Enslaved by the Pen Ch. 09

"Taste us little one." I rebuffed his advance, ashamed that I had orgasmed at the cusp of punishment. He forced his fingers past my unwilling lips. "Lick them or I will force something much larger than my fingers into your mouth, and your ass, and your cunt. I am tired of your lying Amelia. You. Do. Not. Learn." My tongue yielded and suckled on his digits until he pulled them away.

Gabe turned on a vibrator and held it to my clitoris. "As for your punishment, you're going to hurt quite a bit. The pleasure will take the pain away. Admit to your transgression and I will be lenient." I flinched as Gabe's finger traced my jawline.

I refused an admission of intentionality, allowing silence to refute his indictment of me. Pleasure pulled me dangerously closer towards ecstasy at the whirl of the toy. Though, I didn't want to succumb to the desires enflaming my body, not under the auspices of his condemnation. My unadulterated need roiled and stuttered against the cross as the inevitability of climax overwhelmed me. I sagged as my legs gave out with each continual orgasm Gabe inflicted on me. The wand vibrator tightly gripped in his hand as it rolled and circled my clitoris.

"No more please...Master...please," I pleaded after the fifth orgasm.

Gabe retrieved a thicker rod of rattan. "You know Amelia, heavier rods produce deeper, bruise-inducing pain. It's not the pleasant quick sting of the last cane. The strikes penetrate tissue." Gabe swung the cane in the air. A blur of tan filled my peripheral vision. "Nothing but silence?" His tone was jarring as the venomous accusations left his mouth.

He ran the cane up my legs and inner thighs, pressing it into my slit and I raised myself on tiptoes to avoid the punishing upwards movement. The cane withdrew, and the first whack hit my buttocks with a deep ache that felt like I had been kicked. The sensation lingered, heavier on my flesh. The second strike hit me with such a deep thud that I recoiled trying to escape it. The pain was intense, more than anything I had ever experienced, even compared to the belt.

"You know what I need to hear Amelia. Tell me." Gabe was adamant in his assertion.

No denial would convince him otherwise. He was going to punish me regardless. "Punish...me," I croaked out.

"Why?" His hand cool against the flaming flesh of my buttocks. He squeezed ever so slightly, and I sobbed from his light touch.

"Because I wrote a fantasy...so I could try running away." The words stifled in my throat. "I wanted to test if I could, and wanted Master to leave boots for me, so I could escape at a later date." I admitted to a fallacy to preserve the truth. I would be punished for something I didn't engineer, to keep sacrosanct and secret what I was to manufacture. Gabe fully believed I had orchestrated a mock escape attempt and my machinations were restricted to penning my path to freedom. He was mistaken. Gabe didn't recognize the longer game of emotional manipulation I was engaging in. While I foresaw the retribution, I miscalculated its enactment and severity.

Gabe mulled my admission. "Given that your training has been unsuccessful at producing desired results, I will be adjusting my discipline. Rest assured Amelia, I will never imperil your safety. I'm disciplining you for your benefit. You will learn to be a better submissive under my tutelage. Ask me properly to receive ten strikes." His words did little to reassure me that my body wasn't going to suffer the ruthless efficiency of the instrument he wielded. My wrists clattered against the frame as I hastily yanked down. My attempt to escape absurdly ineffectual. Gabe only pressed a heavy hand against my neck, infuriatingly patient.

He held me down in that position of reprimand, never permitting me an opportunity to lift myself beyond his oppressive purview. My choice was not rooted in agency, but in impotence. I either acquiesce now or I acquiesce later. My teeth gritted trying to quell their fearful chattering. "Please punish me for disobeying Master. Little one wants to learn to be a better submissive."

"I don't believe you Amelia. Not one word. Though, I have no other remedy that you respond to as viscerally as pain and debasement." Gabe hissed, the invective acerbic to my ear.

Though I had already been caned twice, those initial strikes were independent of the ten Gabe was to dispense. The first stroke came down hard against my buttocks, a thudding, bruising, deep thump against my flesh. I yelped at the unexpected burning as I breathed deeply to manage the pain. My skin rang with the second strike, an intense, radiating stinging pain that brought tears to my eyes. Gabe kept the rattan on my skin for seconds until he dragged it across, allowing my flesh to absorb the agonizing impression of being struck. The third brought the impact concentrated in one area, a long line cutting across my bottom. Gabe traced his nail along the rising welts. He stopped, lifting my limp head so he could witness my pain. The fourth was short and sharp at the top of my thighs. I was crying in earnest trying to manage the intensity of the strikes as the fifth and sixth struck me. I tried to anticipate the pace, but Gabe varied his disciplining rhythm. By the seventh I was blubbering for forgiveness, willing to accede to any imposition he demanded. Gabe stood behind me, the scent of his exertions pungent. I held my breath as Gabe brought the eighth, allowing the cane to bounce off the globes of my bottom. My body struggled against its bonds, trying to escape the punitive welts that my skin would carry of the experience, but I was chained to the cross. I bucked and jerked involuntarily as I survived strikes nine and ten. My body sagged. I couldn't endure anymore.

"I'm sorry Master," I bawled, my throat hoarse from screams I had no recollection of making. "Thank you for punishing me." The ache was hot and intense. I could feel the raised wounds already coming to the surface and knew that I wouldn't be able to sit for days as the deep bruises healed. I collapsed into Gabe's arms as he released my wrists. He removed the remaining ginger from my anus, and gently cradled me as my body heaved in convulsing silence.

"Stop breaking the rules and I won't have to punish you. This hurts me more than it hurts you."

Disbelief greeted Gabe's preposterous assertion. I permitted him to tend to the broken skin on my flesh, as I recoiled from the antiseptic he applied. He was gentle, and it was difficult for me to reconcile the Janus-faced complexity of Gabe's kindness and malevolence. There was the Gabe that had stolen me from my life, inflicted physical harm upon my body and soul for his own selfishness. Then there was the Gabe that loved me, cared desperately for me, and tended to my every need, pathetically frantic in his desire to force my affection.

Gabe didn't leave my side immediately following. This was the most punitive punishment I had tolerated; he couldn't risk my feelings of alienation and hatred that would assuredly emerge. But rather than be gentle with me, as he had after my belting, he enforced my submission with a heavy-handed earnestness I hadn't experienced. He bombarded my mind with perpetual feelings of smallness and subservience to reinforce my submission. His actions were disorienting and devastating at once. My autonomy to deny his will, nullified. It was as if we returned to the callousness and disregard of days past. Gone was the spark of empathy in his eyes that I had elicited from my ploy. I didn't understand what was happening with Gabe. I had breached his defenses, successfully appealed to his compassion, and yet, he seemed harsher, more unrelenting on his claims of me.

"I've been lenient on you Amelia. You've taken your submission for granted, as have I. We both need a reminder of your place and my position in this relationship, particularly considering your last escape attempt. I do not think any less of you because of this. In fact, I love you more. But I sense that you need a firmer hand, as you once did long ago to bring you into compliance."

My attempted negotiations with Gabe proved ineffectual. My reassurances that I acknowledged him as my Master did little to dissuade him from administering another corrective measure. The caning had imprinted a terrifying reality on my psyche in solidifying Gabe's domination over me. I countered that his continued heavy handedness would eradicate any goodwill he had accrued in my heart. Gabe only cupped my cheek, kissed my lips, before he bent me over an ottoman, my ankles separated by a spreader bar, my hands shackled to the ottoman's wooden feet. Gabe wound rope around my waist, attaching me to the furniture. My body bucked violently in opposition to his tactics until he forced my head down. One hand grabbed my pussy tightly, the other my neck, as he hissed in my ear that if I didn't stop moving, he would belt me after he ravaged my ass with the largest dildo he owned. I remained immobilized, vulnerable for hours, and used as his foot stool while he watched television. When he grew tired of my tearful pleas, he gagged me and watched as my tears mingled with the drool dripping off my chin.

"Foot stools don't speak," he reprimanded blasély. As the hot spill of his seed scorched my back, my tears started anew. He only tipped my chin upwards and mouthed, "Remember. Mine."

When that act of debasement didn't inculcate a sufficient level of deference to his will, Gabe dragged me outside, my limbs flailing as my fists pounded his chest. I managed to shake loose of his hold before he gripped my wrists tightly, pulling my face within centimetres of his. "Do you want me to lead you around on a leash like a dog with a dildo rammed deep into your cunt? Behave or I will make you behave."

Ropes snaked around my naked form, binding me to the cold alabaster of the porch column, as if I were a figurehead at the prow of a vessel. Vibrators were inserted into my vagina and ass and turned to their highest frequency. My sexual alterity exhibited for his insatiable consumption.

"You like being outside so much Amelia, outside you shall stay."

The blast of warmth surrounding my body from the outdoor heaters Gabe had placed, did little to prevent the cold splatter of my tears as they carved tracts down my cheeks to drip down my powerless flesh. My humiliation, exposed as I writhed towards climax after climax. The eddying wind carrying my wails of despaired desire. I was humbled in a way that I hadn't felt since those early days when Gabe had gagged and bound me next to his desk, abrogating my will for his. My submission, forever a spectacle to the exertion of his wishes. It was a critical reaffirmation of his supremacy over me and a compelling notice of how little power I retained, regardless of how Machiavellian I attempted to be.

I collapsed unable to hold my head up after he released me from the ropes. I clung to Gabe so as my wounded pride would be acknowledged. "I understand. I understand," I mouthed with hopelessness. "Please Master, don't make me do that again."

"I don't want to be pedantic Amelia. What was the purpose of that exercise?" He lifted my eyes. The full weight of the past lessons absorbed in the burrowing of his intense gaze into my increasingly fragile resolve.

"I am Master's. Master controls little one's life." I screeched into his opened arms. It was a lesson I refused to learn, time and again.

Gabe's features immediately softened, and his kindness reappeared in the gentleness of his caresses. Reassurance replaced admonishment. He nurtured me back from the cataract of breakdown, tending to my physical and emotional wounds. I remained on my knees, not of his will, but of my own dejection. His murmurings of respect for me as a person rang meaningless in their declaration given my body still ached from the cruelness of his punishment. His insistence that the totality of his prior actions had not been retributive, but indicative of his love for me was unforgiveable. It was an oft repeated delusion in the days immediately following my reprimands.

I seethed, devastated that the gains I had earned through skillfully deployed manipulations had all but been annihilated by the heavy hand of Gabe's erasure of my autonomy. I silently lamented that I had no other tactics to deploy should Gabe's empathy be absent.

Gabe achieved his intended effect with the demeaning control he inscribed on my body and engraved into my thoughts. The deep bruises from Gabe's caning had marked upon my flesh and my memory in an unassailable way. I was listless, though ever subservient, chastened back into compliance, my degradation a reminder of his power. The uncharacteristic forcefulness that he displayed served notice of his physical prowess over me and the sheer overpowering strength that his 6'4" muscular frame had on my diminutive 5'1" body. He had previously elected to wage a war of position with my mind, rather than a direct confrontation rooted in strength. My subdued but ever agreeable demeanor suggested an acknowledgement of the exigence of his punishment in bringing me to obedience. The caning and his actions afterwards had effectively postponed further machinations, momentarily. I abided Gabe's directives with grace as my body healed and my mind recuperated from the latest lashings on my psyche. I convinced myself I was lulling Gabe into an intentionally artificial sense of complacency, but I hadn't the will in me.

A week after my caning, Gabe surprised me in the living room with a candle-topped chocolate cake. He had, of no small feat, dressed Mittens in one of her knitted sweaters and tied a miniature party hat on her. I would have squealed at the adorableness of it all had I not been surprised that he had affixed a leash to her. Evidently, I wasn't the only living creature that Gabe had tethered. I looked up in confusion. "What's this for Master?"

"It's your birthday little one. Did you forget?"

I had forgotten. Abduction had absconded my sense of time. How could that many months have passed that I hadn't even remembered my 25^th birthday? Time was irrelevant in this sexual wasteland, barren of meaningful significance. It was as if the conventional symbols that marked the passage of time bore little poignancy on my life. I was merely commemorating the months of servitude under Gabe's hand, rather than the milestones of life I should have been living.

"Thank you for the cake, Master," I smiled, wistful of remembrances past, my mouth full of crumbs. I didn't share what I wished for when I extinguished the candle. The silent look Gabe and I shared across the taper confirmed what we both knew. I appreciated the moment for what it was, a symbolic sweetness in my otherwise acrid, meaningless existence. While I may have reached an epiphany regarding my sense of submission, I had been misguided to believe that I could derive fulfilment solely from it. It was an unrealistic coping mechanism. Sexual pleasure could inject only so much levity into the heaviness of my capture under Gabe's hand.

Gabe kissed the frosting dabbled across my upper lip. "You're welcome little one. Are you ready for your present?"

Gabe had gifted me a matching set of pink flannel pyjamas, and light pink bondage lingerie. The straps barely covered anything. I held up the strappy material and arched an eyebrow. Gabe only shrugged sheepishly before laughing, urging me to wear whatever one I desired. I reached for the flannel pyjamas, rubbing my cheek against the fuzzy fabric, revelling in its suppleness. It was luxurious to feel material against my flesh again. I gathered the sleeves up and down my arm, before pulling the collar past my ears to recede into its comforting softness, enjoying how my skin swept against the material. Gabe's laughter boomed as I became a study in ridiculousness.

"Your friends emailed you birthday greetings. I printed them out for you." Gabe presented the papers to me. "You're currently in London by the way."

My hand tentatively reached for the pages, and I silently mouthed the words from a past and present that seemed implausible to reconnect to. I blinked rapidly, preventing the drip of the tear as it teetered to escape from my eye through sheer will. A half-crooked smile was plastered on my face as I read the well-wishes from my friends. "That's so nice of them." My voice was mechanical, disembodied. "They hope I'm partying with some hot guys. You probably know already since you read the messages." Gabe had responded in my stead, thanking them for me. "Thank you for sharing them with me Master, nonetheless. It's heartening to hear from them."

I sank into the couch, cocooned by Gabe's possessive heat as the inanity of sitcom reruns blurred across the screen. Gabe's booming laughter overwhelmed my ears, and I emitted a strategically timed cackle to disguise the tumultuousness of my thoughts. It had been a mercifully banal evening. The experience seemed surreal. I was balanced on an Archimedean point, truly seeing the shifting elements of my captivity. I understood the necessity of expediency for my plan, and the reality of my existence if I failed. I was bewilderingly sitting here, of my own accord, acquiescent after months in captivity. My obedience was testament to how pervasive Gabe's hold on me was, and how successful he had incrementally chipped away at my resolve. How naturalized it seemed to sit with collar and cuffs, eating pizza beside your captor, watching a sitcom, as his hand journeyed inside the flannel pants he gifted you. His manoeuvrings had effectively enforced his will and reorganized my thought patterns, stripping me of my autonomy until only a shell remained. Every day I watched my will dissolve. Each day, I witnessed Gabe's hold strangle the autonomy out of me. I had long stopped rummaging through drawers trying to find clues of my captivity. Knives, electronics, sharp objects to assist in an escape had never been found previously. After repeated disappointments, I ceased looking altogether.

I wasn't free. I never had been. Gabe's initial promise of never hurting me had been a lie. My manipulations had gotten me to this point, in flannel pyjamas with occasional porch access, and free roam of a house whose rooms were primarily restricted. I was a captive, nevertheless. Brainwashed, a slave to my desire and Gabe's, conditioned to be wet at his touch. I spread my legs whenever he wanted. What paltry gains had I realistically secured, other than the superficiality of insignificance. To assume otherwise was an exercise in misguided hope. It was disheartening in some ways, enlightening in others.

"Master?" I pulled out of Gabe's hold. "I'm going to go to bed early. Thank you for the lovely evening and for my pyjamas." I bent down to kiss him. Gabe looked proud, as if he had delivered a memory worth committing. "I had fun tonight. Thank you. I'm going to enjoy my pyjamas."

I curled into myself in bed that night, clutching the printed emails from my friends so tightly that my fingers ripped through the dampened pages that my tears had softened. Gabe's presence didn't intrude on my time, or the spiralling thoughts occupying my head. His distance was a calculation. His punishments and forcefulness were consistently balanced with a softness and reassurance that at once put me at ease, and simultaneously plunged me into chaos. I was meant to obey him but feel as if I was immune to his puppeteering.

I opened my bedroom door. Darkness enveloped my stealthy figure as I crept down the stairs, towards the front door. After my admission of cunning, Gabe had removed the boots. The wind chilled my face, and I breathed deeply, fortifying my resolve. The flannel provided minimal protection from the cold; it too easily welcomed the wind to infiltrate deep into my bones. I willed myself forward to the estate's electrified perimeter, my trembling body weak with cold, overwrought with emotion. My feet, already numb from the frost-whitened asphalt. Gabe would wake in an hour. I frantically entered random numbers into the security box hoping that happenstance and providence would be merciful on me. I sank to the frigid, hardened ground beside the unit in defeat, curling into my own body as I exchanged the warmth for the cold and waited for the inevitable. As the wind shrieked its isolating lament around me, and snow swirled wrapping my compact form in a crush of white, everything appeared disorienting. And then, the entire world went dim.