by Izzy Slam
Captured by the Master
The Complete Series
Copyright ©2019 Izzy Slam
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction intended for mature readers. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All characters depicted in these stories are fictional, not blood related, and are consenting adults over the age of 18 years.
**Author note: This series features elements of bdsm, light dubcon fantasy, spanking, mmf, and mff threesomes. If this type of material offends you, please do not download this book. Please store this book where it cannot be accessed by minors.
Table of Contents
Book 1 His to Catch
Book 2 His to Train
Book 3 His to Keep
More by the Author
Book 1
His to Catch
Description
Master Rogue Synister
As the local ruler, when I see someone of the female persuasion coming towards my estate, I take personal pleasure in capturing her, as I would anyone who breaks the law.
I’ve been with dozens of women, many of them at the same time. I know how to demand pleasure. But there’s something special about Natasha. Maybe it’s her desperation for safety, and the way she begs for help while fighting my attention to her luscious untouched body that makes me want to savor every moment I have with her before deciding her fate.
I’m glad she escaped a vicious owner, a man who’s known to be my enemy. And the best way to dole out my revenge on him is through Natasha and her delightful body. She may not have “daddy issues” now, but she will by the time I’m done with her. And her bratty attitude just makes it that much more fun.
Natasha Addams
I know little about Rogue Synister, our State Master who rules with an iron-fist. But right now, he’s my only chance at protection from an owner with a violent streak.
It isn’t long after arriving I fear I’ve made a mistake, however. Because Rogue seems to be like every other man: interested in one thing and one thing only. But it isn’t until I’m bound to the spanking bench that I realize the true atrocity: this ruler is going to take whatever he wants from me, no matter what I say or do. And as bratty as I am, it turns out that I love his forceful nature.
I just hope he decides to keep me around when he’s finished using me for pleasure.
Rogue
I stare at the monitor, still unsure if my eyes are playing tricks on me or if I am indeed witnessing an intruder bold enough to come this close to my home. Leaning in a bit closer, I see it again, a swift shadow moving between the trees in the dark, the infrared glow around her body giving away a few hints of her gender. This particular shadow features curves and long hair, and she appears to be looking over her shoulder every few moments.
I stand up straight and run my hands over my beard, thinking that this needs to be dealt with promptly.
“Rogue, have you seen the—?” James enters my office, pausing mid-sentence when he sees where my focus is. James is my right-hand man who is currently one step behind.
“The girl? Yes. You know what to do.”
“Right away, sir.”
I watch him leave over my shoulder then quickly turn my attention back to the monitor. The camera swivels as she moves closer. Right now, she appears to be about a half a mile away, but since I practically own the entire state—and have a three-mile radius of property marked off around my mansion—this girl should know better. Anyone should know better.
I wonder what business she has here, to be arriving at this hour. Better yet, I question why she’s alone. I can’t determine her age from the image on the screen, but based on that long hair and those lean, sinewy legs, she may be on her own and uncared for. Feral.
That’s fine. I know what to do with feral.
I wonder if she’s on her way to service one of my men, and the thought angers me. My men know that I have the first poke at any female who walks past my front door. So help me god I’ll fucking ruin the man who takes what is mine before I do. I’ll ruin her as well.
James will bring her to me and I’ll decide her fate once I’ve questioned her. More than likely, she’ll be dismissed to my army so they can use her as a toy, if she’s of age, that is. If not, I’ll keep her safe until such age is reached.
I flip off the monitor and leave my office, making my way down the long, marbled hallway to the multipurpose room. James should be back within the next few minutes, if our little law breaker doesn’t try to escape. If she does, she’ll be leaving my estate as a corpse.
She wouldn’t be the first person I’ve had the pleasure of eliminating, and she certainly won’t be the last. Though, she will be the first of the female persuasion.
Ten years ago, when I was twenty years old, my father put me in charge of running the state, giving me the title of Master Rogue Synister. Since then, I have ruled with patience, fairness, and a level head. But lately, my patience has been wearing thin, particularly for those who have absolutely no regard for the law.
And the law clearly states that trespassers will be punished accordingly, as to the property owner’s wishes.
No worries there. Her punishment will be my army’s pleasure. They’ve worked hard enough and deserve a little reward.
I would take her myself, but I have Selena here to keep me occupied when my cock is in need. Selena is a good little servant, but lately I’ve lost interest in her. Not sure why. She’s extremely submissive, never talks back, does as she is told. What more could a man ask for?
The truth is, I get tired of all my servants. Always have. Hell, maybe it is time for a change. I think I need to find a girl I can mold and shape, who isn’t … two-dimensional, who doesn’t drop to her knees the moment I snap my fingers. I can’t believe I even think this, but there’s no denying my need for spice and friction, someone I can force to love me, as fucking crazy as that sounds.
My thoughts are interrupted when I hear James coming down the hallway, feet shuffling along the floor.
“Stop it! Or I’ll be forced to send you to the punishment chamber right away!”
“Let go of me!”
I spin around, just in time to see James tugging her inside the room, her arms secured behind her back and rope criss-crossing her chest, framing her modest breasts.
“Sorry, Rogue. This one is feisty. Would you like for me to cage her?”
“Cage me?” she shrieks, her eyes lifting in fear.
“No, let her go,” I say, holding up a hand as I approach them.
I let my eyes drag over her body as James releases his grip on her. Dressed in all black, right down to her boots, she did a good job of attempting to camouflage herself.
Well, there really was no way for her to know I have infrared cameras surrounding my home and that she’d have been spotted no matter what.
“Please allow me to explain why I’m here, Master Synister.”
As she struggles to catch her breath, her eyes pleading with me, I notice her face is young, her hair as long and dark as the night she just came from. And though she has a thin waist, her curvy hips suggest she’s of child bearing age. The animal within me rises, sending
red hot blood surging through my cock.
“State your name and age, please.”
“Natasha. Eighteen and sixty-four days.”
Just turned eighteen. Which means, she’s of age.
Good.
“Natasha what?”
“Addams.”
That surname, it twists a knife in my gut. I’ve never liked the man, despite the power he holds within the community. And I’ve just gotten word yesterday that he’s working on a plan to overthrow me as State Master.
I glance at James and he looks equally surprised. “Sir. Just say the word, and I’ll be happy to take care—”
“No no.” I hold up a hand, knowing what he’s about to say. He’d be happy to go ahead and take care of her, right here and right now. I move my eyes back to Natasha and that fearful face does something to me. “It’s fine. You can leave us alone now. I’ll handle this.”
With a quick nod, he turns on his heels and leaves the room, closing the door behind him, and I take a moment to walk around our captured prey.
The armbinder restraint on her is a little sloppy, but it got the job done—one of many reasons I keep James around. That man could hog tie a herd of rabid animals with his eyes closed, no doubt.
I can’t help but notice how creamy smooth her skin is, how silken her hair, how delicate her slightly padded frame. I press my nose to her neck and draw in her scent. I want to smell more of her, taste her, watch her writhe beneath me. Maybe even while she struggles to get away.
By the time I’ve completely circled her, my cock is stiff and ready to be relieved.
“Master, I—”
“What business do you have here, Natasha?” I ask, placing a finger under her chin.
She meets my gaze, blinking, her bright blue eyes hauntingly beautiful. “I seek refuge, Master Synister. Refuge from an abusive owner.”
So, the last name indicates that Evan Addams owns Natasha and is not her flesh and blood. This is great news. Because if she were related to that vile, miserable excuse for the piece of human garbage that he is, I shudder to think of how things would have turned out for her.
“What has he done to you, Natasha?”
“He’s kept me locked up in his cellar for a month now, in solitary confinement no less. He’s fed me only once a day, and they were scraps, rations left over from what his other servants didn’t eat.”
That explains her slender waist and porcelain skin. That I happen to love.
“And how did you escape?”
She attempts to hide a tiny smile. “Dumb luck. I heard him leaving earlier, and I rammed the side of my body into the door until it gave in. He didn’t have it locked very well.”
No kidding. Either that or she has a lot more strength than what shows.
“What was his explanation for this?”
Natasha licks her lips, lets her eyes search my face, maybe in search of sympathy. Something I don’t have yet. She was—is still—his property. Legally, he can do whatever he wants with her, to her.
“I don’t know, Master Synister. He paid my father handsomely several months ago. Allowed me my own quarters, regular walks in the garden. His other servants taught me how to cook his favorite meals. Then …” she adds, swallowing hard, “…in April, on my eighteenth birthday, he attempted to lay claim to me. But he … he failed to reach a state of full arousal. I … I think he blamed me.”
I freeze, stunned. Any man incapable of reaching erection around something of such beauty, of fine perfection, must either be suffering from impotence, or he’s as gay as the day is long.
“Had he been drinking?”
Natasha shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Hmph.”
This leads me to my next curiosity, one that’s forcing the blood to surge with even greater force through my cock, leading it to push painfully against my slacks. “And he’s left you in the cellar since that incident? With no contact with any others, including his men?”
“No, Master. No contact whatsoever.”
Her blue eyes grip me as she stares at me with hope. I stare back at her but with a different agenda.
This girl is of age, and she is as pure as the driven snow. And she is bound by rope in my presence.
There’s a fire raging inside of her. A fire I’m damningly drawn to. Not only that, her body is calling to me. And I will have her, taking what I want so that I can return her to Evan Addams, all used up and not worth a damn.
Let’s see how long she can keep me entertained and satisfied.
Natasha
It’s hard to believe I’m standing in front of our very own State Master, Rogue Synister. The man who is now my only hope at living a semi-normal life.
My father used to speak about him quietly, as if Rogue himself were there, listening in. He has strong opinions about our ruler, as does everyone. And now that I’m standing before him and can feel his strength, his dominance, the sheer force of his power, I understand why. Not that I’m like most people because our fearless leader who rules with an iron fist doesn’t intimidate me. But I do understand why most people fear him.
I’ve explained to the State Master that my owner, Sir Evan Addams, was terribly neglectful. But he really doesn’t know the half of it. In a way, I’m lucky that he kept me locked up the last four weeks. Every single night, I could hear the tortured screams of his victims as he beat them into submission. I’ve no idea why he decided I wasn’t worthy of the same treatment, but I fear it was coming. And earlier this evening, something inside of me snapped. I knew I had to escape by any means necessary. My shoulder is sore, but that’s a small price to pay for instant freedom. And this damned rope keeping my arms pinned to my back is not helping.
Master Synister paces the floor across the room, rubbing his beard as he glances my way every few moments. The strength in his arms is impossible to miss, and within the dark of his eyes hide a world of secrets. Secrets I don’t care to know. The barely-visible creases in his face suggest a life of hardship, not of years. So he’s younger than I thought. And much more attractive.
“You do realize you broke the law by trespassing onto my property.”
“No, I … I didn’t. But I am painfully aware of the chance I took in escaping my owner and seeking refuge here. I was hoping to appeal to your sense of compassion, Master.”
He snaps his head in my direction as anger blazes in his eyes. “Compassion? Me?”
I had no idea those words would ignite such passion. I part my lips to answer, but he storms in my direction before gripping my arms. I wince, the pain in my shoulder still fresh.
“I am not a compassionate ruler, Natasha,” he spits out, narrowing his eyes at me. “I rule with authoritarianism. Surely you know that.”
Most women would crumple at the knees before this man. After all, men have owned women throughout history, and it’s within our DNA to be compliant.
But not me.
I’m not like most women, submissive and looking to serve. That role was forced upon me. So this ruler’s anger and impatience only fuels mine.
I clip my chin up at him in defiance. “If you rule with authoritarianism like you say, then make Sir Evan pay for his crimes.”
“Crimes? Against you?” He takes a step back, lowering his voice in curiosity.
“No. Against you. He’s forming a militia to overthrow you as ruler. Has been for months.”
Surprise flashes in his eyes. “You know about this?”
“How could I not? Many of his conversations carried through the air vents, straight down to me.”
Many conversations I wish I could forget.
He turns around and begins pacing again, his body rigid. He slides his hands in his pants and his jaw ticks as his face reddens. He stops, mid-pace, and looks my way, his eyes floating up and down my body. Something has shifted within him. But I can’t tell if it’s dangerous or not.
He walks to me and drags a finger down the middle of my chest, running over the bumps
of rope and stopping just below my belly button. My leg muscles tighten, as though I’m about to sprint. But then, as he drags up the bottom of my shirt and exposes the flesh of my belly, I feel a stirring deep in my core that I’ve only ever experienced when fantasizing about my nameless, faceless hero.
When he pauses and catches me gazing into his eyes, he licks his lips before speaking. “You may be of use to me.”
It occurs to me then that I’m more valuable than I originally thought. “I can tell you whatever you need to know: Sir Evan’s routine, the names of his most highly valued men, what side of the bed he sleeps on…”
“Oh, I don’t care about those things. I already have my own plans for that worthless garbage. What I really want, is right here.”
With that, he pinches my shirt and tugs it upward, dragging it underneath the pieces of rope and completely baring my breasts to him. My face begins to boil, not from embarrassment as much as anger. When he proceeds to lightly cup them in the palm of his hand, I flinch.
“What are you doing?” I snap, taking a step back.
“Nothing that should cause you to retreat like that. Come here.” His arm swiftly wraps around my waist as he pulls me to him, hugging me so tightly I can feel his erection. My nipples harden, and he looks me square in the eyes as he teases them with the tip of his index finger.
Heat pulses from between my legs, my body responding in ways that make me feel guilty.
“Do you like the way daddy touches you?”
I fight against the rope, my pussy twitching. “What? Are you sick?”
His laughter is downright insulting, but when I feel his erection press against my tummy, I grow weak in the knees.
But I can’t let him know that his touch is igniting me … down there … or that his use of the word “daddy” makes me feel dirty.
He gropes my breast and presses his lips to my ear. “Tell me your nipples aren’t hard because you want me to touch you in very special ways.”
