The Rich Girl and The Bad Boy (closed for SeanRenaud)

"I shouldn't have slept here at all." He muttered more annoyed with himself than anything else but I slept just fine other than a slight crick in the neck. Sleeping sitting up isn't really the best idea that I've ever had."

"So what do you want pancakes or an omelete. I didn't want to wake you, you looked rather peaceful and besides when you woke up you'd be back here, my little kidnapped victim wondering what I'm going to do to her today and I figured I'd spare you that for a while." He smiled and sat down setting up the cartons and plastic silverware. He eyed the spork with mild annoyance. They hadn't had regular forks or spoons and he'd learned years ago that the spork is the most deadly plastic utincil of them all.

"How about you did you sleep well?"

She couldn't help but giggle. "I'll take the omelet, please," she said, sitting up and letting the blanket fall off of her. She began to eat, using the spork, also eyeing it with mild annoyance. She hated using weird utensils such as a spork.

"I slept okay. Not the most peaceful sleep I've ever had, but it was enough, I suppose," she said in between bites. "Probably because I am so scared. . . But I was too tired to give a shit, I suppose." She really didn't have an escape plan, she wanted to make his patterns known to her before she tried to escape again. She wasn't trembling, but her eyes kept darting from her food to his face, trying to read it, wondering if he was going to beat her today. She'd resist as much as she could.

"You know, you could've slept next to me," she said. "I won't say no to cuddling while sleeping, and it would've been better for your neck."

Brock was only partially keeping an eye on her, every so often rolling his neck and lightly groaning between bites. "Glad you like it, or rather hope you like it." He forced himself to smile at her. "The good little girl curses, and I was starting to think you were all sugar and spice and everything nice." He smirked.

He couldn't tell what it was she was thinking or looking at, every so often he glanced around the room trying to figure out what it was she was looking at. What weapon had he left unattended of escape had he not thought about? It was just too much to keep thinking about though and soon he let that slip from his mind focusing instead on her.

Brock noticed she hadn't dressed, hadn't even attempted to and wasn't making a point of keeping the blanket on either, he found his eyes wandering to he breasts more than once. "You got over your shyness pretty quickly I see. Good, it's not like you'll be allowed to be shy moving forward. Also yes, I could have laid with you, but if I had I might have gotten comfortable and fallen asleep a lot deeper. Honestly the idea of you catching me off guard is a little upsetting.

He finished his meal, at least much as he intended and then sat back letting her take her time to finish up her meal then he stood up and set the table to the corner of the room. "Now you eaten and slept so it's time to start up your training again I think we should start with something simple, like you kneeling and properly this time." He stood up.

She laughed as he confessed the idea of being off guard with her was a trite unsettling, but was silenced when he talked about training.

"Okay, listen," she said, looking at him with a steely glint in her eye. "There should be a few things you should know about me. One, I don't like being told what to do. Two, I respond a lot nicer to kindness than I do to being beat. Three, I expect to be treated like a woman. Not a lady, not a little girl, but a woman. Keep these three things in mind, and I might, just might, be quite a bit more obedient than I am now. Are we clear?"

"I think you should know somethings as well. First everybody breaks. It's not really a matter of if, it's a matter of when. I don't like to do things that way but make no mistake that I can and will beat you till you break if I must." He walked over to the riding crop and picked it up cracking it against his hand. "Which leads to my second point, you will do as you are told or you will refer back to point one. And to emphasis that I know all the tricks they used in Gitmo, if you think that the tricks that had Navy SEALS crying like newborn babies is something you will just laugh off you're welcome to test me."

Brock cracked the crop against his hand again. "Third, you are not a woman. Nor a lady, nor a girl. You are a slave. A think that is wholly dependent on her master for life itself. I know I've been. . .lax with you thus far but you do understand that you couldn't force me to bring you breakfast right? Or right now as angry as your getting your bladder has got to be screaming and unless you want to use the corner that's one more thing you need to ask me for."

"Which leads me to point four." He stepped closer to her, careful to stay at the limits of her chain though. "Assuming you can get past the whole I brought you here against your will, stuffed you in my trunk, drove you to the middle of nowhere, beat you, stripped you, chained you to a bed I've been exceedingly nice to you." He smirked. "I brought you the food you wanted, I stayed with you the entire night. I guess I kinda raped you, but you liked it and here I am and I'm asking something exceedingly small. You want to use the bathroom this morning and I want you to kneel for me. All things considered I think it's an outstanding deal."

She glared at him, her breath hissing through her teeth. But he was right. On most things. She was not a slave. She will never be a slave.

"Let me concede on a point then, work towards a compromise," she said. "If you don't want to think I'm a woman, fine. We'll work on that. BUT I am not a slave. I will never be a slave. I will, in time, concede to being a slut, if you plan on using me for sex. BUT I am not a slave. I will not tolerate being called such. I am a rather strong willed woman, as I am sure you have figured out. I may break, but you cannot and will not break me fully. The day I am sobbing at your feet, not saying anything, not fighting anything even if I have the full strength to do so, you will get that right, the right to call me a slave. But I don't think that won't happen. Pet is acceptable. Slave is not."

She knelt down on the floor, waiting.

"Well isn't that the catch twenty two. I don't really want you broken and sobbing at my feet, but I must admit there is a certain thrill to having a girl, one who wears your collar look up and call you master." He smiled walking around her. "But I will concede that Pet will work for now."

That was such a minor thing to fight her on, really it was a matter of semantics. And he could explain that to her later since she was more than smart enough to grasp that a rose by any other name.

In the mean while he gently put the crop between her knees spreading them. Brought it around behind the small of her back pushing it out slightly, then finally beneath her chin lifting it slightly. "That's better. You tell me you are a strong proud woman, you wouldn't want to have bad posture would you? Now stay and I'll unshackle you and take you to the bathroom. Might even let you stretch for a while."

She nodded. She knew it was a matter of semantics, but still. It made HER feel better. Slave makes you feel worthless. Pet makes you feel loved and cared for.

She remained perfectly still as he unshackled her.

"We'll discuss what I call you later," she said dryly. She really needed to pee, and it seemed like it was taking forever for him to undo her shackle.

"Well for the time being I think you are going to call me all manner of colorful epithets." He smiled and reached down unlocking the shackle. He thought about making her crawl then rolled his eyes. There would be time for that later. "Come on, and that hing your thinking. Stop. I am still watching you even if I'm walking in front."

The bathroom, or a bathroom was just down the hall, too far from her. Considering the warehouse had been abandoned for years the place was surprisingly well kept. The bathroom was clean if not utterly pristine. Everything worked, and there was a window, too small for her to crawl out of unfortunately, he didn't even heading in with her.

When she came out he smiled. "See, I can be a reasonable kidnapper. Now since we've got a day to kill before I take you anywhere we may as well get to know each other a little better, I'm Brock and I'm sure you have some questions that can be summed up without me marching you back in there and holding you up to the mirror until you can give me a list of a reasons why a man might resort to criminal activity to own you."

Lynn shook her head. "I don't really have any other questions, except those," she murmured, going back into the room where he was keeping her. She sat on the bed and rested her head in her hands, trembling again. She was absolutely terrified, still, and absentmindedly she reached for the bottle of wine by her bed. It had helped soothe her nerves some the night before.

She looked at him. "I don't consider myself extraordinary, or anything like that. I realize I'm beautiful, and that I accent it well, but I am just. . . Lynn. I'm just a woman trying to make my way in the world. Or, rather, I was, until you came along." She took a large drink of the wine. "I'm sure most of the women you've picked off have at least sucked cock before. I don't even really know what one looks like. You got yourself a strong willed, goody two shoes girl."

"Girl." He made a point of not using her name as much as possible. "You are right, I could have picked an average girl, like one of your friends. I don't want to beat into you how extraordinary you are but I will if you force me.

He watched her grab the wine bottle and ultimately he shrugged. She didn't really have anyplace to go and he didn't really mind her drinking. "I thought you didn't drink." He mentioned casually. He was more teasing than anything else but he did want to see her reaction.

"If you don't have any more questions for me though I have a few for you. Is it going to be a fight to get you to shave?"

She glared at him. "I'm extraordinary to some, but to me, I'm just a small blip on a radar screen," she told him. "And that's the way it should be, shouldn't it? Can't let my ego get the better of me."

"It's calming my nerves, so I don't do something stupid," she said dryly. *Like snap your neck* she thought. She took another sip of the wine, smiling.

She looked at him. "Yes. Yes it is. I've done it once. ONCE. I nearly cut my lip off the singular time I did it, and it took four months to heal. I am NOT shaving. A little fur is fine, I keep it trimmed. But I'm not letting a razor, or wax, near my sex."

"There is a difference between not having a big ego and not recognizing the greatness inside you. Like me, soon I am going to be the greatness inside you." He chuckled at his own joke. He knew she probably didn't find it nearly as funny as he did but to him it was amongst the funniest things anybody had ever said.

Brock shrugged. "By all means, calm your nerves. But I'd like to point out. With all due respect my Pet that it also dulls the reflexes and muddies the brain. So if you were thinking of taking advantage of the fact," he motioned to her ankle. "That I still haven't bothered to shackle you again and beat me like your some kind of prowrestler with my chair that it might be a little harder if you're tipsy." He shrugged. He really didn't want her trying to hit him with a chair. He'd had a friend do that once and it was every bit as unpleasant as they made it look.

Brock chuckled, it was amusing that she still thought she had a choice in these things but for the moment he just made a little mental tick mark on his list of things to keep track and shrugged. "You're lip? You have a mustache? Oh. . .you thought I meant-" Exactly what he meant but there was no reason not to keep going, after all he had done this to a girl before. "I didn't say anything about your sex." He stood up pacing the room. "You see one thing that I have found to be nearly universally true is that women put a lot of stock in their hair. It's a huge part of what makes them who they are, we right stories about it. Rapunzel, Goldilocks, Snow White with hair as black as coal. I bet right now you could rattle off the hair color and length of every Disney princess ever. You want to see a woman broken before you? Shave her head and her eye brows. It'll be funny. She'll spend the next month or so looking like some little alien and it only ends then if you let it."

Brock pretended to think. "Maybe I should do that. You've already proven to be fairly resistant to pain, so maybe the best thing I can do is go after other things."

He then looked down at her clothes. "Not that I don't appreciate it but I am curious why you haven't made any attempt to put your clothes back on, or even wrap yourself in your blanket. For a virgin you sure seem to be comfortable in your skin.

Lynn's hands flew to her hair, clutching it. "You wouldn't dare. I'd turn that razor on you faster than you could think," she snarled. She kept her hair short more for convenience and to accent her high cheekbones more than anything.

She sneered. "I've been too afraid to think about doing such a thing," she said, still not bothering. "And besides, it might garner me favor, and I'm going to use every single thing I can think of to do THAT with you."

She may still thought she had a choice, and she did, naively so. But at points, her demands weren't unreasonable, and she was doing what she could to protect herself.

"And while I maybe drinking, don't think that I am not going to be compliant or anything like that," she added, taking another swig.

Brock saw how quickly her hands moved to her hair. "You've seen how easily I can wrestle you to the ground girl. You can't stop me from doing whatever I want and maybe I like my girls bald. And I'm sure you shave your legs, if you can kill me with a shaving razor then you deserve to free because you're the baddest woman ever. Xena couldn't kill me with that thing." He smirked. "I think you'd look cute that way, shave you bald shine it up so I can see my reflection in the back of your head when I'm fucking you."

He was bluffing, he just hoped that she was sufficiently distracted not to know that he wasn't particularly planning on doing that.

"If you want favor stop covering up, spread your legs. I like looking at you." It still wasn't an order, strictly speaking. Just a strong suggestion.

Brock leaned up against the wall fairly close to her, close enough that she'd be able to feel his gaze wandering over her. "I don't expect you to be compliant. However I should inform you there are no cops around, no lawyers. If you get drunk and I dick you it's fair game. Had I done that last night it would have been no fair but this morning? I mean I guess I could have taken the bottle from you but I didn't make you drink this time. By the by you probably want to drink some water soon otherwise you'll get one helluva hangover sooner or later and as sexy as you are you're a bit of a bitch already I do not fancy you hung over."

Lynn glared at him, parting her legs some. She took another drink of wine. "Wine hits you differently than liquor," she pointed out. Another sip. "You better not shave my head. I wouldn't mind it being short, but I do not want to be bald."

She somehow knew he wouldn't, that he was teasing her into compliance. "Rape is rape, whether there's cops around or not. Just because I'm drunk does not give you the permission to have sex with me. Trauma from a rape, whether they remember it or not, will last them a lifetime. And I will tell you right now, I'm no good to you traumatized." She stretched on the bed, elongating and exposing her body even more to Brock.

"How exactly does the woman who's never drank before in her life know that wine hits you differently than liquor. For the record you're not wrong, wine hangovers are much rose since you usually drank a lot more without noticing." He smiled at her watching as she spread her legs. "You know, you taste really good. I'd ask you if I could have another taste but you know, you've been drinking and I don't want to rape you."

"I'm -" He watched as she stretched out on the bed and tilted his head slightly. "Wondering if you're really a virgin, you certainly know how to keep a man's attention. The way I figure it Pet if you weren't tramatized by everything so far having a dick in you isn't going to be the thing that does it. Dying your hair pink might though."

Lynn laughed. "Then pull up a drink of your own and drink with me then. I don't think it's considered it if either one of us can't legally give consent," she told him.

Her eyes flashed when he mentioned he didn't think she was a virgin. "I am a virgin. Honestly. Just because I can keep a man's attention with my body doesn't mean shit," she told him. "I am proud of my body, and I take as good care of it as possible. And PS- I'd like dying my hair pink. Did it before. 8th grade. I lost a bet. It actually looked good on me. And believe it or not, the dick would traumatize me. I realize I'm not going to get out of having sex, and I'm going to loose every once of virginity I have to you. All I ask is that you be patient, and take it slow."

"Being able to hold a man's attention with your body is no great trick for a woman true. What is a great trick is to be able to do it as masterfully as you do." He smiled pulling up the chair like she said and pouring himself a glass of vodka. "Technically if neither of us can give consent we're both rapists, just nobody is going to press charges."

"If you'd like pink I could always try black, purple, green." He kept rattling them off until he got to something that got a reaction.

"Back to something earlier though see if you can't consent I'm just gonna stick my dick you, if I can't consent you're gonna stick a knife in me. Not really the same." He reached out for her slowly. "You don't mind right?" He placed one finger in her, just beneath her naval. "I mean since you've already accepted that you are going to lose every ounce of virginity you have to me you might as well get used to my hands on you right?"

She nodded. "True. But I don't have access to my knife, now do I?" she asked. She allowed him to touch her, her eyes wide, begging him wordlessly to be gentle. She figured once she got used to things, she'd like it rough. But for the first couple times, each time to be gentle, and sweet. Maybe being gentle and sweet could be a reward.

None of the colors had a reaction with her. She had experimented dying her hair a lot when she was in middle school and high school, but she's had her natural hair color for two years now, and she liked it.

Brock kept his finger gently on her, tracing it's way around her naval, then slowly up the center of her body gently counting over her ribs, he stopped just between her breasts continuing to watch her reaction, moving over her flesh but never quite touching her breasts, all the way up to the underside of her chin.

"No you don't have your knife." He traced her chin to the backs of her ears, then down her arms carefully watching her, just enjoying this for the moment. There would be time and occasion for roughing her up sooner than later he was sure bur right now, right now he was enjoying his new toy. "But you've proven already to be a fairly capable fighter. I think you could probably choke me out if I was drunk."

When his fingers reached her palm he stopped. She'd been compliant so far that he felt a little bad for what he was about to do but it wouldn't do for Brock not to start pushing her boundaries a bit. So he made sure his voice came out as condescending as possible. "Roll over girl."

She shivered at his touch, almost melting at times. She smiled as he confessed that she knew how to fight. It might prove useful to him, later, if she could fight in cage matches for him. . .

She heard the change in tone and looked at him startled. The fear came back into her eyes, and she shrank away from his touch. Very slowly, not breaking eye contact, she rolled over, her body shaking again.

"Good girl." That part he tried to sound as genuinely pleased with her as he could. That same fingers continued it's quest over her body, up the back of her arms, pausing just behind the elbow, again behind her shoulders then he traced her spine all the way down to her ass. He stopped there for a while tracing small figures over the small of her back. Brock didn't stop there, though he had to shift his chair down. He went down over her ass, down the back of her thighs to the hollow behind her knee. Down her calf, down to the instep of her foot then back up again and repeated the process with her opposite leg, back up her spine down her other arm and finally stopped at the back of her neck.

"Now was that really so terrible? My finger all over your glorious naked body? If you want to claim it's the wine talking feel free. For the record that was me avoiding all the really fun parts."

She kept up the shivers and soft sighs that her body was emitting, slowly calming down. She looked at him, fear in her eyes. Was he trying to get her to relax so he could beat her again?

"No, it was pleasant," she said, blushing a little as she averted his eyes. It made her feel. . . well, dirty, admitting that it was pleasurable, and that if she could have something, it would be that finger caressing her like it just did. This was the man who kidnapped her with the intent of making her his sex slave. She wasn't supposed to like what he did to her.

"You don't need to look at me like that you know. Don't get me wrong, it does get the blood flowing in all the right ways to know that you are afraid of me but right now I'm not really trying to scare you. So why don't you tell me what it is I can do to make you calm down a bit." He smiled.

Brock smiled lightly brushing his finger tips up and down her back down, occasionally lightly scratching her. "It was pleasant you say? You know what else was pleasant?" He leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers.