Silent Daughter 2: Bound (3 page)

She opens her eyes but doesn't say anything for a moment.

"What are you going to do to me?" she repeats.

"I am going to train you," I declare. "You are mine, and I will make you understand what that means. You will learn how to be the good little slave I need you to be. My pleasure toy. Mine to do whatever I want with; mine to please."

Her eyes flicker.

I am enjoying this a lot more than I thought I would. There is a big elephant in the room. The “why” question is filling the room like suffocating smoke. But so far, Liz was smart enough to push it aside and focus on assessing her situation first.

"Next," I say. "Touch yourself."

She gasps with indignation and instantly shakes her head.

"No, that's
—
"

"That's an order," I insist. "Touch yourself. I want you to play with yourself in front of me. Now."

She hesitates, furling her eyebrows as she glares at me. Then, she slowly moves her right hand down between her legs. “Yes, Master.”

"Good girl," I praise as she reluctantly spreads her lips and moves one finger between them. A slick sound betrays her, disclosing her arousal. She closes her eyes in shame and starts to circle her swollen clit.

"Does it feel good?" I want to know. My cock has long risen to attention, pressing against the fabric of my pants and causing a visible bulge. It takes a great deal of strength not to give in to my urges and savage her. She felt so damn good...

"You're not the one to be asking questions," she breathes. Her voice is trembling with agitation.

God, how I loathe that overbearing attitude. It needs to be spanked out of her as soon as possible.

In due time.

She wants to stop what she's doing and tries to pull her hand back, but I prevent her from doing so.

"No!" I exclaim. "Your hand stays there. Continue while you ask your next question."

She groans but continues to massage her center. It's visibly hard for her to keep her legs up and maintain composure.

Good, I want her hungry. Needy. Willing.

She needs a few moments to come up with the next question.

"How?" she whispers. "How did you get me here? Did you drug me?"

Again, two questions. She has no idea how generous I am with her today, especially considering the attitude I am dealing with.

Honestly, that is what she asked for, and I am a man of my word.

I look down at her as she squirms beneath her own touch. Her cheeks are flushed, and so is her sensitive center. She is exactly where I want her to be.

"I have a pier close to my house," I say. "I brought us here and carried you inside."

"Did you drug me?" she repeats, looking up at me through half-closed eyes.

I nod. "You were sleeping."

She groans. It is a sweet, desperate sound, coming alive through the combination of frustration and lust.

"That's so... sick," she breathes. It almost sounds like a compliment.

I smile at her. "Last command."

Her eyes roll back into her head. I am pretty sure that she has already made a pact with herself to make the best of this situation, no matter what. She is obviously enjoying herself. Her body is squirming, her feet trembling mid-air.

I hesitate. Already, she has gotten to me a lot more than I had planned. She is quiet but strong, so incredibly strong. She may very well be capable of controlling me, and she is aware of the power she holds.

"Come," I say.

Her eyes widen. She opens her mouth, but like so many times before, she doesn't say a word.

"I want you to come," I clarify. "Now."

She shakes her head.

"Yes, you will," I disagree with her silent objection. "I want you to play with yourself until you come. That is my last command for tonight."

"You're sick," she repeats.

I might be, but there is no doubt that she enjoys it. She closes her eyes and throws her head back while the motions of her fingers accelerate and turn more violent.

My hand wanders to my crotch in spite of myself. My cock is rock hard. She is killing me. I need her.

Liz starts moaning, as if she could hear my thoughts and intends to increase my suffering. She arches her back and spreads her legs even further, completely forgetting about any inhibitions she might have had earlier. She is lost in herself.

"Fuck this," I whisper.

She is too preoccupied to hear me, and she doesn't notice me unzipping my pants either. My erection springs free, hard and ready. I start stroking myself, adapting to her rhythm. She is breaking a sweating, writhing beneath me, her mind clouded by lust.

"I'm gonna c
—
," she breathes, suffocated by her excitement.

I know.

She tenses up for a few moments before her climax takes over. She lets out one last moan that sounds more like a deep sigh of relief, before she rolls over to the side, panting heavily as she rolls up into a ball, moaning and breathing through the intense waves of pleasure that take a hold of her.

I join her just a few moments later.

LIZ

My thigh is spotted with his cum. I don't even notice it until the last waves of my orgasm finally recede, and my mind clears.

I am lying on my side, my hand still between my legs where my center continues to throb even though my climax is long gone. My hair is partly covering my face, making it hard to see even when I lift my head to inspect his doings on my thigh.

He towers above me, still holding is erection pointing towards me, breathing heavily. Small drops of sweat are running down his temples. Something in his demeanor tells me that things did not exactly go the way he had planned. He looks tense, confused even.

Without saying a word, he puts his member away and zips up his pants.

He leans down to me, brushing away the hair that is covering my face and hooking his finger through the little ring on my collar.

"Up," he orders, pulling me up by the collar.

I groan in protest, but I'm forced to follow him if I don't want to be choked. I grab his arm with both my hands to release some of the pressure on my neck and increase my potential for resistance.

"I have one more question!" I remind him.

He frowns at me but doesn't stop pulling at the collar. I stumble behind him as he drags me towards the bathroom.

"Leonard!" I yelp. "One more question!"

He ignores me and pushes me inside the shower stall. The bathroom is huge, almost as big as the bedroom itself. Next to the shower is a big bathtub and the vanity on the other side is fancier than any I have ever owned in my parent's house, let alone in my college dorm. The entire room is decorated with white marble and golden faucets. It would be a lovely spa area if I were in a different situation.

"We had a deal!" I tell him.

I flinch as he approaches me and reaches around to grab the shower head.

"Leonard, what
—
"

My question gets interrupted when he turns on the water. He checks the temperature first before he pointing the hose at me as if he were cleaning a car.

"That’s not how you are to address me," he yells.

I try to protect myself by lifting my arms, causing the water to splash back in his direction.

"Stop that!" he warns. "Turn around."

For God's sake, what is wrong with this man?

I glare at him but obediently do as he tells me, spinning myself in the warm water. It does feel good, and I am glad to get rid of the sweat and his cum, but I am furious at his behavior. I notice that he makes sure to clean my thigh extra thoroughly.

He turns off the water, and I stand in the shower, completely soaked and about to become cold when he wraps me in a big, soft towel.

Neither of us says a word. I don't like the way he looks at me. He seems to be angry, disappointed. But I have no idea what I could have done to cause this. He is the one who is not sticking to our deal. I did everything he told me to.

He dries me off with the towel, gently patting every spot on my body. His touch is soft, almost loving. I look down in confusion as he squats down to pat my legs dry.

When he is done, he wraps the towel around me and places his hands on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine.

"You're right," he says. "You have one more question. But I don't want to discuss that here."

"Where do y
—
"

I gasp in surprise when he lifts me up in one sudden, strong motion and carries me out the bathroom. His touch is comforting and his smell so enticing that I have to pull myself together not to lean into him for a kiss. Or touch him, stroke along his strong jawline and that neck, where I can see the tattoo peeking out again.

I have pretty much been naked for most of the day since he told me to undress on the boat, but I still haven't even seen him take off his shirt. It seems unfair that he keeps his undoubtedly well-shaped body hidden from my eyes.

"Can I go home now?" I ask, sounding like a scared child.

"Do you really want to use that as your last question?" he retorts and puts me down on the bed. I am in too much of a daze to react in time before he attaches the leash to my collar again.

I yank on it the moment I hear the sound, frustration taking over immediately. The past few moments let me forget the situation I am in. I am his captive, or at least, that is what he wants me to believe. With every minute that passes, I doubt my optimism more and more. I have no idea what time it is, but it must be far past the time I intended to be back home.

He sits down on the bed next to me, his eyes on me as I lie before him, hugging the towel he wrapped around me.

"So?" he asks. "Your last question?"

I clear my throat and straighten up so that our eyes are almost on the same level.

"Why?" I ask. "Why are you doing this to me?"

His gaze darkens as he looks at me.

"Because I decided to make you mine."

I shake my head. "Yes, yes. You mentioned that. But why this?"

I gesture around the room. "Why kidnap me? Why lock me in? Did you think I'd run away after we had our fun on the boat today? You should know I'm not a girl for one-time things, even if I gave you that impression, and
—
"

"It's not that," he interrupts. "I want you, all of you."

He leans in closer and raises a hand to caress my cheek while his dark eyes fixate mine.

"We could just date," I whisper, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. The thought of truly being his captive scares me.

He shakes his head. "I don't do dating. This is what I want. You, here, for me. Just for me. I want to consume everything you are, and I want your undivided attention. I want to own you."

"Like a pet?" I ask.

He smiles. "Yes. I want you to be my pet."

I don't retreat when he leans forward to kiss me. I know, I should. This situation is fucked up; this man is fucked up. Possessive, twisted. God knows what's wrong with him. He might be seriously sick, a psychopath. Who says he is not going to kill me after he is done with me?

A single tear of horror rolls down my cheek as I reciprocate his kiss, our tongues intertwining greedily as if this was the first taste we got of each other after a long wait.

"I want you addicted to me," he adds when our kiss ends. His voice is calm and soft, but still accompanied by a threat. "I want to be in charge of your pleasure, your desires. The subject of your fantasies. Every single orgasm you will have from now on will be mine to give to you."

He notices the tear on my cheek and gently wipes it away with the tip of his finger.

I am so conflicted. My heart is pounding, yearning for more, for another kiss, for this man's body, his hands on me.

It's so messed up.

How can I long for him after what he is doing to me? After all the messed up things he just said?

"You can't do this," I whisper. "My family is going to search for me. They are expecting me home tonight."

"Will they?" he says, smirking at me.

I furl my eyebrows. "Yes, of course."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," he says. "For all they know, you're on a train to God knows where because you needed 'some time to yourself'."

My heart stops for a second. "What have you..."

"Doesn't that sound like something they'd expect you to do?" he asks. "Take off on your own, traveling while everybody else is deeply immersed in your sister's wedding preparations?"

"Why would they think that I left?"

"Because that's what you wrote in your note."

"Note?" I gasp. "I didn't leave a..."

I look at him as I begin to understand what he is talking about.

"You did," I breathe. "You wrote a note in my name, didn't you?"

He smiles at me in a weirdly condescending way.

"That is why you wanted me to write my full name with my phone number," I mumble as I put one and one together. "So you could copy my handwriting to write a note to my family?"

He gets up from the bed and walks over to the window where he closes the drapes.

"Is that why you had me bring extra clothes, too?" I continue. "So it would look as if I was traveling?"

"You are a very smart girl," he says as he walks over to the table. He takes another sip of the wine that we left there and looks over to me. "Some more wine before you sleep?"

I frown at him, shaking my head.

"They are still going to look for me," I say. "They'll move heaven and hell to find me, and I'm pretty sure they'll get on to you very, very soon."

I try to sound threatening as I say it, but even I am not convinced that my words are true. There is nothing that connects me to him, hardly anyone even noticed us talking during the party. He made sure that no one knew I was meeting him today, and no one saw us together when we met up. The cab driver dropped me off at the station, and Leonard was not to be seen anywhere. If they do start investigations, my trace gets lost at the train station where I got out of the cab by myself.

"Will they, though?" he asks, now looking at me. "After finding that bratty note and realizing that your overnight bag is gone, as is your wallet and your phone and some clothes? Do you really think they'll divert attention from more important business such as your sister's wedding preparations to search for the disobedient runaway?"

His eyes fixate mine, waiting for a reaction. My vision blurs and I am surprised to find myself tearing up again. I hate giving him this satisfaction, but I cannot help it. After all, he might be right. If what he says is true and he left a note that is allegedly written by me, telling my family that I had gone away to have some time for myself, they really wouldn't care less.

The thing is, I have done something like this before. It's impossible for him to know about it, but when my family tried to push me into those loathsome socialite charity activities that my mother and eldest sister love, I did run away for almost an entire summer. That was right after I finished high school and was waiting for college to start. I used up almost all of the money I received as a graduation present, but it was worth it. They did look for me that summer, but the little effort they put into their search just proved how little they cared. They knew I was still alive because I was kind enough to contact them once in a while. Overall, they were annoyed by my behavior more than they were worried.

Based on that experience back then, it might not come as a surprise to them that I did it again. Again, after a graduation and while I had to bridge time till the next step in life. Whatever that step could be...

I realize that he has been watching me as I sit on the bed, quietly weeping in front of him.

He puts down the glass of wine and approaches me. I want to slap his hand away when he reaches for me, but for some reason, I don't.

I have never felt this alone before. Solitude has been a constant companion all through my life, but it has never hurt as badly as it does right now.

I am completely at his mercy. I don't know where I am or how long he intends to keep me here. There is no point in fighting him because he is much stronger than me. I wouldn't stand a chance. And for all I know, he would punish any futile attempts to escape.

Yet, his touch is the only thing that comforts me right now. I lean into his palm as I begin to sob uncontrollably.

"Hush," he whispers. "You have nothing to worry about. You are mine now, and I promise to take good care of you, my beautiful girl."

He caresses my cheek with his thumb, catching the tears that are running down my face.

"You are tired," he adds. "You should get some sleep."

The thought of being left alone, naked and chained to the bed, horrifies me.

I look up at him with big pleading eyes. We have spent very little time together, but there are a few things I have come to understand.

He is accessible. If I want something from him, I can most likely get it if I know how to ask for it.

Except for that one thing: my freedom. I reckon that is the only thing that's not up for grabs.