His large hand strokes the top of my head as he utters the two words that make me feel more loved than I have ever felt.
“Good girl.”
I make my way over to the desk, still on my hands and knees, and crawl up into the office chair. My hands run over the desk, stroking its top with a sense of awe, as I take in the large computer screen that looks more like a flat screen TV.
He places one single finger under my chin and tilts my head back, forcing me to look at him as he speaks.
“Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. Everything here is monitored and that most certainly includes your computer activity. You are here, sitting at this desk, for one purpose only and that’s to write me a bedtime story. You are here for my pleasure and you would do well to remember that.”
A sinister laugh escapes his lips before he makes his next statement. “It better be good. It better be good enough to make my cock hard, or I’ll have to use another, more painful, means to acquire that result.” I can hear his heavy boots striking the floor as he turns and leaves me without another word.
I have no idea why my writing is so important to him. Why does he even care? Why did he choose a bedtime story for me to write? Though questions fill my mind about him, even more questions about myself are prevalent. Why do I feel loved and adored by a man who has forced his way into my life, a man who has watched me from afar, a man who seems to know more about me than my own mother did when she was alive?
A part of me is glad no one will come looking for me. Already I feel safe here, protected by a man who is as much beast as he is man.
My fingers begin to touch keys as I begin writing a story that comes as naturally to me as the air that I breathe. Since he placed me on a leash and forced me to crawl around as a form of punishment, then that is what I will write about.
Executioner
I sit behind my own desk, watching her on surveillance as she writes. Watching her will tell me many things that most might miss if they weren’t profiling a victim.
I note she immediately begins to write. It doesn’t take long for her to figure out a story line at all. That alone tells me a few things: she doesn’t suffer from writer’s block, she isn’t insecure or indecisive about her choice, and, most importantly, the story is in her.
I have watched her as she has worked a job that makes her miserable. She went into her field of social work believing that she could make a difference with kids subjected to the same atrocities she endured as a child. Though she had ambition when she chose being a social worker to adult mothers, it has come back to haunt her. These women are much like her own mother in that it is too late for them. Their negligent behavior is too ingrained in them and their addictions make it impossible for them to do the right things.
Reality has come and overshadowed the ideology she had when she first went into her profession. I have watched her for the last few months doing something that only makes her more miserable with each passing day. If she won’t make the changes she needs to make willingly, I’ll force her. She needs to be writing, not doing mountains of paperwork that doesn’t make a damn bit of difference in anyone’s life.
I brought her here to save her from that quack of a doctor she was compelled to see, but I also brought her here to save her from someone who poses much more danger than he does—herself. As badly as she needs me to force my affections on her, I need her to be intrigued with my coercion. I need to take her by force, I need to break her down, I need her resistance, I need… Kansas.
I have always known I was different and the attack I was subjected to only brought the beast within me to the forefront. I don’t just like complete control, now I need it. She is a perfect fit into my fucked up state of being and I refuse to let her go.
Watching her bite her bottom lip as she concentrates so intently at the story making its release through her fingertips and onto the screen only assures me of what I already know to be true, she is a writer and writers write… so write she will.
I allow her to continue writing into the evening and I place a tray of food at her bedside without her being aware of my entrance. I purposely let her eat and continue writing until she makes her way to bed for the night and dozes off to sleep. I never make my presence known and I intentionally lead her to believe that I have forgotten my bedtime story.
Chapter Five
Kansas
I sink into a restful sleep engulfed by a sense of comfort despite my unfamiliar surroundings. At some point during the night, I open my eyes in the moonlit room because, even in my sleep, I feel him watching me. He is here, right here in my face, staring down on me. He wears the hood that earned him the nickname I have given him. I can only hope that he won’t hurt me now that I know who he is. He is wearing the mask for a purpose, the purpose of letting me know I’m now dealing with the monster and not the man.
He straddles me, pinning me down and placing one of his large hands around my throat. He begins to growl threats in my ear.
“Oh, you have been a very bad girl, haven’t you? Are you trying to get help from your quack doctor for your kinky behavior? Do you think it can be counseled out of you? You little Vixen, it’s in you! There is no getting rid of it! I do so love that you enjoy sleeping nude. Of course, I did command it, such a good little girl, obeying me.”
He grabs my hair and jerks. I immediately begin begging.
“Please don’t hurt me, I won’t tell anyone.”
“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing, Kansas, or for that matter, what you think you hear or are being subjected to by being brought here. Your life is now what I allow it to be. To put it simply, I am your new reality. I choose what you wear, where you go, what you eat, and even when you get to sleep. I’m going to enjoy controlling every aspect of your life and, in time, you will crave my control. What in the world would people think if they knew that you beg a man who abducts you? You beg me to fuck you; you whine for my cock like a little puppy. Is that why you had to go to a shrink? Answer me, you little Vixen. Is that what you think, that you can get rid of me? I’m in your fucking head, girl!”
The bastard is pissing me off now and I scream, “You sick fuck, what are you? Some fucking weirdo who goes around abducting psych patients? What the fuck?”
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” He viciously growls in my ear, tightening his grip and squeezing my neck.
“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but don’t fuck with me!”
“I want to see your face, Executioner, now. Show me! Quit playing games. You want me to be real with you, then man up and let me look you in the face while you use me and defile me for your sick pleasure.”
“You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you, girl?”
He locks down on my breast with his full lips, taking half of it into his mouth, biting, licking, slobbering and sucking.
My body just melts into the bed, turning me into a mass of squirming, quivering, whining submission. I’ve gone from screaming at him to raising my body up to him like it is an offering. I am begging him to take me with my body language.
“There is nothing wrong with you, girl; you are just kinky as fuck. Spread your legs and bend your knees, Kansas.”
I don’t care who he is. I don’t care how dangerous he is. I’ll worry about it later.
I want him to fuck me. I want him to take me. I want him to do vile things to me. I want to feel my body stretched and forced open by a cock that is too large for me to take—his cock that demands entrance and works its way into me even though I feel like I can’t endure the pleasurable pain it gives me.
I groan and raise my body up to him as he positions himself between my spread legs.
“Look at you…that pussy of yours is dripping onto the bed.”
He plunges two of his long fingers into me, slowly pumping as he speaks. His face is right in my crotch, studying my opening as he toys with me. He plunges his fingers into me pulling them back in his direction, touching a part of me no other m
an has ever been privy to.
“You had better not so much as utter a fucking word to anyone about me. I will cage your ass up down in my basement and hold you hostage. I’ll keep you nude and collared for my pleasure. I’ll take you out and use you whenever the notion strikes me. You’ll sit in the dark awaiting me, not knowing if it will be two hours before I make my way down to you or two days. Look at you, Vixen. You just get wetter and wetter the more I threaten you.”
He pulls his fingers out of me and I cry out, eyeing him as if my life depends on him.
“Turn over on all fours. Now!”
What he does next I am in no way ready for. He jerks the mask off and commands me to hold it between my teeth while I remain in the doggy style position.
I look over my shoulder and see a sadistic grin as he bends down and gets right in my face. “If you drop that mask, I’m going to beat your ass and then I’m going to tie you up spread eagle and make you sleep like that.”
I nod my head quickly, signifying that I understand.
I can feel fluid moistening my inner thigh.
“You’re soaking wet.”
He sticks a finger in me and puts it under my nose. “Do you smell that? That is pure, animalistic lust.”
I look at the man who is intruding into my life, breaking down all my barriers. He takes no chances that I might say no to him and I can’t help it… I am glad that he has forced his way into my life. My beautiful monster with one blue eye and one brown eye is intriguing to say the least.
When he locks me in with his arms, pinning me to his body, he feels massive, like an immovable brick wall. His body is like concrete, fit and firm. He is strong and when he wants me, he takes me. He fills a room with power when he enters, like the walls can barely contain the intensity of him. His presence dominates whatever space he inhabits. His presence dominates me.
He positions himself behind me and begins stroking the head of his cock up and down my slit until I am quivering and pleading through guttural moans.
“Is that what you want? Huh? Do you want that?”
He is trying to make me drop the mask but I have no intention of letting him leave me here tied up tonight, or any other night.
He spreads my ass cheeks, slathers my juices over my puckered hole, and watches me as I try to scoot away. He plunges his cock into me so hard that I cry out, dropping the mask. He has achieved his purpose. Once again, he has won at this game he plays with me.
I can only guess that he knew slathering my juices over my ass would throw me off guard.
“Uh oh, somebody is in trouble.” He fists my hair and pulls my head back, growling into my ear, “Mmm, looks like I’m not going anywhere tonight. I get to sleep with you because I can’t very well leave your ass tied to a bed, spread eagle and alone, can I? But first, you have a little ass beating coming, don’t you?”
I don’t know how long that man fucks me and spanks my ass, pulling orgasm after orgasm from my body, before I fall into a heap of helplessness. True to form, just as he promised, he ties my ass spread eagle to the bed and spends the night with me.
Sometime during the night, he loosens my bonds and I cuddle into him. Holding his solid warmth is like nestling up next to a wild black bear under brush. Feelings of being secure and protected overwhelm me. I am safe in the arms of a killer.
Kansas
For the first time in years, I sleep through the night. If Trent hadn’t woken me up to take me last night, I would have slept void of dreams and angst. It makes sense though, because I now sleep in the arms of the man who has taken me during my sleep so for so long.
I look into the face of the man eyeing me and run my fingers over the scar that runs from his eye halfway down his cheek.
“What happened, Trent?”
He answers as if he is in a trance.
“I was a monster who fought for a living. Vicious underground fighting was how I made my living. I made great money and made a name for myself in the circuit as being a sadistic mad man. One night, I fought a guy who managed to sneak a knife into the ring and, before I knew what had happened, he had cut me down to the bone. People eyed me as if they feared me before the assault but, afterwards, I was a monster. Mothers would grab their children, huddling them closely, as if I were some kind of homicidal maniac. I couldn’t handle the way people looked at me and it was easier to just stay home. I lived in a dump after I quit fighting because there was no money coming in. I tossed around the idea of getting a computer app I had toyed around with patented. I never thought it would take off the way it did. One app led to another, which has led to me being rich beyond anything I have ever dreamed. I’ve made up my mind that I won’t bond with people now that I have money. They didn’t want me after I became marred and I can’t take a chance on them wanting me now just because I have money.”
“Is that why you like control in the bedroom now?”
“I’ve always been kinky, girl, and you fit the bill for feeding my kinky appetite. Now you…Why are you unwilling to bond with anyone?”
“I don’t see myself as being that way. I just don’t go around looking for a man to make everything okay. I’m fine with being alone.”
“Yet, you respond to a man who is so obsessed with you that he takes you and holds you hostage? You don’t find that to be odd?”
“Well, when you word it like that I guess I do.”
He catches me off guard with the next statement.
“Do you think I’ve forgotten about my bedtime story? Get your ass up and get that computer booted up and start reading to me. You better hope it’s finished too.”
In a matter of seconds, he takes me from being calm to being fearful. The look on his face clearly indicates that disobedience, in any form, will not be tolerated. I get up and look at him.
“Can I go pee and brush my teeth while it boots up?”
“Yes.”
He walks behind me, following me after I turn on the computer. We take turns peeing and brushing our teeth and then he leads me out to my office chair. He folds his arms over his naked chest and says one word: “read.”
The Hotel:
I entered the high end hotel and made my way through the lobby.
With each click-clack of my heels, heads turned to eye me and remained watching. I am used to it by now. At almost six feet tall, I draw a lot of attention. Between that and the professional attire that I am required to wear, I usually get my share of curious gawkers.
I am late but if I hurry, I can beat my Master to the room and avoid punishment.
My hand trembles as I swipe the card through the magnetic device with one hand and open the door with the other.
I quickly undress and kneel prostrate facing the door with my head bowed. It doesn’t take long for me to hear him at the door and though I am trembling, I feel a sense of relief that I have beaten him here and have not been caught being tardy.
I remain prostrate, awaiting my Master’s command, which does not come in the form of words.
He slides his shoe under my lips and stands peering down at me as I begin to kiss it. I can feel the moisture already pooling between my thighs.
He leans down, grabs a fistful of my hair, and lifts my face, glaring into my eyes.
You have to understand that just my Master’s presence throws me off balance, off of my game if you will.
My eyes are still downcast when his voice cuts through the air like razors, “Look at me, slave!”
“Oh fuck,” I think to myself.
I look up at him, trying to be more confident in my appearance than what I am feeling at the moment.
A sadistic smirk washes over his face as he turns my head from side to side by the handful of hair that he is holding. He is eyeing me, studying me, and scrutinizing me.
“You were late!”
It isn’t a question; he knows…
“How the fuck does he know that?” I once again think to myself.
“Yes Master, I’m sorry, Sir. Traffic�
�” is all that I get out of my mouth.
“Shh, no excuses!”
He just keeps glaring at me and I can feel the heat in my chest. I know I am getting splotchy; my chest always breaks out in red splotches when I get nervous.
He cocks his head, raising his eyebrows as he looks at me, almost as if he can read my thoughts.
“Are you nervous, slave?”
“Damn it,” I think, “how does he read me the way that he does?”
“That is a rhetorical question, slave, one not in need of an answer.”
He pushes my face ever so lightly into his groin, but every time I try to nibble at his suited crotch, he pulls my head back.
I wanted him in my mouth in the worst sort of way. I can see the outline of him hardening against his suit pants and I know my Master well enough to know that his domination of me is pleasing to him.
Over and over, he pulls my face towards his groin and each time I try to rub my face against it or wrap my lips around it, he pulls me away.
“You are wet, aren’t you, slave,” he taunts me?
I begin to whimper.
Stick your finger in your pussy and show it to me. That’s it, and you pull it right back out… now, show me. Does your Master make you that wet, girl?”
“Yes, Master,” I answer.
He begins taunting me again, pulling my face in towards his flesh that is still in his pants but hardened and pressing up against them, causing the fabric to become tented.
“I want you in my mouth, Master. Please.”
“Put your hands behind your back and open your mouth like I taught you,” he commands me.
I sit on my haunches with my hands behind my back and my mouth open, looking up at him.
“Such a good, little, late slave. Lean up here and unzip my zipper with your teeth.”
The Executioner Page 4
