As soon as he disappeared, Blythe strained, pushing out the tool, depressing the button, she ejected a new sterile needle, and then pressed the purple button twice. With a racing heart, she hid behind the closet door, waiting for him to exit.
She willed herself to slow her breathing. Calm. Breath deep.
“You won’t be disappearing after this. I’m going to tear your—”
She depressed the needle into his neck.
His head turned, staring at her wide-eyed, dropping the belt to the floor. “Whhaaa…what did you do? How did you get that?”
He stumbled across the room, sitting drunkenly on the edge of the bed, desperately trying to keep himself in the upright position.
“It’s the sedative you gave me during my procedure. I doubled the dosage.” She picked up the belt and shook it in front of him. “And this? You can shove this up your ass!” She tossed it at him.
He fell onto his back on the bed. The belt landed in the middle of his chest.
“Sleep well, asshole.”
Blythe snuck into the bathroom, Ganza was bent over, swishing her hand in the water. She pressed the needle into Ganza’s neck also.
With a shout, the nurse rose, grasping her neck, her mouth agape. “Where is Master?”
“Sleeping on the bed. You’ll be asleep soon also.” She eased the woman to the floor, shutting the faucet off.
She ran to her room, grabbing the bag of clothes, supplies, and what little food she squirreled away. She had no time to worry about the non-essential items. Food, water, and clothes for warmth are what mattered now. Donning a sweatshirt and sweatpants she’d found of Xan’s, she quickly laced up a pair of his sneakers. They were definitely too big, ridiculously so, but she didn’t have much of a choice.
Ganza! She has shoes.
Blythe ran back to the bathroom, stripped the shoes off the old woman, and replaced Xan’s with Ganza’s. They’d still be too big, but much smaller than Xan’s.
She snatched a blanket from a side chair in his room for warmth. She had no idea where she’d end up—she may sleep under the stars and the blanket could literally save her life. Ideally, she’d find a house nearby and stay there.
Both her captors were asleep, and if luck was on her side, they would stay that way for a while.
***
She’d been planning this escape for three weeks, stashing away these awful wafer nutrient rich things, which were nowhere near as good as a cracker. But she would need the nutrients, so she’d been hiding them every day. She had these sweet lumps, again vitamin-filled, that kind of resembled a cookie. And although she hated them almost as much as the fish squares for breakfast, she brought the nutrient shakes and some food pills – anything she could get her hands on. Once she crossed the threshold and stood on the porch, fear struck her hard.
She had no idea where she’d run to, or who may see her. The goal was to stay hidden, away from the people of Endermere. She’d seen her image, and those of her shipmates, on the news often enough to know she’d be easily recognizable and turned over quickly to the authorities. She must find a way to Brinley’s and beg for mercy. Approaching Council of Nine or the police would be a dead end, and more than likely they’d return her to Xan.
The thought petrified her. His reaction to her leaving would be frightening at best, and to be returned would mean a punishment of epic proportions. He took submission and obedience to a whole new level. It was something she wasn’t familiar with, and watching his need to control and dominate her had been a study all by itself.
She shivered. Returning would not be an option.
Home.
She needed to go home, with her friends.
She ran through the overgrown land near Xan’s house. She didn’t really care where to, or how long it took. She just needed to get as far away as possible from that house, that man, and his rules.
***
The door creaked loudly. She peered inside, seeing nothing she shouted, “Hello?”
After receiving no response, she slipped into the dusty, apparently abandoned cabin. On Earth they’d call it a hunting cabin. Was it a retreat? A writer’s cabin?
Regardless, she needed shelter and warmth, and this place would meet both requirements. She dropped her bag onto a wobbly table in the middle of the room.. Putting her hand on the back of a wooden chair, testing it, she decided the chair was just as wobbly as the table but sturdy enough to hold her weight. She dropped into it, looking around.
Cobwebs filled the corners of the ceiling, and a fine white dust covered everything horizontal. She’d have to take a broom and cloth to everything, but, first, she needed a fire.
She had no axe or saw to cut anything, but she hoped to find enough wood on the ground to take the chill out of the little cabin.
She studied the room, noting a small stove, fridge, and pantry. When she opened the refrigerator door, the light came on.
Someone powers this place?
The hair on her neck rose. Who? She wouldn’t be able to stay here. She’d have to find new shelter tomorrow. Whoever owned this could come back. She scanned the ceiling, not seeing anything resembling a camera, but it could be concealed in the thick cobwebs. Off the kitchen area, there was a small room with a tiny bed, dresser, and a closet. Like everything else in the cabin, the bed was covered in dust, but it would do. She only needed a place to sleep until her new adventure tomorrow.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Xan had been pacing and raging for a while now. Probably too long. How had he slipped this badly? She’d been gathering enough supplies to fill a bag? How had he missed her taking an instrument?
He had stopped scrolling through his monitors every morning, that’s how.
When she’d first arrived, Xan had faithfully reviewed the activities of the day before on each camera in the house, watching for any questionable movement or situation then asking her about her actions later. But after a couple weeks of no concern, he’d become lackadaisical, had decided she had adjusted and become comfortable enough with her surroundings he didn’t need to worry.
How wrong I was!
He watched her shoving the medication rod into her vagina then sneaking down the hall. Unlocking the damn door! She’d found his spare key. When had he shown her its location?
Pounding the desk, he slumped into his desk chair. He had watched her make her way down the driveway then turn right and run through the brush into the fields.
He’d called the nearest neighbors and warned them his ward had decided to run off. Both of them laughed. They assured him they knew this little adventure would go nowhere. She’d be returned to his home in no time.
However, he wasn’t so sure. Blythe was smart and resourceful. Look at what she’d accomplished in three weeks’ time.
His ward was more than capable of successfully escaping. He needed to think, and he needed to do it fast. If the authorities or the Nine found out, his chances of promotion or even of keeping his ward would be destroyed.
I can’t lose her.
“That’s it!” He quickly searched his laptop, tapping loudly, his heart racing. He opened a new screen, zooming the lens, adjust the focus. “And there she is.”
On the screen, Blythe cut wood outside his cabin. He switched cameras, looking around the inside. There was her bag. She’d already started a small fire for warmth.
Good girl.
Leaning back, he watched his naughty girl do what was necessary for her well-being. An odd sense of pride filled him. The knowledge that she could handle any situation, knowing that she had the sensibilities to survive on her own, had him smiling with a new found respect for her strength and ingenuity.
Then anger rose to the surface, battling with pride. It was his job to keep her safe, and he had kept her safe. He’d assured she was fed, warm, protected…and loved. As much as he knew how to show love, at least. And weren’t those deeds proof he loved her. Wasn’t that what a Master did for his slave? They protected them, meeting all thei
r needs.
Sure, part of being a Master was ensuring she obeyed and followed instructions, and administering harsh, swift punishment when necessary to guide her in the right direction. He wasn’t an easy dominant. He didn’t tolerate the behaviors many of his friends did. He expected more from his submissive…his partner.
“How long have you known, Sir? Are you going after her?”
Xan looked up at Billex, grinning “I’ll let her stay there overnight, and we’ll retrieve her tomorrow before she gets herself into real trouble. She’ll be a sorry girl.” He ground his teeth.
“I suspect she will be. Is there anything you need me to do, Sir?” Billex stood in his dark suit, his hands folded comfortably in front of him. He was a good employee. Xan had relied on him for years and would have never been able to run this house and his career without him.
“Just be ready to assist me in the morning when we pick her ass up. And make sure your communicator is on, tonight, so if I need you, you’ll know. If she starts to move, we’ll have to respond immediately. I can’t take the chance she’ll go to the authorities.”
Billex’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why not just fetch her now, Sir?”
Running his finger lightly over his moustache, he watched the monitors for a moment before responding. “I think I’d like her to think for a bit in complete seclusion. I suspect it’ll be good for her to feel alone, worried, and unsure. Sometimes people come to astounding realizations, and often profound emotions rise to the surface, while battling loneliness and fear. I suspect she may need some time to sort out what she really feels and thinks about things, and why not have it occur at my retreat in the woods?”
“Very wise, Sir.” He shook his head, chuckling. “If she even remotely suspected the severity of her return punishment, she’d run toward Endermere all night.”
“But, you see, that’s where she slipped in her planning. Her emotions and impulsivity had her discounting the consequences of her actions, and instead she’s decided to enjoy my retreat while feeling free from my constraints.” He drummed his fingers on the hard wood of his desk. “Soon enough, my bad girl will be regretting her little escapade. Very soon.”
“Indeed, Sir.” He dipped his head toward Xan. “I’ll leave you to your planning.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blythe curled up under the blanket she’d brought from the Master’s bedroom. Pulling the soft plush fabric to her nose, she sniffed deeply. It smelled of him—leather, cologne, and man. Her clit throbbed. Did the very smell of him arouse her now? Was this a damn mating call of some sort?
She missed the sound of him sleeping nearby, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, along with his soft snore. His strong, muscled arms casually wrapped around her body, on those rare nights she slept overnight in his bed, his hand cupping a breast as she nodded off.
That’s over now. I’ve escaped and will find my shipmates and we’ll get the fuck out of here!
She flipped over to her side, pushing the blanket to cover her ear, willing herself to rest. Her stomach growled. She put a hand on her belly, pressing inward, hoping to thwart it. She’d had a handful of cookies, a lukewarm lump of cheese, and something else resembling pepperoni. Not the best dinner, but she’d consumed dairy, carbs, and protein.
Back at Master’s house, he’d probably had a hot dinner with those starchy lumps and something similar to gravy, with meat and fresh-baked bread. Cook, who knew Master’s penchant for sweets, would have made a dessert for them.
Tonight, sitting on her wobbly chair at the similarly wobbly table, she missed kneeling at Master’s feet, opening her mouth obediently to receive whatever he decided her next bite should be. He would push her long hair off her shoulders, or he’d brush his knuckles softly over her face. He touched her in some fashion after every bite of food. He called them her reward for being such a good pet. A squeeze of a breast, the flick of her nipple—Blythe had begun to crave those rewards.
Sitting in the cold, dusty little cabin at her lonely table, her nipples ached for his rough, callused fingers, and her clit strained from under its hood, waiting for his feathery touch. Instead, she swallowed her nutritional, but not overly pleasing, dinner and readied for bed, hungry for food and for sexual gratification.
Stockholm syndrome.
It had to be. How, in just a month of being with someone did he become so integral that she missed him after on a few hours? How did she bond to Xan this quickly? Especially a man who had treated her so poorly some days? She’d been beaten, severely on many occasions, violated, and treated as a pet. Daily. These weren’t situations to miss. And she didn’t…or did she?
No. She didn’t miss the corrections, as he called them. They were to be avoided at all costs. But did the corrections outweigh her Master’s care and concern for her?
At least her Master had shielded her from the angry Endermere citizens still enraged with the intruders who had crashed onto their beautiful shores. He’d taken her into his house and under his training when no one else would.
He kept her warm, fed, and clean, and when she behaved as he desired, her Master made sure she received affection, too. He cuddled her on his lap while he read. Xan would spend hours lazily feeding her decadent desserts and odd fruits she’d never seen on Earth. Later, after holding her for hours, her Master stroked and sucked her clit until she nearly fainted from the multiple orgasms, and, if she’d been a particularly good girl that day, he’d let her sleep in his bed until morning, safely encased in his arms.
Protected.
In this foreign place, an unknown planet, he was her safe haven. Xan had become someone who interceded on her behalf. Yes, he was a harsh disciplinarian with strict rules, but his caring exceeded the punishments. The large, hulking man protected her, sheltering her from a society that wanted her dead. He not only felt different, he caressed and cared for her daily, assuring that she was warm, fed, well-rested, and happy. That didn’t mean he didn’t have stringent rules, but it meant that as long as she obeyed and stayed within the boundaries of his care and love, she’d be his cherished pet, his good girl, his woman.
Blythe didn’t have to worry about anything while at his house. The concerns of life melted away in his arms. The only thought on the forefront of her mind was to please her Master, mind his rules, serve him, and be his faithful pet and slave.
Blythe flopped onto her back, frustrated. She needed sleep.
And I need an orgasm.
She’d been denied masturbation for so long. Her Master had assured her the penalty would be one she’d regret for a weeks. Her pussy belonged to him and, as his slave, it was her duty to tell him when she was in need of one, or she was to wait until he rewarded her with an orgasm…or several at a time, if he deemed her worthy.
Slipping her hand into her pants, she eased her middle finger between the seam of her sex, gliding along the slippery, puffy lips, dipping her finger into her channel, wiggling it inside while the heel of her hand pressed on her mound. Her back arched, she ground into her hand, thrusting deeper, adding another finger her juices dripping, coating her hand. Increasing her rhythm, her sex milked her fingers. She tossed her head back, her eyes rolling, and her clit brushing against the slick, moist palm. Keening with her ascent, Blythe groaned, stiffening, her buttocks tightening with her release, the violent aftershocks jerking her hips.
She moaned with each thrust, repeating “Oh God. Oh God,” until the spasms became mild tremors. She flopped her hands to either side, closing her eyes, muttering in the dark, silent room. “Christ! That was necessary.”
Maybe now I can focus on what is required!
She needed to get Master out of her mind. She had plans, and they did not include him.
She rolled over onto her belly, trying desperately to become comfortable. Blythe had grown used to sleeping and being naked for weeks now. Her clothes chafed her, making any position uncomfortable. But, finally, she felt sleep taking over, her thinking becoming hazy..
H
er last thought before blessed slumber: I miss my collar. I wish I was in my heated pet bed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“We need to arrive at the cabin before dawn. She’s afraid of the dark and won’t leave until daylight. Do we have everything? Her collar, her large plug? Handcuffs, rope? Medication instrument?” Xan watched Billex open the container he’d just placed in the back of the vehicle, sorting through the things he’d packed.
“Yes, Sir. They’re all here.” He snapped the lid back on, closing the trunk. “And you were right, Sir. She stayed all night. When I checked the monitor this morning she was still asleep.”
“I know my pet, Billex. The thought of walking in the dark would be too overwhelming for her.” He tapped the band on his arm, checking the time. “The sun will be rising in four minutes. We’ll be there before she can leave.”
The men strapped themselves into the bucket seats. Xan flicked the switches and dials, and the engine whirred to life. Frost covered the windshield for only a moment before warmth from the heated window evaporated it.
His hands froze on the wheel. “Did we bring blankets and a heated jacket? My girl will be cold? She’s always cold.”
“Yes, Sir. I thought the same thing.” He smiled at Xan. “It’s nice to see you with someone, Sir. She’s a good girl…some days.”
“Today isn’t one of them. But, yes, I’ll be glad to have my girl home.” He pulled back on the handle, and the vehicle rose to hover over the ground. Following the GPS program that had been downloaded years ago to his cabin, the vehicle connected to the rails, traveling along the familiar route. Virtually silent, the vehicle sped over his land, the brown dead grass covered in spots with snow. The sun peeped over the horizon as they landed within feet of the cabin.
“Follow my lead. Have the shock wand ready, and I’ll snap her collar on immediately.” Xan nodded at his friend and assistant and shoved at the door. It refused to budge. Locked. He swiped his hand over the recognition pad. The door swung open.
The Alien's Mark (Captives of Pra'kir Book 4) Page 12