Convict's Captive Book 3 Read online

  Whenever he made lusts rage throughout her body, like a firestorm across a prairie, her mind and body seemed to merge into a unity that she had never conceived. It was like his cock somehow traversed the length of her body and pierced directly into her brain, mushing around the mysterious substances inside, her skull a mortar to his pestle. And when he came it seemed like his cum flooded her cranium, coated the inside of her skull, permeated into her mind. It was all so, so wrong, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  Now she lay on the bed, her knees raised and spread, his copious cum leaking from her crevasse. She daren’t move a single muscle. She knew that she had to remain exactly as he had left her. The switch he had used so cruelly on her yesterday was still leaning up in the corner by the door. She feared its kiss almost as much as she feared his brutal hands which had pummeled her mercilessly each time she had summoned even an iota of resistance to his will or transgressed the slightest one of his demeaning rules.

  Although he was in the shower and the thin, interior cabin wall separated them, it was as if he had left behind an evil eye floating somewhere above her, watching her, ensuring the enforcement of his will, guaranteeing that she would not engage in any volitional movement, just as the bindings he had left on her were extensions of his remorseless intent, ever present, like evil spells summoned from the depths of hell itself.

  She heard the shower turn off. In a few moments he would be back. Her stomach twisted into sourness as she anticipated with dread the actual return of his presence.

  Jack gave out a deep sigh of satisfaction as he stepped from the tub. It was yet another day of freedom begun blissfully by a sojourn into a tight, hot cunt and now topped off with a heavenly shower. Yesterday had been one of the most memorable days in his life. It was as if the fates had bestowed a rapturous interregnum into his desperate flight from captivity. The snow storm had been a godsend. He had spent a luxurious day satisfying his every urge and desire. The girl had been magnificent, another undeserved beneficence. She was pliant and obedient. Her body was soft and smooth and rounded in all the right places. Her mouth was skilled, energetic and imaginative. Her pussy was welcoming, hot and tight. Her rear hole, a clearly previously unexplored path of pleasure, had received him almost willingly, contracting hard like a grasping hand when he made her come.

  And she was passionate. He was certain that she had never had her lusts unleashed like he had done to her yesterday. Everything about her when he had first seized her had bespoken demureness, reservation, modesty. She was over all that now. It was too bad that within 24 hours or so, maybe a few days at best, her life force would be extinguished. It humored him to think of what kind of a life she would lead if she was somehow able to survive. She would spend a lifetime trying to recreate the roaring climaxes he had induced in her. She would remember him all her life.

  After drying himself, he had a quick shave. Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw a satisfied, pleased face, so unlike the one he had stared at for 12 years in the joint. His few days of freedom had dissolved away the greyness of his demeanor, wiped away the pallid mien he had acquired so quickly after he had been sent up. And if the sparkling eyes that stared back at him were closed forever somewhere along the road today, if he was discovered and had to shoot it out in his own personal Gotterdammerung, it would all have been worth it a thousand times over.

  He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He thought of the girl awaiting his presence in the next room. It was too bad they couldn’t spend another day here. But he had to keep his eye on the ball. By 1 a.m. at the latest he had to be just outside of a small town called Tularosa, New Mexico. It was coming up to 6:30 now. If he got out of here a little after 7, it would give him about 19 hours. He had looked at the map yesterday and he figured it was about 850 miles or so. If he averaged 50 miles per hour, he would make it in plenty of time. But there was always the unforeseen. So he wanted to get going early just to make sure.

  And to average 50 m.p.h. meant the he would have to take some chances. He would really have to push his speed to make up for the inevitable stops. It increased the chances that he would attract the attention of the law. And the FBI, who he knew wouldn’t be fooled for a minute into thinking that he had gone north to Wausau after his escape, would have alerts out all the way. The only advantage was that they didn’t know what car he was driving, yet. Or so he hoped.

  But there was the issue of the girl again. They would be looking for the two of them. Every car that had a man and a woman in it driving alone would receive increased scrutiny. He had two options. He could dump the girl somewhere or she could ride in the trunk. Neither option appealed to him since he was looking forward to having her next to him where he could keep an eye on her delicious flesh and cop a feel of her tits and pussy from time to time. But, like he had said to himself, he had to keep his eye on the ball. There were thousands and thousands of senoritas down in Mexico. Never lose your head over a piece of tail. Well, he would make up his mind later. For now, he had to make breakfast and then dig the car out of the snow.

  He came out of the bathroom and went to his stash and pulled out a fresh pair of shorts. The girl was where and how he had left her. Good girl. He slipped on the boxers and took a moment to look at her. She was lying there with her legs spread and her eyes closed. She looked so peaceful. Her breasts, belly and thighs bore the traces of the wounds he had inflicted on her yesterday. He felt a little sorry for having done it, but it had given him such a rush. Besides, it had the beneficial effect of increasing her fear of him and therefore her obedience.

  He peered at her hairless pussy. It still glistened a little from their bout of passion and he could see where the sheet underneath her was stained from his leaking cum. It was a delectable sight and gave his cock a little twinge of reminiscence. She opened her eyes as he stood there. Her gagged mouth showed no emotion, but her eyes exhibited an exquisite forlornness. They were red lined and brimming with nascent tears. Another day with her here alone and away from the world would indeed be rewarding, he thought. But it was not to be.

  He strode quickly to the kitchen area and started a pot of coffee. From the small refrigerator he pulled out the carton of eggs and the leftover steak. There were still a couple of slices of bacon too. He brought out the frying pan and tossed the bacon into it to get it started and then he cut up the steak and tossed the pieces in.

  It was time to get the girl up. He went over to the bed and disconnected the rope that connected the back of her collar to the headboard. Taking hold of the hair at the back of her head, he pulled her to her feet and walked her into the bathroom. He sat her on the pot and watched her pee. When she was done, he wiped her and brought her back into the kitchen. After removing her gag, he tapped a spot on the floor with his toe and the girl dutifully sank to her knees and put her forehead on it.

  The coffee was boiling so he turned it down. He flipped the bacon and pieces of steak. When they were cooked enough, he dumped them out a plate. He cracked six eggs into a bowl, poured in a touch of milk and scrambled the mixture up. He then emptied the bowl into the greasy pan and stirred the eggs while they cooked. It only took a minute or so. He dumped the lion’s share of the eggs onto a plate and the rest into the bowl he had been using for the girl’s meals. He put most of the bacon and steak on his plate and then crinkled the rest of the bacon and a few small pieces of steak into the bowl for the girl.

  Last night she had balked when he had not given her any steak. She had paid the price for it. This morning he was feeling magnanimous; she had fucked him like a tiger the day before and even this morning, after all. She deserved a little reward.

  He placed the girl’s bowl on the floor in front of her. He decided that if she moved without permission he would punish her, but she didn’t move a muscle. Good again. That augured well for their trip together today. She needed to obey his orders to the letter. Otherwise, he would dump her the first place he could find.

  He turned off the coffee and,
when it had settled a little, poured himself a steaming cup. He dripped a little milk in it and put it on the table next to his plate. He sat down and then snapped his fingers twice. The girl looked up. “Eat,” he told her. Obediently, she shuffled forward on her knees and buried her face in the bowl.

  The steak and eggs went down just fine. The coffee was almost perfect. The sight of the girl, her hands bound up behind her, nibbling away at the contents of the bowl, raising her cropped, red head slightly to chew each mouthful, was delightful. Her breasts wobbled enticingly as she moved. She kept on casting him quick, unhappy, sideways glances and then looking away.

  She was done a little before him, and she raised her torso and sat back on her haunches. He got up and poured about a cup of milk into her bowl and signaled her to lap it up. He didn’t want her to dehydrate as they were crossing the desert, but he didn’t want to give her too much because he didn’t want her having to pee too often on their trip.

  He finished just as she was licking up the last of the milk. She looked up at him. Her mouth was surrounded by grease from the eggs. It didn’t matter. He was going to give her a quick shower anyway.

  He patted the spot in front of her with his foot and she bent over obediently and put her head to the rug. He washed up the dishes quickly, dried them and put them away. He scoured the frying pan, dried it and put it back in the dish cabinet. He wanted to leave the place spotless.

  Yanking on her hair again, he brought her to her feet and led her into the bathroom. He had her stand there while he disconnected her wrists from her back. He took hold of her arms and lowered them slowly so that she wouldn’t pull a muscle after having them bent back all night. She groaned a little from the pain, but he could tell that she was relieved to be freed from the harsh tie. He had created a little harness across her back and chest with a rope last night and now he removed it. Then he unfastened the belt that held the thick plastic prong in her rear and slowly slid it out. He turned on the shower, waited for the water to warm up and told her to get in. He didn’t bother taking off her leather collar and cuffs. As long as they didn’t get too wet, it wouldn’t harm them. Besides, if they shrunk a little that would be okay. It would make them tighter and harder for her to slip out of them. He handed her the bar of soap. “Make it quick,” he told her.

  Carly sighed as the refreshing water cascaded onto her. It felt so strange to have her wrists free. She lathered her body with the soap and brushed it all over. It didn’t matter that the man was watching. She had gotten over her loss of privacy from him long ago. The idea of being clean, too, was more than compensation for having him watch every little move that she made. She felt a little squeamish as she washed her breasts and her pudenda, but only a little.

  Although she was enjoying the shower, her psyche felt dulled. Today they were going on the road and only God knew what was in store for her. She was reassured a little from the fact that he had let her eat a full meal and was allowing her to wash. He probably wouldn’t have done either if he intended to kill her today. Or at least not until they got to wherever they were going.

  She had figured out that he was probably trying to get to Mexico. But how he was going to get over the border she didn’t know. One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t cross it with her in the car. It was too risky, regardless of how much he liked to fuck her. That meant that he would dispose of her first. It was too much to hope that he might leave her somewhere all tied up where someone might find her. She would be able to tell the police where he had gone. No, it was much more likely that sometime before he would drive down some lonesome road, dig a grave for her in some desolate place and put a bullet into the back of her head, just like he had almost done the day before yesterday. It might take years for them to find her body, if ever.

  She thought of her poor mother and Randy, her boyfriend, not having any closure to her death, not knowing for sure that she was dead, hoping against hope that somewhere she was still alive. It made her sad to think about it, sadder than she already was.

  When she finished washing herself, she handed the soap back to the man. He exchanged it for the shampoo and she washed her now short, burnt orange hair quickly. When she had finished that, he turned off the water and had her step out of the tub. He dried her body quickly, brushed her hair, as much as it needed it, and made her brush her teeth. Then, to her surprise, he told her to get back in the tub. When he ordered her to lie down in it, she knew what he was going to do. He fastened her hands behind her back and her ankles together. She knew that he had to go and dig out their car and realized that she would have to lie there hogtied until he was ready to go. She suppressed a sob when she felt her ankles raised and affixed to her wrists.

  Jack went back into the room and came back with the gag, blindfold and four pieces of rope. He pulled the girl’s head back and mashed the gag into her mouth. She issued a little muffled squeal as he tightened it firmly behind her head and a little sob when he blinded her. He tied her elbows and knees together tightly and then tied ropes around her wrists and ankles, making double sure that she would not slip her bonds.

  He dressed quickly. He was met with a blast of cold air when he opened the door to the outside. The snow was piled in places up to 3 feet deep and the car was buried. No plow had come yet for the parking lot and he began to get nervous that it wouldn’t be there for a long while yet.

  When he trudged over to the car, he saw that the old lady that ran the place and her son were out shoveling snow. The lady waived at him and said something to her son. He put down his shovel and ran into the house. Jack was brushing snow off the car with his bare hands so he could get to the little shovel he had in the trunk when he came back out. He picked up two shovels and waded through the snow over to Jack’s car. He was a big fellow, over 6 feet with broad shoulders. He was wearing a heavy parka, a red and white knit cap with the Razorback’s logo on it and heavy boots. He looked to Jack to be about 30 or so. He had the kind of clean cut look that usually made Jack sick to his stomach. His face was ruddy from his exertions.

  “Hiya,” he said as he got close. “My ma said to get ya some gloves and give ya a hand,” he said warmly. He handed a pair of heavy ski gloves and a blue and gold knitted cap topped with a snow ball and tassels on to to Jack.

  “Hell of a storm, weren’t it?” he said while Jack put on the gloves and hat.

  Jack murmured a confirmation. He didn’t want the kid to get too good a look at him, but he guessed he didn’t have much choice now.

  “Heard yer headed to Houston,” the man said as he started to shovel out the snow around the car’s tires.

  “Yeah,” Jack replied brusquely. “You don’t have to do this,” he said to him.

  “Ahh, don’t worry about it,” he answered. “Just part of the hospitality. Ma’s like that. Don’t know why she keeps this place. It’s a lot of work. I’m on the road a lot and then it’s just her and my wife and the kids. I keep telling her that she should sell the place, but she won’t listen.”

  “Yeah,” Jack replied morosely. He really wanted to tell the guy to fuck off, but he didn’t want to be remembered or cause a fuss. He had put the Glock in the front pocket of the cargo pants in case anything happened. He sure hoped he didn’t have to use it.

  The guy kept up talking the whole time they worked on the car. They cleared about 6’ all around it. “The plow’ll be here right soon,” the guy said. “Charlie kind of works his way up the road. Usually he’s here by now, but there’s so much snow it’s taking him a lot longer than usual. The highway’s been plowed. The road’s a little icy so you’ll have to be careful going down the mountain. I hope you’re not in a rush or anything. If you and your wife haven’t had breakfast yet, my ma’ll be glad to whip you something up.”

  “No thanks,” Jack answered dully. “We’ve had breakfast.”

  “Okay then. She makes right fine flapjacks though. You’ll be missing out.”

  “No, thanks anyway,” Jack repeated. “We want to get on the road
as soon as we can.”

  “Suit yourself,” the man replied.

  When the car was finished and they had shoveled the path to the cabin, Jack shook the guy’s hand and thanked him, handing him back the hat, gloves and shovel. “Tell your ma that we enjoyed the venison stew. It was real good,” Jack heard himself say. He knew he should say as little as possible to the guy, but it just came out. But then again, not thanking the woman would be more notable than thanking her so maybe it was for the best. “I’ll leave the dish on the table when we leave,” he added.

  “Sure thing,” the man said. “And say hello to your missus,” he added.

  “Will do,” Jack answered.

  He walked back to the cabin and, after knocking the snow off his boots and the bottom of his pants, went in. He checked the bathroom first thing. The girl was right where he had left her. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her all scrunched up and helpless. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed having control over a desirable female body. In prison, you tended to block from your mind the things you could not have. To do otherwise was the path of madness.

  Back in the day, he had had dozens of pretty women pass through his hands and he was glad to be able to say that there was not one who did not rue the day she met him. Some more than others, of course. He had passed most of them on to dismal fates, whoring them out in one of the club’s knocking shops or selling them off to some pimp from Minneapolis or Milwaukie or even Chicago, or to one of the Latino gangs who ran girls all over the country and beyond. But some had gotten passed off to other club members as a reward for loyalty or turning a nice profit on some enterprise. Depending on the guy, some of those girls ended up with a pretty good deal.