Convict's Captive Book 1

by Paul Blades

  Carly watched him place the steaming bowl on the floor a few feet from her chair. The idea of humiliating herself again like that made her despondency plunge even deeper than it was. She knew that the purpose of it was to emphasize the difference in status between him and her, but he had already established that. Why did he have to be so cruel? She was ready to obey him in everything. Why make her eat like a dog?

  She felt a tear flow down from her right eye. She blinked her eyes to try and stop the tears. She had done so much crying. It served no useful purpose other than to demean her. It certainly didn’t influence her captor in any appreciable manner. She just wished she could stop.

  He watched the girl’s eyes shift from the bowl on the floor and back to him. He noted the tear in her eye. It was exactly the reaction that he wanted. If she got too used to eating like an animal, it would not have the same effect. That was the time you got rid of them, when you had driven out all pride and self respect. She was holding up pretty good given the circumstances.

  He sat back down in the chair and then edged it closer to her. His knees were almost touching the edge of her seat. He placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing hem softly and then let them drift down over her upper arms, across her chest and then down over her pleasantly inviting orbs. She shuddered just a little when he took hold of them. His eyes were boring into hers, weighing her reactions. It had been just about 24 hours since he had fucked her and it was important to reestablish the overriding paradigm of their relationship: she was his to use in any way he wanted. Her only role was to open such of her orifices as he desired to enter and to suffer his lust arousing caresses without complaint.

  His large hands surrounded her ample orbs. He squeezed them gently and then firmer and firmer and firmer, until the mounds were compressed beneath his hands. She emitted a low whine from behind her gag and her eyes turned soft and pleading. He lifted them slightly, letting them rest in the palms of his hands like two little delicate creatures. Then he leaned over and subsumed her fat nipples into his mouth, each in its turn, suckling them, running his hot tongue over them, nipping at them softly with his teeth.

  Carly squirmed in her seat. She didn’t want the heat of the man’s mouth on her teats, his insistent tongue, his suckling lips to initiate a burn in her loins, but they did. She remembered vividly the heights of irrationality he had driven her to yesterday, in a cabin much like this. She didn’t know how long they would stay in this one, but the bed behind her loomed large in her mind as she was sure he would repeat yesterday’s performance, entering her with his thick, remorseless cock, driving her to mindless ecstasy.

  She had an image of her body dissolving into nothingness, fading away and leaving behind only the demeaning and confining instruments he had placed in and on her. If only she could do it, she thought. “Beam me up, Scotty!” she would call out. “A Romulan has captured me!” But she knew that it could not happen. She could only remain at the point in time and space in which she now found herself and suffer and bear the pleasures and humiliations he inflicted on her. She moaned as the suction of his lips on her breast caused an undeniable tugging in her womb.

  Jack heard her moan and released her teat. He leaned back, smiling. She was a hot one all right. He took hold of her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He had reminded her of how her desires were enslaved to him. Now he would show her the other thing. He began to twist her flesh. He did it slowly, increasing the pressure incrementally. Her eyes expressed her, at first, concern, and then dismay. As his efforts began to twist and derange her teats, her eyes’ expressions turned to panic and then misery. She released a moan of another kind. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” Sweat broke out on her forehead. Her shoulders curled and her whole body tensed.

  He released them. She gave out a sob and he pushed her shoulders back so that she was sitting straight. He took her breasts in his hands again and leaned over, reassuming her teats in his mouth, soothing them, suckling them gently, first one and then the other. Then he leaned back again and ran his hands down over her hips and along the tops of her widespread thighs. Back and forth he slid them, conveying to her his warmth and strength. He dropped his hands until they were on the tender insides, slipping them back and forth from her knees to the fulcrum of her thighs.

  His cock was hard and needy. But he was enjoying his tantalizing caresses to the girl too much to seek fulfillment just yet. When he brought his hands up to the girl’s face, she flinched and leaned back, fearful, apparently, of some new administration of suffering. But he was only releasing the buckle behind her head that held the gag so harshly in her mouth. He withdrew it slowly, letting the thick cock like protuberance rub across her lips. When it was out, he placed it on the table behind him. Her face was now entirely visible again and he was reminded of how beautiful it was. It was beauty crying out for despoliation. A tenderness which invited cruelty. A softness which required harshness. An opening, her mouth, which required filling.

  He took hold of the hair at the back of her head, closing his fist around it tightly. The other hand wandered over her breasts, her chest, her belly and her thighs in a continuous, unhurried motion. Then he brought it up to her chin. He placed his fingers and thumb on opposite sides of her mouth and squeezed firmly. Her mouth sprang open. He leaned over, washed his tongue along and over her lips and then slipped it inside.

  Her mouth was hot. She offered no resistance. Within a moment, her tongue was seeking his, flowing over and around it. Releasing her face, but keeping her hair tightly held in his other hand, he seized her breasts with his free hand, each in turn, squeezing them until she moaned. The sound reverberated into his mouth and echoed throughout his body. He let his hand drift south, over her belly until it found the entrance to her crevasse. He ran his finger up and down the slit between her engorging love lips. She had moistened and the finger was able to glide freely up and down, up and down, slipping easily into her. It was joined by a second and together they thrust back and forth, back and forth careful to abrade the ceiling of her chasm. They surrounded the stone egg that was inside her and slipped it out. There was a pause while he placed the device on the table and then the fingers returned, entering her gaping tunnel and sliding in and along the velvety passage. She moaned again. Her body seemed to melt. Her tongue became more feverish. When his fingers slipped free of her slit and centered themselves on her rigid love button, she moaned again, deeper this time.

  Carly’s mind had left her. Her rational mind that is. All that was left was the primordial mind that sought voraciously its own pleasure. She had no defense against the man’s relentless and skillful assault. Her pussy was raging with need. When he placed his fingers on her stiffened nubbin, she thought that she might faint. All of the blood seemed to have left her brain and descended to fill her loins and her bursting breasts. The fingers went on and on and on, circling the tiny point of flesh, caressing it, agitating it, worrying it. She felt her orgasm building.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, god,” she thought madly. “I’m his slave! I’m his fuck slave! He owns me! Ohhhhhh, god! Make me come! Make me come! Make me come!”

  And then she came. Her pussy throbbed and convulsed. She screamed her pleasure into her captor’s mouth. He thrust his fingers in her pulsing crevasse and she could feel herself gripping tightly around them. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her mind swirled as ecstasy poured through her veins. It went on and on and on.

  Then, it slowed. His tongue, which had been dancing excitedly in her mouth, calmed. The thick digits which had filled her lower place withdrew. He leaned back. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. He still had hold of the hair in the back of her head. He brushed his other hand over her breasts and belly, making her shudder. He kissed her once, twice, three times and then released her.

  Jack took a good look at the girl. Her eyes were soft and unfocused. Her lips were still engorged and her chest was red and sweaty. Her nipples were taut and her hairless pussy glistened. What a stroke of luck
she was! She was so fucking hot he couldn’t wait to fuck her again. But he would wait. Being in the joint had taught him to delay his pleasures. Now that he had reestablished her place in the universe, that of being a toy for him to play with and use, they could move on.

  He slid his chair back away from hers and pointed to the bowl of soup on the floor. It had cooled somewhat, but a thin waft of steam was still escaping from it. The girl looked at him and frowned. He reached out his hand angrily and took hold of her hair again. He lifted her from her chair and dragged her the three feet over to where the soup bowl sat. He reared his hand back and gave her one, two, three, sharp strokes of his powerful right hand on her buttocks, just below her bound hands. She shrieked and danced, but he held her hair firmly. He pushed her to her knees, lowered her torso and pushed her face into the soup. She gurgled and spluttered and then he raised it.

  “Do you get the fucking message!” he asked her angrily.

  “Yes! Yes! Please don’t hurt me! Please!”

  He struck her three more times on her rear. She howled with pain.

  “Shut the fuck up and eat!” he yelled.

  She was whining and sobbing, but as soon as he released her hair, she leaned her head over and began to lap up the soup. It was dripping off of her face and had spilled out onto the linoleum floor. He took the bowl away. “Lick that up!” he told her.

  She sobbed, but obeyed. She licked the linoleum wherever the soup had spilled until it was all gone. Then she looked up at him miserably for approval. He went to the table and got a napkin. He wiped her face clean.

  “Now, no more fucking around,” he told her sternly. “You’ll do what you’re told when you’re told, understand! And no more fucking talking! Got it!”

  She nodded unhappily. He put the bowl of soup back down in front of her. He didn’t have to tell her what to do. She spread her legs, leaned over and began to eat.

  Jack went back to his seat. His anger had subsided. Now he meant to enjoy the sight of the girl eating like a little puppy. It had felt good to wallop her like that. He needed to be more careful about making noise though. The last thing he wanted was some cop knocking on the door in response to a report of a domestic dispute. He would have to make sure she was wearing her gag from now on when he punished her. And because it felt so good doing it, he knew that there were definitely more punishments in her future.

  The ravioli was okay. Not as good as he remembered it. He had eaten it a lot as a kid. In his house, with his drunken mother and his father who was never around and if he was, you wished he wasn’t, if you didn’t know how to open a can, you starved. And, later, when things got really bad, if you didn’t know how to shoplift you didn’t eat. Most of his early beefs had been shopliftings. That was until he learned that it was easier to force other kids to do it for you. You slapped some nerdy kid around and he would be your gofor for all eternity. Later, after he turned 14, it was easier just to do some housebreaking when he needed money. And then he learned how to deal coke. And after that he learned that as long as you had coke, you had pussy.

  He shoveled down the rest of the ravioli. It still beat jailhouse food. He had bought some stuff to cook later that would be a lot better. The radio said it was going to snow until tomorrow afternoon. They would probably be here until at least tomorrow night, maybe until the next morning. For although he wanted to travel at night if he could, he didn’t want to linger too long and tempt fate. He would not be able to really relax until he was in Mexico. So if he had to do some daytime driving he would.

  The girl had finished her soup. She was kneeling on her heels expectantly. The bowl was completely licked clean. Her mien was dour. Well, that was to be expected. It didn’t matter. What mattered is her doing what she was told.

  Jack pushed away his plate and turned his chair towards the girl. He motioned her over. She shuffled over on her knees, smart enough to know that she shouldn’t get up. When she reached him, kneeling between his thighs, he cleaned her face of the remnants of her soup. He tossed the napkin on the table. He opened his fly and extracted his cock. She looked up at him. A momentary look of dismay crossed her face. Then she bent down and subsumed it between her lips.

  His cock got hard right away. His libido was still well primed from when he had gotten her off. Her taut lips glided over his cock as it grew in her mouth. He leaned his head back, reveling in the moist heat she was delivering to him. He rested one of his hands on her head, not to guide her, he was leaving it all up to her, although he was ready to intervene if her enthusiasm flagged, but as a reminder to her of her duty to bring him maximum pleasure. She had given him an excellent blow job yesterday just before they left and he fully expected this one to measure up. If not, there was always the gag and the whip. He had saved the sapling branch he had used on her yesterday. No need to go out and get another one.

  He needn’t have worried. Carly was fully aware of the importance of doing her best. If she needed reminding, all she had to do was think of the sound of the bullet being loaded into the chamber of the man’s pistol earlier today.

  His cock was a thick presence in her mouth. While it was there, it was impossible to think of anything else. She rode her lips up and down it, giving it a gentle suckle on each upwards journey. She suckled its end like he had told her to do yesterday. She brought it all the way to the back of her mouth, poking it past the entrance to her throat, fighting off the urge to gag and choke. She swirled her tongue around it, varied the tempo of her strokes, licked her tongue over it up and down its length. The man was moaning softly. His hand was resting lightly on her head, an ever present reminder of his willingness to harm her if she flagged in her ministrations.

  The soup sat warm in her belly. She had been famished, ravenously hungry. Despite having to eat it like an animal, it had felt good going down. His blows to her buttocks when she had hesitated to get down on her knees had stung viciously, but, even more, that had been a dreadful reminder of his strength and power. She was his prisoner and slave. He could snap her in two within a few seconds. He could deliver dehabilitating violence upon her at any moment. She was as surely trapped and powerless as a fly in a spider’s web. The real world was just outside the door to the cabin, but it might as well have been in another universe, another dimension. She no longer had a place in it. For her, the whole universe was defined by the cabin’s four walls and her god was the man whose prick was in her mouth. And she knew that she would suffer the wrath of heaven if she disappointed him.

  His moans were growing louder, deeper and more resonant in his chest. The hand on her head had taken hold of her hair. His hips were thrusting upwards each time she brought his cock a downward stroke. She knew that he was ready to come and she redoubled her efforts. Forgoing all technique, she bought her head up and down rapidly, holding tightly to his thick stem with her lips, washing it with her energetic tongue. His grip on her hair grew tighter. His thrusts more determined. She sensed his body tensing. She heard him calling out, “Ohhhhhhh, yeaaaaaaah! Ohhhhhhhh, yeaaaaaaah! Ohhhhhhhhh, yeaaaaaaaaaah!”

  And then he gave out a loud, anguished sounding grunt. He pushed his cock deeply into her mouth and began thrusting with his hips wildly. He had taken control of her head and was pumping it up and down rapidly. His cock was pulsing and jerking in her mouth. His spume filled it, running down her throat, all over her mouth and pouring out over her lips. He went on and on and, for a moment, she thought he might go on forever. But then he gave one more loud, needy grunt, thrust her face down deep into his lap, pushing his cock fully into her throat, held it there for about 5 seconds, issued a deep sigh, and then relaxed.

  It took a few moments more before he let her head up. She had started to choke and whine. That was okay. It added a piquant ending to the blow job. He had to give it to her, she was good. He wondered if her boyfriend, the guy in the picture in her wallet, got such great blowjobs from her or whether it was a product of her fear. Somehow, he doubted that the boyfriend had ever experienced her ful
l devotion to his prick like he had. He didn’t know what he was missing.

  He finally let her head up off his cock. It slipped from her taut lips with a little ‘pop!’ Her eyes were downcast. There was a dollop of his cum on her lower lip. He drew it off with his finger and presented it to her. She looked at it for a second and then took his finger in her mouth, fastened her lips firmly to it and then drew it off. Then she looked up at him for approval. He smiled at her.

  “Yeah,” he thought. “You did a good job.” With his free hand he reached out onto the table and retrieved her gag. He presented the business end to her mouth. She grimaced, but she opened her mouth readily. He slid the faux cock in and then buckled the straps together behind her head. “There you go,” he thought. “There’s your reward, a cock you can chew on all day long.” Her eyes were dismal and sad. He laughed.

  Still holding his hand in her hair, he got up from the chair. He pulled her along so that she was a couple feet away from it and then turned her towards the kitchen area. He released her hair and then pointed to a spot a few feet in front of her on the floor with the toe of his boot. “Put your forehead there,” he told her. She looked at him quickly, and then away, and then she began to lower her torso towards the floor. She had to spread her long thighs widely in order to get low enough. Her hips raised and her back arched, she did it.

  Carly listened as the man began to clean up from their meal. She heard the plate and bowl being washed and the two pots. It was funny that the position he had compelled her to assume was deeply humiliating, but somehow restful too. She just let her whole body relax. She tried to forget about the infernal presence in her mouth, forget about where she was and what she had just finished doing, forget about whatever abuse was still to come. She just took a deep breath and let all of her tensions run out.