Carnal Captive

by Vonna Harper

  Fresh, moist air wafted around her. It didn’t smell like the ocean so maybe a lake or river? What state were they in? What part of the country? More important, where would she be forced to live until she escaped?

  Escape! Without that hope she might as well be dead.

  The vehicle made a sharp right turn followed by a crunching she believed came from tires rolling over gravel. Hearing a clanking outside the vehicle, she concluded that a garage door was opening. They rolled forward. Movement stopped and the motor silenced, freezing her thoughts.

  A car door opened followed by the one near her right elbow. She started to lean forward only to collapse against the seat back. The garage door closing behind her stole her breath. Trapped, it said.

  Instead of unfastening her seat belt, her master pushed her head forward and unfastened the blindfold. When her vision cleared, she found herself in an oversized garage. A shiny red Jeep was parked to her left.

  “My toy.” He nodded at the Jeep.

  Like me.

  When he released her ankle restraints, he seemed to fill the back seat. His snug golf style shirt rested against what might be the broadest back she’d ever seen. Earlier she’d noticed that he had a few extra pounds around his waist. When he straightened and looked at her, she wondered whether the end to his career had affected him the way no longer being able to paint did her. But he could choose the next chapter in his life. She couldn’t.

  “I live on two acres next to a lake,” he informed her. “Most of it is fenced and there are privacy trees all around the perimeter.”

  No one can see what goes on here.

  “Except for two neighbors,” he continued, “I have the west side of the lake to myself. Neither of those neighbors live here full time. I don’t expect to see them for a couple of weeks.”

  In other words, leaving Carnal and being brought here changed little for her.

  Reaching a beefy hand around her, he unlocked the seat belt. Grateful as she was to no longer being tethered in place, she knew not to move before he’d given her permission. Obey had been beaten into her.

  “Get out.”

  Dreading what she had to do, she swung her body around and planted her legs outside a luxury black sedan with tinted windows. He’d stepped back enough to give her room to move, not enough for her to try to run—not that she could.

  When she first stood, her legs shook so much she had to lean against the door to keep from collapsing. If he was concerned about her welfare, he gave no sign, only waited for her to straighten. Everything ached.

  “I’m getting rid of the gag. All that drooling is disgusting.”

  Was he blaming her for something she had no control over? No matter, her gratitude when he unbuckled the bridle-like contraption and drew it out of her mouth was so great she whispered a hoarse, “Thank you, Master.”

  “Master,” he muttered, holding the bridle at arms’ length. “Yeah, that’s what I am.”

  Wrapping his free hand around her arm, he marched her through the garage to a closed door. He released her and opened the door. She shrank back.

  “What the hell’s your problem?” he demanded, pushing her ahead of him.

  Trusting he didn’t really expect an answer, she stared at a laundry room with a large washtub, cupboards, and hooks holding everything from life vests to colorful beach towels. Planting his hand between her shoulder blades, he propelled her through an open door and into another room. Darkness waited in there, increasing her dependency on her master. Obviously he saw no need to linger as he continued to push her along. Despite her efforts to please him, her steps dragged.

  The kitchen, lit by some kind of lighting under the cupboards, was spacious with lots of tile and a large window beyond the sink. Since it was night she couldn’t see what was beyond the window. Before she could anticipate his movements, he spun her around and shoved her into a pantry. The door slammed behind her, trapping her in darkness.

  Why had he placed her in here? Was this where she’d spend the night? She hadn’t been claustrophobic before her capture, but she now hated and feared the closed-in space. Desperate to keep panic at bay, she turned her back to an open shelf and felt with her hands. One stack of cans made her think of what tuna came in while another was soup size. Wouldn’t her wealthy master eat most of his meals out, either that or have them delivered?

  Maybe eating in was the only way this public man would be assured of privacy.

  Trying to wrap her mind around what it was like to be so recognizable she couldn’t walk into a store distracted her from acknowledging how trapped she was. Still, when the door opened, she couldn’t deny her relief.

  “I had to pee,” he told her. “I didn’t want you going anywhere.”

  Surely he knew she needed to do the same thing. If he was waiting for her to beg, she’d only loathe him more, if that was possible.

  “Your turn.” He crooked a finger at her.

  Feeling like a dog being ordered outside to squat, she trailed behind him. After leaving the kitchen, they passed a wide doorway that led to a shadowy room filled with exercise equipment. She couldn’t help but stare.

  “Yeah, that’s where I spend a lot of my time.”

  Was he giving her a tour of his place? Ridiculous as the notion was, she sensed he was proud of his home. What struck her the most was the difference between where each of them lived, only she no longer lived anywhere.

  The tile-floored bathroom took her breath away. The cabinets were rich cherry, the faucets and other hardware burnished silver. In addition to a double-size shower with a clear glass enclosure, there was a massive jetted tub under an oval window. A half wall separated the toilet from the shower.

  Not waiting to be granted permission, she walked over to the toilet, sat, and urinated. Then she bounced up and down trying to shake herself dry.

  Saying nothing, her master pushed her forward via a hand on the back of her neck. She hadn’t worn anything for so long she should have gotten used to being naked. Instead, she felt horribly exposed.

  Drawing out the act, he uncuffed her hands and tucked the chain in his pocket. She started to bring her arms forward only to stop as pins and needles struck. Frozen by pain, she waited. Against her will, she mentally went back to the day of her capture when she’d first lost control of her body.

  Endless days and nights later, she had yet to get it back.

  “You stink,” he announced. “When the hell did they last clean you?”

  She wasn’t an unwashed dog! She wasn’t! “This morning, Master. But I’ve been on the floor of a plane.”

  “Yeah, you have. You’re going into the shower.”

  Any other time the prospect of stepping into an expensive shower with pristine blue/gray walls would have thrilled her. But her master had hoisted himself onto the countertop where he’d have a clear view of what she was doing. At first she couldn’t figure out the workings of the five faucets. Then it took a while for her to determine where to stand. A built-in shelf in the shower held a variety of masculine soaps and shampoos. As gloriously warm water ran over the metal hugging her neck, wrists, and ankles, she surrendered to the fantasy of watching the hated restraints melt and wash down the drain.

  She didn’t dare turn her back to him. He seemed to be frowning but maybe he always looked that way. At least he wasn’t acting like some sex starved teenage boy but why should he? As a professional jock, he had to have his pick of women. Why then had he bought her?

  Bought. Paid for.

  Fighting too-familiar emotions, she concentrated on shampooing her hair. Her handlers hadn’t allowed her to handle even this small personal task. They certainly hadn’t taken time to massage her scalp or thoroughly rinse. Putting her head under the spray made her uneasy. What if her master jerked open the door and hauled her out?

  Blinking water out of her eyes, she stared at him. He hadn’t moved. Simply waited.

  The moment she touched her flesh with the soft soapy washcloth, lethargy seep
ed over her. She’d always considered showers a task like brushing her teeth. Now she lost herself in the joy of handling her own body. She lingered over her bruised breasts, mentally washing away the clamps they’d been subjected to. Her back and buttocks stung where whips and switches had left their mark.

  She put off cleaning between her legs until last. When the washcloth touched her pussy, memories of the good and bad that had been done to her there reasserted themselves. She’d been forced to accept dildos and plugs. Being fitted with leather straps designed to keep the items in place been deeply humiliating. More to the point, all the time she’d worn them, her awareness of herself as a sexual being had remained in overdrive.

  Maybe she could have handled having her holes filed if her handlers hadn’t added fingers and vibrators. If they hadn’t driven her over the edge and into one forced climax after another.

  Maybe Damek and Reno had turned her into a whore, a nymph.

  Suddenly overheated, she fumbled with the faucets trying to cool the sprays. As she did, she lost her hold on the washcloth. It now lay between her legs. Burying her face in her hands, she squeezed her thighs together. Instead of destroying the heat there, the pressure kicked it up another notch.

  “Turn off the water. Now.”

  Shamed, scared, and excited, she struggled with the complex task of complying. She opened the door but couldn’t make herself step out. He threw a large red towel at her. Catching it, she hugged it to her breasts.

  “Out. Now.”

  Holding back a helpless moan, she obeyed. The plush bath rug caressed her feet. Her hair plastered itself to her neck and pooled on her shoulders.

  “What the hell were you doing in there?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Master.”

  The admission seemed to drift between them. As he regarded her with an incomprehensible expression, she mustered up the strength to begin drying herself. Water kept dripping off her hair. Finally she leaned forward and wrapped the towel around her head, leaving herself exposed.

  “May I have another towel, Master?”

  He shrugged. “You really are as well-trained as they said you were. What will you do if I say no?”

  She hugged her middle. His gaze switched to her breasts. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  Getting off the countertop, he erased the distance between them. “This is the only time I’m going to say this so pay attention. Don’t question me, ever. My word is law, understand?”

  He loomed over her, threatening her with his size and strength. Feeling small and glasslike, she nodded and lowered her gaze. Seeing his erection pointed at her dried her throat. She tightened her hold on herself.

  “Yes Master. I understand.”

  “I hope you do.” He pulled the towel off her hair, wrapped it around her upper body, and pulled her against him. “I won’t hesitate to punish you. When I do you won’t like it.”

  His cock pressed against her. Her arms were trapped.

  “I want to—to please you, Master.”

  “Yeah, I imagine you do. At least unless you can get away. That’s right, isn’t it?” He dragged the towel down her back until it reached her waist. His grip tightened, making it impossible for her to put any space between them. “You’ll say everything you think I want to hear and obey my every command, but if you have the chance, you’ll slit my throat. I don’t give a damn what they say at Carnal, you still have the survival instinct. In fact, I wouldn’t want you if you didn’t.”

  He was massive, a rock, beyond powerful. How could he expect her to comprehend what he was saying?

  “Everything’s about survival. It’s the most basic emotion and instinct there is. More important than fucking. Fortunately, neither of us has to worry about staying alive which means we can move onto the fucking. At least I can. I don’t give a damn what matters to you.”

  She hadn’t expected him to.

  “We’re going into my office,” he said, “because I have emails to deal with. Your job is to entertain me while I do, understand?”

  “Yes Master.” She didn’t.

  “Good.” Working so vigorously that she nearly lost her balance, he rubbed the towel from her tailbone down to her ankles. That done, he gave her breasts a quick swipe. The corner of his mouth lifted as he ran the towel down the inside of one leg and then the other. Finally, as she knew he would, he pressed a single layer against her crotch.

  Fists clenched at her sides, she waited him out. He teased her through the barrier, rubbed her slit. Then with a bored sounding sigh, he dropped the towel to the floor, grabbed her wrist, and spun her away from him. Planting her hand in the small of her back, he propelled her out of the bathroom. Who would pick up the towel? If he employed someone to clean house, he’d surely put her where she wouldn’t be seen or heard until that person left.

  She was so engrossed in pondering whether that might prove to be her opportunity to escape that she barely noticed where they were going. He turned on an overhead light making it easy for her to note the rich decor compete with oil paintings on the walls. A large monitor on a large cherry desk caught her attention. Then she spotted a large wooden carving of an eagle with outstretched wings near the monitor.

  “Noticed that, did you?” With her arm held behind her and his other hand on her shoulder, she couldn’t turn toward him. “I commissioned a woodworker to create it for me based on a photograph I found in a book about Alaska.”

  This rough, raw man had an eye for art. That was the last thing she’d expected to learn about him.

  “What do you think?”

  Did he really want to know? “It’s amazing. The detail—the carver created individual feathers. And the look in the eagle’s eyes—he’s afraid of nothing.”

  “He isn’t simply fierce, he’s supremely confident.”

  Like you.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Maybe her master regretted exposing what he had of himself but maybe he only cared about getting to the emails. Whatever the reason, he turned her toward him and ordered her to hold out her arms. She didn’t react when he took the chain out of his pocket and hooked her wrists together in front.

  “In there.” He jabbed a finger at the opening under his desk. Feeling demeaned and dismissed, she pulled the chair away and backed into the space. After unhooking and unzipping his jeans, he sat down.

  “You know what to do, slave. Get started.”

  This was to be her life, she acknowledged as she drew out his erection. Part of it anyway. Above her, he clicked keys. He was in touch with the world, connecting with people, making deals and issuing commands, maybe sharing jokes, perhaps viewing porn. In contrast, her world went no further than this dark cramped space and her master’s cock.

  Fighting the thought, she wrapped her fingers over his strong, sleek length. She’d never worship this. Just the thought made her sick to her stomach. But if her existence had to revolve around a man’s penis, she could have done worse. The longer she stroked him, the more swollen he became. From where she was, she barely heard him breathe, but she could imagine.

  Yes, she was on her knees, a lowly creature barely worthy of a glance from the man who’d paid for her, but his cock wasn’t immune to what she’d learned during her painful training. She’d press and touch, lightly run a nail around where he’d been circumcised, blow a warm damp breath over the tip. No matter what he was doing up there, his cock would take notice. More than that, the message in her fingers and breath would seep into his veins and send fire to his heart. Could she give him a heart attack?

  A musical sound startled her. She guessed his cell phone was announcing an incoming call.

  “What the hell you want, you ugly piece of dog meat?” her master demanded. “I don’t know,” he went on after a short silence. “I’m going to be busy the next few days, something new I’m into.” He fell silent again. “You aren’t shitting me are you? They’re really going to be there? Of course I want to be involved, I just—go on, tell me.” />
  So she was something new he was into, some entertainment or activity that might keep him out of circulation for a while. She’d be a fool if she did anything that might anger him. Just the same, she placed her damp lips around his tip and pressed down. Holding him, she leaned back, drawing his cock toward her.

  “Shit!” he gasped. “No, I’m not talking to you.” Reaching under the desk, he snagged her hair and pulled her closer. “Just—ah yes, just—you know.”

  The tempo of Master’s breathing increased, and his legs started jiggling. The longer she held onto him, the more connected she felt.

  She wasn’t getting turned on. Certainly not that! Rather, after all that time wondering about her fate, it was now before her. She belonged, not to a man but to his cock. This one part of his anatomy defined their relationship.

  Pleasure. Maybe for both of them.

  “Hell no I’m, ah, not telling you what’s happening.” He sounded even more distracted. “Figure it out.” He waited a beat then barked out a laugh. “Oh hell yeah she’s into it. What? No I’m not sharing. Not tonight anyway.”

  The words struck a blow to her newborn self-confidence. Still, for reasons she didn’t want to examine, she cupped his balls in her cuffed hands. She gently rolled his balls about while sucking and licking his shaft. Her trainers had forcefully taught her to how deep throat. After taking a deep breath designed to gather her courage around her, she opened her mouth wide and leaned into him, all but swallowing him. He still had hold of her hair, but it didn’t matter. Closing her eyes, she dove fully into pleasing the big man.

  She wouldn’t think about his power over her, she wouldn’t! Instead, she’d become a talented lover demonstrating her devotion to the man who owned her heart.