Captive in the Dark / Page 15

Page 15


Author: C.J. Roberts


With deft fingers he managed to lock my wrists together between the bars of the headboard. My body tensed, bracing itself. His weight left the bed. Then I heard him undressing. This was different. Very different.


I pulled against my restraints. “Please no.” I couldn’t resist saying.


He was slow in his preparation. I stared into the pitch black of surroundings, trying to catch a clear glimpse of him. My blood pounded in my ears and my fear was almost tangible in the air around me. His weight shifted the bed and I instantly knew there was no avoiding what was about to happen.


He laid his naked chest against my bare back, his weight all but crushing me. “Do you want to be my lover Kitten? Is that why you called to me by name?” I bucked wildly, trying to throw him off my back and pulling at my wrist straps. It was less than useless. I felt him grow hard between my thighs. I lay motionless. He was completely naked. He’d never been completely naked before. I sobbed into the sheets. He didn’t sound the least bit out of breath as he continued speaking against my ear. “I’ve made you come so many times, but not once have I made you return the favor. You have to earn the right to call me by name.”


“Master, please.” I cried out into the dark.


He pressed into me, his erection impossibly hot and hard between my trembling legs. “No, don’t call me that, not tonight. Call me by my name since you’re about to earn it.” I only cried harder.


He sighed, harsh, angry – disappointed?


He rolled off of me, his large frame forcing the mattress to creak as he lay next to me. I couldn’t stop crying, though relief did wash over me. Why was he doing this!


He stroked my hair for a long time, touching my face with his fingertips. The bed creaked again as he repositioned his body to massage my back, my arms, and my legs, slowly, gently…practiced. I cried softly into the bed, then not at all as he managed to lull me into an irrational sense of safety. I tensed all over when he lay his body back down over mine. He bade me over and over to relax. He kissed me everywhere, not like before, not angry. And God help me, it shouldn’t have made a difference, but somehow it did.


I had never been this close to a man before. I had never known how the heat of his bare body pressed against mine would affect me. I struggled against reflex. My body wanted to curl into him and my mind told me it would be a horrible mistake. What would it be like to touch him the way he touched me? Would he be as thoroughly under my spell as I seemed to be under his?


Despite my best efforts I lost myself in his gentle caresses, soft moans escaping my lips. His hand palmed my backside, squeezing, gently prying. I didn’t fight him. Not even when his fingers followed my crease over the curve of backside and spread the outer lips of my sex. Fear breached, but desire bloomed as he encountered the traitorous little knot hidden therein. I gave a start, but forced myself to settle into his touch. He’d done this to me before, used his fingers against that traitorous aperture to bring me to the heights of ecstasy. And he was right; he’d never asked the same of me. Not once. I needed this. I needed to forget everything, even if for a few minutes. He made me feel good, so good and it was difficult to resist when he’d only force me anyway. He rubbed me endlessly, wrenching the moans from my chest. It was coming, the tingling that led to the explosion.


“Open your legs,” he whispered, his throbbing cock rubbing against the outside of my thigh. The thought of it made me moan more loudly than I ever had. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I only knew I needed to open my legs. “Wider,” he groaned and I obeyed.


I shivered uncontrollably as my orgasm gripped me from deep inside. I tilted my hips back, searching for his fingers, begging without words for a firmer touch. He gave me what I wanted and I clung to my orgasm as long as possible. It barely registered in my mind when he rose up on his knees and took up a position between my wantonly spread thighs.


The moment something came in contact with my ass, I shot up. His hand pressed between my shoulders, “Put your head down.” His fingers scooped up the wetness I had created and he adeptly applied it to the tight ring of muscles. I shook uncontrollably. I was very surprised to discover that my fear stemmed in equal parts from deafening embarrassment at being touched in such a secret place as well as the pain involved with being penetrated there. This was not a part of my body meant to be seen. I’d certainly never seen it. When one of his fingers breached my opening and assailed that secret part of me, it became the only part I knew existed. I flexed against the intrusion, but it mattered very little. He pressed in slowly, asking me to relax before he slid out and then in again. It seemed to go on forever and the entire time I felt more focused on not embarrassing myself further than on what he was actually doing to me. Before long, it didn’t even hurt anymore. Apparently satisfied, he held me steady by the small of my back.


Something impossibly huge pressed against my opening. I froze. There was no damn way he was going to get that thing inside me. I bucked. Fought the inevitable. “Relax Kitten. Relax. Take a deep breath…good, now another.” I was being split open. My universe flipped upside down. He held me firmly as he pushed his way inside me, all the while coaching me along. I listened intently to his steady words and tried to do exactly as he asked. Whilst the pain outweighed the pleasure, I tried my best to cram the sheets into my mouth. It took a long time before he filled me entirely. He stilled, and laid his head on mine, speaking to me gently, “Don’t fight.” He caressed my breasts, my belly, kissed my shoulder, once again making me moan with pleasure against my will. Against your will? Really? My body relaxed and the enormous size of him settled inside me. His breath warmed the nape of my neck and he let out a grunt. The sound of it, so male, so primal, I marveled at it.


“Please.” I whispered, but I didn’t know what I was asking him for. He was inside me, in every cell. His penis throbbed inside me and I could feel it. But more than that, I knew he could feel me. Not just my shaking. But me.


Each day I was more vulnerable than the last. Each day he stripped away more of my sense of self. And now he’d taken the last of it, the last of me. But who did that make me? An extension of him? Someone new? I didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.


He leaned over me, kissing away the tears on the side of my face. And still he didn’t move. It wasn’t enough to fuck my body, he wanted to mindfuck me too. It was working. I wanted him to be nice to me. To kiss me. To make it nice for me. I was scared it would hurt and I once again looked to him for protection. How messed up was that!


Then he fucked me.


In my entire life, I never felt anything like this. Sensation assaulted me, paralyzed me, as if my mind could not possibly keep up with how I should react. My entire body trembled and shook around him as he impaled me over and over again, and yet, there was a sick sort of pleasure also present. It built up inside me and begged to be released. Was it always like this? Would it feel the same if he fucked my…even my thoughts demurred away from the word pussy. Caleb calls it your pussy. I came. Hard. The force of it stilled him inside me as I pulsed around him. He made a pained sound and pressed his mouth to my shoulder, “God…I knew you’d be like this.” Before I had a chance to ask what he meant, he moved inside me and all thought fled.


I came several more times while he fucked me, each time, it reduced me more and more into someone I recognized less and less. Finally, he squeezed and pulled at my ass. “You feel so good. I love your tight little ass.” He grunted and slammed into me. He swelled inside me and I couldn’t believe it was actually getting bigger. He moaned loudly, “Oh fuck!” Moments later he filled me with his semen.


When he no longer pulsated inside me he collapsed on top of me, whispering reassurances in my ear. I whimpered softly under him as he once again became all softness and comfort. He reached for something and placed it underneath me. He pulled out slowly, his cock inching its way out of me and creating an overwhelming panic. Would his semen come running out of me! I clenched without meaning to and he hissed. Again, he had found new ways to humiliate me. Tears streamed down my burning cheeks.


We bathed together for the first time, crammed into the tub, my body between his legs, against a part of him I had yet to see. He held my head on his chest. I wept, indifferent and exhausted against him, all my strength gone. He stroked me, washed me, spoke to me. “What’s your name?”


“Kitten,” I whispered weakly.


“And mine?” he tensed beneath my fingers.


“Master.”


After the bath, he toweled me in silence. I was grateful. I climbed into bed without protest, seeking the oblivion of sleep even as I prayed I wouldn’t dream of all that had just transpired. Violation, confusion and more uncertainty. More powerlessness. My prayers, like all of them, were left unanswered. He lay down next to me and I knew sleep was not an option.


I opened my eyes and stared into the dark. I was numb – heartbroken. Not only was I shocked over what he’d done, but I was more shocked over how he’d managed to turn my body against me. The pain had been intense, and yet at times it was as if that same pain added to the violent shiver that coursed through me when he’d made me come. Shame overwhelmed me. Part of me had more than enjoyed it. The few times he’d eased off of me just before that shiver, I’d held onto him tighter. Where am I supposed to go from here? I lay there, my eyes wide, my breath shallow, my soul defeated, and I stared into nothingness.


He lay next to me, naked and warm against my skin. I tried not to move, not to think of him, not to think of anything but this dark room that was quickly becoming my entire life. My tears ran across my face, out my right eye, across the bridge of my nose, into my left eye and down onto my pillow. My pillow, my only friend. I sobbed, determined to keep my tears private. They were mine, not his. And he wouldn’t care anyway. He doesn’t care about me anyway.


“Kitten, that’s no way to behave,” he said, his voice denoting he was wide awake and ready to torment me. “I know it wasn’t all bad for you, you came – more than once.” His words cut me and a strong pang of humiliation in my chest made me draw tighter into myself. I wanted to say something vicious, but swallowed it down. I didn’t want to open my mouth, if I did, I would just burst into tears and I didn’t wish to cry anymore. I was sick to death of crying. He kissed my head and I jerked it away.


I swallowed very hard and took a long slow breath.


“All you want to do is hurt me,” I said calmly. A hint of fear laced my words. I expected more violence but didn’t give a shit. Instead he shushed me.


“Come here,” he said, very gently, sounding so safe. “It’s going to be okay.”


He grabbed me roughly and turned my face into his chest. Before I had any thought about it, I wrapped my arms around him and held on to him as hard as I could. He was my tormentor and my solace; the creator of the dark and the light within. I didn’t care that he would undoubtedly hurt me at any moment, right now; I just needed somebody to hold me, somebody to be kind to me, somebody to tell me exactly those words. It’s going to be okay. It wasn’t of course, I knew that. But I didn’t care. I needed the lie. I needed my books, my movies, and now Caleb’s arms.


He held me for what seemed like an eternity and rocked me gently, until all my crying had lulled and I simply rested against him. “Please don’t leave me in here. I hate it in here.”


His fingers caressed the side of my face and it gave me hope. But then I felt him inch his way out of the bed. Without a word of reassurance, he gathered his clothes and left me.


Lost, I lay back down and pulled my pillows closer. They smelled like him.


EIGHT


The door opened slowly, Caleb’s shadow significantly less ominous, haloed by the light of the room behind him. I was, dare I admit it, relieved to see him. Caleb. I stopped myself before I said his name and instead took a huge breath. I sat…I waited. He stood by the door, and then leaned against it casually. What looked like a silk nightgown was held almost carelessly in his left hand. I stared at it as he held it out toward me. Weary, I tried to make out his expression in the dark. Was this another fucking game? If so, it was the cruelest yet.


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