by Linnea May
My eyes need a few moments to adjust, but I soon realize that I am in a canopy bed, my limbs tied to each of the four bedposts. I am surrounded by gauzy white curtains, draped around dark steel. It is surprisingly tasteful. I enjoy the monochrome theme that continues throughout the room.
The room is about twice as big as my childhood room at my parents’ house. The high ceiling is decorated with elaborate stucco and the windows to my right are outlined with thick, wooden window frames painted a warm white color. Apart from the giant canopy bed, the room is sparsely furnished. I can see a dresser at the wall opposite from the bed and a vanity between the windows, both in very dark mahogany wood, matching the hardwood floor. In the middle of the big room, quite far from the bed, there is a small dining table with two chairs opposite of each other, all of it in the same dark mahogany as the rest of the furniture.
The setting sun is casting warm light through the room like a cozy fire. Hours must have gone by since our session on the boat if the sun is setting.
I turn around to Leonard, who is standing at the left side of the bed, observing me with a confident smile. He has changed clothes and is now wearing a dark sweater and jeans. It is the first time that I’ve seen him in anything else but a suit.
“Where am I?” I repeat my question.
He tilts his head to the side and gives me a loving smile. I would feel flattered if it wasn’t for my confinement.
“I told you, you don’t have to worry,” he says. “You’re safe.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” I argue.
“Yes, it does,” he insists. “And if I were you, I would be careful with that bratty attitude.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Please,” I whisper. “Just tell me that this is still part of the game, so I can enjoy it.”
He chuckles and leans forward to place his hand on my breast, gently squeezing the left first, then the right. His touch is enticing, so sensual. I squirm beneath his hand, wishing for more. His hands feel so good, so warm and strong.
“If you want to call it a game,” he whispers. “Sure.”
What is that supposed to mean? Is he still trying to scare me? I would very much prefer to know that I am not in any real danger, that I can get out of here anytime I want to.
“What time is it?” I ask randomly.
“Late afternoon,” he replies.
“How did I get here? I don’t remember anything…”
“I brought you here,” he says.
I frown at him. “Thank you, I think I got that far.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Do you want to be hurt?”
“No,” I hurry to reply. “Sorry.”
Why am I the one apologizing? If anything, he is the one who has to do some explaining.
“But please,” I add. “I don’t remember anything. How did we get off the boat?”
“You slept for a while,” he explains. “I had to carry you.”
“When did I fall asleep?”
“On the boat after I fucked you,” he says, petting my head.
“Did you drug me?” I blurt out.
He smiles and shakes his head.
“Sweet girl, you worry too much.”
“So, you did drug me?”
He doesn’t reply, but places himself over me, putting his hands next to my head. He lowers his face above mine, so close that our lips are almost touching.
His smell is enticing. The soft fabric of his sweater gently caresses my nipples.
“May I kiss you one more time?” he asks.
I nod, and he doesn’t waste a moment before he presses his lips on mine, his tongue invading my mouth like a hungry beast this time. Faint moans escape my lips mid-kiss. His kiss is loving, gentle and sensual.
The rope cuts deep into the flesh of my ankles and wrists as I start squirming beneath him. For a few moments, I forget my worries and enjoy the excitement of finally being tied up properly, while the sexiest man I’ve ever met claims me. It is all I have ever wanted.
He moves one of his hands along my neck, wandering further along my body while we continue kissing. He gropes my breast, causing me to arch my back and exclaim in another moan before he continues to stroke along my belly, teasing and tickling me.
“Good girl,” he praises when his hand reaches its destination between my legs. He places his palm on my lips. I am so excited that his hand feels cold against my burning sex.
“That delicious little pussy,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I was so rough with you earlier.”
“Are you? Really?” I tease him.
He smiles.
“No, not really,” he says. “Are you sore?”
I blush at the question. Of course, I am. It has been a while since I have had sex, and no one has ever taken me as roughly as he had. My entrance is swollen and sore, which annoys me because I am still hoping for more.
“Yes,” I whisper. “You are really big.”
The compliment makes him grin from ear to ear, as it would any man. It is the truth, though. His cock has stretched me like no other, adding to my soreness.
“Cute girl,” he says, planting a kiss on the side of my mouth. “I’ll have to be gentle then, won’t I?”
He parts my folds and slides a finger in between, carefully circling my wet clit. I close my eyes in shame when I realize how wet I am. The sound of his teasing finger alone is such a telltale.
He shakes his head, casting me a naughty smile.
“And still, you want more,” he whispers. “What a cute little slut I’ve got myself.”
I remain mute and purse my lips.
“Why are you so wet?” he presses, letting his finger slid inside of me.
I arch my back and moan with relish. My poor center is so swollen and sore that even his finger feels gigantic inside of me. It stings, despite my wetness.
He starts massaging my clit with his thumb while keeping his finger deep inside of me.
“Come on, baby girl,” he whispers. “Speak to me.”
I groan with desperate lust.
Speak to me. That fucking phrase has haunted me all my life. Of all the great things he does to me, why does he force me to do the one thing that has always been the hardest for me: speaking.
“Tell me,” he insists. “Why are you so wet?”
“You,” I simply say, hoping that he would let me get away with this true, albeit short, reply.
“Me? What about me makes you so wet that you’re dripping all over my hand?”
Oh, come on!
I furl my eyebrows as I stare up at him.
“You… touching me,” I elaborate in toddler speech.
He laughs and kisses me again.
“You are so fucking cute. I’ll have to punish you for that,” he says. “But let me release you from your agony first, all right?”
He doesn’t wait for a reply, but straightens up, with his hand still between my legs. He sits back on his knees, observing me as I squirm in front of him.
“You have no idea how stunning you look right now,” he whispers. “The perfect little beauty. My beauty.”
I sigh when he removes his hand and bends forward to pleasure me with his tongue. He licks along my inner labia before circling around my bud. I am so sensitive and aroused that the sensation of his tongue on my clit almost sends me over the edge instantly.
“I’m gonna c—”
He interrupts me by slapping my thigh.
“Ask,” he orders. “Ask for permission.”
“May I?” I plead. “May I come, please?”
“Please, what?”
“Please, Master,” I add.
He plants a kiss on my mound.
“Good girl,” he praises. “You are a fast learner. Come. Come on my tongue.”
He lowers himself and continues to draw circles around my clit before he wraps his lips around my entrance and sucks on it. The feeling is breathtaking.
I arch my back and gasp, my eyes wide in disbeli
ef. He does it again, sucking on my clit while his tongue continues to work its wonders. The first waves of my release are taking over painfully soon. It feels so good. I don’t want it to end.
But I cannot control it. He is the one who is in charge. One more lick across my sensitive nub and my body uncontrollably spasms as my climax unfolds.
CHAPTER ten
Leonard
I had to make sure that no one would be coming to look for Liz when I decided to take her. The few words I exchanged with members of her family at the engagement party only made me want to take her more. Not for my sake, but for hers.
It makes me furious to see how she is treated, how little they seem to think of her, and consequently, how little she seems to think of herself. Of course, I couldn’t probe too much because I had no intentions of raising suspicions.
When I said my goodbye to her parents that day, thanking them for the invitation and congratulating them on the fine young women they raised, both of them talked in a way that suggested they only had two daughters. Sandria this, Lucia that. The good girls who went for the right men, who had the right attitude, the right ambitions, and the right hair color. When I dropped Liz’s name, they both just smiled, looking slightly embarrassed, as if they had just remembered her existence in that very moment.
She is an outcast for the silliest reasons, unlucky to be the last born of her parents. A third daughter that no one asked for. You don’t have to be a genius to see that she was unloved from the beginning, redundant and invisible.
It was almost too easy. Despite everything, I knew that her family would still worry in case of her disappearance. But with the impression they provided, it would be easy to turn Liz’s disappearance into nothing but an annoyance. A defiant young girl who takes off on her own.
Lucky for me, she has done it before, making the deception all the more believable. She took off on her own for a while after graduating High School, leaving nothing but a cryptic note until she returned. It is the only story I hear about her while talking to her family. Nothing else. She is seen as a rebel, unpredictable and selfish in her own way.
I had her write her whole name and phone number on a piece of paper, providing me with enough to copy her handwriting when I wrote the note that would reach her parents’ house tonight. It lets them know that Liz took off because she needs “some time to think” by herself. Telling her to bring extra clothes was just a way of making sure that she would take an overnight bag with her, thus giving the appearance that she was traveling. I am sure her parents won’t know how much of her things she actually took with her, but they will notice that she took a bag, and it will be easy for them to find out that she took a cab to the train station where she was last seen by the cab driver.
If all works out the way I planned—and so far, it has—they will find the note and investigate just enough to know that Liz presumably got on a train to God knows where. They will be angry with her to have caused such trouble in times when there are more important things, like her sister’s impending wedding, to be taken care of.
At least, this is what I expect of the Barringtons, one of the most superficial families I have ever encountered. And that is saying something.
It makes my insides growl to see her treated like this. When I vowed to make her mine, I promised myself to give her something she must have been lacking most of her life: attention and affection.
The whole world, my world, will revolve around her. She will be the center of my attention. Mine to use, mine to please.
I still cannot believe that things worked out the way they have so far, as I stare on my screen that display the feed from the camera installed in her room. It is pointed towards her bed, showing my naked little pet in her restraints as she wakes up. She is yanking on them, trying to move and get out of her confinement.
Her lips move, and I turn up the volume to be able to understand what she is saying.
She is calling for me, but not in a way that I would react to. She needs to learn that.
I keep my eyes fixed on the screen, watching her perfect squirm as she continues to call for me.
“Come on, baby girl. Remember,” I whisper at the screen.
I told her how to address me. She just has to remember.
She might need a little more time to fully wake up. It has been hours since I dropped the little pill into her champagne. I fucked her a lot harder than I had planned, but I don’t regret it at all. Seeing her trembling little body, wrapped in that blanket, seeking comfort at my shoulder, made me feel more powerful than the brute fucking itself. She will be sore, but that’s okay because I am pretty sure there will be no more fucking for a while once she realizes what is happening to her.
I only fuck with consent, and she most certainly won’t give that to me for now.
I will have to break her first.
She pauses as if she heard me. For a few moments, she remains calm and quiet, waiting, listening. I can see her mind working behind the blindfold.
“Master?” she says.
Finally.
I get up instantly and make my way to her room.
CHAPTER eleven
Liz
“Untie me,” I breathe, still recovering from my orgasm. “My arms are hurting.”
I had been yanking at the restraints without consideration of the pain it caused while I was losing my mind over the incredible climax he made me endure.
“Only if you promise to be good,” he says, still sitting between my legs.
“I promise,” I whisper. “Master.”
There is a certain sadness in his smile when he climbs over me to free my hands. My eyes follow him as he unfastens the rope around my left wrist.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips when my arm is free, and he gently rubs my wrist. He lifts my arm and places it on my chest.
“Relax,” he whispers, as he leans over to the right side.
The relief in my arms is so overwhelming that it makes me feel dizzy. For a few moments, I am not capable of doing anything but lying on my back, my arms crossed on top of my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I close my eyes while I relish the feeling.
He doesn’t say anything but climbs off of the bed. I watch him as he walks over to the dresser and opens one of the drawers on top. He fetches something from there and comes back to me.
I glance at his hand, trying to figure out what he is holding. Leathery strings, it seems.
“You’ll wear this from now on,” he announces, holding up a collar in front of my eyes. It is made of black leather, about an inch thick and has a little ring attached to it.
“From now on?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
“Get up,” he orders, instead of giving me an answer.
I obey and struggle to get myself in a seated position which is harder than expected because my arms are numb and weak, and my legs are still tied to the bedposts.
He gets back on the bed and helps me up, supporting me by placing himself behind me. I am too confused and weakened to fight when he puts the collar around my neck. He does it quickly without waiting for me to protest. I hear a clicking sound as he locks it.
When I hear the sound of the lock, I realize that I won’t be able to remove it by myself unless I am willing to play around with knives and scissors at my neck.
I turn around, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
“You will take this off when I go home tonight, right?” I ask. “I can’t wear this at home.”
He leans forward and plants a kiss on my lips, only to distract me from the fact that he hooks something to the ring at the front of my collar.
A leash.
He holds the other end of it in his hand and gently pulls on it, forcing me to follow his motions.
“Perfect,” he whispers. “You were born to wear my collar.”
I almost fall over when he suddenly decides to leave the bed again, still holding the leash in his hand. He attache
s the other end to a big hook attached to the wall next my bed. Just like the collar itself, the hook is secured with a little key.
I am confined.
“What—”
“You won’t be going home tonight,” he announces, standing next to the bed, hands in the pockets of his pants and sporting a confident smile. “You are mine now.”
My eyes widen with horror.
“This is not funny!” I protest. “Please, stop it. I think I’ve had enough for today—”
“This is no a game,” he interrupts me, his gaze darkening. “I am serious. You are mine now. And you are not going home.”
Panic spreads through my body as I am beginning to realize that he might not be joking. And yet, I cannot believe what I am hearing. My eyes wander around the room, unsure of what I am looking for.
Help? A way to escape?
Outside, the sunset has turned into twilight. Right about the time that my family is having dinner. This is probably the first time in my life that I wish to be with them.
“What—what are you doing?” I ask helplessly.
Leonard smiles at me.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he repeats. “You are safe. I am not going to harm you.”
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask.
I flinch when he grabs the leash and pulls me closer to him as he climbs back on the bed, planting a greedy kiss on my lips.
Only, this time I don’t reciprocate. I am terrified.
“I am going to make you understand what it means to be mine,” he whispers, his face so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my lips. “I am going to break you. I am going to free that little monster inside of you, peel off every barrier of protection you set up and reassemble a new you.”
My lower lip is shivering as I listen to his words.
“Please,” I beg while my eyes tear up. “Please, you scare me.”
“Trust me,” he whispers, kissing my cheekbone to catch the first tear that is rolling down my face. “You will love me for it.”
I shake my head and start sobbing when he retreats from the bed and walks towards the door.
“No!” I protest. “Please, Leonard! No, don’t—”
He ignores me and walks out the room. Another clicking sound reinforces my confinement.
