Captive in the Dark

by CJ Roberts

Gingerly, she did as he asked, seemingly grateful for Caleb’s help. He had noticed that when he insisted on helping her she gave in to him more easily. He allowed her the illusion of her defeated resistance and she assented to his mounting demands. Perhaps she felt she was not doing something vulgar of her own free will, but submitting to something that would be done with her consent or without. She made no protest when he locked her wrists to the table and placed a spreader bar between her knees.

  “This will help you to stay still,” he explained, knowing it was help she would definitely need. She bucked wildly at the first touch of Caleb’s fingers touching lubricant to her shy and no doubt very sore bottom.

  The bathroom was soon filled with the sound of her tearful sniffles and humiliated sobs. The light echoes, bouncing off the walls, seemed for a moment to reverberate something inside him.

  He didn’t feel guilt very often and she seemed to have an uncanny ability to bring it out of him.

  The feeling was…alien, unpleasant, and aggravating as hell.

  “That’s enough! You’re crying more out of embarrassment than anything else. Stop, crying.”

  The sound of his voice filled the room and the girl stilled, obviously frightened. Caleb sighed.

  “Here, this’ll help.” Caleb placed a small amount of lubricant onto his finger and gently seized her clit between his thumb and forefinger. She shuddered, paralyzed by his touch, and he knew she was silently willing him to release her sensitive flesh, which of course he would not. “You’re okay Kitten. It’s okay,” he reassured her gently and began to rub the slippery epicenter of her being. And he was practiced, as well he should be, always careful to not rub too hard, and always careful not to rub too softly. He wasn’t that much of a tease. He’d do it just right, to make it up to her.

  He watched intently as she pressed her lips together, desperately trying to not let the slightest sound escape her. Yet, slowly, her lips opened and her soft little sobs could be heard. Soon those tiny sobs became whimpers, which in turn became rapid little pants that became elongated gravelly moans. Caleb once again marveled at the responsiveness of her flesh, at the way her deeply pink mouth went just a little slack, her kitten tongue darting out ever so often to remoisten the delicate supple tissue of her lips.

  She was getting close, she pulled on her restraints, trying to fight off the moment of ultimate release and yet she unconsciously undulated against the back of his fingers searching for what she feared. He backed off just a little, drawing out the moment so he could do what he needed to do. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed the malleable tubing that was required. As he once again brought his beautiful captive to the jagged peaks of ecstasy that had her moaning and crying at the same time, he inserted the tube into her ass. She jerked harshly at the intrusion, but he held her steady. Slowly, thoughtfully, he rubbed her clit until her hands finally unclenched, her knees relaxed, and her breathing became languorous.

  Caleb ignored the insistent press of his cock against his zipper, along with the sharp pang of lust mimicking pain in his belly and focused on soothing his pliant slave. Her cheeks were stained a deep pink beneath the russet color of her skin. It was a blush only orgasm could achieve and Caleb couldn’t resist feeling pride over having put it there. He stroked her back, no longer surprised at the way she arched into his touch. He would miss it. This. Her. Shaking the thought away, he set about talking her through his actions.

  She sobbed quietly while he filled her with water, assuring her the pressure in her belly was normal, not to panic, though she did anyway. Her fingers on her right hand curled tightly around his, those on her left balled into a fist against the vinyl of the table. When he sensed she couldn’t possibly hold more water inside her he stopped the flow and forced her to push. She cried in earnest then. She begged him not to press against her belly, embarrassment and shame apparent in her frantic pleas and pained expression. Caleb tried his best to keep her still, promising everything was alright, that she had nothing to fear or be ashamed of, but it was futile to try and calm her. Finally, he resorted to pressing her down with his weight. His face next to hers as over and again he filled her with water and emptied her, not ceasing until he was sure nothing more could be gained by subjecting her to his ministrations.

  When it was all over, he took the blindfold off and released her bonds so he could sit her up on her knees on the table. To Caleb’s astonishment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder, refusing to let go. Warmth spread through his limbs wherever her trembling body met his, a feeling as pleasant as letting the sun touch his face.

  Unbidden, the memory of her looking up at him on the sidewalk engulfed him. She had been squinting that morning, even as she tried to take him in with her eyes. He had thought her charming, especially when she smiled. He suddenly ached to see her smile up at him like that.

  Instead, he pressed her back so he might kiss her warm, salty tears from her soft cheeks. She even tasted like sun. Did he prefer her smile or her tears?

  Bewildered by his divergent thoughts, he left her to wash her face, instructing her to come into the bedroom when she was finished.

  Caleb paced his bedroom slowly. Thinking so many things. Rafiq had informed him transport was in order once they reached Tuxtepec. He had also confirmed their route to Pakistan was free of customs officials and equipped with enough fuel for each leg of the journey. It was all good news, but Caleb had been lackadaisical at best, and outright disgruntled at worst. After twelve years, it suddenly seemed to be happening too quickly. At some point, very soon, he would have to make the girl aware of her fate. He would have to force her to understand that he had made her a whore. Vladek’s whore. He couldn’t help imagining the look she would give him in that moment. He also knew he would avoid it as long as possible. Three weeks.

  Suddenly wondering what kept her so long, Caleb considered reentering the bathroom, but then thought the better of it. It was best to allow her to calm down and come out on her own. He looked about the room. No one would ever truly guess at the wealth and opulence hidden inside.

  The crown jewel of this dusty Mexican city. The plush carpet imported from Turkey, along with the tapestries. The bed was goose down, the sheets the finest Egyptian cotton, marble fireplace from Italy. The fireplace was probably by far the most excessive item in the room. Caleb was sure it never got cold enough to use it. One side of the room was made entirely of reinforced glass, with a hidden slide door leading out onto a terrace.

  Caleb sighed and smiled. She’s probably never seen this much opulence in her entire life?

  Where would Vladek keep her? His stomach twisted.

  He heard the handle being turned and faced the door to watch her reaction. He wasn’t disappointed when her hands shot up to her mouth, eyes wide, full of wonder.

  “Not what you expected?” Caleb teased.

  “N-n-no!” she replied, eyes scrutinizing the room. Caleb laughed heartily and helped her farther inside the room. She wandered around, half in a trance, touching her fingers to everything. “Do you live here? How do you afford this place?” she asked, innocent of any treachery. He knew her question had more to do with curiosity than guile.

  He abruptly wished this were his home, so he could answer her admiration in the affirmative.

  He was struck by his sudden desire to impress her. She was hardly worth impressing, a slave, or so he reminded himself. His home in Pakistan was just as remarkable, if not more so. But she would never see it.

  Impulsively, he drew her away from the curtains to face him, wanting her close despite his own objections to his boyish behavior. She stilled, as if just now remembering he was there.

  How dare she forget him, even for a moment. He attempted to refocus her concentration by gently, but firmly, slipping down the straps of her nightgown.

  “What are you doing?” she asked timidly. Caleb looked down at her intently, the corners of his mouth giving just the slightest hint of a smile.
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  “You made a deal Kitten, you stay out of your room, and I get an obedient little pet.” He bent slowly and kissed her bottom lip, just as he had desired to do. She sucked it in. “You’re going to ruin your lip if you keep that up Kitten.” He tilted her chin so that he could look at her big brown eyes, not at all marred by the puffiness caused from her crying. “I’m not going to fuck you again if that’s what you’re worried about.” She tried to look away but he held her gaze steady, if he concentrated, he thought he might be able to hear her pulse. He bent again and kissed the shell of her ear, “I’m just going to be a little selfish.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked, unsure. Without saying a word Caleb took her hand and walked over to the king size, cherry wood, four poster bed, a bed with many uses and not all of them easily evident.

  “I’ll show you,” Caleb sat himself on the edge of the bed with his reluctant volunteer standing in front of him. The anxiety coursing through her was obvious to his interested eyes.

  For what seemed an eternity, neither of them said anything. Caleb simply watched, examined, and made mental notes. When he finally spoke, she startled. “Just touch me.”

  “You want me to touch you? Where?” Caleb really enjoyed that about her, the way she seemed both guarded but curious. It hinted at her bravery, her wily and adventurous nature. All of which, she seemed strangely unaware of. Sometimes it was difficult not to see him in her. It was both endearing and disturbing.

  “Wherever you’d like,” he smiled. Her brows knit together, as if the answer needed further explanation. It didn’t. He wanted her to touch him, anywhere, everywhere, so long as he didn’t have to force her. Perhaps because he thought if she touched him, of her own free will, he could stop feeling guilty for pushing her earlier. Or perhaps, he only needed to be touched by her.

  There had been a time when Caleb despised being touched, by anyone, only knowing cruelty, but now, under the right circumstances, he rather liked it.

  “And then what? What are you going to do?” She was almost angry now, annoyed. Caleb understood he supposed. She had no reason to believe he wouldn’t take advantage of her. If he was honest, and he was for the most part, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t either. Still, he was a man of his word. Rafiq had made sure of at least that much.

  “I’ll keep my hands right here,” he patted the bed on either side of him, “unless you ask me otherwise.” His smile became mischievous and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. He tried not to laugh outright when she gave a derisive little snort and rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe him, not one little bit. Guarded, but curious. The room remained silent for several moments, Caleb appraising her with his steady gaze, while she contemplated what to do or say next.

  His heart picked up speed, as did his breathing. Was he actually anxious? It was a palpable aphrodisiac. She bit at her lip repeatedly, her little white teeth digging into the supple flesh. His fingers unconsciously pressed into the bedspread. There were places he wanted her mouth, other places he wouldn’t mind the feeling of her little teeth pressing into him.

  She cleared her throat, rousing Caleb from his devious thoughts. “So, um, if I don’t…then I have to go back to my room right?” The way she posed the question was almost leading. Caleb nodded. He noticed her shoulders drop slightly, as if she were more relaxed. She wanted this.

  She wanted him. He refused to smile. “Okay. I’ll do it. But you have to promise to keep your hands on the bed. You promise?” Caleb couldn’t fight the smile any longer, he nodded. She hadn’t even asked what he would accept as far as the touching went.

  Her face was flushed, but her voice was almost confident. Again Caleb marveled at her facets. Shy one moment, a lioness the next. “Close your eyes. I don’t think I can do it otherwise.”

  Caleb laughed, especially when she blushed deeply, but reluctantly, he complied.

  • • •

  It was late, late enough to almost be early depending on how one looked at it. The girl slept peacefully beside him, her bottom pressed against his groin. It amazed him how easily she had fallen asleep, though he supposed he had put her through a lot. He shut his eyes and breathed in the scent of her hair, her scent beneath it.

  He thought of her curious little fingers burrowing through his wavy blonde hair. It had been the first thing she went for. His entire scalp had tingled, the sensation coursing down the back of his neck, along his spine and radiating out toward each of his limbs. One simple touch and he already doubted he’d be able to keep his promise. But he had remained still. He had wanted to know how far she’d go.

  He had told himself also, it was part of her training. To allow her to become accustomed to touching and knowing a man’s body. Not all men were like him. They derived more pleasure from receiving than giving and Caleb had only taught Kitten how to submit to his touch, not how to exact her own sense of control by initiating contact. He had admitted to himself in that moment, he had avoided teaching her this aspect of what was required of her. It made him somewhat vulnerable, not because he was a slave to touch, nothing so insipid as that. All the slaves he had trained had touched him, frequently. But with them he had always remained detached, clinical, informing them what felt good and what needed work along the way.

  With her, he wanted…something. And the obscurity of his desires was a distraction he could ill afford. And yet, she needed to learn didn’t she? He had to endure it. He didn’t have a choice.

  He had leaned into her touch and she had tightened her grip in his hair. There was a hint of pain and his cock had leapt at the sensation.

  She had roamed his face, her delicate fingertips dancing along his brow, his cheekbones, and his jaw. When she pressed her thumbs across his lips he tensed, thinking she would kiss him. She hadn’t. Instead she trailed along his neck and shoulders, even venturing into his shirt by way of the few undone buttons at his throat. He felt her body heat ratchet up a few degrees, the heat of her womb radiating against the inch of space separating her from his straining cock. In the end, he had been the one to put an end to it.

  He’d quickly had enough of trying to keep his promise.

  He had told her it was enough, to get in bed. His voice had sounded cold, though he felt anything but.

  He had secured her left wrist to a gold cord protruding from one of the bedposts. It was thin, but strong, capable of allowing her comfortable sleep without threat of escape. Then he’d gone to take a shower and do something he hadn’t needed to do in a very long time. As shiny ribbons of semen spilled across the tile of the shower, he once again asked himself what the fuck he was thinking.

  Now he lay in bed next to her, holding her like a lover, smelling her fucking hair and caressing her arm. Worse, he didn’t think he could stop. He didn’t want to stop. He banded his arm around her waist and pulled her deeper into him. She sighed. The little tart even tilted her head back, her cheek turning onto the fabric of his t-shirt. Did she want him to kiss her? He wasted no time in finding out. He pressed his lips to hers, gently, inquiring. She sighed again, opening her lips, sluggishly, still asleep.

  Encouraged, he teased her mouth with the tip of his tongue. He was a masochist. Why else would he torture himself like this? She tasted warm, sweet, to some extent of liquor. A soft moan entered his mouth courtesy of her. Her body turned slightly toward him, her lips now seeking his.

  He gave her what they both wanted as his tongue ventured gently into her mouth. She was suddenly ravenous. She sucked at his mouth, sloppily, greedily, still asleep. He pulled back and she whimpered, seeking him blindly. He stifled a laugh.

  “Mmm, Caleb,” she said on a painful sounding sigh. His heart instantly sped up three times.

  Blood thudded in his ears. She was dreaming of him? Or was she feigning sleep? Did she know he was kissing her, had she willingly reciprocated?

  “Yes, Kitten?” he asked, honestly nervous.

  “Mmm,” she replied. There was a hint of a smile tilting her lips. He wanted to kiss he
r again, but he didn’t. She tried to turn toward him, the cord holding her wrist prevented it. Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t wake. Caleb leaned over and let her loose. Instantly she rolled toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. Her newly freed left arm pulled him close. Her left leg pinned his thigh to the mattress. Her hot little pussy pressed against his hip. Was this really fucking happening? Resigned, he placed his left arm around her, the other he rested on his chest, against his still racing heart.

  After a while, sleep finally rescued him from his sweet torture.

  TEN

  It was the same dream, the one I’d been having since the day we met. The one I used to eagerly anticipate before hitting my pillow at night. I didn’t want to be having it, but I had no choice. I think perhaps my subconscious was determined to go back and look over the facts, find what I’d missed the first time.

  I’m hurrying down the sidewalk, trying to get away from the sinister man in the car behind me when I look up and see him. Perhaps it’s his easy stride, or the way his gaze sweeps past me instead of over me, but for whatever reason, he seems safe. I throw my arms about his waist and whisper, “Just play along okay.”

  Beyond the prison of my dream, I feel real sweat trickling down my neck. Obscurely, I’m aware of my tossing and turning, but I can’t put together why I feel so uneasy.

  He does and I’m surprised when his arms wrap around me. The moment of danger seems to pass very quickly, but for some reason I don’t want to let go. I feel safe in these arms and I’ve never really felt safe before. And he smells good, he smells the way I imagine a man should smell, like crisp, clean soap, and warm skin, and a light sweat. I think I’m taking too long to let go, so I release him as though he’s burned me. Then I stare up and acknowledge the angel in front of me. My knees almost buckle.

  Outside the dream, I can hear myself whimper. Part of me knows why I don’t want to keep looking at him, but I can’t stop it from happening. I dream in third person, and I’m a spectator here.