Bound and Freed Boxed Set (4 page)

Kelly saw that Father John's sub's arms were bound behind
his back.

A rope ran from his full forearm wrist cuffs to a securing
point on the ceiling. The man's arms were lifted until he had been forced to bend
forward. A spreader bar kept his wide legs apart, and a huge vibrating butt
plug completed the picture. Kelly knew this agonizing effect was called
strappado bondage. The position was torturous in itself. It would be an
interesting balancing act. The man's cock was huge and dripping – usually he
would be wearing a condom but management probably thought it made a better show
without one. How the man had been able to prevent himself from climax was
anybody's guess.

Kelly studied the scene intently. Numerous objects were
carelessly thrown around on the floor nearby, paddles, floggers of different
shapes and sized, canes and riding crops. Man, Father John must have been really
riled up because this guy was getting the works. He had vivid red welts pretty
well all over, and many of those clearly from the attentions of the bullwhip.
Sweat was dripping from the man, and he was breathing heavily, his upper torso
rising and falling with each breath. Yet a close up of his expression showed
that the man was pretty well off somewhere in super sub space. Maybe even outer
space.

Father John looked fairly satisfied as well, compared to
his usual detached state. He moved to the sub with his bullwhip in his hand,
and just lightly touched the man's shoulder, and then rested it there. The sub
responded like a newlywed lover, trembling with sublime ecstasy at only one
small touch from his tormentor. John spoke to him, lifting three fingers, and
the man nodded.

Father John stood back, and raised his arm and shoulder
then cracked the whip hard to the floor. The sound was chilling. He did it once
again and this time the tip lightly touched the sub's buttocks. Twice and it
slammed into the butt plug, causing the man to jerk, and on the third crack,
Father John flicked the sub's left testicle – just a small kiss with the tip of
the whip.

A red welt appeared instantly. The man's balls drew up as
his entire body stiffened – then he screamed. It was a bloodcurdling cry of
pain – or pleasure – Kelly wasn't exactly sure, but it was an animalistic
shriek that really scared her. It sounded like the trumpets of Gabriel, a
frightening portent signifying the end of all things. Instinctively she leaned
into Master Ron for support.

The sub's cock began to spurt like a fountain as the
man's hips bucked and thrust. The muscles of his back and buttocks rippled
while the man spewed in pulsing, copious strings of ejaculate. The sub was
crying, floods of wet tears trailing down his face and all the while he kept
repeating, sobbing and calling out, "Father! Father! Father!"

Father John moved to the man, loosening first the
spreader bar so he could regain his balance, and then lowering the tension on
his arms, and unhooking his cuffs. While of average height, John was strong.
With biceps bulging, he effortlessly picked the large boneless sub up
completely, tenderly carrying him in his arms, while looking down into the
man's face. Hundreds of people watched, and there was movement, talking,
laughing and discordant noises everywhere.

Despite everything, Kelly saw that John and his sub were
only aware of each other. To them, in this moment in time, they were the only
two people on earth.

Father John slowly, with careful encouragement and
consummate skill, had brought him to this state of bliss. Despite the
endorphins coursing through his system and the mindless, transcendent ecstasy
of sub space, the man was wholly conscious of his Dom. The sub's emotional
response was transparent - easy for anyone to read: devotion, adoration, love.

Kelly felt extraordinarily drawn to the scene before her.
The handsome young Dom, John Taylor, always seemed intimidating, dispassionate
and implacable to Kelly. Right now he displayed an array of possible emotions
as he gazed at his submissive. Unlike his sub, John was not easy to read.

Kelly tried to comprehend, what was John feeling right
now? Loving? Protective? Whatever it was, Kelly was stunned to recognize that
it was
truly
beautiful.
There was a palpable connection between
the two men, a bond that couldn't be seen with one's eyes – yet anyone with
even a drop of humanity would recognize it.

Father John looked down at the sub in his arms - the man
who had willingly given him everything that he had been capable of giving, and
then had reached further, digging deep, and given him even more. John's
handsome face was serene, almost angelic. His lips curved infinitesimally in a
blissful smile of contentment.

John had never given Kelly the impression that he was a
happy soul at peace with himself, and he never smiled. But he did so now.

Kelly couldn't hear Father John, but she saw him speak to
the man in his arms. She wasn't a lip-reader, but she could swear she saw him
mouth the heartfelt words, "Thank you." And then he added what looked
like, "…forgive you."

Had Father John said, "I forgive you?" Or had
he named someone and said that whoever it was, "forgives you?"

Kelly's curiosity burned. It seemed important to know
exactly what Father John had said. But she would never have the courage to ask
him.

Kelly left the ladies dressing area, shutting the door
behind her. She smiled and said good night to the friendly guard, Tom, and then
got into the elevator that was already waiting. It had been a great night. The
scene with Father John was awesome, and sex with Master Ron had been fun and
satisfying. Alone in the elevator, she smiled to herself as the doors started
to slide shut.

Long white male fingers stopped the elevator doors from
closing. Kelly immediately looked up… and then stopped breathing.

John Taylor, with unconscious, confident animal grace
strode inside like he owned the place. He looked so masculine, so dominant, and
tough. The man was wearing his black leather Matrix-style trench coat, black
leather pants and black swat boots. John's dark hair and eyes, combined with
his Matrix look reminded her of Keanu Reeves. Only Reeves, who Kelly considered
to be an undeniably hottie, could never be as attractive to her as John Taylor
was.

"Oh," Kelly said, thoughtlessly in her utter
shock of surprise.

John nodded to her, and a zing of pulse pounding lust
went straight to her pussy. The man was seemingly oblivious of Kelly's
consternation, while she could feel her stupid pale cheeks heat with awkward
discomfort. Kelly became aware then that she was gawking - staring stupidly at
him, with her mouth open. Quickly, she shut it and looked away.

Holy Mother of God,
she
thought as the elevator doors closed with finality.
And "oh" that
was all I could say to him? That and staring with my mouth open. Man, I am sooo
lame!

Kelly kept her eyes trained to the front, a task
difficult to achieve. She loved looking at John Taylor, and when visiting the
Basement she did so as much as she could possibly contrive. Fascinated and
incurably drawn to the hot Dom, she had always taken care to stay away from
him, too. Feasting her eyes on him whenever possible, Kelly still dodged and
hid like a rabbit. Avoiding him was like trying to escape the jaws of a wolf.
Because what would she say if John Taylor came for her at the sub's gallery?
Would she even have the ability to refuse him? The man was dangerous, for Kelly
knew that she would be as pliable as sculptor's clay in his hands.

Kelly took a deep breath and bit the inside of her cheek.
Clay in his hands.
Even that simple thought made her instantly wet, and
her brain went completely out of gear and shifted into 'neutral.' Or was it in
'park?' Her mind returned to the fantasy of him that she had masturbated to the
night before. Kelly shut her eyes, imagining John kisses, his hard male body
thrusting inside her. So stupid as they were both things he never did with
anybody, male or female, as far as anyone knew.

What was wrong with her? But the answer was obvious.
I'm
alone in a tiny room with Father John!
Kelly wasn't sure if she was
terrified or ecstatic, and both emotions warred with each other for supremacy
inside her mind.

But damn if the man didn't smell great. What was it?
Sandalwood and healthy male sweat? She risked a glance in her peripheral
vision.
Oh God!
Kelly's hands went to fists as she suppressed a burning
desire to touch him. John Taylor looked as if he might have had a shower as his
short straight hair was wet. Of course it could just be sweat. Wielding a
flogger or a bullwhip over a long period was pretty damn physical. Kelly felt
her heart speed up and nervously licked her lips.

Dark and dangerous, John Taylor was the kind of man her
mom always warned her about. Of course Mom had no idea that Kelly was a sexual
deviant. The thought of her mother finding out about her BDSM kink cooled her
ardor for a moment as if she had been dunked in cold water. Of course this
sensible slap of reality couldn't last. Not with the guy she had a crush on
standing right beside her, making every female hormone she had come to life and
start singing with boundless, lustful, procreative joy.

Not long after the elevator doors shut, the lifting
mechanisms began to hum, and thankfully the elevator began to move upwards.
Just standing next to John Taylor, Kelly could swear that she could feel his
male heat radiating an intense energy against her flesh. What was this
irresistible pull of the man? Was it pheromones? Jeeze Louise, even her legs
felt weak. Couldn't this elevator hurry up? Once it stopped on the ground floor
Kelly would make a quick exit and escape the inexplicable masculine allure of
Father John.

Or at least that was what she thought would happen.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

The overhead light flickered.

Then suddenly all light extinguished as the elevator
thunked to a stop, falling with a frightening jerk. The darkness was complete.

Kelly froze to utter stillness as if she was sculpted in
ice. A familiar wave of nauseous fear flowed through her and she felt her skin
instantly dampen in a cold, cold sweat.

A number of things happened all at once then, in an
instant of mind-numbing insanity.

Kelly felt a heavy pressure in her chest and her heart seemed
to skip a beat – but after that it began to race. Lightheaded, somehow Kelly
felt there wasn't enough air in this small room, and she simply couldn't
breathe. A weird sense of detachment took over and her ears rang – she heard a
terrifying, blood curdling scream. It was the sound someone would make if they
were going to die - or else the sound of someone dying.

When her face was slapped hard, once, then twice, she
realized an astonishing fact.
Oh
, she thought with an oddly blank
indifference.
It's me who is screaming.

"Kelly? Kelly! You will speak to me
now
,"
a demanding voice said.

Kelly felt her arm wrenched backwards in a bone breaking
twist, which slammed her up against the wall face first. It really hurt! Then
strong fingers wrapped around her throat.
John! OMG Father John!
It was
still dark, and she was still trapped, but this new terror seemed to return her
to the present.

"Oh," she sputtered, "I'm sorry."

"Good girl," he said calmly. He tightened his
fingers on her throat and dread thrilled through her, as well as a full body
tremor. Jesus, was Father John going to strangle her after all?

"Kelly," he said softly into her ear, with his
long heated torso pressed up against her back. "Are you more afraid of
this small, dark room, or of me? Answer me now," he commanded.

"You…you, Sir," she stammered. "I'm more
afraid of you."

"Good girl," John said, and his dark voice
seemed full of restrained violence. "That is correct. I am much more
dangerous, I assure you. You will call me John. You are now going to sit down
here on my lap."

Sit, yes,
she thought, because
she seemed to have lost all strength in her legs. One strong arm slid behind
her, to support her. Like a rag doll, she collapsed into him, letting John's
self-assured powerful arms position her. They slid to the floor together, and
then she was sitting across his hips and thighs, exactly as he wanted.

Her mouth felt dry as sand. Kelly swallowed, and felt her
throat muscles work underneath the strong grip of his fingers. All her
attention was fixed on Father John and what he may do next. He was so much
stronger than she was, it would be a simple task for him to throttle the life
out of her. Stretched out across John's lap, he had Kelly's arms behind her
back, both slim wrists tightly confined by one big male hand. His other hand
moved from her neck to press her head hard against his chest.

The man radiated a comforting heat - it felt incredible!
Kelly had no idea until that moment that she was shaking with cold. She became
aware of his leather Matrix trench coat as he folded it around her, and in the
back of her mind she knew that John had taken it off. But when had he done
that?

"You're hyperventilating," he said in a tone
utterly devoid of compassion. "Slow your breathing down, Kelly, or I will
slow it down for you."

This compelling threat pushed into her mind, forcing her
brain to wake up and start working.
OMG,
she wondered wildly.
Will he
choke me again?
Warm male fingers brushed along her throat, a potent
reminder, and she suddenly found that she could control her breathing.

"That's right. Good girl," he said in a
soothing, seductive whisper. "Now, listen to me. Can you hear my heart
beat?"

With her ear held firmly against his chest, she could
hear it when she tried. "Yes," she whispered. It was slow and quite
loud, pounding along with vitality and health in a steady rhythm.

"Pay attention now, Kelly. I want you to count the
beats for me. Count them out loud. Do you understand?"

"Yes." There wasn't much Kelly thought she could
manage in her current witless state, but counting was certainly one of them.
Oh, okay, I can do that,
she thought, unaccountably pleased. She began,
"One, two, three, four…."

When she had counted to a hundred and eighty he said,
"Stop now, Kelly."

Kelly stopped counting and took a deep breath. Her
anxiety levels were still off the charts, but she felt much more in control.
John stroked the hair on her head, and then traced parts of her face, eyebrows,
nose, cheeks and lips. His warm fingers were both gentle and calming. "You
have done very well," he said.

The ridiculous sense of joy she felt at his praise was
beyond anything. That alone warmed her.

"I'm going to ask you some questions now and you
will answer yes or no. Just yes or no. Do you understand, Kelly?"

"Yes."

"Good. Was there an event in the past where you were
trapped in the dark?"

"Yes."

"It was when you were a child?"

"Yes."

"And you feared for your life?"

"Oh, God yes," she said and vicious frightening
thoughts and emotions bubbled up from somewhere inside, evil memories spewing
forth fierce and hot as burning lava. Words tumbled out of her then, pouring
from her in a frantic rush, "It was so terrible! You see I was playing
hide and seek…"

Kelly's speech cut off as John grabbed her breast and
squeezed and twisted it
hard.
The sudden pain shocked her into silence
and the terrible memories that had begun to boil up into her mind disappeared.

"Stop, Kelly," he admonished, with a final
painful pinch to her nipple. "I said answer yes or no. Do you
recall?"

"Yes," she replied and her voice sounded
pitifully meek and frightened even to her own ears.

"Very good. Here and now is not the time, Kelly to
talk of childhood fears. You are in shock, and this is clearly a case of Post
Traumatic Stress Disorder. Now that I know what happened we can begin to manage
it."

"Oh!" she said, thankful that he had made those
unbearable memories go away. The man was so confident, and he had said he could
deal with it.
Thank God!
Kelly expelled a deep breath of relief. If
anyone could help her, Father John could.

"Drink this," he advised, putting a flask to
her lips. It tasted sweet and heady and she took a long drink, and then
another. It went down warmly, sending heat in a comforting wave throughout her
chilled body. Kelly could almost feel John smiling in the dark as she made no
attempt to hide the magnetic lure the drink held for her. "What is
it?" she asked, swallowing more.

"It's a mixture of my own, but mainly brandy. It is
rather rejuvenating after a shock I find. Better?" he asked.

"Much, thank you," she choked, but her body
still twitched and shook in occasional, uncontrollable salvos, as if
intermittent gun fire sporadically slammed into her flesh. John's finger tips
rested lightly against the pulse in her neck, and she realized that he was
counting the beats of her heart.

There had been gossip around the Basement that Father
John had his own tonic he used after he had tortured some poor bastard into a
mindless state of euphoric ecstasy. That must be what she was drinking, and
Kelly had to admit that it really helped. Somehow his hand binding her arms
behind her, and the other holding her firmly against him also had a steadying effect.
It was strange to feel so safe and cared for in his powerful embrace. Father
John scared the hell out of her, but he could also be kind it seemed.

A light glowed as John called 911. When the operator came
on he calmly reported the stopped elevator, where they were and their
circumstances.

When he put his phone away, Kelly asked, "Do you
think we'll be here much longer?" She knew her unsteady voice betrayed
transparent panic. Kelly had a crush on this man. From the moment she had set
eyes on him, on her first visit to the Basement, Kelly had longed to be held in
John Taylor's arms. But she didn’t want to be in his arms like this. Not here,
trapped in a tiny, airless box!

"They are sending someone, Kelly. I suspect a power
outage of some sort, something severe enough for the backup generators to also
be off line. Or perhaps some safety protocol has kicked in. Either way we may
be stuck here for some time."

Kelly shuddered as a wave of dread rolled through her at
the thought of being trapped, unable to get out, once again. The darkness
pressed thickly, seeming to slam in on her with a physical force. She
shuddered, beginning to feel that creeping dread of not being able to get
enough air. "You…you said now that you know what it was – that you could
begin to manage it. What..what else can be done? Because honestly, John,
I'm…I'm still really freaked out."

"Distraction is the only thing that will work in a
situation like this," John said calmly.

"Oh." The word hung there, just like it had
when John had first gotten in the elevator with her.
Still lame
, she
thought. Yet it was all she could think of to say.

In a clinical, dispassionate tone he added, "So I'm
going to make you come."

END OF BOUND