by Winter Fox
I stared at him, sullenly.
Ignoring my silent fury, he hooked a key from his pocket, and started to unlock the collar around my throat. When it clicked open, I felt as though I could finally breathe again.
I rubbed my hand against the chafed skin, while he took the collar to a chair; draping it over the back.
“You can get into the bath now, slave.”
I started toward the bath, but hesitated when he spoke again.
“As long as you agree to give me something in return afterward.”
I stared at the warm wisps of steam rising from the bubbly water. I could smell oranges, and vanilla. My mind was filled with images of me sitting in the water, letting the warmth seep into my aching, cold muscles.
I looked down at my mud and urine encrusted ankles. I wanted this filth gone from my body. But was I prepared to give him what he wanted?
Did I really have a choice, anyway?
“Okay,” I whispered, defeatedly.
A forced cough made me turn around. He was standing with his arms crossed, and one eyebrow raised questioningly.
Whatever he was doing to me, he was clearly very good at it, because I understood what he wanted immediately.
“Yes, master.” Another tiny part of me died inside as I said it.
“Good girl,” he said smugly, as I lowered my freezing cold, filthy body into the hot water.
I barely registered his voice as sheer bliss enveloped me. I held my breath and submerged my entire body beneath the orange scented water. I wanted to eradicate all of the smells that went with my prior imprisonment.
I suddenly ran out of breath, and my head broke the surface-water. As I emerged back into the bathroom, my eyes quickly found “him” sitting on a tall, black gilt-backed chair. He was watching me with an emotionless expression on his face.
I wanted to tell him to go away. To let me have this moment to myself. But I knew he wouldn’t. He was right; at this moment in time he did own me. I was a captive, and I had no idea how I was going to get away.
I knew that he was going to take payment for my bath as soon as I got out of the warm, soothing waters, and I knew I was going to suffer for every moment I’d enjoyed.
What I also knew was that I would find a way to escape him. I wouldn’t always belong to someone else. It just wasn’t in my nature.
I’ll play your game for now asshole. But when the chance comes, I’ll be gone. When the chance comes, I’ll run so hard, and so far, that you’ll never find me. And after I’m free, I will bring you, and your shitty organization crashing to their fucking knees.
That was a promise.
Chapter Four
Once upon a time I was called Cara Westenra, back when I was a frightened child. Now, I was a tough, and capable woman; because I became an orphan through some very extreme circumstances.
My mother died giving birth to me, and I had no memory of her. My father had very little to do with his only child. It wasn’t that my father didn’t love me—he did.
But James Westenra was a very important, and very busy man. He was co-owner of Westenra Olympus Holdings. A corporation which specialized in the acquisition of low price derelict buildings. And once my father’s company had injected some much-needed cash, and attention into these buildings, they became worth obscene amounts of money.
So, although I was surrounded by luxury in the early years of my life, I was a very lonely child.
One snowy, winter’s night when I was six-years old, I was playing quietly in front of the huge fire in our decadent sitting-room. I remembered this night above all others, because it was so different to every other night of my childhood.
It was Christmas Eve, and as I played in the shadow of the real fir tree which dominated the room; my father sat in a fireside chair, and smiled down at me.
In six years, I had never spent Christmas with my father. I had always been taken care of by Lena—our nanny—during the festive season. Each year she would tell me that my papa was busy, but he would be home very soon. He never was, though.
Lena was still here tonight, fussing around us both. But having my papa here, made my tiny child’s heart beat with a pure happiness that I had never felt before.
I kept looking up at him, and beaming with delight. He would meet my eyes every time, and smile back at me.
“I love you, Cara.”
“I love you too, papa.”
Lena entered the room again for what felt like the thousandth time, and my father stood up to address her.
“Lena, this is the first Christmas Eve in years that I’ve told you to take off. Go home.”
Lena looked down at me, and bit her lip worriedly.
“What about getting Cara to bed?”
My father shook his head. He was a handsome man—truly striking.
“I’m perfectly capable of putting my little bird to bed. Now off with you woman. Go and be with your family.”
After a brief moment of obvious indecision, Lena made up her mind. She crossed the room, and picked me up in a big hug.
“Goodnight, little one. Merry Christmas.”
“Goodnight Aunt Lena.” I smiled at her half-heartedly. I wanted to get back to playing. I would see Aunt Lena tomorrow, after all.
Lena gave my father a hug. “Thank you, James. Merry Christmas.”
“And to you, and your family, Lena. Goodnight.”
With that, Lena was gone. And I was alone with my papa.
Despite my young age, I sensed that this was a momentous occasion, which might not happen again for a very long time. Dropping my toys, I stood up and crossed the room to where my father had returned to his chair.
I lifted my open arms to him, and he beamed at me as he wrapped me in his own warm, strong arms; lifting me onto his knee.
“It’s nearly bedtime, little bird.”
Burying my nose into his chest so that I could inhale the smell of my papa. The safest person in my tiny world; I pouted.
“Five more minutes, please?”
He laughed, and my whole body lifted with his chest as he rumbled. “Five more minutes, then bed. Otherwise Santa won’t come.”
I looked at him in sheer horror. Tears welling up in my green eyes. “Won’t he come, papa? Have I been bad?”
My father hugged me tightly. “You have never been bad, little bird. You’re my good girl. Of course, Santa’s coming, but only if you go to bed soon.”
I nodded furiously. “Okay, papa. I will.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me. “I love you, little bird.”
“I love you too, papa,” I murmured sleepily as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He stood up with me in his arms, ready to carry me upstairs to my bed. As we reached the hallway, a huge crash made us both visibly jump, and my father almost lost his hold on me.
“Papa?” I whimpered, terrified.
Recovering quickly, my father soothed me. “It’s all right, little bird.”
I could hear the sound of men shouting now, and footsteps running along the corridors of our house. Obviously hearing them too, my father changed direction—heading for his office.
Once we were inside; he slammed the door shut, and locked us inside. He placed me gently down onto the floor, and ran to his rosewood desk. Where he opened a drawer to retrieve a gun.
“Papa.” I stood forlornly in the middle of the room.
Holding the hand without the gun out toward me, my father spoke in a rapid whisper. “Come here, little bird.”
I ran to him, wrapping my tiny hand in his. He kissed my forehead quickly; before hustling me underneath his desk, so that I was huddled in the cavity beneath.
“Stay quiet, and don’t move, little bird. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” My voice was very small.
“There’s my good girl. I love you, Cara.” He stood up, and moved around to the front of the desk. He held the gun out in front of him, pointed toward the door.
“I love you too.�
�� I spoke so quietly, I didn’t think he heard me.
Suddenly, someone slammed something heavy against the door. It trembled, and the frame around the lock splintered slightly. I clapped my hands over my ears, and concentrated on counting the cartoon penguins on my pajamas.
One…two…three…
Bang. This time the door flew inward, and three men—all carrying guns—rushed into the office. From my position underneath the desk I could see the faces of all three of the men, but only my father’s back.
“Hello, James.”
“Hello, Charles,” my father spat the words at a man that I recognized as his business partner—Charles Olympus.
“Where is she?” Charles looked searchingly around the room as he spoke.
“Away from here,” my father growled.
“Really?” Charles didn’t sound convinced. His eyes landed on my toy rabbit, which I had obviously dropped on the way into the room.
My father must have noticed the rabbit too, because he sounded a lot less confident when he spoke again.
“Don’t do this, Charles. I’m begging you. She’s six-years old. You’ll have to wait until she’s at least eighteen before you can find out anyway. There’s no reason she can’t have as ordinary a life as possible until then.”
“I simply don’t trust you to give her up when she comes of age, James. In fact, I don’t trust you at all.” Charles raised his gun, and pointed it at my father’s head.
“I swear to you I will. Believe me, Charles.”
There was no further hesitation. Charles Olympus squeezed the trigger, and my father staggered; before dropping to his knees on the plush carpet. As his lifeless body toppled sideways, and crashed onto the floor in front of me, I found his glassy eyes with my own, as they filmed over with the haze of death.
I screamed, and screamed. It was as though I would never stop.
But I did stop. When a large hand reached underneath the desk, and grabbed hold of my small arm. The man—who I didn’t recognize—dragged me around to the front of the desk, and stood me in front of Charles. I sobbed quietly, as I tried desperately not to look at my father’s body on the floor to my left.
I studied the penguins, and carried on trying to count them through my grief and tears. Six…seven…
“You won’t believe me now. But I am truly sorry for what you have just had to go through, Cara.” Charles knelt down in front of me as he spoke.
I didn’t reply. I didn’t have any words. My life had just come to an abrupt end, and it was all down to the man kneeling before me.
“You’re an orphan now, Cara. You’ll go to a children’s home, where they will take care of you until you’re an adult. Then once you’re a grown woman, you will come back to us. We will always watch over you, and I will always know where you are. You can’t ever escape me.”
I didn’t really understand very much of what Charles was telling me. My six-year old brain was having trouble working out what would happen within the next five minutes, now that I had no mama or papa.
The only thing I knew for certain was that this man had killed my papa, and I wanted to hurt him.
Without thinking, I threw myself at the man in front of me. My tiny fingers raked at his face, and my nails scratched through his skin. Charles was so taken by surprise that he didn’t react at first—a devastating mistake.
My fingers suddenly found purchase in one of his eye sockets. I dug and dug; until with a wet pop, Charles’s right eye burst, in a rush of jelly which ran down his cheek.
“Fucking, cunt,” Charles howled.
His hand lashed out, and found my face. His fist was closed, and I knew nothing more; because the punch knocked my fragile body unconscious.
Chapter Five
The water was getting cold. I knew I couldn’t stay in this bath forever. But the thought of getting out called the panic to dance at the edge of my mind all over again. I shifted uncomfortably in the cooling water.
“He” noticed immediately, and a predatory look crossed his face as he stood up.
“Are you ready to pay your dues, slave?”
I looked around for a towel. When my eyes landed on it, I groaned. It hung on the wall next to his chair. I would have to walk toward him whilst naked and wet, if I wanted to cover myself.
Apparently noticing my discomfort, he stood up, and hooked the towel in his fingers.
“After this?”
I nodded, but stayed where I was—hidden by the water.
“You know you’re going to have to come and get it. Don’t you, slave?”
I nodded again. Then taking a deep breath, I stood up, and stepped out of the bath. Water droplets travelled down my pale skin, and my nipples instantly hardened as they were touched by the cool air of the bathroom. I blushed in shame as I walked toward him, using my hand to cover my damp sex.
Once I was standing in front of him, I held my hand out for the towel. He didn’t move.
“Please, master?” I’d say it a thousand times if it meant I didn’t have to stand here naked in front of him.
His mouth twitched. “Move your hand, slave.”
Bastard.
I haltingly dropped my hand, until it came to rest on my water speckled thigh. I stood before him, completely bared to him, and I closed my eyes against the humiliation. In that moment I felt entirely owned.
My eyes flew open as I felt his finger graze the tip of my breast. My green eyes met his cold, blue stare as he circled his index finger around my hardened nipple. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, as I took a step back from my tormentor.
“The towel?” I begged quietly.
Ignoring me, he stepped forward—closing the distance between us once more. Then he moved his hand to my other nipple, and performed the same ritual again. First grazing his fingers across the pebbled tip. Then circling the areola slowly, and seductively.
His gaze never left mine, as he worked. I held his icy stare with my own hostile, green glare. It just wasn’t natural for me to back down. I wasn’t someone easily beaten into submission.
My insolence clearly made him angry. Suddenly his fingers closed tightly on my nipple, pinching hard.
“Ouch.” I yelped as I pulled away.
His mouth twitched as he held the towel out toward me.
“You will remember who you belong to, slave.”
Snatching the towel, I covered myself up, sighing in relief as he turned, and sat back down in his chair.
Now I was dry, my mind started to wander in the direction of a more permanent cover for my body. I scanned the room, looking for clothes.
“Ahh, I almost forgot. Hold on, and I’ll get you something to wear, slave.”
He opened the bathroom door, and disappeared into the hallway. I heard the already familiar turn of a key in the lock, and knew that even trying the door was pointless; instead I picked up a hairbrush, and groomed the knots from my long, copper hair.
I jumped when the door clicked. Turning to see “him” stepping back into the room, I relaxed a little. Then I noticed what he was holding in his hands, and I snorted.
He held up a tiny, black lace g-string, and a black baby-doll negligee, which was entirely see-through. His mouth twitched in that familiar mocking expression of his.
“I’m not wearing that,” I stated matter-of-factly.
He came at me so quickly I was convinced he would hit me, so I brought my hands up to protect my face. He had obviously been counting on that reaction, as he took the opportunity to catch a hold of the bottom of the towel.
In one swift yank, he pulled the towel clear of my body—I was naked once more.
“I’m going to take you on a walk through the house soon, slave. You will probably meet several of my staff along the way. You can do that in the underwear I have provided, or you can do it naked. I don’t care either way.” He held the ridiculous outfit toward me, hooked on the end of his index finger.
I hesitated. How far did I want to push him?
> “I won’t offer it again, slave.”
My decision was quickly made. I’d rather have this ludicrous outfit to hide my intimate areas, than nothing at all. I lunged forward, and snatched the items from his hand. As I pulled the negligee over my head, he approached me.
“Good girl. Now, it’s time for you to make good on our deal.”
I frowned in confusion. “But I thought we did…”
He snorted in derision. “Did you seriously think that tolerating my touch for a few seconds, was what I wanted from you in exchange for your bath?”
I gnawed my lip worriedly. That was exactly what I’d thought, but I was clearly very, very wrong.
“Yes.”
“Oh, slave. You have no idea. Do you? I want effort. I want you to make me feel good. I want a real reward for my kindness. Not to watch you stand there scowling while I barely even touch you.”
“Then what?” I stared at my feet as I spoke. Knowing that I wasn’t going to like the answer.
He didn’t speak; instead he placed a hand on each of my shoulders, and pushed until I had no choice but to sink to my knees on the plush carpet before him. I kept my eyes trained on his stone-colored boots. I was suddenly pretty sure I knew what was coming, and I almost choked on the nausea which rose at the back of my throat.
His fingers found my chin, and he hooked them underneath. He guided my head back until I was staring up at his handsome, but emotionless face. Using his other hand, he expertly unzipped, and unbuttoned his jeans. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath his trousers, so his large cock sprang free in front of me.
He pressed a finger lightly against the tip of my nose, in a warning gesture.
“Before you get any bad ideas, know this. If I even sense the first hint of teeth, I will take you to my private dentist, and have every single one removed. Do you understand me, slave?”
The tone of his voice was almost as dark as his eyes. I believed him completely, and I understood him completely. I was trapped. I was his.
I tried once. “Please?”
“Negotiations are over. It’s time for you to learn your place, slave. Now get your mouth around my cock, and give me what you fucking owe me.”
