I didn't even dare attempt to fight him. I walked into the bedroom and got onto the bed. I was too upset and exhausted to do anything else. I felt welts on my ass. I lay on my stomach, trying to make sanity of this situation. I bit my lip as hard as I could instead of letting the pain escape through my tears.
He came in. As usual, he was allowed to be clothed; I was still naked. He looked sad again, torn.
"Imogen, you must understand something. The only way you will not be tortured or worse, killed, is if you can grow to abide by obeying me. Whenever I ask you what you want, your stock answer must always come back to what I want. No matter what you are feeling. Do you understand? You need to be trained to care about only pleasing me, and you must respond as such. But it is much more than that, Imogen…"
Oh my god. What? My stomach clenched, as I felt I might vomit from fear.
"We need to practice. I wish there was more time. No whip this time. It does not please me to have to punish you this way, but others will."
He saw my eyes well up in both fear and confusion. I was slowly piecing things together and yet things remained unclear.
He continued, "You need to build up your tolerance. I can only protect you so much. The better prepared you are, the better you will be able to handle it. I am hoping you won't have to endure much from the others. But Imogen, you are a tempting, beautiful woman, a curse perhaps here. Even though I have claimed you as mine, and they will respect that mostly, my superior can do as he wishes. War has made some men animals. You are the enemy. Some will see you only as that, nothing more."
Holy god. It was sinking in. Other men would find pleasure in torturing me here, but my reactions and responses could sway my fate.
He began to remove his clothes.
"I would prefer to leave you untied, but if you can't control yourself enough, I will tie you. Is that fair?"
I literally laughed, a nervous, loud laugh.
"Why is that funny, Imogen?" he asked.
"Fair, Sir? Is there any such thing?"
He looked sad; somehow I felt bad, but then I snapped out it. He had taken me prisoner for god’s sake. He was torturing me in a way I never knew possible until this morning. He whipped me. Good. I hope he felt bad for what he was doing.
He came to sit beside me. He lightly traced the marks he had made on my body from the whip, slowly, gingerly, as I lay there, naked and vulnerable. He kissed each small welt he had made, coming far too close to my sex, and it made me shudder and tense with desire. He rolled me over and then without pause, pushed his body against mine. He kissed me, hard, passionately, and I struggled to find my breath, as I found myself leaning into his kisses, mirroring his passion. Something like a groan snuck out of my mouth, and I froze in fear that his punishment would ensue.
"It's okay. You'll never be kissed by anyone other than me. That I am sure of. I'm glad you like the way this feels. I like the way you taste." I should hate this man, and yet I clenched with a yearning for him. I could not control or change my reaction.
He continued and trailed his hand down to my sex. "Spread for me," he demanded, and I did.
He stroked me perfectly, never letting his lips leave mine, his fingers matching the rhythm of his tongue in my mouth. I pulled away from him. "Oh please," I begged.
"Do not beg me right now. Remember what I said."
He massaged my swollen clit, that glorious pleasure spot I had only just met, and I moaned into his mouth, losing all sense of reality.
"I am going to stop kissing you. When I do, remember yourself. No moaning. No begging. Do not speak. Try not to react."
"I will not be able to," I breathed. "I can't do this," and I felt that lump build again in my throat as I fought back tears.
"You must try," he warned.
He brought his head down between my legs and began to lick me to excruciating ecstasy. I flushed with embarrassment, losing my breath, panting, squirming with unimaginable desire, and brought my legs together.
"Shall I tie you?" he asked.
I didn't answer but my eyes spoke for me. I was scared. I wanted him to tie me. I couldn't willingly allow him to do this to me, and yet, I didn't want him to stop.
"Okay," he laughed as if he understood, and I placed my arms over my face to cover its flush of humiliation. He rose and before I knew it, my legs were bound apart on the bed, but he left my hands free.
He sighed, long and heavy, as he stared down at my body. "God, Imogen. I don't ever want to share you."
He began licking exquisitely again, and I moaned and began to writhe.
"Slave!" he was all business again.
I brought my hands down to cover my sex. I involuntarily pushed down on my pelvis to release some pressure. Immediately, he grabbed my hands, and I was again, tied, completely helpless, my wrists now also secure to the bedposts. I was spread eagle.
"You are really starting to worry me, Imogen."
I welled up but forced myself not to cry.
His skillful tongue began again, and he twirled it precisely where I needed it. He positioned his head so that his eyes could stare into mine, as his expert fingers found my nipples again. Oh god. I was so close. I was screaming in my head. Blood pulsed through my body at a fast, uncontrollable beat. I knew he could feel my ascent. I kept myself quiet. I wanted to go over the edge.
He stopped. "What do you want?"
"You!" And I screamed it. All my breath came out at once. "You. Please." I didn't care what he thought of me anymore. I didn't care what I thought of myself.
And he drew himself off of me and sighed heavily again, running his hands through his hair, exasperated. I remembered what I was supposed to say, that I was only supposed to care about his pleasure. I stuttered, "I want…” I was struggling to speak… “whatever pleases you Sir," I panted, embarrassment coursing through my body.
He wasn't smiling. "It's too late, Imogen. You would have been whipped into oblivion by now."
"What? Why? What do you mean?"
"I mean, Imogen, that you must say those words no matter how you are feeling. You must say them to me if and when I ask, without hesitation, or they will see your weakness and possibly take you from me for good. You must obey and act like a slave, Imogen. That is what you are now. You cannot let your passion cloud yourself. And if they should want you, you mustn't react." He paused to let what he was saying sink it. He continued, "Again, Imogen. Let's try again."
"No. I can't. Please…" I was so confused, trying to understand.
"Slave," he said sternly. "You do not have a choice. This is the only way you have a chance. I am bringing you to this brink because I know you can't think when you are there. You need to suppress your needs, no matter what kind of duress you are under. Men will have a field day with you if you can't. To them, the weaker you are, the more pleasure for them."
He stroked my cheek to calm my trembling body and then he began again with what he called "training." Over and over, he twirled his tongue across my slit, lapping up the juices between my legs, until I felt myself again rising, in spite of myself. He flicked my pleasure spot, swollen from teasing, and I climbed to the precipice. I concentrated as hard as I could to keep myself quiet, something I did not think I could do only moments before. And surely I could remember to pretend to put his needs before my own.
I was close again, and he stopped to toy only with my nipples. He pinched them, harder than he had before, as I panted.
"What do you want, Slave?"
"I want…" I almost forgot myself again, as my body ached and my head throbbed with dizzying desire. "I want whatever pleases you."
"Good, Slave," he stated. "It pleases me to watch you squirm."
What? No! This was not fair. I did what he asked, and my will power not to cry vanished. I sobbed. "Please! Please. Why? Don't do this?" I was borderline hysterical.
"Sssh," he said, pained, running his hands through his hair again and then rubbing his eyes. "No more crying." He untied my legs, leaving my a
rms still tightly fastened, as my chest heaved up and down at an unhealthy pace. He stroked my body, my stomach, my sides, my cheeks, and I felt myself calming, melting into his touch.
"Why? Why are you doing this to me?" I breathed, finding my equilibrium again.
He looked tenderly into my bloodshot eyes. "You will see soon. I just hope tomorrow they are easy on you. I hope you are not chosen to be touched by the other men. I hope you can obey me in front of the others. You're not ready. And I don't have the heart to continue to do this to you anymore right now. I hope I don't live to regret this. Let's get some rest. To your bedroom, Imogen."
"Please…" What was I begging for? Dread took over my entire body. I felt crushed.
He closed his eyes as if in deep meditation and ran his fingers across his chin. "What am I going to do with you?"
I looked up, trying to be cute. I couldn't believe myself. "Whatever pleases you, Sir," I said, and I meant it.
He kissed me. "It pleases me to fuck you right now."
I moaned and stopped myself halfway.
"You are doomed, Imogen, and it worries me greatly. I may be doomed as well. I cannot resist you. Now lie down on your back. Put your legs above your head. I'd like to fully enjoy you."
He began to tie each of my ankles to my bound wrists above my head as I panted and lost myself in contradictory excitement. Oh god.
He stroked my wet slit and in that moment, I thought I would absolutely die. It felt so good, I didn’t care about anything else except pleasure. I was burning from the insides of my body to every inch of the outside. But I didn't beg; I tried to remain quiet.
"Good, Slave," he said, watching the struggle in my eyes. "Does this feel good to you?"
I froze. I didn't know how to answer.
He saw my fear. "It's okay. Answer me."
"Yes," I exhaled.
He stuck a finger in me, bending it in that perfectly agonizing way. "Aaah."
"Imogen, please. Please try to remain silent. Please try to control yourself."
I was going to come. He saw the red flush crawling up over my chest and onto my face. He smiled. "What do you want, my Imogen, my Slave?
"What…e…ver…pleeeee…es…you, S…sss…ir." I could barely speak as another finger joined with the other and he stroked me into a fever-pitched frenzy.
"Good answer. It pleases me to stop." He glared at me to see if I had learned anything from his last torture, and I bit my tongue not to yell and writhe and moan.
He smiled. "Hmmmm. We have learned something today. For that, a reward is due."
Yes! I screamed in my head. And no! I scolded myself. Stop liking this. Stop wanting this.
He positioned his cock at my wet entrance and rubbed it in a circle. Oh dear god. I balled my hands into tight fists and closed my eyes.
"Open your eyes, Slave."
Oh god. Tears began to trickle down. Oh please.
His eyes held hope, expectancy as I looked into them. They were not cruel. He wasn't doing this to be cruel. But it felt cruel. He wanted me to learn what he was trying to teach me, though the reason for the lesson still remained nebulous, out of reach.
I stared at him boldly and he thrust his cock deep in me. He held it there. I squirmed trying to find a way to squeeze my legs together at the knees fruitlessly. "Would you like me to continue?"
Yes. God yes. But I heard myself, "If that is what you desire, Sir."
"I desire for you to come for me." And he gently pulled in and out of me, picking up the pace, as I held my breath, building and building and building to ecstasy. I looked painfully into his eyes, begging him to let me release. "Go ahead, Imogen, let me hear you," he relented and kissed me deeply, as I lost my breath to his mouth and then pulled away.
"Yes!" I screamed it so loud, and I came so violently, that I couldn’t stop trembling afterwards, while I watched him come too, his cum spraying hot and sticky on my chest, over my breasts. I continued to squeeze my muscles around a cock that was no longer there and groaned and called out his allowed name, "Sir! Sir! Yes," long after he was depleted.
"Sssh," and he looked down at me tenderly but left me tied in this uncomfortable ball. "Calm down. You did well, but not well enough. You have a long way to go. I will try to protect you to the best of my ability. God, Imogen, I don't want to see any harm come to you." And there, again, I saw that sadness behind his eyes.
He moved my long hair away from my face. "I wish I had met you under different circumstances, Imogen." His breathing was heavy. He whispered, tucking a loose hair behind my ear, "You have my mother's eyes."
I inhaled, surprised by his admission. "Is that why you chose me, Sir?" I asked boldly.
A deep despair crossed his face, as he lightly traced the welts he had made on my ass again. I couldn’t stop him as I lay helplessly tied at his mercy.
"Yes," he admitted. "And I'm so glad I did. You are making me feel human again, Imogen, like maybe I don't have to be the man I thought I'd become. And please, call me by my given name. My name is Erik."
I melted. Fuck pride. Fuck war. Fuck being his prisoner. I was falling for him. He wasn't evil. The war was evil. He too was taken prisoner. I was slowly realizing that.
"Thank you," I said, and I could feel desire building in me again, as his fingers twirled like whispers over my vulnerable body.
"For what?" he looked perplexed.
"For trying to help me. For trying to protect me."
Out of nowhere, his light, feather-like touches turned more sexual, forceful, determined, as he began to stroke my slit up and down. It shocked me, and I tensed. The mood had completely shifted. I quivered and let out a small groan of pleasure.
He stated sternly, "I am clearly not trying hard enough. You need to be quiet. And it worries me to the depths of my soul. I think perhaps we should continue to practice."
I couldn't believe my ears when I heard myself whisper, "Yes. Perhaps we should."
He let out a laugh that sounded beautiful in that moment. "Would you like to come again?"
"Y…" Oh, I almost forgot. "If it pleases you, if that…is what…you want, Sir…Erik."
He smiled down at me. "I would like it very much."
And he stroked my pussy and my sweet pleasure spot until I was right there again.
"Now Imogen, not a sound when you come. When you are coming, and I can see how very close you are, try not to scream out the way you like to. Though I would love to hear you, you need to obey me if the time should come. Not a sound, or you will have a ruined orgasm because I will stop when you have dipped just over the precipice. Trust me, you don't want that, and they'd like to give that to you over and over if they have their way. It brings many men great pleasure here to torture women this way. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Yes. Whatever pleases you, Sir…Yes." I was a rambling basket case, my breathing shallow and clipped, from having been teased yet again by him. But it was worse because I now knew what orgasm felt like, what that release would do for me.
He laughed. "Oh, Imogen."
And he let me reach the top, the climax, the tip, and over it I went, holding my breath, stifling my screams and moans, coming and coming and coming. I shook and then steadied, opening my eyes, and letting out all my breath, panting.
"Wow. I may have misjudged you. There is hope for you yet." He kissed me and I pushed my lips against his. I didn’t want him to stop but I could feel the shift again. I could feel his mood changing and he pulled away and began to untie me.
I crawled into his arms, and I heard him exhale as he drew me against him. We lay there silently, his arms wrapped around me like a warm sweater for many, many minutes and then he finally spoke. He broke my peaceful reverie, a feeling of contentment I had not felt in quite a long time, since even before the wars.
"I am not going to make you go to the main compound to sleep like many of the other women have to. You are mine to stay here, but you should go to the other bedroom. If you get caught in my bed, they may think I
actually care about you."
Did he? Care about me? Did I care about him?
"Oh," I stammered. “Okay," I whispered, sadness gripping me. I felt so foolish, so used. Why would I even think he cared about me? Of course he didn't. And I shouldn't care about him…this rapist…this animal. How could I have let myself get so carried away?
"Goodnight, then, Imogen. There are some toiletries you can use in the bathroom."
I rose to leave his side. "Goodnight, Erik," I said, trying not to show how disappointed and scared I felt in that moment.
When I looked back to him to see if he had changed his mind, I only saw that deep torn emotion in his eyes, and it made me want to run to him, to comfort him, to soothe him.
When he caught my gaze, his eyes turned to stone in a flash. "To bed, Slave."
It made me shiver, and I didn't look back a second time. When I made it to the other bedroom, the bed sheets had been folded down for me, and it made my belly twitch to think he had thought to do that for me. Could he be anymore confounding?
And then I remembered again what he had just done to me, what he put me through, and for what? I worried what the morning might bring, and a chill gripped me with tight fingers. I cried myself to sleep, lonely and naked, wishing, much to my dismay, that I was in Erik's strong, soothing arms.
Chapter Three: CONFLICTED
I had no idea what time it was, and the reality of my situation engulfed me. I felt sick to my stomach, felt sick about my predicament. It felt almost surreal. This couldn't really be happening to me. I couldn't really be a slave. I drew my arms around my body as tears escaped my eyes without sound, without a chance for me to control it. I felt a sense of dread, of unease, of simple, plain fear.
"Good morning, Imogen." Erik's deep voice broke into my bleak thoughts, startling me. I wiped away my tears quickly. The light shone just enough so that I could make out the shadow of his figure sitting in the chair in the room where I had slept.
He rose and pulled open the curtains fully, letting the light shine through the windows brightly, illuminating the room, illuminating him. God. He really was a masterpiece. His strong, wide back was uncovered, his muscles sharp, defined as he did the simple task of opening the curtains. I tried to pry my eyes from the expanse of his shoulders and neck, the faint markings of his years as a soldier.
THE IMOGEN SERIES BOXED SET PART I: (Books 1-4) Page 4
