Breaking Abigail (6 page)

On the monitor in Mark’s room, Abigail looked wildly at Ian as he said, “Undressed, Abigail. It means just what it sounds like. I want everything off.”

“No, please…” Abigail said, holding her hands up as she made her plea. “Please, let me… let me go… let me give you money…”

“I’ve already said, girl, that we have all the money we need. I know your family is wealthy, but the man who owns you now is much, much wealthier.”

There were three cameras set invisibly into the walls of Abigail’s bedroom. Mark could switch between them, and now he found the one with the close-up of Abigail’s face. At the news that the man who had purchased her was fabulously rich, her eyes widened, and Mark winced when he saw, clearly, that the thought of that much money had an effect on Abigail: for only a moment, but unmistakably, she had become aroused when she heard that a super-rich man had chosen her.

“There are several things that come with this territory,” Brian had said the day before. “One of them is that you will see Abigail respond submissively in situations where you would probably not expect her to. Sometimes that’s going to piss you off. Just as with your arousal, you need to be ready to acknowledge that response, and move on. Among other things, in the early training, Ian and the other trainers are going to condition Abigail to fall at Hans Goterborg’s feet. That actually won’t be very difficult, because as a sub she
wants
to fall at the feet of a man like Hans. But it’s going to be a problem for you, at least at first and maybe going forward as well. You have to remember that she knows you—and she loves you—but you’re not hiding in the shadows the way Hans is. It’s gonna be incredibly easy for the trainers to convince Abigail that the man in the shadows is exactly what she’s always needed. That stage, before she meets him, is essential to her training. You just have to understand that, when you see her panting to suck the cock of this man she’s never seen.”

Mark gritted his teeth. “What happens after that?”

“When she meets Hans, and he deflowers her?”

Mark winced and closed his eyes, then opened them again and nodded.

“Well, in the beginning it will be completely continuous with the early training, if nothing goes wrong. Abigail won’t start to notice that Hans is real—if I can put it that way—for a few weeks, at least, if not a few months.”

“She’s smart,” Mark said icily.

“Oh, sure,” Brian said, “but actually the smart ones are better at fooling themselves sometimes. Anyway, eventually she
will
start to see that he’s not really different from other men in general, and, as I imagine she’ll also articulate to herself since you’re so important to her, from you in particular. At that point the question will be how she feels about him as a man, rather than as her owner. I don’t think there’s any way to predict that, although there’s nothing in the profiles to suggest any kind of special compatibility.”

Mark had hung his remaining hope on that notion: no suggestion of special compatibility.

And all that lay in the future, yet to be endured: first came this part that was the point of everything, here in Abigail’s room, with Ian.

“Last chance,” came Ian’s stern voice, off-camera. Panic filled Abigail’s face. She rose to her feet; the camera followed her, controlled by the producers in the control room next door to Mark’s room, then pulled back to show that her hands were dancing gently in the air as Abigail looked down, trying to figure out how someone should undress when she has been kidnapped and told she will be trained as a concubine.

“Start with the shirt, Abigail,” Ian said, more gently. She looked up at him, where he loomed above her; Abigail was of medium height, but Ian’s frame stretched well beyond six feet.
And he has the cock to match,
Mark thought bitterly, for he had seen the personnel files, with pictures, of all the trainers.

Abigail went to take off her top, but her nerves got the better of her: she reached first for the hem and pulled that up, exposing her sweet belly and little bit of her white cotton bra, but then she realized she hadn’t crossed her arms, as one has to in order to take off a shirt that way, and she dropped the hem and pulled at the neck, until the shirt climbed all the way up, revealing the bra completely now. She gave a little sob of frustration at her clumsiness, and finally pulled the shirt off and dropped it to the floor. Abigail stood there in her shorts and her bra, looking adorable and helpless, but, again, Mark saw the arousal flit across her face as she looked at Ian.

She wants him,
Mark realized.
She wants him because she doesn’t have to tell him, or anyone, that she wants him, and he’s going to do with her whatever he likes.
It had begun: the satisfaction that he had been right about how to help Abigail nearly made up for the ache that he wasn’t the one in the room with her.

“The shorts now, girl,” Ian said.

Mark’s breathing began to feel harsh to him, as he watched Abigail’s hands go automatically and obediently, now that she had received a specific command, to the button on the waistband of the adorable plaid shorts. Curse and bless the production crew: they zoomed the camera in on her fingers fumbling slightly there, but then undoing the button, unzipping the shorts, and awkwardly pulling them down to reveal Abigail’s modest white cotton panties. Abigail stood, and the camera gave an exquisite view of a little wet spot at the gusset of the panties, then panned down to show her shorts still around her bare feet. Mark had removed Abigail’s shoes and socks himself, when the driver and two orderlies had brought her in on a stretcher from the limo, and put them carefully away.

They cut to a medium shot of Ian looking down at Abigail with a satisfied smile on his face, and Abigail looking up at him, her eyes still wide. Slowly and deliberately, Ian put his hand to the back of her head and seized her black wavy hair, twining his fingers in it. Ian pulled her head back just a little, but with utter dominance. The camera cut back to Abigail’s panties: the wet spot was growing.

Chapter Seven

Abigail’s body responded. How could it not? she thought, with a mixture of helplessness, bitterness, and, yes, a tiny spark of hope.

Abigail was wet. The thing that meant that boys would call Abigail ‘easy.’ Hadn’t her mother told her that over and over, after Abigail had turned eighteen?

“Abigail, sometimes your body will play tricks on you. Sometimes you will find that your private part gets a little warm, and even a little wet. It may give you strange thoughts, too. You mustn’t give in to those thoughts—you must push them back, and stop thinking about those things. If you don’t give in, the thoughts will go away, and the warm feeling will too.”

“But why mustn’t I think about them?”

“Because if you let yourself think about those things, you’ll do them, and you’ll get a
reputation
—boys will say that you’re ‘easy.’ I know you don’t understand, but you will someday soon.” Prudence Podret said ‘reputation’ as if it were a fatal disease.

Hadn’t her father whipped her when Jon Southey had touched her there?

Abigail had been able to live with herself because she only let herself get wet when she touched herself and thought about being spanked and whipped. Being whipped was a punishment that would make her a better girl, one less likely to give into the fantasies, so surely if she touched herself and thought about being punished by a nice man like Mr. LeMarchand, that would make the thoughts better? And they always went away after she had touched herself until the lovely thing happened. So, after her father whipped her, yes, she had gone to the summerhouse to touch herself and think about Mr. LeMarchand. And then… what had happened? She hadn’t been drinking, had she? She just couldn’t seem to remember what had happened after she had taken that most arousing of positions, bending over the couch in the summerhouse.

“Step out of your shorts and kick them away, Abigail,” said Master Ian. She felt her lips part, as if to respond, but she had no words. Her body trembled terribly, in fear and in a kind of arousal she had never felt before—the kind she had dreamt of, always. Her fists clenched, she felt her pussy seem to spasm in sympathy, and she gave a little whimper.

Master Ian’s face loomed above hers, looking down at her not angrily but sternly and with an authority that said he was quite willing to spank her again, even harder, unless she did exactly what he said. Feeling like she might fall down at any moment, she managed to pull her right foot, and then her left foot, out of the shorts. With the left one, she kicked the shorts away.

“Pull down your panties,” he said. “Just to your knees, for now.”

“Oh, God…” Abigail moaned. Abigail Podret was never, ever to pull her panties down in the presence of a man, unless she were going to be punished, or she was married. Even in her fantasies, when the men who were going to beat her took her panties down, they told her they didn’t want to see her private part. She knew somehow that they did—that they wanted to see her pussy, and play with her pussy—but they always said they didn’t, and that she must not show it to them.

“Hush, girl.” Master Ian’s voice seemed to flow over her with calm, inescapable power. “I know how difficult this is for you, so I’m going to be patient for a little while. I’ll tell you what will happen if you don’t pull your panties down for me. First, though, I want to be sure you’re listening. Are you listening?”

“Yes,” Abigail breathed. Instantly, Ian jerked her head back and leaned his face forward toward hers. He didn’t even need to tell her what she had done wrong: it sat in his eyes. “Yes, master!” she cried.

“Better,” Master Ian said. “Alright, Abigail. If you don’t pull your panties down for me, and show me your little pussy, I’m going to tie you over the back of the chair waiting just behind you, with your ankles and knees spread so wide that I can see everything I want to see down there, and then I’m going to rip your underwear off you and give you the spanking of your life. Then I’m going to get my cane, and you’re going to learn what real discipline feels like.”

“P-please… please, master… d-don’t…” The wicked thoughts in Abigail’s head were threatening to burst their dam. The cane… she would get the cane, and only bad girls got the cane. In the turmoil of her feelings, unable to tell the warmth between her legs from the fear of being caned, knowing that in one direction lay the punishment that would say Abigail was a bad girl, and would hurt so terribly, and in the other lay something she must not ever do, but she wanted to do—wanted in that wrong way—she let out a little whine. Her hands unclenched, and she moved them to the waistband of her panties, closing her eyes and feeling her face screw up in shame as she lowered the little garment.

Master Ian held her head gently, and let her bend down to tug the cotton down to her knees, and then he pulled her upright again.

“I’m going to let your head go, Abigail,” he said softly, “and you’re going to walk, just the way you are, with your panties around your knees, to the chair, and lay yourself down over the back of it.”

“But… master… but…”

“I’m not going to punish you there, Abigail,” Master Ian said. “You’ve earned a little reward.”

The word ‘reward’ made Abigail whimper at the sudden spasm it caused between her legs. How could she fight this? How could she fight him? Didn’t she just have to give in?

“Will you obey me, Abigail?”

“Yes, master,” she breathed, opening her eyes, and he let go of her hair. She looked into his fantastically handsome, chiseled face, with the blond stubble that seemed to make him look even more dominant, and she felt herself melting. Was she easy, truly?

Yes,
a tiny voice said.
Yes, and Abigail likes being easy, especially if it means a wealthy, powerful man is going to take her, and have her.
How could she doubt that part of the story? Only that kind of wealth and power could bring this about, surely?

No!
screamed a much louder, more familiar voice—the voice that had told her how to make it through life with her parents, through high school, into college.
Abigail Podret will never be easy. Abigail Podret doesn’t have a reputation, and she never will. And she won’t be a concubine, known to the world as a man’s bed-servant, no matter how powerful that man is.

And her reason, trying to balance the voices, said to the second, the ‘No’ voice,
Defying Master Ian gets you nothing. Go along, and wait for the chance to escape.

Abigail turned and shuffled toward the chair, which was upholstered in imitation leather.

“Spread your legs before you bend over, please,” Master Ian said, behind her.

Abigail felt the heat come to her face, but she did as she was told and moved her feet apart, so that her panties became taut with the parting of her knees.

“Over you go, now,” said Master Ian, with a little chuckle in his voice.

Abigail found that she was making a little whining noise in her throat, but that was the only sign of resistance she gave. She bent over the back of the chair, putting her hands on the seat, until Master Ian said, “That’s it. Bottom up and out, now, Abigail. Show me what a good girl you are.”

She obeyed. It appeared she had found obedience, though it wasn’t clear to her how, or why, she had found it. But, oh, God, did it feel dirty, and oh, Lord, did it feel good, in that terrible, shameful way, to push her bottom out for a big, handsome man who wanted to see her pussy.

Then Ian’s hand was there, cupping her whole bottom—her whole, offered bottom. “Good girl,” he said softly. “I’m going to give you your reward now, good girl. This is going to be hard for you, but I’m not going to stop until you show me that you can accept it.” The cupping hand moved down very, very slowly, rubbing as it went; rubbing her private part, so that she moaned with wanton, forbidden, immodest pleasure.

No one had ever touched her that way. Only she… only she herself, and only to make the fantasies stop for a while. Abigail’s mind rebelled against her body; she couldn’t—he would have to cane her, break her. But, oh, God, the cane… her heart quailed.