“I told you you’d like it,” he whispered.
I had no words for that. I turned my head and looked at him through half-mast lids.
“You shouldn’t bite your lip so hard, next time just let it out,” he said, wiping my lip with his thumb. His lips were wet, either with sweat or me, please let it be sweat. He smiled and kissed my mouth…it was me. Humiliation.
“I do hate you,” I said softly, looking up at the ceiling, detached, satiated and emptied of something. He pushed the hair off of my face and kissed me again.
His fingers pressed against my wet flesh and I couldn’t help but whimper as my body pulsed harshly. “But your pussy doesn’t…and that’s the important thing.” He smiled, and I closed my eyes, looking away. “As a matter of fact, that’s what I’ll call you…Kitten.”
My heart suddenly hurt. I have a name. Olivia. Livvie. It occurred to me he’d never asked for my name, not even that day on the street and it struck me also that it meant he had never seen me as a person – not once. My throat was thick with pain. Was there anyone on the planet who cared about who I was? I thought about Nicole, my best friend. She cared. She’d never give up hope of finding me.
When my eyes finally refocused, Caleb was staring at me with the strangest expression on his face. He was smiling still, not brightly, just curiously, as if he somehow knew I had just been a hundred miles away. We stared at each other for a few seconds, though I couldn’t say what either of us was thinking just then. We just couldn’t look away. My chest shook with a sob I wouldn’t let loose.
Spell broken, he slowly untangled himself from me then gripped my arm to haul me up. My head swam and my legs shook. I was about to jerk my arm from his steadying hand when I suddenly felt a rush of wet heat run onto my thighs. Instinctively I pressed my legs together and looked down, at once mortified to discover a bead of my wetness trying to run down my thigh. Caleb looked too and I couldn’t keep the burn of embarrassment or fresh tears from my face.
Caleb let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan before he reached down to trace his fingertips along the source. He held up his fingers, rubbing the obvious moisture along the pads of his fingers with his thumb. To my absolute horror, he licked two of his fingers, closing his eyes, fucking savoring my humiliation. I sobbed. Out loud this time.
“What’s wrong Kitten?” he pressed toward me, “Is there something wrong with enjoying the pleasure I give you?” He watched me with obvious satisfaction, even as my tears rolled down my cheeks before falling to the floor. “Answer me Kitten.” He insisted, some of the headiness leaving his voice. I couldn’t give him a response.
Purposefully, he took hold of both my bound arms and led me over to the bed. He sat first, frightening me by pulling me onto his lap. I let out a surprised yelp, but quickly went silent. What fresh hell did he have planned?
“Why are you crying Kitten?” he pried, “Have I hurt you today?” he gently kissed my shoulder.
“Yes,” I answered in a sob. Today the pain was emotional, the worst kind. He drew back from my shoulder with a surprised expression, but quickly donned his mask of indifference. His lips once again found their way to my shoulder, this time trailing up toward the nape of my neck. I tensed, seeking some way to get away from his caresses but knowing there was none.
“Answer me properly please,” he murmured, “Have I fucked you?” I gasped, frozen with overwhelming fear.
“No Master,” I said in a voice scarcely above a whisper. He wrapped his left arm around me tightly, pulling me closer to his chest, forcing my head onto his shoulder. Excluding my fear, humiliation and our semi-nudity, this had been exactly what I had wanted not an hour before. I had wanted him to hold me. Careful what you wish for….
“Did you come?” he whispered in the same soft voice. I shut my eyes and struggled not to shudder in my silent sobbing. “It’s okay Kitten; you can tell me the truth. Go on, say ‘thank you Master for letting me come’.” With his right hand he forced my legs open over his thighs, fighting me as I vainly tried to close them. I struggled with tears as my mind reeled. “You’re making me angry Kitten; answer the question.”
I snapped. “My name isn’t Kitten!” I yelled, finally succumbing to hysteria.
Almost immediately, Caleb bent me over his left knee, holding my legs down with his right and delivered a swift torrent of blows that had me screaming. As my mind scattered in every direction, searching for my wits, the blows continued to fall on my naked bottom.
“Please stop,” I begged. “Please stop, I’m so sorry. I swear to God I’m sorry.” Mercy seemed to be the last thing Caleb had on his mind. He buckled down on my squirming body and placed his weight on my shoulders so that he could spank me in earnest while I struggled in frantic terror. “Please…please Master,” I cried endlessly in long guttural moans. I wanted so badly to rub my backside, but he held my straps.
“Is it the pain that makes it easier for you Kitten? Does your pride require that you be beaten into obedience?” His voice was low, raw – aroused. Beneath my belly his erection throbbed. Or was it only my heart? He spanked me once more, demanding an answer I refused to give. He spanked me again and I suddenly realized that after each spank, he rubbed away the sting. I wondered why, even as more slaps landed.
My thoughts were beginning to fracture as I searched for a way to escape what was happening to me. Just give him what he wants. He’ll stop. What had I done to deserve this?“Act like a whore and get treated like one…” Always those words, always haunting me and punishing me. It was suddenly a comfort to know that once Caleb was done punishing me he would forgive me too. He wouldn’t hold on to imaginary transgressions. He would forgive me. I wanted to be forgiven.
Something interesting happened then. A shiver ran down my body and my mind was suddenly blank. I thought of nothing. Literally nothing. No pain, or shame, or longing, or sadness. There was only the sound of Caleb’s palm landing across my bottom, my cries, his controlled breathing. His blows were no longer painful; my backside was numb, warm. I slowly went limp in his lap. It was strange, but I felt…at peace.
Caleb let up on me then, still bracing me firmly though I could feel his body relax against me. The moment was quiet, only our breathing. Mine harsh and fast, his deep and slow. He stroked my back silently, rubbing me as one would a horse, but I didn’t mind. I needed it, craved it. I relaxed further. After several minutes, he gently broke the silence, “What is your name?”
“Kitten,” I replied from some place outside myself. Gently, he rubbed my sore and swollen buttocks. My breathing slowed, my body hummed.
“It’s so much easier when you give in Kitten,” he said softly, “so much easier.” He was answered only by a shallow whimper. Taking advantage of my lassitude, he slowly hoisted me upright into his lap. Tangled hair stuck to my face, neck and back. Caleb pushed it back.
Normal, rational thought still hadn’t returned. I was grateful. Normal, rational thought dictated that I be frightened, angry or some variation thereof. It was nice to be devoid of such things. Caleb’s eyes wandered to my lips, then back up to meet my far off stare. He took a small key out of his pocket and undid the lock that held my arms behind my back. I gently placed them in my lap, awareness beginning to creep back in. I didn’t like it.
“Kiss me,” he said. “And before you say no…” I cut him off by touching my salty lips to his soft, supple mouth. He pulled back slightly at my impulsive boldness. But then I heard him sigh and he leaned back in. I inhaled deeply, ignoring the press of all manner of emotion trying to infiltrate my numbness.
I struggled to make the kiss seem natural, fighting the impulse to turn my face away. His demeanor gentled. He was never gentle when he kissed me. It seemed awkward, but I felt something within him changing. He moaned ever so slightly, a sound I hadn’t really heard from him before. He reached for my breast, but then withdrew his fingers. Again, restraining himself. Without warning, I felt the tiniest surge of something similar to control. I’
d been powerless in every encounter with him, but in this moment I knew what he wanted. He wanted me. Not just my body, but me. And although, he ruled me for the moment, while he dictated my future, in this one kiss…I owned him. Abruptly, he pushed me away.
“Good girl,” he said softly, but the waver in his voice betrayed a hint of confusion. He stood up, looking down to find me staring directly at him. He smiled and grabbed a handful of my hair. “You shouldn’t look at me unless I tell you to Kitten, you’ll only do yourself harm.”
The moment was over. He was in control again, but angry. At having lost himself, even for a fraction of a second? I couldn’t help but smile and didn’t hide it fast enough. With a sneer, he led me by my hair into the bathroom and bathed me quickly in silence.
After he toweled me down and brushed my hair, he again joined my wrists together, this time in front. “Raise your arms,” he said sternly. The sudden power in his voice made me jump. He placed his hands around my waist and hoisted my bound wrists over the bedpost. I was slightly distressed in this position, my body stretched tightly on tiptoe. I shivered in my nervousness, waiting for another savage beating to commence. My anxiety rose to a pinnacle as he placed a thick leather blindfold over my eyes.
“Please no Master, please. It hurts too much.” He ran his hands over my breasts, squeezing my nipples until they became hard little stones between his fingers. I winced and shifted my weight trying to get free.
“I like to hurt you Kitten…it’s what gets me off.”
I froze, said nothing, waiting for the worst. “I’m not going to gag you, but if you don’t keep quiet, I’ll put a gag in your mouth so big, you’ll forget any pain before it.” I bit my bottom lip. I was still standing there, mind blank, long after he’d left the room.
SEVEN :
If I concentrated, I could stay on my tiptoes, which lessened the unbearable strain from my shoulders and back. I was my pain and nothing else. No thoughts, no emotions, only a body screaming to be released. My calves twitched with pain and a cramp formed. I pushed all my weight toward the floor, to alleviate the fire in my legs. I twisted this way and that, hoping to find a position that hurt a little less than the one before it. The minutes dragged into endless hours. Pain saturated every muscle in my tautly stretched body. I began to whimper softly, which merely grew louder with every breath. Panic in, panic out. I had been afraid of being beaten. Now I’d let him beat me if only he’d let me go.
A horrifying thought broke through to me. What if he isn’t even here? What if he doesn’t come back for a long time? How could I stand this kind of torture for another hour, let alone a full night? If it was even nighttime.
I tried to stop being the pain, tried to let my mind conquer my body. I honed in on the sound of my leather bound wrists creaking against the post of the bed. My breathing. The way my body heat had warmed the wrought iron of the bed at my back. I tried to find the peace just beyond the pain, beyond my suffering. Just as I had when he’d spanked me – but the trick didn’t work for me this time.
Every breath I took seemed to make my bonds tighter. I cried. Quietly at first, then in loud mewling groans. My stomach turned and I suddenly understood why he didn’t gag me…I was going to vomit. I struggled to keep breathing, and thinking soothing thoughts that managed to keep the stomach cramps at bay. The story of my life - keeping the inevitable at bay.
Droplets of sweat ran down the well of my breasts and gathered in my belly button. It agitated me, this feeling of sticky sweat all over. My hair clung to my face, back and sides. It was driving me toward delirium. I shook violently with frustration, every muscle turning to molten pain. Then I heard the last thing I expected.
For a moment, I shook it off as a figment of my imagination. I couldn’t remember how often in the past I had woken in the dark thinking I’d heard something. I’m imagining things. I stood silently and focused intently on the sounds around me. Not being able to see sharpened my hearing, but I couldn’t pinpoint the source of the noise. It was everywhere. I kept my breath shallow unwilling to let the sound of my own breath distract from my search. I heard it again. Definitely a woman. Crying? No, something else. There were screams, yes, some of them reminiscent of pain, but they rode on the wave of something much more primal sounding. Sweat beaded on my overheated skin only to grow fat and race across the contours of my body. I strained to hear, but strove not to feel. I listened harder and caught the distinctly loud thud of something hitting what could only be a wall or some other hard, stationary object repeatedly.
I stood still, taking rapid breaths while trying to take in all that surrounded me.
Someone was having sex.
Was that…Caleb? With her, that woman? Even as I asked myself, I knew the answer. Of course. Caleb was having sex.
Mother. Fucker. Heat bloomed across my body. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. But emotion had returned. He had tied me – naked – to a bedpost. To suffer. And he was somewhere in the house fucking some whore’s brains out. He wasn’t thinking of me. Of the pain I was in because of him. He simply did. Not. Care. Hot tears streamed down my face.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he was being kind to her. Was his face buried between her legs as he had done to me? The thought did unusual things to me. I had never had an orgasm before. Never. But he had forced it out of me. What did that mean? I panicked, frantic and trying with all my remaining strength to pull myself loose…nothing.
The other woman’s cries had become louder and more guttural. In fact, as I listened – hard, her sounds alternated between soft, low purrs and loud, piercing cries. Soft, then loud, without ceasing. I forgot about the pain for a moment, transfixed by the woman’s sounds. The harder I listened, the more I seemed able to discern. She seemed to be enjoying it. Suddenly, an undercurrent of deeper, heavier moans prevailed.
I remembered those moans from earlier as he lapped at me with his tongue. Heat burst throughout my body at the memory – more sweat, more dizziness, more whimpers. Shame,pleasure and I hadn’t stopped thinking about it. I closed my eyes. Why couldn’t I just fucking black out? His sounds became a little different, angrier and more labored, a runner trying to finish a race. I grit my teeth and leaned forward for reasons unbeknownst to me. My shoulders burned. My struggling hadn’t helped.
The woman screamed, hoarse, rasping screams that seemed to come from deep in her throat. She was yelling something. I wondered if it might be his name. The thought thoroughly irritated me for some reason. Here I was, here, in this place, tied to a fucking bedpost like a thing while some other woman screamed his name. No doubt during intense orgasms. Meanwhile, I had to call him Master. I wasn’t allowed to say his name. Not even when I came, not that I would anyway, that wasn’t the point.
She yelled again and this time I couldn’t help whining his name out loud, not in ecstasy like her, but in agony. I’d never said his name before, and I hadn’t realized until now. I’d thought of every day since I’d arrived here. He was Caleb in my head, always, but I’d never let his name slip past my lips. I said it again, daring myself to call his name a little louder, willing myself to outdo the competition. New aches assailed me, heavy, warm, and wet between my legs. I pressed them together.
“Caleb.” I groaned.
“Caleb!” she screamed.
I pushed forward in my straps, ignoring the pain, ignoring the burning in my legs, anything that distracted me from listening intently. I could hear him. “Caleb…” I pressed forward. He was panting, low and hard. His sounds picking up pace even as the strange woman’s moans became elongated and alien. Panic swelled inside me. The sweat. The fucking sweat, sticking to me, irritating me, driving me toward frenzy I had never felt. If I thought I might be the least bit successful, I may have tried to chew through my arm like a coyote to get free.
“Let me go!” I screamed. “Let me go!” I cried piteously, panting and sucking in air as fast and hard as I could. I whispered his name. My muscles spasmed. My screams mingled with hers,
with his, all of us together in a symphony of pleasure and pain. I heard her peak in one shrill scream that faintly outdid my own. I fainted. Finally.
I don’t know how long I remained there, vulnerable as I hung, gone to the world.
What I do remember is waking to the feeling of warm and dense weight straddling my thighs. I didn’t even feel a twinge of panic. My hair was wet, but clean, smelling of familiar lavender. Strong hands pressed my shoulders into the soft mattress beneath me and unable to resist I both moaned with relief and whimpered at the memory of the pain. I knew they were his hands, no matter who touched me in the future, I would always know his hands. What I didn’t know, was what to make of it.
His thumbs pressed on either side of my spine between my shoulders and rode my flesh to the base of my neck. His fingers speared through my wet hair and tugged gently. Myscalp tingled, my body followed.
I felt I should say something, do something. Rail at him, punch him, kick him, yell at him, do something violent to inflict unimaginable pain upon his person, but his hands felt too good and my aching body needed them too badly. Besides, I never won against him anyway. His large hands pressed against both shoulders. I exhaled a long breath. No. No fighting him.
Then, because I just couldn’t help myself, I asked, “Why are you doing this? Why me?” He inhaled sharply then exhaled. He never stopped rubbing me, nor did he pretend he didn’t know what I was asking.
“Why not you Kitten? Would you choose someone else to take your place?” Gentle began to transition to rough. “If I agreed to let you go in exchange for some other girl, would that be better?” I wanted to scream yes.
Silence.
Only his hands kneading my flesh.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I asked quietly, almost hoping he hadn’t heard. I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer.
There was no answer – then, “Whatever I wish.” Before I could speak again, his fingers were doing that thing in my hair again. Only this time he gently tilted my head, pressing his thumb along the curve behind my ear. My mouth went slack. I closed my eyes, unable to think of anything else but the sensations coursing through me. Had I always been this starved for touch? The answer eluded me.
“Who was that woman you were with?” His fingers stilled and I cursed myself for being so…me. And yet, my heart sped up as I waited more than eagerly for his reply.
I narrowly avoided purring and stretching under him like a cat when his fingers once again trailed along my scalp and behind my ear. “My, my, Kitten, what big ears you have.” He laughed and the sound of it sent an obscure thrill through me.
“Hey!” I said indignantly, “My ears are not big. Not even a little bit.” And they’re not, really! His laughter spurred me on, “It’s not like she was trying to be quiet. ‘Caleb! Oh, Caleb!’” His laughter abruptly died and his grip in my hair became less than pleasant, though the reaction seemed involuntary. I stilled, biting the hell out of my lip. Would my stupidity never cease? “I’m sorry Master,” I whispered.
It was over too quickly, no more talking it seemed. Unexpectedly he went to the bathroom and returned with a bucket of water and a sponge which he set on the floor. He lifted me without a word as to his intent. I didn’t speak either, too frightened of provoking him into some other form of torture. He set me on the ground. Next to a big wet spot.
“You pissed the floor,” he said, his emotions masked behind a placid expression. I looked away, both embarrassed and scared. He walked toward the door and stopped, his hand grasping the knob. With his back to me he said, “Don’t ever call me by that name again Kitten. You don’t know me. Not like that.” He left and shut the door behind him. As I stared at the large stain in front of me, I heard the door lock. My face burned with the heat of my embarrassment. Why did my chest hurt? I blinked away the threat of tears.
I didn’t know what to make of Caleb, at times so kind and gentle and at others, I feared him down to my soul. Who the hell was that woman? Why does she get to call him Caleb?
***
Time went on, and on. I never heard the woman again, but I often wondered what happened to her. My life became monotonous, filled only with Caleb, my punishments, my occasional orgasms, and the endless dark. It’d been so long since I’d seen the sun, or the moon, or any other light that didn’t come from candles or nightlights. I lost track of the days. I used to be able to tell by the food that he brought for me, not anymore. Now I knew Caleb fed me whatever he felt I should eat, whenever he thought I should eat. I was losing it. If only I had some sense of time, I could…I don’t know…something.
Finally, I became so angry I pulled the nightlight out of the wall and threw it as hard as I could, hearing it break. I spent what felt like several hours crying in the pitch black darkness, afraid to unplug the nightlight in the bathroom and move it, because I probably wouldn’t be able to find the plug. I put my eyes near the bottom of the door, hoping I could see something, but all I saw was dark. I banged on the door with all my strength, screaming and crying, but no one came…no one cared. I stared into the dark wondering if death felt like this. I lay on my back, imagining myself in a coffin staring into nothingness, utterly forgotten. I think I even slept with my eyes open.
Though I couldn’t know for sure, it seemed as though Caleb’s visits to my room became more and more infrequent. Meanwhile, I became less and less unnerved by his presence – in fact, it became more soothing by the day. But he, on the other hand, seemed increasingly aggravated with me. More troubling, his anger often became my punishment and I was obsessed with avoiding them both. When he touched me, I strained to remain immobile. When he spoke to me, I said not a word. When I could not help but resist, I immediately begged his forgiveness. But the more I gave in, the crueler he became. I didn’t understand.
“Surrender,” he had said.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I had insisted.
I turned my head slightly, hearing something familiar. My hearing had gotten so good and it only took another second for me to know. Dishes. I sat up quickly, banging on the door. There was no response. I lay on my back, pressed the soles of my feet against the door and proceeded to do something I knew was stupid. I kicked at the door wildly, demanding he acknowledge me. Again, there was no response. I started to panic in earnest. “Please!” I yelled. “It’s dark in here and I want to come out!” When I heard only silence I cried out in despair. “Caleb! Caleb…please open the door.” Nothing. That is, until someone kicked the door so hard I saw a flash of color. I scrambled backward, scared out of my mind. For once relieved the door was heavy, sturdy, and locked.
I had never been filled with more foreboding than when I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. For the first time, I considered the dark an ally. I scrambled beneath the bed. It was an incredibly tight fit that left me pinned snugly, unable to turn my head between the floor and the box spring at my back. I held my breath as the door opened. The beat of my heart literally moved my entire body. I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself to another place. A voice in my head chastised me. Under the bed? Stupid. Just fucking stupid.
“What the fuck?” I heard him whisper. Relief was short lived as I realized it was Caleb who had entered my room. “Oh Kitten, what have we done now?” he taunted.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but I don’t think he heard me. The door shut. I listened…only my heartbeat.
There was rustling. I knew he moved about the room but I couldn’t discern where exactly he was until I heard his shoes against the tile of the bathroom floor. I bit into my lip so hard I tasted blood in my mouth. His voice filled the room. “Tell me something Kitten…”
His steps felt nearby.
“When exactly did you imagine yourself as…? My lover?” My heartbeat vibrated my skull. “Was it the first time I made you come with my mouth? Or one of the many times since, that I’ve put you over my knee? You seem to like that.” I felt the bed dip above me with his weight. Unfortunately, it was on the side I wasn’t
facing. I was openly crying now. He knew where I was and he was toying with me.
“I’m sorry Master,” I whispered.
He scoffed, mocking my pathetic nature without a word. “If I drag you out it’ll be very painful. It’s best you manage on your own.” he crooned.
Captive in the Dark Page 7
