Convict's Captive Book 3

by Paul Blades

  The only good thing about that day while she was blindfolded was that she didn’t have to look at him. Now, here he was, inches away from her, his dark eyes glaring into hers. Here was the man who had been a split second from killing her. Here was the man whose every whim she had to obey to the letter if she wished to remain alive. His power exuded from him. His physical presence loomed over her. She shivered and the familiar by now queasy emptiness rose up from her stomach. He was sitting up, his mammoth legs crossed. He shifted his body so it was facing hers.

  She once again felt conscious of her nakedness before him. While the front of her short, denim skirt covered her sex and thighs, her breasts were bare and presented for his depredations. She was kneeling with her knees together and he told her gruffly to spread them. As she edged her knees apart, her skirt rode up higher on her soft, pale white thighs. “Wider,” he told her, and to kneel straight up. She spread her knees apart as wide as they would go and raised herself up. He reached down and lifted her skirt and tucked it into the rope around her waist like he had that morning. Her naked sex was now subject to his view. He slipped his large, rough hand over it and began to stroke it softly.

  He was watching her eyes as he stroked her. She didn’t know where to put them and tried to look away, at the trees, the grass, the lake, anything, but he told her to look straight at him and, unhappily, she looked him in the eyes.

  His gaze was piercing her as he manipulated her sex with his usual, deft touch. Carly wanted to resist her arousal, but, besides the fact that she knew she couldn’t, it was in her best interests not to. If he wanted her wet and passionate, then that’s what she would give him.

  She allowed the dancing fingers to stoke her desire. It wasn’t long before she felt them sliding easily along the inner portion of her crevasse. When he began to softly tickle her love bud, she sighed and her body softened. He continued until the sensations became so pleasurable that her eyes closed of their own accord, her torso bent forward and she groaned.

  “Mmmmmmmmm, what am I going to do with you?” Jack thought to himself as he recorded the girl’s signs of arousal. He could feel his prick stiffening. Then he recalled his intent to feed her. He rubbed his thick fingers several times up and down her labial divide, drawing another moan from her, and then pulled his hand away.

  He tapped her face. Not hard, but enough to gain her attention. Her eyes sprung open, soft, unfocused eyes, blue and starry. “I said to keep your eyes open,” he told her. She nodded at him and her face exhibited a grimace as if she feared punishment.

  He reached his hand for her face and, startled, she pulled it away just a little. He reached down and took hold of her nipples and gave them a twist that drew a loud whine from her. “Don’t flinch from me,” he instructed her gruffly. “Don’t you know better than that by now?”

  Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes. She nodded her compliance.

  He released her teats and reached again for her face. This time she stayed still, although he could see the look of fear in her eyes. He pushed his fingers into her mouth and edged out the blue rubber ball lodged inside it. He put it down on his shirt. The sandwich was next to him, wrapped in a paper towel and he pulled it out. He tore off a corner and held it out to her. “Eat,” he said.

  He fed her the sandwich piece by piece. She chewed each piece carefully and thoroughly. He could tell that she was relishing it and that she must have been very hungry, although she showed no gratitude for receiving it. Her eyes just kept watching him warily.

  He didn’t blame her for being suspicious of his motives. He had put her through a lot. But he couldn’t let thoughts of her sensibilities affect him. That defeated the whole purpose of owning her. And there was something satisfying about seeing the evident pleasure she got from so small a thing as a peanut butter sandwich. He had done her a favor really, he thought. Every sensation she was permitted to have was like a nugget of gold in the midst of a huge, sere desert. Without him, she would experience nothing, like on the ride today. He was reducing her to the bare essentials and she would appreciate them all the more because of their rarity.

  She was so pretty, all naked and bound. Her breasts swayed each time he forced her to lean forward to receive another tidbit. Her hairless pussy was so bare, demure and available, it was hard to resist tossing away the rest of the sandwich and fucking her instead. Its soft folds promised hot delight within.

  And her mouth. Each time she opened it widely to receive his beneficence, he thought of its deft playfulness and had to suppress the urge to feed her his cock instead.

  When the sandwich was gone, he gave her some soda to wash it down with. She drank it greedily. The bottle was almost empty and he finished it off and tossed it aside. It was just turning dusk. The low light made the color of her short, red hair, seem soft and pastel like. Her pale skin was turned even whiter. The landscape had turned into mellow greens and browns. The sky in the west glowed a faint red. Her areolas had turned dark, almost maroon.

  He reached out a hand and cupped a breast, squeezing it softly. His cock gave a little stir. He pinched the nipple lightly until it turned hard and then did the other. She was looking at him apprehensively. He couldn’t decide whether to use her pussy or her mouth. She flicked her tongue out nervously, licking her lips. That decided it for him. Her mouth.

  He raised himself up on his knees and took hold of the hair on the back of her head. He gave her head a gentle push downwards and she, understanding at once his intent, leaned over the rest of the way, nibbled on his cock to gain purchase on it and then slid her soft lips over it until it was subsumed within.

  She sucked him slowly and purposively. His hands rested softly on her head. The hot moistness made his whole body soften even as his cock hardened into rigidity. She moved her lips up and down his length, making him sigh, and then suckled the end, running her tongue along his glans. His body shimmered with pleasure. Tonight, he knew, was fraught with danger to him. If he was spotted by John Law, he was fucked. But he would worry about that when the time came. For now, he was in bliss and nothing else mattered.

  When he had caressed her breast with that look in his eye, Carly had known that he was going to do something. Her pussy gave a little burn at the thought of it. His hand was hot and her skin cool. Oh, she despised herself for the feelings his attentions gave her, but she could not deny them, a fault that had saved her life more than once. She hadn’t meant to show him her tongue. It was a nervous reaction born of anxiousness and humiliation. She realized her error at once but it was too late to do anything about it. When he took hold of her hair, she didn’t fight it. She lowered her head and took his cock in her mouth.

  The moment it entered her, her body shifted gears. That devil that had been haunting her emerged and took hold. The man’s cock was large and strong, forcefully masculine. The feel and taste of it filled her whole consciousness. When she heard him sigh, she reveled in the sound. She could almost feel what he felt, sensed what he sensed. She gave a silent sigh of her own.

  She could fool herself and think that she was merely doing what she needed to do to save her life. While it was true that her ministrations to his sexual need had done that, there was oh so much more to it. It seemed so right to serve him this way, her hands bound to uselessness, on her knees, his bulk towering over her. His manhood filled her so well, like her mouth had been made for it. His hands on her head, a controlling but not forceful touch, made clear whose desire was being fulfilled, who was the subservient, who was the user and who was being used.

  Her pussy had turned so hot that she yearned to put her hand on it, to jiggle it into fruition, to accelerate her excitement. But the fact that she couldn’t, that only he had the power and therefore the right to touch it, to caress it, to use it, made her lust burn all the more. She had descended into a state of pure functionality, a fuckslut, a whore, a trollop, a slattern, a bundle of nerves and sinews and flesh all wholly dedicated to the incitement of desire and the reception of i
ts fruits.

  It was a state so pure, so unidimensional that all of her prior conceptions of who she was and what she was were blasted away. It was as near to complete ecstasy as she could ever hope to attain. And even though she despised and hated the man rabidly for what he had done to her, she knew that without him she could never have experienced the total merger of her mind and body into a single, vibrating, exhilarating thought of pure, unadulterated lust.

  She washed the man’s prick with her lips and tongue lovingly as if it was a blessed object. She licked it, suckled it, kissed it, taunted it with her tongue. She pushed her head down as far as it would go, pressing it deeply into her throat as if with just a little more effort she could make it come out the other end, fuck her mouth and her pussy at the same time.

  When she felt him tense, she relented. When he sighed with pleasure’s suffusion, she sped up. When his hands tightened on her head, she drew her lips back as far as they would go and suckled and tickled the end until his accelerating lust forced him to push her head down again so he could feel her wet heat along its length.

  When his hips began a relentless thrust back and forth, when he began to groan, when his fingers buried themselves into her hair, grasping it tightly until her roots burned, she knew that he was going to come. She firmed her lips tightly upon the shaft, pressed her tongue against it so that her mouth made a tight, little tunnel. He gave a rough shout and his instrument began to spasm and jerk inside her mouth. She moved her head back and forth, exciting it.

  “Auuuuuuuugh! Auuuuuuuuuuugh! Auuuuuuuuuuuuugh!” she heard him groan. A split second later, her mouth was awash with his acrid cum. It was thick and cloying and hot. She let it slide down her throat as she relished the throbbing of his meat, triumphant that she had fulfilled her one and only function so obviously well.

  He kept his cock inside her mouth until it softened. She continued to suckle it gently until he slipped it out. He held her there in place for a moment, bent over and breathing deeply. She closed her eyes and relished her satisfaction.

  He finally rose and, taking hold of her hair, went to his feet, taking her along with him. It was almost dark. Her status as his prisoner was resumed and she was, as always, filled with shame at the sensations and thoughts that he had engendered in her. He was a brute, an evil, remorseless, psychopathic brute. And she was at his mercy. And her life existed on a razor’s edge. She was filled with fear and self-hatred. She was going mad, she knew it. How could she be so riven with lust, so utterly devoted to his pleasure at one moment, and so filled with hatred of him at the next? Yes, she was going mad.

  Jack dressed quickly. The blowjob had been stupendous, a show stopper, but he had to hurry now. He wanted to be in Tularosa in plenty of time to make his contact. He had spent enough time here.

  From a woodsman’s habit he picked up the empty soda bottle and tossed it into the back of the car. He brought out the gag he had been using on the girl, filled her docile mouth with it and belted it tightly behind her head. He then pulled her to the rear of the car and bent her over the trunk. He untied the rope that had confined her hands to her hips, removed the remnants of her shirt and refastened them behind her back, clipping her leather bracelets together first. He fastened her ankle bracelets together so she couldn’t run off and left her standing there while he went back to the front of the car, opened the driver’s door and unlatched the trunk.

  When he came back, the girl was crying. She knew where she was going. It was a poor reward for such a good blowjob, but there was nothing he could do about it. He took hold of the ring in the front of her collar and shook it harshly. “Listen,” he said. “I don’t want to hear a single sound out of you. If I do, I’ll stop the car, open the trunk and put a bullet in you. Then you’ll be quiet for good. Understand?”

  Tears were flowing down her face. She nodded dolefully.

  “This will be your last chance to piss for a long while. Do it now,” he told her. He released her ankles, pulled her away from the car and held her arm while she squatted. When she was done, he took a remnant of her light blue, flowered t-shirt and wiped her with it. He brought her back to the car and turned her so that her thighs were against the bumper and bent her body over. Then he took hold of her lower legs and lifted her in. He maneuvered her until she was belly down, refastened her ankles and then lifted her legs, tying them off to her wrists with a triple knot. He went back to the passenger compartment of the car and retrieved two of the shorter lengths of rope. When he returned to the trunk, he used them to bind her elbows and knees together. She squealed when her elbows touched and he cuffed her, telling her to be quiet.

  He went back to where they had fucked and retrieved the little blue ball she had worn in her mouth all day and the blindfold. He put the ball in his pocket and walked back to the trunk. She looked up at him miserably when he reappeared and her eyes cringed when she saw the blindfold. She issued a low moan of unhappiness when he put it on her. It would be dark in the trunk anyway, so maybe it wasn’t necessary, but he might not want her to see what was going on when he finally got her out.

  Before closing the lid, he took a moment to look at her. She was a treasure. His treasure. She looked so delectably helpless. Her little blue denim skirt had ridden up high on her thighs showing off just a little of her rounded rear cheeks. Her hands were flexing and unflexing in nervous frustration. He pushed her over so that she was lying on her side facing him. The light from the trunk shined down on her, as if she were displayed on some sort of stage. Her skirt had bunched up near her waist and he could see her delightful pussy and thighs. Her chest was heaving and she was sobbing, making her breasts bob. She was a treasure all right.

  He leaned over and disconnected the trunk light and then shut the lid with a ‘thump!’ He got back in the car, fired up the engine and rolled the car back onto the trail.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The parking lot of the shopping center was almost deserted. There were a few cars left, but the stragglers were coming out one by one. Already the floodlights from the more remote areas had been darkened. He was sitting behind the wheel of a shiny, new, dark red, Lexus GS 850. The cream colored seats were soft and padded. The interior was spacious and elegant. He was playing the car stereo and the sound was exquisite. When he had started up the engine, he could barely hear it and what he did hear sounded more like a purr. Cars had come a long way since he had been sent up. He had never been in a Lexus before, although he had heard of them, seen the ads on TV.

  Next to him, kneeling on the floor of the passenger side, her torso spread across the seat, her wrists bound behind her, was the owner. She was stylish too. Jack had watched her emerge from the service exit from the mall and had followed her quietly to her car. When she took out her keys to open the door, he had been atop her in an instant, his bowie knife under her chin. He had considered using the Walther, which he had in his pants pocket. But women always found the prospect of being all sliced up much more harrowing. Within a minute he had gotten her into the car, bound her wrists and, in the midst of a piteous plea, had shoved the blue ball into her mouth and covered her lips with a 8” long strip of duct tape.

  The woman looked to be about 38 or 39. She had fine, long brown hair that hung down almost to her waist. She was wearing a stylish, light tan, cotton skirt that went just below her knees and a luminous, dark beige satin blouse. Around her neck was a slim, golden rope chain with a diamond studded pendant. There were large, glittery stones in her ears too and a large one on her left hand embedded in gold. On her feet were 3” high heeled sandals of fine leather. Her toes were painted turquoise as were the nails on her hands. She had fine, quality features, elegant and sophisticated. Her makeup had been light, a little eye liner, dark red lipstick, maybe a little rouge on her cheeks, just a hint.

  Jack had her figured for one of the store owners, probably a high end ladies fashion shop. Her key chain had about a dozen keys on it. And Jack had struck gold again. In her banana yellow, all leather Versa
ce tote bag had been the day’s cash receipts, about $12,000. She also had a petit, cute little .25 caliber Colt with an ivory handgrip and a can of pepper spray. The Colt was fully loaded. It was too bad for her that she didn’t get a chance to use it.

  He had parked the Merc on the outer edge of the parking lot near a stand of trees. Even with all the lights on the area had been shaded and dark. The girl was still in the trunk. He had warned her not to make a sound and told her that he would be back in a little while. He was waiting for the rest of the cars to leave, or at least most of them. Although the Lexus would probably stand out when he went to the bar in Tularosa, it was miles better than riding up in the Merc for which there were undoubtedly bulletins out all over the airwaves.

  The woman had refined taste in music, not exactly Jack’s cup of tea, but good to listen to. Right now he was playing a CD by some crooner and it was melodious and calming. For him at least. The woman kept sniffling and he could see that she was shaking. He hadn’t decided what to do with her. He could slice her throat and leave her in the Merc’s trunk, but it seemed a waste. She was grade ‘A” material, although much older than what was usually put on the market, so maybe an A-. But she had fine hips and smooth, shapely legs. Her breasts were not what you would call large, but that was probably a good thing given her age. They would still hang firm and ripe.

  And she had a marvelous ass. He had lifted the back of her skirt to take a look at it. She was wearing white, silk panties that gripped the contours of her firm, round rear cheeks and very light beige, self supporting stockings with lacy tops. He needed more barter material anyway. In a good market she would bring a good $10-$15,000, wholesale. On the street she would be worth a lot more, but he wouldn’t have the opportunity to shop her around. In a forced sale, which was his situation, he estimated he could get anywhere from $5,000-$7,500. The boys in Alamogordo would give him at least that much, he was sure. They would know how to turn a profit on her. No, he would keep her.