Before I'd opened my eyes that morning, I'd almost forgotten being held captive wasn't a nightmare. The bed was soft and the covers warm, the sleep pants comfortable on my skin. That had all dissolved at the intrusion of reality at the weight of the shackle and my view of an open bedroom door and feet of highly polished wood floors between me and escape. I'd found that the chain was long enough for me to reach the toilet and sink, but not the windows with the sheer curtains. What I could see of the view outside was acres of treetops.
It didn't give me any indication if I was still near home or not. I sat on my mattress, and the soreness of my hole further reminded me it wasn't a dream. My cheeks heated as I remembered the way he'd awakened me last night. I'd fallen asleep after an overwhelming sense of exhaustion had taken over me, and I'd cried until I had a headache. Before I realized it was my captor using the toy on me, I'd enjoyed a few moments of pleasure of being filled.
In the seconds after I awakened, I'd studied his face. Yes, he wore a mask, but the line of his unsmiling mouth didn't change. His eyes were still emotionless inside the holes of leather. The thinness of his frame made me wonder if he was naturally slim or did he not eat regularly. His clothes were always clean, wrinkle and debris free. I tried to assess if he was deranged and impulsive, but he rarely seemed to lose his calm even during the numerous punishments.
Afterward, when he'd ordered me to pack up the things he'd given me, or I'd collected, I knew he was going to kill me. He'd given me a full meal, the wine hit me harder than it should've, but I didn't normally drink alcohol. I ate each bite slowly as I was trying to prolong my death that I was sure was coming.
Although, that's not what happened. He'd bathed me, and he was gentle as he'd used a sponge with a soap that had a clean scent. I kept opening my mouth to demand that he get it over with, but I'd bitten my tongue until it hurt. The moment he'd tucked me into bed and drew the covers over me, I'd started to relax my guard.
He was being too…nice. I got up to use the bathroom and drink from the sink, then returned to my bed. It was the first time he'd left the house since I'd arrived without leaving provisions for the day. Part of me hoped that meant he wouldn't be gone long and another side told me I could stand to lose a few pounds. His punishment had to make up for the tenderness he showed.
No matter how much sleep I got while I was alone, the emotional and mental repercussions were taking their toll on me. I felt my fear should be greater, but I'd resigned myself to the fact that my captor could kill me at any time. It was the uncertainty of when it would happen that I couldn't take.
The closing of a door caused me to curl back up under the covers to pretend I was asleep. I didn't know how much it would help, but I had to try to see if he would ignore me. I listened so I could follow his movements. He didn't seem in a hurry to come to the bedroom. From what I remembered of the first floor, he was in the kitchen. The sound of pans banging carried on for a few moments and then it was all eerily silent.
I was about to relax until I heard his heavy steps on the stairs. He always seemed to warn me when he was coming, and it amped up my anxiety. I was sure that's why he did it. It was the anticipation of pain and now humiliation.
“Your respirations are too high to be sleeping.”
I almost did a double-take at the odd dry humor as if I was stupid for trying to avoid him. I had a feeling the man didn't have a clue as to how to be human.
“Stand up. Place your hands on the wall and wait.”
I peeked at him to find a thick, black paddle in his hand and he tapped it against his left leg. I struggled to my feet as I was already anticipating the pain. Unlike the whip or his hand, the paddle was an unforgiving surface. I almost wished he would just spank or whip me, yet that didn't seem like his plan. He motioned to the empty wall between the bedroom and bathroom doors. There was no chance of escape if I ran. The padlock secured my tether to a steel plate. I'd studied it a few minutes before I'd fallen asleep last night.
Approaching the wall, I raised my hands to place them on the flat, cool surface and felt the subtly of brush strokes. I wanted something other than the punishment for an unknown offense to focus on. If I just braced and took it, the sooner the torment would end. My sleep pants were pulled over my ass with such force the waistband cut into my skin.
“I'm sure you've noticed your new situation.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“New rules are in place. You will repeat each rule. The paddle will teach you what to expect if you break my rules.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. Let us begin by repeating your previous rules. Rule one…you will follow each order as given.”
The first strike of the smooth surface forced me onto my toes. “I will follow each order.”
“Rule two…you will thank me for each lash, paddling, and spanking given.”
The second was harder than the first. I screamed. “Thank you for each…lash”—a leather-covered hand squeezed my right cheek—”paddling and spanking given.”
My body twisted and I pressed my hot cheek against the cool wall. “Rule three…you will be ready to please me.”
“I will please you, sir.” Instead of squeezing my cheek as he'd done before, he slid his fingers into my crease and teased over my already sore hole. Then his chest was to my back, and his cock was a firm ridge. Usually, he wasn't hard when he pressed against me. As quick as he was there, his overwhelming presence behind me disappeared, and I didn’t like where my thoughts were headed. If he was hard, didn’t that mean he was going to use me in other ways to amuse himself? But he didn’t disgustingly rut on my ass or paw at my crotch.
He confused me with the quickness of his mood changes. One minute his voice soft and caring, then next hard and unforgiving. I didn't prepare for the next hit and heat bloomed viciously as the pain radiated throughout my body.
“Rule four…you will not attempt to escape. I will kill you.”
“I will not escape or you will…kill me.”
Each rule seemed to intensify the strength of his strikes. I was told not to pleasure myself without his permission. I would prepare meals and clean, a small sliver of hope infused my agony at the thought that taking care of the house meant I wouldn't be chained.
My ass was on fire and the skin tight from the abuse. I whimpered as he grazed over the ravaged curves with the hard edge of the paddle. The touch barely there, but the paddling had inflamed the nerves, and it almost felt like another hit. My vision was blurry from tears, and my jaw ached from clenching my teeth. I sagged in relief as I noticed from the corner of my eye that he leaned the offending weapon on the wall. My reprieve didn't last long as his long, slender hands came to rest on my hips and curved around to the thick nest of my pubes.
Then his left hand was gone, and when it returned, so did my fear. After days or weeks of my cock in the cage, he removed it, the metal clanking to the floor between my feet. Suddenly he stroked my flaccid cock, and his other hand was shoved between our bodies. I heard no change in his breathing or any sound come from him as he finger-fucked me and jacked my cock. Shame came over me as my dick started to harden. He was pressed fully to my bruised ass sending mixed signals of pain and pleasure.
“So good.”
My chaotic thoughts couldn't tell if he was saying I was good or if he was implying something else. Instead of pain taking me to my tiptoes this time, it was ecstasy. I fought it with everything in me, but no one other than myself had ever gotten me off. He'd hurt me, but now he seemed to want something else. If I gave in, what did that say about me? His thrusts and strokes grew in speed and roughness, and then my body betrayed me. I slammed my ass back against him and came with a shout, and he kept working me until I whimpered.
I was left adrift when he was just gone. I turned to find him observing me as if he were trying to work out an experiment. From the tenting at the front of his pants, he wasn't completely unaffected, but nothing in his expression gave it away. He must have caught me staring at his crotch because without preamble he undid the belt, button, and zipper. I realized that the dildo he'd made me fuck myself with was an inch shorter and notably slimmer than the cock he exposed. The black hair at the base of his cock was sparse, and his balls were bare.
I turned away as he started to stroke himself.
“On your knees, clean up your mess with your tongue. Wall and floor.”
I clenched my fists as I knelt and tears once more filled my eyes as I licked my release where it splattered on the wall and the drops on the floor. As soon as I was done, all I heard were his steps retreating and leaving me alone. I struggled to my feet as everything hit me at once. My captor, the man who punished me for breaking his rules, had gotten me off, and my body had let it happen. For a second in my weakness, I had forgotten that I was a thing to him. So starved for touch that I'd allowed the man to paddle me, to fuck me and then he humiliated me further by making me clean my own cum up with my mouth.
With all the strength I had left, through tears and sobs, I washed myself, then returned to my mattress. I didn't feel like myself, I was confused and lost, and I didn't understand what was wrong with me. If I ever made it out of here, nothing would be the same, because my captor had broken something and I didn't know how to fix it.