by Vonna Harper
He sounded, what, reluctant? No, surely not.
“You’re a fighter. I’ve never had a woman who battles both me and her innate nature the way you do.” His mouth tightened. “The Doms will love that. There’s nothing they like more than playing with a slave’s defiance.” The vibrator dropped to the floor. “But never forget that fighting will either destroy you or get you killed.”
“I can’t live like this.” She indicated her helpless body.
“You don’t like it?” He rested his hand over her spent but still dripping pussy.
Your touch, you, not just some impersonal instrument!
“Answer me, Asia.” A finger easily slipped into her. “You don’t want a man inside you?”
“A cock, yes. Not -- not the other.”
“Then this --” He indicated the discarded vibrator. “Did nothing for you?”
“You know what I’m talking about!” Arguing with him was bringing her back to life, that and the finger housed in her cunt. If she could, she’d hold him there forever. “Being manipulated, forced --”
“Is a way of life here. And you’ve always wanted it”
“No.” Why are you lying to him? He’s seen you when you thought you were alone.
“Yes.” He punctuated his remark by applying more pressure to a cunt she swore couldn’t take any more stimulation. She should be dead down there, but she wasn’t. “Asia, the slavery which exists here goes far beyond physical bonds. For the women who pass the selection process, it’s because submissiveness is hardwired into their nature. You need to receive as much as the masters need to give. And the sooner you accept what you are, the better it’ll be for you.”
What did he care about her reactions once he was done with her? “I don’t belong here.” Her pussy pulsed to life around his finger. Unsure how long she could ignore it, she rushed to speak. “Surely there are endless potential slaves you -- you people can choose. Women who trust men and are eager to give up ownership of their bodies.”
“You’re one of them.” Another finger joined the one she already housed, stretching her burnt and bruised tissues.
“No, I’m not!”
His thumb stroked her clit. The wounded nub all but shuddered. “You’re a slave to sex. You’ve been one since the first time you, probably as an adolescent, fantasized about giving up responsibility and control. Many women who want this find partners they trust who are eager to fulfill their dreams, but for reasons I don’t yet know, you’re afraid to share your nature with a living, breathing man.”
“Everyone dreams about sex. They shouldn’t -- shouldn’t be punished for that.”
“You call this punishment?” He flicked her clit.
“Yes!”
“Liar.” He abraded her clit with a roughened finger pad.
She jumped and shuddered under his watchful eyes but didn’t lose herself in the contrast between her skin and his. His touch, the human-to-human contact reached her heart. He became more than her master, more than a Dom. He’d left the life he’d known because it had failed him. His scars spoke of nightmares. No matter how long ago they’d been inflicted, he hadn’t forgotten the details. “You’ve accused me of lying, but I’m not the only one trying to keep things locked inside. Tell me the truth this time. What are you afraid of?”
His eyes narrowed. “Nothing.”
“Yes, you are. Despite all the things you’ve done to me, this is the first time you’ve touched me as a man touches a woman and let me know you care what goes on inside my mind. I know you want to fuck me. But you haven’t. Is it because giving me your cock would make you vulnerable?”
Sucking in a harsh breath, he thrust yet another finger inside her and began stroking her. Her hips rolled from side to side. No matter how much she struggled to stop moving, she couldn’t. “Who’s vulnerable, Asia?” he demanded, but she sensed uncertainty behind the question. “It sure as hell isn’t me.”
“Isn’t it?” Words became valuable and rare commodities. She had to choose them carefully and focus on them, not on the manipulation she craved. “I -- I’ve seen your cock. It isn’t immune. You aren’t immune.”
She waited for his denial. When it didn’t come, she knew she’d won this round. He still controlled and defined the battle, and she’d be a fool if she didn’t acknowledge that the ultimate outcome would go to him, but this moment at least belonged to her.
“Why don’t -- why don’t you fuck me?” Don’t pump your fingers in me like that! “I can’t stop -- can’t stop you from raping me. We both know that.”
“I don’t rape.”
“What do you call what you’ve been doing? Against my will. Forcing me. Isn’t that what rape is about? Isn’t it?”
“The island has been sending you its message. Don’t tell either of us it hasn’t. It embraced you because you’re ready to embrace the lifestyle.”
“Just because you need it doesn’t mean I do.”
His fingers stilled but remained in her. “I should have kept you gagged.”
“It’s too late, Zemar.” You are vulnerable. And human. “Even if you silence me, it’s too late to take back what you’ve shown me about yourself. Your vulnerability.”
“Damn it, you’re wrong.”
“Then court me, seduce me. Bring us together as a man and a woman, not Dom and captive.”
Chapter Twelve
He didn’t of course. Instead, he released her from this latest bondage, but not before placing a collar and length of chain around her neck. After freeing her ankles and wrists, he pushed her over to the miserable excuse for a bed and commanded her to sit on it. Then he fastened the chain to the ceiling, leaving her enough room to lie down or walk around the bed if she so chose. Throughout, he didn’t speak.
She too remained silent both because she hoped he was thinking about what she’d said, and because she was afraid she’d ask him what he planned to do to her next.
He spent most of the rest of the day outside. Because she occasionally glimpsed him through the bars and heard him working, she knew he was engaged in clearing some of the brush around the building. Not that she’d tell him of course, but she loved the way sweat brought his muscles into relief and made his skin glisten. He didn’t seem to need to rest, and she imagined him losing himself in the pleasure of a physical task well done. Perhaps he was deliberately wearing himself out.
She imagined that this was their home. While she worked inside on some domestic task, he did the same under the sun. Even as she went about her chores, she looked forward to evening when her man took her, his woman, in his arms.
Of course, that was insane.
As evening slipped through the bars, he came in to give her some water and let her go to the bathroom again, then walked away without a word. Because there weren’t any lights in the room, night soon took over. Wrapped in inky blackness, she hugged herself. She hated the dried sweat on her skin, and the ache between her legs was impossible to ignore.
When would he be back? Did he intend to leave her like this all night, belly so empty it was cramping? She was utterly spent, but if she fell asleep, she risked choking herself on the chain.
Surely he wouldn’t let that happen to a valuable piece of property.
He undoubtedly had more sexual plans up his sleeve -- not that he had a sleeve. The cupboard housed a seemingly endless collection, and as he’d vividly demonstrated, the tools were more powerful than anything she’d ever used or imagined. What if he inserted another vibrator and left it on indefinitely? What if he bound her in such a way that she couldn’t twitch, pressed some object over and around her clit, brought that object to life, and walked away?
He won’t do that.
She told herself she was crazy if she believed he had a shred of humanity, but the thought didn’t die. Some of her conviction came from his occasional use of her given name, but she drew deeper meaning from his act of inserting his fingers in her instead of the toys he’d relied on earlier. True, she was collared, bu
t otherwise he’d left her relatively comfortable. And he hadn’t stopped her from talking.
But then he’d left her alone in the dark.
Head throbbing, she massaged her temples. The bondage stories she loved reading were always about sexually insatiable heroines. Even when their Doms or masters or captors or whatever names they went by were done with them, they craved even more stimulation and resorted to masturbation, but now all her cunt wanted was to be left alone.
Done and done.
Or maybe only he could bring her to life. And not just his fingers and surely not some damn device.
She wanted him, equals fucking.
Unfortunately they weren’t equals. He’d been supplied with a great deal of information about her while she knew nothing of him -- except that someone had once brutally beaten him.
* * * * *
Surrounded by the bars of her cage, she knelt and stared out. He’s coming, she’d been told. Your new master.
Fire licked at her body as she contemplated her future. The auction had gone by so fast that she couldn’t remember the details. She recalled being led off the platform and back outside the tent. Her handler, a thin, faceless man, had hauled her what seemed like a long way. Finally he’d pushed her into what looked like a barn. But instead of stalls for animals, she’d seen two rows of cages maybe four feet high. Her handler had removed her cuffs, but a moment later she’d found herself refastened in such a way that chains connected her neck, wrists, and ankles. Showing no emotion, her handler had opened a cage and shoved her inside. The door had clanged shut behind her.
Once she was on her hands and knees, she’d looked at what she could see of the other cages. Each held a woman. One was knitting while another was occupied rearranging her straw floor. All were chained in one way or another. Those who could had their hands between their legs and were loudly masturbating. The others watched them, encouraging.
Her own cunt throbbed. She tried to satisfy herself but the chains kept her hands near her waist. She twisted and tried to press her thighs together, but all she got for her efforts was a wetter, hungrier pussy.
He’s coming. Your new master.
Finally she heard approaching footsteps. Pressing her face against the bars, she stared at the long, naked legs approaching her cage. Heat licked her pussy, and she clamped her thighs together. Her throat felt dry. She wished she could comb her hair and wondered if she had on makeup. Did he like her pussy shaved? What about a tattoo there? Would he prepare her so her ass accommodated him? Maybe he’d want her to wear larger and larger butt plugs until she’d been adequately stretched.
Her cage opened. “Get out here,” a man ordered. “Show your gratitude.”
Working awkwardly, she managed to crawl through the door. Her restraints gave her enough freedom of movement to stand, but she knew better. Eyes downcast, she slunk closer until she crouched at the man’s feet.
”Gratitude, slave.”
Delighted to be given permission, she leaned down and began kissing the man’s foot. Over and over she pressed her lips against his flesh. And when he gave permission, she bathed him with her tongue. As she did, the pressure in her cunt increased until she couldn’t remain still.
“Master, please,” she whispered. “May I have permission to come?”
”Not yet, slave. First, my other foot.”
She scurried over to it, but before kissing her master’s foot, she turned her head to the side so she could brush her loose hair over his instep. He rewarded her by patting the back of her neck.
“That’s a good slave. Are you happy?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Do you want your chains removed?”
“No, Master.”
“Do you want to be beaten?”
“If it pleases you, Master.”
He didn’t say anything, prompting her to look up for the first time. Zemar’s dark eyes stared down at her.
“Please, Master, whatever you want.”
“I’m trying to decide what will bring us the greatest pleasure. There’s a new whipping post outside. I could string you up to it, invite others to watch, lash you until you come.”
“Oh yes, please Master.”
Asia had no idea how long she’d been in the dark when she heard the door open. Sitting up, she struggled to shake off the vivid dream and waited for Zemar to turn on the light, but whoever had come in preferred dark. She smelled onions and garlic and the wonderful tang of something barbecued. Her mouth watered.
“How nice of you to join me,” she teased to break the silence. “I’ve just been sitting here wondering what was on the dinner menu. I like my steak medium rare.”
“I know.”
Zemar. Of course he did. He probably knew what brand of tampon she used. After a moment she heard what sounded like a tray being set down. Then he snapped his fingers and a thin beading of light between the walls and ceiling came to life. The light wasn’t strong enough to read by, and the lingering shadows made her a little uneasy, but it was better than the darkness of night and her thoughts.
He hadn’t changed. Hadn’t touched his uncivilized hair. His feet made no sound as he closed the distance between them and unhooked the chain attached to her collar. Strong fingers around her elbow brought her to her feet, and she followed him into the bathroom. This time he let her wash her hands and face. She longed for a shower but knew better than to ask.
When she was back on the bed, he placed the tray beside her. He didn’t have to tell her to eat. The steak tasted incredible, and she nearly asked if he’d cooked it and the perfectly sautéed onions and garlic resting on the steak. There was also a small red potato and a salad with bleu cheese dressing. Not until she’d wolfed down half of it and drunk most of the lemon flavored iced tea did it register that this was one of her favorite dinners. He stood too close and studied her every bite. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“At wherever it is you live?”
“Yes.”
“Did you cook --”
“I order what I want.”
Who obeys your orders? Who is eager to fulfill your wishes, a woman? More than one?
“You walked there and back in the dark?”
“Unless they’re commanded to, the predators leave humans alone.”
But an escaped captive or slave would be fair game. Was there no way off the island, no way for a captive to escape her fate?
“They want you tomorrow,” he said when she’d swallowed the last bite of steak.
Her heart thumped. “Oh.”
“They studied today’s videos and want you as you are, raw and wild, not broken.”
Suddenly she felt sick. “What -- what did you say?”
“I understand their interest -- and concerns.”
Concerns? About what? She couldn’t imagine him giving way before anyone but didn’t say so. Instead she asked about the video, and he pointed at random places in the wall. Although she didn’t see anything, she understood. “What about when you had me outside? There were cameras out there too, weren’t there?”
He nodded.
“You -- you don’t care.” She hated, but couldn’t do anything, about the emotion clogging her throat. “It doesn’t matter that I’m going to be taken before you’ve -- before you’ve finished working on me?”
His already night-dark eyes became even more so. “I do my job. Others do theirs.”
She supposed she should be grateful because he’d no longer be around with his masterful and knowing ways, but the unknown terrified her.
Only, it wasn’t his chains and vibrators she feared. It was the end to what little she’d learned about this remarkable and complex man -- and her response to him. She even wanted him to know why she’d never taken her interest in submission beyond solo playacting.
Risking everything, she got to her feet and walked over to where he was leaning against a wall. Except for the collar, she was naked. And except for his loincloth, he was the same.
Shaking, she slipped her arms around his waist so her fingertips rested on several of his scars. He tensed. Every inch of his body felt hard and strong and yet she sensed his quickened breathing. “How did this happen?” she asked. Please tell me before I’m taken away. “Who did this to you?”
She hadn’t expected him to answer, but the rough way he pulled her off him shocked her. He held her as if he expected her to attack him. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Zemar, no one has ever done anything that horrible to me, but even before I wound up here, I knew what having no control over my life felt like, and I’m not talking about being fired. The same happened to you when you were beaten. Damn it, I know it!” And I care.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Not all I want to, but I’ve started. Zemar, it matters. You matter. Don’t you understand?”
He gripped her upper arms so she could neither touch him nor get away. “Don’t go there.” It sounded more like a request, maybe even a plea, than an order.
“Why not? Damn it, Zemar, you know all about me. The files or whatever they are. Surely they included everything.”
“Not everything, obviously.”
“What do you mean?”
“Until now one thing has been universal about the slaves I work with. They’ve begged.” He abruptly wrenched her arms behind her and held her against his rock solid body. Her breasts pressed against him and absorbed his heat and rapid heartbeat. “But even when you want to, even when your sanity depends on it, you don’t. Why not?”
She stared up at him. Trying to discover what they had in common was one thing. Opening old wounds before this man who’d already commanded so much of her was quite another. “I should bleed in front of you while you tell me nothing about yourself, the scars?”
His mouth hardened, and his spine stiffened. Although he didn’t reach behind himself, she sensed his desire to connect with the marks, maybe attempt to rub them away. “You’re the subject, not me. And you wouldn’t want me to force the truth out of you.”
Looking deep into his eyes, she saw a hint of decency. Between that and his forceful hold, she weakened. “You don’t have to because I’ve decided not to try to hide from the truth. One of us has to be honest.”