Carnal Captive

by Vonna Harper

  “I hope so. Otherwise, you’re going to lose your investment.”

  In the tense silence that followed, Bay guessed Carnal staff wasn’t in the habit of warning those who kept them in business. Leaving the others to figure out what to do next, he cupped the slave’s chin.

  “I own you. That’s the only thing you need to know, understand.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Her voice was deeper than he remembered. Her eyes were brown, something else he hadn’t noted.

  “Stand up.”

  She nearly lost her balance getting to her feet while keeping her arms behind her. The way her breasts moved naturally drew his attention to that part of her anatomy. Still getting used to the reality of what money had bought him, he licked his fingers and stroked a nipple. Her breathing picked up. Remoistening his fingers, he rolled the nipple between forefinger and thumb until it hardened.

  “Good technique,” Damek said. “You don’t want to stick to gentle stimulation of course because that’ll get her to thinking she’s more than a fuck toy. The master/slave relationship isn’t complex. She simply needs to understand her place.”

  “He’s right,” Reno added. “Let me demonstrate.”

  The instant Reno reached for her other breast, the slave sucked in a breath and started to lean away only to catch herself. Her lashes lowered.

  “No you don’t.” Clamping hold of the nipple, Reno roughly drew her toward him. “Women’s breasts are the perfect leash. Get hold of one and she’ll do anything you want.” He pulled up, forcing her onto her toes.

  “That’s what the marks on them are about?” Bay didn’t try to keep disapproval out of his voice. “You’ve been hauling her around?”

  Reno relaxed his hold enough that she was able to stand flat-footed. “That’s one way of putting it,” Damek said. “To clarify, the bruises come from nipple clamps. I get the impression those marks aren’t to your liking, but punishment is, after all, at the core of what we do.”

  He knew that, damn it.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Mr. Jones interjected, “there’s no reason for disagreement. We’re all after the same results, a satisfactory experience for the client. Reno, you’ve made your point. Release her. Bay, take your time assessing the merchandise. If there’s anything not to your liking, bring it to our attention.”

  Bay didn’t dare look at Mr. Jones. If he did, he might laugh, either that or rearrange the man’s face. When an obviously disgruntled Damek let her breast drop, he started to walk around her only to catch himself. “Rotate,” he commanded. “And arms at your sides.”

  Relief washed over her to be replaced by the distant, neutral expression he’d seen before. Head up and nails pressing into her palms, she slowly turned in a circle. Comparing her slight, nude form to that of the other men and himself, he wondered if she felt like a doe surrounded by wolves. Maybe not because a doe would try to escape. Watching her, he couldn’t determine whether she was embarrassed or resigned. Maybe she was so far gone that nothing mattered to her.

  And maybe she was spacing out again.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Leaving her to her thoughts, if she had any, Bay took note of surprisingly broad shoulders and slim arms. Slender and wiry as she was, he expect her breasts to be an A cup. Instead they had to be a solid C. Her legs were long and firmly muscled. Looking at her hairless crotch—damn, he could hardly wait to get his cock in her.

  “You’re certain you don’t want her pierced?” Damek asked. “Spread your legs, slave.”

  Her nostrils flared but she obeyed. Grabbing her hips, Damek positioned her so Bay had a clear view of her pussy. “She has a sweet pair of lips, big and puffy. They’d look even better like this.” Reaching between her legs from behind, Damek grasped her labia and drew them down. “You’ll see the ring every time she takes a step, and she sure as hell won’t be able to forget what it means.”

  Watching the crude demonstration, Bay looked forward to laying claim to that part of her. For the first time it truly penetrated that he owned every inch of her.

  “I don’t know,” he muttered. Damn, he couldn’t think.

  “What about her boobs?”

  He barely noticed what Reno was doing until the trainer pulled a pair of gold clamps from his pocket and held one up to the slave’s right breast. “That’s lovely if I do say so. Makes an unforgettable statement about who rules who.”

  Interested as he was in what Reno was doing, Bay forced his attention from the small teeth as they closed around her nipple and onto her face. Pain contorted it. Her wide eyes and clenched teeth reminded him of when an injury had transformed his own features. He’d hated that look on himself. In contrast, seeing pain claim her increased his sense of power.

  Reno clamped her other nipple, making her hiss and groan. “You don’t have to make a decision today. If it’s more convenient for us to come to you for the piercing, that can be arranged.”

  Upgrading the product. That, when you got down to it, was what they were talking about.

  Stepping back, he again studied his slave. Damek had released her labia, but the flesh still hung down. Between that and her imprisoned breasts, it didn’t take much imagination to picture what could be done to her. Maybe he should get it over now, probably cost less than a later house call.

  Then he noted she’d hunched forward as if trying to protect her breasts from any more abuse and knew he wasn’t ready to take that step.

  “I appreciate the offer. It’s tempting.”

  “Understandable,” Mr. Jones said. “Gentlemen, is there anything else you want to cover before our guest and his possession leave?”

  “She’s one of the quietest bitches I’ve worked with,” Reno said. “Most beg and cry. They plead and promise all kinds of crap they can’t deliver. They ask why this is happening and what’s going to happen next.”

  “Until we gag them,” Damek added.

  “Until we gag them. We did that with her what, maybe a half dozen times until we realized it wasn’t necessary. Of course there were occasions when we did so for entertainment purposes, our entertainment that is.”

  “What about when she was being punished?” Mr. Jones asked.

  Something about the older man’s tone caught Bay’s attention. Unless he couldn’t see the signs when they were laid out in front of him, the damn bastard was turned on. What was he, a sadist? The pot calling the kettle black?

  “She screamed some of course,” Damek supplied. “More moaning but really, not that much.”

  “Is that a problem?” Reno asked? “You’d rather have a slave who screams her lungs out?”

  I don’t know what I want. Hoping to make the men forget he hadn’t answered the question, he removed the clamps. She hunched even more as blood started flowing again. He sensed her battle to remain silent. That’s all she had left, wasn’t it, pride.

  Damn it, pride hadn’t gotten him very far when his last contract hadn’t been renewed.

  “What I need is to get back home.” He started to mention wanting to get his marketing plan underway, but if Carnal knew so much about the world his slave came from, undoubtedly they’d checked him out. “How long before we can take off?”

  “You don’t want to sample the goods first?”

  He shook his head. “I prefer a certain measure of privacy.”

  “Unless it’s a gang bang.”

  What was it with Damek? Every once in a while, the educated persona slipped revealing someone who what—was the perfect Carnal trainer?

  “Point taken.” He faced Mr. Jones. “Where are her belongings?”

  “They’re being loaded as we speak, as are items we believe you should have for maximum enjoyment. A kind of going away present.”

  The slave’s head came up and her eyes widened at the word belongings. Seeing her standing there naked surrounded by those who’d turned her life around, he was struck by how small she was.

  “Why don’t you have another drink,” Mr. Jones
offered. “There’s a final document for you to sign plus—“

  “Plus I need to make the last payment.”

  “Exactly.”

  Shari steeled herself not to react as Reno carried her toward a small plane after a bone-jarring ride in the back of a windowless van. Earlier, her handlers had marched her out of the room where her new master had been and returned her to the dungeon. They’d fitted her with ankle restraints, chained her wrists behind her, and forced her into the hated bridle gag. That done, Reno had hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her outside. Hard as she’d tried not to tremble, she couldn’t stop. She was leaving a known hell and heading into—what?

  Her owner was massive! She wanted to take comfort from the fact that he’d removed the nipple clips and had decided against having her pierced, but she knew better. Probably he was waiting until they were alone before demonstrating his capacity for cruelty.

  Where were they going? What lay ahead?

  And what had they meant by her belongings? Were her clothes going with her? She tried to remember what had been in her wardrobe but nothing came to mind. To keep herself from going insane, she mentally walked through her the rooms of her rental. It would be easier if she didn’t enter her studio, but she couldn’t stop herself. That room contained what meant the most to her—what she missed more than anything else.

  What she couldn’t live without.

  “Well.” Reno roughly massaged her buttocks. “It’s been fun for me. I suspect you’ll disagree which in part is why we don’t want you saying anything right now. Looks like things are ready. In you go.”

  One second she was draped over Reno’s broad shoulder. The next he leaned forward, lifting and tossing her as he did. Unable to break her fall, she landed on her belly. Fortunately, she was on some kind of padding. Lifting her head, she saw what she gathered was the back of the plane. Was that what she was, cargo? Climbing in next to her, Reno rolled her onto her side.

  “Take a quick look around because that’s all you’re going to get.” He pulled a sleeping mask out of his pocket. “Don’t want you seeing where you’ve been or where you’re going.”

  Fighting him was useless, but instinct took over, compelling her to try to put distance between herself and one of the men who’d robbed her of selfhood.

  “You have spark.” Hauling her face down onto his thighs, he easily wrestled the blindfold into place. Night surrounded her.

  “I’m going to miss you.” His voice sounded disembodied. “There’s a lot more to you than we’ve been able to uncover. Given enough time we’d find a way to draw that out of you.”

  When he didn’t continue, she prayed he’d leave. However, he started stroking her shoulders and upper arms. She shouldn’t relax, but helpless fear had turned her into a child needing comfort. Sighing into the bit, she lowered her head onto his lap.

  “Every capture and training is a new adventure for me,” he explained. “It’s the most intense work I’ve ever done. Starting tomorrow, I’m taking a week to explore New Orleans. I’m not sure what I’ll do beyond historic tours and eating myself stupid. I’ll keep my eye out for potential targets of course, but I’m not going to get carried away. That’s what the trip’s about, regrouping and rejuvenating. By then I’ll be eager to get back to work.”

  And my hell will continue.

  “Like I said, I’m going to miss you.” When he ran his hand between her legs, as she knew he would, he settled on her trigger, that part of her body she had the least amount of control over. His experienced fingers played with her clit until she gave up fighting her response. If the only thing she had left to live for was brief sexual release, she’d take what little she could.

  “I’m sure you noticed my partner’s short fuse. There’s a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde quality to him. He’s damn good at what he does, but I don’t trust him. Just the same, I’ll continue working with him because I can learn from him. Also someone needs to keep an eye on him. It might as well be me.”

  There was a lazy quality to his focus on her clit, a tide rising and falling, brief bursts of energy followed by languid touches. Moments ago she’d been aware of her tightly constricted body, but now only one part mattered. Thankful for the wooden bit that prevented her from blurting out her gratitude, she seeped deeper into the hot sensual cocoon Reno was spinning around her. She was going to climax, and the journey, oh God, the journey!

  “Sorry.” He chuckled. “I lost my train of thought. In case you’re curious about why I’m doing this—“ He slipped his finger into her drenched opening. “it’s because this is going to be a long trip for you. I want you to start out relaxed.”

  Why didn’t you do this to me before, she wondered as a second finger joined the one already inhabiting her sex hole. I would have responded to kindness, to stimulation without pain.

  Sighing, Reno began flexing and straightening his fingers. “Too bad I can’t guarantee that your owner knows women’s bodies the way I do. His size, strength, and background concern me, but he paid a shitload for you. Hopefully he won’t damage the merchandise.”

  Don’t say that. I don’t want to think beyond this moment.

  Reno’s breathing was a little ragged but nothing like hers. With his heat all around her and his fingers buried so deep she half believed she could taste him, she swam in a sensual haze. Her body was useless. Helpless. But for these moments she trusted the man who’d beaten and abused her. He commanded her in ways she couldn’t wrap her splintered mind around, expertly played her body and understood her most basic needs.

  “Let go.” He slowly pulled out only to cover her clit. The juices he’d collected coated the swollen and aching bud. “Don’t think. Just be.”

  Be? Explode more like it.

  By turn she howled and chewed on the bit. A million lights lit up her world as she bucked and shivered. Reno’s hands remained on her, holding her against to him and telegraphing the difference between their strengths, but those things didn’t mattered.

  Release! Escape! Her sex muscles clenched repeatedly, sending ribbons of fire throughout her. Something huge began to shake her, and she dove into the sensation. Came to life.

  Finally her body gave out. Panting and drenched in sweat, she collapsed against the man who’d done this. Her pussy continued to convulse, each spasm less intense than the previous one but still wonderful.

  “Remember this,” Reno whispered. “It might have to last you a long time.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Shari barely noted what was happening as preparations were made for the plane to take off. The engine made so much noise that if whoever was in it with her was talking, she couldn’t hear them. The takeoff caused her to roll about, but when things leveled off, she scooted around as best she could, laying on her side with her knees bent and her head awkwardly on the floor. Whether whoever was here with her gaped at her naked form or ignored her didn’t matter. She was only a piece of baggage, something being taken from one place to another.

  She might have slept, either that or Reno’s parting gift had indeed relaxed her. Finally, however, her cramped muscles demanded attention. Despite her determination not to let anyone know how uncomfortable she was, she couldn’t suppress a moan. A few minutes later she moaned again.

  Men’s voices reached her. She strained to make sense of what they were saying. The burning in her forced-behind-her arms was relentless. Her jaw ached from the damnable bit gag, and she hated having her ankles wrapped one over the other.

  When, after what seemed like forever, the plane began to descend, she gave a silent thanks followed by a wave of dread. What would happen once they touched down?

  All too soon, she had her answer. She’d been hauled out of the plane, thrown over what had to be her master’s massive shoulder, and deposited in what she assumed was a back seat. The vehicle smelled of leather, and the seat belt cinched around her was tight. Listening to things being loaded into the truck, she tried not to tremble. Yes she was afraid, nearly te
rrified. But she’d refused to let her master know, somehow.

  The door to her left opened and she sensed something being placed on the seat next to her. At first she barely paid attention. Then a familiar smell reached her nostrils. Oil paint.

  A million memories, images, and dreams flooded her. Hating her new world and desperate for the old, she surged against the restraint over her lap and across her shoulder. She swore into the gag, then, although it was the last thing she wanted to do, she started to cry.

  “What the hell! What do you think you’re doing?”

  Powerful hands forced her back. Still she fought until her muscles cramped.

  “They should have sedated her,” a strange voice said. “But from what I was told, she hasn’t freaked out before. The thing is, you never know how someone’s going to react to drugs. Guess they didn’t want you to have to deal with a slave going through withdrawal.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hold onto her so she learns she can’t get away with that crap. Fortunately there’s no one around to see what we’re doing and no video cameras. Also its night. That’s why we picked this little airport. You sure you can handle her from now on?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Sorry.”

  The weight against her shoulders slowly let up. Spent, she didn’t move.

  “I wonder,” her master said, “if this caused her reaction.”

  He reached around her. A moment later she sensed something being placed close to her face. When she inhaled, the aroma of oil paint seeped into her. A lifetime ago her world had revolved around that smell and the satisfaction and fulfillment that came with painting. Maybe her master had gotten his hands on her artwork and was torturing her with what she’d lost.

  She hated him.

  By the time the vehicle slowed, Shari’s need to go to the bathroom warred with her attempts to make sense of her surroundings. Her master and she had been on pavement from the time they left the airport. At first she’d heard countless other vehicles and judging by the speed they were going, she guessed they were on a freeway. Then he’d slowed, turned, stopped. After that there’d been countless turns, stops, and short straight stretches that made her wonder if they were going through residential neighborhoods. No one knew she was sitting chained, naked, and anonymous in the back seat of a rich man’s car.