0 comments/ 5921 views/ 2 favorites Bound by the Past By: backwardsglance She sat on her coach waiting, staring blankly at the clock on the mantle. Its hands moved slowly, gradually ticking over the dark roman numerals, the expressive clock face telling of time passing, draining away. The silky material of her dress clung to the nervous beads of moisture forming on her skin. She was impatient by nature, and she knew that he was aware of this. It was just one of the many little ways he used to turn her own nature against her and play games with her psyche. It infuriated her. The phone rang within the hour and she answered without hesitation. "It's me," his cool, unmistakable voice echoed through the phone lines. "I'm running a little late, but I will be over by ten, and I expect you to be ready for me when I arrive." She heard the click of disconnection before she could reply, and sighed. She continued to wait. The door was unlocked and the curtains were closed just as he had directed her. This pleased him immensely, and showed that, if nothing else, she was at least beginning to accept her situation. He entered the house and shut the door against the dark night. He found her in the living room, quietly curled on the coach, doing her best to look unphased. It was her wild eyes and the smell of fear that hung rancid in the air that gave her away. "Darling, you look lovely," he said with sophistic sentimentality. Her lips made a vague attempt at a smile, but her eyes glared, shining with disdain. "Stand up please, darling," he said gently. She simply sat on the coach with a glazed expression upon her face. "Darling, stand up. I thought we were to be over this childish disobedience now that I have so clearly articulated to you the reality of your situation. Do I have to remind you yet again of its severity? Or will you stand up for me, as I requested?" She reluctantly got to her feet, her pink dress rustling pleasantly around her legs. She was short, at most 5' 2'', but somehow still managed to have beautiful legs: firm, elegant, and supple, gracefully curving from thigh to calf. The man's cock hardened just looking at them. He smiled. "Now remove your dress for me." She paused but did not do as he asked. "Darling," he said in a stern tone, "remember what is at stake." She still made no move. "I do not think you understand me. I have your identity in my hands. And thus your life and your future are mine to nourish or destroy as I see fit. If you please me, I will leave you unscathed once I am done with you. If you do not, yours is a fate worse than death." She knew he spoke the truth. He had somehow discovered her past, a past she had buried long ago on the other side of the ocean. Until she was thirteen, she had lived in a glorious and secluded compound in the Middle East. She still did not know where. She had scanned many maps and thousands of high resolution satellite images trying to identify the place, but it was too well hidden in either the arid landscape or her memory. She did not know which. They had treated her well as a child, but she had never left the palace walls. Her mother was one of many women, always dressed in fine silk and adorned with jewelry. Her mother had named her Sumayya and loved her dearly. The wealthy man would sometimes take Sumayya's mother away or come into their room at night and tell her to leave as he leaned over her mother's body. One fateful night, he told her mother to leave instead of her. That night her body was ravaged for the first time. It was then that her mother began to plan their escape. She cried and planned and cried and hid her tears. She shared with Sumayya only enough to get by, so she would not give them away. She was, however, careful to make sure her daughter knew that if they were discovered, terrible things would happen. Even if they were discovered after they had escaped, this man had ways of ensuring that they would either be returned to him or they would pay with their lives. They were never safe. Summaya believed her. She had heard stories about women fifteen years gone who had been returned and tortured. She had heard them all. Thirteen days after Sumayya was first raped, she and her mother were smuggled out of the compound in the dead of night when the wealthy man was with another woman. Sumayya was carried on horseback to the outer wall of the compound where she and her mother were smuggled into a supply truck that was leaving. When they neared the guard station, they were able to find enough space in-between the boards in the front and the back of the truck for Sumayya to hide, but her mother could only lie amid the boxes and hope. It was fear that gave them away. The smell of fear and sweat that convinced the guards to look twice behind the boxes. They found Sumayya's mother and took her away. She did not protest, but only pleaded with her eyes for Sumayya to stay quiet. Sumayya cried all through the night as the trunk rumbled through the desert. This was how she had escaped. She had ended up in America. She was a citizen. Her mother had taught her English at the compound, and she could pass for a native speaker. She was often told she was beautiful, with her long dark hair and shining, almond eyes. She cursed every acknowledgement of her beauty. *My mother was a concubine,* she thought. *I almost was. I would trade you my beauty for a past as sweet as yours.* "Darling, are you listening?" The man looked at her impatiently. He finally slapped her. "Sumayya," he hissed in her ear, "do I really have to remind you?" *No,* she thought, *but I will not do more than I must.* She did, however, remove her dress. The man paused to take in the smooth curves of her body, relish the lovely milkiness of her skin. His eyes travelled over her, lingering on the lacy bra and panties which covered her most private parts. "I can see this threat is only enough for the bare minimum of compliance," he snapped. "I see I will have to resort to other measures." He smiled to himself. He knew how this went. Blackmail was enough for superficial submission and compliance, but not enough to break her. That would have to be done in other ways. "Darling, bend over," he implored. She hesitantly did so. "No!" he shouted, slapping her ass hard. "All the way!" She sighed and bent over until her hands could touch the ground. He proceeded to give her ass several hard slaps before pulling down her panties and examining her pussy from behind. She flinched as he stuck a finger inside of her. "Ah, I see that dastardly Sultan did a number on your poor little pussy," he said, jamming his fingers in, hard. With this she leapt up in fury. "If this is what you are going to do with me I might as well be sent back to that compound," she spat. He laughed. "Don't tell me you've forgotten all the stories, dear little Sumayya," he teased. "You know better, and so do I." With that he pushed her to the floor and held her under the weight of his body. Her struggles were futile. "You will be punished for any little acts of rebellion such as those, my darling," he noted, casually pulling down the cup of her bra and pinching her right nipple between thumb and forefinger. Sumayya gave a little yelp as he began to twist. He pinched harder. "Listen carefully to what I have to say to you," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "If you do not comply in full, your world will become more painful than you can ever imagine. I have direct connections to the man you escaped from, and could return you to him for a sizeable reward. If you tell the police, I will tell him where you are and he will take you away. The only reason you are not back in his hands already is because you caught my fancy. If you behave for me I will leave you to live a normal life once I am done with you. If not, I will send you back to him." Each of his points was emphasized by a forceful twist of the nipple that shot waves of eroticized pain through Sumayya's body. Sumayya tried to fight back the tears, but in the end they broke through, cascading down her face in torrents. She sobbed quietly and looked towards the floor. The man ran his hand through her hair gently, delicately taking her chin in his hand and turning her face up towards his own. "There, there, my little Sumayya," he crooned. "I know it sounds awful, but it doesn't have to be that bad. It's true, that comment about your pussy was harsh, but I need to teach you to accept what I do and say and handle yourself, even when it seems cruel. If you give me what I want and submit to me in full, I will treat you well. I promise. Only listen to me and do your best to obey and no real harm will befall you." Sumayya's breathing slowed as he stroked her hair. She was still indignant, but knew her indignation was unwise. She looked into his deep brown eyes, and saw something almost soft there, under all the hardness. She knew he was telling the truth. She would suffer much more if she disobeyed him. "Now," said the man, "let's go over some of my basic expectations. You will address me as Master and do as I say. You will ask permission for all actions. You will only do what I explicitly allow. Simple enough for you?" She looked up at him and nodded. "Respond to me verbally," he ordered. "Yes," she said, quickly adding "Master" when she saw his expectant eyes. He smiled at her. "Good. See, that's not so hard, is it?" "No, Master," she replied softly. "Now," he said, pulling her to her feet, "sit on the coach and wait for a moment until I come back." She did as he instructed, waiting nervously as the man walked across the room and slipped outside. She briefly flirted with the idea of escape. If she slipped through the window now, perhaps she could find a new life in a different state, far away from this man and his threats... Before she had finished pondering this option, the man returned with a large black bag slung across his right shoulder. He gave her a devious smile as he stepped inside, locking the door behind him. He sat down next to her on the coach and brushed her face lightly with his fingertips. She did her best not to flinch away, her body shaking with fearful anticipation. She could only guess at what was in that bag. "Now, I'd like you to lie down. Will you do that for me, Sumayya?" "Yes... yes, Master," she said hesitantly, and did as he requested. She looked towards him when she heard him rummaging in the bag, and he harshly slapped her across the face, causing her to release a soft cry of pain. "Did I tell you that you could look?" the man queried. Sumayya shook her head. "No, Master. I am sorry." "Now turn your head the other way, and, I promise, if you move so much as a centimeter I will give you a spanking you will never forget." The man took his time unpacking the bag, laying the various items carefully out on the floor. Lastly he pulled several length of strong silk rope from his bag and stood before Sumayya. "Now, look toward me, my darling," he said. Sumayya fearfully turned her head enough to take in her Master's looming form and see the rope in his hands. "You're... you're tying me up?" she asked furtively. "But why? I... I promise to behave." He laughed. "I do not think it would be possible for you to behave yourself perfectly the first time in a situation like this, even if you wanted to. And I do not think you want to yet. However, I promise, by the end of this, you will want to." She shrunk away. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to now, that she would do as he asked if he would only grant her some degree of freedom. Some degree of control. He gave her a coy smile. "Now hold out your arms for me, my darling," he ordered. She stared at him. She curled her body into a tight ball and did not move. "Very well," he grimaced. "If this is how you want it, then." He grabbed her by the hair and forcefully pulled her to her feet. She screamed and fought violently as he wrapped his arms around her body and half carried half dragged her to her own bedroom and threw her onto the bed, straddling her body and pinning her arms above her head. She snarled at him, clawing, biting, struggling for her life. He had to admit that she put up a good fight, but her soft feminine body was no match for his strength, and he easily overpowered her. He smiled as he tied first her arms and then her legs together with the rope from his bag. He then tied her arms to one of the bedposts and untied one of her arms, tying it to the other bedpost. He did the same with her legs, so that she was lying spread eagle on the bed, her naked body fully open and available to him. "That was very naughty of you," Sumayya's Master crooned softly into her unwilling ear. "Very naughty indeed." He frowned at her. "You will have to be punished. You know that, yes?" Sumayya turned her head away. He slapped her across the face and turned her head towards him. "Answer me!" he commanded sternly, glaring harshly at her. "I am not beyond really hurting you, if it is what it takes to make you obey." "Y-yes, Master," Sumayya stammered. "I know I will be punished." "And do you know why you will be punished, darling?" he asked. "Because I disobeyed you, Master." "Yes, that is correct. Now, do you deserve whatever punishment I chose to give you?" "Yes I do, Master," she replied, wincing a little, humiliated by her situation and angry with herself for struggling. Her Master left for a moment, returning with a small riding crop in hand. Sumayya recoiled in fear as he approached. "Please don't hurt me," she pleaded. "I promise to do better," her pale blue eyes stared up at him, shining with fear, silently begging him for mercy. This time she was sincere in her promise to do better. The man felt a slight twinge of pity as he gazed down into her big, ocean-deep eyes. "We'll make it quick," said the man. "I will administer five strokes to each of your breasts, just as long as you keep in mind the cost of disobedience, and remember that the only reason your punishment is not more severe is that I am a kind and merciful Master. After I have finished punishing you, you will thank me." The man lifted the riding crop, and Sumayya winced, crying out quietly when he struck the soft tissue of her right breast. Tears stung her eyes as he brought down the crop four more times on the same delicate tissue and proceeded to do the same with her left breast. Each strike shot an arrow of pain through her body, and she fought to maintain her composure, closing her eyes against the hurt. "Thank you, Master," she whispered when he was done, trying to hold in the sobs that were threatening to break from her body. "You're welcome, my darling," he replied softly, stroking her hair. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. "Now do you see why it's better to behave? Remember, I will only hurt you if I have reason to. I know you can do much better than your behavior earlier, and that is why I punished you." Sumayya nodded through her tears. "I know, Master," she sobbed. "Now," her Master said gently, "I had more planned for you today, but I think you could use some rest first. I see that you are learning, and that is good. Would you like to be untied, my dear? Sumayya looked up at him in surprise. She nodded. "Yes, Master. Yes, I would." As her Master began to untie her, a cloud of confusing emotions settled in her stomach. She hated this man for what he was doing to her, and yet this strangely merciful gesture stirred in her feelings of relief, even feelings of gratitude. Her Master untied her legs and one of her arms, leaving only her right arm loosely bound to the bed post. He then gave her permission to sit up and asked if she was thirsty. She nodded. He got her a glass of water and caressed her body softly as she quenched her thirst. His touch was gentle, and she did not flinch away from him, even finding his long strokes up and down her body soothing. Her breathing slowed, and she suddenly realized how very tired she really was. It had to be past midnight. Her Master looked at her gently. "I see you're tired. I will leave you to sleep for a while, but we will continue our work in the morning, my dear. I am confident that you will make the best out of this situation. I know that you will learn." With that her Master stood up and left the room, leaving the glass of water on Sumayya's end table, switching off the lights, and shutting the door behind him. Sumayya sat on her bed, her arm still bound to its frame. She was still frightened and angry, but these emotions were pushed aside by her deep feelings of confusion. Her situation, she was now confidant, was entirely too real, and this man was here to stay. He meant what he said, and he was not afraid to hurt her. But, perhaps, if she obeyed, things wouldn't be as terrible as she had first thought. It would still be awful. But, just perhaps, she could survive. Bound by the Past Ch. 02 Sumayya awoke to the predawn light, stretching out on her bed luxuriously. When she moved to roll over, she realized that her right arm was loosely bound to the bedpost. It was only then that the events of the previous night came back to her and were cemented into reality as more than a simple nightmare. It was not long before a gentle knock came at the door. Her Master stepped into the room. "Good morning, my sweet little Sumayya," the man mused. "I hope you slept well." Sumayya gazed up at him uncertainly, her rosewood hued hair splayed across her face, cascading in waves down her pale shoulders and spilling onto her lovely pink breasts. Her deep blue eyes were unusual, dark and sweet, and seemingly unfitting with her Arab ancestry. Seeing her lovely body curled on the bed was almost too much for the man. He felt his cock harden, his senses overwhelmed by the gentle beauty of the woman before him. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He knew he had to be careful. He did not want to take her too soon. He wanted to show her that his kindness was real, and that she could be comfortable and happy if she only obeyed. "Would you like some breakfast, my darling?" Sumayya's Master asked. Sumayya realized that her stomach was indeed rumbling. "Yes, Master," she replied. "That would be nice." "Very well. If you promise to behave, I will untie you. Do you promise?" he asked her. "Yes, Master. I promise," she said, relieved to have a sliver of her freedom restored. "Hold out your arm," he commanded, and he carefully untied her wrist from the bed. He took her gently in his arms and pulled her to her feet, taking a moment to breathe in her sweet scent. "Now, please kneel on the floor," he requested. Sumayya hesitantly bent her knees and knelt on the floor before her Master, anxiously gazing up at him. "Now, cast your eyes down," he ordered. She did so, hesitantly shifting her gaze to the floor. She heard her Master move across the room and leave, returning a few minutes later. His shadow fell softly over her kneeling form, and she could see from its outline that he was clutching some sort of ring-like object in his hands. She wanted to look up and see what it was, but she was afraid of what he would do if she did. He crouched down next to her, stroking her hair and pulling it back from her neck. His hands moved behind her and she felt a smooth leathery material at the nape of her neck. The man quickly pulled the material around her neck and clasped it almost before she had time to process what it was. "You're collaring me?!" she cried in indignation. "Yes, dear," he said gently. Her eyes glazed with fury, and she looked up at him sharply. "I'm not some pet! Not some piece of property!" she spat. "My darling," he said softly, "I do not believe you currently have the authority to make that judgment. And did I give you permission to speak? Or look up at me, for that matter?" She glared at him for a moment before looking back towards the ground. "No, Master," she said softly, her cheeks red with humiliation at the thought of the collar around her neck. She looked very pleasing in the red collar he had fixed around her neck, thought the man. He was glad she had swallowed her feelings of rebellion before he would have to punish her too severely. "Now, darling, bend over the bed for me, will you?" he requested. She got to her feet, reluctantly, anticipating what was coming, and bent over the bed. "Know, my dear Sumayya, that I am very proud of you for holding in your anger and following my directions so quickly," said the man. "But, nevertheless, you must be punished for your outburst." She sighed in resignation as he gave her a hard slap across the ass. He spanked her until her ass was flushed red and sore from the force of his hard palm. She stayed quiet and found, to her relief, that it did not hurt as much as the riding crop had last night. When he was finished he massaged her sore bottom until the pain began to fade. "There, darling," he said gently. "Now, let's get you some breakfast." She fought the feelings of outrage and humiliation as he clipped a leash to her collar and led her, naked, to her own kitchen table, instructing her to sit. "What would you like to eat, dear?" he asked. "I picked up some muffins earlier, or we can make pancakes or French toast if you like." "Just a muffin, please," she answered softly. "Blueberry or chocolate chip?" he queried. "Blueberry would be nice," she responded. He set a large muffin on her plate and placed a bowl of fruit and a carton of orange juice in the center of the table, instructing her to help herself. She did so, hungrily consuming the food that was placed before her. It tasted delicious and felt wonderful to have the rumbling in her stomach finally eased. The man smiled at her as he consumed his own muffin, thinking about how absolutely stunning she looked, sitting at the table, naked but for her leash and collar. When they were finished, the man led Sumayya to the bathroom and turned on the shower, stroking her hair as he waited for the water to warm up. He held Sumayya to him as he undressed himself, though she tried to withdraw from his closeness. He could see the anxious fear pulsing through her at the intimacy of their contact, and knew how small his hard nakedness pressed against her soft little body made her feel. He was confidant she could feel his erection. The man gently pushed Sumayya into the shower and then stepped in after her. He unclasped her collar and kissed her soft body gently as he shampooed her flowing hair, rinsing it and then conditioning it. He then handed her a bar of soap and instructed her to wash both of their bodies. She did so reluctantly but thoroughly, gently scrubbing him clean. She balked when he pointed out the part of his body that she had neglected, but hesitantly washed his hard penis as well. Sumayya's Master turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, drying his own body and then Sumayya's, allowing her to wrap herself in the towel as they left the bathroom. Sumayya had to admit that she felt a little better now that she was clean and full and allowed to conceal her nakedness. She did not resist when her Master again placed the collar around her neck, and she allowed herself to be led back to the bedroom. "Ah, here we are," said her Master, pulling several pieces of skimpy lingerie from his black bag. "Put these on, my darling." Sumayya recoiled at the thought of wearing the scarlet, crotchless thong and matching open cup bra, but she knew better than to disobey. Her Master watched in amusement as she struggled to put on the garments while still concealing her naked body, clutching the towel to her breast. The man handed a bag of cosmetics to Sumayya. "Now, put these on," he instructed. "Tastefully." Sumayya hesitantly removed a tube of ruby red lipstick and carefully applied it to her lips. She completed her look with eye shadow and mascara before turning back to her Master for approval. Her Master nodded, taking the towel and cosmetic bag from her and looking her up and down. She made a lovely sight. The lipstick perfectly matched her lingerie, and her supple lips stood out magnificently against her pale skin. He studied the perfect curves of her body, running his eyes along the creamy alabaster of her skin, lingering over her breasts, which were enhanced and further exposed by the scarlet undergarment. Her nipples stood up wonderfully, and the full roundness of her breasts was infinitely alluring. Her eyes beckoned, large and round, shadowy and seductive, their blueness wonderfully mysterious and impossibly deep. He fell into them. He could not help himself. He knew that he would take her here and now. "Lie down on the bed," he instructed softly. Sumayya saw the lust in his eyes and followed the line of his body down to his hard cock. She knew that the inevitable was finally here. She stood very still. "No," she said, softly but firmly. "No, I will not." "Yes you will," said the man. She shook her head. The man stared at her, angrily. "Sumayya," he hissed, "get on the bed. Now!" She firmly met his gaze. "If you think I will willingly let you rape me, you are insane. If you want me, then fine, take me. But I will have no part in it. I will fight you all the way. I swear it on my life." The man looked at her in surprise. He raised his eyebrows. "I see," he said softly. "You're decision is unwise. But the choice is yours." Yes, she thought. The choice is mine. It may not be much, but at least it is a choice. "I will give you one last chance, Sumayya," said the man. "If you do not lie back on the bed immediately, you will be punished severely." Sumayya raised her chin defiantly. The man sighed. "As you wish," he said, and stepped towards her. Sumayya gasped as he threw her down onto the bed, harshly grabbing her breasts. He pinned her arms over her head with one hand and violently kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth and drinking of her wonderful sweetness, forcing her to swallow her protests. She struggled violently against his body, but to no avail. He had her pinned like a helpless sparrow in the talons of a hawk. She screamed when his lips broke away from hers, and he put his unoccupied hand to her mouth to quiet her, leaning down and licking around her beautiful brown areolas up to her supple nipples. He sucked slowly before biting down hard, causing her to let out a muffled shriek. He gave her another long kiss and leaned into her, his hard cock rubbing against the slit in her panties, irritating and enlarging her delicate labia. With a single thrust, the man entered deep into his captive's body. She let out a gasp as he fucked her mercilessly, his cock pounding in and out of her delicate pussy. He filled her completely, stretching her insides to their limits, and she felt as if her pussy would burst each time he pushed himself into her. She screamed and fought but he only fucked her harder, breathing heavily and pushing his cock still deeper into her unwilling body, slapping her and pinching her nipples in-between thrusts. The man suddenly stopped, yanking her up by her hair and pulling her to the floor. She winced and protested, but he only tossed her to the ground and continued to ravish her. He pounded her until she could take no more. Her struggling gradually eased as her body tired and surrendered itself to its fate. He fucked her endlessly, relentlessly, ruthlessly. She begged him to stop, her eyes tearing. She garbled insincere promises, which gradually became more desperate, more sincere, until she absolutely meant to keep them if he would only show her mercy. If he would only stop. She felt her body responding against her will; she was thrusting up to meet him. Her body lurched, and she cried out as the sensations took over, a haze of pain and pleasure and fear consuming her mind and severing her self-control. She begged him to stop. She would do anything. He did not head her, pounding her unceasingly until he finally exploded inside her, his semen spurting in hot jets up into her body. She felt his hand stroking her hair and knew that it was finally over. Tears suddenly rushed to her eyes, and she felt herself clutching the body of the man who had just raped her, burying herself against his chest. The man made soft hushing noises and scooped her up gently, lying her back on the bed and wrapping his arms around her. "It's okay, darling," he soothed. "I'm done. You can rest now." He rocked her gently. She sobbed into him. "Next time, it will be easier, darling. Submit to me, and everything will be so much easier. It won't hurt at all. Just keep that in mind, my darling." She knew that he was right. She had been foolish to deny him. He would get what he wanted one way or another, and her denial had only foisted more pain upon herself. "Will you be good next time?" he asked her gently. She nodded. "Yes," she said, "I will be." "You're forgetting something, my dear," he prompted. She blushed. "Master," she remembered. "I am sorry, Master. Please forgive me." The man looked down into her sincere eyes. "I have already forgiven you," he whispered softly.