Gilbert followed, curious to see where she went. She had never told him her occupation, and he had never asked. Whatever it was, she couldn’t have been doing it long, since she was only twenty-two.
Lisa pulled up in front of a small bank building. Yes, he could see her as a bank teller or fledgling loan officer, sitting prim but pleasant behind her desk, reading balance sheets and approving and denying loans.
Perhaps he would open a bank account there. For now he headed back home, stopping to get some donuts and more coffee, his mind whirring with plans.
Gilbert decided against the account. He didn't want to leave any traces of himself in Middletown. He wasn't staying that long. Just long enough to capture and train his slave girl, before he whisked her off somewhere safe, where they would begin their lives together on some remote island in the Caribbean.
Gilbert felt sure that, once she got over the shock of the kidnap, Lisa would come to realize that theirs was a love too pure and perfect to deny, and she would willingly follow him to the ends of the earth.
His daydream didn't get much further than this, such as how they could afford to live on the exotic island they would inhabit, but that didn't concern him for now.
The days passed and Gilbert learned Lisa's patterns and hours. He knew when she left for work, when she finished for the day, when she went to lunch, and where and with whom. He also observed that she didn't always lock her car, especially during the day. He wasn't able to watch her that often at night, which annoyed him, as he had to go to work himself. He decided to save his money, and quit the job once he got her. He knew how to live very frugally.
After that they could live off her savings. She was a banker. Surely she had plenty of money stashed away, and as his slave captive, she would be forced to give it all to him. This notion pleased him, and Gilbert took extra shifts at work, eager to save enough for the several weeks they would have together while he trained and convinced his lover of her destiny.
At last he was ready, with a satisfying stack of twenty-dollar bills piled in a shoebox under his bed. Six weeks to the day of his arrival in Middletown, Gilbert quit his job.
His new boss was as understanding as the old, when he explained how his younger brother had been in a terrible car accident back in New Jersey, and he would have to take an extended leave to care for him.
Returning to the cottage, he surveyed Lisa's room. It looked like the slave dungeon it was, with only the old, stained mattress on one side, and the footlocker on the other. Kneeling beside the old chest, he opened it to admire its contents. There was a heavy flogger he couldn’t wait to try out on her ass. The riding crop and bamboo cane would also be put to good use, as would the rope, nipple clamps and handcuffs.
He had put in a large, sturdy hook into the wall at the head of the mattress, useful for chaining his slave in chains when he wasn't using her. In the ceiling in the center of the room was the largest eyehook he could find at the hardware store.
He’d outfitted her door with a top-of-the-line deadbolt lock. The landlord would thank him later, no doubt, for the improvement. Replacing the cheap knob that had been installed when the place was built, Gilbert tested it, sliding the bolt home with his key. It could only be unlocked with a key. He’d put the spare one on the bedroom bureau, but also had one on the chain he wore around his neck. He fingered it now, his cock rising as he imagined locking the lovely Lisa safely inside.
Master John and Slave Jade had continued their online affair all throughout this interval, with poor Lisa completely unaware of the net slowly closing around her.
She continued to provide clues about her life, and Gilbert was adept at teasing them out of her without her realizing. He knew now, for instance, that she liked to go to a local club called The Pizzazz on Friday nights. She rarely stayed past midnight, and always left alone. She was going tonight and Gilbert planned to be there. He'd rehearsed his plans in his head over and over, and had driven the route between the club and his house, timing it to determine the proper amount of chloroform he'd need to knock her out for the ride, but not kill her.
He’d found a handy site online that detailed how to procure chloroform and how use it. There were even tips on how to cover your tracks in an abduction.
Now that the moment was at hand, Gilbert found himself almost sick with anticipation. That morning he had stocked his refrigerator, buying all sorts of expensive items he thought Lisa might like, including steaks, a bottle of red wine, fresh vegetables, bread and a pint of ice cream—Lisa's favorite, coffee fudge. Though he himself was largely indifferent to food, he wanted to impress his girl with his hospitality. At least until he trained her to serve him.
The bottle of chloroform was at the ready, and the handcuffs in case she came to too soon. He sat in the parking lot of The Pizzazz, watching the people going in and out, biding his time. He had parked near enough to the red Toyota so he could see her come out, but not so close that she might notice him.
Midnight came and went, and Gilbert, usually so patient, found himself restless and irritated. He drummed his steering wheel with his fingers, glancing repeatedly at the clock in his dashboard. Finally, at 12:45 Lisa stepped out of the club with two other young women. They were laughing and he could see by the weave of their walk that they were less than sober.
Lisa waved and called out good night as she left the two women and headed toward her own car. Her lovely voice carried softly on the wind to his ears. As she climbed into her car, he started his own, pulling out of the space and heading away from the lot, undetected, as far as he knew, by a soul.
When Lisa pulled into her assigned parking spot at her apartment complex, Gilbert was waiting. He was hidden in shadow, obscured by a retaining wall. He watched while she turned off her ignition and climbed out of the driver seat.
The usual street lamp that lit the area was dark, courtesy of Gilbert's hand earlier that evening. He could see her outlined in the moonlight, close enough to touch. She was just about to push the automatic lock button on her car door when he made his move, slamming his body into hers, catching her completely off-guard.
Though he could have easily overpowered her anyway, the element of surprise was also in his favor. In a second he had wrestled her to the ground, inadvertently smacking her head against her car door as he did so.
When the stunned girl opened her mouth to scream, she was met with his hand, wrapped in a chloroform-soaked rag, blocking her mouth and nose, forcing her to inhale the sickly sweet fumes as she tried to catch her breath.
In a moment she fell back limp, her face almost serene. Pulling the police-style metal cuffs from his pocket, he grabbed her arms, locking her slender wrists together. Quickly opening the backseat car door, Gilbert lifted and set the inert body on the backseat and shut the door.
Her car keys were lying on the ground beside her purse. He picked both up and slid into the driver seat, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute. Taking a deep breath, he turned on the ignition and eased the car smoothly out of the lot.
The entire process had taken less than five minutes, not witnessed by a soul. Gilbert glanced back at the woman lying unconscious in the backseat.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “I actually did it. She’s mine.”
Chapter 4
She was still out cold when he pulled into his driveway, cutting the engine and the lights as he rolled to a stop. The landlord’s house was dark and silent, as was the rest of the neighborhood.
As quietly as he could, he hoisted the unconscious woman into his arms and carried her into the cottage. He’d thought of everything, even leaving the door slightly ajar when he left so he could get in easily without fumbling for a key.
He lay her down on the mattress in the room that would be her world for the next few weeks. She stirred and moaned as he pushed her to her side so he could get at the zipper at the back of her dress. He managed to get the dress off her shoulders so he could pull it down her legs.
He rolled her onto
He touched her thigh. Her skin was so lovely and soft. He'd never touched someone so soft. She was at the peak of her youthful perfection, with long lean muscles under silky fair skin. He had plucked a rose just as the bud was starting to flower.
Eagerly he removed her panties and bra, drinking in the sight of her gorgeous naked body. She began to stir but a second dose of chloroform quieted her nicely, giving him time to secure her wrists to the ringbolt in the wall over her head, and cuff her ankles together with the sexy manacles he’d purchased online just for her.
He’d toyed with fucking her then and there, but decided he wanted her conscious for the gift of his cock. When he first entered her, he wanted to see her face, to hear her breathy cries, to taste her sweet lips.
Instead he contented himself with kneeling between her legs to inhale the perfume of her cunt, its heady light musk scent making his cock strain in his jeans. Unzipping his fly, he took his cock in his hand as he bent forward to lick her nipples.
After a moment he tucked himself away. He would wait until she woke up. No more masturbation for Gilbert Johnson. Not now that he had his own personal slave girl to serve him.
Instead, satisfied she was properly bound, he left her. How smoothly the deadbolt slid home, imprisoning her on the other side of the door. It was hard to believe, after all the weeks of planning and working toward this moment, he had her at last, imprisoned in her own private dungeon, with Gilbert, the master jailer on the other side.
He picked up her red leather purse from the floor where he’d dropped it when carrying her inside. Taking it to the sofa, he sat and dumped its contents beside him. Wallet, cell phone, makeup bag, pens, checkbook. He opened the wallet, inspecting her driver’s license. It also contained two credit cards and a bank card, as well as various receipts and scraps of paper with notes scrawled on them. In the money pocket she had a little over forty dollars. She could keep her money, for now.
He set the wallet down and opened the makeup bag. In addition to the usual lipstick, rouge, tampons and tissues was a compact of some kind. Curious, he flipped it open. Inside was a circle of tiny white pills, each in its own slot. Three of the slots were empty. Birth control.
Anger flared as jealousy hurtled through Gilbert’s brain. Who was she fucking, the lying, two-faced bitch? Slave Jade had told Master John she wasn’t seeing anyone since she’d broken up with the last guy.
Taking a deep breath, Gilbert willed himself to be calm. She had admitted she’d been serious with the last guy. Probably you couldn’t just stop and start birth control. It might be bad for your hormones or something. He’d do some research.
He turned the small container over in his hands. Though the thought of her someday having his child was a seductive one, he certainly didn’t want a baby gumming up the works while they were still laying the foundation of their new relationship.
These pills would come in very handy indeed. He’d have to make sure she took one each morning. He set the container down and reached for her checkbook.
Her writing was neat and precise, as he’d expect for a banker. He flipped to the last entry, which showed a balance of six-hundred and eight dollars. Not exactly a fortune. Hopefully she had a savings account, where the real money was socked away.
He examined the entries more carefully, discovering the twice monthly automatic payroll deposits. She earned easily three times what he did. He noted the entry, always made the next day—a withdrawal of nearly one-third her paycheck, with the notation—savings account.
Excellent. His slave girl was thrifty. Hopefully she’d put aside enough for their island adventure. He would have to find out, but that was for a future day, when he’d captured not only her body but her heart.
~*~
“Oh, my head,” Lisa moaned. Her mouth felt cottony and bitter, and her head pounded. The room was dark. She tried to move and realized she was bound, her wrists pulled up over her head and secured with clinking chain. Her ankles were also shackled together. She seemed to be lying on a mattress on the floor.
The images came rushing into her head like a black whirlwind—the strange man approaching her, the struggle at her car, panic rising and bursting from her in a scream that was muffled by a large hand clamped over her mouth and nose, choking her, suffocating her...
And that smell. That sickly sweet smell, and then the nauseating dizziness. She tried to pull her wrists free but only succeeded in tightening the metal cuffs. Who could have done this and why? Where was she? She had to get out of here! She was going to die!
Lisa began to cry. Panic washed over her, clinging to her body, suffusing her pores, making it impossible to catch her breath. She tensed in her chains, ready for someone to burst in at any moment and shoot her.
Several minutes passed, but the room stayed dark. She was, at least for the time being, alone and alive. She shook her legs and arms cautiously, making sure nothing was broken or hurt. Aside from the headache and the cinching handcuffs, everything seemed to be okay.
Slowly the raging, blinding panic subsided and she was able to breathe more normally. Her nose was running from her tears, but she couldn't move her arms. She turned her head against the mattress, trying to wipe her face against it. She felt a draft on her bare skin and realized, with a dawning horror, that she was naked.
Lisa began to cry again, this time more noisily. Finally she stopped and called out in a tentative, croaking voice, “Hello?” She realized this was stupid, even as she called. She cleared her throat and swallowed, listening hard for any sound. Someone was out there, no doubt waiting to rape and kill her, and she was calling out greetings.
But maybe not. Maybe whoever had done this had been caught, or almost caught, and had fled. Maybe there was someone out there who could help her! Set her free!
“Hello!” she called again, her voice wavering, but louder.
This time she heard something and strained toward it. It was the sound of a key scraping in the lock. The door opened and she could see the silhouette of a man against the bright light of the hallway behind him.
Suddenly the overhead light switched on, blinding her. Lisa squinted while her eyes adjusted.
Standing before her was a young man with dark blond hair, wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans. He didn’t look much older than she was. He was medium height and slender, though his arms were muscular. He didn’t look like a killer. He smiled at her.
“Hello there, Lisa. Sleep well?”
The incongruity of his mild greeting was somehow more frightening than if he had come in waving a gun and threatening her. He knew her name. How did he know her name? Before she realized she was speaking she demanded, “How do you know my name?”
Smiling, he held up her purse.
“Please,” she begged, “Please, whoever you are. Please don't do this. Please let me go. Please.” She started to cry again, and the man approached her, kneeling down next to her.
“Don't cry, Lisa. Don't cry.” He reached toward her and Lisa gasped with terror, trying desperately to avoid his touch. All she could do was twist her head away. With a firm hand, he forced her to look at him. Still smiling, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled tissue. He wiped at her cheeks and nose with it. Lisa was again discomfited by the gentle treatment when she had expected him to hit her, rape her or shoot her outright.
The man smoothed her tangled hair back from her face. Greenish brown eyes. Small nose, thin lips, a small scar on his chin. Details she might need to identify him at a later date.
“Lisa, I know you're frightened right now. But you'll get used to your situation soon enough. Are you thirsty?”
Lisa hiccupped and tried to get control of herself. Identify him at a later date? Was she nuts? This man was letting her see his face. He had no intention of being identified later. He was going to kill her. Oh Jesus god, he was going to kill her.
She was going to die.
“Please,” she begged, her voice rising with hysteria. “Don’t kill me. Please.”
“I don’t want to kill you, silly girl. I won’t have to—not if you behave.” He watched her with a strangely mild expression as she tried to absorb what he’d said. Then, his eyebrows knitting together as he frowned, he said in a stern voice, “I asked you a direct question. When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer. Is that understood?” As he spoke, the man gripped her throat, squeezing until she coughed and spluttered, helpless in his grasp.
“Please, don’t choke me.” Lisa gasped and gulped for air. He was still staring at her, waiting for a response. “Yes, I'm thirsty,” she managed to gasp. At once he released her throat and sat back on his haunches.
He took a bottle of water from a tray on the floor near the mattress. Unscrewing the cap, he held it to her mouth. It was difficult for her to drink from her position, straining to lift her head as he tilted the bottle toward her mouth. Some of the liquid spilled down her chin and onto her bare breast.
The man's eye followed the path of the water. Lisa felt the heat of a blush wash over her as he raked her body with his insolent gaze. Again she dared, “Please. Whoever you are. Please let me go. I won't tell anyone about this. Just let me go. Please. If it's money you're after, my parents don't live far–”
He cut her off. “I’m not going to let you go. You need to get that idea out of your head right away. You belong to me now. The sooner you accept your situation, the sooner you'll adjust, and come to realize this is where you belong.”
The man set down the bottle of water and stood, bowing to the naked, bound woman. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am your lord and master. You will call me Sir or Master.”
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