She’d allowed herself to be fooled by the extremely handsome, well-dressed man who’d been such a gentleman at the restaurant. She’d never questioned how odd “Diana’s” sudden failure to show actually was. Nevertheless, his kindness now, however insincere, brought tears of relief to her eyes.
But, instead of climbing off her, he sidled down until he was between her legs, his head just above her denuded sex. “Just relax,” he soothed, his hands on her thighs, pushing them wider. He lowered his head and she felt the soft, wet touch of his tongue on her sex. Instinctively, she tried to close her legs, but he easily held them apart.
His tongue slid along her labia and circled her clit. In spite of her terror and fury, she couldn’t deny the zinging sensation of raw pleasure as he quite expertly licked and teased her. What the hell was wrong with her? This man was a monster! But she was so exhausted. She felt sick with adrenaline and fear, her mind still clouded by the remnants of whatever drug he’d given her. It was so tempting just to give in—to give up and accept whatever he meted out. It wasn’t as if she had a choice.
And it felt good. The first good feeling since this whole ordeal had started. Unable to resist any longer, she gave herself over to the sensations. Yes… Yes. Just like that. Oooh…
He certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. His tongue danced and flickered, sometimes soft as butterfly wings, other times with just the right amount of pressure and focus. He brought her close to the edge time and again, pulling back just before climax and then starting over. Her barriers shattered beneath his tender, skillful touch. Her body began to tremble, her breath shallow and rapid.
Surrendering, she let the pleasure wash over her. Her brain mercifully shut down as a powerful orgasm swept through her body. It went on and on, making her body shudder and pulling a long, guttural groan from her lips.
Instead of pulling away, he continued to kiss and lick her, deepening the already powerful orgasm. The extended climax lifted her for several long moments onto a different plane where nothing existed but the wonderful sensations racking her body…
She drifted a while in post-orgasmic ecstasy. For those brief moments, fear was held at bay, blotted out by a fog of lingering pleasure.
But then Callie was jerked back to reality by a derisive chuckle. Her eyes flew open, focusing on the man now looming above her once more.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned down at her, his eyes cruel. “You stupid girl. Didn’t you take BDSM 101 on one of those little chat sites you frequent? A slave never comes without first asking permission.” He shook his head in mock sorrow. “Guess you’ll have to be punished.”
Chapter 6
Damon got to his feet and pulled on his shorts, not bothering with the T-shirt. He’d been super turned-on while going down on the girl. Not because it particularly excited him to lick pussy, but because of the control aspect. He loved the power rush of reducing a woman to a trembling mass of shuddering female pleasure.
He considered plunging his cock into her now. It ached and throbbed, harder than a rock. He definitely needed the release. And Callie was surely wet now, the little slut. Women could never resist his considerable oral talents.
But, no. He would hold off a little longer. He was a patient man. And she hadn’t yet earned the right to his cock. She was a very naughty girl who needed to be punished.
Reaching down, he pulled the naked girl to her feet. She shrank back from him, but he held her fast, his fingers easily spanning her upper arm. “Don’t even think about resisting,” he said sternly, barely able to contain his excitement. “You’ll just make your punishment all the worse.”
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t do this. I didn’t know—”
This insolence needed to be nipped in the bud. He cut her off with a smart slap across her cheek. “No speaking unless spoken to, cunt,” he snapped.
She drew in a sharp, startled breath as her hand flew to her cheek. She blinked back tears, but wisely kept her mouth shut.
He replaced the choke collar around her neck, leash still attached, and re-cuffed her wrists, this time behind her back. Her cheek where he’d struck her was a bright pink. He couldn’t wait to turn her behind an even darker red.
The villa was laid out with the kitchen, living areas and two bedrooms on the first floor. The second floor consisted of a single large room with an attached bathroom. It was set up as a kind of play room, including a pool table and wet bar. There was a conversational arrangement of sofas and chairs near the large picture window. It looked out over the Pacific Ocean just past the property.
Earlier in the week on one of his pre-abduction visits, he’d modified the space for his own purposes. He couldn’t wait to show his new slave girl what he’d done.
He led her out of the master suite and to the spiral stairway. He walked up the stairs, tugging Callie along by her leash to the top. He stopped just inside the room, giving her a chance to take it all in.
He’d covered the pool table with a waterproof mattress protector, a sheet over that. He’d knotted rope to each of the four legs so he could tie her down in various positions on the makeshift bondage table. His BDSM gear was laid out neatly along the bar counter. This included a nice selection of whips, paddles, canes, cuffs, clips, ball gags and blindfolds, along with various dildos and vibrators, plus a large tube of lube. The punishment cage—the biggest dog crate he could find at the local pet supply store—waited in a corner.
In pride of place in the center of the room was the portable St. Andrew’s cross he’d brought along on his last visit. The support leg at the back of the cross was hinged, allowing the whole thing to fold flat. The two arms of the cross were secured together with wing-nut bolts, allowing for quick and easy assembly and break-down. The cross had four upper restraint rings and two lower ankle rings.
Callie would be spending plenty of time on that cross, but not yet. Her first punishment would be a good, old-fashioned spanking.
“Nice, huh?” he said, puffing with pride as Callie stared around the space in open-mouthed awe.
She didn’t respond, but as he’d intended the question to be rhetorical, he didn’t reprimand her. Instead, he led her over to the large couch and sat. Gripping her leash close to the collar, he pulled her down and over his knees.
She fell against him, unable to break her fall since her wrists were cuffed behind her. He steadied her with a firm hand on the back of her neck as he positioned her. Removing the leash, he dropped it on the carpet, deciding to leave the chain collar in place. He arranged her so her ass was over his thighs, her upper body extended along the sofa, her legs trapped between his.
“This is what happens to bad girls,” he informed her, punctuating his words with a resounding smack.
Predictably, she squealed, squirming on his lap.
“Stay still,” he commanded, “and take what’s coming to you.” He gripped the back of her neck hard, holding her in place with her face pressed into the couch. Then he smacked her again.
Once more, she cried out, the sound muffled by the cushions. She tried to cover her ass with her bound hands. He smacked her hands away and struck her again with a cupped palm.
Holding her in place, he swatted her bottom until every inch of it was a deep red. He could have insisted she remain quiet, but he rather liked her breathy cries and yelps. They made his cock harden all the more beneath her.
Eventually, she stopped struggling, though she continued to whimper. When his hand started to tire, and he was satisfied she’d had enough, he unclipped her wrist cuffs and flipped her over.
Her cheeks were flushed and streaked with tears. Now that her wrists were no longer bound together, she covered her face with her hands. His eyes traveled down her body. Her breasts were so pretty—like cupcakes on her chest, the nipples like cherries at their centers. Her body tapered nicely at the waist, her stomach smooth and flat, her newly denuded cunt pooching like an offering, ripe for plunder.
Her p
urse, which he’d stashed in the bedroom closet along with her clothing, had a prescription packet of birth control pills, so he wouldn’t have to bother with a condom. There were still three and a half weeks left in the pack, and he made a mental reminder to make sure she took one each morning.
As he stared down at the sniffling girl, he tried to decide what to do next. He’d been planning to put her on her back on the sofa so he could destroy that smooth, tight cunt of hers with his big, hard dick.
But the heat radiating from her properly-spanked butt on his thighs gave him a different idea. He did love to fuck a freshly spanked ass. His cock throbbing, he stood, lifting Callie in his arms. He deposited her face-down on the couch with the firm instruction, “Don’t move.”
Sprinting toward the bar, he grabbed the tube of lube and hurried back to her. He knelt on the couch behind her and lifted her hips, pulling her up so she was on her hands and knees.
She tried to pull away from him, still whimpering. He reached out and grabbed her by the hair. Using it like a rein, he yanked her head back. “Don’t you dare pull away from me,” he growled. He gripped the chain collar and pulled it so it tightened around her throat, making her splutter and cough.
The poor little thing was trembling from head to toe. He almost felt sorry for her, but not sorry enough to stop. Her fear was like cocaine, jolting his system and electrifying the pleasure centers in his brain. His cock was about to explode. Hopefully he could get it in before he came like a teenage boy.
“Please,” she gasped. “You’re choking me.”
“You going to be good, cunt?”
“Yes, Sir,” she managed.
He loosened his grip, but kept his hand on the chain, ready to pull it taut if necessary. “If I let go of you, you better stay still. Because I warn you. If you move out of position or resist me in any way, I’ll beat the crap out of you. Got that?”
There was a long pause. “Yes,” she finally replied, as if through gritted teeth.
He tightened his hold on the choke collar. “What was that? Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir,” she gasped, her face reddening.
“That’s two strikes, girl. First you spoke without being spoken to. Then you neglected to address me properly. Three strikes and you’re out.”
She wisely stayed silent, save for her ragged breathing.
He let his hand fall away and reached for the tube of KY. Popping the cap, he smeared plenty over the head of his cock. “You’re lucky,” he informed her. “I could have just used spit and rammed it home, but I’m going to use lube.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hurt her. He planned to hurt her quite a bit. But not like this. He didn’t want to damage the merchandise.
One hand gripping his throbbing shaft, he reached around her and pulled her closer with the other. “You admitted to ‘Diana’ that you’ve done anal,” he said, nestling the head of his cock between her ass cheeks. “So don’t try to play the terrified virgin card. Whether you like it or not, I’m going to fuck your hot little ass until I shoot my load inside you. I advise you to relax and open yourself to me. It’ll go easier for you that way.”
He nudged the crown of his cock against the tight ring of muscle at her opening, so excited he could barely contain himself. She yelped and tried to jerk away, but he held her fast.
“Stay still,” he barked. “I’m warning you.” He pushed into the heat, and her little asshole sucked him into a deliciously tight embrace. He groaned with pleasure and pushed in a little deeper.
Predictably, she squealed again.
He grinned behind her, power coursing through his veins like a drug. “I don’t mind if you scream or cry. In fact, I like that. It gets me off. But, be advised, if you resist me in any way, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
A brilliant idea came to him, in keeping with her new status as his personal property. “When I’m done taking my pleasure, you’ll get down on your knees and kiss my feet. Then you’ll thank me for using your worthless body. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
She was still trembling, her body rigid, but she gave him the only possible answer, though it sounded as if her teeth were clenched. “Yes, Sir.”
Good girl. She was learning.
~*~
Callie’s lungs felt like they’d collapsed. She couldn’t seem to draw a breath. Her ass was on fire from the spanking, and his cock was splitting her in two as it penetrated.
Stop trembling. Breathe. Breathe, damn it.
She managed to draw in a shallow, shuddery breath.
“I don’t mind if you scream or cry… It gets me off.”
Callie gritted her teeth in fury. She wasn’t so stupid as to try to pull away from him. She believed his threats. But no fucking way was she going to give him the satisfaction or the twisted pleasure of hearing her beg or cry.
She willed her tense body to relax. She managed another breath, this one deeper and more centering. As she slowly released the air from her lungs, her anal muscles loosened to accept and accommodate the large, hard shaft moving inside her. She drew in another breath and let it out, the worst of her panic subsiding.
She’d never minded anal sex—consensual anal sex. But the few times she’d done it, it had been accompanied by plenty of wine and maybe a little weed beforehand, with someone she actually wanted to be with.
Focus on the positive, she ordered herself. On the things you can control.
Okay. First off, she was still alive. If he’d been planning to murder her, he’d have done it by now, surely? And he wouldn’t have bothered with lube. The drugs were wearing off and she was feeling less muddled and confused. She might not see a way out yet, but she wasn’t giving up. She had no intention of passively accepting her situation, however hopeless it might seem at the moment.
She needed to lull the bastard into thinking he’d won. If he wanted to turn her into a zombie sex slave, that’s what she’d be—on the surface. But she’d keep her spirit alive, no matter what. And she’d find a way out. She just needed to keep her eyes and ears open.
Damon jerked her back to the moment with an especially brutal thrust. In spite of her promise to herself to remain quiet, she couldn’t bite back a startled yip of pain.
Behind her, Damon snaked one arm around her body. He cupped her cunt and rubbed her clit with fingers still gooey with lube. As when his mouth had been on her, in spite of her fear and rage, the touch sent a ripple of pleasure radiating from her core.
She clung to the sensation, focusing on his skillful fingers, instead of his grunting thrusts behind her. As her pleasure mounted, he moved more urgently behind her. His cock was buried so deep inside her that she could feel his pubic bone bang against her. All the while, his fingers continued their delicate, sensual dance.
As impossible as it seemed, she was going to come again. Her body responded to his touch like an instrument in the hands of a skilled musician, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Again, why not take pleasure where she could find it? When he slipped a thick finger inside her, his palm now rubbing perfectly against her clit, his cock filling her completely, she knew it was a matter of seconds before she lost control.
All at once, his warning words came back to her. “A slave girl never comes without first asking permission.”
Gasping for breath, she managed, “Please, may I come?”
His hand fell abruptly away from her throbbing sex. “No,” he panted, thrusting like a jackhammer inside her. “You may not, you filthy slut.” He gave a strangled, feral cry and one last, especially savage thrust. His body convulsed in a series of spasms as he came deep inside her.
They fell forward, his weight atop her causing her to collapse against the couch. His cock was still buried inside her. She could feel his heart, beating fast and hard against her back. She lay as still and silent as a trapped animal beneath him.
Eventually, he lifted away from her. He gave her a hard push, which sent her tumbling fr
om the couch to the carpet. “Well?” he demanded, maneuvering himself into a sitting position. He prodded her with his foot. “I’m waiting.”
Hatred rose in Callie’s throat like a bubbling, corrosive acid. She swallowed it down and tried to wipe the rage from her features. Let him think she’d given up. Somehow, she would manipulate him into lowering his guard. She would beat him at his own game.
Getting herself to her knees, she lowered her head and forced herself to kiss the top of his bare foot. “Thank you, Sir,” she managed, though she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye.
He patted her head. “You’re welcome, puppy dog.”
Chapter 7
Puppy dog.
Damon quite liked the sound of that. Why shouldn’t Callie be his little pet?
He’d never had a dog growing up, though he’d longed for one. There had been that little stray he’d found when he was nine—a sweet, scruffy pup he’d named Squirt. He’d managed to keep her hidden in his bedroom for an entire weekend.
Looking back, of course it had been an unsustainable plan. Back then he had still been foolishly optimistic that he’d find a way, despite his father’s refusal to allow furry pets in the house, to convince his parents to let him keep her.
Of course, he’d been promptly found out. Squirt had been spirited away, and his older brothers later told him they’d drowned the pathetic runt in the river that ran behind their house, with their father’s blessing.
Damon still had a small scar on his left hip from the beating he’d received with his father’s belt for that particular “stunt.”
Once he’d moved out of the house, he could have gotten his own dog. By then he hadn’t wanted the responsibility. But a little puppy roleplay would be fun. Callie already had the leash and collar. Now, she just needed a little training.
He got to his feet and retrieved the leash, which he reattached to her choke collar. “Up you go,” he said, giving her a tug.
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