Chained - Zara Novak Page 0,22
under my control, not his. I threw them around his thighs and squeezed my fingers down, holding him tight and deep as I swallowed his cum down.
I counted half a dozen squirts and then it finally stopped. When he was finally done, I realized I was breathing so hard that I was dizzy. I let go of his thighs, wondering why I had decided to hold him in the first place, and let my arms drop to my sides.
He pulled out slowly, his cock completely cleaned of his cum. I had drunk it all down.
“You continue to surprise me slave,” he said, his own breath sounding a little heady. He turned around then and crouched down, straddling my body for a few seconds to kiss me. It was an unnecessary gesture on his part. He had used his slave and defiled her, a kiss was only an act of kindness, one that showed appreciation and care.
I savored it, feeling a bolt of invigoration at his unexpected affection. I was completely spent, lying on the cold stone, used, defiled, exhausted. He finally pulled away and stood up, ending the kiss that lasted only a few seconds.
“Surprise, sir?” I asked.
“You are gifted when it comes to pleasure,” he said. “Perhaps you are not completely useless after all. That mouth of yours, and those hands. It’s like they were built for milking my cock dry.”
“Thank you, sir,’ I said, unsure of what else to say.
“And now we are done,” he said with a note of finality. “You can keep the robe for now. It will give you warmth through the night.”
I looked over at the disheveled white robe in the middle of the cell. It was the only comfort I had in this prison. Without it I would probably freeze in here. This meagre gift was a reminder of this cruel reality. This man wasn’t kind or generous, he was a psychopath keeping me locked up for his own sexual amusement, and I was playing along like some horny teenager at summer camp.
Without another word he made for the door. Light poured in from the corridor outside. He stepped out, looked back at me and with a wave of his hand the door closed again. I heard the key in the lock and then nothing else.
I was trapped in here, his cum in my mouth and a plug in my ass, a bathrobe the only item of comfort in a blank stone cell.
The gravity of the situation was really only just starting to dawn on me. My captor had dissected my insecurities immediately and taken full advantage of them. Shower the deprived virgin girl with compliments. Indulge her darkest fantasies. Make this a game for her.
I had to get my head on straight. There was nothing good for me here apart from getting out. If I didn’t keep in my mind how dangerous my captor is, I would end up getting killed.
My earlier attempt at escaping had almost been laughable. I’d been stupid to think I could have got away that easily. Going forward I’d have to be a lot more careful. I’d have to plan; I’d have to take my time. I might even have to act like I was going along with his sick and twisted game.
If I wanted to get out of here alive and free, I had to start being smarter. What was the alternative, spend the rest of my life in this cell, waiting for the beck and call of a deranged madman?
Either I stayed here and played the game until he got bored of me and killed me, or seriously put some effort into thinking up a real escape plan. I knew one thing for certain, I would get out or die trying.
Even if it meant killing him.
Chapter 3
Rachel
The wind howled throughout the night, a tempest of choral shrieking that battered the stone walls outside my cell, making me feel as though I was falling through a hurricane.
At some point I must have fell asleep, because several hours later I found myself waking in the corner with the robe wrapped around me, my only comfort and warmth. The pristine white Egyptian cotton was already dirty from being on the stone floor. Just like my skin. When would I be allowed to bathe again?
Either Vincent had come back while I was asleep or I had missed it earlier, but there was a large gallon bottle of water in the opposite corner.
There was nothing else in the cell.
I sat