by Paul Blades
She heard him drying the pots and pans and putting them away. She wondered whether his fastidiousness came from prison life or whether he had had it before. She thought that it was probably a trait he had had for a long time, from early in life. He seemed like such a measured, controlled man. If the news reports she had heard were accurate, he had led a big gang of motorcycle outlaws. You would have to be a fierce leader, tightly wrapped and very very careful to have that much responsibility and power. She already knew how rigorous he was in controlling her, but for that one time when she had made a break for freedom. She knew it was not a mistake he would make again.
Jack put away the dishes and pots and pans. He liked the place nice and neat. He had always been a little crazy about that stuff, but 12 years in a tiny cell had made him more so. When your whole life was a 10 by 10 cell, you tended to make sure everything was put away exactly where it belonged so it did not get in the way. It was a habit born of necessity.
He turned and looked at the girl when he was finished. She looked so appealing and vulnerable like that. He was sure that if he lay down on the bed and went to sleep, she would be too terrified to move even if she heard him snoring. She trained well. It was the bright ones who trained the best. They figured out really early that blind, exact and immediate obedience was the best way to avoid pain. They more quickly became adjusted to the nuances of obedience, knowing your mind almost before you did, although never acting on that knowledge without permission. They learned too what tolerances you had for independent action on their part and never crossed that boundary. And they learned to fuck like Parisian whores, knowing that the more satisfied you were, the less likely you were to impose random violence upon them, generally speaking, that is.
He wanted to get cleaned up and then he wanted to sleep. He removed his shirt, tossed it next to the bed and then sat down on a kitchen chair to remove his boots. He stacked them neatly by the door and then pulled off his socks, letting them join his t-shirt by the bed. He then removed his pants, which he folded and put aside and then his shorts. He rummaged around in one of the bags and produced the 18” long chain he had bought yesterday. He stepped over to the girl, considered her for a moment and then leaned down and took hold of her hair. He guided her up to her knees and then to her feet and brought her into the bathroom.
Once inside, he looked around a little and then saw what he as looking for. The sink was stand alone supported by four steel legs. The drain pipe was exposed underneath it. He pushed the girl down to the floor on her knees near the sink and affixed one end of the chain to the ring at the back of her collar. The other end he wrapped around the drain pipe a few times and then brought the end to the girl’s joined wrists behind her back. He fastened it off there. Then he joined her ankles together.
It had been a long time since he had taken a bath. He had been looking forward to one all day. He turned on the water, measuring carefully the temperature and then stepped back to let the tub fill up. Out in the living area, he went out and retrieved a bar of fragrant soap he had bought today and one of the razors. He brought them into the bathroom and closed the door. The girl was right where he left her, of course. She was sitting on her heels and watching him carefully. He unwrapped the soap and put it in the soap dish.
When the tub was full, he turned off the water. There was steam rising from it. He put his foot over the side and tested the water. It was really hot, the way he liked it. He stepped in and brought his other foot up and immersed that as well. Then he slowly, ever so slowly lowered himself. He stopped for a moment when he got to his ass and balls. He dipped them down a bit to test it out. It was okay. He lowered himself the rest of the way, sighing from pleasure.
He leaned back. It felt soooooooo good! The heat just seemed to dissolve all the tension from his body. He closed his eyes. Ohhhhhhh, it was wonderful. His mind wandered. His body seemed to melt. He was thousands of miles away, at a beach somewhere. The sun was shining down on him. He could hear the waves as they struck the sand. Maybe a bird squawking in the distance. He had all day. There was nowhere he needed to be. Nothing in the world could hurt him. He was safe, removed from all hassle for all time.
He heard the rustle of a chain as the girl adjusted herself. He opened his eyes and looked at her. He was tempted to yell at her and wrench her nipple or something so she would stay still, but he let it go. Nothing could bother him right now unless it was a bevy of state troopers busting in the door. And even if they knew where he was, in this weather it was unlikely to happen.
He continued to look at her. She had been a real find. She was beautiful. Her tits were just the right size for her torso and her skin was pure and white except for the fading red lines he had put there yesterday. Her eyes were bright and alert. It was too bad they had to meet this way. He knew though that if had met her years ago when he was on his run, he would have used and abused her for a few days, maybe a week or two at the most, and then handed her off to be put on the game. Now he was older and more appreciative of good pussy. Being without it for 12 years had something to do with it too. No, if they met now, or rather, once he got himself all set up again, he might even treat her decent to try and keep her around a while. He would call her by her name, which he still couldn’t remember whether it was Carol or Crystal or something like that. He decided he would check later.
A feeling of contentedness came over him. He felt his eyes closing. He let it happen and in a moment, he was asleep.
Carly noticed right away that he was asleep. She saw his chest rising and falling rhythmically and his eyes closed. “Oh, god!” she thought. If only she could get free. But she couldn’t even see the locks he had placed behind her when he fastened her to the drain pipe. It was frustrating to have the opportunity to run and not the ability. His eyes had turned on her like fire when she had shifted her weight and made the chain rattle against the pipe. If she moved now it would happen again and he would wake up. It was so disheartening! She had never conceived of what it would be like to be somebody’s prisoner like this. She still didn’t fully understand how it could happen. It was hard to believe. She wanted so desperately to be free that her whole body ached when she thought of it. But what chance did she have?
She had heard him undressing outside in the kitchen area. She thought that he was going to take her to the bed and fuck her. She was surprised when he led her to the bathroom. She wished intently that he would just order her around rather than taking hold of her hair whenever he wanted her to move. It was so degrading. It was like she was a thing that he was moving from place to place, or an animal too stupid to understand human language. It made her feel so controlled and powerless, which was, she supposed, why he did it.
Once he had her chained in place and was preparing the tub, she couldn’t help but look at his virile, strong, naked body. There were scars here and there, one big one down his left leg, a motorcycle accident perhaps. And his chest and back were covered with the cruel looking designs from the prison. He was like a creature that had ascended from hell. Strange looking, powerful, dangerous. He had been in hell, she thought. Prison must be like hell. You were surrounded by concrete and steel, men who were traitorous and evil, violent and cruel. Your life was ruled by men seemingly just as evil and unprincipled, the guards. You were condemned to year after years of grayness and coldness and darkness. She knew that he was evil long before they sent him to the prison, but how much more so had it made him? What would it be like for a normal person to be set down amidst him and his confreres? How could one survive? How could she survive?
Watching him step in the tub, so tall and broad and muscular, reiterated to Carly how small and powerless she was. He wasn’t a man, he was a force of nature, a dark, evil one. How did one run from a tornado or a hurricane or an earthquake? You couldn’t. You had to hunker down and hope it missed you, for if it didn’t you were doomed, as she was. Doomed. She was doomed. She started to cry.
It was then she had made he chain rattle. When she saw him lo
ok at her, his eyes dark and piercing, a chasm had opened in her belly. She knew she had sinned. She trembled as she saw him consider whether to punish her for her effrontery. When the moment passed, she gave out a sigh of relief.
She looked at the bathroom door. Outside it was freedom. She could tippy toe out, grab a blanket to wrap around her, undo the sliding bolt, open the door and run. He wouldn’t know she was gone before it was too late. She would flag down a car, run to the motel office, awaken the other guests. “Shoot him! Shoot him! Kill him!” she would yell. For nothing less than his death would satisfy her. But she would want it to be painful and long. To make him suffer over a day, a week, a month. Maybe once they got him back to the prison they could string him up and flail the skin from his body, roast him over a fire, pull him limb from limb. And when he was dead, burn his body until it was dust and then flush it down the dirtiest, scummiest toilet they could find. That would make her happy.
He groaned and then snorted, bringing Carly’s attention back to him. His mouth was open. His face was covered with a day’s worth of dark growth. But somehow it had lost most of its cruelty. He looked almost normal. Maybe even capable of kindness. It was a lie, though. She knew it. He was a beast from hell, come to consume her.
Jack’s eyes sprung open. It took him a moment to understand where he was and he thrashed around in the tub. He saw the girl there looking at him with her forlorn eyes. “I’m in the tub,” he thought. “I’m okay. I’m safe.”
He dipped his hands in the water and brought some to his face. It helped him come to alertness. He looked at the girl again. He had to be careful. If she got away he would be screwed. He knew that for every moment he thought of how to confine her, she was spending 10 trying to figure out how to get free. He knew how it was. He had been a prisoner for 12 years. He had thought of freedom almost every moment of it. All of them did. It was like a poison spreading through your system, making you sicker and sicker the more you realized you would never escape. It was ironic that she was his prisoner now and was experiencing many of the things that he had felt. It was too bad for her. She wasn’t that innocent anyway. She was one of those normal people who paid their taxes and voted for people who built prisons and confined men there. She was as much his jailer as any of those screws back at the pen. Her and people like her. They deserved everything they got.
He got to his feet, took hold of the soap and worked up a lather. He soaped his body thoroughly. He washed his balls and cock especially well. He watched the girl watching him. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. When he was all soaped up, he did his legs and feet. Then he lowered himself back into the water, dipping even his head under, rinsing himself clean. He shampooed his hair. The tub had a removable shower head. He took it off and turned on the water and used it to rinse himself free of soap. He pulled out the plug and let the water begin flowing down the drain. Then he got out and began to dry himself.
He felt like a million bucks. It was just the thing that he needed. He went into the other room and lit himself a congratulatory smoke. He came back and, standing over the girl, his cock and balls practically in her face, gave himself a shave at the sink, the cigarette dangling from his lips. When that was done, he took a long leisurely piss in the toilet, tossed in his cigarette butt and flushed it. He brushed his teeth.
He turned to the girl. He wanted her clean too. He put the plug back into the drain and turned the water back on. He had purchased a special surprise when he was out. It was a bottle of bath oil. He poured a capful of it in.
Releasing her from the chain that had fastened her to the sink, he freed her ankles. He brought her over to the toilet and let her pee. After he wiped her, he made her stand while he put the lid down and made her sit on it. He removed all of her bonds, the ankle and wrist bracelets and her collar. He had her stand up and turn around and he removed the prick like prong from her rear. Last, he removed her gag.
He took her by the wrist and led her to the tub. He tested it with his hand. It was hot, not as hot as he liked it. It would do for her. “Okay,” he said to her, “get in.”
Carly stepped carefully over the side of the tub, balancing herself with her hands on the lip and put both feet in. His hand was still in her hair. She lowered herself cautiously. It was hot, but not too hot. She felt it lap over her buttocks and thighs as she lowered herself into the water. He released his grip. The water had a layer of flowery smelling oil on it. As she submerged her body, she issued a sigh of contentment. After all she had been through, it felt like heaven.
She closed her eyes. She was conscious of the man hovering nearby, but she tried to blot him out. The hot water felt so good. And the bath oil smelled so pleasant. She could feel its oiliness on her skin. He let her lay there for a while. All of the tension and fear was oozing out of her body. She could have been home in her own bathroom, or at her parent’s when she was a kid. She just wanted to lay there until she dissolved in the water. Then he could release the water and let her go down the drain. She didn’t care as long as it meant full and complete loss of consciousness.
After a while, he told her to get up. Once she was standing, he took the soap and began washing her body. It was, at first, disturbing to have his huge, powerful hands on her after having achieved some freedom and relaxation in the water, but his touch was so surprisingly gentle and soft that she didn’t really mind it. He soaped up his hands and washed her back and rear, taking time to make sure that her rear entrance was nice and clean. He washed her long legs. He made her turn around and washed her breasts and belly. He did her pussy too, careful to wash all around it and just inside. He had her lift her feet and he washed between her little toes. He washed her hands and each individual finger.
Once that was complete, he had her get back into the water. He sank her head under the water and washed her hair. He sank her head again and then used some crème rinse on it. He brushed it out thoroughly. He gave her the soap and had her wash all her makeup off. Then he had her stand and he rinsed her with the shower head.
At this point, she assumed that he was going to have her get out, but he surprised her. He opened the drain and let out about half the water. Then he turned it on again so that it would fill up with hot. He poured in some more bath oil and had her lie back down. To her shock, he then left the room.
There was a little window next to the sink. Carly looked at it hopefully. It was very small. It would be tough to make it out through it, but she thought that she could do it. Then, she realized that as soon as she got the window open, he would come rushing in. He would beat her and punish her like he did the day before. The next time he thought about whether to kill her he might decide to do it. No, any escape attempt she made had to be assured of success. Otherwise, it wasn’t worth it.
She lay back down in the water and closed her eyes again. If he was giving her this brief period of respite from him then she was going to take it. She closed her eyes and dreamed of a bright, broad field covered with flowers. There were birds and big, fluffy clouds in a deep blue sky. She imagined herself flying up there, dodging in and out of the clouds, having the birds fluttering all around her. Randy was there. He was sitting next to her and he was smiling and laughing. He put out his hand and touched her arm. It felt so good. His grip got firmer and then she felt him pulling on it. She looked up and it was him, Blackjack, her captor, her tormentor. It was time to get out. She realized that she had fallen asleep and that he had come in silently. Her heart fell. She was back in reality, her dream dissipated.
He helped her out of the tub and pulled the drain. Using one of the big white towels that came with the room, he dried her off. She was dizzy and her body felt heavy, sleepy. He could do whatever he wanted to her. She was his prisoner. What was the use of resistance?
When she was dried, he gave her the toothbrush she had used the other day and made her clean her teeth. He made her use the toilet again. Then he sat her on the lid and began to reapply her bindings. She sat there listlessly as he surround
ed her limbs with the leather bands. She did not flinch when he fastened her collar back around her neck. She rose dutifully, when he took hold of her arm and followed him as he led her from the bathroom and to the bed. She stood there as if in a daze while he pulled back the bedclothes and obeyed him without question when he told her to get in.
He went around the room tidying up a bit. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table and turned off the over head. She was half asleep when she felt him get into the bed.
She was on her side, facing him. She felt his hand on her shoulder, caressing it softly and then run down the length of her arm, over her hip and over her thigh. It came back and went down again and then repeated itself once more. His hand was warm and his touch was light. He was so large next to her. He made her feel tiny. He gently guided her to her back. She was so tired, she just wanted to push him away. His hand ran lightly over her breasts, fluttered over her belly and caressed the front of her thighs. She could feel the heat of his body next to her. His hand came back up and gently took hold of the breast nearest him. She sensed him leaning over. His mouth brushed on her teat. It kissed it. And then again. Then it surrounded it and the tongue washed over it ever so lightly. A warm feeling went through her body.
When the mouth began to suckle delicately on her teat, and his hand left her breast and washed over her belly and across the front of her thighs, she sighed. Her pussy felt that. It had begun to warm. She opened her eyes. She wanted to beg him to stop, to let her sleep, but his lips moved from her breast to her mouth. They brushed against her lips and she tasted his hot breath. A shudder went through her. He moved his body so that his chest was pressing against her breast, his left leg across her thigh. His tongue fluttered on her lips and then passed between them. A wave of warmth spread from the top of her head, down her neck and chest, past her breasts, over her belly and settled between her legs. She moaned and something went off inside her, triggered her need, sparked her yearning.
