CapturedbytheSS (22 page)

“That was beautiful,” he murmurs. “You respond very well to
verbal commands.”

I hear him walking away from me. Since I’m robbed of my
sight, sounds thunder in my world. The central heating kicks on. Something
drags across the floor. I’m not certain, but I think he just moved the camera
to my left. He’s approaching me.

“Get back on your knees the way you were. You’re not
finished yet,” he declares. I hear him unzip his trousers. I shift around a bit
and return to my previous kneeling position. His warm fingers settle behind my
neck. I know he’s holding the crop in his other hand because I feel the flat
part of it pressing against my back. It’s warm and wet from my juices. He
murmurs something approvingly as he trails it over my shoulders.

The tip of his arousal brushes against my lips. Catching his
want, I gingerly open my mouth.

“Just relax,” he whispers, slipping his cock between my lips.
“You know what I like.”

I seal my lips around him and gently suck his swollen
arousal. He groans as the crop traces my shoulder and arm. My tongue flattens
across the underside of his erection. His body shudders. The flat part of the
crop presses harder into my back. He groans again.

Sucking his cock excites and arouses me, causing my nipples
and clit to throb painfully for attention. I’m tempted to stroke myself as I
work, but I remember he got cross with me the last time I did that. I ball my
hands into fists to keep from stroking myself. I know he’s close. Warm fluid
spills in my mouth as his fingers squeeze the back of my neck, and I eagerly
swallow.

I can’t explain it, but my captor is becoming more and more
important to me. It’s as if he fills some necessary role in my head. I vaguely
know he understands something about me sexually that I don’t, but I can’t
articulate or define precisely what it is. I gleaned from his books that our
relationship has something to do with Domination and submission but in all
honesty, I’m a bit mystified about all this.

With a sigh, he backs away slightly. I hear him walk away
from me. I think he just turned off the camera.

“Stay where you are,” he orders. I hear him leaving the
room.

Being blindfolded is so frustrating.

What is he doing now? Why did he leave?

After several minutes, he returns and then approaches me. He
kneels behind me and unlocks my handcuffs. The blindfold comes off seconds
later.

“You can stand up now.”

Not entirely sure what’s going on, I stand.

A bit disorientated, I look around. The camera is gone. My
captor looks pleased.

“Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me down the hall back
to his bedroom. He’s taken off his uniform and is now wearing his tan robe. The
bedroom is dark. The heavy curtains are closed, blotting out the midday light.
The table that’s usually by the window is once again at the foot of the bed.

The flat-screen plasma television is perched on top of the
table again. The screen is blue, and the camera is already hooked up. I guess he
wants me to watch what we just did. Nervousness courses through me.

He tethers the leash to my anklet before tucking me under
the covers. As he slips the blankets over me, he mutters something about how
I’m back where I belong. He walks away and then turns off the lights. There’s
only the faint blue glow of the television in the dark room.

After climbing into bed next me, he gathers me in his arms.
He aims the small remote at the television, and the screen instantly changes to
an image of me. I’m naked, blindfolded and kneeling on the red sheet with the
crop in my mouth.

I’m not sure why, but I turn my head and bury my face
against his chest again like I did the first time we did this.

“No, I want you to watch, American,” he insists. His fingers
turn my face toward the screen.

Swallowing hard, I turn my head and reluctantly look at the
television.

He takes my hand and wraps it around his rock-hard cock. I
don’t say a word. I think he’s memorizing every detail on the screen.

He doesn’t move a millimeter while the video plays nor does
he say anything, though he replays the part where I suck his cock and he
mutters, “Perfect.”

The image flickers at the end of the scene. He clicks the
camera off, but I see a few frames of his wedding reception before the screen
turns blue. Obviously, he continued our video escapade on the same disk he used
before. I’m convinced he’s about to roll over and fuck me, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he rolls toward the nightstand next to him. He retrieves something.
It’s a small bottle.

Holding the bottle in one hand, he pulls off the blankets
and sheets before pushing them toward the foot of the bed.

“Roll over on your belly,” he whispers.

In an instant, I understand what he wants. I’m not quite as
nervous as the first time we had anal sex, though I’m a bit rattled from
watching the video. Inhaling deeply, I turn on my belly before burying my face
against the pillow. I close my eyes. I hear him flick open the bottle as he
kneels next to me. I try to brace myself for whatever he’s about to do. Warm,
oily fingers glide across my shoulders and start kneading my tight muscles.

“Oh,” I whisper in surprise.

He doesn’t say anything. His strong, nimble fingers skate
across my flesh. I feel him locate knots in my shoulders, and he patiently
presses and rolls his fingers over them. It feels good, but it almost hurts a
little. Each time his fingers pass over the knots, I wince.

“Hmm, this is going to take some time. I don’t think I’ll be
able to work all this out tonight, but I’ll make it better.”

I wasn’t expecting a massage. “Thank you,” I mutter, turning
my head.

“Shh, don’t talk.”

I close my eyes and let his fingers work my knotted muscles.

His hands slowly slip down my back and then settle on each
of my ass cheeks. His oily fingers plunge into my cleft and glide over my anus.
His massage helped me relax a bit, and I think he senses it.

“Turn on your side a little and bend your knee.”

I shift around as he gently guides me into the position he
wants. When he has me situated, I’m basically on my stomach but tilted a bit to
my side. My bent knee is angling my ass up and slightly parting my cheeks.

One of his strong, well-lubed fingers slips between my
cheeks and presses gently against my anus. A soft whimper escapes me as his
finger pushes slowly inside me. His lips nuzzle my ear as he works.

He murmurs something reassuring as he eases a second finger
inside me. My breath hitches.

I think he’s using a different lubricant than he used the
first time. This one feels lighter and less goopy. As it did the first time,
his gentle toying is arousing me.

The images from the video haunt me as he slowly stretches my
anus. Fresh feelings of shame and guilt filter through me. His tongue caresses
my ear as his fingers delve deeper.

Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes and pretend this is all
just a dream, as I did the first time he took me to his bed because…there’s a
part of me that can’t accept any of this. More than anything, I wish I could
see my captor as just a man, but I can’t. As much as I’ve tried, I can’t forget
he’s a Nazi and a member of the SS. And I think that may be the point of the
videos and why he wears his uniform in them. He doesn’t want me to forget. The
guilt and shame turn to confusion as I start trembling next to him. He presses
his chest against my back as he nuzzles my ear.

“I know you don’t want to like this, American,” he whispers.
The fingers impaling my ass delve deeper, and I whimper as a spear of slight
pain hits me.

“Shh, it’s all right.” He nuzzles against me and gently
kisses the back of my neck. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so confused and
vulnerable while feeling so safe and protected at the same time. But oddly
enough, it’s not a bad feeling. It’s actually strangely arousing.

His expert touch pushes away all thought and reason, leaving
only desire and want. Panting in need, I cup my mound, desperate for release.

“Mm-mm,” he murmurs disapprovingly. “Your body belongs to me
now, not you. Pull your hand away or I’ll have to punish you.”

Punish? A bit nervous about a possible punishment, I slip my
hand away and clutch the pillow.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

His fingers gently pump in and out of my ass. I quiver in
need as he slowly works.

He pulls his fingers from me and then slides out of bed. He
tugs me gently toward him. When he has me the way he wants, I’m bent over the
side of the bed with my feet on the floor. I press my face into the mattress as
his arousal prods at my anus. His breath flutters across my neck as his cock
pushes into my tight but carefully prepared passage.

His erection stretches my entrance, causing just a hint of
pain. Groaning, he slowly inserts the entire length of his thick arousal. With
his cock impaling me, his muscular body is like warm steel against my cheeks.

His hand cups my dripping pussy as he gently works himself in
and out of me. His skilled fingers glide into my slit and tenderly stroke my
clit. I make a strangled cry as his nimble fingers force me to climax. As he
expertly draws out my orgasm, all I can do is involuntarily whimper and gasp.
My fingers clutch the mattress’s bottom sheet.

I think he learns more about my body every time he fucks me
because he seems to get better and better at getting me to climax quicker and
come longer and longer. My sexual noises apparently excite him because he tends
to exhale when I do, as if he’s riding the same high I am. I squeeze my eyes
shut as he forces me to come again and again. The world dissolves as he reduces
me to a sobbing, panting mass of sweaty flesh, where all I can do is beg him to
stop.

When I wake up, I’m back in bed and lying on my back. I’m
only partially awake, and I can’t even open my eyes. I’m already drifting back
to sleep. He’s pulling the blankets and sheets over me, tucking me in. He’s not
in bed with me. I try to say something, but I can’t.

I hear him moving about the room and then I hear water
running. I think he’s taking a shower. I try to force myself to wake up, just
to talk to him, but I unwillingly drift to sleep. Although a part of me wants
to deny it, deep down, I know I am indeed his official property.

 Chapter Seven

In all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever had steak, shrimp
and lobster tail all in one meal. But that’s exactly the decadent dinner my
captor and I shared tonight, along with some steamed vegetables and buttered
bread. He said it was part of my reward for the video we made yesterday as well
as the first one we made the other day.

As usual, he draped me across his lap and fed me. Right now,
I’m still there with my head against his shoulder.

He’s drinking some hot tea and reading a report. He just got
home from work a little while ago, and he’s still wearing his uniform, though
his hat and gloves are on the table. The food was from a restaurant I’ve never
heard of and the empty takeout containers from our meal are still on the counter.

I can’t help but smile again at our extravagant meal. I’m
full and I dare say…happy. It’s strange. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this
happy. Here, now, in the warmth of his house and in the safety of his lap, I
feel complete. But my blissful state is shattered by a brief, mental picture.
For some reason, I see my mother sobbing.

Fresh grief and guilt crash down on me. By now, everyone
back home probably thinks I’m dead. And yet here I am, lounging in my enemy’s
lap after the most extravagant meal I’ve ever had. Tears blur my vision. As if
sensing something amiss, my captor sets down his papers and looks at me.

“What’s wrong?”

I don’t say anything.

“Tell me,” he demands.

“I was just thinking about my mother,” I whisper. “She
probably thinks I’m either dead or being tortured.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Would you like to call her?”

My eyes meet his. “Are…are you serious?”

“Quite serious. I have to call the Gestapo to unblock the
line, but it only takes a phone call.” He looks at a clock. “Let’s see, it’s
nine now, so it’s three in the afternoon on the East Coast. Would anyone be
home around this time?”

“My mother is usually home during the day. If not, I could
leave a message on the machine.”

He nods. “I have terms for this arrangement. First of all, I
will
stay in the room with you. Second, do
not
discuss any
military or security issues. And third, do not tell them anything about me or
where you are. You will only say you are safe if they ask, which they probably
won’t. Understood?”

“Yes. Of course.” It’s more than a fair agreement. I’m not
sure why he said they wouldn’t ask where I am.

“As far as time, you can talk for as long as you want. But I
have a feeling you’ll be looking for an excuse to end the call. If you need to,
simply say that you can’t stay on the line for very long.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just in case,” he shrugs. He shifts me in his lap. When my
feet touch the floor, he nudges me to stand, which I do. He retrieves a pencil
and a notebook before handing them to me. “Write down the phone number, including
the area code.”

Eagerly, I comply.

He takes the notebook and examines the number. “Stay here
for a moment.”

He picks up the cordless phone from the charger on the
counter before walking into the adjacent room, which I can tell is for formal
dining. As he closes the door, I hear him say in German, “Yes, I need to place
a call to America.” I can’t hear anything after he closes the door. I’m
assuming he’s giving a password or a code clearance, which is why he probably
stepped into the next room. I don’t even try to eavesdrop. I don’t want to do
anything to lose this.