“I can work on it there, if you like.”
“What? I sleep, you work at your desk. That sounds sweet, but no. Hey, sweetie, I gotta run… I mean I really have to run!”
“I’ll call you later,” he shouts before I’m gone.
“Okay,” I faintly answer before I hang up.
My mind swirls with confusion. I keep trying to think that Aman was all a bad dream but I know better than that. My three years of captivity were no dream, nor was that night a nightmare but reality. He’s made happen everything I feared since I was freed;. I can only assume that Aman will exercise his power against me should I resist, and thus, I’m trapped.
***
It takes several more days of hibernation before I feel comfortable facing my world again. There were bruises, but not as severe as I would have imagined, and now even the remnants are barely detectable. I’ve been masturbating, sometimes three times a day to the wondrous pictures of my defilement. I start to feel the memory take over my mind, my body follows and there is only one way to make the craving stop. It’s quick and when the masturbation is over I can relax.
I return to work wary. I figure everyone knows, but of course, no one does. Regardless, my new truth colors everything I do, how I view my associates, my friends, my work.
Sunny shows up with a smile on her face, talking about life with her ‘master’ and I shudder for her. If Aman only knew her, knew how vulnerable she is, he would sweep her into his world and never let her go. I have to protect her.
While pondering Sunny’s safety I feel as if my world is disappearing all around, fading like an old photograph aging into grey. Eventually everything will disappear—my job, my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend, gone. Every day a little more slips away. Every day a little more of me falls into the hands of the man who owns me. He has no document to prove his claim on me. Of course, even the idea of slavery is offensive, not to mention against the law. But I am more Aman’s slave with every tick of the clock, pulled by the invisible force of this inevitable fate.
Aman takes me again, a week after he first released me. This night should be my first real date with Steven after recovering from my ‘illness’. But I’ll have to cancel these plans. This time the abduction is much simpler. It starts with a phone call.
“I’ll have a car pick up you up at your apartment, eight o’clock,” the familiar voice grates ion my ear. Wear something I’ll like.”
So soon! My mind reels, knowing I have to call Steven. How do I keep him from being suspicious? It won’t be easy. When Aman hangs up, I sit back at my desk to think of a good excuse. Nothing comes to mind. Then to make my task worse yet, my boyfriend shows up unannounced.
“Steven!”
“Hey, sunshine.” He’s carrying roses.
“These are for me?”
“Who else?”
“They’re beautiful.” A dozen pale yellow roses tinged with pink. “I’ve never seen any quite like them.”
“The florist said they were a new variety.”
I take a long whiff, hiding my perplexed face in the jungle of blooms.
“So, you’re ready for me tonight? All well?”
“Yes, I’m much better. Almost healed.” I’m thinking of a particularly deep welt on my ass that has been the last to fade. He’s thinking my ‘testy’ stomach. It worked out to be a decent believable excuse. I only hope my next excuse will work as well, but I have my doubts. “Problem is…” I start and stop.
“There’s a problem?”
“I’m so sorry, my cousin, Jen, is having a really terrible time. She’s got some mystery ailment that the doctors can’t diagnose. God, I’m torn. I really do need to see her tonight. She called frantic.”
“You have a cousin?” He looks a little surprised.
“Yes, Jenny. She’s in the hospital. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t go see her.” This is all made up. “There’s a hundred mile drive both ways, it’s going to take up the entire evening. But tomorrow, I promise tomorrow.” Oh, please tomorrow! I can feel his distress; it hits my stomach like a knife. I can only hope Aman won’t need me two days straight.
His sad face suddenly brightens. “Why don’t I drive you? You can see your cousin and we’ll have the time in the car.”
“Oh, that’s really a sweet idea, but I have no idea how complicated this is going to be. I don’t want you to waste the night. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“Being with you is important.”
“Oh, that’s why I love you,” I find myself saying. Damn! How can I love this man when it’s only a danger to use both?
He’s thinking hard.
“Okay,” he nods his head. “But I have you tomorrow. Got that?”
“Oh yes, of course, tomorrow.”
He pulls me into his arms, where it never felt so wonderful, or so verboten, to rest my head. I worry that it will be the last time. It would be like Aman to change his game again and yank me up by the roots. Perhaps not a smart game; I have more people who care about me now than did when I was taken from the train. Still, I can count on nothing, which makes being held by the man who loves me a moment I savor with sadness.
***
The night with Aman begins at a small bistro miles from home. I decide to wear a form-fitting black sheath that’s both short and cut low in the bodice to display my cleavage, which I accentuate in a lace push-up bra. I see that I’ve scored points when Aman greets me with a smile of approval.
I look at him not as a man, but as my master. He is neither handsome nor repugnant. I think nothing of his character, his personality, his smiles, his attempts at kindness, which only slightly surprise me. We are dressed in Western garb in a Western venue; it’s not unexpected that he would hope we’d look the part of a civilized couple, not unlike the others that dine around us. He’ll take pleasure in the fact that I’m often looked at and admired, or even disparaged by those who see me as a slut. But, nonetheless, he hopes that he’ll be the envy of those men who observe me. There’s no other woman in this place quite as provocatively attired.
I find the attention I get amusing, as well as sexually titillating. Dressing to please the master as an act of surrender turns me on, thus I find little reason to balk. But beyond the thrill in being watched, there is little else. No affection. Little respect—unless fear can be considered respect. I feel no inherent arousal because of the man himself. The situation alone fuels my sexual desire, even as it sits in a vacuum of rules and rote behavior and obligation. Other than the steady hunger of my physical lust, I am empty of emotion, devoid of passion. There is nothing to inspire me but a physical climax. I feel more soulless than I ever remember feeling when I was first abducted, and this fact surprises me.
Aman smiles as he stares at my jiggling cleavage.
“Lovely choice.”
“Thank you.”
“Although I will be picking out your attire it the future.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Understand, I am keeping a safe distance from you, but that will not last forever. I know you need time to extricate yourself from the relationship you’ve been in. Again, I do not wish to call attention to our arrangement. That could be very detrimental for you.”
“I understand that.”
“Then what progress have you made in this project?”
“Very little so far. But I am calculating the wedge that will come between Steven and me. I think I know what I can do.”
“Good.” He engages me with a thoughtful smile, looking as though he has something important to say. “I have an end result in mind that should please you. Since I need to operate in the country legitimately, I’d like to look legitimate to the outside world. I want our relationship to blend in. Eventually, you’ll introduce me as your boyfriend. And who knows, I may make you a wife.”
He is quite pleased with himself announcing this, but I shudder at the thought and must breathe deep to calm myself.
My unhappiness must s
how. Aman fishes through his pocket and pulls out a thick envelope filled with pictures. “They’ve been taken within the last week.”
I quickly flip through the stack. Steven. Sunny. Margery, my project manager. Many of me. I wonder if my apartment has been wired with cameras, while a trained eye follows my friends. Fear clutches at my stomach while I try absorbing what this means.
“I know that you waver some. In some ways, your life hardly seems different than it was before. You think you could just go on as you have, but I need to impress upon you that you cannot.”
“I see that.”
He notes the expression on my face. “Very good.” He pauses for a time as if our conversation is actually uncomfortable for him. “Silk.” He shakes his head looking rather sad. “I’m sorry, but I simply couldn’t let a well-trained slave go to waste, especially when I find your beauty appealing and your vulnerability unique, which makes me enjoy your humiliation and your pain. You can take heart that you’ll have the trappings of your life available to you at least for a time.
***
Aman fucks my asshole brutally when we return to my apartment. His idea of being discreet apparently doesn’t cover middle-of-the-night sex in my home. We’ve hardly closed the door when he pushes me into my living room, shoves me over the back of the sofa and after quickly swathing my anus with my juices, stuffs his erection into me. He holds my wrists behind my back, reaches down to give my nipples a vicious twist, then feeling my body respond with a rush of wildness, settles down for the end to this hard screw. I don’t let it arouse me, but that matters little to my master. My pleasure is extraneous to him, and only his concern if it’s clear I want to cum and must ask his permission. Then, of course, he can dangle me in wait as long as his sadist inclinations choose.
I figure I can slip in a few orgasmic moments when he’s so engrossed in his own pleasure that he’s unaware of what my body is doing. But not tonight. Tonight, he uses me and then leaves, while I’m left thrown over the back of the sofa with my dress bunched at my waist, my ass still bare, his jism and my juices slithering down between my legs.
“I will be gone for several weeks, Michelle. I expect your boyfriend to be out of the picture by the time I return. Until then, you can rest assured that I’ll be watching in my own way, keeping apprised of your progress.”
Thankfully, he closes the door behind him, since it takes a good minute just to pry myself loose from the sofa and gain the strength to walk. Once I do, I stumble to the bathroom where I wash myself clean, then I fall into bed. It’s nearly two a.m..
Chapter Five
Aman says he’ll be gone several weeks. I figure I have just one, and, if I’m lucky, two weeks, to turn my life on end. But for the next three days I won’t think about it. I’ve agreed to go to a cocktail party in New York with Steven. I can think of this as our last date, the last time to love him before I apply the brakes. It’s a lousy deal, I know. Though a life with Aman solves the issue of my obsessive infidelity. How fascinating that I’m not out on the prowl anymore. Doesn’t even cross my mind to look for men. I guess all I really needed was a master to take me in hand. Admittedly, I can see myself content with the arrangement as long as I don’t think about love.
My bones and body ache, but not for the usual reasons. I’m having premonitions again as if the crystal ball’s been polished to a gleaming shine and I’m staring right into the center of it. So far, though, the images in the glass are as clear as mud. Perhaps the crystal needs a little more polish. I don’t know what it is I see, but I suspect that the Universe of divine reckoning is up to something—something even more than this hasty change in my life that Aman demands of me.
We leave by train Thursday morning for the party that night. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the angry chugging of a train tear at me the way it does on this trip. I have to fight off my memories and focus on Steven.
“Who, exactly, is going to be at this big event?”
Steven writes for scientific journals about things I really don’t want to know about. Fascinating reading for the really literate. I pretend to understand these subjects, but I have a tendency to skirt about the surface of most topics and ignore the real depths. That’s not to say my current documentary isn’t turning out quite complex. The street life of my target subjects is filled with angst, depression, loneliness, drugs, apathy, alienation and regret. How surprising that a generation so young feels so old and used up. The facts weigh on me and I keep digging deeper. But that’s my work, not Steven’s. His scientific bent just doesn’t inspire me the way it does him.
“There are three papers being presented at the conference this afternoon. You don’t have to go. I’m sure there’s enough to keep you happy around the hotel until I’m finished.”
“But I want to go,” I tell him.
He shakes his head and smiles. “No, you don’t. You’ll be bored stiff. I know I’m going to be. I don’t even get to present my paper. It was decided that Joan Merriweather would do a better job than any of the grunt staff.”
“You’re just the grunt staff?”
He sniggers. “Sure.”
“I don’t believe that. Not as much as you worked on that paper.”
“Ack, the recognition doesn’t particularly motivate me.”
“I see. Then, I’ll do some window-shopping. How’s that?”
“Wish I could join you.”
We hadn’t planned for sex right off, but once we check into our room, Steven’s on me with a determination I won’t resist. He shoves me to the bed.
“Don’t move,” he says with a bit of anger mixing with the sexual drive.
I lay back just a bit stunned by his forcefulness, which he normally contains in his quiet, unassuming manner. I watch him peel away his clothes; the sport shirt drops to the floor first thing; then he pulls his T-shirt over his head. I feel a sudden surge of energy and am squirming on the mattress with my arms beside my head as if they are pinned there. I see his naked chest muscles flex, at the same time I’ve become aware of the aroma in the room. Either my hormones or his are hard at work creating an aphrodisiac of musk that sends me on a downward spiral. He unties his shoes and tosses them in the corner, even as his expression takes on a certain smoky quality.
“Should I undress, too?” I ask.
“No,” he says quite firmly.
I like the sound of him, and the way he uses his size and his slow-moving calm to project a feeling of authority. There are no rules here. There is no protocol, and yet, I’m instantly inebriated by the feeling of surrender.
Removing his trousers, he’s down to his underwear, a pair of black cotton briefs that snugly enclose the erection expanding inside them. I see it throb and even more, feel that throbbing muscle as if it were knocking at the doorway to my cunt.
He moves on the bed and straddles my head, then leans down holding my hands in his—both pinned to the side of my face.
“Use your teeth,” he tells me.
His crotch is at my mouth, so close that his robust aroma envelops my face. I take a whiff and feel it through me in a spasmodic wave that grips my groin.
I bite at his briefs and giggle, but he looks down at me solemnly.
So, I bite again, holding the cotton in my teeth, tugging it away from his skin. I make progress in millimeters but his underwear is hung up on his ass.
“A little help might make this go faster,” I coyly purr.
“You think so?” he says a little coldly, as if he has no intention of helping me with this task.
I don’t know where this sudden burst of authority is coming from, but my body happily responds. I want him now more than I ever. And yet, my bizarre mind, playing cruel tricks on me, parades before my inner eyes the photographs Aman showed me. Taunting me. No, you bastard! I silently scream. You can’t take him from me. I will have him now, I will! The images slowly fade, and Steven’s face comes back into focus. He sports an angry scowl on his face that I’ve never seen.
&
nbsp; “Try one more time,” he says, thrusting his groin toward my mouth.
My teeth get vicious, thankfully not catching the important parts beneath his underwear. I give my head a yank and the cotton cloth gives way to the bold member inside. The head of Steven’s erection pops free and my groin squirms in anticipation. My inner muscles clench at the emptiness; the feeling of want makes me frantic. He’s so close to my eyes, to my lips that I can see the blood rushing through the prominent veins along his shaft. My tongue reaches for the head and licks the substance coating the surface. Nothing is as beastly as a man’s erect penis, and nothing as powerfully arousing as that erection at the lips of a woman.
I open wide and let him shove his cock inside. He’s never wanted me like this, and I wonder why now? What have I done to raise the animal inside this man; what kind of creature have I created? I’m allowed to suck him, to draw him deep into my throat; to spit him back and lavishly bob my mouth on the head and run my tongue down the sensitive backside. I cough him out.
“Your balls,” I tell him.
He moves over my face and lets the package dangle against me. Fully extended, they practically smother my nose, smelling of sweat, urine and sex. I taste pre-cum when I sucked his cock, I taste the same now. My nose gets lost in his fragrant pubic hair, as I suckle his balls whole, cover them with saliva and spit them out, then move deeper into his ass. I massage his prostate, rim the crack, listen to my lover groan and wonder why this has been so long in coming.
The vigor of my sucking action has him grinding himself against me. We’ve never been like this with each other. But, he withdraws, leaving me still hungry for him.
“I want your ass, Michelle,” he says.
“My ass?” I question because this seems so unexpected.
“Yes, Michelle, your ass.”
I smile back, a little amazed. “All right… you’ve… you’ve never asked before.”
He stares back at me with no reply but what his eyes clearly communicate. Then he pulls away, straddling my waist instead of my face and begins disrobing me. I leave my hands where he pinned them, and watch as he carefully unbuttons my sweater. The two sides fall away exposing the pink lace bra. The look of lust on his face makes me think he’ll devour them, and yet, he has but one task, and that’s all that matters to him now. I know that masculine resolve. It’s rather childlike. I have an unopened package he’s determined to unwrap. Why now? I wonder. But I have no time to guess. He pops the front clasp of my bra and pulls both sweater and bra out from under me. Backing off the bed, Steven grabs the sides of my skirt and yanks, freeing me below the waist; skirt, nylons and my thong panty all pooling on the floor.
White Silk & I Belong to You Page 20