The Capture of Rosemary Ch. 03

I awoke and could feel a presence in my room. The light shone just enough that I could make out a figure sitting in the chair in the room in which I slept. I had no idea what time it was, and the reality of my situation engulfed me. I felt sick to my stomach, felt sick about my predicament. It felt almost surreal. This couldn't really be happening to me. I couldn't really be a slave. I drew my arms around my body, as tears escaped my eyes without a chance for me to control it. I felt a sense of dread, of unease, of simple, plain fear.

"Good morning, Rosemary." Erik's deep voice broke into my bleak thoughts, startling me. He pulled open the curtains, letting the light shine through the windows, illuminating the room, illuminating him. God. He really was a masterpiece. His strong, wide back was uncovered as I tried to pry my eyes from the expanse of his shoulders and neck.

I spoke meekly, trying to hide the tears that had so quickly risen in me. "Good morning."

He came over to my bed and sat down, causing my body to roll against him. He smiled and pushed my hair from out of my eyes. "You've been crying," he said matter-of-factly.

"No," I lied. "I'm just tired." I didn't dare look into his eyes. "How long have you been sitting here? Why?"

He kissed my forehead and my body tensed, tensed again from arousal, from his close proximity, from the tenderness he never failed to surprise me with. "It's okay, Rosemary. I know you were crying. I know why, and I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep. I've just been watching you, waiting for you to wake. I wish things were different . . . I wish . . ." And he stopped himself and rose, leaving an empty imprint next to me. "Please go take care of your personal things. We have been requested in the main hall," and he left me alone, shivering in bed.

Luckily, the weather was warming up, but still, having no clothes was painstaking, embarrassing, humiliating. Would this nightmare ever end? I took my time in the bathroom, taking care of my hygiene, letting the shower run over my body for what seemed like an eternity. I did not want to get out; I did not want to face whatever it was that awaited my arrival in the main compound.

Erik knocked on the door. "Slave," he spoke coolly. "We mustn't be late. We need to go. Meet me in the living area."

I shut off the water and slowly walked into the living area, covering myself as best I could, allowing my wet hair to fall over my breasts. I heard him sigh heavily as I entered.

"Come here," he ordered.

I walked over to where he sat and fidgeted foolishly, trying to figure out what to do. Should I stand? Sit? I wasn't really cold, and yet my whole body shivered from nerves.

"Still so shy," he whispered, "It's okay. Come here. I need to check you."

Check me? Oh god. Now what?

I stood mere inches from him, the stubble on his face making him look even more intimidating than he was. "Relax," he said softly as his fingers trailed down between my legs.

He spread me and ran his fingers around my private area, delicately, smoothly, as I tried to remain quiet, unaffected, but my breath betrayed me and I gasped from holding my breath. He didn't seem to notice or care.

"Still smooth as can be down here, Slave. That will be something they could punish you for if you weren't. Come. We must go. We don't want to draw undue attention to you by being late."

I froze. I didn't want to go. I had been safe here with him. What would happen to me? Would I no longer be safe? "Please," I heard myself whisper. "Don't make me go."

"Rosemary, now. Try to remember what I've taught you. I have no choice. We've been specifically asked for. We must go. Come."

"No!" I actually screamed. And I ran into the bedroom in which I had slept, slamming the door. I ran into the corner.

He came in, and calmly walked over to me. He squeezed my arms tightly, almost hurting me, and lifted me up off of the floor. I held back tears; I would not give him the satisfaction. "Look at me," he ordered. "Listen to me carefully, closely."

I had no choice. I looked into his tortured eyes.

"You do not want me to leave you here. You do not want them to come for you. If you choose this path, I cannot remotely protect you. You are my slave, Rosemary. If you disobey me, someone will come for you; and someone will take you to do as he pleases. I will not ask again. This is no time to be stubborn. Stop it. Right. Now."

My will crumpled and tears streamed down my face as I tried to breathe. I was so terrified. I was so helpless. I wanted to die; quite literally, my will to live was being drained from me. He was being so cold, so uncaring, so . . . exactly as a Slave Master should be. Why I had hopes that he would be any different was a figment of my imagination and hopes.

He drew me in his arms and held me so that I almost suffocated against his warmth. "Stop!" I screamed at him. I tried to slap him, claw him, kick him, but he held me so tightly, I could barely move.

"Calm down, Rosemary," he said soothingly. "I am going to try my hardest to protect you. I am going to take care of you." And he gripped me until I was forced to calm down.

Even I could hear the doubt behind his words, but I was falsely lulled by his embrace, by his warm breath against my ears and neck. Before I knew it, he was kissing me, his hands in my hair, tugging, pulling me closer into him, and I was kissing him back as if my life depended on it. I hated myself in that moment for kissing him, for feeling so attached to him, for needing his comfort.

"No," I said and pulled away breathless. "Stop it."

He held my face between his hands. We were both panting, as he stared intensely into my eyes, right into my soul. Whatever my soul told him I don't know but he abruptly let me go and stood. He ran his fingers through his hair, and I tried to regain composure.

"Okay," he started slowly. "Remember yesterday and all I put you through. Do your best not to react, Rosemary, if the time should come. Do not be stubborn either. Promise me. Look to me for guidance."

I shook. I was so frightened about leaving his side, about what was to become of me. I almost spoke inaudibly but somehow managed. I finally admitted, "Erik, I'm so scared. Please don't let them hurt me. Please, Erik . . ." Tears fell yet again.

"Sssh, Rosemary. I know. Come here. Do not fight me."

And again he swept me into his arms, my naked, trembling body caving in, against my better judgment, pushing into him, as my arms found his neck and pulled him hard into me.

"Do not show emotion. Try your hardest. Come," he ordered, and he put me down, and we headed out the door.

We arrived into the main complex to find about ten slaves with their new masters, seated. I'm not sure how they were chosen but they varied in size and shape. Most had been chained, collared, and sat in deference to the man who had claimed them. Erik and I entered to find only two seats remaining. A large, foreboding man stood at the head of the table, holding up his glass. "Aah, Erik. We save the best for last I see. I was about to send Stephen to see what was keeping you."

I looked to the other head of the table and recognized Stephen right away. He, like Malachi, without a slave. He looked at me with such dripping desire it could have been mistaken as anger.

He had an enormous scar that ran the length of his face, from his forehead to his chin, the scar running right through his lip. I tensed at the way he smiled at me. I tried to keep my eyes lowered. The dark circles under his eyes were menacing.

"Yes, Malachi. My slave was not as cooperative as I would have liked," Erik replied. I couldn't believe he was telling him the truth. I shrunk, as Erik pulled out my chair and turned his attention to me. "Sit, Slave. You have wasted enough time."

The man name Malachi chuckled loudly and sat back down. "Regretting your choice, Erik? She's a beauty. I could see how you might have been lured. Do not hesitate to give her over for punishment. I can take her off your hands today."

Erik smiled, pushing me in and then taking the seat next to me. He abruptly grabbed one of my breasts between his right hand, squeezing it tightly, his eyes penetrating me, as if to say, don't say a word. He then released his gaze and found Malachi's, never removing his grip from my breast, as I struggled to remain calm.

"I enjoy a challenge, Malachi. You know that about me."

The men at the table erupted at that, and Erik released my breast, leaving me breathless. With a clap of his hands, Malachi drew his eyes to another group of naked women, not seated, who began to serve food to all of us. I recognized several of them and did not make eye contact. They served fruit and cheese and salmon and poached eggs, and my mouth watered. I couldn't believe the spread; I couldn't believe slaves were being treated this way. I imagined coming over here to be whipped, tortured, I didn't know. But I certainly did not expect to be fed like a queen. Waves of guilt washed over me as I longed for the food.

Erik made sure our plates were full, talking with the other men in a language I did not understand, while the women ate silently, except for an occasional yelp from a slap or touch they received from their masters. As I opened my mouth to sip the most decadent, freshly-squeezed orange juice, a woman was suddenly thrown across the table on her stomach, forced to bend over, her ass high in the air. The mood shifted and everyone almost froze in place like a tableau. I gasped and almost choked on my juice. Erik squeezed my knee, hard, under the table.

Malachi smiled broadly again. "Arthur," clearly addressing the man who had violently thrust his slave over the table, "Couldn't you wait until after breakfast for the festivities?"

My heart literally stopped beating. I had no idea what festivities he was referring to, but I knew they would be anything but festive to us.

"She needs to be punished, Malachi. She refuses to keep her legs open for me, as I've requested several times. She doesn't seem to understand her position here. She is far too proud."

"I see," Malachi said. "And what do you propose?"

"She needs to be spanked. I think everyone here should have a chance," he said and a sadistic smile crept across Malachi's face.

I tried not to stare, but Malachi caught my gaze. "You like this idea, Slave?" He was looking directly at me.

I looked to Erik for guidance but he was not looking at me; instead, he ignored me, and I floundered to find the right thing to say.

"Erik, it seems your slave needs reminding to speak when spoken to."

Erik glared at me, and I immediately spoke up, "I am sorry, Sir."

Malachi smiled, seemingly appeased for the moment, bringing his attention back to Arthur and his slave.

The woman was panting, her ass high in the air, Arthur's hands already stroking her round ass cheeks in front of all of us. I couldn't tell if she was aroused or scared. The emotions seemed to be so closely connected here.

"Stay still, Slave," Arthur ordered, continuing to stroke her, as he harshly pushed her legs apart. I heard her gasp and saw her tremble, and I couldn't help but feel both aroused and sorry for her.

Without preamble, Arthur lifted his hand and smacked her very hard between her legs, directly on her sex. She screamed out, and his hand harshly came down again on her in the same place. I shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

"Look at this everyone," Arthur said. "She is dripping wet. Just look at my hand," and he laughed cruelly.

Like a dog drawn to a bone, I couldn't help but look again. Tears were flowing freely down her red, crimson face. She squeezed her eyes shut as he slapped her there a few more times. We could all hear her wetness against his slaps. I was utterly embarrassed for her.

Malachi stood at this point, holding his glass again. "Men!" he announced. "This slave needs to be taught a lesson." He turned to Arthur, "Shall we tie her up over in the corner and let everyone have a chance to punish her?"

"Yes, Malachi. I think she deserves no less," Arthur said, and I noticed the cruelty he had exhibited was merely replaced with lust.

"Erik," Malachi said. "Would you please go tie her up in the corner? You are the best with restraints. Arthur, what do you recommend for punishment?"

He smiled down at his slave. "Hmmm," he started to thrust his fingers into her, slowly, as she squirmed. She flailed her body to get away from him or to get closer to him, I wasn't sure. "She needs to be taught to do as I wish always. She likes to come too much, as you can all see here. I think she should be whipped and slapped through her rise to orgasm, only to be denied orgasm over and over, while the other women watch and learn what they can look forward to should they wish to disobey their master."

The woman began to beg at this point, and again I looked away, flushed, embarrassed, and thankful this wasn't happening to me. Erik had left my side to approach the woman, and I thought I might throw up. Would he actually tie her up? Follow Malachi's instructions? I was disgusted and sickened that he was known as "the best with restraints." Who was this man?

"Just feel her slit, Erik?"

And he complied. I wanted to scream! Was he acting? Was he enjoying himself? I was repulsed that he would act this way, and yet, somehow, I was mildly aroused and almost jealous. I was moist between my legs and tried to push down my involuntary reaction. Oh god. What was wrong with me?

"Very wet, indeed," Erik said, as he dragged her over to the corner and began to tie her up tautly. He found my eyes momentarily, and I looked away embarrassed. Oh god. Please make this end.

Malachi drew our attention back to himself. "Before we begin this slave's torture, I'd like to borrow one of your slaves for tonight, for my pleasure. You," he pointed directly towards me. "You," he pointed to another woman, a much taller woman than me, but also with long, blonde hair. "Each of you, come sit on my lap during the show. One of you will be lucky enough to come home with me." He smiled wickedly.

Nobody said a word. I was half hoping Erik would chime in, rescue me, but he said nothing as he strung up the poor guinea pig before us. Her arms were secured above her head, her legs spread and secured to rings in the floor. Any thought of arousal was completely replaced with dread and fear as I thought about the prospect of having to spend a night or more with this man known as Malachi. I was repulsed by him, and I knew he wielded the most power of any man here. He was unattractive in every way; his face littered with pock marks, his arms covered in a forest of dark, course hair.

I looked to Erik for help, for direction. He nodded slowly. The other slave woman walked right over to him, without hesitation, even smiling. She wanted to please him. Perhaps she thought she'd be safer that way, but I knew what Erik had tried to teach me: 'Do not react', I chanted in my head as my mantra, as I too walked over to Malachi. I would have no problem not reacting sexually, no question about that, but I might want to bite his face off, the bastard was so disgusting.

He touched the other slave's nipples, alternately, as she sat on his knee. He took my nipples the same way with his other hand, as I sat on his opposite knee. I wanted to spit in his face. He dipped his fingers between our legs, and I heard a slight moan escape the other woman's mouth. She looked at me with fear in her eyes as they welled up. I didn't react at all.

Malachi just laughed. "Erik," he spoke cruelly. "Your slave is a dead fish. I think she should be punished later for it. If you'd like to get rid of her I understand. Though she is an exquisite beauty, unparalleled really, I can't imagine she has brought you much pleasure. Let Stephen take her off your hands. You can have this one." He turned to the other slave on his lap. "She is sopping wet with arousal. I think we could get her to do just about anything," and again, he laughed. "I can find someone else."

Erik came over to me and looked me in my eyes, and then looked at Malachi. "I told you. I enjoy a challenge, Malachi. I will keep her," he paused, smiling at Malachi, "for now."

"Fine," Malachi released me. "She is all yours," and then he paused, mimicking Erik's works, "for now." He licked his lips, and looked me up and down, slowly, humiliatingly. "Mmmm. Mmmmm. I can understand why you want to keep her." His composure changed. "But too much work for me right now," and he turned his attention back to the squirming woman on his lap. "Yes. I think I've found my plaything for the night, maybe longer. Sorry Gregory." He spoke to a man who had relinquished his slave willingly.

"No problem! I would like to begin with this woman tied helplessly, if you don't mind?" Gregory turned to Arthur. "May I?"

"By all means," Arthur went to her. He slowly drew his fingers up and down the front of her body. She struggled and moaned, and again, I couldn't tell if she was enjoying herself or not. He looked to her. "You tell me when you're about to come, Victoria," he spoke to her sternly. "If you should come, I will leave you to fend for yourself. You are mine until I decide otherwise. But if you choose to disobey me, you will stay here, in the main compound, alone and helpless. You have earned this punishment."

"Yes, Sir," she said, trembling. She was a gorgeous woman. She looked very different from many of us. We were very faired-skinned people; she was darker, more exotic looking. She was one of us, but it wasn't clear where she had gotten her tan complexion from. Her curves were exaggerated, making her waist tiny. I looked at Erik who looked aroused by the woman in front of us. I pushed down feelings of jealousy, how absurd, but I couldn't help the flush of envy stirring within me, as I saw Erik paying attention to another woman. He didn't even look in my direction.

Gregory chose to pinch her several times from behind, on her ass and inner thighs, as he laughed against her squirming body. Arthur had to ask him to stop; he was getting so overzealous. A softer side to Arthur was slowly being revealed.

Stephen was the next to approach the woman from behind. He stood there doing nothing, as she panted, and then he slapped her ass, suddenly, harshly, as she screamed, and Arthur stroked her nipples. She writhed into her master as he smiled down at her helpless body through Stephen's cruel slaps.

And so it went. Man after man approached her, slapping her from behind, some with their belts, others with whips, and some with their bare hands like Stephen; the whole time, Arthur toyed with her nipples, her belly, her sex, her pleasure point on her clit.

At several points she told him she was about to come, and I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't believe she would be able to come through all this. Her body was drenched in sweat, covered in red welts and marks. Each time she told him, Arthur stopped all contact. "Good girl. Good slave," he would say.

I squirmed in my chair, knowing all too well these feelings of excruciating torment. I knew the feeling of not being allowed orgasm. Erik had shown me. I felt dirty watching this poor woman be tortured this way, but again, I also felt slightly aroused. The poor, confused, tortured young thing. I felt for her. I couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same, confounding way I felt about Erik.

Suddenly, I felt Erik looking at me and his fingers brushed between my legs under the table. I gasped as he began to lightly run the tips of his fingers through my slit, burning me with his eyes. I was completely taken off guard, humiliated at how wet I was. He stopped and just smiled down at me, and then rose, knowing my secret. I was devastated with embarrassment.

It was his turn to punish the woman. I hadn't even thought about him doing this; I had half thought he wouldn't have to touch her at all. I felt my stomach tighten. No. I thought in my mind. I didn't want him to touch her. I begged him with my eyes not to touch her. Was I jealous? Or was it that I didn't want to see him be cruel? I wanted to imagine him kind, gentle, not a part of this brutality. What was I even thinking? This was the man who took my virginity, who raped me, who had whipped me. He wasn't kind, and I needed to remind myself of that.