The night was cold and stormy and the underground shelter in which the young woman was caged was isolated. There would be no one passing by any time soon and if they did, they were unlikely to spot the carefully hidden entrance. The woman's host had made sure of that when he started work on the dwelling months ago. He did not rush it and he spared no expense either. With his wealth he could afford to be extravagant and as a result the large concrete room was fitted out with an impressive array of equipment. Besides the furniture included for his comfort, there was a St Andrews cross and a stretch table and a rotating wheel that he could tie his victim to. From the ceiling there hung a proper industrial strength winch, and in the floor, there was a deep hole in which an entire person could be stowed away securely.
Then of course there was the cage. The size of a large dog kennel, its thick wide spaced bars were strong enough to contain a wolf, let alone a slender young woman. Leaning against the wall watching her, the man reflected on all this with dark satisfaction. She was his at last and there was nothing she could say or do to change that. Well, almost nothing. His rules were simple: once you agreed to participate in his game, the only way out was by using the safe word. In which case, the game came to an end, and his guest would have to leave on foot. That was one of the reasons he had chosen such a remote location for the dungeon. The mountains were a harsh place for a lone naked woman, and she would be naked for sure, because he had burned all her clothes, the day he brought her there.
Right before he locked her inside the cage.
The poor little thing did not know it yet, because she had passed out along the way from exhaustion and whatever it was, she had consumed at the party. She did agree to come with him, however, and he had the paperwork with her signature, to prove it. The fact that he never told her when the game would start, was deliberate on his part. He had always enjoyed the element of surprise and the very thought of her finding out made him smile. Tired as he was, he would not rest without seeing the look on her face when she woke up. Idly he wondered if she would scream. It would not make any difference of course, except that he liked hearing women scream.
He was a sadist, after all.
*******
Natasha had never felt so groggy. Her consciousness was tenuous at best when she first began to emerge from her alcohol-induced stupor and for a long time she was content to lie perfectly still, while attempting to gather her thoughts. The process was slow because she was worn out from all the partying she did the night before. It had started the same as all end of school year parties did: with raucous laughter and way too much vodka, that always got people's tongues wagging. At some point during the night someone suggested they visit a local BDSM club for fun, and it was there that she told a group of almost perfect strangers about her secret fantasy: of being tied up and dominated and maybe hurt as well. Whereupon one of the girls came up to her and said,
"There is someone here I think you should meet."
Natasha's limbs twitched as she relived her first meeting with the mysterious stranger the girl introduced her to. The moment she laid eyes on him she had found him attractive -- irresistibly so. He was tall and very muscular, and his hair was cropped short like a soldier's. But it was his eyes that truly caught her attention. Pale blue and almost glowing in the darkness, they reminded her of the eyes of a wolf. He watched her just like a wolf, too. As though deciding whether to shake her hand or have her for dinner that night. Natasha found his aloof self-confidence intoxicating. It made it difficult to say more than two words to him, so in the end it was the girl that introduced them who did most of the talking. Natasha did not hear everything she said, but she saw the mystery man gazing at her with ever increasing interest.
When at the end he came up to her and took her by the hand, she could not resist the raw sexual energy he exuded. Without a moment's hesitation, she followed him to a private office, where he sat her down and placed both hands on her thighs, observing her silently for a moment. At such close proximity, Natasha felt his gaze piercing her, his masculine scent filling her nostrils with each breath she took. With her heart racing, she listened to him as he began to talk. He wished to invite her to a game, he said -- a game that he would be hosting, at a location so secret, no one knew about it. This alone made her excitement shoot to a new high, even before he added, darkly,
"Now, a word of warning. I am a true sadist, and once you choose to submit to me, I will hurt you. I won't maim you or break any bones, but believe me when I say, I will hurt you enough to make you scream. And I will do this, probably every day while you are with me. Nod if you understand."
How he knew that she would struggle to reply in words, was a mystery, but the fact was that he did. Dumbly, she nodded, whereupon he produced a written agreement setting out the rules. He was very serious when asking her to read it and to sign it.
"If you want out before the two months are up -- he said, referring to the period specified in the agreement -- all you have to do is say the safe word," here, he pointed to a word at the bottom of the list. "Once you do so, however, it is game over, quite literally. I will take you to a safe location and you will never see me again. Do you understand all this, Natasha?"
Gazing into his pale eyes, she said yes, and he took her hand and kissed it.
"I will be seeing you again soon," he promised and then he ushered her out of his office and left her with her new-found friends. Natasha wished he had warned her not to take anything they offered, because her night sure took a turn for the worse after that. As a matter of fact, she did not remember who took her home at the end of the night -- or even if she made it home.
It was at this point that Natasha finally decided to try and wake up properly. Trembling with the effort it took, she moved one leg experimentally. She was lying on her side on the floor and her hips rolled easily so that she sprawled on her back. As her bare skin registered cold concrete, Natasha's eyes flew open, and she saw the bars of the cage for the first time. She opened her mouth and screamed.
"Mmm... such sweet music," the man said, laughing. He did not move from where he stood but enjoyed the show from a distance. Smugly superior. In control. A predator toying with his prey.
Natasha heard the deep male voice and recognised it instantly. It gave her cause to pause and turn her head toward him. He was dressed all in black, looking even more attractive than she remembered, and for a brief moment she simply stared at him in silence. But then awareness of her naked and vulnerable position took over and she started whimpering softly. Watching her cry, the man thought how beautiful she looked and how much like a beast. It fueled his desire, so that he moved toward the cage.
Seeing the man approach caused Natasha's excitement to rise sharply. Without taking her eyes off him she scrambled to her hands and knees and waited for him to come and let her out. She was gazing at him expectantly, when he came and squatted before her. That was when she had her first rude shock. He observed her in silence for a few seconds longer before reaching casually inside and grabbing her by the hair. In a single brutal move, he pulled her toward him until her head struck the bars. Then he started speaking to her. Quietly. Calmly. The way he did when they first met, back at that BDSM club that she could not recall the name of.
"Hello Natasha," the man said, "I'm so glad to see you awake. I was beginning to get worried."
His tone suggested nothing of a sort, but she did not dare contradict him. He kept hold of her hair, pressing her face firmly against the bars, and she moaned quietly as she felt the cold metal dig into her cheek. The sound seemed to please him, because he reached inside the cage and began to stroke her face with his free hand.
"My little lamb," the man went on. "Tell me, how are you feeling?"
Natasha's heart skipped a beat. The way he was talking to her... it was demeaning in the extreme, yet she found it strangely arousing. Blushing wildly, she struggled to answer, until he pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him.
"I said: how are you feeling?" he repeated patiently.
"I... I'm hurting," she mumbled. Her captor reached in with his free hand and resumed the gentle stroking of her face.
