CapturedbytheSS, page 20
“Shh, calm down.”
“I thought you liked to see me cry,” I challenge, feeling angry at the whole damn world right now.
His firm lips press against the back of my neck, and I shudder from the sensation.
“Not like this. Your crying during sex is different, and you know it.”
I sniffle as he plants soft kisses up and down the nape of my neck. True to his word, he does indeed take his time. After several minutes, my breath finally stops catching.
“How do you feel now?” he whispers. His words flutter across my flesh.
“Safe,” I admit. A brief wave of panic courses through me. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
“Good.” His tongue draws a line from the top of my spine to the edge of my hair. “You are safe.”
His gentle kissing and licking causes wetness to pool between my thighs. His hand slides under me and cups my mound. Nimble fingers gently caress my nub, coaxing me to orgasm. I cry out softly as his skilled fingers massage my clit. He doesn’t drag out my release the way he usually does. After several minutes, he gently propels me onto my back.
“Better?”
Actually, I do feel better. “Yes.”
His firm lips press against mine as his arousal prods at my slit. He enters me slowly. He simply holds me against him, keeping himself sheathed inside me. There’s only the sound of our breathing.
“Perhaps this was my fault,” he whispers. “Maybe I should have talked to you about your training instead of telling you to not think about it, but for the future, I want you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“If something is bothering you, really bothering you, tell me, wake me. Don’t hide in the dark and cry alone like that. I don’t ever want to find you like that again.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“No, promise me.”
“I promise I won’t hide like that again if I’m upset.”
As if to reward me, he kisses my forehead. “Good girl.”
He holds me tighter as his cock glides in and out of me at a quickened pace. He doesn’t drag out my release but instead stops just before my orgasm turns painful. He reaches his own breaking point shortly after I do. He collapses next to me and takes me in his arms.
I can feel myself drifting to sleep, and I bury my face against his pec, seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace. He holds me tight against his muscular body as if I’m the most valuable possession in the entire world.
Chapter Nine
Sitting on the bed, I hear the front door close. I press stop on the handheld game and wait for him to reach the bedroom. A few days ago, he brought me this electronic device. I thought it would be a boring video game, but it actually requires a lot of memorization to solve puzzles and riddles. The game also adjusts for skill. It’s progressively getting more difficult for me, but I like it. It keeps my mind occupied when I’m not working out.
As he nears the bedroom, a ripple of genuine nervousness courses through me. I’ve been his prisoner now for a couple of weeks, and the only thing predictable about our relationship is the unpredictability. Sometimes when he comes home, he ties me up, ravishes me and then fucks me into unconsciousness. Other times, he slips under the covers next to me, takes me in his arms and we simply cuddle for several hours before he feeds me dinner. And sometimes still, he unlocks my leash, leads me to his office at the end of the hall and has me kneel on the floor next to him while he quietly works at his laptop.
Once, only once, he took me to his cellar. It’s basically a home gym down there. He tied my wrists above my head to a piece of exercise equipment and flogged me. But it wasn’t like the first time he did it. It was more intense. I actually came in the middle of it, just from the flogging alone. After I came and while he continued to flog me, he started asking me questions and even though he didn’t drug me, I willingly answered everything, not because he was hurting me or torturing the answers out of me but simply because…I needed to tell him.
He asked me what I thought of my parents and what I thought of my government. I don’t remember the specific answers I gave him. But I do remember the emotions that poured through me—the despair that my parents sold me to my government, the betrayal that my government decided my fate. But above all else, I remember the rage.
After the emotional storm passed and he purged me of the pent-up anger I didn’t even know I had, he assaulted my body with a steady stream of strange toys and clamps. He said it was my punishment for withholding information from him. He told me I wasn’t allowed any secrets or buried resentment. He made me feel things I’ve never imagined. Some of it hurt a little, like the metal clamps he placed on my nipples and pussy lips…but it didn’t hurt in a bad way. He called it erotic pain.
He also introduced me to dildos and plugs. At first I pouted, wanting his cock and not a toy, but he showed me how a dildo could fill my sheath while he mercilessly fucked my ass. He called it double penetration.
At the very end, after he untied me and just before he carried my spent and exhausted body upstairs, he told me to call him Master, which I did, not because I was afraid of him or because I didn’t want to provoke him, but because in that brief and strange moment, he was my Master.
I’m still struggling emotionally with what happened in his cellar. I haven’t called him Master since then and he hasn’t asked me to again.
The bedroom door opens. As usual, he’s dressed in his uniform, except his coat is draped over his arm. But today, he’s carrying several brightly colored gift bags. I’m too nervous to even wonder what’s in the bags, worrying instead we’re going downstairs to his cellar again. He tilts his head at me.
“You look nervous,” he declares, setting down the gift bags on the floor by the bed. He drapes his coat over the footboard.
I only shrug, trying to look aloof.
“In case you’re wondering, I’m not taking you down to the cellar tonight.”
Relief washes through me.
He walks closer to me and then kneels down on the floor. “Although I do think it’s time we talk about what happened down there.”
I only shrug again in a feeble attempt to be nonchalant.
“No response?” he prods.
“I don’t know,” I barely whisper.
“Well, I think you liked what I did to you, and I think you liked calling me Master, but I also think it scared you because it was more intense than what we usually do, which is why you’re nervous about going back in my cellar.”
It unnerves me just how well he knows me. My eyes unwillingly meet his. “Maybe,” I reluctantly whisper.
“Maybe,” he mutters, tilting his head. The skull pin on his hat catches the light as he moves. He polished it last night along with every buckle and snap on his belt.
He rises up a bit before gently kissing my forehead. “The only remedy for our situation is time, American. Now stop worrying. I won’t take you back down there until I know you’re ready.”
A bit nervously, I fiddle with the electronic game still in my hands. My captor is beginning to bring out deeper and even more confusing emotions from me. Unable to say anything, I simply stare at the mute device in my hands.
“You still like your toy?” he asks.
“Uh…yes, I do.” I look up at him. “Very much.” I’m relieved he changed the subject. It still kinda freaks me out just how easy it was to call him Master.
“I thought you might. I purchased the most difficult level for you, so it should stay challenging.” He turns toward the colored gift bags on the floor.
“What’s in the bags?” I ask, putting down the game.
“I bought you a few things. I want to take you to the opera tonight.”
Giddiness washes through me. “Out? Really?”
“I was thinking you’ve been cooped up for a couple of weeks now. I thought you’d like a night out.”
“Yes, I would.”
“But if you give me any trouble, I’ll never take you out again.”
I wasn’t even thinking about trying anything, but I’m not going to admit that to him. “I understand,” I reply evenly.
“Good. I trust you can figure out what to do with all this.”
“What is it?” I ask, kneeling on the floor next to the bags.
“Some of it is makeup, there are also some shoes. I basically purchased anything I thought you might need. I also had a designer make a gown for you. I gave him your blue dress to use as a pattern, so the gown should fit. If not, I had the blue one cleaned. They’re both in this box.” He points to a rectangular-shaped red box that’s peeking out of a matching gift bag.
“When I was in the designer’s studio, I saw a dress hanging up. I thought it would look nice on you, and the designer told me it should be your size. It’s not appropriate for tonight, but I’d like to see it on you sometime in the spring.”
Spring? It’s still technically fall, though winter is just around the corner. He’s buying me clothes for spring?
He picks up a small silver gift bag. “And this bag has your jewelry.” He sets it on the nightstand by the bed. “Since you’ll be on my arm tonight, you’ll be expected to be in jewelry. I bought some pieces that flatter both the blue and the red, though I’d prefer the red tonight. I trust you can prepare yourself in four hours.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Very good. I’ll be in my office working.”
With a polite nod, he turns and leaves me. I’m curious about the bags’ contents, and I debate where I should begin.
I decide to look at the jewelry first and open the silver bag on the nightstand. There are several white boxes inside, and I eagerly retrieve one. I carefully pull off the small lid. There’s a black, velvet box inside, and I gently open it. It’s a pair of earrings.
I’m certainly not an expert on such matters, but the earrings look like rubies and diamonds. They’re almost too ornate to be real. I tilt the earrings toward the light, and the clear stones reflect intense shades of orange and yellow. I don’t know if they’re real or not but they’re beautiful, and if they are real, which they probably are, they must have cost a considerable fortune. Not wanting to lose them, I close the velvet box.
I decide to stow them in the top drawer of the nightstand until I’m ready to put them on. Pulling out another box, which is bigger, I find a necklace that matches the earrings. It’s just as ornate with three thick rows of what look like diamonds and rubies. A large teardrop pendant, heavy with red and clear stones, immediately catches my eye. Like the earrings, the clear stones reflect intense hues of orange and yellow.
After stowing the necklace next to the earrings, I reach in the bag and retrieve another small box. It’s another pair of earrings, only it has clear and blue stones. The design is a little different, but they’re just as elaborate and beautiful. I can only guess that the stones are sapphires and diamonds, but I’m not sure.
After carefully going through the bag, I learn he bought me two pairs of earrings, two necklaces and two bracelets. One matching set looks like rubies and diamonds while the other looks like sapphires and diamonds.
Somehow, I can’t quite process that he just bought me so much expensive jewelry. It’s not that I’m so materialistic that I’m swayed by his bank balance, it’s just that…would he spend this much money just to turn around and kill me? Can I really trust him?
I neatly stow the jewelry in the top drawer of one of the empty nightstands. After ensuring I took everything out of the gift bag, I pull the tissue paper out, fold it up and then flatten the bag.
I move to a large pink bag on the floor and then carefully kneel down next to it. This bag is lined with pink and gold tissue paper. There are several bottles inside including a bottle of body wash, a tube of face wash, shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, face moisturizer, body splash, bubble bath, body powder and a pink bath sponge. All of the bottles have matching pink and gold labels, very feminine.
I open the bottle of shampoo and bring it to my nose. It smells like flowers. I close the shampoo before setting it down on the floor with the other bath products. Wanting to keep everything organized, I decide to stow the bath products in the bottom drawer of the same nightstand, at least for now. I may leave a few things in the bathroom later.
Rummaging through another bag, which is pink and black and also lined with tissue paper, I find another bottle of face moisturizer, foundation, concealer, powder, blush, eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick, as well as a set of makeup brushes, a mirror, a makeup bag and a bottle of makeup remover. Looking at the colors, I realize he even got flattering shades that match my skin tone.
In the same pink and black bag, there’s also three bottles of perfume and some scented body lotion. I can tell all of it is higher-end cosmetics and fragrances.
I neatly stow the makeup and perfume in the second drawer of the same nightstand, glancing briefly at a clock to check the time. In another bag, which is black-and-white, I find a hair brush, a comb, hair gel, mousse, hair spray and some kind of mysterious, goopy product in a jar.
There’s also a hair dryer, a curling iron, a hair straightener and a crimping wand. I also find some bobby pins, which makes me laugh because that’s how I picked his handcuffs the first night. Chuckling to myself about the bobby pins, I also find some rubber bands and hairclips.
I discard as much of the packaging as I can before neatly stowing the hair products in the same drawer as the cosmetics. I add the packaging, the empty gift bag and the folded tissue paper to my neat pile next to the nightstand. Giddiness washes over me. This is fun—tearing through tissue paper, opening gift bags and boxes.
There are still four gift bags left to explore. In a smaller, simpler bag, I find some products that give me a little more pause. There are three toothbrushes, more body lotion and face moisturizer—even though there was some in the other bags—disposable razors, antiperspirant, nail clippers, three bottles of nail polish, a small manicure kit, toothpaste, a loofah and some feminine hygiene products. There are also several fashion magazines, some paperback books and even bubble gum. It all screams so…long-term.
I can’t help but smile at all the products he bought. It’s as if he went to several stores and told the staff, “Sell me everything a woman would use,” which apparently they did.
There’s some room left in the bottom drawer of the same nightstand, and I store the drug store items alongside the bath products he bought me, though I stack the magazines and paperback books on the top.
I turn to the large red bag he pointed to earlier, the one he said had the dress in it. I pull the box out and set it on the bed before carefully opening it. Wrapped in gold tissue paper is a folded red dress. Pulling it out, I realize it’s heavy with elaborate beadwork. It’s much more ornate than my blue dress.
In the same box, I find my old blue dress, clean and folded in some tissue paper. After setting aside the two dresses, I find the third dress on the bottom, the one he said he wanted me to wear in the spring.
It’s bright pink with spaghetti straps. I hold it up to my body. It hits me about mid-thigh. It’s adorned here and there with satin ribbons and tiny bows. He’s right. It’s very spring. To be honest, the pink dress kinda freaks me out. Again and again, he keeps making this sound long-term. Curious about whether or not it’ll fit, I slip off his button-down shirt and quickly slip on the flared pink dress. I walk to the mirror and take in my image. It fits.
I’m not sure why, but I want to show him what it looks like. I quickly dismiss trying to get his attention though. He said he wanted me to get ready for tonight, besides, I don’t know what the hell I’d call him. A part of me is tempted to call him Master again, as I did in his cellar…but I don’t. I slip the pink dress off and walk back to the bed before setting it down. I’m torn between trying on the red dress next or going through the other bags. I decide to explore the other gift bags next. I slip his dress shirt back on, just to keep warm.
In the next bag, I find three pairs of shoes that match each dress as well as a lovely red wrap and my navy coat.
The thick wrap, which beautifully matches the red dress, is also padded and lined with something plush and soft. There’s even a small, zippered pouch on the inside that’s just big enough for a few small items. I’m actually grateful for the wrap. It’ll probably be cold outside, and it might be chilly in the theater. My captor is quite good at anticipating my wants and needs.
I’m tempted to tidy up a bit. I’d like to hang up some clothes and put away the extra shoes, but I have no idea if the ensemble he wants me to wear tonight will even fit. I may have to wear the blue out of sheer necessity.
A bit hesitantly, I slip on the lovely red shoes first. Heavy with beadwork and elaborate crystals, they almost look like jewelry for my feet. Holding my breath, I sit on the bed and strap them on. I cautiously stand up. Much to my relief they fit, except they’re a bit spikier than I’m used to.
I once again shrug off his button-down shirt before tossing it on the bed.
I pick up the beaded red dress before gingerly slipping it over my head. It’s beautiful, and I’m a little nervous that the dress won’t fit me right, which is why I think I hesitated to try it on earlier.
After letting the ankle-length garment fall around me, I reach for the zipper, which is actually on the side, and zip it up. Much to my relief, I can zip it! And it feels like it fits. I walk to the mirror and study my reflection. Not only does it fit, but it even hits me in all the right places. My blue dress was from a consignment shop and it was a little too big for me, but the red dress fits me much better. My captor must have gotten my exact measurements at one point. There’s no other explanation.
Looking back, I do remember him knocking me out the first night after the initial interrogation. I know enough about Nazi procedures to know he probably took measurements and even collected some blood that first night while I was out. He might have even stripped and examined me. I think I’m looking for a reason to be mad at him. But…for the life of me, I can’t find any anger for him.
