Seduced in the Dark (Book 2, The Dark Duet)

by CJ Roberts

  I shook my head passionately, but it didn’t stop him from placing his hand between my legs and caressing me. My body stilled, and against my wishes, he stoked the flame of my desire, in no time making it burn hotly once more. Soon, I pressed myself toward him, looking for the release I needed so desperately. And finally, he sent me over the edge. He rubbed me harder and faster, and I screamed as my orgasm ripped me apart. I wanted more. As starved as I was, the powerful orgasm did little to ebb my passion. It was with deep dread, I realized he was replacing the clamp taken from my clit. I begged for him not to do it.

  Within moments of him leaving, my torture began anew.

  ***

  It was a very long time before the door opened again and this time, I wasn’t going to simply be content with physical release. Unless of course, physical release included punching Caleb in the stomach and then raping him into oblivion.

  I growled when I heard footsteps coming near me, secretly praying it was Caleb I was directing my wrath toward and not another uninvited visitor. One smug laugh later, I knew it was him. I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of relief.

  “How’re you feeling, Pet?” I would’ve liked to spew invective at him just then, but the machine went off again and it was all I could do to hold in my screaming. Over the course of the night, the charges had become less frequent. I wondered if it had been a mercy my mysterious visitor had imparted. Regardless, the pulses were powerful, and it had been going on for hours. They were both pleasurable and painful, with increasing tendencies toward the pain. When the charge finally released me I couldn’t help but sob softly behind the drenched gag in my mouth.

  “That bad huh?” he said, but I knew his words held absolutely no sympathy for what he’d done. I sucked in air deeply when he removed the clamps from my body.

  “I hate you!” I yelled. Though the words were muffled behind the gag, I knew he could make them out. He cupped my breasts in both hands and gently massaged me.

  “I hate you, Master,” he said with hungry lust lacing his voice.

  He tweaked my nipples playfully. I winced and I tried to shrink away from his touch.

  “Sensitive?” he whispered softly in my ear. When I didn’t respond, he pinched them a little harder and a yelp broke past my lips. “Answer,” he said coolly.

  “Yes, Master,” I whined. My anger with him had grown as the hours had passed. I’d convinced myself when he came to get me I would really give him a piece of my mind. Of course – it’s easy to be brave when the object of your fear isn’t holding your sore nipples hostage.

  “Good, Kitten,” he said. He placed his warm palms against my stiff little peaks and pressed softly to massage them as he also kneaded my breasts. I moaned loudly. My head rolled to the side as he touched me exactly the way I needed to be touched. I never wanted the feeling to end.

  His thigh pressed against the table near the top of my head as he worked his hands lower, from my breasts, to my ribs, to my surprisingly sore hips. He rubbed softly, and I couldn’t help but moan and get lost in the surety of his hands, and in the clean, masculine smell emanating from his body, which inevitably leaned toward me. I thought about Felipe. I thought about the way he’d pressed his cock against my lips, the way I’d so readily accepted him when I thought he had been Caleb.

  Unwittingly, I undulated beneath Caleb’s hands, my body telling him what I couldn’t possibly say out loud. I needed him to make me come. He sighed audibly, and I knew he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

  I fought off the memory of what he’d told me after I’d offered him not only my body, but my heart. “You thought what? You thought offering me a little pussy was going to make some kind of a difference?” I recoiled at the memory and tears stung behind my eyes. I was thankful for the blindfold. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted him touching me anymore, but what choice did I have? Felipe’s options seemed far too extreme.

  It occurred to me then, the one choice that was mine to make, was not to let him hurt me anymore, not where it mattered. My heart sank heavily in my chest for reasons I didn’t want to acknowledge…I had thought my confession should make some kind of a difference.

  I was lost in my self-pitying thoughts when he pulled me back into reality by running his finger along the seam of my inflamed sex. I jerked in my bonds.

  “Sensitive here too?” he said darkly, and began his practiced assault on my clit. I groaned sadly in response and nodded. “Aww, poor Kitten. Would you like me to let you come now?” Tears leaked from my eyes and were immediately absorbed by the blindfold. I nodded. His voice had taken on a sinister edge, he was enjoying this, and I was in a strange sort of misery. He shifted his position, coming around to my right as he stroked me at an easier angle.

  “I want to hear you beg me,” he said and pulled the gag from my mouth. I rotated my jaw, trying to get it to feel normal again and finding it difficult. “Beg me,” he commanded. My heart raced at his steady touch, the tingling heat of impending orgasm spread through my body. If he stopped me this time, I would die. I was sure of it.

  “I’m…I’m begging you,” I whispered. My voice was alien to my ears as I failed to keep my emotions out of my voice.

  “I did think it was really cute when you said you loved me.”

  The orgasm tore through me with a violence I don’t think even Caleb was expecting. I screamed at the top of my lungs and my body arched as much as it could in its restraints. Every part of me tingled, and throbbed, and burned with release. My thighs quivered, and my heart beat savagely in my chest, ears, and clit.

  It washed over me in waves: my old life, meeting Caleb, my botched escape, Caleb’s kindness that first night he held me, his smile, his hands, his smell, his kiss, the spankings, the torture, my declaration of love, his reaction…his reaction…his cruel, fucking reaction. When the best and worst of it subsided my hips hit the table with a wet thud and I lie there crying, as any number of emotions ran wild in my body while the aftermath settled.

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  I was so tired. I hadn’t slept all night. Caleb was quiet and I was glad for it. I had nothing to say to him. Though, I thoroughly hoped he was done torturing me for a while and would allow me to finally get some sleep – alone.

  I started to drift away while he went about un-strapping my thighs and legs. It was an odd thing to feel so drowsy and satiated, while at the same time, feeling jittery and anxious over being released. His warm palms touched my ribs and my drowsiness disappeared, but my anxiety mounted.

  “How are your ribs feeling?” he asked, with a degree of thoughtfulness.

  “A little sore,” I said, so softly, I almost doubted he heard.

  “Is it bad?” He seemed concerned.

  I hated when he was like this. I would prefer him to always be a cold-blooded bastard. At least then, I could forgive him for the things he did. Instead, he showed me bursts of his humanity. It was worse - knowing he knew the difference between kindness and cruelty and chose the baser of the two. I shook my head.

  He undid the cuffs on my wrists and I at once tried to sit up. Not really as a show of defiance. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. My hips were agonizingly stiff and sore. It took Caleb’s awkward help to lift my legs out of the stirrups. After too many hours apart, I could hardly close them.

  I sat for a moment, my legs dangling off the table and my hands over my breasts. I hoped he wouldn’t remove the blindfold and I wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. He stood in front of me. Our bodies weren’t touching, but I felt him everywhere. Then the warmth of his fingers smoothed against my cheek, and something in my chest began to burn. Slowly, he pulled the blindfold away and I rubbed my puffy eyes as I adjusted to the soft light.

  He looked gorgeous, as usual, though his customary smile was not present, only a look of seriousness. It occurred to me I must look like garbage, with my ratted hair, and puffy face. Meanwhile, Caleb stood in front of me – sexy as hell.

  I couldn’t look him in the
face. I rarely ever could. I focused on his lightweight button-up shirt, khaki pants, and casual shoes. I focused on his large hands as they reached up and rubbed my thighs. I let out a startled gasp he didn’t acknowledge.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked ominously. I nodded, looking down into my lap. He slapped my thigh loudly and I had to fight every impulse to push him away. Heat crept up into my face, but I maintained my composure.

  “Yes, Master,” I said, through clenched teeth. “I’m hungry.”

  “Good,” he said, no humor in his voice. “You can get down on your knees and eat my cock.”

  I stared at him incredulously for a moment, waiting for him to say something further – though what I expected him to say, I didn’t know. Strangely, the longer I looked at him, the more I became aware I was doing so without his permission. I also felt, as I often did, he could read my mind. I took a deep breath and looked away quickly, in the hopes he had not read too much. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hands slowly reaching for his belt. A sense of impending doom spurred me into action and I reflexively placed my right hand over his.

  “You aren’t going to whip me, are you?” I didn’t look up. My fingers trembled. If he wasn’t already, then I probably planted the idea in his mind. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Would you like me to?” he asked. I shook my head emphatically: No, I did not. “Then get your hands off of me. I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” I retracted my hands and waited for him to speak. “Good. Now get down on your knees and put your hands in your lap. You’re not allowed to touch me.”

  I swallowed hard and fortified myself to do as I was told. Avoiding his gaze, I attempted to lower myself from the table onto my shaky legs. My legs gave out, but Caleb reached out to steady me. I almost grabbed hold of him to stop myself from falling, but I managed to prevent the reflex and hung in his arms like a rag doll as he lowered me onto my knees.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  He stood. “You know what, Kitten?” he said, “I think I will whip you. Ask me what for.”

  My eyes were already misted over with fresh tears when I looked up at him. “Why?”

  He smiled and shook his head, just before he grabbed the back of my head and pulled my hair hard enough to let me know I was in trouble. “How about for talking when you weren’t asked to speak, touching me as if you have the right, looking at me without being told, and most importantly, for consistently addressing me improperly.” He gripped my hair tight. I whined sharply behind my closed lips and my eyes reflexively shut. “Now, you tell me, Kitten, do you deserve to be punished?”

  There could not possibly be any good answer to his question. Even silence would be thought of as another infraction. My mind raced to find a way out of the situation, but I knew the damage had been done.

  I cried miserably, but I opened my mouth and replied, “If it’s what you want, Master, then, yes.” I kept my eyes closed, mindful not to look at him unbidden, and he released my hair.

  “That’s a good answer, Kitten. Later, I’ll show you exactly what I want. In the meantime, show me how much you want to make me happy.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  He made me walk – with traces of his semen on my chin and neck, naked, sobbing, and on shaky legs, up the steps of the dungeon and out into the civilized surroundings of the mansion above. I hesitated strongly at the top of the steps when I heard the unmistakable murmur of people in conversation. Caleb pressed his hand firmly against the curve of my bottom and urged me forward, but I only leaned back and tried to step down. Propping me up with one hand, he delivered a powerful, ringing slap, across the delicate flesh of my ass and I couldn’t help but cry out loudly and lurch through the door. Six sets of eyes turned toward me at once. They were a mixture of surprise and amusement.

  The strong desire to run surged through me, but Caleb held my hair cruelly in his grasp, forcing me to kneel at his feet, where I instantly grabbed hold of his pant leg and hid.

  “Well, this entire day just became more interesting,” said an unfamiliar voice, with a southern drawl. His comment was met with resounding laughter.

  “I apologize,” said Caleb. “She’s not quite house broken yet.”

  I was too scared to be outraged. Above my head, sitting at a table, were a group of men and women. They didn’t seem to have a problem with a man dragging in a naked, and crying woman. I couldn’t imagine a more horrifying scenario.

  When the laughter subsided, a familiar voice spoke. “Will you both be having breakfast with us?” It was Felipe – there was no mistaking the strong, assured inflection of his voice, and of course, there was the Spanish accent. My heart skipped a beat. What would happen if he told Caleb about last night? Had he told Caleb about last night? What if it was a test – and I was supposed to tell him?

  “No, not this morning – but perhaps for dinner. I need time to make her suitable.” He finally let my hair loose. I made no attempt to move; cowered against his legs I felt oddly protected.

  “Of course,” said Felipe, “Celia will help you.”

  Caleb made me travel the rest of the way upstairs on my hands and knees, while the others looked on and remarked on how obvious it was I was new, and how fun it would be to get a hold of my sexy ass.

  Heat crawled all across my body but I kept my head down and focused only on getting as far away from this emerging situation as possible. Somewhere in the back of my mind I also worried about what was going to happen to me next. I realized my deepest hope was for Caleb to take me upstairs, bathe me, feed me, and hold me as he filled my ears with reassurances. I wanted him to remind me he would never let anyone hurt me, but as he forced me past the door to my room, my hopes seemed more and more unlikely.

  A little further down, we rounded a corner and my knees were finally given respite as they met with a small, carpeted alcove. Caleb stepped in front of me and opened the large wooden door. I hesitated for only a moment, not knowing why, but then crawled across the threshold. The room was not what I expected. If ever I imagined a room for Caleb to call his own, it would have been this one. It seemed inundated with his ominous taste.

  The carpet was a deep burgundy. It was so dark I almost mistook it for black. The bed sat high, covered in the blackest of spreads, turned down to reveal crimson silk sheets and pillows. The headboard was black as well, a large, tall, square thing. It gave the bed an obviously masculine tone, and attached to its center, was two thick metal loops. The door shut behind me and the room was drenched in darkness. I swallowed hard.

  A small clicking sound and the light of a bedside lamp scarcely lit the room. I dared not make a sound or movement, though the urge to turn and look at Caleb was intense. My eyes stared forward, catching sight of a leather-clad bench of sorts. There was no television, no stereo, and no phone, but there were books. I noticed them in a corner bookcase, their spines showing they’d been thoroughly read and enjoyed. I suddenly ached to know their titles. I wondered what he read, what made him happy. There was also an odd piece of furniture standing in front of the stark curtains. I knew from a glance I was best left unaware of its purpose. It formed the shape of a large X and at the top of each corner rest the same metal loops as the headboard. I shuddered in spite of myself.

  “You embarrassed me down there.” My entire body tensed at the sound of his angry voice.

  “I’m sorry, Master,” I whispered, low. I struggled desperately to stay perfectly still. I treated him as the sort of predator to only attack moving prey. I heard the distinct sound of a buckle being undone and the swish of a belt being pulled from its belt loops. I started to shake.

  “You’re going to learn what is expected of you, Pet.”

  Everything in my body screamed for me to run, but somewhere inside my head a small voice whispered there was no escape, only obedience. Only obedience will make him happy. I nodded absently.

  He didn’t say anything further. He simply pressed my forehead to the ground and laid his belt down across my
backside in quick succession.

  At one, I clenched my jaw and forced my hands under my knees to keep from trying to take the belt.

  At two and three, I was rocking as I wailed into the carpet.

  Four, and I attempted to place my hands in the way of his belt by shielding my buttocks. My fingers brushed across raised welts.

  Five, six, and seven, he held my hands tight against the small of my back.

  Eight and nine left me screaming out loud and panting.

  He stopped for a moment, long enough for me to tell him how sorry I was, that I would obey, that I would be good – I promised. A few more and he finally seemed satisfied.

  He let my arms go, but I knew better than to follow my instincts to get up. I grabbed my wrists and held them at the small of my back, just as he had them. I heard his soft laugh over my sporadic whimpers and sobs, and for some reason, my body became slightly more at ease.

  “Good girl, Kitten,” he said. I sighed deeply with relief.

  He dropped to one knee at my side and pulled me back firmly by my hair. I continued crying and fighting the urge to rub my behind as the real pain of the whipping set in, scalding hot and prickly.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master.” I whimpered pitifully.

  “Will you remember it?”

  I managed to respond through my sobs again, “Yes, Master.”

  He stood, dragging me up by my hair with the effort. I arched my back and succumbed to my urges and rubbed my behind forcefully with the palms of my hands. I only made it worse. He grabbed hold of my wrists and pinned them to the small of my back.

  “Stay still!” he snapped. Instinctually, I pressed my forehead to the front of his shirt. I tried to straighten my legs. The feel of his firm chest pressed against my face did things to me I had come to expect. Why do you always smell so good? After a moment, the pain became secondary to thoughts of my naked body pressed against his clothes. I stood still, but I could not bring myself to pull away from him. He let my wrists go and I immediately wrapped them around his waist and pressed into him. He was hard, and soft, and strong, and he smelled like everything I wanted wrapped around me.