by Addison Cain
Again and again.
She was either wet now, or bleeding, but it was inconsequential because it eased his movements. Her body tightened, gripped him, tried to force him out… and it felt good. Amplified his sensations, waking up his nerves with physical pleasure.
This was the closest to human he ever felt. Reaching for an orgasm. Warm, soft flesh pinned beneath his hard body. She just didn’t appreciate it.
Slaves always became still at this point. Some sort of primordial instinct in their brain taking over, reminding them that submission was the only option when a predator had them pinned. The same ancient force that demanded he fuck her just a little harder, not holding back, just to cement that knowledge in her mind.
Weak versus strong.
Female versus male.
There was only ever one victor.
Heat thawed his cold self-control as he moved inside her, reveling in the pained sounds slipping from her lips. Pleasure in all its chemical glory flooded his veins, fingers wrapping under her shoulders to dig into the delicate flesh that held such promise. In the coming days he would bring her such sweet agony, he would make her scream until her throat was raw, and then he’d fuck it just to remind her of her place.
This place.
Deep, hard thrusts sent tremors up his spine, making his bones as tight as her cunt felt. There was nothing quite like this, the delirious feeling of complete power over another human being.
Next time he’d leave her arms free so she could try to scratch, to fight him off, and then he’d hold her down and destroy her just a little more. Prove to her that the ropes were merely convenience, not a deciding factor.
Even if she’d been free to run from him in the house, he would have caught her, hurt her, forced her to the ground so he could take what he wanted. Like this. Like property.
This was almost as sweet as her screams.
His pleasure in her pain.
Slick cunt, hot and clenching tight. His mind was blurring, fuzzing — his orgasm close — but he wanted this to last just another few moments.
Capturing her chin, he forced her to look at him.
Pure desolation. Bleak, brown eyes met his as he thrust hard enough that his own hips felt the bruises he left. She was crying silently, fat tears rolling from the corners of her eyes into that California blonde hair that his customers had begged for.
Just a little more.
Take just a little more from her.
“You’re never getting free,” he whispered, their lips almost touching. Close enough to be lovers in some alternate universe. “Ever.”
She squeezed him tight as a fist as her body contorted, the agonized cry in her voice better than any moan as he took her. Forcing himself deep just as the fire she’d kindled boiled over and left his balls in pulses that turned his vision white.
His hand had slipped to her throat as he’d come, gripping hard, and the desperate gape of her mouth was a lovely thing to see. Instead of letting her breathe, he settled himself between her hips, ensuring she felt the warmth seeping around his buried cock. “You’re nothing but a set of holes, slave. Nod for me so I know you understand.”
Chest jerking with her urge for oxygen, she finally bent her head in a perfunctory nod, and he released her throat. The coughs as she tried to rip air back into her lungs made her body squeeze him inside her, a pleasant follow-up to his release. He reminded himself to enjoy it, to revel in every desperate, inarticulate sound leaving her lips.
Wordless suffering that had nothing to do with his softening cock still buried deep. That pain was over and done with… this? This was all her. Her mind, her fear, her hope dying just a little further.
Tracing her lip with his thumb, he held her chin in place so she couldn’t pull away.
There was nothing quite as good as this fleeting moment, the moment they realized they were lost, and as he slid free and looked down between them he felt a smile move over his lips.
“It’s okay, slut, you’re supposed to bleed the first time.”
5
The sound of the shower kicking on made Beth twitch against the sheets, opening her eyes just enough to confirm that he wasn’t still standing by the bed.
He was gone.
Oh God…
Everything hurt.
Wrists and ankles stung under the coarse rope, the lingering aches of the cattle prod pulsed — but none of it could match the dull, throbbing pain between her legs. At first it had been agonizingly sharp, a burning tear as he’d sawed his way inside her… and then it had faded. Or she had simply adjusted, numbed to it, detached as he’d used her.
If only she could ignore the warmth seeping from inside her. Block out the way the air cooled the wetness on her thighs, the drip of it moving down over her ass into the flat sheet on the bed.
Did I really bleed?
She was tempted to lift her head, to look and verify his claim, but she didn’t want to know. In this case, ignorance truly was bliss.
Unfortunately, there was no denying that he’d come inside her. He had been sure to make her feel that, even as he’d choked her, and now she could feel it leaking out of her.
A whimper clawed its way up her throat, escaping through clenched teeth, and she uselessly pulled at the ropes, waking up the stinging burns that confirmed she’d broken skin in her struggles. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball, close her eyes, and go to sleep. Forget about every word he’d spoken, every fucked up rule he’d made her recite — but he wouldn’t even allow her that. Still spread wide, vulnerable in her pain for the cameras that she could now see winking at the corners of the room. One shiny glass eye directly above, looking straight down at her. Staring into it, she wondered who was watching this.
What kind of person could watch this and enjoy it?
‘The ones that he wants to sell you to.’ Her mind’s answer was spectacularly unhelpful, and she cursed aloud and internally as she tried to pull one hand, and then the other, through the ropes. Too tight, only making her hands hurt, her thumbs aching as she tried to squeeze them past the loops.
Useless.
It was all so useless, but she refused to give in. Refused to just fall into this sick game of his. No. She wouldn’t be one of those women who succumbed to their captor like in Beauty and the Beast. Some version of Stockholm syndrome on fairy-tale boosted steroids. He wasn’t a prince. There was nothing good in him. This asshole was nothing but violence and cold psychosis, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of bending her to his rules. He’d already shown her that giving in brought nothing but more pain, more torment.
Maybe if she fought this hard enough he’d even give up. Let her go.
Fool.
That was a slim chance. A stupid idea to even plant in her head… but if he really planned to bring others here, more people to do what he had done, wouldn’t death be better?
Maybe… but someone might have seen her being taken. There could be people looking for her right now, police tracking down whatever car he’d used to bring her here. Her family would report her missing for sure.
It was a shred of hope. She just had to be strong.
The sound of the shower cut off and her heartbeat filled the silence, pounding in her ears as she strained to listen to the movements of him in the bathroom. The quiet clap of the shower door, the subtle scrape of a towel over skin — so much to be heard when she held her breath in her lungs.
Her body jerked involuntarily as something dropped inside the bathroom. A clatter of noise that sent a fresh rush of adrenaline through her veins, making her lungs tight, her heart rate skyrocketing.
It was still a few more minutes before he appeared. Back in his suit, even his shining belt returned to his waist.
When had he picked up the jacket and belt?
His eyes moved over her without any sort of emotion. Ice blue, and she hated that on the outside he seemed attractive. Fine features, a tall and athletic frame. But there was nothing inside him. He was a wastela
nd, and he wanted to drag her down with him.
Hollow her out just like him.
“I will release you if you promise not to be stupid.” Even his voice was cold and empty. Unfeeling. There was no chance she could reach whatever dregs of humanity remained inside him — if there had ever been any at all.
“Okay,” she muttered, but he only tilted his head.
“Did you forget the rules?” he asked.
I will never call you Master. The words threatened to leave her lips, a vehement anger suffusing every inch of her body, but she bit down. Stayed silent as she glared at him from the bed.
He moved closer, one casual step after another, as if the time meant nothing to him. “Would you like to take a shower?”
Yes. More than anything she wanted to stand under scalding water, to erase his touch from her skin, the texture of him between her thighs, but she wouldn’t give in. Couldn’t. If she gave him this, what more would he want? When would it ever stop?
She knew without asking further questions that his plans for her were nothing less than total obedience. He wanted her to respond to his fucked up list of rules, to follow them blindly.
Beth decided then that she would be a grave disappointment.
The man moved closer and she flinched as he leaned against the bed and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh. When two of his fingers slipped through the wet folds of her sex, she tensed, locked up — it was impossible to avoid her reaction. Pain spiked inside her. Definitely torn. Bleeding. She didn’t even need his confirmation.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, the threat of a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.
Sick fuck.
Biting down on her lip, she tried to stay silent, to swallow the whimpers, but when he forced a third finger inside her she cried out. Tears rolling, hands forming fists as her core spasmed, twitched around the invasion.
“You’re going to be such a lovely broken doll. Someone will pay so much to make you cry like this.” He thrust his fingers into her already bruised and violated flesh. “To hurt you like this. Worse than this.”
“Worse?” she asked, and immediately regretted it. She’d opened her eyes just in time to see his smile spread.
“Oh yes… this was just an introduction. I have so much more to show you.” He slid his fingers from her and the tension fled her muscles as the pain dulled to a throb once more. “Open.”
Beth shook her head, clenching her teeth as he brought his hand towards her mouth. The shine on his fingers made her cringe, whining low in her chest.
“You will learn…” He grabbed her face hard with his other hand, fingers digging into her jaw until he forced it open. Sliding tainted digits over her tongue, she tasted the mix of them, the linger of soap, and the hint of copper and salt, just before she gagged as he pushed them too far. “Fighting me only results in punishment for you. Suffering.”
He gagged her again, and her stomach threatened to heave, but he didn’t even flinch as he pressed down on her tongue and forced her mouth wider with his knuckles.
“I will enjoy making you into a thing. Stripping everything from you that you think makes you a person.” Another plunge of his fingers into her throat, wet choking sounds escaping as she tried to deny his words. The inevitability of them.
You won’t win.
You won’t.
“Suck, slut. Clean your mess off my fingers.” He released her jaw, fingers still too far back on her tongue, and she immediately bit down.
His body jerked, but he was fast, responding instantly to her pathetic defiance. Fist buried in her hair as he wrenched her head back, fingers pulled free from her mouth, and then he backhanded her. Wet knuckles popping loudly against her cheek as pain starburst and spread across her face.
Why had she done that? Why, why, why…
“That was very stupid, cunt. Do you know how my customers would handle biting?” He shook her by her hair, somehow still calm, steady gaze burning into her eyes as she tried to fight the tears. “They’d knock each and every one of your pretty white teeth out. Is that what you want?”
“NO!” she shouted, and the fear took over. Sobbing as she twisted in the ropes, the stinging burn a chastisement.
“Beg.”
Shaking, she swallowed the abundance of saliva pooling in her mouth and pleaded. “I’m sorry I bit you, please don’t—” Fear made her hiccup, whining as she clenched her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. “Please not my teeth, I won’t do it again. I’ll never do it again. I swear!”
He released her hair and she heard him walking around the bed, opening her eyes to see him at a cabinet. The knife in his hand when he turned around made her sob harder.
“No, no, no! I’m sorry! I said I was SORRY!”
Walking with that calm, measured pace of his, he approached the end of the bed. The knife touched the arch of her foot and she stilled instantly, terrified and gasping, air wheezing in tightening lungs. “You’re going to be so entertaining,” he said softly, almost to himself, and then he raised his eyes to hers. “Don’t move.”
This time there was no urge to be defiant. He slid the sharp edge of the knife under the rope and worked at it until it broke, freeing her ankle. Raw, bright red skin revealed.
He repeated the action at her other ankle, but when she moved her leg he caught it and snapped her back to the bed, the sharp edge of the knife against her calf. “I told you not to move, slave.”
Beth found herself nodding, and a tiny voice inside her argued. Urged her to fight. To kick him. To hurt him.
She didn’t do anything.
Lying as still as he’d commanded, she pressed her lips together and tried to calm her breathing, to stop the tears as he freed one wrist. His slow walk around the end of the bed made her flinch, because she was keeping her legs open for him, and she knew he was looking between them at the place he’d already hurt her.
This was just an introduction. I have so much more to show you.
As her last limb was cut free, he put a knee on the bed beside her arm, his weight making the bed sink. She flinched as he reached towards her — but then his hand slid under her neck and she heard the click of something metallic.
Why did she keep opening her eyes?
He was there above her, looking down like she was still just a bug pinned to a board for him. Only now the ropes were gone, and she wasn’t moving by choice. She was obeying, and the camera in the ceiling was watching.
“Open your mouth.”
There were a hundred pleas she wanted to say, a thousand questions she wanted to ask. So many whys and useless things. Instead, she opened her fucking mouth.
“Wider.”
She stretched her lips, her aching jaw, and he brought the knife into view. For a nanosecond she started to close her mouth, but his head tilted the tiniest fraction and she stopped. Kept it open, eyes glued to the shining edge of the blade.
“I want to make something clear, so that you don’t misunderstand.” Turning the knife in his fingers, he angled it down and then slid the flat of it over her bottom lip, the sharp point inside her mouth. “I am not merciful. When you are disobedient, you will be punished. Severely.”
A whimper escaped her throat, but as the flat of the blade moved deeper and brushed her tongue she froze. Pressed her tongue to the floor of her mouth, tears making her eyes sting as the metal stroked back and forth.
“I will let you keep your teeth, but only because you are prettier with them than without them. Worth more.” His other hand lifted, brushing hair off her forehead, unsticking it from the drying tears on her cheeks. “But at some point I will fuck your throat, and I want you to remember this moment. Think about this knife as I slide my cock into your mouth, and remember that if you ever bite me again, I can do terrible things to you and still leave you pretty on the outside. Blink if you understand.”
She blinked slowly, squeezing her eyes shut before she opened them again.
“Good girl.”
Withdrawing the knife with the careful, measured pace he seemed to do everything except fucking, she watched it until he held it above her. Only then did she gasp air into burning lungs, licking her lips, too terrified to move. “Now that you understand, it’s time for your punishment.”
6
Scrolling through her medical file on his phone, Anthony stood next to the cart as other shoppers moved past him. Some glared at him, one woman looked him over, but it was all white noise. The haze of humans existing, the metallic clatter of carts, the beeping of registers. So much white noise. It made it somewhat difficult to focus on the small device in his hands, but then he found what he was looking for.
Memorizing the brand of birth control, he verified that it was monophasic, and then sent the order in. Computers were so much easier than people. Just zeros and ones, and once you understood them, you could make them do what you wanted. No need to threaten them or slide a knife into their proverbial mouths. They just worked. Every time.
Tucking his phone into his pocket he walked down the aisle, adding items to his cart from the list in his mind. Food for him, and food for her. She wouldn’t actually need to eat for a while, but hunger was an excellent motivator. Still, when he fed her, it would not be from his plate.
That was Marcus’ fetish.
Of course, Marcus had the culinary palate of a street dog. He would eat well when he thought about it, but he’d also seen his brother eat a package of beef jerky with the same satisfaction as filet mignon with béarnaise sauce.
His phone buzzed repeatedly in his pocket and he answered without looking at the screen. Only one person had this number. “Yes?”
“You started with the cattle prod?” Marcus didn’t even bother with a hello, knowing it was pointless, but his tone was still challenging to dissect. Without other cues to help him along, Anthony couldn’t tell if the intent of the question was positive or negative. Delight or disgust. Yet another reason he avoided the phone.