instead of letting her come, he pressed the thick head of his cock into her. “Yes,” he urged, as her muscles clamped involuntarily around the girth filling her. He groaned as he eased into her. Her body reacted in spite of herself, drawing him in, gripping him tight. “Yes,” he said again. “Give in to your deepest desires. Submit to your true Master.” He dipped his head, his lips parting as they touched hers.

  She twisted her head away, pressing her lips together. She had taken the whip, the cane, the forced sex and the pain, but somehow the intimate act of a kiss was more than she could bear.

  Anders stilled inside her and lifted himself over her. “You resist my kiss?” His voice was soft but tinged with cold iron. He reached for her chin, forcing her to face him. She closed her eyes, her lips still pressed together.

  “Open your eyes.” Slowly, reluctantly, she obeyed. He was staring down at her. “You’re overwhelmed with my gift, I understand. I know this is unexpected. Once you belong to me, you will learn to submit with complete grace. Stephen’s harsh methods are effective in the short-term to tame and break down resistance, but you and I will have all the time in the world. You will learn what it is to truly serve a real Master, one who appreciates what you offer.”

  He leaned down again, his lips touching hers, his tongue pressing between them. This time she opened her mouth, letting his tongue dance over hers as he moved inside her. His kiss was intimate, the invasion slow and sensual. She could almost believe she lay in her lover’s arms, but the leather of her collar pressing against her throat reminded her otherwise.

  Anders put his hands beneath her hips, lifting her up into him as he swiveled and moved inside her. In spite of her anger and fear, her body responded to his skilled movements. He put his arms around her, groaning as he thrust inside her. She understood in that moment that for the first time on the island, she had a kind of power over someone else. He was, in his own warped, sick way, making love to her. If he bought her, would their relationship segue into something approximating lovers?

  She experienced a sharp, bitter amusement to think that for a fleeting moment she’d imagined she had any power over anyone. Anders had no concept of love, unless you counted narcissistic self-love. He hadn’t proposed to save her from this place, he wanted to buy her. This moment in his bed was a gift for which she was expected to be grateful. No doub
t, if he did pay Jason to claim her for his own, she’d be kept in some basement dungeon, a slave hidden from the world, completely at his mercy. A shudder eddied through her at the terrifying thought. Anders moaned in response, no doubt assuming she was reacting to his movements. He began to pant as he thrust inside her. He held her close as he spasmed against her. She could feel his heart beating and smell his sweat.

  She hated him.

  Finally he pulled out and fell on his side next to her, draping a strong leg over her hips, nuzzling his face at her neck. She lay still as death, wondering what happened next.

  Eventually he opened his eyes and lifted himself on one elbow. He pulled the used condom from his spent cock and dropped the sticky thing on her stomach. Inserting the tip of his finger into it, he scooped up some cum. He lifted the finger to her lips. “Take my offering,” he said, as if he were Christ incarnate conferring his sacrament. “With this, I’ll know you are ready to become my permanent slave. I’ll make a counteroffer to Mahmud. Jason will give you to me. I will insist.” He smeared the gooey cum over her lips, pushing his finger between them.

  It took every ounce of willpower not to bite down, to sever his finger to the bone, such was her roiling, impotent rage at the bizarre and bleak twist her life had taken. Her future, which should have been wide open with glorious possibility and potential, had shrunk to a choice between two Masters.

  She licked the salty cum from his finger, feeling another piece of her life, of herself, of what made her a unique individual, slip away.

  ~*~

  The door flew open. “There you are!” Stephen came charging into Ander’s training room, Jorge and Pete just behind him. Julianna gave a small cry and pressed against Anders, who had his arms around her, spooning her from behind. After his bizarre proposal to make a bid for her, she’d expected him to lead her back to a cell for the night, but instead he’d kept her with him. He’d cuffed her wrists and ankles before falling asleep, but still it had been the most peaceful and restful night she’d spent on the heinous island, wrapped in a strong man’s arms, held close in his warmth on the comfortable bed beneath clean, soft sheets.

  Anders sat up now and shook back his hair from his face. His voice was calm as he addressed Stephen, who glowered at them. “It’s all right, Stephen. I should have let you know I planned to keep her overnight, but it was late and I didn’t want to disturb you.” He bent down, releasing the cuffs from Julianna’s ankles and sitting back against the pillows as he casually removed her wrists cuffs, seemingly unperturbed by Stephen’s intrusion.

  “This is totally against protocol,” Stephen barked. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Anders swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood, completely unselfconscious in his nudity. Julianna saw both Pete and Jorge stealing glances at his firm, sexy body but their faces, as usual, registered no emotion. Anders reached for his neatly folded stack of clothing and pulled on his shorts before answering. “I’ve come to a decision, Stephen. I’m going to make an offer for this slave girl. I have decided it’s time I had a girl of my own.”

  Stephen’s dark eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “She’s already sold, Anders. To that Arab guy.”

  “No.” Anders shook his head. “He has made an expression of interest only. I intend to talk to Jason this morning about a counteroffer.”

  Stephen shook his head, his expression one of disbelief. “Why the hell would you want to fork over that kind of money when you have all the pussy you want on this island? She’s just a dumb cunt. A piece of ass. I don’t believe she’s submissive at all. She needs at least another month of serious, focused training to whip the devil out of her. That’s what I told Jason, but he just wants to move the goods.”

  Anders frowned at Stephen, who grimaced back at him. Julianna could see there was no love lost between the two of them. “At any rate,” Stephen said, squaring his shoulders. “As of this moment, number thirty-eight remains island property, and you’ve committed an infraction by keeping her overnight instead of locking her up. As head trainer, I’ll be reporting this to Jason. Meanwhile, I can’t punish you, but I can punish her.”

  Stephen moved toward the bed and reached out, yanking Julianna to the floor. She cried out and twisted toward Anders, expecting him to intercede, but he only stood there, hands on his hips, glaring at Stephen. At a gesture from Stephen toward the guards, Pete and Jorge moved in, hauling Julianna to her feet.

  “Get number thirty-eight cleaned up and groomed for me. Then put her in the cage.” Julianna was pulled from the room. As the guards hustled her along to the showers, she realized she had been expecting Anders to do something, say something, anything, to keep her from Stephen’s clutches, but he’d done nothing.

  Julianna was forced to pee standing up while the guards watched her. Then she was showered and shaved. While Jorge was drying her, Pete had his back to her, arranging something on the counter. He was wearing a tank top that showed quite a bit of his upper back. Julianna stared, noticing a series of red and purple stripes over his shoulders and upper back.

  She tried to reconcile her now certainty that these two men were not free men, with how much freedom they were given on the island. They seemed to roam as they pleased. They were given whips, canes and keys to cells, huts and machinery. They were both tall and strong. Why did they submit to this treatment? What kept them here, when they had the strength and wherewithal to escape?

  She realized she was to have no breakfast—she’d been asleep in Anders’ arms when the guards had brought around the food cart. The men replaced her collar and led her to Stephen’s torture chamber. She had expected them to place her in the tall narrow cage where she’d been forced to watch Sandy jerk the two of them off, but instead they led her to a corner of the room. Pete lifted a black sheet from what looked like a dog’s crate, complete with metal bars and a small door. He crouched beside it and pulled the metal bar, allowing the door to swing open.

  “Get in,” he said. It looked too small for a person to fit. Surely they didn’t expect her to get in there.

  “I can’t—”

  “Get in,” Jorge echoed. He pressed her shoulder hard until she buckled beneath his hand, falling to a crouch beside Pete. She looked at each of them beseechingly, but saw no yielding in their faces. With a sigh, she turned around, backing herself in an awkward crawl into the tiny space. By curling tightly on her side, she was able to lie down, her ass pressed against the back bars of the cage, her head touching the bars of the door as they closed and locked it.

  The black sheet was draped over the cage and she heard the sound of the door closing softly. Alone, in the dark, Julianna felt hot tears well behind her eyes, but none fell. Maybe, she thought, I have none left. I’m empty. She thought of the words to a song she once knew. She couldn’t hear the tune or remember the name of the band, but the words played in her head like a dirge. She felt cold as a razorblade, tight as a tourniquet, dry as a funeral drum…

  Chapter 14

  Julianna’s eyes flew open as the blanket was pulled from the cage. She could see sandal-clad feet she recognized as Stephen’s. He crouched by the cage and pulled back the bar that held the door closed. “Get out and kneel on the floor, ass in the air.”

  At first Julianna couldn’t move. She must have been in there at least an hour and her limbs were cramped and folded. Stephen reached into the cage and caught hold of the O-ring at her throat, tugging her forward. As the blood flow began to return, her limbs were flooded with an unpleasant, painful tingling sensation. When he’d dragged her out onto the floor, he said again, “Kneel with your ass in the air, thirty-eight. Move!”

  She struggled to get into position, glad at least she didn’t have to stand. He moved behind her and struck her hard across her right cheek with his open palm. Not expecting the blow, she fell out of position, sprawling forward.

  “Up! Up!” he shouted. “Give me that ass, you slut! You are a dirty, nasty little whore. I hope that Arab
does buy you. I hear he gives his harem girls clitorectomies. You know what that is, thirty-eight? He’s going to cut out your dirty little clit, so you won’t go whoring around, trying to seduce your trainer. I don’t know what you did to bewitch Anders, but I can assure you, it won’t work with me, you whore.”

  He struck her again, even harder than the first time. She fell flat to the floor. He continued hitting her—hard, stinging blows that took her breath away. His words rattled in her brain, filling her with terror. She lay still, trying to absorb the pain, letting it flow through her, praying he would stop soon. He did, but only to yank her upright, hauling her roughly to her feet.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, whore?” He pushed her against the wall and slapped her face. “Answer me!”

  “I—I—,” she gasped. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

  He slapped her again. “You were found out of your cell. Reason enough for punishment.”

  The unfairness of his reasoning would have stunned her, if she hadn’t stopped trying to reconcile anything that happened on this island. He didn’t need a reason to punish her. It was that simple. He did it because he was a bully and a bastard. He did it because he could. Perhaps on some weird level he was jealous of Anders because Anders gave the slave girls what he could not. Or maybe he had a tiny dick and used all his dildos and torture devices as a twisted substitute for his own inadequacies.

  Hatred flared like a hot white flame in Julianna’s heart as Stephen forced her to the bondage table and secured the leather straps that held her down. She had done nothing wrong!

  “I’d like to cane you until you bleed, but since your sale is imminent, Jason won’t permit it.” Thank god for small favors, you prick, she thought, but his words reminded her with a terrible finality of what was in store for her. She was to be sold to a man who would perform genital mutilation! The thought was beyond terrifying. The prospect of belonging to Anders no longer seemed quite as bleak. Silently she prayed he would be able to counter Mahmud’s offer.