by Vonna Harper
Could that be?
Yes.
Forcefully dismissing her expression, she turned her attention to her upper body which was all she could see in the high mirror. The collar was so thick it covered most of her neck but fortunately wasn’t choker tight. A large, thick ring was imbedded in it in front. Her elbows stuck out from her sides, her forearms and hands behind her. She just glimpsed the tight, wide leather band around her waist, not that it mattered. Only the red lengths over, under, and between her pinched breasts did. There was something erotic about the way the ropes hugged her flesh. It wasn’t enough that the man had captured her, he’d also taken full control of part of what defined her as a woman, a sexual creature.
Earlier he’d trapped her sex under more proof of his power.
This was no simple kidnapping. He’d taken her for one reason—to make her submit to him.
As long as his tools remained on her, she couldn’t stop him.
And after?
“Now do you see why I’ve been calling you a slave?”
It wasn’t a question because they both knew the answer.
Why she longed to ask. Why she needed to know. But he’d punish her if she asked. Maybe he would anyway.
Risking another look at her expression, she wondered if he could see the anticipation in her eyes. That’s what she was seeing, anticipation mixed with dread.
Chapter eight
“That’s enough.” He clapped his hands. “You can admire yourself later. Back into the living room.”
The cabin looked as if it had been built to survive winter’s fiercest storm. She’d be insane to think she could escape the thick log walls or break the thermopane windows.
This amazing, wonderful-smelling place had become her prison.
When he stopped near the pack he’d left on the floor, she resigned herself to joining him there. Maybe it was seeing her image in the mirror, maybe the feel of rope around her breasts was responsible. Whatever the reason, she now thought of herself as a sexual creature. Rope and leather had claimed chunks of her. She’d lost use of her arms and her bare feet wouldn’t get her far in the wilderness. With the gag gone she could call for help that probably wasn’t out there—until he again silenced her.
This nameless man owned her. Possessed every inch of her body.
“Pain, helpless pain is a great motivator for change. It also serves as a pathway into a new existence.”
He kept throwing the damnable word pain at her. If she could she’d tear it apart, smash it into pieces, burn it.
Maybe.
Her heart hammered as he dug into the bag. No matter how resigned she was to what he intended to do, she couldn’t suppress a gasp when he held up a set of silver nipple clamps attached to each other via a slender chain.
Like her fantasies, exactly like the ones her mind had created.
“I take it you know what these are.”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
His expression softened as he ran his fingers over the connecting chain. “This set is the finest money can buy. In fact I had them created according to my specifications. Once I demonstrated them most of my co-workers wanted their own pair.” Head a little to the side, he held onto one clamp. The rest dangled. “You want to run, right? Throw yourself at the window and take your chances despite the threat of being cut into pieces.” He started the loose end to swaying. “Go on. I’ll give you a head start.”
Staring at what would soon grab hold of her, she tried to pull her hands free.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “That’s not going to work. I shouldn’t have to point out that I know what I’m doing when it comes to restraining a slave, but I’m wasting my breath.” The dangling clamp struck her just above her waist. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know you’ll try to avoid this little decoration. It’s instinct.”
The hand not holding the clamps snaked out. He took hold of the rope between her breasts and jerked her toward him. She fought to free herself.
“Not going to happen!” He wrenched down until she was forced onto her knees.
“Well—“ He pulled her back onto her feet. “That was fun, at least it was for me. Nothing’s worse than a slave who gives up. Now do you want me to give you a repeat performance or are you going to stand still?”
Stand still? Let him imprison her nipples?
What choice did she have?
Because she couldn’t bring herself to say yes, she widened her stance and thrust her breasts at him. Frowning, he let go of the makeshift bra.
“I didn’t expect that.”
Was he admiring her courage enough to change his mind about hurting her? At least he couldn’t know that reality and fantasy was weaving together in her mind. Couldn’t he?
Still frowning, he cupped a hand under her right breast and lifted it. Staring unbelieving, she watched as he positioned the open clamp over her nipple and let it close. Pain slammed into her, forcing her to whirl away from him. He yanked her back into place via red rope and lifted her left breast.
“Stand the fuck still!”
This wasn’t happening! It couldn’t be—
Once more metal closed down around a nipple.
“No, no!” Again she tried to turn her back to him, but his hold on the nipple chain brought her onto her toes while his renewed grip on her rope bra kept her before him. She threw back her head, her bare feet tattooed the carpet, and she again strained to free her hands.
“Not going to happen, slave. I have you exactly where I want you.”
He was right. It didn’t matter what she did or how fiercely she fought him, he’d won this round. Her nipples still ached and burned but agony was slowly settling into a sensation she now felt mostly in her crotch.
“Let it surround you,” her captor muttered. “Lose yourself in the connection between pain and pleasure.”
What pleasure? Her whole body was on fire. Even with waves of discomfort radiating throughout her, she forced herself to study what had been done to her. There was something both erotic and beautiful about the sight of silver attached to her breasts. She was particularly drawn to the weight swaying between the clamps. Her breasts had become more, an inescapable connection between herself and her captor. He’d altered them to meet his needs, was altering her so she’d become whatever he wanted her to be.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why?”
“Because I can.”
How long will they remain part of me? she longed to ask but didn’t dare. Maybe the truth was she needed to exist in the moment.
Erotic make believe had become part of her existence. No longer could she shut off her sexy imaginings so she could function in the day to day. Her time of directing an imaginary master’s words and actions had been replaced by a powerful and commanding man.
“Back in the bathroom. Take another look at yourself. Never forget what you see.”
Walking without jiggling the clamps was impossible. Still she shuffled along, staring down at what she could see of herself the whole time. Making it real. Her captor followed with his hand on her shoulder. The contact was so light she felt almost comforted by it.
Because he’d left the light on, her image stared back at her the moment she stepped in. This time he joined her, forcing her to press against the sink to accommodate his bulk.
She’d expected what she was seeing but that didn’t make acceptance any easier. Her breasts were barely recognizable. Caught. As helpless as the rest of her. The clamps’ weight dragging the twin mounds down.
“Describe what you’re seeing and feeling.” He punctuated his command by tightening his hold on her shoulder. “Leave nothing out. I’ll know if you try.”
Of course he would because he’d done the same thing to other women. Wondering how or if they’d survived their time with him, she straightened.
“My breasts are on fire. I feel the—the pain everywhere.” Hoping that would satisfy him, she swallowed.
He grabbed her hair and pull
ed her head back. “That’s the surface, slave. Go deeper, damn you.”
Don’t try to fight him. You can’t win. “I, ah, I can’t get used to not having use of my arms. I keep thinking they’re free and all I have to do is remember how to work them. The belt—it can be used for so many things. The, ah, the same is true of the collar.”
He’d slackened his hold on her hair but the potential in his grip coupled with everything else he’d done to her warned her to keep going.
“I feel—I’m acutely aware of the clamps, chain, ropes, leather, and nudity, but a part of me still says this isn’t happening. That…”
“That what?”
“I don’t know what I was going to say,” she lied because she couldn’t fathom telling her captor about her dream submission. “Everything feels unreal.”
“We call that survival instinct.” He patted her right cheek. “In time I’ll drive that out of you which will open you to the depths of your reality. The new you will begin to emerge. You might not recognize that person, but it’s necessary. Otherwise you’d have no value to me.”
He was again throwing too much at her. At least, she told herself, he’d forgotten about getting her to exposing her emotions to him—or had he?
The body reflected in the mirror didn’t belong to her and yet on some dark level it was familiar. She’d been to this place before but only in her mind.
“You’re in pain. What other sensations are at play? How about what’s going on in your pussy?”
She’d been right. He did understand her on a deep and personal level. Caught between wondering if she dared be honest and needing to keep something, anything to herself, she stared at her reflection. Her nudity and captivity—a lifetime ago she’d fantasized about this happening.
“What did I tell you?” He reached around her and took hold of the chain. “Be honest, damn it.”
“I, please, I don’t know how to explain…” The nipple chain was in his grip, her aching breasts at his mercy. “It—it’s as if everything I’m experiencing is being played out between my legs. I’m, ah, I’m alive down there.”
“It feels good?”
“Good?” she parroted. “I don’t know. Different.” The instant she said the word, she clung to it. “Like nothing I’ve ever felt.”
“That’s proof your body is reacting normally.”
How can you say that, she ached to snap, but she’d do whatever she had to to appease him. To play her role.
“Let’s get back to your arms. You won’t have back use of them unless and until it pleases me to do so. How does that make you feel?”
Wanted.
No, not that!
Not long ago he’d been content to hear how much he was hurting her, hadn’t he? Why did that have to change?
“Feel? I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He lifted the chain. “You don’t want to think about that particular reality which is exactly why I’m requiring what I am.”
The drawing sensation radiating through her breasts and down to her sex emptied her lungs. Trying not to add to what she was being subjected to, she slowly replenished the oxygen in them. His head in the mirror nodded in comprehension of what she’d done. Something about his eyes captured her attention. The master who’d taken up residence in her imagination had no humanity. He existed as a stick figure she moved around to fit her wishes. In telling contrast, the flesh and blood man beside her was complex. He had a past, a reason for doing what he did.
Maybe she could connect with him.
“This takes me back to something that happened many years ago,” she admitted. “It was very different and yet in some ways it wasn’t.”
He looked confused. “Hmm. Interesting. However, I need you to focus on the here and now. Part of what separates humans from animals is our opposable thumbs. Not only has that been taken from you, you in essence don’t have arms. What does that mean?”
Damn you for shutting me out! “I can’t defend myself.”
“Exactly. What else?”
He lowered his hand, bringing her breasts down with it and making her gasp. “What else?” she asked when she trusted herself to speak.
“I want you to expand on not being able to defend yourself and while you’re doing so, I want you to go back to studying what you see in the mirror.”
From the moment he’d grabbed her last night, this man had been part of her every heartbeat. He decided when she could breathe, go to the bathroom, stand or sink to her knees. He was responsible for her lack of clothes, kept her in this claustrophobic space. How could she possibly have thought they might have something in common and all she had to do was find that connection?
“I couldn’t stop you from putting those things on me.” Shaking anew, she stared at her imprisoned mounds. “And I won’t be able to stop you from doing—doing whatever you want to me.”
“That’s right. I’m in charge.”
Hating him for stating the obvious, she forced herself to block out the toilet, sink, and shower. This was all about her, her imprisoned body trapped in a nightmare. Her past was unimportant, her future no longer hers to try to map out. Her captor probably didn’t care what would happen to the rest of her possessions. He hadn’t pressed her about her family, friends, or lovers which meant they were unimportant to him. He’d wanted a captive, a prisoner, a subject, a slave and now he had one.
Had her.
No, she forcefully amended as her image blurred. She wasn’t his slave. Yet.
“I think you’ve been at it long enough.” He spoke so softly she wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly. “Enforced nudity and bondage are powerful images but there’s only so much a slave-in-training can assimilate at one time.”
Her numb breasts screamed back to life as he turned her via the chain. Tears prevented her from seeing clearly, but she understood he intended to take her out of the bathroom.
It didn’t have to be this way! All he had to do was tell her what he wanted and she would have hurried to comply.
Despite her resolve, she whimpered as he hauled her back into the too-masculine living room. Still holding onto the chain, he again reached into the bag and pulled out a digital camera. “I want to share this with someone.”
Her breasts throbbed so she could barely concentrate on what he’d said. Besides, what did it matter? He’d do whatever he wanted. She couldn’t stop him. Another whimper, this one as much from relief as pain escaped when he dropped the chain. Leaving her to try to second guess his next move, he sat in a nearby chair.
“Stand there,” he said as he settled himself. He pointed at the floor a few feet in front of him. “The light here isn’t perfect, but the flash will make up for it.”
In contrast to the tension that threatened to make her muscles cramp, her captor looked completely relaxed, except for how he’d positioned his left leg off to the side as if he wanted to dismiss its existence.
He turned on the camera and stared at her through the viewfinder. “Turn around. Make it slow.”
Someone else was going to see this, maybe more than one person. For all she knew, the shots he was about to take were only the first in an ever-growing collection designed to document her descent into slavery.
Slave? No escape?
“Hey!” he snapped. “Did you the hell hear me? Turn the fuck around.”
As she clenched her teeth in preparation for obeying, she realized this was the first time he’d sounded truly angry. Even the slightest move sent the damnable chain to swaying. Was it getting heavier? How much discomfort could her poor trapped breasts stand?
As much as he wanted.
Despair threatened to overwhelm her as she rotated. Even without the bathroom mirror, she knew what she looked like—a cruel man’s helpless and demeaned captive. Naked and restrained. Willing to grovel at his feet in a desperate attempt to keep from being hurt more.
“Keep your head up. Shoulders back. Face me again. That’s right, now spread those legs.”
I don’t want to do this, you can’t make me!
The silent protest didn’t help. Between the relentless camera flash, her burning breasts, and uncomfortable arms, she couldn’t find the courage to say the words aloud. He’d commanded her to stand with her legs far apart so that’s what she did. So far she hadn’t begged—he hadn’t broken her down enough for that—but did it matter?
“You can do better than that, slave.” He leaned forward and pointed the camera at her crotch.
No, no, no.
“What’s this?” he demanded. “Are you refusing?”
Not trusting what might come out of her mouth, she settled for glaring at him. The camera lens shifted to her face. Click, click, click, the flashes practically blinding her. Lost in the cries lodged in her throat, she drew her legs together.
Enough. I’ve surrendered so much. Leave me with—with something.
“What’s that about?” He sounded mildly curious.
She forced herself to face him. “I can’t. I won’t.”
“Can’t? Won’t? By the time I’m done with you, you’ll embrace obedience in ways you never believed possible.” He studied her as if she was some specimen that had been presented to him. “Let me guess, you put your parents through hell while you were growing up, always testing the boundaries and breaking them whenever you thought you could get away with it.”
She tried to conjure up images of what her parents looked like but couldn’t. They, like everything else before last night, no longer mattered. Besides, everything he’d said was wrong.
“You’re trying to embarrass me.” Even as she said the words, she knew they didn’t go far enough. “But I’m not going to play your game.”
He put down the camera. “I don’t play, ever.”
She forced herself to stand her ground when he rose then ground her teeth together as he extended both hands toward her breasts. Something in his expression made her wonder if he admired her courage, and she fed off what might be his newfound respect for her. Then, moving with measured efficiency, he released the tension on the clamps. She shook her breasts free. Renewed blood flow in her breasts forced out a cry. Trembling, she leaned forward and concentrated on breathing through the pain. The small bit of freedom felt wonderful.
