When Gable was ready, Evie was ready, and the February night was perfect for his plans. Warm for that time of year. Not a cloud in a black and starry sky, and just a sliver of a moon. Too bad it wasn’t full—that would be an appropriate time, too. But this one was as good any.
On three sides of the house there were acres of unspoiled woods, a teaming wilderness: wildlife, tall trees, short and squat ones, ferns, brush, a woody undergrowth with few traveled paths. A territory big enough to get lost inside in the dark of night: frightening by day, terrifying after dusk settled inside the shadows.
His dogs were ready, eager cinnamon-colored hounds, who had only rare opportunity for a really good chase. It wouldn’t take much to have them jumping and tugging at their leashes, ready to find a prey that would be running away, darting, haphazardly making a way through the unknown woods, scared stumbling, looking for freedom, but suspecting rightly that it was too far from their reach to ever find.
That was the promise—freedom.
“All you need to do, dear, is make your way from here to the safety zone. You manage that, you’re free to go.”
Freedom? Evie didn’t believe him. “How will I know it’s the safety zone?”
“You don’t,” he smiled. “But there is one.”
“And if I don’t get there?”
“That’s the game. My hounds will follow you into the woods, seeking your scent. When they find you—if they find you—you’ll be cornered and have to wait until I come to your rescue. Trust me, they won’t hurt you, but they might give you a decent scare. Don’t do anything rash. They are trained to hunt and trained to track, and trained to keep you where they find you.”
As he spoke, the three hounds were being leg on leashes from the kennel, moving rapidly toward them. Evie gulped nervously, staring around at the usual crowd that had gathered, biting her lip again. It was nearly bleeding from the effort. Gable pressed a cloth between her legs, gathering the scent he needed.
“There are boundaries to my property. You and my hounds are wearing collars which will give an electrical shock should you approach the underground wire. Don’t worry, it’s just a reminder, maybe not a pleasant one, but it won’t hurt you. If it knocks you to the ground, get up and take off in another direction. Easy enough?”
She shook her head, yes, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Run, girl, I’ll give you a ten minute head start and then set them loose… And I want a game of it. You don’t get beyond the first post, I’ll stake you to a tree for the night and you’ll wish you played a whole lot harder. Now run, get going.” He shoved her with a stick. “Go!”
She looked back, tears forming in her unhappy eyes. She could see the jumping hounds, hear their bark, wonder what they’d do to her. “Go!” Gable shouted again after her. She turned about, heading into the trees at a run as fast as she could go, thinking freedom, even though she didn’t believe it for a minute. Meanwhile, Gable have his dogs a whiff of the cloth perfumed with the rich scent of her moist crotch.
From her first barefoot step into the rough terrain, Evie’s feet hurt. She stumbled twice, picked back up and tried vainly to find a trail. Eventually giving up, she pushed her body through the bracken and trees, ignoring the pain, the bruised feet, her scratched body. He said he’d wait ten minutes, but it couldn’t have been nearly that long before she heard the yapping sound of the dogs again, gaining on her rapidly. She had to make it to the first marker. How would she know where it was? Uncertain, she moved on into the darkness, into the trees, running, sacred. Afraid she’d never reach anything, the marker, the safety zone… nothing but terror appeared before her eyes.
She could sense them gaining on her, even when she didn’t hear their yapping. Soon it was just their heavy breathing, the heavy panting. She tried to pick up speed only to get trapped inside a thicket of brambles. Pulling out was even worse. Turning to her left to go around it, one of the dogs was on her. She turned the other way, running toward the heavy breathing. What else could she do? She escaped, skirting around out of the thickest part of the woods, into a more meadowy landscape, able to run full speed on her torn feet. The stars and the sliver of moon gave her the first real light to navigate by. She took off, forgetting how she hurt.
But the easier path was easier on the dogs as well. By the time she entered woods again, they were at her heels. Then she hesitated an instant too long. The three surrounded her, sniffing her, enjoying the scent they’d followed for their conquest. Any way she tried to turn, the three filled in the gap and her flight was altered. She dodged them with no success as long frustrating minutes of dread kept her scared heart beating in her chest. She could feel them coming for with tongues agape, whining one minute, and intensely fierce the next, as if she were the their next meal, which they would not let get away.
Soon there was the sound of a motor, a car, the sound of a whistle and dogs backed off. Gable strode out of the woods, with several men on either side of her, all as eager as excited as the hounds.
“Very good for a first time, Evie.” Her master inspected her body, deciding the cuts from the scratchy bramble had hardly marred the skin. They’d heal in a day or two. And her feet, a little bloody in one spot would be good as new in short time. For this rare exhilaration, it was worth a little of her pain, her streaked and bruised skin.
The scenario was played weekly. Sometimes Margery, Janice or Georgie joined her, and the instructions were changed: the dogs were left in their kennels, and the slaves were set off at different times. They had to find each other in order to avert a punishment. If they failed in the appointed time, each were strung up to trees and flogged, occasionally bound for an hour or two, left to feel the darkness and the strangeness as the forest close in around them. Once Evie and Janice where strung upside down by their feet and left to dangle. The aloneness never failed to terrify.
Then there were wagers… Gable’s friends bidding on slaves like they were horses. Given a common goal, the first one to get to the acknowledged spot would win for their master a session with any slave he chose. Evie was a frequent choice. The sessions that followed were conducted in the woods, gagged, blindfolded, bound… like hunters capturing prey, Huns raping their conquests, madmen escaping with their prize to relish the triumph as they rammed their cocks down a choking throat, or into the ass or pussy of the vanquished maid.
Some nights the events took on the guise of orgies. Who won, who lost wasn’t readily apparent. The rules were fuzzy, not clearly defined for anyone. Gable allowed what he wanted and denied what he chose to deny. Winning masters created the scenes, combining the spent bodies of their slaves in new entertainment to please their eye. Slaves danced before bonfires, required to tease the masters until everyone was ready for sex.
“That’s it, Evie, dance for us,” Gable reached her body with the snap of single tail whip… cornering her against a thick bramble she’d never get beyond. She jerked, spun around, and tried to dodge the next strike, but no matter how she tried to avert the aim, there was another strike, another master joining the play, brandishing his wily whip and marking her, as if she hadn’t already been marked enough.
“Please,” she finally wilted on the ground, exhausted.
“Get up!” Gable shouted. He laid a hard crack on her back and snapped her to her feet. “Grab the tree limb,” he ordered.
She gazed toward the unreachable sky, seeing the low branch hanging down. Hanging on to the thick bark, her hands barely able to get around the thing, she took the steady assault of punishment, whips and crops and slick tender branches coming at her from all sides. Still jumping back and forth, she played their victim. “Ouch! Ow. Please!” She jumped on tiptoe to get away—which was impossible—screeching each time. Chains attached to her body chains, yanked and pulled made her look like a frustrated puppet, mindlessly out of control. “Stop!” she cried.
Thwack! The sound of a whip cracked in the woods made her cringe in fear.
Exhaustion followed Gable’s slaves into the days after their runs in the woods—especially Evie, who never seemed to have a reprieve from the weekly, sometime biweekly soirees. She hardly had a chance to heal from one before she was running from dogs, running from masters, running, running, running towards something she was seeking, but could never grasp. The goals were always beyond her reach. Only once was she zapped by the perimeter fence. The shock threw her to the ground, but she picked herself back up, thinking she might have found freedom, only to face capture seconds later.
Gable was at his height of ecstasy. The soirees were becoming famous in his secretive world, and he had to limit attendance, which made the invitations to the festivities almost sacred. He was a man obsessed, obsessed with the miracle of a slave girl, who hated the theatre and yet performed better than anyone on the stage. His obsession drove him on to test her again and again in the field, to drive her toward that place where seeing her face at the moment of complete surrender was utter bliss.
The night he blindfolded Evie, he used her as the lone bait in a scheme he’d thought of a number of times, but only then had the guts to try. For him, these games had become a singular path with an end that was as mysterious as the final goal was to Evie herself.
He moved forward with an urgency that took strange and risky turns. But it was the risks, the theatre, the potential for disaster—and ultimate triumph—that kept him going.
In turn, Evie was afraid of the images that appeared in her brain, that came there unbidden, but relentless, insisting, demanding her attention. She would scream back at them, No! But they were bound to materialize despite her denials. After a while, she came to accept them, to let herself be aroused by them… could it possibly be true that she’d found her true master, the one she was destined to belong to since those first days of imprisonment in her homeland?
Something about him answered her questions, wagging a red flag before her face. She refused to believe so long, and it was such a strain to deny him, that it was finally a relief allowing herself to dive in and be swept away by the absurd thoughts. And why not? There was no other fate she could imagine but this one, this real, present, tangible, touchable, obvious fate. Did she belong to Gable—not just as his purchased property, but as his true slave? Was this what her body, mind and soul were trying to tell her? Perhaps a hundred times she’d considered the question, only to shake it off. But she felt sure of the answer long before he slipped the blindfold over her face.
“A little more challenge that usual,” he told her.
Her heart beat excitedly, as her loins were beginning to burn for him, the finale, the end. She was prepared to accept. Prepared, at least for something remarkable.
This was another of many wagers, though this was one of the secretive ones… it was not the first… knowledge of it was shared between the contestants alone, not with their prey in the woods. Gable was wagering his fate, at the same time wagering his Evie, his favorite prize, his favorite toy. Nothing in his world could be more thrilling than the fear of loss, mixed with the promise of triumph. The game set. The participants understood… all but Evie, who was in the dark on this full moon night.
Her eyes blinded, she was spun in place, from a starting point already deep in the woods, and then pushed forward, urged with sticks, forced to run even though she had no idea where she was going. She bumped into trees, got lost in the mire, had no bearings at all, until she finally put her hands in front of her and used them to guide her. She moved on into the silent jungle of trees, slipping between saplings and larger ones, performing by inner sense as much as outward touch. She smelled familiar scents, reaching back months in time and they drew her forward. All the while, she was sure that just behind her were footsteps, someone trailing her close, but never revealing his identity, even his presence in any tangible way.
Suddenly, she was in the midst of a clearing. The closeness of the trees had faded away and she could feel the open like a free woman. But the sensation lasted only an instant—an infinite moment when she believed she’d won.
But then she was captured, dragged to a tree by several pairs of hands and tied there, facing out. Her arms were raised above her head where her wrists were tied to branches. Other ropes bound her ankles at the base of the tree, while a spider web of smaller ropes were threaded through her body chains and rings and anchored to the ground and bark. She was immobilized.
“The game’s over and you’ve got your master now, Evie,” she heard the surprising sound of Tim’s husky, dykish voice in front of her. “Better enjoy him, because he’ll certainly be enjoying you.” He snapped one of the ropes across her chest to make sure it was tight. It zapped her nipple ring and she couldn’t help but wince.
The commotion around her stopped in seconds. Perhaps there was the sound of retreating steps, but she couldn’t be sure if her ears were deceiving her. It was so quiet, she wondered if she’d been left alone.
And then his hand… reaching out to her from the nothingness, tugging a little here and there, playfully flicking the sensitive spots, like her nipples, her labia, her clit. It was a familiar hand, and at her crotch, it began a more earnest play, thrumming her wet sex. She wanted to come. She was about to burst. The hand was warm, doing everything it needed to do to have her at the edge, moaning, her head tossing back and forth. “Ah! Ah, yes, yes, yes, yes…” she cried and cried again, swimming in pleasure, body spasms rocketing through her. “Ah, yesssssssssss.”
She came and came again, then she slumped inside the tight ropes as much as she was able, but it was not an easy relief. The constraints were merciless. If only he’d unbind her now.
As if answering her silent prayer, the unseen hands began to work, slowly, methodically releasing her. This was not like anything she’d experienced before. Every nerve in her body was engaged, and as the ropes were carefully pulled over that aroused skin, they tripped another wave of orgasm, and then another, until she was finally free, falling forward in the warm hands that caught her fall.
The sudden swell of emotion seemed as real and genuine as anything she’d ever felt. Her words followed. “Oh, God, I am yours. I can’t deny it, I’m sorry if I ever did.”
“Easy,” he spoke, as he helped her sink to the ground, her body feeling helpless inside an adoring embrace.
…But something was very wrong. The picture in her brain didn’t match the voice at her side, or the hands that held her, or the smell of his body, something familiar but unexpected.
“Please tell me who you are,” she gasped, confused, knowing she’d been tricked, tricked again. Should she be surprised?
The blindfold lifted, Evie had her answer… shocked and more bewildered than ever.
“Why are you here?” she asked him. It was Jacob, Jacob holding her… she could remember their last conversation but that seemed like eons ago.
“I told you… when I’m ready, I knew where to get the one I want. I decided I was ready.”
She shook her head in disbelief, unsure what to feel. The last
weeks had been a dream, leading to an ending, working toward a climax that seemed as entrenched in her soul as it was in reality. She’d seen the picture, she knew how this was supposed to play out, and her insides has finally agreed. “But I’m not ready for you,” she gasped. “You’re not the one I expected.”
“I’m sure I’m not,” he answered without being disturbed, “but I am the one who owns you now. It’s not a take it or leave it proposition. Besides, it’s written on your cute behind. Eventually you’ll get used to me—and your freedom.”
“But I was sure that Gable… I was ready for Gable. How could he?” she swam in a fog of disbelief and wonder.
“Gable sacrificed you to the game, and lost.”
She couldn’t even grasp that this was possible.
“But…?”
“Yes. He gave you up. The only thing he loves more than you is his own hype—he’s probably jacking off right now.”
Strangely this made sense, in a very perverted sort of way. Yes, it made perfect sense… Gable and his infinite games. Another rule broken.
“Don’t worry about him, Evie, he’ll have another perfect slave inside of a week—you’re not all that hard to find, at least not in his eyes. You’ll be no more than a memory he’ll forget as soon as he has his dick in another more surrendering woman.”
He was so sure, but probably right. That fact might have twisted in her gut a little—she’d become used to being adored… or was it used to being the center of attention? That she didn’t mind. But there was nothing right or real about the affection her master had had for her. It had been as shallow as his heart. Silly, she thought, the first time he spun one his of his ridiculous yarns about her.
But what would her world be like now?
Jacob pulled her to her feet, and threw a blanket over her body. Only then did she realize how much the night had chilled her. How strange it felt to have the warmth of something akin to clothes around her shoulders. It must have been months since she felt that human.
The Seller, Buyer, Girl and Her Master Page 14