A Captive of Fear and Desire

by Sophie Kisker

  The room seemed quiet now. She lifted her head enough to see that the other tables were all empty. Was she by herself? She turned her head the other way and yelped in surprise when she saw Master 2 standing next to the table, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. She let her head drop back down as she clenched her fists in anger.

  A cramp struck, so she dropped back into the breathing pattern she had taught to so many women in labor. She’d hoped that someday it would be her turn to help her own baby come out, but if she really was destined to be a slave, that might never come to be—

  No. She could not think like that. Never.

  She jerked as Master 2’s hand reached up under her stomach and began to gently massage the distended bulge. She fought to tolerate his hand because it was working to relieve the cramp, but she really wanted him to take his hands off of her.

  “There. Almost done. You’re doing really well.” His soft tone just made her mad.

  “Why are you being so nice? You’re a goddamn slaver!” His massaging hand stopped for a moment, then resumed.

  “Because I believe—and so does Master 1—that helping a woman embrace submission instead of forcing her into it is much more interesting and makes a better slave in the end.”

  His words were spoken in such a reasonable tone that she gaped. “Seriously? You think you can speak some sweet words and I’ll give up my life to be someone’s fuck toy? Try again, asshole.” She cringed as she said the words. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to say what she’d said, but it burst out of her like a volcano.

  He withdrew his hand. “I think you need a lesson in helping your body embrace submission. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll go explore that concept a little.” He moved to her bottom. “Clench.” He removed the tube.

  She got off the table awkwardly, feeling like a pregnant woman, and walked back to the bathroom for the second time. This time she took her time in there, wanting to hide as long as possible.

  Finally, he appeared. “I know you’re delaying the inevitable. Let’s go.” There was a firmness to his voice not present a few minutes ago.

  She finished cleaning and reluctantly followed him back through the room and out into the hall.

  Chapter 6

  Master 2 propelled Laura down the hall with his hand on her arm. They passed Master 4, and Master 2 motioned for him to follow. As they entered a room, she saw all kinds of objects in it and none of them looked like fun. There were benches with restraining points. There were hooks hanging from the ceiling. There was a big wooden X, and a wooden sawhorse, a tall thin cage, and manacles emerging from the concrete walls. And rows and rows of whips and floggers and canes and––

  She tried to flee once more, but his arm gripped so firm she thought there must be bruises by now. He walked—dragged—her over to a large cylindrical object perched on a metal pole rising from the floor. It was about thigh-high, and one end was flush against the wall. It looked like a kind of leather-clad vaulting horse for a perverted gymnastics class, especially when she spotted the two dildos protruding straight up from the surface. The one closest to the wall was fairly thin; the other, just a few inches in front, was much taller and thicker.

  “Master 4, would you prepare the Sybian, please?”

  Sybian? She’d heard of them but never seen one perched off the ground like this. She watched in growing horror as Master 4 placed condoms over both dildos, then proceeded to lube the smaller of the two in the back. Her overwhelmed brain finally realized what they meant to do.

  “No, please, God, don’t put me on them! They’re too big!” she pleaded.

  Master 2 chuckled. “Not even close, my dear. You’ll be fine.” Without warning, he and Master 4 picked her up and plunked her down with one leg on either side and her feet flat on the floor. Two dildos poked straight up towards her, just barely brushing the skin of her pussy.

  Master 4 held her wrists behind her back in a tight grip. Master 2 looked at her with a gleam in his eye, and pushed a button. To her dismay, the Sybian rose up just a bit and the two projections pushed at her folds. Master 4 leaned over and with his hand, he probed between her legs as she squealed. He adjusted her position forward an inch and nodded. The Sybian rose again and the dildos thrust themselves just inside both entrances. She rose on her tiptoes but couldn’t get high enough to get off of them.

  “Now, you can do this the easy way, where you ease yourself down onto both of them, or you can do it the hard way, where the Sybian continues up and they push into you. Either way, they’re both going inside.”

  She glared at him and refused to answer. He shrugged and the Sybian continued its relentless journey up while her body weight held her down. The front dildo slipped in easily, but the back one did not, and it hurt.

  “Bastard!” she screamed in frustration.

  “It helps if you relax and push out. The pain will be just for a minute or two until you get used to it. If you keep resisting, it’ll force its way in there anyway, and it will hurt worse.”

  She’d never experienced this before but had read about it, and she knew he was right. With a sob, she bore down hard and felt the tip slide in, the burning pain as the dildo breeched the entrance making her screech. The burning continued until she was all the way down and seated on the leather. As soon as she had stopped moving, the Sybian rose up again. Her feet were only two or three inches off the floor but she might as well have been six feet up. All her weight was on the machine.

  With choreographed moves, they each grabbed a wrist and stretched her arms out to the side, clicking the cuffs to hooks on the wall. She was trapped on the machine. Then they pulled her ankles out to the side and fastened them to the wall and now she had no way to grip the leather with her legs.

  She knew theoretically what a Sybian did, but when he flicked the remote again and a churning rubber bump began rotating and vibrating under her clit, she knew she was in trouble. Then he activated the dildos and she was immediately overwhelmed with sensations of pumping and twisting that made a mockery of her resolve to stay quiet. Almost immediately, a guttural moan was torn from her mouth. She’d never felt so much sensation between her legs all at once. It overloaded her mind, grabbed her core, and made her stomach clench. Wrapped around it all was a sensation of being so stretched from the inside that every nerve ending was firing rapid signals. Her head dropped and she started panting and moaning, a rhythmic moan as regular as breathing. The room faded—the men faded—her situation faded—and all that was left was the churning, rising ocean inside that she was powerless to stop. The vibrations, the twisting, the pumping—they became her whole existence. Without warning, an orgasm rose up from her depths, crashing over her. She screamed as she rode it all the way through, the machine continuing its assault without cease and prolonging the orgasm way beyond pleasure.

  Now she twisted and writhed, unable to escape the relentless sensations on her over-sensitive clit. She begged to stop—she pleaded to stop—but they ignored her and their existence faded out again as the arousal turned from unbearable to desperate once more. She struggled furiously to escape but was so impaled that all her struggling served only to rub her poor tortured clit even harder on the vibrating pad.

  “Please!” she pleaded, “please stop it! I can’t take it anymore! Just for a minute, please! Oh, God!”

  She shrieked as she suddenly hurtled up and over the edge of the cliff again. The machine was an indifferent beast and kept rubbing and pumping and twisting, never pausing to let her catch her breath.

  The people and the place, and time itself, ceased to exist as the torment continued, her body unable to stop heaving and struggling, her cries morphing into sobs as she endured another, and another. She wasn’t sure how many orgasms she’d had when the machine finally stopped moving. She was slumped forward as much as her shackled arms would allow, unable to raise her head, her mouth dry, and her throat sore.

  She was vaguely aware of Master 2 at her side, wiping her face with a cool clo
th and offering her a drink of water. She drank greedily. After a few minutes, she managed to sit up, her eyes still downcast, refusing to look up at anyone or anything. She was utterly spent, and utterly defeated.

  “Please let me down, Master,” she finally whispered.

  “We’re not done yet.”

  “No!” she sobbed, “I can’t do any more! Please, please, I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me down.”

  “Shhh…” he brushed her cheek with his hand. “No more orgasms.”

  “Oh, God, thank you!” She was absurdly grateful to him.

  “Let’s get to the next part.”

  ~ ~ ~

  She watched with wide eyes as he moved to the control box. The unwanted buzzing and vibrating started up again.

  “Master!” she screamed. “Master! You said no more!” She struggled wildly, pulling on the cuffs that secured her wrists and her ankles. Soon she was once more beyond words as the tide rose up and she catapulted towards the edge—

  And the machine stopped. She panted furiously as her eyes sought his, not understanding.

  “I promised no more orgasms.”

  He smiled at her as the truth dawned.

  “No, please, don’t do that either, Master! Please!”

  The vibrations started up, silencing her pleas as she became a creature of sensation once more. She groaned and panted and let out guttural cries and felt the tidal wave approach—

  And again the machine stopped.

  “Noooo!” she screamed, writhing furiously on the twin dildos, trying to rub her clit on the silent, still pad. Where once before she would have promised anything to stop the orgasms, now she found herself promising anything to be allowed to have them. But it seemed he had no intention of doing that. The arousal backed off, her panting slowed, and then the machine started up once more. Again and again she came to the edge and was denied blessed relief. She screamed and struggled. Then she tried being silent so he might miss the signs of an impending orgasm and stop the machine too late. He didn’t. Every orgasm was thwarted over and over.

  Finally, he approached her.

  “Master, please…” the words trailed off. She was too tired and weak to fight.

  “Do you want to have an orgasm?”

  She looked up in fear and hope, and nodded hesitantly.

  “Just one orgasm?” Now she nodded more vigorously.

  “Then I need something from you. I need you to give me the best blowjob you can give. I won’t do anything harsh to you—I just want a regular blowjob, and after I’ve come in your mouth and you swallow it all, you’ll lay back on the floor and spread your legs for me, and I’ll let you come. Deal?”

  Don’t give in just for a stupid orgasm! a tiny part of her brain pleaded. She shoved it into a corner and locked it down tight.

  “Yes, Master, I’ll do it.” The words were full of desperation. Even as he released her restraints and bodily picked her up and off the dildos, all she could think about was the promise of what was to come. Even as he placed her feet on the floor and her knees gave way so that she sank down before him, her mind was centered on the reward that lay ahead if she obeyed.

  He brought forth his cock from his opened pants. The thick organ glistened in the lights, the veins bulging, a drop of precum already dangling from its tip. Her gaze fastened upon it and it became the only thing in her lust-filled world that mattered. It looked delectable. She leaned forward to lick the shiny drop hanging from the edge and was rewarded with a sigh. Her eyes flicked upwards as she took another lick. He was smiling down at her, a sight that both reassured and confused her, so she dropped her eyes and continued to take little licks that grew into larger licks as her tongue began sweeping the length. She moved her mouth to his sack, opening up to embrace one testicle, sucking and tugging on it gently and being rewarded with another deep groan from above. Her hands reached up and stroked his cock while she continued her attention on the other side of his balls. Now her mouth moved back to his cock, impossibly bigger than a moment before. She placed one hand at the base as she finally opened her mouth all the way and sank down upon it until she reached her hand. She’d never been able to deep-throat, so her hand would always take up residence there and remain, preventing any over-zealous lover from pushing her head down too far as he reached his climax and forgot his promise to be careful.

  But Master 2 was as good as his word. He let her lick and suck and his only contributions were the groans that spurred her on. A thought popped into her mind—she didn’t really hate what she was doing. He put his hands on her head and she stiffened, but he shushed her and made no move to take control; he merely rested his hands there, and the gentle physical connection brought strange and conflicting emotions to her that she shoved down for now. She’d examine them later.

  There were no noises for several minutes save the slurping of her wet mouth on his glistening cock, and his groans. She started a little humming noise in the back of her throat and the vibration suddenly pushed him over the edge. With a shout, he lifted his hands into fists and stiffened. Her mouth filled with warm sticky cum that threatened to gag her. She managed to gulp it down and keep her stomach from heaving it back up. She held his dick in her mouth a moment longer until it started to soften, and then he pulled it out with a last gasp and she let go of the now-limp cock.

  She sank back down on her knees and stared at the floor, confused and unsure. He tucked himself back into his pants.

  “That,” he said breathily, “was a damn fine blow job.”

  She didn’t respond, so he tucked a finger under her chin and brought it up.

  “Laura, look at me.” She raised her eyes to his. He smiled. “Thank you.”

  His thanks confused her. She looked at him for a moment, then dropped her eyes, not sure what to say.

  “All right. I always keep my promises. Go ahead and lay back, right where you are.”

  Her face red with embarrassment but her body still thrumming with arousal, she settled on her butt and lay back on the floor. He snagged a cushion from somewhere and lifted her head up to place it underneath, another courtesy that only served to further her confusion.

  “Place your hands on your knees and pull your legs apart as wide as you can.”

  She uttered a little cry of humiliation but did what he asked, willingly baring her most private parts to the man standing in front of her. He grabbed a vibrator from a nearby table and knelt down between her legs. She whimpered as he turned it on, the sound reminding her of the torment only a few minutes before. As he applied it to her clit, an electric shock tore through her body. It took less than a minute for the orgasm to rise up and explode out of her, and she screamed in pleasure. He removed the vibrator from between her shaking legs and she snapped them shut and rolled over.

  “Obedience has rewards,” she heard him say from above. She didn’t answer him as she fought a war in her brain between pleasure, humiliation, and hatred for this man who had made her want something so desperately she felt like she had sold her soul to get it.

  Chapter 7

  Master 2 gave her a few minutes to collect herself before he ordered her up. She followed him down the hall on shaky legs to the outside door. When it opened, she saw all the women in the same place where they’d done the yoga and squats just two hours before. This time they were on their knees, their hands upturned on their thighs, and were utterly silent and still. She looked at him in question.

  “There’s an hour of kneeling and meditating each morning. You’re expected to remain motionless the entire time and learn to ignore the urges to scratch, or wave off an insect, or even cough or sneeze.”

  She walked out among the quiet women, seeing an empty place next to Claire, and settled down. It had never been easy for her to kneel since a knee surgery years ago, so she knew this was going to be tough. And what you just went through wasn’t? she chided herself.

  The first few minutes were endless. She itched, she sweated in the heat, and the sweat
trickled down her forehead and tickled her nose. Her knees ached and there was a sharp pebble underneath one of her legs. She looked around with her eyes as much as she dared.

  “Are you okay?” she heard Claire whisper off to the side. The Masters had moved away into the shade.

  “Not really,” Laura replied miserably.

  “Orgasm torments?” She said it so casually.

  “Yes.”

  The hour crawled by. She tried to pull her thoughts together, to think, to plan, to figure a way out of here, but her mind was a confusing swirl of fear that she couldn’t corral into a fence of rational thought. She gave up and concentrated on surviving right here, right now. Plans would come later, perhaps at night when she had a feeling the silence would beg for something to occupy her mind.

  Somewhere in the middle of the hour she had an itch she couldn’t ignore any longer and when the men had their backs turned, she quickly lifted a hand to scratch it—just as Master 4 turned around. He raised his eyebrows at her as he stalked over. She hung her head low, her fear making her desperate to be invisible. Without comment, he pulled her wrists around behind her and clicked the cuffs together. There was no more itch-scratching for the rest of the time, and when they were dismissed for lunch, no one made a move to free her hands. Claire shook her head “no” at Laura’s questioning look as they filed down the hall to the cafeteria. Laura groaned.

  The stew in the large pot was probably healthy, but not very appealing. Especially not when she was assigned to a group of women who were kneeling at the feet of Master 6, waiting to be fed. Another group sat in silence at the table, and the third knelt in front of bowls on the floor and carefully lifted stew up to their mouths with spoons. She watched the first two women in her group lean forward gracefully and accept the spoon that was held just a little further than comfortable from their mouths. When it was Laura’s turn, the spoon stopped about six inches away. She craned her neck forward trying to reach it.