Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  “I got fresh strawberries yesterday at the market,” he told her happily, as he washed them and brought them to the table. He selected one, cut off the leafy top and held it to her lips.

  Alana took the fruit and slowly chewed. He loved to watch her sensual mouth move as she ate. He fed her another, and another, until the toast popped. As they ate their toast and sipped coffee, his heart filled, and he very nearly blurted the words he thought a dozen times, a thousand times, a day.

  I love you, Alana.

  But no. He couldn’t say that to her. Though she was increasingly obedient and compliant, he knew she despised him. She didn’t understand the true passion he offered, or the powerful elixir of a pure exchange of power. He had yanked her from a busy, stressful life, but also one of glamour and fame. Eventually he hoped she’d come to love him and what he offered, but for now, her obedience was enough.

  He realized she was watching him through those long, thick lashes, her eyes directly on his face. He lifted his eyebrows in question, and she cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Sir,” she said. “May I say something?”

  “Yes? What is it?” His heart had absurdly begun to pound. Had he been wrong? Had love blossomed amidst the fear and struggle? Did she understand at last the potential of what they could share?

  “How long are you going to keep me here?”

  Disappointment rose like a hard lump in Mark’s throat, which he tried desperately to swallow. What an idiot he’d been to let his hopes soar, even for a second. He had planned for two long years to abduct her. He had used his considerable brainpower and ingenuity to track her every move and determine the best way to steal her away from the world, but now that he had her, what had he truly expected would happen?

  Somehow his dreams had included a happily-ever-after, but as he sat looking down at her, he was faced with the stark reality that would likely never happen. A rush of rage washed through him, scorching his consciousness like acid. Why couldn’t she understand that what he’d done, he’d done for them?

  Alana must have seen the change in his expression as he struggled to control his anger.

  “Please,” she said nervously. “Please, I’m sorry. Don’t be angry.”

  He dispensed a forgiving backhand wave as he quashed both his anger and disappointment. “In answer to your question, I’ll keep you as long as I like.” He pushed back the chair and got to his feet. “Permission to speak is now over.”

  He couldn’t have her love, but he certainly could have her body and her obedience. “Your punishment last night was aborted by your failure to stay in position. We’ll finish now where we left off.”

  Her eyes widened in fear, her breath catching at his pronouncement. Good. She was right to be afraid.

  “Since you’re not yet properly trained, this time I’ll restrain you more thoroughly so you can’t move.” Pulling her to her feet, Mark led the now trembling young woman to the playroom. He stripped her of her robe and attached the heavy metal collar around her neck. Leading her to the St. Andrew’s cross, he positioned her so she was facing the cross. “Raise your arms and spread your legs,” he instructed. He clipped her bracelets in place and, for good measure, he added the belt restraint at her waist. This time, he would leave her mouth free. He wanted to hear her cries.

  He went to the rack and retrieved a longer, thinner cane than the one he’d used the night before. He returned to her and stopped short, still in awe of her gorgeous ass. He loved the two dimples, one above each perfectly rounded buttock.

  He blew out a long breath. It wasn’t fair to be angry with Alana because she didn’t love him. He knew rationally there was no reason she should love him. Patience, he reminded himself. Give her more time. These thoughts calmed him somewhat, easing the ache in his heart.

  “I’m going to give you twenty strokes,” he announced. “Your job is to take your punishment with stoic grace. You may scream. You may cry, but you may not ask me to stop. When I’m done, you will thank me. Is your assignment clear?”

  “Please, Sir” she begged, twisting back her head to catch his eye. “Please don’t—”

  “Silence,” he boomed, irritation easier to handle than regret. “You protest again and I’ll gag you and give you fifty.”

  She sucked in her breath and turned her head back to the front, her body sagging in defeat.

  “We begin,” he announced. “You will count aloud for me.” The cane sliced through the air with a whoosh. It landed perfectly, just above one of the welts he’d painted there a few hours earlier.

  “One,” she yelped. Good girl.

  He placed another just below the swell of her ass, across her slender thighs.

  “Two! Ah, god, that hurts,” Alana wailed.

  Again and again he marked her, reaching in from time to time to run his finger along a rising welt, or place his hand between her legs to feel her heat. After the tenth stroke of the cane, she stopped wailing, her ragged breathing slowing to something deeper and more accepting. When he hit her for the eleventh time, something in her tone changed as she breathed the word. The sound was low and sensual in her throat, almost as if the cane were arousing her.

  Thrilled and intrigued, Mark continued to punish his beautiful slave girl, his cock poking through the fly of his pajama bottoms and pointing straight at her all the while. When she finally sobbed the final count, he dropped the cane and yanked his pants from his body.

  Moving close, he pressed himself against her heated ass. Instead of flinching or crying out, she only moaned, the sound like fingers cradling his shaft. Quickly, he released her from the cross and took her into his arms. He carried her to the soft lamb’s wool throw rug in the corner of the playroom and set her down on her hands and knees.

  “Stay up like that,” he instructed. “I’m going to reward you with my cock.” Crouching behind her, he draped himself over her, using one hand to guide his cock between her legs.

  To his delighted shock, his shaft slid easily inside. She was wet! She wanted him, or at least what he was offering. Thrilled, he began to move, thrusting in and out of her perfect, tight cunt as he whispered her name over and over like a mantra, like a prayer.

  ~*~

  What’s happening to me?

  Alana lay on her stomach on the soft rug, exhausted but also, and this was the strange part, curiously at peace. Something had happened while he was caning her. First there had been terror and pain, yes, but as he’d hit her again and again, something had shifted inside her, the fear bleeding away, replaced with something that wasn’t quite pleasure, but something deeper, something darker and yet at the same time something almost welcome.

  When he’d taken her down and entered her from behind, for the first time his large, hard cock hadn’t hurt her—hadn’t torn the sensitive flesh at her entrance. Instead, it had felt good going in, and even better as he’d filled her, his hands on her hips, pulling her back into him with each thrust. Though she couldn’t come from that angle without direct stimulation to her clit, she’d experienced the warm, buttery feeling of sexual pleasure, pleasure that could lead to orgasm with just a touch of his fingers, the press of his lips, the stroke of his tongue…

  She lifted her head and looked around the strange, empty room—painted white from ceiling to floor, what the hell was that about? The sun was just rising, the room bathed in a pearly gray light that outlined the scary torture devices set around the space like some kind of stage set for a medieval film. Except this wasn’t a stage—it was all too real. And he wasn’t her lover—he was her captor, her tormentor, her Master…

  After he’d climaxed, he’d lifted himself from her body and left the room. Where was he now? Had he gone back to sleep? Was he locked in his study clicking away on his computer? What if she made a run for it?

  Slowly, she hoisted herself to her feet. Her ass and the backs of her thighs were stinging and she winced as she reached back to gingerly touch one of the raised welts. Did she dare to try to find some clothing? Or should she ju
st make her break and take her chances?

  Cautiously, she walked to the dungeon door and placed her hand on the knob. She turned it slowly and gently pulled.

  It was locked.

  Chapter 6

  The weeks edged into a month, and they were happy as two lovebirds in their private nest—at least he was. He loved to walk into the playroom and see her bound and suspended from the overhead bar he’d so cleverly rigged. She waited for him with her feet barely touching the ground, arms spread in welcome for him like a gift, like a prize.

  He liked to leave her awhile, trembling with anticipation as he went about a task or two at his computer or puttered around their cozy farmhouse. Upon returning to the playroom, he invariably experienced a split second of joyous surprise—how had this gorgeous woman come to be tethered in his dungeon, naked and waiting just for him?

  He stroked his cock as he imagined Alana at his feet, his cock down her throat.

  She was doing well with her deep-throat technique, thanks to his patient lessons. He liked to start out by having her kneel at his feet. He would sit on the bed just in front of her and lean forward, slapping her cheeks with the side of his erect cock. There was something so deliciously humiliating in the act, and he never tired of her startled expression when his cock made contact with her face.

  Once she was able to take it with, if not grace, at least stoicism, he would inform her she had now earned the right to worship his cock.

  She had learned that was her cue to obediently part her luscious lips, just as she did when he fed her. Holding her head still with his hands, he would guide his erect shaft into her mouth, moving slowly forward until the tip touched the back of her throat.

  The first few sessions when he’d done this, she’d gagged and tried to pull away. But a swift slap to the face reminded her more readily than any admonition to stay still and take it. Eventually, she had learned to accommodate his substantial girth, and now, though her eyes might water, her face turning red when he blocked her windpipe, the obedient slut no longer pulled away.

  He would press forward until her nose was touching his pubic bone. When her eyes began to bulge, and only then, he would ease back to allow her to gasp for air, but only for a few seconds. Then he would ease himself back into the sweet, wet heat of her mouth, not stopping until the tip was again lodged against the soft tissue at the back of her throat.

  How easy it would be to kill someone this way—to suffocate them with your cock. Of course, they would have to acquiesce, to stay still while you slowly shut down their brain and ultimately their heart. Not that Mark would ever do that. He wanted Alana alive. Without her he would be nothing.

  Aware he’d completely lost his thread of concentration, Mark shut down the computer and pushed back from his desk. Alana was waiting for him. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

  As he entered the playroom, he whistled with appreciation. Alana was perfect—her arms high overhead, her legs cuffed on either side of the metal spreader bar that would hold her still, no matter what he did to her. She glanced up at him as he entered and then looked quickly down, as befitted a proper slave girl. She no longer pleaded to be set free.

  Perhaps she was finally accepting that this life was now her lot, her freedom. He had set her free from the incredible stress and clamor of her days as a movie star and sought-after celebrity. Now all she had to focus on was him.

  Mark approached Alana and kissed her on the mouth, wishing for an instant that she’d kiss him back. Maybe one day…

  He took a step back and smiled at her. “I just finished the code for a project that’s going to make us very rich. In celebration, it’s time we focused more on your sexual training. You’re becoming an obedient submissive, but you’re not yet properly sexualized.”

  He stripped out of his clothing, leaving them in a pile near the door. He went to the high narrow table he’d placed beside her and surveyed the array of phalluses he’d arranged there just for her, along with a fresh tube of lubricant and a gleaming pair of clover nipple clamps. No doubt she’d been staring at the toys while waiting for his return.

  He picked up a large, rubbery flesh-colored phallus that resembled a real penis, right down to veins on the thick shaft. “Today is your first day of dildo training. Does that please you, cunt girl?”

  From the expression on her face, she clearly was not pleased, and he was mildly amused as he watched her press her lips together in an obvious attempt not to say something she would regret. Still, he had asked a direct question, and he expected an answer. He set down the life-like cock and approached her.

  Grasping a handful of her silky hair, he jerked her head back. “I asked you a question.”

  “If it would please you, Sir,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Mark nodded, releasing her hair. The words were correct, even if the sincerity was lacking. No matter, he was satisfied with the response. “It does.”

  He picked up the black rubber penis gag, basically a ball gag in the shape of a small penis. “Open wide,” he said with an evil grin as he brought it to her mouth.

  Instead, it was her eyes that widened as she took in the diabolical device. “No, please,” she began, but he cut her off by pushing the shaft into her mouth.

  “Yes, please,” he replied. “I like the idea of filling all your holes with cock today.” She gagged and sputtered as he positioned the gag, but bound as she was, she couldn’t get away. He buckled the gag around her head and took a step back to admire her. She looked so helpless with the penis gag down her throat, the small balls protruding between her teeth. He regarded her a moment to make sure she could breathe. By the slight flare of her nostrils and the rise and fall of her chest, he was satisfied that she could.

  Next, he showed her the butt plug, and he could tell from her expression she knew exactly what it was, and didn’t like it one bit. “Do you like anal play?” he asked teasingly. “Do you like a big, hard dick shoved up your ass, slave girl?”

  She vehemently shook her head, emitting a gurgled cry of obvious distress. Her entire body tensed as she tried to move in her chains, but all she could manage was the slightest twist.

  Mark’s cock hardened further at her delightful reaction, which he was sure wasn’t feigned. She really was terrified of a little butt plug. His darling girl must be an anal virgin, and the realization thrilled him. He’d been so busy exploring and torturing the rest of that luscious body, he’d neglected her pretty little asshole. Today, he would remedy that, and then some.

  He squeezed a small dollop of lubricant on his index finger and moved behind her. She jerked as he rimmed her tiny, tight opening with his gooey finger. She yelped against her cock gag as he pushed it inside. He moved his finger until he felt the muscles relax a little. Withdrawing his finger, he reached for the butt plug.

  He squirted more lubricating jelly over its head and then pressed the tip between her spread cheeks. She tried to twist back her head, no doubt to plead with her eyes, but bound as she was, she couldn’t quite manage it.

  Ignoring her silent protest, Mark pushed the plug slowly but surely into her tight passage. “Relax,” he urged. “It’ll be easier for you if you can relax.” He chuckled. “I had no idea you were an anal virgin, sweetheart. It will truly be my honor to pluck that particular cherry.”

  She was breathing hard through her nose now, her chest heaving, and as he seated the flared base, she squealed against her gag, her entire body going momentarily rigid.

  Mark tugged lightly at the soft circle of rubbery plastic at the base of the plug, satisfied that her sphincter muscles would keep it in place until he was ready to remove it. “There, you see?” he said, leaning forward to kiss her soft cheek. “You did it. Good girl. You took the plug all the way in. It’ll open you up nicely for when I fuck your ass with my big, hard dick.” He stroked his erect shaft in anticipation, but first he had other tortures in mind.

  He pushed back her heavy hair and kissed her on the neck. She was sweating
, a pulse jumping at her throat. “One day,” he whispered in her ear, “you’ll beg me for it. You’ll kneel and spread your ass for me, and you’ll beg, ‘Please, Sir. Please fuck me in the ass.’”

  He returned to the table and picked up the large penis-shaped dildo. As he turned back to his darling girl, she pleaded mutely with her eyes. Was she begging for it, the little slut? With a laugh, he chose to assume she was. “That’s right, my little slut. I know you want me to fuck you with this big, hard cock. They say size doesn’t matter, but we both know that’s a crock, don’t we?”

  She didn’t nod in agreement, but he decided the question was rhetorical, and so he’d give her a pass. He lubricated the huge phallus and placed it between Alana’s perfect breasts. Dragging the tip along her skin, he drew it down her belly to her cunt, spread wide by the bar between her legs. Slowly, sensually, he used the tip to stroke her labia and then moved it gently, teasingly, over her clit. He nudged the head of the dildo at her entrance and pushed it an inch or so inside her.

  She grunted behind the gag, and he pulled it slowly out. He alternated between teasing her clit and easing the large phallus inside her, a little more each time. Her grunting had quieted, her body relaxing somewhat in her bonds.

  He pulled away the dildo for a moment so he could cup her hot pussy in his hand. He inserted a finger deep inside her, delighted by what he found. “Wet!” he crowed triumphantly. “My whore is wet!” He peered into her lovely face. “You want this. You need what I’m giving you.”

  He again pressed the rubber cock slowly inside her, this time pushing it farther than he yet had. It was huge, but slowly, carefully, he worked it deeper and deeper into her hot, tight cunt. He watched her face as he invaded her body. At first her eyes were squeezed shut, her nose wrinkled, but as he slowly, sensually worked the shaft inside her, her eyelids relaxed, though they remained closed, her scrunched face easing. Her cheeks and throat were flushed, her nipples erect, and he could smell the intoxicating scent of her juices, which now coated the lucky phallus.