Captured and Enslaved

My head jerked up when I heard the door at the top of the basement stairs creak open. My tortured body was aching for the release that wouldn't come. There was a small puddle of moisture next to each foot, where my juices had dribbled down my legs from the constant stimulation. I was covered in a sheen of sweat, and my legs were trembling beneath me.

"Well, it looks like you had a fun night," Tristan said, coming to stand before me. I glared at him in hatred.

"Oh, don't look at me that way," he sighed, brushing a damp tendril of hair away from my cheek. "I brought you a little present to cheer you up."

He produced a studded leather collar from behind his back. I tried to squirm away from the disgusting device, but he easily buckled it around my slender throat, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"I think it suits you," he mused to himself.

"Fuck....you," I panted, the vibrator still hard at work inside my slippery cunt.

"Manners, pet," he chided me. "You're wearing my collar. You are my slave. And I don't tolerate slaves talking back to their masters. But, this is your first day, so I'll overlook that one. In fact, we will begin your slave training etiquette right now."

He sat down on the cage in front of me and folded his arms across his chest. God, I hated the sight of him. All fresh and clean after a good sleep in a comfortable bed. His hair was still even wet from a shower. Thinking of a shower only made me more aware of my sticky body and my raging thirst and hunger.

"What do you want with me?" I asked, trying to stand up straight with what little strength I had left. "Obviously you picked me for a reason."

Tristan shrugged. "I did choose you specifically, but not for the reasons that you think. Really, it's just unfortunate that you chose to become involved with the wrong people. But there is nothing that you can do about it now."

Tangled with the wrong people? What was that supposed to mean? Whatever his purpose for her was, it was more than just a sex slave.

"I haven't trained a submissive in years, much less a slave, but the process has always come naturally to me, courtesy of the sadist inside. So let's begin with the basics," he said, changing the subject.

"As a slave, you must refer to me by a specific title. I've decided that I like master. From now on, you will address me only as Master, unless I specify otherwise. Do you understand?"

Now that was a humiliation that I refused to bear. Calling my kidnapper and tormentor Master? I could think of nothing more shameful. My cheeks were already coloring at the mere suggestion. The title brought to mind images of me crawling and groveling before his feet, and that was something that I would never do. So I remained stubbornly silent, my eyes cast on the floor.

"You may ask me one favor. One question," he said abruptly. My eyes shot up to his hopefully before I could stop myself. I decided that I might as well answer. I didn't like the mischievous light in his eyes though.

"I want you to take out the vibrator." I desperately wanted the diabolical device out of my exhausted body.

"I am willing to take it out. Just as soon as you ask me. Properly." He sat in front of me patiently, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

I couldn't degrade myself like that. I just couldn't.

To my shock, after a few moments of silence, Tristan stood up and slid the dripping vibrator out of my pussy. He reached up and unlocked the shackles around my bruised wrists, letting them fall to my sides. I rubbed the soreness away as the tingling blood rushed into my hands. But he didn't leave me free for long.

Out of nowhere, he came up with a length of rope. He guided my hands behind my back and tied them together tightly. He left me standing on my own as he pulled two dangling clips on separate strings over on a moving track set in the ceiling.

I saw where this was going, and I tried to dash away, but my legs were weak after standing all night, and Tristan easily caught me. He positioned me under the clips, lowering them until they were on the level of my breasts.

"Please don't, they're so sensitive," I pleaded.

He held up a hand. "You do not have the right to speak, slave, until you address me properly."

I shut my mouth, determined to hold out.

My resolve wavered as he screwed one of the alligator teeth clamps on my left nipple. I bit my lip and managed not to scream, though I whimpered when he fastened the second one to my other nipple.

His dark blue eyes crinkled as I fought to hold back my cries of pain.

"It only gets better from here," he assured me. "Now, did you have something you wanted to ask me?"

When I didn't answer, he pulled out a small triangular weight and hooked it on to the looped end of the cord that was thrown over the pulley at the top. My nipples were stretched upwards.

I gasped in shock, rising up on my tiptoes to try to alleviate some of the biting pain. Still, I remained silent. The pain was bad, but the humiliation of calling him master would be even worse.

Tristan added another, bigger weight. I yelped as my nipples were stretched out even more, the metal teeth digging into the sensitive buds.

"Had enough yet?" he asked. I gritted my teeth and tried not to think about the pain. Don't let him reduce you to an animal, Emory.

The third weight, with the added pressure of his fingers yanking down, had me howling at the pain. My nipples felt like they were about to be ripped off of my chest. Tristan flicked the largest weight, sending the cord swinging back and forth. I moaned, wanting to relieve the agony but unable to, due to my bound hands.

Without a word, Tristan turned on his heel and left the basement. Was he angry? I didn't like the thought of an angry Tristan. If he was this sadistic when he was amiable, could I even hope to survive the consequences of his wrath?

The pain in my chest was becoming unbearable when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Tristan appeared, and balanced on his hand was a tray of steaming hot food. The smell was heavenly as it hit me, reminding me of my powerful thirst and hunger.

"Ah yes, I thought you'd react to this," Tristan commented. He set the tray down on a steel table about ten paces away, where the smell would still tantalize my complaining stomach. This torment was too much to resist.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me?" he smirked. That smirk almost made me growl. I lifted my chin and stared at him defiantly. His grin only widened.

"Emory, I don't understand what you think you're accomplishing by holding out. You know that you will inevitably submit. Why make it more painful for yourself?"

He picked up a riding crop off of a shelf as he sauntered towards me. I closed my eyes, the growling in my stomach pronounced because of the food sitting in front of me.

My eyes sprang open when I felt the light swish of the crop against my brutalized nipples. The blow wouldn't have done more than sting, normally, but on my clamped nipples, it felt like a bolt of fire. I screamed, and screamed again as he struck the other one.

"Please!" I knew my cries would do no good. "Master, please!"

He stopped whipping me immediately. "What did you say?" he asked.

I lowered my head in defeat, knowing that he expected the full question. "Master, please stop whipping me."

He backed up, tapping the crop against his palm. "There, was that so hard?" He carefully placed the crop back in its original position, whistling a foreign tune as he strolled toward the stairs.

"Wait!" I called, panicked. "What about letting me eat?"

He turned back, a feigned look of surprise on his face. "Why, you didn't ask me if you could eat." He was clearly waiting for me to humiliate myself further. My cheeks burned red, but I forced myself to say it.

"Master, will you please let me eat?"

"I'm sorry, pet, but remember, I only allowed you one question. It's not my fault that you squandered it on stopping a whipping." He shrugged as if there was nothing he could do about it.

I lost my subservient address then. "You sick bastard!" I screamed at him.

"I was going to return in an hour, but your lack of respect will add another sixty minutes to it. Care to make it longer?"

I shut my mouth, though I desperately wanted to hurl obscenities at him until I was blue in the face. I could stand on my tiptoes for two hours with my nipples tightly clamped!

I obviously didn't have a choice though, which Tristan made clear as he exited the basement, slamming the door shut with finality.

Every time I was forced to rest my aching calves, the pain in my nipples increased, pulling my petite breasts upwards until I was forced to rise back up on my toes. Tears continuously rolled down my face. I had expected my nipples to grow numb as the minutes passed, but if possible, the pain grew sharper. On top of that, the tray of food with its big glass of ice water still sat in front of me, taunting me. I tried to pull away and forcefully rip the clamps off of my nipples, but the excruciating pain had me screaming and balancing on my toes again.

By the time Tristan came back, I was about to faint.

"Did you enjoy this lesson, pet?"

I shook my head vehemently no.

"I'm granting you another question. Be careful how you use it."

I spoke slowly, not wanting to get caught in another technicality. "Please take off the nipple clamps and let me eat."

Tristan sighed. "Try again."

Try again? Oh right. "Please, Master, take off the nipple clamps and let me eat." There was a sarcastic tinge to my words, but I couldn't help that.

Tristan had mercy on me then, for he came forward and unscrewed the clamps. I groaned as the blood came rushing back into the released nubs. Tristan untied my hands and left me standing there as he walked back to the table.

I took one step forward before he stopped me.

"Crawl," he said simply.

I stood there motionless, stupefied at his command. He pointed at the floor, making his meaning clear.

There was nothing else I could do but what he commanded. I was at my breaking point. I hadn't eaten or drank in almost twenty hours, and after a night of continual sexual manipulation bound in a standing position, I was about to collapse. So I got down on my hands and knees and crawled toward him. The cool concrete was smooth, thankfully, and it was a relief to take the weight off of my aching feet and calves.

I reached Tristan's polished shoes and dared a glance up at him. With a condescending air, he set the tray down in front of me. Without waiting for permission, I dug in. I felt Tristan's amused grin on me, but I didn't care. The food was cold, but still delicious.

Once I had finished everything on my plate, and downed the tall glass of water, I was so sleepy I could have curled up right there on the cold floor and slept for hours. But of course, Tristan had other plans for me.

"I believe that we need to break you down further while we're already at this point," he said, as if he had just reached a decision. "And besides, I have nothing else scheduled today. Come, pet."

He held out his hand. Warily, I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

I was pleasantly surprised that he didn't tie my hands again, though the feeling evaporated when he pulled out a leash and clipped it to my collar. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes until his back was turned. Seizing the opportunity, I also flipped him off, but it was hard to make my fingers do that comfortably for the first time.

Tristan led me up the stairs and out into the main level. It was too bright, due to the white floors and sunshine streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows. Tristan didn't pause to let my eyes adjust as he took me to the front door, through which I had been escorted the night before. The mansion interior shocked me, especially after seeing the dark and crude basement. It was beautifully and expensively decorated in white with green accents. It struck me then that this house actually suited Tristan perfectly. Everyone saw the polished outward appearance, but if they were to look a little deeper, they would see the depravity and the filth inside.

We passed through the double doors and out into the harsh Texas sun. It was summer, and the day was scorching hot. After the damp coolness of the basement, the heat hit my naked body like a wall. The expansive lawn spread until it hit the treeline and the narrow white gravel road that led to the front gates. There was only a tall iron fence along the lane, leaving the forest wide open. It seemed careless of Tristan to me, but it might prove to be my best escape option.

"Before you begin making your great escape plans, there is an electric line around the entire house and lawn that is connected to your collar. One foot over that line, and you'll receive a nasty shock. Continue to press forward, and the strength of the shocks will increase until you either pass out or die. So I would recommend setting your mind to something else."

I fingered the collar around my neck, hating the heavy feel. It was lined with leather on the inside, so it wasn't as uncomfortable as it could have been. It was the disgrace of it. What kind of people chained human beings up like dogs for their pleasure? I had never heard of anything like it. Tristan was a maniacal psychopath, and I had to get away before he did something that would really hurt me.

"Keep up, pet," he said, yanking shortly on the leash. I stumbled and picked up my pace. The coolness from the basement had been burned off of my skin, letting the heat seep into my pores. Whatever Tristan had planned, I hoped that it would be quick. Perhaps he was going to let me roam around unleashed, bound by the electric boundaries of my collar.

He waved pleasantly at a gardener, who was working over a bed of exotic grasses and other green plants. Not a flower could be spotted anywhere.

"Here we are," Tristan announced as we arrived behind the house. In front of us, the yard sloped down slightly to meet the forest. The mansion behind us didn't cast much shade because the sun was almost directly overhead. Set up on the plush grass was a large wooden X frame, facing the back balcony of the house.

I resisted instinctively as he pushed me towards it, but I was no match for his strength. His hands wrapped around my upper arms and propelled me towards the sinister looking device.

"Relax, it's not as bad as all that." His accented words did little to reassure me. "In fact, once I strap you in, I won't lay a finger on you."

My eyes jerked up to meet his skeptically. "Then what is the point of this if you're not going to torment me?" I asked.

He smirked a little as he buckled my wrists to the outstretched arms of the frame. "Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of kidnapping and torturing young girls. I have a meeting today, but instead of leaving you alone to build up your defenses, I have decided to continue your training while I am away."

"You're going to leave me out here?" I asked in disbelief. The sun beat down in waves on my bare pale skin.

"Yes."

"But I'll burn!" I couldn't help whimpering.

He squinted up at the sky. "It's around two-thirty in the afternoon right now. The house will block the sun at around seven o'clock. I think you'll be able to survive that, don't you?"

"I did what you asked," I pleaded. "I called you master. I crawled on the floor, I followed you on the leash!"

"But, as you have been demonstrating for the past several minutes by speaking so freely to me, you have not taken the rule to heart," he reminded me as he bent to secure my ankles. I bit my lip, realizing that I had not addressed him with his self-appointed title at all. His hand brushed against my pussy lips nonchalantly as he stood up, and I lurched against my restraints. He looked at me quizzically.

"Emory, are you a virgin?"

There was no way that he could possibly know that just from looking at me, but I couldn't lie to his piercing eyes.

"Technically, yes."

"Interesting," he mused. He didn't elaborate as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. I hated how his eyes roamed over my body, as if it belonged to him and was no longer my own. I tugged on the buckled shackles, but it was mainly just for a show of resistance. I knew that Tristan wouldn't make a mistake and leave one loose.

He smiled at me, and if I wished to god that I could wipe it off of his smug face. Hate welled up in me as I realized the ordeal I was about to go through.

"I'll send Brady out to turn you in a couple of hours," he said before turning and walking back up to the house. I watched him go the entire way, and not once did he look back.

"That son of a bitch," I muttered as soon as he disappeared inside. Tendrils of hair were already stuck to my skin with sweat, and this was just the beginning.

TRISTAN'S P.O.V.

As soon as I stepped inside the air-conditioned foyer of my house, Sandra was there, dressed in her black uniform.

"Sir, Camille Ramirez called for you. She is holding on line two," the diminutive maid informed me.

"Tell her to call back later. I have more important things on my mind."

She winced but turned to do as she was told. Business with Camille would have to wait.

I took the curved staircase two steps at a time, my immaculate shoes clicking on the white marble floor as I arrived at my study. The lock was released as I tapped the appropriate code into the security pad. Contrary to the rest of the house, my personal study was dark, decorated in shades of black and gray. The weight fell off of my shoulders as I closed the door behind me. The office was pristine, not a paper out of place. The white marble had been traded in for a rough slate floor, the texture of which I found extremely pleasing. This is where I could let the facade fall and not worry about prying eyes.

I loosened the tie around my neck as I slowly walked toward the desk at the other end. A black leather sofa with a coffee table and a large stuffed easy chair were the only other pieces of furniture that occupied the room.

I sank into the tall chair behind the desk, feeling the tensions melt away. Emory was more than I had imagined her to be, I mused to myself. She was tougher, more stubborn, more defiant. It wouldn't last for more than a couple of weeks though. But two weeks was too long. I needed her degraded in several days time. I had waited long enough to put this plan into motion. I would need to spend more time with her. I couldn't give her a rest at all if she were to be ready to take up her unconscious role. I almost smiled when I remembered discovering her involvement with the pastor's son, Lee. It had added a delicious element to my plan, one that I was about to savor at this very moment.

I shifted to the side and pulled my cellphone out of my pocket. The number had been memorized long ago as I dialed it mindlessly. I took a deep breath, pushing down the raw excitement that welled up within me.

"Hello?" The young male voice answered.

"Lee Donovan?"

"Yeah, that's me. Who is this?"

"Have you been missing Emory?"

I waited in the two seconds silence, anticipating his horror.

"What is that supposed to mean? Where is she? Do you know? Tell me."

I grimaced a little at his unoriginal questions. "I have her," I answered simply.

"Give her back," he said coldly. "Or I'm calling the police right now."

Dear god, the police, I thought sarcastically to myself. The boy didn't appreciate my status.

"What do you want?" he asked. Finally, an interesting question.

"I will let you know when the time is right," I said before hanging up. I leaned back in my chair, pleasure filling my being as I realized that the plan was, at long last, in motion.

Almost against my will, my hand strayed towards the leftmost drawer in the desk. Outside, my control was absolute. In here, I was just a man, subject to his whims and desires. So I pulled open the drawer, knowing exactly what I would see. A picture, yellowed and fading though it had been carefully preserved in an expensive glass frame. But no matter how lavish the frame or how impressive the desk in which it was kept, the photograph looked tired and cheap. An interesting analogy could be made to myself, but I decided to think on that later.