Authors: Claire Thompson
Forced Submission (25 page)
Mia struck him again and again, watching with horrified
fascination as the welts rose in angry red lines over his ass and thighs. When
her arm was tired, she stopped and returned to stand in front of him. Again she
thrust the whip in his face. He was panting, his forehead and upper lip beaded
with sweat. She waited until he again kissed the whip.
“What do you say, E?”
“Thank you, Ms. Roberts.”
“You’re welcome, cocksucker.”
Mia pulled the cell phone from her pocket. “Now, here’s your
next task. You’re going to read the words I’ve written out of you, word for
word. And you better read it like you mean it. Do it well, and I might let you
out of the stocks and give you something to eat. Fuck it up, even a little, and
I’ll shove the biggest dildo I can find up your ass and tape your mouth and
nose shut with duct tape. Got it, dickwad?”
“Yes, Ms. Roberts.” Ellis sounded so miserable she almost
felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.
She opened the camera on his phone and selected video mode.
She pulled the paper from beneath the gun and held it so he could read it,
giving him a moment to scan the lines. His eyebrows knitted as he read the
words, his mouth drawing down in a frown, his eyes flashing with fury.
“Is there a problem?” Mia said, narrowing her eyes at him
and then glancing pointedly at the gun and back at him.
“No, Ms. Roberts.”
“Good. I didn’t think so. Now, you’re going to read the
words, and you’d better make me believe them. Okay, go.” She pushed the record
button and held the phone in his direction.
Ellis began to read in a wooden tone. “My name is Ellis
Hughes. I am a sick pervert who kidnaps innocent women, holds them captive and
terrorizes them. I have kept a woman for the past seven months as prisoner in
my home, where I systematically beat, starved, tortured and terrified her into
submission. I am a pig and a monster. I deserve to have my testicles—“
He broke off suddenly, and roared, “Fuck you, Mia Roberts!
Fuck you to hell and back.” His face was mottled with rage. “Shoot me, I don’t
give a goddamn. I’m going to get out of here. And when I do, I’m going to
fucking kill you!”
Mia stopped recording and put the phone and the piece of
paper in her pocket. She was shaking, his outburst snapping her suddenly out of
whatever crazy trance of vindictive rage had taken her over since the night
before. She stood staring at the man who had terrorized her for so long,
stunned that even now in his helpless position he was threatening her. She
could pick up that gun and shoot him, didn’t he understand that? She could put
the gun in his mouth and gently pull the trigger, and his brains would splatter
out the back of his head.
Ellis started to cry. Mia stared at him in shock. How many
thousands of tears had she shed at this monster’s hands? Yet she found that she
took no pleasure in his tears. She just wanted to get away from him. She never
wanted to see him again.
She knew from experience he could survive in the stocks for
many hours. How many hours had she spent on her knees as he was now, her wrists
and neck aching in the wooden stocks, her skin smarting from a whipping,
longing for a drink of water, all her tears long since cried away?
It was deeply disconcerting to watch the man who had levied
such a thorough and constant reign of terror over her for so long now reduced
to a sniveling boy. Though a part of her wanted to let him out of the stocks,
she didn’t dare let him go, certain he would follow through on his promise to
kill her. Instead she left him where he was, still crying.
“M! Don’t leave me here!”
She shut the door to block out the sound of his entreaties.
She moved numbly down the hall to the guest bedroom and threw herself onto the
bed, where her own tears finally came. She sobbed into the pillow, crying for
the lost innocence of the girl she’d been when she’d packed all her worldly
possessions, thinking she was starting a wonderful new life. She cried for M,
the brainwashed, cowering slave girl who had shut down her mind in order to
avoid going insane with terror. She even cried for Ellis, wondering what
twisted misery lurked in the mind and heart of such a man that would allow him
to so easily and coldly steal the very soul of another human being.
Finally, her tears spent, Mia fell asleep.
She awoke with a start, certain for a second that she was
nine years old and in her old bedroom. She could almost smell the blueberry
pancakes and bacon wafting up from her mother’s kitchen. She could almost hear
her father calling out, “Mia, wake up, lazybones. Time to eat.”
As she came fully awake, she sat abruptly and reached for
the cell phone to see the time. She was shocked to realize she’d slept for
nearly nine hours. Swinging her legs over the bed, she hurried down the hall to
check on Ellis. He was on his knees again, his head turned to the side, his eyes
closed. She watched him for several seconds until she saw his chest rise and
fall. Satisfied he was okay, she raced downstairs to the study.
While waiting for Ellis’ laptop to wake up, she sent the
recording of Ellis to her email. Once she got into her email, she downloaded
the file to Ellis’ computer and then opened it. She watched it until she got to
the part where he broke from the script and started to scream at her. She
erased that part of the recording. It was too bad he hadn’t finished reading what
she had written for him, but there was definitely enough there to make for a
good newspaper story.
She heard a small pinging sound and realized she had left
her email account open. She clicked over to it and saw the email from the
prince.
From:
[email protected]
Writing from my phone. We have arrived at Westchester
County Airport. Our driver informs us we can be in Scarsdale in approximately
twenty minutes. The jet is being refueled as we speak, and an alternate crew is
assembled for the return flight. Please let me know all is well. I will see you
soon, dear one.
Kamau
From: [email protected]
I am okay, thank you.
I will be waiting outside
for you. Please hurry.
Mia
She was curiously calm, now that the moment of her freedom was
at hand. She opened YouTube.com and created an account in Ellis’ name. She
uploaded the video and then saved the link. Doing a quick search, she obtained
email addresses for as many online gossip magazines as she could find, along
with links for
The New York Post
,
The Daily Inquirer
and
Us
Magazine.
She clicked on the link to Hughes Enterprises and included the
contact
us
email address as well.
She opened Master E’s email and sent an email en masse to
them all with the words:
Please forgive me for my sins. I am a very sick man
and I have committed heinous crimes. Sincerely, Ellis L. Hughes, Hughes
Enterprises.
She pasted the link that would lead them to his YouTube video
and hit send.
Taking the gun from her pocket, she wiped it clean with the
hem of her T-shirt and placed it on the desk beside the open laptop. Hurrying
out of the study, she ran to the kitchen, where she tore the paper containing
Ellis’ confession into pieces and shoved it into the trash compactor. Without
another glance at the place that had been her prison and torture chamber these
many months, Mia ran to the front door and pulled it open.
A blast of cold air greeted her and she turned back a
moment, rummaging in the front hall closet. She pulled out a leather jacket and
pulled it over the oversized T-shirt. The sleeves hung long, but it would do
for the short time until the prince arrived. She found a pair of flip flops and
slipped these on her feet, realizing she presented quite an odd picture, but
certain the prince would understand.
She stepped into the chilly air and drew in a deep,
cleansing breath as she scanned the road for any approaching cars. While she
waited, she reached into the large pockets of the lounge pants, her fingers
moving in a repeating loop over Ellis’ phone, her passport, the wad of money
and the cufflinks as if she were counting prayer beads. It was only a minute or
two before she saw the black sedan pulling slowly into the circular drive in
front of the house. She recognized Prince Kamau and Jira in the back seat, and
her heart soared.
Pulling Ellis’ cell phone from her pocket, she punched in
9-1-1. When it connected, she said quickly, “Ellis Hughes was involved in some
kinky BDSM sex with a hooker. He’s locked into stocks in his sex dungeon on the
second floor of his house at 32 Chesapeake Lane in Scarsdale, New York. Send
the police at once.” She disconnected the call, wiped the phone thoroughly with
the hem of her T-shirt and let the phone clatter to the ground.
The back door of the car swung open and Kamau climbed out,
his white teeth gleaming in his handsome dark face as he ushered Mia inside.
“You’re safe now, dear one,” Jira said, wrapping Mia in her arms as the car
drove down the drive, heading toward freedom.
Epilogue
A gust of wind blew Mia’s hair into her face. She pushed it
back without thinking. Then she laughed out loud for sheer joy.
“What? What is funny?” Zahara stood beside Mia on the dock
as they waited for the prince’s yacht to arrive from the mainland. “I thought
you would be sad to see me go.” Zahara gave a mock pout, though she was too
excited to keep it up for long, and she too began to laugh.
Zahara had been placed with a wonderful Master in
California, and Mia was making the trip with her to the States, as Zahara had
never traveled by plane before, much less across the world. Prince Kamau had
asked Mia to accompany her, and as his placement liaison, Mia was more than
happy to oblige, though in truth, she didn’t want Zahara to leave the prince’s
harem. She was going to miss the girl she’d come to love as a sister.
“I’m laughing,” Mia said, “because my hair is finally long
enough to blow into my face!”
Zahara smiled, though her eyes were suddenly sad. “Ah, Mia,
sister of my heart. I have to tell you, watching you go away with that horrible
man, with your shorn head and your vacant eyes, it was like watching someone
going to their death. I was so angry with Prince Kamau for letting you go!”
Mia shook her head. “Don’t be angry with the prince. He had
no choice. I was so far into brainwashed denial that I told the prince myself
that I was happy and in a consensual relationship. He couldn’t very well hold
me in a foreign country against my will.” She smiled, realizing how often she
smiled now. “But he came to save me, just like a prince in a fairytale.”
“Are you sure you want to go back to America? What if that
horrible Ellis Hughes is waiting to abduct you again!”
Mia laughed, pleased to realize, now that nearly a year had passed
since she’d made her escape, she no longer shuddered with horror and a residual
fear at the mention of the man’s name. “Well, he’s on one side of the
continent, and we’ll be on the other, but even if he were living in Malibu, I
don’t think he’s going to be causing anyone any trouble for a while. Jiru just
showed me an article from a US news site. Apparently with all the negative
publicity he got from that video I posted on YouTube, three different women
have come forward to press charges against him for rape and assault. He’s going
to trial soon. I hope they put the bastard away for life.”
The boat appeared on the horizon, cutting a swath of white
waves in the crystal blue water. Zahara hugged herself. “I’m so excited! I’m so
nervous! I’m so glad you’re coming with me, Mia. I would be frightened to make
the trip alone.”
Zahara’s new Master, Kyle Hinson, had planned to fly back to
the island to collect his slave girl, but some last minute important business
had detained him. He had asked the prince if Zahara could come as scheduled,
since he couldn’t wait to see her again. Though Zahara could have delayed her
trip, she was eager to reunite with the kind, sexy Kyle as soon as possible.
She confided in Mia that she wanted to be there not only as his submissive, but
as his partner, and that he had told her he wanted that too.
Kyle had spent
a month on the island, and he and Zahara had been nearly inseparable during
that time. Mia had been surprised when Kyle had left without Zahara, but the
prince had explained that Zahara's potential Master wanted to take his time, or
more accurately, he wanted Zahara to be sure. “He loves her that much,” Jira
had added approvingly. “He understands the mindset of a submissive—how we can
be swept away by a dominant man who understands our longings. This American is
a good Master. He wants Zahara to come to a clear understanding of her own
heart before she gives him the ultimate gift of her complete submission.”
Time apart hadn’t diminished Zahara’s ardor in the least.
“He is everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” Zahara had said with a happy, dreamy
sigh. “Our contract is for a year, but I hope he asks me to stay forever.”
Mia would have been jealous if she weren’t so busy working
with the other girls, helping them find suitable placements with good men all
over the globe. The prince had told her many times he didn’t know how he’d
managed without her. With a solid office management background, she had helped
him to automate his records and accounts, and she found she was very good in
gauging a man’s true intentions when he arrived on the island seeking to
acquire a submissive partner from the harem. For the first time in her life she
felt truly valued. As her confidence grew, so did her sense of self-worth.
