Mentor (An Impossible Novella) (7 page)

His lips were only a hairsbreadth from my throat, and his warm breath teased across my sensitized flesh when He chuckled against me.

“I knew we would get along, pet.”

He kept one hand at my breast, toying with my nipple.  He pinched it and then rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, easing the pain to a dull ache before giving me another little bite of pain.  The ache kept a warm buzz building between my legs, and each pinch made my inner walls flutter.

His other hand glided down my stomach, pausing to tease the upper edge of my soft curls.  The heat of his fingers seemed to seep through my skin to my womb.  A sheen of sweat broke out on my skin, and a different wetness began to gather between my labia.

What is happening to me?
 

Charlie had never made me feel anything like this.  I had been right to keep him from touching me.  Just as I had feared, my body was weak.  Lust was a weapon, and my captor wielded it cruelly.

“I hate you,” I hissed out through gritted teeth.

He just gave me a sardonic smile.  His touch explored lower, and his fingers found a hardened bud nestled in my curls.  Pleasure rolled over me when He brushed over it.

His smile widened, and He pressed his thumb against me, rubbing in firm circles.

“Do you hate me now?”

“Yes.”  The word was a moan.

He caught the bud between his fingers, squeezing hard.  My eyes flew open and a little shocked cry shot out.  Pain flared, but so did the heat within me.

“What have I told you about addressing me with proper respect?”  He asked calmly as He tightened his grip, twisting my nipple at the same time.

A line of white-hot fire connected the two abused areas.

“Yes, Master!”

But I could no longer remember what question I was answering.  Sensation assaulted every fiber of my being, swirling in my mind.  The pleasure and pain mingled together in an intoxicating cocktail.

When his finger found my secret opening again, the folds were swollen and wet beneath his touch.  He began to press into me, and my fear flared.  My eyes flew wide, beseeching.

“No!  Please.”

I tried to clench my thighs together, to block his intrusion.  His weight on my knees held me open.

“It’s all right, pet,” He practically cooed.  “Let me in.  You’ll like it.”

Those maddening circles around my clitoris increased, and He took my entire breast in his hand, massaging it.  I couldn’t help arching into him with a gasp, and his finger slid into me up to his first knuckle before I could stop him again.  It took effort.  I was slick, and my core was burning, craving… something.

His finger began to pump in and out, making shallow forays into me while his thumb continued to wring pleasure from me.  Slowly, He eased his way in, until his palm was flush with my sex.

“No.”  The whispered word was ragged, and it held no real conviction.  My brain was flooded with pleasure, and coherent thought was becoming difficult to maintain.  All I knew was that I should be protesting for some reason.  I shouldn’t want this.

Then his finger crooked inside me, rubbing against the front wall of my core.  The pleasurable sensation magnified to an unbearable degree when He found a secret spot there.  My muscles quivered around Him uncontrollably, and my eyes rolled back in my head on a moan.

No.  
But my hips rolled wantonly beneath Him, my back arching up to press my breast into his hand.

I wanted…  I wanted…

He pinched my nipped cruelly, twisting hard.

I exploded, my entire body quaking as ecstasy I had never known before slammed through me.

He pumped in and out of me, relentlessly stimulating the spot that was making me come undone.

“That’s it, pet.  Good girl.”  His cajoling praise mingled with my delighted scream.

My body was still shaking when He gently withdrew from me.  The light in his eyes was feverish, gold glinting through the red, and his twisted smile was back in place.  His chest was heaving with excitement, his breathing almost as harsh as mine.

As my mind slowly coalesced, shame gathered in my chest, making me shudder with revulsion rather than pleasure.

I had yearned to make him see me as more than a plaything, but I would never be more than his toy.  Suddenly, the endearment
pet
seemed generous.  At least it indicated that He saw me as a living thing.

No.  That was wrong.  He wasn’t being generous.  There was no satisfaction to be found in breaking something that couldn’t fight back, that couldn’t feel pain or anguish.

I wept in longing to be his toy rather than his pet.  I didn’t want to be conscious of the feel of his sensual hands upon me, of the mental torment elicited by the pleasure He harvested from me.

I’m not his pet.  I’m a woman.  I’m Kathleen.  Kathleen Marie White.
 

Kathleen Marie White wanted to die.

His Journal
 

May 12, 1978
 

I saw something shatter in her eyes when she came apart under my hands that first time.  She was so beautiful.
 

Man, I want to fuck her.
 

We’ve returned to our usual routine where I feed and bathe her.  And now I get to touch her.
 

I always visit her at irregular intervals.  I’m fairly certain there’s no way she has any sense of time while I keep her blindfolded, but keeping her on a set schedule might help her perceive the passage of time.
 

But now I get to see her more often.  I have a hard time stopping myself from spending hours playing with her.  I’m learning how to touch her in just the right way to make her orgasm.  She leans into my touch now rather than shying away.  I wonder if she realizes?
 

Her life depends on food and water and flashes of ecstasy.  Her life depends on me.
 

It’s heady knowledge, but her body tempts me.  I don’t like that.
 

I want to take her so badly, to bury myself inside her tight, wet heat.  When she writhes beneath me, her cunt clenching around my fingers, I almost lose control.  I promised not to rape her, but I don’t give a shit
about honesty.  Keeping my word is about maintaining the balance of power.  If I fuck her before she asks for it, she’ll know that she holds some sort of feminine power over me.
 

If I want to maintain absolute control of her, I have to control myself.
 

Chapter 5
 

Kathleen
 

Will you ever let me go?
 

You’re sick.  You’re perverted.  You’re fundamentally
wrong.

My thoughts weren’t directed at him; they were directed towards myself.  In the time that had passed since I had experienced my first orgasm by his hand, my self-loathing had increased one hundred fold.  How could I possibly find such perfect ecstasy when I was being touched against my will?

Was it against my will?

If I was honest with myself – a practice that was growing almost too painful to bear – I recognized that I was coming to anticipate his touch.  The anticipation had been nervous, fearful at first.  But now I couldn’t deny that it had morphed into something resembling eagerness.

He didn’t pleasure me every time He came to me, and the last time He had left after feeding me, I had shamefully whimpered my protest.

My only comfort was the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my longing.  When He settled his body above mine, pinning me in place, his own arousal was blatantly obvious.  He gave me pleasure while denying himself.

If I could tempt him to take me, that would give me some power over him.  If I could enthrall him with my body, maybe he would soften towards me; maybe I could make him care.  If He cared about me, He might let me go.

Yes.  That’s it.  I don’t actually want him to touch me.  I’m pretending so that he’ll lose control and take me.  That will give me the upper hand.
 

The words rang false in my own mind, but they were all I had.

It wasn’t as though I was unfamiliar with a man’s arousal.  I had never tried to tempt Charlie, but it had happened often enough anyway.

Charlie.
 

I had all but forgotten about my almost-fiancé.  Now I dug into those memories.  They had once filled me with shame and confusion, but now I viewed them as a useful tool.  What had I done to make Charlie harden against me?   To make him beg to get inside me?

“Kathleen, baby.  Please.  I’m dying here.”  Charlie’s groan was saturated with deepest need, and I knew that he wasn’t just saying it to manipulate me into letting him have me.
 

He was lying atop me, our bodies awkwardly entwined in the backseat of his Mustang.  His lips tasted of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and the earthy tang of marijuana was steeped into the upholstery beneath me.
 

I didn’t mind that Charlie smoked and drank, but I didn’t touch the stuff.  It made people weak, dulled their consciousness.  I had to stay sharp or I might lose control.
 

Especially when I was pinned under Charlie, his mouth caressing mine.  If I was intoxicated, I might give in to him.  Not out of my own arousal – I never felt the same stirring in my loins that affected him so deeply – but out of a sense of guilt.
 

Charlie was truly a good guy, and a foxy one at that.  I could hardly believe that he had chosen me, the plain prude.  I wanted to give him what he desired because I cared about him.
 

His hips ground against mine, and his hardness prodded pleadingly at my belly.  He released my lips so that he could stare down into my eyes.  His were a gorgeous, shocking blue that threatened to make me melt if I dwelled on how beautiful they were.  He tenderly brushed my hair back from my brow.
 

“Please, baby.  I won’t hurt you.  I would never hurt you.”
 

“I know,” I admitted tremulously.  “But I can’t-”
 

“You can trust me Kathleen.  I want to spend forever with you.  You know I don’t want anyone else.”
 

I blinked up at him.  “Why?”  I asked softly, truly at a loss.
 

“You’re smart and driven and beautiful.  You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.  I’ll spend forever with you because I love you, Kathleen.”
 

It was the first time he had ever said that.  His eyes were so open and earnest that it made my heart hurt.  It would have been so much easier if he had been lying to get into my pants.
 

I turned my face away, no longer able to look into those gorgeous eyes.
 

“I’m sorry.  I can’t.”  I wasn’t sure if I was telling him I couldn’t sleep with him or I couldn’t love him.
 

I shook off the sadness of the memory and the anguish at thinking of my life before my imprisonment.  I had to focus.  What had I been doing that had so enflamed Charlie’s lust?

I had been kissing him, nothing more.

Kissing my captor was definitely out of the question.  It was a loving, intimate act, and although He touched me in intimate places, the emotional bond of true intimacy was utterly absent.  A man without emotions couldn’t even begin to understand that.

So how was it that my body came alive under his touch in a way it never had for Charlie?

He abuses you.
 

I shuddered in revulsion.  Did I truly enjoy what He did to me because of my dark past?  Had that memory of my mother being abused and aroused by my father tainted me forever?

God, no.
 

That couldn’t be right.  Bea had found a kind, caring man to marry.  Despite the fact that my sister had grown up in the same shitty household as I had, she seemed to have maintained normality when it came to sex.

Thinking of my sister was even more painful than thinking about Charlie.  I hated my memories of my life outside my prison, my life in the light.

But those memories might hold the keys to finding that light again.  If I could manage to manipulate him sexually, I might be able to convince him to release me.

I thought back to the worst fight I had ever shared with my sister.

“Bea, don’t be an idiot!”  I half-shrieked, fear for my sister warring with my frustration with her.  “You can’t marry John.  You’re too young to be a wife.”
 

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”  She flung back at me, her pale green eyes flaring beneath her brunette bangs.  The freckles dusting her nose made her appear shockingly young.
 

But her words were more formidable than any child’s ever could be.  “God, Kathleen, you’re just like Dad.  I’m eighteen.  I’m a woman now, and I can do whatever I want with my life.”
 

“I am
nothing
like Dad.”  My eyes narrowed to slits at the cutting accusation.  “I’m just trying to help you, Bea.  Can’t you see that?  You have to go to college.  You don’t have to rely on a man to escape this house.”  I gestured at the peeling walls that had been the borders of our hell for so many years.  “If you marry John, he’ll expect you to sleep with him.  He’ll be able to control you.”
 

Her cold laugh was like a slap in the face.  “Do you really think I’m a dork like you?”  She asked, her voice mocking.  “I’m not a virgin, idiot.  I’ve already slept with John.  I’m going to marry him because I love him, not because I’m fucking him.”
 

My hands clenched to fists at my sides, my fingernails biting into my palms.  “You idiot!  You only think you love him because you’ve had sex with him!”
 

Mustering up my willpower, I reined in my anger.  Bea was my little sister.  It was my job to take care of her.  “Don’t do this, Bea.  Let me help you.  I can write your college applications.  I can-”