Claiming His Bounty

Carry forced a moan as her lips encased her Master's spit-lubed cock. Her tongue swirled around his member while she started to bob her head back and forth. Her Master exhaled, relaxing, as his slave serviced him. His half-closed eyes looked over her head at the baseball game on the television. Her Master's smooth, rigid dick usually calmed her troubles when she licked it over and over. It was her tranquilizer, her therapy. But that day, pleasing her Master couldn't calm her nerves. He didn't notice her distraction. His euphoria clouded his mind and made the TV set in front of him blurred and noiseless.

She put her full concentration on pumping his wet and trembling cock. Smirking, he settled himself deeper into the couch. Head tilted back, he moaned softly.

"Swallow," Felix commanded.

Because she was a good slave, she gulped down the jizz that shot down her throat. His body slumped more as she delicately cleaned him with her tongue. She sat back on her heels, head down, licking the mess on her lips after she was finished mopping up his softening dick. Her Master cracked his neck and sat upright, smiling not only because she gave him another exceptional blowjob but because his team got two runs and were ahead while he was visiting paradise. Recovering from his trip, he sat up right and patted the space next to him.

"Sit with me." She crawled up the couch and curled up in a ball next to him. Her hands tightly gripped his arm. "Do you have any requests for today?"

It was the question she anxiously waited for all morning. "Master, may I please go shopping? I need more beautiful adornments for my sexy body."

The corners of his mouth turned up. He loved her honest demands. The way she pleaded for something was always direct, firm, and almost arrogant because he rarely denied her. "Bring me your other collar."

Off the couch and onto all fours, she crawled the small distance to the bedroom. Her privilege to walk was revoked two weeks ago. Her perfect obedience for the past month annoyed her Master. He tested her limits, but she remained a good girl. He disciplined her to remind his slave of her subservience.

She took the necklace from the dresser and carried it in her mouth, grimacing at the taste. Kneeling, she dropped the heavy, linked gold necklace onto his lap. He switched the collars from leather to metal, from her private collar to her public collar. It was heavy and chunky with a stunning lock pendant and worth a couple paychecks. He stroked her face. "Three hours."

With the other collar on, she gained back her freedom to walk. She stood and flashed a smile. He twisted her naked tits, kissed her, and snapped her thong. She playfully flinched and returned to the bedroom.

She stood in the doorway and took a deep breath, trying to build up her courage. Her hands trembled as she put on a plain shirt and khaki pants. She shoved her id, phone, and a few dollars in her pocket, then grabbed her sunglasses and the car keys. She knelt before the couch.

"I love you, Master. Forever."

"Love you too," he said casually with barely a smile. It wasn't as passionate as she wanted his words to be. But she knew he loved her deeply. She nodded and got back up. Before she stepped outside, she looked back at him. Her Master kept his eyes on the TV. She closed the door behind her and shuddered. A lump appeared in her throat. Her chest started to ache.

She steadied herself going down the stairs. Her sweating hand gripped the railing to keep her from falling. At the carport where their car was parked, she released the necklace and placed it on the driver's seat. She locked the car and put the keys on top of the front tire. Goosebumps dotted her skin although it was just over 85 degrees. As if freezing, she wrapped her arms around her and walked out of the apartment complex, two streets east, and to a bus stop with five others waiting.

Carry left him with the car. She couldn't just take it with her. The grinding brakes and the snort of the bus coming to a stop startled her from her thoughts. She boarded the first bus out of two that she would take to get to the other side of the county.

Sniffling, she took her phone from her pocket and reread the text message.

"Saturday. 23516 Riverside Rd. Be there before sunset or your boyfriend is dead."

She bit her lip and allowed a couple tears fall. Her past should have remained in the past. After prison, everything that happened before should have been resolved. Her psycho ex destroyed her life. Felix saved it. But old clients of her former boyfriend were pissed that she put the bastard in jail. They were out of business without the most powerful criminal in the county. One client decided to make her pay. She didn't want to drag her loving Master into her past again.

Leaving a note wasn't an option for her. His skip tracing skills would have led him to her. She feared that leaving the necklace and not explaining her intentions would make him think she abandoned him. She imagined the look on his face when his heart broke. Her heart hurt imagining his distress when he found the necklace.

She wished she knew how they would dispose her body. There was hope that her Master would be able to find her remains. That way he would know that she didn't leave him. But if she were chopped to pieces, cremated, left in the desert, grossly disfigured, or buried in a deep grave, her set up would be in vain. She didn't want him to believe she ditched him. She wanted him to know, eventually, that she died to protect him. The guise of leaving him would give him a delay before he started his search.

The sniffles were harder to control. She brought her knees up to her chest and curled up on the small seat. Fear was taking over her braveness. She wanted to run back home and cling to her Master. They didn't leave a clue to how quick her death would be. Thoughts of being tortured to a slow death caused her to vomit the past two days. She faked a smile for her Master and was a good enough actress for him not to notice how pale her skin was.

It was difficult for her to accept that she would die that day. How and when was a painful mystery she endured while she cradled herself on a cramped, hot bus on the way to her execution.

~

Felix paced around the apartment, aimlessly wandering, cell phone in his hand. The fifth call went straight to voicemail. Her phone was off. It had been four hours since she left. Half an hour ago, he started choosing implements and planned her punishment. But he placed those aside as his worries took over. She had never been that disobedient before.

His imagination went wild, fueled by his fear. She could have been in an accident, kidnapped, or killed in some other way.

"No, not now," he whispered. He thought about the engagement ring he kept hidden in his closet. His procrastination proposing to her made him sick. It was over a year since they were released from prison. He didn't know why he didn't have the guts to propose on their first anniversary. If she was dead, he didn't get a chance to prove his love for her in the form of beautiful ring he bought three months ago. Unlike their alternative lifestyle, the ring wasn't dark or gothic. It was a simple diamond set in white gold. He thought something sparkly and shiny fit her personality best. Although sexy and kinky, her childlike smile and exaggerated coyness were the initial qualities every other jealous dom saw when they met her. She was bright beacon, a cheerful slave, in the BDSM world.

His worries consumed him to the point where he could barely breathe. He turned on his laptop and waited impatiently as it booted up. The gps tracker would let him know where she was. Their car was a popular choice amongst thieves. He set up everything right after he brought her home from prison, when his paranoia was at his peak. He never used the equipment to spy on her; he always trusted her.

He opened the program and stared at the screen for awhile. He then leaped from the couch and sprinted to the carport where the car stayed for the past few hours.

~

The setting sun provided little light through the cracks of wood slats that formed the walls and ceiling of a poorly constructed extension to the house. The room reeked of the deaths that had occurred there. Carry got used to its putrid odor.

There was a dirty gag in between her jaws. Her arms stretched upward. Her wrists were tied together and bound to a bar above her head. Her legs were spread with her ankles shackled to the wall. She alternated hanging her head and resting it up right to keep her neck limber. Her focus was to keep from succumbing to panic. She did what she did best – stay bound for long periods at a time.

Carry didn't know why her captures hadn't killed her as soon as she surrendered. She could barely hear the conversation on the other side of the door. They seemed to be having a long discussion that went on for hours on how to kill her and what to do with her body. She wasn't sure what the delay was. The mental torture of waiting was just as worse as her sore muscles.

Three questions lingered in her mind. When was she going to take her last breath? How much was her death going to hurt? Would her Master be able to find her body?

The third drove her to tears. It was hard to keep them away. She had to. Her gagged mouth made breathing a struggle. A running or plugged up nose would make breathing impossible.

Her Master rarely used gags on her when she was bound. Its main use was to quiet her intense orgasms or severe whippings because of the thin walls of their apartment. If it was merely used to muffle her, Felix applied flavored lube to the ball. She appreciated his creativity during play and punishment. He wasn't like her older masters, doing the same things the same way over and over. He incorporated love and laughter in everything he did to her or with her.

Like the day when her Master searched the apartment for things to spank her with. He tried books, frying pans, rolling pins, silverware, wet towels. They couldn't contain their laughter any longer when he took an old keyboard to her ass. He made her whippings interesting too. Sometimes, he made her count to a number in Roman numerals or recite a poem that he wrote or say the alphabet backward before he would stop swinging the flogger. He would make her say weird, embarrassing, and dirty things during sex. He would make her eat dessert for breakfast. He would throw food at her to catch with her teeth. She remembered trying to catch pancakes on all fours and giggling so much she could barely breathe.

He knew when to limit the fun. Besides being his companion, she was mostly his slave. His dominance over her remained every second of every day. He took his control over her seriously. When he ordered her to suck his cock, no matter where they were, she got on her knees. When he said no to her, she didn't sulk. A few times, she whined when she felt that he was unfair to her. All those mistakes earned her punishment.

He would leave her bound, blinded, and in a silent room for hours at a time. He tied her to crosses, benches, and the bed. Sometimes she sported marks from lashes. Sometimes clamps and tassels hung from her tits. Sometimes her ass was bruised and heated. Always after punishment, he treated her like a goddess and let her come over and over until her body went completely limp. When he returned from cleaning up, she would be curled up in a ball and asleep on the bed, passed out from her rough fucking.

She never had a better Master, lover, and protector. Her eyes became glossy thinking of what he could be doing at that moment. She could imagine him, crying and calling her name. A few tears that she couldn't control rolled down her cheeks.

~

The pain was unbearable. Every muscle ached and trembled. Her arms strained; her wrists stretched. She felt that her arms were going to detach at the wrists. She wanted to lie on the floor, even if it was covered with rat dung and blood. Complete darkness surrounded her. Every once in a while, she heard noises and voices come from the house, then fade away. She wanted to hear more. She needed to hear that they were still with her. She had to know they didn't leave her to die, shackled and alone.

The want to die grew stronger. The wait was excruciating. She hoped her life would end with a simple question: head or chest? Other possibilities brought her close to throwing up on herself. Burning to death, drowning, electrocution, disembowelment – all caused her to shake more. If they did give her the option to take a bullet, she wasn't sure which to pick. She didn't know which was a quicker, less painful death.

It was only fair to go with a shot through her chest. She murdered her Master's heart. She should be punished as so.

Glowing balls and streaks of light flashed around the room. A young girl said, "I love you," into her ear. A radio playing classical music was somewhere in the room. Faces, evil and innocent, appeared in front of her. She hung her head and closed her eyes to block out the hallucinations.

"It will be over soon," she whispered through her parched mouth. A small speck of hope that her Master would rescue her kept her strong enough to withstand the torture.

~

Piss streamed down her leg. She moaned every few seconds. She was too tired to cry. It was difficult to distinguish the voices on the other side of the door and the voices of demons that growled at her, encouraging her to give up. Her last bit of mental energy concentrated fully on the question she was too scared to face: what would happen to her soul? The good deeds she did in life came to her memory, but they were soon clouded by the sins she committed. The times she helped her sadistic ex-boyfriend would make her resume for heaven heavily blemished. She never gave too much thought about the afterlife, if there was one. But she trembled with the horrifying judgment of an eternity in hell. If any or all religions were correct all along, she feared what would happen as soon as the bullet pierced her heart. She said an awkward prayer, a plea, to whoever was in charge, that her soul would be spared from burning in the fiery abyss. She concluded the prayer with a wish that her life would be over soon.

Slowly, she lifted her head when yelling and scuffling came from behind the door. Men shouted over each other. A couple howled in pain. Doors slammed against the walls as they were thrown open. Her head fell. A few tears dropped to the ground. Her time had come.

The door crashed into the wall. She couldn't see the person who barged in. She felt the gag slip from her mouth. Her ankles were released. She buckled and put more strain on her wrists. A body, a man, put his weight against her to keep her up right as her untied her wrists. She moaned loudly as pain shot through her body. Dizziness made her fall into the man's arms. He carefully flipped her over his shoulder and carried her out of the room.

Her eyes were blurry but she was able to make out the scene around her. Men handcuffed other men. A few of her captures gave her dirty looks. The cool, outdoor air kept her conscious until she was gently set in the backseat of a car. The car's familiar smell made her feel safe enough to close her eyes and give in to her exhaustion.

~

Most of the pain dissipated when she woke up. Carry sat up from where she lay in the backseat of their car. Outside the window, sand and cacti streaked by.

"What were you thinking?" She looked into the rearview mirror and saw her Master's bloodshot eyes glaring at her. She rested her forehead against the seat and moaned softly as her sore muscles throbbed when she moved.

"I didn't want them to kill you."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "I told you that I would take care of you. I told I would never let anything come in between us. I TOLD YOU-" He took a deep, shuddered breath. "I told you I would protect you."

She avoided his eyes and stared into the fabric of the seat. Regret caused her to tremble and wish her Master's arm were holding her tightly. She swallowed; her dry throat created more pain. "Where are we going?"

"You'll find out later," he snapped. He had just enough sympathy to forgive her for forgetting her manners and addressing him correctly. He understood her fatigue was too much for her to think properly. But since she was physically better, he couldn't drop the rage he felt.

Mentally, she didn't have the energy to guess where they were headed. She lay against the door and tried to get comfortable.

"I called in many favors with old friends still in the business," he said, the fury in his voice dropped a bit, "and they got paid well last night. Nearly all of the bastards were wanted in some way or another." He didn't need to further explain how he found her. She groaned, barely audible. She should have known that his skip tracing skills would lead him to her every time.

They continued on the highway, neither speaking. His weary and narrowed eyes stayed on the road. When her head stopped pounding, she took peeks outside to gain any clues of their destination. At the next rest stop, he pulled over and let her rest. Her legs wobbled. It took her a while to walk normally. She used the restroom and splashed cool water on her face. Under his furious eyes, she paced and stuffed sugar and salt from the vending machine down her throat. She was working on her second bottle of water when they hit the road again.

Half an hour later, the scene became vaguely familiar. As they turned down a dirt road, the shed and trailer came into view. They arrived at the dungeon. It looked the same as it had been three years ago. She wasn't sure if they were there to hide again or her Master had plans to use the dungeon. Plans that involved a shed full of punishment equipment.

He guided her to the trailer instead and laid her on the bed inside. She fell asleep within a minute.

~

The only sound she heard upon wakening was her Master's breathing. She felt his drawn out breaths against her bare neck. She lengthened her spine to stretch. The slight movement woke Felix up. His arm instinctively tightened around her waist. His grip on her became stronger suddenly, then he released her as he exhaled. He brought his arm back.

"Face me."

She rolled over and looked into his eyes. He turned briefly and reached behind him, grabbing something she couldn't see.

"I'm not asking you. I'm making you whether you want it or not. If you decide that you no longer want to be with me, you can give me this later. But for now..." He took her left hand and slid the diamond on her finger. She had no control over the tears flooding her eyes. She buried her head in his chest. "I do have a question." His lips formed a tight line. "Dinner or punishment first?"

Her hunger pangs quickly turned to nausea. Eating then with the reminder of a severe punishment would be impossible. She whimpered as if he already started whipping her. "Punishment first, Master," she said, trying to catch her breath before she started bawling.

Emotionless, he said, "Meet me in the shed in five minutes."

"Yes, Master," she said softly with a sniffle as he left.

It was obvious that her punishment was going to painful. The pain would go past the limits where it was pleasurable. He would make sure she wouldn't dampen and moan when he struck her. The guilt she held inside made every heartbeat hurt. There was no way she could enjoy the pain when her remorse was already beating her up.

Head hung low, she entered the shed and waited for his commands. He strode quickly from the end of the room to the door and grabbed a handful of her hair. Yanking it without mercy, he led her to the middle of the room. He placed her chain necklace around her neck. She didn't move and kept her eyes down while standing at attention. Pocketknife in hand, he tugged at her shirt, letting its blade rip through the fabric. Her pants were next. She took off her shoes at his command and shivered as the blade rested against her shoulder, ready to saw through the straps of her bra.