Chained 9

I started my new job in the IT Department today. It was a rabbit warren of cubicles. Thin clients are littered everywhere, connecting each tech to the server. I see various lines of code on each screen that I pass. People work with earbuds on, oblivious to the activity around them.

My guide smiles at me, and stops in front of the cubicle that is to be my new home. I put my stuff away, and sit down in the chair. I log into my client, and start about my business.

My attention is dragged away from work. I feel someone staring at me. I tuck an errant curl behind my ear, and look around. Earlier in the tour, I hadn't noticed that the opening of my cubicle faces the doorway to my supervisor's office.

I see him sitting in his chair. Tall and muscular, he fits my physical preference. The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up. The muscles and veins stand out on his forearm enticing me to look longer than I should. The tip of my tongue darts out, and licks my bottom lip. I hear someone clearing their throat. I look up, and I know I've been caught.

His eyebrow is raised, and there is a smirk on his face. I turn around, and face my screen like my life depends on it. I sit there concentrating on my work, but I feel his eyes on me throughout the day. I won't be surprised if I get called to personnel, and be given the boot.

My eyes dart to the clock. It is almost time to get off. I save my work, log off, and shut the client down. I grab my stuff, turn around, and slam into a warm hard wall of flesh and bone. As I bounce backwards, I register strong hands grabbing my upper arms and steadying me.

I feel my face flushing a bright crimson. I look up to apologize, and his eyes silence me. They are piercing, and his jaw is set in a hard, unforgiving line. I feel his hands tighten momentarily, then I am set free. I feel his eyes evaluating me. Taking in my blush.

"I came to say, 'Welcome to the team.'" His voice is deep and rich. It is said quietly, but I feel like I have been shouted at. The heat from my blushing body infuses the oil on my skin into the air. The scent of lush, ripe pears mixes with his fresh, clean rain and cedar scent. It creates an intoxicating tableau for my nose.

"Thank you." I finally find my voice. I look up, and meet his eyes. His nostrils flare, breathing our scent in deeply. He is searching, but I don't know what for. I feel the challenge in his eyes. I refuse to back down. I don't need to set a precedent for the rest of our working relationship.

He smiles at me. It reaches his eyes, and they glint like a predator's. We stand there; taking each other's measure, and assessing each other's strengths. "It's good that you have a backbone." He turns around, and walks away. I gawk after him wondering what I need a backbone for.

I watch him walk to the elevator, he moves gracefully and silently for someone carrying such a muscular mass. His pants hug his butt, and stretch when he walks. My fingers twitch at the thought of digging into them. I feel them curling inward, touching my palms. The doors close behind him, and he is gone from my sight.

I was able to find a job close to my apartment, so I walk home from work. The air feels warm and heavy, after the coolness of the office. I stop at the local pub, and grab myself an amaretto sour and some fish and chips. I pay my tab, tip my bartender, and walk out.

Dusk has come, and the streets are quiet. I head for the tunnel, under the bridge, that will take me home. I look around for a second before I enter it. My senses pick nothing up. I get halfway through the tunnel, and I smell someone else. Rain and cedar. I turn around, but I don't see anything.

I turn back, and pick up my pace. I can't see anything, but that doesn't mean it's not there. I smell that scent more pervasively, but I can't tell which direction it is coming from. My brain tells me that I am in danger. Adrenaline hits. I drop my bag. I relax, shift my weight to the balls of my feet, and take a loose, relaxed fighters stance.

I start to turn around, to see what's behind me. I'm hit hard from behind. I feel a hand cover my mouth. It is holding a damp cloth that smells sickeningly sweet. I struggle harder. An arm wraps around my waist, and slams me backward against a hard chest. It tightens around my ribs, and I gasp for air. Only drawing more heavily from the rag against my face. Everything goes blurry, my body refuses to follow my commands, and I am lost to oblivion.

I came to consciousness slowly. My head is pounding. My eyes feel as if they have been glued together, then topped with sandbags. My stomach is queasy, and I feel like I am going to vomit. I lay still hoping the nausea will pass. I let my senses reach out, and take stock of my environment.

The first thing I notice is that I am naked, lying on a blanket on the ground. I can feel fallen pine needles under the blanket. I feel the shadow of a small, simple tent over me shielding me from the sun. The air is warm, but every so often I feel a cool breeze. I feel a weight around my ankle. I flex my foot.

I hear the soft clinking of a chain. The sounds of nature float to me ears. I hear birds calling to each other. Insects moving along the floor of the forest, and through the air. Branches rustling in the wind, and pine cones hitting the earth. I hear someone walking around outside the tent. The forest floor gives them away.

I smell the scents of the forest. Various pines and firs reach my nose. The smell of decaying flora, of rich natural compost that litters the ground. Dark, rich earth, moss, and the fungus that springs from it creeps to my nostrils. I smell a campfire burning, and rabbit frying.

The nausea passes. I crack my eyelids open. My senses told the truth. We are in a forest, under a thick canopy of trees. The thick branches of the trees distort the midday sun. In the distance, there is a fire burning, and a large tent is set up. I see the silhouette of a man walking around in it. It makes me angry and self-conscious. I push it down. I need a clear head.

I sit up, and start rolling and stretching my muscles. I don't know what the day is going to bring, but I want them to be loose and relaxed. The weight on my ankle irritates me. It reminds me that I am now at someone's mercy. I look at the cuff. It has a small lock on it. Irony hits me, and I curse my refusal to pin my hair up.

I pick the chain up. It is long and lightweight. I pull it taunt, wrapping it around my wrist, and through my hand. I grab it with my other hand, pulling on it, but it refuses to give. Whatever I am chained to like a dog, it is staked securely.

I realize that my body needs to relieve itself. I get up, testing my legs. They hold me steady, and I walk outside of the tent. The chain is long enough to allow me to go into the trees, and do my business away from the tent. As I stand up, the smell of cedar and rain it's my nostrils.

I look behind me. There stands my supervisor. Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans riding low on his waist, and a smirk that reeks of superiority. "I told you that it's good that you have backbone." I study my opponent. His muscles are more defined than I had previously imagined at the office. A dragon tattoo wraps itself around his right pectoral, over his shoulder, and back around to his side. An apt tattoo for such a powerful body.

He has a light dusting of hair on his chest. I follow its path with my eyes, down to the waistband of his jeans. I wonder what he is hiding in there. I can feel my mouth watering. I shake myself out of my musing. I'm angry with myself. I pick up the chain attached to my ankle, and I whip it at him. He catches it with his hand, chuckles, and shakes a finger at me. "Better save that fire for later. You're going to need it."

He tosses a roll of toilet paper at me. I catch it mid-air. I clean myself, and toss it back to him. He catches it with his large hand. I'm embarrassed that my private moment has been intruded on. He feeds the chain through his hand giving me length to walk comfortably. He turns around, and starts back towards the camp.

With no choice, I follow him. He goes into his tent. I stop outside of it. He turns around, and crooks his finger at me. I shake my head at him. His eyes narrow, and he jerks my chain. I fall forward, but he catches me. The feel of his skin against mine is electrifying. I gasp, pushing my hands against him, but it is fruitless. His strength is more than a match for me.

His hands move down to my hips, and he places me in a chair. He walks away from me, and I take in my surroundings. There is a table beside me, and a matching twin to my chair. In the next partition, there is a large air mattress, covered in sleeping bags and pillows. He walks over to a cooler, and gets a couple of bottles of water from it. He hands me a bottle. "Sip it slowly." I hadn't realized how thirsty I was, but he is right. Guzzling it isn't a good idea.

"What day is it," I ask. "Friday," he says. When I left work it was Thursday. I have been out of it for at least twelve hours. Which means I was dosed more than once. "Where are my clothes?" He looks down at me. "I cut them off of you. Can't have you running away, and I like the sight that you are presenting to me."

He walks out of the tent. I hear him by the fire. The sound of scraping and clanging reaches my ears. He comes back, holding two plates. Both has various bits of rabbit and bread on it. He sets a plate down in front of me, then takes the other chair. "How are you going to explain my absence?" I ask as I pick the rabbit up.

"I took a personal day. Let them know that you had sent me an email, saying you were sick. No one expects you to come back until Monday." I watch as his teeth tears into his rabbit. The full magnitude of my situation hits me. Three days alone with him, at his mercy, and there is no telling what is going to happen. I pick the meat off my rabbit, and eat it. I have a feeling that I am going to need it.

We finish eating, and he takes the plates outside. I watch as washes the plates off. He throws the bones into a pot of water, then adds dried beans to it. Dinner isn't looking appealing, but some food is better than nothing. I look up through the canopy at the sky, but it is hard to tell the position of the sun. I will have to wait until the sun goes down to orient myself to any compass point.

He goes into the tent, and comes back out carrying a pair of running shoes. They look like they are my size. He walks over to me, and stops. His presence demands my attention, and his scent teases my nostrils. I'm caught between wanting to taste his skin, or punching him for what he has done to me. He hands me the shoes. I walk to my tent, sit down on the blanket, and brush the dirt off of my feet.

I start to put the shoes on. I feel awkward and graceless. It's hard to be dignified in my birthday suit, being chained with him watching. He walks over to me, and drops to his haunches. His hand reaches out, and his fingers trace up my slit. My body betrays me. I suck in a breath as I feel wetness creep to where his fingers had just been. I flush all over, and smell my scent rise in the air between us.

I push his hand away, but he grabs my wrist; holding it in his hand. I look up at his face. His eyes look like dark green glass that is back-lit by fire. "Don't push me away," he growls at me. I swallow, and realize that I had been holding my breath. I let it out slowly, and nod.

He lets go of my wrist, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls a key out of it, and holds it in front of my face. I reach for it, but he pulls it back. "No. This is what's going to happen. You can behave; I will unlock your cuff, and we can go to the stream and fish. Otherwise you can stay chained, and be bored."

I moderate my voice to give my best obedient tone. "I will behave." He stares me in the eye, then nods, and unlocks my cuff. It falls off. He puts the lock and key in his pocket. He stands up, and holds a hand out for me. I place mine in his, and he helps me up off the ground. He walks to the side of the tent, and picks up two fishing rods, a net, a bucket, and a tackle box.

I follow him out of the camp to a clearing that has a wide creek. We stand on the bank, bait our hooks, and cast our lines. He sinks to the ground gracefully, and sits cross-legged. I sink down into a lotus position, and wait for the fish to bite. It isn't long before something hits my line. I start to reel it in. It fights hard, and I have to let the line slacken at times.

He watches me, as I patiently work it back to me. He grabs the net, leans over the bank, and scoops my feisty catch up. It is a good sized Largemouth bass, and I am right proud of myself. It is the biggest one I have caught. I start to regret what I am about to do. He dips the bucket into the water, then upends the bass into it. His back is to me. I stand up, push him into the water, and run hell for leather.

I hear him rise out of the water, and bellow. It sounds like a roar from a great beast. I run along the bank heading towards the sun. I don't know where I am going, but I know I need to get as much distance between us as possible. Fear and adrenaline give me speed and stamina that I thought I was incapable of. I'm far from where I started.

I cut into the forest. I see a tree that I can climb. As I work my way up, I focus on calming my breathing. I know that my safety depends on my ability to be quiet. I get as high as I can, and hunker down, getting comfortable. From my vantage point, I can see the sun starting to set. I look around, but I don't see any roads nearby. I am going to wait until after dark. Let him give up his search, then climb down and set my own pace.

After calming down, and being silent for a while, the forest starts to come back to life. Small critters start their normal routines again, and the birds start singing to each other. I can hear the chirping of crickets as the sky grows darker. The moon rises over head. I hear the hoots of an owl off in the distance. A group of bats fly off to my right. Their wings make a repetitious whoomp whoomp sound.

Satisfied that he must be back at the camp by now, I start my descent. My foot finds the ground, and I make my way to the direction that I had come earlier. I get out into the clearing, and return to my previous direction. My foot stumbles, and I go down. I struggle to get back up. I feel a hard hand clamp down on my shoulder. It drives me back down to the ground. I still myself on my knees.

I am winded, and breathing heavy. I feel him standing over my shoulder watching my breasts rise and fall. My nipples harden, and I grit my teeth; hating my body for the way it reacts to him. His hand gentles on my shoulder, and he comes to stand in front of me. His jeans are soaked, and molded to his body. I don't need an imagination to see what is no longer hiding there. My body heats, and I feel wetness on my lips. He stares at me, and my body tightens under his gaze.

His hand takes a hold of my chin, and forces me to meet his eyes. Desire stares back at me, and my body responds by whimpering. His hand moves down to my throat, holding my head in place with his thumb. He twists his other hand in my hair. "Undress me," he growls. My fingers reach out, and I fight with his wet jeans trying to get them undone. I peel them down.

As he springs out at me, my brain can't fathom how he is going to fit inside my small body. I feel him raising his arms, and I rise with him. He turns me around, facing away from him. He lets my hair go, bends me forward, and I feel his hand between my legs. He strokes me from my clit to my ass. My cunt responds to his touch, and I feel wetness seeping over my clit. My legs spread on their own, opening for him. I feel his fingers between my slit, coating themselves in my wetness. My pussy pushes against his hand, eager, wanting more.

He removes his hand. I hear sucking sounds, and I want to turn around and look. He holds me firmly in place. I feel the head of his cock against my entrance, and I relax. He is huge. I feel like I am being invaded, but he doesn't stop until his balls are snuggled up against my clit. His length and girth are uncomfortable at first.

He waits for my body to conform to him. I feel his hand on my back, pushing me down. I'm still attached to him, but I manage to get down on my knees in the grass. His hand moves to my shoulder, and pushes me onto my hands. I'm on all fours, and I can't ever remember feeling more vulnerable or excited. I push against him. He brings his hand down against my ass, hard. It stings, and I screech in surprise.

"I'm in control. Do you understand?" I nod my head. He rubs the welt that is rising fast. I remain still, not wanting to have another one. I feel wetness seeping between us. He starts moving inside me, slowly at first. Friction is building. It feels delicious. My body whimpers each time he withdraws, and comes back inside me. I feel his hand move to my hip. My body starts to move against him. I catch myself and stop.

I feel his weight against my back. His mouth is right by my ear, and his deep voice goes lower. "Do you want more?" I nod my head, vigorously. "Speak." I drag in a breath. "Yes, please give me more," I force out shakily. He moves faster inside me. His hand encourages my hips to meet his strokes, and I am lost in his rhythm.

He rides me faster and faster. Spurning me to that apex of pleasure that my body craves. I feel humanity falling away from me, only instinct has reign here. He leans over me, sliding his fingers to my swollen clit, and bites down on my neck. The world shatters around me, my fingers dig into the earth, and a guttural scream is ripped from my throat. It sounds foreign to my ears as my body convulses around him. I feel him slamming himself inside of me, his cock expands, stretching me to my limits. I am pushed to a second orgasm as his hot cum floods inside me.

He moves his hands to my breasts, and pulls me backwards against his chest. I feel him licking my neck as our combined juices drip out of me. His rain and cedar scent covers me. I struggle to regain my breath and coherent thought. He pulls out of me, backs away, and stands up. The day's events have drained me. He comes in front of me, picks me up, and puts me over his shoulder. I pass out on the way back to the camp.

I come to consciousness in the middle of the night. I am on the air mattress in the tent. I can feel his chest against my back. My head is laying on his arm, and his other arm is wrapped around my tummy. I shift a little bit, getting more comfortable. His arm tightens around me, and he pulls me closer. In his sleep, he grumbles against my ear. I still myself, and sleep drags me back to Morpheus.

I wake up on the air mattress alone. It feels empty without his weight on it. I feel the chain around my ankle. I see that my captor has chosen to chain me back up. The sunlight is weak coming through the canopy. I find the toilet paper, then attend to my business. It is cool in the morning, and I shiver.

My captor must have been gone awhile. The camp is quiet, and the fire is almost out. Nothing but low burning coals. I place thin branches on it, along with some pine needles and cones. The fire picks up, and starts crackling happily. Before long, I add some thicker pieces, feeding its hunger. It is brighter in the canopy, but my captor hasn't returned yet.

I hear a twig snap behind me. I turn around, and see a man. He is thin and unkept. His hair is greasy, lanky, and matted. He walks closer to me, and his stench hits my nose. I back away from him, trying to find some relief. I feel myself getting closer to the fire. I reach down, and grab a thick wooden stick. My eyes don't leave his face.

I keep backing away from him. The whites of his eyes are a dingy yellow. There is a feral look in there. He stalks me like a starving hyena. I've backed away so far that I hit the end of my chain. The only thing I can do is strafe to the side. I keep my front side parallel to his. He gets closer to me, as the chain hampers me.