Breaking Sin: A kidnap abduction story (Addicted to Sin Book 1)

by Emily Stormbrook

  Last week she’d discovered what the tracks in the ceiling were for. They held a chain on a roller, he’d clipped it to the metal collar around her neck and led her to the living area. He made her wear a demeaning outfit while cooking for him. But clothes were clothes, and she’d take those scraps of fabric over being kept naked any day. He liked to dress her up, telling her she was his own personal sex doll, to be dressed and used however he saw fit.

  She had denied it at first, but lately she had come to realise the truth of his words. It never mattered if she said no, or if she fought, the result was the same. It was easier if she didn’t resist and let her mind drift to that empty place where nothing mattered. But there were still times when her mind rejected this new reality, this new existence, and those were the times that got her into trouble.

  Initially, she thought it had been her period angering him, but he surely knew it would come. He was letting her use contraceptives. For now, at least, he reminded her. He said as long as she was good he’d let her keep the patch, but if she disappointed him he’d remove it. He goaded her constantly, telling her she would bear his child when he deemed the timing to be right. She prayed she wouldn’t conceive, that she wouldn’t bring life into this world with a monster. The only other time she’d prayed this hard was when Miles had been serving.

  Miles. She could still see his image in her mind, glitter and pine cone eyes, a skittering of freckles, a smile that eased the troubles of the world. On the days she couldn’t lose herself to the abyss, thoughts of him gave her strength. He’d suffered so much, seen more horror than she could imagine, and he still came home, he survived. It gave her hope she too would survive this, that one day her own scars would be a sign of her strength. But as the weeks passed, even this hope was hard to maintain.

  “Kneel,” he commanded. She wasn’t sure how long he had been in the bathroom, smartening his appearance, but for a moment she thought she’d been asleep until his voice commanded her.

  There was no hesitation in her obeying as she awkwardly twisted herself back up. Hesitation meant pain, and she was already too raw, because even when she was good, when she gave him no reason, he still took pleasure in her torment.

  He pulled his cock free from his pressed trousers, pushing it through the cage. “Kiss your owner goodbye, pet.” She leaned forward, kissing and licking his crown. He reached through the bars, tugging her hair, forcing her mouth over him until the bars dug into her cheeks and he stole her breath, until she thought she would black out. He only fucked her mouth like this when he was angry about something. Normally it was more gentle. He let her take time pleasing him.

  He’d made her learn how to please him, how to lick and tease before taking him in her mouth. He’d made her practice, punishing her with the cane when she didn’t perform quite right. He’d told her to hum while she held him in her mouth, showed her how to touch him. He like to draw it out, keep her on her knees until her lips were sore and swollen. But today it was angry, breath-stealing thrusts that caused motes of darkness to dance around her vision.

  When his hot fluid hit the back of her throat, he pulled out and she closed her mouth, holding it there, awaiting the command. “Swallow.” And she did. Like a good girl she obeyed her owner, no longer heaving as his bitter fluid coated her tongue. Every time she had heaved, he’d used the cattle prod on her. It was amazing how quickly her body had learnt that heaving meant pain. He’d shock her until she passed out, and by the time she came around he was ready to continue the lesson.

  He zipped his trousers. She knew what was coming from how he was dressed, from the way he stalked around the cage with slow deliberate steps until he was behind her. “Hands.”

  She leaned forward until her face touched the bars again, allowing her to present her still-shackled wrists as she’d been taught. She could already feel a pulse between her legs, a treacherous pulse of pre-emption Despite the horror, her conditioned response had become arousal.

  She felt a moment of release as the metal shackles fell away, only to feel the sharp tug of the leather arm binders as he pulled them into place, lacing and buckling them so tightly that her shoulders burned. “To me.”

  Her pulse quickened as she pressed herself backward until she felt the cold metal of the bars against her raw ass. He’d fucked her through the bars before, but that wasn’t what was happening now. She gasped, feeling the malleable L-shaped vibrator being pushed inside her, until it was perfectly seated, trapped in a way no squirming could dislodge. And she had certainly tried.

  He’d used it on her many times, telling her how he would watch through the cameras while controlling it with the app on his phone. He always slid it inside her when he went to business meetings, playing with her, proving his ownership over her even when he was away. It being inside her was how she knew he’d be away for hours.

  He would keep reminding her of his presence by starting it up, driving her to the edge before stopping. By the time he came home her mind was always so hazy she’d do anything he’d ask willingly. “Lie down, enjoy yourself, pet. We’ll play some more when I get home.” His voice dripped with amusement as he placed a special bottle of water by the cage with a long bendy straw he wrapped around the bars, leaving it where she could use her mouth to lift it. In the second one was a protein drink, which was all the food she’d get until he came home. Damn it, when had she started thinking of this place as her home?

  He looked back to her one last time before leaving. He was wearing his dark grey suit with subtle pinstripes made by a designer whose name she no longer remembered. The presence of his white tie against the black shirt with hidden button-down collar told her the meeting was important. She’d ironed that suit just yesterday, with perfect creases and free of any imperfections or wrinkle.

  From the way he’d struck her, warning her to keep the iron moving, she knew it was an expensive one. She winced, remembering the first time she had been given the iron, and how he had pressed it to her thigh, the heat guard doing little to dull the burn on her flesh as he pressed the steam button, a taste of what she would endure if she dared ruin his clothes.

  When he’d first started leaving her locked in the cage, she’d tried everything she could to escape, but the lock was too strong, and whist she could fit her unbound arms through the thick bars when he left her here for the night, it didn’t help. There was never anything but her bottles within reach.

  Curling up, she lay down, closing her eyes. There was nothing to do now but await his return. She flinched as the room was plunged into complete darkness and the familiar hum of the air conditioning began.

  Whenever she was on her own, be it for minutes or hours, he always left her in the dark and cold. She hated she was associating his absence with cold and fear, and his return with light and warmth.

  Her arms strained against the restrains, trying to get a little more slack, but there was no give, there was never any give. She didn’t know why she expected anything different by now.

  She heard the helicopter start and felt the first low buzz building pressure inside her and fought it like she always did. She knew it didn’t matter, that he would be gone for hours and she could only deny her body’s response for so long. But to simply resign herself would be to lose her final shred of dignity, the last piece of herself she recognised.

  Little by little, piece by piece, he had stripped her away until the thought of disobeying him rarely even surfaced any more. Pleasing him became desirable, because it was better than suffering the more intense pain he’d deliver.

  Making him happy became her world, and deep down she protected the final piece of her that still knew it was wrong, the part of her that wouldn’t let her simply accept the rising pleasure and reminded her each time his hands felt good it was wrong. It was the last part of herself she recognised, and she clung onto it desperately.

  Perry left Ivy alone in the dark. She was becoming such an obedient little pet. There was nothing quite like the feeling of having comple
te and utter control over her. It was everything he imagined and more.

  He took a quick look as his phone. She was still resisting. There was still a spark of rebellion. She had yet to fully embrace her role as his slave, but she was close. She was already so responsive to his touch, and pain did wonders for keeping her in line.

  She didn’t enjoy it hard like the other women had, not that what she liked made any difference. But it was still a deterrent. The more he hurt her, the more she tried to please him.

  Her period had annoyed him. He’d already been fantasising about his heir growing inside her. She had no idea the patches were just ordinary plasters made to look like the contraceptive.

  After she’d birthed his first child, he’d let her body recover before impregnating her again. He already had an agency who could supply a wet nurse, and a nanny lined up. The only one feeding from her swollen breasts would be him.

  He’d give her a few years between children, maybe. She was a sex doll, an incubator, his addiction, but she’d never be their mother. He had a wife to fill that role. A wife who could not bear children but wanted a large family. A wife who couldn’t even begin to understand the depth of his dark desires.

  She’d consented to him having another woman bear their children, to him fucking whoever he wanted, just so long as he gave her what she wanted.

  They loved each other in their own way, but she had never been able to compete with his obsession for Ivy. It had been Pamela who had given him the idea of taking her, although she would never know that. One day he’d just come home with a child for her, and in later years their siblings, and he’d keep his little sex toy all to himself.

  He still hadn’t decided what to do with her when he needed to spend some time with his wife. He hadn’t been home since he’d abducted his little doll, but Pamela understood his work meant she was sometimes alone for months, and he’d let her employ anyone she wanted to sate her own vanilla cravings.

  Vanilla. He’d picked that word up a long time ago, before his games. He’d been introduced into the BDSM scene, but he soon discovered it wasn’t for him. He didn’t care about contracts and safety. He wanted to induce pain beyond the limit, and as for safe words, well they could scream them all they wanted it wouldn’t make him stop.

  There were only two good things to come from trying it. First was he discovered how much hurting someone brought him pleasure, and the second, he loved the toys. He did things his way, and no one who had seen him operate approved.

  He didn’t care for the strict rules; he chased only his own pleasure, and sometimes that came by giving his captive orgasms so he could watch her break a little more as her body caved to his desire. He operated so far from the scene’s ethics that his name had been blacklisted.

  He smartened his tie, dusting imaginary lint from his shoulders as they reached the halfway point of their journey. The request for today’s meeting had surprised him, but it was no problem, he had needed to visit the office today regardless.

  It had been some time since his event security firm had requested to meet with him, in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time they had asked him to meet with them in person. He tried to avoid direct dealings with TSS as much as possible, but his P.A. insisted this was something that needed addressing.

  The helicopter flight to his main office in Florida from his yacht took somewhere in the region of an hour, so it was just as well he had something to occupy himself with.

  She was writhing now. He could see the sparkle of tears of her cheeks. She was trying to be brave for him lately, to hold back the tears his cock craved. She always gave in eventually. There was only so much the body could endure, after all.

  He’d learnt so much about her body now that he’d had one of his tech wizards design an auto execution app, just in case he didn’t have the time to play with her himself. He didn’t want her feeling neglected. Besides, as much as he’d like to, he couldn’t play with her all the time. There was still business to attend to, the world didn’t stop because he had a new toy.

  His cock hardened at the sound of her panting. Unzipping his trousers, he zoomed in on her, stroking himself. She may not get release, but he could. No one had ever managed to keep him so hard for so long. No sooner was he was done with her, he wanted to go again.

  There was no sound as sweet as her anguished pleas for mercy, except maybe when she begged him to let her come. She was too much, an addiction, and one he could indulge at his whim. Even the way her flesh marked as he brought his various whips down across her fair complexion was moreish.

  He could listen to her scream all day, in fact, on more than one occasion, he had.

  The cage had been a good addition. It was practical, plus there was something about her sleeping in the cage at the bottom of his bed that was so fucking hot. If he thought morning erections were troublesome before, knowing she was there made him awaken with a hard-on so intense it made his entire groin ache, fortunately he didn’t have to move far for release. His pet had to earn her meals after all.

  He groaned, fisting himself harder, imagining her lips wrapped around his cock again, the feeling of her saliva coating his shaft as she hummed to Depeche Mode’s Master and Servant. He’d made her learn the tune, and the perfect variation of vibrations in her throat as she held him in her mouth, desperate to please him, had been divine.

  He would keep her forever.

  With a guttural groan he released into a tissue, cleaning himself up quickly. He’d reward her for his pleasure later. He tapped the device, watching as her eyes grew wide in that dark glossy sheen they took on through night vision cameras. He could hear her panting, her moans, no, Owner. Please, Owner, she cried, her body writhing, trapped on the pinnacle of an orgasm she could never quite reach.

  The lowest setting was a tease, never enough to grant release no matter how long it was active, so he increased the pressure of the pulses, watching for the crest that came just before she was about to come, and for a second he considered granting her release. Only for a second. He shut the vibrator off and chuckled at her frustrated screams as she banged her head against the blanket.

  “Five minutes, boss.” Came the pilot’s voice through the headset. He’d muted the sound in his private area. It did away with the need for idle chatter, and he preferred his privacy.

  His yacht crew knew about his games. In time they would even get to use her mouth for their pleasure, but they had no idea she was anything but another consenting participant, and knew better than to approach her without invitation, unless she was attempting to flee. Not that she’d managed to run since the first time. His other women had paved the path to her destruction perfectly.

  When they landed he entered the building, smartening his suit. Checking his reflection in the mirrored elevator, he brushed a hand through his hair, guiding the dark wayward strands back in place. While his P.A, who had been waiting for him, updated him on his visitor.

  The meeting shouldn’t take long, but he was curious what brought Miles Taylor this far out. Normally his event security was handled by his own TSS liaison. Events were the only time he used them, and his next public appearance wasn’t for a month yet.

  His lips twitched, wondering what this man would think if he knew he was keeping his best friend as his sex slave, that just a few hours ago he had wrapped her hair around his fist and made her drink his release as she cried and choked on his cock. A shiver of excitement passed through him at the thought.

  He hated Miles, had done since he’d taken a seat at Ivy’s lunch table on her first day. It was a feeling that continued to be nurtured as he saw the way she looked at him, how they grew ever closer as the years passed. To anyone watching them, as he had countless times, they looked like a couple in love, but Miles’ missed opportunities had been his gains, and ultimately her love for him had ensured her destruction.

  He had seen the reports drafted by those he paid to weed out the important information from her camera feeds. That was how he’d
known Miles had asked her to move in with him, and why he’d needed Mrs Taylor to deliver the photographs his own investigator had procured.

  Each of his carefully executed manipulations had been designed to get her where she belonged, on her knees by his feet.

  “Mister Taylor.” Ever the air of authority, Perry swept into the meeting room, extending his hand as he strode forward, closing the distance between them.

  It was with no small measure of satisfaction he noticed the once impeccable Miles looked more dishevelled than usual. His brown eyes were ringed by dark circles born from many sleepless nights. He wondered what could be keeping him awake. Was it just that he believed Ivy had left for England because of his mother’s lies, or were old memories from his time at war coming home to roost? It didn’t matter, just seeing him look so downtrodden caused his cavalier smile to broaden.

  Miles accepted his hand, accepting the formal gesture while Perry thought about how many times the very fingers that wrapped around his hand had thrust into the woman Miles so clearly loved. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mister Carter. I won’t waste your time with meaningless explanations. I need some information about this.” Perry watched as Miles produced an email from his creased blazer’s pocket, along with some printed photographs of him and Ivy dancing.

  He hid a flash of annoyance by stroking his lips with his fingers as if in thought, his vision scanning the details. It appeared the hotel had sent her these after they’d sent his own copy. It made sense they’d send it to both parties, but what was Miles doing with it?

  “It’s a beautiful picture, is it not, but why is my vacation is of any concern?” He lifted the printed photograph, admiring it for a moment before placing it back on the table with the rest of the creased and folded papers.