Mentor (An Impossible Novella) (8 page)

“Don’t you dare,” Bea hissed.  “You’re always talking about being independent and making your own choices.  Well, this is my choice.  I choose John.”
 

Sex had obviously messed with my sweet sister’s brain.  She married John a month later, and her belly swelled with a baby only a few months after that.  I had lost her to lust.

Could I make my tormentor lose himself to lust?  Or would I lose myself, as I had always feared?

My mad giggle cut through the dark silence.  I was already losing myself.  I could barely recall my life before my captivity without exerting great effort.

I was desperate enough to roll the dice.

I’ll just pretend.  I’ll pretend I like it when he touches me.  Then he’ll take me, and he’ll be the weak one.
 

I licked my lips as He removed the blindfold.  My nervousness made them dry.  Or maybe I was already putting my plan to seduce Him in motion.

His eyes fixated on my mouth, following the movement of my darting tongue.  That lopsided smile twisted his lips again.  The sight of it made my stomach turn and my sex clench.  It also made hope swell within my chest.  He was affected by signs of my arousal.

His smirk turned down into a frown, and a fine line appeared between His brows.  He touched His fingers to the corner of my mouth, and I realized my mistake: my lips had quirked up at the corners in satisfaction.

“Why the smile, pet?”  His voice was quiet, but there was a threat laced through the whisper.  “Are you truly happy to see me?  Or do you want something else?”

Panic slammed into me.  My emotions were wild, unwieldy after spending so much time in silent, blind isolation.  He had always been able to read me easily, but now I was so raw that my feelings showed plainly on my face.

“No, Master.  I mean, yes,” I babbled.  “I’m happy to see you, Master.”

I licked my lips again, hoping to glimpse that spark of interest in his eyes.  Instead, they flared with disapproval, anger, even.  It was the most emotion I had ever seen in him.

Hope had a moment to tentatively form within me once again.  Through using my sexuality, I had at least gotten him to feel
something.
 

Within seconds, the emotion drained from his features, replaced by his satisfied half-smile.  Without a word, He reached for the blindfold and secured it over my eyes.

I expected to hear the
snick
of my cuffs being unlocked, as He usually did before He fed me; I already knew He wasn’t going to touch me this time.  I had failed.

Instead, my ears were met with the sound of his retreating footsteps.

Oh, god.
 

If He left now, would He ever come back?  Had I crossed some invisible line, and He was done with me?  Was He just going to leave me here to die?

“Please.”  I had to force the word out of my seizing lungs.  “Please don’t leave me here.”

The first stair squealed beneath his weight.

“No!”  I cried, desperate.  I was terrified of dying in the dark, horrified at the knowledge that the madness would claim me long before my body finally expired.  “Please don’t leave me, Master!”

He continued his steady progress up the stairs.  I twisted against my bonds, fighting more furiously than I had since my first days of captivity.

“Please.  If you - don’t want me - anymore - let me go.  Don’t – Don’t leave me here.”  I was hyperventilating, and my words came out on ragged gasps.  “Please.  Let me - go.  Will you - ever - let me - go?”

His footsteps stopped.

My mouth snapped closed.

A question.  I had asked a question.  I had been so careful for so long, but my fear of death was going to destroy me.  He might allow me to live, but by the time He finished with me, I wouldn’t really be
alive.
 

Dread curled in my gut as I listened to his approach.  I wanted to beg him not to answer, to ignore my question, but that hadn’t stopped him before.  Sobs wracked my entire body by the time He sank down on the mattress beside me.

His thumbs brushed away the wetness on my cheeks with a familiar, cruel tenderness.  I whimpered beneath him, my body trembling with my delirious panic.

He lifted the blindfold from my eyes, but I kept them closed tight.  He smoothed the creases in my brow with a gentle touch.

“Shhh, pet.  I’m not angry, and I won’t hurt you.  Not this time.  You’ve pleased me.  You’re so beautiful when you beg.”

Beautiful.  
On someone else’s lips, the word might have been sweet.  On his, it was a revolting parody of a compliment.

“And no.  I will never let you go.”

No.  
That couldn’t be true.  I refused to believe it.  I had lasted so long, had been trying so hard…

He gripped my chin, stilling the unconscious shaking of my head.  His eyes blazed like red-gold flames.

“I will never let you go,” he told me again, more firmly this time.  The words were almost… fervent.

He cares about me.  He cares.  He has to.
  Despite his declaration, his expression gave me a spark of hope.  If he cared about me, he might release me from his cruel bondage.

He studied me for a long moment, and his pleased grin lit up his breathtaking features.

“You don’t believe me.  You still think you can win.”  He stroked my hair tenderly.  “You don’t know how…”  He seemed to fumble for a word.  “
Happy
you make me, pet.”

I knew better.  His smile held no true happiness; he was incapable of such an emotion.  But there was more feeling behind his eyes than there had been before.

Wasn’t there?

I make him happy.  He cares.
 

If he cared about me, he wouldn’t hurt me anymore.  Would he?

His pleased chuckle rolled over me, and he tapped my nose with something resembling affection.

“Maybe you’ll believe me by the time you’ve paid the price for your question.  Maybe not.”  He cocked his head at me, considering.  “I hope not.”

My mind was a tangle.  Instinct told me to defy him.  But how could I defy him when his wishes aligned with my own?  I didn’t want to believe that He wouldn’t let me go.  I couldn’t allow myself to believe that.  But He wanted me to deny his words; He enjoyed the fact that I remained unbroken.  I was still whole enough for him to play with me.

I didn’t want to be broken, but I also didn’t want to do what He wanted.  How should I feel when He didn’t want me to be broken?

My frustration escaped me on a wordless shout, and I jerked at my restraints.  I wanted to lash out at him, to claw at those beautiful eyes.

He continued to stroke my hair.  His smile might have been confused for sweetness.  “You’re very cute when you’re angry, pet.”  Suddenly, his fingers were at my clit, pinching lightly, bringing it to life.  “But you’re beautiful when you beg.”

He wanted me to beg him to stop touching me?

Fuck you!  
I didn’t dare speak the crass words aloud, but my eyes conveyed my hatred, my defiance.

If he wanted me to beg him to stop, I would allow myself to revel in his touch.  He had proven to me time and again that he could wring pleasure from my body despite my mind’s wishes.  I couldn’t think of a more effective way to beat him at his own game than cooperating.

I dimly noted that everything was becoming twisted, and my actions were becoming just the opposite of what they should be.  But I was too fixated on my ire to contemplate that.

I walked right into his trap.

My hips rolled up into his touch, and I closed my eyes, honing in on the pleasure that was pulsating outward from my rapidly hardening clit.  Recognizing my arousal, He pinched the bud.  I gasped and writhed beneath him as my sex clenched in response.

“My pet likes a bite of pain, doesn’t she?”

I realized too late that the pain wasn’t meant to be a punishment, but a reward.  I didn’t understand.  Didn’t He want me to beg for him to stop?

So long as I focused on the pleasure coursing through me, I wouldn’t even consider begging for his touches to cease, painful or not.

I would beat him this time.

Two fingers teased through my wet folds, his thumb never leaving my clit.  I thrust my hips forward, seeking to be filled.

He pulled back just enough to maintain contact without entering me, and He tweaked my nipple in reprimand.

“Not yet, greedy girl.”

I would have been ashamed of my beseeching whine if I hadn’t been so focused on chasing the pleasure.  My hips stilled on instinct.  Somewhere deep within me, I knew that He wouldn’t enter me until I stopped trying to draw him in.

Control.  He craved control.  He thought He was controlling me by wringing pleasure from me against my will, but what He didn’t realize was that it wasn’t against my will this time.  As soon as I came, I would throw my victory in his face.  I would let him know that I had beaten him at his own game.

I made my body go supple, compliant.  He rumbled his approval and eased his fingers inside.  He moved in small, teasing forays, penetrating me incrementally.  It took all my effort not to rock against him.  I needed to come soon to make my victory all the more obvious.  I would welcome my orgasm, and He would know that I had my own sense of control.

Then He touched that glorious spot inside me, and I threw myself into the ecstasy that He elicited.  My body tensed, bracing for my release.

He stopped rubbing me; his sheathed fingers stilled, and his thumb left my clit.

I cried out in shocked protest, my eyes flying open to find his.

In that moment, my stomach dropped, and tears stung at the corners of my eyes.

I had lost.

He didn’t want me to beg him to stop.  He wanted me to beg for him to continue.  He wanted me to plead for my orgasm.  And I had chased my pleasure too hard now; even my hatred couldn’t hold back the inevitable.  He was going to keep me on this precipice, torturing me until I finally broke.

He grinned – glorying in my defeat – as He saw the knowledge bloom in my own eyes.

I had willingly, eagerly, given him my body.  What I thought was an act of defiance was what He had truly desired all along.

Even as tears began to roll down my face, bliss surged within me as his fingers began to move within me once again.

I clenched my teeth together, fighting the pleasure.  But He brought me to the edge again and again, only to stop just as my sex began to clutch at him.

I broke when he bit my nipple.  He had never touched me with his mouth before.  The pain of his bite held a strange intimacy.  It pushed me over the edge.

“Please!”  I let out on a ragged, desperate moan.  He nipped at me again, sending heat shooting to that sweet spot between my legs, but his fingers didn’t stimulate it.  It wasn’t enough.

“Tell your Master what you want, pet.”

“I want to come!”  I wept with the intensity of my need.  “Please, Master-”

Any further pleading was cut off by my harsh scream as He shoved into me, fucking me hard with his fingers.  At the same time, his teeth sank into my nipple.  All of his gentleness was gone.  I was taken, ravaged.

I reveled in it.

His Journal
 

May 19, 1978
 

She will beg me for my cock soon.  She has to.  I can’t resist her for much longer.  It was all I could do to stop myself from driving into her cunt when she begged me to allow her to come.
 

Power.  Control.
 

God, she’s sweet.  I don’t know how I lived all those years without knowing this joy.  And it is joy.  I recognize that now.  She’s helped me to understand its true meaning.
 

She is powerless, restrained in the dark.  She lives for me, for my touch.  Her efforts to outwit me only make me crave her that much more.
 

She’s not broken.  Not yet.  I get to play with her for a while longer.
 

Chapter 6
 

Kathleen
 

Why are you doing this?
 

Master.  
He had mastered my body, and now He was taking my mind.  Since our last clash of wills, I had simply started to accept the pleasure He gave me.  I no longer felt disgust or anger; He had broken me of that, liberated me from it when He had forced me to beg for my orgasm.

Now I accepted his touches with something between resignation and eagerness.  I called him Master without a thought.  He was in control of my pleasure, and there was no point fighting Him when it came to that.  No matter how I fought Him, no matter how I tried to outsmart Him, he knew.  He always knew.  He was always ten steps ahead of me.

He was slowly chipping away at everything that made me
me.
 

Kathleen Marie White.  Not
pet.

My hatred of my captor had begun to turn in on itself, redirecting towards me.  He didn’t hurt me; He wasn’t torturing me into submission.  Not really.  Lust was making me forget who I was, just as I had always feared it would.

“You’re smart and driven and beautiful.  You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
 

Charlie had said those words to me.  He had said them when I was denying him in his desire to touch my body.

That wasn’t an option with my Master.  He kept me restrained.  I couldn’t fight Him off when He touched me, and saying “no” only seemed to further enflame Him.  I noticed how his hard cock throbbed against me while He tormented me.

He wanted me, and my only power lay in my denial of Him.  So long as I didn’t ask another question, He wouldn’t have sex with me.  I was coming to understand Him well enough to know that.  He was too obsessed with maintaining control.  He wouldn’t ruin his game by breaking the rules.  If He broke the rules, that meant I would have broken Him.

I had hoped that my waning resistance would goad Him into crossing that line.  Even in my defeat, I still kept a spark of defiance.  My mind still secretly sought ways to circumvent his control.