Trapped: Her Love Story

by Shannon Youngblood

  “You’re most welcome, Wendy Darling,” he chuckled. “Come, let’s get you into bed.”

  Pulling me out of the water, I stood on shaky legs, his arms supported me until he was certain I could hold my own weight. Paxton towel dried me, and then shuffled into my closet for clothes. When he returned, he held up a simple pale blue short nightgown.

  “Blue, just like Wendy from Peter Pan,” he smirked.

  Slipping the garment over my head, I let the silky material fall over my body and hug every curve. It was really quite beautiful, but under the circumstances, I had a hard time actually enjoying it. I could take a thousand, steaming-hot baths and still be sore after the treatment I’d just been subjected to.

  “No underwear today, you’re much too sore and swollen. We will reevaluate tomorrow. Let’s get you to bed.”

  Walking with his arm around my torso, he guided me to the bed outside of the glass box and helped me sit. I winced at the pain, but for now, it was just a dull ache. Curiosity got the best of me as I tried to peek over Paxton’s shoulder to see into the other room.

  The liquid I had felt dripping down my legs hadn’t been my own arousal, but blood from the repeated abuse. It had to have looked like a crime scene in the room.

  “Don’t look. I’ll clean it. Go to sleep.”

  He pushed me down gently into the pillows and planted a tender kiss on my lips, before pulling on the light string, letting my world go black, and my dreams cloud my vision.

  I wished I could go back to my dreamland, instead of sitting on this bed, alternating my gaze between the harmless sealed envelope, and the pristine room inside of the glass box before me. He’d said he would clean it, but that was an understatement. It looked as if nothing had even happened in there. The bed was made with new sheets, and the Trillix was nowhere to be found.

  Forcing myself from the bed, I hesitated at the entrance to the room debating on whether or not to go in. Throwing caution to the wind, I stepped inside and inspected my surroundings. The bleach scent was overpowering, burning the hairs inside of my nose, and after further investigation, I noticed the rag I had used to clean myself with, was no longer in the waste basket. Paxton was thorough.

  Slowly backing out of the enclosure, I walked into the bathroom. I needed to pee, but I was scared of the pain I would feel. Although I was swollen, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I feared, and I was able to relieve myself with minuscule stinging. I had to chalk it up to Paxton’s excellent care of me the night before.

  As I sat there, going over the details of my last night on the streets, something caught my eye. Every bottle of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, along with every lotion, bubble bath, and moisturizer had been replaced. In their stead was twelve identical bottles of each item in one scent. Cucumber Melon.

  I didn’t know why I smiled. Maybe it was because, for the first time, someone actually took my decisions into consideration. Possibly, it was because there was no way I would ever run out of my Cucumber Melon memories. But, smile I did as I reached for some lotion and slathered it onto my arms. It gave me the courage I needed to get through the next ten minutes.

  With my lotion shield fully in place, and my tears locked safely away, I marched back to my nightstand with my head held high. I snatched the offending envelope from its place and, ripped it open, pulling out the handwritten note.

  Girl,

  Your assignment is as follows:

  Count the number of yellow squares.

  Dress in the yellow sequined tank top and black thong while you count.

  Braid your hair

  Do not let me down.

  —P

  P? Which P? Preston and Paxton, both called me girl, and both of their names started with the same letter. Letting the note fall from my hands, I plopped down on the bed and looked up.

  At the exact moment, my eyes found the ceiling, the grid lit up, filling my vision with a rainbow of color, and Paxton came over the speaker. His voice lulled me into a web of safety and serenity.

  “It’s eight am, Wendy Darling. I’ve installed a clock above your bed. Preston will be in at five pm to check your final numbers, and he expects you to be ready for him on your bed. Pay attention to your time and watch for your light. Your breakfast is coming now, and your lunch will be delivered at one pm sharp. Don’t dawdle. I’d hate for you to be punished again.”

  The click of the lock being applied to the door had me rushing over. I hadn’t even heard it open. True to his word, a platter sat on the floor with a bowl of oatmeal, fruit and some juice. Next to the orange juice was a mixture of pills. I hesitated for only for a moment before I picked them up and swallowed them in one gulp.

  It didn’t matter what they were. Vitamins or poison. Vitamins would make me stronger for the challenging road ahead, and poison would stop me from having to deal with this whole ordeal. It was a win-win in my eyes.

  As I ate my oatmeal and fruit, I looked up at my enormous task ahead. There were no patterns to the colored squares, hence, multiplying the number of yellow squares in each row by the number of columns was out, but there had to be a shortcut. I would find a way to never have to deal with Preston’s punishments again.

  If he wanted a perfect slave, then that was what he was going to get, and in the meantime, I would plot my escape. They couldn’t keep me locked away forever, that would defeat the purpose of my training. When the time came for me to be sold, I would find a way to rescue myself, and possibly Paxton. He was a good man with an evil brother, and maybe, just maybe I could convince him to run with me. It was worth a shot because anything was better than my ordeal from last night. I vowed with my last bite of banana, I would never see the Trillix again.

  Chapter 4

  This would have been so much simpler with a pad of paper and pen, but of course, that would have been too easy. I had to start over three times because my eyes crossed and I missed a row, or double counted a row. At one point, I even managed to get up to over a hundred thousand squares, but noise from above me scared me, and I lost my place.

  I sat down on my bed and took a moment to gather the strength to start all over from scratch. How was it possible for me to be having issues doing something as simple as counting? I may not have had excellent grades in school, but I wasn’t an idiot.

  I was still sore, but the hot bath I had taken after breakfast had soothed me more than I could have imagined. My body was stiff, and my ass was still tender, but for the most part, the punishment I had received yesterday was more of a horrific memory than anything else. It was strange, but even though things like last night were now a real possibility, the fact I had a soft bed, hot shower, and food in my stomach, I didn’t feel quite as bad. Apart — a minuscule part — of me almost wanted to stay and see this through. The other ninety-five percent of me wanted to kick my own ass for giving up. I would escape, failure wasn’t an option. Lifelong servitude, mixed with sexual, physical and mental abuse, was not an option.

  At the thought of food, I heard the door creak open, and a tray was set down inside before the door slammed shut again. If it was Paxton bringing me food, he didn’t have to worry. It wasn’t as if I could overpower him; and even if I could, I didn’t know what I would find on the other side of the door. Walking over, I looked at lunch. A sandwich of some kind, more fruit, and a cookie. No silverware.

  The thought hit me like a lightning bolt. Somewhere, in that glass cage of hell, was something I could use as a weapon. But, how would I hide it? There were obviously cameras all over the space and in the bathroom, so I had to be discreet.

  Abandoning my lunch, I started my search. Keeping my eyes locked on the ceiling, giving the illusion I was counting squares, I headed towards the enclosure. The grid didn’t extend inside, so I had to stay out of the entryway, but that didn’t stop me from looking in, as best I could without being completely obvious.

  The dresser I had missed yesterday was padlocked, so that was out. The shackles were chained both to the wall and floor. Howe
ver, the likelihood I could swing them fast enough or hard enough to catch Preston off guard and actually do any damage to him was slim. The cross was too big, as were the stocks, and other wooden contraptions. The only thing not locked down was the row of floggers and whips, but what the hell was I supposed to do with those? Somehow, I didn’t see Preston cowering in fear as I swung a nasty looking whip around with absolutely no idea what I was doing. They didn’t teach lasso classes at my high school.

  Sliding down the glass to take a defeated seat, I looked up at the impossible task above. I only had four more hours to count them all, and my hope of having something to fight back with was ruined. I didn’t know if I could survive another one of Preston’s punishments if they were all like last nights.

  I was getting back to my feet, prepared to eat my sandwich and start counting the yellow squares of death again, I heard the door open. Taking a quick, frantic look at first the light above the door and then the clock, I saw it was only a little after one. No way was Preston coming in this early. With how anal he was about everything else, I didn’t think he would be sloppy about his times.

  I watched as Paxton walked in, a concerned scowl on his face. As usual, he wore all black, in the form of a hoodie and sweatpants, his hair uncombed and wet, presumably from a recent shower.

  “What are you doing Wendy Darling?” He asked, just above a whisper, the disappointment evident in his tone.

  “I was about to eat,” I responded, ignoring the guilt panging away at my insides.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You were looking for something. What were you looking for?” He asked, stalking towards me.

  “Nothing,” I whispered, the lie eating away at me.

  “Wendy Darling. There is no way out of here. Do you think Preston and I would be stupid enough to leave something in here you could use against us? I know you’re a smart girl, it’s one of the reasons we chose you. Don’t let me down,” his forehead rested against mine as he finished reprimanding me.

  For longer than I could count, Paxton and I stood there, only our heads touching, looking at each other. His eyes were bluer than any sky I had ever seen. Crystal clear pools with unspeakable depth. I felt like I could see the soul of the man in front of me; like I could see a future. I didn’t know what that future held; but it was there, staring back at me, begging me to find it, to discover it and unleash its power.

  “You’re so beautiful. Do you know that?” Paxton whispered, his lips coming closer to my own.

  “No, not really.”

  “You are. Out of all of the girls, you are the most beautiful.”

  Before I could respond, Paxton’s lips found mine, claiming them in an all-encompassing reign of fire. My knees felt instantly weak, and his arms wound around my waist to keep me steady. With every swipe of his tongue, it was as if he was claiming me, or maybe marking me. His kisses were giving me a force field from the abuse to come in my near future. I wanted to hate him for being a part of this sick game he and his brother were playing, but I couldn’t. In more years than I could remember, he was the first to show me affection, and I was grabbing it with both hands and never letting go. There had to be something good to look forward to.

  I vaguely remembered him holding onto me tighter as we walked backward to my bed. Our lips never separated. Instead, we hungrily feasted on the raw sensations stirring within us. In my head, I tried to push away the bad memories, but they always found their way to the surface. I wished this had been my first kiss, not the one forced upon me by my foster father, Bill at the tender age of twelve. I wished Paxton’s hands in my hair had been the first to tighten their grasp, not Bill’s, at thirteen. But above all else? I wished this kiss could last forever, not the few minutes we had to spare.

  When the back of my knees hit the soft mattress, I fell backward, carefully cradled by Paxton’s arms. Spinning me around, so I was laid out over the entire bed, his firm body pressed down on mine, smothering me in his warmth. I hated to admit it, but even after the punishments of last night, I wanted this. I wanted him. My pussy pulsed, and I felt the miniature thong growing wet.

  “Touch me, Paxton,” I begged, disengaging from his torturous lips.

  “I can’t. It’s against Preston’s rules,” he replied.

  “Please.”

  It was the only word I could muster as a new set of tears fell from my pupils. Never in my life had I cried so much. Nothing ever affected me. Not until Paxton.

  “Don’t cry, my Wendy Darling. Please, don’t cry,” he murmured against my lips before his tongue darted out to lick at the tears on my cheeks. His tongue continued a path down my neck and back up, biting, and nibbling my more tender spots. Even with his heavy weight on top of me, I squirmed, relishing in the sensations he was bringing out in me, and the way my body was coming alive.

  “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered, once his mouth had reached my ear.

  Confused, I opened my eyes only to find Paxton scooting down my body. I didn’t want him to leave me yet, I wasn’t ready, but when I attempted to sit up, he pushed me back down. When he reached the plain black thong I had been assigned to wear, I could feel his hot breath against my still swollen lips, through the fabric. I thought I would die from the anticipation. I felt his fingers shimmy underneath the cool fabric, brushing against me, making my hips buck up.

  “No sounds,” he repeated as he pulled the thong down, and exposed my bare pussy to him. “You’re so swollen, baby. Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he parted me, and slowly nudged at my opening with his tongue. I couldn’t stop the shudder that wracked through me, as he lapped at my clit with an aching sweetness and tenderness. He knew how inflamed I was, and with extra precautions, he brought me pleasure with a delicate hand. A pleasure so subtle and gentle, I found myself floating in bliss.

  Not wanting to disobey him, I covered my mouth with a pillow to drown out the inevitable screams of pleasure building from deep within my swollen cunt. The way his tongue moved over me, through me, was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Gingerly, he took one finger and coated it with my natural wetness and slowly pierced through my lips.

  The pain was minimal, thanks to his docile treatment, but the pleasure was immense. With each stroke of his finger against my internal walls, and each swipe of his tongue, I could feel myself edging towards a ball of light, ready to engulf me and suck me in; to obliterate me into nothingness. My hips dueled with the elbows, which were keeping me locked in place. It was as if they had a mind of their own, bucking and jolting off the bed.

  Never in my life had I felt a greater pleasure. When my orgasm shot through me like a lightning bolt crashing to Earth, splintering the lonely tree in the vast open nothingness, I saw a meteor shower behind my eyelids. I felt like a weightless cloud drifting above the ocean, careless, and free. For several long minutes, I laid there, with a pillow covering my face, and with my heart beating through my ribcage, attempting to process the raging feelings brewing inside of me.

  “You only have three hours left to finish your assignment Wendy Darling, please don’t let me down,” Paxton repeated, as he kissed my inner thigh. I felt him stand up and move away from the bed. I couldn’t look at him, afraid of what I might say. I wanted to beg, and cry. To tell him to take me away from here, but I knew it would be fruitless.

  Once again, I felt the tears, but I refused to let Paxton see them. I needed to be strong and to get through this, but Paxton had other ideas. Grabbing the pillow from my head and tossing it to the floor, he kneeled next to me and wiped my tears again.

  “Listen carefully, girl. This sucks right now, I get that. But you have to be strong and fight. When this is over, and it will be, sooner than you know. I will make sure we find a Master for you that will treat you well. So many of our girls live in luxury as a slave, but you have to be perfect for them to buy you. You’re a beautiful queen, and your Master will worship you and your body,
you just have to get there. Ok? No more tears.”

  “Ok, Paxton. I trust you.”

  And I did. I trusted him with no valid reason. Only that he made me feel human and extraordinary, and oddly enough, he made me feel loved. A word I hadn’t heard or thought about in over seven long years.

  Chapter 5

  One hundred and twelve thousand, eight hundred and four. One hundred and twelve thousand, eight hundred and five. One hundred and twelve thousand, eight hundred and six.

  Towards the end, my eyes crossed, but I was finally done. There were one hundred and twelve thousand, eight hundred and six yellow squares in the grid above me, and I had less than thirty minutes to be prepared for Preston. The green light coming on accompanied with the weird clicking had almost made me lose count again. My eyes had attempted to drift towards a light I knew would be on, but I remained focused on the task, and I completed it, just in the nick of time.

  Jumping into the hot water, I took the fastest shower in history, before toweling off, applying some lotion, and running to my assigned bed. I didn’t know how long the red light had been on when I got there, but Preston was nowhere to be seen, so it had to have been less than five minutes, and I was grateful. I was bound and determined to not let Paxton down. I would not let Preston break me.

  As if on cue, the red light turned off, and the clicking stopped, followed by the opening and closing of the door I had come to hate. Bare feet smacked against the cool concrete, heading in my direction as my body naturally tensed up in fear of the unknown that was upon me. In my head, I chanted: One Hundred and Twelve Thousand, Eight Hundred and Six. One Hundred and Twelve Thousand, Eight Hundred and Six.

  “Kneel, Girl,” Preston snapped.

  Moving faster than humanly possible, I scrambled off the bed, and kneeled at his feet, my ass resting on my heels, and my eyes downcast. If I hadn’t been so terrified, I might have laughed. He actually was training me, and by dog training standards he was doing a great job. Only one punishment, and he was commanding me like a pro.