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

by Claire Thompson

  “Ah, god,” she finally moaned, helpless as the vibrator wrenched a throbbing climax from her unwilling body. She strained hard against the leather bindings as a long, powerful orgasm was wrested from her. She whimpered as he continued to move the rubber head, pulling another orgasm from her.

  The sensation was too much, moving just past pleasure into something more like pain. “Please! You have to stop. You have to…” Then a curious thing began to happen. The pain eased its way back into a pulsing stroke of pleasure. She could feel her clit, swollen and throbbing beneath the relentless vibration of the sex toy. She was panting, her body bathed in sweat, her heart beating a mad tattoo against her bones.

  “Please!” she gasped, no longer sure what she was asking for, as she came yet again.

  Finally, mercifully, the motor’s hum was flicked off, the only sound in the room her own ragged breathing. She lay limp in her bonds, her mind empty, drifting in a kind of semi-conscious haze.

  His voice tore through the sexual reverie. “You came, you naughty, naughty girl. Now you will be punished.” He was again at her side, staring down at her with those cold gray eyes.

  “But I couldn’t—”

  “Silence!” he said sharply. “No excuses. You break the rules, you pay the price. End of discussion.”

  It was so unfair! He’d forced her to come. He’d given her no choice. It wasn’t as if she could control her body, not when he used that thing on her. He’d done it on purpose, the bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  As if reading her thoughts, he said, “You will learn to control your orgasms, thirty-eight. You will obey your Master over your own body. He will control your behavior and reaction, not your own filthy little cunt. Do I make myself clear?”

  No, you asshole. Fuck you. “Yes, sir,” she managed through teeth clenched with rage. He wasn’t really asking her anything. He was telling her how things would be. Somehow she had to learn to deal on his terms or suffer the consequences. Shit, either way she’d suffer the consequences, as the whole game was rigged from the start.

  He offered a small, cold smile. “Good girl. Now you’ll have your punishment, as you deserve.” He turned toward the counter lined with nefarious-looking objects. Turning back to her, he held up two small rectangular pads with wires coming out the ends. “Are you familiar with electrical stimulation? It can be a most effective reminder to behave.”

  He stepped around the table until he was standing between her knees. Julianna tried to keep her panic at bay. “Please. Don’t hurt me. I’ll be good. I promise,” she begged.

  “Oh yes, you will. I’ll see to it,” he replied. She lifted her head, ignoring the cut of the collar at her throat as she struggled to see what he was doing. Using the hem of his lab coat, he wiped the remaining lubricant from her pussy lips. Pulling the protective paper from one side of the electrode pads, he pressed the sticky adhesive side to her outer labia. Returning to the counter, he held up a shiny black phallus for her to see. It also had wires trailing from its base, plugged into a small black box with switches and dials. He moved back between her legs. Julianna began to shake.

  “Please,” she begged. “Don’t do this. Don’t hurt me.”

  “I don’t recall speaking directly to you, so there’s no reason for you to be speaking. Must I gag you?”

  Julianna didn’t answer.

  “A direct question, number thirty-eight.”

  “No, sir,” she replied in a tiny voice.

  “Some women find this procedure quite, ah, pleasurable, though admittedly at lower voltage levels than I plan to use on you.” Julianna felt a slight tug at the electrode pads adhering to her labia and realized he must be plugging those wires in as well. Then she felt the large phallus being inserted into her pussy. She tensed against the invasion, shuddering as the hard, thick phallus stretched her open.

  “Electro-stimulation,” he continued in a detached voice, as if lecturing in a classroom, “is interesting as a torture device, as there are no signs that will give away what to expect. Usually when one inflicts pain with, say, a whip or a cane, it’s possible for the recipient to anticipate what is coming and somehow prepare. While with electroshock, you don’t know what’s coming, when.”

  A zing of painful current suddenly ripped its way through Julianna’s pussy. Her muscles clamped down against the phallus. She screamed and arched against the leather straps holding her down and open. Sweat beaded on her forehead and slicked beneath her body on the metal table. Stephen continued speaking as if nothing had happened. “This device stimulates your nerve endings using a carefully produced electrical signal. It can be pleasurable at lower settings. Or it can be quite painful.”

  Julianna screamed again as a powerful jolt moved through her pussy. “Stop! Please!” she gasped.

  “Take it. You earned it. You deserve it.” Again Julianna was shocked from the inside out, and again she screamed.

  The process continued, with him zapping her in no predictable pattern. After a while she no longer heard what he was saying over the beating of her heart and her own screams. Every muscle in her body was rigid with anticipation. Sweat covered her body as she trembled and jerked with each new shock.

  When he finally stopped, she lay exhausted and panting, only dimly aware as he removed the phallus and electrodes from her sex. Her legs fell limply to the table when he unbuckled them from the stirrups.

  Releasing the leather bands that held her in place and unchaining her wrists, Stephen dragged her from the table, catching her as she fell forward and pressing her to the floor. “Thank me.”

  Afraid of what he might do next if she disobeyed, Julianna forced herself to kneel at his feet. The memory of the electroshock still pulsed in her pussy but she realized with relief she had suffered no real harm. She bent forward and kissed his shoe. “Thank you, sir—” She took a deep, ragged breath, forcing herself to continue. “—for using this worthless slave.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stepped back. She stayed where she was, eyes down.

  “Okay, Vince,” Stephen added. “You can have her for about fifteen minutes. Then take her to Anders.”

  Chapter 5

  Julianna’s head jerked up. When had that asshole come into the room? Vince stood just inside the door, the erection in his shorts clearly visible.

  At Stephen’s words, Vince moved toward her, expertly grabbing and cuffing her wrists behind her back before she had a chance to react. He pulled her to her feet, jerking her by the O-ring on her collar. Grabbing her arm in a tight grip, he hauled her from the room.

  “Have fun,” Stephen called out, his dry laugh echoing in Julianna’s ears as Vince pulled her down the hall.

  Vince forced her into a room that held a bed with a small table beside it that held a large box of condoms. He released her cuffs, but only to throw her down onto the mattress. He wasted no time pulling off his shorts, his long, thin cock fully erect above heavy, hairy balls. He tore at a packet and slid a condom over his shaft while Julianna cowered on the bed.

  “My turn, bitch,” he snarled, falling on top of her as she struggled to get away from him.

  He reared up over her, gripping her wrists painfully and wrenching them over her head as he pressed his sheathed cock inside her. She screamed and he released one wrist long enough to slap her face. “Shut up and take what’s coming to you, cunt. This’ll teach you to kick the family jewels.”

  He rutted inside her, hurting tender tissue already bruised from the speculum and the electroshock, despite the lubricant left over from the phallus. Fortunately, he only lasted maybe three minutes before shuddering and jerking into a climax as he grunted like a pig. He slid off her and lay beside her for a minute, apparently catching his breath. She curled away from him, closing her eyes as she rocked herself.

  She heard Vince moving and felt him rise from the bed. “Get on the floor and thank me, bitch.”

  Julianna rolled to the floor and knelt, touching his sandal-clad foot with her lips. �
��Thank you, sir,” she managed to push through clenched teeth.

  He shoved his foot upward against her mouth. “Go on. You didn’t say it all.”

  “…for using this worthless slave, sir,” she added, hating him with a fierce, raw passion.

  “You’re welcome, cunt. There’s a lot more where that came from.” He stepped back and pulled up his shorts, dropping the used condom in a plastic trashcan beside the door.

  “You can wait here for Anders. I’d stay longer, but I’ve got things to do, places to go.”

  Crimes to commit, women to rape, she wanted to add, but held her tongue. He shut the door behind him and she heard the turning of the lock. Wearily she climbed back onto the bed, wondering who the hell Anders was, and if he could possibly be any more loathsome than either Stephen or Vince.

  ~*~

  “Open your eyes, Julianna.”

  At the use of her name, Julianna’s eyes sprang open. Standing over her was a tall man in his late twenties with broad shoulders and thick, straight blond hair falling into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. His nose was narrow and curved down like an eagle’s beak. He smiled at her, showing square white teeth against the red of his sensuous lips.

  She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep, though it couldn’t have been for very long. “My name is Anders. I am one of your trainers.” Julianna turned her head away, suppressing a groan. “Can you stand?” His tone was so solicitous. She turned back to face him and found herself nodding.

  He waited as she hauled herself upright. Her pussy felt raw and sore and she wanted to cry, but she forced back the tears, pressing her lips together. Anders put his arm around her and she didn’t dare shrug him off, though she wanted to.

  “You are tired,” he said gently. “Come with me.” Anders led her to a room two doors down from the torture exam room. This room also contained a bed, but it was much more sumptuous, piled with plump white pillows over a dark blue satin quilt. One wall was covered entirely with mirrors. Anders directed Julianna to sit on the bed. She saw herself reflected in the mirrored wall, looking pale and fragile, dark smudges beneath her eyes, her mouth drawn down in a frown. She turned away.

  Anders moved toward a corner of the room where there was a sink and turned on the water. She stared at his broad back, wondering what would happen next. He seemed so different from everyone else on this wretched island, but was he? Or was this just the velvet exterior covering an iron fist. She shuddered and hugged herself, waiting.

  He returned with a basin and a washcloth. Setting the basin on the floor beside the bed, he dipped the cloth in, ringing it out. “Lie down in the center of the bed,” he said. Too exhausted to ponder what new trap was being laid for her, she fell back against the pillows, the soft satin cushioning her body. Anders brought the washcloth to her face and Julianna smelled lavender and lemon. The cloth was warm and soft against her skin as he gently washed her face and neck. He dipped the cloth again and began to wash her body. The water was warm and felt wonderful on her skin. He washed her as if she were an invalid or a small child, moving slowly over her limbs and torso, wiping away the sweat and the filthy touch of both Stephen and Vince.

  He was so tender, so gentle, and she was so tired—physically and emotionally exhausted from the physical privations and tortures, as well as her constant fear. Tears began to well in her eyes and spill over. He noticed and touched her cheek, tracking a tear as it fell. “Crying can be a good thing,” he said. “It purifies the soul.” He wasn’t American, though his English was perfect—almost too perfect, the vowels round and clear, the consonants enunciated.

  When he spread her legs, panic pushed its way through her, the electroshock and Vince’s rape both still sharp and raw in her body and mind. But even there his touch was gentle and careful, running the warm, soapy cloth gently over her labia and down between her cheeks. Through it all, Julianna was passive as a baby, the trauma of her ordeal overcoming her as she lay limp in the soft, comfortable bed, being ministered to with such seeming tenderness.

  He patted her dry and applied a soothing lotion to her skin, rubbing it in slow easy circles over her body. He combed her hair back with his fingers and tucked it behind her ears. “Your hair is an extraordinary color of coppery red, nearly golden where the light hits it. And your eyes, clear green glass, with gold flecks like the sun.”

  Despite herself, Julianna liked these compliments, though she was deeply wary as to their real intent. Was he setting her up for some kind of fall? She found herself both grateful and thoroughly confused by how he was treating her—was it just a trick to lull her into complacency before the next terrifying torture took place?

  He rose from the bed, looking down at her with eyes that seemed almost kind. “Do you feel better now?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. She realized she hadn’t said the requisite sir at the end of her sentence and she tensed, waiting to be reprimanded, but no rebuke came. Instead Anders lay on the bed beside her, gliding his hand under her shoulder and pulling her toward him.

  She lay flat on her back, rigid beside him. “Relax.” His voice was soothing. “You are tired. Rest.” He was lying on his side, one arm still beneath her shoulders. With the other he began to trace the curve of her breast, moving his fingers in slow circles around her nipple. She shuddered and drew in her breath, but didn’t dare push him away.

  “Your breasts are perfection,” he murmured. “The nipples are the color of rose petals against the cream of your skin.” She almost smiled at his flowery language. Who the hell was this guy? He leaned over, placing his mouth on her nipple, sucking lightly at it and circling it with his tongue. His touch, unlike Stephen’s, was gentle, even sensual.

  When he lifted his head, the nipple had hardened, its color deepening as it engorged with blood. Julianna found herself both ashamed and aroused by his touch. It was like sleeping with the enemy. It was one thing to submit, quite another to enjoy. Yet when he dipped his head again, this time licking and teasing the other nipple with equal skill and tenderness, it too responded to his touch.

  He smiled. “You please me. I sense a deep sensuality in you. We will explore that together, you and I.” He ran his hand over her skin, moving down her torso and stroking her stomach. Finally his hand rested over her pubic mound. She stiffened again, pressing her thighs tight and turning her head away.

  “You are frightened,” he said softly. “I understand.” He continued to cup her sex with his hand. “Look at me.” Slowly she turned her head, forcing herself to open her eyes. “I want you to relax your muscles. Let your legs fall open. I know you are shy and this situation is difficult for you, but you must obey me.”

  Shy? Did this man suffer from the delusion she was here of her own volition? That they were on some kind of weird blind date where you got naked first and talked after? Difficult? Try fucking terrifying!

  “Ah, you are angry, I can see it in your face.” He shook his head, smiling. “Anger has no place in your life anymore. Let go of that anger. It will be so much easier for you.” He moved his hand to her thigh, pressing his fingers between her closed legs. His hand was strong and she was afraid to resist much more. She let her thighs part.

  He stroked her outer labia with a light touch, his fingers dancing over the area recently subjected to Stephen’s cruel treatment. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “Uncurl your fists,” he said. She hadn’t realized they were clenched. “Stop fighting me.”

  I’ll never stop fighting, she vowed silently, but she forced her hands to relax. He continued to stroke and tease her sex, his hand moving slowly inward and down. He touched her entrance gently, not with the brutish invasion Stephen had employed. Carefully he eased a finger inside her. Julianna tensed and tried to close her legs but Anders stopped her, a sternness entering his voice for the first time. “No. You will not resist me. I will not permit it.”

  He began to probe again, as careful and gentle as before. Despite her fear and distress, her body began to
react to his touch, the muscles loosening, the dry tissue moistening at the stimulation. He withdrew the finger and slid it up over her labia, moving in a light swirl. He came near but didn’t touch her hooded clit, instead running a teasing circle around it until, despite herself, she began to want that touch. The finger moved down, entering her again. This time it slid in easily and she felt him pressing a second one in beside the first.

  He did something then with his fingers, touching something inside that made her jerk and gasp, “Oh!” The sensation was at once strange and deeply arousing. She couldn’t deny it, despite the situation in which she found herself.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “That’s it. Let yourself go. Give yourself fully to the sensations.” He continued to move his fingers inside her, and each time he touched that strange sweet spot she jerked and gasped. When he finally withdrew his fingers, they were slick with her juices as he slid them, held together in a boy scout’s salute, over her inner labia. When they made contact with her clit, a soft moan slipped from Julianna’s lips. Her nipples were erect and she felt a flush creeping over her neck and cheeks.

  She was angry with her body for betraying her by responding to his touch, but at the same time it felt so good. Unlike the fast, hard orgasms the vibrator had pulled from her, this was slow and gentle, like the warm lazy currents of a river on a summer’s day, lulling and soothing her into pleasure. Why should she deny herself? Maybe she should seize this tiny respite, offered in the face of the continuing terror that awaited her.

  He continued to move his fingers over and around her clit, his touch light as butterfly wings. Slowly he increased the pressure against her now throbbing clit. It was just right, the perfect blend of friction and swirl. “Oh god,” she groaned, the words bypassing her brain. She began to pant, the buttery hot sensation of an impending orgasm moving in radiating waves from her pussy throughout her body.