Convict's Captive Book 3

by Paul Blades

  On the right, across the room from the bed, was a low slung dresser with a long, wide mirror over it and next to it a door which opened into the bathroom. Her captor led her there right away. The floors and walls up to about 5’ were covered with aqua colored tiles. The walls above it were painted white. There was an elegant, modern looking sink embedded in a polished, wooden vanity. Carly got a glimpse of herself in the mirror as her captor pushed her past it. She looked away quickly, not wanting to be reminded of her destitute state.

  She was led over to the toilet where the man made her pee. When he was done, he wiped her and made her stand by while he did the same. He then took her over to the bathroom sink where he released her gag and her arms behind her back. He found two brand new toothbrushes in drawers there and gave her one. There was toothpaste too and after squeezing a dollop on her brush, he ordered her to get to work. He did the same.

  Carly couldn’t help but look in the mirror. “Here we are, like some married couple on vacation,” she thought. It was too absurd. But after being down in that big room with all those people, it was somehow comforting. The grotesque bond they had formed over the last few days was being reestablished. They were alone now. It was just them. Soon he would fuck her. She looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He was huge next to her. His face was scarred and scary looking. He had a day’s growth of beard on his face. His deadly eyes caught hers and she looked away. He spat out and cupped some water to rinse with. Then he ordered her to do the same.

  He grabbed her gag with one hand and the hair at the back of her head with the other. He pushed her from the bathroom and over to the bed. At his instruction, she climbed up onto it. He connected her hands in front of her and then to the chain that led from the headboard. Then he told her to lie down. When she had obeyed, he stepped back and began to get undressed.

  She watched him warily as he stripped off his clothes. When he was done, he stood above her, looking at her. She was lying on her right side. The chain that confined her hands had plenty of play to it, being intended to confine a prisoner there while allowing her to be moved about the bed as the need arose. It could be shortened when needs be by pulling on the other end and hooking it off. So her hands, while bound, were free to roam about her body. She felt the urge to cover herself, at least as much as her bound hands could afford, but abandoned the thought as soon as it entered her head. There would be a punishment for that, for sure.

  He stood there staring at her for the longest time. He seemed wobbly on his feet and she recalled her early fears of what abuse he would rain down on her if he ever got drunk. That fear seemed so naïve now. There was hardly a thing he could do to her now that he had not already done, except, perhaps, for beating her senseless with his fists. But she felt somehow confident, as confident as she could be about anything that is, that he would not do that unless, perhaps, she committed some sin that was beyond forgiveness. He craved her flesh too much. He enjoyed her humiliation and shame too much. He reveled too much in the heights of passion he could drive her to.

  “Come to me,” she thought. “Come and partake of me.” She knew that tonight was perhaps the most significant of all of the nights that they had spent together. Tomorrow he would decide her fate. She would need to demonstrate to him what he would be missing if he let her go. If she didn’t, she would meet some uncertain fate.

  What would be worse, being a whore in some scrofulous Mexican bordello or being under the harsh tutelage of the woman who called herself Big Betty? It was hard to tell. On the one hand, she might spend years and years as a ten peso whore until she was too worn out and useless for even the most lowly peon. On the other, she might suffer untold abuse and cruelty, cruelty so ferocious that it would quickly squeeze all of the youth and pleasure from her body so that her travails would be harsh, but her path to eternal rest swift.

  All in all, she would rather remain with the man. It was funny, really, in a way. She had so quickly become used to being the man’s plaything that she had almost become comfortable in her role. They had washed and brushed together like some old, married couple. She was awaiting him in their bed, knowing, like she knew the back of her hand, what was soon to come, yearning for it in a way. Some kind of bond had formed between them. Outside, at the party, they had drifted apart. And from the looks she had seen on his face, he had been as uncomfortable and unhappy about it as she, although for somewhat different reasons. Now, the world was again excluded from their bizarre relationship. It was just them again, like it had been. It was almost comforting to know that he would soon come to her.

  “Come,” she thought. “Come to me now.” She leaned back and drifted her bound hands down her body, flitted them over her nude pudendum. She spread her legs wide and lifted her hips, proffering her denuded lower lips. “Here it is,” she thought. “Come and take it.”

  Jack watched the girl’s display. It didn’t surprise him. It had been the whole point of the training he had been giving her. She had entered a zone of total need and total reliance. She had one purpose, and she would find meaning and satisfaction only through performing it. He had taken everything else away from her.

  Her bare pussy was so inviting. He realized that he had forgotten to shave it again. It was too late now, he was too far gone in his passion. His cock had been filling with blood and her last movement had stiffened it. But he didn’t want to partake of her flesh just yet. He wanted to savor the sight of her. Her body was a circus of pleasure, an engine of delight. Her moist, faraway eyes were fixated on him, two starry, blue sapphires set amidst shimmering pools of entrancement. She didn’t need to look away any more. She knew what she wanted.

  Her breasts, recumbent as she lay back, shimmered with her excited breaths. Her nipples were stiff, her chest already a shade more pinkish than the pure white skin that offset her maroon areolas. Her lips had puffed out and her inner thighs glimmered with a sheen of perspiration.

  He was a little woozier than he would have liked. His desire for her was tinged with a yearning he was unfamiliar with, as if the alcohol had pried open some deep well of need in him. What would tomorrow bring? Would he lose her forever? Was this their last night together? The thought of it filled him with an emptiness he hadn’t known since he was a very young boy.

  He could smell her scent. It entranced him like the most fragrant perfume. It was a scent only hers. The thought that he might never smell it ever again roiled his mind. The unfairness and cruelty of life came home to him. After all these years he had found the only woman who had ever captured his soul, and he was going to lose her. It would have been better, far, far better if he had put her to sleep way out there in the desert somewhere. The idea of someone else possessing her was driving him to the edge of madness.

  The bed was slung low, the bottom only a few inches from the floor. He lowered himself to it. The girl took a deep breath as he approached her. Her lips parted and her tongue did a little dance along their edge. He lay down next to her, so close he could feel her body’s heat. He wanted her so badly, it was as if he had been struck with some powerful virus. He raised himself on one elbow and stroked her face. His hand tingled with excitement. He leaned over her, brought their lips together and kissed her.

  Her mouth was hot and receptive. He couldn’t help the sigh he released as their tongues intermingled. There was a softness to her lips that bespoke tenderness. His body pressed up against hers. It was smooth and soft and warm. His hand found her breast. Its weight was comforting and exciting all at the same time. Its resilience to the gentle squeeze he gave it caused an ache to run all through his body. And then the girl moaned and he was lost.

  As in a daze, he began to swim in her flesh. He ran his hand down her torso to her hip and over her thigh. He broke their kiss and lowered himself until he could subsume one of her nipples in his mouth. He suckled on it gently, running his tongue all over it. The scent of her flesh was now overwhelming. Part of him wanted nothing more than to ravish her, to sink himself within her and
seek apotheosis. But he wanted the blissful sensations of consuming her flesh to last. He lowered himself further. He kissed her belly while squeezing her breasts, more firmly now. He pinched her nipples, stiff as pencil points, and she groaned. Her torso squirmed under him and her hands, bound together like those of a supplicant, came to rest on his head, caressing it, stroking it.

  He went lower, running his tongue around and inside her navel, sliding his hands down her sides. He had maneuvered himself between her legs. Her thighs were spread out virtually perpendicular to her body. Her mons brushed against his chest. Her heard her moan again and her hands dug themselves into his hair and took hold. He lowered himself further until her could place his hands on the insides of her widespread thighs. His face was even with her swollen pudenda. There was a glistening between her enflamed love lips. The aroma of her arousal almost made him swoon. He lowered his head, and as he ran his stiffened tongue between her outer labia, the girl’s back arched and she issued a long, impassioned hiss.

  He labored at her cunt, reveling at the smell, the taste, the heat. When he suckled her rigid love bud, the girl sighed deeply and she pressed her hips up, mashing her pussy up against his lips. He scoured her tender, inner thighs with his hands, rubbed them across her belly, reached up and took hold of her breasts, giving them mighty squeezes. He pressed his tongue deep within her hole, flitting the tip up against the roof of her tunnel. She ground her pussy up against him, arched her back and moaned, “Ohhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhh!”

  She was squirming and moaning. He circled his arms under her thighs, slid them down to under her ankles and lifted them up. He kept pressing on them until her legs were bent up against her, her ankles touching her breasts. Then he delved his head back between her thighs and began to suckle and lick her sex with rabid passion.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried as her lusts were pushed past tolerance. “Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Oh, yes!” she cried. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

  And then her whole body shuddered. Her back arched and she groaned loudly and deeply. Her eyes rolled back and she began to thrust her loins up and down as if she were fucking his agile, rapidly flitting tongue.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she cried out as she came.

  Carly’s mind was short circuiting with pleasure. The man’s tongue and lips were driving her mad. She had wanted to drive him wild with pleasure and instead, he was doing it to her. She had no choice but to accept it. And there was no part of her that rued that choice. This was the payoff, the just deserts, the rewards, the compensation for her cruel bondage to the man, and she intended to collect each ecstasy laden instant of it. Her hips were raised high in the air and her thighs folded wide. His hands had circled her ankles and he was pressing them hard against her chest. She was held in place tightly. She could not have frustrated his assault on her even if she wanted to. And she wouldn’t if she could, forestall the eruption of her lusts and a battering array of soul shaking throbs and contractions of her cunt.

  When he sensed that she had crested, Jack leaned back and brought her ankles down. He pushed her thighs apart and raised himself until his cock was level with her dilated, ooze laden crevasse. He took hold of his thick, rigid meat and directed it to her gash. Its head found her yawning hole and he plunged himself inside it.

  He groaned as her soft, moist heat surrounded him. He had wanted to take his time, to fuck her long and slow, but he had lost control of his passions. He began a rapid series of thrusts into her. He took her mouth and plunged his tongue inside. She groaned and met him. Her ankles crossed his back and she pressed him inside her deeply. At each downward stroke of his cock, she thrust her hips upwards, greeting him. His felt his peak coming. He wanted to prolong it, delay it, but he couldn’t control the thrusting of his hips. His needy cock was in command and it was seized with a rabid demand for fruition.

  “Arrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrgh! Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh!” he groaned. His cock began to throb and spasm. His balls were tightened and a rush of pleasure flowed through his body, piercing his brain. The girl’s hands were circled around his neck and the chain that connected her to the bed was jingling and jangling against his shoulder. He thrust his cock down so hard that he felt his hip bones collide against hers. “Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhh!” he called out. Her pussy had erupted again and was clasping him hard each time it contracted. The girl was moaning wildly into his mouth. He gave her one, two, three, four more savage thrusts and he was done.

  He lay atop her for a while. It felt like the girl had melted underneath him. He moved his hips slowly back and forth, just enough so that the mind numbing, sweet friction of her tunnel’s walls eased out the last few small spasms of pleasure. When his cock had softened and slipped from her slit, he rolled off of her onto his back. His mind clouded over and he was asleep.

  Carly lay there for a long time. It took her a while to get her breathing under control and to quiet the rapid beating of her heart. Her pussy was still purring from its eruptions. Her body was covered with sweat. She felt weak, as if she had just finished swimming a roaring river. She could hear through the closed door the faint sounds of the music they were playing downstairs.

  The room was darkened, but the man had left the bathroom light on and its soft glow spread across the bed. She could hear the man breathing long and rhythmically. She looked over at him. His hands were lying across his belly, his mouth was parted slightly and his closed eyes were fluttering. She had never actually seen his face when he was asleep. The cruelty had faded away. It was at rest, at peace. It was not the face of a tormentor, of the cruel man who had done those things he had told the man downstairs in the kitchen.

  She realized that this was the most freedom she had had in three days. She was neither under his watchful eyes nor bound virtually motionless. She pulled on the chain that connected her hands to the head of the bed. It had substantial play in it. She looked across the room. She had seen the man place the key to her confines on the dresser opposite the bed. Her eyes did a quick, hopeful calculation. If she scooted down the bed as far as the chain would let her, and she extended her leg as far as it would go, she might just be able to touch the top of the dresser with her foot.

  She sat up. She could see the key lying there. She looked at the man. He was dead to the world, made almost comatose by the combination of sex and drink. If she could get the key and unlock her hands, she might be able to sneak down the stairs and make a break for freedom! She could wait until the music stopped, when everyone downstairs had either passed out or gone to a bedroom to fuck. She could be miles away before anyone noticed!

  She crept slowly down the bed until her hands had tugged the chain taut. Her waist was by the foot of the bed. The dresser was about three feet away. The top was about four feet off the floor. If she could touch the key with the tip of her foot, she could drag it onto the floor and pick it up with her toes.

  Turning to her right side so she could see the dresser and keep a watchful eye on the man, she lifted her leg high. Her big toe just touched the edge of the counter top. The key was only inches away. She dropped her foot silently. “Oh, please! Please! Please!” she prayed. She stretched her body so that she felt the sockets of her shoulders strain. Her leather bracelets were jammed up against the heels of her hands. She lifted her foot again. She stretched her leg out to the fullest, pointing her foot like a ballerina holding her foot en pointe. Her other knee was on the floor. She stretched and strained with all her might. She could just feel the edge of the key with her toe. “Please! Please! Please!” she prayed again.

  She pulled on her arms to get just one more fraction of an inch out of them. She stretched her foot until her hip joint screamed. Her extended leg was shaking and vibrating and she tried to steady it.

  “Just a little more! Just a little more!” she screamed inside. She felt her big toe touch it again. It moved a little over it. She pressed down with her toe as hard as she could to get traction. Suddenly, it moved! But it moved the wrong way! It m
oved away from her. The downward pressure had made it slide along the smooth dresser top. “Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!” she called out in her mind. She was just touching it. She pressed her toe down again. And, to her eternal dismay, it slipped away.

  Carly collapsed into a heap at the foot of the bed. She suppressed a woeful sob. She had been so close! So close! And now the key was out of reach. A wave of despair flowed through her. Tears were flowing from her eyes. She looked at the man. He was still sleeping soundly. The only good thing was that he had not seen her escape attempt. He would punish her cruelly if he ever found out. Slowly, in dismal agony, she climbed back onto the bed. She slid her body until it was again next to the man’s. She pressed her face into the mattress and cried and cried and cried.

  It took a long while for her to stop. Her mind had been going through the horrible, alternative futures which loomed over her. She lifted her head and looked over at the man. Her only hope was that he want her more badly than the money the others would give him for her. As much as the thought revolted her, she knew that she had to please him.

  He was lying on his back with his legs spread. She wiped the tears from her eyes and crept closer to him. She moved opposite his thigh. His cock lay soft and loose, slightly leaning to his left, towards her. She had never touched him without permission. How would he react? Would he be enraged that she took an action on her own, outside of his control? Would he beat her and punish her? Her stomach turned queasy. She knew she had to do it.

  Slowly, carefully, she crept over his leg and settled herself between his thighs. She reached out and took his soft cock into her bound hands. It seemed so harmless now, a limp, tired instrument. But she knew that she needed to bring it to life. She carefully held it poised between her fingers, lowered her head and took it into her mouth.

  It tasted of sweat and cum and her own juices. It was still slippery from their fucking. She suckled on it gently, letting her tongue slide over the head slowly, lightly. She heard the man’s breathing stutter for a moment and his thighs shifted. She stayed utterly still for a moment, his manhood lying atop her tongue. When his breathing began to become steady again, she resumed her supplication to it, suckling, kissing, licking ever so gently.