The Abduction of Kelsey (14 page)

“He’s here now,” James wanted to say, but of course he did not. She wouldn’t believe it. Not yet.

He reached for the tube of lubricant from the shelf and rubbed it on the head of his cock, smearing the excess left on his fingers over the tight bud of her asshole. She pulled away from his touch. “Don’t move,” he ordered tersely.

He touched her asshole with the tip of his finger and then pushed it in to the first knuckle. “Relax,” he soothed. “It’ll be a lot easier if you can relax.” He pushed his finger in to the second knuckle. Kelsey yelped and jerked again. James ignored this as he moved his finger, working to relax her sphincter muscles. He would hold her still while he fucked her.

He withdrew his finger and positioned himself between her legs. When he nudged the head of his lubricated cock between her cheeks, Kelsey’s hand fell away from the vibrator as she jerked forward.

“Damn it, Kelsey. I’m warning you. Get back in position. Hold that thing in place.” He waited, silently counting until she reached again for the dildo. “Good girl,” he said encouragingly, pleased he’d only had to count to two. “Now, just relax.”

He nudged again against her sphincter with his cock, and pushed past the ring of muscle. Kelsey grunted, but stayed in position. As James eased himself into her ass, he could feel the vibrator’s girth pressing against the thin membrane that separated her rectum from her cunt.

Fucking her ass was different from fucking her cunt, which hugged his shaft like a warm velvet glove. This felt more like a tight band that stroked his cock as he moved in and out, and the vibrations from the dildo made the experience all the more intense.

Kelsey cried out as he pushed himself deeper inside her ass. He gripped her hips and began to thrust in and out of the tight, hot hole. She was being a good girl, her fingers still curled around the base of the vibrator in spite the awkwardness of her position.

James felt alive, his whole being thrumming in time with the vibrations radiating from her cunt and swirling over his sheathed cock. His heart was hammering, his breath ragged in his throat as he fucked his girl, slamming in and out of her. He wanted to hold on longer to savor the intensity of the experience, but knew it was hopeless.

Within minutes he felt the tightening in his balls that signaled an orgasm and he let it go, exploding inside the tight heat of Kelsey’s ass. He fell forward against her and she collapsed beneath him, the vibrator continuing to hum. Still inside her, James rolled to his side, pulling her with him. He reached between her legs and pulled out the vibrator, which he turned off and dropped over the side of the bed.

He pulled Kelsey against him, finding and cupping her small, firm breasts. He could feel her heart thumping and the rise and fall of her chest. Had she climaxed? His cock twitched at the notion. She was so fucking hot!

“Kelsey,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into her thick, soft hair. “I love you.”

She didn’t answer.

A cool breeze wafted through the porch screen. The lake water looked especially blue in the distance, a sailboat drifting lazily on its surface. Would James ever let her go down to the water? Would she ever be allowed beyond the confines of the cabin?

Since he’d brought her to the cabin, she’d earned privileges, bit by bit. At first it had been hard—so hard—to force herself to call him sir, and to submit to his demands and punishments without wanting to scratch his eyes out.

It wasn’t as hard now. Sometimes she was startled to realize she hadn’t even thought about escape for hours on end. Her focus was more on staying out of the punishment closet, avoiding pain and earning privileges.

She still had plans of escape, make no mistake, but for now it was better to adapt. As twisted as he was, James really did love her, in his way. It was easier to focus on the love, rather than the torturous path he drew her along to receive that love.

Kelsey cradled the warm coffee mug in her hands and sipped the strong, delicious brew. As always, James had added just the right amount of cream and sugar. She loved being allowed to hold the mug herself—a recent privilege, though he still insisted on feeding her.

She’d been so grateful when, after two solid days of disgusting oatmeal, he’d permitted her to share his meal—a perfectly cooked steak and a fresh spinach salad. Each bite had been like heaven in her mouth, and he’d let her eat until she was full.

There had only been one day where she’d been denied food and water. That had been tough. She’d spent most of that day locked inside the punishment closet, sweating in the close confines of the small, hot space, and trying not to freak out. She had learned it was better not to beg to be let out—that only made the punishment last longer. Since then, she’d only spent a few minutes in the closet from time to time, and she’d never missed a meal, though he never let her eat as much as she wanted.

She would have loved at least a few more bites of the French toast he’d prepared for their breakfast that morning, but half a piece had been all he’d allowed her. He’d eaten three pieces himself, along with three slices of bacon. There was still a piece of bacon and the other half of her French toast on the plate, but Kelsey knew better than to ask for it.

“I wouldn’t want you to get fat,” he’d explained. “It’s important that you maintain your appearance for me, but it goes deeper than that. I read on the
Her Husband’s Hard Hand
that a wife should never be permitted to overeat. A wife needs to understand that she is subservient to her husband, and staying hungry is a keen reminder that she serves at her husband’s pleasure.”

James loved all those websites about training and discipline, and read to her daily from the blogs. At first she’d been horrified to think there were so many deluded women out there, perfectly ready, even eager, to bend their will to a man. Now, though, she was getting more used to the idea. After all, what choice did she have?

She wasn’t his wife, but he called her that all the time anyway. “We’re married in spirit,” he’d claimed. “One day, when you prove yourself worthy, we’ll marry in the eyes of the law as well. I hope you can earn that honor someday, Kelsey. Until then, I’ll continue to train and guide you on your journey along the path of a properly submissive woman.”

Kelsey glanced in James’ direction as she stroked her leather wrist cuffs. He was watching her, she realized suddenly, his gray eyes moving from her face to her bare breasts as the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips. She knew that sign. Soon she would be on her knees, his cock down her throat. Then would come her morning chores. Her leg had healed so well, she barely limped now as she moved through the cabin dusting the furniture and shelves, sweeping and cleaning the floors. She enjoyed doing her chores, if for no other reason than he left her alone while she was working, though he was always nearby. Each day she set herself a personal challenge to do every chore just right so he wouldn’t have to punish her. So far, though, she had failed every time. No matter how well she thought she had done, he always found fault with something.

Aware of his gaze on her, Kelsey set down her mug and lowered her eyes submissively, as she knew he liked, waiting for the command to kneel at his feet.

Instead, to her surprise, he said, “I was thinking maybe it’s time we started our own blog.
James’ Obedient Wife
. That has a nice ring to it. I’m thinking we would post a photograph of you, too, to draw interest. Not your face of course,” he said quickly. “I’m thinking maybe one of that delectable ass of yours, whipped to a nice cherry red. That would please me. What do you think?”

Kelsey swallowed, searching in her mind for the trick in the question. She didn’t want to have a picture of her naked body posted on the internet, but she also understood he wasn’t asking if she agreed or not to his plans, but rather, how she felt about what was going to happen, with or without her consent. She didn’t want a spanking either, or a whipping.

Answer truthfully. Always answer truthfully, as a good wife should. I’ll know when you’re lying, Kelsey. A husband always knows.

The scary thing was, he usually did know.

But not always.

She’d been getting better at keeping her feelings more tightly coiled deep inside her, hidden behind a mask of serene obedience. When she succeeded, he rewarded her with hot coffee, food, warm baths and orgasms. Lots of orgasms.

When she failed, however, the punishments were swift and severe.

“I—I don’t want a whipping, sir. I’ve been a good girl. Haven’t I?”

“Up until this moment, yes,” he agreed pleasantly, though she didn’t like the sudden cruel curve of his smile, or the glint in his eye. “But good girls don’t state their opinions about whether they want whippings or not. Surely you know that by now, wife?”

Kelsey’s gut clenched and she bit her lower lip. Fuck. When he started calling her wife, she was usually in trouble. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” she said quickly.

James stood, and she saw the erection tenting his shorts. He shook his head, making a “tsking” sound. “You had been doing so well, but you forgot one of the prime rules of wifely submission. A wife doesn’t voice what she does or does not want. She asks what would please her husband, and no more.” He frowned, though his cock continued to strain at his shorts.

“Go on,” he insisted, “tell me. What would the proper response have been to my question?”

Kelsey felt tears pricking her eyelids. Damn it, she should have known the answer—why had she fucked it up? “If—if it pleases you, sir, then it pleases me.”

James reached for her arm and jerked her up from the chair. “That’s better. You’re mouthing the words at least, though it’s clear it’s not yet a part of your psyche. I’ll just have to work harder.” He walked toward the door, pulling her along with him. “Come on. Punishment time.”

He led her to the center of the living room and stopped, still gripping her arm. “I guess that’s what comes of sparing the rod,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “An article I read recently said a husband should discipline his wife daily, as a constant reminder that she is cherished. It shows he cares enough to take her in hand. It said men often make the mistake of being too soft on their wives, and then the woman doesn’t trust or understand the true extent of her husband’s natural authority, or his duty to exert total control. I’ve been remiss. I think we’ll rectify that today, Kelsey. Stand under the beam and raise your arms over your head.”

The large, open living room that comprised most of the cabin’s space had thick exposed wooden support beams suspended below the cathedral ceiling. Early in their stay James had thrown sturdy ropes over the center beam, where they had remained, a constant warning.

Something about being bound by the wrists by that rough, scratchy rope, arms spread wide and pulled taut so she was forced on tiptoe, made Kelsey feel more vulnerable and frightened than any other kind of punishment. There was no way to hide, no way to shield any part of her body from his switch, his whip or his hand.

Kelsey shivered with fear as James removed her cuffs so he could tie the rope directly around her wrists. She knew from experience the ropes would burn and chafe her skin if she wriggled too much. He adjusted the ropes, pulling at them until she was forced onto her toes. He left the room a moment. When he returned, he was naked, his cock jutting hard and thick from his body, the whip in his hand.

He’d only used the whip twice before, and she been marked afterwards each time, though no more so than from a hard spanking. But something about the whip itself frightened her in a way she couldn’t quite articulate. Maybe it was because the person wielding it had no direct contact of skin on skin, as with a spanking, and so it became a less personal, more removed kind of interaction. How could James insist he cherished her while wielding a whip? It didn’t make sense to her, not even within the framework of the obedient wife.

“Please,” she blurted. “Not the whip. I’ve been a good girl.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She bit her lip to keep from saying anymore, quailing as James’ face darkened.

He reached for her throat, his strong, large hand closing over it. He squeezed as he said, “Did I ask you a question, wife?” Mutely, Kelsey shook her head, trying to keep her panic at bay as he squeezed harder. “Then keep that pretty mouth closed and take what’s coming to you.”

He let her go, and she swayed on her toes, the rough rope tight around her wrists. He stepped to the side. She could see him in her peripheral vision as he pulled back his whip arm. The first snap of the leather against her ass stung, but not as much as she’d feared.

I can do this,
she told herself.
I can take the whip for James, and then he’ll be pleased with me.

The second stroke was harder than the first. It was followed by a series of short, sharp flicks, the tips of the leather tresses stinging like little bees over her ass. Kelsey began to dance on her toes as she struggled not to make a sound. James had taught her that the obedient wife does not cry and plea for mercy, but takes what is given in stoic silence.

He struck her again and again, until her ass and the backs of her thighs were on fire. In spite of herself, she began to whimper. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut in her effort to stay silent.

Then he struck her back—hard.

As much from surprise as pain, Kelsey emitted a yelp as she tried to twist away from the stinging lash. Another blow landed squarely across her shoulders. He had never hit her before anywhere but her ass and thighs. The sting along her back was sharper and much harder to take.

“Silence, wife!” James shouted. He struck her back again and again until it stung as much as her ass ever had, and more. Somehow she managed to stay reasonably quiet after the first cry, though tears were coursing down her cheeks. All thoughts of pleasing James had fled. She just wanted to get through this.