“It was ugly, Dana.”
“I know that. But it won’t be anymore.” So soft, so sure, so yielding.
For her, the wait is agony, but she’s more patient now than she ever was in her whole life.
Ben’s expression changes with his change of heart, as promise, remembrance and hope tear through him. She holds her breath in anticipation. “It’s not going to be easy,” he finally says.
“Okay,” she says, exhaling, yet cautious and still praying. Her life hangs on the balance of this precarious, precious moment.
“For this to happen, Dana, I want your undivided attention… in fact, I want you for a week, a week of you and me and your submission, nothing getting in the way. You’ll take a week off work and find out what it means to serve me.” She can feel the cold fire of domination rising up in him and it gives her chills.
“A week? When? Now?” she asks.
“No, when I’m ready. I’ll tell you when, and I won’t give you days to prepare yourself, you’ll be ready at a moment’s notice. Until then, you think submissive, you act submissive, you get back into who you say you are and expect me to be as dictatorial as I used to be, maybe not as harsh, but certainly as controlling. Is that clear?”
His words gain power the more he speaks, as he transmits to her all that she has missed but hardly dared to dream about.
“Yes, sir,” she says, weakly.
Yes, sir is appropriate now, he thinks. He nods. “I want a real submissive, Dana, one who willingly surrenders without a struggle. I hope that’s clear, because the first sign of resistance, I’ll come down on you so hard, you’ll wish you’d never seen me again. The second sign…you’re out, it’s over and there will be no way you can beg, or bitch, or exhibit yourself back into my good graces. I command; you submit. You got that?”
He couldn’t be more clear. “Yes, sir,” she says, and her voice does not quaver.
Chapter Eleven
Everything around me seems like a strange dream now. I wait with expectation I can taste on my lips, breath in the air around me and feel on my skin. It’s so real, I swear it will materialize before me. But then, what is expectation but one endless fantasy after another? And fantasy cannot be real; it’s thinner than a cloud and invisible as a ghost. I’ve lived with this strangeness ever since the day I masturbated for Benjamin in my office. What a stroke of genius!
It was a gamble. I was so giddy when I won, but of course, he slapped giddiness all to heck as he turned into a ruthless drill sergeant. Just as he used to be, Benjamin took me by surprise—not a surprise that he finally relented and agreed to take me back, but a surprise with what came next.
I expected him to turn around and leave my office with my last ‘Yes, sir’. Instead, he ordered me to my knees. Knowing this was a test and it was obviously not the time to argue, I immediately dropped to all fours and crawled to his feet at his command, withdrew his steamy, heat-soaked cock from his pants, and opened my mouth to receive him. I sucked him like a newborn sucks his mother’s tit, drinking in his essence and imaging his love—I know, it was too soon to count on that. But if nothing else, is this not my fondest hope?
Unfortunately, Benjamin was not about to let me linger on the sweetness of his erection. He preferred grabbing my hair in the age-old style of taking, shoving the thick meat down my throat until I gagged. I willed myself to absorb the three years worth of reckless energy that came pouring out as he fucked my face. It spilled out, discharged and flooded my body so I was nearly orgasming again from the power of it alone. Great gobs of thick white cum ejaculated down my gullet. I gulped, practically choking, but restrained the urge to spit it out. When he was finished, he withdrew from me slowly as if he actually wanted to stay there. Then he tucked the dwindling member inside his pants and zipped them up, while I stared at his crotch. My face was still covered in spunk.
I realized within in seconds of that finish that Locksley was never quite like this. He’d been demanding in the same way, but I experienced my own submissive longing differently when I was with him.
It’s been days now since Benjamin took my mouth, and I still can’t quite figure out what that difference is.
Another day at the office has come and gone, and still we’re respectful associates, no mention has been made of our agreement. I wonder sometimes if I dreamed the incident; have I gone round the bend, mad with my own imaginings? Occasionally, Benjamin has discreetly squeezed my rear, which was always a sign of his authority over me. He does it just often enough so I’m not given to panic, and the promise of what’s to come lingers afterwards as a seductive enticement to be patient. Still, the days go by and I dutifully wait.
The air is fresh outside, feeling a good deal like September, and that time of year when the weather in San Francisco finally breaks into beautiful blue skies and sunshine. But it is still August I remind myself. The fog rolled in late today, making it swiftly cold and damp along the city streets. I’m now headed for my car after picking up laundry from the cleaners. It’s parked just two blocks down the street, and I’m thinking of going home and cuddling up with a bottle of wine for the evening. I don’t dare be anymore outrageous than that, like going to a club, or even eating dinner with a friend. I know Benjamin is about to make his move—I saw it in his eyes this morning. He was looking at me strangely, thinking, sizing me up. It was just a hunch, but I think a very good hunch.
I start to pass by an alley, my head down as I press on feeling the foggy dampness soak right to the skin inside my thin sweater. It’s Friday, so I wore my striped stockings again, and tall boots with spiky heels, and a chartreuse turtleneck dress that hugs my hips and clings to the rounds of my ass nicely. I wore it thinking Benjamin couldn’t help but notice me. I’m still wooing, still getting in his space, nicely, submissively, of course, but I make certain that I’m there, especially when the calls from Colleen come in and I jealously hold my ground.
I’ve nearly passed the alley when I feel a vague prickly feeling over my left shoulder. I’m about to turn around, but before I can, someone shoves me from the rear and I’m forced into the narrow passageway between the tall brick industrial buildings. Refuse clings to the garbage dumpster and the old walls. It flies through air on a breeze and then settles on the asphalt waiting for another gust of air to pick it up and carry it away.
“Don’t turn around!” a voice behind me speaks. I get the message and start saying my prayers.
In the middle of the alley about halfway down the block sits a newer model pickup—black with huge wheels and some box-like thing in the back that’s covered with a canvas tarp.
“Remove your clothes,” the voice rasps. I want to hear Benjamin in that deep baritone but it is not. Starting to panic, I attempt to turn around, but I’m stopped when a pair of thick male hands grab hold my arms. “I said, don’t turn around!” the man snaps at me. “It’s pretty much broad daylight here, but that won’t stop me from whipping you right in this alley until you scream. You’re Ben Hunter’s girl, and I’m the friend he sent to bring you around. You don’t need to know anymore than that, girl. Now strip!”
The man steps back, lets go my arm and assumes I’ll obey him. I’m tempted to run…
“…the first sign of resistance, I’ll come down on you so hard, you’ll wish you’d never seen me again…”
Right… I tell myself… don’t resist… take off your dress… get moving, Dana, don’t lose what you have gained… I’m filled with commands, rattled off in such a cadence that I can hardly think. But I do manage to lift the chartreuse dress by the hem and pulled it up and over my hips, my breasts and then my head.
“In the dumpster,” the gruff man orders.
I would object to the pointless waste of a perfectly kinky dress, but these are supposedly Benjamin’s orders I’m following. Who’s to say he’s not behind my kidnapper watching my every move?
I toss the dress in the dumpster to my left, while feeling the cool damp air close in on my skin. I shiver from
head to toe. I’m wearing nothing but a bra and a tiny thong—and of course my favorite stripped thigh-high stockings and black leather boots.
“The bra and panties,” the man says next.
While feeling the reckless thrill of doing what the man asks, I hastily take off my underwear. The faster I obey, the sooner we’re out of this place. Anticipating his next command, I start to unzip the boots, but the man stops me.
“That’s enough,” he says, as he pushes me toward the back of the truck. I stumble forward and the open tailgate hits me at the top of my thighs. There is enough force behind that shove to topple me forward on the cold metal truck bed. For a swift sixty seconds, maybe—I’m not really counting—my naked ass gets spanked with something hard that feels like wood, but I don’t dare look back. I keep my eyes shut tight, and wisely swallow the sound of my distress, gulping back my frightened tears.
When the spanking stops, my unseen stranger pushes me forward again. “In the box, slut!” he orders. I scramble forward on hands and knees. “Under the canvas,” he says.
I lift the canvas and what’s going to happen next dawns on me with vivid clarity. Underneath the canvas tarp is a three foot square box. The top and bottom are solid sheets of the metal, the sides are enclosed by bars, and facing me is a barred door, which is now slightly ajar. “Get inside!” The man pokes me with a stick and I move into the cramped enclosure, curling up on myself as if that were some protection.
The man climbs on the truck bed after me, closes the cage door, shuts the padlock tight and lowers the canvas over the top. He moves around me, apparently anchoring the tarp so it won’t blow away. All I can see outside the cage is the hazy blue-gray color of the tarp. In a few places where it’s slit, I can see daylight coming through. I thought of so many possible scenarios to begin my submission to Benjamin Hunter, but I never imagined this. And yet, this is where I find myself, frightened, anxious and I think, deep down beyond all the fear, aroused—but that is hard to say right now. I sink back inside the cage, trying to find some way to be comfortable, then discover a water bottle behind me pressing into the side of my leg. Pulling it free I realize what I have. He thought of everything.
“You won’t be getting out anytime soon, so you best get comfortable,” the man barks his final comment.
Then the sound of his shoes on the asphalt is followed by the cab door opening and closing shut. The truck starts and lunges forward with a jerk, then finally speeds off down the alley. The rest I can’t even speculate because I cannot see a damn thing.
This was what Benjamin had planned for me. I won’t resist. Although even if I wanted to, there’s little use… any resistance would be in vain.
The real world fades to black as my eyes close and then open on a world inside me where I find my heart beating hard and fast, my lips parched with fear, and the tears that were stuck in my eyes during those long minutes of panic starting to stream down my face. Behind all that consumes me in terror and anxiety, I know that Benjamin has orchestrated my kidnapping. He planned it to the letter: the capture; the cage in the back of the truck; the terrorizing ride to nowhere; and my utter humiliation at the hands of this stranger. And I know what this means, the week away from my job, the week of my undivided attention focused on my master, just as he promised when he agreed to have me back, it’s starting now.
This is not a smooth ride—the roads we pass on are horribly bumpy and my only solace is knowing that this phase of my imprisonment will surely end.
***
After a long bumpy, miserable ride the truck comes to an abrupt halt. I come to from a languorous and uncomfortable stupor and listen for noises, anything that might give me a clue about what happens next.
I’m finally rewarded for my patience when I hear Benjamin’s beloved voice. “How is your captive?”
My heart leaps excitedly.
“Stunned, I suppose, but I think she’ll live,” the man returns.
“The cage locked?”
“Shiny new padlock I bought yesterday,” he says.
“She made no fuss when you took her?”
“Not after I mentioned your name. No.”
“Good. Let her pee out behind. She can have a nervous bladder and I don’t suppose you want your truck bed dirtied.”
“No problem,” my captor replies. “I’ll see you in a half hour.”
“And no mercy, Jud,” Ben adds. “She’s starting at square one and earning everything she gets.”
There’s a wait of several minutes, until I hear the truck door close again and the engine roar. Just seconds later, we stop again, Jud climbs out of the truck and the tailgate opens. After unhooking the tarp, he reaches in and unlocks the cage.
“Out, slut, time to pee,” he says as he holds the canvas high so I can exit.
My legs feel like glue and when I try to use them they hardly work. I wish the boots had gone the way of my dress and underthings. They are more of a hindrance than any protection. I am able to follow the man’s orders, and let him lead me into the brushy woods behind what I gather is a convenience store or bar. It’s rustic, the whole place feels crude and old. The woods are wild…could be we’re somewhere on the Peninsular in the mountains or in Marin; bit it’s impossible to tell. Wherever we are, there’s no sign of the city and little sign of civilization. I get the feel of how it’s going to be for now.
When he says we’re going to start at the beginning, he wasn’t kidding. This is virgin territory for us and I’m now his captive prize.
A few yards into the woods, Jud orders me stop and pee, so like the dutiful slut I’ve become in the last hour, I crouch and spread my legs. Little did I realize how badly I needed to go until the stream of yellow piss passes from me and soaks into the ground at my feet. Studying the wet ground, I realize that the boots are probably a good thing. Maybe it’s my naked butt I should be worried about as it hovers precariously over a thorny bush.
My captor hustles me along and I’m quickly back in the truck, inside my cage, realizing that my mind is such a blur that I hardly noticed anything about the man who took me prisoner. I remember only his paunchy chest, the jeans that cover his legs and the brown work boots that held his body with some authority over me. I wish it had been Benjamin and not a stranger.
We travel over more rugged roads. As the truck bumps along, so do I. With every bounce against the metal cage I imagine another bruise appearing in my white skin. With every rough mile, I get a little more lost inside a whirlwind of thought, wondering, waiting, anxious about what’s coming next.
We stop again and the truck door opens. Seconds later, the tailgate comes down, the tarp folds back and the padlock on my cage is unlocked.
“Probably going to be pretty tricky walking in those boots,” Jud tells me, as he looks down at me like he’s admiring the shape of my thighs and legs. He’s probably thinking, what a slut!
He puts his hands on me a lot, as he binds my wrists in front of me, paws a little at my tits and smacks my ass in good fun. I keep my head down like a trained submissive, my eyes on the ground—I still haven’t seen his face clearly. He leaves me and returns to the cab, where he fishes around for something. Returning to my side he has a grocery bag in one hand a six-pack in the other.
“Here, you can carry this,” he says as he shoves the grocery bag into my chest. “I got the beer. Now move.”
We’re deep in the woods. I can hear no sound but the trees in the wind and the birds flitting from one to the next.
Jud pushes me with a stick, indicating the path we’re taking away from the truck. It’s hard in the boots with their stupidly high heels and a heavy bag of groceries awkwardly held by my bound hands. But I manage pretty well. I make one misstep and fall against a tree, but Jud rights me and pushes me on. Maybe ten minutes pass before we arrive at a rustic cabin, which at first I can hardly see as we approach. It’s covered from the rear by the surrounding forest and only when we move around the building does it come clearly into focus.
“So, welcome to boot camp, my little recruit.”
Boot camp!
Ben is smiling as we approach. He’s sitting on the cabin porch rocking in a chair, looking very handsome but very much like a woodsman or a weekend warrior just hanging out after a long day. His eyes are shining with a light I haven’t seen since the best days of our previous relationship. This is a good sign and I almost smile in return.
Despite the bruising ride and the harrowing hike, I can feel what this taking down is doing to me and my spirit. I’m lowly and lost and in a dreamy state of surrender, while my body feels as if it’s burning up. I know I’m aroused, but the feeling in me is more than sexual arousal—it’s like a sensuous subspace without pain. I’m scared yes. I’m shaking. And I almost welcome it when Benjamin rips off his first command.
“On all fours, slut.”
I drop instantly, proving to him that I will slavishly follow his orders. And yet, when my knees hit rock, I see that my ready enthusiasm might not have been such a good idea. I can’t stop the pained grimace that follows.
Benjamin laughs. “I never said you had to hurt yourself.”
“Sorry, sir.” I hang my head like a dog.
“What was that?”
I look up with tentative eyes wondering what I did wrong. “I’m sorry, sir,” I repeat.
“Yeah, I heard you. Your first beach of conduct.”
I must look as frightened and confused as I feel. Yes, I’m wanting this, but I feel so battered that my brain is reeling. Did I miss something?
“No, of course, you don’t know the rules…” he says, accurately reading my thoughts. “And yes, this is a mind game. I will attempt to confuse you, baffle you and take you off guard every chance I get. I’ll probably annoy you. I’ll make you mad. I’ll test every vow you’ve so easily made, spouting off about what a perfect slave you can be, what a fine submissive you were born to be, how you were born to serve. That’s all bullshit until you prove it, Dana. I don’t care what words you spout from those pretty lips, I will believe nothing until I see the submission in your behavior, in your eyes, and in your spirit, in every bone of that slutty body. I will believe nothing, until you show me by your obedient behavior, one miserable day after miserable day, that I have your willing surrender.
A Master For A Desperate Slave Page 11