Her mind was still struggling to cope and process what was happening but, in spite of her fear and exhaustion, Mia couldn’t deny the sudden rush of pleasure as Ellis moved his fingers in slow, light circles around and over her clit. At least he wasn’t hurting her—for the moment anyway. She closed her eyes and blew out a breath, desperately trying to fight the response he was pulling from her against her will.
Ellis continued to talk as he stroked her. “I will train you to orgasm a dozen different ways, including being fucked by a huge phallus until your cunt is swollen and sore, to coming just from a puff of my breath on your clit. It will be part of your duties to come on command, and by the same token I will deny your orgasms when it suits me. In fact, orgasm denial can be a very effective training tool, as you will discover. You must never, ever come without permission.”
Ellis was silent for several minutes as he focused his attentions on her spread sex. Though she wanted to resist him, she found she couldn’t. He continued to rub her clit, his fingers working a strange, relentless magic on her body. Mia found herself biting her lip to keep from groaning. No one had ever touched her quite like this—the pressure and tension perfect, as if he knew her body from the inside out, and just how to touch it to give her maximum pleasure. A shudder of pleasure moved through her and in spite of herself, Mia began to pant.
Ellis began to speak again and Mia had to struggle to focus on his words. “You see, my dear girl,” he continued, “I have indeed hired you, but not to be my administrative assistant. I should apologize for misleading you, but it couldn’t be helped. You should feel honored, really. I interviewed twenty-two other prospective slave girls before I settled on you. You have been chosen, Mia Roberts, to be my sex slave, my personal property.”
He slid a second finger into her wetness—yes, she realized she was indeed wet, in spite of the fear, in spite of the rope, in spite of the fact she might well be dead before the night was over. What was wrong with her!
“One day,” Ellis murmured, leaning so close she could smell his cologne, “I will claim you as my lover. That is, if I deem you worthy. But until that day, you will serve me in every possible way. No act will be too debasing or too humbling for my slave girl. I will test you, mold you, train you, beat you, reward you and punish you.”
“Oh,” Mia moaned, at once furious with her body for betraying her with this madman, and unable to help herself as the pleasure mounted.
“Yes,” Ellis urged, his voice throaty and encouraging. His fingers still buried in her sex, he leaned over her and placed his mouth on hers. Instinctively she tried to turn her head away but he placed a hand over her throat, his fingers tightening beneath her jaw to keep her still. Mia squeaked in terror, her impending orgasm receding. His hand still on her throat, Ellis began to kiss her, tenderly at first, and then with more urgency, forcing his tongue past her lips.
He kissed her as a lover would, his touch slow and lingering in terrifying juxtaposition to the hand still gripping her throat. At the same time, he worked her pussy until Mia became overwhelmed with sensation—fear, desire, pleasure, need, terror, anger, lust—it all blended, stoking the fires inside her until the volcano of her orgasm erupted in a gush of liquid heat.
Even in the throes of the powerful climax, she realized Ellis had pulled his hands away, and his lips were no longer pressed against hers. When she came to herself enough to open her eyes, Mia gasped with dismay at the hard expression of the handsome man staring down at her. The brief, sharp pleasure of the orgasm ebbed away, replaced by a rush of stark fear.
Mia screamed in pain as Ellis grabbed both her nipples in a pinching grip and twisted hard. Then he slapped her face, a sharp, stinging blow with the back of his hand that jerked her head to the side and made tears spring into her eyes.
“You came without permission, slut.” He slapped her again and Mia began to cry in earnest. “That simply won’t do. I’ll leave you now to ponder your transgression. When I come back, I’ll teach you how to apologize properly to your Master.”
Before Mia could protest or plead or beg, Ellis stood and strode from the room, closing the door behind him and leaving her, naked, bound and sobbing in her bed.
Chapter 3
Ellis finished his sandwich and glass of beer and picked up his iPad, which he’d propped on the counter so he could watch Mia while he ate. The home security monitoring system with cameras installed in every room of his home certainly would come in handy for keeping tabs on his slave girl.
His slave girl!
As he stared at Mia’s image on the screen, he was filled with a blend of elation and disbelief. He had done it! He had successfully procured a young woman and claimed her for his own and nobody, not a single person in the world outside this house, knew he’d done it.
He’d retrieved her purse from where she’d dropped it in the bedroom. He found her cell phone, an ancient thing with a flip-up cover. He checked for any texts or voice messages but there were none. Just to be safe, he slipped off the back cover and removed the battery, and then dumped the pieces back into her fake leather bag. He dug past makeup, a pack of gum, loose change and a small, well-thumbed book of what looked like affirmations. Finally he found what he was looking for zipped into a side pocket—a wallet that contained her license and various credit cards, as well as her passport.
The car key was attached to a ring on the side of the purse. He detached it and headed outside to her car, which he pulled around back to the garage. He left all her things in it, including the purse, and pocketed the key, along with her wallet and passport. He drew an auto tarp over the vehicle just as a precaution. He would clear out the glove compartment and dispose of the car once he had Mia properly settled.
Everything was set up, all his bases covered. He’d arranged to take the rest of the month off. It was one of the perks of being the boss. It didn’t hurt that his parents had finally retired to Florida, leaving the running of the company to him and his brother, Robert. And now that Robert was working the California side of the business, Ellis was in charge of the New York operations on his own. He had competent, motivated employees who could keep things running smoothly in his absence, and he’d stay in touch via phone and email.
He turned up the audio on the security system. Mia was no longer crying. She appeared to be asleep, though it was hard to tell since her hair was partially covering her face. She lay still, her breathing regular. True, she was plumper than he liked, but she had lovely skin. It was pale and smooth, perfect for marking with a whip, and welting with a cane.
Eager to begin, Ellis pushed back from the kitchen bar and headed upstairs. When he opened the door, Mia turned her head sharply in his direction and he heard the sudden intake of breath.
“Please,” she entreated, her voice hoarse.
He shook his head. “No, no, Mia. You will not speak unless asked a direct question. If I have to remind you again, you’ll be wearing a gag until I’m confident you’ve learned your lesson. Are we quite clear on this, young lady?”
He smiled as he watched the color suffuse her cheeks and noted the spark of anger in those pretty blue eyes. She still had some fire in her, beneath the fear. He would soon douse that fire, however. He would subjugate her completely, wiping every trace of disobedience and resistance from her psyche. And then would begin the careful, exacting process of rebuilding her, step by step, into the woman of his dreams.
“I really have to pee.”
In a second he was by her side. He smacked her cheek with his open hand and she cried out, twisting her head away. He struck her again and then reached for her throat, closing his hand around it, squeezing just enough to get her full attention.
Mia squeaked with terror, her eyes going wide, her body beginning to shake.
“You are a very bad girl,” Ellis said evenly, ignoring for the moment his raging hard-on. “You don’t listen.” He spoke slowly, his voice hard. “You need to pay careful attention, Mia. Your life is quite literally in my hand
s.” He tightened his grip to make his point.
She squeaked again and tears flooded her eyes. Ellis continued, “I asked you a direct question, which requires a direct answer. I asked if we were clear on this. The correct response would have been, ‘Yes, Sir. We are clear on this.’ Not, ‘I really have to pee.’”
“Oh, god,” she groaned, her cheeks flushing brick red. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” she whined.
Ellis, momentarily confused, loosened his grip on her throat. What was she sorry for, exactly? Then, as his eye moved down her naked body and focused on the spreading yellow stain on the white coverlet on which she lay, he realized what had happened. Christ, what was it with these damn women?
He frowned at the blushing, whimpering girl, feeling almost sorry for her. He untied the ropes from around her ankles and then undid the Velcro cuffs that held her wrists. Her arms fell heavily to the pillow and she moaned, rolling onto her side. Ellis reached for her and half-pulled, half-dragged her from the bed, letting her fall in a naked heap at his feet. When she started to get up, he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Get on your hands and knees.” He jerked her into position. “You will crawl to the bathroom and get cleaned up. Then there’s the matter of your punishment.”
He stepped behind her, giving her a kick in the ass with the toe of his shoe to get her moving. “Go on. Crawl.”
She began to move, her ample ass swaying, her thighs damp with her own urine. Once they were in the bathroom, he ordered her to crawl to the bidet and sit down on it. She looked at him with confusion, though at least she was finally learning to keep her mouth shut.
“It’s a bidet,” Ellis explained. “Very common in Europe. It’s for keeping yourself clean between showers. Perfect for dirty girls who pee on themselves.” He smiled at her now predictable blush. “You straddle the bowl, facing the faucets. Go on. Get up on it. I’ll control the water flow.”
Mia did as she was told, straddling the low, porcelain basin. Ellis leaned over her and turned on the cold water. Mia yelped and started to rise from the bidet, but Ellis was ready for that, and he held her firmly by the shoulders.
“It’s cold!” she wailed as the water spurted up from the basin.
“That’s right,” Ellis agreed. “Naughty girls don’t get hot water. You have to earn that privilege. I’m going to let go of you now, but if you get up, I can assure you you’ll be very, very sorry.”
He took his hands from her shoulders. She didn’t move, except to shiver. Ellis squirted some liquid soap from the stand behind the bidet onto his hand and reached between her legs, roughly rubbing her cunt and thighs as the cold water sprayed from beneath her. He let the water run a few seconds longer to rinse her. “You’re done. You may kneel on that bath rug while I go over some rules with you and decide your punishment.”
The girl stood on trembling legs and moved, as ordered, toward the bath rug to which he pointed. Her skin was covered with goose bumps and her nipples were pointy, the areolas puckered with cold.
“Get on your knees,” Ellis instructed. “Back straight, knees spread, arms behind your head, fingers laced at your neck.” When she hesitated he put his hand on her shoulder, pressing until she sank to her knees. Her breasts lifted as if in invitation as she raised her arms. His cock hardened as he envisioned straddling her shoulders and shoving his cock into that pretty little mouth.
He put his foot between her knees. “Wider,” he ordered. He would definitely wax all that nasty hair off her cunt within the next day or so.
All at once Mia crumpled forward, curling into herself as she rocked on the bathroom floor. “Let me go! Let me go! Please, please, don’t do this to me!” She began to wail, a high pitched, piercing sound that made Ellis wince.
What the hell? This wasn’t how his fantasy was supposed to go at all. Yes, of course he expected resistance, even looked forward to it in a way, as part of the challenge. But this constant curling up and sobbing would simply have to stop.
“God damn it,” he roared, reaching down and pulling her up. “If this is how you want it, then this is how you’ll get it.” Wrapping his arms around her legs, he hoisted the naked, wet girl over his shoulder and marched with her out of the bathroom and through her bedroom to the closet.
Inside was a large animal cage he’d fitted with an old blanket. Ellis set the girl down on her ass and pulled open the cage door. He reached into his pocket for his knife and flicked it open in her direction. “Get in,” he ordered. “You’ll stay there until you’re ready to cooperate.”
Mia bit her lower lip, tears spilling down her cheeks, but she did as she was told, crawling awkwardly into the big cage. It wasn’t tall enough to stand, but there was room to sit, if you bent forward. Ellis pulled the cage shut and locked the padlock.
Crouching inside, Mia leaned toward the door, wrapping her fingers around the bars. “I don’t like small spaces,” she said faintly.
“Did I ask you a direct question?” Ellis snapped.
“Please”—Mia couldn’t stop herself from saying, in spite of his threats—“How long are you going to leave me in here?”
“How long? As long as it takes, Mia. As long as it takes.”
~*~
Water.
If only she could have a glass of cool, clear water. She was thirsty. So thirsty. She sucked on the insides of her cheeks and imagined lemons in an effort to get her saliva moving, but even that didn’t work. How long had it been since she’d had anything to drink?
She knew she had to be hungry too, but her stomach had shrunk into a tight, hard little ball. At least there was a light on overhead. If he’d left her in the dark, locked in this small cage, she might really have lost her mind.
She was lying on her side, the thin blanket bunched into a makeshift pillow beneath her head. She had no idea how long she’d been in there, but it had to be at least a few hours. What if he never came back? The thought caused a new spurt of panic and she began to cry again. After a while she wiped her eyes and sniffled, trying to comfort herself. Of course he’ll come back. Of course he will.
For a long while she just lay there, too exhausted even to cry. There were no tears left. Her eyes burned and stung, and her hip and shoulder ached from lying on the hard floor of the metal cage. She drifted in and out of a troubled, light doze, but never quite managed to fall asleep.
She was still stunned by all that had gone on since she’d arrived at Ellis Hughes’ door. How could someone who was so incredibly handsome and had acted so kind and sincere be such a monster?
She knew the question was a silly one. Looks had nothing to do with it. In fact, they’d probably contributed to some degree, along with his wealth, in leading him to believe he could get away with what he was doing.
Well, he wouldn’t. At least she prayed he wouldn’t.
Her ears remained pricked for any sound, though she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to come back or not. At least here in the cage she was alone. She wouldn’t think about how close the bars were around her, or about the fact that she couldn’t get out, even if the house was burning down.
No. Don’t focus on that stuff. Think about what you can control. Scared or not, she would never be able to escape as long as she was locked in a cage inside a closet. She had to get out.
How to get out?
Do what he says. If he wants you to speak only when spoken to and to call him Sir, just do it. It’s about survival. Right now you have no idea what the hell is going on—what this guy wants from you, or how far he’s willing to go to get it. But you do know some things. You know you’re still alive. If he was going to kill you, wouldn’t he have done that already? Instead he has you installed in a lavish bedroom with a gorgeous bathroom. He says he wants to train you, whatever the hell that means.
All at once she remembered the crazy, scary things he had said while he had her tied to the bed. Something about erotic torture, whatever the hell that meant. And something about the cut of
a cane, the stroke of the lash, the crash of a paddle. Something about punishment for transgressions, or just because he wanted to see her suffer. Holy shit, the guy was some kind of Marquis de Sade!
Okay, stop it. Don’t panic. Training of any kind takes time, doesn’t it? Time is a good thing because it gives you a chance to figure out where the weak points are so you can exploit them. He’s physically much stronger, granted, and he has a knife, and probably a gun too, when it comes down to it. But he’s just one person. He wouldn’t dare bring anyone else into this—this kidnapping, this lunacy.
So you wait. You bide your time. You submit to his crazy demands and try to stay out of trouble. You pretend to go along. And then, when his guard is down, you make your move. Find car keys if you can, but if not, just get out. Get out of this madman’s grip and run! Focus on the escape. Once you’re free, then you can call the cops and get this maniac arrested.
Mia felt a little better, now that she had at least the outline of a plan. She shifted in the cage, turning her body so she had a better view of the closet door. It wasn’t long before the knob turned and the door was pulled open. Mia tensed but remained quiet, reminding herself to speak only when spoken to. And call him Sir. Call the fucking bastard Sir.
“Mia.”
She could see his feet and legs, which were bare now. They were muscular and tan, covered with the same tawny-gold hair as on his arms.
“Yes, Sir?” she ventured. She sounded like a frog, and she cleared her throat.
Thirsty. So thirsty.
“Are you ready to come out and try again?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He knelt in front of the cage, his handsome face coming into view as he reached for the padlock and slipped a small key into it. He pulled open the door and scooted back, standing. “Come on out. Stay on your hands and knees.”
Mia lifted her body, which was stiff and aching from her confinement. She crawled out of the cage and stopped at his feet, her head down, waiting. She felt dizzy and thirsty. So thirsty.
Forced Submission Page 3
