Dark Obsessions - Volume I: Four Intense Capture Fantasies in One Sizzling Collection

by Claire Thompson

  The Spaniard used the scrub brush, soaping her skin from head to toe, turning her this way and that as he cleaned her. “Spread your legs,” he said at one point, pushing the brush between her thighs and rubbing it over her pussy and between her ass cheeks while she squeezed her eyes closed. He even washed her hair, using his hands instead of the brush, while Fox stood by, ready to rinse.

  The Spaniard finally let her down, pulling the wet cuffs from her wrists, while Fox re-coiled the hose and returned it to its place. “Arms out.” The Spaniard began to towel her dry. Apparently she didn’t move quickly enough. Before she could obey, Fox moved behind her and forcibly held her arms out on either side of her body.

  When they were done manhandling her, she was led to a low metal table that was tilted upward on one end, the two front legs higher than the rear. Fox pointed and said, “Lie down, knees bent, legs spread, feet flat on either side of your body.”

  It was the first time he had spoken in her presence. His accent was American. For a terrified moment she thought he was going to rape her in that peculiar but very exposed position. Instead she was surprised by a warm washcloth being draped over her spread sex. She soon realized when the Spaniard returned holding a razor and a can of shaving cream what their intentions were.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as one of the men pushed her thighs farther apart and held them open while the other squirted shaving cream over her sex and began to draw the razor over the skin. He was surprisingly gentle, for which she was silently grateful. When he was done, they shaved her legs and underarms, working quickly and efficiently. She found herself wondering how many women they had done this to before.

  While the Spaniard put things away, Fox produced a large comb, running it through Julianna’s hair, his eyes flitting over her face. The lack of emotion the two men displayed was even more disconcerting in a way than Stephen’s anger or Vince’s slobbering leers. How long had they been doing this, to have become so inured to what they were taking part in?

  Still naked, she was led back down the corridor to an empty cell. Fox unlocked the narrow, barred door and pulled it open. The Spaniard pushed Julianna in ahead of him. “Time to eat,” he said, nodding toward Fox. At the mention of eating, Julianna’s stomach instantly leaped awake. Fox left the cell, hopefully to get her meal. The Spaniard sat on the bed and pointed at the ground.

  “Kneel at attention.”

  Julianna obeyed, the thought of food spurring her on as much as his thickly-muscled arms and torso. She laced her fingers behind her head and waited in the silence. She could still hear the woman’s cries somewhere in the distance, and her heart ached with helpless sympathy.

  She stole a glance at the Spaniard, who was staring at her without expression. She was hungry and exhausted, and her arms ached in their position behind her head, but she didn’t dare lower them. Not with the possible promise of food in the offing.

  A few minutes later Fox returned and he was indeed carrying a tray that contained two bowls. He set it down on the floor in front of Julianna. One bowl contained water. The other held rice, beans and sausage, the same food that had been offered and then denied by Stephen. Julianna swore to herself she would get the food this time, no matter what she had to do to earn it.

  “Slaves are fed, or they eat by themselves. Which do you want?” the Spaniard asked.

  What a stupid question, Julianna thought, but aloud she said, “By myself, please, sir.”

  The Spaniard nodded, something like a smile moving briefly over his face. He looked at Fox, who Julianna saw was also smiling, and she gulped, certain she’d just stumbled into a carefully laid trap. The Spaniard stood and pulled something from one of the large pockets on the leg of his pants. She saw it was another set of the Velcro cuffs. “Hands behind your back,” he said.

  “But, you said—”

  “Hands behind your back,” he repeated.

  Confused, Julianna obeyed. How could she eat without the use of her hands? She realized there were no utensils beside the bowl of food.

  The Spaniard clipped her wrists together and then gathered her wet hair in one hand. Using the hair itself, he tied it into a loose knot at the back of her neck. He placed his hand on her upper back and pushed her down toward the food. “Eat.”

  Julianna struggled to keep her balance as he pushed her. “What? I don’t understand.”

  But she did understand. These fuckers were expecting her to eat like an animal, using her mouth and rooting in the bowl while they watched. The thought at once enraged and humiliated her, but she was too hungry to care at this point, and knew any protest would be useless.

  These two guys were servants, nothing more. They were performing their duties with disinterest, even indifference. They didn’t care if she ate or not. They probably didn’t care if she lived or died. They were the animals, not her.

  She leaned forward, blinking away tears of frustration and anger as she lowered her face to the food. She touched it with her tongue and found it was only warm, not too hot. She licked at it, managing to scoop some of the rice and beans into her mouth, but only a little.

  The taste of the food awakened her thirst. She leaned forward again, at first trying to lick at the water in the bowl, which wasn’t too successful. She quickly figured out it worked much better to suck up the water with pursed lips, and she was able to drink her fill.

  She saw in her peripheral vision that both men were now seated on the bed, thighs touching. Fox’s hand, she noticed, was resting lightly on the Spaniard’s knee. She was too distracted by the tantalizing food in front of her to pay much attention to them, however.

  Turning back to the food, she lowered her face farther into the bowl and, using her lips and teeth, this time got a good mouthful of the delicious food. She couldn’t help the moan of sheer pleasure as she chewed.

  It was hard to eat this way, holding her body over the bowl, her arms cuffed behind her back. The bowl kept shifting, clinking into the water bowl or sliding to the edge of the tray as she struggled to get a mouthful. She tried to block out the men watching her as if she was a dog on display.

  After a while she worked herself into a kind of rhythm, using her tongue to scoop up what she could and then closing her lips over the food before it fell back into the bowl. She ate as fast as she could, not sure how much of the food she would be permitted. She knew she would probably suffer another stomachache after this, but it would be worth it to have something substantial in her belly.

  To her relief and surprise, they actually let her finish all the food. She again tackled the water bowl, slurping up mouthfuls. Finally she sat back. Fox pulled a bandana from his back pocket and wiped a bit of rice from her cheek. She felt as helpless as an infant.

  “Use the toilet before we go,” the Spaniard said.

  “Please, sir, how am I supposed to do it?” Julianna twisted her back toward them to remind them she was cuffed. She did in fact have to pee, but surely they didn’t mean for her to do it with her hands behind her back, and with them watching. No way in hell was she going to poop in front of them. She could already feel her intestines shutting down in protest.

  “You need to go, you figure it out.” He shrugged, adding, “Hurry up. The trainer is waiting.” At those words, Julianna’s stomach contracted with fear. The Spaniard stood and moved toward her, gripping her beneath one arm and pulling her to her feet. Directing her toward the metal commode, he forced her down onto it.

  “I can’t—” she began.

  The Spaniard cut her off by placing two fingers her lips. “Do it. You’ll be sorry later if you miss your chance.” She knew he was right and realized she should be grateful to him, in a weird way, for his insistence.

  She tried to get her body to relax enough to release the urine from her bladder with the two men in the cell. They were both watching her, their expressions indifferent. Closing her eyes, Julianna imagined water running from a faucet and willed herself to let go.

  Thankfully she managed to do
it, the urine splashing into the water, the sound echoing in the small cell and amplifying her humiliation. She saw the roll of toilet paper on the floor beside the toilet. “Please, can you release my hands so I can wipe myself, sir?”

  Fox reached for the toilet paper and tore off a few squares. Julianna’s humiliation was complete when he reached between her legs and wiped her. They pulled her from the seat and took her out of the cell into the corridor. They went past the shower and in the direction of the screaming, though now all was silent.

  Suddenly she realized why. It was her turn.

  They opened the last door on the left, and Julianna found herself in what looked like some kind of lab, with an examination table like the kind a gynecologist would have, and lots of strange metal and leather tools on a counter that spanned the full length of one of the walls.

  Stephen stepped out from behind a tall screen in the corner of the room, wiping his hands on a towel. “Ah, there you are. Right on time.” He nodded at the men. “Strap her on the table and you may go.”

  “No, no, no!” Julianna struggled against the strong men holding her, but she was no match for them. They easily hoisted her onto the metal exam table. Releasing her cuffs, they forced her to lie down, and then set about securing thick leather straps over her midriff and across her hips. They reattached her wrist cuffs to hooks set into the sides of the table and then pushed her legs up, forcing them wide open as they buckled her feet into the stirrups at the end of the table and secured her thighs to the legs of the stirrups with additional leather bands.

  “No, you can’t do this!” she protested vainly, as she struggled and fought. The men ignored her, handling her as if she were an inanimate object as they focused on their task of restraining her. In less than a minute she was bound and spread, completely exposed to the trainer, not to mention the Spaniard and Fox. Once done, they left the room, closing the door behind them.

  Stephen approached the side of the table, his eyes flashing beneath furrowed brows. “Of course we can do this. We can do whatever we want. The sooner you figure that out, the better off you’ll be.” He smacked her cheek with his open palm several times, very hard. Tears sprang to her eyes as she gasped with pain. “You are a stupid girl. We shall have to work extra hard to penetrate,” he slapped her again, “that thick,” and again, “skull of yours.”

  Gripping her by the throat just below her jaw, he effectively cut off her ability to breathe. She could feel the pressure building in her face and a deep panic roiling in her gut. She opened her mouth, trying to gasp for air, to beg him to let her go, but no sound could pass the viselike grip on her trachea.

  Her lungs burned and her eyes began to flutter shut. “Open your eyes! Look at me. Don’t stop looking at me.” Julianna opened her eyes, wondering through the pounding in her head if this was it—the way she would die. She kept her eyes on his, noticing the darker gray circle around the almost silver gray irises. He was leaning so close she could see each individual dark eyelash. They were beautiful eyes, she found herself thinking, in a cruel, hard face.

  “I control your breath. Your life is literally in my hands. Do you understand?”

  She couldn’t reply, save for a slight nod. He stared down at her, the anger easing from his face until he almost smiled. Finally he let her go and she drew in a deep, grateful breath of air, her lungs expanding in relief.

  In his deep, sonorous voice, Stephen asked, “Who are you?”

  She stared at him, her mind blank, her heart beating over-fast against her ribs. He reached for her throat again and her mind clicked on. “Number thirty-eight, sir,” she lied.

  He stood upright, dropping his hand. “That’s right. And what are you?”

  “A…a worthless slave…sir.”

  “Say it again, with more conviction.” He touched her throat with two fingers.

  “A worthless slave, sir!”

  “That’s correct.” Stepping away from her, he moved from her line of sight. When he returned, he had donned a white lab coat over his clothing. He took a pair of latex gloves from the pocket and put them on, flexing his fingers in front of her, a cruel smile on his face. With the coat, the gloves and the wild look in his eye, he gave the impression of a mad scientist. It would have been almost funny if it weren’t so terrifying. She was alone in the torture chamber of a madman, strapped down to a table, completely at his mercy. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood.

  Turning toward the counter, he selected something and turned back to her. He moved to stand between her legs. “It’s time for your examination.” He held up a stainless steel speculum, its large blunt blades in the shape of a duck’s bill. Julianna gasped, crying out in fear as she struggled in vain against her restraints.

  With an evil smile, he took a tube of lubricant from the counter and smeared the rounded edges of the speculum blades with it. He crouched down between her legs. She startled and squealed as the cold, gooey tips of the blades were inserted into her. Despite his admonitions to relax, her body was rigid with fear, her muscles clamping down painfully on the speculum blades as they were pushed slowly into her.

  When they were fully inside her, he said, “Now, I’m going to widen the speculum. I suggest you remain as still as you can. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, at least not by accident.” He chuckled. She felt the blades widening inside her as he turned the wheel to spread them. Never especially comfortable with this kind of examination at the doctor’s office, the circumstances in this psychopath’s torture chamber magnified the discomfort a thousand-fold.

  Stephen pulled a penlight from his lab coat pocket and shone the beam on her spread pussy. “Healthy pink tissue,” he remarked clinically. “Strong vaginal muscles, perfect for pleasing a man. You shall fetch a pretty penny with that tight little cunt of yours.” Julianna closed her eyes, tears of humiliation and rage trickling into her hair. Finally he pulled the offending object from her. She was dying to slam her legs shut, but she couldn’t move an inch.

  Stephen dropped the speculum into a sink set at the end of the counter and returned to her, his hands still gloved. “Time for your anal inspection.” Julianna gasped as he pushed a finger into her ass and then a second one, twisting them painfully inside her.

  As she cried out, he murmured, “Excellent. An anal virgin. Jason will like that.” He snickered as he continued to probe and stretch her while a stream of curses hurtled through her mind. Finally he let her alone, withdrawing the offending fingers and moving back toward the sink, where he stripped off the gloves.

  He returned to stand beside her, his eyes moving over her naked body, violating her with his insolent, predatory gaze. If she could have broken through her bonds, she would have leaped from the table and strangled the bastard with her bare hands.

  He ran his hands lightly over her breasts, cupping them, thumbs and forefingers closing over the nipples. He rolled them until they stiffened. Leaning over her, he bared his teeth and caught her right nipple in between them. She gasped with fear, though he wasn’t really hurting her—yet. He did the same with the left nipple and then replaced teeth with tongue, licking in circles around the engorged nipples, which, once wet, hardened further in the cool air of the room.

  He stood again by the side of the table, running his hands down her sides, over her stomach and along her legs. He prodded and pinched her muscles, handling her as if she was a horse or show dog.

  Stepping to the counter, he returned with a long black wand with a fat, spongy-looking ball at its end. As he flicked the switch at its base, it began to hum, the ball vibrating. He smiled at her. “You know what this is, eh? Of course you do.” She was pretty sure she did know, but she didn’t reply.

  He flicked off the vibrator and moved to stand between her legs. Kneeling, he brought his face close to her spread, bared sex. Bound flat as she was, he was now out of her range of vision. She felt him tug at her labia, pulling and stretching her. She squeaked in fear as a finger pressed its way inside her. She tensed as he pro
bed her.

  He continued to move his finger, adding a second and then withdrawing them to glide over her labia and the hood of her clit. She realized she wasn’t breathing and her bound hands were clenched tight, her fingernails digging into her palms. He stood and she could hear the motor’s hum again as he turned on the vibrator. She jerked in her restraints as the pulsing head made contact with her pussy.

  At first it just kind of tickled. She squirmed and tried to twist away from the vibration, but she was held fast in her restraints. He moved it over her labia, pressing lightly against her clit. She could feel her body responding, despite being tied down and despite her fear. The tickle moved into something more urgent. She began to breathe harder, unable to help herself as the machine stimulated her clit, which was throbbing against it.

  “You think you’re going to come, thirty-eight?” He moved the vibrator in a slow, steady circle over her sex.

  “I—I, yes,” she gasped, a part of her horrified with herself, though she couldn’t control her body’s reaction to the relentless stimulation.

  “No.” He pulled the rubber ball away and Julianna felt her muscles ease, though her clit still throbbed. “You won’t come, until I tell you to. If you do, you’ll be punished.” He replaced the spongy head against her sex, now moving it in tight circles directly over her clit. The pressure began to mount again, even more quickly than before.

  Julianna felt her body shaking. She was furious with herself for responding to this horrible man’s touch, but she couldn’t help it. The vibrator was too stimulating and she had no way to resist it. He had to let her come. She tried to lift her head, straining against the collar around her throat and nearly choking herself in the process. “Please! Please, I have to… Can I, uh, may I come, sir?” She was panting, her body rigid, the orgasm nearly upon her.

  “No.” He didn’t let up. “Don’t come or you’ll be punished.”

  She tried to steel herself against the vibrator, willing her body not to come. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched every muscle in her vain effort to resist. If only he’d take the damn thing off her! How the hell was she supposed to obey him when he made it impossible for her to do so?