Slave Jade (5 page)

They did some role-playing in their erotic chats that included the captive damsel and the mysterious knight who claims his woman on every possible level. Gilbert was pleased at how easy it was to plant the idea as erotic in his impressionable online lover. How would real life play against the fantasy?

Moving day came, and Gilbert loaded his boxes and few pieces of furniture into the rented U-Haul and drove himself to a new city, with no regrets. As he drove, he had time to contemplate what he was planning. His new job hours would be in the evenings and on weekends. Not the best shift for most people, which is probably why it was available. But for Gilbert's purposes it was fine. He would be able to scope out Lisa's movements during the day, and on his evenings off, he'd check out her nightlife patterns.

The owner of the cottage, a short heavyset man with piggy eyes, looked Gilbert up and down, his face pinched with distaste he didn’t bother to hide. “No funny business. No drugs, no girls. None of that.”

“Of course not,” Gilbert said, nodding soberly.

The man looked skeptical, but that didn’t stop him from accepting the envelope containing two months rent, in cash. He peered inside, fingering the bills and handed Gilbert a key. “There's a phone, but I don't want you using it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, there's a phone in there. I never took it out. It's got the same line as my phone. Just turn off the ringer, so you don't hear it. I leave it there because sometimes I have family stay there. Don't worry, they won't be here anytime soon. You can have the place for three months, like I told you. Just don't use the phone, unless of course you have an emergency. I know all you young people have cell phones anyway. No point in setting up phone service for three months.”

Gilbert quite agreed, especially because he didn't particularly want a record of his name with the phone company. Couldn't play it too safe. This fellow had asked to see Gilbert's license, and Gilbert had presented the fake NY ID he'd purchased online for just such an occasion. The landlord had eyed it, comparing the photograph to Gilbert's face, and handed it back. Gilbert had produced an envelope of cash containing two months rent in advance. This seemed to suit the old fellow fine.

He made a spot in the crowded living room for his computer desk by hauling an old rocking chair to the garage. Happily the owner had Internet service and he was able to connect through his wireless service. Staying connected online with Slave Jade was paramount while he bided his time.

The second bedroom, which was really little more than a windowless sewing closet, was crammed with boxes and a sewing machine circa 1935. It didn’t take too long to haul it all out to the garage.

Satisfied with his work, he stared around the empty room. This would be Lisa's room. Since the master bedroom already contained a large four poster bed, Lisa would get his old mattress. He had tossed the broken old box springs before moving. Slaves didn’t need beds.

He’d acquired an old footlocker from an Army Navy surplus store in which was already stored a nice collection of whips and chains—items he’d purchased selectively over the years, plus a few new ones just for his captive sex slave.

Captive sex slave
. He quite liked how that sounded. To think, he was in her town, just a few miles from where she lived!

Lisa lived alone. It was her first apartment on her own. Master John had teased this fact out of Jade in a supposedly offhand conversation about the difficulties of roommates. She wasn't dating at present, but Gilbert knew that could change at any time. Such a lovely girl was surely fair game for all the eligible young bachelors in Middletown.

Gilbert would have to move quickly, before she took some man into her apartment. He wanted her alone. Alone and defenseless.

Early the next morning Gilbert awoke confused for a moment as to where he was. It came rushing back, and his cock rose hard against his belly as he pondered his physical proximity to the girl of his dreams.

Turning on his computer, he opened his favorite picture of Slave Jade. It was a full frontal nude, with the girl perching on a barstool. Her legs were slightly parted, just a hint of her pussy showing in the shadows, her breasts prominently thrust up by her arms pressing on either side. A lovely flush covered her cheeks, and it was clear she was embarrassed by the pose. And yet, she had sent it to Master John, with xxx's and ooo's in the header.

Gilbert masturbated to the erotic image, squirting his jism into his hand and wiping it on a paper towel. The edge of his lust slaked, he grabbed his car keys and headed off to find his prey.

He almost missed her. He was sitting in his car in the small parking lot of her apartment complex, hiding his head behind a newspaper, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup. He kept swiveling to keep the whole lot in his line of vision. A young woman stepped out and for a minute he thought it was Lisa, but when she drew closer he saw he was mistaken.

At the same time, however, another woman left the building and headed toward her car. Still focused on the wrong woman, he caught her in the corner of his eye and his heart missed a beat.

“Lisa,” he breathed.

She was dressed with understated elegance in a tailored black jacket and narrow skirt. Her slim figure and ample breasts were hidden in the long lines of her suit. Her legs were shapely in sheer stockings and sensible pumps. Her long dark hair was pulled back and secured with a barrette at the nape of her neck.

Tossing the paper aside, he turned the key in his ignition, hoping she wouldn't look around. She didn't, continuing toward a late model red Toyota, swinging her red pocketbook as she walked.

Unlocking her door, she got in and started it, looking behind her as she slowly backed up. So she locked her car and she was a careful driver. Good traits, though he wished she didn't lock the car. But it didn't matter. He would get her when the time was right. He was a patient man.

Gilbert followed, curious to see where she went. She had never told him her occupation, and he had never asked. Whatever it was, she couldn’t have been doing it long, since she was only twenty-two.

Lisa pulled up in front of a small bank building. Yes, he could see her as a bank teller or fledgling loan officer, sitting prim but pleasant behind her desk, reading balance sheets and approving and denying loans.

Perhaps he would open a bank account there. For now he headed back home, stopping to get some donuts and more coffee, his mind whirring with plans.

Gilbert decided against the account. He didn't want to leave any traces of himself in Middletown. He wasn't staying that long. Just long enough to capture and train his slave girl, before he whisked her off somewhere safe, where they would begin their lives together on some remote island in the Caribbean.

Gilbert felt sure that, once she got over the shock of the kidnap, Lisa would come to realize that theirs was a love too pure and perfect to deny, and she would willingly follow him to the ends of the earth.

His daydream didn't get much further than this, such as how they could afford to live on the exotic island they would inhabit, but that didn't concern him for now.

The days passed and Gilbert learned Lisa's patterns and hours. He knew when she left for work, when she finished for the day, when she went to lunch, and where and with whom. He also observed that she didn't always lock her car, especially during the day. He wasn't able to watch her that often at night, which annoyed him, as he had to go to work himself. He decided to save his money, and quit the job once he got her. He knew how to live very frugally.

After that they could live off her savings. She was a banker. Surely she had plenty of money stashed away, and as his slave captive, she would be forced to give it all to him. This notion pleased him, and Gilbert took extra shifts at work, eager to save enough for the several weeks they would have together while he trained and convinced his lover of her destiny.

At last he was ready, with a satisfying stack of twenty-dollar bills piled in a shoebox under his bed. Six weeks to the day of his arrival in Middletown, Gilbert quit his job.

His new boss was as understanding as the old, when he explained how his younger brother had been in a terrible car accident back in New Jersey, and he would have to take an extended leave to care for him.

Returning to the cottage, he surveyed Lisa's room. It looked like the slave dungeon it was, with only the old, stained mattress on one side, and the footlocker on the other. Kneeling beside the old chest, he opened it to admire its contents. There was a heavy flogger he couldn’t wait to try out on her ass. The riding crop and bamboo cane would also be put to good use, as would the rope, nipple clamps and handcuffs.

He had put in a large, sturdy hook into the wall at the head of the mattress, useful for chaining his slave in chains when he wasn't using her. In the ceiling in the center of the room was the largest eyehook he could find at the hardware store.

He’d outfitted her door with a top-of-the-line deadbolt lock. The landlord would thank him later, no doubt, for the improvement. Replacing the cheap knob that had been installed when the place was built, Gilbert tested it, sliding the bolt home with his key. It could only be unlocked with a key. He’d put the spare one on the bedroom bureau, but also had one on the chain he wore around his neck. He fingered it now, his cock rising as he imagined locking the lovely Lisa safely inside.

Master John and Slave Jade had continued their online affair all throughout this interval, with poor Lisa completely unaware of the net slowly closing around her.

She continued to provide clues about her life, and Gilbert was adept at teasing them out of her without her realizing. He knew now, for instance, that she liked to go to a local club called The Pizzazz on Friday nights. She rarely stayed past midnight, and always left alone. She was going tonight and Gilbert planned to be there. He'd rehearsed his plans in his head over and over, and had driven the route between the club and his house, timing it to determine the proper amount of chloroform he'd need to knock her out for the ride, but not kill her.

He’d found a handy site online that detailed how to procure chloroform and how use it. There were even tips on how to cover your tracks in an abduction.

Now that the moment was at hand, Gilbert found himself almost sick with anticipation. That morning he had stocked his refrigerator, buying all sorts of expensive items he thought Lisa might like, including steaks, a bottle of red wine, fresh vegetables, bread and a pint of ice cream—Lisa's favorite, coffee fudge. Though he himself was largely indifferent to food, he wanted to impress his girl with his hospitality. At least until he trained her to serve him.

The bottle of chloroform was at the ready, and the handcuffs in case she came to too soon. He sat in the parking lot of The Pizzazz, watching the people going in and out, biding his time. He had parked near enough to the red Toyota so he could see her come out, but not so close that she might notice him.

Midnight came and went, and Gilbert, usually so patient, found himself restless and irritated. He drummed his steering wheel with his fingers, glancing repeatedly at the clock in his dashboard. Finally, at 12:45 Lisa stepped out of the club with two other young women. They were laughing and he could see by the weave of their walk that they were less than sober.

Lisa waved and called out good night as she left the two women and headed toward her own car. Her lovely voice carried softly on the wind to his ears. As she climbed into her car, he started his own, pulling out of the space and heading away from the lot, undetected, as far as he knew, by a soul.

When Lisa pulled into her assigned parking spot at her apartment complex, Gilbert was waiting. He was hidden in shadow, obscured by a retaining wall. He watched while she turned off her ignition and climbed out of the driver seat.

The usual street lamp that lit the area was dark, courtesy of Gilbert's hand earlier that evening. He could see her outlined in the moonlight, close enough to touch. She was just about to push the automatic lock button on her car door when he made his move, slamming his body into hers, catching her completely off-guard.

Though he could have easily overpowered her anyway, the element of surprise was also in his favor. In a second he had wrestled her to the ground, inadvertently smacking her head against her car door as he did so.

When the stunned girl opened her mouth to scream, she was met with his hand, wrapped in a chloroform-soaked rag, blocking her mouth and nose, forcing her to inhale the sickly sweet fumes as she tried to catch her breath.

In a moment she fell back limp, her face almost serene. Pulling the police-style metal cuffs from his pocket, he grabbed her arms, locking her slender wrists together. Quickly opening the backseat car door, Gilbert lifted and set the inert body on the backseat and shut the door.

Her car keys were lying on the ground beside her purse. He picked both up and slid into the driver seat, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute. Taking a deep breath, he turned on the ignition and eased the car smoothly out of the lot.

The entire process had taken less than five minutes, not witnessed by a soul. Gilbert glanced back at the woman lying unconscious in the backseat.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “I actually did it. She’s mine.”