She shifted in her bonds, eager for him to remove them. But there was only the sound of receding footsteps and the soft click of the closing door.
Tears pricked at her eyelids, but she willed herself not to panic. He would be back in a second. Soon, any moment now, he’d come back, untie the rope and lift her into his tender embrace.
Alana tried to drift back to the harem dream, but it would not return to her. She was alone in the white, bare room, with dried semen itching on her leg and pussy, her skin still sore and stinging from the crop. On top of her discomfort, she needed to pee, as usual. If only she could close her legs. If only he would hurry back to release her.
She drifted again into a fretful doze. These dreams were darker. A sinister, evil man was chasing her down long, dark alleys. Though she had to escape him, she desperately had to pee. She had just crouched behind a dumpster to relieve herself when she was startled awake.
She hadn’t heard him enter, but again a drinking straw was being poked between her lips. She didn’t dare take another drink. She didn’t want to pee on herself, and the pressure in her bladder was intense. Keeping her lips pressed together, she shook her head slightly and turned away.
Mark pulled the plugs from her ears. “Drink,” he said.
It wasn’t a request.
Alana sipped at the straw, drawing in as little liquid as possible.
“Are you ready to be untied?”
“Yes, please, Sir.”
He removed the blindfold, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light. He crouched in front of her to untie the knots and unwind the rope from her body. Her flesh was indented and red where the ropes had been, and her limbs tingled painfully as blood flow returned.
Mark slipped off her heels and helped her to a shaky stand. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then, if you ask very nicely, I might let you pee.”
Sadistic fucking bastard!
The words had slipped unbidden into her mind and she tried to push them away. Absurd to waste energy being angry at Mark. He was unassailable. There was no point to resist. Better to flow, to accept, to obey. She let the errant flash of anger disappear like a pebble sinking beneath the water, out of reach, away from conscious thought.
She lay in the bed on fresh sheets, her Master crouched between her legs. Leaning up, he licked and suckled her nipples until she moaned. His tongue trailed down her body, stopping between her legs.
Alana sighed her pleasure as his mouth found her sweet spot. It felt good…so good…
He tongued her clit as he slid a hard finger inside her, sending shocks of pleasure and heat through her body. As the tide of an orgasm rose, she gasped, “Please, oh! Mark, Sir, may I—”
Her request was aborted by his fingers moving inside her like a cock, thrusting with perfect timing and friction as he sucked on her hard clit. She knew she had to try, and from somewhere inside she found the breath to say, “…come?”
He might have said yes, she wasn’t sure, but she could no longer control herself as she spilled over the edge of consciousness into blinding ecstasy. Mark continued to kiss her, fucking her with his fingers as she spasmed helplessly against him. She would pay—she knew she would have to pay, but for now, she floated in the bliss…
~*~
Alana lay sprawled, legs akimbo, pussy open like a sticky, wilted orchid. Her eyes had fluttered shut and her breathing had slowed. Mark gazed at her lovely naked body, her full, luscious lips, her dark lashes shadowing her cheeks.
She had responded with such intensity, such abandonment, to his kisses. Sometimes she seemed almost happy to be with him, but was it simply a way to adapt? She was his prisoner, with absolutely no choice in the matter.
He had demanded submission, and she had succumbed. He had taught her well, and she obeyed him in almost everything now, as quickly and demurely as possible.
When she did disobey or fail to please him, he punished her soundly. She knew she deserved it. She never complained or begged to be set free, like she had in the beginning.
Things were good, right? As good as they could be, given that he’d taken what wasn’t his and twisted it to meet his needs.
Mark sighed heavily and looked away from the sleeping girl. What more did he want? How far did he have to go until he would feel safe? For that was really it, wasn’t it? He would never feel safe, because she could never prove her love for him with her servitude. Precisely because it was forced. Precisely because he had taken her against her will. It wasn’t a love freely given. It didn’t belong to him.