Forced Submission (20 page)

Thirsty. I’m so thirsty. I tried so hard to be good.
Surely he saw how hard I tried. When will Sir decide I’ve been punished enough?

M licked her chapped lips, her tongue worrying the small
split in the center of her lower lip that had the metallic taste of blood. Her
mouth and throat were parched, her stomach once again curled into the tight,
painful ball that had become second nature in the days before she’d met the
prince and his girls.

The prince! Prince Kamau. Jira. Zahara.

Mia.

My name is Mia. I am Mia Roberts. My parents were Bill
and Donna Roberts. I am from Bangor, Maine. I’m twenty-five years old.

Mia drew in a sudden sharp breath as this information
unfolded in her brain. All at once, like bundles crammed into a closet that’s
suddenly opened, whole swatches of memory tumbled into her mind. She remembered
the interview with Ellis Hughes, and their pleasant email exchanges as she
wrapped things up in Bangor in anticipation of her move. She remembered packing
all her worldly belongings and making the long drive from Maine to New York, so
excited to be starting a great new job with a sexy new boss.

And then…

Then what?

How did she get from there to here?

She understood that Sir was Ellis Hughes, but she couldn’t
get past a dense, black fog that shrouded the events that led her to her
current situation, naked and curled inside a cage, her very life in the hands
of a madman.

A madman.

She should feel horrible for that thought. Sir was
everything to her! He was the Master of her body and soul…

She held her breath, waiting for the guilt to slide over
her, prepared to say the penance of her mantra over and over until she was
cleansed.

But no guilt came.

She let out her breath. He
was
a madman. A fucking,
sadistic lunatic who was holding her against her will.

A wave of dizzy panic crashed over Mia as more memories
flooded her mind. If she hadn’t been lying down, she would have passed out from
the shock. She lay, rocking and crying as she struggled to process the horror
of the past months as this man’s prisoner; as his sex slave, stripped of every
vestige of humanity, even down to the hair on her head.

How many months had passed since Sir, since Ellis Fucking
Hughes, had stolen her very life from her? What must Zahara and the others have
thought of the docile, silent automaton slave girl who had appeared in their
midst like a ghost? How had they let her leave again with that monster?

But they’d tried to stop her, hadn’t they?

Are you happy, dear one? We have room here for you, if
you would like to stay and visit a little longer. I am sure your Master would
understand.

Mia recalled now the sudden burst of longing these words had
engendered, and then the trained reaction, drummed into her over the days,
weeks and months of her servitude, that made her recoil at the offer, telling
herself she belonged to Sir.

I belong to myself!

Again she waited for the wave of guilt, as strong as nausea,
to wash over her. But nothing happened. Was she free? Free at last of the
madman’s spell?

She gave a bitter grunt at this thought. Here she lay,
beaten, bloodied, half-starved and locked in a cage in a dark closet. That was
hardly free! Somehow she had to get out of here. She had to escape before he
killed her. It was only a matter of time before he did, whether intentional or
not.

But how to get away? What possible escape was there? She
knew he locked all the doors when he left the house, and she couldn’t recall
seeing a landline telephone in any of the rooms when she did her chores. He
always kept his cell phone on his person or locked away.

There had to be a way. There
had
to be!

The internet. Ellis kept a laptop in his study. The next
time he left the house, she would try to get online. Meanwhile she would have
to do her very best to pretend to still be the obedient, brainwashed slave girl
who believed that Sir was the Master of her body and soul, instead of a
sadistic lunatic who deserved to be castrated with a rusty, dull blade.

You are not alone. You have but to reach out your hand
and the prince will come for you.
[email protected]
. We will be
waiting for you, Mia, sister of my heart. Zahara

Mia reached for these words in the dark, clutching them like
a lifeline.

Chapter 14

Mia crouched underneath the large desk in Ellis’ study, her
wrists cuffed behind her back as she struggled to position herself over his
cock. Placing a heavy hand on her head, he pushed her down, gagging her on his
shaft. She struggled to remain calm. He would let her breathe soon, if she just
stayed still.

Sure enough, after about twenty seconds his hand lifted from
her head and she was able to pull back enough to breathe. His thick cock filled
her mouth and she had to be careful not to graze it with her teeth as she
bobbed up and down. That had happened only once, and she’d paid a heavy price,
though somehow, as astonishing as it was to her now, she’d accepted her
punishment at the time as her due, and ardently promised through her tears to
do better.

Everything was
so
much harder now, now that the
peaceful cloak of brainwashed surrender had been burned away. She no longer
believed the comforting but patently false mantra that had helped her through
so many difficult tasks and long nights locked in the sleep cage. Now that the
pretense had been stripped away, it was like undergoing surgery on a daily
basis without the benefit of anesthesia. They’d been home from Africa for only
two days, but Mia wasn’t sure how much more of Ellis’ constant, dehumanizing
abuse she could tolerate.

In a way, she almost wished she could return to being M, to
truly believing she lived for Sir, and would die without him. But no—she could
never go back to that. She
would not
. It was better to die, she
fervently believed now, than to allow that to happen again.

Ellis groaned over her head. “Keep me hard,” he panted,
“while I look for another girl. That fucking Prince Katmandoo or whatever the
hell his name was isn’t the only one who can have a harem. So many cunts out
there on the BDSM sites looking for a sugar daddy, I feel like a kid in a candy
store. But we have to be very, very careful. We need someone like you, M. Someone
no one will miss when they’re gone.”

It was very hard to resist the nearly overwhelming impulse
to bite down. She could imagine sinking her teeth into his flesh, breaking the
skin, tasting his blood as she clamped down like a dog on its prey, not stopping
till she’d bitten the thing clean through.

How many months of her life had the bastard stolen? He’d
done more than just kidnap and hold her against her will, more than just
torture, rape, starve and terrorize her. He’d stolen her very life, her identity
as a person, her essence as a human being. And now he was proposing to do it
again, to lure another unsuspecting woman into his home under false pretenses
and keep her there, stripped of her dignity and terrified for her life, as Mia
had been for so long.

I have to get out of here. I have to stop him. I have to
find a way. I will find a way. I will.

Ellis’ hand was again on her head, pushing her until her
nose met his pubic bone. She could feel his cock pulsing in her mouth as a
shudder went through his body. When he spurted against the back of her throat,
she forced herself to swallow as best she could so she wouldn’t choke.

He pushed her away, his cock sliding from her mouth as she
fell back beneath the desk. “Ah, that was good, M. You’re a fine piece of ass,
you know that?” He was in a good mood, and until very recently, this would have
thrilled Mia, or rather, M, to know she’d pleased her Master. Now she had to
bite her tongue to keep from snarling.

“Lick my balls for a while.” Ellis scooted his ass to the
edge of his chair, thrusting himself against Mia’s lips. The fierce urge to
grab his ball and twist until he screamed in pain made her almost glad her
wrists were cuffed behind her back, as she wasn’t sure she could have
controlled the impulse. Instead, she dutifully parted her lips and ran the tip
of her tongue over her tormentor’s pendulous, hairy balls.

She could hear him clacking away on the keyboard. He hadn’t
left the house since they’d returned from Africa. He’d had groceries delivered
the day before, running down to accept the delivery while she remained gagged
and chained in his dungeon.

Eventually he’d have to leave the house. But even with him
physically gone, did she dare log onto his computer? Even in his absence, she
was sure he watched her through those ubiquitous cameras that were placed in
various corners throughout the house. There were two in the study alone, one of
them trained at the desk. Did she dare touch his laptop, knowing he might be
watching?

But it was the only way. She knew she wouldn’t be able to
escape on her own. She was naked and alone.
No
, she reminded herself.
You
are not alone. They’re waiting for you.
Somehow, she had to get onto her
email account and send out an SOS.
[email protected]
.
She
would not forget that email address—it was seared into her brain, waiting for
her fingers to type the words.

Zahara had promised—she just had to reach out her hand and
the prince would come for her. The question was, how to do that, when Ellis
kept her hands tied, her mouth gagged, her body caged?

But not your spirit, Mia.

She felt another curtain lift in her mind, and suddenly
remembered the daily affirmations that had once been such a part of her life.
She’d had a lovely desk calendar with beautiful, calming photographs of nature,
and a daily affirmation that somehow always seemed to apply. But her favorite
had been a book a friend had given her after her parents had been killed. It
was called
Daily Quotations for Spiritual Healing.
She had read it from
cover to cover easily a dozen times, and she’d memorized many of the quotes.
Now, with her face pressed against Ellis’ disgusting balls, she tried to recall
some words of wisdom that would help her get through the next day, the next
hour, the next minute.

Ellis shifted in his seat and gripped his cock, idly
stroking it while Mia continued to lick his balls. “Ah,” he said from above
her. “Here’s an interesting one, posted by someone who calls herself
Sub
Girl
. How original.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “It reads:
Deeply
submissive girl seeks a wealthy man to meet her every need, while she meets all
of his
.” Ellis chuckled dryly. “Her picture is hot,” he went on, “though
god knows you can’t trust pictures on the internet. But still, it says she’s
twenty-six and single, and lives in Wyoming. Good, that’s good. What are there,
like seven people in the total population of that state? Less folks to miss the
cunt.” He laughed again.

Rage rose like vomit in Mia’s throat, and it was a struggle
to keep up the pretense that she lived for nothing but to worship this
bastard’s cock and balls. He was going to do this to someone else! Another
unsuspecting, innocent girl was going to have her life stolen, her soul
murdered. And why would he stop there? How many young women would be lured into
his monstrous trap? Unless someone stopped him. Unless she stopped him.

Then, as if it had only been waiting for her permission, one
of the quotes from the daily quotations book was illuminated in her mind,
bright as a beacon.

Suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a
meaning.

Yes! Her suffering would have meaning because she would shut
this man down. She would find a way to get out, and not only that, she would
make sure the son of bitch never did this to anyone else, ever.

That evening found Mia on all fours on Ellis’ bed, her cheek
pressed against the mattress, her ass raised high, knees spread wide. Ellis
waved a red plastic shock toy in her line of vision. She knew from experience
this particular device imparted an unpleasant zing of electricity each time its
tip made contact.

“Each shock you take, M, earns you a point. Those points
will determine how many bites of food you’ll get at dinner tonight.” While Mia
silently absorbed the rules, Ellis added, “But there’s a catch.”

Of course there is. Bastard.

“If you move at all, you lose five points.”

Zap.
Mia didn’t move a muscle. “One,” Ellis intoned.
Zap
.
She could have been made of stone. “Two.”
Zap. Zap.
It wasn’t that the shock
was precisely painful—it was more the unexpectedness of it as it landed on her
ass, her thigh, her back, her calf. Mia, who had only had half an apple many
hours before, tried to focus on the reward at the end of the torment. She
needed to eat if she was to have the strength necessary to escape.

She stayed still for as long as she could, pleased with
herself as Ellis’ count increased. “Ten,”—
zap
—“eleven,”—
zap
—“twelve.”

But when the shocker touched her asshole and then her
spread, exposed pussy in quick succession, Mia fell forward onto the bed, her
hands flying back to cover her body as she screamed.

“Oh dear,” Ellis said in mock sympathy. “Poor little girl.
Only two bites of food now for you.” He touched the tip of the shocker to her
ass. “Come on. Up, up. Back into position. Surely you can do better than that.
I’ll tell you what. I’ll sweeten the pot a little. I’ll give you five points
for each shock. What do you say to that, M?”

Wearily M forced herself back into position, rage falling
like a film of red over her eyes.
Your suffering has meaning,
she
reminded herself. Aloud, she forced herself to say, “Thank you, Sir,” keeping
her tone meek and servile.