I still felt the thrust of his cock, the slight soreness from his strong hands and the tie around my throat. My dick hardened at the forbidden thrill of him controlling even the breaths I took. He was gentle afterward, jacked my cock until I came for him and then bathed me, and fed me. I was more confused than ever. This was the first day I was left on my own.
For hours after he left, I'd stayed on my mattress waiting for the setup. Was he lurking quietly downstairs to punish me? What if I tried to escape? It had taken two hours of pep talk before I'd headed to the kitchen. The list of chores tacked to the front of the fridge with a plain steel colored magnet caught my attention. The block letters were perfectly aligned, so they possessed no clue to his identity. It didn't show personality—no flourishes.
The items were normal things that I did at home every day except for the last item, but I didn’t want to think about that. I'd made my way through the list quickly. As I cleaned, I didn't spot any pictures. The cabin interior looked like staged sets for a design magazine shoot. It was a cold, sterile environment, very much like the man. Along with an absence of personal touches, he didn't have a television or even a radio. The laptop in his office was password protected.
I liked noise. I'd even taken extra care with the vacuuming just to listen to the whirr. I felt stupid cleaning a spotless house. My captor screamed OCD. While I was afraid of him, I was also disturbed by my fascination with him. For most of my life I'd taken care of my mother, and while I loved her, it was freeing to not be in charge. I didn't have to worry because he provided everything I needed.
Although, wasn't that a part of Stockholm Syndrome? Our will broken to adapt to life as a captive, but I almost felt content. I broke the rules, and I was punished. I did something right, and I earned a reward. No one liked punishment, but weren't we under the will of laws in the real world?
I didn't have anything else to clean, so I put away the vacuum and cleaning supplies. My list of duties said to have dinner ready at six. I'd checked out the kitchen that morning. It was fully stocked. I loved to cook, but it always seemed a waste to do it for one. I lived on takeout and snacks.
I closed the hallway closet and turned toward the front door. I'd stood there earlier, on the precipice of escaping. For a few seconds, I had the door open. The scent of trees, a cool breeze, and I could've easily run. If he was in the city, I could be far away by the time he made it back to the cabin. Instead, I closed it and went back to the tasks. He wouldn't keep me forever. Soon he'd grow tired of me and maybe want to move someone else into the cellar.
Part of me hoped that he wanted to keep me—how sick did that make me? I'd started to believe that even within the punishments and humiliation that he cared. He kept me on edge. One minute he hurt me and the next he was gentle. It was as if he were conditioning me for something, but I just didn't know what.
As I kept a close eye on the time, I began to prepare dinner. When he fed me, I hadn't once seen him eat. He was slim but strong, and a little over six foot tall. My curiosity grew at what the mask concealed. I studied the voice and tried to remember if I'd heard it before. He always concealed himself in every way. He'd yet to touch me without gloves. My captor seemed to keep a physical and emotional distance.
I wanted the mask gone but also didn’t—once he removed it, I’d know his face and didn’t that mean there was the potential to identify him. Uncertainty and fear caused me to shake as I checked that last item on the chore list.
Be naked and waiting when I arrive home.
As soon as the clocks little hand touched six, I heard the door open, and I hastily shoved my sleep pants down my legs. My full focus landed on the soft fabric I folded carefully. I’d made pasta and sauce, but I didn’t have time to...I felt his gaze boring into me, and I didn’t like his silence. I slowly lifted my gaze, taking in the expensive black suit paired with a charcoal dress shirt and black tie. I paused there waiting for some order—anything, but he just remained silent.
“I see you’ve done as I asked.”
At the sound of the voice, I jerked my head up in surprise and looked right at Cowen.
“What…”
“I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out by now. But I must admit my work voice differs from my real one.”
The tone Cowen used at work was smoother and enunciated, while my captor's was low and almost growly. It was an odd contrast. Why hadn't I noticed? I'd studied the man while I was sure he wasn't looking. My embarrassment over my misplaced crush on him came back, and all the fantasies I had of Cowen set my cheeks on fire.
“Why?”
“Well, you did see me in the middle of my second job. And while I thought about killing you, keeping you held a bit of”—he paused—”fascination.”
I backed up holding the sleep pants in front of my groin. Memories slammed into me. I'd caught sight of a man striking another and the sound of the victim's skull hitting concrete. “Is he dead?”
“Very much so. I was paid well for it.”
“Why?”
Cowen looked confused at my question. His heavy dark brows were meeting as his forehead furrowed. “It was a job.” His gaze drew down my body, and I hid behind the pants. I'd gotten used to my unknown captor keeping me naked, but I didn’t like Cowen looking at me.
“Why did you do this to me?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“I want to go home.” Mortified at what I’d done—what I’d allowed him to do—all I could think about was getting away from him. I didn’t even care if he killed me.
The silence became oppressive as I backed farther away, tucked myself into a corner. My gaze didn’t leave the floor, even though I didn’t hear one step, the toes of Cowen’s dress shoes appeared. Once he was right there, I noticed he was shorter than my captor and seemed slimmer. “You’re different.”
“Lifts in my shoes and padding here and there. Do you like your captor better?”
I rolled my lips between my teeth and refused to answer. A choked yell turned to a groan as it left my compressed throat when Cowen squeezed cutting off my oxygen. It wasn’t like when I’d given him a blowjob. My hands came up to claw at his hand and wrist, the pressure built in my face and my chest ached as I struggled to take in even a small breath. Just as my eyes started to roll and I felt my vision fading, I wheezed as the fingers unexpectedly loosened and I fought to draw air into my lungs.
“You think you have power here? You do not. I could kill you without remorse just as I originally planned. You liked it when I was a stranger…you begged for my cock.”
“You hate me.”
“I should. Yet, I don’t.”
He released me quick enough that I stumbled and he put distance between us. He casually checked over what I'd made for dinner as if I wasn't losing my mind. My head hurt from memories and stress. I bent to grab my sleep pants.
“No. I requested you be naked.”
I straightened and cupped my hands over my crotch. It was stupid. Cowen knew every inch of me. I was hiding a body he'd studied countless times over the weeks I'd been there. The calendar on his desk had told me I’d been there nearly a month, and I didn’t feel as if so many days had passed.
“I purchased you a present, but you've failed to earn it with your actions. It may be appropriate to move you back to the basement.” His voice was cold and gave nothing away.
The disappointment at his words sickened me, and I almost started crying at his disapproval. “Why…why are you keeping me?”
“I own you.”
“Why?”
Earlier I'd felt I was settling into what I'd come to think of my new life. Again, I felt as if something was broken inside me. That I'd allowed Cowen—a stranger—to use me as he saw fit and I submitted.
“I don't know. I was quite happy with my celibate life. Sex is a vulgar and disgusting act, but I enjoy playing with you. You look pretty sucking my cock.”
He stated it with the same emotion someone would relay the weather for the day.
“Don't you feel anything?”
“Emotion is a waste of energy.”
“Then why keep me if you're—”
“Once you pledged yourself to me, you were to be allowed to return to work, but I see that we've lost ground. Therefore, gather your things so that I may return you to the basement.”
A sob caught in my throat because I didn't want to be put back in the darkness. “I don't want to go back down there.”
“Then you earned punishment. Return to our room and place the shackle around your ankle. You will wait for me on your knees.”
Neither of my options made me feel safe, pain or darkness, both I hated. I dropped my chin to my chest and did as he ordered. Just as I passed him, he fisted his hand in my hair, winching my head back. His slim body pushed flush to my back, and his breath was hot behind my ear. I existed in this limbo between pleasure and pain, the burn of my scalp, but I hated when he punished me. How did he reduce me to whimpering with nothing more than jerking my head back—using me?
“You can deny, but you love it when I use you. You love someone else in charge—guiding and punishing you when you make mistakes. You may lie to yourself, but for three years, I listened to those submissive yes, sirs that fell from those pretty lips. You wanted me to hurt you.”
“I don't—” I cried out when his grip twisted my head until his lips almost touched mine. His gaze was cold and vacant. I nearly came when he grabbed my dick in a tight hold.
“You do. You crave the lash of my whip. The sting of my hand. You beg with every look for me to fuck that pretty mouth. You love that I hold your life in my hands. Lie to me again.”
The monstrous cock that didn't fit his skinny frame pushed at my bare ass. His slacks were the only protection between us. Unlike my time in the basement where his body showed no response, he was hard. My brain urged me to fight—to run—my body had other plans.
“Kiss me, sir.”
“That would be a reward, of which you are undeserving.”
The words forming in my mind frightened me, but I parted my lips and let them free. “Punish me then.” I couldn’t lie any longer, and I hated myself for these new and frightening cravings. I didn't like being in charge—agonizing over every decision, worrying if it was right or wrong. He took that burden from me and as sick as that made me, I was too weak to give it up. I wanted him to keep me. I'd longed for Cowen since I interviewed for the job as his office manager. I'd enjoyed his control in the office, and now that I knew he was my captor, I wanted more.
I'd fought it so hard, and I was tired. I gasped as he pushed me away, and as I turned to him, he handed me a paper bag.
“Take it upstairs, use the items to ready yourself for me. I will come for you when I'm done working. When I come upstairs, you will be on the bed with your plug in and ready to take my cock. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go.” He turned away as he dismissed me.
I wanted to question, to ask what was in the bag, but I slowly strode through the house and upstairs to the bedroom. When I entered the bathroom, I opened the bag to find several boxes, my face flamed at the items inside. I was embarrassed as I read the directions and knelt on the floor, bending forward. For the next hour, I prepared myself, taking a long shower and savoring the hot water. I used lubed fingers to prepare my ass for the massive plug. As much as I wanted to linger, I needed to be ready when he came for me.