Part 7
by soleil (c) (sonsoleil@hotmail.com)
Sarah sighed as she finished cleaning the kitchen. The room positively sparkled;
she hoped she'd done a good job and that it would pass Sir's careful scrutiny.
Trailing a thoughtful finger over the gleaming bench tops, she wondered when S
would be home. She didn't know exactly what he did, just that he left the house
very early in the morning and didn't get home until late. Sometimes, very late.
She smiled as she heard the clicking of claws on the tiled floor. Bending down,
she picked up the little dog that was sniffing around her feet. "You doin' okay,
CL?" she murmured, rubbing the dog's silky head. CL licked her face in response,
making Sarah giggle. She adored her new found friend.
Sir had brought the dog home a few nights ago. Coming through the kitchen door
that led in from the garage, he had deposited a large cardboard box on the
floor. Sarah, who was cooking dinner, wiped her hands on her apron and looked at
the box with interest. Judging by the airholes punched in the sides, and the
accompanying scrabbling sounds, the box obviously contained an animal of some
sort.
"May I ask what it is, Sir?"
"Sure," he replied. "In fact, why don't you go ahead and open it?"
Sarah turned down the heat on the stove, then dropped to her knees and examined
the packing tape holding the top flaps of the box down. Reaching up for the
vegetable knife, she slid through the tape and opened the box. Her eyes lit up
as a little head popped out, all silky golden ears, pink lolling tongue and
melting, chocolate brown eyes.
"Oh!" she said, breathed, delighted. "He's beautiful! What is he? A spaniel? Is
he yours? What's his name?" The questions tumbled out in a rush as she gathered
the little dog in her arms and gently lifted him out the box.
"He is a she," corrected S. It's a spaniel crossbreed, not a puppy, but not an
adult dog yet. Friends asked if I wanted her because they're going overseas. I
thought you'd like some company."
"I love her already!" said Sarah, cuddling the little dog as she wriggled in her
arms. The dog was gorgeous, and it seemed to be smiling at her with a big, goofy
grin. She was far too taken with the animal to wonder about Sir's
uncharacteristic concern for welfare while he wasn't there. She checked the red
collar around the dog's neck, but there was no identifying tag. "What's her
name?"
"CL."
"Different," said Sarah, wrinkling her nose. "Why CL?"
"Because I said so," snapped S, washing his hands. "Now, put the dog down, and
finish making dinner. I'm starving."
Sarah scurried to do his bidding, leaving the new arrival to explore the house.
Looking back now, Sarah knew she was glad of the dog's presence. CL helped while
away the long, lonely hours, and she often chatted to her as she went about her
daily tasks. The two of them bonded, and CL rarely left her side, even sleeping
with her at the foot of her bed.
Although she was on her own much of the time, as the days passed Sarah had been
allowed more and more freedom, and now she had the run of almost the entire
house. But S still locked her inside every morning before he left, and there was
no phone that she could find. She supposed it was in the rooms that she didn't
have access to - his bedroom, and his study. Even CL had more freedom than she
did; the little dog was able to access the outside world through a dog door S
had cut into the kitchen door.
Anyway, Sarah knew escape was futile. Firstly, apart from the brief apron she
was allowed to wear when cooking or cleaning, S didn't permit her to wear
clothes unless they went out. Secondly, the house was isolated and far from the
nearest signs of civilization. Sarah had only been outside the house twice since
they'd arrived, once to the tattoo parlor, and once to the grocery store in town
to get some toiletries and other basics she needed. S purposely hadn't
blindfolded her for that shopping trip, and from the car windows, she saw that S
lived on several acres of land. It was a couple of miles at least down a dirt
track from the house to the road, and apart from a small, pretty garden
immediately about the house, wild coastal scrub surrounded the house and track
on all sides. At the end of the track, a padlocked and chained gate was
connected to a perimeter fence, which separated the house from the outside
world. It was another 45 minutes by car at least into the town itself, and Sarah
saw very few vehicles indeed during the trip to town and back. Sarah got the
message. She was trapped.
The house itself was built almost on the edge of a cliff that fell away to the
ocean. In quiet times, Sarah sometimes sat in front of the huge floor to ceiling
lounge room windows that looked out over the sea and watched the gulls swoop and
dive and shriek on the wind. Because of the way the house was designed, it
sometimes seemed as if there were nothing but a sheer drop between the glass and
the bubbling, tumbling ocean far below.
No, she couldn't escape. She had nothing to wear if she did, and nowhere to go.
And the harsh, stony dirt track would surely cut her bare feet to ribbons before
she even got within spitting distance of the main road. Sarah decided to bide
her time and wait until S dropped his guard, then plan her eventual escape as
and when that happened.
Truth be told, living at S' house wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. He
was gone such a lot of the time, and all she had to do was clean the house and
cook his meals and do his laundry. It was a beautiful house, simply furnished
with quiet, understated elegance. No clutter, just clean lines and lots of air
and light. Sarah supposed there were worse places to be imprisoned, and S didn't
treat her badly. Not like on the island. In fact, since that first day when he'd
spanked her on the bed for disobeying his instructions, he hadn't laid a finger
on her. Curled up on the sofa in front of the vast expanse of glass in the
living room, Sarah pondered on that peculiarity as she'd done for a few days
now, then wondered again why she cared.
But...didn't he find her attractive? Didn't she please him? Is this all he
wanted her to do? To clean his house and cook his meals? Clean up after he and
CL? If that were the case, surely he could hire domestic help from the town to
service his needs. He certainly didn't need to kidnap someone for that, she
thought.
Watching the sun set over the water as she waited for him to come home with CL
curled at her feet, Sarah cast her mind back to the time on the beach on the
island when S had fisted her so ruthlessly on the sand. She winced as she
remembered the pain, then blushed as she remembered how she'd orgasmed so
violently, writhing in the sand, impaled on his hand. So brutal, but so strong,
so handsome. So...male. And she felt so very female in his presence.
Suddenly lonely and yearning for human contact, Sarah thought of the way he
prowled around the house like a big, wild cat, and the way his muscles rippled
beneath his skin as he performed even the most simple of tasks. The way his long
legs draped carelessly over the arm of the sofa as he watched television in the
evenings, and the way his eyes bored into hers when he told her to do something.
The way he'd held her hand when she was scared in the tattoo parlor.
He'd called her beautiful once, too, just before he'd taken her off the island
with him. Didn't he think of her that way any more? Was he angry with her? Sarah
decided to ask him if he was displeased with her just as soon as he arrived
home. Satisfied with her decision, but still not sure why it mattered so to her,
she returned to the gleaming kitchen and began to prepare his dinner, CL padding
after her in the hope of a sly scrap or two.
Later that night, after S had eaten and was drinking a large glass of red wine
on the deep sofa in the lounge, Sarah finished doing the dishes and crept into
the room. She thought carefully about how to broach the subject. Unless he spoke
to her directly, S only allowed Sarah to speak if she asked permission first.
"Excuse me, Sir, may I speak?" she asked, just as she'd been trained to do.
"What?" said S, watching Sarah as he swirled his wine in the large, crystal
glass.
"Uh, well, I was wondering if you wanted me to do anything else, Sir?" she said
haltingly, twisting the hem of her apron unconsciously in her hands.
"Anything else? Like what? You've done the dishes, haven't you?"
"Yes, Sir, but I meant...well, something else other than housework and cooking
and stuff. You know, just other... stuff."
S put his glass down and looked at the blushing, stuttering girl in front of him
and smiled lazily.
"No, I don't know. I'm many things, but I'm not a mind reader. So, why don't you
spell it out for me?"
It was too much for Sarah, and she lost her nerve.
"On second thoughts," she said in a rush, "don't worry about it. It's nothing,
really. Uh, I think I'll go to bed now, if that's okay. G'night."
Sarah turned and hurried towards the door, feeling like an idiot. CL followed,
hot on her heels.
"Come back. Now."
The command was quiet, but firm, and it stopped Sarah in her tracks. She turned
slowly and walked back into the room. S pointed to a spot just in front of him.
"Stand there."
Sarah hesitantly took up the position and looked down at her feet, unable to
meet his eyes.
"Now," he said, silkily, "what else would you possibly think I'd like you to do
for me?"
"Umm, well, I just wondered why you needed to kidnap me if all you want me to do
is cook and clean?"
Sarah spoke quickly, her words tumbling over themselves in an effort to get the
ordeal over and done with.
"Other than cooking and cleaning, what else would I have my slut slave do for
me, Sarah?"
Sarah bit her lip nervously, wishing she'd never brought it up in the first
place.
"Umm...wash the windows?" she said, casting around desperately for something,
anything, to get her off the hook.
S stood and slapped her across the face, leaving a stinging red handprint behind
on her cheek. CL whined and darted behind the couch. Sarah gasped with shock,
then cried out as he caught a handful of her hair in his hand and twisted her
head up so she was looking at him.
"Never lie to me, bitch," he said in calm, measured tones. "And, I'll remind you
that you brought this up, not me. You started it, and you'll finish it. Now,
what else would I want you do for me?"
"I just thought you might want to...umm...have sex with me or something, that's
all," she whispered, humiliated beyond belief. "You know, like on the island."
S released Sarah's hair and laughed nastily.
"Have sex with you? Why in the world would I want to do that?"
Sarah wished the ground would open up and swallow her down. Never in her life
had she felt so stupid, so embarrassed. What was she thinking?
"I thought you liked me!" she whimpered, distressed.
"Why is that?" he asked, amused.
"Well, because you took me with you, and because you said you thought I was
pretty and, well, I just thought you might want to because you seemed to like
doing it on the island and...because..." Sarah's voice trailed off miserably.
S ignored her, but stepped even closer to her and bent down and snarled, "If I
wanted to fuck you, don't you think I'd just go ahead and do it?"
Sarah realized that was indeed what S would do.
S glared at her through narrowed eyes.
"You know what I think, slut?"
"No, Sir," whispered Sarah.
"I think you want me to fuck you, don't you? It's not about what I want; it's
about what you want. Isn't it?"
"No, Sir!" protested Sarah, shuffling her feet.
"Ah, I see. You don't want me to fuck you, but you thought you'd offer yourself
so graciously to me. So, what now? I'm supposed to fall upon you with gratitude,
and fuck you? You're doing me a favor? Is that it?"
"No!"
Without warning, S lowered his face to Sarah's and kissed her deeply, plundering
her soft, full lips with his, molding her lush curves against his hard body. His
large hands slipped under her apron and roamed over her warm, naked curves. She
shuddered as he cupped her ass with his hands and drew her closer to him,
kissing her all the while. Starved of affection and human contact, Sarah
literally melted in his arms. Raising his head and pressing his lips against his
ears, he growled, "Do you want me to fuck you?"
"No! Yes!" groaned Sarah, her head spinning and her legs shaking as his voice
resonated through her head, sending her senses soaring.
"Poor, confused little slut," he crooned, untying Sarah's apron and slipping it
over her head, leaving her naked. He caught one of her rosy nipples between his
teeth. Nipping it gently, he swirled his tongue around the delicate nub as he
slid one of his large hands between her legs and delved between her soaked pussy
lips, his thumb resting lightly on her engorged clit while his fingers danced
lightly at the entrance to her wet cunt. Sarah moaned as she ground her hips
down shamelessly on his hand, trying desperately to suck his fingers inside her
aching, open cunt.
"You're just one, big cunt, aren't you?" he whispered, slipping a finger inside
her warm, wet hole. "Do you like that, slut? Do you want me to fuck you? Allow
you to cum for me?" He slid a second finger inside her, his thumb circling over
her clit with ever increasing pressure.
"Yes!" gasped Sarah, her head thrown back as she succumbed to the pleasure
shuddering through her body. His fingers swirled inside her, reducing her to a
quivering, trembling puddle of lust.
S kissed Sarah again, his fingers buried deep inside her, his thumb still
massaging her clit as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and danced with hers.
"Beg for it, bitch," murmured S, his teeth nipping gently at the soft skin of
her neck. Sliding his fingers out of her juicy cunt as she moaned, he said,
"Get on your knees, and beg me to fuck you, beg me to let you cum. Beg for me,
baby."
Sarah slid to her knees before him, drunk with desperation. "Please, Sir, please
fuck me. Please," she begged, looking up at him with huge, pleading eyes. "I'll
do anything for you, please fuck me!"
S held up his hand, her juices glistening on his fingers. "Look, slut. Look how
wet you are, look at how you creamed all over me. Such a wet, hot, bitch, aren't
you?" He traced one of his wet fingers over her mouth, following the rosy
contours. "Lick yourself from my fingers," he commanded, and Sarah did as she
was told, her pink tongue flicking over her lips. As she sucked his warm, sticky
fingers, she could smell and taste her own sluttishness, but she didn't care.
All she could focus on was S, and what he was doing to her. His groin was near
her face as she kneeled before him and she reached blindly for his belt, still
sucking her pussy juices from his hand.
"Don't," he snapped, slapping her hand away. "You'll do as you're told, I'm in
control here, not you. Clear?"
"Yes, Sir," groaned Sarah, frustrated. "But please, please, please fuck me," she
begged, aching to feel his hard body against hers. "Please!"
S looked at the helpless, whimpering girl begging at his feet, her blonde curls
wild and tousled around her flushed face, her lips gleaming with her own cunt
juice, her nipples hard and erect. Sarah was feverish with desire, desperate for
pleasure. Frustration and longing oozed out of every pore. His eyes narrowed and
hardened into glittering chips of blue steel.
"What will you do to cum, slut?" he said, with a cruel edge in his voice. "What
will you do for me?"
"Anything, Sir!" blurted Sarah, her eyes locked on his. "I'll do anything."
"Anything? Are you sure?"
"Yes!" wailed Sarah, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as he toyed with
her nipples, rolling them between his fingers and thumbs.
S kneeled on the floor in front of her, and kissed her again, his hands playing
over her ass, tracing the lines of her tattoo. Sarah fell into him, grinding her
hips against his hard, strong body in a desperate desire to get nearer to him.
"Anything?" he growled again, his lips close to her ear, his hand thrusting
between her legs, seeking her soaking pussy once more. His thumb found her clit
and she almost came on the spot as he rubbed it expertly, bringing her closer
and closer to the edge.
"ANYTHING!"
Abruptly, his hand was gone, leaving her unfulfilled and panting. He stood, and
loomed over her with his hands on his hips.
"On your back, legs spread and bent at the knees," he snapped harshly. Sarah did
as she was told immediately, looking up at him with dizzy, blurred eyes.
"Call the dog," he said.
Sarah's forehead wrinkled as his words sunk in. "Wha...?"
"Shut up, and do it."
"CL!" Sarah called, confused.
There came a scrabble of paws on the polished boards as CL scrambled out from
the couch she'd crawled behind earlier. The little dog scurried over to Sarah
and sat beside her head as she lay on the floor, grinning stupidly at her
mistress.
"Did you ever wonder why the dog's called CL?" asked Sir, in a conversational
tone of voice.
"Uh, yes, Sir, I asked you that when you first brought her home," replied Sarah,
baffled by this turn of events.
"CL. It stands for cunt licker, slut. And, as I recall, you agreed you'd do
anything for me, anything to be allowed to cum."
Sarah looked frantically between CL, panting happily at her head, and S,
standing over her, his eyes glinting. He smiled wickedly at Sarah's horrified
expression as realization dawned on her.
"Anything, slut."
