Obsession: Girl Abducted

“That won’t do,” he informed her. “You’d better have something to drink then.” He leaned down and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to her feet. Stopping in the bedroom, he pulled on a pair of jeans, slipping the gun into his waistband for good measure.

In the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle of champagne. He popped the cork. “To us.” He poured them each a large goblet of the bubbly wine.

She eyed the glass and lifted her shoulders. “Please, can you release my wrists? I can’t drink to your toast if my arms are bound.”

“Of course you can. I’ll hold the glass for you.” He lifted the wineglass to her lips and tipped it carefully.

She took a swallow, and when he tilted it, she sipped some more. He continued to let her drink until she’d drained the glass. Courage in a bottle?

“Please, Mark,” she entreated. “It’s not too late. Please let me go. I won’t press charges, I promise. Just let me go. Let me call a cab, drive me somewhere and leave me, whatever you want. I’m begging you.” Her voice cracked. “Please let me go.”

Mark shook his head. “You silly girl, why would I do that? We’re meant to be together, you and I. It’s fate. Now”—he took hold of her arm—“I’m going to watch you urinate.”

“What?” she blurted, apparently confused.

“That’s right,” he said with a smile as he propelled her toward the master bathroom once more. “I knew you had to pee before, but I decided to give you champagne to help you relax. It’s not so much that I want to watch you pee, but more the power implied in the action, you see. I want you to understand that I have taken control of every aspect of your existence, including your bodily functions. From now on, you will ask me for permission to use the toilet and I may or may not allow you to do so, depending on my mood, and if you’ve been a good girl that day.”

“This is nuts,” she dared to protest. “You can’t make me do this.”

“I can make you do whatever I like, Alana,” Mark snapped, trying to keep his temper under control. After all, she still didn’t fully understand her situation. “I own you.” He dragged her into the bathroom and pushed her toward the toilet.

As he forced her to sit, she shouted, “No, this is insane. Let me go!”

His anger spilled over and he slapped her face, the impact of his blow whipping her head to the side. “Let’s get something straight right now,” he said, gritting his teeth to keep from shouting. “You are never, I repeat, never, to say the word ‘no’ to me. I know you aren’t used to me yet, and you aren’t used to my expectations. But get it through your head, Alana. This is not a negotiation. You don’t have options. You don’t have the right to refuse. If I hear ‘no’ from you again, I’ll punish you severely. Are we crystal clear on this?”

Alana didn’t answer. But she didn’t protest either. Her cheek was red where he’d struck her, and there were tears in her beautiful eyes. His cock stirred, but he ignored it.

“Now do what you’ve been told. Your bladder has to be full to bursting. Do I have to shoot you?”

“No,” she whispered. Averting her head, she finally began to pee into the bowl, a trickle at first, then a steady stream.

When she was done, he crouched in front of her and gently wiped between her legs, his heart aching with tenderness. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She didn’t reply, but again he let it go. He would teach her proper slave protocol. They had plenty of time—all the time in the world.

Chapter 3

Sunlight was streaming through the window as Mark opened his eyes. He yawned and stretched. Alana, curled at the foot of his bed beneath the sheets, moaned softly in her sleep. As memories of their first night together flooded through his mind, Mark prodded the still sleeping young woman with his toe.

He had done it. He’d abducted the girl of his dreams, and now he would be all the reality she ever needed. Today they would begin her training in earnest. His cock hardened with anticipation. “Alana, wake up. My cock needs attention.”

Alana began to whimper. “Help me. Someone, help me,” she mumbled. She began to thrash beneath the sheets, the chain that secured her to the headboard snaking beside him on the bed.

“Hush, Alana. You’re dreaming. It’s okay. Wake up. Wake up.” He pulled her up next to him but instead of calming down, she stiffened, pushing against him with shackled wrists, the chain hitting against his chest.

“Help me, help me,” she continued to moan, apparently not yet fully awake.

Mark grabbed her wrists and held them tight. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.”