Carnal Captive (32 page)

All too soon
, she had her answer. She’d been hauled out of the plane, thrown over what had to be her master’s massive shoulder, and deposited in what
she assumed was a
back seat. The vehicle smelled of leather, and the seat belt cinched around her was tight. Listening to things being
loaded
in
to
the truck, she
tried not
to tremble. Yes she was afraid, nearly terrified. But she
’d
refused to let
her master
know, somehow.

The door to her left opened and she
sensed
something being placed on the seat next to her. At first she barely paid attention. Then a familiar smell reached her nostrils. Oil paint.

A million memories, images, and dreams
flooded
her. Hating her new world and
desperate for
the old, she surged against the restraint over her lap and across her shoulder. She swore into the gag
, then, although it was the last thing she wanted
to do
, she started to cry.

“What the hell! What do you think you’re doing?”

P
owerful hands forced her back. Still she fought until her muscles cramp
ed
.

“They should have sedated her,” a
strange
voice said. “But from what I
was told
, she hasn’t freaked out before.
The thing is, y
ou never know how someone’s going to react to drugs.
Guess t
hey didn’t want you to have to deal with a slave
going through w
ithdraw
a
l
.”

“Hmm.”

“Hold onto her so she
learns
she can’t get away with that
crap
. Fortunately there’s no one around to see what we’re doing and no video cameras. Also its night. That’s why we picked this little airport.
You sure you can handle her from now on?
”

“What do you think?”

“Sorry
.”

The weight against her shoulders slowly let up. Spent, she didn’t move.

“I wonder,” her master said, “if this caused her reaction.”

He reached around her. A moment later she sensed something being placed close to her face. When she inhaled, the
aroma
of oil paint seeped into her. A lifetime ago her world had revolved around that smell and the satisfaction and fulfillment that came with
painting
.
Maybe h
er master
had gotten his hands on her artwork
and was torturing her with
what she’d lost
.

She hated him.

By the time the vehicle slowed,
Shari’s
need to go to the bathroom warred with her attempts to make sense of her surroundings.
Her master and she ha
d been on pavement from the time they left the airport. At first she’d heard countless other vehicles and judging by the speed
they were going
, she guessed they were on a freeway. Then he’d slowed
, turned, stopped
. After that there’d been countless turns, stops, and short straight stretches
that made
her wonder if they were going through residential neigh
borhoods.
No one knew she was sitting chained, naked, and anonymous in the back seat of a rich man’s car.

F
resh,
moist
air wafted around her. It didn’t smell like the ocean so maybe a lake
or river?
What state were they in? What part of the country? More important, where would she be forced to live until she escaped?

Escape! Without that hope she might as well be dead.

The vehicle made a sharp right turn followed by a crunching she believed came from tires rolling over gravel.
Hearing a
clanking
outside the vehicle, she concluded that a garage door was opening.
They rolled forward.
Movement stopped and the motor silenced, freezing her thoughts.

A car door opened followed by the one ne
ar
her right elbow. She started to lean forward only to collapse against the seat back.
The garage door closing
behind her
stole her breath. Trapped, it sa
id
.

Instead of unfastening her seat belt,
her master
pushe
d her head forward and unfastened
the blindfold.
When
her vision
cleared, she found herself
in a
n oversized garage. A shiny red
Jeep
was parked to her left
.

“My toy.” He nodded at the Jeep.

Like me.

When he
released
her ankle restraints, he seemed to fill the back seat. His snug golf style shirt rested against what might be the broadest back she’d ever seen. Earlier she’d noticed that he had a few extra pounds around his waist. When he straightened
and looked at her
, she wondered whether the end to his career had affected him
the way
no longer being able to pain
t
did her.
But h
e could choose the next chapter in his life. She couldn’t.

“I live on two acres next to a lake,” he
informed
her. “Most of it
i
s fenced and there are
privacy
trees all around the perimeter.”

N
o one can see what goes on here.

“Except for
two
neighbors,” he continued, “I have the west side of the lake to myself.
Neither of those neighbors
live
here full time. I don’t expect to see them for a couple of weeks.”

In other words, leaving Carnal and being brought here changed little for her.

Reaching a beefy hand around her, he unlocked the seat belt. Grateful as she was
to
no longer bein
g tethered in place, she knew not
to move before he’d given her permission.
Obey
had been beaten into her.

“Get out.”

Dreading what she had to do, she swung her body around
and
plant
ed
her leg
s outside
a
luxury
black
sedan
with tinted windows. He’d stepped back enough to give her room to move, not enough for her to try to run—not that she could.

When she first stood,
her legs shook so much
she had to
lean against the door
to keep from collapsing.
If he was concerned about her welfare, he gave no sign, only waited for her to straighten.
Everything
ached.

“I’m getting rid of the gag. All that drooling is disgusting.”

Was he blaming her for something she had no control over? No matter, her gratitude when he unbuckled the bridle-like contraption and drew it out of her mouth was so great she whispered a hoarse, “Thank you, Master.”

“Master,” he muttered, holding the bridle at arms’ length. “Yeah, that’s what I am.”

Wrapping his free hand around her arm, he
marched
her through the
garage
to a closed door.
He released her and opened the door.
She
shrank back
.

“What the hell’s
your
problem?” he demanded, pushing her ahead of him.

Trusting he didn’t really expect an answer, she stared at a laundry room with a large washtub, cupboards, and hooks
holding
everything from life
vests to colorful beach towels
.
P
lant
ing
his hand between her shoulder blades
, he
propelled her through
an open
door
and into an
other
room. Darkness waited
in there
, increasing her dependency on her master.
Obviously he saw no need to linger
as
he continued to push her along. Despite her efforts to please him, her steps dragged.

The kitchen
, lit by
some kind of
lighting under the cupboards,
was spacious with
lots of tile and
a large window beyond the sink.
Since it was night s
he couldn’t see what was beyond the window.
Before she could anticipate his movements, he spun her around and shoved her into a pantry. The door
slammed
behind her,
trapping her in darkness
. 

Why had he placed her in here? Was this w
h
ere she’d spend the night?
S
he hadn’t been
claustrophobic
before her capture
, but she
now
hated and feared the closed-in space. Desperate to keep panic at bay, she turned her back to a
n open
shelf and felt with her hands.
One
stack of cans
made
her
think
of what tuna came in while another was soup size
.
Wouldn’t
her wealthy master eat most of his meals out, either that or have them delivered
?

Maybe
eating in
was the only way
this public man would be assured of
privacy.

Trying to wrap her mind around what it was like to be so recognizable she couldn’t walk into a store distracted her from
acknowledging how
trapped
she was
.
Still, when the door opened, she couldn’t deny her relief.

“I had to pee,” he
told her.
“I didn’t want you going anyw
here
.”

Surely he knew she needed to
do the same thing
. If he was waiting for her to beg, she’d only loathe him more, if that was possible.

“Your turn.” He crooked a finger at her.

Feeling like a dog being ordered outside
to squat
, she trailed behind him.
After leaving
the kitchen, they passed a wide doorway
that
led to a shadowy room filled with exercise equipment. She couldn’t help but stare. 

“Yeah,
that’s where I spend a lot of my time.”

Was he giving her a tour of his place? R
i
diculous as the notion was, she sensed he was proud of his home. What struck her the most was the difference between where each of them lived, only she no longer lived anywhere.

The
tile-floored
bathroom
took her breath away. The cabinets were rich cherry, the faucets and other hardware burnished silver. In addition to a
double-size
shower with
a
clear glass enclosure,
there was
a massive jetted tub
under
an oval window.
A half wall separated the toilet from the shower.

Not
waiting to be granted permission, she walked over to the toilet, sat, and urinated.
Then s
he bounced up and down trying to shake herself dry.

Saying nothing, her master pushed her forward via
a
hand on the back of her neck. She hadn’t worn anything for so long she should have gotten used to being naked. Instead, she
felt horribly
exposed.

Drawing out the act, he uncuffed her hands
and tucked the chain in his pocket
. She started to
bring
her arms forward only to stop as pins and needles struck. Frozen by pain, she wait
ed
. A
gainst her will
, she mentally went back to the day of her capture when she’d
first
lost control of her body.

Endless days and nights later, she had yet to get it back.

“You stink,” he announced. “When the hell did they last clean you?”

She wasn’t an unwashed dog! She wasn’t! “This morning, Master. But I’ve been on the floor of a plane.”

“Yeah, you have.
Y
ou’re going into the shower.”

Any other time the prospect of stepping into
an expensive
shower with
pristine
blue/gray
walls
would have thrilled her.
But
her master had hoisted himself onto the countertop
where
he’d have a clear view of what she was doing. At first she couldn’t figure out the workings of the five faucets. Then
it took a while
for her
to determine
where to stand. A
built-in
shelf
in the shower
held a variety of masculine soaps and shampo
o
s
. As
gloriously warm
water ran over the metal hugging her neck, wrists, and ankles, she surrendered to the fantasy of watching the hated
restraints
melt and wash down the drain. 

She
didn’t dare
turn her back to h
im
. H
e seemed to be frowning but maybe
he always looked that way
.
At least
he wasn’t
acting
like some sex starved teenage boy
but w
hy should he? As a professional jock, he had to have his pick of women. Why then had he bought her?

Bought. Paid for.

Fighting too-familiar
emotions
, she concentrated on shampooing her hair. Her handlers hadn’t allowed her
to handle
even this small personal task. They certainly hadn’t taken time to massage her scalp or thoroughly rinse. Putting her head under the spray made her uneasy. What if her master jerked open the door and hauled her out?

Blinking water out of her eyes, she
stared at him. He hadn’t moved
.
Simply waited.

The
moment
she touched her flesh with the soft soapy washcloth,
lethar
gy seeped over her. She’d always considered showers
a task
like brushing her teeth. Now she lost herself in the joy of handl
ing
her own body. She lingered over her
bruised
breasts
, mentally washing away the clamps they’d been subjected to.
Her back and buttocks stung where whips and switches had left their mark.

She put off cleaning between her legs until last.
When
the washcloth touched her pussy
, memories of the good and bad that had been done to her there reasserted
themselves
.
She’d
been forced to accept
dildos and plugs
. Being fitted with leather straps designed to keep the
items
in place
been
deeply
humiliat
ing
. More to the point, all the time she
’d
wor
n
them, her awareness of herself as a sexual being
had
remained
in overdrive
.

Maybe she could have handled having her holes filed if he
r handlers
hadn’t
added
fingers and vibrators. If they hadn’t driven her over the edge and into one forced climax after another.

Maybe
Damek and Reno
had turn
ed
her into a whore, a nymph.

Suddenly overheated, she fumbled with the faucets trying to
cool the sprays
.
As she did, she lost her hold on
the washcloth. It
now
lay between her legs. Burying her face in her hands, she squeezed her thighs together. Instead of destroying the heat there, the pressure kicked it up another notch.

“
Turn off the water
. Now.”

Shamed, scared, and excited, she struggled with the complex task of
complying
. She opened the door but couldn’t make herself
s
tep
out
.
H
e threw
a large red towel
at her.
Catching it, she hugged it to her breasts.

“
Out.
Now.”

Holding back a helpless moan, she
obeyed
.
The plush
bath
rug caressed her feet. Her hair plastered itself to her neck and pooled on her shoulders.

“What the hell
were
you doing
in there
?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Master.”

The admission seemed to drift between them
. As
he regard
ed
her with an
incomprehensible
expression, she mustered up the strength to begin drying herself.
W
ater kept dripping off her hair. Finally she lean
ed
forward and wrap
ped
the towel around her head, leaving herself exposed.

“May I have another towel, Master?”

He
shrugged
. “You really are as well-trained as they said you were. What will you do if I say no?”

S
he
hugged
her middle.
H
is gaze
switched
to her breasts. “I don’t
know,
”
she admitted.

Getting off
the countertop, he erased the distance between them. “This is the only time I’m going to
say
this so pay attention. Don’t question me, ever. My word is law, understand?”

He loomed over her, threatening her with his size and strength. Feeling small
and glasslike
, she nodded and lowered her gaze. Seeing his erection point
ed at her dried her throat. She
tightened
her hold on her
self
.

“Yes Master
.
I understand.”

“I hope you do.” He pulled the towel
off her hair, wrapped it around her
upper
body
, and pulled her against him. “I won’t hesitate to punish you. When I do you won’t like it.”

His cock pressed against her.
H
er arms
were
trapped
.

“I want to—to please you, Master.”

“Yeah, I imagine you do. At least unless you can
get away
. That’s right, isn’t it?”
H
e dragged
the towel
down
her
back
until it reached her waist. His grip tightened, making it impossible for her to put any space between them. “You’ll say everything you think I want to hear
and
obey my every command, but
if you have the chance, you’ll slit my throat. I don’t give a damn what they say at Carnal, you still have the survival instinct. In fact, I wouldn’t want you if you didn’t.”

He was massive, a rock, beyond powerful.
H
ow could he expect her to comprehend what he was saying?

“Everything’s about survival
. I
t’s the most basic emotion and instinct there is. More important than fucking. Fortunately, neither of us has to worry about staying alive
w
hich means we can move onto the fucking. At least I can. I don’t give a damn what matters to you.”

She hadn’
t expected him to.

“We’re going into my office,” he said, “because I have emails to
deal with
. Your job is to entertain me while I do, understand?”

“Yes Master.” She didn’t.

“Good.” Working so vigorously that she nearly lost her balance, he rubbed the towel from her
tailbone
down to her ankles. That done, he gave her
breasts
a quick swipe. The corner of his mouth lifted as he ran the towel down the inside of one leg
and then
the other. Finally, as she knew he would, he pressed a single layer against her crotch
.

Fists clenched at her sides, she waited him out. He teased h
er through the barrier, rubbed
her slit. Then with a bored sounding sigh, he dropped the towel to the floor, grabbed her wrist, and spun her away from him. Planting her hand in the small of her back, he propelled her out of the bathroom. Who would pick up the towel? If he employed someone to clean house, he’d surely put her where she wouldn’t be seen or heard until that person left.

She was so engrossed in pondering whether that might prove to be her opportunity to escape that she barely noticed where they were going. He turned on an overhead light ma
king
it eas
y
for her to
note
the rich
decor
compete with
oi
l
paintings on the walls.
A
large monitor on a
large
cherry desk caught her attention. Then she spotted a
large
wooden carving of an eagle with outstretched wings
near the monitor
.

“Noticed that, did you?”
With
her arm
held
behind her and his other hand on her shoulder, she couldn’t turn toward him. “I commissioned a woodworker to create it for me based on a photograph I
found i
n a book about Alaska.”

This rough, raw man had an eye for art. That was the last thing she’d expected to learn about him.

“What do you think?”

Did he really w
ant to know?
“It’s amazing. The detail—
the carver created
individual feather
s
. And the look in the eagle’s eyes—he’s afraid of nothing.”

“
He
isn’t simply
fierce, he’s supremely confident.”

Like you
.

Chapter Twenty-three

Maybe her master regretted exposing what he had of himself but maybe he only cared about getting to the emails. Whatever the reason, he turned her toward him and ordered her to hold out her arms
.
She didn’t react when he
took the chain
out of his pocket and hooked her wrists together in fron
t.

  
“In there.” He jabbed a finger at the opening under his desk. Feeling demeaned and dismissed, she pulled the chair away and
back
ed into the space. After unhooking and unzipping his jeans, he
sat down
.

“You know what to do, slave. Get started.”

This was to be her life, she acknowledged as she drew
out
his erection. Part of it anyway. Above h
er,
he clicked keys. He was in touch with the world, connecting with people, making deals and issuing commands, maybe sharing jokes, perhaps viewing porn. In contrast, her world went no further than
this dark cramped space and
her master’s cock.

Fighting the thought, she wrapped her fingers over his strong, sleek length. She’d never worship
this
. Just the thought made her sick to her stomach. But if her existence had to revolve around a man’s penis, she
could have done worse.
T
he longer she stroked him, the
more swollen
he became. From where she was, she
barely heard
hi
m
breath
e
, but she could imagine.

Yes, she was on her knees, a lowly creature barely worthy of
a
glance
from the man who’d paid for her
, but his cock wasn’t immune to
what she’d learned during her painful training
. She’d press and touch, lightly run a nail around where he’d been
circumcised
, blow a warm damp breath over
the tip
. No matter what
he was doing up there
, his cock would take notice. More than that, the message in her fingers and breath would seep into his veins and send fire to his heart.
Could she give him a heart attack?