No matter how much a part of her wanted to surrender to just that fate…
“I’m here to remind you that I own you, body and soul,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “You are my slave. I won’t let you forget it, even when I cannot be near to discipline you. Your body must feel the impact of my touch long after my hands have left your flesh. I fear it has been too long since our first session. Your buttocks are no longer pink with from my attentions.”
Oh, god, she thought, with a shiver of fear and anticipation. He’s going to whip me again.
However, he found constant ways to take her off guard. This time, she felt the bed depress, a hint that he had seated himself over her. Gathering her breast in his hand, he lowered something to her bare skin and began to rub.
Ow! The gag absorbed her protest. He buffed the tender globe with sandpaper. All around the quivering sphere he scoured. Xandra squirmed and tried to wrest herself free of the chafing. It felt like a cat’s tongue, gentle yet abrasive at the same time. It tickled, it hurt, it taunted. At the meeting of sandpaper and nipple, all the conflicting forms of taction intensified. Xandra arched her back and wailed into the gag.
Her captor lavished the same meticulous care on abrading the other breast and nipple with the sandpaper. By the time he had satisfied himself with his swabbing, her breasts felt scuffed raw. He tested them. The tiniest flicker of his fingernail caused her nipple to stiffen and her whole breast to shudder with reaction. His deep chuckle of approval rumbled over her.
Xandra predicted he would not be content with scouring just her breasts, a prediction borne out when he unchained her ankles and re-shackled her feet folded back over her head, so that her ankles attached by chains to the same bedposts as her wrists. This debased position proffered both her buttocks and her pussy to his convenience. He took advantage of the access to scour her ass cheeks.
Here he applied rougher, faster swabs of the sandpaper than he had to her breasts. Obviously, he intended to polish her cheeks pink, as pink and tender as if he had whipped her. When her buttocks began to throb with heat in his grasp, he tested the result with a series of spanks delivered by an open palm. The smacks descended with force, and against her already excoriated flesh, they felt like explosions. Xandra sobbed. Both blindfold and gag were soaked, on account of her tears and saliva. But that was not all that had grown wet. Her cunt ached for the same treatment. The third time would hit the charm…
To graze her layered folds, her captor gentled his daubs with the sandpaper, softer strokes even than he applied her breasts. The slickness of her cleft also reduced the friction to a mere tormenting buzz rather than a burn. But when the biting surface abrased her clit, nothing could stop her from bucking and howling like an injured beast.
For all that, it was not enough. He roughed her clit enough to drive her to a frenzy, then stopped, before she could climax.
He left the bed. Xandra could only wait, chained in the same degrading position, wait and wonder what perversity he had in store for her next.
When it came, it was long, hard and sleek. A dildo…a huge dildo. He slid it into her wet and ready cleft. Despite her wetness, because of the dildo’s size, he had to jiggle it in carefully, but he did so with relentless patience, until he had shoved the monster in to the hilt. The flap on the rim of the dildo formed a paw-like shape that extended a claw directly over her clit. A metal ring fixed to the claw. Both ring and claw tip nudged against her clit when she moved.
He released her legs from over her head and allowed her to rest them on the bed. Her arms remained bound to the posts. Her captor strung a slender chain through the ring against her clit and lifted both halves of the chain up to her breasts.
Metal teeth yapped at her nipple. Xandra squealed and tried to escape the bite.
“If you defy me, you will be punished,” he said ominously.
She stilled, panting in fear.
Another clamp enclosed her other nipple. Chains draped from the clamps over her breasts and down her belly, all the way to the ring over her clit. A final piece completed the outfit, such as it was: a chain that encircled her waist and then creased her butt cheeks to connect the dildo from the anal side.
Her captor unlashed her from the bed and dragged her by the chains on her nipples where he wanted her to go. She stumbled after him. Any misstep resulted in agony to her breasts, but it was difficult to follow his lead as she was still blindfolded and gagged. Crossing the room felt as perilous as a trek across the Himalayas.
Rug changed to cold tile under her bare feet; they had reached the kitchenette at last. Here he made her kneel on the floor. Though he ungagged her, he also shackled her wrists to her ankles. Paper rustled. A delicious smell tantalized her. Sausages. Croissants. Fruit. Coffee. He had brought breakfast.
“Slave. Open your mouth.”
Xandra licked her lips, afraid again. Her stomach growled. Yet she did not know what he planned. Would he let her eat, or was the food there just to taunt her? Maybe he intended to stuff another one of his obscene toys into her mouth when she least expected it.
“That’s your second infraction,” he said. He pinched her jaw, forcing her mouth open.
A melon ball popped in. Xandra automatically bit down on the juicy piece of cantaloupe. A drizzle of sweetness trickled out the corner of her mouth.
Hot breath brushed her cheek. His mouth neared hers. He lapped the juice from her chin and sealed the strangely tender gesture with a kiss just as tender, just a light press of his lips to her skin. Xandra drew in her breath. It was the most intimate thing he had done to her out of all their games.
After that, her fear vanished. She opened her mouth when he asked and accepted spoonfuls of fruit, bread and meat from his hand. He also gave her sips of coffee with the caution that the liquid was hot. Again, Xandra was touched.
Breakfast did not distract him entirely from his program for her, however. As soon as she finished her meal, he reminded her of her two “infractions” and pulled her to her feet. He bent her over the kitchen table. Her belly and metal-pinched breasts pressed into the cold laminate.
“If you cry out, the punishment will be doubled for each sound,” he said. “Do you need the gag?”
Amazingly, she considered it.
“No,” she said.
He spanked her with his open hand, as he had on the bed. By now the abrasion from the sandpaper had waned, but instead she had to deal with the impact his blows had on the huge dildo engorging her insides. Every clap of his hand seemed to drive it deeper into her. Xandra clenched her teeth to keep from yelping. Tears streaked her face over her pained grunts.
“Alexandra, my poor little slave,” he cooed. He helped her back to her feet and stroked her face. “You have been very good, my dear. You were born to be a slave. You were born to belong to me. You realize it too. Otherwise you would have reported me to the police and changed your lock. You knew I would come back, didn’t you?”
Head lowered in embarrassment, she nodded.
“Do you know why I came for you? For you and only you?”
She shook her head.
“All the while I was in prison, I watched you from afar. For years, I yearned to dominate you as I am doing now. To bend you to my will, to taste you and tame you and fuck you, at my whim. But you were beyond my reach. Now that I have escaped, I have finally taken what rightfully belongs to me. I should have claimed you long ago.”
His confession chilled her rather than charmed her.
“You’re an escaped convict?”
“No questions.” He turned harsh, perhaps sensing he had revealed too much. He gripped her arm roughly and manhandled her back across the carpet. He unshackled her hands, but warned her, “Don’t move. Unless you want further punishment. Which, for myself, I would not mind, but we’re running late as it is.”
Late? Another frission of fear traversed her spine. Late for what? She had resigned herself to being used as his sex toy all day, and perhaps all night. Somehow she had
convinced herself that after that, he would disappear again, and she could return to her normal life. Missing the appointments with her clients would cost her dearly, but she might be able to make up some plausible excuse for standing them up without so much as a courtesy call… It didn’t matter, because she had been deluding herself all along. She had a history of self-delusion, Xandra reminded herself bitterly. Hadn’t all her previous relationships been disasters exactly because she refused to see the true nature of the men she dated?
This had to be the lowest she had ever fallen. The man was a stalker, an escaped convict, for God’s sake. If she thought she could trust him to be the domineering yet essentially noble lover of her dreams, she was as whacked as the women who tried to marry serial killers on death row.
He returned from some activity across the room.
“Put this on,” he ordered.
What now? she wondered. As if nipple clamps chained to a dildo weren’t degrading enough.
To her surprise, he handed her a chemise, silk blouse and suit skirt. And when she finished dressing herself, he helped her into the matching jacket. Her business clothes felt distinctly unnatural over the clamps and chains.
He knew it damn well.
“All through the day, you will feel your breasts and cunt bearing the force of my claim on you. You will remember that no matter what else you are, no matter what face you show to others, under it all, you are my slave.”
He didn’t wait for her reply. He dragged her by the arm again, this time to the bathroom.
“Wash you face,” he said. “Put on your make-up. Paint on the false confidence that you display so convincingly to the outside world. But never forget I know what you really are—a frightened girl who wants to be mastered and controlled and protected. When you take off the blindfold, you will see a timer on the vanity counter. Do not leave this bathroom, or even open the door, until that timer reaches zero.”
The bathroom door snicked shut.
Xandra whipped off the blindfold. The bathroom light stabbed her eyes. It took her a moment to adjust her vision, then she searched out the timer he had mentioned. Talk of timers made her think of bombs, especially on the tail of her concerns over his criminal background. But the timer was no more than that, her own kitchen timer used for clocking boiling artichokes, nothing sinister. The digital display ticked down from ten minutes.
She considered disobeying him and sneaking a peek outside the bathroom door, but she didn’t entertain the idea for long. This respite she must assume to be temporary. He could be waiting outside the door, ready to punish her again. Besides, she had to pee.
It wasn’t easy to perform her bodily functions around the dildo and chain outfit, but it wasn’t impossible. While she was at it, she tried to figure out how to remove the dildo and clamps. To her dismay, she found the chains keeping the dildo in place secured with a tiny lock. The nipple clamps she might have removed if she had been able to fathom how to unscrew the complex clamp, but her efforts to experiment resulted in too much pain to continue. She rebuttoned her blouse. A glance at the timer told her she had four minutes left. She hurriedly washed her face and applied her make-up. She glanced longingly at the shower, but didn’t dare. Maybe this evening, her captor would let her bathe.
Maybe he would bathe her himself.
Her cheeks burned and her cleft moistened at the thought.
Nine, eight, seven…three, two, one…
Zero.
Xandra opened the bathroom door. He had not told her she must replace the blindfold, so she hadn’t.
The apartment was empty.
What did she feel? Relief—or disappointment?
No wonder he hadn’t ordered her to put the blindfold back on. The timer also made sense now. He had wanted to give himself time to make his getaway. His last instructions, she realized, indicated that he expected her to go about her day, including to work, as if everything were normal. Only he and she would know about the toys he had wrapped around her body, under her sedate charcoal grey business suit. She touched her breasts through her blouse. Her nipples tingled in their tiny prisons.
* * * * *
All through the day, Xandra shifted behind her desk, burning with awareness of the artificial cock stretching her and the clamps jangling on her tits. Somehow, she managed to project her usual image as a coolly professional financial advisor. The meetings with her clients proceeded without a hitch. She relished the delicious sense of sharing an intimate secret with her lover, even as she met with dull, silver-haired men or answered her work email. She felt as though he were right beside her, exchanging a knowing smile with her.
Her mystery lover exhibited the perfect union of mastery and mercy. He had forced her to kneel on the floor to accept tidbits from his hand like a pet, yet he’d leaned down to kiss the stickiness from her chin in so tender a gesture. He had spanked her with his open palm for her slightest impudence, yet taken care not to make her late for work. He had frightened her out of her wits by awakening her in chains this morning, yet set her free again—albeit wearing the sign of his ownership.
He must have plans to see her again soon. He would want to remove the dildo himself, she was sure. Perhaps tonight… Excitement bubbled up in her. She couldn’t wait.
I could fall in love with this man, she realized. And I don’t even know his name.
The idea brought her up short.
That’s lunacy, girl, she told herself. Bad enough she had surrendered her body to him. But risk her heart?
No. She drew the line at that. She had been hurt too badly in the past to make that mistake again. And the men who’d abused her trust in the past hadn’t even been escaped convicts.
Only one man had never betrayed her. True, he didn’t melt her body into a pool of wanton need, but he had held her in his arms as she’d sobbed over the losers who had maltreated her. She wasn’t in love with him, but she loved him as a friend. She trusted him.
He had helped her through all her previous breakthroughs. This situation was much more dangerous, but not that different in other ways. She knew she could count on her best friend to watch out for her. Even though she had had treated him badly over the past two weeks, telling him she didn’t want to see him without explaining the real reason—her own confusion about whether she wanted to see her stalker again—Xandra knew he would not hold a grudge. It wasn’t his way.
She picked up the phone.
“Hello? Chris? I need you.”
Chapter 4
Chris met her in the parking lot at the local greasy spoon, one with excellent pies. Xandra needed pie to strengthen her nerves, the more decadent and calorie-packed the better. It should have chocolate syrup and whip cream. Also, she didn’t dare return to her own apartment. The stalker might be waiting there. Although she’d made up her mind—she could not, could not, maintain an on-going, intimate relationship with a stalker—she still didn’t have the heart to sick the police on him as if on a rabid dog.
The waitress brought them two forks, but Chris didn’t touch the pie.
“What’s going on, Xandra?”
“Before I say anything, you have to promise that you’ll abide by my decisions on this matter,” Xandra said nervously. “And that you won’t judge me. I already know I’m an idiot. I don’t need to be reminded of it again.”
“You’ve changed your mind and finally decided to go the police,” he said flatly. His hands fisted on the table before he deliberately relaxed them, palms down. “Yes, I’ll abide by that, if that’s your decision.”
“Just the opposite,” Xandra said. “Look, Chris, I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I don’t think the stalker is a bad man. Maybe he’s just an ordinary guy suffering from that disease you told me about.”
“In which case, he’s not an ordinary guy anymore. Xandra, he visited again, didn’t he?”
She nodded.
Chris glanced around the restaurant to make a quick confirmation that no one paid them any attention. Then h
e reached across the table and slipped his hand into Xandra’s suit jacket.
“What the hell…?” Xandra demanded.
His hand pressed down over her breast. The nipple clamp and dangling chain clearly could be felt through her slip and silk blouse. The jogging of the clamp and the warmth of his hand made her nipples swell and her breasts tingle.
Xandra blushed furiously. “Chris, please.”
He withdrew his hand. His face showed no more hint of his reaction than a wall.
“What he does to you, this stalker, it turns you on, doesn’t it, Xandra?”
“Oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands. “Do I disgust you?”
He did not answer. Xandra looked up from her hands. Chris’ whole body had gone rigid, and his face as hard as a stone. He stared at her with a bleak look in his eye that she had never seen.
“I do disgust you,” Xandra whispered. She started to rise from the table.
Chris grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t go, Xandra.” He shuddered and released an explosive breath. “You don’t disgust me. Please, sit. It’s me, your buddy, Chris. You can tell me anything. Remember?”
“Yes.” She sat back down in the booth. The faux leather seat squeaked under her buttocks as she shifted to try to find a comfortable position around the dildo cleaving her. She blushed again when she thought about Chris discovering that.
“People can’t help their sexual preferences.” Chris sounded as though he were trying to convince himself as much as reassure her. “But I don’t understand why you called me. He’s the one you’ve decided you want, despite everything he’s done to you. Because of everything he’s done to you.”
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