Chapter 6 #3
“Leo, you don’t need to be here. I don’t need to be babysat. I know Aiden told you, but…”
Leo
I listen to my brother tell me how fine he is, and I find myself actually tending to agree.
I was worried that Luke would be a fucking mess.
Fortunately, he looks pretty good, all things considered.
His eyes are bright, his skin is clear. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that he was the absolute picture of health.
I guess that’s what a stint of even a few days away from the world can get you.
I hope the same is true for me. Coming out here felt like a chore at first, time away from pursuing my new favorite subject. Then I realized just because I’m forced to leave the city, doesn’t mean I have to leave my work behind as well. Some projects are easily transportable.
I say goodbye to Luke after a relatively short visit, and I go on my way.
I’ve bought a cabin not far from the rehab. It’s further up into the mountains. Would have been considered remote at one time, but there was the addition of easy satellite internet and the creep of civilization, and now the place gets marketed as ‘an easy two-hour drive to the nearest city.’
I pull up in front of my new country residence, get out, and open the trunk. I want to make sure my baggage didn’t shift too much while in transit.
I’m relieved to see that she’s still there, tucked up snugly next to my suitcase, still neatly bound with a dozen pretty knots that by now will have left light marks on her skin. She’s gagged, naturally. Can’t have the rear of the car shouting for help at every intersection.
“Good girl,” I say. “Good stay.”
I can see by the way her eyes flash she has a lot to say. I always enjoy this part. The begging is very enjoyable, but if a woman won’t beg right away, then the sass before the begging is also… enjoyable.
I take the gag out of her mouth.
“You’re crazy,” she says.
“Good,” I reply. “You noticed.”
“Where are we?” She lifts her head to try to look out of the trunk. She probably wants to see if there’s anyone she can call to for help. There isn’t.
“It doesn’t matter. For your purposes, we’re going into a little cabin I bought and you’re going to stay here with me, getting fucked and used over and over, until you tell me what happened to Teddy.”
“I don’t know!” She lies even as she exclaims.
At first, I sated my physical curiosity with her, but as further investigation progressed, Ella hasn’t managed to convince me she was nothing but an innocent bystander, a one-night stand or casual set of flings, or situationship, as the kids call their rudderless trysts these days.
I reach into the trunk and pull her out. The ropes make for easy hand holds. I carry her in one hand, my suitcase in the other. I put the case down to unlock the cabin door, then it’s back inside with both items.
The cabin is a pretty simple affair. One open plan living and bedroom area, and one bathroom.
It’s cozy, but it’s not precisely palatial.
I bought it furnished, so it has a western-style blanket in azure blue and sunrise pink on the king-sized bed.
The frame comes right out of the industrial revolution. Solid wrought iron. Incredible work.
She lies on the bed, unable to move, helpless. My cock twitches at the sight of her. There’s something incredibly alluring about caught prey. Some say it’s the chase that’s the exciting part, but this… this is what all that work is for.
“How are you feeling?” I trail my fingers lightly over her cheek.
She pretends to recoil, but I see the way her face flushes at my touch, and I know how she would have felt being carried around in her bindings like she was no more a person than my suitcase.
It excited her. How could it not? I am stripping her of everything.
I am going to take her down to her barest essence before I am done with her.
She doesn’t answer me. She’s trying to keep her self-possession. I intend to take that from her too.
My fingers slide from her face and move to her haunches. She was wearing a short little skirt when I tied her up, and it exposes her panties. White. Clean. Sweet. Lovely.
I rub my fingers over her sex. She’s known that she was bound like this, and therefore on display like this, but she hasn’t felt me touch her here, claim her in this particular way.
She lets out a strangled little sound that I know she doesn’t want me to hear. It warms my heart and brings a smile to my lips to hear her struggle internally against me.
“I think my little pet needs to feel a cock inside her,” I tell her. “I think that would help you understand your place here, settle you after your long car ride.”
“Fuck you,” she curses.
She doesn’t say no. I think if I left her there, where she is, and ignored her…
My cock gets even harder at that thought.
Keeping her vulnerable and waiting for what she knows she deserves is a delicious idea.
Fucking her right away would, in some way, put her out of her misery.
I want to keep her in her misery. I’m almost certain she deserves it. And even if she doesn’t, I enjoy it.
Instead of cutting her panties off her and fucking that tight, wet pussy, I instead prop her up, go to the kitchen sink and get a glass of water. I come back to her and offer it. I can be accused of many things, but I do not want to be a poor host.
“Drink,” I tell her, holding the vessel to her lips. “You must be thirsty.”
She takes a mouthful, and instead of swallowing, predictably decides to spit it at me. She aims for my face, but only gets my shirt, a bit of the bed, and a good amount of herself.
I tut.
“Are you not thirsty, or do you just want to be a rebellious brat?”
“I am thirsty,” she admits after a moment.
“Then drink your water and stop trying to provoke me. Trust me, when I get started with you, you’re going to beg for this respite.”
I hold the glass back to her mouth, and this time she drinks. I have a feeling of handling a wary, female animal. Am I taming her? I never really intended to do that. I’ve never done that before. I generally break women before they bend to me.
“I thought that would make you angry,” she says when she’s finished her water.
“You wanted to annoy me. It’s not enough to be bound, is it? You have to be punished and used to feel anything. You’re a filthy little wench, and you want to be dominated past the point of bearing it.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I know she wants to deny it, but it’s true. Anyone who wanted to avoid my wrath would whimper and beg for mercy. She hasn’t done any begging, and her whimpering has been very limited to the entirely involuntary kind.
The need to fuck her is becoming unbearable.
And there’s absolutely no need to bear it.
I keep her bound in that position, knees up to her chest, ass out, pussy very much vulnerable once her panties are cut away with my flick knife.
The ragged edges of what used to be a very pedestrian pair of underwear add a certain je ne sais quoi to the scene.
They are like the rest of her rather useless defenses—ripped, torn, and ruined, leaving her ready for use.
I alternately rub and slap her pussy until her vulva swells and that sweet trickle of arousal becomes very obvious to all involved.
“You adore being handled this way,” I tell her. “I can see it.”
She moans. I free my dick from my pants, not bothering to undress, and I slide my cock inside her in one long thrust. I know Teddy fucked her. I doubt he took her like this. He probably made sweet love to her, before she betrayed him.
Gripping the ropes, I work her back and forth on my cock, truly using her wet little hole for what it was made to do. She has no agency now. All she has is her need and her desire, and the submission she cannot help displaying in bondage.
“Tell me how it feels,” I tell her. “Tell me what it’s like to have your captor’s cock deep inside you, and know that you’re going to have your little cunt ravaged until you confess all your sins.”
“You’re sick,” she moans.
“If I am, so are you, because you love every moment of this.”
I want to just use her. I want her to feel every bit of her captive vulnerability.
So this time, I don’t let her come. I give her clit a few swipes of my fingers to keep her physically engaged, but nowhere near enough stimulation for her to orgasm.
It must be maddening for her. I can tell by her frustrated little grunts and groans, each one of which makes me more and more eager to…
“Fuck, yes, you little…” I grunt the nearly incoherent sentence as I come inside her and collapse onto the bed. There is a moment post-coitus where every man, even one like me, becomes vulnerable for a moment.
Her bindings have come loose in the process of our rough fucking, which means she can move. I am momentarily weak, and she has an opportunity.
She wastes no time in capitalizing on it. I feel a sting as a needle is jabbed into my ass. I don’t see it, but I know instantly what it is.
For a second I am horribly confused. I don’t know where the hell it came from.
And then I do. It’s mine. She must have wriggled around while she was tied up in my trunk, gotten into my bag, and taken the dose of sedative designed to keep her under control if need be.
She must have concealed it up her sleeves, which are long.
She must have bided her time, waited for me to fuck her…
I realize, as my head swims, that she could have used it at any time during the entire encounter.
She could have jabbed it into my thigh as I pulled her back and forth on my cock.
But she let me fuck her to completion first. She let me pleasure her duplicitous little pussy until she got the full dose of my seed deep inside her—and then she realized she wasn’t going to come, and she knocked me out.
I think I might be in love.