Enslaved By The Pen Ch 09

Chapter Nine: The Fallacy of Freedom

My wrists were shackled above me to the St. Andrew's cross. My abdomen rested against the padded centre axis. I pulled. The leather shackles tightly encircled around my flesh. There was no slack. I was positioned spreadeagled. My ankles were affixed to the restraints located at the bottom of the apparatus. The coolness of Gabe's bared chest flattened against my back, counteracting the heat radiating off my body. The coarseness of his cotton slacks cool against the warmth of my pinkened thighs and buttocks. His hands ran up the length of my flesh. His thumbs traced the silhouette of my hips and curve of my waist before his hands settled to cup my breasts, outlining circles around my nipples with his index fingers. Gabe had already spent the better part of an hour warming my buttocks and thighs, first with his hand, then with a wooden ruler.

"My little Lolita. How you wish you weren't here hmmm?" His hand rolled and swiftly pinched my nipples before he fastened the alligator clamps. The earthiness of leather filled my nostrils as Gabe tightened his hold on my neck, forcing my head forwards. His tongue licked the beads of perspiration dappling my nape. I could only emit garbled vocalizations from the ring gag he had inserted earlier that forced my mouth widely open. The deadened echo of the room amplified my unintelligible pleas and desperate grunts. I could feel the gathering moisture in my core as Gabe's fingers languidly pressed deeply inwards, effortlessly sliding within my satiny folds as my legs threatened to buckle from each of his insistent, forceful thrusts.

Gabe's breath was hot against my ear as he stood behind me. His slow, deliberate exhalations a presage of the pain to come. I clenched down in trepidation, inadvertently spreading the intense sting of the ginger Gabe had inserted into my ass. I recoiled as my rectum burned. Gabe had imprisoned me securely against the equipment. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I hadn't foreseen that the first time I'd be shackled to a cross would be in retribution, rather than pleasure. I could only recollect the events of the last few weeks that had culminated to this point. Gabe slipped a blindfold over my eyes, plunging me into an unsettled darkness.

After Gabe confronted me that evening in bed following our CNC scene, he hadn't mentioned his suspicions again. For days afterwards, I approached our interactions with apprehension, mentally fortifying myself for the inevitable punishment I knew awaited. Yet, days passed under an uneasy treaty of peace. Gabe's accusation that night proved yet another off-hand dialogic tactic that the two of us perpetually engaged in. His comments were intended to generate and maintain my state of disequilibrium, while affirming that I was always his prey. His allegations and my inevitable denials operated similar to a call-and-response catechism. Ever threatening, never biting. It was mentally exhausting maintaining the façade.

I desired for Gabe to continue to connect with me as a human, not through me as a conduit for his pleasure. The kernel of empathetic morality I had rekindled in Gabe that night required reinforcement if my ploy was to be successful. The intended consequence of my manoeuvrings seemed to have functioned as predicted. Gabe was overly solicitous, attentive to my needs, and showered me with a tenderness and consideration that had characterized my initial days in captivity as a petrified casualty of his cunning. He repeatedly inquired as to my mental health as he pulled me onto his lap, taut against the sinew of his body, crushingly possessive. "I cherish you, Amelia. You understand that? I value you as a person. I see you. I've always seen you. You don't doubt that do you?" His eyes urgently flickered searching mine for confirmation.

I lowered my eyes, unable to bear the weight of his imploring gaze, the greenness of his irises so intense on my form. "Sometimes you make me feel small Master. I feel insignificant to your desires at times. I know as your submissive I must obey you. I struggle, especially when you act on me, rather than with me." My answers were deliberately vague, yet intentionally damning. They were meant to exact the greatest emotional burden on Gabe's empathy. My eyes cast upwards with timidity following my wounding words.

Gabe only nodded. Dejection clouded his features. His shoulders slumped as he sighed. I implored Gabe to communicate with me on what cast so heavy a grievance on his soul. But he consistently demurred, despite my repeated appeals. My persistent guilt-tripping successfully afforded me a latitude I hadn't experienced before with Gabe. It was as if his once suffocating hold on me loosened even further, and I could freely depart his presence of my own volition. I no longer required his permission or directive to take leave. I was also no longer held hostage by his needs. His demands on me sexually were less wounding on my psyche. The fantasies we enacted drew me to him, rather than alienated me from him. I had carved out a modest victory.

"Master? Can we snuggle tonight? I feel at odds with myself, and with you. I need reassurance."

Gabe's arm wrapped around my shoulder immediately, his fingertips uncomfortably firm against my skin. He pulled me into a stifling embrace, territorial in its possession. "What's wrong?"

I hesitated, uncertain as to how to articulate to Gabe the worrying shadow occupying my thoughts. "I feel different Master. Not only closer to you, but also differently about you. You look different to me, feel different."

Gabe smiled uneasily.

I placed a comforting hand on Gabe's forearm and squeezed. I hadn't been entirely untruthful. I did feel differently about Gabe. As my manipulations drew to what I saw as their inevitable conclusions, I knew that there were only two paths. I could either continue denying with vehemence my feelings for my kidnapper. Or, I could reconcile the reality that Gabe generated affection within me. I could acknowledge that he was a flawed human being, whose absolution from me would never be freely granted, but earned, if ever, through penitence. The lingering difficulty was that my own uncertainty was reflected in the sincerity of my admission of love that I professed to Gabe every evening. I knew he perceived the doubt that tainted my words.

It was why I so desperately desired to utter those three words when I was deep under the thrall of dreams. In the days subsequent to our CNC scene, free moments were devoted to repeating the mantra that I loved Gabe. It wasn't to convince myself. I already knew there was verity to the admission, regardless of how conflicting its reality. The exercise was intended to embed those words into my subconscious so that I would confess my desire while barely awake. Such a gesture would lend credence to my assertion and impart confidence in Gabe's convictions of my devotion to him. Gabe was exceedingly transparent with his needs. I knew that a true affirmation of love from me was a component of "training". Declaring it with intent was evidently less genuine than muttering it when unconscious, in a moment absent of contrivance and artifice.

"I want to feel safe near you Master, like I experienced after our CNC scene when your arms held me tight, and your fingers caressed my trembling form. I knew, without hesitation that Master would protect me. I felt treasured." I glanced up at Gabe's profile and he pulled me onto his lap, pressing my naked chest against his dress shirt as he squeezed my rib cage, and his fingers trailed down my spine, resting in the crease of my buttocks.

That night as we lay in bed, Gabe held me stifling tight against his body, not in possession, but in comfort. His hand curled around my pubic mound as his fingers sought my wet sex. He positioned me on my back, directing me to remain still, as his fingers drove into my petalled nether lips, sending my hips arching up in undulating pleasure. As his face remained centimetres from mine, and his thumb rubbed frantic circles over my clitoris, he only watched as desire flickered across my eyes.

"I love you little one, more than you can imagine," and he leaned down to suckle on my lower lip as he watched with relieved assurance that alienation had not turned me from him. He could still trigger my body to dance and lurch like a marionette under the shadow of his control.

"I love you Master," I moaned out as my body stuttered to its inevitable climax. In these soft moments of tenderness, as Gabe's tongue expressed adoration over my willing body, it was painless to believe in the validity behind my words. There was tangibility that Gabe's gentle fondness towards me was a product of genuine caring, and not a writ of his will. I wanted to believe that the man whose eyes could transport me to places of comfort and yearning, and whose kindness was immeasurable at times, was a fundamentally good person who would eventually release me. Tonight, as I reminisced of a life once lived, I needed to believe it.

For days I had been lulled into complacency by Gabe's continual tenderness, mistakenly believing that our inequitable equilibrium had been restored. Gabe had summoned me to his den that afternoon, hours before he shackled me to the cross. I had been playing with Mittens in my bedroom, pondering when I should enact the next phase of Operation Freedom. He pointed to his feet, and I slipped to lowered knees before him. His finger tipped my chin up. "Little one, you've been such a good girl lately. I'd like to reward you."

Delight illuminated my eyes. "You would?" I had been deliberately obedient towards Gabe, never once defying him, even though manifold opportunities had threatened the calm façade. I was affectionate, but not obsequious, deferential without grovelling. My spirit sprinkled throughout our interactions without endangering Gabe's authority. My teeth captured the plumpness of my lower lip as I wondered what scenario of debauchery Gabe would present. It had been some time since my sexual boundaries had been challenged, and the yearnings that percolated from deeply within my submissive self relished in the potential scene.

Gabe stroked my hair before a nudging pressure was placed against the back of my head. I inched awkwardly forwards until the muscle of his thighs clasped my head. His thumbs sought my mouth, inserting a wide ring gag into my awaiting cavity. My jaw ached almost immediately from the gag's unexpected diameter. He connected my wrist cuffs in front of me. Rather than fellate him, Gabe pulled me over his thighs, my legs astride his lap. The unrelenting firmness of his fingers met the welcoming flesh between my splayed thighs and Gabe kept me soaking and teased as his fingers sought upwards, endlessly inserting themselves into the heat of my pussy. His breath was hot on my neck as he licked and nibbled at my ear. The flat of his palm spread the slick trail of drool that painted my chest in lines of viscosity over my breasts and erect nipples, as the moans from my forced, opened mouth spared no dignity to his touch.

"More Amelia?" Gabe's dulcet tones resonated in my ear, as the hardness of his manhood strained his pants. His fingers entangled in my obsidian tresses, before he wrapped several lengths of my hair around his hand, pulling downwards to arch my back, my breasts conveniently close to his mouth. His tongue lightly lapped at my already pert nipples.

I nodded and Gabe gently placed me on my feet, his finger crooked in the cuffs' adjoining links, tugging, beckoning me to follow. I was slave to his lead as we accessed a room I hadn't had occasion to enter. In it was a single paddling bench, Gabe's toybox, a mirror, and a St. Andrew's cross. Gabe only snickered at the obvious incomprehension my eyes communicated. My knees touched the coldness of the floor as Gabe's hands pressured me forcefully down. He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out and stroked it. My eyes were mesmerized by how substantial Gabe's cock rapidly grew under his hand and I unconsciously reached my clasped hands upwards to rub him between my diminutive fingers without prompting. So conditioned was I by Gabe's presence that I was always wet, willing, and anticipatorily compliant. Gabe chuckled as he watched me massage his manhood into complete rigidity.

"In your mouth little one. You're to do all the work."

I shuffled towards him, positioning myself between his legs as I swallowed him through the gag, the drool a slick lubricant to his thick manhood. He remained motionless as I brought my mouth onto his cock. His hands entwined in my hair as he arched, permitting a further deepening access as the tightness of my throat massaged his girth. He pressed forwards until his pubic hair tickled my flared nostrils as they flashed for air. Gabe was increasingly insistent I swallow more of him for longer periods. I snuffled and gagged as he held himself in me, unrelenting in his grasp. As my throat relaxed from the panic of breath, he patted my head.

"Good girl. Take me all. Keep me there." He only stared at my bulging throat, appreciating the tightness as my struggling gurgles squeezed on his shaft in frantic convulsions.

He released me from his hold, and I choked back, the long trails of spittle clinging to my chin as I wheezed for breath. Gabe accurately gauged how his debasement of me inflamed my desire when I was a conspiring volunteer. "I think I should like to warm you up with a spanking. I thought we could try something more challenging with you. You're keen to explore your submission aren't you little one? A little time spent on the cross sounds right."

I nodded. The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the musk of the leather, the look of desire on Gabe's features further inflamed the tingling sensations coursing through my limbs. The firmness of his hand found the raised flesh of my buttocks as he lay me over the spanking bench. Each slap brought a welcomed warmth to my pinkening flesh. When the length of a wooden ruler replaced Gabe's hand, I only lifted my buttocks up, in welcomed approach to the straight edge's firmness. His hand found the slick wetness awaiting, which he used as lubricant to piston his fingers in and out of me with a grace of ease. My legs involuntarily widened, and Gabe only murmured his appreciation at the wantonness he had conditioned me to exhibit.

I was directed to the cross whereupon he attached my arms high above my head. My legs were widened and strapped to the accompanying restraints. Something wet and cool rubbed against my clitoris before it was inserted into my vagina. Another firm press of his hand and Gabe had inserted something into my ass. Quick moments passed before I felt the slow, sharp tingle on my clit and labia. The ginger placed in my vagina was more immediate in its effect. I inadvertently clamped my vaginal muscles around the root embedded deep within me and the pulsing sting increased. My inner labia burned. Gabe's palm spanked my ass, and I clenched down on the ginger inserted. My rectum erupted in licks of pain.

Gabe unstrapped the ring gag. "I think I desire to hear my girl moan and cry."

He slid the blindfold over my eyes, and the cloak of darkness descended. It was how I found myself constrained, breathing heavily from apprehension. I craned my ears hoping to discern Gabe's intentions. The smoothness of the rattan cane slid forebodingly across my buttocks, and I jerked in surprise. "Who am I little one?"

I licked my lips. Drool still slicked my chin. "Master. You're my Master." My breath was arpeggiated, terse as I huffed.

Again, the rattan slid against my flesh. "You would never do anything to displease Master?"

"No Master. I've been a good girl." I stammered out.

"That you have Amelia, exceedingly good. I've been so pleased with you. Does my good girl want to feel the kiss of the cane?"

Through time, my thresholds of pain tolerance had increased under Gabe's skillful ministrations, and I was legitimately curious about the strike of the implement on my skin. "Yes Master, I want it. You told me once, one of your fantasies was to cane your submissive."

I cowered slightly, anticipating the first strike. Instead, the softness of Gabe's lips met the concavity of my clavicle before he traced the curve of flesh downwards with his lips. I shuddered from the wetness of his tongue, and the cool path it carved down my spine. My hips were pulled back abruptly, my pelvis tilted, and Gabe removed the piece of ginger in my vagina. His tongue found the parted folds of my pussy, already drenched with eagerness. His hands gripped the front of my thighs, pulling my body back onto the rasp of his tongue as it licked a long, vulgar line down my slit before lapping back up to curl and thrust into me. Soft licks interspersed with hard jabbing rolls against my clitoris had me panting with expectation.

"I think you're wet enough." I could envision the lascivious smirk from his tone, even though I could not see.

The first few strikes of the cane were light taps. Gabe then administered short, sharp stinging blows, whose bite faded quickly. With each lash I clenched down on the ginger burning within my rectum. Additional quick bursts whipped across my flesh. My cadenced gasps were punctuated with the swishing sounds of the rod as Gabe brought the thin length of rattan down upon my thighs and buttocks. He found the sweet spot of my flesh, and each stroke invoked a blissful intensity that electrified my need and prompted my entreaties for more. His hands traced the silhouette of my torso before he kneaded the reddened flesh of my buttocks. My wrists rattled against the restraints, pulling.

Gabe's fingers teasingly crawled up my upper thigh, curling into my pussy. "So wet Amelia." His fingers teased the outer edges of my vulva, before they slipped into me again, effortlessly. "Are you mine Amelia?" Gabe's voice, darker, more determined in its insinuation of his truth.

"Yes Master," I panted as Gabe's fingers continued to deliver pleasure unto me. The pitiable, incoherent sounds coming from me were unfamiliar to my ears.

His chest returned against my back as he grabbed my breasts. The flared head of his cock strained against my puffy lips. The fullness of his girth entered me, fucking me from behind. His plunges came hard and fast as his grip on my hips tightened. The residual stinging warmth of the cane's stripes melded with the heat of friction from Gabe's tunneling manhood. My body struggled and pulled against the restraints as desire built within. His lips glanced against my neck, soft caresses against my skin. Gabe yanked the blindfold off, and I blinked furiously.

"Would you like to climax now, or after your punishment?" He was cavalier.

My breath strangled in my throat. While Gabe had playfully attached me to the cross, his mood had transformed in an instant. My head whipped around. Gabe only grasped my chin painfully sideways. "You didn't think your imprudence would remain unpunished did you Amelia? Trying to escape by writing a scenario drill to ascertain whether you could flee in winter? Convincing me to give you a pair of boots? Do you think I'm that gullible? Perhaps, you'll write the next iteration of your escape novel? What implausible sex scenario are we going to try next little one?" His voice, condescendingly taunting in its mockery of me as he waited for my atonement of the incontrovertible truth he had conceived in his mind.

I only squeaked out ludicrous-sounding denials, unconvincing and unpolished in deception. "I didn't do that Master. It was merely a story from my imagination. You know that I've always wanted to experience a CNC scene."

Gabe only bit down on my shoulder as he drove his penis into me, roughly grabbing my hips as his thrusting accelerated, and his grunting grew louder. My pussy clamped down onto his generous manhood with his words of permission, and my cuffed fists pounded against the X-frame as Gabe released his seed into me with one final, deep, penetrating momentum. We panted together before Gabe withdrew, inserting two fingers into my parted slit to gather the viscous evidence of our joining.