tagNovels and NovellasSaving Caitlin Ch. 01

Saving Caitlin Ch. 01

byMaddieKim©

If you're looking for a 'stroke' story, this probably won't be for you. If you want lots of sex in every conceivable way, it may be better to go to any one of the other amazing stories by very talented Lit authors. There is very little of that kind of story here until later. If you hang around, your need for a sex fix will be satisfied. I do promise submissions will come fairly quickly. If you decide to stay, I hope you enjoy. All comments welcome. Maddie.

I want to thank all of you who read The Cabin and sent me e-mails asking for another story. Saving Caitlin is dedicated to you.


~*~*~

Part I

A Going Away Surprise


"Well, Steve, didn't I tell you she was something? And she'll do anything I say," Carl said, waving his hand toward the center of the room. He was talking to the friend and co-worker who just arrived. "I thought we would play cards for awhile then, if you guys want, we can play with her."

Carl started to close the door and ask Steve if he wanted a beer when he saw two other cars pull up.

"I didn't really believe you had a girl here. Not a bad shape. She's got a lot of bruises on her. What'd you do, beat her?" Steve asked.

"The bitch needs it. Doesn't always do what I want. Lets her know who's boss, ya know," he said over his shoulder as he opened the door wide again.

"Hey, Paul. Hey, Jon. Come on in." Like Steve, they were surprised Carl really had a 'slave'.

Carl had her nude in the living room and they walked around her. Her hands were tied together, pulled above her head, and hooked to the ceiling eyebolt. There were clothespins on each nipple and her legs were spread apart by a broom handle tied to her ankles. He had a full-face hood with gag on her.

"Hey, man, can we touch her?" Paul drooled.

"Sure. I'll have to untie her some anyway to take her downstairs. Do what you want. She's always got a wet pussy and she likes it rough."

Jon noted the cuts and bruises. Although he couldn't see her face, he was fairly sure she was young.

Paul was feeling her up and Steve was tugging on the clothespins. She was flinching and groaning. Jon was pretty sure they weren't groans of pleasure or even pleasure/pain. They sounded more like muffled screams of terror.

"Where did you get her?"

"Picked her up hitchhiking. I told her it was dangerous to do that nowadays," Carl laughed. "Come on, let's go downstairs. The card table is set up and I got a fridge full of beer. Undo her legs, Paul, while you're down there checking out her pussy. Nice one, isn't it?"

"Nice hood. Where'd you get it?" Jon was curious to where Carl might have gotten a hood of this quality when his house was basically a dump.

"I had to deliver a piece of equipment to Kingston today and stopped at the adult bookstore at the edge of town on the way back. Got it there. They've got a back room with some pretty neat stuff. The company will never know I shop on their time," he laughed again.

"How long have you had her?"

Jon watched Carl unhook the girl from the ceiling while Paul removed the broom handle.

"Only a couple of weeks. I picked her up on my way home from work. I'd stopped at Charlie's Bar to pick up a cold six-pack. It was, um, a week ago Wednesday. No, Thursday. Yeah, a week ago last Thursday."

Nine days. Nine days of hell, if Jon was any judge of character.

"I asked her where she was going and she said California or some place out west. I told her I could take her part way. At first, I didn't think she was going to get in the car, but then she did.

"What are you going to do with her?"

"Keep her, at least 'til I get tired of her. She cleans good and gives great head."

Jon thought, 'If he doesn't kill you first, little girl', looking at the bruises.

Carl pulled on the rope still tied around her wrists. Jon grabbed her arm when she almost fell down the steps to the basement and nearly fell himself when the touch of awareness was like an electric shock. Carl hadn't taken the mask off. God, what a jackass. She could have died right then and there. He's got this beautiful girl and he'll end up killing her. Jeez. Jon touched her arm again to help her down the stairs. There was no jolt this time, but he was sure he hadn't imagined the early buzz that sent a shiver up his arm.

When they got downstairs, Carl pulled her to the center of the room. He tied the end of the rope to another hook in one of the beams. He pulled on the clothespins and laughed.

"Come on. Deal the cards. I feel lucky tonight. There's beer in the fridge. The winner gets the bitch first. Well, Jon, I told you I'd give you a good goin' away party. Didn't really believe I had a bitch, did ya? Maybe you can have first shot at her since it's your last day and all. Yeah, that's a good idea. Ya'll can come back anytime and have her," he laughed, nodding to Steve and Paul. He'd already had a couple of beers and it was showing in his speech. It was easy to tell he was excited about showing off the girl to his friends.

Jon didn't consider Carl a friend. Their paths crossed at work, but that was all. This was the first time he had been to Carl's house. Carl worked in product delivery. Jon was a consultant, hired to update the company's computer system. They probably hadn't said more than a dozen words to each other, but Carl had gotten it in his head that they were friends when Jon taught his department how to track, enter, and retrieve delivery data.

Jon got up often to get rounds of beer for his soon-to-be former co-workers. He poured seventy-five percent of his down the small sink in the corner as he pulled four beers out of the refrigerator.

He watched the girl. Carl hadn't let her down all evening and he could tell she was having a hard time holding her weight up. Carl had secured her so only the balls of her feet touched the floor. The strain had rubbed her wrists raw. He wondered how long she had been tied before they arrived. He noted not only her wrists and the bruises, but saw that her ass was well marked...not that he didn't like a reddened bottom on occasion, but this was a bit extreme. He didn't like the look of one of the cuts on her leg. He also thought it was time to move this party to its conclusion.

"Hey, Carl, I want to see the girl spread. Is it okay if I take her down and put her on the bar?"

"Sure," Carl slurred.

Jon got up, untied the girl, and carried her to the table. She was so weak, she hardly struggled.

"Okay if I take the pins off and have a taste?"

"Sure. Maybe we all need a taste. Ya know, kinda a little break. Whatta ya guys think?" Carl's speech was so garbled, it was hard to understand him.

When Steve and Paul answered, their speech wasn't much better. No one noticed Jon wasn't that drunk. Jon also saw that they could barely walk straight. It was getting late and he didn't think they would last much longer. At least, he hoped they wouldn't. There were three of them, and even though they were drunk, the odds weren't good.

Jon looked again at Carl and his buddies, which he privately nick-named the three stooges. Paul even looked a little like Curly. Each was at least 10 years older than he, two to four inches shorter, and somewhere between twenty and forty pounds heavier. Carl reminded him of an old comedian his mom liked, whose name was George Carlin or something like that. Carl looked innocent and cuddly until you got to know him.

Jon considered whispering to the girl that he would help her, but thought it would be better to keep that to himself. He would do what he could tonight. She wouldn't be able to hear through the mask anyway. Nice mask, he thought again, but he would like to see her face. Tomorrow, while Carl was at work, he'd come back. Thank God the plant had to work Saturday. He was thoughtful as he took one pin off and heard the muffled scream. He gently massaged her breast before the three now very drunk men gathered around the bar. He directed Steve's mouth to the free nipple and removed the other pin.

It wasn't hard to see the clothespins had been on for a long time and that it hurt more to take them off than it did to leave them on. Her muffled screams proved he was right. If those clothespins were left on too long, her nipples would lose sensation. That would defeat the purpose of putting them on. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Paul put his face in her pussy. Carl lifted her head off the table and pulled up the lower part of the mask, letting the gag hang to one side. Without giving her time to acclimate, he shoved his cock in her mouth.

"Like I said, she gives good head," he mumbled, running his thumbs along her throat.

When Carl started pushing on her windpipe, Jon thought, 'Shit, he's going to kill her right now in front of us'. He would have to do something. Just as he moved to stop him, Carl fell backwards on the couch and shot his load into the air. Jon exhaled. He looked at the other two; they weren't in any better shape.

The girl was choking so Jon put her head back down on the table. He noted a nasty bruise on her cheek and jaw. What he could see of her face looked nice. He bent his head and tasted her nipple. Even though she was thin to the point of being skinny, she had nice, big nipples that hardened like new pencil erasers.

Half an hour later, he volunteered to drive Steve and Paul home. He watched Carl pull the girl's arms behind her around a post and tie them. Carl planned to just leave her in the basement since he had to work the next day. Carl was in such bad shape that he could hardly tie the knots and climb the stairs. Steve had been too drunk to even get his dick in her. Paul finally managed to shoot a load on her belly after spearing and pumping into her a couple of times.

Jon thought she would probably be okay the rest of the night.

A New Master, a verbal agreement

He planned to make an earlier start, but after seeing the girl, he knew he had to get her first. He wanted to know what that spark of awareness was all about and he couldn't do anything until Carl left for work. At least Carl's house was secluded. Jon should be able to get in and out again without being seen. He pulled up to the corner in time to see Carl drive down the road.

"Got a headache, buddy? Hell, you should have a real doozy. If I had my way, you'd have more than a hangover. If you want a slave, you need to know how to treat her. Doesn't matter now, though, because she'll be mine in a few minutes."

He gave Carl enough time to get to work. If he had forgotten anything, he would have returned by now. Jon parked his car out of sight in the alley and went to the back door. He was prepared to pick the lock when he found the door unlocked.

"Damn, Carl, you deserve to lose her. Shit, you really are a bastard. If you're going to leave her tied up, at least lock the door and protect her."

Then he had a jolt of anxiety, thinking she might have escaped without his help.

He quietly entered the house and checked it quickly. If Carl had brought her upstairs this morning, there was no evidence of it. He thought the bastard should have at least let her come up and use the bathroom. She was too thin. When had she last eaten? There was no indication Carl had brought her upstairs to eat, either.

When he was satisfied no one was upstairs, he ventured down to the basement. The girl was tied in the same position Carl had left her in last night. The mask still covered half her face. She hadn't escaped on her own and Jon felt a bit guilty that he was glad about it. He shook his head as he walked over and touched her. She cried out and tried to cringe away. He lifted the flaps over her ears.

"It's okay. I was here last night. I'm going to get you out of here if you want to go." He got a cup of water and held it to her lips. "I'm going to ask you some questions before I take the mask off. I want you answer them as truthfully as you can. Were you hitchhiking when Carl picked you up?"

"Yes," she stuttered.

"Why were you hitching?"

"I wanted to go to California, and didn't have much money. I thought I could save some by hitchhiking," she sobbed.

Jon could hardly understand her through the crying. She was terrified. Then he thought of something.

"How old are you?" Jon would not get mixed up with an underage girl. He would get her out of this basement, but he wouldn't keep her if she was jail bait.

Still sobbing, she whispered, "Nineteen."

Uhm, nineteen. Jon smiled. Old enough.

"Shh. Calm down and listen to me. I'll help you. Here's the deal, little girl. The way I see it, you have three choices. One, you can stay here with Carl. You probably don't want to do that, but if you do, I'll walk out of here and forget I ever saw you.

"Two, I get you out of here and leave you on the road to do whatever you want. Hitch again and take the chance of getting hooked up with another bastard who may be even worse than Carl. Who knows? Maybe Carl will leave work early and will pick you up again. Or three, let me get you out of here and you stay with me...for a while. I'll help you, try and get you back on your feet, eventually get you to where you want to go, and help you find a job. If you take the third choice and I help you, you'll be mine during that time. Okay?"

Her lip trembled and she started to cry again.

"Okay?"

"You'll hurt me, too?" she sobbed.

"No. At least, not like this. You'll be mine, but I won't ever put you though this. I can see the bruises and Carl talked about beating you more than once last night. Now either you decide to stay with me—willingly for one year—and be mine or I leave you here right now and go. Which is it?"

"I...I'll go with you."

What choice did she have really? If she stayed here, Carl would kill her sooner or later. She was so scared, but this man's voice was soothing and she took comfort in it. She thought going with him couldn't be any worse than what Carl had done to her.

"Okay. I'm going to untie you and take the mask off. I'm going to fray one of the ropes so it will look like you got loose on your own. Then I'm going to take you upstairs. I want you to take a quick shower. We'll get your things and get out of here. Carl won't report you missing. It would be kind of hard to say the girl he kidnapped has disappeared, but I don't want to stay any longer than necessary." Jon chuckled, "I plied him with lots of beer last night and he could come home sick."

By the time he had finished talking to her, he had one rope frayed and the others off. He dropped the mask on the pile of ropes and scooped her up. He smiled at her and saw very beautiful, but very frightened gray eyes. The eyes were surrounded by a face that would also be very pretty once the bruises were gone. He noted the way she cringed when he picked her up. Carl had really done a number on her. She was like a beaten dog, cowering back each time she was touched.

"Where are your things?"

"I don't know what he did with them. I don't have much. He never let me wear clothes. I had a black duffle bag when he picked me up and I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt." While she was able to answer, the sentences were jerky. He could hear the fear in her voice.

"I'll look for them while you shower. Hurry."

Jon found the duffle bag in the bedroom closet. Jeans and a t-shirt were laying on top of the bag. A bra and ripped panties were on the floor. There was no dress in the bag so he brought clean t-shirt and jeans to the bathroom. She was just stepping out of the bath and flinched again when she saw him. He shook his head. The bruises seemed even more pronounced.

"Shh, it's okay."

He handed her the clean clothes. He had stuffed the loose clothing into the duffle, leaving the panties on the floor for Carl.

Jon reached out and took her hand. He could feel her quivering and see her fear, but he was more concerned with the way both wrists were rubbed raw. Without a word, he opened the medicine cabinet. He found a tube of antibiotic cream and gently rubbed some on the raw areas.

"Get dressed. When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"I," she paused, lip trembling, "yesterday when he had me make sandwiches. I snuck a piece of lunchmeat and some cheese."

"Hell and damnation, that bastard. I'll get you some food." She looked up when she realized he hadn't given her any underwear. He smiled. "No underwear. What's your name, by the way?"

"Caitlin," she whispered.

"Caitlin. Got a last name, Caitlin?"

"Cunningham."

"Caitlin Cunningham. Come on, Catie. My name is Jonathan DeMarco, by the way. When we are out in public, you'll call me Jon. When we're alone, you'll call me sir or master. Understand?"

"Yes," and quickly added "sir" when he raised his eyebrows. Another tear leaked out of the corner of one eye. Would he be any different than Carl, she wondered?

He certainly was better looking. Tall with thick, black hair and sexy, chocolate eyes with the longest eyelashes Catie had ever seen, Jon was everything Carl wasn't. His tight t-shirt and snug jeans showcased broad shoulders, biceps and abs, a tight ass, and muscled thighs. Catie already knew he was stronger than Carl. He had carried her up the stairs seemingly without any exertion. And yet, when he put medicine on her wrists, he was very careful not to hurt her.

He smiled at her, picked up her bag, and told her to come with him. They left the house after Jon stopped to get a hunk of cheese, some sandwich beef, and bread. He already had soft drinks and water in a cooler. When he got to the car, he threw her bag in the back. Before letting her in the passenger side, he turned to her and gave her a gentle kiss. He felt her flinch. He rubbed her back and whispered in her ear that everything would be okay. She was so frightened, Jon wondered if he'd ever be able to get the fear out of those striking gray eyes.

"I'll never hurt you like he did, Catie. I may do things you won't like, but I'll never, ever hurt you. I'm on my way east to start another job, but I don't have to be there for three weeks. We'll take our time getting there. That'll give me some time to start your training. It'll also give you some time to heal. I don't like the sight of all those bruises on you. Carl was a fool. I would never have taken you if he was, er, treating you well." He couldn't say it was consensual. She wasn't really giving her consent to be with him. She only wanted to be away from Carl and who could blame her? "Carl deserves to lose what he thought was his property. He didn't even lock the door. Anyone could have come in and hurt you. Jesus. He had a sub like you and didn't even take care of you." Jon just shook his head and kissed her lightly again.

She was like a cornered animal, so he spoke quietly but firmly.

"Your training starts now. You'll always do as I say. I'm going to tie your ankles, but not your hands while we drive. I'm not a master who's into humiliation. I don't go for that sort of thing. Sit."

There was no mistaking the command in his voice. It should have frightened her, but he said it so calmly, she wasn't afraid. For the first time in months, she realized she wasn't afraid. When she was in the car, he reached down, loosely tied a soft rope around her ankles, and secured it under the seat.

"Okay, that's good. I'm doing this, Catie, for two reasons. One, because I can, and two, because each time you try to move your feet, you'll remember that you belong to me now. On the way to our first stop, I'll tell you what I expect. You can tell me about yourself. Don't be nervous, Catie. Nothing could be as bad as what you've just been through, could it?" he continued softy.

"No." Her shuddering voice showed she was not totally convinced.

He caressed her cheek with his fingers and wondered how long it would take before she stopped flinching at his touch.

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