Controlling Chrissy Read online

  Should she hope, under the circumstances that Derek would arrive, or that he wouldn't? Whom or what could she trust anymore? Certainly not her own body. It had betrayed her far too much by now, reacting quite against its own interests, itching at the prospect of bondage, tingling at the mere mention of slavery as a possibility.

  But this was no idle fantasy they were talking about, no dream of surrender. This was a hardcore reality, one she could hardly imagine bearing. Her mind screamed to resist, formulating a thousand plans, beginning always with the squelching of her own desires. She would not beg Derek to fuck her. She would not ... she would not.

  Derek arrived what felt like a lifetime later. Her body was shivering, a mix of hot and cold. The images danced in her head, an amalgam of all the things he'd done to her and all the things she'd witnessed. All the people, from cruel Arianna to Nia and the submissive redhead. Like some long, intense dream, born out of that one margarita at happy hour with her friends.

  "Derek, thank god," she breathed, craving the exchange with another living being. "I've been losing my head here. Nia … she scared me something awful. She said all kinds of ridiculous things, about you being a slave trader and–"

  He had a gag for her mouth, a new kind. It was made of black rubber, in the shape of an inverted penis. He made her open wide and take it between her lips and teeth. It was like having a cock locked in her mouth. She had no choice but to suck on it.

  Next he slid his hands under her, lifted her ass and inserted a plug directly up into her anus. This, too, was shaped like a penis, though it was a little smaller.

  Derek slapped her tit when her anal muscles failed to relax quickly enough. "Take it," he ordered.

  She did her best to open for the invader. She thought she might split open, but at last she began to yield. The rubber filled her, in a powerful, humiliatingly and acutely sexual way. Once again, she felt her eyelids weighing down.

  "Pay attention, slut." Derek slapped her other breast, prompting Chrissy to give him her full attention. "When a man uses you, you give him your undivided attention."

  He'd said when a man uses her. Did he intend for there to be others?

  Derek loomed over her, holding in his hand a heavy wax white candle, the wick already lit. "You never did ask me, Miss Newland, why I wanted to go out with you in the first place."

  Her eyes filled with fear as he tipped the candle, causing a light stream of liquid wax to trickle off the edge. She squealed into her cock gag as the wax splashed on her left tit. It was a direct hit over her nipple. Immediately she felt the burning, a pervasive liquid dollop of pain, like the cane only more intimate and personal. After this, the wax hardened into a light coating. She thrashed her chest, her tits flopping, but she could not dislodge it. Nor could she prevent him dripping a fresh round on her second breast.

  "Look at me," he commanded. "Show me the pain."

  It was then Chrissy understood the truth. Derek Trace did not merely enjoy pain, he lived for it. It was what fueled him and drove him. Whatever this slavery business was, that must have been about the pain, too. In the eyes of the girls he sold … that was where he found his energy.

  Chrissy obliged, because she had just now learned something about herself, too – that she loved this man, not for his handsome face or dark and dashing ways, but because he was the sort of man capable of wielding the kind of force to bring a girl such misery.

  In short, she was a masochist. And a slave, besides.

  Derek used up the entire candle. He masturbated her as he coated her, inducing wild orgasms, unsettling and centering her at the same time. It was a paradox, in the same way this man was a paradox.

  She wept, her heart brimming and molten as he finally shed his clothes, baring his lean physique. She could see the cock in proportion to the rest of him. How perfect it was. How exquisitely fashioned and designed for a man of his power and stature.

  And it was about to belong to her. Or rather, she would belong to it. Chrissy Newland – sucking on her cock gag, coated in wax, ass in complete submission.

  I love you, she wanted to say. I want you to take me, slam yourself deep, pound my consciousness out of me, fill me with your own, take away all the lies others have given, too, and in its place, fill me with your truth, your power. I am nothing before you, without you…no one at all.

  Derek crawled on top of her with the poise of a jungle cat. His body was like that of a swimmer, perfectly toned against that most subtle and durable of elements. He was lightly tanned everywhere, his skin glowing with a healthy light. She, by contrast, was pale and eminently markable.

  He had incredibly shaped biceps and pectorals that flexed as he moved. His abdomen was tight and ribbed. He had thighs like a runner and balls that clung tight and full to his upturned penis. He was the most masculine man she had ever seen and she knew she would never get enough of him, enough of his penetration.

  She clenched her fists and arched her back. He was so close. He was right there, between her legs now, his cock poised at her entrance. But he wasn't fucking yet. He wasn't doing anything but looking at her, his body perfectly still, rigid and ready. She tried to still her own in reply. But she was soft, weak, a slave to him, and she could only beg, plead, whimper out her needs. He would have to be strong for them both, controlling the experience and fulfilling it according to his own master plan.

  This was why she was bound. This was why she had been broken by this man, punished, manipulated and controlled. He smiled at her now and she guessed another truth, deeper, perhaps, and more profound than all the rest.

  It was not by accident she had been drawn to talk to him at Craig's. She had been led. If not by his direct will, then by her own need to submit. The slave in her had sensed the master in him, and while he might not have initially wanted her for this purpose, there soon came to be no other option between them.

  Didn't this still make her special, though? He'd not been hunting her as he would have so many others. She'd come to him. Did that mean there was something between them on the order of a real relationship?

  Derek made a small grunting noise as he slid his cock home, deep into the furrows of her waiting womanhood. All questions would have to wait now. There would be nothing in either of their minds but her taking. Nothing but her complete self-offering. He settled himself to the hilt, his shaft pulsing with life, thick as she recalled it being in her mouth. With her pussy muscles, she held him tight, giving him pleasure, giving him cause to want her all the more.

  His pelvis pressed hard against hers. He groaned more deeply, savoring the moment before proceeding. Chrissy held her breath, as pinned, and vulnerable as a woman could be. He luxuriated in this, clearly proving himself a true dominator of women.

  Now he was retracting himself, enjoying the reverse friction. Up he went till they were nearly separated again. She cried into her cock gag, biting down with her teeth. She'd never felt so needy, so empty in her life.

  He made her suffer a bit. "You'll take it when I say," he breathed. "And only then."

  She nodded, terrified at what her acquiescence under such circumstances might mean. Derek growled in reply and slammed home, shoving her into the bedsprings. He did this over and over, pummeling her into a place too deep for any words.

  That was her lesson. Her agreement or lack thereof meant nothing. He'd merely been telling her what would happen because that was what pleased him.

  "Don't come," he said, continuing to fuck her.

  His words were like the stab of a sword. She could never resist this onslaught. He had to know that. Oh, god, now he was biting her tits, sucking them hard, leaving marks. He was alternating, his mouth and hand, the hand mauling whichever breast he was not gnawing at with his teeth.

  "I told you," he breathed heavily. "It's just a fuck. Nothing more. Look at me, bitch."

  She did so, the word hurting more than anything. She'd had such hopes, even now, and he was dashing them.

  "When I'm done with you I am going
to let you go. You will run from this place, not walk. You will not look back and you will never, ever breathe a word of what you've seen."

  She shook with the power of the imminent orgasm. It was here and nothing, not even his words or his will could hold it back. She pushed her body against him as best she could as the waves of pleasure ravished her bound body. She was only a sensuous little pawn in a game of men.

  The one thing she did know, though, and the one thing that reverberated through the wicked pleasure was that she could never obey him in this. She could never leave him. No matter what the cost of staying.

  "God," he groaned, his voice deep and guttural. "Oh, my sweet god."

  Derek was coming, too, his cock spurting its white-hot issue. She felt it filling her, pouring down her tunnel, into all the nooks and crannies. On and on he spurted, each lunge bringing more and more of him in contact with her own essence.

  It was unlike anything she'd ever felt in her life. She'd been happily and thoroughly used. She'd been left no room for doubt that she had been exactly what this man wanted and needed her to be. He had let her be his perfect slut, and for that she would be forever grateful.

  Chrissy wanted it to go on like this forever, the two of them together. She wanted it all, romance even, with him clinging to her and kissing her, untying her and giving her words of soft encouragement as he carried her to the bath for a gentle, sensual cleaning.

  Which in turn would lead to more love.

  Derek had no intention of cementing a relationship, however. "Nia will tend to you," he said, climbing off her in as perfunctory a way as possible. "You will be driven home. I'm afraid you can't stay in this city any longer. You're too close to our operations."

  She was shaking her gagged head furiously. Typically, he ignored her.

  "I'll see to it you receive very generous compensation," he reiterated. "You can relocate out of state. Anything you want, we'll get it."

  How about you? Can you get me you?

  The question went unasked, as did a million others she had. Derek dressed and left and next thing she knew, Nia was back, none too happy to have lost the girl from her clutches.

  "I have to let you go," she said angrily. "You should thank your lucky stars you have been spared."

  "No," said Chrissy, when the gag was removed. "It isn't luck at all. It's a curse."

  Nia looked at her like she was crazy.

  "Haven't you ever been in love?" Chrissy sat up sorely.

  Nia laughed, harder than she had at any point thus far. "So that's what this is about. You're in love with Master Derek. In that case, I can see you will suffer a worse fate than I can give you. For I could only break your will and your spirit. Never your heart."

  Chrissy nodded, conceding the truth. Still, she had no hard feelings. Things happen for a reason. Nia was doing her job, nothing more. As for Derek, whatever made him tick, he'd made his decision and seemed prepared to live with it. She would have to do the same. There were many ways of life, after all, not all of which required one to be truly happy or alive.

  "Take care of him," she whispered at the door as Nia turned her over to the ex-boxer for her ride home. "Please?"

  Nia seemed taken aback. "Master Derek takes care of himself."

  Chrissy read the woman's eyes. She'd understood Chrissy's plea all too well and showed it in her gaze, if not with her words.

  "Thank you," Chrissy embraced the tall, graceful woman. "For everything."

  It was one of the stranger nights either woman had ever experienced. Though the strangest events were yet to come.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Chrissy was in Trace's limo pulling up to the airport, her first class electronic ticket in hand, one way. She was heading for Hawaii, because the man who'd shown up at her doorstep from Trace Enterprises had said she could indeed go anywhere she wanted, and with a full line of credit to boot.

  Someone like Nia might accuse her of being a gold digger, but really, she was just going along with this for irony's sake. She might as well be going to Anchorage, Alaska or the pits of hell for all she cared. There was nothing for her anywhere. She'd felt something that had given her hope and then lost it. That made her a ghost, a member of the walking dead. Just like Derek himself.

  Would the phenomenal bills she intended to rack up get a rise out of him? She rather hoped they might at least arch an eyebrow. That would be some indication, at least, she'd ever had any impact on the man.

  "Here we are," said the ex-boxer, whose name she now knew was Vinny. "The gates of paradise."

  She managed a wan smile as the driver scrambled around to get her suitcase.

  "Hey, why so glum?" Vinny asked. "You look like your heading for Alcatraz, not Maui."

  "Alcatraz would be easier, Vinny. It would match my mood a whole lot better."

  It was then she spilled her guts. The fighter frowned, more and more heavily as he listened. She told him everything, from the first moment she laid eyes on Derek to last night, when he'd finally made love to her only to walk out without saying a word.

  "He never even got to call me Chrissy," she sobbed, falling into the man's arms. "He said he would … after we were together."

  Vinny let her cry as long as she wanted. Finally when she was calm enough, he looked her in the eye. "Exactly how much do you love this guy?"

  "He's everything, Vinny. Absolutely everything."

  He nodded somberly. "In that case, there is a way. It's a million to one shot and it will probably land you in more hot water than you could ever imagine."

  "I'll do it," she blurted.

  Vinny laughed. "You haven't even heard the details."

  "I don't need to. A million to one is more than enough for me." She grabbed his mammoth arm. "So are you going to tell me or do I have to beat you up first?"

  Vinny took a deep breath. "Okay," he began. "It's like this."

  She let him say his piece. He was right, it was a million to one and it would get her into the biggest mess a woman could ever dream of. But what did she have to lose?

  "How soon can we do it?" She asked.

  "Now," said Vinny. "If you're ready."

  He reached into one of the armrests in the rear seat of the limo and pulled out a white cloth and a small bottle of clear liquid. "Chloroform," he explained, soaking the cloth with a small amount. "We have to make this realistic."

  She turned her back, allowing him access to her mouth.

  "I'll be as gentle as I can. Just breathe it in. It will go quicker. It's what we do with all the new captures, and they always come through just fine."

  Her heart was pounding like a rabbit's. The man's huge hand was circling her mouth. She was about to be knocked out and kidnapped. It would be the first step in her enslavement, a path which, if the gods were kind enough, would lead her back to the man she loved.

  * * * *

  Chrissy awoke with a man's dick inside her. She was face down on a filthy mattress. The man had both hands on her back, in a crude and cruel effort to steady himself.

  "Aw, fuck it," she heard another man grumble as she started sputtering. "She's coming to."

  "Knock her out again," grunted the man who'd been fucking her quite without her knowledge.

  "Nah, we got to get her processed. They're short a waitress at the club tonight, and this little piece is gonna fill in."

  "I'm filling her in just fine," he protested. "Let them get another cunt to bus tables."

  "Just finish off and let's get a move on, all right?"

  The man above her muttered a couple of curses and went back to work. "All right, girlie, since you're awake, how about you make this nice and hot for me?" He took hold of her hair. "Agreed?"

  "Y – yes," she gasped.

  He pulled savagely at the roots. "It's yes, master. You call all men master now."

  "Yes, master," she cried.

  He pushed her face down into the mattress, cutting off her oxygen. "Move your ass for me nice and sexy or die."

 
Chrissy thrust herself up at her abuser, trying to please him. He waited till she was nearly asphyxiated before allowing her air. "Thank me for letting you breathe, cunt."

  "Thank you, master, for letting me breathe."

  The man grunted. She could feel his cock swelling, in anticipation of orgasm. "Take it, take it all, cunt."

  "Yes … master." She was spasming, losing her body's will to a whelming tide of bittersweet pleasure. It was a humiliating revelation. Only the lowest kind of female came like this. But that's what she was now, so it seemed.

  I'm a slave, she thought. I must call every man master, and I must let any man do this, or anything else he wishes. I have no rights. Even to my body. They can make my tits bigger, they can tattoo me. They can make me lick their shoes and dance naked, they can even sell me to the highest bidder.

  But will they lead me back to him … to the man I love?

  Chrissy lay spent as the man climbed off her. She could smell the sex on the mattress, fresh and stale alike. How many girls had been taken here? Asleep. Totally helpless like rag dolls.

  "Get up, slut."

  Something snapped on her ass. It was hot and deep like the cane, but not quite so hard. She hesitated and it came again, a loud whistling, followed by naked pain. A whip, she thought, they are using a whip.

  Chrissy rose from the bed as best she could. She did not wish to be whipped. She was a slave and must obey. One of the men – the one who'd just fucked her, judging by his smell – clamped a collar around her neck. It was steel with a padlock. There was a leash attached. She thought immediately of the one Derek had used.

  "Move it, cunt." He pulled her forward, nearly jerking her off her feet.

  The man behind her treated her to another slash of the whip. She cried out and tried to cover her ass. This was a mistake.

  They bent her over and gave her a dozen lashes.

  "When you're whipped you take it, bitch. We fucking own you. We do what we want to you now," growled the man with the leash.

  Chrissy was taken to a shower. They were in some kind of a cinderblock building, like an old shelter. The leash was taken off her collar and she was thrust forward, against the mildew covered tile wall.