Title: The Mansion
Chapter 1: The Capture
Chapter 2: The Training
Chapter 3: The Tradition Continues
Chapter 4: The Homecoming
Introduction: A Slave Training Center where family traditions don't come
without a price.
Word Count: 30,540
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Chapter 1 - The Capture
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She sat on the long leather couch watching him across the room. His breathing
was deep and even, sleeping off the effects of the drug she'd used on him
earlier in the night.
She smiled slowly with the memory of that time, some hours before, when she'd
set out for the club. She'd dressed perfectly, the short skirt of her dress
tasteful, meant to draw attention to her long tanned legs. Her bodice, a corset
actually, just peeking out from the hem and molding to her flat stomach and size
36 chest.
Her long legs were enhanced by the almost 'stiletto style heel of her shoes,
causing her muscles to ripple and flex with each step. She'd braided her long
hair, the plait swinging almost with a mind of it's own well beneath her
buttocks, drawing the warranted attention to the smooth round globes.
She walked into the club knowing full well that every eye drew to her as she did
so, but she only had eyes for one. She'd watched him for weeks, each Friday and
Saturday, dancing with various women to the modern pop/rock beats of the DJ.
His body rippled, contorting with sleek muscles as he moved. His slightly long
hair whipping this way and that as he contorted himself to the beat. His legs,
nearly as long as hers moved him about the floor with confidence and grace.
As she'd watched and planned, she'd known that he would be perfect. Each night
that she'd 'eyed' him he'd left with a different woman, but she knew he lived
alone having followed him one night weeks before. The women never stayed more
than a few hours and always left with a smile.
She'd taken the time to find out exactly who he was from the license plate on
his jeep through her connections. Dillon....Dillon Ryder was his name she'd
found out shortly after first having seen him at the club.
He had his own shipping business, though he was only 28, having inherited it
from his grandfather a few years before. The business was doing relatively well,
though it could do better. She knew Dillion wasn't 'struggling' financially, nor
was the business, but he didn't dedicate his time to it as his grandfather had
and it would soon fall to the wayside. Unless it was bailed out.
Which is where she came in, she mused with a soft smile as she stared at him
from across the room again. She rose off the couch then and walked across the
room to where he was bound tightly in a large chair. Her slim fingered hand
reached out and caressed his bent head lightly and she smiled softly again.
She stood over him, her hand lightly caressing the back of his bent head, as she
mused over how 'easy' it had been to capture his attention at the club that
night. Dressed as many of the other women to share his bed before her had been,
Dillon almost 'immediately' narrowed in on her.
It had been an easy, casual night of dancing for them both with Dillon staying
close to her all through the night, as she knew he would. He was an easy 'mark',
as she'd studied him extensively in the weeks previous. She knew 'how' he liked
his women to act, what 'body signals' set him off and turned him on.
It had been 'so' simple to cajole him into to taking her back to his place. Even
easier to slip the harmless sleeping pill into his soda once they were there.
Within moments of his first sip, he was out like a light, and she was on the
phone. The pill she'd given him was entirely harmless with only the mildest of
headaches as an after effect, but it was enough to ensure that his transport to
'her' home went off without a hitch.
She snapped her fingers then and a soft rustling came to her out of the shadows,
along with a slight clink of chain as her first slave shuffled forward on his
knees. He came to rest before her, head bent to his chest and awaited her
command silently.
She reached out and touched his head gently, smiling as she did so pleased with
his training thus far. "You do well Jarron." she said softly, stroking his head.
"You'll be ready for sale soon." she added.
His head whipped up at that, and his wide eyes stared at her pleadingly. Her
smile widened slightly and she stroked his cheek around the heavy leather strap
of the large ball gag in his mouth. "Yes, that's right.....sale."
He grunted slightly, the noise muffled by the ball, and a single tear escaped
him. "You knew the contract wasn't permanent with me Jarron." she said, turning
away from his pleading eyes as she said it.
She reached out and stroked Dillon's long hair then, her smile bright and
luminous with expectation at the coming months he would be in her 'care'.
Just as she'd broken Jarron, who now lowered his head again at her feet, she
would break Dillon in time. They always broke. They always had and they always
would.
"Prepare him...." she said by way of soft command as she turned and left the
room locking the single door behind her with a heavy click of finality.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dillon was jarred awake by a rush of cold water on his face. He jerked in
reaction, his brain fuzzy for a moment, then slowly clearing. At first his
sluggish body took a moment to catch up to his mind and he gulped heavily, his
jaw aching.
~Had he been in a fight?~ he wondered. He remembered going to the club,
remembered dancing with a nameless woman. Remembered going back to his place as
he had so many nights. Remembered her offer of a drink...then blackness.
He lifted his pounding head from where it had slumped forward and blinked open
his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the
room and he wondered again if maybe he'd fallen asleep on the poor woman and
rolled off the couch. It would certainly account for his aching jaw...and mild
headache. He must have bumped his head on the coffee table when he rolled off he
concluded as he started to rise.
But his arms and legs wouldn't respond and he shifted his dazed eyes down the
length of his body to try and figure out why. It took another moment for his
brain to register that he was sitting up, his legs held firmly to a chair by
five, heavy leather straps that buckled over his naked thighs.
He shifted again and felt another wide belt around his waist and yet another
around his wide, muscular chest. He tried to lift his arm then and found five
more leather straps holding them immobile against the hard wood beneath them. He
could only move his hands and head he suddenly realized as he came into full
awareness.
He began to struggle then, flexing his muscles against the bonds. He mumbled to
himself, or tried too until he realized 'why' his jaw was aching so. It was
being held wide by something hard and round, pushed back behind his teeth and
strapped behind his head.
"MMMMMPHHHPPPPHHHHTTTTTT....." he screamed out in that moment, the sound barely
reaching his own ears as he struggled futilely against the heavy leather.
"Shhhhhh......" whispered a soft voice next to his ear, as a hand reached out
and stroked the back of his head. "There's no need to be afraid......." it
continued gently. "I won't hurt you.......much......."
He whipped his head around and his eyes grew wide at the sight beside him. The
nameless woman he remembered dancing with that night stood tall and proud next
to the heavy wood of the chair. But she'd changed from what he vaguely
remembered. Instead of the short skirt, tight fitting top, and high heels she'd
worn at the club, she now wore something that looked like medieval armor of some
sort. Or something off that TV show Xena.
She even 'vaguely' looked like the actress that played the character. Long legs
were now encased in high leather looking boots. Flat stomach, high breasts, and
wide shoulders were now held erect by a heavy looking leather corset of bright
red. Her long midnight black hair, which he 'vaguely' remembered being braided,
was now flowing freely all about her as if it had a mind of it's own.
She smiled, though it didn't 'quite' reach her eyes and reached out again to
stroke his head like a child. She bent close then, her face inches from his as
she whispered. "Please don't struggle so Dillon." she said, her tone calm and
even. "It's useless and I don't want you hurt......anymore than I deem
necessary....." she added as her brilliant green eyes lit with something almost
akin to passion.
"MMMMMMMPPPPPHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTT....." he cried against the hard rubber in his
mouth, his eyes pleading for understanding as to what was happening to him.
"Shhhhhh....." she said again, her long nailed fingers reaching out to caress
his chest like a lover. "All will become clear in time...." she added as she
turned and walked a short distance from him.
"MMMMMMMPPPPHHHHHTTTTTTTTT....." he cried out again as she left him to seat
herself on a wide leather couch he could just make out on the other side of the
room. He began to struggle against the bonds holding him to the chair,
unsuccessfully trying to throw his considerable weight against the hard wood to
move it.
He realized as she sat calmly and snapped her fingers once, that the heavy chair
was bolted to the floor and indeed his struggles were futile until 'she' decided
to unbuckle him. He felt a 'faint' glimmer of hope that that was going to happen
as he heard someone else in the room shuffling toward her seated position. He
tilted his head to see behind him for a moment as the shuffling noise grew
louder and his eyes widened with something close to fear as another handsome
male moved forward from the shadows.
His wrists were cuffed by two heavy rings of leather and held to his waist by a
single, sturdy looking padlock. A weight lifters belt encircled his trim waist
and Dillon saw it was locked too at the small of his back as he passed. A thin
chain ran from the back to his feet, locked with similar padlocks to the heavy
looking cuffs at his ankles. A short length of chain kept the poor man hobbled,
accounting for his shuffling gait as he passed by Dillon's seated position.
He wore a hard rubber ball in his mouth of bright blue, the leather holding it
there locked behind his head. He made no struggling moves, as if he were
resisting his bondage, but instead shuffled over to the nameless woman a manila
envelope clutched in his bound hands. He came to a stop in front of her seated
position and bent his knees gracefully. Without error, he ended his descent in
front of her, head bowed to his chest in reverence.
She leaned off the couch slightly and took the envelope from his hands, patting
his head much as one would a child that had done a good deed. She sat back
again, lifting one long leg over the arm of the couch next to her.
A graceful hand snaked out and turned on the light on the table next to the end
of the couch and she smiled slightly as she flipped open the envelope in her
hands.
Dillon realized belatedly that the corset she wore didn't cover her private
areas and she was now fully exposed to his wide eyed view. He struggled again,
futilely pulling at the heavy leather encasing his body, his hands clenching and
unclenching tightly as he did so.
"MMMMMPPPPHHHHHTTTTTT....." he screamed out again, though the sound barely
traveled across the large room. With the secondary light on now, he could make
out more of the room he was being held in and realized with a start of fear that
it was a dungeon. Or a basement, though he couldn't tell which.
Numerous pieces of equipment, some heavy looking wood, some leather, loomed in
the shadows, their straps hanging loosely toward the floor. Behind the couch on
which she sat was another one, their backs facing one another and beyond that
was a massive entertainment center complete with TV, videos, VCR and what he
'thought' might be a DVD player or satellite system.
She smiled as she flipped one of the pages in her hand, scooting a bit further
down on the couch in open invitation to the male at her feet. The male groaned
heavily behind the rubber in his mouth, shaking with anticipation in his bonds,
but he didn't move toward her yet. It was then that a spark of silver at his
waist captured Dillions attention and he noted the heavy looking bikini style
underwear the man seemed to be wearing.
He saw the poor fellows hands clenching and unclenching at his waist, as if
stretching out to touch himself. He saw the poor fellow discretely scratch at
the metal encasing his genitals, shifting forward slightly, his breathing heavy
and ragged as it expanded his wide muscular chest.
The woman's eyes rose from the pages in her hands and she looked directly at the
muscle bound man at her feet. She nodded once, crisply, before her eyes dropped
again to the pristine white pages.
Fascinated, Dillon could only watch in disbelief and utter perversion as the
male scooted forward deftly and dipped his head between her thighs with a soft
moaning sound. One of the woman's hands rose from the folder she held and almost
absently stroked his head as he 'rooted' around her vagina.
She sighed softly as the male was set to the task of pleasuring her, though
bound as he was he could use no more than his nose to bring her pleasure.
He saw the man shift closer, pulling in futility at his bound wrists and trying
to grasp himself in that moment. The woman seeming to sense this, lifted her
hand from his head to the back of the couch. When it came back into his view she
held a long horseriders crop. She flicked it once, and Dillon jerked in reaction
to the stinging sound of leather on flesh even from across the room.
The male grunted loudly, though he knew it was a scream of pain as the leather
was laid across his back. His hands stilled their grasping motions at his
genitals and he settled back on his thighs, head still between her legs,
thoroughly chastised it seemed for his misdeed.
She turned then, back to the folder in her hands and began to read aloud.
"Dillon Ryder.....28.....6'2".....210 lb......black hair, worn slightly long
despite current business standards......blue green eyes....."
Her own eyes rose to lock with his across the room and she smiled softly. "I
think they are more gray....." she stated with soft conviction, "But it may just
be the lighting here...we'll see...."
The same twinkling smile that didn't quite reach her eyes came at him and he
visibly flinched at the passion held within their depths. She continued to read.
"Owns Ryder Shipping...." she stated softly, her tone even and calm. "Born in
Los Angeles California....mother deceased...father left when you were just a
babe......"
Again her eyes rose from the file in her hands and she tisked at him. "I wonder
if he's as good looking as you...." she queried with a thoughtful nod. "It bears
investigating..." she stated before going to the file once more. "Worked hard
through high school to support your ailing mother at the time until your
Grandfather died, leaving you the business. Graduated Cal-State with honors in
the top 2% as part of his will to own the company......"
She flipped a page and continued after a moment. "No girlfriend...no brothers or
sisters......Business in a 'bit' of trouble......"
Her eyes rose to his again, twinkling in the space between them as she spoke her
next words. "Nothing that couldn't be solved with an influx of new contracts
though......" she said with a knowing smile.
She rose from the couch then, pushing the struggling man at her feet away gently
and came across the room. The heels of her boots rang out in the room with
confidence and pride as she stalked across the room, the smile that didn't quite
reach her eyes large and prominent. She bent forward as the reached the chair
and pulled something loose from it's arm.
As she did so, his arm snapped upwards and out to his side, like half of a "T"
and remained there despite his attempts to pull it back down toward him.
Whatever the chair was made of, it locked him there sturdily. She bent the other
way and did the same, having the same reaction with his other arm after the
briefest of pauses.
Dillon moaned in pain against the hard rubber in his mouth and bucked against
the restraints again. Despite himself, as she read off his life's history in
short order, he'd felt himself reacting to her voice, her tone, and the man
rooting around between her legs. She'd paid him no attention until she'd moved
him away from her to rise, as if the whole thing was common place to her.
He was semi-hard now, his long penis stretching out against his muscular thigh.
He heaved his hips at the belt across his waist for a moment, then settled back
with wide eyes as she swung one long leg over his and seated herself there.
Almost immediately he could feel the warm heat emanating from her nether regions
against the skin of his thigh. His genitals leaped into painful awareness as she
rubbed the length of his long thighs, leaving a sweet smelling trail of her
woman's juices as she did so.
Her long nailed hand reached between them and touched him gently for a moment,
before clasping lightly around his growing shaft and dancing along it's length.
Dillon moaned despite himself and his mind cried out in denial as she brought
him to a full erection within seconds of her first touch.
~How could this be happening.....~ he wanted to scream as he bucked and heaved
at the restraints holding him to the hard chair. ~Why was she doing this.....~
His eyes rose to hers above him and pleaded with her, mumbling against the hard
rubber in his mouth as he did so and straining forward at the same time.
~Please.....~ he wanted to beg, feeling utterly helpless for the first time in
his young life. ~Oh gods above...please...let this all be some horrific
nightmare......~ he begged silently, his tortured eyes roaming over her smooth
features.
His head strained forward as it was the only thing that could move in that
moment, trying to...no 'needing' to touch her then despite his minds denial that
he was bound, gagged and about to be raped by this deliciously gorgeous woman.
She grinned above him, watching the emotions flicker across his expressive face
and through his eyes in those first moments. The denial...the anger...the
incomprehension......and finally the desire. Desire for her. His expressive
face was one of the reasons she'd chosen him in those first weeks. It was one of
the things she looked for when scouting for a new slave to train. An expressive
face and eyes. In those first weeks she'd seen his flicker with laughter, smile
with passion, brighten with joy and pleasure. All of the things that made for a
good slave. So many had learned to 'hide' their emotions from the outside world,
but not Dillon...not Jarron...and so many others that she'd lost count over the
years.
She moved again, sliding up the length of his thighs until she poised herself
just above his long, rock hard shaft. "Is this what you want?" she asked softly.
Dillon nodded helplessly, gulping against the ball, his eyes pleading and full
of desire despite where he was in that moment.
She slid slowly down his length and he groaned softly behind the gag, straining
forward against the restraints with considerable effort to reach her. To touch
her...to be allowed to react to what she was doing to him.
He gulped against the ball again, loudly, and groaned as she rose off him
slightly before sliding back again, sheathing him fully despite the chair in
which he was bound.
She smiled, as he pleaded with her, using a combination of soft whimpering
sounds, moans and sighs through the gag. She took both cheeks in her long nailed
hands and rubbed the pads of her thumbs over his high cheekbones. Tears pooled
in his expressive eyes at his helplessness as she rose and fell along his length
for a long time.
She brought him to the brink of an orgasm several times in the next moments,
holding him tightly with nothing more than her wet womanhood until finally he
thought his heart would burst with the pain and agony of it all. The
helplessness....the wanting....the desire. Even her smell began to become
intoxicating to his senses. It was like flowers, with just a hint of musk, one
thing he'd always loved. That sweet smell of a woman's vagina just when it was
on the verge of her own pleasure.
He rolled, bucking and heaving against his bonds in his effort to be free and
enjoy this moment himself. He tried to plead with her through the gag, the
sounds he made incomprehensible to even him.
She rode him like no one else ever had before, her body teasing and cajoling his
manhood with just a tickle of her hair each time she rose and fell. His
breathing became ragged against the ball in his mouth and he gulped several
times trying unsuccessfully to stop the desire she was causing him to feel.
~Oh gods above...make this stop....~ he mentally begged, whimpering behind the
gag. ~Don't stop.....no.....~ he added to himself, leaning his head back with
another moan as she rose again off him. The air touched his slick manhood and he
groaned again, needing her to finish this before he mentally snapped.
The torture was existiqutely painful and totally controlled by her no matter how
much he bucked and strained to be free in those moments. Finally, she pulled his
head back and locked her eyes with his. "Do you want me?" she asked by way of
soft command.
Again, Dillon could only nod helplessly, his eyes tearing with emotion as he
gulped loudly. ~Oh yes....gods yes.....~ his mind screamed. ~Please...yes....~
his eyes seemed to beg her.
"Then you'll have to earn it....." she said, her voice turning almost cold and
wicked as she rose from the chair and moved away leaving him dangling just on
the edge of relief.
He screamed out then, the sound muffled, and strained with renewed effort to be
free. The cold blast of air on his manhood brought a shock to his system that
threatened to stop his heart in that moment. He whimpered against the ball,
lifting his head and straining forward again, his eyes begging and pleading with
her as she turned away from him.
She snapped her fingers and the other male rose from his unmoved position at the
couch and shuffled forward on chained feet again. "He's ready...." she said,
though Dillon knew that he'd undoubtedly heard her riding him.
The male nodded, his nose still holding a fine coating of her juices and came
around behind the chair. Dillon heard a soft his, then felt the chair begin to
rise pulling him into a standing position after a moment by way of hidden
hydraulics.
He gulped as his rock hard erection stood out from his loins, still dripping her
juices and some of his own. He strained against his bonds again, knowing that if
he could just 'touch' himself to something he'd go over the edge, but the design
of the chair and his bonds prevented that from happening.
He felt a rush of cold air on his ass and realized with dread that the other
male had dropped the seat away from him. Another soft hiss of hydraulics and his
feet were pulled slowly in opposite directions until he was standing in a "X"
type position.
The woman, his torturer disappeared into the shadows for a moment and he heard a
cabinet open somewhere on the far side of the room. It closed and she reappeared
in the ring of light cast from the lamp on the table, something silver in her
slim hands.
She strode toward him, confidently, and began fitting the device around his
raging erection, crushing it into the small, shadowed pocket he could just make
out in the front of it. Once she had him fully encased in the medieval looking
metal underwear, she bent the back around the cheeks of his ass and momentarily
unbuckled the belt at his waist.
Pulling him forward slightly, she fitted the device tightly around him, then
pushed him back against the board with only a finger. She folded the front of it
to his flat hips and within moments locked the two halves together at his waist
with two small, golden padlocks.
Her eyes rose from her work to lock with his again and this time the smile she
gave him 'did' reach her glowing blue orbs. "You belong to me now...." she
whispered confidently as his own eyes narrowed with hatred for a moment.
He bucked against her hands, his waist free of the restraints and felt his
erection grow painfully hard in the cold metal that now encased him at her
words.
"You'll be allowed to relieve yourself in the bathroom once a day." she stated
as she moved away again and into the shadows of the room. She returned a moment
later with a heavy looking piece of leather in her hands.
Dillon felt the chair being lowered slightly as she stepped forward and slipped
the piece over and behind his head. She fitted it tightly around his neck and
locked the piece around his muscular neck.
He realized belatedly that it was a collar, much as a dog would wear...much as
the other man wore....and too late he tried to duck away. She reached out and
smacked him across the chest hard, the sound ringing out in the silence of the
room like an echo of thunder. "Don't move away from me...." she hissed softly as
he screamed out behind the gag, gulping heavily to catch his breath at the
unexpected and painful slap.
He nodded then, helpless to do more, and his eyes narrowed again with hatred.
But it was more at himself, for the slap had caused his painful erection to pump
against the cold metal between his legs. He bucked once more at the restraints
in self loathing for his reactions then quieted back in seeming defeat, his
breath ragged and choppy as he pulled at the air through his nose.
She moved away again, into the shadows and returned after a moment of rustling
sounds with four long pieces of leather. They looked like leggings to him and a
moment later he found out their intent.
She fitted two of the pieces over his arms, further pinning them to the boards
that held him aloft, and completely immobilizing his hands now. She laced them
tightly against the boards and his arms until he couldn't move a muscle against
the heavy leather. He tried flexing his fingers inside the encasing leather and
found they wouldn't budge in the slightest.
She moved to his long legs then, deftly working the leather up and over his
foot. "These are a special design...." she said as she worked. "The metal in the
top will keep your feet pointed and useless." she said confidently as she worked
the stocking type leather over his heel and up his calf. He felt the metal she
spoke of pushing his foot downward and locking it there, much like a ballerina
in toe shoes. The arch of his foot cramped painfully at the unbending position
then settled in to the position.
Like his arms, she laced the legging around his muscular leg tightly, though
without the board beneath, then strapped him down again. He hadn't 'thought' to
resist as she'd freed his leg that first time, but it occurred to him the second
time. As she undid the straps holding his leg flat, he kicked up and out in
fury, pushing her away from him. His leg free now, he flailed useless with it,
trying to gain purchase on the smooth board to push himself off it.
The woman staggered upright with a dark looking smile and strode away for a
moment as he continued to struggle to push himself toward the board at his arms.
She reappeared with the crop in her hands and he felt the rush of air a moment
before the first blow landed on his wide chest.
He paused in his struggles, his wide eyes turning back to her then looking down
at the rising welt on his chest. She rained four more painful blows across him,
each stronger and harder than the first until he was whimpering with pain and
tears flowed freely from his eyes.
She hadn't said a word as she rained the blows on him, but her eyes spoke of a
calm anger at his actions. "Never touch me without permission...." she said in a
calm tone, dropping the crop on it's cord to hang from her wrist as she worked.
Dillon gulped loudly, staying completely still as she worked the second legging
over his leg and laced it up as tight as the first. He noted somewhere in the
back of his pain filled mind that not once during that beating had she broken
the skin of his chest, nor marked him in a way that wouldn't disappear in a
couple of days.
Still, those blows had hurt.....and a fire burned in their aftermath the likes
of which Dillon had never felt before that moment. It wasn't so much 'painful'
as humiliating....as if he'd been spanked and sent to his room without supper as
a child.
He knew the other man was still standing behind him and he strained to the side,
turning his pleading eyes to him, begging for his help. ~Save me.....~ his
expressive blue eyes pleaded, but the man stood rock still, awaiting the woman's
command.
Which she gave a few moments later. He hadn't felt her do it, but she'd
released his other leg again, though it was held pointed and rigid by the
legging of leather. Both legs free now, he strained upward, kicking out at
something...anything in frustration at his helplessness and the situation.
Another flurry of blows came across his chest then, and he cried out, this time
in pain, for she hit spots just to the side of the first ones. Fire burned in
his chest when she was finished and he dragged at the air in great gulping gasps
through his nose and around the ball in his mouth.
She nodded to the man behind him and Dillon felt the arms of what had been the
chair released, dropping him heavily to the ground unexpectedly. He sagged there
for a moment, then tried to push himself upwards. The pointed metal of the
leggings feet prevented it and he got as far as his knees before realizing the
futility of it. With his arms fully encased in the hard leather, strapped to the
long board beneath, he couldn't bend them, and could only crawl forward on all
fours like an animal.
Which he did, furiously, looking for a means to escape this awful nightmare into
which he'd fallen. As he struggled across the room, he felt her eyes calmly
watching him as he reached the door. He sat back on his calves then, looking at
the knob set higher than normal. He reached out awkwardly with his 'wooden' arms
and tried to gain a purchase on the knob. It was impossible and his 'hands'
slipped away despite his repeated efforts to open it.
He sat back after awhile with a heavy moan of despair and then rose up to bang
his considerable shoulder against the heavy wood. After several tries, he
realized the 'stoutness' of the offensive door and sagged back again onto his
haunches.
"Satisfied?" her voice rang out from behind him.
With a crying whimper, he could only nod in that moment. Bound as he was, he
knew there was no escape in that moment. At least until she gave him some more
freedom in some way.
She stepped around him then, and he felt something click to the front of his
neck. A moment later he felt a gentle tug on the collar of a leash. He had no
choice but to follow on his stilted arms and bent knees.
She pulled him across the room, allowing him to become used to maneuvering in
the strange position without the use of his feet and hands. His shoulder ached,
his jaw ached even more, and he cried silent tears of hopelessness in those
moments. He vowed silently that he 'would' find a way to escape. He would get
free and tell 'everyone' what this woman was doing to him. Had done to him. That
she'd kidnapped him, beaten him, almost raped him, and held him prisoner.
He downcast his eyes, bending his head in seeming submission as she pulled him
gently across the room by the lead at his neck. He whimpered softly, his tears
suddenly drying up in his fury and his frustration. His erection chose that
moment to remind him of it's presence and he stopped crawling, sitting back on
his haunches to try and relieve himself of it.
Hard metal met with leather encased wood and it took him only a heartbeat to
realize why she'd given him the freedom to move, yet not move all in the same
moment. She jerked on the lead again, and once more he followed her haltingly
across the room toward the shadows beyond the light.
He heard the clink of something ominous, a key in a lock, and jerked back in
fear as a metal door swung open. She held tightly to the jerking lead and pulled
him into the room beyond. It couldn't have been more than 10 feet by 10 feet,
made of stone with heavy plush carpet on the floor. There were no windows, and a
single, stark bulb illuminated the room harshly with the flip of a switch on the
outside of the door. A stack of warm looking blankets had been folded in one
corner, as if awaiting his arrival, and a small pot in the other corner would
undoubtedly serve as his 'facilities', he realized with fear.
He gulped around the gag and turned pleading eyes up at her, begging for
something, but he couldn't honestly say what it was.
She pulled him forward again with a jerk on the leather lead and into the room,
pushing him back onto his bent legs, his toes pointed out behind him painfully.
She squatted, the creaking leather of her boots loud in the silence of the room,
until their eyes were level.
"Sleep well Dillon...." she said softly, bending forward to kiss each of his
cheeks and rubbing a hand softly over the line of his jaw.
~Nooooooo......~ his mind screamed as he realized her intent as she rose. She
stepped out of the small room, closing the heavy door behind her with a thud of
finality. Dillon lurched forward, banging heavily against the door in
desperation and frustration. ~NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOO.......~ his mind screamed out
again. ~Please...no....don't leave me alone.....~
His stilted arms clawed upwards at the door, scraping along the metal as the
light was turned off from outside, plunging him into darkness.
