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  When she drank until there was no more, one finger stroked her cheek approvingly, “Good girl. You are doing very well, mon cher. I am pleased with you.” His hand came back to rest upon her throat and she tensed from this menacing physical message. This man could kill her, could hurt or kill Mark. It was absolutely in her best interests to keep him happy.

  "Listen now, Elizabeth. I have all the power in our relationship. You are not in control, I am. You have no will of your own, no decisions can be undertaken by you, when you eat, sleep, – every bodily function of yours is mine to command. Your body belongs to me for the next six days. I am going to do whatever I choose to you, and I am going to make you do things that you will not want to do. But you will obey me instantly, at all times Elizabeth or both you and Mark will suffer the consequences."

  His hand moved from her throat, down to the underside of her breasts. His fingers circled, caressing in slow steady strokes until they reached a nipple. She felt her nipples tighten, and knew an unexpected spike of arousal which surprised the hell out of her. How could she be turned on? By this sadistic rapist? But he smelled good, and his hands were firm and warm and his voice was deep and sexy. And she was entirely under his control. She swallowed.

  The man gave another low sexy chuckle. "So sensitive, mon cher. I assure you, you will want to please me, Elizabeth. Please me, and I may even allow you pleasure."

  Elizabeth cleared her throat, reacting to the way he had said pleasure. The last part of the word, the "s" was drawn out in the subtle, sexy accent that spoke to some sensual need inside her. There was something about him that did not put her off, which astonished and shocked her. In fact, she found that she was attracted to him. Stockholm syndrome already? Really? Probably she was simply instinctively trying to give him what he wanted so that he wouldn't hurt her and would let her go. She didn’t want to antagonize him in any way. That had to be it. Unless…never one to shy away from hard truth she examined her circumstances.

  Elizabeth had fought to get where she was in life. Blonde, blue eyes, five foot three and beautiful. It all sounded so perfect, "You are so lucky," she had always been told, gifted with such physical perfection. But beauty was a tyranny that carried its own problems. Did her partners really want her or were they merely drawn to her body? Were her friends, true friends? Who could she trust? Ongoing battles with self esteem colored her world, and she hid such irrational internal flaws by being the toughest pit bull in a dangerous litigation yard of dog eat dog. Any woman would have had to be tough to succeed. And as a trial lawyer, her size and outward appearance seemed like only a drawback to her, an additional handicap that could easily keep her below par in a man's world.

  Control. That was the key from the moment she could reason as a child. Everything in her life was under her full and absolute control: work, her marriage, any associations, and every interaction with her family…everything. Well, she was powerless in this situation. Could that be what had turned her on? She was spread-eagle and bound, with all control wrested from her. Had this predicament, this forced abduction - somehow liberated her from all convention?

  Sir said, "I have five laws for you to remember, Elizabeth. One, you call me, Sir. Two, you will speak only when spoken to. If you have a question you may ask me if you are allowed to speak. Three, when I give you an order, you must do exactly as I say. Four, you will never lie to me, Elizabeth, for I assure you, I will know if you are lying. Five, if you want or need something you must ask me. You will only eat, drink, sleep, wash, use the toilet – in fact, you cannot do anything without my consent. And you are not allowed to orgasm without my permission, and Elizabeth," he added with a tinge of dark humor, "I fully expect you will want to come, in fact you will beg me to come, oh so many times." He paused for a moment, letting her think about that, then added, "If you are a good girl, I may even let you."

  Her frown came without thinking, because Elizabeth doubted that she would be capable of coming at a rapist's hands. How could she? She had been having trouble for the past few months getting off with Mark. Why was that? Oh, she could always masturbate, she enjoyed that well enough, and she let Mark use her body, but whatever spark they had had together after a year's marriage had already paled.

  Abruptly she noticed that Sir had stopped speaking. There was a heavy silence in the room. Oh God! Had she upset him? By not paying attention or something? OMG was he going to punish her? Or Mark for some unintentional imagined disrespect?

  3. Elizabeth's Confession

  "Elizabeth," he said in a soft, coaxing tone, "when I spoke to you of coming, you thought of something. What was it?"

  Oh shit! She thought. The man missed nothing. She was going to have to be so careful around him. She cleared her throat, just as Sir put his hand upon it, around it. It was a warm, living collar; a reminder that he held her life in his hands. "I thought of coming," she blurted out.

  "Very good, Elizabeth," the soothing voice said. "You have told me the truth. Now, tell me exactly what else you were thinking, and remember, I will know if you are lying, and then both you and Mark will suffer for your deceit."

  "I..I..have been having trouble having an orgasm," she said, "I have kind of lost interest in sex. That is what I was thinking. I was worried that you would be angry if I couldn't climax and I couldn't see how I could be turned on by…this situation." She had been about to say by a rapist, but had filtered those words if no others.

  Oh God, what was this man doing to her? She had just told him something she had not even told Mark, the man she loved. What happened to her vaunted courtroom mastery of thought and emotion? Was she going crazy already? A terrible looming fear swelled inside her, as if in answer to her question, and almost made her lose it altogether. She wanted to thrash and scream; to cry hysterically like a mad woman. Savagely subduing these impulses, she wondered, how can I survive six days of this?

  The hand moved, and the knuckles grazed gently down her cheek and jaw line. Elizabeth had an impression of Sir bending over her, saw the light darken through her blindfold as he cast a shadow, and smelled his cologne. His mouth touched hers in a soft, chaste kiss. This was not passion, this was approval and comfort and reassurance. His lips were warm and gentle and this unexpected kindness he showed her was something she found herself unable to fight. A few hot tears moistened her blindfold and trailed down her cheeks.

  "Shhh, shush, you are a treasure, Elizabeth, and Mark is a lucky man," Sir said, and wiped her teardrops with one warm finger. "Thank you for telling me this truth of yours. I am honored. You have not spoken of this to your husband, no?" He began to stroke and gently massage her neck, her hair and shoulders, a course of action that was as soothing as his voice.

  "I..no, I haven't, Sir."

  "Because you did not wish to hurt him, to make him question his manhood perhaps?"

  "Sir, I…I didn't want to hurt him." His hands never stilled, they were a warm relaxing touch that continued to comfort her.

  "Because you love your husband Mark, very much, this is so?"

  Her captor was so acute! How did he know everything as he did? It was as if he could read her mind. "Yes sir," she said. She and Mark had known each other all their lives. A fling in senior high together was when they both had lost their virginity, but they had separated and gone to different places for higher education. Life intervened, each pursuing individual careers, other interests, other lovers. Intermittent contact was always amicable. Elizabeth had always considered him one of her most trusted childhood friends. Twelve years later, when Mark had moved back to New York, they ran into each other at a mutual friend's wedding. Wow. The sparks flew and the sex was amazing. They had married six months later.

  Elizabeth still thought Mark was her one true love. But where had her sexual interest gone?

  "Again, I thank you for telling me, mon cher," he said. "You see? These little truths between us will not harm you."

  Elizabeth gave a little hitch in her breath, and while her head was still spinning,
she felt more in control. She could do this. It was only six days. Sir was a twisted son of a bitch, but he was not as bad as he could be. It could be worse.

  As if aware of her resolve Sir sat back and said with a tone of command, "Elizabeth I am going to make you do things you don't want to do, and I am going to do things to you that you don't want. But remember this: you have no choice but to comply. If you wish to survive over the next six days, your sole interest will be to please me." He stood up abruptly. "Any questions, Elizabeth?"

  She swallowed, "No…Sir."

  "Eh Bien. Then I think I will start by examining my prize, this beautiful body that is mine to do with as I please." The sheet began to move once more. As it was pulled fully away from her body, leaving her stark naked, Elizabeth forced herself to remain still, to act unconcerned.

  Sir chuckled, a low, sexy laugh that seemed as soft and seductive as a caress. Sir laughed a lot, and she found it disturbing, but not so much in a bad way. Not so much at all. OMG I am so losing my mind, she thought.

  "Where to begin?" he said, apparently to himself. And it was clear to Elizabeth that very shortly she was going to find out.

  A thrill of fear, alarm, uncertainty, anxiety, astonishment and shock rolled through her. But at the bottom of all of those overwhelming emotions was something else, something unmistakable: her own lust.

  4. Sweet Seduction

  Elizabeth heard him move to another area, and take something metal as it made a little metallic click. But then she felt a… feather! It did not tickle as it moved over her sensitive skin, starting at her palm and wrist, down to the underside of her upper arm and elbow across her collar bone, rib cage, then down her side, her hips, thighs, calves and feet. Sir avoided any erotic areas. The feather caress was…interesting. Kind of tantalizing.

  Her captor kept up a running dialogue as he caressed and stimulated her skin, commenting on how certain touches raised goose bumps here, or caused her flesh to dance and flinch there. He was sharp-eyed and attentive and spoke in a low, seductive whisper. He gave the odd muttered curse as he saw evidence of her arousal glistening between her legs, or examined a mole or dimple. He let her understand in explicit detail how much he wanted her, and how he intended to have her. His frank comments and observations combined with the erotic stimulus of a simple feather began to create a slow burn within her, a sizzling fission of sexual desire.

  To her surprise she found herself responding, pulling at her bonds, undulating and raising her hips, making low mews and sounds of need. They were instinctive and unconscious, these responses, and she suppressed them as much as possible, but could not prevent them no matter how she tried. He continued to torment her with erotic words and sensations until she stopped trying to control herself, until she simply gave in and let her body react as it would. Arching and thrashing she had lost all her precious control, and again, with that awareness she felt both fear and excitement.

  Recent lack of interest in sex notwithstanding, she wanted sex now.

  Right now.

  She heard the soft sound of a zipper then. Was he taking his clothes off? For the love of Christ let him be getting naked. Again, as if reading her mind he said, "Yes, I remove my garments but my eyes remain on your breasts. Such rosy pink nipples, so hard, so taut with desire. You are truly beautiful, mon cher, bound and spread before me as you are. My cock is hard and aching, I have to stroke myself just to ease my need."

  Everything this man had done, everything he was doing was the most incredible seduction. Elizabeth licked her lips and took a deep breath, imagining his cock. She was hot, wet and ready and with her legs spread she was unable to hide it. She was a well educated woman, a woman of the world and at this point, what was going on here sure wasn't rape. Oh she could tell herself there was no choice, and indeed, she had no choice, but she wanted his hard body against her, with him inside.

  True, if Sir uncuffed her she would find Mark and leave. But she would regret what might have been, because right now it was consensual. Never had she felt such hunger. His deep sexy voice, his accent, the smell of his cologne, his hands and the way he spoke to her, the things he said! Elizabeth felt like a starving person offered more than food – being offered a tantalizing banquet in scandalous, overwhelming and excessive variety. How could anyone turn that down?

  Elizabeth knew the Truth. Body, mind and soul - she longed for Sir to push his cock deep inside her and screw her silly.

  Once more he circled the feather caress around her throat, her neck, collar bone and sternum area but always avoiding her breasts. Why the hell doesn't he stroke my tits with his damn feather? She wanted to feel it on her nipples. They began to ache with the absence of touch. The feather stopped and he sat beside her, and oh God! Thankfully he began to caress her breasts. His heated mouth came down on one and she gave a moan of pleasure. She had wanted this, needed this.

  What was wrong with her? This man had stripped and bound her, taking all choices away - from her! When she was a celebrated trial lawyer, someone who was always in control. Was there an aphrodisiac in that drink? Or was she just this horny?

  Again he seemed to be able to read her mind when he said, "Ah, mon cher. Enjoy my caresses, my mouth and hands and tongue. Take your pleasure now, Elizabeth, by my command. I suspect that underneath that formidable mask of control you maintain in the courtroom, you are in fact a total slut." He continued to stroke and twist her nipples, biting and sucking and squeezing and caressing her breasts and she felt every touch to her nipples down lower as her pussy spasmed with need. She knew she was dripping with arousal but somehow she could not be embarrassed.

  "Are you a slut Elizabeth? Do you want my tongue, my hands, my cock? Answer me. Now."

  "Yes… Sir," she said and she knew that it was completely, shamefully true.

  "Good girl, mon cher. And so, we progress, do we not?" His wet lips kissed and licked both nipples once more, and then he pulled away. "Now Elizabeth, I am going to put these nipple clamps on you. It will hurt a little, at first, but will please us both. Take a deep breath. Now."

  She obeyed and a fierce metallic bite squeezed down on one nipple and she gave a little cry of anguish and surprise at the pain. While still dealing with the initial pinching ache, her other nipple was clamped and she stiffened but bit back her cry. A tiny chain, apparently joining both clamps, rested lightly on her sternum.

  "Like so." Sir stroked and kneaded her breasts, soothing them, and licking her throbbing nipples for some minutes while as she began to get used to the pain. The throb hurt, yet it also didn't. If anything it added to her desperate sexual need, creating a peculiar tingling arousal, as if there was a direct line from her clamped nipples to her empty, aching pussy and swollen pulsing clit.

  Sir began to kiss down her stomach, and she felt his smile against her skin as he said, "The pain in your nipples, it gives you pleasure, does it not? Answer me. The truth. Now."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Eh bien, it is as I thought. I read your body like you can read a book, you see? You are a unique narrative, yes. So complex, delicate, yet savage and strong. There are many surprises to be found within you Elizabeth. But I… I am a master of a woman's body and I see though all disguises. It is a talent, you understand?"

  He was flicking and pulling her clamped nipples with his clever fingers, and her pussy spasmed with each touch. His words were muffled as he licked and nibbled, caressing her into a roiling state of combustion. She was in a mindless fog, a delirium of pleasure, and he was moving down her body, toward her pounding clit.

  What? Elizabeth thought. What had her captor been talking about? But with her focus on his lips, his mouth and hands, she realized she hadn't really heard a word he said.

  5. Please! Please! Please!

  Elizabeth was unable to follow what Sir had been saying because he had been nibbling and kissing, moving down her body, and all her focus was there. Right there at that point that he had not yet reached. It was a particular spot on her body that was b
urning, pulsing and dripping with need. Was he a generous kidnapper, please God? If so perhaps his mouth and tongue could sooth that incredible ache.

  Sir stood up and she heard him move to the end of the bed, felt the heat of his body shift between her legs. He put his hands on her knees.

  Oh thank you Lord!

  Those warm fingers moved slowly then, trailing up along the sensitive inside of her legs to her inner thighs. His big hands stopped on her thighs, holding her legs down and even further apart. Usually she worried about how her pussy looked, about its smell, about her embarrassing arousal. But Sir had taken all those thoughts away with his genuine pleasure.

  "You have a beautiful pussy, n'est ce pas?" he said, "And see how it weeps for me? It craves a man's touch. Later I will shave it to see and feel it more clearly. It should not hide its beauty behind this hair. But for now, I want to taste your sweet honey."

  With that Sir licked just her slit, no further. His warm tongue ran just outside her hole, a velvet abrasive stroke along the sensitive edges, never inside. He licked her again and again and again. All the while he made deep male growls of satisfaction and arousal, with an occasional, "Such a perfect taste," or "So wet, see how you drip for me?" His tongue never stopped stroking, but only at the same place each time. It set her on fire, what he was doing to her, but his actions, as wonderful as they felt, would never take her over the edge.

  Elizabeth began to moan and squirm, whimpering as if in real pain. And why the hell not? This was agony. Exquisite agony, but torment just the same. Her breasts were throbbing with desire from the clamps on her nipples, and all the while her pussy felt empty. She wanted to be stretched by his mouth, his fingers and his cock. Her distended clit pulsed with every beat of her heart from an ever increasing blood flow.