Captive (Social Experiments #1) Page 7

  Leaning back, I dropped one hand to my waistband and pulled my dick from my pants. Freedom from the restraining fabric brought a small modicum of relief. Yvonne’s gaze darted toward me and away again. A flush rose to her cheeks, warmer than the pink tint of exertion lingering after her climax. Good. While she nibbled on her food I wrapped my fist around my cock and gave it a slow stroke.

  Yvonne might have thought she was sly, but I saw more than the whites of her eyes. Her big green eyes widened slightly, and her spine stiffened. I had her complete attention.

  No words came between us. The only sounds were my low groans and her feathery, panting breaths. She’d given up trying not to look and her eyes followed my pumping movements. Her tongue wet her parted lips. I never took my eyes off her.

  Hot semen spilled over my hand. Once I finished, I cleaned up with a napkin from the pile on the small table.

  “Done?” She’d left her crust half eaten so I snagged it up and finished it off - a habit between us since we were teens. She ate my olives when we ordered supreme pizzas, and I ate her crust. Yvonne held her silence but her gaze continued to shift back and forth between my pants and her lap.

  “I’m not going to hurt you again, Yvonne. You’re just so fucking beautiful I couldn’t help myself.” I uttered a single half-truth to gauge her reaction. “But I think… deep down, part of you enjoyed it. I made you come and you’re lying to yourself if you say you didn’t love it.”

  She squirmed and her cheeks flushed again. “I… Maybe…”

  I had made her feel good and we both knew it. In time, she would be grateful to utter the words. She certainly appeared to be grateful for the freedom from her kennel. She didn’t speak much, but she enjoyed a hot shower and the scant bit of privacy I allowed her. The life and vitality returned to her eyes for those moments as I showed her the luggage case of her own belongings.

  “I thought you might want these back eventually. You’ve been good today, so I want you to pick something from this suitcase to wear.” My idea could result in increased resentment or appreciation. Suppressing my anxious nerves, I waited for Yvonne’s reaction to the offer.

  “Whatever I want?”

  “One thing,” I instructed her.

  All the clothes had been carefully chosen; I provided access to panties, camisoles, silky nightgowns, and a few airy sundresses. She picked out a strapless, knee-length dress with a floral print. I zipped her up then settled her back into the kennel.

  “How long do I have to stay here, Jake?”

  “As long as it takes to save you.”

  Of course, she questioned that, but I wouldn’t elaborate since it wasn’t time to discuss her freedom yet. After a promise to return soon, I dimmed the lights and made my way out. I didn’t need to turn around to know Yvonne watched me on my way to the exit. Her gaze practically burned the back of my neck.

  A lot of people don’t know this, but when you leave the house, your animal isn’t always some ambivalent little hound snoozing comfortably on the dog bed. I’d go so far as to estimate about half of them pace the home howling and crying no more than thirty minutes after you’ve gone. Dogs suffer separation anxiety. You’re their leader, the alpha, and they love you too much to understand why you’re leaving them five days a week.

  I wanted Yvonne to feel that same unbridled glee when I entered the basement. I had to train her body to realize I was her only salvation and way to survive. I’d bring her food, I’d allow her to shower, and I’d bait her with pieces of her life one tidbit at a time.

  She’d come to loathe my departures and celebrate my returns.

  ***

  As far as the police were concerned, Yvonne ran off after graduation to blow through the money gifted by her parents. It helped that she’d withdrawn nearly a thousand dollars of it on the same day of her disappearance and also spent half as much at some upscale boutique buying summer attire and a new bikini.

  I covered my tracks well by taking a mid-sized parcel from Yvonne’s luggage and packing it with her new clothes. The tags were tossed in her bedroom’s small trash bin, just in case someone peeked around her room. I even made her bed and tidied the bathroom. As for Chester, I rewarded Yvonne with him on day four. She had allowed me to touch her again and snuggle her on the blankets. For that, I allowed her the comfort of her kitten and brought his litter box into the sublevel.

  By the fifth day, she asked about the world outside and whether anyone noticed her absence. I’d expected her to ask sooner.

  “The cops think you took off to enjoy some R&R now that the semester is over. Your parents agreed.”

  I paraphrased, but the overall idea was there without sharing Marie’s disgusting words about her “cunt of a daughter”. No matter how childish Yvonne behaved, she didn’t deserve the way her mother treated her.

  “I guess… I’m glad they’re not worried then. You really sent a message from my phone to yourself?”

  “Yeah. Worked like a charm. As far as anyone knows, you’re probably strutting your stuff on a beach in Florida while wearing a piece of butt floss.”

  Yvonne laughed quietly and rummaged through her luggage. I wanted to reward her cooperation and appeal to her vanity by allowing her to try on all of her new clothes and to keep a set of underwear. “I don’t have anything that tiny to wear in public and you know it.” She glanced down at her thighs and shook her head. While I thought she was perfect, Yvonne had always struggled with her weight. She’d spent the past ten years drifting between a size 2 and a 10. I preferred her on the higher end of the weight spectrum. Marie disagreed and maintained a perfect size 4 despite her matronly age. Her expectations for Yvonne were for her daughter to sport a perfect 2.

  “Your thighs are perfect. I told you that when we went to Florida.” I rolled my eyes. Yvonne’s athletic childhood had given her an abundance of muscle, which she hadn’t lost entirely as an adult.

  “You always say that.”

  “Because it’s true. Here, try on the other one for me… I wanna see you wear it.” I settled back on the blankets while Yvonne played runway model. The sheer lace teddy hugged her body like a second skin, revealing her high and full breasts. Her perfect pair enticed me, easily hardening my cock into a semi-rigid state. I rubbed it through my boxers and watched her change.

  The second lingerie choice didn’t seem feasible for casual undergarments. A bright pink bow connected each strap to her black demi bra cups and the embellishment would show through when she wore a low cut blouse. It was the kind of pretty thing that only belonged in the bedroom for a lover’s eyes.

  “Come here.” I beckoned her with one hand and removed my cock with the other. Yvonne’s stride paused, her eyes dropped to my crotch, and then she reluctantly resumed her walk.

  “What do you want me to do… Sir?”

  Sir. Not once had I ever asked her to call me by a title or special name. I liked the unexpected change.

  “Just touch it. You did once before,” I coaxed her. “I liked the way you touched me.”

  Her fingers shyly wrapped around my cock and delivered a testing pump. Tentative at first, she gradually gained the confidence to stroke me again. Her touch was divine, the perfect thing to soothe away the stress of my day at work. I rolled my hips upwards into her fist and groaned my pleasure.

  “That’s good, Yvonne. Like that, baby.” She had agreed more easily than expected, but I didn’t question her decision.

  “I never knew you were so...”

  “So what?”

  “That your…. dick was so big,” she whispered, as if admitting the words were somehow taboo.

  Gloria may have said it once or twice, but I’d never taken her seriously. Before her, I might have had a half dozen or so lovers in college before dicking random girls began to bore me.

  I liked hearing the words more from Yvonne.

  “When you touched me like this that night, I wanted to drag you down and bury myself inside you.”

  “I wanted you
to,” Yvonne whispered in a tiny voice. Before I could ask her anything more, she ducked her head down and took my cock between her lips. That single action obliterated my thoughts. I couldn’t form another coherent sentence and succumbed to the skill of her mouth.

  Skill was an understatement. As she dragged backwards and left a slick sheen on my dick, I shuddered and anxiously awaited her return. The playful light had returned to her eyes, the glow that I missed seeing so much. She consumed me again in a single stroke and drew me in to completion, deep throating me so skillfully I writhed against the blankets and gasped in surprise.

  She kneaded my balls and gently squeezed the weight in her hands. I should have been afraid, or at least a little distrusting, but deep down I knew she only wanted to serve me.

  Admittedly, it was the most reckless and narcissistic thought I ever deduced when it came to a woman.

  Her tongue teased my sensitive cockhead and prodded the hole, lapping away a clear droplet beading from the tip. I watched her come alive again with enthusiasm and became helplessly captive in her competent hands.

  “Yvonne-”

  Her mouth wasn’t enough, but it was too early to claim her again. I wanted her to be the one to ask and beg me to fuck her. I needed to see devotion in her eyes before I took that move.

  Yvonne made cocksucking seem like an art. She slid her mouth to the tip and engulfed me anew with zeal. Something in her had changed, and I lacked the concentration or willpower to investigate it. I became her willing captive, a slave to her talents each time my dick disappeared between her lips and down her throat.

  My fingers tightened in her hair, my abs tensed, and I exploded in her mouth. She licked up one creamy burst of my semen and then another, drawing back to allow me to watch the erotic display. It was the hottest thing I ever witnessed in all of my life. She made it a spectacle, sort of a show for me to enjoy. She tasted my come and swallowed it down without even a grimace. Gloria never did that.

  “Yvie… holy shit,” I gasped out loud. I had wanted to bring her to a toe-curling orgasm, but she’d done it to me instead. I lay on the blankets for a while, waiting for the last shudders to leave my body while the perfect girl, my goddess, crawled between my thighs and lay against my body stomach to stomach, her warm, lace-cupped breasts against my chest. She’d done it on her own without coercion and it… was bliss.

  “Do I get another cider?”

  “Baby, you can have all the cider you want.”

  Her skin was soft to the touch and I stroked my fingers down her back. I skimmed the curve of her ass, teased my fingers over her damp crotch, and then traced the path upwards again.

  “Yvonne?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Tell me what you like in bed.”

  “You want to know?”

  “Yeah. I do. I never mentioned this before, but I always heard you and Greg through the ceiling. You never made those kind of sounds with him…” My words trailed off as I reached for a blanket to tug over her back.

  “You heard us?!”

  “Almost every time. He sounds like an angry bear when he blows a load, but you’re quiet as a church mouse most of the time.”

  “I wasn’t…” She paused to exhale. Evidently, lying didn’t set right with her despite the rocky status of our relationship. “I faked it a lot for him. I don’t know what it is… but I have trouble sometimes. Maybe all the horseback riding and gymnastics shit my mom made me do is responsible for it, I don’t know. But it takes me a while.”

  It didn’t seem like a while to me, but maybe it had taken too long for Greg, whose primary concern lay in his own cock. I shook my head and kissed her ear. She recoiled only slightly but relaxed into me again. Her body became languid and loose, molding closely once more.

  “Time well spent, baby. So what do you like?” I repeated.

  “I liked sucking you off.”

  And so did I. “You did amazing, but I asked what you like.”

  “Well… I like that little finger vibe you use. And… and…”

  “And what? You can tell me anything. I’m here to make this enjoyable for you, too.”

  She wiggled on top of me. “My ass… I like to be fucked in my ass. It feels, well… it makes everything else feel more intense.”

  “Yeah? And how often do you do that?”

  Yvonne quieted and a hint of color rose to her ivory skin. Her sudden, uncharacteristic shyness piqued my curiosity. “Greg and I got really drunk one night… and uh… I blew him while he let one of his frat brothers fuck me in the ass.”

  Her confession caught me by surprise. I stared at her initially until the visual swept through my overactive imagination. I could picture her positioned hands and knees, her upraised ass pounded by some gorilla in a polo shirt while she sucked Greg off. Despite my disdain for Greg and his pals, my cock twitched with renewed arousal. It was a pleasing image as long as I placed myself in either role.

  “How did you like it with them?”

  “It made me feel good. Really good,” she confessed. “His friend was a prick but… we did it a few times.”

  Bingo. I knew there was something more about my sexy girl, but I hadn’t anticipated a fondness for anal. “I never tried it before,” I admitted. But I was willing to learn. It couldn’t be too hard as long as I used lube and took things slow. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever met who admitted to liking it, I guess. I’ll try it for you one day, alright?”

  The silence returned between us, but it lacked the same awkward quality. It felt more relaxed, borderline comfortable and uneasy all at once.

  Somewhere deep inside, I had begun to doubt in my ability to accomplish my task of freeing Yvonne from her train wreck lifestyle. Now, in as little as a few words, she had granted me confidence again to continue. With her affectionate kisses to my unshaven jaw, she encouraged and uplifted me.

  Kidnapping her hadn’t irreparably damaged our friendship after all. She needed me, just as I needed her. As we drifted into silence and engaged in explorative touches, I lay beside her, precariously balancing a trio of personas: her rapist, her captor, and her friend.

  Chapter 7

  During my break, Harrison called me out of the training center where I worked magic with naughty puppies and rehabilitated older dogs. We offered discounts to senior rescues and shelter canines since their owners were doing the world a favor by adopting them.

  Ever since Mr. King placed fliers and vouchers inside the Boston SPCA, I’d been swamped. We needed two more trainers for this workload, and he was taking advantage of my summer schedule to work me 40 hours a week instead of the usual 20. Our class sizes were growing, his pockets were filling, and I was becoming increasingly fatigued. Now that I had my Master’s degree, I planned to look for a better paying job somewhere in research. Maybe it wouldn’t be as satisfying, but it would certainly wear me out less quickly each day. Better benefits, good pay, and a stepping stone to getting where I wanted to be.

  Harrison didn’t want me to go, because it would be the end of their fun. Unfortunately, I’d already turned in a half dozen resumes across the city.

  “C’mon, Jake. Come out and have fun with us. You never leave the damn house these days.”

  I gestured around me, indicating the store. “You were saying?”

  “Okay, you never leave the house unless it’s to come to work.”

  “You took me to the casino.”

  “Man, that was weeks ago,” Bobby muttered. He was another of our friends, but he worked in the vet office and hung out with the group as infrequently as I did. Short, stout, and built like a shaved black bear, he was usually called first to pin down and muzzle a big dog needing to be sedated, vaccinated, or claw trimmed. I was second. We heavy-lifted together at the gym, but I’d never acquire that kind of bulk on my frame without doubling my hours and intensity.

  “You missed one hell of a party,” I replied amicably.

  “Wish I’d been off to tag along. Anyway, you don’t have anythin
g holding you up now,” Bobby said.

  “He has a point, dude,” Harrison agreed. He cracked open a Red Bull and chugged it, as if the high caffeine content and taurine would remedy his apparent hangover. “You don’t even play ball with us anymore.”

  “I don’t have the time to play ball, man.” My friends mean well, but none of them have a captive woman waiting in their basements. A very naked woman who eagerly waited for the chance to suck dick. I guarantee that if Harrison had a girl of his own willing to emulate Yvonne, we wouldn’t see him again until he had a beard rivaling that guy on Duck Dynasty.

  “Shouldn’t you enjoy the last days of your freedom before beginning your wage slave job for some research center? You’re going to miss this,” Harrison said.

  “I’m not going to miss your dad’s penny-pinching. I can’t live off 9.75 an hour man.”

  “You don’t. You have rent coming in off six tenants!”

  I rolled my eyes. The guys all knew that I obsessively poured the money back into maintenance and repairs. I had Gramps to thank for instilling that belief. “The building is falling apart, Harrison. I’m not a slum lord, and I won’t hoard money while my tenants have needs.”

  “Okay, what about those investments your mom made?” Bobby asked.

  Wrinkling my nose, I fixed Bobby with a look of discontent. All the guys knew my mom had died of ovarian cancer, and all of them knew that she’d left me relatively comfortable, too. I guess after my dad died in the military, she took his benefits and some of the insurance and made some good investments. Unfortunately, most of those awesome investments were all tangled up in accounts and beyond my reach. I didn’t know the first thing about accessing the money.

  So I pretended it wasn’t there and skimmed a little interest off the top each year to help me along.

  “I don’t know the first thing about them.”

  “Why don’t you let me look at-”

  “No,” I said firmly to Bobby, interrupting him. “I know you’re getting your accounting degree, but if you fuck up my mom’s hard work, I’ll kill you and hide your corpse in my basement.”