“Are you K?” She asked.
He was like a mountain above her and she remembered vaguely his heavy breathing as he carried her, his walk back through the cold. Shamefully she had not been able to put up more of a fight (having passed out and all). She looked up warily at the man above her. His black t-shirt stretched over his muscled pecs and biceps. She vaguely thought she remembered black boots, black jeans and general scariness as he’d set her before the fire and she’d drifted again into unconsciousness.
Much to her dismay he did not look like a toad. What might have been good looks were lost in a deep frown of disapproval, a mini tree having formed between his brows. In some part of her thawing brain she decided that maybe if she just kept talking she could swallow her rising fear, keeping whatever happened next at bay (yeah, good luck with that Francine).
"No one calls themselves a letter. What's your name? You know mine- Keith?" K let a moment pass, while he looked down at her, staying in control. For the moment she was wrapped in the blanket, helpless. He had deliberately chosen not to make his restraints any more intrusive. He didn't want to freak her out - at least until he had to. Thinking of what she’d done, all kinds of strict creative discipline scenarios came to mind about running from her Dom, but he could be patient. Ultimately, there was nowhere for her to go and considering what she’d been through she had every reason to be a frightful, skittish student, he could take his time.
He would let her rest and then they could take it from there as he taught her her boundaries. With the wide streak of rebellion surfacing already and obviously so ingrained in her nature he was sure she’d fall right into the next trap he had planned. He looked at her with his hard dark eyes, realizing suddenly that she was in fact lucky he was not a cruel man considering her circumstances - very lucky.
Of course while he was not cruel he would only be pushed so far. He could imagine far greater uses for her mouth then sassing him. Gently he set her down briefly leaving the room and ducking briefly down the hall to the second bedroom. Slowly she began to unravel herself fromt the blanket, only to find her ankle tethered to the damn table! Frantically she tried to use her fingers to try to pry his knot lose, but he must have been a sailor in a former life. The knot was by no means cutting off her circulation. She had not even realized it was there until he got up, but it was she was definitely not going anywhere. She was stuck - goddammit! So much for making another break for it, even if it was an unsuccessful break. She felt tears prick her eyes just as he returned all too soon.
He squatted down next to her but still kept his head above hers, looming over her, “Francine, you can’t go home right now.” he tried to gently explain, in a formal authoritative voice. More than anything that voice scared her. it was a voice that seemed so sure of success, it was accompanied by a level gaze with dark mahogany eyes. It was the kind of voice that communicated that there was a race that he had already won and that he was simply waiting for her to catch up. He seemed so sure that she would see things his way, that he already had the answers, saw the whole picture, he only had to find the right way to communicate the situation to her. Never had she seen someone exude such a strong steely will, or be so sure of themselves.
In another situation, she realized it would be comforting. But the situation she was in, it put her at ease and terrified her at the same time. “That “cop” that pulled you over,” he continued in that same patient tone, “he was dirty, but he was a real cop. If he sees your name come up again in the system too soon he’ll know something is up and he’ll come after both of us.”
“No, you're lying!” She responded still shivering but forcing the words out as steady as she could. She heard herself shouting and tried to collect herself, to match his calm demeanor, but it was hard considering her grim circumstance. “I know what you did, you paid for me! Like a common whore!” Her voice cracked on the last, tears threatening again as she realized what her role was here, and what would do anything to avoid.” The truth of her accusation hit home and was reflected in his dark eyes, she knows she struck a chord with him and worse yet she realized he’s thought about it. Sex with her.
There must be some mistake, either that or he’s a real pervert. No ne like him had ever wanted someone like her - not ever. She would have understood immediately if he was old and squat and disgusting, but he was none of those things, so something else must be going on here, something she just couldn’t figure out. She didn’t want to think yet why he hadn’t taken her yet and worse yet what would happen after he was finally through with her. Her accusation still hung in the air between them and suddenly she realized - he didn't look proud of what he’d done. He looked resigned, crestfallen, not gleeful with victory at all - and for the first time, it amazed her, made her feel the teeniest bit bad... she quickly suppressed the feeling and continued to plow away.
“You just want a - a submissive in your bed, that’s what they said you’d want a “submissive”. That’s why I’m here.”
“Is it Francine? Is that why you’re here? Have you ever had submissive sex?” She clammed up. “Have you ever been curious about submissive sex?” He saw a flash come across her eyes, they wanted to reveal something, a part of her soul, and then crack! She’d slapped him across the face. She had a mean right arm too his Francine, well played. He couldn’t remember when he'd felt such a sting across the jaw.
Okay, the discussion was over. He looked at her, his eyes glazed over for a moment before he regained control. She was fiery and defiant, beautiful in her anger. She was allowed to loose it, but he wouldn't. The thought calmed him as he watched her, touched by her struggle. The fact is he does enjoy a submissive woman in his bed, and if circumstances were different he’d be doing everything in his power to launch an all out seduction. What she’s said was the truth, but not the truth. It’s was lie, but with the truth, shit, did he even know what the truth was anymore? He does like his women submissive, but not broken. Even before his dreaded experience with The Organization he knew the difference. Thinking of The Organization and all that was at stake he collected himself mentally - silently gathering the ruptured pieces in his mind. He must, and would stay the course- for both of them. From behind his back he pulled out his “trump card”; he retrieved earlier from the bedroom, palming it.
Francine’s eyes widened when she saw the thin strip of leather with the blinking light in his hand. What was he about now? Oh no, she felt hot panic take hold of her again, her underarms prickling with the stress, he wasn’t coming near her with that! Futilely she tried to squirm away, as he grabbed her gently, but firmly, he was strong, so strong as held her close and fastened a hateful little collar about her neck.
“What’s that!” She asked the note of panic crept into her voice at the sound of a click. To her hears that click was as loud as a gunshot.
“It’s a collar Francine.” Oh no! no! Her mind is in a swarm, she realized she was losing her sense of balance, she’d gone back - back there, the iron collar, their evil control, everything she had been dreading. Please- she’s was clouded in the past, tethered, terrified and her heart rate sped up. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath; dimly she heard a beeping and realized that he had taken her in his arms. It helped to bring her back. When she was there in the dark there were no arms, no one to hold her, to whisper to her. She felt the tears on her cheeks and dimly she realized she was being pulled from the darkness. He pulled the blanket back around her. She hadn’t realized that it was a heated blanket, he’d untethered her from the table, and was once again wrapped in his arms. He’d even rubbed medicated Vaseline into her chapped lips crooning to her “It's OK, little one, I've got you.” That voice, it was so deep, soothing, not oily and evil like the others. She realized that in spite of all of the reasons she had to descend further into her own mental chaos it’s calming her, “You're mine now,” he said “That’s all that matters and I'd never damage what's mine, I promise Francine. I promise, shhh. It's to help me keep you safe.”
<
br /> The slavers had warned her she might be collared. That was one of the things he had cruelly whispered about (the horrible greasy man in the suit). Cruel collars used to choke or to shock or simply to mark as a slave... But what did the light mean? She looked up at him, her eyes clearer now, focused, but wary. “Why the light? What does it do?” He held up - a device, with a blue dot on it in a velvet sea of black.
“It’s a tracking device Francine, that’s it. I promise you. I’m not going to keep you tied up all the time. You're not an animal and I can’t take the chance of not being able to find you in the dark in these woods, so... there you are. I was going to put it on you after we had a talk, but I had no idea you’d have the strength to run the first day. You’re in pretty decent shape.” Francine thought about the couple of times a week she spent walking or doing some kind of casual work out at the campus gym when she wasn't chatting with her friends between machines. The exercise while casual must have netted her some kind of payout - go figure. “We will discuss this more tomorrow, after you’ve eaten and rested.”
The collar she thought. That’s why the easily unlocked door and no basement. He wasn't as stupid as she’d thought. Humph - she was figuring out a lot of things wasn't she? Slowly she trembled, her situation seemed to overwhelm her again and she heard herself begging, the tears really welling up now, “K, please take it off, please...”
“No Francine, I’m sorry,” and he realized that he truly was.
“But I can’t take the chance. I’m going forgive your running off today because it’s the first time, but I really can’t condone you running from me, it’s dangerous and I won't tolerate it.” With that he released her leaving her on the floor.
Then he said without looking back as she felt her hand rise to her neck, "Don't bother trying to take the collar off, only I can do that. When you're ready come to breakfast, I’ll be in the kitchen, it’s getting cold”.
The Very Next Day
The next day came, and not surprisingly Francine ate very little, and spoke very little to K. She did spend quite a bit of time fingering the collar and it’s little lock as she tried to figure out it’s secrets, but to no avail. Mercifully during the night he had laid down next to her, but left her alone. When she awoke the next morning breakfast was cooking again and she quietly came in and sat down meekly across from him. The mood was somber.
After a quiet meal both of them saying very little he calmly addressed the situation. ”OK, so here’s the deal Francine. What you did yesterday, running, it was unbelievably foolish and dangerous and cannot happen again.” France remembered the day before trembling in the electric blanket he had wrapped her in before the fireplace, struggling to get warm. The temperature outside and gone from crisp to downright unbelievably cruel and unforgiving. She had never been exposed to the elements in such a way before and her limbs and turned numb and heavy from the cold in an incredibly short span of time. Her lips had completely absorbed the medicated ointment that K had applied to them almost immediately. She’d never been so cold in her life.
“It’s typically below freezing up here, even in the middle of the day and leaving without proper clothing and a plan is suicide.”
She looked away. knowing that at least that was the truth. But what about the rest of it? If she were to believe his story this man was the only thing so far that stood between her and possible re-capture. “What about the rest of it?” He looked at her a question in his eyes. “The cop? The one that pulled me over?” She felt herself clinch up thinking of how she had gone from feeling safe to realizing that she was in real trouble. It had all happened so fast.
“Yeah, like I told you yesterday, he’s still out there Francine. Still keeping a lookout for the interests of the people that took you. Until we can figure something out, you have to stay off the radar.” Off the radar? That meant here - with him? This was a fate almost too unbelievable to accept and Francine was not sure she could. She looked at him from across the table realizing again that he really could have hurt her by now - that didn’t mean he wouldn't, but again, he had not had he?
He reminded her a bit of a few of the men she’d gone to school with who had served in the military and were using their GI bill to complete classes. There was something so calm, so collected about him with his mahogany eyes and big firm hands. For some reason her instincts told her she could trust K, but then she’d thought she could trust that cop too. No, she’d not had any time with that cop, only minutes, but she’d already spent more time around this man.
Immediately her shift of focus angered her and again she worried that she was weakening. Shouldn’t she be spending every single moment working out an escape plan? If only he were a little bit more like her captors told her he would be. They had described somebody who would be so much more - heartless. She smoothed her hair with a nervous palm.
K watched her, grinding over the things he had said in her mind. Her eyes were clever, her mind quick. He wondered what she liked to use in her hair. It was clean, but her nervous motions were making it into a halo around her head, not usually the look women liked. Everything about her was clean, fresh. He wanted to stroke her smooth skin, sooth away her hurt, take her in his arms, but he remembered that slap. His angel had a good swing on her, that was for sure.
He was looking at her, everything about him continued patience while she worked over what he had said in her mind. If K was telling the truth, she realized they just might have to have almost a symbiotic relationship. That cop could come after both of us.
But why would he care about that? Why would someone like him choose her? Enough to keep her up here at what had to be great costs to himself. She had no idea what “slaves” went for now a days, but she was pretty sure they weren’t cheap. Why would someone like him want this kind of relationship at all? It just didn't make sense.
She looked at him again. She had noticed it a bit yesterday, but seeing him again for the first time today and still having not been “molested” she could admit he was downright gorgeous, with the look and build of a Spartan soldier. The way he had held himself in check so far also showed he had the discipline of one. She could tell that he was curious about her, attracted to her, but he had not made a move on her so far. The dark clothes he wore complimented him, and somehow managed to look out of place on him at the same time.
Just like her being here, but really, what did she know? They’d only just met and she wasn’t feeling like she could lean on her instincts, especially when it came to him.
She crossed her legs and looked warily down at her almost empty plate of eggs and toast. He’d even cooked, for God’s sake. Unwittingly, she felt herself yielding to his reasoning, this got her dander up all over again. What was wrong with her? Stay focused Francine! Her inner voice shouted. Escape! That is where her mind should be, not why this unconscionable man might have an interest in her. And he had to be lacking a conscious right? Or she wouldn't be here.
“Francine” he said, still looking at her with his dark chocolate brown eyes.
Before he could say anything else she asked, “Why did you pick me K?”
The change of topic jostled him, he wasn’t sure how to answer her. The answer stuck in his throat. This from someone who was rarely at a loss for words, just often reluctant to share them. He doesn’t want to be seen as foolish, not this early in their relationship, or tell her too much, not being sure how much he could trust her. How to frame exactly why he’d taken the action he did? It was arguably a very unwise course of action. He’d just seen so much pain, so much injustice, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He finally gave her the answer that had been on the top of his mind, since the very first time he’d seen her.
Francine was looking at her plate, afraid of his answer. All of a sudden he sensed how important his answer was to her, she deserved at least a bit of the truth. They both heard it in his voice when he said, “I - aquired you because I didn't want someone else to have you”. She can tell by his voice that he
seemed to be thinking of someone in particular. She risked a peek up at him. He looked at her squarely in her eyes. “You'll enjoy being with me, more than you would have with him, I promise you that."
Thinking of all she’d been told while captured she shivered a bit at the thought of the others and couldn't help but look down again, as she tried to shield her thoughts from him. She realized she believed him, but still, “Do you think one day I might ever be able to go home?” She was afraid of the answer - so afraid but still, had to ask.
He took another sip of his coffee. “We'll see.” The answer surprised her. She never thought she’d be able to be free again. Hopefully he wasn’t toying with her, but he had no reason to lie to her, right?
“That depends on how we are able to get along here Francine. Make no mistake, for now, you do belong to me. The next couple months are very important. I need to be focused, relaxed, without distractions. You seem like a smart girl, I’m sure you can manage staying here, out of trouble for a few months while I work a few things out."
The next question is just as hard, but begs to be asked. “Does that mean you’ll, I mean will you want - will you expect.” She’s stuttering like an idiot now.
“Sex Francine? Will I want sex?” She cringed, waiting for the answer. “Why don’t we just see how things go, okay? We’ll take it from there.”
She just bets he will - the freak. “I’ll never want to K. Especially not... The things they talked about.”
He smiled inside, seeing her nervous look, the way she was starting to fidget. He’d seen that look before. He was just betting if they had met under other circumstances, she might already be giving in, trying things, the thought made his blood flow hot and he forced himself to remember, these were very untypical circumstances. He’d have to make sure she knew what her boundaries were, and yesterday proved a demonstration was needed. This would also give him an opportunity to find out if she was really as vanilla as she seemed.
Natural Submission: Book 1 of the Submission Series Page 3