His Captive

by Kiley Beckett

  “You guys are CIA,” she said softly. “This is some kind of black ops site.”

  “That’s enough,” he said. “I’m punishing your actions right now, but if you’d like to me to complement that with punishment for your words...”

  “No.”

  He took from the tabletop a small alligator clip with rubberized handles, clacked it open and closed, showing her its serrated teeth. The thing was half the size of a clothespin, but he could tell from Pearl’s expression she recognized that despite its small size it could do tremendous things depending on where it was placed.

  “Get her on the chair,” he said.

  “Wait, hold on, guys, come on, hold on,” Pearl babbled, and began to struggle against her restraints.

  “On the chair, please,” he said again, disregarding her pleading, and two of the guys from the CIA put their big beefy hands into the crooks of her armpits and hoisted her up to her knees. The chains sang against the wooden bench, and Pearl protested. But it was futile. Both the men were ex-Delta, both of them two hundred pounds and strong as bulls. They lifted her, placed her knees onto the office chair with her front side facing the seat’s back. It was a heavy-duty chair, one with hydraulics and plenty of adjustments. Shackelford stood behind and put his foot on the lever; the chair hissed and lurched into a backward recline. It pitched Pearl forward, and she grunted as her weight fell against the seat. Now she was face down on her knees but just past the forty-five degree angle, more helpless than ever.

  “Knife,” he said.

  “Knife!” Pearl jolted again, trying to turn around.

  “Stay where you are,” he told her. Someone handed him a box cutter.

  He ran the flat back of the blade across her pale flesh, going up her haunch, then slipping the sharp side under the string of her bikini where it crossed over one hip. He plucked it and it fell free. He did the same to the other side, tossed the box cutter onto the stainless steel table. He and the men behind him watched as the triangle of her satiny blue bikini bottom unfurled, falling forward and exposing her perfect white ass.

  Now he was chewing his lip, eager to get to work. He took the hanging flap of her ruined bikini bottom and began to seesaw from side to side, letting it floss between her thighs, knowing the fabric would be rubbing against the folds of her feminine place. As it came near being free, he began to give it gentle tugs and quick little snaps. It got Pearl moaning.

  Then with a snap of his wrist, he plucked the bikini bottom away. She tried to close her thighs tighter together, and he spanked her for it. “Stay still.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He didn’t answer, began untying the knot of her bikini’s bra. The silk of her fiery hair brushed his knuckles now. His cock was almost as hard as it would get, trapped in his pant leg and pointing toward the floor. He knew where he wanted it. But he was patient. Up to a point.

  Now he tore her bikini bra away, and she was naked.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she said. “I swear I don’t know anything.”

  “You know that man,” Shackelford said, hands in his pockets, but nodding his chin to the prince. Then to him, he said, “She was talking to him.”

  Pearl gasped, “No, I wasn’t.”

  “It’s on camera, stupid.”

  “I’m not stupid,” she spat.

  He grumbled, “What was she saying to him?”

  “He gave her coordinates.”

  Pearl shrieked objection: “What!” She tried to whip around to see him and he spanked her bottom. Left a blurry red mark of his handprint.

  Shackelford smiled, said, “No. But she knows he’s here.”

  “She does,” he agreed.

  A tinge of panic was in Pearl’s voice now. “So what? I don’t even know what that means.”

  He spun the chair so he could see her beautiful face and stooped a little till they were very close. It was all he could do to stop from kissing those pouty lips. He ached to put his mouth over hers, to nibble on that pink lower lip that shone with her saliva right now. She looked apologetic. She knew she’d been bad. She knew she deserved this.

  He said, “You don’t ever understand your effect.”

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t—you need to listen. That man there in the cage, what do you know of him?”

  Her lips wriggled as she struggled to answer him properly. Would she lie (oh, she loved to lie), or would she try to curry favor with honesty? “He’s a... prince.”

  “Prince of where?”

  “I don’t know. One of those Stan countries. See, I don’t know anything.”

  “She knows the country,” Shackelford said.

  “No, I don’t,” she insisted.

  “She’s lying.”

  “You’re such an asshole, Shackelford.”

  “I am,” Shackelford said, smirking, adding, “but Julian’s been nothing but nice to you.”

  “Nice to me?” Her gasp was incredulous.

  He asked, “Am I not a nice man? Haven’t I been good to you?”

  She griped, “You’ve been terrible.”

  “She doesn’t even get it,” Shackelford said. “I tried to explain to her.”

  “She doesn’t get it,” he agreed, loving that she needed to be taught. “So, Pearl, tell me: why am I so terrible?”

  She was quiet a moment, and he watched her back rise and fall as she breathed, that wicked mind of hers assessing all the angles, deciphering what she could say to garner her own release or to aggravate. She chose to aggravate. He smiled.

  In a raised voice: “Because you’re fucking the prince’s wife!”

  His smile widened and his eyes turned up to see Prince Nursultan rising from his seat, expression dark and stony.

  To Pearl, he said, “Am I? What makes you say that?”

  “My photograph—”

  “Here we are back to the photograph...”

  “Right. The photograph, you psycho. I have a photo of you with that man’s wife—and that’s why you kidnapped me!”

  His eyes turned up to the prince who’d come near the glass, wanting to hear of his wife. “Why would I care?”

  Pearl said, “Because he’s powerful.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at the prince. “More powerful than me?”

  “Maybe...”

  Muffled through the glass, the prince said, “Julian, what have you done?”

  He ignored the prince, saying to Pearl, “Really? More powerful than me? I wonder if there may be another reason I didn’t want you to have pictures of Princess Stephanie and me together? Can you think of anything else? Any other reason, or does your dirty mind only think of sex?”

  “Me? It was you two who were naked—what else would I think?”

  Prince Nursultan scowled at him, and he shrugged, aloof.

  The prince said, “Julian, where is Stephanie?”

  Now he nodded his chin to Shackelford. Shackelford pushed the lever with his foot again, and the chair lurched forward once more with a hiss. Pearl gulped air as she was shunted further forward, her face mashing into the back of the chair’s headrest.

  She said, “What are you doing?”

  He spanked her ass again, giving it a good one, then gripped and held an ass cheek in his grip. He caressed her, running his hand in a circle, patting... now he took the alligator clip and began to tease it between her legs. She tried to close them again, and when he held out his hand, one of the CIA men plopped in it a large rubber ball—somewhere between the size of a grapefruit and a basketball. He wedged it between her knees.

  “Clamp down,” he said, “you’ll like it.”

  She whimpered, “What are you going to do?”

  “Press those little knees against the ball, Pearl, squish it.”

  Pearl closed her knees against the ball, making the ball flex. Try as she might, with the ball between her knees she wouldn’t be able to close her thighs and protect that sexy pussy of hers.

  He said, “Your friend the p
rince there is a naughty man.”

  “He’s not my friend.” Her voice was thin and warbled with anxiety over what he would do to her helpless pussy.

  “You think he’s the hero in this story? The jilted husband, the one done wrong by the mean billionaire...”

  “I don’t know,” she sang, childlike. Her legs quivered, waiting for his touch.

  “Prince Nursultan isn’t a demon, I wouldn’t call him that, young Pearl, but he is a very greedy man.”

  “You’re greedy too.”

  “I take a little from a lot; the prince takes much from very few.”

  The prince protested, “Julian—where is Stephanie?”

  Shackelford said, “You’re not in the position to make any demands, Prince.”

  Pearl said, “What does he take?” She’d twisted her head on the seat rest, trying to look over her pale naked shoulder at him.

  “Ask his people what he’s stolen from them. They’ll tell you of their misery.”

  With the closed end of the alligator’s mouth, he stroked through her folds, teasing them, pushing them from side to side, stroking up and down. Pearl made a muffled complaint and struggled, but her hands were safely bound. When she pulled with her wrists, it hoisted her ankles higher, giving him even better access. Her pussy was now his plaything.

  “But you and Stephanie...”

  “It’s not at all what you think.”

  “No?”

  “We all have our secrets. Even you.”

  “Me?”

  “My men liberated your laptop from your dorm room, Pearl.”

  “So?”

  “I was shown a very graphic look at your browser history.”

  She jolted and struggled against her binding, trying to whip around and look in his eyes but she was fixed in place. She cried, “It’s a used computer!”

  Pearl was a dirty, dirty girl. “Fetish spankings, whips and leather, Pearl? My, my, my.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whimpered, but her struggle ceased and she melted face down into the cup of the reclined leather chair.

  With the middle finger of his other hand, he stroked her opening, slipping through her moist petals, tugging forward against the yoke of her membranes until he found the button curled beneath its pink hood. Pearl’s pearl. He widened the jaws and let the metal alligator mouth bite down on that bursting bulb of luscious flesh.

  Pearl hissed, the chains went tight, she arched her back. “Whoa,” she said.

  “Whoa is right. And we’re just getting started. Shackelford, please pass me the battery from the table’s compartment.”

  Shackelford stooped and opened the cabinet below the tabletop.

  Pearl blubbered, “Are you... huh... gonna... gonna electrocute my puh-privates?”

  “Yes, Pearl,” he said, smooth as glass. “Soon you’ll feel an electric thrum in that most beautiful woman part of you.”

  “D-don’t...”

  “It’s going to happen, Pearl.”

  “Will it huh-hurt?”

  “Oh, little Pearl, are you worried? Don’t be. Not hurt, Pearl, in fact, quite the opposite. Pleasure.”

  “Really? You’re not kidding?”

  “You’re not off the hook yet, Pearl. Pleasure of the suffocating kind. I’ll have you drowning in pleasure.”

  “Drowning?”

  “You’ve never experienced the Small Death? La Petit Mort?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  A toggle switch clicked on the low flat rectangular lozenge that looked like an old piece of stereo equipment. An instant vibrating thrum took hold of her body. No pain, no shock—though that was what she’d anticipated. No, instead it was like someone had pinched a firm hold of her labial petals and clitoris.

  She stiffened and squirmed while hot liquid pleasure hummed through her whole body, radiating from her sexual core. She exhaled a long hiss.

  Back arched, she sighed and moaned, tightened her stomach and hunched forward now, twisting in the leather chair. The pleasure was incredible. Inescapable. When Julian had said ‘electricity,’ she’d pictured sharp snapping pain, but this was like turning on some heavy bass rap banger and then sitting on the subwoofer without your underwear.

  “Ooh, oh, ho, mm, ah,” she babbled, her body beginning to undulate like an inchworm, thrusting her butt up, then pressing her pelvis down, touching her navel to the seat back of the leather chair to which she was strapped.

  Through the sex fog and hum, Julian’s voice: “I have your full attention now?”

  “Oh, mm, ha, ah,” she said, squirming, letting out a breath, then chuckling. “You do...”

  “I can tell I do,” Julian said, and his voice had dropped low like he’d squatted behind her, getting a good look at the alligator clip setup, examining those small metal teeth clamped down on her squirmy sex. “Are you going to tell us what you know?”

  “I don’t know anything,” she whined, starting to hump her stomach against the chair. Pleasure rolled and rolled, like a hot coal in a tin can kicked down an embankment.

  Julian said, “What did you tell the prince?”

  “Nothing! Nothing... ah, nothing... I swuh-swear...”

  There was a series of sharp static clicks from the electronic equipment on the table next to her. Julian had turned up the dial.

  The vibrations increased, a shuddering acceleration in the drive of pleasure racing through her body. She gulped air, shoved her stomach hard into the seat back, making the whole thing squeak and groan with her bouncing weight. His hand slapped her bare ass, and she shouted.

  Julian demanded, “What did you tell him about the princess?”

  “Nothing,” she bellowed, but her voice was squeezed tight with apprehension. Her arms, though bound, had driven back to defend against the electricity coursing through her, elbows thrust back and pinched rearward, squeezing her own ribcage and making it hard to breathe. To counter his dominance, she uttered a condemnation to remind him of his low moral value. “You sleep with other men’s wives!”

  Julian’s reply was calm and bemused. “Do I?”

  “You’re the lowest of the low but you think you’re so fucking great!”

  Now the asshole was chuckling, and Shackelford and his stupid army guys all around her joined in. “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you, Pearl?”

  Through the high and sickening electric pleasure, she growled, “I know you’re an asshole who sleeps with married women and tortures college students.”

  “Vibrator, please.”

  She tried to whip around, wanting to see his face to glean what that meant. “What do you mean, vibrator?”

  “Not you, Pearl. I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Shackelford retrieved something unseen from the torture table—a vibrator, she surmised. “You’re sick,” she said, voice tightened from a rising swell of humming pleasure throbbing on her clitoris.

  “It’s sad, really,” Julian said.

  She tightened her knees on the ball, felt the sudden swelling of an orgasm she tried to reject—but it grew like a balloon she knew would soon pop. She wheezed, “What’s sad?”

  “My smart girl’s brain’s been so clouded by this hungry pink mouth between her legs.”

  “Wh-what do you m-mean?”

  “Your little snatch needed such a good fucking it blinded you to the truth a smart young Pearl should have seen. Tsk, tsk.”

  Flashes of anger and venomous retorts flooded her, but all she could do was writhe with exquisite humming pleasure. Now she was panting as if exhausted, her breath clouding condensation on the cold leather of the chair.

  Julian said, “I guess I should be complimented.”

  “Wh-what—why?”

  “You wanted me to fuck you the way you fantasized so bad you made up things you didn’t even see—just so you could anger me and require my discipline.”

  “Hogwash!” They all laughed at her uttering a gem from her grandma’s vocabulary. “It’s a wor
d,” she defended in a quiet whimper.

  “Mm-hmm,” Julian hummed—and now it was obvious what had his attention was her pussy. The nose of whatever vibrator Shackelford had passed him touched her opening, and she jolted at its intense too-fast thrum. All the men chuckled. She complained and moaned. “Don’t, d-don’t, I’m-mm gonna...”

  Julian said, “Come?”

  She moaned again, wanting to defy them all, but also wanting her punishment—wanting it very badly. Julian gave it to her, sliding the fast-buzzing vibrator with its motor turned on full. And with the already low vibrato hum of electric current through her clitoris, the shallow insertion of the small vibrator annihilated her. She shrieked and hollered to ward off the embarrassment, but the orgasm was unstoppable. In front of all the army men, in front of Julian, in front of Shackelford, and in front of the prince of Stan-somewhere she bellowed and twisted, racked with an insane explosive release of orgasm that had her whole body trembling. And it didn’t dissipate—the pleasure built even higher in the wake of the first orgasm and now she knew this was just beginning. She writhed on the chair, hands and feet bound, hog-tied, naked, nipples hard and aching, eyes squinted, face turned up to the ceiling and all those men watching her huff for breath, her mouth pouting and puckering like a caught fish flopping on a dock.

  The sudden urge to urinate took hold of her, aided by the feeling of her arousal slipping down the insides of her thighs, luring her to let go her bladder in front of all these men. She begged for release. “Puh-please, mm, Julian, mm, I’m-mm gonna pee-ee, plea-please...”

  All the men loved her suffering, laughing with each other. But Julian revved down the vibrator’s motor—didn’t turn it off—and the lower RPMs reduced the urgency of her sexual torture. The vibrator still idled, inserted inside her, and the alligator mouth still hummed, biting down on her bursting clit. She could feel her anus winking at them all as she melted into the leather, panting and huffing, skin gone all sweaty.

  Julian got close to her. She could smell his delicious spicy musk. He said, “You’re a smart girl, but you didn’t see it?”