His Prisoner

by Jesse Jordan

  “Sir?” she asks, shocked. I'm not into water sports, but this is a test for her, of her obedience.

  “I said squat down and piss!” I repeat, intentionally roughening my voice. “Spray the floor of the shower, and then you'll be done.”

  Jessica swallows but squats down, her eyes mixed with shame and desire as she shows me her glistening pussy. Her lips are pale pink and juicy, just the right amount of excess to make them look tasty, the sort of lips that I can nibble and suck on for a long, long time. She closes her eyes and tries, getting maybe a half second squirt out before she stops, half sobbing. “Sir... please, I can't do any more. I peed before you got me out of my room.”

  “You did fine, pet,” I say, complimenting her. “Shut off the water, and I have a skin cream for you, I don't want your skin to dry. Then we'll get you dressed.”

  Jessica's surprised when she sees what her clothes are going to be, a set of form fitting jeans and a button down shirt. She does a double take though when I lay out the last two items. “Sir... underwear?”

  “You've earned them,” I say simply, watching her fondle the plain cotton bikini cut panties and utilitarian sports bra lovingly. “As you get better discipline, the quality of those goes up. I told you, Jessica, everything and every luxury... if you behave.”

  “Thank you,” Jessica says, and I hear it in her voice. For most of the week, when she says please or thank you to me, she's being polite out of fear. She's saying thank you because she fears that if she doesn't, that I'm going to punish her. The only time that's changed was when I took her to the training room, when her arousal overwhelmed her distrust and fear. Even this morning, her enthusiasm greeting me I have to balance with the fact she may have been bored silly and even spending time with me can be a break from that particular subtle punishment.

  But this time, as she slides her long, feminine legs into the cotton and pulls them up over her generous hips, she sighs happily, a soft whimper of pleasure coming from her lips when she nestles it against her freshly shaved pussy. She pulls on her bra, the fit perfect after she adjusts the shoulder straps before she puts on the rest of her new clothes. Turning, her damp hair still hanging over her shoulder, her eyes go wide when she sees my last set of gifts for her. “Sir...”

  “A true lady knows how to keep herself looking good. For that, you need some tools,” I say, handing her the brush and comb kit. “Keep that in your room, and you can use it whenever you want. And this.”

  It's my first big test really of Jessica, handing her the running shoes. With them, if she gets past the walls she can easily get away, something that her sandals weren't really meant for. Jessica takes them with respect though and squats down, putting them on and knotting them properly before kneeling on the floor. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Come on,” I reply, helping her to her feet. There's a tingly spark of electricity that jumps between us when I help her up, but that could just be static. “You've got more duties to do before The Dryad gets here. Including helping me make dinner. I'll teach you a dish she likes.”

  Larissa surprises Jessica when she knocks on the back door of the villa right at seven thirty, but I'm used to it. I glance at Jessica, who's been mixing up salad dressing in a bowl with a whisk. She's been very helpful and observant, even if I can't trust her with a knife yet. “That's our guest. Please get the door for her.”

  Jessica nods, setting down her bowl and going to the back door, opening it to reveal Larissa, who looks like her normal seductive, slinky but energetic self. “Well well, you do clean up nicely,” Larissa says as she looks at Jessica, then over at me. “I think I should have bought her.”

  “Sorry, no trades,” I say half teasingly, but still with enough serious edge to let both Larissa and Jessica know I mean business. “She's mine now.”

  “Oh really?” Larissa asks, turning to look at Jessica. “Is that true, beautiful? Do you belong to Rodrigo now?”

  “He's treated me very well,” Jessica says, her eyes flashing with frustration and anger, but more disciplined than what happened with Rachmaninoff. “I have no complaints there.”

  “Right,” Larissa says, chuckling and coming in more. “So what smells so good? Don't tell me you learned how to roast a lamb.”

  “Actually, the lamb's been prepared by Jessica here,” I say. “So any compliments, pass along to her.”

  Larissa turns to Jessica, who's come back and started on her salad dressing again. “Really? And what did you use to marinate the meat?”

  “Lemon juice, garlic, and olive oil... my lady,” Jessica says, squeezing the last bit out from between pursed lips. Larissa laughs, delighted as she turns to me.

  “Rodrigo, you've done a remarkable job! Seriously, I thought you'd still have her in some sort of kennel and butt naked most of the time. But you were serious about training her fully, weren't you?” she asks, her eyes twinkling.

  “I told you when I got Jessica, I'm intent on training her properly. She's had some slip ups, but overall... she's worked very hard.”

  Larissa arches an eyebrow and turns back to Jessica, who's blushing at my compliment. “Why... that's so cute, the way you blush. Tell me pet, do you like what your Master says about you?”

  Larissa is pushing Jessica's buttons, and while I could step in, Larissa respects me enough to do so, I think this is a good test for Jessica's training. Jessica stares at her bowl, whisking more quickly. “I've been treated well. And yes, I like compliments.”

  “Compliments? So if I said that I'd love to take you to Rodrigo's training room and teach you things about your body that you never even imagined because you're more beautiful than a Boticelli Venus, would you blush as much?” Larissa teases. “I'm highly skilled in bringing intense, mindblowing sexual release to anyone, you know. So speak, pet.”

  “Rodrigo may speak to me that way, but you...,” Jessica starts, her eyes blazing at Larissa's jibe before she stops when she sees me raise my hand, not to strike her but in warning. Still, her eyes are pissed, and she stares at Larissa with no fear in her eyes, perhaps not the wisest of things considering what I know, but still... that fire inside her excites me. “I am in Rodrigo's house. I will respect his wishes, for now. But I am not his pet, and I have never spoken that word yet. I apologize for raising my voice.”

  Larissa chuckles, then nods. “Apology accepted. You know Jessica, call me crazy, but I like you. You have spirit, and a lot of potential. I spoke with your Ma.... with Rodrigo before I left, offering my assistance in training you. I think I'll extend that offer again. I'm off for the next few weeks unless an emergency comes up. What do you say, Rodrigo? Think you can trust me enough to put your new... acquisition in my hands?”

  “I'll think about it over dinner,” I answer, Larissa giving me a chuckle. “What?”

  “I won't hurt her, you know. I respect you too much for that.”

  “Let's eat,” I reply, finishing cutting the tomatoes for the salad while Jessica sets the table. She behaves exactly as we practiced this afternoon, waiting for Larissa to sit down before she begins serving us slices of lamb, roasted potatoes, Greek salad and wine. When she's done, she stands back, her hands crossed in front of her the way I taught her. “Excellent work Jessica. Prepare a plate for yourself, and then you can sit on the side opposite The Dryad.”

  “Oh fuck that,” Larissa says with a laugh, setting her fork down. “I totally didn't think about that stupid code name rigmarole. Jessica.... my name is Larissa. While I don't mind the lady bit, don't call me ma'am. Miss is just fine with me. Or Mistress.”

  Jessica nods respectfully, fully aware now after the time we've spent together the weight of what Larissa just offered while tactfully deflecting the insinuation Larissa added at the end. Even I have to smile at that one. “Thank you, miss.”

  Dinner is delicious, Jessica did a great job of following the recipe that I pulled up on my computer, and Larissa looks very pleased when Jessica brings out the small chocolate tarts. “You didn't.”

>   “She did,” I counter. “The cuts are a little rough because I only let her use a butter knife still, but she hand rolled out the crusts herself, did it all according to the recipe we found.”

  “My compliments Jessica,” Larissa says, selecting one before Jessica offers one to me and selects one for herself. “Have you always been a cook?”

  “No miss,” Jessica replies, smiling happily as we dig in and the dessert is as delicious as expected. “I was a chemistry major in college though. And baking is a lot of chemistry, so it was more fun than I thought it would be.”

  “Your new life is going to be filled with such discoveries,” Larissa says, not teasing this time. She finishes her dessert, then sets her spoon down gratefully. “Again, compliments Jessica, and you too Rodrigo. Beautiful, spirited, and can cook? I am certifiably jealous. So my offer still stands, I'd like to help with Jessica's training.”

  I think about it, then look at Jessica, whose keeps her composure even as she looks at me, her eyes saying she's not sure. She's been upset by Larissa's sexual innuendo, but she does need pushed. With the next few weeks being busier for me, I need that sort of constant pushing for Jessica, and I make my decision. “You can help, on a few conditions, Larissa. First, that you will not at any time, in any way, touch or sexually stimulate Jessica. I know you, and I know that you want to focus on her training in that area. By the way, that includes toys, too. Any sort of sexual information you pass along must be done using your words and other non-touching means.”

  “I can to that,” Larissa agrees. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. While you can discipline Jessica, you cannot strike her without my permission. Also, in any lessons of an erotic nature, Jessica is to have a safe word. That word is... hoplite. I don't think that's going to come up in your conversations, will it?”

  “Well, I might do a little history lesson on how the Spartans trained their men and women, but no, I doubt that's going to be needed,” Larissa says with a chuckle. “What do you say, Jessica? Rodrigo is going to be busier the next few weeks, it'd keep you out of your room more. And I promise, no hitting you unless you're a worthless cunt.”

  “I'm hardly worthless,” Jessica says warningly, but nods. “Agreed. Thank you for the offer, miss,” Jessica says, then looks at me. “Should I clear the table, sir?”

  “We'll do that together. But you're washing.”

  Jessica

  I'm pacing my room nervously two days later when I hear the click of my lock opening and the door slides back and I see Larissa standing in the doorway, dressed in a form fitting pair of yoga pants and long sleeved top, her raven black hair pulled back into a practical ponytail. She evaluates what I'm wearing, then shakes her head. “Nope, jeans won't do. Is that what Rodrigo told you to wear?”

  “He's wanted me wearing these more than the first set of clothes he gave recently, they're more durable,” I tell her. I keep my voice polite, but I'm not calling her Miss unless I have to. “Should I change?”

  Larissa nods. “Keep the t-shirt and sweatshirt, but change into something more... I don't know, exercisey?”

  I pick up my sweatpants from my small folded pile and hold them up, Larissa nodding. “Perfect. I'll give you two minutes of privacy, those jeans look a little tight for the whole rip and replace act.”

  My door closes, and I change quickly, actually having ten seconds to fold my jeans and put them away when she re-opens the door. “Impressive. Well, not the sweats, those are discount store crap, but they'll do for today. Okay, let's get to work.”

  “What are we going to do?” I ask, and Larissa stops, looking back at me. “What?”

  “Has Rodrigo told you about me?” she asks curiously.

  “Just that you are also in The Network, and that you are one of the people that I shouldn't fuck with, in his words. Why?” I ask. “Please... I'm trying to be respectful.”

  Larissa thinks for a moment, then nods. “Okay, I can see that. Here's the deal. I promised your owner that I would not touch you sexually in any way. That doesn't mean I won't punish you if you backtalk me, if you get bitchy, or in any way disrespect me. I'm here to train you to be the ultimate woman that you can be. There's a hell of a lot to do with that, and if I come off as crude, mean, or unfeeling for you, tough shit. The fact is, you won the fucking lottery, Jessica.”

  “The lottery?” I ask, shocked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that Rodrigo is one of the best men that you could ever hope to find. Never mind the shithole that you'd have ended up in otherwise. Has Rodrigo told you what happened to those other girls?” Larissa asks.

  “No,” I whimper, chagrined for some reason. “What?”

  “Twenty three got on that boat. Twenty two survived to Lebanon, where they were put on various transports to the slave markets and private sales that they were being sent to. Twenty survived to the slave markets. Of the twenty, two will last long enough to 'retire' from being whores or repeatedly raped sex slaves to claim a husband of some sort, most likely a lackey of their brothel owner or sheikh who bought them, given as a reward and to free up space for the next fresh faced girl off the transports. Meanwhile, you have Rodrigo. A man who is strong, powerful, smart... he's everything a real man is supposed to be, and everything a real woman wants. And for some reason, luck or just the fact that he sees you as being potentially able to handle his desires, he chose you. Now, as someone who actually thinks of Rodrigo as a friend, or at least as close to that as we can be in this line of work, I take it upon myself to make sure that you're as ready as you can be to be that woman.”

  I blink, stunned not only by the intensity of Larissa's words but also by the horrible fate that I just barely avoided. “He said... he's said he can give me all my wildest dreams if I behave.”

  Larissa nods, not surprised. “I've had dozens of men claim the exact same thing. None of them have delivered. But if there's a man I know who could actually back up that claim, it's Rodrigo. Now, let's get your ass to training.”

  Three hours later, I'm sweating, dust streaking my face as I do another set of freestanding ballet style squats, my toes turned out as Larissa watches me. “Down... good, keep your hips straight, squeeze the muscles inside you... now up! Squeeze, squeeze, you worthless wench!”

  My legs, stomach, ass and even my pussy are throbbing, but not in a good way unfortunately. Instead, since starting work with Larissa, we've been doing a combination of what I can only call yoga, ballet, stretching and gymnastics focusing a lot on what Larrisa calls my 'sensual muscles,' kegels being just a warm-up. I thought I was in pretty good shape for a Master's Degree student, but Larissa has me trembling and on the edge of exhaustion. I complete my squat and stop, unable to do any more as Larissa watches me. “You can do more.”

  “Can I?” I ask, even as part of me wants to rise to the challenge. “Why are we doing this, anyway? These exercises?”

  Larissa laughs, demonstrating the exact same squat that I've been working on for the past twenty minutes with flawless form. “You, despite your natural talent Jessica, need to work on your stamina, and hours and hours more on your sensual muscles since it's more than just your core muscles or your ass or whatever. Rodrigo's taken you into the back room of the warehouse, yes?”

  I blush, nodding. “Yes. You mentioned it before. How do you know about that room?”

  Larissa laughs. “Who do you think helped Rodrigo find and obtain all the little surprises he has in there? He and I have never played around, never had sex or explored the possibility of a relationship past being friendly even though I know he could rock my world, but we share a similar point of view. The ability to bring the body and mind to that overwhelming climax of sensation, that truly mindblowing experience... I love being on both the giving and receiving end of it. So I knew that if there was anyone who could prepare you for what he has in mind, it's me. And it gives me a chance to work on my training skills. So I asked.”

  “Why?” I ask, watching as Larissa continues her poe
tic, graceful movements. What's left me gasping and straining for each half inch she does without even trying it seems, an amused expression on her face the whole time.

  “Because you have potential. Rodrigo and I both have seen it, but it must be developed. If it isn't, you'll be broken. Therefore, I have agreed to help you push your body, to strengthen your mind. So that when you do find the mental strength to submit to Rodrigo, you'll be capable of giving to him as much as he will give to you. Now... let's work on some flexibility, now that we have the muscles nice and warmed up.”

  I'm exhausted, frustrated, but at the same time thrilled by the end of the week as Larissa comes to the villa every day, spending hours with me. We do more than just exercise, we do lessons on how to walk in order to turn a man on, whether it be in sandals, running shoes, or even in the pair of high heels that she brings one day. We go over how to hold our body, how to position a hip, how to even eat with a fork or spoon so that every instant I'm supposed to be projecting strength, power, and seductive energy. I've never felt so tired, but at the same time I've never felt so powerful and undeniably feminine.

  “The thing about what Rodrigo wants,” Larissa says on the eighth day of our training, “is someone who can be strong enough that you could walk into a room and have every single man's eyes click as they swing over to follow you as you walk through, while at the same time you'll be undeniably his. You're going to be smart, composed, more than a match for any man in the world.”

  “But he still wants me to submit to him,” I note, holding the pose that Larissa has me in, my mind focused on squeezing and tightening my sensual muscles, with the promise later of more direct training when I'm ready. I honestly have no idea what direct training means, but I expect that I might just orgasm from it, I feel turned on half the time training now.

  “Submission is not a matter of fate, but a conscious decision,” Larissa says with a chuckle, bringing me back to the moment. “Look at me. I know that I'm skilled enough, smart enough, and strong enough to dominate almost any man. In fact, I have dominated some of the most powerful men in Europe. But that doesn't mean for the right partner, I'm not going to submit. Now, enough talk, I want to see another two centimeters of height in your hips. Push!”