Rebecca's Awakening Complete Love Story and Book Series

by J. H. York

  “I’ve got a present for you, Kayla,” her mother said, coming towards Kayla to sit beside her on her bed.

  “Aw, Mom, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Sure I did. My baby is going to college and that deserves a celebration!”

  Kayla’s mother presented her with a little white box. She took it from her gently and opened it. Inside was the most exquisite silver necklace with a lotus flower pendant in the shape of a teardrop.

  Kayla’s mother closed it around her neck as tears brimmed softly behind her daughter’s eyes. “Remember, when the lotus sheds its seeds,” she spoke softly, “it also blossoms. You are casting off your youth, my lovely girl, and embracing your life as a grown woman.”

  “I love you so much, Mom,” Kayla said, throwing her arms around her mother. They hugged each other tightly in silence for some moments.

  Kayla dried her eyes on her sleeve. “Okay, kids, off you go, be home by one or no TV.” She teased her parents with her whole heart of love.

  Kayla’s mother laughed her radiant laugh. “Yes, Mom.”

  Kayla walked arm and arm with her mother through her bedroom. Her mother walked to her father’s side, and they made a stunning couple at the door, she in her black velvet dress and pearls, and Kayla’s father in his tuxedo, so handsome and dashing and mysterious-looking. They smiled at Kayla with true love in their eyes, and it was palpable through the air.

  She was a lucky young woman. She had truly experienced a life of being loved and cherished, just as a female child should.

  Sometimes you look at someone you love as they walk out a door, or leave the car, or their form shrinks gradually into a little ball and disappears. And there is that little voice inside your head, saying, this may be the last time I ever see them. And you laugh in your mind and shrug it off, because you know it’s not possible.

  That is exactly what Kayla did as her loving, perfect parents were swallowed into the black velvet mouth of the Chicago night.

  * * *

  Kayla lit the gaslights for her parents, those tiny beacons like breadcrumbs to lead them home, and went into her room and changed into her nightgown.

  She thought of her Sylvia Plath as she crawled beneath the sheets of her bed. Plath’s writings seemed to speak to Kayla. Maybe she was feeling the anguish of her father’s depression despite her love for him. She read about Plath’s accolades on the Internet and the New York Times Book Review journalist, Joyce Carol Oates, who described Plath as a celebrated and controversial of postwar poet.

  She read of how intensely autobiographical Plath’s poems were as they explored her own mental anguish, her troubled marriage to the fellow poet Ted Hughes, her unresolved conflicts with her parents, and her own vision of herself. So much of this story resonated with how she saw the pain of her father’s heart in his eyes.

  Kayla felt like a blank sheet of paper being sealed within a clean white envelope. Her extra blankets against the chill caressed her legs and thighs in soft swathes of heat. Then her Eliot came to mind, and like a patient etherized upon a table, she slipped into the darkened sea of sleep.

  Somewhere in the blackness, the calm, soft, melting blackness of slumber, came another blackness, but this one was heavy and clawing, and trying to pull her down within its depths.

  She struggled, her eyes trying to push their way open. An ocean of light suddenly flooded her vision, and something hard yet soft was pressing against her mouth. She tasted sweetness and the dentist’s office when she was ten, and the blackness succeeded in pulling her down with it.

  1 CHAPTER ONE

  A delicious, familiar, new car smell met her nostrils. They were talking, two of them, two male voices raised in angry purpose and determination. Kayla knew her languages enough to discern the dialect was Russian. The gorgeous lyrical quality of the language was not heard between the two speakers, though. Their heated words and the hard consonants did not comfort.

  She felt a tightness at her wrists and ankles and tried to pull away at her binds but it was futile. The Monkees’ “Daydream Believer” played softly on the car stereo. Everything had a nightmarish quality, the sweet clean scent of the AC and the gentle purr of the motor. It could have been any other day where Kayla was taking a drive with her parents. What was happening? Or what had happened? She remembered seeing her parents. Sharing that moment when everything was safe and warm. She felt loved by her mom and her dad. How had her world changed? She was beginning to panic. She felt the fear rising inside her chest as it seized her stomach. It crawled up and she felt the piercing point of it within her heart.

  It was as if everything she had believed was safe and trustworthy in this world revealed its true nature now and it had been turned as a weapon against her. Suddenly darkness came again, but not that pulling, heavy, choking darkness. Her vision had simply gone out. Then she was moving, there was a shuffle of movement, but it seemed the dark choreography of whatever was happening to her had gone smoothly for her kidnappers.

  She knew suddenly she was within four walls. Strange how the human equilibrium and sensory capabilities can map out necessary information.

  Kayla could hear someone breathing, and she knew she was female. Suddenly the darkness was swept away like a curtain, like tissue paper from a present. The cloak that held her in the dark was pulled away and now she could who stood before her.

  She was a short, squat woman. Her features were somewhat coarse, and her eyes had somewhat of a languid slant. When she spoke, her Filipino accent was thick.

  “Miss Kayla Mistry. I am Chona, housekeeper of Mr. Chadwick Wadleigh’s castle. You need not know much for your time here. You have been purchased, girl, solely for the master’s pleasure and fulfillment of his sexual needs. For tonight I will escort you to your chamber to wait for Mr. Wadleigh to call for you at dinner.”

  Chona took Kayla’s arm and led her from the room and up a shiny mahogany staircase. They reached what would surely be her chamber. Inside were swathes of pale blue satin curtains, a bed with a blue satin bedspread and tasseled pillows, and white carved oak furniture.

  “The master wishes for you to wear this to dine with him,” Chona said, turning to Kayla. She held up a dress with both of her hands. It was lush and black with silk spaghetti straps and a gold lace detail. Kayla thought if she’d had a mask, it would be the perfect ensemble for a masquerade.

  “Change into this and freshen yourself, girl. When you are ready, ring this bell, and I will summon you when the master is ready.”

  Chona left and closed the bedroom door behind her. Kayla suddenly felt like a doll in a dollhouse, within a dollhouse-like room and the glamorous dress lying upon the bed, waiting for her to be placed within it and her hair primped for formal presentation. She changed into the dress, too scared and nervous to rebel, and twisted her hair into a loose chignon with dark brown curls falling at the sides of her face.

  Kayla looked in the mirror, and she did not recognize herself. She was a princess from some far away land, or a maiden in a fairy tale. She rang the bell and waited for Chona to escort her to her doom.

  When Chona entered the room, she seemed to pause at the sight of Kayla. “That will do,” she said. Then the older woman took her by the arm and led her into a darkened hall, where only an antiquated-looking oil lantern rested upon a hideously carved curio cabinet.

  “This way,” Chona said, holding Kayla’s arm firmly where she could not escape her grasp easily, but softly enough to where it would not leave a mark.

  It seemed they walked down an endless array of dark, twisting staircases. Their footsteps rang hollowly on the ancient wooden floors. Finally they came to a large door with a black oval knocker upon it. Chona opened it and veritably thrust Kayla into the room as she said, “Sit down and behave yourself, child. The master is in.”

  A long, ostentatious table decorated with endless silver was softly lit by firelight. A chair was pulled out for Kayla already, and she sat down in it quickly and pushed herself to the table.
Only then did she look up towards the man sitting at the end.

  And Kayla would never have expected the surprise her eyes were met with. For instead of her being the mysterious diner in the mask, the man seated opposite her had succeeded in filling this role.

  He spoke. His British accent was soft and lilting, like music, and his voice was deep and rich.

  “Miss Mistry, I am pleased you have made it in one piece to my castle. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Chadwick Wadleigh, but you are only permitted to greet me as your master.”

  Kayla could say nothing. She was gripped by something unexplainable. She was not inexperienced, but it was something she had not truly felt in so long.

  And that something Kayla soon realized was latent physical lust. And brought on only by this man’s voice in her ears.

  He was dressed in a black tuxedo, and his face was covered with a bolero mask, black as night. His form seemed massive in the fire-lit darkness. He was clearly made of strong build, and it seemed his arms were thickened by muscle.

  But his face, as far as Kayla could tell, was aquiline, and his mouth… his mouth made her feel so strange inside, as if she could feel a sort of pulling deep within her core. It was large and sensual with full, beige lips.

  But she was annoyed by his audacity after what she had been put through this very night, the fear, the certainty she felt in the car with those men that she would surely be dead quickly. And perhaps most volatile with her temper was the fact that her body seemed to want to open for this man, every pore of her being wanted to scream for him.

  “Do you treat all your female guests this way, Mr. Wadleigh?” Kayla asked.

  It could have been her imagination, but a ripple seemed to go through his form, a tremor. He coolly collected himself.

  “I believe you are the only female guest who has ever graced this castle in my years of residence, Miss Mistry. If I were you, I would feel privileged.”

  “I suppose cruelty, darkness, and submission are a privilege?”

  The oddest, most humorless smile tugged at the corners of his haunting mouth. He licked his lips. “They can be, yes, Miss Mistry.”

  Kayla could feel her chest rising and falling softly with each intake of breath. Besides the sense of pulling deep within was a synchronous sense of tightening. It was like he was conducting a symphony with his voice and words, and her body was the hapless instrument.

  “So,” Kayla asked, trying to disguise the quiver in her voice. “You find it gratifying to randomly select a young girl to bring to your lair to ravish?”

  He was silent for the slightest space of a second. Then he brought a hand to his mouth, wiping his lips with a long forefinger. “No, Miss Mistry, not at all. You were hand-selected by me.”

  And it was as if an invisible hand suddenly entered into her being and squeezed softly at her insides.

  “But enough of our delightful banter. Please, eat. Nourish yourself.”

  “I don’t have an appetite, thank you. Master.”

  Again, that illusion of a shuddering across his form. “Very good, Miss Mistry, what you meant for taunt is approved for my delight and pleasure. You have successfully greeted me in the proper manner of my station. Now, if you do not wish to partake of the delicious assortment of food at my table, kindly leave my dining room and I will have Chona take you up to your room. I will arrive there shortly.”

  Anger coursed through Kayla. “The hell you will.”

  He seemed to stare at her intently. There was silence. Empty, dripping, harrowing silence.

  “As you see more and more of me, Miss Mistry, you might see more of hell indeed.”

  2 CHAPTER TWO

  Kayla waited in her room for what seemed forever. Terrified. And yet, dying inside.

  Dying to know more about her new master.

  Dying to have him walk through the door.

  She closed her eyes.

  Kayla, came a velvet voice from deep within the shadows.

  “Yes, master,” she whispered.

  And suddenly he was there behind her, his mouth against her ear. “I am a man of great appetite. And I know you, Kayla. I know how to excite you. With you, words are music, words are better than caresses. I know that deep inside you, is the respect my acknowledgement, of your own mind and your own intellect. But if truth be known, I also care for your femininity and I desire to be inside you…”

  Then he said not another word, he just acted. He pulled away the spaghetti straps of my gown, unbuttoned the bodice of my dress and gravity pulled it down as it fell to the floor into layers of folds that draped around my feet it. With one finger he drew a line up from my fingertips to my shoulders. Drawing the line back down to my upper arms where he squeezed his hands hard against the curve of my shoulder.

  “If you want it this bad, you’re going to take it, my sweet Kayla.”

  And at his words, she began pulsating again. He spun her around, as dizzy circles formed in her head. She felt off balance and needed him to steady her center. He lifted her in the air with his strong arms and brought one her left breast to his mouth, suckling harshly at her nipple and letting it plop out of his mouth loudly. “Take me out,” he growled.

  He grabbed Kayla again and began alternately kissing and sucking softly at her neck while he fondled her breasts hard in his hands.

  And Kayla did so in ultimate joy and happiness. Then he spun her around again… she felt like a child at a funhouse mirrorland, and giddy with pleasure. He pressed her back against his chest.

  “Pump me, Kayla. I know you know how to do it.”

  He took her hand and led it backwards to his long, thick masculinity, and she began to stroke him as he reached underneath her dress and into her panties to stroke her softly. She was shaking against him, it felt so good the way he fingered her wet, quivering femininity.

  The harder Kayla stroked him, the harder he fingered her, and he pressed his mouth harder to her ear, telling her naughty things in that voice that made her want to cum with longing and passion. She was so aroused and the blood was rushing in her ears.

  As he spoke, she could only make out but only a few phrases. “I’m going to take you now, in every way that I can… Your sweet little ass is mine... I’m going to fuck your brains out and you’re going to take every bit of me...”

  Kayla was whimpering already and pumping away at her master’s dick frantically. He lifted her again and took her to the bed in his arms. He laid her down with an undeniable hunger on her back as he covered her with himself. Pushing his finger through her silky panties, he tears away her lacey panties. Placing his head fall between her thighs, he didn’t kiss her there, instead he bites her inner thighs leaving gently teeth marks. Her desire for him is driven by her own hidden lust. Her master travels upwards, biting his way along, between the hollow of her breasts, eventually reaching both her lips and tongue.

  “Come here,” he says. Kayla can’t believe it the strength of her attraction for her kidnapper. He lifts her again and brings her vagina down onto to his face, kissing and licking her softly but without mercy.

  “Oh, master,” she cries. “It feels so good... Oh my god.” She isn’t sure how she gets to this place of desire, but she can’t seem to help her ravenous desire for him either. What has she become…?

  Gently but deliberately, he positions her where she can suck him as he has pleasured her. Oh, the pleasure as his tongue licks between her folds, is an unstoppable build of pleasure. He opens her wide for his viewing and locates the center of her sexual being. Tonguing her there, then fingering and massaging her forcefully. Her yearning grows without regard. What she knows now more than she could have imagined is how much more she wants of him… she wants more, more, more…

  Kayla moans as she sucks him up and down, feeding herself with his manly member, straining to get every inch of him inside her and yearning for him to cum. That’s when he pushes her gently away from him and holds her up, and in one effortless motion, impales her with his lo
ng, throbbing penis.

  ”Oh god, Kayla, that’s it, baby. Take all of my pleasure.”

  Kayla moans in pleasure. Oh, he knows how to move her up and down him. Sliding her fully up and down, his dick was slickened with her wetness. He keeps whispering to her, his lips directly at her ear, such sensual, sexual things, and it seemed that every word was accented with his deliberate thrust. Her vagina became his pussy and his penis became her cock…

  Finally, it seemed he was nearing his end. “I’m going to cum, Kayla, turn around. Oh fuck, I’m going to cum….I’m cumming right nowwww…”

  “Please,” she moaned, as he stood and she knelt down for him. “Please cum for me, master.”

  He started moaning hard and pumped himself for her. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Pearlized strands of cum burst from him and in her open mouth, and she softly grabbed him to milk him with her mouth for every last drop. As she did, he jerked and twitched in acute pleasure. This was the control she enjoyed, watching him come apart by what she could do to him. This was truly her pleasure to enjoy…