Retrospection Ch. 01

I took a break from writing erotica for more mundane tasks including writing research papers, but have recently slipped back into the genre as my own form of continued self-therapy. Writers block impacted my completion of Retribution, but it will ultimately be finished. In the meantime, this story is the third, and last, in the intended trilogy. Certain aspects (spoilers) have been temporarily omitted, but will ultimately be added to tie the series together. For now, Retrospection can be enjoyed as a stand alone. Feedback is always welcome! As always, all involved are over the age of 18. As this is appropriately classified as non-con trigger warnings in this setting should be unnecessary, but the mental health therapist in my doesn't allow for overlooking them. This book references rape and childhood sexual abuse. Proceed at your own risk, and please seek out your own mental health therapy if negatively impacted...or if you ACTUALLY have any urge to act outside of the realm of safe, sane and consensual fantasy.

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The knock on the door was persistent, to say the least. Alone in his home, Jonathan had been ignoring it for a solid five minutes. Finally he was forced to acknowledge the unwelcome callers persistence and came to accept that he was going to be forced to engage with a human being face to face, something he generally managed to avoid altogether thanks to remote work opportunities and the genius development of groceries delivered directly to your doorstep.

His displeasure only increased when he came face to face with the man who had been doing the knocking.

"What the hell do you want?"

His unwelcome guest clearly didn't take the hint and invited himself into the foyer.

"I need a favor man. I've got a little issue to deal with that's right up your alley, and I can pay this time."

"Not interested."

If the man hadn't invited himself further into the house enough that the door couldn't effectively be slammed in his face that would have made his point more convincingly. As it is, like a pesky fly, the visitor could not be easily shooed out the door.

"Look Jon, I've gotten myself into a bit of a fix. I picked up a real looker, but I am needing to get out of town and I don't have the time to bring her in line. Like I said, I will pay fairly. I know you are good at what you do."

"What I did. I am out. Have been for the last three years and I have exactly zero interest in picking up another trainee."

The visitor was clearly working himself into a frenzy, wringing his hands and all but pacing back and forth in the foyer.

"Look, I know my timing is off, but I am out of options here. I picked this girl up a couple days ago and paid a pretty penny for her, but I have a guy who has it out for me and she's a stubborn bitch."

Jon's breathing deepened, his fists clenched and cheeks reddened as adrenaline seeped through his body. His distaste for company has quickly escalated to dangerous levels of pent up rage. His "guest" appeared oblivious to the shift.

"What the FUCK man? I trained slaves for twenty years and you know I have never touched an unwilling woman."

He flung the door open and faced his visitor.

"Get out."

The visitor finally realized he had overstayed his unwelcome, but apparently he truly was desperate. He backed slowly towards the open door, determined not to leave without making his point.

"Like I said man, I am out of options. She's not the type to keep quiet and I'm not doing time no matter how tempting her cunt is. No hard feelings though. I know other ways to eliminate liabilities."

At this point Jon was seriously considering coming up with his own methods of eliminating the liability standing in front of him. But he didn't particularly want to do time himself, and despite his unique skill set he was not a naturally violent man. He also wasn't inclined to simply let the idiot drive off in search of a place to stash a cold body when said body was still warm.

He shoved the guest aside and stomped out the door toward the garage, pounding the buttons to the key code far harder than actually necessary.

"Leave her. Get out of town. Don't come back."

With that, he walked back into the home, and this time the visitor was far enough out the door to allow for slamming it.

------

He gave himself a full two hours to calm down before he dared face what presumably awaited him in his garage. When he opened the interior door and glanced in he noted a large dog kennel. The occupant was silent; he wondered if by choice or if she had been gagged, or possibly drugged. Knowing his visitor nothing would have surprised him.

He hadn't been lying when he said he'd never laid hand on an unwilling woman, but he had faced a feral dog or two in his time as a ranch hand, before he'd moved from herding cattle to training willing women. In his experience, the cattle were typically easier than the women.

He approached the kennel cautiously, opened the door and slowly backed away to sit on the stairs a good fifteen feet away. He heard her moving about, so she wasn't unconscious at least.

When waiting her out didn't seem to get him anywhere he upped the ante. He grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge in the garage and set it a few feet in front of the kennel, still leaving ample space between himself and the offering.

"He's gone. You're not. So you are going to want to come out of there eventually. I have no intention of harming you."

Eventually the girl apparently decided she was no safer in the kennel than out of it and she crawled out, scooting across the floor to grab the water and turning to glare at him. She seemed hesitant to do anything but hold the bottle clutched to her naked breasts.

"It's still sealed. No drugs. No catch. You want it, drink it. You don't, then don't. I am not going to make you."

That seemed to do the trick and she uncapped the water and drank greedily. As she did, he allowed his eyes to wander over her naked body. While her front appeared mostly untouched, her back and buttocks were striped basically from top to bottom with ugly welts.

"He took a belt to you good, didn't he. What did a little thing like you do to piss him off?"

His words seemed to spark a flame in the girl's temper and she dropped the helpless woman facade and turned to glare at him directly.

"He put his prick where it didn't belong so I bit it. He didn't like that much, but he's kept his distance ever since. You'd be wise to do the same."

Jon couldn't hold back his guffaw. This girl had guts, that much was clear.

"He told me you were a pain in his ass. He didn't mention a pain in his dick. But it's nothing less than the jackass deserved."

He rose and moved to the top of the stairs, opening the door to the house.

"As cozy as it is in here, the warm water and soap is inside. I can smell the piss from over here. If you'd like to clean up come in. If not, stay out here. Not my problem either way."

The girl pushed herself up to her feet slowly and he wondered how long she had been confined. Long enough to piss herself at least once. He turned and walked into the house, presuming she would have the common sense to follow.

The girl had her fair share of common sense and she did just that. The bathroom was only a few steps down the hall as they walked through the door. He stood back to allow her to pass, but put his hand out to halt the door as she attempted to push it shut.

"Nope. I won't touch you, but you are shaky on your feet. Fill the tub, don't try standing. I won't come any closer, but I am not going anywhere until I know you're not going to crack your head open on me."

She gave no verbal response, but yanked the shower curtain violently closed as she stepped in. He heard the water filling the tub and could see her silhouette as she sank down into the warmth, so as promised he maintained his distance. There were splashes and an occasional whimper he was sure she thought he wouldn't hear, but beyond that she was silent, and clearly in no hurry to leave her bath, though after a lengthy wait he guessed accurately the water would soon be getting cold.

"My ma used to say we were wasting her water if we took too long in the tub. I never did figure how water was wasting when the tub was already full, but I didn't care to have my butt blistered to find out so I always came out when called. I reckon your butts already blistered so you may as well come out on your own."

She ignored him. He didn't care for being ignored. He found that his attempt at disinterest was little more than an act. Dominance was naturally ingrained into his blood. He wanted her submission. He just wasn't prepared to harm her to get it.

He approached the tub and in one swift move pulled the curtain aside and grabbed the girl under the armpits. She was slippery, but he'd anticipated that and had no difficulty lifting her out of the tub and dropping her firmly on the bath mat.

She showed her displeasure by going at him with her fists, but it made little impact. He simply drained the water and held out a towel, which she promptly ripped from his hand and slipped around herself. He ignored her screeching and set his expectations firmly.

"When I tell you to do something you do it. I don't need you falling and hurting yourself, I don't have a decently convincing story if you end up needing medical care. So unless you are currently bleeding internally my first priority is to make sure you continue to stay safe."

The towel draped around the girl apparently gave her a false sense of confidence, or at least he presumed it helped since she was no longer holding back with he mouthiness.

"So what the hell is your second priority, oh royal keeper of my safety and well being?"

The man cocked his head, scanning her body fully before responding. Her back was covered now and she'd attempted to cover her breasts with a smaller towel--but the choice was covering chest or groin and she'd chosen chest.

He didn't see any visible wounds, but he did specifically note the purple-red stretch marks running along her stomach and down her thighs. Unless he was mistaken, and he rarely was, this woman--more of a girl, she couldn't have been much older than nineteen--had given birth some time within the last couple months. What happened to the baby would be a question for another day. He despised human trafficking, if for no other reason than it gave slave trainers whose trainees were fully voluntarily a bad name. However, he knew the inherent dangers of existing in a world that is particularly ugly, among those who barter in flesh and blood.

"Come here. No arguing or I will make you listen. Believe me, the easy way is pretty low key, but the intensity of the hard way makes up for it."

The girl glared and wrapped the towel around herself more securely, but reluctantly followed him from the bathroom through the kitchen and into the spacious common area. Jon sat down in his leather recliner and pointed to the floor near his feet.

"Sit."

The girl's cheeks turned flame red and she wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as the towel allowed.

"No. I'm not a dog you can order around."

Jon chuckled.

"No, you're a slave in training I can absolutely order around. So hard way? I can do that."

In one swift move he had her off her feet and onto his lap. She screeched and squirmed, but it didn't prevent him from trapping her legs between his own and pinning her arms above her head, one hand wrapped firmly around both small wrists.

He let her continue objecting, hopefully giving some serious contemplation of her dilemma, for a few minutes while he developed an effective plan of attack. Her buttocks were far too bruised for him to even consider smacking, but her thighs we're almost completely untouched.

His initial blows were moderate, not a build up but not intended to bruise either. She cussed him using every word in the dictionary, but it didn't stop the steady blows from raining down on her posterior.

He paused after roughly thirty, waiting to see how she would react. The griping continued, so he started up again, the blows a little heavier this time. The verbal bitching continued, but the physical flailing about was gradually decreasing as she wore herself out.

Another twenty, then pause. Little movement, but still plenty of verbal objections. He repeated the pattern three more times before the grumbling died down altogether.

"Are you finished yet?"

The girl wiggled testingly on his lap.

"You said you weren't going to hurt me," she said with just a touch of a whine.

"I didn't say anything about hurting you. I said I wouldn't harm you, and I didn't."

He gently traced his fingers from her neck to her buttocks, in such a clinical manner it would be hard for anyone to mistake the action as sexual.

"You were fairly warned. You brought that on yourself and you know it. And after being truly beaten you also know that the only thing that I really hurt was your pride. Now sit."

No longer pinned by his legs, the girl slipped from his lap and kneeled in front of him rather than sitting, snagging the towel from where it had fallen on the floor and covering herself fully.

He knew that choosing to kneel was yet another act of passive defiance. He also knew had he ordered her to kneel she would sit, never mind a tender butt. He absolutely knew she was going to continue to test him.

And being a dominant by nature, he unquestionably looked forward to it.

---

Her position on her knees afforded the girl a decent look of the lavish room. The cathedral style ceilings were emphasized by the grandiose candle-style wagon wheel chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling. Glancing sideways she noted the elaborate stone fireplace, offset by the scone lanterns that were flickering, successfully reinforcing the illusion of a castle throne room. When her eyes drifted to the built-in fish tank above the mantle she had to take a second look--indeed, the large fish circling as if eagerly seeking prey was, while still small, unquestionably a shark.

It was as if the entire room had been carefully crafted to emphasize the higher status of the man she knelt in front of. He, himself, somehow managed to scream superiority, despite the fact that he was casually dressed, aside from his impeccably polished leather dress shoes. She found herself questioning exactly who this man was, not daring to consider the more significant question of who he would become to her now.

He couldn't have been more different from the garish, slightly overweight man who she'd spent her last few days with. From the moment her previous captor driven off with her sitting dejected in the passenger seat next to him it had been clear that he was desperate for unfailing adoration and would do whatever it took to obtain it. Her failure to acquiesce had led initially to verbal degradation, soon degenerating into forcible and demoralizing sexual demands followed by physical beatings when she resisted in any way. And resist she had---the moment his vulnerable cock had been shoved down her throat she'd bitten down--hard--without a second thought, even knowing the thrashing that would follow such an obstinate act.

She had resisted then, and hadn't broken under his lashes. She certainly wasn't going to yield after a simple spanking, even if it had somehow left her more chagrined than the worst of her beatings. Before being pawned off to the first person who offered a month's wages in exchange for her servitude she'd been little more than a sexual plaything for nearly as long as she could remember. Being used and abused was nothing new.

So why had her squirming and protesting eventually become simply a means of trying to ignore the reality that the hand smacking her tender thighs had warmed up more than her skin?