3 comments/  38665 views/  16 favorites

The Little Redhead Ch. 01

By: SpeakerForTheDead



Someone's shaking me gently and telling me to wake up. I'm very groggy. I don't know where I am or what's happened. I realize I've been drugged. Someone's telling me I need to stand up by myself. I feel my arms lifted over my head and realize they're being tied. I realize I'm also gagged. It feels like one of those ball gags. I come to a little more and look down. I'm not wearing anything at all. My legs are spread apart and are shackled to the floor. Actually, I'm on some sort of little platform a foot or so above the floor. I can feel something around my neck. I know I should feel scared, but I'm not. I'm too drugged yet.

I look around and find myself in a large room. There are other platforms of various heights around the room, each one with another woman on it. There must be at least 30 women in all. They are all shapes, sizes, and shades of color and all are completely naked, like me. Their ages range from a younger woman who looks about 18 or 19 to one woman who appears to be in her fifties. 

Two of the women are strikingly beautiful, one of them a very big woman, the other with the proportions of a swimsuit model. Some are more plain. All are gagged in some way like me. All have collars around their necks -- beautiful collars with jewels. I realize that must be what's around my neck. All the women have been made up and have had their hair done, obviously by a professional. I realize my hair must also have been done. I wonder what it looks like and shake my head to make my hair fall forward. My very long auburn hair, normally very straight, now has soft waves. I think it looks pretty.

Like me, all the other women are being restrained in some fashion by men in some kind of attendant's uniform. One woman is being hog-tied. Another is being shackled spread-eagled on her back, another spread-eagled on her stomach. Yet another is on her knees. Her legs are shackled to the platform just below the knee. A rope is wrapped around her at the hips and is attached behind her, pulling her body back while her hands are stretched as far forward as possible and shackled to the platform. 

I see that instead of platforms, there are a couple of pits in the floor. In each of these there are pairs of women and they are being tied to each other, rather than tied down. One pair is placed standing back to back, belted together at waist and ankles and upper arms. Both also have bars between their knees, spreading their legs apart. The other pair is placed face to face on their sides, their tits pressed together. Belts are cinched around them at the waist and thighs, binding them together and making them unable to move. For some reason, these are the only two that are not gagged. I can see them whispering to each other, trying to comfort each other.

One tiny woman with huge breasts is on her back with a bar between her ankles, her legs spread brutally wide. An attendant hoists the bar up with a chain attached to the ceiling so her legs are suspended above her. The woman is crying, the sounds muffled by her gag, but none of the other women are crying. Some look slightly fearful. Others look like I must look, just confused and wondering what's going on.

Next to each woman or pair of women, there is a small pedestal with slips of papers, a pen in a holder, and an elegant bowl.

I'm starting to come to now and am starting to feel some fear. More of the other women seem to be feeling the same thing, as I start to hear muffled whimperings.

While I was examining the room, I could hear my attendant placing something behind me. I can't see what it is. Now he comes around in front of me and straps some sort of little device onto me at my hips. He positions it over my clit. I've never seen anything like it, but suspect it vibrates or gives out an electrical shock. The drug has left my system even more, and the thought of being shocked, especially there, really scares me. I start to whimper in fear. 

Then my attendant brings out from behind me a pair of small clamps with some intricate mechanisms that I can't understand. There is a wire running between them. A power cord leads from one. The attendant plugs it into an outlet in the floor. He takes both clamps and attaches them to my nipples. The clamps are tight and the pain causes my back to arch. I start to whimper louder, though the gag still muffles most of the sound. I'm becoming very frightened now.

The attendant walks behind me again. I look around again and see that all the other women have the nipple clamps on and have similar devices strapped around their hips. My attendant carries from behind me some sort of device that has a bar sticking straight up out of it. My fear intensifies when I see that at the top of the bar is some kind of dildo. The attendant places the device on the floor between my legs and moves the bar up so the tip of the dildo is just touching me. I start frantically pulling at my restraints, trying to get free. I know it's hopeless, though, and give up after a minute. My nipples are throbbing from the pain of the clamps, and I start to cry a little from the pain and the fear.

I see that there are attendants positioning dildo devices similar to mine against a couple of the other women. I see attendants laying vibrators or regular dildos next to the rest of the women. Most of the women are crying now.

The activity in the room dies now. One by one, the attendants, apparently having completed their tasks, move to stand next to their charges, with their arms behind their backs. 

Classical music starts to play softly. (Some small part of my mind recognizes it as Chopin.) I see from the corner of my eye that two bartenders have taken up station at a bar in the corner of the room. At some unseen signal, each attendant reaches over and flips a switch on his charge's hip device. My device starts to vibrate against me. I'm grateful at least that it vibrates instead of shocks. Each attendant then does something with the nipple clamp cords. My clamps start to squeeze rhythmically. They are already painfully tight and I start to writhe around from the added pain that comes with each squeeze, as do all the other women. 

My attendant pulls the bar on my dildo machine upwards and pushes the dildo into me. He flips a switch on the device and the bar starts pumping the dildo up and down inside me, painfully since there is no lubrication. I can't believe this is happening to me. My attendant steps back to his station, his job being complete. For those that don't have a dildo device like mine, the attendants have picked up their charge's vibrators or dildos and have started fucking the women with them, no expressions on their faces. There is now writhing, whimpering, and moaning all around the room. 

Doors to my right open and people start coming into the room. They are all men, all in suits and with the look of wealth. All appear to be in their forties or older.

They walk in with an air of nonchalance, at first pretending as if the writhing, moaning women being fucked by various devices are of no consequence. Most get drinks at the bar. There is some muted conversation. Gradually, the men start showing more interest in the women, walking between them, going from one to the other as if in a zoo. All conversation has died.

Some of the men start to touch the women. This seems to be allowed, but one man starts squeezing a women's tit. Several attendants rush over and escort the man from the room. It seems as if the men are allowed to touch us, but not in certain places.

I feel very ashamed as I realize that the physical sensations of the vibration against my clit and the dildo fucking me are beginning to arouse me. Despite my fear and shame at being exposed to these men, I can't help becoming excited. My nipples are throbbing more and more with the pain of the clamps. For a while they clamp at the same time and then for a while they alternately clamp. I am horrified to realize that as I become more aroused, the pain of the clamps is starting to feel pleasurable.

The others must be feeling similar arousals, because around me I hear that the wimperings of fear are turning into reluctant, muted, little moans of pleasure.

The men stop circulating as much, most seeming to focus in on a single woman. Some of the women have several men observing her. Some have only one or two. There seems no rhyme or reason to it, as one of the plainer women with almost no breasts at all has several men surrounding her. Occasionally, a man will take the pen from the pedestal next to a woman, write something on one of the slips of paper, fold the paper and drop it into the bowl. I strongly suspect by now that we are being sold. This is obviously an auction.

One very tall man comes from behind to observe me and stays. He continues to watch me very intently, making me feel more and more frightened and embarrassed. I am also feeling very dirty and slutty, as I'm getting more and more excited as he watches. I try not to look at him. He looks at me as if he knows me. He has a very angry face. He looks brutal. He's in his forties. He's possibly 6' 2", very muscular and powerful-looking, and frightens me more than any of the other men. Being only 110 lbs myself, he surely outweighs me by at least 140 pounds. I'm terrified to think this man might purchase me.

He walks behind me and starts caressing my back, my sides, my ass, the backs of my thighs. I swivel and sway around, trying desperately to move away from him, but my movement is limited and I end up just slipping around within his hands. Apparently he knows what's allowed, as my attendant remains in position. I'm becoming more and more excited and am ashamed to realize that juices are starting to run down my legs. He sees this, kneels down behind me, and starts rubbing the backs of his hands up and down my inner thighs, seeming to like the wetness. As he does this, he watches the dildo pumping inside me.

He nips at first one and then the other of my ass cheeks, not hard enough to break the skin, but painfully. I look over at my attendant, thinking this wouldn't be allowed, but he is motionless. I don't seem very popular. The tall man is the only one up to now who's stayed to observe me. But eventually another man does come over and watches me for a while. He's a slim, rather handsome man in his 60's. The tall man stares at him intensely. He seems to frighten the new observer, who eventually kind of sidles away. I'm very disappointed. At least that one didn't look as mean.

I now try to ignore the tall man completely and what is happening to me and start watching the other women again. I see that one is no longer there. I wonder where she went. As I watch, a woman across the room climaxes. When she's done, her attendant turns off all her devices. He pulls the slips of paper out of the bowl and examines them. He speaks quickly to one of the observing men, obviously letting him know that he is the winner. The attendant attaches a leash to the woman's collar and releases her from her bonds. He leads her out of the room, still gagged, with her new owner following behind. She goes willingly. One of the other women is also done, and also leaves willingly. I wonder vaguely why they aren't fighting, why they're just going along with it.

I realize now how this works. I will have to remain in this room, being observed like a zoo specimen, being fondled by a brutal-looking man, being fucked by a dildo machine, until I cum, after which, I'll be someone's slave. Realizing this, I start to whimper and cry and pull at my restraints. I think, "I have to get out of here! I have to try not to cum!" But I realize I am already very close. In fact, I don't think I have ever been so aroused before. I stop struggling after a moment, still knowing it's pointless. I try to distract myself by watching what is happening to the other women, but I'm so aroused that this just excites me more. 

The tiny woman with the huge tits and the bar between her ankles is being fucked violently by her attendant with a gigantic dildo, her tits bouncing and jiggling with every thrust. She's so tiny, and the dildo is so huge, that I know it must hurt terribly, and I feel sorry for her, but at the same time, it makes me even hornier as I watch. I notice this particular attendant is not as nonchalant as the others. He's stroking himself surreptitiously. Surely others can see, and I wonder if that's allowed, but no one stops him. 

The woman is hard not to watch and has quite a number of observers. I can see that her attendant is getting more and more excited. Finally, he reaches up and squeezes one of her big tits very roughly, jiggling it back and forth. He's almost immediately surrounded by other attendants who usher him out of the room. A moment later, another attendant arrives to take his place.

My attendant does something behind me that I can't see. The pumping of the dildo immediately becomes faster and even deeper. He does something else off to my right and my nipple clamps start to squeeze even harder, becoming exquisitely painful and pleasurable at the same time. I become very weak with pleasure and can hardly stand. 

I am still trying to ignore the tall man, but he is still there, now standing in front of me, watching my face. As he watches me in that state, he slowly reaches down and starts stroking himself. This proves to be too much for me, and I cum harder than I've ever cum before. It comes in waves and seems to last for minutes. 

When it's over, I am too weak to stand up at all and am hanging by my arms. The attendant whispers something in the man's ear and the man stops stroking himself, but it's too late for me. The man was the only one to put a slip into my bowl, so I know who my new owner is. After my devices are turned off and I am released, I leave the room willingly, being too weak to even think about fighting and still too aroused to be scared.

The Little Redhead Ch. 02



I am led by my leash from the auction room to an elevator. We go down several floors and come out on a long hallway, well-decorated, with some kind of Asian artwork on the walls. It feels like we're underground. I realize we must be in a huge mansion. I've never been in a place so fancy. Stupidly, it intimidates me. 

As we walk down the hallway, I can feel the eyes of the man who has just purchased me on my naked body. I'm starting to recover and it embarrasses me. My gate becomes awkward as I imagine him looking at my bottom. I'm glad my hair is so long. At least it covers me up a little!

We stop in front of a door, which the attendant opens with a key. He leads me into the most beautiful bedroom I've ever seen and removes my leash. The attendant closes the door and starts speaking to my new owner. 

I don't know what to do. My fear is starting to return. I scurry onto the bed and curl up against the headboard, pulling the pillows over me to cover me. I look at the baseboard and see rows of hooks. I then notice the same on the headboard behind me. I get up quickly and curl up in a large overstuffed chair. I bring the pillows with, and cover myself with them again. Pushing the pillows against my nipples is painful. They are extremely tender. I look down and see that they are purple and swollen from the clamps. I adjust the pillows and listen to the conversation.

The attendant is saying to the owner, "As a new customer, sir, I am required to review the rules with you." He continues as if reading from a script, "Breaking of the skin or any other injury resulting in bleeding is not allowed. Breaking of bones, sprains, and dislocations is not allowed. Damage to internal organs is not allowed. Injury resulting in unconsciousness is not allowed. Choking is allowed, but must not result in unconsciousness."

Hearing this, I am relieved, but also frightened, as I'm imagining why there should even need to be such rules. 

The attendant pauses, and then says, "Sir, we understand your proclivities based on your original request. I have therefore been instructed to remind you that you will be monitored until your time is up tomorrow morning. If at any time, you break any of these rules, you will be, shall we say, 'interrupted' and removed from the premises. You will not be asked to return."

I am overwhelmed with relief at hearing this. Tomorrow morning! He hasn't purchased me. He's rented me! I only have to get through the next few hours and then I will be away from this man. And we will be monitored. He won't be allowed to REALLY hurt me. I can't help releasing a couple tiny sobs of relief, thankfully muffled by my gag.

Then I realize what the attendant said about the man's 'proclivities'. What did he mean? This man WANTS to really injure a woman, and has admitted to it! I'm frightened all over again.

The attendant continues, "Although you will be monitored, we respect your privacy and there will be no record of your stay with us or your activities here, as you already know. We hope that you are happy with your choice. I'm sure you noticed that we did find several petite redheads matching your description for you to choose from. We are not surprised that you chose this one. She fits your description the closest."

The man who purchased (rented!) me says, "Yes, yes. I made my choice. Now, is she clean?"

The attendant responds, "Of course, sir! Would you care to review the medical records?"

"No, no, that's fine. Stats?"

The attendant says, "32 years old. Five feet even. 111 pounds. Middle-class. College-educated. No drugs. No criminal record. Three partners, the first at age 18, the third one being an ex-husband. Divorced for two years, no partners since the divorce. One-"

The man cuts him off. "That's enough, unless there is something out of the ordinary I should know."

The attendant responds, "Well, sir, the psychological analysis showed some unusual traits. This one is strong-willed, but also unusually sensitive. This one-"

The man barks, "I don't care about that! Anything else?"

The attendant responds, "No, sir. That is all. Shall I remove the gag and refresh her?"

"Yes, then you may go."

The attendant removes my gag. He instructs me to relieve myself, pointing to a small bathroom. He tells me to drink a glass of water, the entire thing. When I'm done, he leaves the room. The man locks the door with a bolt which is at the top of the door, rather than at the side by the doorknob.

(I think, They've tested me! How long have I been here? What have they been doing to me? And what does he mean by my being "sensitive"?)

With the preliminaries over, I realize this is starting now, and I start to tremble in my chair and curl up tighter. 

The man turns and walks across the room, telling me, "Lay down on the bed," with hardly a glance. I lay on the bed, bringing my pillows with me. He turns and comes back. He pulls the pillows away from me, leaving me exposed, and throws them across the room into a corner. "Don't move and don't speak", he says.

He walks to a wooden cabinet and opens one of the doors. I see chains and straps, dildos of different sizes, and various other leather and metal things that I don't recognize. This is bondage stuff, I think. I know there are men that like to tie women up. I am almost relieved. Everyone has heard of that. He's just one of those guys that likes to tie women up and have sex with them and have them call him Master. I wonder why he didn't just go on the internet and find someone for free. I kind of think he's a fool for paying good money for me. I'm not hideous, but am not anything special. Surely he could find a "petite redhead" or two online who are willing to be tied up without having to pay anything.

My ex-husband put hand-cuffs on me twice and made me call him My Master, and it wasn't so bad. It was kind of fun, really. Okay, I think to myself, you can handle this. He's going to tie you up, then roughly fuck you and maybe stick dildos in you -- no big deal. It will hurt, but just hang on and it will be over eventually.

He opens the other cabinet door, revealing a large whip and a smaller one with little fringes. There are other things in there, too, that I don't understand, but all are scary-looking. I'm more frightened at seeing this. But I tell myself I can even handle being whipped or hurt with these weird things, too. He's not allowed to break the skin or break bones, so how much could he hurt me?

The man reaches into the cabinet and picks up some black leather gloves. He turns and looks at me, with that intense gaze that frightens and embarrasses me so much. His eyes never leaving my face, he pulls first one, then the other glove onto his hands. Then he smiles.

Something about the gloves and the smile on his face is so frightening that I panic, jump off the bed, and run for the door, making little peeping sounds. I start jumping at the bolt at the top of the door, trying to reach it, but it's too high.

The man crosses the room with a few long strides and, in a single motion, swoops me up with one arm and throws me across the room onto the bed. I land on my back, bouncing, my teeth cracking together. The strength of the man is unbelievable!

He crosses to the bed, straddles me and grabs my head, one hand on either side, and squeezes. He puts his face inches from mine and grits his teeth.

"Did you hear me say not to move?" he asks.

"Yes". Crack! He hits me open-handed on the face with one of his gloved hands.

"Did I say you could speak?"

"No," I answer, shaking my head. Crack! He hits me again on the face, harder than before, then backhands my right breast and slaps my left. This is very painful since my nipples are so sore and bruised from the clamps. I have a strange taste in my mouth. What's wrong with me? He said not to speak!

He grabs my head as before. He's very heavy and the weight of him is making it hard to breath. "You will not speak unless I tell you to. You will not move unless I tell you to. You will speak when I tell you to. You will move when I tell you to and how I tell you to. When you speak, you will address me as 'Sir'. These are simple rules. Even YOU should be able to understand and follow them. Do you understand these rules?"

I nod my head. I think this must be standard bondage stuff. In the back of mind, I'm grateful that I don't have to call him 'Master'. He says, "You may speak." I feel a moment of panic. What does he want me to say? Then I realize what he wants. Breathlessly, I blurt out, "Yes! Yes, sir! Yes! I understand. I understand the rules. Sir!" 

"Will you follow these rules?" he asks.

"Yes, sir!" He hits me in the face again, dazing me slightly. I feel a moment of intense anger and push it down. I just have to get through this. I yell at myself, Stop disobeying, you stupid girl! He didn't say you could speak!

"I repeat. Will you follow these rules?"

I nod my head.

He seems satisfied at that. He pauses and then does something strange. He grabs some of my hair in his hand and smells it, looking momentarily peaceful, then angry again, even more so than before. He gets off of me, telling me to stand up. He directs me to cross the room, to stand facing one of the walls four or five feet away, to bend over and to place my hands on the wall. "Spread your legs," he says, kicking me right leg outwards at the ankle. I spread my legs out and he kneels down behind me. 

He starts licking my pussy from front to back. I'm shocked to realize that my body is still quite aroused from the earlier ordeal. My clit is still swollen and I'm still wet. I've never had anyone do anything like this to me before, well not in this position, anyway, from behind with him having a full view of me. I'm humiliated having this done to me. I'm almost more humiliated than when I was in the auction room. Still, I find myself reacting to it. And this isn't so bad. He's not even hurting me! 

I slowly start to pant with excitement, even though I try very hard not to. My clit is throbbing, and I become wetter and wetter. I start dripping again, and as in the auction room, he rubs my juices up and down my inner thighs as he's licking me. As before, I'm horribly ashamed at getting so aroused. I can't help it, though. My knees get weak and it becomes harder and harder to hold my position. The man tells me to stand up and turn around. Gratefully, I obey.

I stand facing him. He removes his suit jacket, tie, and shirt, tossing them across the room onto the chair. He removes his belt and unbuttons and unzips his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him, in a mockery of a passionate embrace. My face is pressed against his chest. He asks, "Did you like that?" I debate for a moment. I did and didn't like it, but there is no hiding my physical reaction to it. I realize I must agree, and I nod against his chest.

He squeezes me harder for a second, squeezing the breath out of me, then releases me. He says, "Kneel."

I kneel in front of him. He grabs my hair like a rope, not pulling it hard, just holding it, and says, "Pull down my boxers and blow me." 

In the back of my mind, I think, Blow me! I haven't heard that phrase in ten years.

I pull his boxers down. I look at his cock. It's hard, but still hanging down. It's the biggest cock I've ever seen. I don't know about inches, I've only seen three in my life, but it is bigger than my ex-husband's, and my ex-husband had to be careful with me, since I'm so small. He had hurt me accidentally a few times with a hard thrust at a weird angle. The pain made me feel ill and once I almost passed out. I know this man will NOT be careful, but will instead be happy if he accidentally hurts me. Thinking of the pain my ex-husband had caused and looking at this man's cock and imagining what he might do with it, I panic again.

I stand up and try to run away, anywhere. The man grabs my hair tightly and sharply yanks me back by it so that I stop short and fall onto my back, almost getting the wind knocked out of me, but not really hurt.

The man straddles me and grabs my wrists, pulling them in towards my chest. I've never seen rage like the rage I see on his face. He puts his face inches from mine, like before, and says quietly, but emphatically, as if almost too angry to speak, "You bitch! You little bitch. You let me lick your pussy, panting and moaning. You were dripping! You don't protest to that at all! You said you liked it! And yet, when I tell you to suck my cock, you refuse and run away, you selfish, selfish cunt!"

He grabs my face, and I say, "No, I-" Crack! He hits me on the face yet again. I feel my face starting to swell. I yell at myself, Shut up, dummy! You're not supposed to speak! Why do you keep disobeying?!

He then makes a fist and holds it over my face for a second. I squeeze my eyes shut in fear. Then he seems to think better of it, and slaps my right tit, then backhands my left tit. As before, my nipples' tenderness makes this very painful. He then holds his open hand over my face again, as if to strike. As I anticipate the next painful blow, I watch his self-control take over and he lowers his hand.

He says, "You started to say something. You may speak."

I decide I must be honest and stammer, "I, I just meant to say...It's just that....I wanted to say that I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry. I just saw the size of....how big your.... I saw how big you were and I got scared. I've been hurt before. I just got scared of being hurt, sir. I didn't mean to be selfish." Not being sure if I've addressed him properly, I add, "Sir!"

A look of confusion crosses his face for a split second and then is gone. The anger returns, but is not quite so intense. He gets up and crosses the room.

And I realize in a flood of gestaltic understanding that this man does not have a sex fetish. This man did not pay good money to be able to tie up a woman against her will and have sex with her, maybe whipping her a few times. In fact, this isn't about sex at all. This man quite simply wants to hurt a woman. No, I correct myself, this man wants to hurt ME, not just any woman, but ME. In fact, this man wants to kill me. He's a killer and I'm the one he wants to kill. I don't understand. I don't even know him. Why does he want to hurt me so much that he would pay good money to be in a room with me and torture me, as I now suspect he's going to do?

I realize, also, that this man just might actually do it -- that he might actually kill me, even though we are being monitored. He is just barely controlling himself, and he might lose control. The relief I felt at knowing we were monitored is gone. If this man loses his self-control, he could kill me with a single blow, before anyone has time to come to stop him. I thought I was afraid before, many times during this long night, but never like this. I am now afraid for my very life.

At the very least, I know that I'm going to be tortured tonight, as much as the monitors will allow. I start to tremble, then shake uncontrollably and sob. I can't help it. I force myself to hold still as much as possible, but the trembling continues and the sobs keep coming. I know now that I must obey him absolutely. I must not make a SINGLE mistake, and I must be smart. Repeating this to myself, I force the trembling and sobbing to subside. I am limp with the extreme fear I feel as I watch the man open the cabinet containing the whips.

He pulls out the largest whip, turns towards me, and smiles. I start to sob again.



The Little Redhead Ch. 03



**** Warning: this chapter contains graphic violence. Please skip to C4 if not your thing. ****

*

The man, still smiling and holding the whip just watches me lying on the floor sobbing for a moment. As I try to stop crying, I remind myself that I have to be very smart in order to get through this night. He's rented me for only one night. I can do this. 

I tell myself, His name is 'Sir'. Think of his name as 'Sir'. It will make it easier to remember to say it.

He (Sir!) tells me, "Stop that. Get on the bed." I try to stop crying and get off the floor. He says, "Well, go clean your face first." I clean up in the bathroom and lay down on the bed. 

He comes towards me with the whip, then seems to think better of it and goes back to the cabinet. He sets down the whip and looks around for a second or two. Then he takes out four tiny collars. He comes to the bed, directs me to lay on my stomach, then puts the collars on my wrists and ankles. He gets some chains with hooks and attaches one to each collar. He hooks the chains leading from my arms onto the headboard, high up and far apart. He does the same with my ankles on the baseboard so that I'm kind of hanging with most of my weight on my lower torso. This makes it slightly hard to breath.

My instinct is to immediately start pulling at the restraints, but I force myself to remain still.

The man retrieves the large whip and stands next to the bed. I tell myself that I don't think he can kill me with it, and if he breaks the skin, the monitors will stop him and this will be over. Knowing it's going to hurt, but telling myself it won't be too bad, I steel myself for the first lash. I tell myself that no matter how much it hurts, I must not move, must not speak. My life may depend on it.

He raises the whip high and brings it down across my shoulder blades. The pain is unbelievable. I've never felt anything like it. I tense every muscle in my body and clench my teeth to prevent myself from struggling or screaming. Surely he must have broken the skin! I hope to hear the monitors come into the room, but they don't. I know another lash is coming and it does. He whips me again and again, moving down my back. 

Tears start running down my face. I clench my teeth harder, willing myself with all my might not to make a sound. But as he moves down my back, he whips harder and harder. I thought the first few lashes were painful, but realize now he was holding back at first. I can't help myself and start to scream with each new lash of the whip, but manage to remain motionless for the most part. I am certain that I must be bleeding everywhere, but the monitors still don't come.

He ('Sir', I remind myself) starts to pant. With the next lash, he screams with me, startling me, an animal scream of rage, "Ahhh!!!" I lose my self-control and start pulling and struggling to get away. I hear a beeping sound.

He stops and inhales deeply. He holds his breath, and steps back from the bed for a moment. He exhales shudderingly and moves towards me again. He whips me a few more times, until he reaches my ass, but the lashes are not nearly as severe. I realize the monitors were warning him that he was getting out of control, in danger of really injuring me.

He puts the whip away and kneels on the bed between my legs. He leans over me and rubs his finger lightly but very painfully across the highest-most welt on my back. "Does it hurt?" he asks.

I almost say, "Yes, sir", but remember not to speak. I nod instead, rather vigorously. 

He says, "You may speak."

"Yes, sir. It hurts, sir." It comes out as a whisper.

He does the same thing, asking the same question, sounding more and more angry, with the next welt down and the next, moving down my back. After a few more times, he says between gritted teeth, "Good." Suddenly, he screams in rage again and pounds both fists onto my ass cheeks. He leans forward, reaches around me, grabs both tits, and squeezes brutally. He lies on my back and bites me between the shoulder blades. 

The pain from the bite on my welted back is tremendous. My body, already arched back from the restraints, arches more, and I scream again. For a moment, I barely register the beeping. Then he stops biting me and rests heavily on my back. Again, it's impossible to believe he didn't break the skin, but he must not have. I can't believe he bit me! He really is crazy, I think. And I know that he had been very, very close to losing all control before the warning was issued. 

I realize now that I was wrong. He has, he can, and he is going to hurt me terribly, even though he's not allowed to really injure me. I know I am going to feel more pain tonight than I've ever felt before and it's just going to go on for hours. I start to tremble.

I sense that he is unsure what to do next. He is still gripping my tits. As he lies on my back, I think furiously. I review everything that's happened, everything the attendant said, everything I know about this man. 

The attendant who brought me here had said that I "fit the description the closest." Okay, he didn't just want a tiny redhead with a particular look. 'Description' implies a description of a particular person. This man was searching for a look-alike and hired these people to find him one and to make sure she was 'clean'. I recall that the tiny woman with the huge tits in the auction room was a redhead. Picturing her face in my mind, I realize that we could have been sisters.

He wants a look-alike to take his rage out on in a place that will allow him to do so, at least to some extent. The only thing I can think of that would cause such rage is betrayal. It was a wife that cheated on him. That must be it! He wants to punish me for what his wife did. I realize, too, that he is somewhat insane. He doesn't just think I look like her, some part of him thinks I really AM her. 

Okay, I tell myself, the reason for the anger is jealousy and the reason for jealousy is sex. He had sex with this woman. I realize how I might prevent him from hurting me too badly. The sex aspect of this set-up is just a veneer at the moment, but I have to try my best to turn this into a real sexual encounter. Somehow, I have to turn his mind away from his rage and his desire to hurt me and make him just want to fuck me.

But how? I can't move and I can't speak, and even if I could, I wouldn't really know what might arouse him. And, in my position, I can't really see his face, in order to read his reactions.

I decide I have to try something, though. As I've been thinking, he's moved so that he is not pressed so heavily against me. I start moving my torso side to side, just very slightly, in order to move my tits around within his hands. I know he can't really feel them with the gloves, but I hope he will like it anyway.

He asks, "Did I tell you to move?" I shake me head and stop moving and tense for a blow. I kick myself mentally. This was a mistake.

The blow doesn't come. Instead, he walks to the cabinet, and pauses to think. He takes some nipple clamps out of the cabinet. Pulling my hair to raise me off the bed slightly, he clamps them to my sore nipples. They aren't like the ones in the auction room. They are simple spring clamps with a small chain between. 

He releases my hair. He grabs my tits again and says, "NOW move. Like you were before." I move like before, rubbing my tits against his gloved hands, but now with the clamps on, it's torture. My body wants very badly to stop moving, to stop causing myself this pain, but I continue as ordered, although very jerkily, fighting against my strong desire to stop.

He tells me, "Keep doing that." He releases my tits, and I continue moving them against the bed. He pauses for a moment, then reaches around, slides his hand under me, and starts yanking again and again on the chain. It feels like he's going to rip my nipples right off!

"Does it hurt?" he asks like before.

I nod vigorously again.

"Good."

Well, this is no good, I think. I got him interested in my tits alright, but only enough to torture me with them. I realize that I can't just entice him with a little jiggle of my tits. Thinking frantically, I recall that he did start out by licking my pussy and he seemed to like it. He liked it that I was aroused. He didn't really start hurting me until I refused to go down on him. I remembered him rubbing his hands up and down my wet inner thighs then and in the auction room. 

I decide that I have to somehow make myself aroused. That I can't do this just by trying to arouse him directly. And I also know instinctually that I can't fool this man and pretend anything with him. He may be insane, but he's also perceptive and more than a little intelligent.

I decide I have to try to like what he's doing to me -- to turn a torturous act into a sexual one. And I have to do it fast.

I search my mind desperately and frantically for a way to like the pain of rubbing my clamped nipples on the bed and to like the yanking on the chain. I make myself remember how aroused I became in the auction room, how good the nipple clamps came to feel to me then, despite, no BECAUSE OF, the pain. I also try picturing myself with the nipple clamps on, to imagine a man (maybe my ex-husband), becoming aroused by seeing me with the nipple clamps on.

The pain in my nipples is far greater than in the auction room, but I feel it starting to work. I start to become aroused again, and the incredible pain in my nipples actually does start to feel good. I can feel my movements becoming more and more sensual as I start enjoying the pain. And it's working! I can tell by his breath that he senses the difference and is reacting to it.

He stops pulling on the chain and reaches around again to grab my tits, squeezing and kneading them and in the process, grinding my nipples around. I keep moving as much as possible. This actually hurts more than the pulling of the chain, but I feel victorious, because I recognize that he's reacting to me now, rather than just trying to hurt me.

He drags his hands down my back. The dragging across my welts is very painful, but I remind myself it is a sensual movement to him. In order to increase my arousal, I picture him reacting to me, looking at me, and wanting me. I don't have to force myself to keep rubbing my nipples against the bed. I want to keep doing it now.

Without warning, he penetrates me with two gloved fingers. He starts fucking me with his hand. At first, I want to beg him to stop. Then I make myself think about what he's doing, making myself like the kinkiness of being fucked by a gloved hand. He's not hurting me much, and I start liking it more and more. I start wanting to move my hips. I decide to take a chance and do so, almost imperceptibly, although it's a little difficult in the position I'm in.

As before, he asks, "Did I tell you to move?" I shake my head and stop moving my hips, but remember to continue rubbing my tits on the bed.

He sticks a finger into my ass, quickly and deeply. I inhale sharply from the pain and the surprise and stop moving altogether. I've never had anyone put anything into me there before. I'm quite simply appalled. It hurts only slightly, but feels very strange. I feel light-headed and slightly queasy. I don't even know what to make of the sensation. My mind refuses to process it. He starts fucking me with his hand again, this time in the ass as well.

"Now move, like you did before." I don't know for sure if he means my torso or my hips or both. I guess my hips, so I start rotating them awkwardly. I tell myself sharply that I have to get back into this! I try to ignore the sensation in my ass and focus on his fingers in my pussy. It's no good, though. The two sensations are too tightly coupled. Okay, I have to find a way to like this, too. Quickly!

I focus in on the sensation of his finger going in and out of my anus, forcing my mind to make sense of it. I remind myself that it doesn't really hurt, not much at all. It feels a little like being fucked in the pussy, but in some way also very different. 

I think about the fact of the two sensations being so close to each other, entangled together somehow. I realize that the sensation in my ass is increasing the sensation in my pussy. I realize abruptly that I could like this, or at least not mind it, even though I think it's kind of disgusting. Finding my way through this to some extent, and finding my arousal increasing again, my hips start to move more naturally and more quickly. I find myself trying to thrust against his fingers, wanting him to go a little deeper.

I've been listening to his breath coming faster and faster. I realize my plan is working. He suddenly stops fucking me and pulls his fingers out. I feel kind of hollow and bereft. I moan just slightly and whisper, "Please don't stop, sir," and immediately think, Oh shit! I said that out loud!

He removes the wet glove from his hand and throws it in a little trash bucket. Without looking at me and without expression, he says, "You are a slow learner." He goes to the cabinet, looks around, and picks out a very thick, funny-looking dildo with a flat bottom.

At the moment, I think it would feel good for him to put that in my pussy. It's very thick, which is scary, but it's not long enough to hurt me. But then realize with horror that he's pushing it against my anus with one hand. From the corner of my eye, I see his arm swing back and then forward like he's about to spank me. He crashes his hand on the bottom of the dildo, slamming it into me. I feel my eyes roll back into my head for a second and I bite my tongue. I feel like I'm being turned inside out. I feel in shock and can hardly breath now.

He lies down on my back and forces his cock into my pussy. I'm small to begin with, he's big, and the dildo is making me even smaller, so he has to really struggle to get it in. I'm beyond being able to even recognize my own body's sensations right now. I just lay there for a few moments, completely limp, as he starts thrusting.

I start to feel happy, though, because I realize I've won the battle, if not the war. He's just going to fuck me for a while now. I did it! He's forgotten about wanting to hurt me.

With each thrust, my breasts are forced forward and back, grinding my clamped nipples on the bed, as pleasurably as before. Because of the angle, he can't penetrate me as deeply as he might, so he's not hurting me. Also because of the angle, my clit is rubbing on the bed. 

Incredible sensations seem to be coming from everywhere -- my nipples, my clit, my pussy, my ass. I feel completely filled with sensation, like I never have before. I know that if it continues, I am going to cum and soon. Against my own will, I start to moan very quietly. I'm afraid that he will punish me for it, but instead he just starts thrusting harder and faster, making me moan even more. I can't believe how turned on I am. I feel as if the entire room is moaning with me. 

My eyes roll back again and I cum, tensing every muscle in my body, my pussy and ass clamping down on his cock and the dildo. His thrusting gets harder and faster and he starts panting. When I'm done, I shudder slightly, sigh, and go limp. I hear a sharp intake of breath. "What did you just do?" he asks. 

I don't answer. He hasn't told me to speak. 

I can tell he's angry, but I don't understand why. He didn't mind that I was turned on, so why be angry that I came? I would have thought he would like it. What did I do wrong? I simply can not understand. And I realize I'm in trouble.

He pulls out and releases my arms and legs, which flop down onto the bed. He flips me over, glaring at me. He kneels at the bottom of the bed and pulls me towards him by my ankles. He grabs my thighs and pulls my hips up onto him. 

He sticks his cock into me, brutally pushing past the restriction caused by the dildo, and starts thrusting. He pulls me towards him by the hips with each thrust as if I weighed nothing. This angle is different and he's able to penetrate much deeper. Every thrust is an agony. The end of his cock is hitting something inside me. I feel as if I'm being punched deep inside over and over.

I start to cry out with each thrust. Then I just start saying, "No. No. No No." He doesn't stop me. I start to feel light-headed and queasy again, more so than before. I eventually become too weak to cry out or speak. Will he never stop? Everything starts to get very bright. I realize I'm about to lose consciousness, and then I do. 



The Little Redhead Ch. 04



When I come to, there seem to be many people in the room. I am being examined by a doctor. I think to myself, I am alive! For once in my life I am grateful that, like many redheads, I faint easily.

I feel extremely happy. I won the battle with this man, this monster. I got him to fuck me hard enough that I fainted, and now he can never come back. I am so relieved that I could dance around the room, saying "I won! I won!"

The man who rented me is at the door, talking with a very severe-looking, older man, who is completely bald and wearing an expensive-looking suit. The doctor glances at the talking men, and says, "Sir, she is conscious now."

The bald man says to the man who rented me, "Please come with me. We can discuss this further in my office." They leave, shutting the door behind them.

He doctor pats me on the leg almost kindly and says he's done. There is an attendant in the room with us. The doctor tells him, "She's very tiny. You should know that anyone would have to be careful with her. There are no permanent injuries, just a little bruising. Her blood pressure is almost back to normal." 

The doctor tells me, "Drink some water, don't move around too much, and try to sleep."

They both leave, leaving me locked in. At this point, I don't care what happens to me next. Even if I'm auctioned off again, no one could be as scary as this man. Surprisingly, I am able to sleep like a baby. In the morning, I eat and shower. When I am done, there is a woman in the room. She gives me a silky Japanese-style robe to wear. I don't know what it's called, but I think it's beautiful. She spends the next hour applying make-up and fixing my hair, making my long auburn hair wavy again, like in the auction room. After she leaves, I look at myself in the mirror, turning side to side. I look kind of pretty!

I am still almost giddy to be away from the horrible man, but my mind is starting to prick me with little worries and doubts about what's going to happen now. An attendant arrives and gives me pretty little sandals to wear that fit perfectly. I realize that I can probably speak now. I had forgotten that it was allowed. I almost don't want to ask, but can't help myself. "What's going to happen to me now?"

The attendant looks at me and opens his mouth to speak. Just then the door opens and the bald man enters with the man who rented me walking behind. My heart sinks. What's going on here? I thought I would never see him again! 

The bald man tells me, "You are to come with me now. You've been purchased." My heart jumps and seems to keep on jumping and I faint again.

When I come to, I'm being carried by the attendant, following the bald man and my new owner through the mansion. I know that I am going to die. I start to struggle, fighting against the attendant, trying to get away. I've never fought so hard before, but I'm still weak from fainting. The attendant very quickly gets me on the floor on my stomach, holding me down. There is a quick discussion, and someone says, "No, we can't drug her after she's just fainted. It could kill her." 

I yell, "Just do it! Kill me! It's better than going with him!" The attendant covers my mouth.

Another attendant arrives, pulls my wrists behind my back, and puts soft leather shackle-things on my wrists and ankles, securing them with some kind of lock. They gag me and put a hood over my head, securing it in place. The first attendant picks me up again and we resume our walk.

I am placed in a limousine, still shackled, gagged, and hooded. I hear them hand the shackle keys to my 'owner'. After we drive for a few minutes, the man, sitting across from me now, removes my hood. He asks if I'll be quiet and I nod. He removes my gag and I keep my promise.

We are in the country. We drive for a long time, maybe two hours or more, with nothing much to look at but trees. He doesn't touch me or speak. I've gone beyond fear. I don't feel or think anything. I can't look at him. I lay down on the seat after a while, facing away from him, and some time later, I cry just a little, silently, unable to wipe my tears away.

We arrive at another huge house -- another mansion. The man carries me in from the car. I don't bother trying to fight. He takes me upstairs in an elevator and into a little lobby. He punches a security code into a door panel and takes me into a place that looks and feels like an apartment. There is a kitchen, dining and living area, all sort of one big room, with a hall leading off of it. It's beautiful, but very sparsely furnished and decorated. There are many windows on one side, facing out into nothing but trees.

He sets me on a daybed and sits down in a chair opposite me. He just sits and looks at me for a time. My numbness is leaving me, and I start to feel some real fear again. I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to do anything -- afraid of a repeat of the previous night.

I try not to look at him. I want him to stop looking at me! He's always looking at me! 

Finally, he comes over and kneels in front of me. He reaches towards me, and I cringe back. He removes my shackles and leaves. I am dumbfounded, perplexed, and relieved. I was certain that the rage he showed before would come out now, uninhibited and unstoppable. I don't know what happened, but still think he will likely kill me when he returns.

He doesn't return the next day or the next. I try everything, but there is no way to get out and no way to get a message out. Every day I am completely wrought with fear at his return, knowing that when he does return, he will beat me again.

He has left me only my silk robe to wear. There's a washing machine for the bedclothes, but there's no way to wash the robe properly. I'm afraid I'll ruin it, since it's silk. After a few days, I feel too yucky to keep wearing it, and just go naked. No one is there to see me, anyway.

A couple of days after I arrive, a woman comes into the apartment, carrying groceries. She is middle-aged, Hispanic, with a pretty face. She's rather plump, yet somehow elegant. She has no expression and says with a fairly light Spanish accent, "Hello. I will be doing the cleaning here."

I put the food away as she gets started. When I'm done, I follow her around for a bit, watching her. "What's your name?" I finally ask her. She glances at me. "Grieta".

I blurt out, "Grieta, please help me. Please! Please get me out of here! This man, he-"

She shakes her head and cuts me off, saying, "No. No puedo! I can't! I'm sorry! You don't understand....My family, my girls, he's...." She trails off, looking down and looking very afraid.

I realize this man must have threatened her family, her children, if she said anything. What a monster! She's afraid for their lives. She won't help me, but it's not her fault. "Esta bien," I say. "Esta bien. I understand."

I have forgotten that I'm naked. I look down, become embarrassed, and go put my robe on and sit and watch her for a while.

A couple of days later, she comes again. This time, I tell her I want to help. She protests at first, saying she's not sure if it's a good idea, but I insist. She's already seen me naked, so I ask if I can remove my robe while I'm cleaning.

I help her clean each time she comes, removing my robe each time. I look forward to her being there. We don't really talk much, but at least I don't feel as lonely.

I become very bored very quickly. There is an exercise room, and I exercise at least once a day. I have a little martial arts training and use the room to practice my forms. At least it takes my mind off of things for a while.

Finally, after a week or so, he starts coming to me. I am surprised by how it plays out. He never beats me again. Luckily, I am wearing the robe the first time he comes in, since I had gotten cold. He always comes in the evenings, so after that, I always put the robe on before he arrives. 

He comes to me almost every night, not saying anything. He uses me, then leaves. He almost seems distracted, as if doing this with me is just some afterthought. He seems to rush through it, and is never there long. He has the demeanor of a man that, though obviously very wealthy, works for a living and works a lot.

Each time, he basically replays a variation of the first night at the auction mansion, without the gloves and whipping. He has brought some equipment which he leaves in my room, basically the same things he used that first night. I never speak and I never fight him. I'm still terrified of him.

Just like at the auction, he usually starts out by licking my pussy. He often makes me go down on him afterwards. Then he ties me up in my bed, sometimes simply bound with my arms behind my back, and sometimes tied to the bed itself. He often puts nipple clamps on me, and often he uses his hand first before fucking me. He seems to like that. Sometimes he uses the butt-dildo. I no longer think of this as something I could like someday, and just shut my eyes and endure it. All of this strengthens my conviction that he was never into the bondage thing before the auction. 

I'm often not wet enough for him, and that hurts. He's quite rough and does hurt me a little, but never anything like the night of the auction.

I do sometimes become a little aroused despite myself, but I never come close to coming again. I don't dare. Thankfully, he doesn't repeat the final brutal fucking that he gave me the first night, and I never faint again.

I get used to the routine, and even though I hate being held against my will, my fear diminishes. I just become more and more bored, more anxious to get out of here, although I don't know how.

I want to ask him for other clothes, but don't dare speak at all. I never say a word unless directed. I wash the robe by hand, but it shrinks and gets wrinkly and doesn't look good anymore. I am stupidly embarrassed by this. He doesn't seem to mind, though, and never brings me different clothes.

One day, the man unexpectedly comes in during the day while I'm cleaning with Grieta. I'm standing on the counter, dusting above the top-most cabinets. He looks at me and says, "What are you doing?! Get down from there!" I start to get down and he rushes over, grabs me off the counter, and sets me on my feet.

He demands of Grieta, "What's going on here?" He advances towards her to hit her! I run around in front of him, standing between him and Grieta.

I hold my arms towards him, shaking them side-to-side with the duster still in my hand, and shake my head violently.

"What? What is it?" he demands. I don't answer. "Speak!" he barks.

"Don't hurt her, please! It's my fault! I insisted that she let me help. I get so bored, and I can't just be waited on, for God's sake! She works hard! Please don't hurt her, sir. Please, sir!"

He just looks at me, looks at Grieta, starts to say something, and then abruptly leaves. I look down at my naked body. By this point, I've gotten very used to being naked most of the time and only think about it now that he's gone. I tell Grieta, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I got you in trouble." Thinking of him hurting her or her children upsets me too much. I am done cleaning for today. We were almost done, anyway. I run to my room and curl up in my bed.

That evening, when he comes in, he seems different. He has brought me some clothes. There are two very short skirts and two teddies. No shirt, no bra, and no panties! He tells me, "Now, when I come, wear one of these, and be cleaning. Don't stop cleaning when I come in." He leaves without saying or doing anything more that night.

Things change after that. He stops replaying the auction night.

Each evening, I put one of the little outfits on and find something to clean. I do as he says and keep cleaning when he shows up. I feel more naked in these outfits than I did when I was completely naked. Sometimes he just sits and watches for a little while, occassionally giving me instructions like, "You missed a spot over in the corner there." 

I'm embarrassed and feel slutty having him watch me wearing a skirt with no panties and no top bending over scrubbing the floors and vacuuming under the couch and such. But something about him watching me like this always arouses me at least a little, so I'm always wet when he fucks me. Sometimes he tells me I should be wearing the nipple clamps when he arrives. For some reason, walking around cleaning with the nipple clamps on and the chain between them dangling on my stomach really excites me, and I often have a hard time not coming on those occasions.

He's less rough with me, but bossier, and stays longer. He often makes me lick and suck his cock and his balls for a long time, giving me explicit and detailed instructions as I go. He makes me get on top and ride him, which he had never done before. He's so big and I'm so small, that I have to just kind of kneel on him to go as fast and as hard as he wants. He doesn't seem to mind the weight or the press of my knees on his stomach.

One day he arrives when I'm washing some of the delicate glassware in the sink, although they're not dirty. (Well, they ARE a little dusty, I tell myself.) I'm wearing one of the little skirts this time. He comes up behind me and rubs his hands up my thighs and under my skirt. He kneels down behind me, lifts my skirt and bites my ass, one bite on each side, like at the auction, but not quite as hard. 

He stands and pulls me back by the hips so I'm standing a foot or two away from the sink, lifts my skirt again, kneels down, and starts licking my pussy, as he often used to. I keep washing the glassware, as I know I should, but it becomes difficult to concentrate. There is something about the way he is touching me today that is really getting to me.

He stands up and presses himself against me, pushing me forward against the edge of the counter. There are a lot of suds in the sink. He reaches around me and grabs some suds with both hands and starts rubbing them on my tits, my stomach, and reaches down to my clit. He rubs my clit very slowly and sensually for a little while, as I continue washing. It feels unbelievably good.

He stops, and I hear him unbutton his pants and pull them down. He spreads his legs and crouches down a little to position himself behind me and enters me from behind. He starts thrusting, slowly, not roughly, again rubbing my clit. I'm more used to his size now and he doesn't hurt me at all at this angle unless he tries. I think, What is he doing to me? It's almost as if he's making love to me. 

I am becoming extremely aroused. I hate being so turned on by this man who I hate so much, but the way he's touching me makes it impossible for me not to be. I lay my head back against him for just a moment and sigh, but then lean forward and start washing again. I am becoming so aroused that it's almost impossible to keep washing, but I manage. I don't want to know how much trouble I would be in if I were to stop. 

I finish one glass, then another. For some reason, swiveling around to put them in the drainer as he's stroking inside me makes me even more aroused. He starts thrusting harder and faster, grunting a little, and I know I'm going to come this time. I'm afraid what he'll do to me if I climax, but I know there is nothing that can stop it from happening now. 

He stops rubbing my clit and grabs my hips with both hands. I finally have to stop washing and I brace myself with my hands on the counter, hanging my head forward over the water, the ends of my hair dangling in the suds, floating in the water, almost too aroused to stand. He's so big, that I feel like a doll in his grasp. 

He then thrusts so hard he almost lifts me off the floor. This is almost too much for me. He's driving me crazy, plain and simple. He thrusts again and again, each time lifting me up with the strength of his thrust. I want him to do this all day and I yell, "Yes!" not caring for once if he punishes me for it. 

Then, moaning loudly, I push my head and body back against him as hard as I can, wanting to have as much contact with him as possible. I reach both arms up and behind me to grab at his head, and I come, with him completely supporting me now as I am utterly unable to stand. 

I'm afraid now how he will punish me for coming, but instead he just keeps pumping inside me, and I think I might come again and soon. He hisses, "Start washing!" I start washing again, very weakly and ineffectually, struggling to brace myself with just my legs. His grunts and moans get immediately louder, his thrusts become amazingly fast for just a moment, and he comes, lifting my feet completely off the floor.

He pulls out and sinks back. Grabbing the counter with one hand, he sits heavily on the floor, staring down. I continue washing, not looking at him, almost unable to stand, and wanting to sit on the floor with him. I'm still very aroused. But I am also still afraid what he'll do to me now. He punished me brutally the one time that I came, that first night.

He doesn't say anything at all, and after a few minutes, he dresses and leaves. I think to myself, maybe this won't be so bad. At least it's getting interesting, and he hasn't really hurt me since that first night. I still hate him, and I want to leave this place, but if I have to be held prisoner, it could be worse. It could be much, much worse.

I go to bed shortly thereafter. I play with myself in bed. I hadn't dared to do it before, because I was afraid he would have cameras and microphones, but with what happened tonight, I think his rage has dissipated a great deal, and I'm not so afraid of him now. I'm still so aroused I can hardly help myself, anyway. To be on the safe side, I do it under the covers with the lights off, though, trying to keep my actions hidden and silent, in case there is a camera. It doesn't take me long.



The Little Redhead Ch. 05



The day after I finally lose control and come, I find myself hoping tonight isn't one of the rare nights my owner doesn't come to me. The night before, I was afraid at first he would punish me for coming, but he didn't. Now I almost can't wait for him to return. I am sick with myself for wanting him, but can't help it. I have nothing else to look forward to!

He comes unexpectedly during the day and says he has to lock me in my room for a little while and he gags me. He doesn't look angry, but his expression is hard, inscrutable. He barely looks at me. I'm locked up for two or three hours, wondering what's going on, getting scared. I hear sporadic, muffled noises that I can't interpret. He eventually unlocks my door and removes my gag. He shoves a bag full of clothes into my arms and tells me to start wearing them now. He leaves the apartment without another word.

I look in the bag and see it contains a few pieces of lingerie, much kinkier and sluttier than the little skirts and teddies he gave me before. I'm not even quite sure how to wear some of them.

I leave the bedroom and look around the apartment, trying to figure out what was going on. I don't see anything out of place. Finally, I try a door down the hall from my bedroom that's always been locked. It's not locked now. I open it, slowly, scared of what I'll see. I feel for the light switch and switch the light on. When I see what's inside, my heart sinks.

It's a large room. Everywhere I look, there is something frightening. There is a hook in the ceiling with chains hanging off of it. There is some kind of low table with V-shaped legs. There is a black circular platform on the floor with shackles attached to it forming a trapezoid. There is another smaller platform with two shackles on it and two above it hanging from the ceiling. It's just like the one I was on at the auction!

I see a cabinet like the one at the auction mansion. Almost shaking, I walk over and open it. It contains a set of whips, dildos, restraints, and other things I don't want to look it. I finger a large whip like the one he whipped me with at the auction, and quickly slam the door shut and back away from it.

I look around again. I see elements of the auction mansion here, and also know he must have been doing some research, probably looking on the internet. I go back to the door, turn off the light, and slam the door, breathing hard. I practically run back to my room and then sit on the bed, thinking.

I realize that I made a mistake last night. He is in the mood to start hurting me again. He got into using me as a sex toy for a while, and so did I. I thought he had calmed down, but the desire to hurt me is still very much present underneath. And I've brought it back out again by coming last night. I don't know why, but I did. Why did I allow myself to come?!

That evening, I pick out what seems to me to be the least kinky thing, a thong and a bra that just sits under my tits, pushing them up, but not covering the nipples. I've seen them before. Under different circumstances, I would love it. I look at myself in the mirror. It fits pretty well! For just a moment, I forget myself and stroke and tweak my nipples. Then I stop abruptly and look around, thinking of the possible cameras in the room.

After dressing, I find something to clean, as always, but as I'm cleaning, I'm thinking of what he might do to me tonight. I get more and more scared. I give up cleaning and try practicing my martial arts forms to calm myself, but after a few minutes, realize it's no use. Finally, shaking with fear, I try the main door again. I haven't bothered trying it in a long time. Not surprisingly, it's still locked.

Then I try to find somewhere in the apartment to hide. I know it's useless and will probably make things worse, but I can't stop myself. The apartment is very sparse and the only place I can find to hide is under the bed. 

When he finally comes, I'm still on my stomach under the bed, willing myself to be invisible. I fail miserably at that. He finds me and orders me out. I shake my head. He reaches in, grabs an ankle, and drags me out by it. I flip over on my back and start slapping at his hands and kicking at him, saying "No! No! No!" This is the first time I've fought him since we got here. He finally grabs me by my hair and hauls me up, with me scratching and clawing at his hands.

He grabs me under one arm like a football and unceremoniously carries me down the hall, with me struggling and scratching at him. He ignores me. He brings me into the room and puts me on the platform with the four shackles. He has no trouble getting me on my back and restrained (he's more than twice my weight!), although I'm fighting with him the whole time. When he's done and I'm restrained, he just stands for a moment, both of us panting from the exertion.

I lay there, looking at him. He looks like a different man. As I was afraid of, he looks angry, like the brutal killer he appeared to be that first night. 

Seeing this, what I most feared, I can't stop myself from pulling and struggling with all my strength against the restraints, knowing it's useless, but too scared to stop. He finally smacks me on one tit, and says, "Knock it off!" I force myself stop struggling, knowing as always that fighting is no use. I tell myself that I have to do what he says or it will just go worse for me. Get a hold of yourself, girl! You have to stop fighting!

He walks to the cabinet and takes out some nipple clamps, his favorite toy. But these are new ones. They're different. They have a screw in them. He straddles me and attaches one to a nipple. At first, I can barely feel it. After attaching it, he grabs my tit in one hand, and starts screwing the clamp tighter with the other. 

He starts watching my face as he's doing this. The clamp becomes tighter and tighter, at first not hurting, then quickly becoming painful, worse than the clamps I'm quite used to. As he watches the pain showing on my face, he starts breathing a little harder.

He gets undressed and I see that he is rock hard. Things have changed dramatically. The first night, he enjoyed hurting me because of his rage towards me. It wasn't a sexual thing. After coming here, he used me roughly, almost, but not quite, punishing me and not even really seeming to enjoy it. Then he used me as a sex toy for a while, not really hurting me at all, and thoroughly enjoying it. Now, his rage has combined with his desire for me. Now, hurting me has become a sexual thing for him. I'm in big trouble! I wonder how it's possible for this shift to happen just because I came. There has to be something more to it!

I think, It's my fault! I'm the one who got this started, with the way I played things out the night of the auction. I'm the one who got him into this! It just took him a while to figure out he liked it, to get into it. It's my fault, I think again.

He straddles me again, attaches the other clamp, and screws it as tight as the first. Having both nipples clamped this way seems like more than twice the pain. I bite my lip to keep from begging him to take them off.

He walks to the cabinet and takes out the little whip with fringes. I'm very, very grateful that he didn't grab the bigger whip. It's the big whip I'm most afraid of. I doubt this little one will even hurt. This one will just tickle!

He holds the whip over my stomach and tells me to arch my back. I obey and arch my back, my tits pointing up at him.

Satisfied, he sets the whip down and reaches for my tits. Despite my warning to myself to stop fighting him, I cringe back, and flatten against the pedestal as much as possible, even knowing I can't get away from him. He keeps coming and grabs my tits. He jiggles them a bit, first one, then the other, then both, with the chain clanking in between. He looks at my face for a moment, then stands and leans over me. 

He says calmly, "I told you to arch your back." 

He whips me once with the whip, not really hurting me, but stinging a little. He grabs the chain between the clamps. He starts pulling upwards, very slowly. I arch my back more and more as he goes, raising myself up to match his movement. I can only arch so much, and when I can't go any further, he stops pulling.

"Stay there," he says.

He stands up, reaches above him, and grabs a chain that's attached to the ceiling and looped back on itself. He brings it down and attaches it to the chain on my clamps, holding it in place.

Now if I lay flat again, the clamps will pull brutally! Knowing I can't keep my back arched forever, anticipating the pain of laying flat, I moan a little. He really hasn't hurt me yet, but he's getting very creative, and I'm very afraid of what I'm going to go through tonight.

He stands and looks down at me, naked, spread-eagled, back arched, shackled and chained, frightened, and feeling more helpless than since I came here. He seems to like the sight. He's still rock-hard. He reaches towards me again. I cringe almost flat again for just a split second, making the clamps tugs painfully, and immediately arch my back again.

He grabs the whip and says, "KEEP it arched." He whips one of my tits, one of the little fringes lashing painfully on one of my nipples. I yelp. He seems to like this and raises the whip again. I can't help myself and cringe, again laying flat for just a second. I tell myself, Knock it off! Hold your position!

He says, "I SAID, keep it arched!" He whips my other tit, a few more of the fringes striking very painfully on my other nipple. Oohhh! That hurts! He's starting to breathe harder. He pauses and unhooks the chain from the ceiling. I'm very relieved. I think this means I'm allowed to lay flat now and do so with a small sigh.

He says, "I said, KEEP IT ARCHED!!!" I immediately arch my back again and he whips my tits four times, getting into a rhythm so the last two are more forceful, painful even when it doesn't hit a nipple. After the last strike, he drags the whip sensuously across my stomach back towards him. He's breathing heavily now.

He lays the whip down and lays on me, forcing me flat, and starts jiggling my tits again, rubbing his cheeks against them. He's usually not this interested in my tits, but seems to really like them tonight. He kneads them for a moment, his palm on my nipples making the clamps hurt worse. I moan and struggle against him, as much from the reminder of the auction night as from the pain. He looks up at my face to see my expression, seeing the fear and pain, seeming to relish it. I am really getting frightened and start to tear up.

He stops and gets off of me, kneeling next to me. As soon as he does, I remember to arch my back again. I tell myself, good girl! He didn't say I could stop doing it yet! He looks at me again for a moment then runs both hands up and down my body slowly.

He gets up and walks to the cabinet and takes out a butt-dildo and a regular dildo that is very thick and long. He walks towards me. He spits a few times on the butt-dildo, pulls my thong to the side, and rubs it around on my pussy. At least he's lubricating it! He starts to push it in. It's been a long time since he's used one and I'm not used to it anymore. It feels very strange to me. I instinctively try to pull away as he's pushing in, in the process flattening again. I mentally kick myself in several places as I arch again. Why can't I control myself tonight?! I know I can't get away from him!

He looks at me, his eyes telling me he's not going to let it go unpunished. He finishes putting the butt-dildo in and gets up.

Looking at me briefly, letting me know my punishment is coming, he grabs the regular dildo and walks back to the cabinet. He puts it away and gets the next largest dildo, bigger than his cock, and walks back to me, waggling it back and forth, knowing it will scare me. It's too big! I don't want that in me!

As he comes towards me with the big dildo, I can't help shifting from side to side to try to keep it away from my pussy, making little get-away-from-me sounds, "Mmm! Mmmm!" (I remember to keep my back arched, though!) He brings the dildo up and waggles it in front of my face and says, "Hold still." He smacks me painfully on one nipple with it. He spits on this a few times, too. That will help a little at least!

As he pulls my thong to the side and starts to put the thing in, I make myself hold still, whimpering more with fear of the thing than pain. He really has to push it, stretching me and hurting me. I start to pant. It's quite long, but thankfully he stops before he hurts me with its length. He looks at me when he stops, letting me know that he will go farther if I don't behave.

He stops and stands, just looking at me, still breathing hard, running his eyes over my face and up and down my body. He's obviously extremely, extremely aroused. I feel completely helpless in front of him, my clamped tits in the air, my back arched, and two dildos in me, one hanging half-way out. I feel more vulnerable and helpless than any time since I got here and strangely embarrassed. I suddenly have a strong desire to lie under several blankets with my head under the covers, curled up and safe. I want to get out of here! I surprise myself by letting out a little sob.

Still looking at me, he starts stroking himself with one hand, rolling his balls around in his other hand as he does. Almost right away, he seems to think of something better, stops and unshackles one of my wrists.

He stands next to the platform, one leg up on it, leaning forward, his cock just within my reach. He puts my hand on his cock, not needing to say anything. I start stroking him as he continues to play with his balls. I want to do it as quickly as possible, but it takes longer than usual. I know just exactly how he likes it, but my position and the need to keep my back arched makes it difficult to do it right. He's very, very aroused, but doesn't seem in a hurry to come. 

He keeps running his eyes over me slowly, enjoying the site, occasionally throwing his head back for a moment, closing his eyes. I try desperately to make him come. My back is getting very tired. I can't keep it arched much longer and am afraid of him punishing me with the big dildo if I lay flat again.

I start thinking about going through this or other worse, unimaginable things, every night from now on. I start to cry a little, silently, thinking, I can't take this night after night! I just can't. I just can't!

In my mind I start chanting, breathing out heavily each time, "Please come. Please come. Please come. Please come." The rhythm of this or maybe my breathing seems to help my efforts and he suddenly pushes my hand away. He immediately straddles me and sticks his cock deep into my mouth, gagging me. He fucks my mouth, grunting with each quick thrust, and comes.



The Little Redhead Ch. 06



After coming in my mouth, he lays on the floor next to the pedestal for a few minutes, not moving. Then he unshackles me. I remove the dildos and set them aside to wash tomorrow. I take the nipple clamps off and put them away. He waits for me. I follow him listlessly out of the dungeon room. He turns to me in the hallway and says, "I'm staying here tonight." He turns and keeps walking, but I stay put for a moment. He's never stayed over night up here before. I don't like this.

I follow him into the bedroom. He lays down right away, still naked, getting under the covers, the light turned low. I am very thrown off and scared. What is he going to do to me next? To sleep next to him, not knowing what I will wake up to....I don't know if I can do it. Up to now, at least I knew WHEN he was going to do something to me, even if I didn't know what. Now....

I go into the bathroom and clean up. When I come out, I go into the large dressing closet. I usually sleep naked, not having anything comfortable to wear to bed. But, silly as it is, I don't want to have to sleep next to him naked. I debate between the silk robe that I came in and one of the teddies he brought me. I finally decide on the teddy. The silk robe is too wrinkly and would be too uncomfortable. It's going to be hard enough to sleep as it is. 

When I come out of the big closet in the teddy, I walk to the bed quickly, practically scurrying, my arms crossed over my boobs protectively. I get into the bed and pull the covers over me. I turn away from him and curl up tight. I lay there rigidly. He doesn't do or say anything, and a little while later, I can tell by his breathing that he's asleep. I relax a little.

I'm very tired, but can't sleep. I normally read before sleeping, but feel weird doing it now. I start thinking about my family, my daughter. I miss my daughter so much. I try not to think of her too much. It's normally too painful, but now I just can't stop. I think now that I will be stuck here forever, going through this night after night. She'll grow up never knowing what happened, not understanding why I abandoned her. I keep thinking about her and start to cry. At first I cry silently and calmly, but then just a little harder, still silently, but with my body shaking, unable to stop myself.

I hear him turn over. I think he's still sleeping, but then he asks with no expression, almost clinically, "Why are you crying?" Still too caught up in my thoughts, I answer without thinking or waiting for permission.

"I miss my daughter." Oh, god! I clamp a hand over my mouth and roll over towards him, my eyes side. What have I done? He must never know about her. He might hurt her now. What have I done?

He's leaning on one arm looking at me. Still with no expression, he asks, "You have a daughter?" 

I nod, my hand still over my mouth. It's too late to take it back now. He knows.

He says, "They didn't tell me....I should have guessed."  Somehow, I know he's thinking of the light stretch-marks on my stomach.

He lies back heavily on the bed, becoming completely motionless. He has absolutely no expression on his face, but I realize that there is a great deal of something going on inside. I have no idea what. I just stay put, afraid, staring at him, trying to read his face.

Finally, he almost shakes himself and looks at me with some of the fury he showed earlier that night. He leans towards me and grabs me face. 

He asks, "Do you want to see her again?"

I put down my arm and nod.

He asks, "Do you think that you WILL ever see her again?" I shake my head.

He says through gritted teeth, "You're right. You won't. You will never, ever see your daughter again. Never. You don't DESERVE to see her!"

Oh, god! And, he's right. I don't. I DON'T deserve to see her! How could I have allowed myself to tell him about her? What sort of a monster am I to put my daughter in danger like that? And I believe him that I will never see her again. 

I lay back and start to sob like a little girl, throwing my arms over my face.

He pushes the covers off and rolls over on top of me, leans on his elbows, and watches me cry. I don't even care. He finally pulls my arms away from my face, not looking angry anymore. The fury is gone from his face and his expression is blank again. I just look him in the face, still crying. But with him watching me like that, I pretty quickly wind down and stop. 

When I'm done, he kneels back, takes my ankles and spreads my legs wide. I don't care about that, either. Let him do whatever he wants! I don't care. He lays back down on me and enters me missionary-style. Immediately, he starts thrusting hard and deep, slow at first, then faster, with no finesse, just pure, simple fucking.

Thinking of what I may have done to my daughter, I think, I deserve this. I deserve no better. And I just don't care what happens to me if I can't see her again. I lay there without moving for a little bit, thinking I'll start crying again. 

Instead, without knowing I'm going to do it, I wrap myself around him, tightly. Then I start thrusting back, harder and then harder. I'm making it hurt, punishing myself on him, and spurring him to be even more aggressive with me. 

It feels good. I WANT him to punish me. I become strangely aroused as I want him to just take me, to TAKE me just like he's doing, just fucking me as hard he wants, not trying to hurt me, but not knowing or caring if he hurts me or not, as if I don't matter. And I'm tired of everyone always having to be careful with me because of my size. I want him to just TAKE me! 

I start saying quietly with each thrust, "Yes!...Yes!...This!...Yes!" thinking in my head, "Yes, just take me!", "Like this!", "Yes, this is what I deserve!"

I know he's starting to bang me up a little inside, and this time, I don't care. I don't care what happens to me! I am becoming more and more excited and horny in an angry, hungry way. I don't care if it hurts, it also feels so good. I just want him to keep doing this, this uninhibited, raw fucking. I know if it continues, I'll eventually faint, but I just don't care. 

I keep thrusting my hips towards him as hard as I can, grinding, wanting him to fuck me even harder, to completely consume me. I'm dripping now and very, very turned on. I know I will come in a strange sort of violent way if this continues if I don't faint first. I don't care if I'm allowed to come or not. I don't care if he punishes me for it. Maybe I want to do both, come first, then faint. Maybe I'll never wake up....

I can tell he's going to come pretty soon. I start saying with each thrust, "Do it!...Do it!" 

I finally grab his hair in my fists, clench my teeth, and hiss at him, still thrusting at him, "Just do it, goddamn you!" 

As he's starting to come, he asks distractedly, panting, not looking at my face, "Do what? Do what?"

He's already started to come when I answer, "Just do it! I don't want to go on if I can never see my daughter again! Just do it!" He comes with several quick, hard, very deep thrusts, spacing them out, groaning. On the last thrust, I start to come myself, so hungry for him, for THIS, that I bite him on his arm, hard, holding on, grinding my hips against him, no longer speaking, just letting out long hard moans through my clenched teeth. I hold my legs around him so tight that he can't pull out until I'm through.

After we're done, he rolls off of me and lays there, catching his breath. He looks at me a moment, a strange expression on his face, then looks away. I'm still somewhat aroused in that strange way: frustrated, hungry, angry, self-destructive.

I don't care what he does to me now. We're both still for some minutes, then I lean on my elbow and ask him, "Why do you hate me so much? I've never done anything to you!" I don't care what he does! I'll speak if I want! 

I don't fear a punishment, and strangely, I don't get one.

He looks at me blankly for a second then looks away and says, "I...you...." He seems confused. He won't look at me and has strange expressions that I can't read playing across his face. Then he bangs himself on the chest and says, sounding choked up, "It's...they're...my girls, my life!"

He continues, looking at the ceiling, "Because of...they're gone!"

He isn't making sense, but I understand what he means by 'my girls'. This man has children, daughters! It's hard to imagine, but I can see that it's true. And, unbelievably, he loves them. He really loves them. I finally understand more about what's going on here. The ex-wife didn't cheat on him. She took his daughters away. Thinking of the amount of rage in this man, the craziness of thinking I'm her, this makes more sense than the cheating theory.

That's not enough for this amount of craziness and rage, though. It just isn't. I lean over him a little and search his eyes and face again. The grief in his eyes confirms my suspicion that it's something worse. It's MUCH worse. I keep searching. 

I realize they're dead. His daughters are dead and somehow because of this woman!

Seeing so much grief in his face, thinking of my own daughter, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with pity for him. The pain in his face is too much for me. I want it to stop. I lean towards him a little more, touch his cheek, and say, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He looks at me again with an unreadable expression and says, "You're sorry? YOU are sorry?" His voice rises with the second question, almost squeaking.

He's so intense that I think he's going to get violent. So, yes, I was sorry...for one insane moment. I've always had a soft heart, people yell at me about it, but this is ridiculous. I feel sick to my stomach. How could I have felt pity for this man, my prison-warden, my 'owner', the man who bit me and whipped me, the man who punishes me for coming, the man who took me from my daughter, and may now hurt her? I feel sorry, very sorry, for his daughters and his family, but not for him.

I can't tell if he's angry or what. And I don't care. I don't care what he does to me now. I lay back, calmly. I lay my arms straight out, close my eyes, and just answer his question with a simple, "Yes." 

He stands up. I wait calmly for whatever is to come next. When I open my eyes, he's gone. I pull the covers over me, curl up, and fall almost instantly to sleep.

=======

The next evening when he comes, I'm not cleaning. He finds me in one of his new very kinky outfits, covering up nothing worth covering up, calmly brushing my hair. He reaches towards me and starts to speak. I hold my arms up away from him, indicating that I'm not going to fight him tonight. He doesn't need to say or do anything. I get up and walk calmly down the hall to the dungeon room, with him following.

I don't care what he does to me now. If this is going to happen, let it.

When we enter, he seems a bit thrown off by my change in attitude and doesn't seem to know what to do. Fine. I'll just have to move things along.

I walk to the looped chain hanging from the ceiling. It's obvious what this chain is for. I put one leg through so it's looped around me, front to back. I grab the chain going up in front of me, pull it against my crotch, look at him, and tug it a little. He looks back at me, looking somewhat dazed. He slowly walks to the wall behind me and does something to pull the chain tighter against me and secures it. It's uncomfortably snug in my crotch, but not painfully so.

He comes back to stand in front of me, a little ways away, and just looks at me for a moment. He looks down and we both realize I still have the hairbrush in my hand. He takes the brush from my hand and circles me, trying to think what to do. He stops behind me. I can feel him looking at my ass, looking at the chain coming up between my butt cheeks like a thong. 

I think, Let's get on with this! I look over my shoulder at him and push my hips back towards him, sticking my ass out, feeling the chain slide along me, willing him to do SOMETHING. He walks up and smacks my ass with the brush. It stings. Ahhh! But I want the pain today. Today, I like the pain. I want it. I don't care what happens to me anymore. Let him do what he wants! I push my ass out a little more, willing him to do it again. He smacks me with the brush harder, then again. 

He sets the brush down on the floor and comes up right behind me and runs his hands up my thighs, across my ass, squeezing. He stops and then spanks me. Well, just let him do it! His hand is almost as big as my ass cheek. He seems to like this and spanks me again, harder. And again.

Then he runs his hand along the chain running down my back. I know he really likes the look of it. He comes around and stands in front of me, looking me full in the face. For once, I look right back, not afraid. He stills seems confused. After thinking a moment, he goes and gets the nipple clamps from the cabinet. My nipples are bruised, sore, and a little pokey from yesterday. But when he comes towards me, I just push my tits towards him. 

He puts them on, barely tight enough to hang on, not at all painful. He tightens them just a little. I want him to tighten them more. I want the pain today! I say calmly, "Tighter." He actually jumps, startled, then looks at me in surprise. I know I'm not supposed to speak, but I don't care now. Let him punish me!

I realize I am very aroused right now. In fact, I am quite wet. I say again, more quietly, "Tighter." He looks at me, completely perplexed, and does actually make them tighter. It hurts and feels very good.

He looks at me again, not hiding his confusion. He picks up the hairbrush and just holds it a moment. He comes over and taps one clamped nipple with the brush, lightly, almost experimentally, watching my reaction. A light tap, but it hurts. A sharp, delicious, little pain. I smile.

This seems to completely throw him off and he backs away for a moment. But then he comes back and hits the other nipple with the brush, just a little harder, watching my face. It hurts more. It feels good. I push a tit towards him and he hits the nipple on that one with the brush. I arch my back a little and moan. He seems to like this and starts hitting each nipple a few times, alternating. While he's doing this, I grab the chain in front of me, put my head back, and moan with each tap.

I can see he's still a little freaked out by my reactions and the fact that I'm speaking. I watch him as he slowly takes his clothes off. He's only half-hard this time.

He pauses a moment, looking at the chain again, walking behind me, looking at me. He starts stroking my ass and my pussy around the chain, feeling how wet I am. He starts to get harder. He comes back around to stand in front of me. He suddenly pulls upwards on the chain in front, very lightly, watching my face. It hurts just a little and the pressure against my clit feels very good, very intense. I smile. I let go of the chain. He does it a couple more times, then suddenly harder. I gasp and then smile with pain and surprise and the intensity of the feeling. I need this! This is what I deserve and I want this!

I look him in the face, willing him to do it again. He does and I moan. And he tugs again and I moan louder. He is really starting to like my reactions to this now and is looking me in the face as he's pulling, relishing both the pain and unhidden arousal that he sees there. He's completely hard now.

He reaches down and strokes my bound pussy again. He seems to want to get at it. He releases the chain and tells me to lay down on the pedestal with the four shackles. I realize I want him inside me, fucking me like an animal like he did last night.

I'm incredibly aroused, throbbing. And I want it now! I don't care what happens! I want him now! Without being told which way to lie down, I lie on my back on the pedestal and spread my arms and legs wide, placing them in the shackles. I arch my back without thinking, naturally, and look at him full in the face again, wanting him, willing him to come to me.

He seems as aroused as I am, even though I haven't done anything for him. He doesn't restrain me. Instead, he drops down on top of me and shoves his cock in my pussy, fumbling for just a moment, then deliciously hard, deliciously raw.

But, after a few hard, quick thrusts, he stops, pulls out, and gets up. No, don't go! I sigh, frustrated, letting the feeling show on my face. He seems to have a better idea.

He directs me to stand on the floor facing the pedestal and bend down at the hips. He shackles my wrists to the platform, so I'm practically doubled over, my hair dangling on the pedestal. He spreads my legs slightly. He spreads his own legs wide to lower himself, as if to penetrate me, but he doesn't. 

He rubs my pussy for a moment, slowly, from my clit all the way back and forward again, sliding the entire length of his finger on me, then he slowly rubs my clit in circles for a moment, the palm of his hand seeming to touch me everywhere else. I'm so aroused that I'm incredibly sensitive and this feels so good I can hardly stand it. I want to reach back and start stroking his cock, to feel how aroused he is, but I can't. I can't do anything. I'm completely helpless here. I say very quietly, "Oh, pleeeassse...," not even sure what I'm asking for.

Then he stops touching me and just stands there. He doesn't do anything. I want him. I want this to happen!  Yet, he still just stands there.

I wait for him and then moan in frustration. I wait for it, for him to TAKE me, but he doesn't. He just stands there!

I'm completely helpless in front of him. He can do whatever he wants with me. I can't get away from him even if I weren't restrained. And today I love it. I love being helpless. I want him now. I want him to do whatever he wants, as if I don't matter. That's what I deserve! I want that animalistic fucking he gave me last night, not being careful with me, just doing me how he wanted. I'm throbbing even harder. I want it now!

Oh, god, finally I can't take it. "Fuck me!" I yell at him. I've never said this before in my life. But it's what I want. I've never been so hungry before, and I don't care. I'm going to say it. I'll say what I want! I yell again "Fuck me, goddamn it! Do it!" And then, "Why won't you fuck me?!"

I wait. He still doesn't do it and I say, still yelling, but more pleadingly, "Please!"

He grabs my hips, pulls me towards him, and forces his cock deep into my pussy. Oh, yes....finally! I let out a long moan. 

I can't really move at all in this position. He starts pulling my hips back on him, hard, again and again, hardly moving himself. He starts making little combination moaning/grunting sounds with each pull, "Mmmmuh, mmuuh." I can tell he loves this as much as I do. I've been so hungry since yesterday and was bottled up for so long before that. I start gasping out, "Yes...Yes...Oh, god....Yes...Yes."

Normally he's very quiet, so I know he's loving this as much as I am when he starts saying it, too, "Oh, yes...oh, yes...," and finally, "Oh, god, you feel so good...." Hearing him say these things drives me crazy.

Finally, I want him to go deeper, to stop being so careful with me. I want him to hurt me, to take the other pain away. I want him to punish me, because that's what I deserve! It's what I deserve. And, because I just want it. Panting heavily now, I gasp, "Harder...harder!"

He starts thrusting towards me as he pulls my hips back, much harder, much deeper, hurting me, and faster than I think would be possible for the position. And I can't get away from him, no matter what. And I love it. I'm just a thing in his hands, no more. Oh god, I feel like I've never had anyone do anything like this to me before, and I'm going to come. And then he comes with a couple of long, shuddering breaths, squeezing my hips painfully hard in his excitement. 




The Little Redhead Ch. 06



I think, Oh, no! Don't stop now! Please don't stop! I was so close, don't stop! 

But it's too late, and I don't say anything.

He lets go of me and sits heavily on the platform, then flops onto his back, staring at the ceiling. I can hardly stand and get down on my knees, my wrists still shackled. It's a good thing they are, because I want to go over and touch him, to make him touch me some more. I start pulling at them for a moment. I want him to touch him! I let out a shuddering sigh and stop struggling, trying to get myself to calm down.

We remain as we are for a few minutes. He finally looks at me. I look right back. I can see that he reads the hunger and frustration in my eyes. I don't hide it. I'm done with all of that!

In the back of my mind, I'm thinking about how I confused him by being so willing at the first, and that he hasn't punished me for anything. I doubt it will last, and I know that normally I would be scared. I'm still not scared, though. I still don't care what he does.

He finally gets up and unshackles me. It's my turn to flop back on the floor. I just lay there, thinking he's going to either leave or go to bed, hoping he won't stay here tonight, because I'm going to relieve this frustration tonight, cameras or no! Let him watch!

Then I hear him walking to the cabinet. Maybe I care a little bit, I think, because I feel the tiniest twinge of fear. I know I would NOT enjoy the kind of pain that big whip would give me. I did talk without permission tonight.... But I push the fear away....It feels too good to be free of it for once. No, I don't care what he's doing! 

I shut my eyes and, without thinking, start stroking my stomach lightly with my fingertips, thinking about how aroused and how frustrated I am right now and all the things I plan to do to take care of it.



The Little Redhead Ch. 07



Author's Note: I suggest skipping this last chapter or reading only the first part, unless by some miracle you've become interested in the characters.

=========================

I don't pay any more attention to him. I remain on the floor, eyes closed, frustrated and aroused, thinking of what I'll do when I'm alone. Without really thinking about it, I start stroking my stomach with my fingertips slowly up between my breasts and then back down, not quite as far as I'd like, then back up. 

I hear him going back and forth from the cabinet in the room. I ignore him. Let him do what he wants.

Finally, I realize he's not moving around anymore. I can feel him watching me. I stop moving abruptly and open my eyes, peeking at him.

He's standing across the room by the pedestal that is like the one I was on in the auction room. 

"Come here," he says. 

I comply. As I start to walk over, I see a dildo machine next to the pedestal, like the one in the auction room. I stop walking for a second, then start moving again.

I come up to him, and he moves me into place. He shackles my arms above me and shackles my ankles to the platform, just as before. He stands back and looks at me for just a second. He gives the chain on my nipple clamps a tiny, quick little tug, then gets the dildo machine and sets it below me. He positions it and then reaches behind the platform. He brings out the hip thing with the clit-vibrator on it, similar to the one at the auction.

Then he does something completely out of character. He waves the hip-thing in front of me, smiles and waggles his eyebrows at me, as if to say, "See, look at this! Look what I have for you! A present!" He bends down right away to attach it, before he catches the look on my face, which is fear -- the first real fear I've felt since last night. That wasn't him. I've never seen this guy before. Has he gone crazy?!

I feel like something unimaginable is going to happen and I don't know what. I don't want to be afraid anymore, but I am starting to be a little afraid again. Nothing else tonight made me afraid, but this craziness does. I just watch him attach the clit-thing, though. I'm not afraid of the thing itself.

He pushes the dildo machine into me, gently, and switches it on. He turns on the clit machine. It's a little different than the other. It vibrates a little more. I don't really react. I am still aroused, but I have that strange I've-waited-too-long-and-now-my-pussy-is-sad feeling, and I feel reluctant. I just stand there, liking it and not liking it. I don't quite understand what he's doing. 

He walks over and sits on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him, leaning back against the pedestal that I was just shackled to. 

He just sits there and watches me, the dildo machine moving up and down inside me, making the nipple clamp chain sway slightly. I look back at him, not embarrassed, slightly scared, and wondering what's going on. I start to get into the vibration and the dildo and stop thinking as much about him. It looks like he's going to just sit there and watch me. Let him watch!

I close my eyes, tip my head back a little, and pay attention to the feelings. I'm not as scared and humiliated as I was at the auction, so it feels even better. The dildo machine's steady rhythm is arousing just in the fact that I know it's just going to keep going on that way and going and going, whether I like it or not, it's only job being to continue until I come. 

I'm getting really excited again. I open my eyes, and look at him to see what he's doing. He's still just watching me, a little smile on his face. I realize abruptly that he's doing this for ME! He saw I was frustrated, and he's doing this for ME! I'm amazed.

He gets up and walks over to me, slowly. He reaches over and runs a finger lightly around one tit, then the other. He goes behind me, gets up on the platform and stands very close behind me, his body touching me full-length. I can feel his cock pressing against me. He runs his hands up my sides, all the way up my arms above my head, and back down. What on earth is he doing?!

He runs his hands around to my ass and then down between my legs, stroking me alongside the dildo going in and out. Oh, god, that feels so good. I try to lean back against him, but he's already moving away. Don't go!

He goes back and sits down in the same place. I see that he's hard again. He looks me full in the face and starts stroking himself slowly.

The inability to get away or to control this, the vibration on my clit, the dildo, his hands all over me, the pressure on my nipples, his unwavering look, the sight of him stroking himself as he watches me....It's too much. Oh, god, I'm extremely aroused, my entire body zinging. I just keep looking at him, breathing heavily.

He starts going a little faster. I start to moan a little. We keep looking at each other, and I realize he sees me!

Oh, my god! He sees me! He knows I'm not HER. That asshole! But I can't be mad right now. And I realize I see HIM now, the man I would see if he didn't hate me. I WANT to see him, to know him. And so I keep looking at him. I'm becoming more and more aroused looking at him, this man that I don't really know. 

The dildo machine is just going on at its even pace, like a metronome....I can't tell it to stop, to go faster or slower, deeper, or anything. I know it will do its job eventually, whether I like it or not, and just the thought of being at its mercy like that is still strangely arousing. I am moaning more and more, and start trying to fight with the dildo machine a little, thrusting down against it with what little leeway is available to me, realizing I'm very turned on by not being able to move much. As I do this, he starts going a little harder and faster.

He finally lays on the floor full-length, never taking his eyes off of me. He cups his balls and starts playing with them. I find myself wishing I could play with them. I wish he would come over here. I want to touch him!

Thrusting down against the machine does no good. I start moving my hips around and around with the machine trying to go only straight up and down. It feels incredible, the strange pressures feeling slightly intrusive and very intense and good. As he sees me doing this, he starts panting. I realize he's trying to pace himself to me. And he's drinking up the expressions on my face, the motions of my body. Oh, this is too much!

I'm so weak with the long-sustained arousal, with what he's doing to me, I can hardly hold my head up now. I can't take my eyes off of him, though, whether my head is hanging down or tipped back. I'm so excited and have been waiting so long now, that I just want to come, but the dildo machine just plugs along steadily, teasing me. I just have to wait for it. I start moving my head from side to side, still keeping my eyes on him, whispering, "Just come on...oh, please...come on."

Then, he says, breathing heavily, "I just wanted to watch your face as you came, just once...I wanted to see it." 

Hearing this, I moan very loudly, a long, "Ohhhh........" Oh, god. And he's going to see it now.... I can't even speak anymore. I just start making non-sensical, but word-sounding noises with each exhale, "Nuh...uh...nee...suh...uh...nuh." And I come so hard I simply can't hold myself up anymore, just like at the auction, but also completely different. Never breaking eye contact with me, except to blink slowly, he lets himself go at the same time, stroking very quickly, grunting and moaning.

=========================

When we're done, he comes over to me and holds me up when he sees that I can't stand and am hanging by my arms. The dildo machine is STILL moving inside me where I am now so sensitive. I don't want it anymore. He leans down and quickly turns off both machines, then holds me up again, both of us panting hard.

When he sees I can stand up by myself, he lets go of me and releases me from the shackles. I just want to lie down. He lets me, and I lay full-length on the floor, my eyes half-shut, panting. He looks at me for a second then announces, "I have to take a leak."

I open my eyes wide at him. Such a normal, mundane thing to say....So out of character for him. He hardly ever talks at all. I laugh. I actually LAUGH as he leaves and think, You just go do that. I shut my eyes.

He leaves me there.

As I lay there, I start thinking about what happened. He KNOWS me! He knows I'm not HER! When did this happen? It was one thing him doing all these things to me, keeping me here, when he thought I was some other, horrible, person, but now....He knows I'm not her and yet I'm still here, in the dungeon room! I start to get angry, really mad, really quite ticked off. In fact, I'm furious. I've never been so mad in my life.

I've recovered now. I get up and stalk down to the bedroom. I stop in the doorway and look in to see where he is, my hands on my hips. He's just come out of the bathroom and is heading towards the bedroom door, still naked. He sees me and stops.

I want to kill him! I'm going to strangle him. I don't care what he does! I don't care if he's more than twice my size. I'm going to kill him.

I run up to him and shove him as hard as I can. He barely moves. I start yelling, shoving him with each sentence. "I'm not her! Don't you know that? I'm not her! You know I'm not her! You know it! You know it, and I'm still here, you..." 

He's backing away from me, not stopping me. He starts saying, "I know. I know. I know you're not her. I know." He's backed up against the bed and sits down. 

I finally stop for a moment and say, "I KNOW you know. That's why I'm pissed off, you big, stupid...you big, dumb...." I have so many words I want to call him all at once (monster, bastard, son-of-a-bitch, asshole, jerkwad, dick, dickhead, fuckhead....) The list goes on in my head and I'm sputtering to come up with the best one. I can't. None are adequate, yet they all apply. I finally just land on, "Jerk!" As good as any other!

As I yell, "Jerk!" I push him so he flops back on the bed. He doesn't resist me. I crawl up and sit on his stomach and start hitting him on the face with both hands, wildly, as hard as I can, yelling, "Jerk! That's what you are! A big, dumb, stupid, jerk! Jerk!" 

He's put his hands over his face, not stopping me, just protecting his face. He starts saying again, "I know! I know!"

I don't pay attention. I keep hitting him, yelling, "Jerk! You jerk! You fucking jerk! You filthy, rotten jerk!" Finally, I start hitting him on the chest. When he moves his hands down to block me, I quickly strike him on the head before he moves his hands back up to his head again. Hah! Got him!

He keeps saying as I keep hitting him, "I know...I know..." Finally, he takes my wrists gently in his hands and holds them, not hurting me, letting me thrash around, but not letting me hit him anymore. He looks me calmly in the face and says, "I know."

I stop trying to hit him and look at him, breathing hard. I'm amazed to see he has a very serious, a very SAD, look on his face. In fact, he looks very, very ashamed of himself, sick....

What the hell is going on here? Something momentous has happened here, and I don't know what it is. I sit back a little, completely baffled now. Finally, I think back to the most important question. I have to ask. "What happened....what did she DO to you? Your girls...."

He just looks at me for a moment, pain leaking into his face more and more. He says, squeezing my wrists a little, "She...she sold them. She SOLD them. My daughters. She sold them." I hear a sob lurking in the background.

I think he means babies. They were babies and she sold them for adoption. The bitch! 

I ask, "She sold your BABIES? Why...why would she do that?"

He says, his emotions making it hard for him to speak, "Not babies. Just out of high school. Twins. My only children, my girls. She sold them. To sex traffickers. They paid her to arrange for them to be grabbed with no trouble."

Oh, my god. Oh, my god! I am too shocked to think anything else. Oh, my god! What kind of monster would do that?!

"She sold her own daughters?!"

He answers in short bursts. "Step-daughters. She never loved them. We had a pre-nup. We got divorced. Her doing. She didn't like the settlement. She got plenty, but wanted more. I didn't give it to her. She sold them. Not for the money. To get back at me....For $3000."

He says it again, more loudly, "$3000!!! That's it. That's what she got for them!"

He pauses, then says, almost crying, "Oh, god! Why didn't I just give her more? I don't care about the money. She could have all of it for all I care. I just want them home! I want them to come home!" 

I think a moment, trying to process this. I ask, "How long has it been? When were they taken?"

He says as if afraid to say it, choking on the words, "Four months ago."

I have to ask. "Do you think....do you think you'll be able to find them?"

"No....no, I don't." He's finding it very difficult to speak. "I finally admitted to myself that there is no more hope. No hope. I'm not going to find them. I'm never going to find them now. I know it now. I'm never going to find them!" And he throws his head back and says, "Oh, god!" He starts to wail it, "Oh, god! Oh, god!" and then it's just soundless wailing. 

For just a split second, I'm scared again. I get up and run across the room, away from him. Then I immediately run right back and lay down on him, frog-like. I wrap my arms and legs around him as much as I can, wishing I could just wrap him up. He's wailing -- neither a masculine nor a feminine sound. Just a very human sound -- an outpouring of grief that can no longer be contained. 

I can't take it. I can't take anyone hurting like this! Not like this! I bury my head in his neck and stroke his hair with both my hands. I think about how he must feel, how he must imagine each night the worst scenarios of what his daughters are going through, thinking it might actually be better if they were dead. This thing would be harder than if they WERE dead. No one could stay sane with this kind of grief! Think how crazy I went just THINKING of my daughter being hurt.

I keep stroking his hair and start saying, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He starts to calm a little, moving into more regular crying, like a man who hasn't cried in a long, long time. I put my cheek against his and hold it there, stroking his hair, just wishing I could suck the pain right out of him, to make him stop hurting like this. No one should have to hurt like this. I realize I'm crying myself.

He finally stops, and I put my head back on his shoulder. We just lay there for a little while.

I finally say quietly, sitting up, "I don't understand something, though. Why pay people to find a look-alike? Why not go after her directly...or is she in jail now?"

He says, "She's dead. She died just a couple of days after they were taken, before I even knew. Freak car accident, not related to any of this."

Ah, hah! "You couldn't get back at her, couldn't make her pay for what she did. That's why you wanted a look-alike, so you could...get back at her."

He shakes his head and says, "No! Well, sort of. That place you were at....I went there looking for my daughters. They specialize in custom requests, as you probably figured out. When they asked what I was looking for, I wasn't prepared. They said, 'Think of someone that you want to get your hands on, but can't.' They meant, like a woman at work or a married neighbor, or someone like that. I couldn't think of anything, so I pulled my ex-wife's picture out and said, 'Her. I want to get my hands on her.'

"When they asked what sort of thing I was interested in doing with her, I couldn't help telling them the truth. I said I wanted to wring her neck, hurt her, torture her until she was dead. They took that in stride, but told me there were limits to what I was allowed to do. I didn't think much more about it. When I went there, I just searched the room for my daughters. They weren't there, and I would have left and tried to search the building, or get someone to talk to me, but...."

He pauses, then continues, "Then I saw you. I couldn't believe my eyes. You don't just look like her, you're the spitting image. It's uncanny." 

He pauses a moment, and says, "Actually, you don't look anything like her to me now. But, when I saw you, I kind of snapped. I thought they had done it somehow, actually brought you...her to me, back from the dead where I could now get at her. I went crazy. I hadn't slept more than a couple of hours each night for a long time. I just snapped....I wanted to hit you...her, choke her, make her pay, right then, but I couldn't. Then I saw you looking like she did before I knew what she was really like. So sweet....I had to get you. When we were back in the room, I remembered what she had done. Then I just wanted to...." He trails off.

I say, "But, you KNOW now. Why didn't you let me go?" I realize I'm still sitting on him and get off, backing away from him. "You're still not going to let me go, are you?"

He says, "Yes, yes, of course I'm going to let you go."

"But you kept me here for however long even knowing. How long have you known?"

He replies, "Just today. Well, since last night. I mean, I always knew in a way. I don't know how to explain it. I kept you locked up, didn't call you by her name, so some part of me knew. Yet I didn't know." He stops, and I just wait. 

He goes on. "When you said you wanted to die if you couldn't see your daughter, I started to kind of snap out of it. Then, you said you were sorry. That was what did it. SHE did this and would never have been sorry, no matter how long she lived. She was never sorry for anything. Nothing was ever her fault. YOU were sorry, and you didn't even do anything. It took me a while that night that to get my head on straight, but I mostly knew it then."

"But you still kept me here, locked up!"

He says, "You're not locked up. I disabled the security door when I left last night. It's not locked. I thought you would leave. I waited all day to be arrested. Finally I came up, and you were still here."

I say, "I stopped trying that door a long time ago, well, except yesterday before you came." He nods, understanding. 

I believe what he's saying. I can always tell when someone is lying to me. But I'm almost afraid to believe this. "It's not locked?"

"Go try it. You can leave. I won't stop you. I won't run from the police and I won't deny anything....Go on."

I go out and try the door. It's open. I go out into the lobby and push the elevator button, feeling almost like I'm doing something wrong. I go downstairs and look around. I find the front door and step outside for a minute, kinky outfit and all, just to prove to myself I can. I stand there and breathe deeply for a minute.

I go back in and look for a phone. I find one in a study and call my parents' cell, telling them that I'm alive and coming home. They're not at home. They've taken my daughter to Disney World to try to cheer her up. They're ecstatic. I talk to my daughter, both of us crying. They're going to fly back as soon as they can, probably not until tomorrow evening at the earliest, so I won't be able to see my daughter quite yet. But I know I WILL see her now, so I can wait a little longer.

I hang up and sit, thinking. I have some more questions. I can't stand not knowing things. I'm not afraid of him keeping me here now. I still think he's an asshole, but I can tell he means what he says.

I go back upstairs. He's still there, on the bed, looking like a man who realizes his life is completely over. He's surprised to see me.

I'm mad about something. "What about Grieta, the cleaning lady? She said you would hurt her family if she helped me."




The Little Redhead Ch. 07



He sits up. "What? No! I would never hurt her. And she's not a cleaning lady. Her daughters were taken by the same ones that took mine. That's how we met. We both chased down the same leads and found each other. We decided to join efforts. I have the money, resources, and contacts to do whatever is needed, fly anywhere, whatever. She is a professor of language studies, is fluent in five languages, can read and write many more. She's also much better with the computer and the internet than I am. We've been working together on this."

He continues explaining. "I tell her everything. Well, not everything. But I told her about you. She thought I had rescued you from that place and then didn't want to let you go, since you look so much like HER. She didn't know it was me that...hurt you like I did that first night. She was just afraid I would stop helping her if she helped you. I wouldn't have, but I let her keep thinking it. She thought I was her only hope in finding them. She hated it that I was keeping you here. If it weren't for her daughters, she would never have allowed it. She insisted on coming here to clean so she could keep an eye on you. She wouldn't have put up with it for much longer."

Jeez! Nothing here is as it seems. I think a moment, trying to process all this. "But, you were going to hit her! That one day when I was on the counter."

"No! I was just confused. I come in and you're completely naked, up on the counter. I couldn't make sense of it at first. And, I'm afraid of heights. I can't stand seeing anyone up off the ground. I thought you might fall."

"Oh." I wonder why she didn't at least bring me some clothes. Then I think again and decide to give him that one for free. I think of something else and become angry again and now scared. Maybe I shouldn't believe him so readily. I start to back up again, and said, "But, when you came back tonight, you just went on as if you didn't know, bringing me to that room!"

"I tried to ask why you were still here, but you just threw your arms up and stalked down the hall to the other room. You were acting weird. Then you put that chain on, and seemed to want it, all that stuff in there, and seemed to want me, and well....I AM a man. And then, I...just wanted you one more time, just once knowing you were you, not HER. I know I should have said something right away." 

He stops and walks towards me a little, and says, "I'm sorry." 

I put my head down, cross my arms, and turn away from him. I start kicking the wall with my toe, absently, thinking some more. Still kicking, I ask, "How come you hated it so much when I came?"

He says, "What? I didn't! I tried to get you to, but you're very reluctant."

I turn towards him and say, "You...the night of the auction, you...."

He says, "Oh, god. I...that night...I hated her so much. Seeing you...her...you feeling so much pleasure when I wanted her to suffer, I went even crazier. I didn't intend to hurt you the way I did at the end there, though. Even as much as I hated her and wanted to hurt her, I...not like that. It's just that you're so small. I wasn't paying attention. I was out of my mind. I was always careful with you after that, even thinking you were her. Well, I was careful until...." He trails off again.

This still doesn't make sense to me. "But, when I finally came again, then you set up that room down there to punish me!"

He looks blank for a minute, then "No. Oh, no, that wasn't why. It was...that was the day I realized, when I finally admitted to myself that I would probably never find my girls. I went nuts again. I wanted to hurt you...her again." He doesn't say anything for a second, and then, "Well, and I had been thinking more and more about doing that stuff in there and...." He doesn't finish. I get it.

I turn around and start kicking at the wall again, thinking some more. I think about Grieta believing he had rescued me. I turn back towards him. "You know, you sort of DID rescue me, in a way. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't gotten me out of there."

He walks up to me, close, and says, "You don't want to know. It's not good." I shudder a little.

Then I laugh a little, slightly hysterically, and thump him on the chest, saying melodramatically, "My hero!"

He lets out a little laugh, then sobers and says, "You wouldn't have been in there to begin with if not for me. You might like to know that I've shut that place down. I shut down every operation that I find, once it turns into a dead end. I've shut down several already. Even if I never find the girls, I will keep doing it. I won't stop. The police don't have the resources to do what I can do, and they have to stay within the law, or sometimes they're corrupt and are allowing it. I won't stay within the law, not when it comes to this. I'm going to shut down every damn place I can find!"

He sits on the bed, looks down, then back up. "I'll keep doing it from jail. I have enough friends, real friends, that can do the work for me."

He pauses, "You called the police?" He thinks I have. He's just asking for confirmation.

"No. Not yet, I...." I didn't call the police. I don't know why. None of this is as it seems. I need to think!

"My daughter won't be back until tomorrow evening. I have no clothes. Can I just stay here tonight?" I'm not afraid of him anymore.

He looks very surprised and answers, "Yes." He turns to leave, then turns back and says, "I really....I don't actually want you to--" He stops abruptly, turns right back around and walks out. I realize he wanted to say that he didn't want me to leave.

=========================

I wake up hearing a bag rustling. I open my eyes, and he's standing there.

"I brought you some regular clothes," he says, "for when you leave."

He sets the bags next to the bed and starts to go.

I say, "I'm not going to call the police." He turns back towards me. I sit up and say, "I'm not going to call them. Instead, I'm going to help you. I want to help you shut those places down. However I can."

He nods slowly, accepting this. He clears his throat and asks, "Um, what's your name?"

I tell him, then ask him his. After he tells me, I look at him, smiling a little, and say, "Hello."

He smiles back. "Hello."

He says, "I need to tell you something." He looks so sad that I get up and walk towards him. He comes over and takes my hands, and says, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry...especially for that one night. I know it's just words, but it's true." He releases me and steps back, looking very sober and slightly self-conscious, like someone who doesn't apologize often. "I just need you to know--"

I interrupt him. "I forgive you, you know."

He looks at me a moment and says, "How...how can you?"

"I just do. I already have. Because you love your daughters. And Grieta. I don't know. I just do." People always ask me why I think this, why I feel that. I never know what to tell them. I just think what I think and feel how I feel. And I think of how people always yell at me for being too soft on people, too forgiving. I say loudly and defiantly, "I don't know! I just do!" 

"Okay, okay," he says, half laughing, holding his hands up in surrender. He stops. He sighs and says, "Do you have any idea how cute you are sometimes?"

Cute? My hair's a mess. I pat my face and look down. I realize I'm still in the teddy I slept in. It feels weird standing in front of him this way. I should be used to it, but it doesn't seem right anymore. I need to cover up! I quickly lie back down under the covers and pull the covers up to my neck, hiding myself. He comes over and sits down on the edge of the bed. He picks up one of my hands and looks at it. He closes it into a fist and wraps his entire hand around it, his hand completely covering mine.

He says, "You're so tiny. Such tiny hands." He sets my hand back down. 

Oh, god. He looks so sweet. It's hard to believe I was once afraid of him. I bet he was a good Dad to his girls. Thinking this makes me sad for him again, and I touch his cheek. He starts to lean towards me, watching my face, seeing if I'll stop him. I don't. I find that I can't. I don't want to.

He kisses me, then again. He gets up and pulls the covers back and climbs in on top of me, kissing me again.

My mind flashes back to yesterday, him shackling me to the platform, making me wait, getting me to beg, then doing me from behind, pulling my hips.

I push him over and lay on top of him, spreading my arms alongside his head, my hair hanging down. I look at him for a moment. It's so nice to have him looking back at me, knowing it's ME. I put my head down and kiss him some more. I don't know why, but I want him to shackle me or chain me again, so that I can't get away, like yesterday.

He rubs his hands along my sides, down to my ass and back up. With my leg, I can feel his cock stiffening in his pants. As I'm kissing him, I start rubbing it with my legs, lightly. I can feel it getting harder.

I already want him so much. I can't wait. He stops and says, "I want you." Hearing this, I feel a little throb and smile. He raises an eyebrow and looks a question at me. I nod.

We get up, and he picks me up. He carries me out of the room and down the hall. He stops in front of the dungeon room. I reach down, turn the knob, and push the door open. He steps in and waits while I flip on the light. He brings me over to the pedestal with the four shackles and sets me down. He raises my arms above my head. I hold my arms up as he pulls the teddy off.

I lie down on the pedestal on my back, putting my arms and wrists in the shackles. I flash a look at him, asking with my eyes, like this? He thinks a second then waves me back up. I follow him over to the crazy-looking table with the V-shaped legs. I lay down over the end of it. I can hear him getting undressed behind me. 

I spread my legs wide to line up with the table legs. My feet don't touch the floor, so I have to hook my ankles around the table legs to hold them in place. Ooohhh, I love the feel of being completely open to him like this, knowing he's looking at me as he's pulling his clothes off. I know he'll bind my legs to the table somehow, so I can't get away, and I want him to. I lay my head down and close my eyes for a minute, wishing he would hurry.

Let him do what he wants! I realize that's how I feel, not in a crazy way like last night, but just in a good way. I don't understand it right now, but I don't need to. I would do anything for him now. I don't know why. It makes no sense after what's happened. That's just how I feel. I want to BE HIS. I don't know what I really mean by that, but I know that's what I want. 

And I realize that I AM his now. I like thinking this, so I think it again. I'm HIS. And again, I'm HIS. Let him do what he wants! I lift my head, flip my hair out of my face, look over my shoulder at him, and smile.