Collared By The Warrior

by Daniella Wright

  “Yes sir.” I repeat. He nods slowly, seeming to consider his next move. I hope he will allow me to keep my clothes and dignity for now, but it seems there is no such luck. He gestures for me to stand, pointing to a spot directly in front of himself. I rise to my feet, shuffling towards the spot and waiting for my next command. He seems to revel in my discomfort, slowly reaching down towards his pants. I try to look away as he unzips his pants, but he calls me down immediately.

  “Look at me. Look at me.” He orders breathily. I swallow my pride, forcing myself to return my gaze to him and his lewd actions. His length is already free of his pants, and he strokes it up and down at a languid pace as he watches me. “Now, strip. Slowly. Make it fun for me, pet.” He rumbles. I hesitate, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

  “Yes sir.” I bleat, feeling like a parrot or some other sort of animal at this point. My hands shake, and my fingers fumble with the buttons of my top. I inhale a shuddering breath, trying not to sob as I struggle with my still somewhat numb hands. They had been pinned behind me for some time, and as much as I want to obey the command, my fingers are simply too clumsy right now. He watches me with a quirked brow, slowing the strokes of his shaft until he stops altogether. He stands, tucking himself back into his pants before approaching me. I try not to flinch away, even as he draws a switchplace from his jacket pocket. I swallow a fearful whine as he rips my shirt open, cutting through the fabric of my remaining clothes. The tip of his blade just barely touches my skin, not enough to cut, but enough for me to feel its presence even in my most intimate areas. Tears are streaming freely down my cheeks now, but he says nothing, instead pocketing his blade and returning to his chair.

  “Next time I will not be so kind.” He promises, malice in his words. I nod, gasping a shuddering breath.

  “Yes sir.”

  The days following aren’t any better, and the nights are restless. He has no place for me to sleep, or at least, that’s his claim. I’m certain he has spare bedrooms, but instead he has me sleep on the floor, at the foot of his bed. If I thought his initial actions were sexually charged, I truly had no idea what I had signed up for. Every night as he is getting ready for bed, he has me strip him of his clothes. While the first night, he had not guided my hands, he has started moving them closer and closer to his more intimate areas. He seems to be holding back, and I can only wonder how long he can contain himself. He has no reason for showing any restraint, but perhaps it is simply the thrill of stretching out my humiliation. The weeks are stretching on at an agonizingly slow pace, almost to the point that I wish he would simply get it over with.

  On the last night of the second week, as I am stripping him of his clothes, he places my hand directly on his manhood. I hesitate, meeting his gaze reluctantly. His expression is strained, and I feel him pulsing against the palm of my hand. I draw my lip between my teeth uncertainly, wrapping my fingers around his length. He seems close to coming unwound, and his hips jerk almost involuntarily against the pressure of my fingers. I begin to move my hand, but he grasps me by the wrist to stop me.

  “You’ve been very good, pet.” He says, sounding strangled. His erection bobs in a way that would be almost funny if not for the severity of the entire situation. “You’ve been… so good. So good, in fact, that I think I’ll present you with a gift, tomorrow morning.” He manages to choke out. I swallow a lump in my throat, having a vague idea of what the gift may be. He hesitates, brushing a hand through my hair. “Would you like that? Would you like a present from your Master?” He inquires, tensing a hand in my hair.

  “Yes sir.” I lie. He ushers me out of the bathroom, and I move to my place at the foot of his bed. I struggle to fall asleep, the sounds of him pleasuring himself haunting me late into the night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When I awake the next morning, Justin is not in the bedroom with me. I’m initially relieved, but then the previous night’s promise looms over my head. I linger at the foot of the bed, remaining limp on my spot on the floor in hopes that the man will not notice that I’ve woken up. My hopes are dashed as the door opens, and I dismiss the idea of pretending to be asleep. The consequences could be more dire than this promise that waits to be fulfilled. The rugged man considers me with a quirk of his lips, and I try to shrink away. He holds the leash in his hand, as if he were expecting me to put up a fight. It seems he would be just as satisfied to drag me to… wherever we’re going. His destination does not seem to be the bed, if it were, I can only wonder why he had left the bedroom to begin with. I can’t dwell on the thought for long, however, as he draws closer and latches the leash onto the loop on my collar.

  “You’re not thinking of trying to back out now, are you?” He says slyly, and I swallow a thick lump that forms in my throat.

  “No sir.” I reply hesitantly. He grins, looping the length of the leash around his fist like he had done the first time we met. He keeps me tethered close to his side as we walk through the corridors of the house. It seems I was correct in assuming that the bedroom was not our final destination, but now I’m left to wonder what on earth he could have in mind. I can’t help wondering if this is perhaps a trick, but the idea is borderline laughable at this point. I know by now that he likely won’t kill me without getting his fill, but the idea of receiving a beating isn’t ideal either. If it were a trick, I have no idea what intent could be worse than being forcibly violated. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, wishing I could simply fade from existence. A tug from the leash and a brief feeling of strangulation draw me from my reverie.

  “I’ve decided that since you’ve been so well behaved, it’s only fair I reward you. I knew the suitable prize immediately. Are you eager to find out what it is?” He inquires slyly, and I feel as if I could choke on my familiar reply.

  “Yes sir.” I said quietly. He smiles wickedly, his eyes dark with desire. He pulls me down a hallway I’ve not traversed before, stopping in front of a black door that sports a black doorknob as well. It’s simple and nondescript, unlike the other extravagant decor in the home. There’s something ominous about the door, and the irrational thought that hell itself may be on the other side looms at the forefront of my brain.

  “Open the door.” He orders simply. I hesitate, not bothering to answer as I reach for the doorknob with no small amount of trepidation. I grip it in my hand, almost expecting it to burn me when I touch it. However, it is innocently cool to the touch, so I pull the door open uncertainly. When I see what’s inside, my eyes widen in shock and dismay. I pull against the leash, trying to edge away from the room. I have no idea how this could be my reward, and the thought that this was a trick seems more obvious as he drags me into what seems to be some sort of sex dungeon.

  “Easy. If you behave, it won’t hurt… much.” He murmurs, tightening his grip on the leash and pulling me inside with one harsh tug. I drop to my knees, tears spilling down my cheeks as I realize that there is no escape. He groans in aggravation, grabbing me under the arms and pressing me into the simple twin bed in the middle of the room. Long, dangerous and insidious looking straps are wrapped around the frame of the bed, and before I can try to scramble away, he is pressing the entirety of his weight on top of me. The brief sensation of suffocating nearly overcomes me as he presses down harder, and I feel cool smooth leather wrap around my wrists. He then moves to my ankles, strapping me down spread eagle on the bed. I try to press my thighs together, humiliation surging through me as I am exposed on the most primal level. He draws away from me, considering my quivering and sobbing form as I struggle against the restraints.

  “Please don’t kill me,” I implore, and he looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head.

  “You’re being rather melodramatic.” He sighs, not bothering to strip of his clothes. His erection strains against his pants, but he simply edges away from the bed, towards a wall with an array of what looks as if they could be medieval torture devices. He grabs a small whip like object, with several lengths of cord that e
nd in tips similar to that of a riding crop. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but he slaps the cords into his hand, offering me a wicked grin. “Now. Be a good girl, and this might even feel nice for you.” He says with a sly smile. He approaches me, and the feeling of fear and humiliation begins to overwhelm me. Before I can draw away, he slaps the whip like tips against my inner thigh. I cry out in pain, but the pain is tinged with something else.

  I can see his lips moving, as if he is forming mocking words, but my mind is focused on that sense of pain. He slaps the whip against me again, this time with more force. I know I cry out, I can feel my lips part to make the sound, though the strangled cry seems to fade into nothingness. That feeling grows stronger with each impact of the whip, and the pain is dizzying but somehow manages to be so satisfying. I feel something press between my thighs, absently realizing that it is the handle of the whip he had been using. I should fight. I shouldn’t so easily welcome the penetration, and thought I had expected it to be painful, it seems that enough moisture has gathered at the apex of my thighs to allow it easy entry. He is not gentle with his motions, however, and he angles the handle so as to drag against my inner walls with each violent thrust. My mouth is agape, but my mind feels almost… numb. I could describe it as an out of body experience, but the pain and what I now recognize as some foreign pleasure has overcome my body.

  When I hit my peak, I feel my body contort almost painfully. I feel him draw the whip handle free of my folds. His voice slowly becomes audible, and he seems to be speaking almost… soothingly. I feel something cool and soothing spread across my skin, and look down to see the rugged man rubbing some sort of ointment on the bright red marks that litter my thighs. I exhale a sigh of pleasure and he hesitates for a moment, seeming put off by the contented sound. In spite of the situation, I can’t help being grateful for the tenderness he is showing me in this moment. As I feel myself drifting off, I’m aware of him climbing into the bed beside me. Just a quick nap, I tell myself. I feel myself wrapping around him as I drift into nothingness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I wake up again, later that day, and realize that Justin is lying prone on the bed next to me. I stare at him through wide eyes, and as if sensing my eyes upon him, he peeks an eye open to consider me. My mouth is dry, and my body is vaguely sore, but I somehow feel more satisfied than I have in ages. He sits up, stretching his arms over his head. I expect him to order me to the floor, but he seems content to simply rest beside me for the time being. He reaches out, caressing the tender spots on my thighs. I shiver, not in displeasure for once. He offers me a tentative smile, and I almost find it in me to return it. However, I can’t forget that this is the man who killed my family. I can’t forget that I’m his captive. I can’t forget that he had forced himself upon me… even though…

  I shake off that thought, not allowing myself to consider that I had even... enjoyed our encounter. It had set a feeling alight within me, unlike any I had ever felt before. I can’t forgive this man for his wrongdoing just because of one instance of pleasure. I can’t voice those thoughts, however. I simply consider him through curious eyes, and he parts his lips as if to speak. Before he can give voice to his thoughts, however, we both hear the doorbell ring at the front of the house. He quirks a brow uncertainly, rising from the bed. I wait for his command, and he glances in my direction, grabbing the leash and clipping it back on. He does not tighten it around his wrist, instead he simply guides me out of the room with the slightest bit of slack for once. I fall into step beside him, and we make our way to the door. The idea of greeting his visitor without clothes is not a foreign one though I’ve yet to put it into practice.

  We pause in front of the door, and he glances me over for a moment before exhaling a sigh and pulling the front door open. I recognize the man on the other side as one of the guards who had been in charge of me during the looting of my house. I swallow a protest as Justin welcomes him inside, knowing that my place has not changed. Justin may be showing me a bit more kindness, but that does not change what I am to him.

  “Justin.” The guard greets, and Justin inclines his head slightly, not bothering with a verbal response. The guard turns to me, looking me up and down with a salacious smile. “Looks like you’ve been having a good time with her. Can’t wait for my turn.” He announces, and Justin seems to tense, if only slightly.

  “Why are you here?” He finally verbalizes, and the guard looks at him with an uncertain smile.

  “Well, we were expecting that you were about done with the girl, and--” The guard starts, and Justin chuckles darkly in response.

  “Oh, I’m not done with her. Not just yet. We’ve only just begun.” Justin announces, and I can’t help the shiver that shoots up my spine. Though my situation with Justin is obviously not the best one, at least I was able to feel some semblance of pleasure at his hands. As reluctant as I am to admit it, he’s the only person who has ever lit such a fire inside me. The idea of being given to one of the other men of the Gillett family sinks like a rock in the pit of my stomach. “If that’s all…” Justin prompts, tugging me from my reverie both figuratively and literally as he grips my leash.

  “Yeah… Justin, buddy, far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but… I wouldn’t push my luck with this one. The Don said you could have the first run at the broad, you weren’t meant to keep her forever. The Don is not a very patient man.” The guard mutters, shuffling his feet. Justin’s eyes narrow dangerously, and there is a glint within them that I would be terrified of, if it were turned on me.

  “The Don will receive her in due time. I’m not finished with her. Now, I must ask you to leave.” Justin growls gutturally, and the guard’s eyes widen in fear. I only belatedly realize how much respect the family has for the man I’m serving, though even I know that disobeying the Don’s wishes could only lead to trouble. I can’t find it within me to protest, however. If he’s willing to risk his head and hide to keep me longer, I’m not going to stop him. However…

  As the guard slips out, and Justin angrily slams the door, I become aware of the truth of the situation. Soon, the time will come and Justin will have no choice but to give me away. I look at him, noting the tense posture, the angry twitch of his eye, and I can’t help fearing that he’ll change his mind and give me away at this very moment.

  “Sir…” I begin, and he glances to me with narrowed eyes. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave.” I admit, as much as it pains me. It’s not entirely true-- I could think of a dozen places I would rather be than stuck in this home with him. However, it’s much better than the alternative that had been presented to me. His lips quirk in a smile, and for once it seems to be a sincere one. He strokes a hand through my hair, rubbing gently at my scalp.

  “Don’t you worry, yet. It’ll be some time until I’m willing to let you go.” He says. There’s a small amount of comfort to it, but I know it is only so much within his hands. “Now. How about we forget about our unwelcome visitor and get back to our usual routine?” He murmurs, and for once, I don’t hate the words that spill forth from my lips.

  “Yes sir.” I say easily, and he guides me deeper into the house once more. I’m not sure how things will change from here on out, or if they’ll change at all. The one thing I am one hundred percent certain of is the fact that I can not become comfortable here. The day will come, likely sooner than later, that Don Avery will demand I be turned over. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach, and I watch as Justin unclips the leash, looping it over the hook.

  “For now… while you’re off the leash, you have free reign of the house unless I call upon you. If I call upon you, I expect you to find me immediately. Do you understand?” He rumbles. I’m more than vaguely aware of how shocked I look, and he shakes his head, slipping away into the depths of the home. “Don’t make me regret it.” He calls back.

  “Yes sir…” I find myself whispering, giggling softly to myself as he slips away.

  CHAPTER SIX

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sp; I find myself falling into something of a routine with Justin, and though our interactions remain sexually charged, I find myself enjoying them more and more. I begin to feel less like a prisoner and more like a willing participant. If Justin senses how I feel about the situation, he has given no indication. However, he has been somewhat kinder in his interactions with me. Our little scenes that we play out are on a near daily basis now, and I realize just how much lust lay within me that had gone unsatisfied for so long. He’s tested my boundaries, but after the first encounter, he seemed to think it better that I have some sort of safe word. I’m not entirely sure of the implications, but I can’t help but wonder if it means he cares about my wellbeing. That would be entirely unlike him, but… he has changed so much over the previous days. Every time that we have an encounter, the pain sends me into a dizzying sense of unawareness, and I am brought down by his comforting touches and soothing touches once he has had his way. Though he often uses toys to stimulate me, I’ve been craving the touch of his actual hands. When I relay the thought, he considers me with a curiously raised brow.

  “I’m starting to think you’re getting comfortable here.” He says with a quirk of his lips. I try to swallow my embarrassment, but I can’t halt the reddening of my cheeks. He simply smiles, brushing my hair away from my eyes. “Remember the safe word.” He says simply, and we walk the path to the room I have come to know as the Black Room. I feel a sense of giddiness rising up within me, tempered only by the thought that I’m allowing myself to get too wrapped up in the man. We both know the day will come that I’ll be sent back into Don Avery’s clutches. I don’t dare qualify the aching feeling I have for the scarred man, the twisting sensation in my heart whenever I think about leaving. I know that all I can do is try to enjoy what time we have together.