Doves Tale Ch 08

'...ll be fine...'

'...no fever or infec...'

'...bigger dose than you needed to...'

'...soon as she wake...'

The voices were fuzzy, fading in and out. Phyllis wasn't sure if she woke up or imagined them. She vaguely recalled sipping water through a straw, and another time a cool, damp cloth gliding over her face.

Finally, her consciousness managed to swim through the fog for a few moments. She was lying on her back on a narrow bed, partly propped up, and felt so weak and groggy.

A soft voice said 'Hey,' and a gentle hand was on the back of her neck, supporting her head. Her eyes didn't want to focus, but she thought she saw blond hair and blue eyes.

The voice urged her to take a sip, and her lips closed around a straw. A little suction, and her mouth filled with cool water.

'Just a little more,' the voice said, and her head was softly lifted again.

As she swallowed, the voice told her she was gonna be ok, but the darkness reclaimed her, her eyes giving up and closing as she went back to sleep.

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WITH a soft groan, her eyes blinking rapidly, Phyllis woke up, feeling disoriented and confused.

Kitten was there, sitting next to her bed with more water. 'Don't guzzle,' she warned, pulling the straw away after a couple gulps.

'How are you feeling?'

'I'm...ok,' Phyllis answered, her forehead creased as she took inventory of herself. She was kind of sitting up in a hospital-style bed. She still felt a little slow, like she'd been sleeping for days.

Her arms felt heavy, and she was wearing...mittens?

She started to try to get up, and felt the familiar, hated sensation of cuffs on her ankles, limiting her movements. There was a dull ache between her legs.

'Do you need a bed pan?' Kitten asked quietly.

Surprised by the question, she turned to look at the brunette girl.

'What the hell happened?' Phyllis asked. She lifted her right arm to gesture at her bed, and saw her hand was swathed in bandages.

'Well, you've been out for two days,' Kitten told her as she looked at her wrapped hands, her mind frozen. 'As for the rest, that's for Master to explain.'

'Ah, here he is,' she finished as the door opened. Kitten rose from her chair, and a quick whisper was exchanged before she slipped from the room.

She watched her captor smirk at her, and her mind replayed her last memories-what she had done, what he had said. She stared at her bandaged hands again, her stomach churning.

'No...he couldn't...he wouldn't...' she thought desperately.

Alexander reached down and tugged the thin sheet off the bed, leaving her naked. With no ceremony, he dropped his pants and crawled up between her bound legs.

'I warned you, slave girl.'

With his hand, he guided his cock into her, thrusting in slowly but mercilessly until the entire length was sheathed in her pussy. She barely noticed. She held her hands in front of her wide eyes, her mind recoiling in disbelief.

'You push me, I push back,' Alexander growled as he started to rape her. 'You fight me, you lose.'

'Motherfucker!' she screamed, her eyes blazing with hatred. 'MOTHERFUCKER!'

He was wearing a padded glove on his left hand, and slammed it down over her mouth, silencing her even as he continued his slow, deep thrusts into her.

'Shut the fuck up, bitch,' he snarled. 'Or do you want to lose your tongue too?'

She stared up at him in utter horror, shocked tears filling her eyes, and he nodded slowly and deliberately.

'You belong to me and me alone. All of you-your cunt, your mouth, your ass...'

Alexander forced himself to keep his movements slow, even though the terror in her eyes and the tears rolling down her cheeks were making his cock throb with lust.

'Your hands, your feet...your mind and soul...are all my property.'

'And if you're too fucking stupid to figure that out...'

He let go of her mouth and grabbed her wrists firmly, holding her bandaged hands inches from her face.

'...then I will drive the point home!'

He pulled her hands apart and stared into her shocked eyes.

'You understand now, slave girl?' he snarled.

Phyllis couldn't answer. It was too much. Her mind was overloaded.

He pulled back until the tip of his cock was just barely inside her, and held still.

'Fuck me,' he commanded.

She was too numb to respond in any way. He grabbed her by the chin, his eyes cold as ice.

'Fuck me, slave girl,' he repeated firmly. 'You do not want to just lay there like you're...paralyzed...'

The smirk returned as he trailed off, letting that last word hang between them. It took a moment for the threat to sink in, but when it did fresh terror gripped Phyllis' heart. With a moan of anguish, she began to buck her hips, shoving her pussy up and down his cock.

'That's better, slut.'

She wasn't very wet, and the friction was painful, but she forced herself to keep moving, too stunned and afraid to do anything else.

'This is how it works, cunt. I command, you obey. Very simple.'

He savored her fear and pain as he forced her to rape herself.

'Harder, slut!' he snarled. 'That's your Master's cock! Giving it pleasure is your only purpose!'

With a sob, she forced herself to shove up onto him faster and faster, wanting only to get it over with so her brain could shut down.

'Shake your fucking ass!' he growled, and she started to mindlessly wiggle her hips as she pumped up and down his dick.

Just when she thought she could take no more, on the verge of a hysterical breakdown, he suddenly pulled out. Stepping his right foot over her leg, he started to stroke himself, pointing his cock at her face.

'You're nothing but a cum dump. Say it!'

Phyllis whimpered miserably, fresh tears flowing. 'I-I'm a cum dump,' she managed to whisper.

With his gloved hand, he slapped her right breast. 'You're NOTHING but a cum dump-now fucking say it!'

'I'm...I'm nuh-nothing but a cum dump,' she sobbed.

'Open your fucking mouth, bitch,' he commanded, and unthinkingly she parted her lips as he started to spurt his cum down onto her. It splashed into her open mouth and onto her face, mixing with her tears.

The last of his load dribbled onto her breasts, and he grabbed a handful of her hair, bringing her sperm-covered face close to his.

'You ever gonna fucking disobey your Master again, slave bitch?' he demanded.

She tried to shake her head, but his grip was too tight.

'Answer me!' he practically shouted.

'No Master,' she whimpered, and he let her go.

He picked up his pants and started towards the door.

'This world is ruled by the ruthless,' he said without turning around, 'and I'm the most ruthless sonofabitch you'll ever meet.'

A few minutes later, Kitten returned. She cleaned Dove's face, removed the cuffs and chains from the bed, and gave her an injection-antibiotics and a painkiller.

Out in the hallway, Kitten locked the door and wiped tears from her eyes. 'That poor girl,' she thought. 'She's almost catatonic.'

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'Morning, Dove,' Trouble said softly as she slipped into the room. Phyllis looked up sluggishly, just in time to catch a glimpse of Barry as he closed the door.

We need to...change your bandages...and check to make sure there's no infection,' Trouble said in a small voice.

Phyllis swallowed hard and looked away as the blond girl set a small bag on the end of the bed. She pulled out a roll of gauze, then a roll of tape.

'Can you sit up?' Trouble asked mildly.

Phyllis struggled upright, her legs hanging off the edge of the narrow bed.

'You don't need to look if you don't want to,' Trouble said as she started to unwrap Phyllis' right hand.

Phyllis' eyes were empty, her expression blank, but she didn't turn away. She had to see.

'Dear god,' she whispered when Trouble pulled away the last of the bandages. Her face twisted in anguish, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying.

'You've cried enough,' Phyllis thought. 'No more.'

Gently, carefully, Trouble held up Phyllis' hand and examined the spot where her middle finger had been.

'No sign of infection,' she murmured, more to herself than to Phyllis. She dabbed a little antibiotic ointment on the wound, then wrapped the girl's hand back up.

She repeated the process on Phyllis' other hand.

'For what it's worth, I'm sorry,' Trouble said as she put the old bandages into a bag.

Phyllis sighed deeply.

'Still think he's a good guy? Still think he's a savior?' she asked, turning the last word into a curse.

'I...I...' the girl stammered, her eyes filled with confusion.

'If you're not sure, maybe you should ask Rogue what she thinks,' Phyllis sneered.

Trouble grabbed her supplies and fled, but not before Phyllis heard her start to cry.

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'WHY?' Trouble wailed, her tears soaking Kitten's shoulder.

'Why did he do something so horrible? HOW could he do something like that?' she sobbed miserably.

Kitten didn't answer. She just held the tiny girl and let her cry.

She lifted her head to look at Kitten. 'I loved him. I luh-loved him...a-and then this,' and the pain in her voice nearly broke Kitten's heart.

Trouble let her head fall back onto Kitten's shoulder, and more tears flowed.

'How can I serve him after this?' she whimpered.

Kitten stroked the girl's blond hair tenderly. 'Do you know what they tell soldiers to do when they're scared?'

Trouble looked up, her eyes red and puffy. 'I'm not scared,' she said softly. 'I'm angry. And I hate it. You're not supposed to be angry at Master.'

'I know, angel,' Kitten answered, at a loss of what to say.

'Dove didn't deserve that. Rogue didn't deserve it. No one deserves that,' she said firmly.

She leaned back against Kitten and sniffled. 'What do they tell soldiers?'

Kitten smiled sadly.

'Fall back on your training,' she said softly.

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ALEXANDER gave her one more day in the hospital bed, then sent her back to her old cell-with a couple changes.

'You've lost the right to wear clothes,' he said with a smirk as he tucked her tiny wrap into his jacket pocket. 'And these are not clothes.'

He locked a pair of padded cuffs around her ankles, connected by a short chain. Wearing them, she could walk almost normally, but there was no way she could move quickly.

'You've proven you can't be trusted. So from now on, you'll always be restrained.'

Phyllis hung her head, but he tilted her chin up, gazing into her eyes.

'What does a slave say when Master gives her something?'

Helplessly, hating him, hating herself, hating everything, she whimpered thank you, but it wasn't good enough for him. He didn't nod and leave until he had forced her to thank him for her beautiful new ankle cuffs.

Phyllis curled up on her cot and wished she would die.

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'He's losing it,' Phyllis said to Kitten as the girl helped her bathe. 'He's gone from cruel to psychotic. Our lives are in danger.'

'I know,' Kitten said sadly. Her own backside bore angry red stripes, her punishment for the awful crime of discretely belching during dinner the night before.

'We have to get out of here. No more excuses. We have to escape.'

'It's not possible,' Kitten replied. 'Even if we can eliminate Master *and* Barry, there's too many locked doors between here and freedom.'

Phyllis touched Kitten's face with her index finger. Her hands were healing, and the bandages no longer covered her fingertips.

'*We* don't have to get out,' she said. 'I have a plan.'

Kitten looked at her skeptically. 'What plan?'

The corner of Phyllis' mouth turned up. 'Can you give me an hour?'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kitten looked up from her knees. 'Master, may I speak?' she asked quietly.

'What is it, pet?'

'Have you noticed how much more unhappy Barry seems lately?'

Alexander raised an eyebrow. 'You can tell?'

Kitten looked at him and nodded. 'Yes Master. And you know I would never tell you how to run your household-but it occurs to me that a happy employee is a more loyal employee.'

Alexander chuckled and tousled the girl's hair. 'And just what do you suggest, pet?'

She nuzzled his hand gently. 'If you wish, Master, perhaps the next time you take Trouble to the playroom, this girl could try to...improve Barry's mood?'

She lowered her eyes and blushed softly as he stroked his chin.

'Actually, that's not a bad idea. The man does work very hard for me. Perhaps he deserves a reward.'

He tipped her chin up and brushed his middle finger across the tip of her nose. 'And you, my pet, would be a very sweet reward.'

Kitten looked up at her Master and beamed, hoping he couldn't hear how hard her heart was pounding.

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IT WAS Alexander's newest tactic to humiliate her and break her spirit that gave Phyllis the final piece of her plan.

Almost every afternoon, he would chain her by an ankle in one of the bathrooms. With a toothbrush and a little tin of baking soda, she was supposed to make the toilet sparkle.

In deference to her injured hands, he did at least give her a pair of heavy rubber gloves to wear.

The game was pure bullshit. He'd leave her for a couple hours, come in to 'inspect' her work, give her a slap across the face and tell she didn't do a good enough job, forcing her to start over.

She'd gotten Kitten to steal a paper clip from his office, and practiced and practiced until she could pick the very simple lock on the cuffs.

Today, she was in the bathroom closest to his office. She pretended to do her gross job while she listened intently.

She heard footsteps in the hallway outside, and a few minutes later, more footsteps, this time going in the other direction, and Kitten's voice saying 'we're going to have a wonderful time'-the signal that the coast was as clear as her and Trouble could make it.

Heart thudding in her chest, Phyllis wiggled the bent paper clip in the lock until it clicked open. She forced herself to count slowly to one hundred, her ear pressed against the door.

Silence. She slipped out and tip-toed down the hall to Alexander's office.

The door wasn't even closed, let alone locked, and she breathed a silent thank-you to Trouble and her talents of seduction. The little blond girl knew what to say and do to make Alexander forget everything but his desire and need to fuck her.

She'd been in this office enough times to recognize his main laptop, sitting silent and closed on the big desk. She sat down on the carpet, hiding behind the desk just in case someone peeked in, and booted it up.

In a few moments, the screen lit up and asked for a password. Phyllis stared at it in dismay.

'Shit,' she thought. 'Who the hell leaves their personal computer set up so they have to enter the password every goddamn time?'

She thought feverishly of everything Alexander had said to her, trying to remember anything that might give her a clue to his password, and started randomly typing in whatever popped into her head.

KittensMaster

DovesMaster

TroublesMaster

RussianStud

WhipRogue

BarrysBoss

No luck. None of them worked.

She looked on the desk and carefully in the drawers, but there was no convenient Post-It note labeled 'password.'

She sat back down, scrubbing her face with her hands, her heart sinking into her stomach.

Dammit! Ten minutes used up already!

Angrily, her index fingers pounding the keys, she typed in Dickless and jabbed the enter key...

and watched in amazement as the computer came to life.

'What an asshole,' she mumbled, shaking her head.

She looked at the date and gritted her teeth in rage. The bastard had stolen ten months of her life already.

'Fuck him,' her mind snarled. 'He's going down.

First, Google to find out where she was and get the email addresses she needed.

The locator came up, and her jaw dropped. She was even more surprised than when that stupid password had worked.

'No.

Fucking

Way!'

She blinked and shook her head. It didn't change.

'Gary?'

'You gotta be kidding me. I'm in Gary fucking Indiana?'

'Stop wasting time, Philly,' she silently admonished herself. She got five of the addresses she wanted, then looked at the clock.

Twenty-five minutes. They would have to be enough.

She went to Yahoo to get her old email account. It had been so long since she'd logged on it was inactive, and she had to answer a challenge question.

She copied the addresses and added three of her old friends from her address book, her hands starting to shake with excitement.

Gnawing on her tongue in concentration, she began digging through the files.

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BARRY rolled off the brunette slave girl and collapsed on his back, his powerful chest heaving. Kitten slid into the crook of his arm and lay her head across his torso.

'Mmmm that was good,' she purred.

'Yes it was,' the big man rumbled. He gave her hair a stroke, and started to sit up.

'I enjoyed that, Kitten,' he said quietly. She turned her head to look at him, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

'Bet I can get you up again,' she giggled, and gave his flat stomach a slow, wet kiss.

'Now, we can't waste the whole day.'

The girl laughed softly, her head moving lower. 'Oh poo,' she breathed. 'We don't know when we'll get to do this again-so I'm gonna drain you dry!'

'Really, girl, that's...' he started to say, then sucked in a breath as she took his soft penis into her mouth.

Kitten smiled to herself as she felt him twitch against her tongue. He lay back down, submitting to her oral ministrations.

'Come on, Phyllis,' she silently prayed as she sucked him.

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Phyllis found three files with spreadsheets, two with lists of names and phone numbers, and a couple in what looked like Russian that looked suspicious. She attached them all to her message.

45 minutes. Gotta hurry girl!

It was hard, typing without middle fingers, but she quickly summarized the story of what had happened to her since that awful night almost a year ago, and threw in every bit of useful information she could think of that might help them find her.

At last, she hit SEND, and it was out of her hands. She'd done everything she could.

She did everything she could remember to do to cover her tracks and erase any evidence that someone had used his laptop. Then, she shut it down, put it back on the desk, and dashed on silent, bare feet back to the bathroom.

She had just closed the cuff around her ankle when she heard noises in the hall.

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In a red Kia just outside of Chicago, a cell phone bleated a few bars of Taylor Swift.

The dark haired woman behind the wheel looked at it, but-personal safety policy-she didn't answer.

She listened to the leave-a-message spiel, and then one of her best friends was practically yelling.

'Call me right away. I got an email from Phyllis!'

Her eyes wide, the woman jerked her car to the shoulder, getting honked at in the process, and hurriedly grabbed her phone.

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'Post-Tribune, Michael Schumaker's desk.'

'Mike, it's Jack. Did you get an email from a woman named Phyllis? About Russian mobsters and white slavers?'

'I was just reading it now.'

'Do us a favor. Don't do anything with it yet. Turns out that's the name of a girl who vanished ten months ago in Chicago. Let us look into it ok? Don't put her in jeopardy.'

'All right, I'll sit it on for now. But I wanna know when you move.'

'Trust me, buddy. You can have a front row seat.'

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It took about twenty hours to get the Russian documents translated, and another four to get the warrants and assemble the assault team.

They decided on a night raid. At two o'clock in the morning, police used a battering ram to smash through the front door of Alexander's mansion. A dozen officers in full riot gear spread through the house.