The lights of the tavern showed a few feet ahead of her and to the right. It was a long low building with stonewalls, bright blue trim and a parking lot filled with small cars. The sound of pop music drifted from the door when she opened it and the smell of food teased at her nostrils. She felt the gazes of some of the male patrons on her body as she sat at a table.
She ordered a Gusta beer and a meze. When the beer came it was crisp and cold and the meze: feta cheese served with Kalamata olives, fresh puffy pita bread and a small shepherd’s salad made of cucumber, tomato, parsley and scallions was tasty and satisfying. She watched a few young women dancing on the tiny makeshift floor, a grin tugging at her lips as she did so. A strangely foaming blue drink appeared on her table, courtesy of a dark and very handsome man at the bar.
She gave it a dubious look and him a slightly embarrassed smile. She didn’t know the language beyond a few words she had learned for the necessities and she had no idea of how to refuse the drink politely so she said thank you to the waitress and picked it up.
It was incredibly sweet, too sweet, and she put it back down, hiding a grimace behind a smile. The waitress cleared her plates and she sat there, suddenly and acutely aware of just how lonely the last two weeks had been despite the beauty of the landscape and the quiet she had yearned for. The music pumped, a fast bass heavy rock song began and the women danced wildly, laughing and singing along. Had she ever done that? She couldn’t recall it if she had, living with her aunt and uncle had taught her to hide her emotions, to keep every word and thought secret or face ridicule or criticisms.
She pushed that away. The night was warm and the tavern had no air conditioning. Sweat trickled down between her breasts and beaded up on her forehead. She was thirsty suddenly. Those olives must have been saltier than I thought, she told herself as she tried to flag down the incredibly busy waitress. Giving up she picked up the glass and drank another swallow of the blue concoction. Her thirst only increased and she took another sip, ignoring the sweetness, and another until she had drained it dry.
The music seemed to grow louder and her eyes felt heavy. The smell of cologne and perfume rode the air, makingher feel slightly sick. She got up from the table, swaying a bit as she stood. The room revolved, a slow sickening circle, and she headed for the door, determined to get out into the fresh air.
The door opened under her fingertips and she staggered across the parking lot. Her head ached and her legs trembled as she went, disoriented and ill she stared around, trying to recall from which direction she had come.
“Let me help you,” a deep voice said behind her, breath blowing across her right cheek.
Then there was only darkness.
* * *
She came to slowly. Her eyes ached when she opened them and her mouth was incredibly dry and bitter. Cool air tickled her breasts and belly, she blinked, trying to remember how she had gotten home but then she realized that she was not at her cottage. She had no idea of where she was.
Sheer black walls rose all around her. Dim light filtered from small bulbs set back into carved out alcoves. A heavy scent: at once animal-like and masculine, filled her nostrils. She tried to roll over but she couldn’t. A heavy weight held her in place. There was a musical clatter and chatter as she struggled against that weight and she became aware of the cold steel around her wrists and ankles just as she became aware that she was lying on an old stained mattress on a cold stone floor.
Understanding slammed home and she screamed, but all that passed her lips was a dry and dusty croak.
“She needs water,” a disembodied voice said from somewhere in the gloom. She strained at the bonds to no avail. She screamed and thrashed but the chains held her tightly.Her hands shook and tears spilled down her face.
Slave traders, she thought in terror. Or a crazed serial killer... a figure appeared and she shook her head, unsure of what she was seeing. One minute a tall man with a muscular body stood there, the next minute he had turned into a snarling fur covered creature with fangs gleaming from his mouth.
Then all went black.
* * *
When she came to the room was less dim, though still not bright. She was not alone either, a figure stood just out of the direct line of her vision but still close to the edge of the filthy mattress. Her mouth was no longer dry but she was still bound. She struggled once more but again it was to no avail. She knew she had been drugged, the drink had disguised whatever it was they had given her. She wriggled her fingers and toes to make sure she could, to her relief nothing was broken or missing. She managed to lift her head to give herself a cursory examination: no bruises mottled her skin and while she was slightly dirty, her knees in particular, she didn’t have any visible cuts or abrasions. That was something of a relief, but that brought even more fear in its wake. What would they do to her?
The chains rattled and she was hoisted to her feet. She fought but the chains yanked so painfully she was afraid that she would lose a limb if she didn’t stand. Her thighs quivered with fear and she licked her lips as the first man came close to her.
He was good looking in a dark and craven way: his features were coarse and his hair was jet black. His eyes had a shine to them that made her think of wolves and she remembered the..delusion, had it been a delusion brought on by the drugs? İt had to have been. He was bare chested and she had time to appreciate his well-muscled and very bare chest and the lean hips that were visible above the waistband of his pants before he began to push her forward.
“Who are you?” Her lips trembled. “I’m an American. You can get in a lot of trouble for kidnapping me.” Her bravado was belied by the trembling of her lips. His hand reached out, cupped her breast. She flinched but he ignored that. She was pushed toward to a small bench that sat on the other side of the room. It was covered with black leather, the wood shone with polish. It was oddly well cared for in the dingy and dark room.
As she moved forward her dismay grew. There were chains hanging from the ceiling. In one wall was set a series of iron bars whose purpose she could not fathom. A cage sat in another corner. Long whips and heavy floggers, their wooden handles gleaming and their long and dangerous leather falls lying against the cold stone below them, hung from hooks that had been mounted in the walls. The floor was gritty and tiny shards of rock and sand crunched below her bare feet as she was dragged onto the bench and laid across it.
Her ass was positioned high in the air. Her face lay against the leather and her arms were bound to the small D-rings mounted inside heavy circles of metal that had been connected to the wood. Her legs were wide apart, she could feel cold air on her pussy and she trembled as an inquisitive finger ran up that pink flesh, testing the slippery edge of the seam there before parting her labia and plunging inside boldly. She shrieked with fear and anger. Her feet kicked helplessly and tears streaked her face. Worse than the humiliation was the sudden burst of desire that accompanied it. She couldn’t be turned on, it was utterly impossible.
Yet she was. Her nipples scraped the surface of the bench and she clenched her fingers into fists as a hard and warm hand cupped her ass cheeks, softly at first then harder. Nails raked down her skin, leaving tingling waves behind them. She choked on a scream as the first slap came, it landed hard and fast on her ass. She had time to understand the pain but not to process it before the next one came. She fought to breathe, the muscles in her legs jumping and twitching.
The pain didn’t vanish, but neither did the unusual lust. In fact, that lust intensified. Her ass grew warm, then hot. The slaps alternated between heavy and light and moved across her firm rounded ass cheeks until not one inch of them was left pale and unmarked. She pounded her fists on the wood, her screams rising higher and higher, curse words mingling in. There was no response at first, then fingers slid into her pussy. She shuddered and her hips bucked upward in an involuntary gesture. Wetness slid down her inner thighs and she sobbed as she thrust her hips back and forth desperately.
An orgasm
exploded from her, leaving her limp and sweating on the bench. Her mouth hung open in a gasp and her breath came in hard fast pants. The man moved to her head and she shrieked as her hair was tangled into his heavy fist. Her face was yanked up and back at an angle that made her neck ache but before she could protest he reached inside his black pants and pulled his member out.
His organ was long, thick and hard. It sprang from a nest of black curls and she stared at it, fascinated in spite of herself. A creamy drop of pre-come spilled from the tiny hole in the shiny helmet and she swallowed hard. He yanked her mouth open with his fingers and shoved that hard cock into her mouth.
Outrage and anger poured into her. She tensed her jaw, considering biting him but he sensed that and yanked free of her mouth. He moved behind her again and his hands came down on her already tormented flesh, rasing a scream of agony from her. When he put his prick back into her mouth she didn’t bite. She let her tongue wander up and down the shaft as he thrust into her face, her main focus on breathing through it.
He began to thrust harder and the heavy vein running across his shaft began to throb, sure signs that he was about to orgasm. He pulled away and hot splashes of come hit her face. She cried out and he laughed before pulling away.
The cloth he cleaned her with was rough but fresh smelling, she was grateful for it even as she cursed him for touching her. He patted her on the head, like a dog, she thought miserably and left her there. She rested her head on the leather and tried to yank the chains loose from the D-rings. They would not loosen. The sound of her breathing and the scraping of the metal against the wood were the only sounds. Anxiety crawled across her skin. The sound of footsteps coming into the room made her yank at the D-rings with a renewed fervor. A hand, hard and cruel, gripped her by her jaw.
It was a different man, as blond and fair as the other man had been dark. Shocked at the decidedly pale cast of his skin she could not even form the plea that had risen to her lips. He smiled down at her, his fingers stroking her cheeks and hair. The unexpected kindness, the softness of the caress, kept her emotions unsteady and her thoughts off-kilter.
He didn’t speak to her, he simply stroked her. His hands moved down her back, his fingers tracing the exposed knobs of her spine. Desire flamed once more and she whimpered as his hands gently rubbed the residual pain from the spanking out of her ass cheeks. She heard the words thank you leaving her lips but she wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. She was certainly not happy at having him there, or for the inexplicable and disconcerting hunger that his hands had sparked.
He walked back into her line of vision and she stared at the long slim rods he brought out of a small cabinet. They were wood of some type and when he flicked one it made a wicked little whicker in the air. Fear ignited and she twisted to the left and right, her hands beating at the bench once more.
“What is that?” She screamed, “What the fuck is that?”
“Breathe in.”
She blinked at the command. The first man had not spoken at all and she had been positive that he wouldn’t either. His voice was husky and low, sexy even. She couldn’t fathom what his order meant but when the cane came down in a quick and painful strike she let loose a long scream that brought a chuckle from her captor.
“Yes exhale as it comes down, inhale as it moves away. It helps the pain.”
She took one breath and then she screamed again. The cane left a silvery and thin line of pain across her ass. Her tears soaked the leather and her ass twitched and shook. Her body fought with the pain and unbelievably enough her body cried out for more.
He worked his fingers against her labia, drenching his fingers with her juices. He slid his fingers up and spread the slippery oil onto her asshole, she cried out as the sensation grew more intense. He used one finger to open that small tunnel, easing past the tight clench of muscle and into her. Sweat popped up on her forehead and her teeth ground together as he worked in and out of her. He moved away and she sucked in a deep breath and let it out just as the cane came down. She breathed in and out, trying to develop the rhythm he had instructed her to use.
Her body shook and she screamed and howled, her fingernails digging so deeply into the wood that scratch marks appeared. The cane came down twice more then stopped. His fingers came back, entering her slick asshole forcefully. He pumped at her ass while her hips humped up and down. The bench created pressure on her clit, pressure that was incredibly pleasurable.
His cock rubbed against the tightness of her sphincter. She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen, he pushed forward slightly, the head of his cock distending her tunnel, he helped his cock enter by holding her ass open with his two fingers A delicious heat wracked her body and her knees shook and trembled. A few more inches of hot thick prick slipped inside her and she yelled out a yes, she couldn’t help it. He thrust all the way in, withdrawing almost immediately only to slam back inside her again. She began to whine and moan, her ass clenching as the friction and the pressure combined to make a second orgasm roll through her. Her pussy opened and closed uncontrollably and his hot seed spurted into her ass, she could feel the wet pulses of it inside her.
Long slow moments passed. He shriveled inside her and withdrew. Once more she was cleaned and then lifted off the bench. Her legs shook and her feet shuffled as she was taken back to the mattress.
“Get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
Once more she was alone.
* * *
The night had passed on. There was a thin golden edge around one of the tiny cracks in the stone. Gia lifted her head and stared at it blearily. Her body had ached most of the night; the intense sex she had been a part of had taken a toll on her both emotionally and physically.
She had screamed herself hoarse and sobbed until she felt husked out. Lying there she stared at the golden line, her thoughts finally coalescing. Anger had replaced fear but the screaming and sobbing had done some good. For the first time in a long time she had expressed grief, in an odd and terribly ironic way being held captive had somehow freed her from the inhibitions that her aunt and uncle had imposed upon her for so many years, inhibitions she had never been able to shake off.
Her head ached with hunger and she felt filthy. She longed for a bath and food, no sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she heard footsteps on the floor. Her muscles tensed, she looked up, expecting to see the two men she had been used by the night before.
To her shock the man looking down at her was gorgeous. Not just gorgeous but beautiful. His face was a study in angles and planes, a firm jaw and high cheekbones, full lips and a high straight nose. Black eyes surrounded by a fringe of eyelashes that were incredibly thick, as was the equally sooty hair on his well-made head. He was tall and lean; his body elegantly clad in a blue worsted suit and crisp white linen shirt so out of place in the dingy and dank dungeon she could do nothing but stare at it for a moment. His shoes had a high gloss, the shine of them reflected back the line of light and she reached, unconsciously, for him. Her hand had almost touched him when she realized what she was doing and yanked it back. A smile settled on the corners of his mouth, very white teeth appeared and she swallowed hard.
“I imagine you are hungry.”
She laughed, she couldn’t help it. It was all so surreal. “Yes, I’m hungry. I’ve been drugged, kidnapped and …those other two men, where are they?”
“Would you like to have them come in?”
“No!” Her cheeks burned. Shame made her look away. Tears hovered close to the surface but she swallowed them away. The chains rattled and she was pulled to her feet. Her wrists were chafed and sore as were her ankles. He tsked tsked at the red marks as he removed the heavy cuffs.
“That must hurt. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“You aren’t here to rescue me, are you?”
Even as she spoke the words she knew he wasn’t. Whatever was going on, he was part of it. He merely shrugged and replied, “Everyone needs recuing from
something. Maybe you needed rescuing from the life you were leading.”
She started to snap off an angry retort but then she remembered her thought that the whole experience had been somehow cathartic, that she had shed so much baggage through the night. That line of thinking was discarded as he helped her to her feet. The scent of expensive cologne hovered over his skin, under it there was a darker more primal odor: the unmistakable scent of a man. She shivered; a tiny tremor that she tried to pass off as a transient reaction to the cold. Not that the dungeon was cold, the rising sun had brought close heat into the long and squalid rooms.
A huge and heavy bathtub sat in a corner behind a screen. She stared at the porcelain behemoth; it had been hidden from her view until that moment because the shadows were particularly thick there. Hot water steamed and gave off the faint fragrance of lilac; her skin literally itched with the need to get into that water.
“Go ahead,” he said, watching her face.
She got in eagerly. The tub was so deep that almost her entire body was submerged. The water eased away the last of the aches and pains of the beatings she had received the night before. She sighed and leaned her head back, allowing her eyes to close in blissful contentment. She drifted there in a small bubble of contentment, her thoughts finally settling and allowing her to relax.
But not for long. There was the sound of small drawers opening and closing. Peeking under her lashes she saw him rummaging through a tall cabinet that stood close to the screen. He stacked thick towels up on the top of the cabinet and then turned to her. The razor, a long old fashioned length of cold steel, flicked open with a quiet snick that made her blood freeze in her veins.
Caged. Captured. Confined.: The Illicit Romance Reader’s Dark BDSM Collection Page 2