by Stella Noir
I furl my eyebrows. "That's not how it works, young girl."
"I promise to hold my end of the deal," she says. "Absolute obedience, no backtalk and no hesitation for whatever you ask of me. Just honest answers."
I instinctively shake my head. "I don't make deals with my subs."
"Fine," she says, shrugging again. "Then I won't get down on my knees, or do anything else you want me to do."
"Then you'll get punished—"
"Punish me all you want!" she interrupts. "You can beat the living hell out of me, and I still won't obey. I can take a lot. And I will. But you won't get anything out of me."
She turns around and makes a move to walk away from me, but I grab her upper arm, squeezing it tightly as I pull her back. The abruptness of my motions make her stumble and gasp in surprise, but when my eyes find hers again, there is no fright. Her eyes are flickering with resilience.
For a moment, I wonder if it was a bad choice to feed her before beginning her training. It might have been easier to get through to her if she was weakened and starved. But I hate the idea of starving her, that's not my style. It doesn't please me to see her hungry and thirsty.
But I also hate deals. She will get something out of this. Hell, she could've come at least two times by now if she wasn't so stubborn.
Dealing with her reluctance would be a lot easier if she was more like other girls. If she would be screaming, kicking and punching me, spitting curses while raging through the room, putting up a fight like a caged animal. I would know how to handle that because I have done it before.
This, however, is new to me.
It excites me.
She shall have her deal, but only under my conditions.
"Three questions," I say, pulling her closer. "Three questions and three commands."
"Five!" she hisses.
Oh, she wants to bargain now?
I shake my head and chuckle. My grip around her slim arm tightens and she lets out a little moan in pain. It is the most delicious sound.
"Three," I repeat.
She snorts with anger. "Four."
Her voice is low but insistent.
"Each question adds another command," I remind her. "Are you sure you want that? I could end up inside of you, fucking you senseless—and there's nothing you could do about it."
Of course, I won't. I won't be inside of her again until she begs me to. But she doesn't have to know that right now.
Her cheeks blush, and her mouth opens ever so slightly, her lower lip trembling as she breathes heavily. This arouses her, even though she would never admit it. That little minx.
"We have fucked before," she says, trying to sound nonchalant. "Why would that bother me?"
Our eyes lock onto each other, and neither of us says anything for a few moments.
"I just want to know what is going on here," she whispers. "In all honesty."
"Four," I agree. "Four questions and four commands. But you have to remove the robe before we start."
She ponders for a moment, glancing at me with narrow eyes.
"Fine," she says.
I let go of her arm and watch as she unties the belt of the robe and lets it fall to the floor, revealing her pale, delicate body in front of me. Her perfectly teardrop-shaped breasts rise visibly as she takes deep breathes. She wants to appear a lot calmer than she truly is.
I scan her from head to toe, taking in the beautiful sight of her barely touched body, wearing nothing but the collar I gave her. Her skin is so soft and creamy white; I am sure she will wear her marks beautifully. Her dark hair is messy, falling down her shoulders in tangled waves. Her makeup is smeared a little, caused by our earlier session and the blindfold I put on her. She crosses her long, slender legs before one another while her arms are hanging down at her side, her fingers twitching nervously.
"Perfect," I say, casting her an approving smile.
She doesn't reciprocate the smile but looks at me with that same unreadable face she loves to wear.
"Okay, first question—"
"No," I interrupt her. "First command: Get down on your knees."
She glances at me. "Fine."
She complies and gets down on her knees, sitting on her heels as she looks up at me. My cock twitches at the sight of her. Collared, naked, kneeling before me—exactly how I've wanted her since the first moment I laid eyes on her.
“And I want every compliance to come with a ‘Yes, Master’,” I add. “Understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she hisses.
“Good girl.”
She swallows hard and takes a deep breath. "Remember: Honest answers!"
"I don't like that tone," I warn her. "And you are still addressing me inappropriately. But yes, my answers will be honest."
She sighs again, but—luckily for her—refrains from rolling her eyes this time.
"Do you intend to keep me here?" she asks. "I won't be allowed to go home tonight? Or tomorrow? I am your prisoner?"
"Technically, that's three questions," I say.
Her eyes widen.
"But I'll be generous," I add. "Since they all entail the same question. Yes. You are not going home tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow. You are mine now."
I pause for a moment, observing her reaction. She doesn't move or even blink.
"All mine," I repeat, taking a step closer to her.
She tilts her head back a little further as I come to a halt directly in front of her. Her mouth opens and closes without any words coming out. She is careful, knowing that she only has three more questions. She doesn't want to waste one by coming up with a simple follow-up question.
For now, it's my turn.
"Lie on your back," I order. "With your knees pulled up and your arms above your head."
She blushes. Then, a little smirk runs across her face, and I know why before she says it.
"Technically, that's three commands," she whispers. "But, yes, Master, I'll be generous."
I clench my fists, as she follows my order and slowly lies down on her back, her eyes fixated on mine when she pulls up her legs and moves her arms above her head. She closes her eyes when she reaches the position and realizes her predicament. Her naked center is exposed in front of me, glistening with wetness.
"What is going to happen to me?" she asks next, with her eyes still closed. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Two questions," I comment. "You need to learn to boil it down to one."
She opens her eyes but doesn't say anything for a moment.
"What are you going to do to me?" she repeats.
"I am going to train you," I declare. "You are mine, and I will make you understand what that means. You will learn how to be the good little slave I need you to be. My pleasure toy. Mine to do whatever I want with; mine to please."
Her eyes flicker.
I am enjoying this a lot more than I thought I would. There is a big elephant in the room. The “why” question is filling the room like suffocating smoke. But so far, Liz was smart enough to push it aside and focus on assessing her situation first.
"Next," I say. "Touch yourself."
She gasps with indignation and instantly shakes her head.
"No, that's—"
"That's an order," I insist. "Touch yourself. I want you to play with yourself in front of me. Now."
She hesitates, furling her eyebrows as she glares at me. Then, she slowly moves her right hand down between her legs. “Yes, Master.”
"Good girl," I praise as she reluctantly spreads her lips and moves one finger between them. A slick sound betrays her, disclosing her arousal. She closes her eyes in shame and starts to circle her swollen clit.
"Does it feel good?" I want to know. My cock has long risen to attention, pressing against the fabric of my pants and causing a visible bulge. It takes a great deal of strength not to give in to my urges and savage her. She felt so damn good...
"You're not the one to be asking questions," she breathes. Her vo
ice is trembling with agitation.
God, how I loathe that overbearing attitude. It needs to be spanked out of her as soon as possible.
In due time.
She wants to stop what she's doing and tries to pull her hand back, but I prevent her from doing so.
"No!" I exclaim. "Your hand stays there. Continue while you ask your next question."
She groans but continues to massage her center. It's visibly hard for her to keep her legs up and maintain composure.
Good, I want her hungry. Needy. Willing.
She needs a few moments to come up with the next question.
"How?" she whispers. "How did you get me here? Did you drug me?"
Again, two questions. She has no idea how generous I am with her today, especially considering the attitude I am dealing with.
Honestly, that is what she asked for, and I am a man of my word.
I look down at her as she squirms beneath her own touch. Her cheeks are flushed, and so is her sensitive center. She is exactly where I want her to be.
"I have a pier close to my house," I say. "I brought us here and carried you inside."
"Did you drug me?" she repeats, looking up at me through half-closed eyes.
I nod. "You were sleeping."
She groans. It is a sweet, desperate sound, coming alive through the combination of frustration and lust.
"That's so... sick," she breathes. It almost sounds like a compliment.
I smile at her. "Last command."
Her eyes roll back into her head. I am pretty sure that she has already made a pact with herself to make the best of this situation, no matter what. She is obviously enjoying herself. Her body is squirming, her feet trembling mid-air.
I hesitate. Already, she has gotten to me a lot more than I had planned. She is quiet but strong, so incredibly strong. She may very well be capable of controlling me, and she is aware of the power she holds.
"Come," I say.
Her eyes widen. She opens her mouth, but like so many times before, she doesn't say a word.
"I want you to come," I clarify. "Now."
She shakes her head.
"Yes, you will," I disagree with her silent objection. "I want you to play with yourself until you come. That is my last command for tonight."
"You're sick," she repeats.
I might be, but there is no doubt that she enjoys it. She closes her eyes and throws her head back while the motions of her fingers accelerate and turn more violent.
My hand wanders to my crotch in spite of myself. My cock is rock hard. She is killing me. I need her.
Liz starts moaning, as if she could hear my thoughts and intends to increase my suffering. She arches her back and spreads her legs even further, completely forgetting about any inhibitions she might have had earlier. She is lost in herself.
"Fuck this," I whisper.
She is too preoccupied to hear me, and she doesn't notice me unzipping my pants either. My erection springs free, hard and ready. I start stroking myself, adapting to her rhythm. She is breaking a sweating, writhing beneath me, her mind clouded by lust.
"I'm gonna c—," she breathes, suffocated by her excitement.
I know.
She tenses up for a few moments before her climax takes over. She lets out one last moan that sounds more like a deep sigh of relief, before she rolls over to the side, panting heavily as she rolls up into a ball, moaning and breathing through the intense waves of pleasure that take a hold of her.
I join her just a few moments later.
Chapter 3
LIZ
My thigh is spotted with his cum. I don't even notice it until the last waves of my orgasm finally recede, and my mind clears.
I am lying on my side, my hand still between my legs where my center continues to throb even though my climax is long gone. My hair is partly covering my face, making it hard to see even when I lift my head to inspect his doings on my thigh.
He towers above me, still holding is erection pointing towards me, breathing heavily. Small drops of sweat are running down his temples. Something in his demeanor tells me that things did not exactly go the way he had planned. He looks tense, confused even.
Without saying a word, he puts his member away and zips up his pants.
He leans down to me, brushing away the hair that is covering my face and hooking his finger through the little ring on my collar.
"Up," he orders, pulling me up by the collar.
I groan in protest, but I'm forced to follow him if I don't want to be choked. I grab his arm with both my hands to release some of the pressure on my neck and increase my potential for resistance.
"I have one more question!" I remind him.
He frowns at me but doesn't stop pulling at the collar. I stumble behind him as he drags me towards the bathroom.
"Leonard!" I yelp. "One more question!"
He ignores me and pushes me inside the shower stall. The bathroom is huge, almost as big as the bedroom itself. Next to the shower is a big bathtub and the vanity on the other side is fancier than any I have ever owned in my parent's house, let alone in my college dorm. The entire room is decorated with white marble and golden faucets. It would be a lovely spa area if I were in a different situation.
"We had a deal!" I tell him.
I flinch as he approaches me and reaches around to grab the shower head.
"Leonard, what—"
My question gets interrupted when he turns on the water. He checks the temperature first before he pointing the hose at me as if he were cleaning a car.
"That’s not how you are to address me," he yells.
I try to protect myself by lifting my arms, causing the water to splash back in his direction.
"Stop that!" he warns. "Turn around."
For God's sake, what is wrong with this man?
I glare at him but obediently do as he tells me, spinning myself in the warm water. It does feel good, and I am glad to get rid of the sweat and his cum, but I am furious at his behavior. I notice that he makes sure to clean my thigh extra thoroughly.
He turns off the water, and I stand in the shower, completely soaked and about to become cold when he wraps me in a big, soft towel.
Neither of us says a word. I don't like the way he looks at me. He seems to be angry, disappointed. But I have no idea what I could have done to cause this. He is the one who is not sticking to our deal. I did everything he told me to.
He dries me off with the towel, gently patting every spot on my body. His touch is soft, almost loving. I look down in confusion as he squats down to pat my legs dry.
When he is done, he wraps the towel around me and places his hands on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine.
"You're right," he says. "You have one more question. But I don't want to discuss that here."
"Where do y—"
I gasp in surprise when he lifts me up in one sudden, strong motion and carries me out the bathroom. His touch is comforting and his smell so enticing that I have to pull myself together not to lean into him for a kiss. Or touch him, stroke along his strong jawline and that neck, where I can see the tattoo peeking out again.
I have pretty much been naked for most of the day since he told me to undress on the boat, but I still haven't even seen him take off his shirt. It seems unfair that he keeps his undoubtedly well-shaped body hidden from my eyes.
"Can I go home now?" I ask, sounding like a scared child.
"Do you really want to use that as your last question?" he retorts and puts me down on the bed. I am in too much of a daze to react in time before he attaches the leash to my collar again.
I yank on it the moment I hear the sound, frustration taking over immediately. The past few moments let me forget the situation I am in. I am his captive, or at least, that is what he wants me to believe. With every minute that passes, I doubt my optimism more and more. I have no idea what time it is, but it must be far past the time I intended to be back home.
He sits dow
n on the bed next to me, his eyes on me as I lie before him, hugging the towel he wrapped around me.
"So?" he asks. "Your last question?"
I clear my throat and straighten up so that our eyes are almost on the same level.
"Why?" I ask. "Why are you doing this to me?"
His gaze darkens as he looks at me.
"Because I decided to make you mine."
I shake my head. "Yes, yes. You mentioned that. But why this?"
I gesture around the room. "Why kidnap me? Why lock me in? Did you think I'd run away after we had our fun on the boat today? You should know I'm not a girl for one-time things, even if I gave you that impression, and—"
"It's not that," he interrupts. "I want you, all of you."
He leans in closer and raises a hand to caress my cheek while his dark eyes fixate mine.
"We could just date," I whisper, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. The thought of truly being his captive scares me.
He shakes his head. "I don't do dating. This is what I want. You, here, for me. Just for me. I want to consume everything you are, and I want your undivided attention. I want to own you."
"Like a pet?" I ask.
He smiles. "Yes. I want you to be my pet."
I don't retreat when he leans forward to kiss me. I know, I should. This situation is fucked up; this man is fucked up. Possessive, twisted. God knows what's wrong with him. He might be seriously sick, a psychopath. Who says he is not going to kill me after he is done with me?
A single tear of horror rolls down my cheek as I reciprocate his kiss, our tongues intertwining greedily as if this was the first taste we got of each other after a long wait.
"I want you addicted to me," he adds when our kiss ends. His voice is calm and soft, but still accompanied by a threat. "I want to be in charge of your pleasure, your desires. The subject of your fantasies. Every single orgasm you will have from now on will be mine to give to you."
He notices the tear on my cheek and gently wipes it away with the tip of his finger.
I am so conflicted. My heart is pounding, yearning for more, for another kiss, for this man's body, his hands on me.
It's so messed up.