Taken: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 1)

by Felicity Brandon

“Stand up, pet.”

  His order came out of the blue, especially considering his prior statement, but Molly did her best to comply. She rose, her thighs shaking as she stood for the first time in what seemed like hours. Connor watched her carefully, and as she found her feet, he closed the distance between them in one stride, reaching for her body. Within a moment he’d swooped, reaching for the roundest part of her thighs and lifting her straight over his left shoulder. She cried out as he swept her from her feet, the shock of the deed more disconcerting than the sound suggested. Her impertinence was met with one sharp swat to her bottom with his free hand, and she bit her lip to suppress the yelp which the sting produced.

  “Quiet,” he warned her, and she felt the arm at the base of her ass tighten to keep her in place.

  Molly drew in a breath as she acclimatised to her new, upside down view of the world. She could feel the blood rushing to her head, and it was doing nothing to quell the rising sense of panic in her about what was now to come. A wave of dread passed over her as he moved, and slowly they began their descent.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Connor carried her over his shoulder with ease. She may be a fully-grown woman, but she was as light as a feather to him. Years of martial arts and training had made him fitter and stronger than nearly everyone he’d ever met, a fact which was easily demonstrated as he carefully negotiated the steps downwards.

  There was only a small whimper from her now, and he patted her bottom gently as he entered the basement. The act was supposed to be reassuring, but the fact that her delectable pussy was so close to his face did absolutely nothing to quell his growing ardor. He strode to the center of the space before placing her gently back on her feet, and gesturing for her to resume her place on the floor. To Connor’s delight she dropped to her knees without a single command from him, but he could see the fear and trepidation in her eyes as she took in the new, dark surroundings. Her gaze was fixed on the cage in the far corner.

  “Yes,” he told her, answering her unspoken question. “That is for you when you’re a particularly naughty pet, but I don’t have it in mind now.”

  She drew in a shaky breath at his words, lowering her head as though she needed to compose herself. He supposed he could understand the gesture. How many times in her life would she have been faced with a cage like that? But then, nothing about her life as his pet would resemble anything she had known before.

  “If you’re a good pet,” he went on, “and take your punishment well, then I won’t need to cage you.”

  He paused, crouching down in front of her as he twisted the end of her leash around his right hand. “Look at me,” he instructed flatly.

  Her head rose to reveal large, anxious eyes.

  “Does the cage frighten you?” He already knew it did, but he wanted to hear the words from those delicious lips. His cock needed to hear them.

  “Y-yes, Master,” she conceded in a light, throaty tone.

  Connor’s cock sprung to attention at the admission, and he wondered if his face made it obvious. “But you have written about similar cages for naughty girls, haven’t you?”

  Again, his question was merely rhetorical. They both knew that she had written similar penances for her heroines, and he could guess how wet those scenes had made Molly’s pretty pussy.

  “Yes,” she whispered, “but, I never thought I…”

  His glare silenced her at once, her face flushing as she realized her mistake. “You have earned yourself another ten strokes for that outburst,” he informed her dryly. “You will learn to only answer the questions I ask you. I don’t want to hear anything else.”

  Her face fell, and she looked like she was fighting the urge to cry. Tears had never particularly set him on fire in the past, but Molly’s were fascinating. He’d known other sadists who had been all about making their subs cry, and had pushed women harder and harder in pursuit of those tears. Connor had never really understood that until now, but as he watched Molly’s expression falter, he longed to see that salty water leaking from her beautiful eyes. She seemed even more emotional than he had fantasized about her being, and it pleased him enormously. Although she didn’t need to know that.

  “That’s enough,” he told her firmly as he rose from his crouched position. “Let’s begin your punishment. You’ll have an unexpected new chapter to write about this afternoon, pet.”

  She mewled beautifully as he led her to the waiting spanking bench. Connor saw her gaze take in the perfectly rounded leather, and the straps which would hold her already chained limbs in place as he punished her. He allowed her those few seconds to absorb what was coming her way, and then he gave the order.

  “Up onto the bench.”

  He would give her the chance to redeem herself, but if she failed to cooperate in her own punishment, then he wouldn’t hesitate to remind her who was master. She climbed up gingerly, her long limbs trembling as she forced herself into position. He admired her toned, limber body, deciding that she seemed more feline than canine as she settled into place.

  “Good,” he said, pacing to the front of the bench to tuck her chain underneath the structure. He worked quickly to lock her cuffed left wrist into the large leather strap, before shifting to secure the right one.

  There was a sniff of what he assumed was self-pity as he moved to the back of the bench, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he focused on the amazing sight which greeted him as he rounded the end of the bench. The angle of the thing already had her reddened behind pushed high into the air for him. She was exposed and vulnerable, and looked absolutely bloody delicious, but as always, Connor wanted more.

  “Spread your legs,” he commanded, noticing the lust in his own voice as he gave the order.

  His pet wriggled her bottom at him as she fought to obey, her upper body now entirely locked down over the front portion of the bench.

  Fuck.

  The sight of her struggle was exhilarating. Connor gazed hungrily at her wet pussy, which was now on display below her tail, a fact he hoped would humiliate and arouse her even more as he delivered her penance.

  He caught her right ankle in his grasp, securing it into position at the edge of the bench. Connor didn’t think she would be stupid enough to kick out at this juncture, but he couldn’t be sure. She was after all, probably terrified of being in the basement, and of what he now had in store for her, so he decided not to take any chances. As he strapped her final limb into place, he stepped back to admire her.

  Of course, he also had cameras set up in this room, too. It was going to be essential for when he did cage his pet and leave her here as punishment. He wanted her to feel alone and abandoned, but he would ensure that she never really was. Connor would have eyes on her at all times. All that said, however, sometimes there was no substitute for the real thing, and this was one of those times. The look of her bound limbs, pink bottom, and glistening pussy made him heady. He wanted to forget about the penance altogether, and mount her right there on the bench. He could already imagine how tight and warm that pussy was going to be. He’d already experienced his pet’s mouth, and that had been wonderful, but he had a good enough imagination to envision how sweet her other orifices were going to be.

  “You’re going to receive a hard caning for your poor form,” he told her, and as he spoke he strode to the basement wall, admiring the line of implements that hung there. “Have you been caned before, pet?”

  He turned back to her as he asked the question, having already selected the long, thin cane he was going to use.

  “No, Master,” she replied, her voice hoarse, a symptom of her evident trepidation.

  “Interesting,” he went on as she resumed his place by her side. “Well, I can promise you, this is going to hurt. You’ll receive fifteen for your form, and a further ten strikes for speaking out of line just then.”

  She mewled, a desperate sound which made his cock pulsate eagerly.

  “Twenty-five swats,” he reiterated as he loomed over
her, and slowly, teasingly, he lowered the cane over the trembling cheeks of her behind. “Remember, I want you to be a good pet. If you make a fuss, then I will cage you.”

  There was a small murmur from her mouth, although he couldn’t discern her words. It didn’t matter anyway. Pets didn’t need to articulate. They needed to obey.

  Lifting the thin cane, Connor raised it high into the air. He paused, gazing down at his target and imagining how her bottom would look when he was done. He wanted to stripe it, and cause her pain, but he didn’t want any lasting damage. His sadism extended predominantly to dehumanizing his little pet, not to inflicting serious harm, and he knew he’d have to go light on the early strikes to give her any chance of surviving the penance.

  “Ready, pet?” he probed, glancing at her face which was half pushed against the sleek black leather.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she nodded in response. “Yes, Master,” she squeaked, apparently resigned to her fate for the time being.

  Connor’s attention returned to the glorious, punished arse which awaited him. He had teased her for long enough, and now it was time for the waiting to end and the real torment to begin. The cane rose into the air again, but not so high this time. He judged the distance carefully, not wanting to go too hard, too fast. He brought the thin wood down, making contact with her flesh and watching as the impact resonated throughout her body. She cried out, forcing her face into the bench to muffle the sound, but he chose to overlook it. It was her first ever caning, and it was going to hurt. He’d expected some sort of response.

  “That’s one, pet,” he informed her as he eyed the thin line which appeared on her backside. “I’d like to hear you thank me for each strike again.”

  A small snuffle came from her as Molly twisted her head back into its original position. Her eyes strained to see where he was, and as they found him, their gazes locked for a moment.

  “Th-thank you, M-Master,” she mumbled, her face flaming with the humiliation of having to thank the man who was willfully inflicting the ordeal on her.

  Connor smiled, ignoring the urgent throb inside his pants. He lined up the next shot, bringing the cane down with a little more force. It swished through the air, creating a loud clap as it struck her prone bottom. Molly gasped for breath as the wood impacted, before once again forcing the required words from her mouth. As he gazed down, he saw the fresh stripe rise on her behind, the line appearing either side of her furry tail. Only strike two, and already this was by far the most satisfying experience he’d shared with his pet so far.

  Chapter Fifty

  The strokes were agonizing. Far worse than anything he’d made her endure so far. Each one felt like a line of fire had been branded against her forever, and at that moment, she was grateful that she couldn’t actually see the damage he was inflicting upon her tender bottom.

  “Thank you, Master,” she said, forcing the seemingly mandatory reply from her quivering lips.

  She was afraid of how far he would take this, but more than that she was angry that Connor was making her suffer the cane full-stop. There was no way she deserved a punishment like this, but then, she supposed nothing about the last couple of days could be considered fair, and this was just the latest ordeal to bear.

  The cane struck her again, and she ground her teeth together as she absorbed the sting. Bound by her sides, she felt her hands ball into small fists at her treatment. Her fury seemed to be burgeoning with each flick of the dreaded implement, and she lifted her head from the leather, willing the punishment to be done.

  “Pet?” His tone was ominous, and Molly realized with a sense of dread, that she’d forgotten the obligatory thank you he required after each stroke.

  “Th-thank you,” she stuttered, pulling futilely against the straps at her wrists, as though her will alone could make them disappear.

  “Do not forget your manners,” he growled from behind her, but before she could reply, the cane branded her bottom again.

  For some reason this strike felt the hardest yet. Perhaps it had been? Maybe her delay had irritated him, causing him to hit her harder than before. She grimaced at the thought, wondering at the arrogance of the man. How dare he be mad at her! She was the one bound to the freaking bench and at his mercy, and yet he was upset with her? The thought made her dizzy with unspent rage, and she bit down hard against her lower lip until she tasted blood.

  Connor struck her for a fifth time, creating a line of what felt like lightning across her backside. She gasped again as she took a lungful of air. The pain was becoming intolerable, and she could feel the bottled-up emotions in her rising to breaking point.

  “Thank you, Master,” she replied between gritted teeth, and she heard the dark chuckle which greeted her words.

  “That was five, pet. Only twenty more to go.”

  Her heart sank at that, and as the sixth strike blazed a trail of fire over her flesh she felt the fresh tears leaking from her eyes. There was no way she was going to be able to manage another nineteen of those, and he must know it.

  “Th-thank you,” she sniffed, despising how pitiful she sounded, but knowing there was nothing she could do about it.

  There was nothing she could do about any of it. Not the straps that held her limbs in place, nor the monster who was right now wielding the cane above her body. Right now, she had to endure, and get this over with, but oh fuck, she really didn’t know if she could do it.

  Molly’s caning continued, each strike sending fresh agony coursing across her ass. She was in tears now, the leather at her face wet with the evidence of her misery. She’d have cared less about the shame of finding herself crying in front of him again, if the tears had gone some way toward relieving the pain, yet somehow, they never did. Each stroke was excruciating, sending them flowing hard and fast from her eyes, but the sting of the cane never lessened. Rather, it seemed to grow, becoming more intense as he went on. By the fifteenth swat, she found herself really sobbing into the padding of the bench, thanking Connor between shaky breaths.

  “Ten more,” he announced, and she heard him shift his weight, before beginning a circle of the bench.

  He paused by the side of her head, and all of a sudden, she felt his digits in her mass of dark hair. He stroked the locks gently, drawing them back, away from Molly’s face. “How do you like my cane, pet?”

  Molly blinked the tears away at his question. Her will told her to be strong, and to offer him some wisecrack response, but the logical part of her brain overrode it. She was a strong woman, but she wasn’t a fool. Connor could do absolutely anything he wanted to her. She was naked and bound over a bench for fuck’s sake. He could really hurt her, or forcibly take whatever he wanted, and she’d be powerless to resist. However much she’d fantasized about the idea of being captured, she couldn’t let her body’s reaction deceive her. Connor was dangerous, and she was completely at his mercy.

  “I don’t like it, Master,” she answered him finally, her voice shaking as she gave her response.

  The fingers in her hair stilled, and all at once he shifted, crouching down in front of her, so that he was visible in her line of sight. “I’m sure,” he replied, smugly. “My cane is not here to be liked. It’s here to punish you, and to teach you a lesson.” He paused, smirking at her as she eyed him fearfully. “What is it teaching you, pet?”

  Molly gasped, realizing he wanted her to say the words out loud. “It’s teaching me how to crawl,” she sobbed. “To have better form.”

  Connor’s face softened, and he nodded. “Exactly,” he agreed. “You see, you are learning…”

  “Please, Master,” she begged, risking a chance to implore him now that they were face to face. “I have learned the lesson, and I swear, I’ll try harder next time!”

  He shook his head, answering her with a smile. “I know you will, pet,” he told her softly, and as he spoke, those fingers roamed her face once more.

  Molly closed her eyes, praying that Connor would relent and free
her from the spanking bench.

  “Open them,” he commanded, his voice taking on a more masterful edge as he spoke to her again.

  She complied, eyeing him warily as he rose to stand next to her.

  “I believe you will try, but that doesn’t mean you get out of your punishment. The strikes for your crawling are done, but now you have ten more strokes for the way you spoke to me.”

  Molly could feel the blood rushing from her face in horror. So, she’d have to tolerate another ten swats of the freaking cane, and it seemed there was nothing she could do about it. Fresh tears sprung from her eyes, though these were borne of frustration, rather than fear or pain.

  “You are quite beautiful,” he mused aloud, and she felt his fingers stroke her hair again. “Cry for me, pet. Your tears are most welcome.”

  Molly recoiled, squeezing the fingers of her hands into her palms to stop her from responding. What sort of sick fuck was this guy? What sort of man wanted a woman to cry like this? She shivered reflexively as he stalked away from her, and within a moment she felt the cool line of cane pressing gently into her bottom again. She flinched at the contact, wincing as he urged the cane down against her skin. Her ass was so sore, it was horrendous, and she wondered how long it would be before she could easily sit down again.

  “Ten more,” he told her. “Let’s begin.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Connor brought the cane down hard against her rump again. Her flesh was already painted with numerous pretty strikes, each crisscrossing the tail held fast in her behind. He smiled as he rained down the next three in fast succession. Molly was screaming now, crying openly and writhing at each impact. It appeared she had lost all composure, a fact he would need to address, but for now, he concentrated his energy on concluding the caning. By the fifth stroke, she was uncontrollable, pulling and straining against the leather straps at her ankles and wrists. Of course, she had no hope of escape, but the display made it obvious just how desperate his pet had become.