Slave Jade Page 5

  Lisa stared at the man, her mind churning. He watched her for a few moments. When she didn't respond he said, “Say it. I want to hear you say it.”

  Lisa started to cry again. The enormity of her situation left her weak with terror. He wasn’t going to let her go. “Say it!” When she still didn't respond, he slapped her cheek, once, very hard. The shock of what he’d done stopped her tears as she stared in disbelief at the cruel, strange young man who now stood before her.

  Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the room, locking the door behind him. A moment later the light flicked out, sending her back into darkness.

  Lisa's cheek stung. She pulled at the metal cuffs now ratcheted tight on her wrists, to no avail. She cried softly for some minutes, until exhaustion stayed her tears. Her arms were aching, and her wrists chafed and burned where the cuffs bit into her flesh.

  She felt chilled though it was mid-July. She needed to pee, and shifted herself as best she could to ease the pressure on her bladder. The sip of water had done little to slack her thirst, and her stomach was churning, knotted with fear.

  Stay calm. You aren’t dead. You aren’t hurt. It’s one guy. One crazy guy. Keep your head. Lisa closed her eyes, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. Though she wasn’t religious by any stretch, she began to pray.

  She must have dozed a while, because she came awake suddenly when she again heard the key in the lock. Instantly her eyes opened wide as she waited, her heart hammering in her chest. Light flooded the room and the man entered. He was dressed now only in black boxers.

  Lisa tensed with fear, instinctively pressing her legs tight together. Without speaking, he approached the foot of the mattress and knelt. Leaning over the trembling girl, he unlocked the manacles that held her ankles. With strong but gentle fingers he massaged her feet and legs, as if he were some benign physical therapist, instead of a crazed kidnapper.

  “Lisa. Stop squeezing your eyes shut like that. I’m not going to hurt you.” His hands slid up her calves, over her thighs. Lisa mewled with terror, trying to close her legs against him.

  He easily overpowered her, pressing her thighs apart. “Don't tremble, darling,” he said gently, as if to a virgin lover on her wedding night. “I want you so much.” Climbing up over her, he lay himself across her, and tried to kiss her mouth. Involuntarily she jerked her head away, desperately trying to avoid his mouth on hers.

  Grabbing her head in his hands, he forced her face to his and leaned in again, kissing her roughly. Lisa could feel his bone-hard erection pressing into her thigh. As she jerked, the metal cuffs cut into skin already rubbed raw.

  She forget her wrists, though, as the man pushed himself between her legs. He pulled his shorts down and repositioned himself on top of her, the head of his cock pushing insistently at her opening.

  Lisa screamed as he pressed himself against her and then into her. Her cries were muffled by his mouth on hers as he entered her, tearing flesh rigid with fear. This can’t be happening. Oh god, please don’t let this happen. He’s hurting me. Oh, it hurts. Please, no. No, no, no…

  Mercifully he came fast, jerking spasmodically against her, moaning loudly. He flopped against her, his head now between her breasts, where he could no doubt hear the pounding of her heart.

  “Please,” she whimpered, “Please.” Too distraught to even finish the plea, she broke down, crying in ragged sobs.

  He rolled off her. Stretching out next to her, he stroked her cheek. Lisa jerked her head away. “Hey,” he said. “Stop crying. Come on. Stop it.” His voice held an edge of impatience. Lisa tried to stop her whimpers. She still, she reminded herself, wasn’t dead.

  “I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to claim you with my cock so soon. I was going to give you time to adjust to your situation as my slave girl. It’s your own fault. You’re so fucking hot, naked and chained up, your lovely body waiting for my gift. I had no choice. I really should punish you for making me rush into it like that.” He smoothed her hair away from her face, lightly kissing her tear-stained cheek.

  “No matter, though. I forgive you. We have all the time in the world to make it right. Now, stop your crying. You’re ruining your lovely face.” Lisa cried harder, again finding the gentleness after the brutal rape all the more frightening; more proof that the man was out of his mind.

  Finally sheer exhaustion stilled Lisa's cries. The man lay quietly beside her, idly stroking her breasts. His fingers trailed upward along one arm. Lisa couldn’t feel his touch. Alarmed into speech, she said in a panicked voice, “My arms are numb.”

  The man looked up at her chained wrists as if he’d only just noticed she was bound. “You've been chained there pretty long. I guess I’d better let your arms down so we don't do permanent damage. Would you like that, Lisa? Should I let you down?”

  Lisa nodded, desperately wanting her arms released, though wary of what might follow. He knelt up beside her, his spent cock brushing her breast. She closed her eyes, turning her head toward the wall.

  “Now when I let your arms down, don't try anything stupid. There is no escape from here. We're in a secluded place far from the city and there's nowhere for you to run. If you try to escape, I have a gun, and as much as I would hate to use it, you would leave me no choice. So promise me you’ll be a good girl. Do you promise?”

  “Yes,” Lisa whispered.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sir,” she managed.

  With a satisfied nod, he leaned close to the cuffs, using the small key on a chain around his neck to unlock them. Lisa’s arms fell heavily to her sides. She cried out in dismay and fear as she tried but was unable to move them.

  “Don't worry,” the man soothed. “They're just asleep. Awkward position to be in for so many hours. I'll massage the blood back into them. It might tingle as the circulation returns. Just lie still.”

  And what choice had she, as he slowly moved his hands up and down her arms, as he had done with her legs and feet. Her pussy was burning from the forced entry, and her bladder was now so full that she felt a sharp pain in her groin. Need forced her next words, “Please. I really need to go to the bathroom.” She pleaded with her eyes.

  “Please what? Have you forgotten how you are to address me? At all times, you are to call me Master or Sir. You are to use that address to begin or end your questions or statements. Am I clear on this?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lisa whispered. Silently she vowed never to call him Master, no matter what happened. He would never merit that title, not in a million years. Master John had taught her that the term Master was one that was earned through loving control and consensual exchange of power.

  She could manage the term “sir”. She might call a stranger in the street “sir”, when trying to get their attention. If this is what it took to be allowed to use the bathroom, really, she had no choice.

  Seeming satisfied, the man looked at her a moment, and then nodded slowly. “All right. Let me show you to your, uh, bathroom.” He helped her to her feet. Lisa swayed dizzily, as dark shadows obscured her vision for a moment. Unable to help herself, she leaned hard against him until she could stand on her own.

  The man led her to the corner of the room, keeping his hand solicitously on her arm. He pointed, and she looked down, confused. There was a large metal bowl in the corner.

  “Your humble commode,” he said, grinning, as if he expected her to share in the play on words. No way. Surely he didn’t expect her to squat over that bowl and pee while he stared at her.

  She felt the pressure again on her bladder, and now that she was standing, she doubted she could hold it much longer.

  “Go on,” he encouraged. “You can pee right there. Don't worry about me. I own you now. Nothing about you is private or to be kept from me. The sooner you get used to that fact, the better. Go ahead, before I change my mind and chain you up again. If you pee on the mattress, you’ll just have to sleep in it.”

  This threat did the trick. Awkwardly Lisa
squatted over the bowl. For a moment nothing happened, though her bladder ached it was so full. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the thought of the horrible man, standing naked beside her, watching with clinical interest as she tried to void.

  She winced as the stream of urine stung the tender, torn flesh where the man's cock had ripped her. She felt the heat burning in her face as well, as she blushed.

  He handed her some toilet paper, and then held out a small trash can for her to drop it into. “Later, when you're trained, you'll be dumping this bowl yourself and keeping your area clean. Slaves, of course, don't use toilet facilities.” He spoke matter-of-factly, sending chills of terror down Lisa’s spine.

  As he led her back to the mattress he handed her a bottle of water, which Lisa took gratefully. He allowed her to drink it herself. “Get some rest, slave girl. Now that I've claimed you with my cock, you will never be set free. My seed is in you, and you belong to me.”

  Something in his curious old-fashioned way of speaking gave Lisa pause. Despite the terrifying import of the meaning, she was struck by the quaint turn of phrase. It reminded her of something. Someone.

  He distracted her from these thoughts. “If I leave you unchained, can I trust you not to try anything stupid? Not that there's anything you can do, but I don't want to come in to find anything but my obedient girl sleeping in her bed. Do we have an agreement?”

  Lisa nodded, feeling bone tired and suddenly longing for that mattress. As she lay back down, the man moved about the room, taking the bowl, trashcan and even the roll of toilet paper with him.

  Lisa’s mind had gone curiously blank as she watched him. She had been abducted, raped and brutalized, but at this very moment fatigue overwhelmed every other feeling. Turning on her side, her face to the wall, she closed her eyes. She was asleep before his key turned the deadbolt.

  ~*~

  It was four in the morning and Gilbert knew he should get to bed. His slave was sleeping, if not comfortably, at least safely in her room. He poured himself a large Scotch, neat, and drank it, hoping it would offset the adrenaline still skittering through his blood.

  As he sipped it, he marveled at what he had done. She was his! There was no reason he couldn't keep her forever. Train her slowly. Teach her that her entire world consisted of him, and how to serve and please him.

  Sure, she resisted now, but he would break her down. He would use techniques culled from hostage takers—first withholding, threatening, punishing, and then offering kindness and reprieve. He would couple these techniques with the skills he'd learned from many articles about domination and submission. The combination would break her down. He would ultimately win her docility, obedience, and finally, dared he dream, her love. She would belong to him completely.

  She lay now, claimed by him like some medieval maiden—impaled by his sword of love, waiting for his return. He had hurt her with his cock, but that was her fault. She should have been wet for him. While on some level he wished he’d been gentler, on another he knew it was for her own good. It was necessary to teach her complete obedience and subservience.

  And if he were honest with himself, he had to admit that the rush of power he’d felt as he penetrated her was like an aphrodisiac. He felt super-human—better than alive. Even now his cock rose, hard and eager for her hot velvet embrace.

  He had time, though. He had enough money to last them a month. By then he was sure he would have her trust. They would sell their possessions and fly away to some place where they could live openly as Master and slave.

  Chapter 5

  The man entered the room carrying a tray with a plate of food and a bottle of water. He set the tray near Lisa. “Are you ready to behave now, slave?”

  Slave!

  The word caused Lisa's mind to shift to her online conversations with Master John. Master John had taught her how sexy the idea of being someone's sex slave could be, in a loving and caring consensual relationship. She had daydreamed of one day meeting the elusive and unavailable John Anderson, though he had been pretty clear that that wouldn't happen.

  She remembered now the abduction scenes they enacted online, but again, it was nothing like this. It was sexy and dreamy, with Lisa playing the virginal princess, and he the dashing Lord of the realm. Not some dank little room, naked and chained and scared out of her wits.

  If only Master John were here. He would rescue her from this madman. He would take care of her.

  The man hit her across the face with his open palm. Stunned, she gasped and tears sprang to her eyes. In a calm voice, as if he hadn't just hit her, he said, “Lisa. You really do need to pay better attention. I asked you a direct question. I expect an answer, without hesitation.”

  “I'm sorry,” she faltered, fear blocking her speech. “I-I don't know what you asked. I don't remember.”

  As if speaking to a slow child, he said, “I asked you if you were ready to behave now, but quite obviously, you are not. I can see I'm going to have to punish you.”

  Grabbing her wrists, still tender and bruised from the metal handcuffs, he wrapped them instead with soft leather cuffs. These didn't cut into her, or tighten when she struggled against them, but they were binding nonetheless. Pulling her arms high overhead again, he clipped the cuffs to the chain hanging from the wall.

  Lisa cried out, begging him to let her down, promising to be good. He ignored her pleas. She quieted as he reached for the plate of food and brought it near her.

  Her mouth watered as she twisted toward the delicious smell of savory meat. It looked like steak, cut in small pieces, and some mashed potatoes. Her stomach growled.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She was starving. “Yes, sir!” she cried urgently, as he lifted his hand to strike her again. He lowered his hand and smiled.

  “There,” he said, smoothing the cheek he had just struck moments before. “That wasn't so hard, was it? Perhaps next time, you'll obey immediately and you'll get to have something to eat and drink.”

  “Oh!” Lisa cried, when, instead of offering her the food and water, as she had expected, Gilbert began to eat it himself.

  “Please,” she begged. He shook his head. “Just some water? Sir?” Again he shook his head, as he took a long drink from the bottle and set it down, sighing with satisfaction.

  Lisa lost control, crying hysterically and jerking in her chains, begging him to let her go, let her go! He watched intently as the wretched girl twisted and writhed in her bonds. After a minute he admonished, “Hush now. You don't keep quiet, I'll have to gag you.”

  Lisa slowly quieted, believing him. Tears and snot covered her face. Gently he wiped it with a paper a napkin and tucked her hair behind her ears. She closed her eyes, trying not to scream. She lay still, her hands clenched into fists, her chest heaving from the fruitless effort.

  When the man finished eating, without a word he got up and left the room, leaving the door ajar. Several moments later he was back with a fresh plate of food. This time it was only bite-size squares of yellow cheese set on crackers.

  He also carried a bottle of red wine, which he uncorked as Lisa watched him. Carefully he poured two glasses, so surely one was meant for her? And that cheese, while not steak, was sustenance.

  “The steak was to have been yours, but you lost that opportunity with your appalling manners. This cheese will have to do. That is, if you think you're ready to behave. Are you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lisa managed, trying not to look too eager. She was afraid somehow he would find fault and deny her the food if she did.

  She had hoped he would release her arms, but he didn’t. Instead he lifted a cracker to her dry lips and she opened her mouth, taking it like a communion wafer. She tried to eat it slowly, savoring the buttery sharp tang of the cheese and the soft crumbly crunch of the cracker.

  She opened her mouth, eager for another cracker. He popped one in, smiling benevolently at her as she chewed. “If I let you down, do you think you can do bet
ter this time, slave?”

  “Yes, sir,” Lisa whispered, determined to try to do whatever he wanted. Her wrists stung and her arms ached. He stood and released her. When he removed the cuffs, Lisa winced, and he again examined the wounds inflicted from the metal cuffs when she had struggled in them.

  “Oh, Lisa, what have you done? You've hurt yourself again. That's your fault, you know, for struggling. For trying to resist the inevitable. You will be punished for that. He handed her a glass of wine and the plate of food. “Here, you finish what you like. I'll be right back. Don't try anything stupid. I don't like guns.”

  The cheese and cracker turned to sawdust in her mouth at the mention of the gun. Forcing the thought from her mind, she ate quickly, wolfing down the food before he took it away. She gulped her wine but didn’t dare reach for the bottle on her own. What she really wanted was water.

  He returned with gauze, surgical tape and antiseptic lotion. Gently he cleaned and bandaged each wrist. “There. That should heal within a day or two, and you’ll be protected when I cuff you again.”

  He nodded toward her empty glass and she held it out. He filled it, along with his own and lifted his glass to her in a silent toast. The man was insane.

  He drank until his glass was empty. Kneeling, he took her glass and the empty plate from her. “Now, for your punishment.”

  “Please, sir,” Lisa started to beg but he cut her off.

  “No! Don’t speak again. Not unless I ask you a direct question. And then you only answer that question. No discussions or dialogues. Just, 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' or 'how can I please you, Master?'“

  Lisa said nothing. He continued. “I am going to give you a choice of punishment. You can either take a whipping with this crop,” he tapped what she saw was a riding crop, bending its supple handle between his hands. “Or you can lick my ass. I have found that to be a very humbling experience for my slave girls.”