by Kitty Thomas
She shivered as the crop gently caressed her face, her neck, down between her breasts, then between her legs.
“Open your eyes, slut.”
When she hesitated, the crop came down over her most private area. She shrieked and her eyes shot open.
“That’s better. Now come for me.”
It was the scene in the bedroom with Luke a few nights ago all over again. Except this time, both of them watched her. She wasn’t sure what it was about this that was harder than anything else she’d endured since she’d come to the ranch.
She turned to Luke, her lower lip trembling. “P-please, Sir...”
“Why are you appealing to me? He’s the one with the crop in his hand.”
“But your brand is on my hip. You’re the one who owns me. You can stop him.”
Luke smirked. “You say it at the most convenient moments.” He stood and crossed to the black toy box then turned the dial on the combination and opened it.
“Stand,” Luke said, as he rummaged through the box.
She struggled to her feet and when he’d found the items he was looking for, he led her to the metal pole that looked like a stripper pole but sturdier and larger. He pressed her back against it and wrapped ropes around her torso, tying them securely around her so she couldn’t get away, but leaving her hands free.
Next he took a long, dark strip of cloth and blindfolded her. “I think you know what’s going to happen, Ronnie. You’re going to masturbate for us, or you’re going to be in a lot of pain. Do you want that?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“The choice between pleasure and pain shouldn’t be such a hard choice, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He pressed a ball gag into her mouth and secured the offending straps around her head. Being blindfolded had been almost a blessing, but being unable to plead with them was a special kind of hell. What if she was really hurt? What if she couldn’t beg for mercy? She believed Luke would come to her aid if things went too far... if she could communicate with him. She heard his footsteps move back across the floor and the sound of leather creaking as he sat, no doubt watching her with smug satisfaction.
“Finger yourself like a good slut,” Robert said, his voice hard and demanding. Gentle Robert was long gone.
Veronica whimpered around the gag, and the crop came down across her thighs causing her to jerk in her bonds. She was surrounded by and immersed in a melting pot of sensations. The soft cloth over her eyes, the wetness of her tears and between her legs, the burning warmth of her skin where the crop had fallen, the scratchy ropes, the cold, hard pole pressed against her back.
“I can switch to the cane if you need more motivation.”
“I think she needs a taste of it before she can know why she wants to avoid it,” Luke said.
Footsteps receded. The toy box opened then shut with an angry snap.
Veronica tensed. She tried to beg, but words wouldn’t form around the small rubber ball in her mouth. There was no way beyond her pathetic, muffled mewls to elicit pity or mercy.
A sharp slice went through the air next to her ear. She would have hit the ground in a panic if not for the ropes holding her in place against the pole. A moment later when the cane sliced the air again, it connected with her upper thigh.
Her breath left her for a minute, taking her ability to scream with it, but the tears came harder, slipping past the barrier of the blindfold. She didn’t have to be asked again. Her hand went between her thighs, rubbing herself as if her life might depend on it—she wasn’t sure with the cane in the mix. She spread her legs and pressed harder against the pole as she worked her clit.
“Use your other hand, too. I want those fingers in your cunt. I want you to feel how wet you are. I want to hear it.”
Robert had moved closer as he spoke. She didn’t hesitate at the new demand. She didn’t care anymore how it looked or that they were watching her. She finger-fucked herself, moaning around the gag while she feverishly rubbed her clit with the fingers of her other hand. Her hips moved, bucking against her own ministrations.
“That’s it,” Robert said. She could practically hear the smirk.
His mouth kissed and suckled at her breast while his large hand closed over the other, rubbing and squeezing. “We are going to milk you like the dirty little cow you are.” She whimpered as he sucked harder, as if he could somehow cause lactation with just dirty talk.
Veronica jerked when she felt something cold, greased, and metal slide into her ass.
“Relax, and open.” It was Luke’s voice next to her ear. Robert continued to play with her breasts while Luke gripped her throat with one hand in a proprietary way as he worked the phallus inside her ass. “We’re going to be using this hole, too, sweetheart.” When she tensed, he said, “I’m just preparing you. It won’t be today.”
For the first time she was glad for the gag. With only whimpers and stifled moans, she didn’t have to come up with useless protests.
Luke gripped her throat tighter, his mouth at her ear. “Come,” he snarled.
She orgasmed around her fingers while the two men continued to stimulate her ass and breasts. When she finished, Luke untied her and carried her to the couch. She heard zippers being unzipped and pants hit the floor. She was positioned so that she straddled one of them. She didn’t even know whose cock she was on until Luke said, “Ride him until you come again.”
Robert helped her raise and lower herself, but finally, growing impatient, he flung her down on the floor and entered her from behind. She whimpered and panted around the gag as another orgasm built. Then Luke ripped the gag off her mouth and shoved his cock past her lips, his hand grabbing her hair, holding her in place as she sucked, half gagging on him.
The second time she came, the tears poured out of her like they would never stop. It was too much sensation to contain and too many confusing emotions. Robert and Luke finished inside her at almost the same moment, as if they’d done this before. They both pulled out, and Luke carried her to the couch, holding her against his chest, petting her hair and rocking her.
“Shhhh,” he said. He took the blindfold from her eyes and wiped the tears from her face. After she’d settled, he said, “Go lie down in your room for awhile. I’ll come get you a little later. Robert and I have some business to discuss.”
Somehow she knew the business was her.
She flushed and looked away from the other man as she crossed the floor and went back to her room. When she’d shut the playroom door, she heard their muffled voices, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t hear anything specific.
Finally, she gave up and crossed the hall back into her own room. She stood for a long time in front of the antique mirror, running her fingers over the welts on her thighs and bottom. Then she got under the covers and tried to relax.
***
“Wake up, Princess.”
Veronica scrambled to sit. She couldn’t believe she’d dosed off. She’d only meant to rest and recharge, trying not to think about her morning, or the internal struggle that had accompanied it.
Luke sat beside her, stroking her hair back from her face. “Let me look at your welts and check on your brand.”
She pulled back the covers, finally past the point of shyness over him seeing her naked. He’d behaved so much as if it were his natural right, that she was beginning to forget it wasn’t. She’d almost started to believe that it was—that the permanent mark he’d burned into her hip had caused her to forever forfeit all rights over her own body. It was as if, along with killing nerve endings, the brand had killed a few brain cells, the ones that might be in charge of charming notions like independence and gender equality.
He ran his fingertips over the welts. “Are they sore?”
“A little.” But not as much as the brand. He rolled her over to inspect that next.
He pulled a syringe from a bag, and she struggled to get away. He pressed her down, pushing against her back so she couldn
’t squirm out of his hold.
“W-what is that?” A million horrible possibilities entered her mind. One of them seemed completely insane. Why would he get her hooked on drugs? But then why would he do anything else he’d done? Because he could. He was already living on the wrong side of the sanity tracks.
“Hormones. We talked about this.”
No, they hadn’t talked about it. He’d talked about it with his snickering band of ranch apes while she’d been hoping it was just the alcohol talking. Apparently not. Once Robert had brought up the idea and Will had given personal experience, it was a done deal. The men must have been discussing hormone shots in the playroom.
“I-I don’t like needles.”
“Then you won’t like this. Be still or I’ll tie you down for it.”
“P-please Sir, don’t...” Her voice closed off as if she were afraid to give more than a token protest. Pre-kidnapped Ronnie would be so disappointed.
He lifted her chin and captured her gaze in his. “Be a good girl, Ronnie. It’s our day off. I’ll take you for some ice cream if you’re good for me.”
The condescension in his words didn’t matter. The prospect of leaving the house was too novel and exciting. Veronica buried her face against the pillow, unable to look at the sharp needle as it came closer to her hip—thankfully the one that wasn’t sore already from the brand.
She dug her fingers into the pillow at the sharp burn and sting as he delivered the hormones, the pain warring with the humiliation of what he was preparing her body to do for him.
He stroked her flank when he was finished. “There, now that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“N-no, Sir,” she said, afraid of what result any other answer might bring.
He rolled her onto her back then to play with her nipples. He had to know the hormones wouldn’t work that fast. It wasn’t a magic potion. It seemed more likely it would take weeks or even months, but maybe he was establishing a ritual between them. He pulled on her nipples, rubbing them between his fingers, then he sucked on each one for several minutes while he massaged the sides of her breasts with his large, rough hands. Despite his ultimate purpose in all of this, her hips arched up, begging for attention below her waist.
Luke pulled away. “You’re going to give me milk like a good little animal, aren’t you?” She closed her eyes against his scrutiny. He stroked the side of her cheek. “I’m going to condition you to want to give me what I want. By the time your body is ready, the idea will arouse you so much, you’ll happily let me milk you every day.”
Maybe a part of her sick, twisted mind already wanted to. After all, she’d been wet the night before at the party when the topic had first been broached, and she was sure she was wet again now. As if reading her thoughts, his big hand moved between her legs, rubbing against her opening, a broad smile on his face.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He returned with a vibrator and shoved it inside her. Then he went back to his goal of training her body to give him milk. As he suckled on her breasts and rubbed and stroked them, the buzz of the vibrator worked its magic and made her come again.
***
After Luke finished with her, he allowed Veronica to shower and get dressed again. After sex with the two men, she needed to clean up. She picked a sky-blue cotton dress that fell just below her knees and briefly hated herself for wondering if the choice would please him.
When she descended the stairs, Luke was wearing a pair of jeans, cowboy boots—which she’d learned they just called boots—a T-shirt, and a cowboy hat—which going with the pattern, he probably just called a hat.
“What about my shoes?” With shoes she could run. She tried not to let the hope show on her face. Although she found herself deeply aroused by the things Luke and the ranch hands did to her, she couldn’t stop trying to get away. She didn’t know what she’d do once she escaped. She couldn’t think that far. If she let herself think that far, she’d have to deal with the hopelessness of her life. The debt, the dwindling bank account, the fear. But Luke could still do anything to her. She needed to remember that.
“You won’t need them, it’s a drive-up place. We’re staying in the truck.”
So much for that. She tried not to look too disappointed.
“Come here.”
When she came closer, he pulled her onto the couch with him and snapped a metal cuff around her ankle.
“What’s this?”
“Insurance,” he said.
She wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but she didn’t think she liked the glint in his eye. He released her then. She’d gotten only a few steps to the door when an electric zap shot up her body. She crumpled to the ground, shrieking so loudly she could barely believe the noise had come from her own mouth. She convulsed a few more times, then lay still, disoriented and terrified.
Yes, Luke could do anything.
He stood over her, a small remote in his hand. “If you try to signal for help in any way, I will push the button, and I won’t push it just once.” The shock cuff made even the idea of branding seem like child’s play.
She cringed when he helped her to her feet. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“So, you aren’t still planning your escape? It’s only been a few days. As much as you rant about how you don’t need a man, I figured you’d still be plotting and waiting for your opportunity.”
Veronica looked at the ground, giving him all the information he needed.
“If I thought I could trust you, I wouldn’t need it. I’m not going to prison for rescuing you.”
No, he’d go to prison for forced labor, false imprisonment, rape, and battery. The next to the last charge she wasn’t sure she believed. In spite of everything, she wanted his hands on her, his cock between her legs—or in her mouth. She didn’t want to be caned or whipped or electrocuted or given injections every day, but the rest...
They didn’t speak on the way to the truck. He opened the door and helped her into the passenger side, and this time she didn’t have a smart retort for him about her ability to open her own doors. She was just glad there was a part of him that could be nice to her. When she was strapped in, he slid his hand up her thigh and smiled when he didn’t find panties. She still couldn’t understand why she’d made that choice today.
“You’re learning,” he said. He pulled her dress back down and got in on the other side.
During the drive to the ice cream place, she eyed the remote. It peeked out from his shirt pocket, appearing nondescript and innocent.
“When we get back home, are you going to take the cuff off?” She held her breath, waiting for his response, hoping he wouldn’t leave it there with the option to electrocute her anytime he wanted.
“Of course. I don’t like using it. It’s a bit cruel.” At least he knew that. At least he had a line in the sand somewhere that he’d prefer not to cross too often. “I just don’t want to go to prison. You understand that, don’t you, princess?” He brushed a stray hair behind her ear, then turned his focus back to the road.
“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t dare bring up the point that he wouldn’t have to fear prison if he hadn’t kidnapped her, and even then he wouldn’t have needed to fear it very much if he hadn’t ordered her around, prevented her from leaving, and... all the rest.
The trees passed by them in a blurred strip of green as they drove down back road after back road. She stared out the window. “You wouldn’t have to worry about me trying to escape if I wasn’t so afraid of you. I-I mean, I don’t hate the ranch completely.” She chanced a glance over to find a grin inching up his cheek, but his eyes were on the road. Smug, self-satisfied bastard.
It was hard to hate the ranch with the animals and the garden and open sky, and his nice house and good food. It was hard to hate sexual pleasure. It was hard to hate the little comforts he gifted her with even while he demanded so much from her.
A hand came to rest on her knee, pushing back the edges of th
e skirt to stroke her leg. “I told you the first week or so would be the hardest. You’ll settle in. You’ve already softened so much toward me. I don’t think you realize how much. You don’t complain about your chores anymore. When I come near you, you lean into my touch more times than you pull away. And your body is so soft and yielding.”
Her face heated at his words. She wanted to yell and fight, but the remote in his pocket made it safer to remain silent. Pretend that’s why, Ronnie. It was easier to tell herself that the stifling of her rebellion was because she was afraid he’d push the button, or because a man who would brand you like cattle even while you begged him not to might do anything.
His hand moved from her thigh, and then his fingers threaded through hers. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her skin.
“I take care of what’s mine, princess.”
Somehow the derisive pet name had turned into an actual term of endearment over the course of the past few days. She tried not to respond to his lips against her hand or the words as they rumbled over her, but the fight was pointless. If he’d stopped the truck and taken her in a field somewhere, she’d be up for it. She’d be wet and pliable and yielding. She’d surrender to him out in some wheat field like a rutting animal. Veronica pressed her thighs together, trying to soothe the ache between them.
If he was so sure she was his, he wouldn’t have put a shock cuff around her ankle. If he wasn’t sure, then maybe she wasn’t his yet. Maybe she was still hers.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to an old-fashioned drive-up restaurant that seemed to specialize in ice creams and milkshakes. A teenaged guy came up to the window as Luke rolled it down. “I just want a chocolate milkshake. And what do you want, sweetheart?”
“The same,” she said, not wanting to have to pick from the menu while her heart was fluttering in her chest so hard it made it difficult to think. Part of it was the sweet way he spoke to her in front of the teenager, like they were a couple on a normal Sunday afternoon jaunt. Part of it was over the introduction of a stranger who might help her if only he thought she needed it. And then part of it was the fear of Luke’s wrath coming down if she tried anything, angrily pressing that button until she went unconscious while he peeled rubber to get out of there.