Page 17 of Love on the Rocks

“My husband is going to be looking for me. There are people that will notice if I'm missing,” I warn him.

He laughs, and it's a dark sound. There's amusement, but also a sick kind of pleasure. “Somehow I think they'll thank me for taking you off their hands. No offense, Moonbeam, but you seem like a handful. I bet you're kind of a brat aren't you?” He pauses for a moment but doesn't really sound like he wants me to answer. “Yeah you're a brat. I can tell I'm gonna have a lot of fun breaking you. You'll learn your place before I'm done.”

I shiver. Those words shouldn't excite me. I have a husband and a family, but it's not like I have a choice.

After a couple of minutes of walking, we finally break through the brush and come to a small clearing. In the middle is a small hunting cabin, some might call it a shack. It's well-kept, but it's not fancy. There’s a smokestack in the roof with a thin stream of smoke pouring out letting me know that at least it'll be warm inside, because there's definitely a chill in the February night air.

He opens the unlocked door with one hand and carries me inside. There's a lamp on over by the bed, casting a soft, warm glow across the one-room cabin. I would describe it as rustic, but purposely so.

He sets me down in the middle of the room and the second he lets go of me I turn to run. Before I make it even two steps, he grabs me and spins me around. For the first time, I get a good look at his face. Part of my brain recognizes him as Donovan, but right now, he is the mountain man.

“What are you going to do with me?” I ask, my voice trembling.

He grabs my hands and pulls them behind my back with one hand, and pets his hand through my hair with the other with a surprising gentleness. Then he whispers, “Whatever I want.”

I shiver. I need to get on his good side, but I don't even know what to call him. “What is your name?”

“Uh-uh, little Moonbeam. We are not friends. You may call me Master.”

“M-master,” I stutter.

“See? That wasn't so hard. Now go stand over by the bed and take off everything except for your bra and underwear,” he demands.

I stay frozen in place. I can't go and take off my clothes for a stranger. Who does that kind of thing? Sasquatch, I mean Master is not pleased with my hesitation.

“Are you going to do as you’re told? Are you going to accept that you are now my Moonbeam, or do you need to be punished already?”

I don't know how to answer that. But saying, nothing was apparently answering him that I did, in fact, need to be punished. Which seems to make him extremely happy, at least, judging by the tent in his pants.

“I was hoping that was going to be your answer.” With one step he has me back in his hands and tossed over his shoulder again.

He drops me down on the bed unceremoniously, and I bounce while he whips his belt out of his jeans. I gasp, not being brave enough to want to feel the bite of leather against my skin.

“Relax, I have no plans on marring your beautiful skin. There are other uses for the belt other than tanning your hide, though.”

Master straddles my legs, pinning me down to the bed, and pulls my shirt over my head. He also removes my bra, leaving me naked from the waist up. I move my hands to cover myself, and while I do that, he quickly removes the rest of my clothes. I try to stop him, but he's too strong.

He manages to grab one of my wrists, then the other, and raises them over my head. That's when I figure out what the belt is for. He loops it around my wrist and attaches the other end to the headboard of the bed, making a loop and tying it. I am unable to pull my hands back through and I am trapped.

He grabs my legs and pulls me to the edge of the bed, stretching my arms out, so there's no slack and I can't move them at all. My legs hang over the edge so that my toes are on the floor enough to support myself, but not enough to put the rest of my weight down. I am exposed and at his mercy.

I try to squirm away, but with my arms stretched like this, I can't move. And that's when I feel the first sting of his palm against my ass. He smacks me three more times in quick succession before he pauses.

“Are you ready to behave?” He asks me.

“Yes,” I whimper. It doesn't even hurt that bad, except for my pride. That stings a lot.

His hand slips between my legs and I'm embarrassed that he's going to find me soaking wet.

“I think you like that,” he says, as his finger slips between my folds and rubs against my clit.

A moan slips free before I'm able to stop it. He's right I did like it and I'm ashamed.

He undoes the belt and slips a collar around my throat. “Since you've already tried to run away once, I think I'll keep you on a leash.”

I follow behind him as he prepares a meal for the two of us. Other than holding onto my leash, he mostly ignores me. Occasionally he will reach back and tweak my nipple or pet my pussy. I would think he would be on top of me instantly because it doesn't seem like he's had a woman in a while. But he seems determined to drag out his erotic torture as long as possible.

The more he ignores me the more I want his attention. I don't understand it and I should deny it, but I find myself wanting to beg him for it.

---