Her Submission
Page 4
“Ma-am?”
She stopped and turned in the direction the male voice had come from. “Yes?”
Whoever it was didn’t respond. Near as she could tell, the man was near the rear of the deeply shadowed RV. He was probably looking at the hookups.
“Do you have a flashlight?” she asked. “Sorry, I forgot mine.”
“I’ve got—I think I have…”
He didn’t sound particularly elderly, just addled. Taking each step slow, she closed in on what she guessed was the side of the RV. She stretched out her hand, touched metal. Mindful of the angry waiting-for-a-shower wife, she didn’t speak. As she recalled, a number of closely bunched pine trees were at the back of this space, contributing to the lack of visibility.
“Where are you?” she whispered. “My tools—I’ll have to go back—“
A form materialized, startling her. She sensed more than saw a human shape. Years of watching her back kicked in. No one was going to defend her, if she needed defending. She was on her own. She turned toward the shape, folded her fingers into a fist.
Then something slammed into her and knocked her backward onto the ground. Her head slammed against hard earth. A hand clamped over her mouth. A weight settled over her, knees grinding against her forearms and preventing her from lifting them. The man—that much she was certain—grabbed her hair and turned her head to the side with one hand while still gagging her with the other. The way his body rested on her chest, she couldn’t draw a decent breath. Much longer and she’d pass out. Terror lanced her, making it nearly impossible for her to think.
Maybe her attacker knew what she was experiencing because he let go of her hair and mouth. Before she could get her act together, something wide and sticky pressed against her lips. She tried to shake it off, but he stayed with her, hauling her head off the ground and wrapping the gag around her head. He wasn’t content with one wrap. By the time he was done, he’d looped her head a total of three times.
“Step one,” he muttered.
Her heart hammered so she thought it might burst, and when he climbed off her and flipped her onto her belly, she did little more than try to squirm away. He grunted and pulled her arms behind her until her wrists were crisscrossed one over the other.
The splinted pieces of her mind came back together, and she bucked, screaming impotently into the gag. Again he sat on her and held her down, still holding her wrists in place with one large hand. This man knew exactly what he was doing.
“A little risky,” he continued in the same low tone, “but I need to feel alive.”
She didn’t know what he was talking about, didn’t want to care, but her survival might depend on learning everything she could about her abductor. She wanted to fight. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to struggle, but he weighed a lot more than she did and all that weight was holding her down. With her arms wrenched behind her, she stood no chance of pulling them loose. She knew because she kept trying.
He was doing something, moving to the side a little and shifting his weight slightly. She bent her knees in an attempt to slam her heels into his back. No matter how much she strained, however, she couldn’t put enough force behind the effort to make any difference.
His chuckle chilled her.
“Not the smartest thing you’ve ever done as you’ll find out. Now to prepare you for transport.”
No! Oh god, no!
She was still praying to the god she didn’t believe in when she realized he’d been reaching for something to restrain her arms with. The something was thin but strong, maybe plastic strapping. He released her left arm and looped the tie around her right wrist. A tug and the restraint tightened. Try as she did to keep him from recapturing her left arm, he had no trouble doing so. He again crossed her wrists over each other. All too soon the cruel plastic held them both in place.
“Go on,” he whispered and slid back a little so he straddled her buttocks. “Give getting free a shot.”
She struggled to separate her arms, to take back ownership of them, but every time she tugged, the plastic dug into flesh and against bone.
“I have to say strapping is perfect for this purpose. It’s silent and tucks neatly into almost any pocket. As long as you don’t test it, you’ll be relatively comfortable. It’s a hell of a lot more effective than rope which I know a great deal about. No give to it.”
How do you know about rope? Oh god, what are you?
He got off her. Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was getting to his feet, using her buttocks to brace himself against. Suddenly his fingers dug into her and he groaned. His breathing quickened and he cursed.
The man from earlier today. The injured one with the strawberry ice cream cone, flat tire, and strange grey eyes!
“I knew wrestling you to the ground wasn’t the best idea but nothing ventured, nothing gained. I’ve been out of commission too damn long.”
He’d decided to capture her even though he wasn’t in the best physical condition? It made no sense—unless he’d been unable to stop himself.
What if he was a murderer, a serial killer?
Powerful hands clamped around her elbows and he hauled her onto her feet. Even with his hold so tight he was bruising her, she struggled to wrench free.
He pulled her against his chest and wrapped an arm around her neck, stopping her desperate fight for freedom. “You won’t listen to me at this point.” He whispered into her ear. “But I’m going to give you a piece of advice anyway. When I want a woman, she becomes mine. You won’t be getting free.”
No, no, no! Don’t say that!
His teeth scraped her skin behind her ear and sent cold shivers through her.
“Time to get on the road. I’ve taken enough chances—chances that have worked to my advantage.”
He dragged her around to his side while keeping his arm against her throat and under one arm. The moment he started walking, she had no choice but to stumble backward. All too soon she lost her footing. He dragged her behind him as if she weighed no more than a child. Unwanted memories charged through her, bringing with them hard lessons. Like years ago, someone had taken control of her. Fighting her captor was more than useless, she wouldn’t win this battle.
A corner of her mind tried to remind her that tonight was far different from when she’d been sixteen, but everything was happening too fast for the message to make an impact. Her heels dragged first on sand and then over pine needles and other debris. Would anyone notice?
Would anyone care if she disappeared?
When her captor paused to shift his hold, she tried to dig her feet into the ground. If she’d bothered with shoes she could have at least left one behind as a clue. Maybe—please let it happen—he’d forget about the tools she’d set down. Come morning someone would see them.
And what?
His too-strong forearm pressed against her breasts while his fingers dug into her armpit. She felt like a small child being hauled around by an angry parent, only it wasn’t that simple.
Where was he taking her?
Before long his breathing became labored and his sweat stuck their clothes together, but he didn’t slow down. She’d been handcuffed enough times that she’d believed she understood what being restrained felt like. However, either the position he’d placed her in was even more restrictive than anything she’d experienced or fear was adding to her sense of helplessness. He was staying as far from the RVs as possible, and despite herself she admired his ability to find his way in the dark. It dawned on her that he must have taken this route before—while planning his abduction of her.
Doubtless his intention was to rape her. Maybe he thought he could hold her for ransom but no one cared enough about her to pay for her return.
Why had she lived her life the way she had, keeping distance between herself and the rest of the world?
“Damn,” he wheezed. “I’ve never been this out of shape.”
What was he talking about? Surely he didn’t me
an he’d done something like this before.
Or had he?
Sick of the never-ending questions she feared she might never have the answer to, she redoubled her efforts to get her feet under her. Instead of preventing her from doing so, he stopped and turned her so they faced each other. Beyond him was the dimly lit back lot where over the years people had left broken down vehicles. To her horror she recognized ice cream man’s truck and canopy among the junk.
Please! Someone see me before—
“I’m a hunter,” he whispered. His fingers clenched her upper arms so she couldn’t move. So his breath slid through her hair. “What I’ve learned is that people aren’t observant about their surroundings. They see what they believe they’re going to see. They don’t have survival instincts. You’re a classic example.”
That’s not true! I’d be dead if I wasn’t a survivor. Despite her silent argument, she knew he was right. She’d been so stupid!
“Almost there. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, I don’t intend to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary.”
The instant he released her left arm, she spun away from him. Before she could get away, however, he grabbed a fistful of her unruly shoulder length hair and yanked her head down so she was deeply bent over and looking at the ground.
“You have many of the attributes I was hunting for.” His whisper had a seductive quality, either that or she couldn’t think beyond his all-consuming presence. “Including an easy way of controlling you. More importantly, I know what you’re like under the surface. Your—I nearly called it a weakness but it isn’t. Your submissive nature is what will make you valuable to me.” He tugged down so she was in danger of falling forward. “Let’s get this part over with.”
She was still trying to make sense of what he’d said about her submissive nature when he started walking again. Her scalp burned as he forced her to plod hunched over after him. An animal being led to slaughter, that’s what she’d become.
Or worse.
Please don’t do this! I don’t deserve—you don’t want to do this. I’m a human being, a woman. I don’t—I can’t—
Lost in wordless pleas, she paid scant attention to where they were going. Gravel dug into her feet.
Then once again he stopped. Still using his hold on her hair, he shoved her forward. Her belly slammed into what she guessed was an open tailgate. When he let go of her hair, she started to lift her head. Before she could complete the movement, he grabbed her around the waist from behind and lifted her off her feet, shoving her over the tailgate and into deep darkness.
Cursing, he crawled after her and planted both hands on her buttocks preventing her from getting off her belly. The smell of rubber nearly made her vomit.
His truck bed! His domain!
Screaming into the gag, she fought like a wild thing. She tried to rock from side to side and when that didn’t work, she struggled to bend her legs. If she made enough noise—
“Fuck! I know what you’re thinking. That problem with that logic is we’re playing my game, not yours. The rules are all mine.”
She continued to battle his attempts to hold her down. He cursed her which propelled her to redouble her efforts. Unless he’d lied earlier about having been in an accident, maybe she could hurt him enough to disable him. Sobbing, she lifted her upper body off the truck bed and turned her head toward him. Only a faint amount of light reached the truck’s interior. As a result, she found herself looking at a great, dark, faceless male form. Much of his weight pressed against her buttocks. No wonder she couldn’t get out from under him.
“Just giving you a sample of what you’re in for. For the record, the journey has begun.”
That said, he climbed on top of her, positioning himself so he faced her legs. His crotch settled over the small of her back. Her lower body was relatively free but he’d pinned her upper half to the truck bed. She felt him reach out and guessed he was drawing something toward him. Grunting, he pushed her shorts down a little and slid his hands and whatever he’d gotten his hands on under her waist.
Something thick and stiff pressed against her belly. At first she thought it was a belt then realized it was a length of leather. Once he had it around her waist, he cinched it so tight her ability to draw a deep breath was compromised. He grabbed something on the leather at the small of her back and pulled up. It took her too long to comprehend that he must have taken hold of a ring imbedded into the belt.
Again he reached out for whatever he’d placed in the truck bed for his sick use. She kept trying to kick him until he grabbed her left ankle and wrenched her leg up so her heel pressed against her buttocks. Rope circled her ankle, tightened. He looped the rope around her ankle several times then slipped what she surmised was the rope end through the ring. In her mind’s eye she too clearly saw him knotting the rope.
“Half of a hog tie. Little doggy on the ground in record time for this cowboy.”
Despite her dread of what she’d discover, she tried to straighten her leg. He was right. He’d turned it into a useless appendage. She was so sure he’d do the same to her other leg that she was unprepared when he climbed off her. When she heard him rummaging around, she tried to roll onto her side. Before she could complete the task, however, he returned to her, grabbed her hair, and dragged her toward him so her face smashed against his thigh. If she could, she’d bite him.
He let go of her hair and placed something around her neck. A fresh wave of terror surged through her. She fought with every bit of strength she possessed but it wasn’t enough. The something tightened. A snapping sound left her with no doubt that he’d hooked the ends together.
A collar. Made of leather. Not as thick or stiff as what circled her waist but equally horrifying.
“It keeps getting worse for you doesn’t it?” He patted her cheek. “For the record, I’m nearly done for now. The only thing left to do is making sure you stay in place.”
I’m dead. He’s going to kill me.
She barely noticed what he was doing as he slid the collar around on her neck. He slapped her cheek. Brought back into the moment, she whimpered.
“Just making sure you’re still with me. Sometimes captives check out, but I won’t let you do that. The more aware you are, the more complete the lessons. Like I said, time for us to get underway.”
He hooked his finger through what had to be a ring in her collar and pulled her closer to where the truck bed and cab joined. An ominous clicking sound at her throat told her what she didn’t want to know, he’d chained her to the vehicle. She could turn her head from side to side but the truck had become her prison.
Not again! Not the past coming back to life.
She’d been shaking since the nightmare began and was close to losing bladder control. What she’d been through as a teenager hadn’t prepared her for this, nothing could.
Masculine hands massaged the back of her shoulders. Dreading what he’d do next, she held her breath. From time to time her old man had owned what he called guard dogs. Instead of letting them run loose so they could keep an eye on what passed for the family’s property, he’d kept them chained to dog houses. That’s what she’d become, her captor’s pet.
Pet?
Worse than that.
After massaging her for several seconds, he left her. The moment she realized he’d climbed out of the truck, she scooted back desperate to learn how much freedom he’d left her with. She’d belly-inched only a few inches before the collar tightened. Sobbing wordlessly, she pushed herself forward to take the pressure off her neck. After a while she tried to roll onto her side, but her deeply bent elbows stopped her. She next tried to slam her free leg against the floor in an attempt to draw attention to her but couldn’t put any strength behind the effort.
Sick at heart, she lay still. He had her.
Could and would do whatever he wanted to her.
Reality was different, far different from her naive fantasies.
Chapter four
The answer came as he headed for the trailer where the subject had left her tools. He wasn’t at the top of his game because no matter how much he wished it wasn’t so, he hadn’t fully recovered from the motorcycle accident that had nearly killed him. When he’d been actively engaged in securing her, he’d managed to ignore his left leg. Now the deep ache reminded him that he’d nearly lost it. It would never be the same. Managing pain and compromised mobility took a lot out of a man.
A sex slave trainer.
At least the accident hadn’t compromised his vision. He could still see better than most people, particularly at night. Teeth clenched against the throbbing crawling through his thigh muscle, he hurried to the trailer with the probably still sleeping couple and picked up the tool bag. It was heavy enough that he admired the subject’s ability to carry it the way she had.
The veins in his temple started pulsing, forcing him to stop and wait for his blood pressure to back off. His hearing was as acute as his eyesight, enabling him to catch the reassuring snores from inside the metal can. Having this particular RV with those particular owners in this remote space had made the capture possible. That and the lack of security lighting. If not for those fortuitous elements, he’d probably be half way home while trying to shake off the memory of the one who’d gotten away.
She hadn’t.
She was his.
To do what with?
The unexpected question stopped him half way to the office where he intended to leave the tool bag. Damn it, he was like a dog that had been chasing sticks all his life. He shouldn’t be asking himself why he was chasing them.
Teeth clenched, he silenced the mental questions. He was damn good at what he did, and tonight was a prime example of his skills. He was back in the saddle so to speak.