Wait until Friday night

“Be careful what you wish for, Angel.” I warn her as we lay there on the bed. “A hunter from Gor isn't going to play by the rules, you know.”

“I read the book, Mr. P.” Her dark expressive eyes search mine, “A couple times. I know what happens to Earth girls harvested by those merciless hunters.”

“Are you going to fight me?” I ask, in part so I can get a sense of how real she wants this to be.

“Of course I'm going to fight, Mr. P.” She does her best to look shocked and offended, but I can see the excitement she is trying to hide. “I'm not some easy slut who wants to have her legs spread; I'm a good girl.”

“It could get a little rough ...” Her small smile confirms that this is something she's been looking forward to as well. “I hope so, Mr. P. I don't want you to get all chivalrous and decent. I want you to be a hard-assed alpha-male mercenary who makes his living abducting unsuspecting girls; a sick bastard who gets off on the power he has over the terrified prizes as they beg for mercy.”

Friday night, well really very early Saturday morning, as I climb the steps to Alison's room, I replay that conversation over one more time. She asked me to make it feel real, so that is what she's going to get. Slung across my back is a black bag with gloves, a black ski mask, rope, and a hunting knife basically a DIY abduction kit. Yesterday morning I made a trip into Hartford's red-light district to get the cuffs for her wrists and ankles, two vibrators, a black leather collar for her pretty neck and even a pair of nipple clamps. All that was in the bag too. Now all I have to do is finish the job.

Alison had been in a particularly good mood this evening as we ate. She did a little fishing trying to determine how I was going to take her, but I told her not to worry about it until tomorrow.

“OK, Mr. P.” She teased me, “I guess I'll just go hang out with Trish tomorrow then, or maybe I'll invite her over for a little sleepover.” This last suggestion was clearly meant to get a rise out of me. “Would it bother you having two nineteen-year-olds in their PJ's giggling away on that big old bed of mine?” I try to hide my reaction to her teasing, but I doubt I'm fooling her. “Ooo - we could have a pillow fight!”

A sharp mental picture of two bound girls on their knees made me lick my lips in anticipation before I remembered that this game was between me and my tenant only. Even before I could fully clear my mind, Alison had smiled at me knowingly, “Or maybe something better will come up, huh?”

It is cheating a little, to enter her rooms from the ground floor, A real slaver would probably have to pick the lock on her outside door, but the last thing I wanted was some helpful neighbor calling the cops because they see a man dressed in black breaking into Alison's apartment. Alison must think so too, because once again the door to her bedroom is unlocked. She is sleeping peacefully under the blankets, so pretty ... so trusting ... so fucking sexy. Time to collect my quarry.

I get my hand on her mouth in time to stop her scream of surprise, and as she wiggles and squirms, I pull back the covers and then before she can even react push her shirt up over her titties. By now she must realize it's me, but that doesn't stop her from trying to twist free and I can hear her muffled cry for help.

“Shut up!” I growl, “You do what I say. Got it?” Alison nods ever so slightly and I relax the pressure on her mouth just a little. “The old man who lives downstairs, where is he?” When I see her trying to speak, I lift my hand just enough so I can feel her soft lips move against my palm.

“He’s gone.” Alison seems to know exactly what I want to hear, “He won't be back until Sunday.”

“Good,” I unsheathe the hunting knife and lay the blade against her neck just under her ear, she has no way of knowing that it is the dull side of the knife that is pressing against her soft flesh, and she freezes like a deer in a car's headlights. “The buyers back on Gor are going to like you.” As if I’ve confirmed her deepest fears, she whimpers softly.

“Gor doesn't even exist.” It sounds like she is trying to convince herself more than me. “It's just a story men tell women to scare them.” I move the blade to under her shirt and with a small jerk the sharp blade slices through the hem of the neckline.

“Then you have nothing to worry about, right?” As I carefully continue cutting away the little knit shirt she’s sleeping in, I make a mental note to buy her a new outfit to replace the clothes I was ruining, maybe a sexy baby-doll nighty that shows off her long legs. Alison, I'm glad to say, has the sense to keep still as I slice away her top.

“Well, Miss Alison Miller,” I whisper conversationally as I ease the tip of the hunting knife up under her shirt. “I know you're a Sophomore Business Major and a devout Christian. One who goes to church on Sundays and Bible Study every Wednesdays,” Her eyes widen as she realizes I've been stalking her. I slice the tee-shirt all the way from the collar to its hem so her breasts are completely exposed. “Does that mean you’ve been saving yourself for me?”

“What?!” The panicked look on her face is priceless, and I wonder if I really was a slaver and she still had her cherry if I could have resisted the temptation to fuck her anyways.

“I asked if you were still a virgin,” I repeat as I finish cutting off her top. And throw the remnants on the floor. “You don't have to tell me, girl; spread your pretty legs, I'll check for myself.”