The Executioner (12 page)

Dr. Winslow

I straighten my bow tie on my tuxedo as I run my eyes from the top of my head to the soles of my feet in the mirror. I really am kind of handsome, in an unassuming kind of way. I will be glad when the dinner I’m attending is in
my
honor and not for a group of psychiatrists. I believe I should stand out from the crowd and not be grouped in like some sort of nobody.

I make my way down the steps and she grabs the bars, expectantly peering through them to get a look at me. Poor thing, her face just falls as she sees that I am dressed formally to go to an important event.

I can tell she was hoping I would spend time with her. I’m certain she must get lonely and bored down here all alone. It just shows that I am correct in my research—people will bond with the cruelest of humans under the right circumstances.

I make my way over to the cage and look down on her. “If you are a good girl, I might bring you a plate back from the event. Would you like that?”

She nods her head yes and her eyes light up at the thought that I am including her in my evening, even in some miniscule way. Yes, it is amazing how little it takes to make one happy when they are taken captive.

I really am considering keeping her. She adds so very much to my life. I don’t have many close friends because most of them are pompous asses just like me.

I pull my cell phone from my pocket and load the app that enables me to watch her every move. I’m careful to wait until it pops up so she can’t see the date and time.

“I am watching you and I expect you to be obedient and compliant as though I am here with you. If you’re a good girl, I will bring you some treats and we’ll converse over dinner.”

Her whole face lights up as she reaches out and gently brushes her fingers over my polished to perfection formal shoe, “That would be nice.”

Something pulls in my chest as I look down on her and I know…I have bonded with the woman I took captive…

Executioner

I look at my girl and chuckle. She is ready to go and break out a captive and she looks like a mini-me. She dressed in black from top to bottom with her hair pulled back and her pants tucked into her boots. She is standing, looking at me like I hold the world and all of its answers in my hands.

“Well you are a cute, little criminal,” I say, rubbing the top of her head. “This is serious business, kiddo. A lot can happen and you never know how things like this will play out.”

“I trust you and I’m ready.”

My heart swells with pride as I look at the woman who was made for me and I know I love her. Or, I am at least as close as a monster can come to loving someone. I know I damn sure am obsessed with her.

“Alright, kiddo, let’s go rescue this woman.”

She trots behind me like she trusts me with her life… and she can. We make our way out to the garage and get in one of the three cars I own—a black SUV with dark tinted windows. All of the guys in the brotherhood have one and we use them whenever we do a job.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yeah,” she coyly answers.

“Good, that nervousness will work to your advantage. You go into fight or flight mode and your senses will be keener. Tonight, you fight.”

She hangs onto my every word as I coach her and before I know it, we’re sitting in front of the shack that is being used as the doc’s hideout.

In a matter of moments, the team pulls up and we make our way up to the front door. Miller works his magic and has us in the house in no time. The guy can get into anything. He’s so skilled he could break into Fort Knox if he needed to. The military did one hell of a job training us. Uncle Sam would be proud…or maybe not.

We make our way down into the basement and I hear Kansas gasp as she eyes the woman in the cage.

“Who are you people?”

“We’re here to rescue you, sweetie,” I reassure her as Miller begins to work on the lock on the cage.

None of us are ready for what happens next.

“No, no, no!” she screams at the top of her lungs.

We all look at each other, shaking our heads, and Miller says what we’re all thinking, “She’s bonded with her captor.”

My phone rings and I look down and see that it is none other than the doctor.

“What?” I answer.

“Please tell me that you are not in my home abducting my research subject who is there of her own free will.” He continues talking when he senses me hesitating and trying to process the cluster-fuck of emotion this woman is exhibiting. “Ask her, she’ll tell you.”

I look down on the woman who has been listening to the conversation on speaker phone.

“He’s right, I don’t want to leave. I am here of my own free will.”

“You’re a fucking poster child for Stockholm Syndrome is what you are.”

Miller nudges me and whispers, “No different than our women.” Fuck! He has a point.

“You listen to me, you crazy fuck! You wanna keep her then you get her out of this hell hole and into that fancy ass house of yours. If you hurt her—ever—and it isn’t consensual, I’ll tear you apart with my bare fucking hands. I mean it. Get her out of here tonight and go shopping for her, mother fucker, and feed her right…and sign my fucking papers. I’ll be by to get them tomorrow.

I look down and the woman is backed into the corner with a huge smile on her face. Go fucking figure.

I look at the guys and shake my head, “Looks like our work here is done.”

“Yep,” they all agree. “Looks like the guy is more like us than you realized,” Miller chimes in.

He’s right; we’re all fucking crazy…

  
Suited slave…The shower

My mornings are that of a business woman. I wake up and my mind is on the business at hand.

You see… it is not only the business at hand, but it is the suit I wear into my job as an office executive—the suit of armor I will don for the day, in the form of my clothing.

It is very important I am dressed in the right clothing and am in the right frame of mind as I go into work each day.

I was in the shower, basically doing what I refer to as “Getting my game face on.”

I jumped, as my Master opened the sliding shower door. I instinctively moved to the back of the shower, deferring to his preeminence. I give him first place under the shower so that the water might pour down on his body first.

“I want my body washed, slave, from top to bottom.”

He grabbed a handful hair and glared into my face, studying it as he did so. Everything in me wanted to look away, he intimidated me.

“Don’t you dare look away from me, slave!”

“Yes, Master.” I could tell that my breathing was becoming labored already.

He pulled me in to his mouth and whispered in my ear, “If I know my slave, you’re already getting wet due to my presence.”

I gulped and he only chuckled.

“I said, slave, I want my body washed from the top of my head to the soles of my feet!”

My hands trembled as I reached for the soap and a loofah.

He pulled me right into his face glaring, “No loofah!”

“I want my slave’s hands washing her Master’s body!”

Many times Master will only use a word or two when giving a command. I know exactly what he wants.

“My hair first!”

“Yes, Master.”

Once again, I caught my hands trembling as I reached for the shampoo of his liking, squirting it into my hands.

I began to rub my hands through his hair as he held his head under the water and back to prevent the soap from getting into his eyes.

Everything about this man touches me in a way that I have never been touched before. The hold that he has over me is like nothing that I have ever experienced. Everything, everything, everything, his voice, his eyes, his commands—I have never in my life experienced the desire to serve any man but him. No man, but my Master!

He watched and monitored every detail of what I did, how I did it, and the expression that I held on my face while I was doing it.

I squirted the body wash into my hands and lathered it through the hair on his chest. He raised his arms and my hands ran into the pits of them, avoiding the temptation to tickle him. The straight line of his mouth and the seriousness in his face told me that he was not in the mood for play.

His eyes bore into me, “On your knees!”

I could feel the juices seeping down my inner thigh and, as if reading my mind, he spoke, “My little slave does get wet for me, doesn’t she?”

I eyed him adoringly as I began to wash his lower stomach and groin. I love the hair on his lower abdomen that works its way down into his groin. I became mesmerized, running my hands through it and making little peaks with the soap suds.

“You are getting distracted. I suggest that you do as I said and wash my body from head to toe!”

“I’m sorry, Master,” I mumbled.

I began to run my soapy hands over his groin and up and down his shaft.

“What did I tell you to do, slave? I asked you a question!”

He grabbed a handful of my hair by the roots and forced me to look up at him.

“You asked me to wash your body from head to toe, Sir.”

He was just glaring down at me and I could feel the juices freely flowing down my leg. I felt as if I were going to come just from the mandates that he gave and the energy of Dominance that he projected towards me.

“Then stop trying to get me hard by disobeying me. I get hard by dominating my slave. Do you think that you are in control, slave?”

As I tried to answer, he just spoke over me and I knew to quit speaking and listen.

“Maybe a flogging is what you need to remind you who is in charge. I expect for my mandates to be followed verbatim. I don’t expect for you to try and manipulate me with sex. That suit that you wear is your armor against the business world that you work in, not against me! You are naked and bare, open, vulnerable, and at my mercy! Now would be the time for you to say, ‘yes, Master’.”

“Yes, Master,” I eyed the man above me that I viewed to be bigger than life as I continued washing up his legs and down to his feet.

“Who owns you, slave?”

“Only you, Master.”

“Who do you wish to please, slave?”

“The only man that I wish to please is you, Master, only you.”

“How do you please me, slave?” he sarcastically asked me.

“By obeying you, Sir,” I whined.

He grabbed both sides of my head, pulling my mouth onto him.

“Your disobedience and lack of ability to follow instructions has cost you an orgasm so don’t you dare come from servicing me, slave!”

Oh my Master did know me well. There were times that my body would go off like a rocket just from the mere act of servicing my Master. Yes, it is true. Without even being touched, my body can explode from the pleasure that I gain by servicing him. Though my disobedience had cost me an orgasm, there was a place deep within me that was much more than satisfied from the act of servicing the Master that I loved. That place deep within me was much more satisfied than the satisfaction that my mere flesh would have gained from an orgasm…

“Nice story, you’re doing good, girl. Me, I like fucking taking you all barbaric and shit. I like it when you fight and I pin you down and take you. That book of yours should be done soon and you can stay here and be my little slave.”

My hands slid the laptop she was working on over and I lifted her t-shirt, playing with the dainty little panties I bought her and pulling them down her legs.

“See, like right now I don’t want a story to make my own. I want to bury my cock into you so deep that you wonder if I’m going to climb up inside of you.”

I lined my cock up with that sweet pussy of hers and plunged in as I listened to the TV reporter in the background.

A local woman, believed to have been missing, has been found. She is now under the care of her psychiatrist who stated that she suffered a break-down and just walked away from life for a few days. Upon contacting her doctor, she was found and is now part of a study he is conducting on RAD, a disorder known a Reactive Attachment Disorder.

And now, for other news, we go back to the station…

The End for now…