The Runaway Bride - A Captive Flame Book One (9 page)

Finally, Krystopher led me to another door—it was tucked away,
behind his desk, almost obscured by two tall shelves on either
side, almost completely invisible if you weren’t looking for it.
Krystopher opened the door and ushered me through into darkness.
For a moment I was terrified—what if it was some kind of closet and
he intended to lock me up in it, leaving me there to suffer fear
until he wanted me once more? Then he turned on the light and I
gasped, stopping in the midst of my worry to turn and ask him what
it was.

Chapter
Seven

~

The room was
larger than I would have thought possible for being connected to
the main office; there were no windows anywhere—and I only then
realized that it was the only room in the entire building that
didn’t have some kind of window to the outside. Instead, the walls
were stacked with lockers, neat and imposing in their sheer
uniformity. Off to one side there was what looked like a medical
examination table, covered in pristine black leather, with
restraints at the four corners. It slowly dawned on me what the
room was—a private getaway, a space for Krystopher to entertain
himself away from his home, if the opportunity arose. I wondered
just how many other women had been inside of it, but suddenly
didn’t want to know.

My gaze caught sight
of a long, thick chain hanging from the ceiling in the center of
the room; there was a hook at the end of it—not sharp, but
obviously intended to hold something up. It looked as though the
distance from the bottom of the chain to the ceiling could be
adjusted, and for a moment I pictured myself suspended from it,
helpless, dangling, and scared. The room took my breath away in
more ways than one; on the one hand, the suggestion of illicit,
debauched activities made the heat inside of my body rise to almost
a boil. On the other hand, I was more than just a little afraid at
the amount of thought and consideration that had gone into the
space.

“Take off your
blazer, Rhonda,” Krystopher said, closing the door behind him and
locking it. I felt a chill work through me, but I moved to comply;
even if I was hesitant to trust Krystopher as completely as I knew
he wanted me to, I knew that the price of my new life was
obedience. He took the blazer from me and tossed it onto the table
before wrapping his arms around me tightly, drawing me close to
him. “You did very well; I don’t think anyone had the slightest
idea that you were burning up the whole time you walked through the
office with me.” He smiled at me faintly, leaning in and brushing
his lips against mine. “Now, however, it’s time for real training.
Are you ready?” I wasn’t—not entirely; the room was still
intimidating, unfamiliar and stark. But I nodded nonetheless,
taking a deep breath to try and control the rapid pounding of my
heart.

Krystopher broke away
from me and moved to one of the lockers that lined the wall; I was
trembling already, turned on in spite of my fear, waiting to see
what he had in store for me. It occurred to me that the lockers
could contain anything—knives, guns, implements of torture. I had
to trust the fact that in spite of how little I knew Krystopher, if
he was some kind of murderer, it wasn’t like he could hide it. He’d
introduced me to just about everyone who worked for him at this
location; it would be suspicious for me to suddenly disappear off
of the face of the planet.

Krystopher rummaged
in the locker and I heard rustling, metallic clinking—sounds that I
had already started to associate with discipline the way that
Krystopher conceptualized it. He turned back to me and I saw a pair
of cuffs in his hands. They were wide, separated by a short, sturdy
chain, made of thick, tough leather. My heart beat a little bit
faster, and in spite of my trepidation, I had to admit I was also
curious. Krystopher closed the distance between us and, at his
gesture, I extended my hands, holding them a short distance apart
in front of me. Krystopher wrapped one of the cuffs around my first
wrist, clamping it down tightly and somehow locking it closed. When
he claimed my other wrist with the remaining cuff, I pulled against
them instinctively, feeling the tough material dig into my delicate
skin.

Krystopher led me to
the chain that hung down from the ceiling and lifted my hands up
over my head. He draped the short chain between the cuffs onto the
hook, and I remembered my mental image of myself suspended,
helpless—and pressed my lips together to push down the instinct to
object, to beg him not to do what he was going to do. Instead of
lifting me up off of the ground, Krystopher merely adjusted the
chain until it was tight, holding my wrists inescapably above me,
trapping me in my spot. My breaths came faster as I anticipated,
wondering just what he was going to do to me—just how much my
self-control would be taxed by what my Master had in store. For a
long moment, he walked around me in a circle, taking in every inch
of my body. “Yes… very nice.” I caught a flicker of a smile on his
face as he walked out of my peripheral vision.

There was a metallic
clang, the squeak of a hinge, and then more movement behind me; I
knew without looking that Krystopher was rummaging in another
locker. I tried to make out what my fate might be just by the
sounds of the implements he was handling, but it was no use; I was
out of my depth, and the stark walls and floor of the room made
echoes that would have made it impossible for me to figure out what
he was really handling even if I knew every implement in the room.
“How well do you deal with pressure, Rhonda?” Krystopher asked me.
There was a plastic clatter, a tinkling clink of metal on
metal.

“Pretty well, I
think,” I said, trying to think of what he could possibly mean.

“We will see about
that.” I could hear the amusement in his voice. The sounds of
rummaging and sorting ceased, and I heard his footfalls as he
approached me once more. Krystopher stepped into my line of sight
once more, and I felt a momentary relief—until I realized that I
couldn’t even see what he had selected; he had stuffed whatever it
was into his pockets. Krystopher looked me over one more time and
then started to unbutton my blouse. “Tell me, Rhonda—what do you
consider your greatest strength as a professional?” His fingertips
brushed against my skin, sending electric tingles through my body
that only served to intensify my arousal. I took a deep breath,
trying to focus on the question and not the way the cool air of the
room brushed against more and more of my skin.

“I—I would say my
greatest strength is my determination. I’m a fast learner, but so
are a lot of people; what sets me apart is my motivation to
succeed, to prove myself. If I can’t learn something quickly, I’ll
throw myself into learning it completely until I’ve mastered it.”
Krystopher nodded slowly, almost ignoring my response. He peeled
aside my blouse, exposing me to his lust-filled gaze, and cupped my
breasts through the thin fabric of the bra he’d bought me. He
teased my nipples into hard little nubs, rolling and twisting them
between his fingers until I gasped and shivered, my pussy flooding
with moisture already—and I had been drenched before.

“How comfortable are
you with late hours?” I shook my head to clear it as Krystopher
spoke again, trying to stay focused. It was impossible for me to
think—I closed my eyes and tried to slow my breathing. I couldn’t
tell if Krystopher wanted real, job interview-type answers, or if
he wanted me to apply the questions to our odd relationship.

“I am willing… to
work whatever hours are needed… to get my tasks done.” The words
left me with little whimpers as Krystopher tugged the cups of my
bra down, exposing my full breasts to the cold air. He reached
around to my back and unhooked my bra. He paused for a moment,
looking displeased, and I wondered if I had answered incorrectly—if
I was about to be punished instead of disciplined. My whimpers
increased steadily as I worried what I had done wrong.

Instead of punishing
me, Krystopher freed my wrists for just a moment and somehow parted
the chain on the wrist cuffs, pulling my shirt free and slipping my
bra off. He reattached the chain and pulled my wrists over my head
once more, trapping me as thoroughly as before. I thought that if I
had really wanted to, I could have fled in the moment; but it had
been so fast, even if I had been willing to get away, I wouldn’t
have been able. My bra joined my blouse on the ground, and
Krystopher tweaked both of my nipples hard between his fingers,
sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through my body.

“Are you willing to
accept whatever disciplinary actions I decide to mete out?” I bit
my bottom lip as Krystopher’s fingers pressed my nipples firmly,
teasing them cruelly as I squirmed from the sensations that shot
through me.

“Yes—I—I am okay with
any… any and all disciplinary actions.” I wasn’t entirely certain
of the words that left my lips; I was speaking almost without
thinking, struggling to maintain what little focus I had at my
disposal. Krystopher’s fingers stopped and he stepped back to
admire me, reaching out to idly slap at my breasts almost
playfully.

He reached down then
and unzipped the skirt I wore, holding it in place. “Tell me about
a time when you had to do something you didn’t want to do.”
Krystopher let my skirt fall to the floor, and I stepped out of it,
kicking it aside. I tried to make his words make sense in my mind.
It was a question. I had to answer it. Krystopher was testing my
ability to deal with pressure—the pressure of answering questions
properly while so incredibly aroused that I couldn’t even
think.

“When I was in
college, I had to take this course…” I licked my lips, tilting my
head back and trying to breathe more slowly. It was as if the blood
in my body had pooled in my feet, in my genitals, pulled by my
desire and gravity itself away from my brain. “I absolutely hated
it, but I needed the credit for some stupid—a stupid requirement.
On top of that the professor was a total idiot who didn’t know the
material—but he wasn’t in charge of the test, the school was.” I
gasped as Krystopher’s hand slid along my inner thighs,
tantalizingly close to my soaking wet pussy. “I—I managed to teach
myself the subject from textbooks I bought myself… and I passed the
test at the end of the semester.” Krystopher’s fingers brushed
against the slick folds of my pussy and I shivered, cold and hot
all at once.

“Very good—you
managed to keep your wits about you. I expected no less.”
Krystopher smiled at me slightly, his feather-light touch against
my labia driving me crazy. “Now, I know you understand that the
essence of discipline is self-control.” I nodded, pressing my lips
together. I knew it well; Krystopher had commented on it in every
training session we’d had thus far. “You will control yourself and
make no noise whatsoever until you are given permission.” I
hesitated a moment. I didn’t know if I could manage not to make a
sound—before Krystopher had made me hold still, but had at least
allowed me the relief of noise.

“Yes, Sir,” I said
finally, gathering my flagging, weak self-control around me as
firmly as possible. Krystopher grinned at me—actually grinned.

“Would you like some
assistance in staying quiet?” I thought there was a trick in the
question, but I nodded eagerly all the same. Krystopher reached
into his pocket and withdrew a leather strap; in the middle was a
big, bright red ball, made of some kind of rubber with a hole in
the middle of it. I recognized it in spite of the fact that I had
little experience in these matters—it was a ball gag. I felt
momentarily repelled by the sight of it and tried to move back,
shaking my head slightly. There was something about the appearance
of a gag that made this somehow seem less legitimate, dirtier than
it was. “If you make a sound, I will punish you thoroughly. Are you
sure you don’t want my help, little slave?” I pressed my lips
together and exhaled. He was right—at least the gag would help me
to keep what sounds I couldn’t help making stifled. I leaned my
head forward and opened my mouth.

Krystopher fitted the
ball between my lips, and I closed my teeth against it, breathing
through my nose. The hole in the center made it possible to breathe
through my mouth just a little bit, but it didn’t seem to be quite
enough. My Master pulled the straps tight against my skin, buckling
the gag around my head firmly, and I knew that there was nothing
that I would be able to do on my own to get rid of it. I was at his
mercy.

Krystopher’s hands
danced all over my body, lighting on my breasts, my waist, my hips,
my ass, never lingering for very long. I squirmed—I could at least
do that—as I tried to keep the instinctive whimpers and moans that
seemed to be filling my chest suppressed. I knew suddenly that he
was going to do everything he possibly could to break me—to make me
cry out, make some sound around the gag that he could hear and
punish me for. There was more to the game of discipline than just
testing my limits and making me better; I realized that for
Krystopher, the object wasn’t just my adherence to the rules, but
my spiritual obedience. He wanted me to obey him on such a level
that any sense of self-will I possessed would be gone, at least for
the moment.

I straightened as
much as the bindings holding my arms over my head would allow. The
prideful part of me made me want to subvert him; I had agreed to
his terms, but I would not—could not—let him have that degree of
ownership over me, not even for an instant. I would keep from
making a single noise for as long as Krystopher demanded it of me,
but I wouldn’t let him get into my head. Krystopher reached out and
took my breasts in his hands, squeezing them firmly, massaging them
in a way that made me want to moan. I breathed as slowly and
steadily as I possibly could through my nose, biting down on the
gag and staring up at the ceiling. I would wait him out. I could do
this.