Page 43 of Enslaved

10

DARKNESS.

It became my whole world—in every sense. I thought after the brutal yet tender kiss we shared there would be a spark of hope that he wouldn’t play out some twisted act of revenge. But he did.

He led me into what looked like a mid-size luxury vessel from the outside, but in truth, once you boarded, it was gutted, revealing metal floors with iron nails. The only room that was decadent was a private salon like the one he had on Oasis. And I knew what the room was for—and shuddered as we walked past it.

He chuckled low in his throat, his hand firmly pressed against the small of my back as he pushed me down steep steps, to the underbelly of the boat.

He pulled a thick metal door open, pushing me inside. Chains hung from bolts in the wall. Metal dog bowls sat on the steel floor. It smelled fishy and dank; the only light came from a single bulb in the ceiling with a pull string to turn it on.

“Strip,” he commanded.

“No.”

“Still defying me? Ah,glykiá mou, you’re so sweet…thinking you have any control.”

I lifted my chin. “I’m not undressing for you.”

“Fine,” he snarled, “I’ll enjoy this much more anyway.” He had a knife out in seconds, held the pointed blade to the hollow of my throat. The metal was hot against my flesh. I was more afraid of what was pressing up against my belly than the blade pointed at my throat. His eyes never left mine as he let the blade slip; the pointy tip scraping lightly downward between the center of my breasts, my belly button…he grunted as he drew back letting the flat side of the knife scrape down the zipper covering my mound.

“You’re sick.”

“I never denied it.”

He grabbed the back of my head, thrust his tongue into my mouth and pushed me back against the rough wall. Despite my reluctance to be his prisoner my body wanted him…wanted his rough seduction to pull me under again.

One fist jerked the fabric away from my skin as the tip of the blade slashed down. He stared at me with nostrils flaring as the tattered fabric hung, exposing my naked flesh from the waist down.

“Christ, you're beautiful,” he groaned, letting the blade circle my nipples that hardened at its touch. I bit my lip, trying not to shift my weight. My thighs ached, needing friction. Maybe I’m just as sick as him? Why else would I be so turned on by a monster cutting the clothes off my body?

I waited for him to touch me with his mouth; his hands. But only the warm steel ran over my skin. He traced every curve, every vein when I moved he blocked me by using his forearm just below my throat to pin me in.

Then his tongue was there. Following the path of the knife, they both slid over my skin; hot metal and rough tongue. Each circling my breasts then one would circle the opposite of the other.

My arms that hung limply by my side awoke, clinging to him as he took each peak into his mouth, sucking, gently. But I knew the beast was there, under the surface. Despite his gentle touch now, I knew it would soon turn rough and hard.

I moaned, hands sliding to the back of his head, my fingers weaving through the black silk of his hair.

The pressure of his forearm moved to my throat. My eyes flew open as his dark face filled with anger. He drew back the blade turning it sideways and struck my nipples twice.

I screamed as the metal slapped my sensitive tips. In shock,my eyes lowered, real fear flooding through me as tiny drops of red dripped down my chest.

“Don’t touch me unless you are given permission, little dove. Your training starts now. Do you understand?”

My mind was too numb to answer. He jerked my chin up. “Yes, Master, is the answer I’m looking for.”

“I’m not your slave.”

His reply was to drop the knife and rip my shorts off. Then he picked up the blade by the tip, turned it upside down, so the onyx handle faced up. “No! What are you doing!” I choked out backing away, frantically trying to escape.

“I didn’t want to do this…actually, I did. Punishing you makes me hornier than fuck, little dove. But I was going to curb my urge to chain you. Say goodbye to your freedom. I’m clipping your wings.”

He sounded mad, talking in flowery language and hyperbole, I screamed as he clasped the first shackle around my wrist.

“Please—Christos, don’t. I’m begging you…”

“You had your chance. I gave you one; now I’m taking what I always wanted from you. From the second your resumé landed on my desk, I’ve been planning your abduction for months, little one. Do you know how many nights, I stroked myself, imagining this very moment?”

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