Captivation

by Sarah Fisher

  Before she had time to recover Starn pushed her down hard on the cool stone. His fingers closed painfully on her shoulders. His expression was grim, but his eyes flashed with excitement.

  ‘Oh yes!’ he panted, dropping down across her chest so that she was pinned down. ‘I like it when they fight!’

  Alex’s survival instinct was taking control. As the adrenaline began to pump she twisted back and forth, struggling to shake Starn off her. Her rational mind knew it was madness; there was nothing she could do with the chain still attached to the collar. It would be far more sensible to submit, but her body had other ideas. Fighting, biting, and writhing she struggled to get away from Starn, and as she did his hands jerked her skirt up. She screamed as she felt his fingers tearing at her thighs, before they plunged into her again. This time it wasn’t a curious exploration but a cruel violation. His expression was predatory.

  ‘You have to learn to do as you’re told,’ he said thickly. ‘I want you - so I can have you. It’s that simple.’

  Alex glared up at him, and then spat in his face. It wasn’t something she’d ever done before, and she was almost as surprised as Starn. His reaction was to slap her face hard, making her shriek. Wiping his cheek he clambered off her and jerked her back up to her feet.

  Alex was trembling wildly. Her breath came in ragged sobs.

  ‘Leave me alone, you bastard,’ she gasped.

  ‘Now, that’s pretty unbecoming language for a little English princess. You deserve a good spanking for that.’ Starn mocked. ‘I’m surprised Peter hasn’t taught you the fundamental rule of this wonderful place; you belong to whoever wants you, whenever they want you, however they want you. You have no say in the matter, do you understand?’ As he spoke he spun her round to face the wall, and jerked her skirt up.

  ‘Bend over,’ he said, in a low and threatening tone. ‘And open your legs. I’ll show you what we do to slaves who forget their place.’

  Alex longed to resist him, and was about to begin fighting again when she heard Peter Tourne’s voice above the sound of her thumping heart. Her momentary relief quickly vanished when she realised what he was saying.

  ‘Good morning Starn, I thought I heard your voice.’

  There was no hint of rebuke for Starn in his tone; not a word to protect her or defend her.

  Starn snorted. ‘Your little bitch spat at me.’

  ‘Tut, tut,’ said Tourne, turning Alex round to face him. ‘I had hoped she would know better.’

  She glanced up into his eyes. His expression was impassive, and she felt a sudden chill that cut to the bone.

  ‘I thought she was beginning to understand,’ he said, addressing his remark to Starn. ‘It seems we have to take more stringent measures to ensure she understands exactly what is excepted of her.’

  ‘Mr Tourne,’ she began, with a note of appeal in her voice.

  He caught hold of her chin suddenly, his fingers closing like a vice. ‘Speak only when spoken to!’ he snapped.

  Alex looked away, unable to make sense of the complex emotions that coursed through her. Something about Peter Tourne and his cool voice made her stomach contract with fear, and lurch with a dark, eager desire.

  He stroked her cheek. ‘I really had hoped that you would learn the rules more quickly, Alex. It seems I was mistaken.’

  Alex was filled with a sense of foreboding, only his order not to speak made her hold back from begging. She wanted to tell him she did understand - let Starn have her now, she didn’t care. She would do whatever he asked. She did understand!

  But Peter Tourne had already turned away and unfastened the end of the chain that secured her to the stone floor.

  He didn’t jerk the leash, but instead he indicated the door at the far end of the gallery, and Alex obediently and silently moved towards it. Whatever punishment was to follow she had brought upon herself, but the thought did nothing to comfort her as she stepped into the cool and shadowy room. Beside the bathroom in the far wall she could see the door that led down to the cells. Perhaps he would simply lock her up... or perhaps Mario would return.

  She stood in the centre of the room without moving an inch, aware of how ridiculous it was to wait so meekly. The chain had been released. She had a hint of an opportunity to escape, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to take it. Standing in the doorway Peter Tourne’s expression was one of disappointment rather than anger. Did he want her to have more spirit? Did he want to see her attempting to escape? Alex was confused.

  Starn’s expression by contrast was almost gleeful, as if he’d got some absurd childish delight in getting Alex into trouble.

  Tourne took hold of her wrists, and from his pockets produced the handcuffs that Mario had removed earlier. His eyes moved over her body, lingering on her face. She blushed furiously. Snapping the cuffs into place he moved away to where a thick rope was looped around a large cleat on one wall. The rope passed up through a pulley system hanging from the ceiling, and had a large metal hook attached to its dangling end. He unravelled the rope from the cleat and lowered the hook.

  Alex almost felt as if she was an observer to her own punishment. She watched, rather than felt, as he slipped the hook through the cuffs and then pulled the rope back up towards the ceiling. With her arms above her head she waited meekly for whatever was to follow. He stepped back and looked her up and down, as still and assured as a big cat hunting game.

  The cool room was unnaturally silent. Time seemed to slow until every second was a minute, and still Peter Tourne watched her.

  Alex’s stomach tightened and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled; this was not the passionate retribution she had expected, but a cool display of superiority that verged on indifference. Would he whip her now? Or would he let Starn loose to do with her as he pleased?

  Finally he sighed and turned to Starn. ‘Go to my office,’ he said in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘You know where to find what I want.’

  Starn grinned. His obvious delight filled Alex with dread. As soon as he’d left the room Peter Tourne stepped close to Alex.

  ‘You should have obeyed Starn,’ he whispered menacingly. ‘I thought you understood that I demand total obedience. I’m disappointed with you, Alex. You’ve let me down.’

  Alex’s eyes filled with tears, and her view of him became blurred. ‘I am sorry, Mr Tourne. I’ll try harder next time - I promise...’

  Peter Tourne casually stroked her unprotected breasts through the thin voile blouse. Her nipples hardened instantly at his undeniably arousing touch. ‘You belong to me,’ he whispered. ‘Perhaps Starn was wrong in trying to take advantage of you, but even if he was that is none of your concern; you are meant to do whatever he - or anybody else - requires of you. If there had been a fault - a wrong - it would have been his and not yours, had you obeyed him as you should have. Do you understand what I’m saying, Alex?’

  Reluctantly Alex nodded. She was nothing more than a possession. Her will was subject to Peter Tourne’s. She shivered. He moved away, apparently still unhappy with her. Her breasts felt cold without his touch. Moving across the room he pushed a bell on the wall. Alex closed her eyes, certain that he was summoning Mario. She was right - it only seemed an instant before the swarthy driver appeared.

  Peter Tourne barely looked at him. ‘Get me the frame,’ he said quietly.

  Mario’s eyes flashed for an instant and then he vanished into the gloomy corridor that led to the cells. After a few minutes he reappeared carrying and dragging something that looked like a single wooden bed frame. A threatening pair of manacles was set at each end, and the body was crisscrossed with slats. Halfway along its length was a broad leather belt, and at one end was a depression, set with two fastenings. Alex realised with a growing sense of trepidation that this depression was there to support her neck and head. She swung round to beg for Peter Tourn
e’s mercy, but his expression - as cold as an ancient glacier - froze the words in her mouth.

  He waved Mario closer. The driver manoeuvred the frame into position in the centre of the room, and then set about lowering Alex’s aching arms.

  Peter Tourne watched Alex with a mixture of pleasure and pride as she allowed herself to be strapped to the wooden frame. He could see the trembling pulse in her chest, and the rise of nervous perspiration between her breasts. He was angry with Starn for disregarding his orders about leaving Alex alone, but even so, Alex had to learn that obedience was everything. The lower manacles secured and held her ankles wide apart. Mario worked slowly and diligently up over her prostrate body, tightening the belt around her waist, snapping the little locks into place on either side of her collar, and then finally taking the handcuffs off and pulling her arms apart and above her head so that he could secure each wrist into the manacles set in the heavy wooden frame.

  Alex’s eyes flashed with fear, but Peter Tourne knew exactly what had to be done; better now while she was still in doubt about her feelings - it would serve as a proof that she really was his to command.

  He nodded to Mario, who slid the final restraint from the back of the frame - a leather hood that covered her head and eyes totally. Framing her nose it strapped securely under her chin, cutting out every shred of light and most sounds. All that would be left when they had done, would be her sensations and her thoughts.

  As Mario jerked the tight mask over her face she began to cry out. It was a shriek of fear and uncertainty. Mario looked at his boss, waiting for instructions. On one side of the hood was a flap with a ball gag attached. Another buckle and the girl would be silenced. Peter Tourne considered this, and then shook his head; he wanted to hear her cries. Also, he didn’t want to alarm her too much, and if she panicked in such a heightened state of awareness she might choke. Better to leave the gag off on this first occasion.

  Starn reappeared carrying a stainless steel box and a similar leather one. Peter Tourne smiled thinly. Beckoning to Mario he stood back while the large man hooked the frame up on the rope and then hauled it up so that Alex and the frame were hanging at an acute angle to the floor. He waited while the man secured the frame so that it was stable.

  Alex Sanderson looked divine; an innocent beauty in her thin blouse, her coarse skirt, barefoot and totally at his mercy. He could sense that she was struggling to make out what was happening, and wondered if she had any idea of what he had in mind as her punishment for defying Starn.

  He ran a hand over her breasts, and was rewarded by a faint ripple which spread out from under his fingertips. He could almost feel every nerve ending straining to make sense of his touch.

  Roughly he pulled her skirt up, exposing her ripe quim. Her lips were open a little, like a ripening bud. Already a light gloss of hair was returning. Mario had already anticipated his boss’s needs and hurried across the room with a bowl of water.

  Tourne smiled and opened the stainless steel box Starn offered him. From inside he took a tube of liquid soap. Gently, almost reverently, he soaped Alex’s sex. He felt her stiffen as his fingers worked the lather over her mound. He took the razor from the bowl of hot water, and with skilled hands he removed every last trace of hair. Alex held her breath as the razor sliced through the stubble. When he’d finished he rinsed away the soap.

  Before he began the next stage he bent forward and pressed a single kiss to the peach-soft lips, his tongue lingering for a second on the peak of her aroused clitoris. Alex responded instantly with a guttural moan and grind of her hips.

  Tourne smiled - she would be so good, if only she would trust him; give herself over entirely to his desires. He moved his attention back to her breasts. Fingers catching in the gossamer thin fabric that covered them he ripped it open and, taking a swab offered to him by Mario, began to circle the tight little peaks of her nipples with surgical spirit. He felt her flinch and then snort in disbelief. It seemed she may have guessed what he intended to do - after all, she had seen Gena naked.

  With the air of a top surgeon he pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves from the stainless steel box, and then removed the piercing gun. It took him only seconds to slip the pre-sterilised surgical steel nipple ring into place. Taking hold of one of Alex’s breasts, nipping it tight so that the nipple protruded like a cherry pip, he positioned the gun with great professionalism before she had time to protest. When the head was flat against her skin he pulled the trigger. There was a faint hiss as the spring released, and then a frantic shriek from Alex as the metal bit home.

  ‘No!’ she screamed as the ring slid into place. Her whole body flexed and strained against the leather strap and manacles. Her sobbing echoed off the walls of the little room. When Tourne lay the gun against her other breast the sounds ceased and Alex froze. He could smell her fear, her anger, the sense of humiliation rising from her body. When he’d finished she would be wearing the mark of a slave. Her body would proclaim his possession of her. His fingers closed again around her delicate flesh. The only sounds that broke the tense silence were those of her laboured breathing - followed by the malevolent hiss of the gun.

  This time Alex did not shriek or fight, but let out a long low wail of despair that made even the inscrutable Peter Tourne shiver with delight. When the second ring was in place Alex began to tremble. Her shivering was enough to make the sunlight catch and glitter off the two new pieces of body jewellery; they looked magnificent!

  Glancing down at the vulnerable folds of her quim, Peter Tourne slipped a long stud into the gun. Today he would pierce each side of her labia and put a stud through each of the holes. Later - when she was ready for sale, he would slide a ring in to join the two; it was a symbolic gesture of closure that marked the completion of any girl’s training. When the ring was in place he would be ready to pass her on.

  Before he began again he gently ran a finger over one of the nipple rings. He considered it added a strange vulnerability and beauty to the female body; tangible proof of a woman’s submission to her master.

  Pouring more antiseptic wash onto a ball of cotton he swabbed the thick outer lips of Alex’s sex. He felt the tension building again in her body as he parted them, and looked at the pale flower petals within. Occasionally he’d seen girls with the inner lips pierced too, but had always considered that a private matter, something a master did to his own woman, whereas the outer ring could be seen and understood by everyone.

  He nuzzled the cold steel head of the piercing gun up under the moist folds of Alex’s quim. She whimpered. What little he could see of her face was contorted with fear and apprehension. He calmly squeezed the trigger. A flash of silver traced the path of the steel pin.

  Looking up he saw that Starn and Mario had moved closer to observe him at work, their eyes betraying hunger and lust. Though Peter Tourne counted Starn amongst his oldest friends, and considered Mario a good and trustworthy servant, he had little respect for either man.

  Starn would never understand the subtle blend of cruelty and kindness, of passion and pain that always brought out the best in a woman. He only ever pursued his own pleasures, and in doing so he never commanded the full obedience, or experienced the full beauty, of a woman’s unquestioning adoration that was possible. Mario, he knew, was a brutal and self-seeking bully. Though it served him well to have a man with such drives, he’d always suspected that left to his own devices Mario could brutalise a woman so much that she would be of little use for anything thereafter.

  He swabbed the other labia. Already the first had begun to swell, plump flesh rising like new bread around the head of the stud. He rested his hand on Alex’s firm smooth belly, stroking her gently to calm her. She was sobbing, but made no further attempts to resist him as he pressed the stainless steel gun into place.

  He took one final glance at Starn, who licked his lips, salivating at the exhibition. He made a mental note n
ot to sell Alex to his friend, whatever price he offered. Starn had no appreciation of what a fine creature the young English artist was; she needed someone special to help her fulfil the full promise of which she was capable.

  He squeezed the trigger that drove the final stud into place. As the pain ricocheted through the girl’s body, despite the straps and restraints, she lifted up towards him. For an instant it seemed as if she was offering herself in her entirety into his hands. He smiled - Alex Sanderson was a feast, an exquisite banquet.

  Starn was at his friend’s shoulder, eyes alight with desire. Tourne could read his mind; he wanted Alex Sanderson and he wanted her now. He sighed and signalled again to Mario. His driver grinned and cranked the rope up so that Alex was now almost vertical.

  His friend grinned and stepped closer to Alex, his hand working at the fastenings on her skirt. He dragged it down over her hips, leaving her naked except for the ragged remains of the thin cotton blouse.

  ‘I’ll teach her to do as she’s told,’ he whispered thickly and ran his hands over her newly pierced breasts.

  Peter Tourne turned away and picked up the piercing gun. ‘Get Mario to put her back in her cell when you’ve done here,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ll be in my office if you want me.’

  Chapter 6

  Alex came to feeling as if she’d surfaced from some feverish nightmare. She knew she hadn’t been unconscious, but very close to it. Peering around she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She was back in the cell. The little room was cool, dark, and totally silent. The chain glittering above her and joined to the collar around her neck brought back a flood of intense images. The abstract, dreamlike quality of her memories hardened into reality.