Always a light sleeper, those motion detector floodlights had alerted him. Still, he’d been an idiot. He should have known better than to tie her down to a portable cot. He’d make sure to do better going forward. Not that she could have gotten very far. The property’s perimeter was surrounded by a high privacy fence, the electronic gates at the front and back secured. Though she’d made it outside, there was no way a naked girl could get off the property by herself.
Nevertheless, he couldn’t have her running outside willy nilly. There was the weekly landscape crew to consider, after all. He made a mental note to buy some of those sliding door locks that needed a key to open. Meanwhile, keeping one hand on the girl, he slid the door closed. Turning to her, he backhanded her hard across the face and then threw her face down onto the bed.
He straddled her hips and grabbed one wrist, pinning her arm high up against her back. Leaning over her, he hissed, “You’re a very, very bad girl, Callie. Here’s what’s going to happen now. I’m going to take you up to the dungeon. You’re going to crawl into the punishment cage and spend the rest of the night there, pondering your stupidity. In the morning, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
She whimpered.
He kept his hold on her. “I’m going to teach you what happens to slave girls who try to escape.” He jerked her wrist, wrenching her arm higher up her back until she cried out.
“Got that, cunt?”
“Yes, sir” she wailed. “Please, you’re hurting me!”
An unwelcome memory from when he was twelve slithered into his brain before he could censor it. He’d been showing off in front of a group of girls on the deck of the pool of their parents’ country club. One of his older brothers had come up behind him, jerked his wrist up behind his back and pinned him against a wall while the other yanked down his bathing suit in front of the girls.
He shoved the memory away. They had no hold over him—not anymore. Imagine their faces if they could see him now. They were both saddled with bossy bitches for wives who controlled their every move. They’d shit themselves with envy that he’d had the balls to do what they could only dream about.
He released Callie’s wrist and climbed off the bed. Pulling her upright, he frog-marched her out of the room and to the spiral staircase. His hand firmly on the back of her neck, he guided her upstairs and thrust her into the room.
She stumbled a little and whirled to face him as he flicked on the lights. “Please,” she begged in a hoarse voice. Her left cheek was still red from where he’d slapped her. “You have to let me go. This is crazy. You can’t possibly get away with this for long. I—”
He slapped her again, this time on the other cheek. That shut her up.
“You’re already in a lot of trouble, cunt. If you don’t want to make it way worse, I strongly suggest you keep your goddamn mouth shut.” He reached for her shoulders, forcing her down onto the carpet. “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to the punishment cage. Go on. Now.”
In spite of his anger at her attempted escape, and his annoyance at having been wakened in the middle of the night, Damon couldn’t deny how turned on he was. What a fucking rush it was to say and do exactly what he’d fantasized about since forever. What man in his shoes—with a naked, defenseless, gorgeous girl at his complete disposal to do with whatever the fuck he wanted—wouldn’t do the same?
He stroked his cock, which was rapidly elongating as he watched the girl crawl to the punishment cage. Her head hung down, her cute ass and pretty tits swaying. He strode past her and opened the cage door. “Turn around and scoot in backward, so you’re facing me,” he instructed.
She lifted her head, her eyes pleading. “Please,” she said in a small, wavering voice. “Don’t do this.”
Goddamn it. He was going to have to gag the little cunt to teach her to shut the fuck up. Leaning down, he lifted her and turned her around so her ass was to the open cage door. “Get the fuck in there. Now.”
Finally, the little brat backed her way into the cage.
He crouched in front of her and reached for her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Let’s get something straight right now. That was the last time you speak without being asked a direct question. Do. You. Understand?”
Spots of color appeared high on her cheeks, her nostrils flaring. Most girls would be sobbing by now, but Callie was actually pissed off. He almost smiled. She did have spunk—he had to give her that. But he was easily fifty pounds heavier, every bit of it muscle, and he held all the cards. It was going to be his distinct pleasure to knock that spunk right out of her. When he was done with her, she’d be a docile, subservient slave, eager to do his every bidding.
He glared at her, waiting for her to respond to his direct question.
Finally, she dropped her eyes and mumbled, “Yes, Sir.”
“What’s that?” he snapped. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said in a louder voice, still not meeting his gaze.
He chuckled, letting go of her chin. “That’s better.” He reached for his erect shaft. “Now, you’re going to suck me off before I go back to bed. Then you’re going to curl up in your doggy cage and wait for your Master to return in the morning to give you what you so richly deserve.”
Still crouched in front of her, he leaned forward, guiding his cock to her lips. “Open wide.”
She parted her lips, just barely.
He shoved his shaft into her mouth, reaching for a handful of her hair to hold her in place. He thrust in and out, gagging the girl with his thick shaft as he plunged deep into her throat. Turned on as he was, it didn’t take long. Within a minute or two, his balls tightened, his cock tingling and throbbing in her warm, wet mouth.
“Fuck, yeah,” he breathed, thrusting forward and impaling her on his shaft as he came.
Once he’d shot his load, he let go of her hair and pulled away so his cock fell from her lips. He leaned back on his haunches as he caught his breath. Then he reached for the cage door and closed it. He picked up the padlock from beside the cage and slipped it through the latch, snapping it closed with a click.
He got to his feet, a pleasant drowsiness moving through his body. He smiled down at the caged girl, no longer angry, though still intent on making her pay.
“See you in the morning.”
~*~
Bright light streamed in through the windows of the large room. The sky was a brilliant, deep blue beyond the glass. How was it possible that such a beautiful day existed, while Callie was locked in a dog cage, waiting for god knew what horror?
She was curled in a fetal position, every bone and joint aching. After Damon had stomped away down the stairs, she’d allowed herself a good, long cry, until there were no tears left. She’d eventually drifted into a fitful doze until the sun rose, turning the sky from black to gray to golden pink and finally to that deep, perfect blue that seemed to mock her in its perfection.
Her eyes felt gritty, her face sticky with dried tears and snot. She was desperate for a long, hot shower. Her mouth tasted bitter and she was terribly thirsty. She knew she needed to eat something, but at the moment her stomach had curled itself into a tight, painful knot. She couldn’t imagine getting any food past the lump in her throat.
While she couldn’t blame herself for trying to escape, the net result was that Damon would now be even more on his guard. She wouldn’t have another opportunity like the one she’d blown.
Water under the bridge, her father would have said. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and figure out what came next. She needed to lull Damon into believing she had given up and accepted her lot. No more outward resistance, no more begging for him to let her go.
Despite his incredibly good looks and obvious privilege, she’d gotten a sense of the fragile ego just beneath the bravado and bullying. Men like that desperately wanted to be admired and, in his case, worshipped. She would play off that. She would make him believe he’d broken her spirit.
Meanwhil
e, she’d keep her eyes and ears open. She had to find out where he kept the house and car keys. She needed to find where he kept his cell phone and his gun, if there even was a gun. She didn’t think he planned to kill her, but she couldn’t rule that out.
No, she told herself resolutely. She refused to dwell on that possibility. She would take one day—one hour—one minute—at a time.
She drew in a breath and tensed as she heard the sound of footsteps on the spiral metal stairs. Damon appeared in the open doorway. He was dressed in white shorts and a red T-shirt that strained against his broad shoulders. His tan arms and muscular legs were dappled with blond hairs. His sun-streaked hair was wet and combed back, one lock falling rakishly over his forehead. He flashed a dimpled, white-toothed smile at her, looking for all the world like a walking advertisement for surfboards or a beach resort vacation.
Callie had read the Oscar Wilde novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, in high school, and she’d never forgotten it. She imagined that Damon must have his own portrait hidden in some metaphorical attic, the painting’s ravaged face covered in scabs and pustules that reflected the man’s evil heart and sinful ways.
Damon was holding a tray with a tall glass of orange juice, along with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. The knot in her stomach unfurled at the sight, as her appetite returned with a vengeance. She swallowed the sudden rush of saliva in her mouth.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” he said, still grinning at her. “Rest well?”
Again, that creepy mix of cheerful kindness that barely covered the veneer of his cruelty. Fucking asshole. Was she really supposed to answer that?
Remember, he needs to think he’s broken you. You’re his subservient slave girl, and you’re so, so sorry.
“Yes, Sir,” she made herself say in a small, timid voice. “Thank you, Sir.”
He lifted his eyebrows in apparent surprise. His grin shifted into something sly and cruel. “Well, well. It’s nice to see you’ve finally found a civil tongue.”
Good. Her plan was already working.
He strode toward her and set down the tray near the cage. The smell of buttery eggs and crispy bacon pulled a moan of longing from her lips before she could stop herself.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Duh. What the hell do you think?
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Remember that the next time you try to pull a stunt like last night.”
He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her and reached for the plate of food. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. He scooped a large mouthful of eggs onto his fork, his eyes fixed on her face. She leaned closer to the bars, parting her lips with eagerness.
But instead of moving the fork toward her, he lifted it to his own mouth. “Hmm,” he murmured, a look of rapture moving over his handsome features. “That’s so delicious. I bet you’d love some. Too bad naughty little cunts don’t get to eat.”
Tears of rage and frustration leaped to Callie’s eyes. She pressed her lips together to keep from screaming.
As her empty stomach gurgled and cramped, he shoveled eggs and bacon into his mouth. Try as she might, Callie couldn’t look away. She felt like a dog begging at the table as more saliva pooled in her mouth.
He reached for the orange juice, moisture beading on the outside of the cold glass. He tilted back his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank it down.
When the glass was empty, he set it down with a satisfied sigh. Reaching for the napkin, he patted his mouth and chin. “That was tasty,” he said with a cruel smile.
Callie looked away, trying to push down the murderous rage that was rising in her throat as a scream. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs for several seconds until the unvoiced scream died away.
Damon got to his feet and moved closer. Crouching in front of the cage, he reached into the neckline of his T-shirt and pulled out a thin gold chain. Instead of a pendant or other jewelry, three keys hung from the chain.
Gripping the smallest of the keys, he leaned forward and unlocked the padlock on the cage door. He released the latch and pulled open the door.
Callie tried to get to her hands and knees to crawl out, but one of her arms was apparently asleep, and it buckled beneath her weight. Damon reached in and hauled her out by the shoulders, pulling her onto the thick carpet.
She grunted in pain as she tried to straighten limbs that had been curled so tightly for so long.
He moved behind her and pulled her upright into a sitting position. Dizziness assailed her. She placed her hands on the carpet on either side of her body to keep from falling over.
Damon reappeared in front of her. “That was a really fucking stupid thing you did last night, Callie. You know that, right?”
A direct question. Be contrite, she urged herself. You’re so, so sorry.
It was all too easy to allow the tears to gather as she fixed him with a wide-eyed, doleful gaze. “Yes, Sir. It was a really stupid thing to do. I’m very sorry, Sir.” A tear rolled down her cheek as she struggled to keep her expression meek and regretful.
Then, against her will, her eyes slid over to the nearby tray. Damon had left at least a forkful of fluffy eggs, along with a small piece of crispy bacon. Callie was so, so hungry. Her stomach was a hard, empty knot and her throat was parched.
He followed her gaze. “You want that last bite, don’t you?”
“Yes, please, Sir,” she begged.
He pursed his lips and then nodded. “Okay. Crawl over and eat it like a dog. No hands.”
Callie managed to get herself on her hands and knees, every joint and muscle screaming. She scuttled as quickly as she could to the plate and lowered her head, too hungry to care how pathetic she must look. She sucked up the spoonful of egg, trying to savor it but too hungry to do anything but wolf it down. The bacon was a little harder to manage without hands, but she finally got an edge of it with her teeth. She had never tasted anything so good.
As she eyed the empty juice glass with longing, Damon said, “Go take a piss before we get started. I don’t want you peeing on this nice carpet if you freak out.”
That did not sound good, but Callie didn’t allow herself to dwell on the words. She started to get herself to her feet, but Damon stopped her with a hard hand on her shoulder. “Stay on your hands and knees, cunt. Crawl to the bathroom. And wash up a little in the sink while you’re at it. You stink.”
Fuck you, asshole. The words very nearly burst from her mouth, but she managed to push them down in time.
As she crawled toward the small bathroom, Damon added, “Leave the door open so I can keep an eye on you. And don’t dawdle. You have five minutes, and then it’s time for your punishment.”
Chapter 9
While Callie was washing up, Damon went over to the wet bar and selected his toys. He’d start with a riding crop and then move on to a short whip. He glanced at the various vibrators and dildos, considering if he should stuff her cunt first.
While it would be a turn-on to force her to come while he disciplined her, he decided against it for now. This was a punishment, after all.
Walking over to the cross, he set down the impact toys and glanced toward the bathroom. Callie was bent over the sink, the water running. She had, he noticed for the first time, an adorable dimple just above each butt cheek. There was some pretty bruising from her earlier spanking. He would soon add some lovely new marks.
Recalling the pill packet in his pocket, he went over to the open door. “Time’s up.”
As Callie whirled to face him, her face and the tips of her hair dripping wet, he punched out a pill from the foil. “I found these in your purse. You’ve missed two days. Better take one now.”
As she stared at the pill packet, her eyes widened. Wisely, she kept her thoughts to herself as she held out her hand to accept the pill. He dropped it onto her palm.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said quietly, with no discernable trace of attitude. At least the l
ittle bitch was learning some manners.
He allowed her a moment to dry off. Then, taking her roughly by the arm, he hauled her to the St. Andrew’s cross. She stared up at it, her face paling. She swallowed visibly, clearly afraid. Good—she should be.
“You made a very big mistake last night, and you’re going to have to pay the price. You have no one but yourself to blame. Isn’t that right?”
He gripped her chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. She was trembling slightly, her arms wrapped protectively around her torso. “Yes, Sir,” she said in a quavering voice.
He nodded with satisfaction. He would teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget. “Face the cross and lift your arms against the X so I can cuff your wrists,” he instructed. She hesitated for a second, but then wisely did as he said. He pulled each arm taut and closed the cuffs around her slender wrists.
Taking a step back, he directed, “Spread your legs wider.” He lightly kicked the inside of one of her ankles with his bare foot. Crouching, he locked her ankles into their cuffs.
He reached his hand into his shorts to adjust his rapidly rising cock. He still hadn’t gifted her with his cock in her hot little twat. That would be his reward to himself after delivering this well-deserved punishment.
Damon picked up the riding crop and moved to stand in front of the spread-eagled girl. She looked so fucking hot bound like that, her breasts lifted high by her position, the hint of labia appearing between her spread legs. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. He could smell her fear, and it made his cock all the harder.
He snapped the tongue of the long-handled crop against his palm, enjoying her wince at the smacking sound of leather against skin. “You’ve said you’re sorry. Now is your chance to atone. But don’t worry about trying to stay quiet. It turns me on to hear you scream.”
~*~
Callie’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. The tiny bite of food almost made it worse than if she’d had nothing. At least she’d been able to slurp several handfuls of water from the sink faucet.
Tricked Page 7
