Enslaved by the Pen Ch. 08

"Come Amelia." Gabe pointed to the ground in front of him.

"No." I murmured my response to his request. It was reckless of me to deny Gabe, especially when I was attempting to prove a deeper bond. But suddenly, all the depravation I had experienced at his hands came welling to the fore. I couldn't suppress my anger. "NO!" My voice carried across the room.

Gabe looked confused at my outburst. I hadn't defied him in some time.

"I don't fucking need you reminding me of my place Gabe. Don't you think I know that you control my life? I experience it every minute of every fucking day. I can't even wear clothes without your permission, otherwise you're going to strap some burlap to my pussy. I was trying to have a conversation with you, to connect with you, maybe envision what a future would be like if I can't escape you. Sitting here with you isn't completely intolerable. Instead, all you do is make me feel small, time and again. Is it so bad if I craft an illusion of happiness and contentment here?" His expression as I railed into him looked of contrition. It struck me, as I tasted the metallic bitterness of my anger, that Gabe's guilt could be advantageous.

Gabe cocked his head, studying me with interest. "Sometimes," his voice was soft, "I think you really mean it Amelia, that what you say is genuine. Then I remember who the both of us are, the dance we tango to, the paths that each of us has chosen."

I erred. It wasn't guilt. It was longing. "What if we just be us? It's just you and me Gabe? We can just start fresh." I pitched for rationality in a seemingly irrational situation.

Gabe pondered my request, and it momentarily appeared as if he would entertain the suggestion. "No Amelia. I don't think you or I are ready to have an interaction that isn't steeped in artifice. Now come here. You know that I won't abide your rebellions."

We stared at each other. I debated forfeiting my pride yet again. But every concession was a weight on my psyche, this one especially. I didn't want nor need reminding of my servitude to Gabe. Embracing my submission for myself was revelatory. Accepting my submission in service of Gabe was repugnant. I only stood and walked towards the door, heading to my room. My head turned, directing one last glance back. I shouldn't have been so arrogant in my challenge of Gabe. While we both knew our roles in this performance, it was an unstated axiom that breaking through the third wall of this manufactured fiction was not permissible. We could both live the illusion. We could question it. I simply wasn't authorized to dismantle it.

The hours ticked by as I stared at the moon and the stars, my knees drawn tight under my chin as I sat in the lounge chair by the window. Sleep long eluded me. I knew I would be punished for my intransigence. Gabe had been soft on me lately, and while I hadn't tried escaping, I knew that Gabe's strategy of breaking me involved chipping at my resilience, in oft unrecognized ways. I would have to reframe my earlier act of disobedience to compel my narrative of attraction for Gabe forward, and to substantiate an air of validity. I was careless, jeopardizing my escape attempt by my lack of emotional regulation. I hadn't tolerated this much, to fail now.

I jostled Gabe's shoulder gently. "Master?"

Gabe's sleep bleary eyes focused on me. I slipped to my knees by the side of his bed. "Master I'm sorry about earlier. I wish sometimes things were different, we were different. I was thinking about how I grow increasingly fonder of you, that I do genuinely think of you warmly. The thought of being with you slipped into my head. I was trying to connect with you and became so frustrated that you didn't appreciate my sincere effort. We were making such headway with our late-night chats and dates. Maybe I was fall..." I didn't complete the thought. "I didn't mean to disobey you. I don't want to be punished, but I'll understand why you must." I lowered my eyes.

Gabe opened his arms and I climbed into his embrace. "I know little one. Come to Master."

"I want to feel normal sometimes Master. Knowing that Master loves me helps me get through the day." I confronted him with his admission, outright. Gabe didn't deny it. His eyes only shone as he mouthed, "I love you little one." A relief of openness, his secret revealed.

"I know Master. I've known for a long time." It was the first time he admitted it to me, when I was fully conscious. "I care for you too." My fingers gripped his shoulder.

Gabe reached down between my legs and inserted his thick finger. "Always so wet for me," he beamed, "even when we fight. Do you see now that I own your body, that it was made for me?"

I didn't answer. I only sank into the firmness of his mattress as I spread my legs for him, and arched my back up as he entered me with such deliberate gentleness as the girth of his cock stretched me to fullness. His fingers intertwined with mine as he lifted them over my head, before he slid his tongue between my lips and forced me into a suffocating kiss. Our bodies entangled as we made love, undulating with the gentleness that I yearned to feel. We were two adversaries, whose motivations always diverged.

The next morning, I found Gabe awake and watching me. He was staring, as if memorizing my body, the way it moved, the way it reacted to his touch. He only pointed to his feet, and I obeyed. Gabe was once again reminding me of who controlled whom. My self-initiated apology at his side a few hours previous had been ineffective.

"It's been some time since you've been punished harshly Amelia. I know such reprimands are effective in reminding you of your place, but they also serve to foster a sense of hatred in me. I believe instead, I'm going to punish you a different way."

I dreaded the mischievous gleam in his eyes. Gabe only held up a glass of water and a small carved bar of soap. He dipped the soap in and watched the edges soften before he instructed me to open my ass for him. The slow slide of slipperiness pushed past my anus as Gabe inserted the soap stick completely into me, his finger wriggling in my rectum. When his finger withdrew, he inserted an inflatable butt plug and pumped the plug sealing the soap in tightly. As the soap melted, it itched and burned, stimulating the upper part of my rectum. Gabe only leashed my collar before leading me to his den. A chair had been placed. Gabe had prepared for this.

"Today Amelia, we'll be doing some remedial training. I believe you need a reminder that your body is mine to do with as I see fit. You will abide by my direction, and that you will do so because you are my submissive, and you wish to please me.

Gabe tied my arms and legs to the chair. My rectum was burning from the soap administered. My legs were spread widely. Next came the large penis gag that he inserted down my throat to restrict my speech. I could only let out muffled garbles. The vibrator was inserted into my wet folds next. To my nipples he attached the clamps. To my breasts, he fastened a series of clothespins, joined by a string, in a concentric circle on each of my breasts. I shrieked into the gag at the stinging pinch as each was clamped onto me. Gabe opened another clothespin teasingly. I shook my head, but Gabe only grabbed my chin. "Whose body is this, Amelia?"

I looked at Gabe with widened eyes. He held my chin tight as his fingers found the plumpness of my labia and attached two clothespins on each lip. I could only writhe as the tightness of the clothespins latched onto my sensitive flesh. "Pain is pleasure remember little one?"

He carried the chair with my bound form to within touching distance as Gabe sat at his work desk and then initiated the vibrator. I immediately felt the buzzing and could only turn my head and look at Gabe helplessly as he worked, ignoring my plight. The soap had induced cramps which reverberated through my body. When he held a conference call with his work half an hour after binding me, he instructed me to be quiet. I screamed into the gag making as much noise as possible, rocking in my chair. Gabe only reached forwards and pumped my butt plug to an unreasonable fullness, causing a painful moan against the gag.

"Scream if you must Amelia, I've muted the microphone." He yanked the clothespins off my breasts as if a zipper. The scream tore through my throat, the pain overwhelming me. Gabe ripped off the ones on my labia next and I breathed heavily through the pain, panting through my nose. As the intensity of the vibrator increased, I could only loll my head back, delirious from the agony of the clothespins, as my body rolled and stuttered towards a climax I never reached. Gabe always strategically decreased the vibrator's intensity to keep me on edge. He would deflate and then reinflate the plug in my ass. I remained on edge for over an hour as his fingers occasionally reached over to squeeze and twist my nipples, or to finger my clitoris. His countenance never revealed to his colleagues that he had a kidnapped sex slave tied to a chair next to him. I was so disoriented from my sexual need that I could barely think about anything except my unrealized pleasure as hour two ticked on of my predicament. The humiliation, the edge of danger, the pain and cramping, the vulnerability all coalesced into the eroticism of the moment.

When Gabe had decided that I had sufficiently suffered under the tyranny of pleasure and pain, he kneeled before my spread, wanton form, his eyes narrowed, as he grasped my chin tightly. "Do you remember now Amelia that you are mine? If I ask you to kneel, you will fucking kneel. If I tell you I want to violate your ass, you're going to reach back and stretch your anus open for me. I decide what my little submissive's life will be like. Understood?"

I nodded vigorously. I tried to yell out that I understood, but the gag only permitted garbled unintelligible vocalizations, which increased in frequency as Gabe turned the vibrator to its highest setting. He scrutinized me with interest as I squirmed and twisted my body towards ecstasy, bucking against the constraints that held me. The voraciousness of Gabe's stare never leaving mine as I climaxed; his grasp on my chin remained. A trace of a sneer adorned his lips as my exhausted body continued twitching from the spasms of pleasure. Gabe unlocked the penis gag and removed it from my mouth. My rapid panting was the only noise between us.

"What was it you said to me long ago Amelia? That you'll never love me?" He pulled the vibrator from my core. A suctioning sound of wetness accompanied its removal. "You certainly have no problem loving what I do to you." Gabe thrust three fingers roughly into my pussy, hooking to my G-spot. My hips hitched upwards involuntarily to escape the pressure, and my mouth parted to accept the lengthy vibrator, soaked with the juices of my own desire, deep into my throat. Gabe's large palm pressed the base against my lips, holding it within me, as I struggled, gagging to take it completely. His fingers found my ashamedly throbbing nub of flesh and he stroked my clitoris until I was squirming again towards climax. Gabe only watched me as my nostrils flared for air as I plunged over the precipice of pleasure, his hand tight against the base of the vibrator deep in my throat, and his fingers dancing against my clit. Gabe's action was suffocating, claiming, and utterly efficient in demonstrating that despite my manipulations, he controlled my destiny. Even now, as the taste and scent of my own arousal humbled me into silence, he could make me debase myself, all with the touch of a finger. His hand remained firm against the vibrator's base, holding me there, at the edge of darkness. He only mouthed, "Mine."

He removed the vibrator afterwards and wiped the water gathering at the creases of my eyes with gentleness. "Do you understand Amelia?"

I only nodded, as my chest heaved for air.

"Then tell me," Gabe insisted. "I would like to not have to remind you again."

"I am Master's," I choked out, my voice hoarse. "Master controls my body. Master decides when I receive pleasure. Master decides my life." I tried to mask the palpable tinge of insincerity with which I recited the expected words.

As Gabe washed the evidence of my punishment off my body, I recognized the necessity of accelerating the timeline of my plan. I needed to enact it before Gabe abandoned all traces of his compassion and empathy. He was getting bolder, more confident, more secure in his claim over me. It was as if his once tenuous hold had now been solidified in his mind. Once his confidence concretized, he would never release me. I couldn't risk the exteriorization of his audacity. He displayed none of the cautiousness that underwrote everything he had planned of my abduction. I knew that he wasn't bluffing about convening the conference call. He broadcast his laptop screen on another monitor. The smiling heads greeted him with joviality and deference. He would continue confining me so completely that escape would be impossible. I suddenly despised the feel of his hands on me as he tended to my aftercare, and I pushed him off with force.

"Amelia? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Gabe's features softened as he glanced at me with concern, trying to capture my flailing limbs.

I choked back a sob as I receded into the smallness of my body. I wasn't thinking of manipulating him, or of plying his concern to my advantage. My emotions were spiralling chaotically. I felt unmoored from my own sense of self. The sense of loss suddenly overwhelmingly poignant as insecurity, inadequacy, and despair overshadowed my logic. This wasn't the worst punishment I had endured at Gabe's hand. But I felt deeply wounded.

"You weren't like this in the beginning," I choked out. "You were so mean to me today," I sobbed. "What did I do Master that was so bad? I didn't kneel in front of you and to punish me, you subjected me to that," I bawled. "You treated me like I didn't matter, like I was nothing but some object for you to play with while you were at work. I'm a person. I'm a person," my chest heaved from the weight of my gasps. "I'm still a person," I whimpered out.

Perhaps I was insisting on my personhood out of sheer self-preservation. Perhaps I was struggling to mask that I loathed him. But I wept, body wracking heaves of my chest, as my fists slammed against the tiled floor. I couldn't catch my breath.

"It's okay little one. It's okay. I think you're dropping. Breathe. Deep breaths. Let it all out. You're safe. Master is here." His grip tightened around me.

I was shaking with fear as the tears streamed down my face. I unexpectedly was filled with doubt that Gabe even cared for me at all, in the way a kidnapper could of his captive. "You don't love me. You never did. You just want a trophy, some fuck toy to use," I shrieked at him.

His primary concern was tending to my emotional needs and soothing me into a calmed state. Gabe carried me to his bedroom and placed me under the covers. He spooned me from behind, rocking me as he shushed me. I trembled in his arms. I didn't know why I was crying. I felt overwhelmingly alone in that moment. I nestled into his embrace, wanting to always feel his arms around me. "Master, I don't know what's happening. I'm scared. Don't ever let me go."

"Never Amelia, never."

Gabe stayed with me in his bed, holding me tight against the length of his body until my breath was no longer ragged, and my cheeks were dry.

"Amelia, we need to talk about what happened." Gabe explained to me that the fear clouding my thoughts was likely sub-drop, something I'd read about but had never experienced. "Was what you were saying an accurate reflection of what you were feeling? Do you believe I don't think you're a person? Was that beyond your capabilities? You could have stopped it with the buzzer I gave you. I was fulfilling a fantasy of yours."

"I don't know. I was suddenly petrified of being abandoned. What if you disappeared. I was vulnerable. Nobody knows I'm here. The feeling of helplessness was no longer sexy."

"You weren't unsafe Amelia, not in the least. I had full control of the situation."

"I know," I snivelled as a new surge of tears christened my face. "I was so scared Master."

Gabe smoothed my hair away from my damp forehead.

"I'm..." I lowered my eyes, "I'm ashamed of what happened. You were giving me the humiliation and depravation I so desperately crave, and I reacted badly."

Gabe lifted my chin so he could look at me. "Please don't feel shame for what happened. Your body's endorphins and hormones dropped. It was as much a physiological response as it was an emotional one. Amelia, I see you as a person that I respect. I take some relief that you dropped with me so that I could tend to your needs. It frightens me that you might have suffered alone, uncertain of what was happening to your body and mind. We share a bond you and I, based on trust and intimacy. Our play can be intense. We can be perverts together because we care for each other at such a deep level. You can never admit it to yourself, but I know my girl."

I stifled the eye roll I would have done had he not been holding my chin, gazing into the abyss of my soul. I only bowed into his chest as he crushed me to him. He interpreted my sub-drop as an indication of my genuine sense of warmth and trust towards him. I didn't want to lie to Gabe. He could see through the deception. "I care about you so much Master. I think of you fondly, of the way you touch me, and of the way you elicit passion in me." Prevarication ruled.

Gabe seemed pleased with that admission. "Is it hard for you to say it Amelia?"

I nodded. Gabe wanted me to say I loved him. I would wait until the most propitious time.

"Only when you're ready. That way, I'll know you mean it, and that you're sincere."

"I want you to fulfill my fantasies, Master. In fact, I've been working on a new fantasy that I want us to try. I'm not ready to share it yet. Soon, when I know you won't laugh at me. I'm embarrassed." I bit my lip. I had sown the first suggestive step. It felt like an apt moment to cultivate intimacy with Gabe, a foundational sense of "genuine" affection that could assist in increasing our vulnerability together, and Gabe's empathy.

"Little one. I would never laugh at your fantasies."

"Promise?"

Gabe only brushed my lips with his. "Promise," he uttered as his arms wrapped tight around me.

Gabe was more attentive to my needs following that evening. He worried that the negative effects of the sub-drop I experienced would leave a lingering impression on my body or mind. Instead, it brought us inexplicably closer. I felt emotionally more connected with Gabe, and he to me. He welcomed me into his chest. His arms embraced me tighter. I had been vulnerable, and Gabe had cared for me. That earned him my trust.

A week later, I sent Gabe my story, the words penned for my freedom. Gabe was becoming too comfortable as my abductor, and I, his captive. I needed to foster a discomfort within him, to connect with feelings of shame and remorse, of disquieting embarrassment. He only acknowledged receipt but hadn't mentioned his thoughts on my work, or on the detailed marginalia of my innermost thoughts that I was hopeful would be received favourably. Weeks passed. Neither of us mentioned the fantasy. I knew my request would require a level of trust that perhaps Gabe was unwilling to participate in. It would push his boundaries as much as it would challenge mine. I needed to do this for my freedom, even if I loathed myself for suggesting it.

In the interim, I continued to execute the other parts of my plan. I sought Gabe's company each night. His touch was a soothing salve against my increasing sense of hopelessness. I snuggled into his embrace, partly of my own desire, and partly to foster affection. His bed a less lonely reminder of all things gone. Even Mittens took to sleeping at my feet while in Gabe's bedroom.