Nowhere Man

Chapter 3

It was around eight o'clock when I finally started the ignition. The streets were busy now, just as I had hoped. No one gave me a second glance as I left - not even the stoned son of the motel manager when I returned the key to my room.

Once outside the town, I followed a winding road with woodland on both sides. Beyond and above the woods, visible in the distance, were the edges of mountains. In the early sunlight they appeared as if they had been bathed in gold.

Traffic eased up quickly as I left the town behind. Occasionally I saw other vehicles, mostly trucks that transported logs or heavy machinery. But most of the time I was alone and all was silent, except for the steady hum of the engine. I had time to think.

What had happened in Florida could be my end or could just be a bump in the road for me. Only time would tell. The Club was a ruthless bunch, but several of them had been my customers over the years. And most of those had been very satisfied with the services I provided.

Okay, one(!) guy in Florida was now catatonic. But he was not catatonic because I had made a mistake. He was now essentially a cucumber because he had been stupid and very careless. A woman I had abducted for him had fried his brains with the electrical device he had designed to wipe her memories and free will, and she had only been able to do that because he had not observed any kind of safety protocol whatsoever.

I had warned him as I helped him set up shop but he had been an obnoxious, condescending shithead from the very beginning. I had only stayed because he was also paying very well and because I had a reputation to lose. But I could not babysit him 24 hours a day, and so his olympic-swimmer-turned-bondage-slave prisoner had managed to persuade him that she had fallen in love. He had believed her and untied her, the moron.

One minute you are a highly specialized professional with a flawless track record and friends in high places. The next minute all kinds of people want to ask you questions about a burned down mansion in Florida, a catatonic furniture-mogul and an Olympic athlete traveling from talkshow to talkshow, telling people about her brief experience as a madman's' prisoner.

A good thing was that she knew nothing about The Club. As far as she and law enforcement authorities were concerned, her 'Owner' had been working alone. A bad thing was that obviously she remembered my face quite well. I had been blocked from the Club's network, none of my calls receiving any answers. This was bad.

But like I said, it could also just turn out to be a bump on the road. I was a very wealthy man myself, thanks to my former success. I knew that several members of The Club had fond memories of me and the opportunities I had provided them with. They would lay low now, but they might give me a chance to explain myself after the storm had passed. What I needed to do was reach one of my safehouses and allow things to cool down.

I drove as far as I could, but after a few hours the exhaustion caught up with me. Since everything had gone haywire I had not slept much. Last night was supposed to be a night of good rest, but my chance meeting with Lily had turned it into another night spent awake. There was no getting around it: I needed to stop the cascade before I feel asleep at the driving wheel.

From time to time I had passed overgrown parking lots at the side of the road, half-hidden in the undergrowth. I chose one of those and found it neglected. Seemed like I had a good chance of being left alone here. So I parked the Cascade as deep between bushes and trees as I could safely steer it and then, with a sigh, turned the engine off.

I could have slept now, immediately. But even though I knew that Lily could survive a lot longer inside the hidden compartment, I decided to open it. I kind of liked the sweet little cunt, and maybe I wanted to make sure I had calculated everything just right.

She was in bad shape, but that had been to be expected: She was breathing, but not moving. Was she unconscious? She was bathed in sweat, and drool had seeped out through the gag and had turned into a small pool beneath her cheek.

Lily was still a handy package, but to my surprise she had managed to pull the bondage a bit apart, so far that her fingers had come free. She had been able to loosen a little off the tape that I was wrapped around her legs.

It had not helped her. At some point she seemed to have given up, maybe even fallen asleep. What she had achieved was a pitiful result after what must have been hours of hard work for her. But it showed me nonetheless that I must never underestimate her.

I lifted her out of the compartment and she awoke. She cringed, moaned into the gag and obviously was in pain. I massaged her shoulders and arms while they woke up and she shuddered from the distress. I unwrapped her legs and allowed her to sit on the mattress, then took the plugs out of her ears.

"Do you need to pee?"

She sobbed and she nodded.

I double-checked that no one could see us, then led her out of the truck. She could hardly walk and she tried to protest through the gag when I told her to squat down behind some bushes.

I knew very well what she was trying to communicate because that's what they always try to say: That they wanted to keep some dignity, they couldn't run away anyways, so why would I not let them do this alone? Of course Lily was trying to tell me just the same: That she needed no babysitter, and if I would just untie her hands for a moment she could take care of this herself.

They all try that. I always find it annoying. Now that Lily was in my hands she was a commodity, and I do not bargain with commodities. I see no sense in allowing a piece of commodity to keep her fucking dignity.

I wished I still had one of the shock collars, a taser or at least a crop. But at the moment I was without even my most basic kit, so I just I slapped her ass and gave her a stern look.

"Get it over with, Ivy. Or don't, it's your choice. But if you stain my Cascadia or your box, I will beat you black and blue."

She sobbed again then she did what she had been told.

When she was done I brought her back into the car. She was still sobbing. Once inside I slowly peeled the tape off her mouth and took the rubberfoam-ball out of her mouth.

She had been wearing it for hours and her speech sounded accordingly slurred, her jaws were obviously hurting. She tried to thank me, and I held a bottle of water to her mouth. She drank greedily.

"Please... please, let me..."

"No. Eat this cracker."

I put the cracker into her mouth and she hastily ate it. But she also tried to keep talking. I guess she sensed that she did not have a lot of time.

"My arms... really, they kill me, it hurts so fucking much..."

"Here, another cracker." I fed her as quickly as possible.

"Please, chain me to the steering wheel or to the seat, just please don't put me back in the box, I am going mad in that fucking box, it's hell in there, you are driving me insane...!"

"Nope, sorry Ivy. It's the box for you." I gave her another cracker.

She looked shell-shocked, but she still asked: "Why... why Ivy...? My name is Lily... Why have you started calling me Ivy?"

I shrugged. "I always change her name, when I take a girl. It's another small way to make it more difficult to identify you. Once a girl is trained and broken, her old life is over. The new name is one way to prove that point."

"Jesus fucking Christ, you can't do this to me!" Now she was screaming, so I slapped her face really hard. Some snot and some cracker crumbs stuck to my palm.

"You need to get your shit together", I told her. "I usually wouldn't even talk to you, let alone listen to you. You are property now, and I keep you alive because I might use you later. You cannot talk me into feeling compassion for you. What you can do is you can play along, make this easier for me and in the process also make it easier for yourself."

She hesitated for a moment, shaking. Then she said, under her breath: "You can not be like that.... you can't be... you're trying to scare me, but you have to know this is wrong... oh God that box was nearly driving me mad.... Please get this shit off my eyes, you can't keep me like this... I can't stand this anymore, this is no way to treat a human... "

I was fed up with her attitude. I stuffed the gag back into her mouth and secured it with fresh tape, against her protests. Then, all fired up and in the mood to prove my point with more than just a damn name change, I turned Ivy around and opened my pants.

She realized what I was doing, and she whimpered and struggled against me, but there was just nothing she could do. It took me a few heartbeats to pin her down, to spread her legs and push into her. Naturally she felt tighter than last night. I held her by her hips, then I put a hand into the back of her neck and grabbed her firmly.

"Ivy, you need to stop making this hard for both of us." I kissed her ear, then began using her with quick, hard thrusts. She squirmed beneath me, shuddered, sobbed into the gag. I enjoyed her movements, the warmth of her body and her cunt and the power I had over her.

I was not under the illusion that she enjoyed the rape. I knew she would hate it and hate me as well, and that most likely she was contemplating revenge right now. Her struggling and the frantic, gargling protest were speaking volumes.

But to my surprise her pussy seemed to lubricate a little more than I would have expected under these circumstances. Oh, I was not some idiot from Florida who thought an abducted, enslaved woman would fall in 'love' with him. I may be a villain, but I'm not a moron. Still, over the years I had learned to register the subtle differences in the reactions of different slaves. And some of the nuances of Ivy's reaction told me that maybe she could learn to be a very interesting slavegirl for an ambitious owner.

But that was all in the future. Right now I held her down and kept using her until I finally came. I pumped into her and then welcomed the relaxing feeling that follows such an egoistic orgasm. She gargled in frustration and stopped fighting, now that she felt that I was done.