I don’t know how long we drove, only that most of the trip was in silence. As we drove, his breathing slowed from labored to a normal pace, like he was finally getting comfortable. Finally I heard the crunch of gravel as we slowed. He sighed in relief.
His voice cut through the silence.
“I want you to understand something. You don’t deserve an explanation, because you are my slave, but I’ll give you one this once.”
I shivered as he said the word my slave. You hear about these things, but never think it’ll happen to you.
“I bought you. I own you. If you don’t obey, I will break you.”
He paused. Break me? What did that mean?
“My name is Griff. You may call me that, or Master.”
“Those men called you Mr. G.”
“Those men are lucky to be alive. Be silent. A slave doesn’t speak.”
“I’m not a slave. You’ve kidnapped me, but that doesn’t make me a slave. It just makes you a monster.”
The blindfold was yanked off. I didn’t need to squint--it was still nighttime. But there was enough moonlight to see Griff’s face. He was straining to look calm. He was anything but calm. He was livid.
“You haven’t experienced what kind of monster I can be yet. But you will. If you speak again without being spoken to, you will be punished.”
“You can’t punish me anymore than you already have! Just go ahead and kill me.”
It was bravado born from frustration. I didn’t want to die. I was exhausted, though, and tired of his games. Tired of this day. Tired because a good man had left me because I had wanted bad things. Now I was in the hands of a man who threatened bad things and I just wanted to go home.
He didn’t answer, but his hands moved faster than I expected. He jerked his seat back, creating room between the steering wheel and his chest. Like a snake his hands darted in, unbuckling me, gripping my arm and jerking me over, onto his lap. My breasts were pressed into his thighs, my ass in the air.
There were flares of pain on my ribs from where the skin had caught and drug over the emergency brake handle. The stick shift was jabbed into my hip. He laced one hand into my hair, gripping tightly at the nape of my neck and twisting. I cried out, my scalp on fire. His other hand came down on my ass. Hard.
I’d heard of men spanking women in the bedroom. Hell, I’d asked Matt to spank me (he balked at the idea). Now I was glad he had.
Spanking hurt.
Then again, Griff wasn’t trying to turn me on. His open palm rained heavy blow after heavy blow on my bare cheeks. Sometimes he varied where he hit me, but often he’d strike the same area five, six times in a row. What had started as stings were now huge, hot, burning swatches of flesh, the pain starting to radiate down the backs of my thighs, my abdomen.
It kept going. On and on.
“Please, stop!” I cried. The more I wriggled, trying to evade his hand, the more punishing the hits became.
“That’s not how you ask, slave.” Strike.
“I-I’ll say anything! Oh god, please stop!”
“Please stop,” he slapped me again, “Master.”
Master. I wanted to balk. I wanted to refuse.
I wanted the spanking to end, more. “Please, Master. Please stop,” I choked out.
He kept hitting me. I didn’t need to see my ass to know that there would be purple bruises raising soon. The spanking was no longer a spanking. It was exactly what he’d said it would be--it was a punishment. There wasn’t even burning anymore. The flesh of my ass had moved past feeling on fire into this low, deep ache. It was terrifying. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t stop until my skin split.
When he had started spanking me, I had felt panic. My chest had tightened, my muscles had tensed. Now, though… I gave into the sensations, the rivulets of tears wetting the nice wool of his trousers. Collapsing into him, I stopped trying to avoid his hand. I let my body relax, sinking into him. My mind began a slow release.
I used to be a runner. Long distance. In high school I had joined the cross country team because I had a crush on a boy who ran. I had stayed because while I hated running, I loved the euphoria I felt after. When my body was hot, beat, and so, so sore. My mind flew. The runner’s high.
That’s what this felt like. The pain had become transcendent and my mind let go, euphoric. It almost began to feel good, the pain lancing through me becoming heat.
He stopped spanking me.
“Do you understand now? You’ll not speak until spoken to.”
I nodded. I didn’t have the energy to fight him. My mind struggled against the weariness.
His hand began to rub my ass. Light, smooth strokes. The throbbing it left in its wake was painful. And sensual.
I tasted bile as I realized my body was responding to him. He rubbed out the hurt and despite my intentions, I found myself lifting a little, trying to gain more respite in his hand.
Until it slipped between my legs. He began to lightly stroke my slit. The desire to tell him to stop, to go to hell, threatened to spill out of my mouth but I choked them down. I couldn’t stand being punished again, not so soon after.
“Open your legs.”
I sniffled, hating this, hating him. My legs opened wider anyway. It… it felt good. After the brutal spanking, being touched so lightly, so delicately, well--it was a turn on. A reward for enduring his treatment.
His fingers circled my clit and I bit down on my tongue to keep from moaning. I wouldn’t give him that.
Griff plunged two fingers into me. It was sudden and my hips jerked.
“You’re so tight.”
I said nothing.
He began to stroke me, inside, his fingers curling. My mind cursed even as my pussy clenched around his fingers, wanting more.
I had wanted Matt to spank me. I had been wrong to want that. I knew that now.
Now I had been spanked, and I felt sick at how wet I was growing for this cruel man. He wanted me to call him Master.
“What is your name?”
“I hate you.” Where the energy to fight back came from, I don’t know. But I wasn’t ready to submit to him. Fingering me a bit wasn’t going to keep me from loathing him.
His other hand was still in my hair. Griff’s grip tightened and he yanked my head back. It was awkward and hurt, my throat long and pulled so tight breathing hurt.
“Answer the question.”
I didn’t. I bit harder on my tongue, trying to keep myself resolved. Trying to steel myself against him.
The fingers in my pussy picked up their pace. Now he slammed them into me, hard. His thumb began vicious circles around my clit and to my horror, it began to swell and ache with pleasure.
“Slave, I’ll ask once more. What is your name?”
My orgasm was building and it made my stomach turn. He thrust a third finger in, stretching me. Ruthless, he plunged in and out, my pussy slick around his fingers.
I didn’t want to answer him. I didn’t want to come. But the way he had me, the burning pain in my scalp, breathing hard and fast, and oh god, the feelings building in my pussy, threatening to overwhelm me…
“Renee!” I gasped, my orgasm about to spill over, to break and consume me.
Immediately his fingers withdrew, leaving me feeling empty. Desolate. Yearning.
Griff opened his car door and got out, my body dropping off of his lap abruptly and spilling into the wheel and floorboards.
“Come with me.”
My body wanted to climax, and I was angry and confused. It took me a few minutes to scramble out of the car. As soon as I had righted myself I immediately felt the pain of his punishment, fresh and new. I wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for a while.
When I was out, I shivered in the night air. It should have been more dark; there were no street lamps here. But we were so far from civilization that the night sky lit up, and I could see above me stars, the moon, even the lush dots of the milky way. The air tasted clean and like pine.
A
round me were dense woods and mountains, a fog settling low around the mountain tops. I loved being outdoors, but now the open, quiet mountains around us filled me with fear. We were totally secluded. And him. Standing at the stairway of an enormous house. The stairs were stone, wide and elegant and the house…
Well, it was classy and while I didn’t know a lot about money, I knew this one must have cost a fortune.
“Come, Renee.” My name sounded like chocolate in his mouth. That’s the best way to describe it. When he said it, I felt something dark and decadent in me. My stomach was in knots; I didn’t want to feel decadent. I didn’t want my body to still be recovering from his ruthless touch, yet craving more.
I went to him, though, because I didn’t know where I was. I had no clothes. And it seemed like for now Griff wasn’t going to kill me. If I lived to see another day, I had more time to plan an escape.
I followed him inside.
Chapter Six
He didn’t show me around or take me on a tour. He led me up a large marble staircase and straight down a hall to a small room. In it was a cot, a standing mirror, a bedside table with some books, and a small bathroom attached to the side.
“This is your room. You are not to leave it. If you leave, you will be punished.”
My stomach gurgled and my skin was covered in goose bumps. “Do I get food? Clothing?”
Immediately Griff was in my face, his hand on my throat. He squeezed just enough to scare me.
“Renee. You’ve already been punished for speaking out of turn.” His fingers relaxed more, but he continued his hold, the pressure asserting his dominance. It was lunacy, but for a moment I considered spitting in his face. His eyes were wild and I felt an insane desire to make them crazed. Let him feel as wild and frustrated as I felt.
Don’t Renee. Wait.
He wanted a slave, so I would be one. Until I got to escape and bring the authorities down on this fucked up man as soon as I could.
“I’m sorry, M-Master,” I choked out. He let my throat go entirely.
“Apology accepted, Renee. Thank you.” He went to the cot and sat. “Come sit with me. On the floor, at my feet.”
I did, ignoring the flares of pain in my backside as I sat.
“Good, Renee. Here are the rules. You stay in this room. You must not leave it unless I tell you to. You will listen. You will obey. In time, a slave might earn the rights to clothing and full meals. Nod if you understand.”
You sick fuck. I nodded.
“Get some sleep.” He got up and left.
I went into the small bathroom, finally able to relieve myself. Sitting on the toilet was agony, my rump throbbing.
I crawled up onto the cot and curled into myself. All I had wanted was adventure, a chance to prove I could do something on my own. A chance to escape my small town life and clear my mind of the hurt Matt had caused me.
Now I was cattle. I didn’t have any more tears, I was too dehydrated. But my body shook with tiny sobs until I fell asleep.
* * * *
There were no windows in my room, and no clocks. I slept a long time, I suspected, because when I woke my body was stiff and my stomach was rumbling painfully.
I stood and shivered; it was cold in the room. Grabbing the coarse blanket I had on the cot, I walked over to the mirror.
The girl in the mirror hardly looked like me. My skin, once golden and tan from the sun, already had a pallid, yellow tint to it. Underneath my eyes were purple bags and my hair, normally thick and curly, hung in dirty tangles around my face. It had been only a little while since my shower in that dingy motel. I looked like I hadn’t showered in weeks. The heat from the trunk and the trials since my abduction had left me looking like shit.
I turned to the side and looked at the damage from my punishment. There were purple bruises on my butt and the backs of my thighs. I was surprised; there weren’t as many as I had expected. The duration of the spanking and the intensity had left me sure I would be covered in bruises, but there were only a few reminders.
That’s what he had wanted. Reminders. Do not talk unless given permission.
My stomach ached. My last meal, the burger in the diner, felt like an eternity ago. Griff had told me not to leave, though.
In the bathroom was a towel and a small shower. There was no door to the bathroom, but it wouldn’t really have mattered. I had no clothes, so any hang-ups I had over modesty were useless.
I turned the water to hot and waited. It never heated. I waited and waited but it remained frigid.
Maybe slaves didn’t get hot water, either. At least I had water at all.
Stepping in, I began to shake violently as I cleaned myself, the drops painful bursts as they hit my exposed skin.
After I had cleaned myself I slowed the water to a small pour and drank deeply. This, at least, was something I could do. The water poured down my parched throat. Crisp, clean. I kept drinking until I felt a little sick, hoping the fullness of the water would trick my stomach for a little while.
As I toweled myself off I heard the door unlock.
So, while not leaving the room was a rule, it wouldn’t have mattered. He kept me locked in.
“Renee?” Griff’s voice. Ah, I wish it didn’t sound as sensual, as gentle as it did. He was too good at hiding the monster he was.
I fought the urge to respond. I wasn’t sure if calling my name was an invitation to speak, so I padded in.
“Good, you’re awake. Would you like some breakfast?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows furrowed. I had said something wrong. Quickly I wracked my brain.
“Yes...Master.”
His shoulders relaxed and he beckoned to me. He even held out his arm, inviting me to take it. What was this? Maybe, just maybe the way he had treated me wasn’t how he really was. Maybe he’ll listen to me and let me go.
I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around me, heading toward him to get food.
“No.” His inviting arm dropped and his face became stern. “Blankets are not to be used as clothing. If you do, I’ll take it away.”
“But it’s cold.”
Ah, crap. I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut.
“No breakfast, slave. Punishment for trying to cover yourself in my presence and for speaking without permission.”
I froze, staring at him. My stomach rumbled so loudly it seemed to echo in the silent room.
I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want him to have any more of my tears. But he stole them just the same, because they welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.
“Please, Griff.”
His face remained stern, but his eyes… for a moment, I thought they seemed, well, sad. I must have imagined it, though, because he shook his head, his dark, lustrous hair falling into his face. I looked at him then, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He was tall, I realized, much taller than I could remember from the night before when it had been dark and I had been out of my mind with fear.
He was wearing a dark blue linen shirt, which offset his pale skin and made his green eyes seem darker, richer. His pants were chinos, loose on his hips. I did not see the usual tell-tale hint of boxers sticking out of the top, making him seem a little wilder.
He was beautiful.
He was cruel.
He left me, then, alone and starving, the door slamming shut with the click of the lock ringing in my ears.
Chapter Seven
I had no concept of time. My seconds, minutes, hours, who the hell knew, were spent napping on the cot until my stomach grew too painful to sleep any more. In the bathroom I would drink as much as I could, trying to ease the hunger pains. I paced the room. I looked at myself in the mirror. Never for long. I started to hate myself when I did.
How could I have been so stupid? Everyone had told me that hitching was a terrible idea. I had just wanted so badly to do something with my life after Matt had left me.
All of my plans had been thrown out the window.
We were going to travel together. Explore the world. I would be a stay at home mom, maybe. Life with him had been so predictable I didn’t mind that the sex wasn’t great. Matt didn’t excite me, but he didn’t ever hurt me, either.
Until he canceled our wedding. Took back the ring. He had taken all of the money with him.
Left alone and broken hearted, hitching had seemed the only way to make something happen right then. I thought I had needed adventure to escape him and my boring life in Wilmington.
So foolish.
I had thought I was going to die when I had woken in the trunk of that car. This might be worse. The spanking had been brutal but this starvation was so, so much worse. As I pictured Griff, his stoic face and cold eyes, I knew it would have been better if I had died at the hands of the men who had initially kidnapped me.
The lock clicked in the door. It opened. Griff was there, this time in a black button down shirt and chinos. If this were any other time, any other place, I’d be blushing and stumbling over my words. I might even have the courage to flirt with him, though with no hope for a date. Griff was far out of my league as far as looks went. The kind of drop-dead beautiful that leaves you breathless.
In personality…
“Are you ready to try this again?”
I nodded. He came over to me and offered me his arm. I took it weakly, having moved beyond hunger to a state of famished which left me barely able to think or move.
He led me out of the room and we went back down the marble staircase. In the daylight the house felt even larger, with sunshine bursting through French windows. There were fresh flowers on many of the surfaces of what looked to be antique furniture. In short, it was a dream home to me, and I found myself becoming infuriated that a monster of a man could live in such an elegant home.
We wandered through the downstairs, not speaking, until we entered the kitchen. I was startled to see that there were two women in maid’s uniforms, cooking over an enormous stove.
Other people. Women. Surely they, if anyone, would be willing to help me.
Griff must have known what I was thinking. He gripped my upper arm, digging his fingers in painfully.
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