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Bought and Paid For

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Her master came out of his office in a good mood. She was scurrying back and forth to get the table set in just her apron and her collar. He did not relieve her anxiety verbally. He had finished his work early and she didn’t have dinner ready. Instead, he caught her on her journey back to the oven and played with a nipple through her apron, kissed her a moment, and then took his spot at the table. He talked about work as she finished up. Once done, she removed the apron and knelt down by his feet. He began to eat, every so often cutting off a piece of sausage and placing it between her lips with his fingers. He fed her until she told him she was full and then finished his own meal. Once finished, he lowered the plate to the ground by his feet for her to wipe clean with her tongue. He stopped talking as he watched her, arm draped over the back of his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Mein Gott,” he breathed. She looked up from the plate. He was reaching into his pants and pulling out his erection. “You get me so hard.”

“How may I service you, master?” she asked, nudging the plate out of the way and settling between his knees. He grabbed her hair but it was not hard or painful. He simply used the grip to tilt her head back. Her mouth opened immediately and pushed out a string of saliva for her. He leaned back and released her hair. She always knew what he wanted based on whether his hand was in her hair. If his hand was in her hair it would be a rough, rather father, somewhat violent blow. When his hand left her hair, he wanted it nice and slow, a needy and desperate worshipping of him.

She wrapped her fingers around the throbbing erection and pressed her tongue to the base of his cock. She glided her tongue upward. She pulled his foreskin back and wrapped her mouth around the sensitive tip. She would look up only periodically. She found he liked that better than maintaining eye contact. It was shy and submissive, the way he liked her.

When she looked up, he gently pushed her hair back from her face. His hand stroked her cheek gently with his thumb. He told her how beautiful she looked on her knees. Her chest bloomed with pride. She removed his cock from her lips and pressed it to her cheek so she could tell him how much she loved him. A kind of cold smirk came over his face, but his hand remained gentle.

“Crawl to the basement.”

She immediately obeyed. Her pussy tingled in anticipation. She liked going downstairs now. He never hurt her too badly… and even when he did… the look in his eyes lit her on fire.

“You’re already wet, you little slut,” he observed as he followed her. He opened the door and ordered her to her feet. He never had her crawl down. Once at the bottom of the stairs she got back down onto her hands and knees. She waited anxiously. Certain areas she liked more than others.

“On the cross,” he ordered. She was indifferent. She did not like it, but it was not like some of the hitching posts where she had to focus so intently on the burning in her legs she could find no pleasure in his pleasure.

Her life became easier once she realized her own pleasure was derived directly from his. It was not what he was doing, but the look of passion in his eyes as he did it. That hot, violent, possession lust that was saved just for her. She stopped before the cross. He was at the bench, picking out what he was going use on her.

“Ass out,” he ordered. She got up and stood before the cross, breasts pressed up against the wood. He fastened her there tightly. There was a little clip to attach to her collar. It kept her low enough that when he fucked her, he could lean over her, twist her head back, and spit on her face from above.

He gave an approving hum as he looked her over. His fingers gently prodded at her inner thigh.

“Mein gott, du bist eine hure,” he breathed. My god, you’re a whore. “Look how wet you get for me.”

His fingers slipped inside of her. “Just from sucking cock. I knew the day I saw you, you little cock slut.”

“Just your cock, master,” she said, tilting her head back as far as she could.

“Just my cock?” he asked, thrusting his fingers in and out of her.

“I love my Master’s cock,” she said, hoping he would continue. Her vaginal walls closed around his fingers tightly and he withdrew his hand.

“Not yet, my greedy little cock whore,” he scolded. “You don’t cum until your master does.”

She nodded and barely breathed out her “yes master.”

She did not cry out when he struck her the first time. It was a paddle. She hated the paddle. It hurt the most by far, save for the cane, which he only used to punish her. He struck her again, a bit harder this time. He’d make her cry this time, she knew it by the strength in the strike. She bit her bottom lip and readied herself. She thought about his pleasure. He wanted her. He liked her tied up and bound and hit. She was special. She was lucky.

His hand gently massaged the burning skin. Sometimes, he just liked watching her up strung up and bound. He liked having a woman at his mercy. He told her as such before. He could kill her if he wanted and no one would ever know. He could torture her. He could do anything at all he wanted and she had no choice. But he was a good master. A kind master. He would not hurt her too badly. Not if she was good.

He struck her again. She cried out this time and bit on her bottom lip. He trailed a finger over her ribs. He was pleased they could no longer be seen. She was absolutely perfect now. Small and fragile, lean, but with full breasts, a soft ass, and enough to throw around and grab onto.

“Did that hurt?” he asked.

“Not too badly, master,” she answered honestly. He liked honesty. When he knew she was being honest, and he told her it was too much, he would often times stop. She did not think he was in a mood to stop today. He ran his hand down her arching back gently. He hit her again. A hard smack to the other cheek. Then another. And another. She cried out, each smack growing in intensity.

He walked away from her then. To the bench, though she could not see him from her position. When he returned, he pushed a vibrator inside of her and turned it on high. She fought off the sensation, focusing instead on the pain of her bottom. He did not hit her again. He reached around the massage a breast. He groped at it roughly and pinched a nipple hard. She could looked up at him from where he was standing, and she did so with a pleading gaze.

“Master,” she whispered.

“Yes, slave?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“I need you to fuck me. I need it so badly.”

“Hmm.”

He stepped out of view and struck her again. The skin burned and her muscles tensed. The vibrator continued to hum until, quite against her will, an orgasm ripped through her. She did her best to hide it, but her master paused.

“Did you just cum?” he asked her. She hesitated a moment, considered lying, and then decided against it.

“Yes, Master, I’m sorry,” she half breathed, half sobbed. He grunted and swatted her again. He alternated cheeks. He didn’t like leaving bruises but she did not think that lessened her pain any. He simply spread his spankings out, leaving her entire body a red mass of burning flesh.

There was a pause. She listened to his footsteps across the floor. This time when he struck her, it was with the flogger. The leather straps, tied into little knots at the end, smacked against her skin. He had put some force on the strike. The skin stung hotly in their wake. He peppered these strikes all over her back. He continued until she was weeping, both from pain, and the pleasure building up inside of her again. He turned the vibrator up even higher.

“Cum again and you sleep down here in a cage,” he warned her. She nodded frantically and bit down hard on her tongue. The vibrator turned up. This was the ultimate torture. He gave her a task she could not possibly complete and he decided on a whim whether or not she would face punishment. She knew it was about power, but it felt so unfair. She wanted to be in bed with him at night. She wanted to wake up with his large hands running the length of her body, his tongue in her mouth, his hard cock inside of her. He reached around her. His fingers pressed down on her clit and rubbed in little circles.

“Don’t cum, Jessica,” he ordered in a soft murmur. “Be a good girl.”

Gutes maedchen,” she whimpered. She gazed up into his cold blue eyes. An arrogant smirk spread across his lips. His fingers ghosted over her clit.

Meines guetes maedchen,” he cooed.

Bitte. Bitte…”

She moaned but did not orgasm. She jerked her hips against his hand. Tears still fell down from her eyes and her skin burned hot. It was a terrible, glorious feeling. One she both loathed and loved. Like her master, but each day the loathing faded, and she felt only love for him.

While his left hand massaged her, his right hand struck her with the paddle. It brought her down from her climax, but it soon built back up once more. Pleasure pulsed through her and she felt like crying again.

“Only a whore would get so worked up,” he told her. “A virtuous woman doesn’t like getting hit like that. What are you, slave?”

“A whore. A dirty whore. Your stupid little slut. I… oh my god. A dirty whore.”

“God, you’re a filthy cunt,” he scolded. He hit her again. “Look at you. You’re pathetic.”

“Yes, master. Pathetic. Please.”

“You can’t even control yourself. You feel this on your thighs?” he wiped up her juices and smeared it over her face.

“Master –”

His fingers pressed into her mouth. She sucked on them greedily, because she knew that was what he liked. “A woman’s true nature, is a groveling dog, panting hard for a good rut. The greater flaw of society is they’ve accepted this masquerade that women put on to hide that. Because a woman operates on desire. Desire for sex, money, luxury, decadence. And they’ll do anything to get it. Lie, scheme, cheat, betray…”

“I would never betray you,” she said from around his fingers. He pulled his fingers free.

“What was that, dog?” he asked. “My sweet little bitch in heat.”

He ran a hand over her sweaty hair as he said it, grip all at once violent and painful, and, affection and tender.

“I would never betray you,” she vowed. “Ever.”

He looked her over closer. He murmured, “Never betray me, hmm?”

“Never,” she said vehemently.

“Would you ever try to leave me.”

“Never master, I promise. I could never leave you.”

He moved away from her. She panted against one of the rough wooden posts of the cross. He readjusted the latches she was tied to and lowered her arms an inch or so. Next, he unclipped her collar from the post. He grabbed onto her hips and nudged her back so she was at a 110 degree angle. The vibrator was pulled from her, leaving her empty.

She was soon filled by him. She tried to focus on the pain on her back and the heat radiating from her abused bottom. There was a slight flair of pain every time he thrust into her. She focused on that until it was all too much and a blinding orgasm ripped through her. He reached around to paw at a breast, the other hand still on her hips to keep control of his movements.

“Dirty slut,” he scolded behind her, voice thick. “It’s the cage for you tonight.”

“Master, please –”

“Silence.”

She obeyed. She came once more before he was done. He pulled out of her to climax and readjusted himself before releasing her from the cross. It was odd, as she had seen him worked into a frenzy before, red faced, sweaty, panting, wild eyed, but sometimes he did not want her to see him like that and he would wait until he had composed himself.

He unhitched her and ordered her to the floor. “My cum, slave, are you going to waste it?”

She looked down to find it on the basement floor. She bent her head to lick it up obediently. He watched, fussing with his shirt sleeve.

“Into the bathroom.”

She crawled over and got in front of the drain. Rarely he allowed her to use the shower for purely hygienic reasons. He had her in the shower or bath to pleasure him, sometimes it was just efficient to have her bathe at the same time. Usually, after play in the basement, he used the hose.

The water was ice cold but she knew better than to react. She stood facing him, arms out. He sprayed down her front and then let the hose simply dribble over the top of her head. He never sprayed her right in the face.

“Turn.”

She did, and he sprayed down the back of her. Next, he ordered her to wash herself. He simply watched, leaning up against the side of the doorframe with a smirk. Once her hair and body was lathered he sprayed her down again.

The drying off process always varied and she never knew what to expect. This time, he toweled her off as she looked in front of the mirror. He was drying her hair when he stopped to place a few tender kisses to her neck and shoulder.

She would have a scar from where he bit her. That was clear now. He loved the scar. It was a mark of his ownership. It reminded him of their first union. Sometimes, when they laid in bed, he would trace the teeth and tell her about the first day he saw her again, the process he went through to get her, the money he spent buying her, the time he invested, how good it felt to tear into her vulnerable virgin body and listen to her crying. Then he would make her tell him how she felt during that time. Every detail she could remember from those first days. She had a hard time remembering a lot of it. She always ended up telling him about her favorite memories of him. Getting into his bed for the first time, the showers, their first dinner upstairs, the tree and the hot chocolate. The list grew every day. When she was done, he would ask her how much she loved him. Not if she loved him anymore, but how much. That was usually what they were talking about when they fell asleep. She hoped that would be their routine tonight.

She leaned against him and he nuzzled the scar. “How is the temperature in here?” he asked.

“A little cold,” she answered. She felt the rush of dejection and lowered her gaze. It was the basement for her tonight. He wouldn’t have asked her about the temperature otherwise. She just hoped she would be able to sleep in the cage with the dog bed in it. She’d disobeyed an order, but it was not willfully. Surely he would appreciate that.

He turned her around and leaned down as if to kiss her. She tilted her head hopefully and readied her lips. He simply paused and pulled back, a little smirk gracing his lips.

“Hands and knees.” She obeyed. “Crawl. To cage A.”

Her heart soared. She’d have a bed at least.

“Thank you, Master,” she was sure to thank him for being so kind. He said nothing and she crawled into the open door. He looked it with the padlock and put the key on his bench.

“Goodnight, whore.”

“Goodnight, Master.”

When he walked out of the room, she lowered her head, and did her best to find a comfortable position.


 

Max didn’t know how truthful her words were downstairs. He believed she meant them as she said them, but he was not so sure that when faced with the ability to escape, she wouldn’t. It made this journey all the more concerning. He was fully packed. Clothing she could travel in had arrived. He just didn’t know if she should be in the trunk or the front seat. Much of the journey was highway. He’d know very quickly if she tried to flag someone down. He would have her medicated to keep her docile. The truth was he didn’t want her in the trunk. He wanted her beside him. He wanted to be able turn his head and look at his pretty little slave in the passenger seat.

He opened up the bag that had her knew clothing. Simple, unassuming. She would be comfortable for a long drive but looked nice. He sighed and went into the kitchen to clean up. She needed her sleep. Once done he went up stairs to get a few hours of sleep himself.

He would give her the choice and gage her reaction. That would be key. He would need to be aware of every movement of her face. Every little twinge. The slightest sign she wanted to escape, the smallest hint of autonomy, and she’d go into the trunk. Part of him wanted to see the autonomy. Because Maximilian was not like most men. I wanted to own Jessica. That meant who she was before she came to him. He also wanted obedience and servitude. It was a difficult line to draw. Once women got to a certain point, they were all the same. The personality just vanished.

He agonized over it until his alarm went off. It would be a hard drive this tired, but he had to get up if they were going to get there by the end of the day. He glanced at the clock longingly. Two o’clock.

He showed, shaved, and dressed himself. He stacked their items by the door to the garage. Next, he went downstairs to collect his slave. He brought the new clothing with him. She did not stir as he flipped the light on. A small smile came to his lips as he approached. She was talking in her sleep. She did that often. He unlocked the cage and opened the door, climbing in the lay beside her. He listened patiently.

“Master….. please… I don’t want …. I love you…” he listened for a half hour or so. He reached up to trace her cheek with a gentle finger.

“You love me, slave?” he asked.

“I love you,” she mumbled, still asleep. He applied a bit more force to his finger.

“How much do you love me?”

She stirred slightly.

“So much. So much.”

She tried to press her face into the cushion.

“I love my master…. Hmmm….”

Her eyes fluttered open, foggy with sleep, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Will you ever leave your master?” he asked.

“Never leave my master,” she answered, reaching up to touch his face. She closed her eyes to go back to sleep. He smiled. She did not know she was awake. He leaned down to kiss her throat.

“Say you love me, slave.”

“I love you. Mean master,” she murmured.

“Mean?” he asked, pulling back to look at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to pull him closer. He chuckled and gently stirred her away. Her eyes fluttered opened once more. “You call your master mean?”

Her eyes blinked and she looked around.

“I-I didn’t say that,” she said, coming out of her fog.

“Oh you did,” he teased.

“Master I – ”

“Hush,” he scolded gently. “Now why do you think you would call me mean? Be honest now. I know when you’re lying.”

“Putting me in the cage,” she answered without hesitation and he knew she was telling the truth.

“Any why is that mean?” he asked.

“Because I want to be in bed with you,” she answered. “Unless you wanted to sleep in the cage with me…”

“You’d be OK with that?”

She nodded with a little smile. He lowered his lips to kiss her. Goodness, she drove him insane.

“I don’t want you to ask me any questions until I tell you you can. Yes?”

She nodded. He crawled out of the cage and ordered her out. He handed her the clothing and told her to dress. Obedient as ever, she did so without question, but he was pleased to see that little twinkle of curiosity in her gaze. Once he was certain of her loyalty, he would begin to let her rediscover herself. In a way that her old self was inextricably linked to her love of him. Then everything would be perfect.

“Follow me, you can walk.”

He lead her upstairs and put her at the table. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and he made a quick breakfast. She gazed at him quizzically. She usually made breakfast.

“What time –”

She broke off, eyes widening slightly. He smirked at her.

“It is quarter to three,” he answered. “That wasn’t what I meant by questions.”

She nodded silently. He put a plate of eggs in front of her. He checked his phone as they ate. She seemed to be afraid to say anything and focused on eating in silence. He checked his work email, texted Elliot, and then slipped his phone into his pocket. He put the dishes in the dishwasher and then joined her at the table.

“Look at me,” he ordered. She did. There was fear in her eyes. “I am going to ask a question and I need a very honest answer.”

“Yes, master.”

“We are going on a road trip. Mostly highway.”

He reached into his pocket and put the pill bottle on the table.

“You be drugged regardless, to keep you calm and docile. My question, is can I put you in the passenger seat, or do I need to put you into the trunk?”

She swallowed thickly, her eyes betrayed so flash of triumph or excitement. He didn’t see a flare of rebellion. He saw surprise and concern.

“How um… how drugged –” her face took on a glimmer of fear as she realized she was asking a question. “The trunk.”

He considered, brow lifting in some surprise. “The trunk? You want to go into the trunk.”

“It’s just safer,” she answered. Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know…”

“Shh,” he calmed her with a hand to the side of the face. He popped open the bottle and ordered her mouth open. She took it before asking what it was. He let it go. If she had asked before swallowing, he would have been angry, but the question was out of curiosity, not distrust. “A benzo.”

She nodded and looked at her hands in her lap. She took another sip of water. He went outside to get the trunk ready. He would need to use it anyway. When he came back in she was still at the table staring off into space.

He sat down across from her and smiled gently. “How do you feel, slave?”

“Calm,” she said and smiled.

“I will put you in the trunk if you tell me to,” he said. “We will not be stopping at any rest stops. You will interact with no one. We will be on highways and main roads.”

“What if someone recognizes me?” she asked.

“No one will get a close enough look.”

She looked at him and said very softly, so genuinely, with tears in her eyes, “I’m afraid of screwing everything up.”

It filled with him warmth and an affectionate smile came to her face. “What do you want to do, Jessica?”

“Can I have one more?” she asked. He glanced at the bottle.

“Half. That will put you to sleep as it is.”

“Then the front,” she asserted, with more decisiveness, force, and confidence than he had ever seen in her. “And… if we go by a lot of people, you need to stop and put me in the trunk… or give me another one so I sleep. I just… I don’t want to… but I don’t know what I might do in the situation… I…”

Her words were slurring just a bit as the pill took greater affect. He looked her over. God, he had it bad for this little woman. What a perfect woman. He felt a violent rush of affection. He almost told her he loved her. He needed to be sparing with those words. What a woman would do once she knew she had your love..

“You’re a good slave,” he told her. She smiled and reached out to grip his shirt. He grabbed onto her wrist and tugged her gently. She crawled into his lap and rested her head on his chest. “Want to talk to me?”

“I love my master. I obey my master. I serve my master. I please my master. I worship my master. I trust my master.”

“What am I master of?”

“My body and soul.” She reached up and touched his lips. “And my heart.”

His arms wrapped around her middle and held her close.

“You’re my prized possession.” He patted her bottom. “Time to go.”

She slid off his lap and waited. He collected his car keys, presented her with a pair of new sneakers and a winter coat, and had her put them on. She was lethargic and asked no further questions. As she tied the shoe laces, she heard him saying, “I trust my master. I trust my master.”

It was clearly the hardest thing to come to terms with for her. He understood. Giving up all control over yourself and to put yourself totally at the mercy of another was not easy. Once she was finished, he grabbed her by the arm and drew her close. He spoke to her softly.

“You know how much I treasure my girl,” he told her. “You think I’ll let anything happen to you?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t like not knowing,” she admitted. He touched her cheek.

“Trust your master,” he ordered. She nodded again.

“I do.”

He opened the door and nudged her out the side door into the garage. She looked over the cars there but didn’t say a word. He paused by the Audi and put a hand on the trunk affectionately.

“I brought you home in this car,” he informed her. He stopped at the BMW and got her into the passenger seat. He retrieved the pill bottle and removed a half pill. He put it into between her lips and handed her a water bottle. She took it and gave him a brave smile. “Be a good girl for me now.”

“I will.”

“Because I’m trusting you,” he told her. “Do you know how many women I’ve ever trusted in my life?”

She shook her head.

“None,” he told her. “Because women can’t be trusted. Isn’t that right?”

“You’re right, master,” she said.

“But I’m trusting you, because I think you’re very special. Are you special?”

“Yes, master,” she said, a smile budding on her lips.

“I said one time that you were no different than any sex toy on my work bench. That maintaining your health was the same as maintenance on a car. Do you remember that?”

She nodded. Her eyes were a bit wet. He smoothed out her hair. Oh, she was so pliable right now. He’d never known such contentment.

“I’ve changed my mind about that,” he told her. “I think your special. I think your different than all those other women out there. Are you different?”

“I am different,” she said hopefully. “I am.”

He smiled. “I think so too. You’re going to prove that to me today. Yes?”

Her nodding grew more insistent. “I’ll show you how good I am. I’ll prove it to you.”

“Good girl,” he said. He gave her a soft kiss on the mouth. He closed the door and walked around the other side. He reached around the back seat and retrieved a blanket and pillow for her. “It’s about a twelve hour drive. We’re going to try and do it in one day.”

He planned on one day. He was just far too tired right not to say for certain they’d make it. He could get her into some tiny little motel along the way if need be. Elliot had given him more than enough diazepam for the trip.

“Where are we –”

She stopped. He put a small smile on his face. He should have fucked her before he gave her the pill. He was getting rather hard. He rubbed the front of his pants. No this would not do. He reached over and grabbed the back of her neck. He fussed with his pants and pulled out his erection.

“Make it quick,” he ordered and pushed her face to his cock. She took him into her mouth without complaint and did her very best. There was something quite enjoyable about getting a blowjob from a drugged woman. It was enthusiastic but sloppy. Her body was almost lip and very pliable as he moved her up and down.

“I don’t care what you’re on, Jessica, I expect effort,” he informed her. Her tongue flicked and she gave more attention to the head of penis. He felt his climax approaching and he pushed her down on his cock. “Swallow it now. Don’t make a mess in my car.”

She obeyed. When he pulled her back and she looked to be in a bit of a daze. He let out a satisfied sigh. He got so overwhelmed by her. He just wanted to hold her down and hurt her. Grab her and shake her. Whip her so hard she bled. It was the only way he could think to get his emotions out. To show her how violent his need for her was. Instead, he backed out the car and shut the garage door. She was asleep before they got out of the driveway.

He got clear through Hungary before he decided he could not finish the drive. His eyes were growing heavy and he found himself swerving off the side more than once. The last thing he needed was the be pulled over.

Jessica came in and out, but she was on a lot of benzo’s. She’d lift her head, look around, reach out to make sure he was still there, and then lower her head back down to her pillow. Every time her little hand would rest on his over the stick shift, his affection for her grew.

He pulled off to a highway side stop and parked in the far side of the parking lot. He pulled out his phone and found the perfect little inn. It was out of his way by about 40 minutes, but he could not risk stopping at a populated area. Especially when she was clearly drugged.

“Are we there?” she asked softly. She lifted her head and looked around bleary eyed.

“Not yet, slave, go back to sleep.”

“…Can I go to the bathroom?” she asked. He looked at her and then over at the stop.

“I’ll get you somewhere,” he promised and reached into the center console. He presented her with a protein bar and she ate it happily. She glanced around at the people walking a  few hundred feet from their car, disinterested and blank faced. He felt a bit better. Still, she could not get out of the car here.

“How badly must you go?” he asked her.

“I can hold it a bit longer.”

He threw the car into reverse, turned, and pulled out. He drove for about twenty minutes before he pulled the car to the side of a little dirt road and ordered her out. He did not let her out of his sight. His heart beat was rapid when she scurried down the side of the embankment and into the trees. He smiled softly as he saw her climbing back up the little hill. He got her back in the car and they went back on their way.

She remained awake until they got to the motel. He needed to give her enough to sleep while he sleep. They pulled up to the motel and he stopped the car. He was a bit aways from the office, away from the other cars.

“Jessica,” he said. She was still pretty groggy. Her eyes were glazed. He removed the pill bottle from his pocket and poured on into his hand. He gave her one. She took it without question. “I’m going to go inside and you’re going to stay here, yes?”

She nodded. She looked around. She didn’t even seem to know where she was. “I can see you from that window.”

“I won’t try and leave. I’m a good woman,” she told him. He smiled softly.

“Prove that to me, yeah?”

“I will.”

She leaned in to kiss him. He let her kiss him. Her hands cupped his cheeks. He gently pulled her away from him. “Stay here now.”

He settled her down and tried to calm his pounding heart. His hands were sweating. He shut the door and hunched down to look into the window at her. She was settled down with her hands folded in her lap.

He did his best to keep his strides calm and measured. His palms were sweating and his heart was beating violently within his chest. He glanced back once more as he opened the front door and stepped into the lobby.

“Hello! Nice car!” The clerk behind the desk greeting. Max looked out the window again. Jessica was seated in the front seat, looking around the car. He did not think she was considering escape. She was quite high, far too lethargic to concoct a plan, let alone carry it out. As long as she wasn’t knocking on the windows or trying to flag someone down, he felt secure.

“Thank you,” Max said in English. He didn’t understand Romanian nearly enough to speak it, but he could understand a few words. “Will it be safe?”

“Oh, yes. We have good patron,” he answered in English. Max reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet.

“I want the best room available. How much?”

The clerk looked at the little penciled in map in front of him.

“Room 203 is good.”

“Bottom floor,” Max said, shaking his head and pulling out a wad of Romanian leu. He didn’t need someone seeing Jessica walking up stairs in her state.

“Oh. Room 107. Is 121 leu.”

Max counted it out and handed the cash over.

“Name?” he asked as he counted the cash.

“Hans Schmidt.”

“I just need ID,” he said, holding his fingers up in a rectangular manner. Max counted out a few hundred lue and slapped it down.

“No, you don’t,” he answered.

“No, I don’t,” he answered and checked off Hans Schmidt in room 107. He handed him the eyes with a smile. “Enjoy stay!”

Max nodded, gave a tight smile, and left the lobby. Jessica was pressing at buttons on the radio when he opened the door. He did not think she was searching for any news. She hadn’t even managed to get the radio on. If she weren’t stoned, he would have punished her, but poor girl now, she didn’t know any better.

He got into the driver’s seat. She looked at him, still jabbing at the radio.

“It won’t turn on.”

“The car is off,” he informed her. She paused, looked at the dashboard with slightly widened eyes.

“Oh.”

He smiled and draped his arm over the head rest.

“I’m so proud of you,” he told her. His eyelids were heavy, but he fought it off. This was an incredibly delicate time. He had to take advantage. He had to do it right. She smiled at him.

“Really?”

“So proud,” he answered. He stroked her cheek. “Maybe you are a good woman.”

“I am,” she said vehemently. She was pleading with him to believe her. She was so desperate to show him she was a good woman.

“We’ll see,” he answered. She was grabbing on to his sweater with white knuckles.

“I’ll show you,” she promised. “I will.”

“Come on then, open the door and stand by the car,” he said. She began to obey but he latched onto her wrist and held her still. “You are going to get out, stand very still, and wait for me to get you. If you feel like you can’t stand, or are going to fall down, lean against the car like you’re tired. Alright?”

“I am very tired,” she told him. He nodded.

“We’ll go to sleep soon. Do you think you can stand and walk?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“OK. Go on now. Be a good girl for me.”

Gutes maedchen.” She smiled. He smiled back.

Gutes maedchen. Go.”

She obeyed. He watched her very closely as she got out of the car. She did as she was told and carried herself surprisingly well. He walked around to her and put his hands on her hips. He kissed her softly. She kissed him back happily. If anyone was watching, they saw a loving couple about to share a night at a quaint little motel in the Romanian countryside.

“Come on now,” he said, pulling away from her.

“I love you,” she told him, grabbing onto his hand. He smiled at her. She walked to the door with him, holding onto his arm. She was a bit uneasy on her feet, but he didn’t think anyone who observed them would think she was so badly intoxicated.

He opened the door and looked around the little room. There was a single bed, large enough for them both, a tiny TV, and a bathroom on the far side of the room. It was certainly not what he had grown accustomed to, but it was not the worst room he had stayed in.

“Go sit on the bed.”

She obeyed. He retrieved his burner phone from his pocket and texted Elliot. Stopped at a motel so I could get some sleep. I didn’t sleep well last night at all. I’ve given her quite a bit of those benzos. How much can I give her safely to keep her asleep while I rest?

Elliot responded shortly after. Give her a half. She’ll be asleep a good long while but it won’t kill her. If she’s speaking clearly and can walk she’ll be alright. Don’t give her more than ½ a pill.

Max thanked him and told him he’d let him know when he was back on the road. Max left the room to grab a bag from the car. He had Jessica eat another protein bar, gave her a glass of water, helped walk her to the bathroom, and then got her onto the bed. He then gave her the second half of the pill.

“I did good,” she asked after she swallowed the pill.

“Very good,” he praised her. “Lay back now.”

She was struggling to keep her eyes open. He told her, “When you wake up next, we’ll probably be in the car again.”

“The radio is broken,” she told him.

“I’ll fix it before we leave,” he chuckled softly.

“Music on road trips,” she muttered.

“You want to listen to music tomorrow?” he asked.

“Music. It’s a road trip.”

She continued to murmur but he could not understand her. He got up to use the restroom and wash up. He sat back down on the bed beside her and shook her. She did not stir.

“Jessica, wake up,” he ordered. He shook her more violently. She still did not sir. He bent his head down to listen to her breathing. It was slow and steady.

Her breathing is slow and steady. Shook her and she didn’t wake up, he texted Elliot.

She’ll be asleep a long time. She won’t die. I promise. Get some rest. She’s not going anywhere. Elliot responded. Max felt a bit better, but he was afraid to sleep. He considered taking a half a diazepam but decided against it. It would be a foolish, idiotic decision.

He set his alarm for a few hours out and then laid down beside his drugged little slave. He held her close to him and breathed into her hair. He was never going to let this girl go. He’d die before she was taken from him. He squeezed her tightly and let his eyes close. He was asleep in moments.


Jessica’s eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring out a car window, trees and rushing by in a blur. Her eyes were heavy. They hurt to move. She was beyond confused. Where were they going.

She did not lift her head from the pillow. She didn’t have the energy. They were on a dirt road. It was slow and windy.

“Are we going to Baltimore?” she asked.

“Baltimore?”

“Did we cross the bridge yet?” she asked. She loved looking over the bridge before going into Maryland.

“Not yet.”

She sat up. She blinked rapidly. Her mouth was incredibly dry. She looked around the car and found a water bottle beside her. She twisted off the cap and took a big sip. She finished the entire thing in a few swigs.

“That was mine.”

“It’s mine now,” she answered dryly. There was chuckling beside her. “Can stop at Talbot’s after the bridge?”

She turned her head. She stared at the driver. She tried to place him. Who was this person… he… she knew that face. She…

The color drained from her face and immediately her mouth was dry again.

“I’m sorry master,” she said, putting the water bottle back, now empty. “I didn’t… I forgot… I…”

“Calm down, slave. It’s going to be a few more hours before you’re aware enough to be held accountable. Lay your head down and go back to sleep.”

She nodded and obeyed. She said again, “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Go to sleep.”

She did not think she would be able to, but before long, she was asleep once again. She awoke to a soft knocking on the window. Her head lolled as the glass rolled down and she blinked the sleep from her eyes. She was greeted by a smiling face filling the window. His arms were on the car door, head ducked down, intense eyes staring back at her from behind thick rimmed glasses. Her stomach roiled and the color drained from her face.

“Well, hello there, darling,” he drawled. “Goddamn, I’m excited to see you again."