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When she finished the first drink, he gave her another. He was still standing, downing his second glass of Scotch. She stared beyond him, mesmerized by the glittering array of liquor bottles. “Shelby,” he drew her attention back to him.
“Yes, sir.”
“You know, dear, being owned doesn’t mean that you have to live your life on pins and needles,” he spoke quite kindly now. “It’s all about satisfying each other’s needs. You take care of mine, I take care of yours. Simple as that.”
“Yes, sir, that seems reasonable.” She offered up a timid smile.
“I understand that what a starry-eyed young woman wants is romance, a little tenderness, even if she’s a born submissive masochist like yourself.”
“Is that what I am?” She stared at her drink, feeling the intoxication beginning to take hold. Her mind began to spin.
“You disagree?”
She wasn’t sure that she was thinking clearly, but what Mr. Darcy said sounded perfectly logical, considering her behavior of the last few weeks. He always sounded logical, always perfectly reasonable, even when he twisted her thoughts into knots. He always knew the right answers, while she fumbled around to understand things – fumbled like she did now. Sometimes her feelings were way beyond her, as they were that day, and he seemed to put everything in its proper perspective. She looked up, her head feeling strangely fuzzy. Was this what it was like to be drunk? “No, sir, I can’t disagree. But I think I’m very tired.”
“It’s been a big day for you. I’ve asked a lot from you, and you haven’t dis
appointed me.”
“No?”
“Not at all.” He smiled again. “Come here. Finish your drink and come here.” He held out his hand.
She stared into the glass and then nervously took another gulp, then abruptly downed what was left. The liquor burned all the way to her stomach, and yet it continued to warm her in a strangely pleasant way. When she moved to her feet, she nearly stumbled, but then blushingly righted herself before making up the distance between them. Standing inside his overwhelming aura, so close to his beating heart, hers jumped a few anxious beats. Her fear never greater than it was now. His hand gently pushed back her mussed up hair, then he affectionately laid a palm against her cheek. No warning at all, and his arm captured her inside its grasp, while his lips crushed against hers and his mouth opened. Furious and deep, the longed-for kiss made her melt against him and her body became his. He’d taken her mind and twisted it for his perverse purpose, leaving her mystified by his power to do that. But the kiss was more direct. And the way he led her to the bed, there was little mystery about what he planned to do. Nor was there any confusion about what she wanted. Her heart seemed to lead with her mind too drunk to think straight. He stripped her clothes away, his eyes clearly coveting her youthful body. The lovely roundness of her breasts was cause for his adoration. The taste of her skin as his mouth and lips devoured it made him groan with unpretentious lust. In the heat of their mutual desire, no commands were necessary to have her bending to his will. And when he hovered over her nakedness, his own naked body poised to strike, her fierce desire for him was unmistakable.
“Oh, sir, take me!” she silently cried out.
He must have heard her beg; it took only a moment to react.
Mr. Darcy was quickly inside her, the experience quite unlike anything that had ever happened to her. His erection speared her deep, for the first time their bodies were skin to skin. While taking her with long, penetrating thrusts, she responded as an eager sex slave, pulling him into her body and holding him fiercely. She ached for him in a way that was unfamiliar and verboten in the world she’d come from, and yet this seemed so perfect. The two would never be more one than they were that night.
They slept together when their initial sex was over. They snuggled close like lovers at midnight, and woke at three for sex again.
And though Darcy was gone when she awakened the next morning, she found him in his office already working, freshly showered and immaculately dressed as usual. A check of the clock – it was nearly nine o’clock.
“You’re a mess, Shelby,” he said directly. “Perhaps you should go home and get yourself cleaned up.”
“Yes, sir,” she smiled, “I do feel rather…rather well-used.”
“Indeed you are.” He smiled back.
Giving up her apartment and her salary, and everything she owned seemed only to cement an arrangement she deeply cherished. Mr. Darcy’s property. She even loved the sound of that and what the thought of it did to her body. She was at his disposal any hour of the day or night. She belonged to him as much as his house, his clothes and his business belonged to him. She was an asset he’d acquired with great time and expense to him. She couldn’t have been more grateful to have found a man who so thoroughly understood her.
Chapter Five
“So, when does this end?” Shelby peered through the gloomy fog of the dark room, sensing Jessup’s presence. The fear and loathing that she’d felt since her incarceration began were morphing into something very different, but she was unable to name exactly what that was. Desire? No, too strong a word. Desire resided in her heart as much as in her sexually charged loins. To desire the man meant that she had some emotional bond with a known evil.
Maybe she was going soft on her captor? Was his abuse becoming as welcome as the sound of boots on concrete? Boots brought food and whatever comfort she was given. Boots bore her to sessions of masochistic pain. The sound of boots sent a shiver down her spine…
Obviously something was happening in her fractured psyche. She’d lost track of the days…in her mind she was living simultaneous to her time with Darcy. She could flip back and forth from one to the other easily, one consciousness as distinct and real as the other. At least she could still tell that the one was her past and the other her present.
In her present life as a captured criminal, she was regularly taken to the machines. Dildos were fitted into her vagina and ass, and her body was fucked by attached mechanical arms that trust the invaders deeply into her sexual spaces. The erratic rhythms seemed to go on for hours at a time. Although judging time was impossible in this place. What she might take as minutes, could be hours, hours could be reduced to minutes. Is this how insanity begins? she asked herself. But there was no one listening, no one to answer but the voices inside her head.
“And how is my favorite masochist?” Jessup taunted her when he came to watch the sexual torture.
Her body spoke when her voice refused to answer. She glanced down to see him staring at her, a foul and vulgar gleam in his eye. He was obviously enjoying the sight of her rapturous body forced to come and come again, having no control over her sexual responses.
“This is a natural state for you. I think you even know that, Shelby. When you’re gone from here, I’ll have the movies of you to play back any time I want.” He pointed to the eye of the video camera set in the far corner of the room.
