Captive, Mine(24)

He wouldn’t speak to me; he wouldn’t even look at me.

“Did you hurt her, too?” I finally blurted out when he had reached the door.

He stopped then. For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of my heartbeat, the whirlwind of my thoughts until he finally looked at me. The glare with which I was met turned my blood to ice. He picked up the duct tape and tore off a piece, stalking toward me, filling me with terror. He gripped the hair at the back of my head and yanked it back, hurting me.

“Are you going to shut the fuck up or am I making you shut up?”

I only stared at him without speaking, without even opening my mouth, hoping it was enough of a message that I’d be quiet. After a few moments like this, he balled up the piece of tape.

“She’s dead. She died because of people like you. Like your father. She’s fucking dead, Lily,” he said, his eyes now as red as mine, shiny with unspent tears. “Satisfied?”

He held me like that for a long moment, and we simply looked at each other until a tear slid down my cheek. Without another word, he let me go, turned, and walked out the door, leaving me in the dark room alone, cold and afraid.

I laid my forehead against my arm, and as if the heavens were sympathizing with me, I heard the first roll of thunder moments before a heavy rain began to fall, pelting the roof, the one darkened window. I tried to focus on that sound, tried to lose myself in it. But there wouldn’t be any of that for me today.

Lake Freeman had been married. He had loved his wife. I could see that even now and his pain over her death was still raw. I wondered how long ago she’d passed away and knew from what he said that the cause of death was drugs. This was an impossible situation. Impossible. He’d punish me now for causing him pain, and, in a way, I wanted him to because as stupid as it was, as little sense as it made, I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to cause him pain.

* * *



I alternated between standing and kneeling to ease the strain on my shoulders and arms, willing him to come back and punish me just to be freed from my bonds, but when I heard the key slide into the lock, I stiffened, eyeing the strap, fearing his fury.

His footsteps were heavy as he walked inside. I turned my head just a little, not wanting to make eye contact, and I watched as he patiently and with great care repacked a few pieces that he’d taken out of the suitcase and zipped the thing. He then rose and took that as well as the photograph, out of the room.

I heard the sound of him opening the door of the truck and panic set in. Was he going to leave me here like this? He slammed that door shut and opened another. When I heard him start the engine, that panic reached a whole other level.

“Lake!” I called out, watching as headlights moved along the forest floor. “Lake! Come back!” Again I tried, knowing he wouldn’t hear me over the sound of the truck. There was no way. When I heard him switch off the engine, I felt relief. Relief. Bound as I was, awaiting his wrath, his punishment, I felt relief that he wouldn’t leave me.

If that wasn’t fucked up, I wasn’t sure what was.

“Lake?” I asked, my voice more quiet this time. I watched the open door, using the headlights of the truck to see any movement in the otherwise dark room. It was a moment, but soon, his form shadowed the doorway and I exhaled. “My arms, Lake. They really hurt.”

“I imagine they do,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. You know that, right?”

He walked inside and this time, closed and locked the door behind him, switching on a light. Something in his eyes was different now, not hard so much as hurt. Hard might have been easier. I could hate him then.

“Lake?” I asked as he moved closer. “What are you doing? Are we leaving?”

“Not leaving yet, Lily,” he said, setting a bottle of olive oil on the nightstand. He reached up to check my bonds.

“They hurt,” I said.

“Mmm.” He checked the second wrist but left me bound and went to lean against the wall instead.

“Lake?” He remained as he was, staring at me. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking about your ass, how raw it is. How much a fresh strapping would hurt, possibly break skin.”

“Please don’t use the strap on me again. Please, I said I was sorry and I am. I really am. I’ve been good. I didn’t know, Lake. I really didn’t.”

Instead of speaking, he reached for the strap and took it from the wall.

“Please Lake!” I called out, twisting my bottom away from him as much as I could. “Please don’t whip me. I’ll do anything. Anything. Please!”

He stood looking at me, his gaze stone. He tested the strap against his thigh, making me jump.

“Turn around, Lily.”

I shook my head vigorously, rising up on my feet now, yanking at my bonds in a ridiculous effort to free myself.

“Get back down on your knees and turn around, ass to me,” he said, testing the strap again.

“Please, don’t do this. Please,” I begged, kneeling again, wanting to show him that I could submit, that I would submit, hoping for some mercy from him. “I’ll do anything, please Lake,” I said, not quite giving him my back fully.

He considered me for a moment then set the strap down.

I exhaled, my body relaxing a little. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.”

“You may not want to thank me just yet,” he said, reaching to undo my bonds. But instead of taking them off, he unhooked them from the higher ring and attached them to a lower one, one that had my forearms resting on the pillow of the bed so that in my kneeling position, I was crouched down with my face inches from the bed and my bottom high in the air. “Keep your head down, ass up,” he said, taking the lid off the bottle of oil.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, some part of me already knowing what he had in mind as he climbed up behind me and settled between my knees. I remained still, my head down, my knees wide, my ass up, as he had instructed. The first drops of oil sliding down the cleft between my bottom cheeks had me closing my eyes even as my pussy leaked, my clit throbbing in anticipation.

“There are so many ways to punish disobedience,” he said, pouring more oil. “Endless, really.” I heard him unbuckle his belt then take his zipper down. I dared turn, looking first at his cock, then at him. He was watching me and he kept watching me as he poured a generous amount of oil onto his palm and began to coat his cock with it. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. His cock, thick and hard and entirely too big, stood ready, the tip of it brushing one buttock as he dripped more oil onto my ass.

“I’m not sure that’s only the oil slickening that hot little cunt of yours, Lily,” he said, his attention on my sex for a minute before returning to my face. Holding my gaze, he brought one finger to my back hole. “But it’s not that cunt I’m interested in tonight.” His greased finger pressed against my bottom hole and with the olive oil as lubricant, it wasn’t long before he penetrated the tight ring.

I gasped.

“No, tonight, I think I’ll fuck this little virgin asshole of yours.” He pressed farther and my muscles all tightened. “So many ways to punish bad girls,” he said, twisting his finger inside me then pulling out and pressing in again, smearing oil inside me, readying me to take his cock.

“Please…” I begged, but for what, I wasn’t sure.

“Please fuck you? Is that what you want to say? Please fuck my ass, Sir, is how that should go. Try it for me.”

I shook my head, holding my breath when he pulled his finger out, poured more oil onto it and, adding a second finger, pushed in again, too hard, too fast, the intrusion burning from the inside.

“It hurts,” I managed, my eyes watering, wondering which was worse, the strap or this.

“An ass fucking can be very pleasurable,” he said, thrusting once more with his finger. “But it can make for one hell of a memorable punishment too.” With that, he pulled his fingers out and gripped my hips hard, pulling my bottom cheeks wide. “I’ll give you a hint, though. If you bear down and push against me, it will go easier on you. And I won’t lie to you. This will hurt you much more than it will hurt me.”

“Please don’t, Lake,” I squeaked, trying to pull away when he pressed the head of his thick cock against my back hole. “Please not there.”

“You had no right to go through my things,” he said, ignoring my protests, pushing his cock against my resisting back hole until finally, between the oil and the pressure, it opened to take him, the wide head of his cock stretching my asshole too fast, calling a cry from me.

“Don’t do it, please,” I tried again, but he ignored me, his thick cock pushing through my resistance, burning me. This was happening. He was going to fuck my ass to punish me. “Please. Please not hard. Please.” I pressed my face into the bed my hands fisting handfuls of the pillow now wet from my tears.

“You had no right to touch her clothes,” he said, as if he didn’t hear me at all, his cock claiming more of my ass, taking inch by painful, burning inch. “Our photograph.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I swear,” I cried. “You’re really hurting me, Lake.”