Prisoner Ch. 03

"Of course I would!" she said forcefully. "What do you think I am? A heartless beast?"

He rocked back on his ankles, letting a pause speak for his doubt.

"I just think that you are a very ambitious little slave-in-training who'd do anything to please her mistress," he said, pronouncing each word carefully. "I also know you are a liar; you said so yourself." She stared at him, saying nothing. He went on, no longer touching her.

"You would have sucked me all the way if I hadn't pushed you off of me. And you would never have told me why." She didn't protest. She looked miserable. Then, when she finally spoke, her voice was a monotone.

"I am a slave, André," she said. "Or at least I'll be one when she forgives me my failures. I may panic and run off as often as I need to, but I'll always return; I know that now." She shrugged, staring straight ahead. The fingers of her right hand fondled the jewel on her left nipple.

"The only loyalty a slave knows," she went on, "is loyalty to her Mistress. Please understand, André, it is nothing personal."

He realized the truth in her words -- a sad, damn truth conceived in a crazy world, but true nevertheless. Friendship and sympathy were as alien to that world as a palm tree to the Antarctic.

He shivered; why did he still want to believe it was different?

Licia lent forward, cupping his face with both hands; the palms were soft and tender, her smile devastating.

"You are sweet, André, you are better than most men -- and much better than me. Please believe me when I tell you I like you a lot. I admire what you did in the ice cellar; I'm not sure if I would have been that strong myself." He stared into her eyes. Lying eyes, he knew, and yet he felt the urge to please -- a crazy urge that ate away at his sanity.

"I... you know I can't, Licia," he said. She blinked, her hands stiffening.

"Can't what, André?" she asked.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?" The smile had gone.

"I have been punished, you know," he said. "I have been left out in the burning sun for a day. And in a pouring rainstorm at night, after being sodomized and pissed on." He hated the tremor in his voice. Her eyes never let go.

"I have been left in a cold, pitch dark cellar for three days," he went on, "at last having to drink my own piss to survive, fainting from thirst and hunger..." The girl's face came closer. She kissed his eyes, moaning in sympathy. He pulled back his face.

"The crazy woman you call your mistress might kill me if I give in to you," he said, getting away from the girl and rising to his feet. She looked up at him from the sofa.

"You are right," she said. "It would be better if she killed me."

Up until half an hour ago he wouldn't have doubted her sincerity; even her innocence. By now he knew there was calculation behind her passive-aggressive charade. And yet he felt a pull at his heart's strings. She was the lowest of the low. She'd agreed to call a dumb object like the riding-crop her Master. God only knows what disgusting things she has done more to please her mistress -- how low she's sunk. She was a lying slut by her own words. But still... she was a woman and he was who he was -- unable to escape his self. He felt her hand on his bare thigh.

"André," she whispered. "You are so much stronger than I am. So much better." Her hand caressed him; he felt the other one pull at the sash. He knew what she was doing.

"If you condemn me to her rage," she went on, "I won't blame you. I'll take my rightful punishment and when I survive I still won't blame you. If I want to be a slave, I have to bear the consequences -- or die trying."

He felt the robe slide open. Soft lips kissed his inner thigh. Her hair tickled his crotch. He closed his eyes, putting his hands on her head, unsure if he should pull her in or push her out. He looked down and met her wide-open eyes, moist with hidden tears. Her tongue licked his skin. He felt his penis betray him -- it felt awful, it felt heavenly.

Her hand closed around his cock again. He felt it swell inside the tight cage of her fingers. He shivered; his nails dug into her skull. His mouth looked for words he couldn't find.

"All will be well, André," she said. "I promise."

Her lips slid down his cock.

***