Sold! Page 2

  But none of that was his problem. In fact, he considered himself extremely lucky to have found such a rare gem among the usual rubbish, squeezing her breasts along with her nipples, as if proving to himself that she really was there, really was his, and wasn't just a product of his feverish need.

  "Ow! Stop that immediately!"

  He could tell, though, that she was starting to like it. Her nipples stayed hard between his fingers, despite the way his calluses rasped across and around them as he twisted and pulled. Her breathing was very erratic, and he knew he'd caught the beginnings of moans she'd managed to stifle.

  If she was truly a virgin - and he tended to think she was - then she wouldn't have any idea of what was happening to her. Or what was going to happen to her. Or any of the things wonderfully degrading things he could do to her body. But he intended on enlightening her. Slowly, so that he could enjoy more than just her body's helpless reactions, but could enjoy the true and complete satisfaction of awakening her, and, of course, training her to his own, personal tastes.

  "I'm going to make you do more than just scream," he whispered. "When we get back to my cabin, I'm going to take away your clothes, and keep you naked so that I can sate myself on your beautiful body any time I want to. I'm going to lick and touch every inch of your body, and I'm going to suckle at these beautiful titties until they're ruby red and raw. I'm going to spank you until you think you're going to faint, then I'm going to revive you and do it all again. And I'm going to fuck you, here," he grabbed her between the legs with both hands, groping and squeezing while she tried to jump up and away, but couldn't get any purchase with which to raise herself, so she kept settling that very private part of herself back down into those eager hands.

  Carolyn gulped hard. "No, you don't have to do this. I - I have cousins - my mother's cousins - they'll pay money. They'll pay a ransom, I promise. A big one. Lots of gold. Just for you, for my s-safe return. Untouched."

  He laughed cruelly, dashing her hopes for the idea that had flitted into her brain in desperation. She wasn't at all sure her Mother's cousins would pay anything for her, but it sounded good. "I don't need their money. I bought what I want. And you're not going to be untouched for long, that I can promise you, woman."

  Chapter Two

  It took them almost a week to get to his cabin, trekking through woods and over mountains and getting progressively colder as they rode. And Carolyn had ridden every inch of the way in abject fear that she was going to be raped.

  And she was, she knew it. She could sometimes almost come to terms with it, because he could be almost nice to her. He made sure she had warm boots and mittens to wear - and she hated the mittens because she had no dexterity in them. They made her even clumsier than the cold did. He fed her first before himself, and made sure that she ate what he gave her of the strange, jerky like stuff and, if they stopped quickly enough, rabbit roasted over the small fire. He laid down with her every night, with a blanket of furs over them, but hadn't molested her much after that first day, although he did insist on sleeping with his arm around her waist, because, during the evening, he unbound her wrists, and even put some sort of salve on the redness there.

  What he did, though, was talk to her about what he was going to do when they finally arrived at the cabin, and if she hadn't been plotting to leave him by then, she would have started immediately. She knew that this would be the best time to do it - before they got his house, such as it was. But there never seemed to be a time when he wasn't with her, or at the very least watching her like a hawk. Even when he hunted, he took her with him, on a long rope tether.

  She almost found it a relief when the small cabin in a tiny clearing came into view. He made her stay in place, still bound to the saddle, until he unloaded the mule and was ready to go inside. Then he helped her down from the horse and into the one room cabin, locking the door behind them with a heavy, solid wood bar that she knew she would probably never be able to lift. He must've known it too, because the next thing he did was untie her.

  He immediately crossed to start a fire, and she could see that there was more than enough firewood next to the fire for quite some time. She stood by the doorway, clutching the furs he'd given her to keep warm, and trying to stare at nothing.

  "It will be warm in here in a minute, woman."

  On one of those long nights on the way here, Carolyn had asked him his name, and he had smiled at her. She was beginning to hate it when he smiled - she wasn't used to being such a constant source of amusement to a man. She was used to them trying to court her favor - even though she had turned down every one of the men who had come calling.

  "You may know my name, but you may never use it. My name is Nicolas Laurent Saber. But you will call me Master, and I will call you woman, because that's what you are. My woman." He did not ask her what her name was - as if he had no care for it whatsoever.

  Carolyn hadn't known how to respond to that. She'd felt out of her element for some time now, but never more than now, when she was standing in the room where he was going to force himself on her.

  "Sit," he commanded, putting a straight backed chair in front of the almost roaring fire for her. "Warm yourself." He surprised her by bending down on one knee and removing her boots - her fancy but impractical leather slippers having long since been left by the side of the trail - then setting them opening first by the fire to dry out.

  He puttered around the place, setting a pot over the fire and cooking something with potatoes and onions that smelled wonderful. It turned out to be a stew, and she literally gulped it down, all of the nice manners her mother had drilled into her few out the window in the face of true hunger.

  "I'll have to make another chair, eh? And perhaps a table to eat at." He wiggled his heavy eyebrows at her as he shoveled food in from his own rough, wooden bowl. "But I already have the important thing - the bed. I made it myself," he added proudly.

  Patently ignoring him, and the absolutely scandalously huge bed that was easily twice the size of any normal bed, Carolyn concentrated on finishing her dinner, practically licking the bowl, but not quite succumbing to that animalistic tendency.

  After dinner, he produced a small tub, and filled it with water heated over the fire, the proceeded to strip down and bath himself as best he could. He couldn't really fit into the tub himself, but he did the best he could using an obviously homemade bar of lye soap. Eventually, he took the tub outside, and in those few seconds, Carolyn scoured the place for a second door, knowing in her hear that there wasn't one to be found.

  But he caught her up when he came back with the empty, shallow tub. He glanced at her, and said just one word. "Strip." It came out like "streep" but Carolyn knew what he meant, and it chilled her to the bone more so than any wind.

  As he set about warming more water, she backed herself up as far as she could go, finding the edge of her bed with the backs of her legs and practically falling backwards onto it. He turned at her startled cry and grinned again. "It's not quite time for that, woman. All in good time. I did not realize you were quite that eager for me."

  "I'm not eager for you, and you know it." She didn't want debase herself, but she had to, "Please. You don't have to do this. You could turn me loose and I'd never tell anyone. Please!"

  Ignoring her pleas, he took her hand and forced her to stand up, then reached for the fur she'd been clutching around herself, throwing it onto the bed in one motion. Carolyn had her hands splayed over the drooping front of her dress, trying to keep him from seeing anything he shouldn't.

  "Drop your hands," he ordered softly, and she looked up into his eyes for one of the few times. They were clear and gray, but without a drop of mercy.

  Carolyn didn't know if she was more afraid of what she knew he was going to do to her, or what she didn't know if he would do to her - if he'd backhand her like the slave trader had, or if he'd take a stick to her, or worse, just kill her outright.

  She knew she wasn't willing to risk being killed, so
she lowered her hands very slowly.

  "Put your hands behind you, woman, and keep them there. I don't want to have to punish you tonight. Tonight is for pleasure. But I will bind them there if you give me any more trouble." He walked forward, standing directly in front of her, and ripped the rest of the dress down the front, ripping it completely away from her body. Then he did the same to her petticoats and bloomers, until she was standing there in nothing but her bow topped stockings, trying to cover all of herself at once and not able to cover any of herself very well, despite his order.

  Nico didn't say a thing. He just reached out with his huge hand and smacked it down on the front of her thigh, leaving a very hot, very red mark in the shape of his hand. Carolyn was already mortified, but she became even more so when tears burst from her eyes to run down her face as she locked her hands behind her as he'd said to in the first place, nearly dancing in place from the shame of being bared in front of him, with no rescue possible. No one was going to rush in and save her from him. She was his to do with as he pleased.

  And he pleased to put her into naturally humiliating positions such as this, with her back forced to arch and present her breasts to him so beautifully. He literally couldn't resist cupping their perfection, bathed as they were in the light of the fire. He was so hard he could have split a log with his erection. But he hadn't kept himself from her on the trail only to jump her when they first got home. He was going to indulge himself as much as possible, especially this first time.

  He brought her over to the tub, and bent down to remove her stockings like his mother's ladies' maid used to do for her and hanging them over the chair, then helping her into the tub, and ordering her to sit. Instead of the common lye soap he'd used on himself, he produced several small rosettes of soap that smelled wonderfully like their namesake. It was a pleasure she hadn't expected to encounter in the middle of the woods.

  Carolyn wanted desperately to reach for those soaps. If she was going to have to bathe at his behest, she wanted to do it herself - preferably with him several miles away. But that was not to be. Instead, he reached his hand with the soap down into the wonderfully warm water and brought it back up to her breasts, watching the suds sluice down her naked body as he diligently washed every inch of that enticing territory, concentrating, of course, on those nipples that peaked as soon as he began to tease them.

  The only sound in the room besides the crackling of the fire was her increasingly ragged breath. Carolyn squirmed, but he'd moved the tub up against a wall of the cabin, and he formed the other wall that she was caught between. There was nowhere for her to go. She had to sit there and endure his molestation.

  And it didn't hurt, she thought resentfully. In fact, it was starting to feel disgustingly good in the basest of ways. She was beginning to like his hands on her breasts and the way he was fondling her nipples, and she knew that made her just as bad as a common whore, who did something naughty that she knew nothing about, but that men paid her for. She and her girlfriend, Letty, had giggled about the whores that hung around the saloon, but they had no idea what it was that the women did for men.

  If this was a part of it, Carolyn was beginning to think she couldn't blame the women too much. But she didn't want to feel like this! It was wrong - this man wasn't her husband and he never would be! It would never be right for her to enjoy his hands on her.

  She tried her best to ignore the feelings he was creating within her, but they wouldn't die. And her captor seemed to know exactly what he was doing to her.

  He did see to the rest of her, much to her shame. He washed her as thoroughly as her mother used to - even more so, because he forced her to stand and brace her hands on the rough log wall of the cabin and spread her legs as far as the tub would allow.

  No amount of protesting would sway him. In fact, he turned her around himself, and bent her over his arm to put her into the position he wanted, then arranged her ankles well apart, until the sides of her feet were against the edge of the tub. Then he gave her a tremendous swat on the bottom that nearly drove her into the wall. "If you move, you'll get fifty more like that."

  Her legs were washed from stem to stern. He even made her lift each leg and balance while he washed each foot carefully, as if she was his blasted horse. But then he brought the chair from in front of the fire and sat down in it right in front of where her bottom was displayed so obscenely. She couldn't imagine why he was doing that, until she felt him part her bottom cheeks and started, nearly out of position. But the memory of that tremendous swat made her bend down again, tears of embarrassment dropping unheeded into her bathwater below as she danced nervously in place, bending and unbending her knees.

  "No, no, no, no, no, no," she chanted under her breath.

  "I've got to make sure that you're clean everywhere, now, don't I?" he asked patronizingly.

  "No, no, please!"

  She might as well have saved her breath. His fingers were making free with that entire area - she could feel the slickness of the suds and water. But then he went a shocking step further and she felt the tip of his finger pressing against a opening that had only ever had things coming out of it, and before she knew it, he had slipped that burly finger had ground its way up inside her.

  "Take it out! Take it out this minute!" she sobbed. She stopped popping her knees and stood stock still, in hopes that that feeling of being invaded, of being unusually, unnaturally stretched in a place she barely acknowledged as a part of her own body would go away.

  But it didn't.

  Especially since he began moving as soon as she stopped, drawing that finger all the way out, then pressing it all the way in. Out and in, out and in. Always slowly and carefully, so that she felt every single inch of it as it took possession of her very insides, squirming in there and twisting and writhing inside her like a worm, until he finally took it out and went to wash it with the lye soap, ladling some of the hot water into a bowl in which he washed carefully.

  Then he returned to his spot behind her, but this time his hand cupped the front of her from behind, venturing into different virgin territory, splicing those generous lips with his even thicker but dry middle finger, bending it a little to try to discover if her body had done any reacting against her will - and it had. Copious amounts of her love juices anointed the broad tip of that finger, and he chuckled softly, laying his cheek against her bottom as he continued to explore her most private areas, pressing up inside her just enough to discover what he really already knew - she was pure as the day she was born.

  His fingers moved up to surround the nub he found at the top of her slit, and he dragged them all slowly over it, enjoying the way she drew in a deep breath and held it while he petted her.

  "Dear God, you must stop that, please! Pleeeaaaassee!"

  Nico loved to hear her beg! There was something even more titillating about making a high class woman - and there was no doubt that this one - with her nose in the air and her icy glares at the men who had leered at her from the crowd - beg. It was just that much more of a feather in his cap to bring a woman such as she was -one who would definitely have looked down her patrician nose at him if they had met on the street, and kept her skirts away from them as they passed, too - to her knees, as he intended to with this one.

  And he intended to keep her there as often as he could. Or bent over in front of him, or spread eagled on the bed, or any number of other positions he intended to inflict on her.

  But right now, he had what he wanted right in his palm. Eventually, he let his middle finger take precedence over the rest of them, and rubbed it slickly over that slowly rising bud. She didn't want to be within fifty feet of him, and she most definitely didn't want him to be doing this to her - bent over as she was, spread wide for him, his face still pressed against her bottom with his hand between her legs, pleasuring her entirely against her will.

  Hell, she probably didn't even know that this kind of pleasure existed before he'd bought her. It only added to his excitement t
hat he knew for sure that he was the only man who'd ever touched her here. He would be the one to introduce her to the carnal delights - at least those he was interested in, anyway.

  She was going to be the perfect woman for him.

  "Please! Please!"

  The more she responded to him, the less control she had over her body - the more he wrested it away from her - the louder and more frequent her pleas. Carolyn had absolutely no shame left. She didn't want him touching her there, no matter how incredible it felt, and it did. She was scared and excited at the same time. She had no idea where this was going, if anywhere, and her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she thought she might faint if he didn't stop, and she knew he wasn't going to.

  Surprisingly, he did stop a few minutes later, when her knees were collapsing around him. "Let's finish getting you washed."

  He scrubbed every inch of her, except her hair, not wanting it to get the bed wet. He told her she could do it the next morning if she wanted to. Then he moved the chair and lifted her out of the tub and onto his lap in front of the fire, using a length of cotton to dry her as thoroughly as he washed her, forcing her to open her legs for him so that he could dry her there.

  Carolyn was just about at the point where she was going to give up. Already. She was so ashamed of herself on so many levels - and that was just another one, wanting to give up so quickly after no really even trying much to resist him. She'd never been walloped as a child. Her mother wouldn't allow her father to do it. She was sent to her room - where she had tons of dolls and toys to play with - instead. She was afraid of being spanked - especially by this man. She wasn't at all sure that it wouldn't be better to just go along with him until she could find a way to escape.

  But by then she'd be disgraced, and her life wouldn't be worth living. Would it?