A Rebel Captive (6 page)

He rubbed his hand over his mouth, trying to remove the taste of her.  He was moving too quickly with her.  He’d meant to take his time, not nearly take her on the third day he had her.  She’d probably never take a shower again at this rate.  Picking up his pace, he scowled thinking how close he was to taking her, how the feel of her trembling against his fingers and mouth drove him nuts.  Just the thought made him want to turn around and fuck her into oblivion, but instead he kept walking away from her.

  .     .     .

She stayed in the bed for a long time.  Her mind was swimming, but the main thought that kept coming to the surface was that he’d made her cum so easily, when no one else had.  His touch made her traitorous body burn - and yearn - for more.  The guilt was almost too much for her, what would her father say if he ever found out?  Would he call her a traitor?  Finally, she couldn’t stand her nakedness and got up, looking for something to wear.  She opened a few dresser drawers, pulling out one of his undershirts and boxers.  The boxers were too big and kept falling off her hips; she begrudging had to take them off.  Luckily, his tee shirt stopped just above her knees.  It smelled like him and she really wanted to take it off, but chose the reminder of him compared to nakedness. 

She ventured out into the living room, realizing she’d never really explored it before.  The entire suite was covered in shades of gray, black, and white.  It was very masculine and Spartan.  It was bare of emotion or identity; there wasn’t a single photo, piece of art work, or knickknack that helped her better understand the man that inhabited the space.  There was an open laptop on his desk and she went to it, clicking it on. 

Eye Scan Activated
. 

“Dammit!” She pushed away from the desk. 

She wanted to throw the computer on the floor, smash it to pieces, but there was a knock on the door.  A soldier entered the room carrying a dinner tray.  She dashed away, embarrassed by getting caught. 

The soldier set the tray on the table and left without looking at her.  She smirked, finding a sandwich and pasta salad for dinner, “mess hall food.”  She nibbled on the sandwich while walking around the room, running her hand along the books, reading the titles.  His collection surprised her; he had books on history, biographies, classic literature, and plenty of murder mysteries.  She leaned against the big bay windows, it was twilight and she could still make out the terrain.  The fort was at the top of a large hill and surrounded by a well-manicured lawn.  As the land sloped, a sparsely populated wood popped up and beyond that was a dense forest.  She pushed on the window, but wasn’t surprised to find it wouldn’t budge.

There was a punching bag in the far corner of the room and she took a jab at it, it felt good to hit something and she hit it a few more times.  Olivia didn’t really know anything about boxing and felt a little foolish especially as she was nearly naked, but she gave the bag a few kicks before hitting it again.  Her pounding heart and the focus it took to hit the bag without hurting herself calmed her as she channeled all of her anger, frustration, and humiliation into the punching bag.  

After about a half hour, her limbs burned and she was covered in sweat.  Olivia took another quick shower then grabbed a bottle of water out of the mini fridge she found in the living room and settled on one of the couches with a book.  In no time she was asleep, the book resting on her chest.

  .     .     .

She was in the clutches of the solider from earlier that day.  He punched her so hard she thought he knocked out her teeth.  He was hitting her in the face, again and again.  She felt her eye swell shut as pain seared through her.  She fell to the ground and curled up, trying to protect herself, but he just started to kick her.  She could taste blood and almost vomited as he kicked her in the stomach.  She closed her eyes against the pain and when she opened them again she was naked and strapped to a table.  Her legs were spread wide, attached to stirrups.  The solider was unbuttoning his pants, his member slipped out and he started to stroke himself.  Behind him sat a row of men, waiting impatiently for their turn with her. 

“Cole, please help me.  Cole!” she shouted, as the man leaned over, about to bury himself deep inside her.

“Olivia, wake up.” Someone was shaking her. 

She woke up with a jolt.  Instinct came to her before full consciousness and she struggled as if still in her dream.  Arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a warm body, cradling her.  

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” Slowly she calmed down and relaxed as she realized where she was, in bed, with Cole.

She clung to him, sobbing into his chest.  For the second time that day he held her until her tears subsided. 

“You were screaming my name,” he said softly. 

She became more aware of herself and her surroundings. 
He must’ve carried me to bed when he got back,
she mused.  He was stripped down to his boxers and the most naked she’d seen him.  She was up against his chest, her fingers pressed against his naked skin.  It was dark and although she could barely see him, she could feel the toned muscle under her fingers.  She tried to pull away, but he held her to him.  

“I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Shhh.” He cut her off.  “It’s okay.  What were you dreaming about?” he asked, stroking her hair. 

“My worst nightmare,” she whispered into his chest. 

The contact was making her skin come alive, quietly humming with want.  She wished he’d let her go.  New tears started to stream down her face as her fear of this man and her situation melded with the desire for him to touch her further.
I’m sick,
she bitterly thought.  She pulled her hand away from his chest, but grew flustered as she realized there was no safe spot to place it, no way to not be touching him.  A question she’d been desperate to ask for days bubbled to the surface, her dream pushing her to finally ask. 

“How long are you going to keep me?” She asked, hoping to get a quick answer.

“Until I’m no longer interested in you.” She shuddered in his arms. 

A part of him wanted to comfort her further, to tell her he was infatuated with her even after such a short time, but another part of him knew his position didn’t afford the luxury of weakness even for her, and yet another part of him got off on her fearfully quaking in his arms.  He wondered what it was about her; he’d never been interested in having a slave before, turned off by the broken, dead-eyed, women other lords kept.  But something changed his mind when he decided to help the recognizance team and check out a Prospect at her restaurant.  He knew he had to have her and that this was the only way.

And then, he’ll give me to the soldiers
, she was too afraid to ask if it were true.  Instead she pulled away from him and this time he let her go.  She was disturbed by the contact and how easily he could calm her down.  She returned her head to the pillow, slinking down in the bed and turning on her side.  She tried to pretend he wasn’t there, that touching him didn’t start to get her wet, but he turned and pulled her to him, fitting her snugly into the curve of his body.  The shirt she wore rode up and her bare butt was pressed against his groin.  She blushed, hoping he wouldn’t discover her growing wetness.  She tried to scoot away from him, but he pulled her back.  His body warmed hers, his arm holding her to him, she was consumed by him.  It took hours for her to fall asleep and when she did it was a fitful, restless sleep.

  .     .     .

In the morning, she was curt and stiff with him.  He wasn’t shocked by her behavior, but annoyed by her distance. 

“Why don’t you get breakfast,” he said while getting dressed, but he just stared at him, uncertain.  “I told you to go get breakfast, now go,” he barked. 

She jumped out of bed and ran to the door.  It was unlocked.  She looked over at him, but he was buttoning up his shirt and didn’t look back.  She scurried down the hallway, confused and wondered where the nearest exit was.  A soldier was waiting for her at the end of the hallway, holding a breakfast tray.  Suddenly, she was horrifyingly aware that she was only in a t -shirt.  She tugged on the hem.  He smirked handing her the tray and waited for her to turn back around.  Slowly heading back to Cole’s room, she felt her anger rising, overcome by crushing embarrassment and fury.  Her emotions got the best of her and bubbled over.  She couldn’t help herself as she spit in the bowl of oatmeal she carried.

She marched through the door and slammed down the tray.  He sat at his desk and glowered at her. 

“Really?”  He flipped the computer screen around to show the hallway. 

Fucking cameras
, she grumbled to herself.  

“You’ll go back out there and get a new tray.”  His voice was menacing.

She flushed, the anger gone and replaced by fear.  She did as she was told, the same soldier was at the end of the hallway, an annoyed look on his face as he shoved the tray into her hands.  Back in the room, Cole shut his laptop and moved it to the corner of his desk. 

“Put the tray on the table and come here.”

He got up and leaned against the desk.  Her hands trembled as she set the tray down, but stood her ground.  “Do you really want to make this worse by making me come to you?” he snapped.

She thought about it for a split second before walking over to him, her eyes glued to the ground. 

“That outburst was pretty fucking juvenile, do you want to tell me why you did it?”  She stayed silent. 

He sighed and grabbed her arm, whirling her around.  He tapped her wrists and the bonds locked her hands together.  He got up and turned the both of them around, pushing her against the desk.  She struggled.  He slapped her hard on the ass and bent her over the table.  He stood behind her, grinding his ejection against her naked rear end, and kicked her legs apart.  She let out a small cry as he spread her feet painfully wide. 

“Now, you’ll stay like that until I tell you to move.”

He went to the dining table and sat down.  Cole ate his breakfast slowly, enjoying the sight of her spread wide and open to him.  Desperate to close her legs, Olivia could almost feel his eyes on her sex.  Her body buzzed with terror, uncertain of what he would do to her.  She kept expecting to feel the hard slap of his hand or thrust of his member.  The anticipation drove her mad.  The smell of breakfast made her stomach grumble.

Not five minutes into eating his meal, Cole realized his mistake.  His cock throbbed painfully against his pants; he rubbed his hands along his thighs. 
Can’t fuck her, it’s too soon.  I’m moving too fast. 
But all he could think about was burying himself in that perfect, pink pussy.  He had to look away from her, he had to do something or else he was going to take her right then and there on the desk. 

“Stand up,” he barked and she was quick to do as he asked.
 
“Do you want to go to the garden?”  He stood up and walked to her, circling her. 

“Yes, my lord,” the truth of the matter was she was desperate to get some time away from him and his quarters.

“What are you going to do to get back in my good graces, my little trouble maker?”  He rubbed his hand over the bulge in his pants. 

The movement drew her eyes to his erection, she started shaking her head.  She couldn’t look away as he ran his hand over himself again. 

“Mesmerized by my cock, are you?”  Her gawking made him grow impossibly hard and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist fucking her.  “Get on your knees.” 

Panic surged through her.  She couldn’t, she wouldn’t do this. 

“Please, don’t,” she begged.

“On your knees.”

She managed to lower herself, her knees buckled and she collapsed into a heap on the ground.  With her hands still bound behind her back it was difficult, but she managed to push up onto her knees as instructed.

“Stay.” He walked toward her and grabbed her arm. 

The fear dissipated at the command, anger rushing to replace it.  He made her feel like she was a dog, nothing more than his plaything. 

“I’m not your fucking pet!  I’m a person, the daughter of a powerful man!  You can’t do this to me!” She ripped out of his grasp and tried to stand up. 

He snatched her arm, pushing her back down on her knees, and tapped her wrists, releasing her.  Taking hold of the hem of her shirt, he ripped it up and off of her then took hold of her face. 

“No, you’re not, not anymore.  You’re whatever I want you to be,” he said slowly so his words were harsh and biting.  “Now, spread your legs open.” 

He kicked her knees apart, putting her on display again.  She shut her eyes, preparing for the sound of his zipper, for him to take her mouth.  Instead, he took a step back.  Olivia opened one eye and then the other, he was rubbing himself threw his jeans. 

“Touch yourself.”  

“Fuck you,” she spat. 

He grabbed her hair and yanked it back, causing her to howl in pain. 

“We could do that instead if you want,” he growled.  “You decide.” 

At first, Olivia refused to respond, but when his hand when to his zipper she slowly, moved her hand down. 

“That’s right, baby,” he said, moving his head to watch her hand.  “Put a finger in your pussy.”