Going Down (12 page)

Her knees nearly buckled, forcing her to concentrate on remaining erect. By the time she was relatively sure she wasn't going to collapse, much of the dangerous fantasy had faded to be replaced by the reality of an isolated prison where he could and would record everything he did to her.

For what purpose?

For who?

She took a backward step without knowing she was going to do so. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough play between her ankles to complete the movement. Off balance, she struggled to right herself. Instead, she all but tripped over her own foot and sprawled on the cool tile floor. Looking up, she saw him standing over her. He was huge, massive, all powerful, the beginning and end of her world.

Whimpering in terror and something else, she fought her arm restraints, but he'd given her less then two inches of play between her wrists and the rope around her waist. She fell forward onto her breasts.

Whimpering again, she struggled to roll over onto her side. Now her shoulder got in the way, and she wound up with her feet tucked under her, her ass in the air, her useless fingers clawing at nothing.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, all but straddling her.

“Let me go! Goddamn you, let me go!”

“I can't.” With that, he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off the floor. Carrying her against his hip with her head hanging down, he strode over to the bed and all but threw her at it. “Don't move!”

Feeling too much like a chastised puppy, she rolled as best she could onto her side and watched as he walked over to the closest camera. After doing something with the equipment, he leaned down and looked through the viewfinder. She had no doubt that she filled the screen.

“This is me, Master X,” he said. His voice sounded stilted as if he wasn't accustomed to talking to an audience. “I've been running a video of this room and its potential for several days now, both because I wanted to make sure everything was working properly and because—hell, because I wanted to give viewers something to look forward to.”

He pushed a button and then another. There was a faint whirring sound followed by a replay of what he'd just said. Nodding, he pushed a button again.

“Sorry for the delay. Just making sure the audio and visual feeds are coming through. I apologize for the grainy quality of the picture you're seeing, but I have my reasons for hiding my slave's identity. Before I captured her, she was a bit of a public figure. My ultimate wish is for her to have value in another arena, one I hope certain individuals can give me access to. Because of the nature of the public arena she worked in, I've come to the conclusion that now isn't the time or place to reveal it. However, I'm a boastful man. I want viewers to see what a prize I have and to applaud my ability to work her. In order for that to happen, you, my audience, must have a clear view of everything. So if you will excuse me for several minutes, I'll get her properly prepared.”

After turning off the camera, at least she assumed that's what he'd done, he walked over to her. Although she'd commanded herself not to, she tried to squirm away from him, but like when she was on the floor, she didn't get far. The only difference was that this time instead of picking her up and tossing her about, he sat on the bed and pulled her over to him.

Then, to her shock, he stroked first her clean but unkempt hair and then her shoulder. She could almost swear she heard him whisper, “I'm sorry.”

The moment of closeness didn't last. His muscles suddenly tense, he rolled her onto her back and straddled her, his weight pressing down on her belly. Knowing it wouldn't do her any good, she put up no battle as he untied her right hand, hauled it over her head and fastened it to the metal headboard. When he was satisfied with its placement, he did the same to her left. Her arms weren't in danger of being pulled out of their sockets, which meant she could put up with the position for a long time, something he undoubtedly knew.

She saw the ball gag coming; she just couldn't do anything about it. Oh, she whipped her head away, but his fingers in her hair brought her back around. Although she clenched her teeth together when he pressed the red ball against her lips, his fingers pinching her nose so limited her ability to breathe that she instinctively opened her mouth. Then he lifted her head and tightened the straps at the back. As if that wasn't enough, he wrapped black tape around and around her mouth and the gag until it covered her from just beneath her nose to her chin.

When she spotted the hated blindfold, she thrashed her head about, and if she could have bitten him she would have happily drawn blood. However, despite her desperate efforts, it didn't take long for him to close her in darkness, and as light faded, she slid into that nothing place where serenity lived. She'd stay there. No matter what he did to her, she'd refuse to come out, refuse to respond.

He stood up again and with his weight no longer pulling her onto her side, she settled onto her back and waited. She also
saw
herself as she had no doubt the camera did, a nearly faceless and naked woman secured to a bed and helpless to prevent whatever her captor decided to do to her.

“She is a beauty,” Reeve was saying in that stilted tone she'd heard earlier. “After all my preparation, I wanted my first time with her to be as perfect as I could make it. I trust that whoever sees this will agree I chose well.”

His voice seemed to be coming closer so maybe she shouldn't have been surprised when he rested his hand on her left breast. Just the same, her heart lurched. “I'm hoping it won't be long before you can see her lovely face, but as I already pointed out, I have my reasons for maintaining public anonymity.” He closed his fingers around her nipple. “I'm a man who believes in putting all his cards on the table so I'm going to spell out my concerns. Although I've certainly paid enough for my personal anonymity, I'd be a fool to assume that money is all it takes. Until I have no doubt that this
adult
site is as private as I've been led to believe, I'm keeping both this location and my slave's identity to myself. The last thing I want or need is law enforcement at the door.” A stretching sensation told her he was pulling up on her breast, undoubtedly for the camera's benefit.

“That concern aside, my goal remains the same—to be accepted by a segment of society I have a considerable amount in common with. I understand the need for a testing or preview process. I wouldn't be interested in joining an association such as yours if the only criteria were the financial ability to pay the dues, plus the necessary slave.”

He was still pulling up on her nipple, making it difficult for her to concentrate on words vital to her understanding of what this was about. Concerned that he'd forgotten her while concentrating on his speech, she moaned and shifted as best as she could.

“Ah, the creature responds. I hope my audience will take note of her reactions. After all, they're key to my acceptance.”

The pressure on her nipple let up a little. “I appreciate the guidelines I was sent,” he continued. “Having a clear-cut standard before me allowed me to see how far I could and was required to go. I must say the boundaries are liberal enough to satisfy my darkest desires. Most likely this creature won't agree, but then her compliance isn't necessary or even desired, is it?”

Oh shit, what was he talking about, and to who? The sense that she'd become a nonentity, a faceless body, grew.

“I'm particularly fond of breast restraints. With that in mind, I selected a creature with large boobs because they show so well in bondage. I would have preferred natural boobs, but they're hard to come by. Be as that may, I assure you that this creature's are both sensitive and responsive.”

When he released her nipple, the renewed blood flow caused her to catch her breath. Doubtless, the camera had picked up the sound, but who was listening? What was that he'd said about her breasts showing well in bondage? If only she could see what he had in mind she might be able to anticipate, to erect her defenses.

A snapping sound she knew all too well froze her. It was close enough to her ear that she had no doubt he was deliberately torturing her with it. “Silver clamps,” he said. “It's a shame she won't be able to see how perfectly they contrast with her flawless flesh, but maybe it's better this way. She'll have no choice but to concentrate on sensation. See how she's holding her breath. She knows what's going to happen, and yet she doesn't. I intend to keep her off balance as much as possible because I'm convinced that the unknown has limitless possibilities when it comes to fully training a sex slave.”

A sex slave? That couldn't be where this was heading, it couldn't!

She was still trying to convince herself of that when he pushed up on the underside of the breast he'd left alone so far. A deep wave of helpless anticipation caught hold, and when he fastened the clamp to her nipple, despite the sharp sting, she lifted her head toward her tormenter, offering her mouth to him. What did she care that her lips were covered by tape and her mouth forced open by the ball gag? The heavy silver now clinging to her nipple had accomplished its purpose. She was in a space she deeply understood and fed off. The difference this time was that role play had become reality. Maybe the only difference.

“I thought about starting off slow, gradually building upon her imprisonment while letting her know that the journey had just begun. But as I hope you will see in due course, this creature is no stranger to the world she's been thrust into. She has certain experiences and tolerances. In order to get past those elements, her education must proceed at a certain speed.”

The way he was talking made her half believe that someone, or more than one someone, had entered the room, but she hoped he was simply talking for the camera's benefit.

His warm fingers on her other breast froze her thoughts. Froze a great deal. She knew what was going to happen, wanted and feared his next movement. He forced her to be patient by running the second clamp over her still-free nipple and from there to ever-widening circles that eventually encompassed her entire breast.

In her mind she saw every exacting detail of the restraint from the clamp itself with its broad, flat surface to the spring-loaded base that caused the clamp to slowly tighten when pulled on. She'd always liked the look of the large clover clamps because they contrasted with her pale flesh and made her think of medieval torture instruments. Fortunately, unlike something from the Middle Ages, modern clamps were incapable of inflicting real damage, not that looking at them would lead the uninformed to that conclusion.

“There,” he said, his word coming at the instant the second clamp imprisoned her other nipple. “I confess to a deep love of the symbolism beneath what you're seeing. Although I've taken control of a small piece of this creature's body, I now rule her completely. She can't think beyond this seizure, can you, slave?” He punctuated his question by shaking the bases, causing a long and low electric charge to attack not just her breasts but her entire body.

She was lost in sensation, caught not by the restraints on her wrists and ankles but something more sensual. Determined not to make a sound, she gnawed on her gag. As she'd suspected, a chain led from one clamp to the other. It lay in the valley between her breasts and created its own heat.

“I've given considerable thought to whether I prefer wrapping my slave in miles of rope, leather, or metal.” Picking up the chain, he drew her breasts together. There's something to be said for nothing but glimpses of flesh under proof of her utter imprisonment, perhaps a hip or shoulder left free to remind her of what she once took for granted.”

Still holding onto the chain, he pressed down on her belly until she half believed he intended to weld her to the bed. Lost between the two sensations, she thrashed her head from side to side.

“On the other hand, I believe the female form, especially one as ripe as this one, deserves to be seen and admired. As I've demonstrated”—a quick tug on the chain—“a great deal of compliance can be attained with a minimum of restraint. I'm looking forward to discussing the relative merits of both approaches with masters of these arts—once I've been accepted for membership. In my public position, I anticipated and demanded that others defer to me, but I'm not so proud that I can't admit I'm a novice in the art of BDSM.”

BDSM? Oh no!

“A novice who is more than eager to further my education. To bring people up to speed, I'm going to give a demonstration of certain aspects of the training techniques I intend to incorporate. If you'll give me a moment—”

He might still be talking but maybe not. Maybe he was doing this as part of a plan to test the limits of her sanity.

What did it matter that he'd released the chain now that he was lightly whipping her midsection. Not once did the thin stinging strands touch her breasts or crawl lower than her mons, and that was the hell of it. He could if he wanted, would when he was ready. And in the meantime, she quivered with every slap.

She'd been struck far harder than this; he had to know that. If she could only hold onto that piece of knowledge! But how could she when the kissing blows came one after another, close, so close to her pussy.