His Prisoner

by Jesse Jordan

  Stephen thinks, then answers. “The sub, Lady L. They have the final control at all times, if it's a relationship built off of trust and emotion.”

  I smile, stroking his face. “Such a sweet answer, Boy. So if you are dominant, does that make you weaker than your sub?”

  He shakes his head. “No Lady L. It's just that... I have to always maintain my control, to make sure that I care for my sub and not go too hard.”

  “So as such, what is your dream partner?” I ask, and Stephen smiles.

  “A woman who can take everything I have, who is strong enough to absorb everything and I don't have to worry about hurting her. Whose limits are equal to mine.”

  “Have you found such a woman? I assume you don't play with men.”

  Stephen chuckles, and I slap him on the ass. “Sorry, Lady L. I... I don't know. I'm so new to this side of me, I can't even be sure of what my limits are yet.”

  I stroke his face, and smile. “We still have plenty of time to find out what those limits are.”

  I step back, and hit him with my crop again, working his back and ass the way that I saw him work Claudia in the club, never hitting the same place twice, but marking his back. Stephen clenches his hands but never cries out as my shoulder starts to warm up into the task. “Do you understand now? In your weakness you find your strength?”

  Stephen shakes his head, gritting his teeth but refusing to cry out as I set my crop aside and get my whip. “Here's a hint. Which is more difficult, fighting me or bearing the pain?”

  I whip him once, across the broadest part of his back, the red line harsh against his skin but not breaking it. Stephen gasps, his knees quivering, and I go to lift my arm again. I know what I need to do. I should whip him a little rawer, then go over, stroking his cock to hardness before I get my 'peg,' throw the switch that would bend him over, and then assfuck him like a bitch, show him what it feels like to take it as much as give it. For most men, especially a dominant heterosexual like Stephen, this sort of humiliation opens up their eyes to a whole new world, and drives home the point of what a sub feels like, and leaves a warning that lasts forever.

  But watching Stephen tremble, his cute bubble butt twitching as he anticipates the next blow, I can't do it. Instead, I go over to my dresser and put the whip away, getting my lotion and taking it over, squeezing some on my hand.

  “You need to think about it very seriously, Boy,” I whisper, rubbing the lotion over his back. “Think about where I was yesterday, helpless and at your mercy. Think about the pain that you inflicted on me, and what could have happened if a woman weaker than me had been there. Now, what should I do about that?”

  “I... I'm sorry, Lady L,” Stephen says, his voice quavering not in fear but in real emotion. “I understand.”

  “It is only by making myself so weak for you and others that I have found the strength to take all that you've dished out so far. Now Boy, I have a final question for you. Do you want to find out how much more I can take?”

  Stephen nods, looking back at me. “Very much, Lady L. You're unlike any other woman I've ever met.”

  I smile, and stroke his face, kissing him tenderly. “Wrong. I'm unlike any woman you're ever going to meet, Boy. For that mistake, I'm going to leave you here for a while. Be glad I don't actually peg you. Tomorrow you can figure out what that means.”

  I turn and leave my bedroom, frustrated with myself. Never, in all my years of breaking in new subs or teaching a wanna-be dom what that means, have I passed up humili-fucking them. It binds the subs to me, and teaches the doms. Why did I pass it up with Stephen? My pussy is throbbing after being near him like this all day, and watching his bubble butt shake under my crop has me aroused and needy. I shake my head, wondering what the hell's wrong with me.

  The chimes ring on the big clock, and I return to my bedroom, where Stephen's waiting patiently. “It's midnight, Stephen. You completed your training very well.”

  I go over and let his arms down, giving the cords enough slack that he can free himself while I undo his ankles. “So how do you feel?”

  “Wiser,” Stephen says, kneeling down next to me. He cups my face, looking into my eyes. “I know I don't understand everything Larissa, but thank you. I feel more in control of myself now. Thank you.”

  I nod, unable to say anything, and stand up. “Now, as much as we both know that after such a day we want release... I'm saying no, just not tonight for me. I need to think myself some, and tomorrow we need to get back to work.”

  Stephen looks like he's about to protest, but nods. “We probably need a goodnight's rest. Goodnight, Larissa.”

  “Goodnight, Stephen.”

  He leaves, and I resist the urge to run out of my room and drag him back to beg him to fuck my aching body, but right now, I'm not sure I can keep things where they need to be. I'm so confused, I go to my phone and dial the one person I can trust with this.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, my friend,” I whisper, my voice tight. “I need your help.”

  “Larissa?” Rodrigo asks, concern in his voice. “What's wrong?”

  “I couldn't do it,” I explain, sitting down on my bed. “I had him tied up, I still had twenty minutes on the clock, and I couldn't do it.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rodrigo says, relief at least partially in his voice in that my life isn't in mortal danger. “Slow down, go back to the beginning, and explain it to me.”

  It takes over a half hour, going through it all. I lay it all out for Rodrigo, he's the only other person I know who can understand from a BDSM perspective, a Deep Cover perspective, and just a human point of view as well. “So what do you think, my friend?”

  Rodrigo chuckles, not what I expected. “Larissa, it's pretty clear what's going on.”

  “What?” I ask, emotions tearing at my chest. “Why couldn't I fuck him and make him my bitch?”

  “It's simple. The same thing you saw happening to me a while back. Larissa, you're developing feelings for this man. You couldn't humiliate him because you want him in charge.”

  I stop, stunned. Is it really that simple? “But Rodrigo, he's new to this. He's not like you, he's not an experienced dominant. There's no way I should be wanting to submit to him like this.”

  “But you are,” he notes. “Larissa, I'm not saying that this guy is your version of what Jessica is for me, you and I both know relationships don't work like that. But why get upset that you are getting feelings for him? Yeah, he's got an asshole streak to him. At the same time, he did your laundry, obeyed your commands, and took a whipping from you simply to try and learn and to get some self control back. I bet if you had pegged him, he would have taken it without complaining too, and he strikes me as the type who's never had anything bigger than the doctor's finger for a hernia check up his ass before.”

  I laugh, a little relieved. “You know he didn't even know what pegging is?”

  Rodrigo whistles, then laughs himself. “I certainly would like to meet this Stephen some time. He must be pretty remarkable to have gotten ahold of you if he's so new he doesn't even know what that is.”

  “Maybe he is. Maybe he is.”

  Stephen

  I wake up the next morning with my back aching from yesterday's training with Larissa, but for the first time in weeks, my mind is calmer. Laying in bed, I think about what Larissa was trying to teach me, and how it felt being her 'Boy' for a day.

  There is an appeal to it. Being bound to her bed, I understood the appeal of just letting go, letting Larissa take total control of everything. Sure, it was scary, but there was the same type of thrill in it that I get from riding a rollercoaster. For certain people, I understand why.

  I roll over, out of my bed to look at my cock, which is standing stiff and ready for action. Actually, it was stiff and ready for action most of yesterday, and considering what Larissa was wearing, I'm not surprised.

  “You calm the fuck down,” I whisper to it, shaking my head. “It's not like she said she was
going to let us in today.”

  Still, I admit, I can hope. I get dressed and go out into rest of the house, where I find Larissa going through some yoga like poses on the outdoor terrace. My cock surges, and I turn around, forcing myself to go to the kitchen and drink some orange juice before I get stupid. I want her, I want to go out there on that terrace and show her what the real purpose of that dog pose is, but this is not the time.

  While I'm sipping my juice Larissa's phone beeps, and I glance over, she's got a text message. I go out on the terrace, where Larissa is kneeling in a meditative pose I think, although having her sit with her hands behind her back gives my dark side thoughts again. “I don't want to interrupt, but you have a text message.”

  “Two minutes,” Larissa says, and I go inside, waiting anxiously until she comes in, her skin still glowing from her exertions. “My phone, please?”

  I pass it over and at the same time pour her a glass of juice, which she accepts gratefully, sipping while she reads. It takes her just a minute before she sets her glass down, grinning. “That clever bastard.”

  “What?” I ask, glancing over her shoulder, but the message isn't in English. “Translate, please?”

  “It's coded Italian, from Rachmaninoff,” she says. “Arthur Pinchot has been operating under my nose the whole time under an assumed name. I know him,” she says, taking her phone and typing away. “He operates another club in the Corinth area, on the other side of the isthmus. He left Mykonos yesterday on the ferry to Athens.”

  I know I should be pissed, we wasted the whole day yesterday with me running around the villa in a leather loincloth, but for some reason I'm not. Instead I nod, and finish off my own juice. “Can we get to this guy today?”

  “Let me call the airport, file a flight plan,” Larissa says, smirking. “If you would please, pack our bags?”

  I nod, smirking back. “Can I take the loincloth?”

  Larissa chuckles, looking me up and down. “Careful... I might want to have Boy back sometimes if you do.”

  I laugh, going back to my bedroom where I quickly pack my bag before going into Larissa's room. Her bag is mostly packed already, and I grab only the few things from the laundry that I saw her wear the past two days before going back out, seeing her get off the phone. “We're good?”

  She nods, putting her phone in her pocket. “We're cleared for takeoff starting in an hour. The airport's busy, so we only have an hour window after that to be in the air. Are you ready?”

  The flight back is enjoyable, I'm able to relax more and I take a few minutes while we fly to appreciate the way Larissa looks behind the controls. “I think I understand more from yesterday, too.”

  “Really?” she asks curiously. “Any insights you wish to share?”

  “Not yet. Understanding and explaining are two different things,” I reply, and Larissa nods. We're silent for the rest of the flight back to Kalamata, getting her car this time and driving to Corinth.

  “I've never been in his club, but they never gave me reason to think I needed to,” Larissa says as she drives, her eyes tight. “That son of a... this whole time, an hour from me, and I didn't know.”

  “You said you just took over the position, how could you have known?” I ask, and Larissa shakes her head, not accepting my point. I guess I can understand, it would burn me up to to live so close to my target and not even know they were there.

  “We're here,” Larissa says as we cross the Corinthian isthmus and I'm looking out on the eastern shore of this narrow point of Greece. “Club Apollyon.”

  “It looks like a normal bar,” I note as we get out, my pistol now comfortably tucked in the small of my back. “Not much of a club.”

  “Probably doesn't make any money from it either. But it gives him a space to evaluate recruits,” Larissa says, her face paling. “My god....”

  “What?”

  She shakes her head, and walks towards the front door. “Keep your eyes open.”

  The bar is dimly lit, and as soon as we walk in I can see that we're outnumbered. There has to be at least a dozen men in the bar, all of them armed by the looks of it under their suit coats, all of them sitting around a table looking at the man at the head of the table, Arthur Pinchot.

  “Well, I see we're late for the Tuesday meeting of the Lions Club, sorry about that guys,” I quip, reaching for the gun on my back, but three other men are just as fast, and I freeze, glancing at Larissa. “So, what now?”

  “Do not worry, I don't want a war with you or your organization,” Arthur says to Larissa, standing up. “Join me in my office, my men can wait here. Please.”

  He's got a slight French accent to his English, and as he stands up, Larissa takes a deep breath, glancing at me. “Your choice. We walk out, or we go to his office.”

  “We go talk,” I reply, my eyes not leaving any of the men around the table as we walk past them, one of them stepping in my way, saying something in Greek. “Hey fuckstain, I don't speak Greek.”

  “No gun!” he says, reaching for me, but his hand never touches me as I grab his wrist and twist, locking his arm and bending him over in an instant. Hands reach for guns, and I glare, shaking my head. Pinchot says something harshly in Greek, and the men relax.

  “I told my men that with all of them out here, you are not stupid enough to try and kill me in a suicide mission,” Pinchot translates for me. “I would recommend that you don't give them reason to doubt me.”

  I let go of the man and shove him away, keeping my eyes on all of them as we enter Pinchot's office, Larissa taking a seat like things were normal while Pinchot goes over to a collection of decanters on the wall and selects an amber liquid. “Brandy?”

  “No thanks,” Larissa says, and I shake my head, playing it strong and silent. Larissa knows this world better than I do, I'm going to have my hands full just getting us out of here alive.

  “So what brings The Network's Dryad to my humble club?” Pinchot asks. “We've never had the opportunity before.”

  “You never did anything to garner my attention before,” Larissa says. “But that changed a few weeks ago. Word is you know what happened to Chastity Hendricks.”

  “The American politician's girl?” Pinchot responds calmly, taking a sip of brandy. “Never met her. Would have liked to though. Pretty girl, I bet she was quite tight.”

  His words have me trembling in rage, but I control myself, glaring at Pinchot while Larissa takes a deep breath. “So your... group had no contact with Chastity Hendricks or her family? I'm asking because her death crossed a line that The Network is not going to let go lightly.”

  Pinchot shrugs, sitting down. “No. I never met the girl, I didn't have a thing to do with her disappearance or her death. Your Network has nothing to worry about from my little... tour group.”

  “Tour group?” I ask, losing my patience. “You son of a bitch, you kill people to get your rocks off!”

  “Mmm, yes I suppose some might see it that way,” Pinchot says. “Have you ever felt a girl's dying spasms with your cock as you choke her to death? Nothing quite like it in the world.”

  I nearly reach for my gun, but I remember Larissa's lessons to me last night, and I keep control. “I swear, some night very, very soon, you're going to open your front door and I'm going to be there, knife in hand to carve your balls off of your dead body.”

  “I've done that as well. I think this conversation is finished however,” Pinchot says. “I would not expect us to be seeing each other again.”

  “We'll see, won't we?” I growl, opening the door. I lead Larissa out, keeping my back to the wall and Larissa covered as we leave the club and get in her car, driving away before anyone can follow us. Safely inside, I slam my fist against the dash, cursing. “Fuck!”

  “So what's next?” Larissa asks, and I shake my head. “We can go in force if you want.”

  “By the time we assemble any group large enough to take out that club, he'll have evaporated. You didn't even know he was in the a
rea, he's obviously good at disappearing. How many fake ID's does he have anyway?”

  “Probably quite a few,” Larissa says. “I can try and see what Network resources we can get in town quietly, or we can try and hit him when he's out of the club.”

  “Now that he knows we're interested in him though, he's going to be cautious. Okay, see if your people can track down where he lives, what else they know about him. I don't expect much, if I were him I'd live in a house that's in a name not my own, but who knows. I need to send a weekly progress report to the CIA anyway,” I fume. “Are you okay?”

  Larissa nods. “That wasn't the first time I stared down a roomful of men with guns with nothing but a smile and guts. This time was even easier, I had a partner backing me up.”

  “In any case, we need to move quickly and with no mistakes,” I comment. “So the townhouse?”

  “I have some Network things that must be taken care of,” Larissa says. “Mostly within my own clubs. Things like payroll, some management, rather boring but necessary. I'll drop you off at the townhouse and take care of those the rest of the evening. Maybe the quiet will let you think of a good plan, and we can talk about resources when I get home.”

  She drops me off, and I'm nervous as I watch her drive away. It's just a feeling, a prickling at the back of my neck that worries me. I know it's stupid, but as I go upstairs to the penthouse and sit down at my computer to try and type out a progress report, I keep making mistakes.

  I know what I'm worried about. I'm worried about Larissa for some reason. I shouldn't be, her club is secure and she's got men there to guard her, but I still am worried as my report progresses. I finish the first page and re-read what I just wrote, cursing to myself and erasing a good third of it to edit it for Penny's system. God what a fucking mess.

  I groan, leaning back and rubbing at my eyes when I see that I've got a missed call on my phone. It's Victoria, and I call her back, hoping the calming voice of my sister can help me get my thoughts organized.

  “Hey Vic,” I greet her when she picks up. “How's life in the land of burgers and fries?”