Forced

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FORCED An Ellora’s Cave publication written by VONNA HARPER MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-609-7 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML © Copyright Vonna Harper, 2003. All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave. Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author/publisher permission. Edited by MARTHA PUNCHES Cover Art by SCOTT CARPENTER

Chapter One Shanel Fox got out of her car and studied the brick house. Without running a comp on it, she couldn’t be sure, but she guessed the place’s value was around three hundred thousand dollars. The location was a little remote for her liking—at the end of a single gravel lane with no other house within a half-mile. She couldn’t turn her back on the commission she’d get when and if she sold the place. She wished she could turn her back! What she wouldn’t give to tell her boss and her creditors to take this damn job and shove it! Don’t! she warned when regret and anger threatened to overwhelm her. Life threw curves. She’d better get used to it. “I have,” she muttered. “Just look at me.” Although there was no one around to see, she stuck out her foot and glared at her dress shoes. What bothered her most about the damn things wasn’t that they pinched her toes, but she couldn’t run in them. Couldn’t run when once her athleticism had been her whole world. Because she knew the danger of getting too deep into regret, she glanced at her watch. Her client—she hadn’t met the man who’d called out of the blue yesterday and asked her to list his place—wasn’t due for another ten minutes. He’d told her business might run him a little late and for her to go in and look around. She wouldn’t even be out here by herself, let alone contemplating walking into an empty house if her client hadn’t said he was Nevan’s friend. “I hope you know what I’m doing, Nev,” she muttered to her ex-fiancé. “And I hope to hell this joker and you go back a long way because… ” Back a long way? She and Nevan had been engaged for more than a year and dating nearly that long before, and she thought she’d known all his friends. Well, you didn’t, just like you didn’t know your career as a cop was going to get flushed down the toilet along with the county’s budget. “Enough!” she snapped and stalked toward the stark-looking house. She carried her briefcase, the tool of a realtor’s trade. Hopefully, what this client wouldn’t need to know was she had a small pistol tucked in with the forms, calculator, and other assorted material. “And I know how to use it,” she said to no one—maybe the birds squawking at her from the top of the trees. “That’s one thing they couldn’t take from me when they let me go—my training.”

She half expected to find the front door locked because surely someone who lived in a remote area would make security a priority, but it wasn’t. She just hoped there wasn’t a silent alarm system. “Hello,” she called out as she stepped inside. “Is anyone there?” No one answered. And as the door clicked shut behind her, her attention settled on her surroundings. She was standing in the entry way. Beyond was the living room, at least she assumed that’s what it was because she could barely see. She searched for a light switch but couldn’t find one. Slightly disconcerted, she continued on. The drapes in the barely furnished living room were closed and so thick only a faint illumination shown through. She backed up to the closest wall and waited for her eyes to adjust. The air smelled stale, as if no one had opened a window in months. Now she could make out details about the furniture: large leather recliner, huge, wrap-around couch done in a muted flower pattern, a couple of end tables with lamps, a fireplace that took up nearly all of the far wall. After putting down her briefcase, she made her way to the closest lamp and switched it on. The bulb was of a ridiculously low wattage but better than nothing. From what she could tell, there was no overhead lighting and no TV. What did people do in this room, anyway? Trying to read under these conditions was guaranteed to bring on eyestrain. A prickling at her neck stopped her mental criticism of the interior decorator. She hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary and told herself her discomfort came from feeling like an intruder, although it might be the sense that no one lived here. A look at the fireplace revealed no ashes. There was nothing on the low, dark coffee table, not even a newspaper. The walls were darkly paneled which dated the room and yet the man—what had he said his name was?—had told her the house was only ten years old. A cave. That’s how she’d promote the place, she thought ruefully, a cave for a caveman. In an attempt to counter what she told herself was claustrophobia, she opened the curtains. Doing so improved conditions somewhat. Because she’d jotted down the name he’d given, she opened her briefcase; it didn’t look professional not to know a client’s name. However, before she found it, she heard a faint mewing sound coming from the opposite end of the house. “Here kitty, kitty,” she said. “What are you doing? Are you lonely? Want someone to talk to?” The sound wasn’t repeated; had she imagined it? Frowning, she turned her attention back to her briefcase. The first thing she touched was her gun, and she seriously considered tucking it into a pocket just in case. The trouble was, her straight, hip-skimming skirt had no pockets, and even if it did, the bulge would stand out. A heat-packing realtor wasn’t what most clients wanted. Finding the slip of paper with the necessary information, she walked over to the lamp. Joe Smith. The name hadn’t caught her attention yesterday, but now it added to her sense of discomfort. Yes, Joe Smith could be legitimate, but she’d been a cop too long; she still didn’t take people at face value. If she’d been lured in here— Hurrying back to her briefcase, she grabbed her cell phone just in case. Nothing had

happened, yet, to warrant a call to the office or 911, but bad things had happened to female realtors out alone; she wasn’t going to add to the statistics. “Get your ass here, Joe Smith. Then I can decide whether this is legit or—” The cat meowed again, at least the sound was more cat-like than anything else. There was a wide archway at one end of the living room, but she couldn’t tell what was beyond it and would rather stay where she was, thank you very much, but Mr. Smith had told her to start familiarizing herself with the place. It wasn’t as if she’d broken in and if someone had left a cat in here— “Gzz, just do it, will you!” she berated herself. “You haven’t believed in bogeyman since you were eight. Find the frickin’ cat and get it to some fresh air.” Despite her pep talk, it took a few more seconds before she walked through the archway. As soon as she did, she was plunged into, not just gloom, but total darkness. Her throat felt as if it was closing. The prickling at the back of her neck was downright painful. The meowing sounded closer. “Here kitty, kitty.” The words came out as a whisper. “Where the hell are you?” Gathering the courage that had made it possible for her to go undercover and help expose a drug ring, she took two more steps. She clutched the cell phone to her breast with one hand and held the other in front of her as if trying to push away the darkness. The cat was purring which should have settled her nerves, but it didn’t. Two steps turned into three. She felt the space, the utter black swallow her. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t remember how to breathe. Why she should be afraid didn’t matter; she was. “Forget it,” she told the cat. “If you want to play games, you—” Someone grabbed her from behind. Arms like living vises circled hers and flattened them against her sides. Drawing on her cop training, she stepped back and tried to mash her heel against the foot of whoever had hold of her. Not finding anything, she kicked back and connected. Her attacker grunted, but instead of letting go, he yanked her against his too-solid chest. Although she knew it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, she screamed. She was still screaming when he shifted his grip so he held her in one arm. She tried to twist free, but he covered her mouth and nose with a cloth. Thinking he was trying to gag her, she bit down. Instead of the satisfying feel of his finger between her teeth, she closed around something vile tasting. In an effort to get the cloth out of her mouth and the smell out of her lungs, she whipped her head from side to side. She tried to remind herself to fight his imprisoning arm, but she couldn’t put it all together. She was making herself dizzy. No, she wasn’t, she acknowledged as the strength flowed out of her muscles. Already, she felt slightly sick to her stomach, and her lungs burned from whatever she’d inhaled. Most frightening was the sense that she’d lost all muscle control. She could no longer stand erect, no longer lift her arms. The cell phone slipped from her numb fingers and clattered on the floor. She sagged in her captor’s embrace. He helped, actually helped, her to the floor. When he released her, she slumped into a nerveless heap. By putting every ounce of concentration into the effort, she managed to lift her head as he switched on a light.

He was dressed entirely in black, a big man with arms like tree trunks and long, thickly-muscled legs made for a physical life. He wore a black skull-hugging mask with holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth.

Chapter Two Shanel knew she was crumpled on a hardwood floor. Any other time, she would have gotten off it, but she couldn’t move—not a single muscle. She was terrified and yet she wasn’t, maybe because of whatever he’d drugged her with. The longer the masked man stared down at her, the more the world beyond this house faded. There was only him and her and, maybe, the cat. Unable to hold her head up any more, she struggled to collect her thoughts. She needed to cry, to beg for her life, something, anything! But she couldn’t think how to form a word. Besides, nothing she said would make any difference to the bastard. The utter, awful vulnerability tasted both cold and hot. She was acutely aware of his presence as he knelt beside her. For too long, she simply waited. Then he cupped his hand under her chin and lifted her head so she now looked into his eyes. Because she knew what drugged eyes looked like, she studied him. His were bright and clear, intelligent, not angry or demented, so dark they were nearly black. Perhaps they carried a hint of domination and control, but she couldn’t be sure. Still holding her head, he took her right hand and squeezed her fingers. She felt discomfort but couldn’t summon the strength to pull away. Still holding her hand, he studied her fingers. Back in high school and college, she’d dissected insects and small animals. Now she felt like one of them, all but pinned to a board. What are you doing? What do you want from me? The questions stormed through her, and although she feared the answer, she’d give anything to get them out. Unfortunately, her throat muscles refused to answer her mind’s command. Finally, he released her and turned his attention to her neck. After removing his glove, he checked her pulse. Her heart pounded so she wondered if it might break through her chest wall. Was that concern in his eyes? Fuck you! I hope I die on you! Of course she didn’t mean that but—but what? After maybe a minute, she became aware of a tingling in her fingers and toes. If feeling was indeed returning, she wouldn’t let him know. Then, somehow, she’d escape. She debated what chance she stood of getting her hands on her gun when he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off the floor. She tried to get her feet under her, but her legs felt as if they’d fallen asleep. Her feeble attempt at standing elicited what sounded for all the world like a superior chuckle from him; she hated him for it! Hated him! He threw her over his shoulder as effortlessly as if she was a small child. With her arms bouncing against his back as he walked, she was able to learn more about his physical makeup, not that she wanted to. From what she could tell, there wasn’t an

ounce of fat on him. He had the kind of muscle tone that took work. When he carried her back into the living room and deposited her on the oversized couch, she sank into its cushions and stared up at him. What are you going to do to me? Please, say something! Again he knelt beside her. She waited for him to begin ripping off her clothes, but all he did was slip off her heels. Then he lifted the leg closest to him and placed it on his shoulder. When he began running his fingers over her nylon-clad calf, she shuddered. It felt as if every molecule of her being had linked with his fingers—and trying to anticipate what he would do next. The tingling in her fingers and toes increased. Although she wanted to gage how much control she was regaining over her body, she couldn’t dismiss what he was doing to her leg. There was nothing resembling punishment. Instead, it was as if he was caressing her, giving her pleasure. Any other time, she might have responded. He repositioned her leg on his shoulder, pulling it out and up as far as her tight skirt would allow. He trailed his fingers over the inside of her knee and made countless tiny circles there until she groaned. The sound was more of a gurgle than anything else, but it must have told him something important because he now studied her face with an intensity that made her feel naked. His fingers never stilled, never let up on the sweet, electric torture. If anything, he increased the pace of his massage—if that’s what it was. And he was slowly, so slowly, working his way up her inner thigh. His finger pads raked over her nylons. Higher and higher he traveled, now only a few inches from her pussy. In her mind, she ordered her legs to close. When they refused to obey, she ordered herself to kick him as hard as she could. Her knee bent the tiniest bit. He fastened his hands around her ankle and leaned away, dragging her with him. Although she wanted nothing to do with the couch, she struggled to remain where she was. She managed to close her fingers enough so she grabbed a bit of the fabric. When he saw what she was doing, he stood and stalked out of sight. Alone, she put all her strength into turning her head to the side, but she still couldn’t see him. After drawing in a few deep breaths, she ordered herself to sit up. Her first few efforts earned her nothing except sweat under her arms and in the small of her back, but finally she managed to roll onto her side. She felt dizzy. She was trying to sit up when he returned. Once again he stood over her, looking down as if he owned her. It no longer took effort to swallow, but she didn’t want to talk to him—didn’t want to connect one human being to another. He had something in his hands. Torn between needing to know what he’d brought and afraid of knowing, she didn’t take her eyes off his. Behind the mask, he seemed devoid of emotion, as if what he was doing was simply a task needing to be done. Then, sighing, he grabbed her shoulders and positioned her face-down on the couch. She sank into the fabric-like pillow and was trying to turn her head when he grabbed the long single braid she used to contain her thick hair and pulled her head back toward him. He jammed something into her mouth. She tried to fight, but although she managed to move her head a little, she didn’t stand a chance against him. Whatever he was using to gag her with felt soft and tasted clean. It didn’t force her jaw wide apart, but neither could she close her mouth around it. She heard something click.

Using his hold on her braid, he turned her head to the side so when he let go, her cheek was against the fabric, and she could breathe without difficulty. She could also see him—or more precisely his crotch and the tell-tale bulge against his tight-fitting costume. Fear threatened to overwhelm her. She was so intent on fighting it that she was slow to realize he had taken hold of one of her ankles and was bending her knee back. She put considerable effort into trying to jerk free, and although she was heartened by her increasing strength, it still wasn’t enough to stop him from fastening something around her ankle. Like whatever he’d gagged her with, it too clicked into place. He let go and reached for her other ankle. This time she managed to shake off his first attempt to capture it, but then he placed his knee on the back of her thigh before bending her leg toward him. Again something firm but not painful circled her ankle and clicked into place. Then he repositioned himself so his weight rested on her calves, her legs flat against the couch. He drew her legs as close as possible together, and she knew without a doubt he was fastening the ankle cuffs together. He was still kneeling on her calves when she barely heard a cell phone softly ring; it wasn’t hers. It rang a second time. “Hello,” she heard him say. He was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I’ve got her.” Who was he talking to? Who was in on this—this kidnapping? “No problem,” he said, in response to his caller’s question. “You’ve handled your part of this, have you?” It belatedly occurred to her that she hadn’t heard her captor’s voice before. Whoever he was, he wasn’t the man who’d lured her into coming here. “Good,” he said, snagging her attention. His voice was low and deep; there was nothing soft or unsure about it—a voice accustomed to giving orders. “Keep me posted. Yeah, I’ll get her out of here before anyone comes looking.” More silence on his part gave her too much time to wonder what the other person was saying, more time to ask herself where the masked man would take her and what he intended to do with her. “It’ll take time, but our clients understand. Tell them to be patient.” Clients? Oh God, what’s happening? “I’ll have her ready. They can take that to the bank.” Ready for what? “No,” he said, “I’ll call you. For awhile it needs to be just her and me.” Shanel was shaking when he returned to her. Now the tingling had spread all the way up her arms to her shoulders and from her toes to her pussy. It horrified her to have to admit she was experiencing sexual arousal. At the same time, she knew fear and sexual heat could be intimately related. She tried to prepare herself for whatever he intended to do next, but he only tested her pulse again. Then she heard him walk out of the room. Gathering her courage, she rolled onto her back. It was insane to be so proud of being able to move under her own steam, but she couldn’t help it. Although she needed to sit up, she first felt her gag. It was made of some kind of cloth where it was in her mouth, but at the sides it became leather. Her fingers trembled, but she forced them to move to the back of her head. There

the leather felt harder, firmer, almost like metal. When she found metal rings and a small lock, she sobbed into the gag. This was no spur-of-the moment contraption. It had been designed for one thing—to silence whoever wore it. She clawed at the gag, trying to wrench it out of her mouth, but there was no give to it. It held her as relentlessly as she’d once used handcuffs to subdue perps. Don’t, don’t! she warned herself. If you panic, you’re lost. Besides, if she could believe the conversation, she hadn’t been lured here to be killed. Taking what comfort she could from that, she sat up. Whatever her captor was doing, he wasn’t making a sound. Her mind whirled with possibilities ranging from him spying on her to having left her alone and immobile. Was he waiting for others, whoever they might be, to show up? What did they plan to do with her? Nothing, damn it! Just wait until they found out she knew karate. She’d laid them low, hit them where it counted. She kept telling herself that until she looked at her ankles. He’d placed thick leather straps around them. There was soft fabric between her skin and the leather—thank you so much. Like her gag, the ankle cuffs had rings built into them, and he’d placed a short length of chain through each ring. A lock held the chain in place. She might, if she held onto something, be able to stand, but there wasn’t enough play in the chains to allow her to so much as shuffle. No wonder he hadn’t handcuffed her. He didn’t need to. A wave of helplessness washed over her, but she still swung her legs off the couch and placed her tethered feet onto the floor. Then she slumped forward and buried her face in her hands. She hated the feel of the gag against her palms. Tears burned her eyes. She’d nearly given into a crying jag when she pulled herself up short. She’d lived through her parent’s untimely death, the loss of her beloved career, Nevan’s lack of emotional support. She wasn’t going to give up now, not without a fight. She’d talked herself into lifting her head and was searching her gag for any sign of a flaw in the design when he came back into the room. When he leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and stared at her, she clamped down on her emotions and glared at him. Her eyes were still wet from her brief cry, and she prayed he couldn’t see, couldn’t know how she felt. You haven’t beaten me, you bastard. And you won’t! Whatever you do to me, I won’t break. I won’t lose myself.

Chapter Three Seeing the woman sitting up told Hall Marshall what he needed to know. The fumes from the compound he’d used to paralyze Shanel Fox’s muscles shouldn’t have worn off yet. On most subjects, the effects lasted for at least a half hour. It hadn’t on her because she was an athlete in superb physical condition. She couldn’t walk, let alone run with the ankle restraints on, and no matter how much she might claw at it, the gag would stay on until he released it. She was scared; she’d have to be dead or in a coma not to be. But she hadn’t given into terror, and he had to hand it to her.

Well, he amended, not her really. Brad Zetter, his fellow operative at SHIT, had assumed responsibility for selecting the female needed for the assignment. In his usual effective way, Brad had developed the necessary parameters—a woman capable of defending herself, young and attractive, without close family, intelligent, a survivor. When another operative, none less than Shanel’s ex-fiancé, had presented her qualifications to the SHIT members, everyone, including Nevan, had turned the final decision over to him because he’d be spending the most time with her while changing her into what they needed out of her for the operation to succeed. Time was passing, but he ignored the need to get moving. Instead, he studied the subject as intently as she stared back at him. The silent interaction put him in mind of two predators deciding whether the other represented a worthy adversary or whether flight meant living to another day. The only thing that didn’t work with the scenario was she couldn’t run. Hell, she couldn’t leave the room without his help. Although he didn’t want it, there was no denying the renewed stirring in his cock that had taken place the moment he’d first touched her. That’s why he’d left the room the first time, so he could get a handle on his purely instinctual reaction. The thought of the hours they’d be spending together, with him in control of her body, taking her to the edge of her sexuality, putting him on the edge too— No, damn it! He was a trained professional with a critical job to do. She was a subject, a means to an end. She was also a scared and unsuspecting young woman. With that weighing on his mind, Hall turned his back to her and stalked outside. Another SHIT member would be here in a few minutes to get rid of the vehicle, but he wanted to check and see if there was anything in it he might need. He didn’t care where David left the car, just that no one ever found it. Shanel’s parents were dead, and according to Nevan she hadn’t been fucking anyone since they’d split. Her parents were dead, just like his. Well, I’m one up on you, Shanel, he told her. I also lost my wife and my ability to give a damn about another human being.

***** After assuring himself that Shanel hadn’t left any prescription drugs in the glove compartment, he went back inside. No one had lived in the place for several months and foreclosure had begun on it. Picking the lock so Shanel could walk into the trap he’d set had been easy. Soon it would be up to Shanel’s co-workers and the cops to try to determine where she’d gone. He figured it wouldn’t be until closing time at the earliest someone would notice she hadn’t returned to the office. By then they’d be long gone. She wasn’t a fool; he figured she’d left information about where she was going this afternoon which meant it wouldn’t take long for someone to show up here. Let them. They’d find her fingerprints and maybe ancient ones belonging to the soon-to-be former owner. When they contacted the owner, he’d insist he hadn’t asked Shanel Fox to list his property and certainly hadn’t agreed to meet her out here. Let the cops chew on the fact she’d simply disappeared; soon her credit card would be used to buy gas two states away. He stepped into the living room. She wasn’t on the couch. “What the—?” he started. Then he saw her. Somehow she’d gotten off the couch.

Using mostly her arms, she’d managed to drag herself to the entrance to the kitchen. He didn’t need to be hit over the head to figure out she was looking for a knife. “Not in this lifetime,” he said. She froze. Then, looking like a trapped animal, she stared over her shoulder at him. He gave her the better part of a minute to study him and wonder what he was going to do. Then, slow and deliberate, he walked over, grabbed the chain between her ankle cuffs, and dragged her away from any chance she had of skewering him. He heard her sob but was distracted by the way her skirt had hiked up nearly to her crotch. Thanks to the damn pantyhose and the way the ankle cuffs kept her legs together, her pussy remained hidden. Still— Sure she was watching him, he slowly and deliberately finger-walked from her ankles to her crotch. He’d started to run his hand between her legs when she twisted herself off her belly and buried her fingernails in his hand. If it hadn’t been for the gloves, she would have drawn blood. He wrenched free. “A fighter, are you?” He gave her one of his rare smiles. “Good.” Leaving her to mull that over, he went into the hall where he’d taken her down and returned with the cassette recorder he’d left in there. He positioned himself out of reach of her long arms. Then he flipped the play switch. A cat purred. “It worked,” he said. “Drew you in.” Her eyes were dark with questions. Eventually he’d supply the answers but not now —not until she’d become useful to SHIT. Until he’d trained her. He put down the recorder and reached into his pocket. She watched his every movement. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “Not now.” Her eyes went wide but not for long. He had to applaud her. No matter how close she came to terror, she fought the useless emotion just as he now accepted she was going to fight him every inch. I don’t want to do this to you. Damn it, if there was any other way— No! This wasn’t the time for compassion. With his family’s murder, he’d forgotten the meaning of the word or at least buried it so deep it couldn’t reach him. He wouldn’t forget—ever. Feeling once again in control of his emotions, he pulled out the handcuffs. She drew up her legs and worked herself into a sitting position with her weight on one hip. He closed the space between them, slowly drawing out her anticipation. Her nostrils flared, and if looks could kill, his blood would be staining the floor bright red. He reached for an arm, but she jerked away. “What do you think you’re going to do?” he asked. “You can’t run. Hell, you can’t stand and you sure as hell can’t cry for help. Besides, there’s no one to hear. No one except you and me, and I’m going to have my way.” As he expected, the words hit her like blows. For a moment she retreated into herself, a trapped animal resigned to death. Then she blinked and the fire was back in her eyes. He knelt beside her, and when she tried to claw his face, he grabbed a wrist and twisted her arm behind her, flatting her face-down again. He snapped one cuff in place and used the metal to hold her hand against her backside while he reached for her other hand. Instead of giving up, she bucked away from him, belly-crawling again. He played

with her for a few seconds by letting her keep her one hand free. Then because he didn’t want her to hurt herself, he rested his forearm on her back and held her in place. She tried to keep her untethered hand out of his reach, but he leaned over her body and caught it. The cuff settled around her slender wrist, and he snapped it in place. The sense of power and control was more erotic than he’d anticipated. This time he was positive she’d give up. Instead, she struggled to turn so she could see him. He applied his weight to her shoulders, holding her down. “You aren’t going anywhere, Shanel. Not unless I take you. The sooner you understand, the easier it will be.” She shuddered, the tremor sliding throughout her slender body. He’d been accused of no longer having human emotions, of having turned into a machine, but those who said that didn’t truly understand him. He still remembered what he’d felt when he’d held his dead and bloody wife, when he’d walked into their house and seen his parents ruined bodies. The thing called his soul now told him Shanel was looking into her own nightmare. He again slipped off a glove and touched the back of her neck. She jumped, but he kept his hand there—his body heat blending with hers. When he thought she’d relaxed a little, he began massaging her neck. It was longer and slenderer than he’d thought it would be given the pictures he’d seen of her. A strong man—he—could break it. Certain she was thinking about that, he was careful to keep his touch light. “I won’t hurt you,” he told her. “It’s a promise. No matter what I do, no matter how little you understand, I will never cause you physical pain.” The words caught in his throat. He’d just vowed not to physically injure her, but he didn’t have control over what was going to happen to her emotionally. Sexually.

***** Shanel hadn’t known what to think when her captor had collected her heels, cell phone, and the briefcase which contained her gun and taken them out the front door. Then he returned, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her outside. He’d put back on his glove before, and she understood he was being careful not to leave prints. She was slow to realize he’d walked around her car and was heading down the single gravel lane. His stride was long, almost effortless. If she put her mind to it, she probably could have dislodged herself from his shoulder, but what would that have accomplished other than landing on the gravel? She couldn’t be any more helpless if she’d still been paralyzed. He’d set a trap for her, lain in wait, lured her in. Now she was his. I won’t hurt you. Won’t hurt you. And he’d massaged her neck, and although she hadn’t believed it possible, she’d felt herself relax. He could do anything he wanted with her, rape her, kill her if he was that kind of man. I won’t hurt you. Being hoisted over his shoulder like a side of beef with her head hanging down and blood rushing there was giving her a headache, and yet there was no way she could deny what else she felt. Beyond all reason, her pussy throbbed. She felt swollen, hot,

wet. What the hell was erotic about being some masked man’s prisoner? He turned into a rutted dirt road she hadn’t noticed on her way here. She didn’t see the four-wheel-drive vehicle until he was alongside it. He walked around to the back and lifted the rear door, revealing a padded cargo space. That’s what she was, she decided when he placed her inside. Cargo. He crawled in after her and repositioned her so she could stretch out a little. Then he patted her on the butt. She was trying to get him to meet her gaze when he placed a blindfold over her eyes. She felt the change in the vehicle’s suspension as he got out. Then the door closed, trapping her. She was already as trapped and helpless as a person could get so why was this new imprisonment so hard to take? The answer came a few moments later when he started up the vehicle. It hummed low like a cat, nearly distracting her from the jarring ride. Blackness settled around her and pulled her inside herself. An hour ago she’d been a successful, if reluctant, real estate agent with three properties in escrow. Thanks to the severance pay she’d gotten when she and dozens of other cops had been laid off, she’d been able to finance the real estate courses she’d taken in order to get her license. Things had been pretty lean at first, but her cop training had taught her how to read people. She became what each client wanted—sometimes aggressive, sometimes laid back. She could be a friend, a colleague, a business acquaintance if the prospective buyer wanted. And the men liked her. “You exude sexuality,” the senior broker at the company had told her when she’d finalized four sales in a month, all for male buyers. “Not deliberately. At least I don’t think it’s deliberate. But it’s always there.” Now there was nothing sexual about her, nothing human even. She’d become some man’s cargo. She’d wanted to take the department’s hostage negotiation course, but the nod had gone to a senior officer, a middle-aged man who still had his badge and uniform. She didn’t begrudge Carl his upcoming pension and had had no hesitancy about telling him his calm demeanor had served him well in the two hostage situations he’d been involved in since his training. Still, she could have done the same thing once she understood the psychology involved in connecting with someone who’d taken another person against their will. If only she knew what to say, how to act. How to get away. The only sense left to her was her hearing, and she struggled to concentrate on the sounds the vehicle made because the time might come—please!—when she’d need to lead the police to wherever she was being taken. However, no matter how many times she ordered herself to silence her mind and heart and simply listen, the unknown kept washing over her. Her life was out of her control. She belonged, fully, totally, to the masked man who’ d said he wouldn’t hurt her. Why the hell she found that erotic mystified her. At the same time, there was no denying she’d fantasized something like this would happen. Not really, of course, but whenever there was no man in her life—and sometimes even when there was—she’d dreamed about waking to find a stranger in bed beside her. He’d tie her spread-eagle to the bed—not tight enough to hurt of course—and have his way with her. How quaint the term have his way was. Back when she’d been a virgin with a blooming body filled with hormones, she hadn’t been able to fill in the blanks, but several lovers later, she understood sex, or fucking if she was getting down and dirty.

Now her erotic thoughts often revolved around mild forms of bondage. The difference between the kind of mental role-playing that invariably led to masturbation, and what had happened today, was always before it had been a fantasy she could control and direct. It was one thing to charge up her dildo and put it to use while imagining a man had roped her wrists to a bed and spread her legs before plunging his cock into her pussy. It was another thing this masked man had in mind for her. Reality more than sucked. It scared the hell out of her. It’s also turning you on, she angrily admitted as darkness closed in around her. And the sooner you get over it, the sooner you’ll figure out how to get free. The vehicle rolled to a stop. Then it started up again, turning right before picking up speed. Faster and faster it went, tires humming. They must be on a freeway, but which one? It didn’t matter. She was heading toward a bordello, a plush room decorated in purple and red, maybe one with a four-poster bed complete with silk sheets. She’d be fed oysters and strawberries, bathed in scented perfumes, given sexy clothing to wear—clothes her captor would soon remove. He’d caress her entire body the way he’d caressed her neck, and she’d melt, open her legs and welcome him in. At least that’s the way things had gone in her mind while she ran her vibrator over herself. Lulled by the humming and gentle rocking, Shanel bent her legs and repositioned her shoulder on the carpeting. Then, as tears stained her blindfold, she squeezed her thighs together as hard as she could. The pressure did nothing to kill her pussy’s heat.

***** Had she fallen asleep? Suddenly alert, Shanel strained to make sense of what had happened. It seemed to her they’d been traveling for hours. Her bladder was full. She was beyond thirsty and hungry. She was trying to think how she could let her captor know she was on the brink of peeing her panties when it dawned on her the vehicle was going maybe thirty miles an hour. Had he left the freeway? Was that what had roused her? Thirty became twenty. The vehicle went through a number of twists and turns, and the shaking started again, probably because they were on an unpaved road. Were they in the middle of some wilderness? If the windows weren’t up, she could at least learn something from the way the air smelled, couldn’t she? Were they still in the same state? So this was what disorientation felt like, she acknowledged as her captor came to a near stop before making a sharp right-hand turn. She caught a sound that might have been a garage door opening. The vehicle crept forward, stopped. The engine died. Without a motor to muffle it, the sound of the garage door closing again was awful, final. Terror raced over her and settled between her legs. The journey was over. They’d arrived—where? And for what purpose? She heard the vehicle door open followed by the rocking that told her he’d gotten out. Go away! Leave me here! Don’t touch me—just don’t—

She heard the rear door open, followed by a rush of cool exhaust-fumes-coated air. Even though she couldn’t see him, she turned her head in that direction. He caught her ankles and pulled her to him. She could have tried to kick him, but what for? This was one battle she couldn’t possibly win. This time he didn’t throw her over his shoulder but held her in his arms. His shoes thudded on what she took to be concrete. Then he shifted her weight and opened a door. They walked inside. The door closed. She heard a lock click into place. Against her will, she tucked in her ass and squeezed. The act was partly to keep from wetting herself, partly because, damn it, fear was a hell of a turn-on. By putting her mind to it, she managed to think beyond herself. He was walking on something that silenced his shoes, maybe carpet. Then he stopped and opened another door. He turned her in his arms, probably so she wouldn’t strike a wall. Then they began a steep descent. She wanted nothing more than to fight him, knock him off balance and send him tumbling down the stairs, but he’d take her with him, and even if she managed to knock him out or even kill him, then what? Finally the descent was over. She thought she’d heard him grunt, but she couldn’t be sure. Where the hell were they? Some dungeon? I won’t hurt you—won’t hurt you. Don’t you have lied to me! Please, don’t. He stood her up, holding onto her hips until she’d demonstrated she was capable of standing. Then he ran his hands from her hips to her waist and from there to the sides of her breasts. She thought for sure he’d grab her breasts; if he did, she’d probably lose bladder control. Instead, after keeping his hands there long enough for her to get the message of his absolute control over her loud and clear, he moved to her arms, working slowly upward until he reached her throat. Again he paused, this time with his thumbs pressing lightly against her windpipe. Fear whipped at her and threatened to steal the strength from her legs. She breathed raggedly. Still silent—torturing her with it—he worked his fingers around to the back of her head and released her blindfold. At first she couldn’t see anything except starbursts of light. Then bit by bit her surroundings came into focus. They were in a basement, not a cold, dank cellar like her grandparents had had, but one which had been finished to resemble a bedroom and sitting-room area. The bed was queen size with a four-poster frame just like in her fantasies. Although she didn’t want to, she noted the straps fastened to each poster. On the ceiling over the bed someone had fastened a pulley. A length of rope had been looped through the pulley. Sobbing behind her gag, she turned her attention to the closest chair. It was a recliner and so large and heavy looking, she wasn’t sure how whoever had put it here had gotten it down the stairs. Like the bed, it came with an assortment of straps. Instantly, unexpectedly, she felt a rush of heat in her pussy; her clit throbbed. Shit, shit! Damn you, body! After taking several deep breaths, she continued her perusal. A series of narrow windows had been placed high along one wall, and the dying sunlight filtered through them. If she pushed the bed or chair under the windows, she might be able to reach them, but they looked too small for her to crawl through. In addition to the stairs, there was a closed door at the far end of the room. Could—

please—could it lead to the outside? Her masked captor knelt before her. Before she could comprehend what he had in mind, he’d unfastened the chain between her ankle cuffs and then locked them again, this time giving her enough freedom to stand with her legs at a comfortable distance apart. She might even be able to move. He pointed at the closed door and pushed on her back, indicating he wanted her to go there. She did as he ordered because she needed to see what was there. Besides, concentrating on taking mincing steps took her mind off her swollen bladder. When, finally, she’d made her way across the room, he opened the door and switched on a light. No out-of-doors, no freedom! But a bathroom. He pushed again, and she made her laborious way into the well-equipped room which boasted both a glass-enclosed shower and an oversized tub complete with jets. However, the only thing that mattered to her right now was the toilet—and trying to figure out how to use it. In his maddingly silent way, he took hold of her upper arms and turned her away from him. Then to her absolute relief, he uncuffed her hands. She brought them forward and began rubbing them. One wrist was free, but the other remained manacled with the loose cuff hanging from it. “You’ve got to go to the bathroom, right?” She nodded and was still staring at him when he backed away and leaned against the wall. His posture left no doubt he wasn’t going to give her any privacy. At the moment she hated him as she’d never hated in her life, but she hiked up her skirt and pulled down her pantyhose and underpants. Because she couldn’t separate her legs, she struggled to get the hose down to her knees. Trying to ignore him, she sat on the toilet. Urinating seemed to go on and on, and she could smell it. Finally, she finished relieving herself, pulled off several sheets of toilet paper, worked her hand between her thighs, and wiped herself. When she reached for her underwear, he yanked her hand away and hauled her to her feet. Feeling utterly exposed, she stood before him for a moment. Then she tried to pull her skirt down over her naked belly and pussy, but he stopped her from doing that too. What did he want of her? Why wouldn’t he speak? More than anything else, when was he going to rape her? The thought of being raped all but closed her throat. It was one thing to fantasize about being forced to become a man’s plaything. The hard facts were much harder to accept. Could she beg with her eyes? If she dropped to her knees and looked imploring up at him, would he spare her? In the middle of trying to decide whether she could debase herself to that degree, he stepped behind her, grabbed her wrists, and handcuffed her again. She tried to look back over her shoulder at him. As she did, she spotted a full bottle of designer water on the counter. “Thirsty?” he asked. She hated letting him know how desperate she was for something to drink so she refused to respond. To her horror, he hoisted her over his shoulder and marched back

into the main room. He had one arm looped over her waist to keep her from sliding off. The other pressed her naked butt cheeks. When they reached the bed, he deposited her on it, face down with her legs dangling off the end. She felt herself start to slide off; he planted both of his hands on her ass and boosted her further onto the bed. He spread her butt cheeks, and she imagined he was studying her anus and what he could see of her cunt. The degradation made her forget her thirst until she tried to swallow. Her throat muscles refused to work, and she wound up making choking sounds. “Thirsty?” he repeated. He continued to hold her ass cheeks spread. This time she nodded. “You’ll have to earn it.” How? What do you want me— “So far I’ve done everything,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.” Her mind whirled with horrible possibilities. Between awareness of his continued study of her cunt and thoughts of what he might make her do before giving her something to drink, she wondered if she’d go crazy. “This is what’s going to happen.” He squeezed her butt cheeks and rolled her over onto her back. She had to arch her breasts toward him to keep from putting too much weight on her bound hands. “I’m going to release your hands and feet, and you’re going to take off your clothes from the waist down.” What difference did it make? She was sprawled out in front of him with her naked pussy within easy reach. He’d have to release her ankles before he could rape her, but what in hell could she do to stop him? Nothing. To her disgust, her eyes began to burn, forcing her to blink back tears. She stared up at him, all but hog-tied, utterly helpless. “Did you hear me?” he demanded. “I’m going to give you use of your hands and feet. When you’ve pulled off your hose, underpants, and skirt, you’ll get a drink of water.” Something pressed down on her chest; she wondered if she was having a heart attack. This thing he was ordering her to do—debasing herself, making her crawl. She couldn’t! There was only one way she could tell him how much she loathed him; she’d act as if he didn’t exist. After glaring at him for a semi-satisfying moment, she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. He tugged down on her skirt until it just reached her crotch. It took all her willpower not to go back to watching him. Keeping her eyes closed was like being blindfolded again, and if she hadn’t been so keyed into him, she might not have heard the soft sounds that told her he was walking away. Where was he going? Was he going to leave her here? A new kind of terror weakened her limbs. She loathed this masked man, and yet she was dependant on him for everything. Her eyes opened of their own accord, and she found herself staring at the ceiling. Her legs dangled over the end of the bed; if they stayed like that much longer, her feet and ankles would start to swell. Besides, laying on her hands was uncomfortable. She tried to sit up but lost her purchase and slid onto the floor, landing in a crumpled and awkward heap. The fall had pushed her skirt up again. She felt like a worm trying to inch its way somewhere but managed to prop herself up on the side of the bed with her feet sticking out in front of her. Her reddish pussy hair caught the last of the sunset. In contrast, her belly, hips, and thighs looked bloodless. Oh God, oh God! What’s going to happen to me?

To her disbelief, her pussy heated again; her clit pulsed and felt as if it was being drenched in her sex fluids. Unable to stop herself, she clamped her ass and thighs as tightly as she could, threw back her head, and wailed silently. She needed sex! Needed to be fucked to climax. Being the masked man’s captive had turned her on as never before.

Chapter Four Hall stood in the entryway to the bathroom where he’d gone for the bottled water. The room he’d left Shanel in was quickly losing light, but enough of the sunset remained to paint it in dark ruby hues. The strongest light streamed down on her and turned her into something beyond a half-naked and tethered woman. He couldn’t take his eyes off her burnished muff, the way her full, firm breasts jutted out as if reaching for the dying light. She’d let her head fall back against the side of the bed and had closed her eyes. Her breasts under the silk blouse heaved; he heard her panting breaths. Was she terrified? He needed her to experience the emotion; otherwise, she’d never be able to infiltrate and gain the trust of the group known as The Takers, or more specifically their sex slaves. For her to be accepted by those women, she had to become one of them. He’d known that when he’d started zeroing in on her. At the beginning, he’d concentrated on the logistics of how and when to capture her, but now he had her, and the real work would begun. It was too soon to know how long her training would take and whether she’d turn out to be what SHIT needed to get the job done. She would. He’d taken on this assignment for reasons not even the rest of his fellow operatives knew. Two years ago he’d failed to protect those he loved the most in life, and they’d died. Along with their bodies, he buried his emotions, his heart. When the funerals were over, and he’d sold his parent’s house and the one he and his wife had just bought, he’d spent half a year climbing mountains and not thinking. Then, because he had a skill people were willing to pay a great deal of money for and an unrelenting thirst for revenge, he’d joined SHIT. He’d started with several small assignments which tested his intellect and daring, and when he’d proven himself, he’d told his co-workers he was ready for The Takers. That’s all that mattered! Destroying the arrogant bastards who thought nothing of ruining their victims! This woman—it was easier when he didn’t think of her by name— was the tool he needed to get the job done—all she was. Only, he’d seen her tears and courage to say nothing of her lean, sexy body. That was the part of this assignment he hadn’t counted on. And feeling alive sexually for the first time in two years. Gritting his teeth, he reminded himself of what yet needed to be accomplished tonight. He made no attempt to keep her from hearing his approach, but he’d nearly reached her before she looked at him. Instead of fear—although there was some—their smoky depths gave away what he was positive she wanted to keep from him. She was turned on.

Her former lover had been right, Shanel was highly sexed. Well, hell, she wasn’t the only one with a need for sex. Angry at both of them, he held up the water bottle so she couldn’t help but see it. Calling on the rigid self-control that had kept him from going insane, he reminded himself if he was going to succeed against men with the morals of animals, he had to become one of them. “Don’t try to tell me you aren’t thirsty,” he said. “I saw the way you looked at this.” He indicated the water. “You’re also hungry, but thirst comes first. You know the rules. You do what I told you to, and you get this.” Her thigh muscles became even tauter; her belly contracted. Shaking her head, she glared at him. “You’re not going to win this fight,” he told her. “Sooner or later, you’ll give in. If you’re so stubborn you’ll deny your need until you’re dehydrated, it’s your business.” He unscrewed the lid. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for games. We have more important things to accomplish.” Tilting the bottle, he let a little water dribble onto the crack between her legs. “The longer you hold out, the more of this is going to wind up on, not in you.” Her mouth opened, exposing the gag. After letting more water drench her muff, he took a drink. “Not bad. I like it colder. But if you’re not interested… ” Drawing out the movement, he sprinkled what he could reach of her cunt with a few more drops. She bent her knees, but he pried them apart and stepped between them to keep her from closing up again. He could see her swollen labia and smell her sex juice. Reaching down, he worked his hand between her thighs and dipped his fingers as far into her cunt as he could. His fingers immediately became soaked. Although some of the liquid was water, most of it was warm and sticky. Smiling behind the mask he could hardly wait to get off, he continued to probe. Finger fucking a woman whose ankles were chained together was next to impossible, but he was getting his point across all right as evidenced by the continuing flood. Not only that, she was trying to mash his hand between her thighs. “Can’t go anywhere, can you?” he said conversationally—at least he tried to sound disinterested. Unfortunately, his cock felt as if it was intent on poking a hole through the costume, while need ground into his belly. “Hell of a mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” To keep himself from letting his hard-on distract him from his assignment, he poured maybe a quarter of the water over her belly. When it trickled through her muff and reached his hand, he captured some of it and swirled water and pussy juice together over her cunt lips. She closed her eyes. Her head dropped back again, pushing her breasts at him. Thanks to the thin blouse, he had a decent look at her bra and what it contained. The bra wasn’t what he would call daring as befitting a professional real estate agent but anything less than a strip of sheeting tied around her breasts wouldn’t hide how full and lush they were. Score another for Brad and Nevan; they’d chosen a woman who’d appeal to The Takers all right. And to him. Although he wanted to give her more of what she obviously wanted, it wasn’t what tonight’s agenda called for—what he’d determined had to be done. He withdrew his

hand. The moment he did, her eyes flew open. If looks could kill, he’d be at least six feet under at this moment. “It doesn’t work so easy, bitch.” His throat constricted at the word, but it had to be done. “I’m not here to get you off. In case you’ve forgotten… ” He held up the water bottle and took another drink. Then he made sure she could see how much was left. “It’s the only bottle I have, at least for tonight. Either you earn it, or you spend the night without. I’m done playing games.” Grimacing, she scooted her feet closer to her ass and used the side of the bed as leverage as she pushed and grunted her way to a standing position. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You’re going to behave?” She nodded. “Not try to get away?” She blinked, and he could tell she was trying to clench her teeth, but the gag stopped her. “This part’s not negotiable, bitch. One wrong move and you’ll regret it. You understand?” After a moment, she nodded. “They said you were smart. Looks like they were right.” Her eyes went wide; he had no doubt she was trying to figure out who they were. He hadn’t yet decided how much to tell her, but obviously he’d been right to drop that on her. “This is how it’s going to play out,” he told her. “First I’m going to unchain your hands and feet. Then you’re going to get naked from the waist down. Once I’m satisfied, you get what water you haven’t wasted.” All emotion went out of her face; it was almost as if she’d pulled into herself—just as he’d done to keep from being crushed by grief. Hell, how much did they have in common? He took care of her feet first, taking time to check her flesh under the combination of leather and padded cotton that went against her skin. There was no sign of chafing. Then he told her to turn around and lean over. She did so without protest or emotion. Because it was part of the program he’d devised, he drew out the freeing by first rubbing her ass cheeks and then cupping them and pushing up. She squirmed. He thought about putting his hands between her legs, but she must be expecting it , maybe wanting it. Sorry, Shanel, we’re playing this by my rules. And there’s no way I’m letting you know I need to get off as badly as you do. Like her ankles, her wrists were unmarked, but he had no doubt her shoulders carried the brunt of the uncomfortable position. He unfastened the cuffs and resisted the temptation to massage her shoulders. Part and parcel of what he had to put her through was making her believe he cared nothing about her. It wasn’t going to be easy. “Turn around,” he ordered. “Do it.” She obeyed but didn’t look at him; he couldn’t detect any emotion in her eyes. He stepped back to let her know he suspected she was going to try to lunge for the bottle. “ Off with them.”

She clenched her fists. “Don’t even think it. Nevan said you were intelligent. You wouldn’t want me calling your ex-lover a liar, would you?” Just like that, the color drained from her face. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” he forced himself to say. “Believe me, Shanel, I know more about you than you do. And if you’re ever going to understand how it came about, you’re going to have to start obeying me.” Graceful as a deer, she squatted and pushed her hose down onto her ankles. Then she straightened and used the bed to brace herself on while she kicked off the hose. Next she leaned down and pulled off her panties. He hadn’t known what he’d do if she’d resisted, probably throw her on the bed and do the job himself—and then give her the damn water. He had to hand it to her for knowing who’d win this round. She unzipped her skirt and started to slid it down over her hips, then stopped when she’d covered her pussy. Her fingers trembled. He waited her out, and a moment later, she finished the job. When she’d stepped out of the garment she kicked it away, then faced him, her hands clenched. What next? her eyes said. How else are you going to degrade me? You’ll find out, he thought. Bit by bit until you’ve become what SHIT needs. “I’m going to take off your gag,” he said. “But if you make a sound, I’ll put it back on, and you’ll spend the night thirsty. You got it?” She jerked her head up and down. “I thought you would. There’s one more thing before this.” Leaving her, he walked over to a low dresser near the bed and took out the cloth bag he’d put there earlier. She started shaking again. “Turn around.” Her body language said she didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him, but finally she did as he’d ordered, stumbling a little as she tried to make her legs obey her command. Her hands remained fisted. After putting the bottle down, he returned to her, pulled out the neck collar and length of chain. Then he looped one arm around her neck and pulled her head back against his chest, forcing her off balance. “Touch me and there’ll be no water,” he warned as she reached back for him. Her hands again dangled by her side, and he slipped the silk-covered leather collar around her neck and locked it in place. Gripping the end of the chain, he told her to face him. Her eyes flashed with fear as she stared at the chain and fingered this new proof of her imprisonment. “The key to it isn’t in this room,” he told her. “And you don’t need to know where it is because you’re going to be wearing it for awhile. I’ll show you how it works.” He backed away, forcing her to stumble after him. When they reached the water bottle, he told her to pick it up. She did so with a quick, smooth movement and clutched it to her chest. Then he unfastened the intricately and innovatively constructed gag and pulled it out of her mouth. She immediately upended the bottle and drained it. Damn it, if only he’d brought more water down earlier or hadn’t wasted so much during the damn game he’d played with her! Telling himself what she’d had was better than nothing, he ran his fingers over the chain. When she’d gotten every drop out of the bottle, she dropped it to the carpet and

once gave him a wary, watchful look. The truth, the damn truth, was he wanted to fold into her arms and kiss and massage away her fear. If he could do that one thing for her, he had no doubt that they’d wind up fucking; they both wanted it bad. Instead, he led her back to the bed. “Get on it,” he barked. She opened her mouth, and a tiny sound came out, but before she could force him to make good on his threat to gag her again, she did as he ordered, kneeling in the middle with her hands spread protectively over her pussy. “I’m not going to rape you if that’s what you’re thinking—which you are,” he said. “ It’s not the way this is going to be played.” What is? The question in her expressive eyes couldn’t have been more clear if they’d been carrying out a conversation. What the hell are you going to try to do to me? Not do but try. He’d be a fool to forget how her thinking went. Because it was too soon for them to start talking to each other, he fastened the other end of the chain to the overhead pulley contraption. Then, although he wanted to tell her he’d be back, he walked across the room and up the stairs.

***** Damn! Damn him to hell! What was it with the fucking mask and costume? He looked like an idiot in it, a fucking moron! No, Shanel admitted when she heard the door close behind the man and silence swept over the room. She had no idea who or what he was, but he wasn’t a moron. He knew exactly what he was doing by cutting her off from the world and robbing her of movement and the ability to speak. Forcing her to remove her own clothing in exchange for a drink of water had been a game of control and domination; she’d worked with enough battered women to know what he had in mind. She supposed she should be grateful because he hadn’t punched her or broken bones to force her to his will, but she’ d die before she’d think of him with gratitude. When was he coming back? The chain provided enough freedom of movement so she could move about on the bed. She might be able to slide off the damn thing and stand, but what was the point? “Is that your game?” she demanded. Her voice, so long denied her, sounded foreign, but if she didn’t speak, she’d be locked in silence and darkness. Already so much light had left the room she couldn’t see as far as the bathroom. “You want to make me your dog? Chain me to your equivalent of a dog house?” It occurred to her he might have planted a listening device and be laughing at her. “ Is that what’s happening?” she demanded. “If you’re getting your rocks off, screw you!” As quickly as her fury had surfaced, it now evaporated. Feeling spent, she lay down on the bed and stared up. Moment by moment the last of the light left the windows she couldn’t reach. She had an appointment to present an offer tomorrow morning and was due at the title company in the afternoon. In between , she needed to work up a couple of ads and coordinate about an upcoming open house. Only, none of those things were going to happen. Although it didn’t matter, she spent several minutes wondering how the firm was going to cope with her absence. Would her broker take over and present the offer? Probably, so he could pocket the commission if she didn’t return.

Didn’t return. No matter how hard she tried to hide from the words, they hung over her. Then, because back in the lifetime when she’d been a cop and doing what she’d felt she’d been born to, she faced reality. She might not get out of this alive. If the masked man turned out to be a serial killer, he’d play with her for awhile and then kill her. In that case, it was a good thing her parents had both died the year she started college. Nevan! Her captor knew who he was. The enormity of what she’d unwillingly become part of crashed over her like a stormy ocean wave. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out and breathed deep and slow until she’d regained control over her emotions. She had to count her blessings—what little there were of them. Her captor hadn’t harmed her, not really. True, she was hungry enough to start gnawing on the pillow, and she hadn’t had nearly enough water, and her shoulders still throbbed from having her hands cuffed behind her. But when he’d placed her hands on her body… After a moment, she gave herself a mental shake and tried to remember where her mind had gone to. To her disgust, she realized she’d slid a hand between her legs and was rubbing her fingers over her labia. It was his fault, she told herself as her half-hearted attempt at masturbation became more serious. He’d played with her, stuck his fingers into her cunt and taken note of how wet she was in there. When he wasn’t doing that, he’d ordered her to strip for him, massaged and pressed and spread her ass cheeks. He had yet to touch her breasts and for some reason had left her bra and blouse on, but it was just a matter of time. A matter of time. She couldn’t possibly want him to see her buck naked, could she, to watch while he shucked his own clothes and thrust his cock into her. No, of course she didn’t! At the same time, she used her sex juices to lubricate her pussy and then slid her fingers as far inside her as she could. Practiced in the art of playing with herself—when a girl tells her lover to pack his bags, she learns to do what she has to do keep from going insane—she wiggled and dipped, exploring her drenched, hot cave. Her clit was on fire; she couldn’t begin to think how to keep her breathing from rasping. Again and again she went at herself, running a nail lightly over her throbbing clit until she broke out in a sweat and lifted her hips off the bed. Then she tucked her heels as close to her ass as possible and splayed her legs. The playground was familiar, not as satisfying as fucking a living, shoving, grunting man of course, but it did the job. Oh, yes, it did the job! Her thigh muscles burned from spreading her legs so far apart, and she felt out-of-control. How could being a helpless captive turn her on like this? It did! It’s all she knew. It did!

***** Hall had poured himself a beer and taken it into the living room of the house which belonged to a grateful and circumspect SHIT client. He’d thought about turning on the TV as a way of getting back his equilibrium and getting rid of his hard-on. Instead, he’d turned on his end of the listening device he’d planted under the bed in the finished basement. He’d heard her curse him, then silence during which he’d wondered if she’d

been fighting panic. No, he amended. If she felt panic, it was way down on the list of her emotions. With his hand gripping the beer bottle, he listened and imagined. How she handled the details of masturbating was something he could only guess at, but as her grunts and groans picked up tempo, he felt as if he was there beside her, watching her get it on. Athletic as she was, who knew what position she’d contorted herself into. Hearing the bedsprings squeak, he surmised she was thrusting up and down, maybe back and forth, too. Shit! He wanted to be with her—not to watch her climax—but get her there himself. Cursing, he put down the bottle and unzipped. His cock shot out and into his waiting hand. He wasn’t going to ask how this woman, this necessary tool for the assignment, had gotten to him. Sure, he’d known the personal risks inherent in turning her onto her body; he just hadn’t expected it to hit him so soon, or hard. Disgusted with himself, he nevertheless gripped his heavy cock and went to work. She was ahead of him, already breathing like a racehorse going down the home stretch. No matter how vigorously he manipulated himself, she’d climax before he did. But he tried; damn it, he tried. Throwing back his head so it rested against the chair and splaying his legs, he rubbed and jerked, pumping as if his hand was a pussy he’d buried his cock in. He barely heard her cry out.

Chapter Five Shanel woke as daylight began painting her prison in muted colors. She’d drifted in and out of sleep all night, but at least she’d had the presence of mind to crawl under the covers after masturbating. As she watched the last of the night shadows fade, she recalled bits and pieces of what seemed like an endless dream. Awareness of her collar —strange she’d think of it as her collar—had never left, and she remembered how strange it felt to be wearing her bra and blouse while the silk sheets caressed her naked ass. If she didn’t need to go to the bathroom so badly or been so thirsty and hungry, she would have been tempted to relieve a little of the sexual tension the sheets had kindle. The dream. Even when she turned onto her side and repositioned the chain, the memory remained strong. She’d been in water so deep she’d had to tread in order to keep her head above the erratic current. Fighting the current to say nothing of the fatigue in her arms and legs had been exhausting, and at times she’d been afraid she’d drown. She’d been naked which allowed the current to play with every inch of her flesh. Over and over again, she’d tried to put her hands between her legs to relieve a little of the tension, but every time she did, her head bobbed beneath the surface. She was alone in the immense vastness of what must be the ocean, and yet she felt a presence. The presence, or watcher as she’d come to think of him, was the real unknown. She could understand water; she couldn’t begin to comprehend what drove whoever studied her or know what he was thinking, what he intended to do to her.

A low creaking sound jolted her into the here and now. She pulled the sheet under her chin and stared at the stairs. He came into sight. This morning the mask and costume were gone, but until he’d come within a few feet of her, she couldn’t see his face. Now she could, she wondered if the mask had been better. His features were sharp as if the bones were barely beneath the surface. She’d already known his eyes were a deep brown bordering on black, but not that they were set so deep in the sockets she couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. His nose was long and bumped at the bridge as if it had been broken. High cheekbones and an angular chin beneath maybe two days worth of stubble and an unsmiling mouth added to the mystery. He wore faded jeans but no shirt. If he’d done so in order to intimidate her, he’d been successful because this was a man who just didn’t lift weights; he’d made a religion out of strength. True, his muscles lacked the massiveness of a professional weight-lifter or body builder, but he hadn’t gotten this way without effort. His shoulders looked even broader than she’d thought when he’d thrown her over them. His arms were nearly proverbial tree trunks with prominent veins a network over the taut flesh. Not so much as an ounce of extra flesh lay between his chest muscles and skin; his wide, flat breasts added to the message of strength. If she’d been able to put her mind to it, she could have counted his every rib, and at the waist he was narrow, his belly non-existent. The jeans rode so low she could see the top of his navel. A million reactions tore at her and dried her throat. She gripped the sheet so tightly her fingers cramped. Between her legs, she once again flamed to life. Crawl under the sheets with me. Let me feel your body. “Get up,” he said. When she remained beneath the silk’s scant protection, he repeated his order. He could have grabbed the neck chain and yanked, but he didn’t. Yesterday she’d felt numb some of the time, but this morning she was rawly aware of her helplessness. Why the hell that turned her on angered her, but it was an anger she didn’t dare focus on because this man was waiting for her to obey. Determined not to make a strip tease out of it, she pushed down on the sheet until it was around her waist and sat up. Then she slid her feet over the side. There wasn’t enough play in the chain, and she had to tilt her head to keep from choking herself. She held the sheet to her belly and waited. “You need to pee, right?” “Yes.” Was this the first time she’d spoken to him since he’d kidnapped her? His hand snaked out, and he gripped her under the chin. The band around her neck tightened. “Did I give you permission to speak? Do you want the gag again?” Because she didn’t dare try to shake her head, she told him no by dropping her gaze. “I didn’t think so.” Releasing her, he pulled a key out of his pocket and used it to unfasten the chain. Then he wrapped the end of the chain around his hand and used it to compel her to stand. Hating her butt nakedness, she kept her eyes lowered. He led her into the bathroom as if she was a dog, but she needed to go so badly it didn’t matter—at least not much. When she was done urinating, he told her to wipe and she did, grateful that this time her ankles weren’t chained together. What would she have to do to keep what little freedom he’d given her this morning? And did she have it

in her to be obedient? When she flushed the toilet and washed her hands, the sound of running water made her half crazy, but she didn’t dare risk his anger by trying to drink out of her cupped hands. Already she knew to get his permission first. Not saying anything, he took her back into the bedroom. His silence was like fingernails down a blackboard to her splintered nerves. If only he’d let her drink. Eat. Then she could think. To her disbelief, he rechained her to the ceiling contraption. Watching him walk up the stairs, she wondered if he wanted her to remain where he’d left her or get back on the bed. If she climbed onto the mattress, would it make it easier for him to rape her? She’d have to be a fool to believe what he’d said about not doing it. After what seemed forever to her parched throat, she heard him again. Strange she wanted proof of his existence—or maybe not strange because without him, she might die in here. At the thought of her dependence on him, her pussy came to life. He was carrying another water bottle! And a bowl with cereal and milk in it. Instead of giving them to her, he walked over to the chair and sat down. “Last night,” he said, “you earned a drink. Now you’re going to have to earn this.” He indicated the food and water. “I want you naked.” I hate you! Hate you! If I could, I’d kill you! “I’m not a patient man, Shanel. You have five seconds.” Not trying to keep her loathing of him from him, she began unbuttoning the blouse she’d actually liked back when she lived in other world and had a life she could call her own. She pulled it off as if it meant nothing to her and dropped it to the floor. She needed to study him for his reaction, but she was afraid. The bra came next, a practiced unfastening followed by a quick, get-it-over-with removal. To her disgust but not surprise, her nipples pinched into small, hard balls. “Fear or excitement, Shanel?” He pointed at her breasts. “Which is it?” It had to be a trick; he hadn’t given her permission to speak. But if she broke his rule, what would he do, kill her? No, he’d gone to too much effort to capture her to murder her for simple disobedience, but did she want to communicate with him? Maybe it was better to remain his puppet. “What happens now, Shanel?” he asked. “Now you have no more clothes, what will you do to earn something to eat and drink?” The question stuck her with the force of a blow. Her head came up, and she clenched her fists. I loathe you! Whatever it takes, I’ll see you dead. He returned her gaze as if they were dueling with their eyes. She’d never seen a more powerful man. Before her law enforcement career had been cut short by economics, she’d fought to be considered an equal among her mostly male co-workers. Some of them had, no doubt, called her a ball-buster behind her back, but she hadn’t cared. She’d loved being a cop, the best damn cop she was capable of being! Now she was a naked, thirsty, starving, and chained woman. But not for long, she realized when he placed the food and water on the floor near the chair and unfastened her again. This time he didn’t take hold of the chain but folded his arms across his too-big chest, only inches from her. “Crawl to it,” he said.

Hatred slithered over her like a snake. Whirling on him, she stared up, up past his impossible shoulders to his whiskered features, into his eyes. Try it, he said. Then we’ll know which of us is the stronger. He was. Clamping down on the impossible fantasy of landing blow after blow on his balls and cock, she sank to her knees. A wave of dizziness assaulted her, reminding her that without nourishment, she’d never stand a chance. Although she struggled not to imagine what she looked like as she made her way over to the little he was allowing her to eat and drink, she had no doubt he was staring at her exposed ass. He hadn’t given her permission to sit in the chair so she squatted on the floor and picked up the water bottle. She’d told herself she wouldn’t drink like some dehydrated animal, but orders and need had nothing in common. Even before she’d drained the bottle, her stomach felt full, but she picked up the bowl with soggy cereal in it and shoveled in one spoonful after another. She was so intent on getting something into her that would convert into strength she was slow to realizing he’d settled himself in the chair. His crotch was nearly within reach. If she came at him wielding the spoon like a weapon— “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Don’t try.” Don’t try. The words became bars closing around her. In her mind, she grabbed them and pulled them apart and sprang for freedom. In reality, she upended the bowl and drank the last bit of milk. Then she waited. After an insane moment, he took hold of her chain and pulled her close to him. Turning her head away, he deftly unbraided her hair. It fell over her, shielding her from him. Another sound—she’d already become animal-like in her ability to hear—caused her to straighten. She spotted something in his hand, but before she could tell what it was, he clamped his hand around the back of her neck and pushed her face into the carpet. She struggled to straighten, but he straddled her. When he grabbed a hand and pulled it behind her, she lost her balance and fell, smashing her breasts. He settled his weight on her naked ass, then snagged her other hand and brought the two together. A moment later she was handcuffed. She prayed he’d get off her. Instead, he slid lower until his legs were on either side of her thighs. For what seemed forever, he simply stayed there and applied just enough weight to the back of her thighs she could barely think beyond that. Then he ran his hands gently over her waist. Not knowing what to think of this sudden change in the way he was handling her, she remained alert. Over and over again he caressed her waist, her backbone, the hollow at the base of her spine. The longer he kept at her, the harder it was not to respond. What affected her the most was when he pressed the heel of his hand into the hollow above her buttocks; she could feel the touch all the way to her pussy. Her ass cheeks grew hot and her cunt was getting wet. What if he found out? What did she mean, if? How could she stop him from doing whatever he wanted? Despite the question, it really didn’t matter, not with the way he was handling her. Handle was exactly it because her body was his. Tears burned her eyes, but if he’d asked, she wouldn’t have been able to say why or even if she was crying. The massage, or whatever it was, went on and on and might have

lulled her to sleep if she hadn’t been so turned on. She was slow to comprehend he was now exploring new territory, specifically her ass cheeks. Back in what seemed like another lifetime, she’d watched her grandmother knead bread and been struck by the strength in her bony fingers. Her captor’s hands were all strength and what he was doing couldn’t possibly be called kneading; yet she couldn’t shake the image. He seemed to have no plan or design beyond testing the limits of her self control. She desperately wanted to know how much Nevan had told him about the games they’d played on lazy Sunday afternoons with feathers, vibrators, and their tongues. She couldn’t think! Now, when she needed self-control as never before, her mind refused to function beyond what his hands were doing to her flesh. By turn his touch was light and then firm enough to be almost painful. She loved the feather-touches over her hips, the quick, small pinches where butt and legs joined. A few times he ventured between her legs. When he did, the struggle not to clamp her buttocks together and trap him against her pussy took every bit of concentration in her. Her cunt felt on fire. If he so much as touched her clit, she’d explode. She was drenched in sweat. He was teasing her, playing. Why else was he again demonstrating his mastery over her, not just with the handcuffs, but his handling of her body. Her body! Never, ever, had it occurred to her that the collection of bone, muscle, and flesh wouldn’t belong to her, but when he slid his hands against her crotch, she knew everything had changed. As she’d suspected—hell, as she’d known would happen—he found a new playground. Now he took her labia between thumbs and forefingers, not in a painful grip but one that threatened to take off the top of her head. Panting, she struggled not to thrust her ass at him. Her clit seemed to be vibrating—damn it, she could feel it! A climax—a climax was just beyond her reach, coming closer, promising! She barely noticed when he shifted from straddling her to kneeling beside her. When he slid one hand under her belly and pressed up, she didn’t fight but struggled to accommodate him. His other hand remained over her cunt, pressing against it, a finger dipping into her drenched opening. Head still twisted away from him—it was better if she didn’t have to look at him—she waited for what he might do next, waited and felt as if she might drown in her just-beyond-her-grasp climax. He’d trapped her pussy between his hands, pressing up and down at the same time, compressing what felt so swollen it might burst. Her breath snagged, then when she couldn’t hold it any longer, it exploded in an animal-like howl. Fuck me! Oh God, please! Don’t—don’t tease any longer. Ram your whole hand inside me, take my clit and punish it! Let me ignite! But he didn’t. Just as the first wave of a climax began rolling through her, he slapped her ass and released her. For too long, she couldn’t comprehend what had happened, just that the fire in her pussy remained a hot ember but nothing more. She became aware of the carpet pressing against her cheek, breasts, belly. Her ass still stuck up in the air, and she swore her sex juices were staining the damnable carpet. They’d already soaked her thighs. She forced herself to turn her head toward the bastard who’d done this to her. He knelt nearby, his lips parted, eyes dark and glittering. His fists rested on his thighs and were tightly clenched. His swollen cock strained against his jeans. Good, damn you! At least I’m not the only one in agony.

“Get up,” he ordered. I can’t move. You’ve stripped my muscles. “Get up.” Not waiting to see if she’d obey this time, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back as far as it would go. He slapped her ass again. “I hate you! You damn bastard, I hate you!” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she’d have done anything to take them back, but it was too late. He walked over to the dresser she suspected was filled with everything he needed or wanted to control her. She dreaded what he might return with; at the same time, she managed to stand. The stairs weren’t far away. Was it possible—could she get up them before he hauled her back down? But if the door was closed, she couldn’t open it. Besides, the still-dying climax had so weakened her hips and legs that standing took all the strength she had. A dildo! Silver and sleek looking, slightly curved like her pussy. No larger than the one she had at home, at least not the head. But the part the user held in his or her hand looked more substantial than any she’d ever seen. She took an involuntary step backward. “I’m sorry,” she heard herself whimper. “I didn’t mean—please! What—?” Before she could finish, he dropped the dildo onto the recliner, gripped her shoulders and turned her away from him. Her legs threatened to give out, and she sagged forward. She waited for punishment; instead, he blindfolded her. She tried to prepare herself for a return of the gag, but it didn’t come. From the sounds he made, she guessed he’d picked up the dildo again. Then he led her back into the bathroom. He ran water in the sink. Water! Was he going to give her another drink? “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” She did as he ordered, and he placed a pill on the tip. The thought this might be a tranquilizer or one of those drugs used in date rape situations gave her pause, but given what she’d been through, maybe unconsciousness was better. When he placed a glass against her lips, she drank, swallowing the pill. “It’s your birth control,” he said. “I took your supply from your house.” He’d been in her home, her sanctuary! “Why?” she asked because the unknowns were driving her crazy. “You—said you wouldn’t rape me.” “I won’t.” You think I’m going to come to you willingly? In your dreams! But he’d already teased her to the edge of sexual control, and if she’d been able to, she would have jumped his bones a few minutes ago. “Why are you doing this?” Did he have the gag on him? No matter, she had to try to make sense of what was happening. “You’ll find out, when you’re ready to know.” If you haven’t killed me by then. But although she was in the dark both literally and figuratively, one thing she believed—he didn’t intend to kill her. Once again she was slow to catch onto what he was doing. This time the running water was coming from either the shower or large Jacuzzi tub. She felt the humidity in the room increase. He placed his hands around her waist and guided her forward until

her knees touched what she took to be the sides of the tub. “Get in,” he said. The thought of how wonderful getting clean would feel made her obey unquestioningly. As the first warm spray from the overhead attachment for the tub reached her breasts and belly, it struck her that she’d stopped being ashamed of her nakedness. He’d seen all of her and had had his fingers in her pussy. What was left? She didn’t try to resist when he refastened her hands in front of her, then lifted them, and hooked the cuffs onto something over her head. He left her with enough freedom she was certain she could turn around, and her arms weren’t stretched enough to be uncomfortable. Besides, next to the absolute luxury of getting clean, what did a different kind of imprisonment matter? When she no longer sensed his presence, she thought about turning so the spray would wash her back, but before she could talk herself into moving, she heard something, followed by the loss of water on her front. Confused, she cocked her head to one side; the water was still running. Oh, she concluded when the warm stream hit her side, it’s a hand-held attachment, and he’s washing me. He moved the attachment up and down, slow as if he had all the time in the world. She felt heat in her armpit; then the spray inched up the inside of her arm to her wrists and over her fingers. He worked his way down her body, on her waist, over her hips, inching down her leg, the feeling both soothing and electrifying. He did something that changed the water from a spray to a pulsing jet that hit her like small heartbeats. Wherever he touched, she came alive. She zeroed in on the one spot and forgot everything else. Her lethargy changed to nervous anticipation when he varied the temperature. By turn she felt almost uncomfortable heat followed by nearly cold. He kept up his journey —over her shoulders, centering for a long time in the small of her back, down her legs and then between them. When he started washing away the stickiness that was proof of her near climax, she struggled to keep her legs together so he wouldn’t know he was turning her on again, but as sanity slipped, she admitted it didn’t matter; he knew what he was doing. Oh yes, did he! He wetted her hair, then shampooed it with something that smelled like lavender; the scent lingered in her nostrils and became part of the total experience. She tucked her chin against her chest when he started to rinse her hair so she wouldn’t get soap in her eyes. Next, he used a soft sponge to wash her face. She tried to prepare for the feel of the silken touch on the rest of her, but he switched to another sponge. This one was more abrasive, not painfully so but enough to make her skin tingle. He soaped her throat, her shoulder blades, under her arms and down her sides. Then when she was least ready for it, he used the sponge to clean her breasts using small circular motions. He began at the outside of her breasts and came slowly in to her nipples, teasing and taunting. Her nipples tightened and grew hard. With his free hand, he cupped the underside of one breast and lifted it. Then he slid his hand over it until he reached her nipple. She gasped and shuddered when he closed his fingers over the nub and pulled up, down, left and right. Her belly tightened. Her breast was his prisoner, his captive. But he was a kind master, soaping, soaping, soaping the trapped and swollen flesh. Her cheeks felt on fire, and her cunt quivered at

the thought of his possession over her. Unable to control herself, she arched her back and thrust her breasts at him. He rewarded—or maybe it was punishment—her by releasing her throbbing nipple and taking the other. Now, not only did he repeat the long, sensual soaping, but he rolled the nub between thumb and forefinger over and over again. If it wasn’t for the soap, the abrasion would have been painful. Instead, she sagged in her bonds. “Sensitive breasts. And I can make them even more so.” He’d placed his mouth near her ear, and his warm breath sent a shiver up and down her neck. “More?” she managed. “Think about it. Think and wonder what I have in mind.” His words struck her as a threat. She tried to lean away from him, but he still held her nipple and used his grip to keep her where he wanted her. Although her brain didn’t record the sensation as pain, she yelped. Ignoring her protest, he twisted her nipple in one direction and then the other. By the time he finally released her, her whole breast was on fire and felt as if it had swollen to twice its normal size. When he continued sponging her, his hand was gentle, almost loving. As the fire in her breasts receded, she again lost herself in the delicious sensation. He had yet to move between her legs. She should have tried to prepare for assault, but it was easier to mentally follow him as he washed her legs and feet. Although it was hard to keep her balance, she dutifully lifted one leg and then the other. When he was done there, he languidly soaped her belly. She imagined soap sliding from her belly to her pubic hair and wondered if the sight was turning him one. The soap was starting to dry in places when he put down the sponge and thoroughly rinsed her. He still hadn’t touched between her legs, and in the rare moments when she wasn’t consumed by the most sensual shower of her life, she thought about the dildo. The rest of the time she simply existed for him—and herself. It wouldn’t take much for her to climax. Just a little— A now familiar sound let her know he’d hooked the nozzle up again. She waited for him to turn off the water. Instead, he placed his hands between her legs and pushed them apart. It didn’t occur to her to resist. There was still some soap on the sponge, just enough to clean her pussy as it had never been cleaned before. No longer able to summon the strength to hold up her head, she let it loll to one side. He spread her labia and cupped the sponge around first one and then the other, working up and down their length, not touching her clit but coming achingly close. Her legs and ass burned, and she couldn’t release the muscles that had sucked in her belly. Soap slithered over her clit and inner lips. She felt her whole cunt let down. Her breasts became weighted, and there was a line like lava from them to her pussy. Fuck me! Please, fuck me! No! Don’t give him anything! Don’t let him know… But of course he knew what he was doing to her and how her body was reacting. She heard the sponge plop into the water in the bottom of the tub followed by the sound of running water. Anticipating he meant to rinse her cunt, she thrust her pelvis forward. She felt, not the familiar hot and cold pulsing but a thin, strong spray. She tried to put distance between it and her cunt, but before she could, he took hold of one lip

and used his grip to keep her in place. He aimed the stream at her core and manually opened her. Water spreading up her pussy! Not a powerful, painful blast but like nothing she’d felt before! It branded her clit, found the cave where a man’s cock belonged and branded that as well. She shuddered. Her legs went out from under her. She sagged in her bounds. He followed her down and kept the water flowing inside her. Her head dropped back; if she hadn’t been blindfolded, she would have stared at the ceiling. “Oh! Oh!” “You’re coming?” “Y-yes.” “No.”

Chapter Six Bastard! You’re a damn bastard. Although this was exactly what he’d planned from the time he’d placed her in the tub, Hall still had to fight self disgust. He knew what having a climax interrupted at the last moment felt like—hell. Still, that’s the torture The Takers inflicted on the women under their control. It had to be done to Shanel. Refusing to question why he was risking her sanity for an assignment, for money, he turned off the water and leaned against the wall, watching her. She kept turning her head one way and then the other, fighting the blindfold. Her mouth sagged, and she made mewling sounds, but it didn’t get to him the way her body’s messages did. Thankfully, she’d gotten her feet under her again which meant the cuffs were no longer digging into her slender wrists, but it gave him scant comfort and did nothing for the heavy pain in his ignited cock. He nearly freed it, but if he did, he wasn’t sure he could make good on his vow not to take her. Turning on the sink faucet, he repeatedly splashed his face with cold water, not that it did enough to kill his arousal. He’d thought he’d addressed any personal reaction to what he was going to do to the female subject and had told the others that after losing Beth, he’d have no trouble closing down his emotions. Hell, he’d believed it back when Shanel had been nothing more than a name and a picture, but now she was a living, breathing… Still disgusted with himself, he forcefully recalled what he had to accomplish before presenting Shanel to The Takers. Water still dripped from his hair and chin and trickled down his naked chest as he picked up the carefully selected dildo. They don’t use garden variety, the slaver had admitted. Once a women has one of these suckers up her pussy, she can’t get enough of it. It drives them crazy. Which was why The Takers used them. Because he’d already familiarized himself with everything from the scientifically contoured shape to the temperature variations, various rhythms, and size adjustments, he

gave the mechanism scant attention. What was harder to dismiss what his self-disgust. If this was any other situation, and his heart hadn’t been so deeply scarred, he couldn’t think of anything more enjoyable than using this high-tech toy to pleasure a woman. He and Beth had enhanced their sex life with vibrators and she’d returned the favor by dressing in exotic, barely-there nightwear, but the difference between then and now was Beth had been a willing and enthusiastic partner. Shutting off his damn mind if not the hot grinding in his cock, he stepped into the tub and crouched in front of Shanel. He could tell she was trying to determine what he was doing, but depriving her of one or more of her senses was a vital part of her training. When he ran his free hand against her pussy, she tried to clamp her legs together. Unfortunately for her, she was slow to react. As result, he ran his thumb up her before she could close herself off from him. Once he was inside her, she rose on tiptoe, then stilled. He wiggled his thumb. Sighing, she settled back on her feet and spread her legs. He guessed she hated both of them at this moment. He teased her for a moment, making her think he had nothing more than a little finger-play in mind. When the first drop of pussy juice leaked out of her, he deftly spread her lips and slammed the dildo in all the way. As soon as he turned it on, she tried to back away, but he hadn’t given her enough freedom of movement. Next she tried to twist to the side. Anticipating, he clamped a hand over her hip and held her in place. He had to make sure she didn’t try to kick him, but so far she was too distracted. The setting he’d chosen to begin with was standard issue—nothing more than a mild and enthusiastic humming. Going by the way her breathing picked up and the juice which continued to ooze out of her, he had no doubt she was enjoying herself. Hell, maybe she’d forgiven him for what he’d done so far. Not bloody likely. After letting her get used to that, he pushed a button which controlled the heat. Thanks to careful engineering, it was impossible for it to get hot enough to burn, but the top setting came close. She stopped breathing and tried to stare down at him through the blindfold. Her legs trembled; she gasped. It won’t hurt you, he wanted to say, but he’d already broken one rule by telling her that earlier. He didn’t dare make that mistake again if he was going to get her ready. By clenching his teeth, he kept the words buried. The warmer the dildo became, the more out-of-control she appeared. She was obviously sexually excited, but the element of fear was nearly more than she could control. Before long, the heat in his hand told him maximum temperature had been reached. However, she didn’t know. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Near panic raised her voice an octave. “Don’ t! No, you can’t!” He didn’t say anything. “No, please.” She started to lift one leg, and he had no doubt she intended to kick him where it counted. However, when she shifted her weight to one leg, her foot slipped out from under her. For a moment, she hung by her arms. He nearly stopped stimulating her so he could come to her aid, but because he knew how far over the edge the women who belonged to The Takers were taken, he didn’t. Fortunately, she soon regained her footing. During her struggles, he’d been unable

to keep the dildo all the way in, but as soon as she was standing again, he slid it up tight. She sucked in her belly but didn’t make the mistake of moving her feet again. “No, please.” It was a whimper. His self-loathing kicked up another notch. Then the emotional ice that had made it possible for him to survive a nightmare closed over him. He became what made him a valuable member of SHIT, the consummate professional—except for the painful hard-on, that is. Leaving the heat on high, he introduced her to the dildo’s next trick. The humming became a vibration that increased in intensity until he could barely hold onto the damn thing. The rapid-fire thrusts slammed into her and made her breasts jiggle. A wave of movement ran up and down her belly; he noted the same wave in her ass. Her head lolled to the side; she sucked in air. He couldn’t tell how close she was to a climax, but it sure as hell didn’t look far off. Not yet, Shanel. Before I let it happen, you’re going to beg. It occurred to him that the ultimate proof of his power would be to tell her, but he’d put it off a little longer, draw out the teasing torture. With that in mind, he manipulated the vibration so it no longer threatened to tear her apart. Bit by bit he slowed it, pulling her back from the brink. “No,” she sobbed. “No, please!” Although he hadn’t yet demonstrated all of the dildo’s tricks by far, he limited this lesson to one more. Because it had been so well designed, the casual viewer wouldn’t know the tip retracted into the body of the apparatus until that particularly trick had been demonstrated—which was what he did now. He couldn’t be sure exactly what she was feeling, but then neither was she making an attempt to keep her reaction from him. As the tip slid away from her passage while the base continued to spread her lips, she straightened and clenched her jaw. He imagined the last thing she’d expected was to have part but not all of her pleasure taken away—although what he was putting her through didn’t come under the heading of pleasure. More like hot torture. She opened her mouth, and he thought she’d say something, but she didn’t, probably because she’d already learned it wouldn’t do her any good. How was she handling his silence? Did she have a clue that one strategic touch on her part and he’d explode? He shifted position so the dildo was now aimed at the front of her cunt. When he’d touched Beth there, she’d gone off like a rocket. He’d told his wife he’d found her G-spot and she’d retorted she didn’t give a damn—just do it again! Shanel thrust her pelvis at him; her nostrils flared even more. He didn’t immediately reward her but kept the tip retracted for the better part of a minute. Although her pussy still leaked, it was no longer a flood. Good. Slow, slow, he pushed the release button. He imagined the end sliding like sweet hot steel up her pussy. His pelvis muscles contracted. If he didn’t free his cock, the damn head would probably break off! She was trying to increase the dildo’s contact with her pussy walls, and he wondered if she might climax before he could keep her from it. How had he judged her progress before? It hadn’t been hard and yet—hell, like it or not, he’d become too much participant and not enough observer!

At the last moment—for him at least—he drew the dildo out of her with a sucking sound. She howled, actually howled. Then, instead of the whole body jerks that had been part of Beth’s climax, Shanel Fox whimpered. “Didn’t get there, did you,” he said. He readied himself for a barrage of curses, but all she did was shake her head like some beaten animal.

***** No more. Please, no more. I can’t take it. The words were still drumming in Shanel’s head when the man unhooked her cuffs from the overhead restraint. How many times had he brought her to the brink of a climax only to rob her? It seemed as if the exquisite torture had gone on forever but that couldn’t be because she would have died by now. Sharp pain in her arms signaled the return of circulation, but although she longed to curse him, she’d be damned if she’d let him know what she was feeling. Maybe her thoughts were the only thing about herself he hadn’t made his. But the journey from being a separate human being to existing through and because of him— incredible! He put his hands on her hips and let her know he wanted her to get out of the tub. Now her core no longer ruled everything, she realized the water had been turned off, and she was starting to shiver. Because her hands were in front of her, she could have pulled off the blindfold, but what if she displeased him? “I’m cold,” she whispered. He didn’t say anything, but when he placed a towel in her hands, a wave of gratitude caught her by surprise. She dried herself as best she could, all too aware he had to be watching. When she dried between her legs, her cunt felt so swollen and sensitive, she could barely stand to touch it, and she didn’t want to think about how sticky she was there. He had done that to her! After she’d dried her feet, he took the towel and rubbed her back. He drew out the act and spent more time than was necessary gently toweling her ass and the back of her legs. Wanting and yet not wanting it, she waited for him to do the same to her cunt and get her all hot and bothered again, but he didn’t. Instead, he took hold of the neck chain she’d forgotten about. She let him lead her back to the bed and when he let her know she was to get on it again, she did. Leave me alone, please. I need—to rest. To find myself. It took all her strength not to demand an explanation when he positioned her on her back. He fastened something to her ankle cuffs and pulled first one leg and then the other apart. She heard the now familiar clicks and knew he’d chained her legs to the metal rings at the foot of the bed. Then he did the same to her wrists so once again they were over her head. Hog-tied. No, spread-eagled. In a dull way she realized she no longer cared that he’d taken over control of her body. When she’d first heard about the possibility of layoffs in the police department,

she’d been filled with a mix of anger and fear. Was all her training and dedication dispensable, unneeded? How were she and her fellow officers going to pay their bills if they were laid off? However when the axe itself fell, she’d felt nothing. The shrink who’d met with everyone who’d gotten a pink slip had explained that numbness was a self-protective mechanism, like accident victims who don’t feel pain for awhile. Maybe that’s what it was, she concluded as she waited for what her captor now had in mind. She’d been so emotionally battered since her kidnapping she’d shut down so her emotions could heal. And just maybe the countless interrupted climaxes had taken too much of a toll. When he removed the blindfold, she concentrated on clearing her vision. Once she could see clearly, however, she wasn’t sure it was such a hot idea. Although he’d taken care to dry her, he hadn’t bothered to do the same to himself. Droplets still clung to his chest, and the front of his jeans were wet. She couldn’t see his lower legs but guessed his jeans cuffs had gotten the worst of the soaking. Knowing he’d had to get drenched in order to bathe her gave her a small measure of pleasure. His hand was near her throat. Did he intend to choke her? Before she could do more than fantasize about biting him, he ran his knuckles along the side of her neck. Going weak inside, she leaned into the caress. He stroked up and down, his touch tender. She was afraid to look at him but even more afraid not to. His eyes had become smoke and deep in their core she found pain. Why was he hurting? Maybe he sensed her question, maybe he’d belatedly gotten a grip on his emotions. Whatever it was, he stepped back and glared at her. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “But not yet.” It’s gone. Whatever passed between us for an instant no longer exists. “Why not? It’s not as if I’m going anywhere.” The silk sheets felt wonderful against her sensitive backside; they also lacked warmth, and she was starting to feel chilled again—either that or she was still reacting to his unexpected and precious compassion. “You aren’t ready.” “What happens before I am?” “If I told you, you’d be able to anticipate, and that’s counterproductive.” “Of course!” Sarcasm burst from her. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” “You won’t,” he said. Then he gripped her jaw and forced her to look at him. “I didn ’t give you permission to talk.” Talk was all she had. Talk was helping her start to think again. “If you don’t like it, gag me. It’s not like I can stop you.” “No, you can’t.” Although he’d released her jaw, she didn’t break the eye contact. “Who are you? Are you going to tell me ?” From his reaction, she could tell he hadn’t expected the question. Maybe he’d thought she’d be too cowed. She was scared all right, but the damnable truth of it was, the past twenty-five or so hours had been the most mind-blowing of her life. Nothing she and Nevan had done, not even her active imagination where it came to sexual matters had come close to this.

“When and if I believe it’s to my benefit, I’ll tell you my name.” “But you know everything about me.” “Not everything, but what I need to.” What did that mean? “How—how did you find out?” “Various sources.” “And my former boyfriend was one of them, right?” Instead of affirming what she already knew, he moved to the foot of the bed and touched her right foot. “You’re getting cold.” “Nice of you to notice,” she snapped. There was absolutely nothing about her physical body he couldn’t study, experiment with, control. Against her will, her belly contracted. The reaction reaffirmed what he’d already taught her, namely that sexual excitement and fear were closely related. He ran his fingers between her toes, pushing them so far apart the sensation bordered on pain. She squirmed and tried to pull free, but the damnable ankle restraints made that impossible. When he switched his attention to her instep and pressed and kneaded, she felt the exquisite pressure all the way to her cunt. It belatedly dawned on her that he hadn’t fastened her neck chain. Instead, the lightweight lengths rested between her breasts. She twisted to the side as far as she could which caused the chain to slide against the inside of her left breast. Both nipples immediately puckered, and the electrical charge between her legs increased. “Not cold any more?” he asked. She didn’t answer. “Do you think not admitting it is going to make a difference?” “You know so damn much about me, you figure it out!” He released her foot. Before she could so much as make a stab at figuring out what he had in mind, he bracketed his hands on either side of her calf and started walking his fingers up her leg. She squirmed. Unfortunately, she also shifted position which resulted in the chain sliding from her left breast to her right. Her nipples were now more than halfway to hot. His upward journey continued, teasing and taunting as he closed in on her hips and pussy. “Haven’t you done enough?” she bit out. “You’ve felt my—my equipment. I’d—I ’d think you’d be bored by now.” “No, not bored.” His voice had barely been above a whisper. She tried to get him to meet her gaze, but he was staring at the wall, almost as if trying to divorce himself from what he was doing to her. He doesn’t want to be turned on! Taking that piece of wisdom, she tucked it deep inside her. Somehow, some way she’d find a way to exploit his vulnerability and use it to her advantage. Then he flicked a fingernail against her labial, and she lost hold of what little she’d learned about him. It did no good to try to wriggle free so why the hell was she trying? In the wake of the question, some of the tension left her muscles; she waited for his next move. The hand on the outside of her thigh traced a slow path from the joining between leg and hip to over her pelvic bone. At the same time, he took hold of both folds and sealed them

together. She yelped. “It doesn’t hurt. Don’t tell me it does.” He released a little of the tension. “Not pain,” he said as calmly as if they were debating political positions. “A hell of a lot better.” “How—would you know?” He chuckled, prompting her to wonder if she’d heard him laugh before. Maybe because she’d been distracted by the question, she lost any chance to prepare for what he might do next. He brought both hands between her legs and drew down and out on her lips. Fire laced a trail deep inside her pussy. She tried to buck off the bed. “Don’t!” she begged. “Please.” “That’s closer to pain.” “All right! All right,” she repeated. The pleasure-pain continued. “All right what?” he demanded. “Don’t!” “What does it feel like?” He rubbed his juice-slickened thumbs over her cunt lips. As if it’s your body, no longer mine. “Why are you doing this?” She was on the brink of tears. “Because now it’s time for you to understand.” “Understand what?” Oh God, please stop rubbing! This—this isn’t good! “I’ve laid claim to your body. It’s mine to use as long as I need it.”

Chapter Seven As long as I need it. Shanel lived in a red world with black at the edges. At the same time she felt as if she was flying. Her cunt had caught fire, and her clit became a living thing trying to escape. “Please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t hurt me.” Either he’d let up a little or she was getting used to the feeling—whatever it was. It couldn’t be possible, but once again she leaked. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to find her way out of this—this torture? “Do you want me to stop?” Yes. No. I don’t know. “You bastard!” “Answer me. Do you want me to stop?” “Yes!” The fire banked down a little. “Then beg me to.” “You bastard.” With what seemed a single act, he released her and guided the dildo inside her. It

felt cold and moved in a circular fashion so by turn it branded every molecule of her core. Any other time that would have sent her over the edge, but the cold— “You haven’t been pierced,” he said. “What?” “Your labia pierced.” “No!” “What I did, pulling on your labia, this is the way it’d feel all the time if I pierced you and hung weights from the loops.” He was sick! A horrifying, terrifying sick man! “You wouldn’t… ” “What’s the matter, Shanel? Nothing to say? Could it be because you know you can’t stop me?” He’d sucked her into a dark, airless cave. A fire burned in its depths, but how could that be when the dildo was so cold? It continued to move inside her. No longer questioning everything it was capable of, she accepted that its diameter had contracted. As a result, it glided freely in her, pressing here, there, and everywhere like a long, thin, hard cock. The circular motion became random thrusts, keeping her totally off balance. She didn’t feel on the brink of climaxing, just excited and confused. “Think about it, Shanel. Your body is no longer yours. It’s mine.” “Why?” She barely got the word out. By way of answer, he reached under the bed and pulled out what looked like a leather bikini bottom. She didn’t comprehend its purpose until he lifted her ass and slid one of the leather strips around her hips and another between her butt cheeks. “Leaves me free to do other things,” he said as he used the contraption to secure the dildo in place. The trusting movement ceased, and it started to warm. He started to climb onto the bed and straddle her waist, but his jeans didn’t have enough give to them. She couldn’t be sure, but he appeared hesitant about removing his jeans. Finally, however, he did. He wore tight white briefs that hugged his ass and hid almost nothing of his huge arousal. Dimly she remembered that earlier she’d felt a moment of control knowing what he was doing to her turned him on. When he turned his back on her and walked over to the dresser, she wondered what instrument of sexual harassment he’d pull out of it this time. Closing the drawer, he showed her a small white jar. The bed sagged, and she tried to prepare for his weight on her waist and hips, but he let his knees take the pressure. He placed his hands on her ribs and moved slowly, wonderfully upward until he’d cupped her breasts. She started to tremble. Her cunt was being heated by the amazing dildo. “Firm breasts,” he said. “Full. You like playing with them, don’t you?” “W-what?” “We placed a camera in your bedroom last week. You lit a candle before beginning to masturbate, but even if you hadn’t, we would have seen because it’s an infrared camera. Tell me, do you get off every night?” “You bastard.” He shook his head. “You’re going to have to come up with something else to call me. That one’s getting pretty shopworn.” He pressed up on the undersides of her

breasts, making them look as if she was wearing an industrial strength push-up bra. “ Bastard won’t do,” he said. “Not at all.” Was she imagining it, or was the dildo getting larger? Much as she needed to keep ahead of everything it was capable of, she needed to know something else even more. “We?” she asked. “Everyone who’s part of this.” “Part of what!” She hated the way her voice sounded, small and out-of-control. “ Goddamn it! What’s going on?” She should have saved her breath because obviously he had no intention of answering. When he was done studying what he’d done to her breasts, he released them and picked up the jar he’d placed on the bed. He unscrewed the lid; the faint aroma of lavender reached her. He dipped his fingers into whatever was in there and began rubbing it on a breast, the motions as gentle as a mother tending to a baby’s bottom. The scent became stronger. The cream was warm, and the longer it was on her skin, the warmer it became. He was in no hurry. Instead, he continually replenished his supply and spread it over every part of her breast. She loved the way his fingers glided over her flesh, the languid warmth. Then he did the same to her other breast and she felt, what, loved? When both were slick and on the way to hot, he used his thumbs to press down on her nipples. “You belong to me,” he ground out. “I—don’t belong to—anyone.” “Don’t you? Whatever I want, I can make happen.” The words hung in the air. He continued to apply pressure to her nipples; hard and electrified, they pressed back. Too late she realized she’d been right; the space-age dildo had expanded so it now filled her completely. Larger than the cock of the handful of men she’d had sex with, it pressed everywhere, claimed everything. This was no longer her pussy; the dildo—and the man who’d put it in her—owned her. “Make it stop,” she whimpered. “Please. Before—” “There’s a safety feature.” He sounded as if he was explaining the workings of a piece of machinery. If it hadn’t been for his cock trying to rip his briefs apart, she would have been fooled into believing he felt nothing. “It’s sensitive to a woman’s contours. It can’t over-expand.” She wanted to sarcastically tell him she was impressed by the technology necessary for that feature, but she couldn’t get out a word. Her pussy no longer consisted of separate parts but had become a single whole. Her clit had given up trying to escape this sweet torture and simply jutted out of her, hot and panting. Maybe she’d gone beyond a climax and existed in a blazing fantasy world. Although it took several tries before he managed to clamp his fingers around her cream-slickened nipples, he now drew them toward him. She didn’t want to, but she looked through an ebony haze at what he’d done. “I can pierce these, too,” he said. His jaw was clenched; he didn’t meet her gaze. “ Put rings through them and hung a chain between the rings.” “No. Please.” “It wouldn’t take much, a tug on the chain and you’d do everything I order you to.”

“No. Please.” “Then there’s clamps.” He squeezed. “You ever have clamps put on your nipples, Shanel?” “N-no.” Fear nibbled on her nerve endings; she couldn’t tell where the emotion ended and primitive sexual excitement began. Against all reason, what he’d just said turned her on even more. “Good. Then, if I decide to, it’ll be your first time.” His hold on her nipples remained secure. Despite her rampaging emotions, she swore he didn’t want to be saying what he was. “Clamps run the gambit from clothes pins to expensive works of art made from silver or gold.” He breathed long and deep. “Your nipples are dark. Silver would make a dramatic contrast, or white-gold. Pale against dark. Pinching.” “N-o.” The drawing sensation became less intense, and her pussy no longer felt on the brink of exploding. With what remained of her brain, she focused on her captor. He wasn’t handsome; the word fit someone less intense and without darkness settled deep in his eyes. But there was something compelling about his eyes, his trained-for-survival body. She sensed endless layers. This man with calluses on his hands and faded old jeans and dark stubble wouldn’t normally think of rubbing lavender-scented cream on a woman’s breasts or talk about nipple clips; she was certain. When he fucked a woman, the act was animal-to-animal. Elemental. Real. He wanted to fuck her. She knew that as maybe she’d never known anything else. But something stopped him and turned him in a direction that didn’t fit him. If she could figure out why… “If you had your choice,” he said. “Which would it be? Pierced pussy lips or nipples.” You hate asking; I know you do. “What does it matter?” she said. “You’ll do whatever you want.” By the way his eyes narrowed, she knew he hadn’t expected her response. If she could keep him off balance, she might get out of this alive. Changed but alive. “Why won’t you tell me your name?” she demanded. Thank goodness he was no longer trying to separate her boobs from her breastbone; the return to a nearly normal sensation made it easier to think and talk. “Is it because if I say it I’ll become a human being, not just your plaything?” He hoisted himself off the bed and stood glaring down at her. “I’ll gag you.” “I can’t stop you, but you won’t be able to forget my words. Is this a power game?” She jerked her head in the direction of her skewered pussy. “Some fantasy you’ve been dying to play out? I don’t think so.” “What is it then?” I don’t know. That’s the hell of it; I don’t understand anything. “You tell me,” she challenged. His jaw clenched, and she went on. “Or maybe you’re afraid to. Keep the poor bitch ignorant and she’s easier to control. Don’t let her talk or see. That way she isn’ t human to you.” You are human, more than I expected, more than I want. Although he said nothing, she swore that was what he was thinking.

“What do you want?” she demanded. “To see how far you can push me before I lose my mind? You get off on sexual torture?” This was insane. Here she was spread-eagled on this man’s bed with a dildo stuck up her cunt. She should be a mass of quivering flesh. Instead, she felt strong. At least stronger than she had when he’d first captured her. “It isn’t torture.” “How the hell would you know? You aren’t the one it’s happening to.” To her surprise, he laughed, the sound deep and without humor. “You think not.” He brushed his hand over his straining cock. She didn’t know what to say. With an effort of will, she closed her eyes. “Make up your fucking mind,” she muttered. “Either let me climax or don’t.” And if you ask me which I want, I’ll yell the answer to the rooftops. “Not yet. It isn’t time.” What the fuck did he mean, and how the hell was she going to survive until then? In short order she was questioning her decision to shut her eyes. Just the same, if she looked at him, he might see her insecurity, the climax close enough to touch. If the dildo so much as twitched— She felt his hands on her hips. Despite her efforts, her eyes flew open. To her relief— at least she told herself she was relieved—he unhooked the straps that kept the dildo in her. However, it stayed put. Next he released her ankles. After taking a moment to become accustomed to the wonderful sense of freedom, she lifted her pelvis. “Take it out. Please.” “You’re sure? According to the manufacturer, there isn’t a woman alive who can get enough of it.” “Take it out!” He folded his arms over his naked chest and stared down at her. Slow and steady— undoubtedly so she’d be aware of what he was doing—he ran his gaze from the top of her head to her toes, lingering on her breasts and pussy. Once she’d been the picture of power and authority in her uniform with a gun strapped to her waist. Now she was buck naked, and he’d shoved a foreign object up her pussy, one that might stay there indefinably if he wanted. “You don’t like it.” “I hate it!” Careful. Stay calm. He lifted an eyebrow. Then after a few more seconds during which her sex juices felt as if they were streaming out of her, he put his hand between her legs. She had to fight the desire to squeeze him. When he touched the protruding end of the dildo, she felt the contact all the way to her belly button. Hovering on the brink of insanity, she waited. To her disbelief, he did something to make it hum. Vibrations radiated out from her pussy to first kiss and then ignite every nerve ending from the neck down. She couldn’t be sure—how could she be certain of anything?—but she thought he was pushing on it a little because it seemed to penetrate even deeper. Hating herself but unable to do anything about her reaction, she bent her knees and let her legs splay out. “Don’t like it?” he murmured. “Hate it? Doesn’t look like it, Shanel. Doesn’t look like it.”

So close! Just a few more seconds and— She sobbed when he drew out the dildo. Not thinking of the consequences, she tried to kick him. Then a sense of emptiness assaulted her, and she sank deep, deep into the mattress. Spent, she fought to accept her hungry need. She didn’t dare speak. Until he straightened her legs, she didn’t realize she was still offering everything to him. What had happened to the person she’d always been? Had it taken so little time and this man to turn her into little more than a starving pussy? She’d arrested a couple of prostitutes who’d admitted they were sex addicts. She’d felt sorry for them; they were throwing their lives away for a series of quick and mechanical fucks. Now she was beginning to understand what ruled them. Don’t give into him, a new voice whispered. Remember what you said about staying strong. It’s too late, she retorted. He’s changed me. Only if you let him. Only if you surrender, let him own you.

***** Shanel remained motionless so long Hall wondered if she’d passed out. Finally she sighed. “My arms hurt,” she said. “I have to pee.” As he unfastened her wrists, he had to clench his teeth to keep from apologizing for what he’d put her through—so far. “Help me up, please.” Because he figured her shoulders had been under enough strain, he slid his hands under her back and helped her sit up. She sagged against his chest, and her long, loose hair fell over her face. She started to lift her arms, then whimpered. “Hurts,” she whispered. Thinking a massage would help, he slid her legs over the bed and made sure she wasn’t going to slump over before turning his attention to determining whether to start by massaging her hands or upper arms. Although she lifted her head, her hair remained in her eyes, and he started to brush it away from her face. Some of her hair lay across her lips, and he reached to remove it. As he did, she kissed his fingertips. Surprised, he didn’t move. She continued to paint his calluses with feathery caresses. “What are you doing?” he asked. Instead of answering, she opened her mouth and drew in his forefinger. The very real possibility she intended to bite him made him pull free. “What the hell?” She didn’t answer and kept her eyes downcast as she placed her hands over his breasts. It had been so long since a woman had touched him like that—such a long, lonely time. Her fingers became brushstrokes. Her knees were less than an inch from his cock. He needed to back up, demand to know what she had in mind, to gag and blind her. Instead, he let her continue. No, not a brush, he concluded when she pressed her fingertips against his workout-hardened chest, a feather, or a bird’s wing. “Do you like it?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

“I want to show you how grateful I am.” “For—what?” Shit, he sounded like a fifteen year old in the back seat of a car. “I’ve had bondage fantasies for years,” she went on in a husky tone he hadn’t heard before. She began drawing small circles on his breasts. “That’s what I thought they’d always be, fantasies. But you turned them into reality.” What the hell was this about? And more important, did he care? “Don’t.” “You don’t like it?” Shit. He wasn’t going to lie to her. Neither was he going to let her know why he hadn’t turned his back on her. If he did, the confession would strip him bare and make him as naked as she was. While his brain screamed to put an end to this insanity, he stood still as her hands trailed lower, to his ribs, his belly, under the low-cut briefs. When she took hold of the elastic and eased the cotton down, he stared like a dumb, unthinking animal. “So far it’s been one-sided,” she continued. “You giving and me taking.” “That’s the way you see it?” He captured her wrists but didn’t try to pull her hands off him. “As if I’m offering you something?” He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. Although it might be the most dangerous thing he’d do today, he released her wrists and waited to see what she would do next. Her smile was tentative as she slid off the bed and knelt before him. He backed a step. Then she pulled his briefs the rest of the way down. His cock had been swollen so long he should be used to it by now. Instead, the reality of his nakedness next to hers sent his blood to pounding. Still kneeling, she stared at his cock, arched slightly away from him. Didn’t she want to do this? How could she after everything he’d done to her? But she’s going to and you, damn you, will let her. Let nothing! He’d never been passive; he wasn’t about to start now. He didn’t know how. Fisting his hand in her hair, he drew her to her feet. She slid her body up his, igniting his tormented cock. Now that she was next to him, not touching but the need arcing through him, he longed to have her kiss him. She didn’t, and in the aftermath, he was glad he’d been spared that kind of intimacy—a caring gesture. To his surprise, she hopped back onto the bed. After settling herself on her knees, she grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him toward her. The bed was just enough lower than his cock so he couldn’t simply slide into her. Fool! Damn fool! There’s not suppose to be sex between the two of you. Who the hell cared? Riding on the wave of his silent argument, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her onto him. Instantly, his cock slipped into her softened and well-lubricated pussy. She held onto his shoulders and locked her feet around his ass. They were connected breasts to breasts, heads slightly turned so their cheeks pressed together and there was no danger of a kiss. It was all wrong, all wrong. Hell, the neck chain proclaiming her his captive hung

between her breasts; he felt it against his chest. Then his cock shuddered, and he shut off his brain. He thrust at her. She came at him with equal strength, pelvis grinding into pelvis. The part of him that still functioned knew he couldn’t keep this up for long and forced him to pick up the pace, to buck repeatedly. It felt incredible! His rod-hardness being caressed by her warm, wet core. No more jacking off in a dark, lonely room. Not now! Again and again he contracted his muscles and drove his cock forward. He couldn’t find a rhythm. She came at him at her own pace, grunting, pushing, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, her breasts pressed against his chest, sweat staining both their bodies. His thighs and pelvis muscles burned, screamed. But release—release was right there. Once, twice, three more times he pounded at her. Then he climaxed, pent-up cum shooting out of him and into her. It seemed to be an endless supply, draining him as it exploded. Coming to the end of his strength, he shoved her away and back onto the bed, then fell on top of her. Mindful of his greater weight, he slid off her but brought her with him so they lay side-by-side. He smelled sweat and cum, felt her ass in his palms, her hands still on his shoulders but no longer clamping down. A familiar post-fuck lethargy stole over him and unless he did something about it, he’d fall asleep. Asleep with Shanel in his arms. Without knowing he was going to do it, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Even more of the real world slid away. In a dim way he knew the speed of his climax came close to besting the world’s record and had been much too fast for any woman to keep pace with. The fog lifted. He saw, felt, tasted, understood what he’d done. What she’d made him do. Angry beyond all reason, he sat up. She rolled onto her back and placed her hands over her vulva, waiting. He wanted to tell her that her attempt at subterfuge had failed; he wasn’t the dumb stud she’d tried to play him for. But if he did, he’d have to own up to his vulnerability. Not saying anything, he flipped her onto her stomach and fastened the neck chain to the end of the bed in such a way she could turn her head from side to side but little else. He debated refastening her legs and arms but couldn’t bring himself to do so. She was trying to look at him but probably not seeing much beyond his limp cock. Stepping out of her sight, he touched the stickiness between her legs. “I’m clean if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. “No diseases. And I know you’re the same.” “Of course you do,” she whispered on the tail of what sounded like a groan. “What’ s your name? Don’t I at least deserve something?” “Hall,” he said and walked naked out of the room.

***** He was still in the shower when his cell phone rang. Although he hadn’t fully regained his strength, he managed to grab a towel and push the send button before the

message feature kicked in. “Yeah,” he growled. “Good day to you, too.” It was Brad. “You aren’t with her, are you?” “No.” He started to dry off. His cock felt bruised. “I’ve got news.” He didn’t need to be hit over the head to know he didn’t want to hear what came next. “Give it to me,” he said. “You’ve got to pick up the pace.” “I just got her yesterday.” “I know but… ” SHIT existed because of Brad. If he had a weakness, it was his inability to ever shut off the business part of his brain. “What do you mean by pick up?” Hall pressed. He pulled fresh briefs out of the dresser but didn’t try to put them on. After the time he’d spent with a naked woman, his take on nudity was changing. “Something’s gone wrong?” “Yeah.” Brad sighed. “Suicide. One of our clients ate a gun last night.” “Shit.” “That’s putting it mildly. At least he had the decency to do it at work instead of at home. Because he was also involved in city politics, it’s making headlines. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it.” “I’ve been occupied.” “I guess you have. Anyway, the D.A.’s office is poking around, looking to see if he killed himself for financial reasons.” “Shit.” “Shit is right, in more ways than one. You know what the investigators are going to find, don’t you?” “The deceased had been siphoning money out of his business.” Feeling nearly as spent as he had right after fucking Shanel, Hall sat down and stared at his uninterested cock. “Are The Takers acting nervous?” Brad snorted. “Those bastards? They’re too damn cocky. It’s business as usual with them. The only difference is they have one less disgruntled client asking what happened to his money. However, so far this morning I’ve gotten calls from four of our clients.” “Because our clients want The Takers to pay, right?” “They want The Takers exposed, now. For the pyramid scheme to fall apart—and for them to get their money back. Keeping a low profile is no longer their primary concern. This has gone on too long.” “Did you tell them—” “You’re not ready to take the woman undercover? Their response is, that’s not their problem.” If the tables were turned and he’d lost tens of thousands of dollars to a coalition of ruthless, power-hungry bastards, he wouldn’t be patient either. “What did you tell them?” he asked. “We’ll have the trail to their money by the end of the week.” Brad sighed. “I had to. Hall, the DOA was married with two teenager daughters. His wife’s in the hospital.

Emotional collapse.” Hall took a moment to slip into his briefs. Doing so brought him face-to-face with his reflection in the dresser mirror. He didn’t like what he saw. “It gets worse,” Brad said. “The DOA’s father had a stroke when he heard. The old man’s also one of our clients.” “I don’t need to hear this.” “Because of what happened to your parents and wife. I know. Hall… ” “Day after tomorrow.” He ground out the self-imposed deadline. “I’ll be at The Taker’s club.” “And the woman?” “She’ll be there too.” “You can—” “I have to.”

Chapter Eight “We’re going for a run.” Because she was tethered to the bed, Shanel couldn’t study her captor’s—Hall’s— eyes and thus gage his mood but obviously he was angry. Undoubtedly he regretted having sex with her and blamed her; either that or he was smart enough to guess seducing him—if that’s what it was—had been her unsuccessful attempt to level the playing field. He’d climaxed, but she couldn’t say the same for herself. Close didn’t count; in fact, close was worse than feeling nothing. If only he hadn’t come so fast! Was this her, wanting satisfying sex with the man who’d made her his prisoner? She tried not to shiver when he unfastened her. “I’ve had a bowl of cereal in twenty-four hours,” she told him. “I’m not going to make it without something to eat.” “I figured that,” he said and thrust a sandwich at her. She all but wolfed down a flavorful combination of Swiss and ham on rye. Not until she was done did it strike her he must have known Swiss was her favorite cheese. Next he handed her a granola bar and another bottle of water. “Go to the bathroom,” he ordered when she was done. He watched as she sat on the toilet. When she was done, he handed her a toothbrush —not just any brush but her own from home. “What else of mine do you have?” she asked. “Your running shoes.” And don’t forget my birth control pills. Being able to brush her teeth was heavenly. After she finished, he ordered her back into the bedroom, or whatever her oversized prison cell was called. This time when he went to the dresser, he retrieved her running shoes and socks. Her hand trembled when she took them from him. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Around the property. There are trails.”

“I take it I don’t get clothes.” Instead of answering, he jerked his head indicating he wanted her to put on her shoes. Maybe she should have been mortified at the thought of stepping outside naked, but the thought of getting some exercise caused her heartbeat to pick up. At the same time, the change in Hall—knowing his name changed the way she perceived him in ways she didn’t fully comprehend—bothered her. She watched him attach a leather loop to the loose end of her chain. Then he wrapped his hand around the loop and headed for the stairs. Like a well-trained dog, she followed him. Her legs felt numb as she trailed him up the stairs, and she didn’t breathe while she waited for him to open the door at the top. They stepped into an unlit room no more than ten-by-ten. It had two doors, one of which she assumed led to the main part of the house. The other opened to a great sweep of lawn surrounded by forest. There was no sign of a road or other houses, not even a telephone pole, and although she listened intently, she couldn’t hear any man-made sounds. When they walked onto the grass and she looked back at the massive roofline, she couldn’t help but be impressed. Still, she couldn’t reconcile Hall’s faded blue jeans and scuffed running shoes to such an expensive place. If only she had some idea where they were, whether there were neighbors, or if they could be trusted. “You do five miles most mornings,” Hall said. “I’ll match your pace.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off the more than a little intimidating wilderness beyond the manicured grounds. “Why are we doing this?” “I need to get something out of my system, and you’re no good to me if you’re out of shape.” He started walking. The lightweight chain was some ten feet long, and as he eased from a walk into a jog, she decided they could run without getting into each other’s way. Usually she wore a sports bra and felt self-conscious about the way her boobs jiggled up and down. Breaking into a run to keep the collar from choking her, she tried to control and cradle her breasts by cupping her hands under them. However, he picked up the pace, forcing her to pump her arms in order to find a like rhythm. They ran, not exactly as one but with the same confidence in the strength in their legs, the same comfortable way of pulling air deep into their lungs. Even with the collar and chain, she fell in love with running the way she always did. Head up, arms moving in unison with the rest of her body, landing and taking off, hips gliding—except for her nudity, this was something she’d done countless times. Glancing over at Hall, she was surprised to sense the same contentment in him. Whatever devils had compelled him to put on his running shoes, the process of releasing the endorphins was keeping those devils under control. There was a trail at the end of the lawn. He stepped onto it first, running ahead of her. Feeling evergreens close in around her was a little disconcerting so she concentrated on keeping her balance. She heard their shoes slap on the packed earth, watched the interplay of shadow and light as the sun filtered down through the tree branches. Her lungs burned a little, letting her know they were at a higher elevation than she was accustomed to, not that the evergreens and crisp air hadn’t already told her. She imagined snow blanketing the earth in winter, wild animals hibernating. Maybe they were nowhere near civilization. The possibility distracted her enough so she barely saw the fallen branch in time to

leap over it. When Hall glanced back at her, the momentary eye contact broke her sense of oneness with her surroundings. How could she be thinking about hibernating creatures and winter storms when at the end of this run he’d force her back into the sub-terrain room? What else did he have in mind? Did his intentions go no further than breaking down her inhibitions until she didn’t care what he did to her body? Until she’d beg and cry for a climax? She’d been a fool not to think beyond her next drink of water, to consider herself fortunate because Hall had allowed her to brush her teeth. From what he’d told her, she believed he intended to make her part of something larger than captor and captive. He’d talked about nipple clamps and piercing her labia. What next, a tattoo, maybe branding? A shudder rippled through her and splintered her memory of their quick, hard fuck. He didn’t care about giving her pleasure; it was the last thing on his mind. What was then? Another shudder dried the sweat under her arms and down her back. A moment ago her cheeks were hot, but now they felt cold. Look at this place they were in, this dark wilderness with millions of trees crouching around her, holding her in. She needed out! Had to get away! Fighting panic, she studied his backside. The only thing that kept her with him was the leather in his hand. A weapon! She needed a weapon. Clinging to a half-formed plan, she grabbed the chain and jerked. As he stopped and turned, she began fiddling with her shoe laces. “It’s too tight,” she said. She made herself sound more out-of-breath than she was. “I have to loosen it.” He swiped sweat off the side of his neck. Drawing on her cop training, she reached out, grabbed the branch she’d spotted a moment ago, and surged to her feet. She came at him swinging the branch like a baseball bat. He threw up his arms, but she managed to connect with the side of his head. The loud thunk reverberated throughout the branch. His head snapped back, and she swung again, this time striking his neck. Not giving him time to recover, she yanked on the chain. For a horrible instant she thought he’d hold on, but then it came free. Free! She ran. Almost as soon as she dove into the wilderness, she regretted taking the direction she had because the trees were everywhere. She had to run in a zigzag pattern, not that there was any pattern to it. Branches scraped her skin and without the path, the uneven terrain forced her to keep her eyes on her feet instead of where she was going. That was the problem. She didn’t know where she was running. However, she felt exhilarated. She was free! No hands on her, no man turning her body against her. She’d hide in the forest and wait until night. She had a good sense of direction. Surely— What looked like a fortress of trees was directly ahead of her. Disconcerted, she stared around. Deciding the trees looked a little less dense to her left, she took off in that direction. Her momentary exhilaration evaporated, leaving her with nothing except

dogged determination to not let her captor put any more ropes or chains on her. Although she couldn’t remember ever wanting anything more, she didn’t dare do more than jog. She was getting dizzy from alternating between watching her footing and trying to see where she was going. She felt like a wounded rabbit trying to run from an angry, determined wolf. Was he after her? If only she’d knocked him out! Too late she realized the hated chain dragged on the ground. She’d started to reach for it when it snagged on something and she went sprawling, her air supply cut off. Even before she fully came to a rest, she started to scrabble around so she could free herself. Then she saw his shoes. Sobbing, she crawled on hands and knees, but he got to the end of the chain before she did. She watched his hand close around the leather loop, then forced herself to look up at him. She’d never seen that look on a human being before, not even with all her experience dealing with people whose emotions were at the rawest. Unable to comprehend what he was thinking, she waited. “What do you think you were doing?” he demanded. “This is BLM land. Tens of thousands of acres of it. How the hell did you think you were going to survive?” Tens of thousands of nothing. The enormity of it stripped the strength from her legs. His eyes deep and unfathomable, he pulled her to her feet. Although she didn’t want to, she again looked at him. At the same time, she was unbelievably aware of the way his chest—scant inches from hers—heated her breasts. He pulled her roughly against him and wrapped his arms around her back, holding her tight to him. They were both breathing rapidly, their hearts hammering almost as one. If he hadn’t overtaken her, she’d have begun a journey to a long, slow death. Gratitude washed over her and not questioning the wisdom of what she was doing, she reached down and cupped her hands over his swollen cock She thought he’d push her off him, but he didn’t. Blood rushed to her groin. Unable to fathom what was happening to him, she unzipped his jeans. It took no more than another second to push down his jeans and briefs. Before she could put her splintered mind to what she should do next, he lifted her right leg and angled it so her foot touched his ass. With his other hand at the small of her back, he bent his knees until his cock was aimed at her cunt. Lost in the buzzing inside her head and the equal buzzing she felt in her clit, she arched her pelvis toward him and took him into her—all of him. Hard. Primal. She nearly lost her balance when he thrust forward, but he held her in place and drove again and again. She wanted, needed this! Wanted proof she was alive and important to him beyond the receptacle her pussy represented. She felt his cock, hard and hot, deep inside her and wondered if she could swallow him. But it wasn’t right for her. Pulled back from the brink, she railed at both of them because they’d started fucking before her pussy had had time to ready itself for him. She was barely moist. Between the friction that caused and the impossible position she was it, she hung on the edge. He was flying; she wasn’t. Get it over with! This isn’t affirmation of anything. It’s fucking. Only fucking.

Despite her anger, she nevertheless gave him what he needed by shoving her pelvis at him at him over and over again and screaming silently at him to hurry, to get his rocks off before she went insane. He did, his cock swelling and jerking, letting go, drowning her pussy in his sex. His cock was still spasming when he pulled out of her and let her put her leg down. “We’re going back,” was the last thing he said.

***** Hall paced from one end of the massive living room to the other. Afternoon was drawing to a close. Before long, the basement would be dark—nearly as dark as he felt. Finally, because he had no choice, he picked up his cell phone. Nevan, Shanel’s former lover, picked up after the first ring. “How is she?” Nevan asked. Recently fucked. “Alive.” “What happened?” He told his fellow SHIT operative about her attempted escape but not about the damn stupid way he’d used her afterward. Even if he was of a mind to, how could he explain what he didn’t understand? “You said it wouldn’t be easy,” he said when the telling was over. “She wouldn’t break down.” “What I said was, she has balls.” Nevan sighed. “She’ll die before she knuckles under. I made it clear.” “Yeah, you did.” Outside the shadows were lengthening. If he hadn’t run her down, she’d be facing a night alone and naked in the forest. “That’s why I thought she’d work— because I could bring her close but not over the edge.” “Why are you calling me? I’m not coming there; I told you, that’s one thing I won’t do.” Nevan was a complex mix of a professional operative and a caring man, something Hall believed he no longer was—at least he had until he’d taken responsibility for molding Shanel. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “Did you hear? The timetable has been stepped up. Everything we decided had to be done to her, it has to be compressed.” “I heard.” Nevan groaned. “I hate this.” “You’re the one who—” “I know!” he interrupted. “I gave up her name. You know why.” Because of what was happening to the women who belonged to The Takers. “I can’t continue doing what I have been,” he told Nevan. “That way will take too long to get her to where those women are.” “What are you going to do?” “She has to know more,” he said. “Let her in on it?” Hall closed his eyes and let the chair support him. “I don’t think I have a choice. The reason I called you—how do you think she’ll take it?” “Beyond wanting to rip both our lips off? I can’t say. Damn, I wish I could but… ”

Despite his impatience, Hall understood why Nevan couldn’t give him the answer he needed. There simply weren’t any guidelines. “She’ll hate you,” Nevan said. “Here’s a bulletin. She already does.” “It’s better than being terrified of you.”

***** When he’d brought her back into the basement, Hall had removed her shoes and cuffed her hands behind her but hadn’t chained her to the bed. Once he’d left, she’d paced back and forth, but although walking had helped dissipate a little of her pent-up emotions, it hadn’t done enough. She’d wanted to have sex with him. It just hadn’t worked out for her. When she’d grown tired of asking whose fault that had been, she’d gone into the bathroom and managed to turn on the faucet with her chin and lapped water like a dog. She had no way of cleaning his cum off her thighs. She hadn’t wanted to get near the bed so had sat in the recliner with its assortment of hooks and straps. Thinking about the possible uses for those things gave her the chills so she watched the light fade from the windows. If Hall hadn’t caught up to her, she’d be out there—deep in the woods. That’s why she’d initiated sex, because she’d needed to show her gratitude in a way that didn’t need words. She jumped and stood up when she heard the door open. He stepped toward her— stalking really—and despite herself, she inched back. “Where do you think you’re going?” “No where,” she admitted. “No where. What are you going to do?” “Anything I want. You understand, don’t you?” “Yes.” To her disgust, her cunt grew hot. Was she getting off on his dominance? “I want you to think about something.” As he’d done before, he folded his arms across his naked chest, his gesture saying he had all the time in the world for this. “You ran because you remember what freedom is like. You want it back, don’t you?” “Yes.” She had to work at not stuttering. “But what if weeks had passed, months? If you hadn’t known anything except this room and the collar around your neck for months, would you have still tried to get away?” Oh God, oh God! “I don’t know.” “I can turn you on whenever I want to; you can’t deny the truth, can you?” Her legs were turning to mush. It took everything in her to remain standing. “I haven’t seen all your tricks yet. Some of them might not work.” She could tell he wanted to laugh. “Oh, believe me, those tricks, as you call them, are proven. They’re what would keep you here, waiting to see what I’m going to do to you next, loving being turned on.” “If you think I get off on that crap, you’re an idiot.” “Really? All right, so you say you don’t like my touching you. You want to make a

bet?” No! It’s a bet I’ll lose. “The only thing I’ve learned is you’re a sexual sadist.” From the way his nostrils flared, she knew she’d gotten to him. “Getting me all hot and bothered but not allowing me release—what the hell is it about?” “So you’ll understand what kind of men they are, what they’re capable of.” What was he talking about? Somehow she knew she didn’t want to know—but it was going to happen anyway. “So far you’ve only had a taste of what they get off on; it isn’t enough.” “Enough? For what?” “For what you’re going to do.” “This isn’t making any sense!” “Not now. But it will. We’re going upstairs. There’s something you have to see.”

Chapter Nine Shanel hadn’t had any expectations about the living room, but one look told her the house’s owner was wealthy. The carpet was a rich green and so dense she felt as if she was gliding on it. Most of the furniture was white which made a striking contrast to the carpet. Although she wasn’t an art expert, she recognized oil paintings and water colors when she saw them, and there were a half dozen one-of-a-kind modernistic arts on the cream walls. She found the decor rather stark, probably because she didn’t want to be here. She was still naked; maybe that wouldn’t change for as long as she was with him. At least he’d gotten rid of the cuffs although she couldn’t dismiss the reality of his grip on the neck chain. He ordered her to sit facing the TV. After fastening the end of the chain to the chair leg, he placed a tape in the VCR and sat near her. “This was taken from a hidden camera used at the headquarters of a group called The Takers which functions as a pyramid scheme,” he told her. “I work for an organization hired by disillusioned clients who invested in what The Takers presented. Our assignment is to expose The Takers and put an end to them.” The cop instincts and need for detail she’d thought belonged to the life she’d lived before her kidnapping clicked into high gear. “Who ran the camera?” she asked. “Let’s just say we convinced him to work with us as an informant, something he was somewhat willing to do because The Takers were screwing him.” “Over what?” “He was providing a service which you’ll soon understand.” Hall’s expressive eyes darkened. “One he believed he wasn’t being adequately compensated for.” She didn’t want to have anything to do with this, but if she refused to look at the tape, she’d never know why she’d been ripped from her life—or what she’d have to do to get it back. “The picture quality isn’t the best,” he said. “And some of the words are garbled,

but you’ll get it.” She gripped the chair rest and leaned forward. Despite her position as a prisoner, excitement ran through as it had back when she’d been investigating crimes and arresting suspects. The opening camera work showed shoes and slacks belonging to five men. There was male laughter. Other than that, she couldn’t tell what was going on. Then whoever was running the camera repositioned it; everything jumped. When things cleared, she saw torsos and the cropped heads of the two shortest men. All held drinks. Some wore suits and ties while others were more casually dressed. “These are The Takers?” she asked. “Yeah. The camera is tucked in the informant’s shirt which is why the angle is low.” Everyone seemed to be talking at once, probably because their tongues had been loosened by alcohol. One man seemed incapable of speaking below a bellow, and he was talking about some real estate investment which was turning out well for him. He was constantly being interrupted. She decided they sounded like bragging boys, each trying to outdo the others. “They do a lot of bragging,” Hall said. “Is that what brought them together, seeing who can out-boast the other?” “Initially. Then they went a step further. More than one step. These are powerful men, Shanel. Powerful and arrogant. Made that way by their wealth.” Hall hated them; she had no doubt. “Do they own this place?” she asked. The question made her uneasy. “No. It belongs to one of our clients.” A client who’d made it possible for Hall to bring her here. Who was the enemy, the men she was watching or those Hall worked with? “Listen,” Hall said. “Things are going to change.” She heard a voice she hadn’t before; it sounded so close, she guessed it was whoever had the camera. The first was garbled. Then, “—don’t have all night. You men want to see the merchandise or not?” The conversations tailed off, and she could tell the wealthy men were looking at the speaker. “Yeah,” a man wearing a dark blue suit and red power tie said. “We want. It better be better than the last worthless piece of ass you brought us.” Just like that, Shanel felt cold. “Piece of ass? That’s what I am?” “Listen!” Everything went out of focus for a moment. She heard footsteps. “He’s going out to the car to get her,” Hall said. Had the temperature of this green and white room gone down? A car door on the tape squeaked open. Then everything became crystal clear. In the dim interior light, she saw a naked, big breasted woman huddled in the far corner. The woman had a gag in her mouth and was blindfolded. The gag was a twin of the one Hall had used on her. The informant grabbed the woman and hauled her out. She tried to stand, but with her hands cuffed behind her and her legs cuffed close together, she swayed and would have fallen if the man didn’t have a hold on her. Shanel’s heart pounded; she couldn’t speak.

As it had in the car, the camera panned over the woman, showing her in all her nude helplessness. Everything went out of focus again; then Shanel saw the man had released the woman’s ankles. Like some animal being led to slaughter, she stumbled along as the man led her inside. “It gets worse,” Hall said. “You need to know.” What she needed was a stiff drink and a way out of this nightmare. Because she didn’t have access to either of those things, Shanel concentrated on breathing as the woman was placed in the center of the room, and the men gathered around. Power-tie man hefted her breasts. “Where’d you get her?” he asked. “In another state,” the informant said. “That’s all you need to know.” “Who’s looking for her?” “They don’t know whether to declare her missing or wait for her to come back. The way I set up things, it looks like she embezzled some money at work and decided to split.” Everyone laughed. Another man, this one with long, thin fingers and manicured nails rammed his hand between the woman’s legs. “Shit,” he announced. “She’s wet. How’d you do that?” “Training,” the informant said. “She’s so hot you’d think she was in heat.” Shanel was out of her chair before she remembered the chain. Holding the restraint out for Hall to see, she glared at him. “You bastard! You absolute bastard.” “Sit down. It isn’t over.” Still furious, she did as she was told. Then she clamped one hand around the chair arm and held the other to her throat where the thin, necklace-like collar lay. She felt sick. Because she’d missed some of what was being said, it took her a moment to catch up. It soon became evident the informant—or slaver as she now thought of him—was trying to negotiate a higher price for the woman. The Takers, however, showed no sign of giving in. “You aren’t in a position to negotiate,” power-tie man said. “And threatening us isn’ t going to get you anywhere. You aren’t going to the cops. You don’t dare with everything we have on you, the safeguards we’ve taken to protect ourselves.” “You think you can get anyone else to do this?” the slaver retorted. “Try hiring some junkie to snatch a bitch and see what happens. He’ll screw it up, and it’ll all come down on you.” “No, it won’t.” Power-tie man walked up to the woman and pulled nipple clips and a chain out of his jacket pocket. Shanel closed her eyes to keep from being sick. “Look,” Hall said. “You need to understand.” “Why? Why me?” “Listen. Look.” Despite the awful knot in her belly, she did. Someone removed the woman’s blindfold, and she stared at the clips and chain as if they were the only thing in the world. When the man tried to fasten one to her breast, she jerked back, making a mewling sound. Two men grabbed her and shoved her into a chair. Although she resisted, they easily tied her hands and feet to the chair, the leg fastenings wide so her cunt was exposed. Shanel’s own pussy became uncomfortably warm.

Now that the woman was held in place, power-tie man had no trouble fastening the clips to her large, erect nipples. The moment the clips clamped down, the woman tried to buck out of the chair. Then she relaxed, all strength seeming to flow out of her. Shanel heard the captive’s quickened breathing. The camera panned in on the woman’s pussy. She’d been shaved there; moisture glistened on her labia and a drop oozed onto the chair seat. An indistinct dark red tattoo was in the shaved area. The men laughed. Power-tie man hooked the thin gold chain to each clip and tugged. Once again the woman bucked. “Like it, do you, bitch?” someone asked. “Would you look at those knockers? A man could get lost in them.” “Or suffocate trying to suck on them.” The comment caused everyone to laugh. After each man had a turn at tweaking the nipple chain, a man Shanel hadn’t noticed before removed the woman’s gag. She started to say something but he ordered her to be silent—as Hall had done to her. “Are they going to rape her?” she asked. “She’ll ask for it.” “Don’t play word games!” Her head felt as if it was splitting. She’d worked with female abuse victims and knew how helpless they felt, but what was being done to the woman—and had been done to her—was different. Because Hall had known how to awaken her body sexually, she no longer feared what he might do to her; instead, she anticipated it. “It’s almost over,” Hall said. Almost over. And then what? Unnerved, Shanel watched as the man who’d ungagged the woman gave her a drink. The woman swallowed greedily and spread her legs as far as they’d go. Shanel was disgusted with her, and yet she understood. As the video grew dim, the man knelt between the woman’s legs and licked her swollen clit.

***** “It’s time to talk about it,” Hall said. They were sitting at the kitchen table eating the salad and rolls she’d made while he watched, undoubtedly to make sure she didn’t try to use the knife on him. Except for the skewed balance of power between them, they looked like any ordinary couple sharing a meal—and her nudity. Willing herself not to shudder, she nodded. “First, the informant,” he said. “We recently arranged to have him arrested.” “We?” “The group I’m a member of. We call ourselves SHIT.” “SHIT? Why?” “It seems appropriate for the work we take on. I’m not going to tell you about the other members, so don’t ask.” “Why did you have the informant arrested?” “Although he was cooperating, we needed him out of the way.”

“Why?” “So I could step in.” Another familiar wave of nausea washed over her; whatever Hall was involved in, so was she. And she now understood what her role would be. “Who will The Takers think you are?” He put down his fork and looked at her. “A slaver specializing in sex slavery.” “Why?” she demanded when she’d recovered enough so she could speak. “You— you get off on it? Is it the money?” “No.” He drew out the word. “I’m doing this because The Takers have to be stopped.” Was he some kind of undercover investigator? No, that couldn’t be because no arm of law enforcement would condone what had already happened to her and what she feared might still come. “I thought you’d want to know why they have to be stopped.” “I don’t care! It isn’t my concern.” “It is now,” he said, telling her what she already knew. “Why me?” she blurted, her appetite gone. The neck chain dangled between her legs, no longer under his control. The knife she’d used for the salad was in the sink. “A lot of reasons. One of them is because you’re a cop.” “Not any more.” Dismissing the knife, she stared at him. “All right.” She forced out the words. “Tell me something about The Takers.” He’d just put down his own fork when his cell phone rang. Hall pulled it off the clip on his waistband and glanced at the number display. “He’ll leave a message.” “He?” “Another member of SHIT. The Takers—there are five of them—initially came together because they all belonged to the same hunting club. They raise hounds and other hunting dogs and go after game on private preserves.” “It’s legal?” “Up to a point. Shanel, the club isn’t what’s important.” “Maybe not, but it helps me understand what kind of men they are.” “Good point. After several years of hunting together, their relationship expanded. As I’m sure you’ve already surmised, they’re men with disposable income, but they’re more than just sporting enthusiasts. There’s a construction equipment supplier, the chairman of a bank with five branches—he’s the real driving force. Another develops world-class golf courses throughout the Northwest.” “Garpwell!” she exclaimed. “It has to be him.” Hall gave a curt nod. “You get the point. These are men accustomed to power.” “According to the papers, last winter Loring Garpwell bought a low income mobile home park and evicted the residents so he could level the park. Buying their ramshackle trailers for pennies on the dollar was his generous way of easing the shock of the eviction. ” “You’re well informed.” “Not enough.” She touched the collar. “If I’d been more aware, this wouldn’t have

happened.” “One thing The Takers are into is putting money in foreign banks as a way of avoiding having to declare it,” he said. “Specifically in Mexico. And the money isn’t theirs. It belongs to our clients.” He reached across the table and after a moment, she let him take her hand. When his fingers closed over hers, she felt both trapped and comforted. “The less you know about who SHIT works for the better.” He squeezed her hand. “You know what a pyramid scheme is, don’t you?” “Something that looks like an investment company or corporation. Investors are promised a high rate of return, but it doesn’t happen. Instead, the crooks use the initial investments to cook the books and thus draw in more business. In the end, unless the crooks are caught, the money is never seen again.” “Right. Only in this case, The Takers aren’t the only ones determined to stay one step ahead of the IRS. So are SHIT’s clients.” “Because they’re using their company’s money, not their own, right?” He nodded and she couldn’t help but take pride in his look of admiration. “SHIT’s clients aren’t the most ethical, but they aren’t the ones ruining lives. The Takers are. One client, a basically decent man, just committed suicide. His family and company is starting to put things together, but before it happens, The Takers will bury the funds even deeper than they already have.” The ramifications of what she’d just learned were getting larger and more complicated. “What does this have to do with me?” she asked.

Chapter Ten Instead of answering her, Hall had listened to the message on his cell phone. Whatever he’d heard had turned his expression even more sober. He started for the living room, then indicated he wanted her to follow him. “I don’t want to have to force you,” he said. “I’d like to believe you’re thinking like a cop now.” She got to her feet and faced him, not trying to cover her muff or breasts. “A naked cop who’s been drugged and tied.” “Now you know why,” he said and left the room. Against all reason, her gaze settled on his jeans-clad ass. Damn but the man was put together well. Not bothering to ask what he wanted from her, she joined him and curled up on the white couch. After everything he’d done to her, how much he’d seen of her, being naked didn’t matter. He sat at the other end of the couch. “We don’t yet know enough to pull the plug on the operation,” he said. “We need proof of how the money—it’s always cash—gets into Mexico and where it’s being kept. Until we have all the pieces, we can’t go to the police.” “What about your clients? They don’t want the exposure.” “It’s taken SHIT awhile to convince them of this, but they now know they don’t have a choice. What they’re banking on is if the attorney general understands they committed

their resources and risked their reputations to expose The Takers, they’ll be able to keep their involvement out of the press.” “Of course. They don’t want to look stupid.” “Or be charged with theft and tax evasion.” She waved off what didn’t matter a damn to her. Even with everything she’d been trying to assimilate, she hadn’t forgotten what she’d seen on the tape. Just thinking about the woman having her breasts clamped made her own nipples ache. “Where do I come in?” “You’re willing—” “I’m not promising anything! Damn it, why did you want to make me part of this?” “Not want. We didn’t have a choice.” Bull shit! He took hold of her foot and drew it to him. She felt, not imprisoned but incredibly aware of her body. “Like I said,” he continued. “We don’t know enough to go to the attorney general. Until we’ve uncovered the money trail—” “You want me to apply for the job of mule? Fuck it.” As if determined to make her reconsider, he pressed his thumbs into her instep. She felt the pressure all the way up her legs, ending in her cunt. “The women know.” “What wo—no!” she gasped as reality sank in. She tried to pull free, but his hold was too strong. “No!” she repeated. “I can’t… This is what this has been about.” She held up the chain. It took all her willpower not to throw it, which would have been stupid because it was fastened to her neck. “You—you’re trying to turn me into one of them. The Taker’s sex slave.” “I was.” “Was? What changed things?” “Because of the suicide, the timeframe has changed. We have to stay ahead of the police investigation.” Shanel pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. He’d be surprised if she didn’t have a headache; he sure as hell did. However, that wasn’t the only thing he felt as evidenced by the growing bulge in his jeans. Shit! Could it be—was it possible talking to her intelligent human being to intelligent human being was a turn-on? When was the last time that had happened between him and a woman? “Do—how many women do The Takers have?” she asked “It varies.” “Varies?” She spat out the word. “What happens to them when they’re retired? They leave to become dental technicians?” “No.” “No,” she repeated and repositioned herself on the couch so she was facing him with both legs stretched toward him. She slid her hands between her legs and cupped her pussy. “This is all I’d be to them, wouldn’t I? A piece of ass. A cunt to use and abuse. And—and because they wouldn’t see me as a human being, because you would have stripped everything from me and left me with nothing except wanting to be fucked—

they might say things in my presence they shouldn’t. Details. Facts and figures. Places. Names.” Wondering if she had any idea how much he hated himself at this moment, he nodded. “Say it, Hall,” she insisted, her hand still on herself. “Draw me a picture.” He could lose her; he and the other SHIT members had known how critical this moment would be. They’d convinced themselves that once he’d completed her training, the former cop would be willing to do anything in exchange for a climax. What God-damn fools they’d been! “The women—” “Not women, Hall,” she interrupted. “That’s not how The Takers think of them. Say it how it is, cunts, whores.” “The women,” he insisted. “They’re kept at the mansion all the time.” “Like a harem?” “Like a harem,” he agreed although that was white-washing the truth. “Sometimes they’re placed in cages.” Her lips trembled. Her fingers on her pussy twitched, and he had no doubt she was stimulating herself as a way of keeping her fear and disgust at bay. Hell, he’d love to help. “The women,” she whispered. “They must know—a lot.” “We think they do,” he admitted. “Probably not at first but after awhile, when The Takers are convinced the women are malleable, we believe they stop monitoring what they say around them.” “Like they were dogs or pieces of furniture. How can you have anything to do with this? How?” She yanked her foot free and surged to her feet. She all but ran to the door and tried to turn it, but of course he’d locked it. He followed her but forced himself not to grab her. Damn but it was hard not to with her breasts calling to him and her pussy a playground waiting to be explored. When she sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands, he didn’t know what to do so stood there, waiting. “What—what happens to the women when the men grow tired of them?” she asked. “Or if they refuse to be used?” Shit. Shit. “I think you know.” She nodded. “I—I was going to ask why The Takers are so—so depraved, but I don’t have to. They can do this. It’s part of the power they get off on.” He joined her on the carpet and wrapped his arms around her. She wasn’t crying, maybe because what she felt and now understood went beyond simple emotion. “They get off on power,” he told her. “They have to be stopped.” When she lifted her head, her mouth was so close that their proximity hit him like a fist to his groin. He should be used to her impact on him by now, shouldn’t he? But, damn it, it had been so long since he’d felt. Cared. “I don’t give a damn about SHIT’s clients,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his mouth. Despite his rocketing emotions, he knew that was the worst thing she could have said. If she wasn’t committed— Determined to get to her, he shifted his grip to under her

arms and pushed her back so the door supported her. Harsher than he’d intended, he covered her breasts and closed down. “You don’t care that those bastards are getting rich and our clients are being destroyed financially, committing suicide?” “No.” She made no move to free herself. “Don’t you get it, no.” “Damn it, Shanel! I can’t believe—” “Go on,” she retorted, her gaze locked on what he was doing to her breasts. “If you think this is going to change my mind, squeeze my boobs. Stick another dildo up my pussy and make me beg. But although maybe I will beg, I won’t change.” Feeling helpless, he let up on the pressure. “I can’t think about powerful and arrogant men,” she whispered. “Not even those you call your clients. All that matters to me are those helpless women.” Deep inside him something shook and started to come to life. Fearful of its escape and onslaught on his sanity, he leaned toward Shanel and ran his tongue over her throat. She sighed and turned her head to the side. Taking it as an invitation, he drew her up toward him until her so inviting breasts were flattened against his chest. The moment he did, he knew he’d made a mistake. Thinking of her as a tool in SHIT’s war against evil had been his rock, his protection from feeling. “I don’t want you,” she said. “But I do. It’s your fault. Your tricks—techniques—I feel as if I’m on fire.” What man wouldn’t accept such an invitation? He could take her anywhere in the overpriced house and make her forget the basement, but he didn’t trust his legs to support him so, like her, he remained on his knees. She’d admitted she was on fire, but she wasn’t the only one. Because he wasn’t ready to show her how vulnerable he was, he draped her arms over his shoulders. The moment he sucked in a nipple, she made a throaty sound. Taking as much of her inside him as possible, he ran his tongue over and under the now-puckered nub. She groaned again, arching her back in invitation. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She increased her grip on his shoulders, and he folded himself over her, licking her nipple, her breast, bathing her with his saliva. She continued to give way before him, and he eased up long enough for her to bring her legs in front of her, then came at her again, forcing her to throw her arms behind her for support. He slid between her legs and braced his hands on her thighs. If she wanted, she could jump to her feet and run. To where? The house was locked up. It didn’t matter, didn’t matter. As long as she allowed him… God but she tasted sweet! Her flesh was salty because she’d sweated during their run—and when she’d tried to escape—but it only added to the heat in his cock, his whole damn pelvis. Maybe he could do this forever, bathe one and then the other breast, repeating himself over and over again until he’d driven her mad. But while he was still making his decision, she scooted away and rested her back against the door again. Now that her hands were free, she took hold of his head and guided it toward her pussy. “I want… to be sucked.”

Much as he wanted to accommodate her, it was awkward this way so he stood and drew her up to him. Then he carried her into the bedroom he’d been using. He sat her on the rumpled coverlet with her legs over the side. Kneeling before her made him feel vulnerable and reminded him of how vulnerable he’d forced her to be. Too late. He had to do this. Her legs trembled and he could smell her liquid heat, but instead of opening herself to him, she sat with her knees pressed together. If this had been all about him, he would have pushed her onto her down and taken her missionary style, gotten off as hard and quick as he’d done before. But those two abrupt explosions, although satisfying on an elemental level, had left him disgusted with himself. He was no longer a horny teenager; he’d become a man—a man who should understand what a woman needed. Holding tight to his insane resolve to give her what she deserved, he slid his hands along the inside of her thighs and slowly opened her to him. Her cunt was already swollen, her hard and reddened clit begging to be taken. The world, the phone call from Brad saying a woman’s nude and tied body had been found along a seldom-used road, all that disappeared. He started to ask himself how Beth had liked it, then forcefully dismissed his dead wife from his mind; this was about Shanel. About him and her. She must have gotten over her hesitancy about letting him touch her core because while he’d been arguing with himself, she’d splayed her legs and planted her feet on the bed-frame which lifted her enough so her playground lay before him. He came at her without thinking, his tongue reaching. The moment he touched her nether lips, she threw back her head and sucked in air. He toyed with her labia for awhile, bathing there as he’d bathed her breasts, taking her in his mouth and sucking. She sobbed and tried to grab hold of his hair. However, when she did, she nearly lost her balance and went back to supporting herself on her braced arms. He ran his tongue all over her cunt, tasting and testing everything except her clit. He deliberately left it alone. “Hall!” she gasped. “Please.” “You’re ready?” he asked, his head still between her legs. “Yes! Oh God, yes!” Getting her to come was such an easy thing. Yesterday he’d lighted a fire in her, and now all it took was breathing on the embers to send her over the edge. Maybe she’d always be like this, hot and alive. Shaking off the question, he ran his tongue feather-light over her clit. Her responding shudder seemed to touch every part of her, shaking her legs and arms, making her breasts jut toward him. He was aware of those things but only dimly because giving her what she needed and deserved took so much attention. He gave her a few seconds in which to recover a little of her equilibrium and then gently closed his mouth around her clit. She shuddered again and tried to pull back. He didn’t let her, held her in his moist mouth and pushed his tongue over the throbbing bud. Careful not to hurt her, he released her clit and blew on it. She all but lifted her buttocks off the bed and then sagged. He leaned away so he could run his middle finger deep inside her. He then bent his finger and rubbed the top of her cunt. Crying, she fell back. With his finger still inside her, he once again closed in on her clit and brushed it with his tongue.

All it took was a single touch, but he stayed with her as her climax rolled on and on, small explosions one after the other until, finally, she threw out her arms and lay splayed and still.

***** Oh God. Oh God. Maybe I’m dead. Too weak to so much as contemplate moving, Shanel stared at the ceiling. She still hung half over the bed; her crotch was sticky with her juices. She needed to see where Hall was, but she dreaded meeting his eyes and seeing his intimate knowledge of her in them. Nevan had never made her feel like this, never. As for masturbation—well, it wasn’t in the same league with what Hall had done to her. Done to her? Was she a puppet he’d manipulated? No, she answered her own question. She’d wanted this, begged for it if she was remembering correctly. Well, she acknowledged as she turned her head and began taking in her world, she’ d gotten what she’d asked for all right. She didn’t see Hall until she sat up. He was still kneeling on the floor, his eyes glazed, one hand cupped over his crotch. Should she ask if he wanted her to do to him what he’d just done? Did she have the courage? No. “You’re satisfied?” he asked and got to his feet. “Yes,” she managed. “Good.” He turned his back on her. “Where are you going?” she asked. “I need to return that call. There’s a shower in the bathroom.” Feeling dismissed, she walked on leaden legs into the bathroom. She found herbal scented shampoo and body wash; one of the towels was decorated with flowers. Curious, she opened the cabinets and found women’s deodorant, hand and face cream, even an open box of sanitary napkins. However, most of the items were designed for men, making her wonder if women only came here occasionally. The question was too complex for her drained mind to contemplate so she turned on the water and when it was warm, she stepped in and closed the glass door. She didn’t want to compare this shower with the last one she’d taken but couldn’t stop the memories. Now she was going about the practical and practiced business of shampooing, soaping, rinsing. Before, Hall had turned it into a sensual experience which highlighted his control over her, his ability to turn her on at will and bring her to the brink. No longer just to the brink, she realized as she washed between her legs. She still didn’t fully understand what had changed between them; maybe it was enough to acknowledge he was no longer preparing her for something she wanted no part of, no longer simply training her. Instead, he saw her for what she was, a woman. A human. Training. Training.

***** She found him in the living room sitting on the white couch. He held his cell phone as if he hated it, and although he looked at her as she walked in, she didn’t think he was aware she’d draped a towel around her. “What is it?” she asked. So much needed to be said, so many things decided. If his call had complicated things— “You don’t want to know.” “Does it involve me?” “Yeah.” “Then you can’t leave me in the dark,” she said and sat on the opposite side of the couch. The last time they’d done that, things had ended with his sucking her to climax. “ You said you needed to return a call. What was the message?” “The specifics don’t matter.” He placed the phone on the end table and fixed his gaze on her. “You feel better? The shower helped?” “Who did you talk to?” “Brad, the man who developed and designed this operation. He’d left a message about a possible development. Now he’s sure.” How long had it been since Hall had shaved? The stubble made him look as if he was in perpetual shadow. His chest hair wasn’t quite as dark and softly curled. Someday, somehow, she’d run her hands, her mouth over his chest. Taste him. “Sure of what?” she finally remembered to ask. “Of the body’s identity.” He reached out as if to touch her, then withdrew. “The message said a nude and bound woman’s body had been found just over the state line. Back then, her identity was unknown; there was no way of determining whether she’d belonged to The Takers.” “Belonged.” She all but spat the word. “Now you know?” “Yeah, damn it. Brad took the slaver to the morgue. He identified her as a woman he ’d sold to The Takers last month.” He glanced at the wall clock. “Her family’s probably being told now.” Even as she struggled with horror, the cop in her came to life. The body was part of a case. A crime had been committed. It was her job to identify and arrest the killer. Excited now in a way that had a lot in common with the sexual awareness Hall had infused in her, she slid around until she faced him. Doing so caused the towel to inch up her thighs, close to exposing her pussy. What did it matter? It wasn’t as if Hall hadn’t already seen—and tasted—what she had to offer. Let him deal with it! “How do you feel about it?” she asked. “Knowing The Takers have killed someone, do you feel as if you and the rest of SHIT have failed?” “She isn’t the first one.” His words rocked her. It took all her self-control not to clamp her hand over her mouth. Instead, she lay it in her lap, probably too close to her cunt. “How many?” “At least three. Maybe as many as five.” The nightmare kept growing. “And you’re letting it happen! Damn it, what is it? What’s a few women’s lives in the scheme of things? As long as you get your client’s money

back, it’s all you care about?” She’d jumped to her feet without being aware of it. The sudden movement dislodged the towel, and it started sliding off. She grabbed it and held it over her breasts. “No, that’s not all I care about.” Hall spoke without emotion. “I don’t want this. Damn it, you have to know I don’t.” “I don’t know anything about you.” “Except I can tongue you to climax.” What was that about? Still holding onto her towel, she backed away. Putting distance between them helped—a little. “You should have told me what you wanted me from the beginning,” she said. “If I’d known, we wouldn’t have had to go through all this shit.” To emphasize her point, she held up the chain. “The city might have given me two months severance pay, but I’m still a cop. What’s been happening to those women… ” Fighting to keep her revulsion tamped down briefly took all her strength. Soon, however, she drew on her training and thought like a law enforcement agent, not a woman. “How soon can you get me in there?” she asked. He got to his feet. “Tomorrow.” Tomorrow. The word was a noose around her neck, one she had to accept, not fight. “You’re still willing to go through with this?” he asked. “Isn’t it a moot question? If you wanted, you could force me.” “No, I couldn’t, not with what you know, your will. If I’d had time… ” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I had my doubts. From the beginning, I didn’t know if Brad’s plan was going to work, but what the hell choice did we have? The only person The Takers wouldn’t suspect was a slave.” “Sex slave.” “Yes. Someone who’d been trained to—” She didn’t hear any more. She felt exhausted but couldn’t put her mind to sitting down again. “Let me get this straight. The plan was to break me down and make me so hungry for sex, I didn’t care what anyone did as long as I was able to get off? Why couldn’t I just go undercover?” “Because the women need to accept you. See you as one of them.” The women, not just The Takers. Why hadn’t she realized that before? “All right,” she managed. “Now I get it. They’re the only ones who might talk about what they know— but only to someone they believe is one of them.” He nodded. The imaginary noose tightened. “And The Takers would have to buy it too. They’d know if it was an act.” Another nod. “This is a nightmare.” She waited for him to agree, but he only studied her. “Tell me. What did you have planned for the rest of my training?” “Why?” “Why do I want to know? Damn it, Hall. Do I have to spell it out?” “No,” he muttered and sat down again. Taking his cue, she did the same. Her arm

was growing weary from holding the towel over her boobs so she let it slip to her lap. “ You’re willing to go through with it?” he asked. “Willing? I have to. What I saw being done to that woman—the dead ones… ”

Chapter Eleven No matter how hard he tried, Hall couldn’t keep his eyes off Shanel’s breasts. He briefly wondered if she was exposing them on purpose, but after studying her body language, he had no doubt her mind was on other things. The hell of it was, he didn’t want to go there with her. “One of the reasons we picked up the slaver,” he said, “was so he’d tell me his techniques.” She folded her arms under her breasts. “You were a damn good student. It was working. Depriving me of my senses, bringing me to the edge—is that what he did to all of the women he kidnapped?” “As far as we could tell.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts and in the end decided to hold nothing back. If she panicked and tried to run, maybe he’d let her. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to show her the door. “He goes by the name Hew Smith these days. He’s been coughing up aliases for so long we’re still working at tracking down his real name, not that it matters. We’re not sure how he got into the business—” “The sex slavery business?” “Yeah. He’s tried other careers. Bodyguard, bouncer, pimp. He’s dealt drugs, but the gig landed him in prison twice. Pimping brought him in contact with men who wanted more than to pay for a hooker.” “Men who wanted to buy women.” “Right.” He hated it because they were on the same page. At the same time, he had to admire her determination to get the facts no matter how disgusting they were. “We haven’t dug back all the way. As far as we can tell, he’s cut all ties to his life before he picked up this—this trade.” “Wise of him. He’s less likely to leave tracks. So somehow he and The Takers connected?” “He found them after they put out some feelers. He’d come highly recommended because he supplies quality merchandise.” “Merchandise! They’re human beings.” “I’m using his words so you’ll understand the world he lives in. The world you and I are going to step into tomorrow.” A little of the color went out of her cheeks. He didn’t bother to point out that the towel was now on the floor. “Tomorrow,” she whispered. “So—so you interrogated him after you got him arrested. He was willing to pass on his techniques?”

“With persuasion.” She’d placed her hand over her throat and was absentmindedly fingering the collar. Hate didn’t begin to describe how he felt right now. She should be showing houses today, not this. “Tell me about those techniques. If I’m going to play my role, I have to know everything.” “No misgivings. You’re sure—?” “Hell, yes, I have misgivings! It’s taking everything I have not to get the hell out of here.” She clutched the chain. “And if you think this would stop me—tell me.” Because neither of them had a choice, he did. Holding nothing back, he explained Hew took great pride in preparing a captive for her role as a sex slave. He always began the same way, by snatching a woman from the world she knew and felt safe in. He had a remote cabin where he took them but went far afield to find his targets as he called them. “Never picked a broad from my neighborhood,” he’d said proudly. “Only a fool would. Outta state is best. Take her a long way, blindfolded, gagged, and tied so all she knows is the miles are piling up.” “It worked,” Shanel whispered. “It nearly did me in. I felt so cut off.” She closed her eyes. “Does Hew hurt the women?” “Yeah.” “Rape them?” “Yes.” Hew had called sex his bonus. “But you didn’t.” She was still whispering. “You told me you weren’t going to hurt me, and I believed you. I—I’m not sure I would have survived without that. I thought you said he taught you to do it his way.” “I’m not made like him,” he said and stood up. He walked to the far end of the room before turning around. She looked so damn innocent and inviting curled up naked on the white couch, her light tan contrasting with the pristine fabric. His cock stirred. “Then, by his standards, you were making a mistake, right?” “Right.” “Weren’t you afraid it will backfire? You didn’t make me feel like an object. Close but not—not the way I would have if you’d raped and beaten me.” The image she’d painted made him sick to his stomach. Dimly he knew he hadn’t felt this intensely in years, but because he didn’t know how to handle the emotion, he forced it away. “Hew did other things,” he said. “Things that had the same effect as physical abuse. The bottom line was, he knew how to toy with a woman until she’d do anything for a climax. It’s what The Takers want.” As he expected, she recoiled. She bit her lip and even from here he could see she was pressing so hard into her throat she was leaving marks. “What things, Hall?” Nevan and Brad had called her courageous, but they hadn’t come close. Much as he wanted to fuck her senseless and lose his mind in the process, he couldn’t put off the truth. “You saw the clips. We talked about piercing.”

“Y-es.” “Have you ever seen a fucking machine?” “No.” She breathed loudly. “But I’ve heard of them.” “Hew had one he’d designed. He drew me a picture. He ties the woman so she can’t move. Then he puts part of the machine up her cunt and turns it on. It can run for hours. ” “Damn, damn, damn. Like a vibrator?” “Like a vibrator on steroids. It’s operated by a small motor. It’s tireless.” “You—you were going to do that to me?” No, he wanted to bellow. “Hopefully… ” “Hopefully I’d turn into a hot cunt without you having to resort to it. What else?” “What else was in Hew’s bag of tricks? Branding. Tattoos. The Takers love it.” She started shaking her head, a slow, laborious rhythm. “Where is he?” “Where he can’t even think about making bail.” She walked over to where he was, clamped her fingers around his arms, and dug in. “When this is over, I want to see him. For it to be just him and me.” “Police brutality?” He tried to make it a joke. “For a start.” She didn’t have to keep gripping him; it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. Although his arms were going numb, he didn’t free himself. He’d wanted to be this close to her since she walked out of the bathroom. Giving in to instinct, he closed his hands over her hips and pulled her against him, letting her feel his erection. “Tomorrow,” she whispered. “I have to be ready by tomorrow.” “Yes.” “So I can—so I can fool The Takers and convince the women I’m one of them.” “Yes.” “So—so those poor women will tell me what they know.” “Yes.” She stood on tiptoe and brought her mouth close to his. It wasn’t the first time she’d made him feel as if he was breaking apart inside but this time was worse because he knew something she didn’t—something that would make her hate him. “You don’t want to do this,” he managed. He wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to. “No.” Her warm breath touched his lips and chin. “I don’t. I—I don’t want to care about you.” Then get the hell away from me before it’s too late. “Tell me, Hall,” she said and settled back onto the soles of her feet. Her breasts continued to caress his naked chest, and she had to feel his cock against her belly. “You don’t want to care about me either, do you?” “You need to hate and fear me,” he told her. “If they’re going to buy our relationship, it’s the way it has to be.” “I do,” she whispered. “I’m afraid of you, but not for the reasons they think.” He didn’t know what the hell she meant, but she’d made such an emotional and

sexual mess out of him he wasn’t sure he knew anything about anything. Had the balance of power shifted completely? Was it possible? Could she be manipulating him? “The Takers get off on intimidation,” he said. “The Takers told Hew they wanted the girls to cower, to beg.” “And if they didn’t?” “I think we both know the answer.” He waited for her to let go; she’d have to be the first one to make the move because he sure as hell didn’t remember how. Instead, she slid a hand between them and cupped it around his cock. It was too damn dangerous—at least for him. “Don’t,” he ordered and pulled her hand off him. She stepped away and turned her back on him. Although he should have let her go, he snaked his arm around her and pulled her off-balance toward him so her back pressed against his chest. Instead of trying to fight free, she reached behind her and began running her hands up and down his thighs. Not giving a damn about the risk, he shifted his grip so one arm was over her breasts; he applied enough pressure so she would have fallen backward if he hadn’t been there. Once he had her where he wanted her—if this was indeed what he wanted— he ran his free hand over her belly, dipping his forefinger repeatedly into her navel before folding himself over her and sliding his hand down to her pubic hair. When he cupped her mons, she sighed and widened her stance. Taking advantage of the invitation, he placed his fingers over her labial lips, then spread them and tested their inner silkiness. She sighed again; she might have muttered bastard. Not caring, he pushed two fingers into her already flooded passage and explored until his fingertips pressed against the front of her inner walls. She tried to back away from the invasion but only managed to flatten his cock with her ass. Certain he had her full attention, he renewed his exploration. Judging by her earlier explosive climax, he had no doubt he could wrestle a second such response out of her. “What… are you doing?” I don’t know. “Checking.” “Checking what?” “Whether you’ll be able to pull it off.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he’d give anything to take them back, but it was too late. As he teased her sensitive pussy walls, he struggled against the nearly overwhelming urge to push her down onto her elbows and knees with her ass high in the air so he could take her from behind, plunge his aching cock into her and climax. That way he’d have what he needed—he’d come. Also, he wouldn’t have to face her, could think of her as a receptacle and not the all-too-real woman she’d become. “Pull off—what?” she managed between gasps. Hoping to silence her, he kept at her until his fingers were drenched, and her spasms seemed endless. She might hate this manipulation, but that didn’t stop her from molding her body to his and keeping her legs apart, tucking her ass back so he’d have easy access to her cunt. “Pull—off… ” “Being what they expect. A hot whore.”

She cursed him. At the same time, she closed her hand over his wrist and kept him there, let him know without words she was too far gone to give a damn about anything except exploding. Because tomorrow scared him, because he didn’t know whether either of them would survive it, he pulled out of her and took control of her clit. He held it between thumb and forefinger, drew on it, then pressed. She sagged in his grip. He lightly rolled his thumb and finger over the hot, hard nub. Bucking back into him, she screamed. Screamed again.

***** We haven’t fucked, not really. Whatever it is we’ve been doing, it isn’t sex—not what I always thought sex was. Shanel remembered stumbling back to the couch and collapsing on it. She’d been trying to get her breathing back under control when he handed her a glass of water, and she wondered dully why she hadn’t noticed he’d left the room. Although she still felt as if she’d been ridden hard and put away wet, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Her pussy was drenched from her own juices; maybe she was staining the couch. “What the hell was that about?” she demanded. “I told you.” He was sitting across from her in an oversized recliner. “The Takers are going to expect a nympho.” The label left a sour taste in her mouth, but he was right; it’s exactly the way she’d acted. “I’m used up,” she admitted. “There’s nothing left in me. I’ll—I won’t be able to respond.” “By tomorrow you will. You’ll have to.” He was right, and the sooner she wrapped her mind around that the better. Instead of reinforcing she was doing this because she’d committed to rescuing those women, she asked him to tell her what to expect. “The camera didn’t show anything of where you’ll be taking me,” she said. She’d deliberately used the word take so she could get into the proper mindset. “What’s it like? ” “It’s a mansion.” He reached out and turned on the nearest lamp. Strange how it had become night without her being aware of it. “In the west part of the county outside the city limits. It’s part of an estate, and as far as the tax assessor’s office knows, it belongs to a corporation. The women are there full-time, but The Takers come only when their agendas allow, or when they want to get their kicks.” “What about when the women are alone?” “Hew wasn’t too sure because, as he said, he hasn’t been invited to join the parties. But from what he’s seen of the basement—” “Basement? Like the one I was in.” “Yeah.” She nodded. Awareness of her nudity was returning, but if she asked for clothing, she’d only have further to go when it came to placing herself in the role of sex slave. “ You are thorough, aren’t you. Doing your best to recreate the experience.” He didn’t so much as blink. Damn but he was hard to figure out. Most of the time

she could all but touch the wall he’d erected around himself; only occasionally did he reveal another side to himself—the side which drew him to her “Is the basement there the same as here?” “No. There are the small, high windows, but the room is divided into cages. Cells.” And she might be placed in one of them. “How—how big are they?” “Large enough for a bed and toilet. The walls consist of bars so the women can see each other. There are iron rings set into the cement floor and chains, also rings on the bed frame.” “Then—then the women are chained in addition to being caged?” “Sometimes. It depends on if they’ve displeased the men they call their Masters.” She could never, ever say the word! But maybe she’d have to. “The men don’t do their thing to the women in those cages, do they? Not all the time. I—” She swallowed. “I can’t see millionaires humping in a cell.” Hall shook his head and watched her in that intense way of his. “The mansion has a number of bedrooms,” he said. “Each is appointed differently.” She wasn’t ready to know what he meant by appointed. “How do the women eat when they’re there alone?” “It’s Hew’s understanding food and water are left in the cells, but if a girl has been chained—” “Woman! Don’t call them girls.” “Women then. Sometimes there aren’t any men there for several days.” And nights. “That’s when the women talk, isn’t it?” she said. “When they’re most likely to share what they know about—about their masters.” “It’s what we hope.” She didn’t know how she’d survive nights in a small, dark cell, but she had to try for the sake of women who’d already been there too long. “All right.” A deep breath helped a little. “What about when the men are there. What happens then?” “Hew wasn’t much help on that score. He’s taken a new slave into the basement and, like you saw in the video, he’s shown the men what the slave can do.” Slave. Because she’d become one tomorrow, she had to wrap her mind around the word. “Things take place in what Hew calls a den,” Hall continued. “The men all sit in a circle around Hew and the slave, at least they’re sitting at the beginning.” “Is—is she tortured then?” “No. Until he’s been paid in full, whish is done in installments, the women belong to Hew. He doesn’t want the merchandise damaged.” She was going to kill Hew! Somehow. “How much?” “Twenty grand for the last one.” Twenty thousand dollars in exchange for a human life. “Is that the going rate?” she asked sarcastically. “According to him, he cut his usual rate because she’d had an abdominal surgery

scar he didn’t know about from his surveillance. The Takers want their women perfect.” She’d never thought of herself as perfect but then her physical looks didn’t matter much; what she prided was her brain. She’d use it in order to survive the challenge she’d taken up. “All right.” She blew out her breath. “How—how long do you think I’ll have to stay there before I learn anything?” In the subtle lamplight, she noted he’d increased his grip on the chair arm. “It’s one of the unknowns. I’m sorry—for so much.” She couldn’t remember hearing an apology from him before. With night all around and the lighting in here so dim, he’d nearly turned back into the masked man who’d drugged and captured her. Against all reason, she found it erotic. If the need to educate herself wasn’t so strong, she’d probably let him know that, once again, he’d turned her on. He. Would The Takers be capable of doing that to her or did only Hall hold the key to her base sexuality? “The problem is,” he continued, his tone strangely remote, “Hew is our only key to what goes on in the mansion, and I don’t have to tell you he’s unreliable. What he did say—and I think this is the truth because he had no reason to make something up—is they pride themselves in on breaking in a new slave slow.” “In… in what way?” “He says there’s a lot of taunting, telling a woman they’ve just bought about everything they’re going to do to her, but they let her think about it for awhile. At least Hew didn’t see anything except brainwashing while he was there. In his words, they get off on watching her reaction to their threats. Then they take her off to the basement. My guess… ” He stopped and studied her, undoubtedly looking for her reaction. She struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “My guess is she’s thoroughly terrified by the time they put her in a cage. She’s bound to ask questions of the other women down there with her.” With an effort, Shanel returned his stare. “Which makes it a perfect time for me to learn something.” “Yes.” “What am I going to do with the knowledge, assuming I get any?” she demanded. “We’ve worked on that detail,” he said. By we, she guessed he was referring to other members of SHIT. “I’m going to come back in a day or two and insist on seeing my merchandise” A day or two sounded like a lifetime. “D-do you think they’ll buy that?” “It’s the way Hew worked. I’m going to hint I’m working on getting someone special, a world-class athlete, maybe a female politician, a woman with a reputation as a real ball-buster for them to play with. But before I go to the effort, I need proof they won’ t turn around and ruin the merchandise in a few days.” “This is sick.” “They’re sick men, Shanel.” She took a moment to digest what he told her. “No more than two days. You promise.” “One if I get a sense you’re going to be in danger.”

She didn’t dare think about that. “All right. The pressure’s on me, isn’t it? I won’t have much time to learn everything I can. How are you going to get me out of there?” “I will. You have to trust me.” What did he think she was, an idiot? Furious beyond all reason, she stalked over to him. It mattered not at all that she was buck naked. “Don’t give me shit!” she insisted. “As a cop, I’d never go into a potentially explosive situation without being sure of my backup. You want me to risk my life, you tell me how I’m going to get out alive.” He looked up, his eyes dark again, whatever he was thinking, shut off from her. “ You don’t have to do this.” “And spend the rest of my life haunted by images of women in cages and chains, dead? Maybe you can turn your back on their situation, but I can’t. You heard me. What’ s your plan to keep me alive?” Instead of supplying what she desperately needed, he closed his hands over her hips. He pulled her close so her thighs touched his knees. His hands slid around to her backside and cupped her buttocks. All too familiar sexual heat flooded her. They were so close, cock and cunt only inches apart. If he pulled down his jeans— No! Damn it, no! He wasn’t going to play her that way! “Stop it!” she insisted and jerked free. She couldn’t hide the reality of her erect nipples or heated cunt juice. “You heard me, Hall. How am I going to get out of this alive?” He stood and cocked his head as if listening for something. “If you let me know you’ ve learned enough to bring down The Takers, I’ll give the signal for a raid.” The cavalry would come. God, wouldn’t she love to see that! “And if I don’t?” “You have to,” he said. “Your life depends on it.” Before she could form the words to ask if this was more than a threat, he turned and headed toward a door she hadn’t paid attention to. After opening it, he stepped through and closed it behind him. She hurried after him and turned the knob, but it was locked. Disconcerted, she took in her surroundings. In addition to the door Hall had disappeared through, there was the large, ornate front door which she already knew was locked and an entry leading to the hall and beyond it to the bath and bedroom. She couldn’t remember whether the kitchen led to any other room. Alone. She was alone. A short perusal reinforced what she’d already suspected. There were no phones in here, no way of calling for help. She’d have to wait for Hall to return. She’d started to turn on another light when she heard a key in the front door. Alarmed, she backed away from it. The door opened and in walked two men, their features obscured by masks.

Chapter Twelve Her brain was still trying to process the impossible when she wheeled and sprinted for the kitchen. A knife! She had to— Something large and heavy struck her from behind and sent her sprawling to the

carpet. The air was knocked out of her; struggling for breath brought tears to her eyes. She managed to suck in a little air, but then someone straddled her waist and pinned her down. She tried to turn and look up at whoever was doing this to her, but before she could, her arms were yanked behind her and cold steel closed around her wrists. She sobbed; someone yanked back on her hair, lifting her face off the carpet. A gag was shoved into her mouth. Beyond terror, she tried whipping her head from side to side, but the hold on her hair increased. There seemed to be hands everywhere. The familiar snap left no doubt this was the same kind, if not the very gag Hall had used. She felt sick to her stomach and on the verge of losing bowel control. When her attackers placed a blindfold over her eyes, she stopped struggling. Instead of adding the ankle restraints she expected, the men left her legs free, and when they hauled her to her feet, she stood. There was one man on either side of her. Gripping her elbows, they steered her where they wanted her to go—which was across the room and down the stairs to the basement. Hall! Hall! Don’t let them—please don’t be part of this! Even with the blindfold in place, she could tell the lights in the basement were on. They started her walking again. Soon her legs came in contact with the bed. Handling her as if she was little more than a side of beef, the men lifted her onto the bed. At least they’d put her on her belly so she didn’t have to rest her weight on her bound hands. Her small sense of comfort died when one of them unhooked the cuffs but continued to hold her wrists while the other man turned her over. Before she could guess what they intended to do, her captors drew her arms over her head, forced them apart, and handcuffed her again. Beyond helpless, she lay on her back, her arms spread but not painfully so. When one of them placed his hand on her ankle, she tried to kick him. The next time he touched her, she drew up her leg and aimed as best she could. To her delight, her heel connected with soft flesh. A man grunted. Then someone threw himself over her thighs and pinned her to the bed while disembodied hands fastened cuffs around her ankles. The manipulation was followed by the horrible sound of a chain being rattled and the soft click she knew all too well. The man lifted himself off her. Her ankles had been chained to the foot of the bed; her legs were spread as far apart as her arms, her pussy exposed. Captured. Again. Hall! Hall…please. “You thought your training was over,” an deep male voice said. “But it isn’t.” No, no, no. “Everything hangs on The Takers believing you’re a slave,” he continued, his tone almost conversational. “That can’t be faked. It has to be the real thing.” The real thing. Although her mind and body felt close to shattering, she willed herself not to panic. These men were associated with Hall; she had no doubt of it. He’d told her he wouldn’t hurt her, and he’d kept his promise. Please, please let them have the same code. I’ll do whatever you tell me to, she wanted to tell them but of course she couldn’t speak. I’m committed to getting those women out of the hell they’re in; don’t you understand? You don’t have to force me.

They didn’t care. Hell, they couldn’t even hear her. She felt rough hands between her legs. With no warning, whichever man this was grabbed hold of her pussy lips and pinched them together. Her response had nothing with any kind of arousal she’d ever experienced. Just the same, there was no denying the softening in her cunt. He released one lip but kept his hold on the other. Waiting for him, afraid and yet unable to stop him, she concentrated on the nuances of what he was doing. Unlike Hall, this man’s hands touched nothing except her sexual triggers. Oh yes, she was getting turned on all right. At the same time, her mind felt as if it was standing off to the side dispassionately watching the proceedings, but maybe it wasn’t her mind; maybe her heart was what was unaffected. The question distracted her. By the time she’d brought herself back to reality, it was too late; a clip of some kind had been placed on her outer fold. She tried to shake it off, but of course that was impossible. The man took hold of her other lip and fastened another clip on it. The sensation wasn’t what she’d call painful, more like disconcerting. “A woman’s pussy is an amazing thing.” The speaker wasn’t the same one as before; he had a calm, almost disinterested tone. “Doesn’t matter what the rest of her wants, how intelligent she is, the cunt is a primal organ. It’s not into anything except pleasure.” He could be talking about tuning up a car for all the emotion he’d put in his voice. She felt a hand on her breast. “I’ll give you an example, Shanel. I’m sure you’re interested in what I’m talking about.” The clips were being jiggled; what was being done to them? The too familiar sense of vulnerability took over, and she dug her ass into the bed in a futile effort to escape. She was still stupidly telling herself she could evade them this way when she sensed a faint humming coming from the clips. The intensity picked up a little, and her cunt felt as if it was being warmed. “Mechanical turn-on, wouldn’t you agree, Shanel? Not much you can do about it, is there?” No matter how hard she tried to keep her mind off what she was feeling down there, it didn’t work. The clips were humming, vibrating at such a rapid pace she couldn’t begin to keep on top of it. The sensation spread through her nether lips, oozed into her rapidly flooding passage, settled over and took command of her clit. In some ways the feeling mirrored a finely tuned dildo; the biggest difference was there was nothing in her pussy. Instead, it felt empty, hungry, lonely. Fill me, fill me. Let me swallow—something. Her cunt grew even warmer. She could no longer comprehend where her body let off and the mechanically controlled clips began. It felt as if she was being sucked out of herself. She was a prisoner of the device’s hold on her and hated and loved it at the same time. Her breathing grew ragged and now, damn it, she was trying to lift her ass off the bed in order to get closer to this wonderful punishment. Hall? Hall. Do you know what they’re doing to me? Are you there, watching? It went on and on. She swore she was being stung by countless tiny insects, and yet it wasn’t painful, not really. Given how drenched her pussy had become, it was remarkable the clips hadn’t slid off. Maybe—maybe she could drown the damn things in her own juices.

Did she want to? Or was she willing to die from what was being done to her? A climax. A climax would put and end to this. Or would it, she asked in alarm. It now felt as if her whole body had become part and parcel of her clit. Everything she was and had ever been was centered in that one place between the legs she couldn’t spread far enough. She might fall over the edge, leap and scream and come, but if the vibrating didn’t stop—how many climaxes could she endure without going insane? Sick at the thought, she thrashed her head from side to side. She pressed her heels into the bed and struggled to scoot somewhere, anywhere. Her thighs burned from the tension she’d put them under. Come! Just come. Pass out. Then it won’t matter. “Enough.” Enough. Oh God, yes. Slowly, too slow, she came back to earth. Her cunt throbbed and her clit felt as if it might explode. In a dim way she knew she hadn’t achieved a climax—or had one forced on her if truth be known. Her pussy seemed to be weeping. It was exhausted, a failure. “How does it feel, Shanel? Do you understand the meaning of control?” What was her tormentor talking about? What response was he trying to wrestle from her? She sobbed behind the gag when the clips were removed, but when the man slid his fingers inside her passage, she barely responded. “It’s not your pussy any more, is it Shanel? It belongs to me. I can do whatever I want to it—to you.” Hall, help me, please. “We’re going to let you rest for a little while,” the other man said. “When we return, there’ll be another lesson. Then… ”

***** She’d been surrounded by a blissful silence and existed in a place without substance or form. When she heard the returning footsteps, Shanel tried to climb back into the nothing where she’d found refuge. The steps became more distinct, and like the self-reserving animal she’d become, she mentally tried to face what would come next. Her cunt still felt somewhat bruised, and if the right person touched her there, she’d probably go off like a rocket. But although she prayed Hall was here with his compassion, his caring, his mind-blowing touches, it wasn’t his voice she heard. “It’s time for the next lesson, Shanel. Because of our time constraints, we’re having to cram everything into a single night. I know it’s not what you want, but it’s the only way it’s going to work.” Don’t worry about me. I understand, perfectly. My contract stipulates I agree to all reasonable and formally presented changes in the schedule and agree to do whatever is legally required in order to accommodate the schedule. Shut up! Just shut up. Maybe if I die they’ll go away. “The first lesson was all about stimulation, not that I need to tell you,” one of them said. “Unfortunately, as you’ve seen, The Takers can be sadistic. We’re aware of their favorite modes of entertaining themselves and have availed ourselves of one of them. I can’t promise that what’s coming is what you’ll encounter once you’re with them, but it’

ll help you prepare. Much as I’d like to put a limit on your experience, it’s not going to help you get through it.” Did he have to talk like that, scare her? “All right. Shall we begin?” “Just do it,” the other man grumbled. “This isn’t a fucking golf lesson.” “You want to start?” the first retorted. There was no answer. Aware of every inch of her flesh, Shanel relied on the only sense they’d left her with, her hearing. She heard something that might have been a small hinged box opening followed by a faint tinkling sound—like metal or steel. No! Please, no! Because her skin was so sensitive, she sensed the hand near her breast before he touched her. In an attempt to keep on top of what he had in mind, she clenched her teeth around panic and willed herself to pay attention, to anticipate. The faint sound was repeated. Then she felt something metallic close around her nipple. The nub instantly hardened. Whatever had been put on her settled more firmly around her nipple, not pinching but not something she would have chosen on her own. The man pushed up on her breast, probably in an attempt to bring more of her boob in contact with the foreign object. “It’s a nipple clamp,” he explained. “The design’s really quite innovative. What you feel—” He did something to increase the pressure so her nub was now firmly imprisoned. “—are the two clamps, one on either side of your nipple. The clamps—they ’re straight and longish and fairly slender, made of polished steel with a thin bead of rubber on the inside for gripping.” She’d once arrested a woman who proudly wore nipple rings and had done her own piercing. Obviously, an effective alternative for piercing had been designed. “At the end of the clamps is a hex nut which can be turned to tighten or loosen the clamps.” The clamp jiggled, reminding her of the sensation just before her pussy lips started vibrating. God, how was she going to handle… As the grip tightened, she lost her thought and simply felt, anticipated. “There’s more to it,” he said and released her breast. The steel continued to grip. “A bead chain loops from one nipple clamp to the other.” She’d known he was going to fasten the God-awful invention to her other breast but knowing and enduring were two entirely different things. No matter how she tried to ready herself for another layer of imprisonment, she failed. She sobbed into her gag as steel and rubber gripped and the hex nut was turned, securing it in place. “Now for the bead chain. It’s lightweight and quite decorative. You might even get used to it; some people—abet those into bondage—love wearing them.” She felt him take hold of first one clamp and then the other accompanied by some minor manipulations. When he once again released her, the bead chain lay between her breasts. Before she could become accustomed to the sensation, he—or maybe it was the other man, not that it mattered—took hold of the chain and lifted it off her. He continued to pull until her clamped nipples were stretched, taking her breasts up with them. Her nipples burned and yet there wasn’t the pain she’d feared. Despite everything, the sensation was erotic. These faceless, nameless men were teaching her new things about

her own body. “Control, Shanel, control. Don’t ever forget; don’t let yourself go. When a woman is held that way, she’s not going to fight, is she?” He waited a moment, but when she didn’t acknowledge her question, he tugged. Slivers of feeling like light electrical charges ran up her breasts. “You wouldn’t struggle as long as someone has you like this, would you? Wherever you’re led, you’ll go, won’t you?” Determined to prevent a repeat performance, she shook her head. To her great relief, he let up on the pressure although he continued to hold the chain. “Remember,” he said in his calm tone. “Stay on top of the experience. Lock your mind around it and accept it for what it is.” Why was he saying that? She couldn’t think or feel or experience beyond the here and now. Even her mental pleas to Hall seemed disconnected to this moment. Her captor still had control of her breasts and could do anything he wanted to them; she didn’t dare forget. When his grip on the chain shifted, she stayed with the sensation and made it her everything. He was applying yet another device judging by the ripple of movement she felt from nipple all the way to her ribcage. Now her breasts felt heavy and weighed down. She imagined they’d flattened against her body, or they would if they weren’t still being held away from her by the chain. Feeling came at her from all directions. She understood the liquid heat in her passage. Oh yes, she couldn’t begin to deny that! But it was an instinctual sexual response. What was less easy to explain was how mind-blowing it felt to have her breasts both lifted and weighted at the same time. The sensation hadn’t approached pain, but it hovered just beyond where she was and licked at her senses. The burning in her nipples kicked up a notch and ran like lava over her breasts to her belly, her groin. Although she felt it coming, she had no defenses against the heat lapping at her clit. She clenched her teeth to keep from tossing her head from side to side. Then the lava flow became a near flood; she tried to clamp her legs together. “Getting close, are you Shanel? It doesn’t take much to turn you on.” No! The word evaporated, replaced by a grinding sensation in her belly. One of the men had placed his fist over her navel and was pushing down and grinding none too gently. If he kept it up, he’d reach her pussy from the outside, fuck her with his fist. What did she care! She needed to come! Needed release. “Shit,” one of the men hissed. “Just fucking look at her.” Look at what? But of course she was sliding her ass around on the bed, straining against the bonds which prevented her from closing her legs, lifting her upper body as much as possible so she could get closer to the clamps and maybe bring more of her breasts under their control. She’d flung her head back as if trying to see behind her. The first wave of a climax rushed over her, and her arms and legs started to spasm. She sucked greedily at it, then felt—what? Her world resembled the scattered pieces of a puzzle. She needed to turn them over and sort out the edge pieces, find the box it had come in so she’d know what she was trying to produce.

Only, there wasn’t a puzzle. Instead, she’d been scattered into countless fragments, none of them touching, all without form. Wondering if she’d been killed only no one had told her, she fastened what she had of a brain on what she knew about her body. The fastenings around her wrists and ankles were loose enough so they didn’t cut into her flesh, but her limbs ached from the unnatural position. Behind the gag her mouth was dry, and her eyes felt as if they were being pressed into her sockets. She could, if she put her mind to it, dismiss those things. What demanded attention was her weeping pussy and on-fire breasts. She’d tasted a climax, but it had been taken away before she could swallow more than a single bite. If the man had continued to press on her belly and her breasts were still being manipulated, she could have reached her goal, damn it! Instead she was alone; at least no one was touching her. The weights on her nipples continued to flatten her breasts against her body, dragging and drawing. She cocked her head to one side and then the other as she strained to hear, but if the men were nearby, she couldn’t sense them. The thick fluid coating her labia had started to cool, and she felt as if she was looking down at herself. Torn between equal parts shame and resignation, she waited. The men weren’t done with her; she was certain.

Chapter Thirteen Shanel’s first indication of what the men had in mind next came when she felt a warm, damp washcloth being placed over her pubic area. It struck her that they must want to clean her up before touching her, but maybe, maybe Hall had returned. He’d know what she needed. No matter what he subjected her to, his humanity would be there; it would make anything bearable. No, not Hall, she acknowledged when a man coughed. There was enough water in the washcloth so after a moment, the overflow began trickling down her slit. She wondered if it might stain the coverlet, not that her own body cream hadn’t already. Someone repositioned the washcloth so it covered all of her muff. Then she heard a whooshing sound she recognized as an aerosol container being activated. She smelled shaving cream. They were going to shave her muff! Unable to do anything to stop them, she concentrated on remaining still so she wouldn’t get cut. The washcloth was removed, and cold cream was spread over her. A large hand pulled the flesh over her mons to one aside, and then a razor began scraping at her sensitive skin. She followed the razor’s path in her mind, anticipating every move, praying whoever was handling the task knew what the hell he was doing. What scared her the most was when he pushed up on her pussy so he could get to the area closest to her lips. She shivered with every touch. Although she shaved her bikini line for swimsuit season, the idea of having a nude pussy had always struck her as bizarre. None of the men she’d dated had brought it up so it hadn’t been an issue—until now. The shaving seem to take an awfully long time, but maybe that’s because she was

hung up on anticipating what would come next. Finally he must be done because she tingled everywhere. He rinsed off the shaving cream with a blissfully warm washcloth, and then dried her with a fluffy towel. His last act was to rub lotion over his handiwork. Good, she thought sarcastically. At least I won’t have razor burn. To her relief, her wrists were released. Although her arms were free only long enough for the men to refasten them, at least now they were in a more normal position by her sides. One of the men briefly rubbed her shoulders, reminding her of when Hall had done the same thing. Then what had to be a wide strap of leather was placed around her waist and cinched to the bed. As if it wasn’t enough, more leather was placed around each of her thighs. Dreading what they planned to do now she couldn’t so much as twitch from the waist down, she could only wait. A muted rumbling sound, almost like an electric razor started, but there was nothing left to shave. With the electric needle’s first touch, she knew she was being tattooed—beginning over the right side of her pelvic bone and angling down nearly to her pussy itself. What she felt was something between thousands of insects crawling over the area and a mild tickling. Occasionally the needle pricked and pinched, reminding her of the wisdom of not moving. She hated this, hated it with a ferocity bordering on rage. Everything else that had happened to her since this nightmare began had been temporary. It might take endless showers and years with a shrink, but eventually she’d feel whole again. But a tattoo! Whatever was being put into her flesh would last the rest of her life. Would always remind her of Hall. How can you let them do this to me! I thought—I believed I could trust you. Fool! By the time the needle was shut off, she’d gone beyond fury to hoping to hell she’d never have to look at Hall again, never feel his hands on her. She cared only marginally that the two men hadn’t spoken a word since returning. The tattooed area throbbed and burned; there was nothing approaching sensual about the sensation. She felt degraded and violated. It helped a little when the leather straps were removed, not that it increased her mobility enough to count. What time was it? How long had the men been—been working on her? Was it the middle of the night? If so, she’d be exhausted by tomorrow—tomorrow when she’d do whatever she had to in order to get those women out of hell. It was so hard to think about them now because minute awareness of her own body had been forced on her for so long everything else seemed to be painted in pale shades of gray. She wondered if that’s how the sex slaves felt—not caring about anything beyond themselves and getting through one more day, one more night. She had to try to free them. Otherwise, her own life wouldn’t mean shit. One of the men unfastened her legs, distracting her from her mental ramblings. Next, finally, the clamps were taken off her nipples. Blood rushed back into them, making her gasp. She was still dealing with the sharp ache when her captors freed her hands and sat her up, one on each side and holding her arms. They led her into the bathroom, and she dutifully sat on the toilet. They let her wipe herself and wash her

hands, but momentary freedom meant nothing. She couldn’t bring herself to touch where she’d been tattooed. After they removed her gag, a bottle of water was placed in her hand, and she sucked it down. As soon as she was done, the gag was put back in place. Because it wouldn’t do any good to try to resist, she let them steer her back to the bed and waited for them to either lift or throw her onto it. Instead, they placed the leather belt back around her waist and cuffed her wrists to it in front. She could move her hands maybe six inches in all directions which was just enough to keep her arms from growing numb. When they added what she was positive was the dildo girdle, she twisted in their grip. At least the dildo wasn’t being shoved into her—yet. She was thrown none too gently face down onto the bed she wished she could light a match to. If only she could sit up! But because she couldn’t use her hands for leverage, it was impossible. After hooking the collar loosely to the bed, they grabbed her ankles and forced her up on her knees with her ass high, her face smashed against the bed. She couldn’t begin to resist as they pulled her legs apart. In it went! Quick, efficient, all the way. It took only a moment to reposition the girdle so a strap ran between her legs and held the dildo in place. When they pulled her legs down again and fastened a chain around one ankle, she simply let it happen. What, after all, would fighting accomplish? After a few moments of battling the weight of helplessness, it dawned on her that the dildo was simply inside her, lifeless. By moving her chained leg, she discovered they’d given her enough play so she could get off her belly and onto her back. True, it didn’t accomplish much but at least she didn’t feel quite so vulnerable with her ass out of easy reach. She could touch the part of the girdle hugging her pelvic bone, but unfortunately, there wasn’t a fastening there, just smooth leather. The dildo felt huge inside her. Someone lifted her head almost gently. She felt fingers at the back of her head and then suddenly, gratefully, she could both see and speak. Only, there was nothing to look at except two retreating male backs. The last to leave the room switched off the light. Tired beyond comprehension, she rolled onto her side and tucked up her legs as best she could. She was nearly asleep when the dildo buzzed to life. Remote control!

***** Hall slumped in the recliner and stared at the couch where Brad and Clifford Theilson sat. All three SHIT members were listening to the bug he’d planted under Shanel’s bed. He was into his third stiff drink of the evening, and if it hadn’t been for what lay ahead tomorrow, he’d drink himself stupid. No one spoke. They didn’t look at each other. Brad held a device that looked like a TV remote and occasionally pushed a button. The bug didn’t pick up much in the way of sound, but then a finely tuned dildo was pretty quiet unless the operator chose to change it. Hall didn’t need to watch what Brad was doing to know what was happening inside Shanel’s pussy. The trick to effective use of the high tech device, as he’d already demonstrated, was to continually change its frequency and tempo. There was danger in giving a subject too much of one thing—

sensual overload so to speak. At the same time, keeping the subject off balance, constantly guessing and anticipating kept her from ever feeling as if she was on top of things. On top? From Shanel’s grunts and occasional sobs, he knew she felt as if she was about to shatter. “We’ll be leaving in a few minutes,” Brad said. “Then it’ll be up to you.” “I know.” “I can’t tell you what to do; I’m not in charge of this op.” “You sure as hell aren’t.” There were a few pieces of ice left in his glass. He put the glass to his mouth and ice slipped in. He spoke around it. “I was listening the whole time you were with her.” “I figured you were. We didn’t hurt her.” “If I thought you were, I would have come down.” “I figured that too.” Brad glanced at Clifford. “She’s become more than a subject, hasn’t she?” He wasn’t about to explain what Brad had already figured out. The ice tasted of whiskey. “She’s highly sexed,” Clifford said. “We chose well.” “Yeah,” Hall said sarcastically. “We did.” “The unknown is whether she’ll perform once she’s in there and hell becomes reality,” Clifford went on. “You tell us.” He stared at Hall. “She understands what’s at stake, why The Takers have to be exposed?” “She does, but it doesn’t matter to her.” Clifford looked alarmed. “Why not?” Shanel started moaning, not sobs really but tired sounds that tore at his heart. He longed to turn off the damned listening device to say nothing of smashing the remote. “ Oh, she cares,” he made himself say. “She’s a cop. She hates seeing crooks getting away with shit. But that’s not what—” The bed squeaked. He guess she was changing position in a futile attempt to escape the unrelenting sensual assault. “It’s the women,” he said through clenched teeth “She’s vowed to do whatever it takes to get them out of there.” Brad and Clifford exchanged another look, and both men shook their heads. “I didn’ t think of it,” Brad said. “Neither did I,” Hall admitted. He needed to say more, not to his fellow operatives but to himself about what he was learning both about himself and Shanel. Brad went back to studying the remote. He touched a button. “This’ll let her relax a few minutes, pull her back from the edge. Has she climaxed?” “Yes.” Clifford frowned. “The idea was to get her so hot and bothered and pliable so The Takers would have no doubt she’s the real thing. We don’t want them suspecting—” “I know what I’m doing!” he snapped when it was a Goddamn lie. “Now get the hell

out of here. You’ve done your job.” The men left soon after but not until Brad had handed the remote to Hall and given him a meaningful look. After walking the men to the door, Hall returned to his chair. He stared longingly at his empty glass, then shook his head. In his mind’s eye, he saw Shanel curled up on her side dozing. Her hair would have tumbled across her face; she’ d looked relaxed and at peace, a well-satisfied woman dreaming of a morning encounter with her lover—with him. Unwanted anger flashed inside him. Hell no! He wasn’t Shanel’s lover! Yes, he’d given her the climax she needed so badly and had taken as much as he’d given, but he’d only known her a few days. He hadn’t loved her, married her. And he sure as hell hadn’t held Shanel’s bleeding and broken body while his sobs tore into him. The woman in the basement was a tool! The means to getting a job done. Not allowing his thoughts to go beyond, he depressed the resume button. A moment later Shanel gasped. He increased the vibration, and she moaned. To the edge but not over. Again and again.

Chapter Fourteen When she heard footsteps, Shanel fought her way out of the fog. A small part of her brain alerted her to the possibility of danger, but as she became aware of her body, she admitted she felt as if she’d just run a marathon. She ached from the waist down. The footsteps faded; whoever was coming had reached the bottom of the stairs and was walking on carpet. She opened her eyes, but the room was too dark for her to see anything except a masculine shadow. She surmised she’d finally fallen asleep—been allowed to sleep—no more than two or three hours ago. As for what had happened before then… “It’s time to get started,” Hall said. A wave of gratitude flowed through her, but it was quickly replaced by white-hot fury. Despite the effort of having to do so without the use of her hands, she half sat up. The dildo rammed up her cunt had been in a semi-deflated state when it finally turned off; she supposed she should be grateful. “You bastard,” she hissed. “You let those men—” “We’ve got a lot to do before we face The Takers.” The Takers. How could she have forgotten about them? How could she have not? When the shadow that was Hall released her ankle, she sat straighter. Then he reached for her hands, and she dutifully extended them as far as she could. “Remove the harness,” he ordered once he’d freed her wrists. She gladly did so. Unfortunately, her fingers were numb and it took several tries before she figured out the fastenings keeping the dildo in place. When she finally pulled it out of her and placed it on the bed, she realized her pussy was still wet. It felt empty, bruised, and hungry. “Where are they?” Her throat felt scratchy; no wonder considering how many times

a sigh, moan, even a plea had been wrenched from her during the night. “Are they coming back?” “No.” “Then it’s just you and me.” “Yes.” Just her and Hall and the unwanted energy she could actually taste. Although he was still little more than a shadow, his presence felt like feathery kisses; knowing how vulnerable she was, she embraced anger. “Did you watch?” she demanded. “Were you in the room, getting off on what they were doing to me?” “No. Get up.” Not yet. Not until she’d wrestled some of the truth from him. “You must have listened.” She tried to slide off the bed to better confront him, but the neck chain stopped her. “I had to.” She didn’t think he was looking her in the eye. Maybe he was staring at her sensitive, hungry pussy. “Did you approve that fucking training? Was it your idea?” Remembering the tattoo, she waved her hand over it. “Was it your fucking design?” Instead of answering, he produced a key and unlocked the chain from her collar. She ’d started to stretch when her full bladder demanded attention. Ignoring Hall, she walked into the bathroom. She tried to slam the door behind her, but he caught it and turned on the light. He looked like hell. His hair was uncombed, his stubble even more pronounced. She couldn’t be positive, but she thought he had on the same jeans—no shirt. How she longed to run her fingers over his chest! And from the way he was looking at her—was it possible he was fighting the same need? Could there be something good between us, Hall? Kindness and caring, honesty whispered in the night, falling asleep in each other’s arms, waking up in the same bed, reaching… He continued to study her, and for the first time she saw specks of blue in his eyes. His mouth seemed to have softened; he looked vulnerable. “What-what are you thinking?” she whispered. “Of you. Regretting—go to the bathroom.” When she was done urinating, she spread her legs and stared at her shorn mons because anything was easier than asking Hall to explain himself. Even though she was looking at it upside down, she could tell the tattoo was of a dragon, its small, fierce outline done in red. “Cute,” she muttered although that wasn’t what she thought at all. “At least The Takers can’t say it’s a fake.” She wiped herself and washed her hands. Then she cupped her hands under the running water and drank. When she’d had enough, she dampened a washcloth with cold water and pressed it over the tattoo. No matter that she didn’t want the damn thing and hated the unwanted assault, there was no denying the miniature dragon’s tongue aimed at her pussy was sexy. “Does it hurt?” he asked softly. Caught off guard by his concern, she fought the burn of tears. “What do you care? Tell me. Is this your design?” She removed the washcloth and positioned herself so he

had a clear view. “What the hell is the point of this?” “My mark.” “Your-your mark?” “Hew put one on all of his women. Don’t you remember from the video? Among slavers they’re seen as proof of original ownership.” With his final word, what little strength she had seeped out of her. Dizzy, she rested her ass against the counter and pressed a hand over her eyes. “Ownership,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She hadn’t really expected him to answer and wasn’t surprised when he remained silent. She struggled to regain control of her emotions, no easy task given the sexual assault she’d endured last night. Much as she hated admitting it, she now understood what it felt like to be a slave, to have her body belong to someone—or something else. “I want to hate you,” she managed. “But I don’t dare.” “Because you need me to get you out of this alive.” How could the word alive be a turn-on? No matter, the hours of unrelieved sensual tension returned full force. It was Hall’s fault, damn him! Here he was—staring at her new pussy tattoo—responsible for it. “I need a shower,” she announced, humiliated by the note of desperation in her voice. “And sleep. You were responsible for what the dildo did all night, weren’t you? Not those other men. Their job was over.” Hall’s only reaction was to turn on the water in the oversized tub. She stared at the rapidly-filling enclosure, the bubbles being created by the powerful jets. Glancing down at herself, she noted her nipples were reddish and slightly swollen. Memories of the clips caused her to weaken all over again. She cupped her breasts and lifted them so there was no way Hall could ignore them. “Too bad you didn’t see,” she ground out. “Or what they did to my labia. If you’d been watching, jacking off should have been easy.” “Get in the tub.” Had she scored a hit? There was no way of telling from his impassive features. Turning her back on him, she stepped into the tub and sank into the water. Small waves caressed her pussy. God, it felt wonderful! After leaning back and getting her hair wet, she opened her legs. The bubbles became a gentle, constant massage. The longer she lay there with several jets aimed at her hot and just-shorn pussy, the more her attention locked on that part of her anatomy. The flesh under what had been her muff was ridiculously sensitive. The skin under the tattoo tingled. Every muscle in her complained from the lack of sleep, and her empty belly felt as if it was rubbing against her backbone, but she could ignore those things. Given what her pussy had been subjected to, it deserved a treat—more than a treat, satisfaction. Not giving a damn about anything else, she slid both hands between her legs and fingered her lips apart. Still holding them, she changed position until one jet was aimed at the entrance to her core. Strange, the pussy clamps hadn’t left any residual effects. If she ever met the designer of the device she hadn’t seen but could easily imagine, she’d compliment the workmanship. True, they’d inflicted flickering discomfort, but they’d taught her the line between pleasure and pain could be a thin and eerie one.

How long had she been a closet masochist? Intrigued by the question, she slid a forefinger inside her. No doubt about it, she was sore in a way that had everything to do with having been fucked hard. The only thing missing—and it was a huge thing—had been a climax. With her attention fully on what she was doing, she brought her middle finger into play next to the one already in her. Increased sensitivity warned her not to put her passage under any more pressure. At the same time, her poor beleaguered core demanded release. She could do this for herself! Practiced in the way of her body, she had no trouble giving her clit the treatment it needed. Like a gentle mistress, she feathered a fingertip over the firm flesh dampened both by her own juices and water. The moment she did, a spasm ran the length and breadth of her pussy. When the spasm decreased, she sucked in a lungful of moist air and took her clit between thumb and forefinger. At the same time, she wiggled the fingers inside her. The top of her head felt about to explode; a fire burned between her legs. Feeling the roller-coaster rumble beneath her, she tentatively increased the pressure on her pussy. The roller-coaster picked up speed. “No.” Fingers clamped around her wrists and pulled her off herself. She struggled to shake him off but only managed in slipping beneath the water. Her hair floated over her submerged face; her ass lost contact with the tub bottom; jetted bubbles continued to beat at her pussy. She didn’t stop fighting until the air in her lungs turned stale and she was forced to lift her head above water. Hall was so close she couldn’t see him clearly. He still held her wrists. “No,” he repeated. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you.” “Then you do it! You’re torturing me!” “I know. I wish—it’s exactly what The Takers want.” She tried to yank free, but her strength would never equal his. Besides, what would fighting him accomplish? It wouldn’t get those women out of hell. The exhaustion she’d been trying to ignore took hold, and if Hall hadn’t been there, she would have slipped under the water again. His grip on her became her lifeline, and although she still hated him—at least she thought she did—she returned his stare. “Are you all right?” he asked. She started to nod but wound up shaking her head. He had her so off-balance; his question had been so gentle. “I’m tired,” she managed. Then because she needed to protect herself from what she felt for him, she buried herself in anger. “I spent the night with a electric cattle prod stuck up my pussy. I’m so hungry I’m dizzy. You won’t let me come. Otherwise, I feel great.” I’m also scared of things I can’t put a name to, but I’m not going to tell you. “It’s what The Takers expect,” he said. “Which is why you’re putting me through hell.” Apparently he didn’t see a need to add anything because he only continued to study her. Then he released her and told her to finish bathing herself. She obediently shampooed her hair and soaped herself thoroughly, standing to complete the job. He turned on the overhead spray, and she bent her head under it to rinse off. She didn’t

dare touch herself between her legs for fear she’d shoot off like a rocket. If only she knew how to control the damnable sex toy! Given the way she felt, she’d ram it so far up inside herself she might never get it out. Of course if he was willing to provide his cock— When she was done, Hall handed her a towel. It wasn’t until she was drying her breasts—under his scrutiny of course—it dawned on her that although she still wore the collar, there was no chain hanging between her breasts. She touched the collar and gave him a quizzical look. “There’ll be some changes,” he said. “What?” She had to work at keeping her voice steady. “My traveling bonds?” “Something like that.” Something like that. Fear of what was in store for her took her through towel-drying her hair and applying cream everywhere. She dutifully turned around so he could put lotion on her back and ass, an act which took longer than it needed to and stole some of her anger and apprehension. She even complied when he directed her to brush her hair so it trailed over her shoulders and put on a minimum of makeup. Then he handed her black undergarments. The bikini had no crotch. The so-called bra left her nipples exposed. She felt like a whore. “I have to do this?” “Yes. I’m sorry.” Her hands shook so she couldn’t fasten the bra, and he did it for her. Maybe she should be proud of being able to step into the panties without losing her balance, but her naked pussy was being pinched by the surrounding fabric. The dragon was half exposed. The sensation cranked up her sexual awareness. “Is this all?” she asked. “I won’t be wearing anything else?” “It’s what they stipulated. Apparently they draw straws. The winner sends over his selection.” That so disgusted her she couldn’t bring herself to speak. During the night when the dildo was silent and she’d been able to think, she’d asked herself what her relationship with Hall was. No matter how many times she tried to bolster her confidence by telling herself he cared, she didn’t know what he’d do if she tried to escape. “First we’ll eat,” he said. “Then we’ll finish getting ready.”

***** If someone put a gun to her head, Shanel couldn’t have remembered what she’d had for breakfast. How could she concentrate when she couldn’t think beyond what Hall meant by “getting ready”? One thing stood out about the time they’d spent in the kitchen—the way he’d continued to look at her, just look. Now they were in the living room, and he was opening a small box. He reached in and then looked over at her. “I didn’t want to tell you about this ahead of time. Your reaction needs to be real.” He held up a well-worn dog collar, holding it as if it repulsed him. She shuddered and took a backward step. As soon as she did, he crouched slightly. Her heart pounded. Her nipples puckered; there was no way he wouldn’t notice. Fear settled in her pussy and turned it both hot and wet.

“Another of the short-straw man’s stipulations?” she asked when she could speak. “I don’t know which one’s responsible for this, Shanel. If I could—Hew didn’t say much about the individual Taker members.” “All right. All right.” Who was Hall, committed SHIT operative or a man who didn’t want to be doing this any more than she did? She couldn’t get a handle on him. It occurred to her that maybe he didn’t know either. “Before—before we leave here, there’s something I have to know.” “How I’m going to get you out of there?” She nodded. He placed the dog collar on the table and sat on the couch. Not wanting to get too close to him, she chose the recliner. She kept her legs together but couldn’t do anything about her exposed and hard nipples. “It’s the most important part,” he told her. “I’ve spent more time working on that than anything else.” “I—I’m glad.” He nodded. “As you know, The Takers are prominent members of the community. They have businesses, careers. This is Sunday, which is why they’ll all be there when we show up.” She shuddered. “Tomorrow is a bank holiday, and I suspect our banker will remain at the mansion. With you there, he might take advantage of the day off.” “Who—is he? What do you know about him?” “It’s better if you go into this with no preconceived notions. That way your reactions will be genuine.” She couldn’t argue with his explanation. “And the others?” “We expect those four to be at work tomorrow.” “Expect? What if—” “We’ve had surveillance on all five of them for months, Shanel. We know their routines.” Knowing more people than Hall were in on this made her slightly more confident, as did the way he said her name. “So there’ll probably only be the one man at the mansion on Monday?” “I hope.” She started to demand further explanation, but he held up his hand, stopping her— either that or her slave training had been efficient. “I’ve already let them know they’re on probation as much as I am,” he continued. “I’ m coming across as a complete SOB, a man who doesn’t trust his new clients with the merchandise and fully intends to return to check up on her condition.” “When?” “As soon as I can. And as I said, if you let me know you’ve gotten the information we need, I’ll get you out of there right away.” “How?” “Trust me. I won’t fail.”

Lordy, how she wanted to believe him! And why shouldn’t she? After all, he’d been successful so far. Knowing she’d see him before long helped. At the same time it put her under pressure to get the women to confide in her. “You can do this,” he said as if reading her mind. “We wouldn’t have chosen you if we weren’t certain of this.” Would you like to look at it from my position? Try putting a collar around your neck and see what that does to your self-esteem. “You might be confident of me, but I need something to allow me to feel the same way about you.” He stood and walked over to her. When he placed his hand under her chin. His touch was gentle, caring, and the blue flecks were back in his eyes. Kiss me, please! Make me feel like a woman, important, loved. Instead, he clenched his teeth. Then he unfastened the exquisitely-made collar she’d become accustomed to and dropped it to the floor. Picking up the dog collar, he placed it around her neck. “I hate this,” she muttered. “I know you do. Turn around.” “What for?” she demanded. “We have to—finish.” “Finish what? Hall, I’m afraid.” Groaning, he spun her away from him. He slid his hands down her arms and pulled her wrists together behind her. She felt the bite of metal as he manacled her hands before she could begin to resist. “No! Please!” He clamped his arm around her throat and pulled her head back. Then with a move she swore was practiced, he forced her mouth open and shoved in something round and hard. He deftly fastened some straps around her head which held the contraption in place. She’d seen bondage gear that included ball gags and had no doubt he’d done that to her. Liar! He’d lied to her! Planned to sell her down the river! The rest of her costume, for lack of a better word, consisted of a nylon lead fastened to the dog collar and a long cape which he draped around her shoulders. While he was doing those things, he positioned himself so she couldn’t look into his eyes; his breathing was hard, harsh. He left her standing in the middle of the room for a few minutes, and when he returned, he’d shaved and put on a snug pullover which emphasized his solid chest. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “More than you will ever know.” Don’t do this to me! Don’t let me care. Before she could anticipate what he had in mind, he slid his hands between her legs. She gasped and tried to back away but ran into the chair behind her. He slipped a thumb between her pussy lips and with a little maneuvering, buried his finger inside her. Despite her surprise and outrage, heat flooded her. Her pussy clamped down around him. Stay inside me. Let it be just the two of us, learning—learning about each other. “They were right,” he muttered as he worked her. “You’re ripe. On the edge.” Suddenly she hated him, hated herself! Felt beyond helpless.

He pushed up and back, forcing her off balance until she tumbled onto the chair. She started to slide off, but he pinned her to it with his cunt-sheltered finger. Her weight rested on her bound hands; she stared at the ceiling. He continued his assault—that’s what it was, wasn’t it?—on her core until she thought she’d lose her mind. There was nothing gentle about his manipulation now; it was as if he was watching a ticking clock and trying to get as much as possible out of her in a few seconds. Somewhere in the middle of his attack, he must have spread her knees; but maybe she’d done so herself, not that it mattered because bottom line was, she was splayed and totally accessible. And with crotch-less panties on, there wasn’t so much as a layer of nylon between her flesh and his. With his finger still where he’d planted it, he blew on her cunt, his warm breath reached everything. Ignited everything. She bit down on the ball and struggled to lift her hips off the chair. He was probing deeper, touching her pussy walls with a soft-strong mix of flesh and bone, bending his finger and scooping up some of her free-flowing sex fluid, now drawing both it and his finger out of her. She tried to suck him back inside her, but it was too late. He was gone, standing over her. “It’s time to go,” he said and took hold of the lead.

Chapter Fifteen Hall placed her in the back of the vehicle he’d used to get her here. Maybe she should have been grateful because he’d left her legs free so she could repeatedly squeeze her thighs together until her clit no longer screamed in frustration, but it was small comfort. As they traveled along a smooth, two-lane road that skirted whatever city they were in, it occurred to her he was letting her see where they were going. The terrain was what she expected of the Northwest—tall, close-growing trees fairly dripping from the region’ s frequent storms. Knowing they weren’t going into a city didn’t add to her apprehension until he turned onto another two-lane road which began climbing into the mountains. Hadn’t she already had enough isolation to last a lifetime? “The mansion is on private woodland originally belonging to one of The Taker’s parents,” Hall said. He sounded like a tour guide. “When the parents died, their only child got it all. Unfortunately, his funds were tied up in other ventures. He’s logged some of the acreage, but the Feds put limits how much of that he can do. His solution was to make other Taker members co-owners. Only a handful of people know the place is up here which makes it perfect for their use.” She tried to speak around the ball. “One more thing, and then I’m going to stop talking. Don’t forget, The Takers are into intimidation.”

***** Shanel was still trying to deal with the information when Hall stopped in front of a closed metal gate. He rolled down the window and spoke into what functioned as communication with the massive house she’d barely glimpsed through the trees. “Mr. Jones with a delivery for Carl and company,” he said. There was a mumbled reply, then the gate swung open, and Hall drove through. The gate closed behind them. She felt both hot and cold and wasn’t sure her legs would hold her. Hall had been right about one thing; she wouldn’t have to fake her fear. He pulled into a small parking area to the right of the two-story building. There were five expensive vehicles in the lot which undermined her confidence even more. As if that wasn’t enough, once her fear reached her cunt, the emotion turned into sexual excitement. She could smell herself and feel her hard, hot clit. Great. Just what those assholes want. Hall, please, let’s forget the whole thing! We can run away together, somewhere, anywhere. Hall turned off the engine, got out, and walked around to the back. When he opened the rear door, for a moment she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Then because her life was in his hands, she did. His gaze was intense but unreadable; at least he looked her in the eye instead of taking in the hooker costume. He was carrying a manila folder. If she could, she would have fallen into his arms and given him everything—maybe even her heart. Feeling strong and brave and determined again, she scooted toward him, and he helped her to her feet. He straightened the cape around her. “It won’t stay on long,” he said. Although she was rendered mute, she spun toward him, but he didn’t explain further. Concern for the helpless women in the imposing building kept her legs from collapsing. He took her elbow and began propelling her toward it. “They might be watching,” he whispered. “Play this like you’re scared—and, despite yourself, turned on.” No problem. She could do that all right, Academy Award performance. Walking up to the mansion seemed to take forever; because the opening in the panties was ringed with elastic, her pussy was being compressed, and every step added to the friction, teasing what was already on fire. The front door looked like something out of a set for a medieval castle. Hall rang the doorbell. Whoever opened the door stood in shadow, making it impossible for her to determine much beyond his average height and generous belly. “You’re on time,” the man said to Hall. “We expect it.” The men didn’t shake hands, and as far as she could tell, the newcomer wasn’t particularly interested in her. Her knees were all but knocking, and she was grateful for Hall’s hand on her arm. She had to struggle to swallow; even without the ball gag, it wouldn’t have been easy. When the newcomer, started down a dimly lit entry hall with a high ceiling, she and Hall followed. The tile floor felt cool under her bare feet. They were led into a surprisingly well-lit room where four men sat in a semi-circle. Because it was easier to concentrate on the setting than the men, she took note of the large picture window responsible for the light. It looked out at forestland so rich and

thick it appeared impenetrable. As soon as the sun began to sink, the night would take over. She felt the chill in her heart. “We’re ready,” a man who was smoking a vile-smelling cigar said. He was relaxing in a dark brown leather chair, and although his attire was casual, the fabric looked rich. “ What do you have for us?” “You won’t be disappointed,” Hall said. He guided her to the middle of the room where the men all had a clear view of her. “We’ll be the judges,” the cigar smoker said. “Don’t forget, if Hew hadn’t gotten himself in trouble, you wouldn’t be here.” “I’m aware.” Hall’s tone was a mix of arrogance and humility. “But I’m supplying a better product than Hew ever did.” Cigarman chuckled. “Perhaps. Before we get onto the main event, you need to know we’ve had you checked out.” Shanel felt the blood drain from her face, but Hall merely shrugged. “I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t. It’s the only way to conduct the kind of business transaction we’re involved in. And I wouldn’t be here if you believed I was anything but professional.” “You get around,” Cigarman said. “Florida, California, Texas.” “What can I say? I like ocean fishing and warm climates.” “Then what brought you to the Northwest?” “Business opportunities.” “Business opportunities, my ass!” The outburst came from a man who looked to be the oldest of the five, long and lean and wearing expensive loafers. He looked vaguely familiar. “The heat got too much in those other places. You were forced out of the smuggling business.” Hall chuckled. “Smuggling? I prefer to think of myself as an entrepreneur who functions much like a middle man, only more efficiently.” “Tell it to the gem dealer in Texas who put a price on your head.” “A disgruntled former employer. What’s the bounty up to now anyway? I’m out of the loop.” “Fifty grand.” “Not bad. Maybe I should turn myself in for the reward.” He laughed. “That’s the fascinating thing about the gem business. Because a hunk of rock is rare or hard to come by, it has an inflated value. But a man can’t curl up with a diamond which is why I’ve changed careers. Flesh—let’s just say flesh will never go out of fashion.” As if making his point, Hall slipped a hand under the cape covering her from neck to ankle and cupped her breast. “I’ve done some sampling of the merchandise,” he said. “Necessary evil you understand. And you’re not going to find fault with my preparation techniques. As my rancher uncle would say, this is a prime piece of horseflesh.” “In heat?” Cigarman asked. “Guaranteed. My techniques—let’s just say, mine make Hew’s look primitive.” “Beaten?”

“I’m offended you asked.” Hall took his hand off her breast and made a show of smoothing the cape back in place. “I don’t need to resort to those techniques. What you do with her once the warranty period is over is your business, but I promised prime. I’ ve delivered.” “That remains to be seen,” the door opener said and stood up. He positioned himself in front of her. He was only a few inches taller than her, but gluttony had packed extra flesh on his shoulders and chest in addition to his belly, making him look imposing. He fingered the leash hanging from the dog collar. “Did she fight having them put on?” Maybe it was only her heightened imagination, but it seemed to her Hall was watching Bellyman’s every move. “No,” he said. “It’s not the first collar she’s worn; she’s getting used to them.” The hell I am. Bellyman grunted and increased his grip on the leash, forcing her to lean toward him. “We want a fighter. Hew’s broads were scared out of their minds.” “You’ll get that. I had to strap her down for my tattoo.” Tallman snorted. “I hope to hell yours is better than the piece of crap Hew put on his broads. Looked like a damn hood ornament.” “You’ll see it soon enough.” Hall closed his hand over the leash. “Let up on the merchandise,” he warned. “It’s still mine.” Bellyman’s neck flushed; he glared at Hall. “Don’t order me! I claimed her, sent you her clothes, chose this.” He jabbed a fleshy finger at the ball gag. “Until the warranty period is up, the transaction isn’t completed. I have other buyers.” “You’ll get your turn, Buddy,” Cigarman said. “Don’t be an ass.” To her surprise, Bellyman released the leash and walked in a slow circle around her. The exchange between the two Takers had told her a lot about who was on top of the pecking order; it obviously wasn’t Bellyman, or Buddy, if that was his name. “Who is she?” the oldest man asked. “Hew never took broads from around here.” “Neither do I,” Hall assured him. He held up the manila folder but kept an eye on Bellyman. “Everything you need to know is in here.” “Show it to us,” Cigarman ordered. Hall walked over to the coffee table and spread out the folder’s contents. Despite her nervousness, Shanel noticed it consisted of several newspaper clippings. Bellyman punched her ass, then joined Hall at the table. The others remained seated, and she gathered the courage to study each of them. The oldest one who looked familiar was the golf course developer Loring Garpwell. Bellyman picked up one of the clippings and skimmed it. “Is this true?” he asked. “She isn’t listed as missing?” The question shocked her; despite herself, she tried to read. Bellyman glanced at her and held up another article. “Police report… there was no sign of a struggle at the house where Ms. Fox supposedly went,” he read. “Her fingerprints weren’t found on the site, and the owner insisted he hadn’t decided whether to sell and certainly hadn’t contacted Ms. Fox. Her vehicle is missing. No one has been at her apartment, and her checking

account has been drained.” Shanel glared at Hall, but he ignored her. “Speculation… she left of her own accord grows,” Bellyman continued. “When interviewed, her former fiancé stated she’d been critical of the state’s financial situation and had talked of moving, perhaps to California.” Bellyman read to himself for a moment, then roared with laughter. “I don’t believe this! Rich! Rich!” He stalked over and planted his face only inches from hers. “She’s a cop. Former cop.” Feeling sick and vulnerable, Shanel struggled not to acknowledge Hall. Bellyman waved the article at her. “Poor bitch lost her job because of budget cutbacks. Her former sergeant said she was a damn fine cop, and he hated having to lay her off, but she didn’t have enough seniority. So that’s what you did, did you?” Bellyman took hold of her in chin. “Couldn’t take peddling houses for a living and split? ” Hall stepped to Bellyman’s side. “Don’t,” he warned. “Shit! Who died and made you king?” “Buddy, knock it the fuck off. You’ll get your turn,” Cigarman warned. “This is where it stands?” he asked Hall. “She hasn’t been listed as missing?” “I don’t leave loose ends,” Hall said and closed his fingers around Buddy’s wrist. “ Let her go.” Cursing, Buddy nevertheless returned to his chair. After giving Buddy a long look, Cigarman pushed himself to his feet and came to stand where Buddy had been. “Let’s see what we’re buying,” he said.

Chapter Sixteen Shanel expected Cigarman to yank off the cape, but he unfastened the horrid ball gag. Being able to close her mouth felt wonderful. “You’re a sadistic bastard, Buddy,” he said as he dropped the contraption to the floor. “What porn site did you get that from?” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Ignoring Buddy, Cigarman shifted the cigar to the side of his mouth, and it was all she could do not to gag from the smell. “The money’s over there.” He jerked his head at what she’d assumed was a humidor. “Cash. You want to count it now?” “Yeah,” Hall said. He lifted the lid and took out stacks of hundred dollar bills. “It’s there,” he said at length. “Then you consider the transaction completed?” No! Shanel screamed. No! Get me out of here! “We’re making progress,” Hall said, distracting her. “You stated this would be more than a one-time delivery.”

“If you delivered what we ordered.” “I did. If I’m going to go to the effort of procuring and training more merchandise, I want proof it’s appreciated.” “What kind of proof?” Garpwell asked. “Follow-up visits.” Hall smiled faintly. “I’ve warranted the product. It is as stipulated. But just as a car dealership isn’t going to cover repairs on an automobile that’ s been driven recklessly, I won’t offer future warrantees unless I’ve determined the merchandise is well handled.” “Shit!” Garpwell grumbled. “We pay for her; we do what we want with her. Besides, what idiot trashes a luxury car he’s just paid forty grand for?” They’d spent forty-thousand dollars for her? She felt sick. “I don’t expect there to be a problem,” Hall said conversationally. “But you have to understand my position. Depending on what I find, one visit might be enough. And to demonstrate how I operate, I’m leaving half of the purchase price here. I’ll collect the rest when I’m satisfied.” This was insane! How had she become chrome and rubber? “Done,” Cigarman said without waiting to confer with the others. “It’s time to see what we’ve bought.” Shanel dug her toes into the lush carpet and thought of the filled cages below. Cigarman unhooked the cape at her neck and slowly, tantalizingly, drew it off her. Remembering what Hall had said about acting scared—not that it was an act—she hunched her shoulders as if trying to cover herself. She didn’t have to look down to know her hardened nipples were pushing through the openings in the uncomfortable bra. “Shit, Buddy,” Garpwell muttered. “You’ve got to lay off those porn sites. “You’ve got her decked out like a stripper.” “You complaining?” Buddy challenged. “You don’t like it?” No one said anything. Dreading what was coming, she struggled to keep her eyes off Hall. He sounded so confident and in control, as if he had ice water in his veins. She prayed it was an act, but he’d referred to her as merchandise, and he’d made her so desperate for sexual release she’d do almost anything to relieve the tension. Trained. Ignoring Hall and Cigarman, Buddy marched over to her and yanked down on the so-called panties until they barely clung to her hipbones. “Shaved,” he announced. “ Freshly shaved. What is it?” He roughly traced the dragon outline, saving his focus on the tongue until last. “You tell me, slave. What’d he label you with?” She didn’t respond until he pressed his fingernail into the tender flesh at the tip of the tongue. “A—dragon.” “Rich! A pussy-licking dragon. Tell me, slave. You want your pussy licked?” No! She couldn’t be getting aroused all over again, could she? “Answer me, bitch. You want your pussy licked?” Hall couldn’t help; it was vital for her to come across as genuine. “I-I don’t know.” “You don’t know.” Instead of going for the hole where the crotch fabric should be, he slid his hand under the band of silk and tugged on it. “What happened? He spear you so many times you’re dead down there?”

“N-no.” “He hasn’t fucked you?” “No.” She was all too aware of how close the disgusting man’s hand was to her aching clit. “No?” Buddy laughed. “What’s the matter, slaver? Can’t get it up?” “I don’t need to insist on what isn’t willingly handed to me,” Hall said. “There are more sanitary ways of checking the merchandise.” If Buddy was aware he’d been ridiculed, he didn’t act like it. The instant Buddy touched her there, he’d know she was wet. “I know what you’re thinking, slave. But you’re going to have to wait. Get used to it. So… ” Still holding onto the panties, Buddy cupped his hand under a breast. “No marks. You didn’t clip her?” “Of course I did,” Hall said. “It’s part of the program.” “With what? I don’t see so much as a bruise.” To her disgust, Hall positioned himself beside Buddy and took hold of her other breast. He examined it thoroughly, critically. “Nope,” he proudly announced. “No marks. You hurt most woman and they’re not going to get turned on. But if you know how to play them right—” He closed his thumb and forefinger over her too-hard nipple and used his grip to hold her aloft. “She’ll be the one chasing you around the room, not the other way around.” Two men, one she hated and one who’d awakened uncounted complex emotions in her, had hold of her breasts. Beyond all reason, the experience was erotic. Exciting. Going with the emotion, she contracted and expanded her chest muscles until her breasts all but danced in the men’s grip. Her eyes were at half mast, her mouth open. “Shit,” Buddy muttered. He shifted his grip until, like Hall, he held her nipple. She drew back, then leaned into him. “Shit.” “You got it, Buddy?” Hall asked. “This one isn’t into pain. But treat her right and— check. You’ll see what I mean.” She wanted to hate Hall, wanted to bellow he didn’t know a God-damn thing about her. But when Buddy slid his hand along her crease, she sagged against him and bathed his fingers with her cream. “Shit. It’s a flood down there.” Even with her senses on overload, she was aware of what Hall was doing to the breast he held. No longer trapping it between his fingers, he now stroked her, the gesture both gentle and calming. The touch held her in the real world. She wasn’t an animal in heat. Straightening, she clamped her legs together. “No,” she ground out. “What the hell?” Buddy spluttered. “I have a brain, damn it. You can rape me; I can’t stop you.” Her heartbeat was so erratic she was having trouble speaking. “With my hands tied behind me and a collar around my neck, you can do anything you want. But you can’t stop me from wanting you dead.” “What is her problem?” Buddy demanded. He tried to shove his fingers up her, but she refused to spread herself. “I thought you trained—” “I did.” Hall folded his arms across his chest. “I trained her pussy to respond.”

“Yes, you did, you bastard!” she yelled. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she had these men off balance and was determined to take advantage of it. At the same time she fought the climax that fairly gnawed on her clit. “You made me spend the night with a dildo rammed up me. What woman wouldn’t respond? That’s what it takes, doesn’t it?” Disgusted with Buddy’s probing fingers, she stepped back. When he came after her; she kicked at him. Cursing, he back-pedaled. “Take these damn things off me!” She turned so the men could see her cuffed hands. “Then we’ll see who wins this round.” “Shit. Shit.” Cigarman was laughing so hard he could hardly speak. “We’ve got a live one here, gentlemen. A real hellcat.” “It’s about time,” one of the others muttered. “Anything’s better than the cunts down there.” Although she didn’t dare take her eye off Buddy, she was aware of the men’s admiring looks. She might look like a hooker in this getup, but there was nothing funny about how close she’d come to kicking Buddy where he’d feel it the most. “I’ll teach you,” Buddy growled. “No one laughs at me.” He reached for the leash, but she jerked her head, flipping it out of his grasp. “I told you,” Hall said as he stepped between them. “She’s a cop. She’s not going to go down easy. And she knows self-defense.” “No shit?” Cigarman was still laughing. “You get us more like this, and we’ll keep you in business for years.” “Bitches like her aren’t easy come by.” “What you trying to do, negotiate for more money?” Hall shrugged. “She’s agitated. If you want, I’ll take her back, calm her down some.” “The hell you will,” Buddy growled. “It’s my job.” “No marks,” Hall warned. “No blood. That’s the deal.” Buddy cursed again. Against all reason, Shanel felt more alive than she had in her entire life. She’d just warned herself not to become an animal in heat, but the line between sex and survival had become a thin one. “What do you think, bitch?” Cigarman asked. “You want those cuffs off so you can go toe-to-toe with Buddy? He wins and you spread your legs for him. You win and you get to geld him.” “Fuck it!” Buddy snapped. “I’ll break every bone in her body.” “You and who else?” she challenged. Hall was shaking his head, but she’d been through so much. She felt as if she was going to explode. If she didn’t find some release for this tension— “You’ve got the keys to those cuffs, right?” Cigarman asked Hall. “Take them off.” “And then what?” Hall asked. The question might sound casual to the others, but she caught his underlying tension. “Then our cop and Buddy find out who has balls.” “I already made it clear. I don’t want her hurt.”

“What do you care?” Garpwell asked. “You’re getting paid.” “Not for a corpse. You read the paper? A female body’s at the morgue. According to the coroner’s office, she was tied and had been beaten. There was something up both her cunt and ass.” Hall took a moment to glare at each man. “If this one shows up on the side of a road or in a lake, it could get traced back to me. I’m not taking any chances.” Although she could barely think beyond the horror of what Hall had said, she knew he’d made an impact on the men. Cigarman grunted and jabbed a finger at a nearly bald man. “I told you, damn it. We can’t afford any fucking carelessness.” “I’m not stupid,” Buddy interjected. “Much as I’ve forked over for this one, I’d be a fool to cut short her… usefulness. But she’s got to be shown who’s boss.” You and what army, Shanel thought as fingers of fear chased down her back. “He’s right,” Garpwell said. The others nodded and grunted agreement. “Get those cuffs off her.” After a nearly imperceptible hesitation, Hall stepped behind her and unlocked the manacles. Fire shot through her shoulders. Going with the sensation and accompanying emotion, she whirled on Hall. “You bastard! You didn’t have to make them so tight.” “Now you know what it feels like, cop,” Buddy taunted. “Don’t much like having the tables turned, do you.” He started toward her, crouched over with his arms out. Despite the sense of unreality, Shanel nearly laughed. For all his bravado, Buddy was soft. In contrast, she was in great physical shape and in desperate need of an outlet for the sexual tension that all but consumed her. After calmly pulling the panties back up as far as they would go, she too crouched. Her fingers became fists. “She’s going to wipe the floor with you.” One of the men hooted. “Give it up before she breaks your nose.” Buddy’s eyes narrowed; his nostrils flared. She’d seen a cornered dog look in enough suspects to tell her he wasn’t thinking clearly. Of course, the same might be said of her. It didn’t matter! Instead of taking a defensive stance, she strode toward him. At the same time, she moved from side to side determined not to present him with an easy target. He gaped at her exposed breasts. For the first time she was glad for the outfit. Smiling faintly, she ran her fists over her puckered nipples. “Want a taste, do you?” she taunted. “Not in this lifetime. When I get fucked, it’ll be by a man, not you.” She didn’t dare look at Hall. “You bitch.” “You wish. Come on. Think you can take a woman who can stand up for herself? One you haven’t lashed to a bed.” Screaming, Buddy launched himself at her. Timing his charge, she didn’t try to the side until he was nearly upon her. At the same time, she rotated toward him and aimed her fist at his throat. He gagged as she landed a solid blow. Not giving him time to recover, she closed in and rammed her knee into his crotch. He screamed and tried to cover himself. She buried both fists in his soft belly. He sank to his knees and began vomiting. Sensing movement, she turned, but it was too late. The men fell on her from all sides, two grabbing her arms and holding her immobile while the other two took control of her flailing legs. They lifted her off the floor and kept her spread-eagled between them. At Cigarman’s order, they carried her

over to a recliner and threw her onto it. Someone yanked on a lever, and the footrest came up. The back reclined so she was looking at the ceiling. They’d let go of her legs but stood nearby. Cigarman positioned himself between her legs but back far enough so she couldn’t kick him. She spotted Hall off to the side. He shook his head, and she stopped struggling. “I applaud you,” Cigarman said. He chewed on his cigar a minute. “Too bad you’re not on our side. However… ” He exchanged glances in turn with the other men, then looked over at Buddy who remained on his hands and knees. “However, we prefer entertainment to a female bodyguard. You’re going to be a worthy opponent. Training you will be our pleasure.” “Training?” Although the word sickened her, she made it sound like a challenge. “Is that what you call it?” “It doesn’t matter, does it. Tell me, does ramming Buddy’s nuts into his belly turn you on? You get off on that?” How did he know? He nodded at one of the other men; the man wrapped his hands around her ankle and leaned back, forcing her leg out at angle from her body. Then Cigarman closed in on her, careful to stay way from her still free leg. “He did well.” He indicated Hall who stood a few feet away. “Didn’t break you down. Lifted you up in fact.” He chuckled. “There’s where your strength came from, didn’t it? There’s nothing like spending a night curled around a dildo to take a woman to the edge.” Feeling sick to her stomach—along with something else she couldn’t deny or keep from them—she didn’t respond. “Couldn’t get the release you needed so you took it out on my, ah, partner over there.” He indicated Buddy. “A little more ripening and—” “Ripening? What do you mean?” “It’s for us to know and you to think about. What’s going on there?” He jerked his head at her open-to-him cunt. “Feel like it’s about to explode, does it?” Why did he have to bring that up when the truth was she could barely stand to be in her own body? Fighting Buddy, especially beating him, had been like sex, damn satisfying. Unfortunately, like everything else that had happened to her since Hall kidnapped her, it hadn’t gone far enough. “Answer me. You’d do anything to have a cock up you about now, wouldn’t ;you?” “Go to hell.” With an effort, she kept her ass still. He chuckled. “I thought you’d say fuck me but maybe the word hits too close to home. Tell me, bitch. You willing to crawl on your hands and knees if that’s what it takes to get some relief?” She was on fire, the hottest flames centered in her clit. Talking about sex was making things worse. “You don’t want to be fucked?” Cigarman asked. “You’re fine with your pussy hanging out, dripping and hot?” Don’t say that! Don’t make me think—

“I bet you’d like your very own magic fingers, wouldn’t you? Every time you want a little action, all you have to do is plug it in and poke it in slot A and you’re good to go.” Except for Hall and Buddy, the men laughed. As for her own reaction—damn, she was all but soaking the recliner. “You like it up your ass? Get off on a little pain, do you?” “Shut—up.” His chuckle threatened to become a belly laugh, forcing him to take the now dead cigar out of his mouth. When his laughter subsided, he looked at the cigar, then at her pussy. “Not long enough.” He indicated the half-smoked stogy. “But I have others. Not as big or satisfying as a cock, but you know what they say about any port in a storm.” Bombarded by equal amounts of revulsion and need, she scooted closer to the man holding her leg in an effort to shield herself. Obviously guessing what she had in mind, Cigarman positioned himself so her left leg was against his hip. He was close to her pussy, so close. “What do you think, gentlemen? Are you interested in a progress report?” They nodded agreement, even Buddy who’d finally gotten to his feet and positioned himself so he had an unobstructed view of her pussy. Being open to them like this should have shamed and angered her, but she felt hot and heavy. Desperate for distraction, she stared at Hall. How dark was it possible for his eyes to become? Unlike the others, his features weren’t heavy with lust. Instead, he looked as if he was standing at the edge of hell. Don’t blow it, she silently told him. We’ve come too far. Don’t blow it! Suddenly she shuddered. It was a moment before she realized Cigarman was running something—probably the cigar—over her swollen and sticky folds. He kept at her, varying the amount of pressure, sometimes pushing the object into her passage. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her ass still. She tried to lift it off the chair. There. No longer the saliva slick cigar but his thumb. Probing deeper, not deep enough. Sobbing, she hoisted herself as far as she could toward him. The man who had been holding her ankle let go. She thought he was laughing, but she couldn’t concentrate. “Want to be fucked, do you?” Cigarman asked. He began rotating his thumb so it slid over her pussy walls. “Y-yes.” “Beg for it then.” No. No, she wouldn’t. Anything else. God, what was that! Two thumbs now, spreading her, assaulting her. Avoiding her clit and adding to the torture. “Beg for it.” “Please. Please!”

Chapter Seventeen

Shanel didn’t resist as the men holding her arms propelled her toward the dark cage. She barely remembered being led down the stairs. All that mattered was the awful pressure in her pussy. It was weeping and wounded, raw with tension. Why had he stopped? Why! “Welcome to your new home, slave,” Buddy announced as he unlocked the door. “ Hopefully it won’t take you long to complete the interior decorating because I have plans for you.” He laughed and stepped back. She stared at the small, claustrophobic interior, noting the narrow bed was bolted to the floor and had only a single blanket. A bucket served as a toilet. At least the top of the cage was high enough so she could stand. Buddy shoved her from behind. The other men released her, and she half stumbled, half fell onto the bed. Before she could command her spaghetti-muscles to move, she heard the door slam shut. “See you later, slave,” Buddy said. “I want to give you enough time to think.” After a few seconds, someone turned off the light, leaving her in darkness. She curled up on her side on the thin mattress and tucked her hands between her knees. Although her cunt throbbed and her breasts felt as if they were about to explode from the bra, she didn’t touch herself. Instead, she listened to her vulva, her clit, her entire body rage against what had been done to it and what might come. She hated those men, hated herself, hated Hall most of all. Hall. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he’d accompanied the others into what she’d dimly perceived as a dungeon. Now that she put her mind to it, she recalled seeing other cages in the large, stark room. Each cage was separated from the others by several feet, and all seemed to be the same size, approximately six by six feet. She hadn’t noted whether the others were empty or occupied. It wasn’t working. She couldn’t ignore her aching pussy. Sobbing, she ran her fingers almost lovingly over her labial. It reacted to the gentle touch by starting to pulse. Imagining the increased blood flow had made it so sensitive, she continued to stroke. The damnable crotchless panties restricted her ability to give herself relief, but she’d have to stand in order to take it off, and she lacked the strength. Besides, the black silk was all that stood between her and nudity. She managed to brush her folds apart and slide a finger home. Her pussy muscles closed around it and held it there. It was already drenched in her cream. Lost and starving, she caressed her entire passage, not aggressively in imitation of a man’s thrusting cock but compassionately. Even as her blood continued to boil, she felt comforted and stronger. It was still her body. Even with everything done to her, she knew what it needed and could give it that. After resting a moment, she lifted her top leg and took advantage of the increased access. She took a little time to massage the flesh under and around the circle of elastic and then returned her attention to her cunt, her clit. No one could stop her now. No one was with her in this dark hole. She was alone with her pussy and her need, what she had a right to. In her mind, her fingers became a man’s penis, but not just any man’s. She should trust Hall least of all, but his cock now hovered over her pussy, kissed her wet folds. His

cock spread them. His cock entered her, thrust home, rammed itself deep and true. She felt his balls knock against her ass and imagined they were face-to-face, their breasts sealed together, mouths equally sealed. He’d lift her in his arms, and she’d lock her legs around his hips and ride him. He’d hold her aloft with his strength, and she’d be speared by him. Deep in her throat she’d laugh and sob, and he’d know he had every right to her, that she wanted everything of him. He thrust and thrust again, his powerful hip, thigh, and pelvic muscles promising endless strength. She rode him, gave as good as she got, forward and back, forward and back, held close and tight They bucked as one, his cock huge and wonderful and welcome. Now she felt him in her belly, the tip of his cock seeming to touch her throat, caressing what had nearly starved. She bathed him in her juices, the fluid helping his cock to glide and fill, tease and ignite. Her fingers clamped down over his arms. There was so much strength in her legs; she could cling to him forever, ride him and ride him and ride him. The pressure was building. Heat growing. Feeling as if her entire body had become her cunt, her pussy, her clit, her G spot. He was there with her, matching her sensation for sensation. They breathed together, sobbed as one, groaned and slammed. The last thing she remembered was his cum squirting into her. The taste of it.

***** “Are you done?” Shanel gasped and stared at the darkness. A woman had asked the question. She still felt as if she’d run a marathon and collapsed at the finish line; at the same time, she knew where she was and how she’d gotten here. “Are you done?” the woman repeated. “Yes.” There was no reason to deny she’d just climaxed. “We saw them bring you in,” the woman said. “You’re all right?” No. Before the word could escape, she remembered why she was here and what she needed to accomplish. “What is this place?” Interjecting fear into her voice took no effort. “Who are those men?” “Hush. Keep your voice down.” Someone else had entered the conversation. This woman seemed to be to her left while the first sounded as if she was behind her. Although she would have preferred to remain sprawled on the bed, Shanel sat up. “It’s so dark,” she whispered. “I can’t see anything.” “They’ll turn the light back on when they’re ready to. It’s a game they play. One of many.” She was glad to hear anger in the woman’s voice; at least she wasn’t completely cowed. “What is this place?” she repeated. “I don’t understand. I was kidnapped. He did… ” “The bastard who kidnapped you. You don’t have to explain. We know.” Of course they did. After a short silence, the two women began talking. They kept their

voices low, but she had no trouble hearing them. One woman who called herself Dena said she was a waitress; at least she had been before a man had broken into her apartment and drugged her. She didn’t know how long she’d been here because she couldn’t keep the days and nights separate. She cried a little when she said that. The other woman, who said her name was Georgia, a legal secretary, warned Dena not to think about passing time. In contrast to Dena’s barely controlled despair, Georgia seemed to be holding herself together with an iron grip. She told Shanel that with her there were now a total of five women in the dungeon, but the other cages were far enough away those women would have to speak in normal tones, and the dungeon was bugged. There used to be another woman in Shanel’s cage, a screamer who couldn’t be quiet even when she was ordered to. There’d been other women in the past—a past that went back no more than approximately four months which was how long Georgia believed she’d been here. No two women came from the same state, but they all had certain things in common. None had children, a husband, or close family ties. “We think it’s because the police are less likely to look for women like us,” Georgia said. “We fall into the cracks. Are you a crack girl?” “I—I guess I am. What—what do they want with us?” “Don’t make me spell it out,” Georgia warned. She was quiet for a moment, then said each member of The Takers was different. Buddy who insisted on being called Master Bud became violent when he drank. Master Ralph—they didn’t think that was his real name—was in charge. When he gave an order, the other Masters complied, even Master Garpwell who talked a lot about how rich he was. Ralph always had a cigar in his mouth and sometimes burned a girl with it. “I know,” Shanel admitted. “He burned you?” “No. But he used it to, you know.” “Which is why you had to masturbate, you poor thing. They love to get us hot and bothered.” “Not always,” Dena whispered. “Sometimes by the time they’re done with me, especially Master Cy, I’m numb.” “It’s because he’s hung like a horse,” Georgia said. “Don’t fight them. That makes it worse.” “But Master Bud wants me to fight.” Dena’s voice shook. “He—he knows how to make me.” Locked in the black room, Shanel struggled to keep from being swamped by despair as the women described the various men’s sexual preferences. Although it meant they’d get hungry and thirsty, the women preferred it when the men were gone. Sometimes they’d be left alone so long they became scared The Takers would never return and they’ d die in their cages. Not every encounter was rape, Georgia explained. Sometimes, depending on the mood a master was in, they’d be treated like valuable members of a harem, given long bubble baths, fresh fruit and vegetables, beautiful clothes, a walk—under close supervision of course. Being able to walk or even fucked in the sunlight was wonderful.

It almost made up for everything else. Shanel was trying to find a way to work the conversation around to the men’s business dealings when suddenly the dungeon was bathed in light. She shut her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest. Once she’d adjusted to the light, she looked around. Georgia was tall and thin and naked with large breasts that looked out of proportion to the rest of her. Her hair hung in tangles around her face. Dena, whose cage was behind Shanel’s, was small and slight looking, her dark hair short cropped. In contrast to Georgia’s nudity, Dena had on a filmy white nightgown. She also had a gold collar and chain which secured her to one of the bars. The other two women were maybe ten feet away, one naked, the other in simple pastel panties and bra. One looked asleep while the other sat on the end of her bed staring at the floor. “That’s Jaz,” Georgia said of the one who was sitting up. “She goes into a trance every time the light turns on.” “Why?” Shanel’s throat was dry. “Because she knows they’re coming.”

***** Maybe five minutes passed between the time the light was turned on and two members of The Takers walked into the dungeon. They carried lengths of rope and leather and were laughing about something. When they stopped in front of her cage, Shanel felt her heart slam against her chest. At least it wasn’t Buddy. “Your turn will come, slave,” Garpwell told her. “Be patient. It’ll be worth the wait.” “Patient, nothing,” the other taunted. “Spend your time thinking about what’s going to happen. Chew on that. By the time we’re done with you, you’re going to forget you ever were a cop—or anything except what we want you to be.” Apparently they hadn’t decided ahead of time which of the women they wanted because they stood in front of each cage in turn. The woman who’d looked as if she’d been sleeping was still lying down, but she’d lifted herself up on one elbow and was watching their every move. Only Jaz seemed oblivious to their presence. Shanel had thought she’d be prepared for this. No matter what happened, she’d keep her wits about her, but tension felt heavy in the air. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man’s warning. They chose Jaz and Dena, who both went willingly. Shanel waited to be plunged back into darkness, but the light remained on after the door at the top of the stairs had slammed shut. The woman who’d been lying down, lowered herself back on her mattress. “When will they be back?” Shanel asked Georgia. “If they’re lucky, not long, but I don’t think it’s going to be like that today.” “Why not?” Georgia’s laugh was without warmth. She also stopped whispering. “The Takers have a new toy, you. Just thinking about how they’re going to play with you has them horny. As long as they’re like that, they won’t bother listening to us; we can talk. Damn,

damn. Jaz can’t take much more.” Fear for Jaz increased Shanel’s tension. “What happens then?” Georgia took in her depressing surroundings. “They get rid of her. Like they have others.” She paced from one end of her small cage to the other. “I try not to think—about anything. Jaz says she becomes someone else in her mind; it’s the only way she can survive. But her defenses are cracking. Maybe… ” “Maybe what?” “Sometimes I wish I was dead.” Shanel ached to tell her the end to the nightmare was coming, but she didn’t dare risk being overheard. Besides, she didn’t trust anyone fully, not even her fellow prisoners. If Georgia was right about their being able to talk freely, she had to take advantage of that. “Who are they?” she asked. “You called them Takers, didn’t you?” “And other things I’m not going to let them hear. You don’t know what’s going on?” Because she’d decided pretending ignorance was the best way to get information, she told Georgia she’d been kept in darkness since she was snatched. She didn’t know where this place was and had no idea who the men were. “My friends are looking for me,” she wound up. “I know they are. They’ll find—” “Don’t,” Georgia warned. “Don’t waste your sanity thinking about that. Rescue’s not going to happen.” Georgia, who’d impressed her as a strong and vital woman, now sounded defeated. “How can you be sure?” Shanel asked. “You don’t know what’s going on in the outside world.” “No, I don’t. But this hellhole has existed for several years. No woman has escaped or been rescued—because The Takers are too powerful.” Much as she wanted to comfort Georgia, she decided to jump on the chance to learn more about The Takers. “I saw the cars when I was brought here,” she said. “They’re all expensive. The Takers are rich?” “Rich and powerful.” There was that unsettling word again. Because she couldn’t make it go away, she guided Georgia into telling her how she’d come to the conclusion. Georgia’s knowledge consisted of bits and pieces of what the men had talked about when she was in their presence. Their confidence and arrogance was almost a living force, as if they saw themselves as dictators. Georgia wasn’t sure what their business titles were, not that it mattered. Their careers were varied, but all of them were in positions of power and responsible for the financial dealings in their companies. But careers were only part of what the men talked about. Mostly they boasted and laughed about what they called their extracurricular investment program. “They’re using other people’s money,” Georgia said. “One night, when Master Cy was drunk, he told me he and the other Takers made more off suckers than they did legitimately.” “How?” Shanel could barely contain her excitement. Georgia’s explanation was somewhat disjointed. Sometimes she stopped and strained, and Shanel knew her mind was on what was happening to Jaz and Dena. Hall

had told her more about the people The Takers were defrauding than Georgia knew. According to Georgia, The Takers took great care to keep a low profile by never flaunting their wealth; at the same time they gave off an aura of success and confidence that convinced investors to hand money over to The Takers. “If I was one of those so-called investors, I’d really be concerned about not being able to get my hands on my money,” Shanel said. Although she kept her tone casual, her heart rate kicked up a notch. “I can’t imagine letting anyone take my money out of the country.” “You’d think so, but according to Master Cy, once people hear about how much they can make and not have to pay taxes on, they can hardly wait to jump onboard. By the time they realize they’ve been had, it’s too late. What are they going to do, go to the cops? If they did, they’d have to admit they were trying to defraud the government and stealing from their corporations.” “Does anyone try to take them on? I’d think they’d do whatever it takes to get their money back.” “How? The money’s in Mexico.” Shanel gave her what she hoped was a casual glance. “How does it get there?” “What do you care?” Although she was afraid she’d aroused Georgia’s suspicion, Shanel had come too close to back down. “I—I’m trying to understand how many people are involved.” “Involved? That’s not how Master Cy puts it. He laughed when he said this. There are a couple of women who travel to Mexico on business all the time. They’re the carriers.” “Two women?” Shanel didn’t try to keep shock out of her voice. “Yeah. Considering what’s happened to us, it’s hard to accept, isn’t it?” “Who are they? How come no one has ever suspected them?” Georgia came as close as she could and motioned for Shanel to do the same. “They’ re lawyers. They do business with American corporations which have dealings in Mexico.” Shanel gasped. “What? How can—” “One of them used to handle some legal matters for Master Garpwell. The other is her lesbian lover. Master Cy says neither woman is going to cross The Takers; their reputations depend on their private lives not coming out.” Hall, where are you? I have to tell you this! And you have to get me out of here!

Chapter Eighteen Shanel was so concerned with what Georgia had told her that she was barely aware of the passing time. Because there were no windows, she couldn’t tell whether it was still daylight, but she was getting both hungry and thirsty. Georgia hadn’t said much

else, making Shanel wonder if she regretted revealing what she had. While she was with Hall, he’d made sure she got exercise, and he’d seldom left her alone. True, much of the time he’d been readying her for the role he’d forced her into, but at least she’d felt connected to the world—to him. In contrast, she now felt as if she existed in a vacuum. There was nothing to read, nothing to hear except the beating of her heart, nothing to think about except the too-small cage and wondering whether she’d get out alive. No wonder the women were losing their will. How long could she keep her own? And that wasn’t the worst of it. Looming over everything else was the control The Takers had over her body, her everything. Feeling too big for her skin, she paced back and forth, turning and turning and turning because there was nowhere to go. Georgia watched her but didn’t say anything. The other woman hadn’t moved. More time passed. She was beginning to obsess about a glass of water, even a teaspoonful. Should she take off the idiotic bra and panties and give the men the message she wasn’t some mannequin they could dress? But if she did, she’d be naked, and they might like that even more. Where was Hall? If he was still here, was he participating in whatever was being done to Jaz and Dena? Was it expected of him, some kind of test? Damn, damn, damn, if only she’d never met him. It must be too much time alone with her rambling thoughts—nothing except that— but remembering Hall’s masterful handling of her body increased her restlessness. Masturbating should have put an end to her God-awful sexual tension, but obviously she’d done an imperfect job—either that or Hall had implanted her pussy with a memory chip. Memory chip. That’s a good one. She was deep in an argument with herself about how to get rid of the implant or at least turn it off when she heard male voices. Georgia crouched on her bed as far from the stairs as she could get. The other woman sat up and did the same. Taking her cue from them, Shanel climbed onto her mattress and hugged her legs. Someone had put a hood over Jaz’s head. There was a cutout for her nose and mouth but not her eyes. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed and a heavy metal chain stretched between the cuffs, making it difficult for her to walk. Her breasts had been clipped, and a thin, decorative chain hung between the clips. Like Jaz, Dena wore a hood, but her feet were free while her hands were confined by leather restraints connected to a leather belt. The way she walked made Shanel wonder if she was wearing a butt plug. The two men who’d taken them out positioned the women in front of their respective cages. Then they left them standing there and walked over to where Shanel was. Hall, please!. “Come on, bitch,” Cigarman said as he unlocked her door. “We’ve got some work for you to do. Mess up and everyone’s going to pay.” With the warning ringing in her ears, she stood up and stepped forward. He grabbed an exposed nipple and twisted it until she cried out.

“Got your attention, have I?” He released it and did the same to her other nipple. “ Just wanted to make sure. You’re going to be a good slave, aren’t you?” “Yes.” She nearly gagged on the word. “I thought so. Now, as you can see, we haven’t quite finished with these two. Left them kind of wrapped up in their work.” Both men laughed, then the other man spoke. “Now, we could leave them like they are. Give all of you something to think about. It won’t be the first time.” I’ll kill you. Somehow, I’ll kill you. “But they were good little girls and did what we told them to. They deserve to be rewarded. Don’t you agree?” “Yes.” “Of course you do. And you’re going to do the rewarding.” Despite her dread of what they had in mind, Shanel kept her reaction to herself. Hall would be back; he’d get them all out of this hell! And until then, she’d do whatever it took to keep everyone alive. When the men told her to take the clips off Jaz’s breasts, she did so as gently as possible. Then they ordered her to lick Jaz’s nipples and she complied. They kept her at it until Jaz moaned behind the hood and leaned toward her. It’s all right, she told Jaz. We’ll get out of this, and when we are, I’ll get you all the help you need. She was so concerned about Jaz she barely noticed she was becoming excited. Suddenly Cigarman stepped behind her, snaked his arm around her waist, and pulled her off-balance. He shoved his free hand between her legs from the rear. Although she entertained fantasies of beating him senseless with Jaz’s chains, she submissively widened her stance. He probed at the entrance to her wet pussy. “Shit, damn bitch’ll do all right. Hot and bothered.” “Keep her that way,” the other man muttered. “All right, bitch, we don’t want you and the other slave to have any fun without us. Besides, your work isn’t done. Slave number two is waiting.” Hating her body’s response to what she’d been compelled to do to Jaz, she nevertheless forced herself to stand behind Dena. At Cigarman’s order, Dena leaned over and spread her legs. Shanel could plainly see the end of the butt plug sticking out of her. It looked huge. “We’ve got a problem here,” Cigarman said. “Poor bitch’s got something rammed up her ass, and we can’t get it out. Think you can handle it?” Against all reason, the sight caused Shanel to become even more excited. “Did you hear me, bitch?” Cigarman demanded. He grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her. “If you want to eat and drink, you’re going to get the sucker out. With your teeth.” Swallowing equal parts revulsion and excitement, Shanel bent down and brought her mouth close to Dena’s ass. Cigarman still had hold of her arms, and although she might have been able to yank free, it wouldn’t have accomplished anything. She opened her mouth and positioned it over the plug end but couldn’t force herself to go any further.

“Come on, bitch, get it done. The trick is to get the right angle and go at it slow and steady. Give her something to feel.” I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Hating Cigarman, she adjusted her grip and angle and slowly backed away from Dena’s ass, bringing the frighteningly long plug with her. Dena sobbed and might have fallen forward if the other man hadn’t caught her. Cigarman waited for Shanel to straighten before letting her arms go. Then he pushed the plug further into her mouth until she gagged. Finally, he took it from her. “Not bad for lesson number one.” He laughed as he shoved her toward her cage. “ Not bad.”

***** As much as Shanel had wanted to connect with her fellow prisoners, in the wake of what she’d been forced to do, she couldn’t bring herself to break the silence. She’d been relieved when Dena and Jaz’s restraints were removed and everyone was given fresh water and a sandwich. She’d had to eat in the dark which had made it both easier and harder to face herself. If only she’d kneed those men where it counted! But if she had, she and more importantly, the other women would have been punished; she had no doubt. Although the mattress was so thin she could feel the springs under it, that wasn’t why she barely slept. How long before she forgot who and what she’d been before she’d been thrown into a cage? In a few weeks, maybe less, she’d stop dreaming of killing those bastards; she’d become like Jaz and Dena, resigned. Maybe her innate sexuality would continue to respond, but it was only a bodily function. And after awhile, the men would grow tired of what little they could get out of her. For the first time since Hall had grabbed her, she allowed herself to truly cry, but as a sob welled up in her throat, she forced it down because she refused to subject her unwilling companions to her emotions. She’d remain strong, defiant, give them something to cling to until Hall— If Hall… It might have been morning by the time she put her light sleep behind her and sat up. She heard a spring squeak but didn’t say anything. Thinking someone might be seeking the same sexual release she’d resorted to when she was first put in here, she waited, but the squeak wasn’t repeated. Talking to Georgia had eased the slow passing hours yesterday—if it had been yesterday—but she couldn’t think of anything to say now. Hall. Hall, I have names. Connections to The Takers. Hopefully specific information about where the money is. Excited, she stood and in two steps reached the bars. She grabbed them and stared at the dark, ceased to be a prisoner and turned back into a cop. She felt the adrenalin rush that always accompanied solving a crime or arresting a suspect. She’d found the key, she! Now all she had to do was get out of here so she could slap cuffs on those two conscienceless and well-connected women. Get a move on, Hall! I’ve got an arrest to make. Intent on her one-sided conversation, she was slow to comprehend the dungeon had been bathed in light. Someone whimpered and more bed springs creaked. She increased

her grip on the bars and waited to see who was coming. Then she recognized Buddy and took an involuntary step back. He carried a red lightweight whip. “It’s just you and me, slave,” he told her. “The others put on their suits and ties and left for work this morning. Fortunately, I have the day off.” He laughed. “Time for you and me to get acquainted. And for you to understand who’s boss.”

Chapter Nineteen Shanel stared down at what remained of the panties and bra which now lay in a heap inside her cage where Buddy had told her to leave them after ordering her to remove them. Before opening her cage, he’d had her stick her hands out the bars and put on cuffs that held the insides of her wrists a couple of inches apart. Then he’d taken her out and forced her to straddle a hard plastic contraption resembling a sawhorse. He’d fastened the cuffs to the sawhorse in such a way she was forced to bend over at the waist. As long as she stood on her toes, her cunt didn’t touch the nearly pointed top, but she couldn’t keep that up forever Buddy positioned himself behind her. She knew he was staring at her ass. “Nice cunt you got there. Guess that’s why I picked the outfit I did, so I could see it. The slaver, he didn’t ruin you, did he?” She clenched her teeth. “I asked you a question, slave.” He touched her ass with the whip tails and glided it down her thighs. “He’d better not have ruined you. What’d he do to you? Tell me.” Hall! Please, now! “Spit it out!” He swung. The whip bit into her backside, and she jumped. When she came down, the sawhorse ground into her pussy and forced her back onto her toes. “He—I don’t know what you want me to say.” “What the hell do I care? Entertain me.” Anticipation of another swat slowed her thoughts. She was still trying to think what to say when he stung her for the second time. Fortunately, she remembered not to come down on the sawhorse, but her legs already ached from tension. Sooner or later, her cunt would be smashed against the plastic. “Look at me.” He prodded her ass with the handle, and she obediently looked over her shoulder at him. “That’s better. Now, the slaver said something that needs further explanation. The rules are, no climaxing until I or one of my partners decides you deserve it, but he said he let you come once. What happen, he get careless? Didn’t back off in time.” “I—I guess.” Hall, please. I need you. “Guess doesn’t cut it, slave.” He prodded again. “Details or you’re going to be fucking this.” “I—I couldn’t stand it any more. I begged. He sucked me.”

“Hm. You like being sucked, do you?” Careful. Don’t give him any ideas. Like he doesn’t already have too many? “It… helped.” Her neck ached, and she turned back around to relieve the tension. Now she couldn’t see him. “But he didn’t ram his cock up you?” “No.” Liar. “Pity.” He slid the whip tails over her ass again; the sensation was like a caress. “ Hot as the merchandise looks, he should have. Now, I’ve got a bit of a dilemma. You’re strong.” He leaned down and gripped her taut calf muscle. “Look at it. A runner’s legs. It’s going to take awhile before they give out and I get my fun watching you squirm on this little toy. I can either go up for a drink or wait for the game to start. You tell me. How much longer?” Hall, I can’t do this! I need—you. “Cat got your tongue? Huh, cat got your tongue.” There was nothing gentle or teasing about this swat; try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from trying to get away from the whip. Unfortunately, she lost her balance and came down, hard, on the sawhorse. A strange blend of pleasure and pain spread through her pussy; maybe she didn’t get back up on her toes as soon as she could have. “Hm,” he muttered. “Like it, do you? We’ll see how much you do after you’ve been riding the bronco for an hour.” He laughed. “That’s what we call it, the bronco.” Hall! “Maybe I’ll stay after all,” Buddy said. “Pull up a chair and—” For a moment, all she knew was Buddy had stopped in mid sentence. Then she heard a man’s voice. “Get away from her, or I’ll kill you.” Hall? Was it him or just her imagination? Although she struggled to look in the direction of the voice, she couldn’t. “Did you hear me, get away from her.” “Hall!” she fairly screamed. “What the fuck’s going on?” Buddy demanded. “What’s happening is,” Hall said. “you’re going to get down on your hands and knees, now.” “What are you doing here? You—” “Shut up. I’ll tell you when you can speak.” Hall’s words sounded calm enough to his ears, a professional carrying out an operation, but if he looked at Shanel again, he wasn’t sure he could control himself. He didn’t dare think about how long she’d been chained to the damned instrument of torture or the hell leading up to it. He was here—as soon as he could once he was certain Buddy hadn’t left with the others. Not that he gave a damn, but obviously Buddy knew who held the upper hand—the man with the gun—and was reacting accordingly. The Taker’s belly got in the way but eventually he was down on his hands and knees. Keeping his gun trained on him, Hall walked over to Shanel. She stared at him, but

he couldn’t read her expression. “He put the keys in his pocket,” she said. He stalked over to Buddy and ordered him to hand him the keys. Red-faced, Buddy complied. Then, taking a great deal of pleasure in the task, he ordered Buddy to get into the empty cage and slammed the door shut. It gave him a great deal of satisfaction to see the look of disbelief and fear in the bastard’s eyes. Freeing Shanel took too long, but finally the cuffs fell away, and she straightened. Dropping her gaze, she stepped off the sawhorse. She wrapped her arms around her middle. He didn’t remember her looking so small or vulnerable before. “I’m sorry,” was the only thing he could think to say. “After the way he acted yesterday, I didn’t dare leave you alone with him.” “Shoot him,” she hissed. “Or let me do it.” “No. We’re getting out of here.” She swayed, then lifted her head. “Not yet. Not until the other women—” “Shanel, the others might return.” He hadn’t wanted to scare her, but she needed to think of the danger they were both in. The more time he spent in this hell-hole, the stronger the need to lift her in his arms and run toward sunlight. “I can’t go,” she whispered. “I promised—” “We’ll be back, but not until I have reinforcements. Did you get… ?” “The information? Yes.” After months of waiting to hear the words, it was strange how little putting an end to The Takers mattered. Next to finding her alive, everything else was secondary. “Thank you,” he managed. Instead of replying, she glared at Buddy. He’d never considered himself particularly intuitive, but there was no doubt she wanted to kill the man. “Not now,” he insisted. Grabbing her arm, he pushed her toward the stairs. She jerked free, but after sweeping her gaze over the other cages, she started up. He didn’t dare look at the other woman because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to go through with what he’d come here for which was freeing Shanel. She was nearly at the top, and he’d started up himself when the door flew open. Two armed men filled the space. Before he could order Shanel to duck so he could shoot, she lowered her head and rammed it into the nearest man’s belly. Gasping, he fell backward. “Run!” he ordered Shanel. “Get the hell out of here!” She vaulted over the fallen man, but instead of disappearing into the dark, she whirled toward him. The other man—he thought it was Garpwell—glanced over at Shanel but kept his gun aimed at him. Holding his own weapon steady, Hall stared back at him. “Who’s going to fire first, Loring Garpwell?” he challenged. “Maybe you’ll kill me, but if you don’t, I sure as hell will put a bullet through your heart.” “You know who I am? What the fuck are you doing?” Unexpected laughter bubbled up inside him; unfortunately, there wasn’t time for an explanation that would have drained the color from Garpwell’s face. The man Shanel had floored was getting to his knees. As he started to lift his gun, she kicked, her foot

connecting with the back of his head. His gun flew out of his hand. Determined to subdue the two men without gunfire which could injure the innocent women below, Hall charged. He’d nearly reached Garpwell when The Taker fired. Molten lava seared his left shoulder. He staggered, then caught his balance. A rage he didn’t believe he had in him took over, and he fired. His bullet ripped into Garpwell’ s chest, and the golf course developer sank to the floor like a deflated balloon. “Hall!” Shanel screamed. The other man had managed to retrieve his gun and was trying to aim it. Shanel kicked it out of his hand. Fighting a strange weakness, Hall accessed the situation. Maybe he could kill or at least disarm the man before he took another bullet, but the more time they spent here, the greater the danger other Takers would arrive. “Run!” he bellowed at Shanel. “Now!” Instead, she started toward him. “Hall?” He jumped over Garpwell’s body. When he landed, pain shot through him. Although he’d been hit in his shoulder, everything felt weak; he wasn’t sure he could hold his revolver steady. But he could run—at least he could right now. The man Shanel had kicked had again grabbed his pistol. “Together,” she said almost softly. “We’re running together.” A great idea, a wonderful idea! Acting on instinct and adrenalin, he matched Shanel step by step. The dungeon was accessible via a room at the rear of the mansion, and he guided her toward the back door he’d come in through. She didn’t take in her surroundings but kept looking over at him. No wonder. Blood soaked his shirt. She turned the knob, stepped into the morning light and held the door ajar as he staggered through. “Hall?” “I’m all right,” he lied. “Head into the woods.”

***** God, she loved running, Shanel thought. Yes, she’d prefer to have on shoes and clothes and not be thinking about what had happened back in that God-awful place, but the sense of freedom that went with running—wonderful! By her reckoning, she and Hall ran about a half mile before slowing to a walk. The distance might be off because they’d had to zigzag through the thick vegetation, but at least the dense carpet of rotting plants had provided a cushion for her feet. Ancient trees shut off much of the sunlight, but she saw wild growing things, not bars. She wasn’t short of breath, proof she hadn’t been imprisoned long enough to undermine her physical condition. What did it matter? Hall had been shot. The Takers might be after them. Not fully believing they were safe, she stopped and turned toward the man who’d complicated her life beyond belief. His cheeks were flushed from the exertion, but his lips looked unnaturally pale. Blood continued to seep from his wound, and he’d holstered his gun, maybe because it was too heavy.

At least he had the strength to unhook the cell phone from his waist. He punched send. “Go in!” he ordered whoever he was speaking to. “Now!” He listened for no more than five seconds. “Yeah. Be careful.” He punched end. “Your partners?” she asked. “Where are they?” “I don’t know,” he said. “As close as they dared get. They’ll call when its over.” When it’s over. “I—I was pleading to myself for you to come,” she admitted. Did she dare touch him? “I—Buddy… ” “Don’t think about him.” “He’s a monster.” He touched her cheek with his good hand. “I’m so sorry.” I’m so sorry. Had she ever heard more wonderful, heartfelt words? “Why did we run? You could have killed—” “That’s the way it works in the movies, but in real life, stray bullets hit innocent people. You know that. Besides, there are more Takers. If two came back to see what Buddy was up to, maybe the others had, too.” “I didn’t think of that,” she admitted. Just before Hall had shown up, she’d despaired of getting out of the hell-hole alive. Now she was free, but the nightmare wasn’t over. Hall had been shot, and the other women were still in there. “How bad is it? ” She indicated his shoulder. “I don’t know.” “But you must have an idea.” “I can run,” he said. “It tells me something.” But now that he’d stopped, could he start again? Although she hated hurting him, she unbuttoned his shirt and slowly drew it off him. So much blood covered the wound she couldn’t tell anything. “Do you know, are we anywhere near water?” “Yes.” He almost smiled. “Earlier when I was carrying out surveillance here, I came across a cabin. It’s deserted, but the well still works.” A cabin with a water source! What more could she want? “Where?” she asked, and when he said they were within a mile of it, she asked if he could make it that far. “I think so,” he said, revealing a vulnerability that touched her heart. Now that the immediate danger was behind them, and she’d felt sunlight on her back, she was struck by how long last night without Hall had been. Awful as her surroundings had been, the worst was not knowing whether she’d see him again. “We’ll go slow,” she told him. “And if you need to rest, let me know. There’s no reason for you to play macho man.” Again the hint of a smile touched his lips. “Have the tables turned? Now you’re ordering me around?” She nodded. “Wouldn’t you say it’s my turn?” “This isn’t the way it was suppose to turn out.” “How then? With you and the others shutting down The Takers and riding off into the sunset?” “Something like that.”

“What about me?” she demanded. “What was suppose to happen to me?” Hall didn’t answer, and despite her frustration, right now she couldn’t take being told his intention had been to walk out of her life. Although he matched her moderate pace, his clenched jaw and the way he cradled his injured arm told her what this was costing him. She longed to stop, but she’d seen enough injured people to know he’d stiffen up if he didn’t keep moving. Hoping to give both of them something to think about, she asked how he’d happened to show up this morning. “This had been my intention from the beginning,” he told her. “Why you? Because you’d invested so much, ah, time in me?” “I’m the only one who’s been in the mansion.” It made sense. It just wasn’t what she wanted to hear. What the hell was happening to her anyway? For the first time in who knew how long, she wasn’t dealing with a libido in overdrive. She shouldn’t care who played Lone Ranger as long as she and the other women were rescued. But she did! Hall was the only one she wanted to see, to talk to, to touch. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything about my plans,” he said. “But if you’d been expecting my returning this morning, The Takers might have sensed it in you.” “In other words, you wanted me to come across as scared.” “And turned on.” “Of course.” Why had she let the conversation take this turn? Why couldn’t they talk about anything except those monsters? “How could I forget?” The deer path they were on went up a slope. She took it first, then turned and extended her hand. For a moment she thought Hall wasn’t going to take it, but he did, and she brought him to her. It tore her apart to see him without the strength that was part and parcel of him. At the same time, it leveled the playing field, erased the differences between them. He was no longer the one in control—was she? “Did you sleep last night?” he asked when they were again on level ground. “Not much. One of the women and I talked. She told me a great deal.” “I want to hear everything, but not now.” He was still holding her hand but not, she suspected, because he needed her support. Her hands weren’t what she’d call small and delicate, and she loved the sense that they were nearly equals in this—that he could take strength from her if he needed it. Because she wasn’t willing to tell him, she pressed him for more details about how he’d gotten into the mansion. He explained that he had a skeleton key. “How did you know about Buddy?” she asked. “I never left last night. I drove away, then I doubled back on foot.” He’d been there. “You… ” “I’d managed to plant a listening devise upstairs yesterday,” he continued. “But I didn’t know what was going on in the dungeon. When I heard Buddy unlock the dungeon door… I called the other SHIT members; they thought it was too dangerous for me to go in.” “But you did.” “Yes.”

“Why?” Stopping, he pulled her against him. Because she didn’t want to risk hurting him, she didn’t wrap her arms around him. Maybe he was thinking the same thing because all he did was look down at her. Then he gently brushed her tangled hair off her forehead. “I had to,” he whispered. “I had no choice.”

Chapter Twenty The cabin had been through a few too many storms. It listed to the side and some of the shingles had been blown away. Because it didn’t have a foundation, the boards were rotting at the bottom, but Shanel was delighted to find a substantial looking wood stove and a supply of firewood near the front door. The door was locked, but because some of the hinges had pulled out, it was a moot point. She shivered in the small, cool interior. “I wish I dared start a fire,” she told Hall who now sat on what served as a couch. “I was warm enough when we were walking, but—” She rubbed her upper arms. He stared at her, bringing her attention to the fact that massaging her arms caused her breasts to jiggle. “There are clothes in the dresser,” he said. The dresser, if that’s what it was called, looked like a yard sale reject and was next to a single bed positioned against one wall of the single-roomed structure. She wasn’t sure she could put on something that had been molding away here for who knew how many years but dutifully tugged open the top drawer. To her surprise, it contained a pair of new jeans, an equally new T-shirt, and expensive-looking bra and panties in her size. There were also socks and tennis shoes. “You,” she managed. “You put them here for me?” “Yes.” Nothing anyone had ever done for her had meant as much. Blinking back tears, she clutched the clothes to her. “You—there’s water? I’d love to clean up.” “There’s a pump in the sink. The cabin was built around the well.” She should have tended to Hall’s wound first, but because of what Buddy had done to her, she felt filthy. Using the towels and wash cloths Hall had left on the kitchen counter, she cleaned herself with icy water and heavenly-smelling soap. Then, although it felt strange to have on clothes, she dressed. “It fits?” he asked. “Perfectly. When—when did you… ?” “Awhile ago. Could I have a drink?” “Oh God, I’m sorry. I should have—” “It’s all right.” The dishes and glassware didn’t look particularly clean. Fortunately, someone had left paper plates and plastic cups in the single cupboard. After taking care of Hall, she got a drink herself and dampened another washcloth so she could clean his wound.

“There’s disinfectant soap in the drawer,” he told her. “And bandages.” She took out the disinfectant and poured some on the washcloth. “Did you do this too?” she asked. “Because you thought someone might be hurt?” “I didn’t know.” He winced when she placed the cold soapy cloth over his shoulder. She left it there a little while to loosen the dried blood. Then, slowly and gently, she began to wipe. She rinsed the cloth several times, not stopping until only fresh blood oozing from a flesh wound remained. After using some of the antibiotic cream, she covered his injury with gauze. Now, except for the wrapping, he looked like the man she believed him to be. She could have rummaged around for something to eat. Instead, she remained beside him. When she drew him against her, he rested his head against her breasts. “You make a good nurse,” he said. “Calm, cool, and collected.” “Next to everything else I’ve been through, a flesh wound isn’t going to bother me.” “Then why were your hands shaking?” They still trembled; she’d just hoped he wouldn’t notice. “I’m tired,” she told him. “You didn’t either sleep last night, did you.” “No.” “Because you had so much planning to do?” When he looked up at her, it took all her strength not to cover his mouth with hers. What was it she’d said about not being turned on? Everything had changed. “Because I was scared for you, Shanel.” She should have stood so she could walk away if necessary. Instead, she sank down beside him. Now their shoulders touched, but they didn’t look at each other. The cabin had a small opening where a window had been. She studied, but didn’t really see the wilderness just beyond. “I don’t understand you,” she whispered. “You—the things you did to me—they were mechanical. A job you had to perform.” “Up to a point.” He was beginning to get an erection. If she touched him, she could make his cock strain against his jeans. “A point?” she asked. He indicated his erection. “I’m a normal, healthy male. When I see a naked woman —” “A helpless, blindfolded and gagged woman—” He sighed. “I didn’t know it was going to be so much of a turn-on. There’s something about a sense of control—” “I wouldn’t know.” Although she told herself not to, she leaned toward him so his good shoulder pressed against hers. His warmth—his living, breathing warmth—was getting to her. “No, you wouldn’t.” He was silent for the better part of a minute. “I anticipated the sexual reaction, at least I thought I had a handle on it. But the longer we were together, when I started seeing you as a human being… ” “What—what happened then?”

Instead of answering, he let his head sag forward. Alarmed, she scooted around so she could look into his eyes. They looked so dry and haunted she ran her hand over his cheek. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I didn’t expect to care. I didn’t want to.” “Because you had a job to do, and I was the means toward an end; I understand.” “No. You don’t. You can’t.” She’d seen tortured human beings in her life. Hell, when she’d first seen the pink slip, she’d felt as if she’d been shot. But what Hall was going through went deeper than even the end to a career. Determined to reach him, she placed her hand over his cock and gently massaged through the denim. “I don’t need that,” he whispered. She started to remove her hand, but he placed his over hers and held her there. “But I want,” he said. “I never thought I would feel want again, but… ” “Again? What do you mean?” “After my wife and parents were murdered… ” Had the sunlight left the room? Was it getting cold? Beyond caring about anything except him, she ran her free hand over the side of his neck. He spread his legs, and she inched closer, then rested her hands on his thighs. “Murdered,” she whispered. “How? By who?” “I don’t know.” He groaned. “That’s the hell of it, I don’t know.” He lifted his head; rage had replaced the earlier look of despair. “I was an FBI agent and had been working three major cases at once. The only thing we could figure was I’d gotten too close to someone; they tried to stop me.” “By—by killing your family?” “Yes.” Enough! She wouldn’t put him through any more. “Hall, I am so terribly, terribly sorry. But you’re doing something worthwhile with your life now. As a member of SHIT— your wife and parents would be proud of you. They’d understand.” “Would they? I served them up like sacrificial lambs. Put my damn career first, didn ’t see what I was doing.” “Stop it!” She’d never felt closer to another human being, angry and hurting at the same time, desperate to help him heal. Acting on instinct, she pulled off the shirt he’d bought for her, then placed her hands on his thighs. “Blaming yourself won’t change what happened. You have to look ahead, not back.” “I’m trying.” But the journey was so hard. She understood that as she’d never understood anything before. “It’s the end of The Takers,” she told him although she wasn’t sure. “ That wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for you.” “And you.” He massaged her hands, the pressure pushing her fingers more firmly against his thighs. “You’re the key, the breakthrough.” “Not me. Georgia told me what we needed to know.” “We? Then you see yourself as part of SHIT, not a prisoner?” She was still a prisoner although maybe she never wanted to be free of the hold Hall had on her heart.

“Hall, right here, right now, it’s just you and me. After you’ve rested, we’ll decide what to do next. Hopefully by then we’ll have heard something.” “And if we haven’t?” “We’ll deal with it.” He nodded but didn’t look at her. Instead, his attention seemed fixed on what he could see of the world outside the cabin. “Tell me about your family,” she said as she unfastened his jeans. “Make them come to life for me.” “What are you doing?” “What feels right,” she told him. “Beyond, I don’t know.” As she waited for him to begin, she pulled down the zipper and eased his cock through the opening in his shorts. Before, his body hadn’t been hers to do what she wanted with. Now they’d reached this point—maybe—she didn’t know how to begin so simply ran a finger lightly over the tip. A bead of moisture appeared. “Hall, when you and your wife had sex, what was it like?” “I don’t want to—” “You’ve buried her and your parents somewhere deep inside you, haven’t you?” “I—I’m not sure.” “Was it good between you and your wife?” “Yes.” The admission hurt but she continued. “And when she died—” “She was murdered. Blown apart by a bomb thrown at my parent’s house while they were all in it.” Oh God. “You—why did you marry her? Because you loved her, yes, but—what made you think she was the one?” “I don’t want to do this, all right. Maybe later but not now.” She wanted to believe he was being distracted by her gentle caressing of his sex organ, but it wasn’t so simple. “You know everything about me,” she told him. “My hopes and dreams, how much I wanted to be a cop.” She’d dropped her gaze to his cock, but now she faced him again. “What I’m like when I climax and how to get me there. I need something from you.” She brought her mouth close to his cock but didn’t touch him. “Otherwise, there’s nothing between us.” She thought he might order her to leave him alone. Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair. “I arrived just as the first officers were getting there,” he whispered. “I’ d been coming to my parent’s house so we could all go out to dinner. My wife—I’d asked her to meet me there. If I hadn’t, at least she would have lived.” Shanel’s breasts ached, not just because she needed to have sex with him, but also from his pain. After licking the pre-cum from his tip, she cupped his scrotum through the fabric. “Don’t, Hall, please,” she begged. “Blaming yourself isn’t going to bring them back to life.” And beating yourself up will keep you from making your peace with the horrid last image of them. “I survived last night in a cage by holding onto hope. You have to look ahead. You have to!” Was it her imagination or was he rocking a little? If he was being sucked into the past, she might lose him. Because it was the only thing she could think of to do, she let

go of his balls, then reached behind her and unfastened her shirt and bra. She lay them on the couch next to him. “Hope wasn’t the only thing that kept me going,” she told him with her hands now on his knees. “I kept thinking of you.” “Hating me for putting you in there?” “No! I’d made a vow to get those women out of there; you know it. I was where I needed to be. But that didn’t make it any easier.” His cock was dark and swollen, a man’s sex organ wanting and deserving a home— in her pussy. “Even with everything you put me through—we haven’t made love.” “Love?” “I’m not going to call it sex or fucking,” she told him around a lump in her throat. “ Hall, you’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. The risks you took getting me out of there —” “It was my job.” “No it wasn’t, at least that’s not all of it. I’ll never believe that.” “Good,” he whispered. “You’re incredibly strong. I don’t know if any other woman could have held it together and gotten the necessary information.” “We’re both strong,” she whispered. “Maybe this is why I’ve fallen in love with you. ” She waited for him to rebuff her, to tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about, to turn his back on her. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “After the bombing,” he whispered. “I stopped feeling. It was the only way I was going to survive.” “I—understand.” “That’s why I agreed to go after The Takers. Whether I lived or died didn’t matter.” Don’t say that. “And this is why I believed I was the right one to kidnap you.” Nodding, she stood and slipped out of her jeans. He’d chosen modest but well-made pale yellow panties with touches of soft delicate lace. She slowly removed them. “When did you buy these?” she asked. “The day before I took you. I’d been watching you and had been in your house. I knew your size.” “But why didn’t you just grab a pair of mine? Or the cheapest things in the store?” “I don’t know.” “A man who’s all but given up on life, someone who does the kinds of things you did to me because its part of his job—that man doesn’t go into a store for expensive and feminine panties for a woman he hasn’t met and doesn’t care about.” When he didn’t reply, she removed his shoes and socks and helped him stand. Slowly, reverently, she drew his jeans and briefs off his hips and down his legs. Then she indicated she wanted him to sit again. After he had, she knelt and pulled off his garments. “You believed you’d died emotionally,” she whispered. His body wasn’t perfect; it had seen too many years and battles, but she wasn’t after perfection; she needed human.

“But you hadn’t. You simply went where you needed to in order to survive.” She took hold of his cock and guided it to one side so she had easy access to his balls. Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his soft/hard flesh. Growing bolder, she dampened her tongue and began bathing his scrotum. Over and over again, she replenished her moisture, bathing him as he’d once bathed her while she stood helpless in the shower. Every time she started to lean back to study her handiwork, she was overcome by a fresh wave of desire to press her mouth to his sex organs. At the same time, she caressed his cock with fingers so sensitive she swore they’d been touched with an electric current. Her fingertips became paint brushes she used to stroke and glide. Her breasts, belly, and pussy heated, and she couldn’t hold onto their surroundings. In her mind, the aging cabin became a pleasure palace, a sheltered room made for candles, perfume, and lovers. Opening her mouth wide, she drew one of his balls into her and gently closed her teeth around it. He tensed but then relaxed as she bathed and sucked. Before her jaw could grow tired, she released him. Then she drew in the head of his cock and held him in place with her lips. At the same time, she touched the tip of her tongue to the slit where she’d found the pre-cum. What she’d swallowed before had been replaced by more proof of his arousal so she drank that too. It tasted of salt and warmth, of him. Relying on her instinct for what he needed, she released his cock and pushed on his belly until he reclined against the back of the couch. No fresh blood discolored his bandage; his smoky eyes said he was aware of nothing beyond the two of them. I can do this for you. This is my gift to you. Her legs threatened to give out when she stood, but she forced them to hold her weight. Using her arms to brace her weight against the back of the couch, she leaned over him, naked body to naked body. He was silk and muscle against her silk and muscle, aroused cock grinding into her belly. He slid his good arm around her and held her to him; until her back started to ache, she’d actually believed she could stay like this forever. A kiss—hungry mouth pressing hungry mouth—and then she straightened again. From the waist down, her body had grown hot and heavy, not because the reaction had been forced on her but because she’d sought it. She needed him to see her as free and equal, making love to him of her own accord. Smiling, she pressed his knees together. His engorged cock jutted skyward. The saliva she’d placed there had started to dry, but she could moisten it again, bathe it in another fluid. Climbing onto the couch, she straddled him. He braced her hip, and she took possession of his cock and guided it into her, stopping her descent when only his head had found a home in her pussy. She tightened her cunt muscles around him and held him where he belonged. Drawing on the strength in her runner’s thighs, she stretched upward and took him with her. Careful not to touch his injured shoulder, she spread her hands over his breasts and eased herself down. Claimed him willingly, freely, joyfully. He was filling her. Burning what was already hot. She no longer needed help in retaining her balance; he slid his good hand over her belly, up her middle, between her breasts. Down, down she went until her ass covered his balls. She straightened and then arched back to increase his cock’s contact with the front of her pussy. This was why she’d become a runner, so she could move up and down, up and down during sex with this

one man. Whenever she settled down onto him, his cock speared her along the entire length of her passage. She played with and denied her humming climax by drawing away from him. Not once did she lose him; it would never be part of this act of love and sex. She needed him filling her, his penis gliding, gliding throughout her pussy as if kissing it. Her thigh muscles began to burn; she felt lightheaded. He cupped his hand around first one breast and then the other, pressing and squeezing, mirroring what she was doing to his cock. She could do this forever! Over and over again she suck his cock deep into her, maybe felt it touch her uterus even. She perch on the edge of a climax, breathing like a race horse, sweating, her vision blurred, body aching, wanting nothing more. Then she settled down once more and nearly flattened him beneath her, trapped him as he’d once trapped her. Before she could gather herself for another retreat, he closed both hands over her hips. Not wanting to jar his injured shoulder, she stayed where she was. She tried to make his face come into focus, but her world had turned red—red and burning. Now she understood he wanted her to remain still while he took over the dance. With her legs widespread and his cock spearing her, she tunneled down until she knew nothing except his thrusts. He came at her again and again, sweating, groaning, laughing. Wild with delight, she, too, laughed. “Is this what it is?” he gasped. “Lovemaking?” “Yes! Yes!” Because she’d ceased to exist anywhere except between her legs, she knew when he started to ejaculate. His cum bathed her. Not without me! This is our journey, ours. She turned her pelvis one way and then the other, twisting his cock inside her. He thrust again, catching her hard and solid. The shudder began in her clit but radiated out until it exploded in her head. Her heart. Climax! Heat and flames, a rolling, unending shudder. Sobbing, she collapsed against him but managed to aim so her weight came down on his good side. They panted in unison. His cock was deflating, but as long as she didn’t move, he’d remain inside her. There was no world beyond the two of him, nothing except the sound of their post-climax breathing, the breeze coming in through the broken window, the smell of wilderness and sex. “I love you,” she whispered.

***** If he hadn’t tried to change position, Shanel might have stayed on top of him forever, but even the aftermath of the best sex of his life wasn’t enough to let Hall forget he’d been shot. When she was sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her, he touched his shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” she asked. “No.” I can’t feel anything except you, think of anything beyond you. Because he didn’t know how to handle her stare or his reaction, he turned his attention to the ceiling where generations of spiders had left their handiwork. One web looked new; the complex webbing formed a nearly perfect circle. Not a single strand was broken. Shanel was like that. She’d encircled him, pulled him into her core and soul. It wouldn’t take much to destroy the spider web, but the same couldn’t be said for his heart. Did he want to be free? Before he could get a grip on the question, his cell phone rang. He snatched it off the small, unfinished end table and punched send. “This part is over,” Brad said. “One dead, the others in custody.” “Just a minute.” He adjusted the volume to its highest level and held it so both he and Shanel could hear. According to Brad, the raid on the mansion had gone off without a hitch. The two surviving Takers had been so surprised to see armed men storm into the dungeon they hadn’t put up a fight. Realizing the gig was up, they’d fallen all over themselves telling the SHIT operatives where the rest of The Takers were. “What about the women?” Shanel demanded. “They’re alive,” Brad told her. “Right now they aren’t saying much; they probably can’t believe what’s happening.” “They need to be taken to a hospital.” “We’re heading there as soon as the state police get here. Shanel, they’re in shock. If they saw you—” “We’ll get there as soon as we can,” Hall interrupted. “In the meantime, make sure there’s a psychiatrist for them to talk to.” Brad, who was obviously delighted with the way things had turned out, wanted to give a blow-by-blow of the raid, but Hall told him that could wait. “What is it?” he asked Shanel after he ended the conversation. “Is something wrong? ” She shook her head and reached for her clothes. “It’s really over?” she asked without looking at him. “I wish. Now the legal system takes over.” “But the women are free, and The Taker’s enterprise is no more.” “It’s caving in around them.” She slipped on her clothes without looking at him. Then she stared out the window. “We’ll want to leave before dark,” she said. “How long do you think it’ll take to get back to the mansion, maybe an hour?” “What’s wrong?” When she faced him, he waited for her to acknowledge his nudity, but she didn’t seem to notice. “It’s over. Except for what I need to tell law enforcement, my role in this is over.” She could go back to her life, her world. It’s what he’d planned, hadn’t he? And once they’d shaken hands and parted company, he’d wrap up his involvement with The Takers and accept another SHIT assignment.

Like hell he would. “No, it isn’t.” He held out his good hand, but she remained out of reach. “I thought I was going to be the one to storm into your life and turn it on end,” he told her. “I didn’t count on the same thing happening to me.” “You—didn’t?” How could this courageous woman be so unsure of herself, of him? On the tail of the question, he found the answer. He closed the distance between them and slid his arm around her waist. Her breasts pressed against his chest, but her arms remained by her side. He wasn’t sure which of them was trembling, maybe both. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry for what I did to you. If I hadn’t, if I hadn’t learned what an incredibly sexy woman you are—and how I’d respond—we wouldn’t have just made love.” “Made love?” “Yes,” he whispered and kissed her. For a heartbeat, memories of the last woman he ’d truly kissed threatened to overwhelm him, but he put Beth in the past where she belonged. “Shanel, just before Brad called, you said something.” She nodded; tears filmed in her eyes. “That you loved me.” He kissed her again, longer and deeper this time. He’d just spent himself inside her and despite his bravado, his shoulder hurt like hell. Just the same, his cock was beginning to twitch. “I didn’t have time to tell you the same thing.” “The… same?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes,” he whispered. It occurred to him that this time she was dressed while he stood there buck naked and more vulnerable than he’d been in his entire life. “I love you,” he said.

Epilogue The modernistic house overlooking the Pacific Ocean had floor-to-ceiling windows. It had been featured in Dream Homes and belonged to couple who’d been duped by The Takers to the tune of a quarter of a million dollars. With the preliminary investment fraud trial set to begin in Seattle in a week, the grateful owners had opened their home to SHIT staff for any last minute strategy meetings they might want to hold. However, when Hall heard about the offer, he’d told his co-workers he had another use for it. As she poured glasses of wine for the four former sex slaves, Shanel wondered whether they were aware of the posh interior. Although the wind was brisk, they’d all congregated on the deck . She couldn’t blame the women. After the time they’d spent below-ground, they preferred to be outside. Hall would be here in a little while, but she hoped to get her newfound friends to talk about how they were doing before he arrived. Georgia took a long swallow and stared at what remained of her drink. “I’m selling

my condo,” she announced. “I need something larger, with more windows.” “I wish I had a condo to sell,” Jaz said. She sipped. “No, I really don’t. While I was gone, my landlord put my belongings in storage and rented my apartment to someone else. “I don’t have a job which makes me doubly grateful for the money we’re getting from SHIT.” “I’m sure one of the people The Takers duped would give you a job,” Shanel said. “ Most of SHIT’s clients have asked about the four of you.” Jaz shook her head. “I don’t want a job, at least not for awhile.” She watched a seagull for a moment. “I’m going to buy a small motor home and travel, go to Yellowstone and Disneyland, maybe Alaska.” Dena laughed and said she’d been thinking about Disneyland, particularly the laughter, lights, colors, and children there herself. As Shanel fought the lump in her throat, the two women agreed to drive down together. She’d talked to each of them almost daily since their rescue, but even though the psychiatrist assigned to them insisted they needed to talk about their ordeal, so far they’d done little of that. “I’m not going to press them,” she’d told Hall last night. “It’ll happen when they’re ready.” He’d pulled her into his embrace and in a husky voice had whispered that at least she’d only spent one night in the hell-hole. That was the difference between her and the other women. Yes, Hall had prepared her for what she’d experience, but even at the beginning when she hadn’t been able to see or speak, she hadn’t been afraid of her captor. She didn’t understand terror in the way the former sex slaves did. As for why it was different—last night as Hall playfully undressed her, she truly understood. “From the first moment we were together,” she’d told him. “It was as if I could hear your heart beating. I also sensed your humanity.” She’d also sensed a sexual connection they were still having an incredible time exploring. “What about you?” Georgia asked. “What are you going to do with the rest of your life, other than testifying against those bastards.” Not hurrying her answer, Shanel sipped on her wine. Tonight’s sunset promised to be spectacular. She loved the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below and the way the birds rode the wind currents. “I’m going to work for SHIT,” she said. “In fact, I’ve already started. Hall and I are working on an extortion case, nothing as disgusting as what The Takers were doing, but then I’m still learning the ropes.” Jaz chuckled and smiled for the first time since coming here. “Did you hear her tone when she said Hall, ladies? Not that we need that to know the way the two of you feel about each other. There’s steam whenever you’re together.” Dena smiled too, but it looked forced. “I don’t know if I’d ever want a man touching me again. Right now, I don’t even want to think about it.” The others nodded agreement which left Shanel with a melancholy lasting until Hall showed up an hour later. After joining them on the deck, he announced he had a piece of information they’d all be interested in. “It took longer than we wanted it to,” he said as he took her hand. “Our female money courier was a hard nut to crack. She was deep into self-preservation. But we had

her listen to the tape all of you made shortly after you were rescued. When she realized what her former client had put you through, she decided to hang him out to dry.” “It’s the end for her too, isn’t it?” Shanel asked. “She’s been exposed.” “She’s still blowing steam about how her connections are going to get her off, but she’s wrong.” Hall held up his glass. “My hat’s off to all of you. You’re courageous women, survivors.” Hearing that from Hall had had a deep impact on the woman. Shanel only had to look at them to know how much his praise and confidence in them meant. Now, as she and Hall walked from the main house to the guest cabin where they’d spend the night, she told him so. “I meant every word,” he said with his breath warm on the side of her face. “Damn, it’s been a long day. I thought I was never going to get free. Miss me?” “Yes,” she whispered. When they entered the cabin, she showed him how much by slipping off her clothes almost before he’d closed the door. “You don’t waste time, do you,” he said as he unbuttoned his slacks. “It’s not that.” She ran her hand between her legs. After coating her fingers in her juices, she held them to his mouth. He licked. “The lessons you gave me when we first met—I’ll never want or need clothes the way I used to.” He kicked off his shoes; she helped him off with his shirt. She waited for him to take her, but he was staring at the place between her legs. “Your hair’s starting to grow out,” he said. “Eventually it’ll hide the tattoo.” She fingered the small, red dragon. “It itches. I’ll be glad when I have all my hair back.” “Will you? Do you want to see if someone can get rid of the tattoo? The explanation —” “Hall? How do you feel about it?” She widened her stance and thrust her pelvis forward trying to make out the long dark tongue reaching for her clit. “It’s a turn-on. An unbelievable turn-on. But it was put there against your will.” “Yes,” she admitted. “It was.” Only half aware of what she was doing, she traced the outline with her forefinger. “But it doesn’t change how I feel whenever I see it.” He closed his hand around her wrist. “Which is?” “You really want to know?” She sighed. “In heat. I mean… ” He’d pulled her finger off herself and had taken over the journey she’d begun. His short, smooth nail crept over the fierce head, came closer to the searching tongue. “It’s a honing device,” he said. “Points me to my goal.” “Your—goal?” “Don’t you agree?” he asked and closed his fingers over her clit. “Right where I need to be. Where you want me.” “But… ” What had she been about to say? If he didn’t release— “But what, Shanel?” “We—we can hardly see it.” He rolled her clit between his fingers. Gasping, she clamped her hands on his

shoulders. At the same time, she spread her legs even further. “Then,” he said. “I guess I’ll have keep you shaved. Among other things. If it’s what you want.” “I want. I want!”