Bruce, a sadistic psychopath, decides to kidnap a young woman and turn her into his sex slave. After six months of planning, his boat docks at a beach filled with a plethora of beautiful targets.

One innocent college student, in a modest one-piece swimsuit, attracts his eye.

One thought keeps running through his mind.

Out on the open sea, only he could hear her screams.

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His Captive - Chapter 01

Bruce found early retirement fantastic. But, only for the first couple of months. Bruce loved fishing, but not every single day. Life became monotonous. And lonely. He was thirty-five, not dead.

Last week, Samatha slammed the door in his face calling him a 'controlling asshole that no woman would put up with,' and Bruce knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. Every relationship he’d ever been in had a similar ending. The more Bruce thought about it, the angrier he became.

That night, alone under the stars, he came to a decision. Since no woman would willingly put up with him, he would take an unwilling one. Someone young and attractive. A college student. Not just for a night or two. She, he decided, would be his until the day he died. Her body his to rape as he desired. Her mind his to twist and break. A young woman to remake into his eager little pain slut.

For several days, Bruce considered possibilities. The real question he needed to answer was just one word long.

How?

In his small bass boat, drifting down a river, Bruce had an epiphany. He could live on the ocean. Travel the world. A reliable sailboat, carried by the winds, wouldn't burn much fuel. Solar panels for electricity. Eating freshly caught fish. How much would it cost, he wondered, a grand a month? Two? His investments would cover that. Corners would need to be cut. No internet, for one thing. But, he wouldn’t need porn anyway. Not with his own sex slave.

The thought consumed him. Bruce imagined going as far as he wanted. Doing anything he desired to a beautiful young college student. Pinched tight in his blue jeans, Bruce’s swelling cock twitched uncomfortably.

Bruce sold everything he couldn’t take with him. His house. His truck. Everything. He purchased a fifty-foot catamaran badly damaged by a hurricane for a song. As he restored the waterlogged and battered ship to pristine condition, one thought consumed him throughout long days of work.

Out on the open sea, only he could hear her screams.

Six months later, his work was completed. Just in time for spring break. With an eager grin, he set sail. Destination; Daytona Beach.

People watching never interested Bruce. Until now. On the hunt, his senses came to life like never before. He was a predator. A shark. Cruising under the waves. Hunting for a titillating morsel to sate his needs. Young college students filled this crowded town. Gorgeous prey that looked younger and younger as he approached his forties.

Bruce chose his target the instant he laid eyes on her. His future toy wasn’t the only one in a one-piece swimsuit, but it was close. Blushing, she would all but flee every time a young man tried to talk with her.

Magnificent.

She was the perfect prey. She would be his perfect victim. Her future sacrificed for his pleasure. From the corner of his eyes, Bruce watched. Keeping his distance. Doing nothing to stand out. Soon, her girlfriends hooked up with a couple guys. Youngsters who had obviously never actually touched a woman, no matter how they boasted. Bruce nearly laughed aloud when they left her.

His shy little prey.

All alone.

Unprotected.

Separated from the herd.

While her lovely hazel eyes focused on the distant shoreline, nearly facing the pier his sailboat was moored at, Bruce walked up behind his chosen prey. Between the fireworks and the boisterous crowd, no one noticed when he wrapped an arm around her. His strong hand snaking up between her breasts to latch onto her throat in an iron grip.

"Hello, Pet,” Bruce said, “Make a sound above a whisper, and they'll find your corpse when the tide comes back in."

She flinched, but didn’t cry out. He pulled her back, feet dragging as she kicked and thrashed, toes digging into the sand. The young woman whimpered, but the sound was soft and slight. Trembling, she nodded her understanding.

Fear of what he might do bound her tongue.

If she had known what he was, the poor woman would have screamed. A risk, yes, but some risks are worth taking. She might have escaped. But she was innocent and pure-hearted. She had no idea what horrors she would soon be forced to endure. Bruce would hurt her. Bruce would rape her. Not just once. Repeatedly. She wouldn’t understand until it was far too late to escape.

Not until they were far out of earshot of land.

"Down to the water," he said.

Bruce wanted her to feel his strength. Wanted her to know how helpless she was. So, he didn’t wait for her to cooperate. He forced her along. Shaking and terrified, she couldn’t keep up with his large strides. She stumbled on trembling legs, but Bruce swept her along with pure physical strength.

As they reached wet sand she shuddered and whimpered again. She couldn’t swim — not well. The young woman knew a doggy paddle wouldn’t save her, not if he threw her into the crashing waves.

Bruce savored every whimper. Her body. The sounds she made. The way she squirmed against him. Soft and perfect in every way. Bruce couldn’t resist pulling her tight against him. He ground himself against her shuddering body so that she felt his cock.

It terrified her.

Here, on the beach, help was just a stone's throw away. Bruce knew she was a fool to cooperate. His foolish pet. Bruce knew she would regret her silence at this moment for the rest of her long life. He reveled in the knowledge.

She was such a scared little pet. Distracted. She didn’t notice when sand turned into wood. Closed eyes didn’t see the docks railing. Lost in her own fear, the poor woman didn’t see his ship looming out of the shadows.

She yelped, unintentionally shattering the silence that seemed to press in on the two of them regardless of the noise that came from just a few precious yards away. Grabbing her mouth in horror and looked up at him with wide eyes. A single sharp splinter had pierced through the skin on the sole of her foot, less than an inch, but enough to draw blood. She apologized with her eyes, tears welling up, shaking her head in fear of punishment.

Even full screams might have been missed, now that they were further from the boisterous crowd. Bruce was confident her yelp wouldn’t be heard by anyone, but that didn’t matter. Not to him. She disobeyed. That was all that mattered. Disobedience demands punishment.

He spun her to face him and punched her in the solar plexus so hard she flew off the pier and onto the deck of his fifty-foot sailboat. Collapsed in a heap, she struggled to regain her breath. With the wind knocked out of her, screams weren’t a concern. Not for several minutes. By then, it would be far too late.

He threw off the lines and pushed away from the dock with a grunt. Engaging the engines, he set course for international waters. His victim, curled up, gasping and wheezing, couldn’t catch enough air to speak. Screaming was far beyond her.

The vibrating of the deck was nearly unnoticed, but even in this state she was all too aware of the tall shadow looming just a few feet away. Bruce turned his attention back to her, as she finally scrambled back to her feet. Thirty feet already separated his ship from the dock. In the corner of her panicked eye, she could see dark water passing under them. She didn’t know how deep it was, but she knew it was growing ever deeper.

"Come here, my Pet," Bruce commanded.

She staggered one step closer to him, unintentionally, pushed by the lurch of the boat. Gathering her courage, she steadied herself and planted her feet.

“W-what do you want from me?” She asked.

Under his attention, the one-piece swimsuit that seemed modest such a short time ago revealed far too much for her comfort. Feeling exposed, even in her swimsuit, she covered breasts and stomach with her arms.

“I-is it money?” she asked hopefully, “Because I can get you money.”

Bruce found her cute. Innocent and shy. But he wouldn’t tolerate hiding her body.

Bruce took her by the wrist and pulled her arm to the side.

"Oh no, my Pet. I'm not after money," he said, "I'm after something far more... personal."

He cranked up the engines and engaged the autopilot. Modern shipboard electronics were marvelous. With or without his guidance, they were on their way. Now, he could turn his full attention to her.

Bruce hooked his fingers into her swimsuit, between her breasts, and jerked down. Hard. Fabric ripped, scouring her skin painfully. Lovely breasts spilled out. Since they belonged to him now, Bruce had every right to expose them. However she screamed and cried, it wouldn’t change a thing.

Her head shook wildly. Even an innocent thing like her could guess what would come next.

None of Bruce's many girlfriends really let him play with their breasts. They always complained about how sensitive they were, and about how much rough play hurt. Not that they were wrong. Bruce knew it hurt.

That was one reason why he wanted to do it so badly.

Pet could complain all she wanted.

Bruce grabbed one breast in each hand and did something he'd always wanted to do. He squeezed with all his strength. She cried out in pain. If it hadn’t been for his grip she would have dropped to the floor in agony.

“Please stop!” she pleaded, her voice trembling.

He pulled up with one clawed hand, forcing her onto her tippy toes. Nearly supporting her by the breast.

"Take off the remains of your swimsuit," he said — not just an order, an unspoken declaration of what would soon follow.

He smirked, loving how she danced on her toes, desperate to ease the pain. Legs spasming for control, she shakily moved her hands to the ripped swimsuit around her waist, slowly pulling it down to her hips.

“Please don’t make me go further... I can’t.”

Disobedience, as she would soon learn, only leads to more pain. She thought she couldn’t obey, but Bruce was confident he could change her mind.

Bruce twisted, deliberately grinding sharp, if short, fingernails deeper into her flesh. She squirmed in his grip, screaming for the heavens, for mercy, for respite. Bruce had no mercy. He dug harder. Further. Deeper. She spasmed under his grasp, like a fish out of water.

Bruce reveled in her reactions.

"I gave you an order,” he said, “Pet's obey their Master. Until your swimsuit is on the deck, I'm not stopping. Every second you take will only make things worse."

His cock was harder than it has ever been. Throbbing with need. He forced himself to wait. Pets must be trained. First, the suit, then her mouth.

She scrambled, body spasming, in his brutal grip. Her hands hurriedly shoved the swimsuit past her hips. Kicking legs did the rest. She sobbed as it fell to the floor. She was fully exposed. No man had ever seen her like this.

Bruce drank in the sight before him. Not her body. Not her breasts. Not her pussy. He hadn't bothered to look down. Not yet. Right now, her eyes, so full of fear and pain, were far more enticing than anything else in the entire world.

Exploring her cunt would come soon enough.

He didn't release her, but he allowed his grip to relax. He allowed her full weight to settle back onto her own two feet. Slowly, the young woman regained her breath, along with what little composure she had left.

"Look between my legs," he said, ignoring her sobs. "Your job is to take care of that. My cock. Since I'm feeling generous, I'll let you choose which hole I use first. Your mouth, your pussy, or your ass."

“I-I-I can’t!” she wailed.

"So,” he smirked, unsurprised, “all three then."

He didn't wait for whatever response she wanted to give. Bruce pushed his shorts under his cock with one hand. The helpless young woman tried to hold herself away from him, but it availed her nothing. Long beautiful hair was a perfect handle for his strong hands. She barely weighed as much as one of the tires he used to spend half his day replacing on eighteen-wheelers. She was nearly as easy to manhandle as they had been.

She started to object as he forced her to her knees, but Bruce shoved his cock past whatever protest she opened her mouth to voice, immediately silencing her.

She struggled. First, by trying to shove him away. When that didn’t work, she balled up her little fist, thumb on the inside, and attempted to strike him in the stomach. Bruce burst out laughing, catching her hand before she hurt herself. Her eyes widened in shock at the contemptuous ease with which he caught her punch. She thought she had been fast and didn’t understand how he had caught her.

Bruce, still chuckling, wondered how could she possibly be so clueless. Mercy — his closest childhood friend — had known how to throw a proper punch by her fifth birthday. Punching anything with your thumb on the inside of your fist can break bones. He didn’t want that to happen.

Not accidentally.

All of this fussing, and Bruce had barely started. Only for the first couple inches of his cock were in her wet mouth. Just the head. With so much more would soon follow.

Bruce discovered that teaching a pet to deep throat was much easier than teaching a girlfriend. He shoved his cock all the way down her protesting throat with one thrust. Her cheeks bulged, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. In barely a second, his pet achieved something that Samatha never had.

Not once in all the time they dated.

Her throat spasmed and she immediately gagged and heaved, desperately trying to pull herself off him. She couldn't breathe! Water began to trickle down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if she was crying, or if her eyes were just watering. How could she tell? Either way, she refused to give him the pleasure of knowing she was crying. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to panic. She waited for it to be over. Waited for a chance to breathe.

Bruce wanted to look into her eyes while he raped her.

He slapped his pet viciously across the cheek, snapping her back to the terrible reality of her rape. The crack of his palm heralded searing pain, and her whole body convulsed. She had never been slapped so hard before in her life. Shock and pain caused her throat to spasm around his cock. Fire spread from her cheek and throat as she struggled to breathe. Her terrified eyes snapped open, darting around, unwilling to meet his pitiless gaze.

"Keep your eyes on me, Pet.”

Hunting her had kept Bruce on edge all day. Every spasm took him closer. He hadn’t even started fucking her face, and he was already about to pop. His cock was shoved down her throat, and he didn’t know how long it had been since her last breath. He wouldn’t have cared anyway.

Desperately in need of air, she forced herself not to fight. Panic tried to chase thoughts away, but she held onto her self-control by the skin of her teeth. It couldn’t be much longer, she promised herself. She clung to that promise as her jaw, gaping wide around his thick cock, began to ache.

The pleasure that rolled across his face every time her throat spasmed around his shaft disgusted her. She could only pray, even as her lungs desperately screamed for air. After this, he’s done, she told herself. Once he... performs — she couldn’t bring herself to think of it in any other way — it’ll take him a while to recover.

"Pet, surely even a naive fool like yourself, has heard of the age-old question about spitting or swallowing?"

A shiver, an electric current, spasmed down her spine whenever he called her pet. She hated it.

Half conscious, she could barely comprehend the words he spoke. Spitting or swallowing? She’d only heard those words once at a sleepover — which one they all preferred. But that was about watermelon seeds. He surely couldn’t be talking about that. Muscles aching, she furiously shook her head, glancing up in his general direction but never meeting his eye.

His chuckle sent another shiver through her body. Somehow, he found more to plunge into her throat. She gagged and choked on him, spluttering for air, keeping her eyes on his sharp jawline.

"My eyes, Pet. Meet my eyes, or you'll never take another breath."

She flinched at his words. As though he slapped her again. For a few seconds — an eternity for her — she refused. She was running out of air. Her wide, wet eyes, so full of terror, hesitantly looked up from her place between his legs. He savored his Pet’s horror. Her shame. The tears upon her cheeks. There was hatred in her gaze, too. She hated looking at him. Hated knowing that the man who raped her had this much power.

Regretfully, he pulled himself back from her throat, his dick resting on her squirming tongue, in her hot little mouth. She gasped for air like her life depended on it. Because it might. One breath. That's all he gave her. Before slamming back in.

"You've never heard about spitting or swallowing cum? Retarded twat. How have you survived? Well... don't worry, my little pet. I'll do the thinking for you."

He petted the top of her head. Condescendingly. She cried a little, recoiling from his touch. He treated her like a child and a whore.

"After you make one last choice. Good girls spit cum out. Bad girls swallow.”  

She allowed herself a moment of relief — good girls spit.

She’d be a good girl.

She couldn’t bear having this monster inside her for a second longer than she had to. At least this was temporary. As her lungs cried for air in a reeling world of increasing pain, that was the only slight comfort she could cling to. She wouldn’t have to swallow, to hold part of him inside her... A sudden thought made her shiver. If she swallowed, then that part of him… his sperm, would be digested by her body. For the rest of her life, he would be a permanent part of her.

How could she bear that?

“Obedient little pet's,” Bruce continued, “treat their Master's gift with the reverence his cum deserves. They hold it in their mouths, displaying it for their master, until given permission for them to guzzle it down.”

He gave her a moment to process her options, then an evil smile spread across his lips and he ripped her last shreds of hope away without a trace of mercy.

“A word of warning before you decide which one you are,” he said, “Soon, we’ll reach international waters. When we do, I'm going to use every good girl on my ship as shark bait. I'll slice them open and toss them overboard. Watch them paddle around in their own blood and gore until the predators arrive. I like bad girls, so I'll give them the mercy of a quick death before tossing them overboard. Only an obedient Pet, one who submits completely, will be allowed to stay on board my ship."

She couldn’t swim, not that it would matter, not if she was fed to the sharks. She was too young to die. Worse than that, his threat rang with truth, at least to her ears. He would cut her open and throw her overboard.

She didn’t want to be his Pet, but if it’s a choice between that and death...

Nervously, almost as if she was practicing, she swallowed. Her throat flexed along the length of his shaft. It nearly sent him over the edge. He couldn’t take anymore, not with the length of his cock, buried in the warm and wet depths of her helpless throat. Not when the head of his cock was being squeezed in a pulsing grip.

Bruce clasped her head in both his hands and fucked her face like a gloryhole. His rough strokes and brutal pounding became too great to cope with. She gagged and choked, almost on the verge of vomiting. Desperately sucking for air every time she had even a moment without him down her throat. Far too quickly for his liking, Bruce’s body tightened with blissful ecstasy.

At the last instant, he jerked out of her throat, and his seed spilled into her mouth.

Her frantic eyes flicker wildly as the moment of decision suddenly comes upon her. Which one would she choose? She froze, struggling to remember her choices in that panicked moment. She couldn’t spit. She knew that much — she’d be tossed overboard. She had to hold it in her mouth and wait for permission to swallow. Bile rose in her throat. She didn’t want to give him that pleasure.

Somehow, she found it in her to make the one choice that would allow her to live.

Once he had finished spilling his seed inside her, she breathed a shakily breath through her nose. Slowly, her lips parted to reveal his cum pooling in her mouth. Pet sobbed through closed eyes, tears running into her mouth and joining his still-hot seed. Her mouth remained open; her tongue coated by the disgusting taste of his foul mix.

How could he resist?

Stroking his fingers up her smooth neck, he dipped them inside her mouth. His fingers explored the crevices of her mouth, right down to the throat she was desperately trying to keep closed. Bruce pushed slightly at the back of her throat, just to test the limits of his new Pet. She gagged, but didn’t give in. He was almost impressed. Thick cum, so stringy, perfect for painting across her face, dripped from his fingers back into her mouth. Eyes squeezed shut, each muscle in every limb tensed. Against every desire in her body, she forced herself to stay upright.

Why stop there? Bruce wanted his Pet to learn her place. He demanded it.

Leaning over, he let a large gob of spit dangle. She took one quick peek and saw his spit dripping. Her eyes snapped back shut. A long moment later, she felt it drop down into her mouth. She hadn’t thought it was possible to shake and shiver harder than she already was. But somehow, every muscle trembled and danced with fear.

Bruce gazed down at her. Wonderfully helpless. Utterly terrified. Her whole body shook and shivered as his Pet waited for her next order. The sight would make anyone with even the slightest trace of humanity, decency, or compassion, sick to their stomach. They'd rush her back into the protective arms of her loving parents.

All Bruce saw was the goliath grouper rig on his big rod, just behind her soft hair. A razor-sharp hook that gleamed brightly in the setting sun. It looked so much like a leash. A leash that all pets should wear.

She cowered as his expression changed.

She forced herself to maintain her position. It only took a moment for him to lean past her and unclasp the snap swivel. Her head twisted to the side as his cock brushed against her cheek, still hard, still wet from her mouth. So close. Intimate. A quiet, soft whimper escaped from her lips.

He leaned back against the console, coiling the rig around his rough hands. Sharp hook dangling down, spinning tantalizingly right in front of terrified eyes. She whimpered and whined, desperate to shuffle away.

Bruce’s polished stainless-steel hook flashed in the sunset.

As she stared at him, watching his deliberate movements, thoughts flashed across her face. He had used her. He had orgasmed. The proof of which was still in her mouth. Until this moment, she had assumed that everything would be over after that. But she now realized that she had been lying to herself. These weren’t the actions of a man who was about to return her to the beach.

He wasn't going to let her go, and she would never see her friends and family again.

"You may swallow as soon as you answer one question. Just nod, yes or no... Do pets require leashes?"

He wanted to hear her answer, not that any response would protect her. She was his Pet now. She would abide by his rules. She would entertain him. His question tormented her. Just like Bruce planned.

Her eyes unfocused as she thought. Dogs need leashes. Most pets need collars but not leashes. She remembered what he called her. Pet. That disgusting, humiliating name. She felt helpless in the grips of indecision. She had no doubts that making her wear a leash would give him perverted satisfaction, but she worried that Bruce would take a leash to mean that she had thoughts of escaping when he wanted an obedient pet.

No answer would be right for him. Without doubt she’d pick the wrong one. She wished she could explain herself — explain why she didn’t need a leash. Bruce had made it clear. She would either be his obedient pet, or she would die. Even if she obeyed, she was far from sure that he would let her live, and she wanted to live. Her best chance, she knew, was to do as he demanded.

She must become his pet.

Once she swallowed, she hoped she would have a chance to explain. She just had to live that long. With Bruce, however, life did not seem to be a guarantee. Less than an hour ago, Bruce’s Pet had been defiant, struggling against him, trying to escape. When Bruce forced her to choose which hole he would violate first, she shook her head in defiance.

Slowly, tearily, mouth brimming with cum, spit and tears, she shook her head. Aching, throat sore, she waited for his reaction. Her eyes begged and pleaded. Not like last time. Not in denial. Not in outrage. Just fearful resignation.

Without resistance.

Fingers resting on her cheek, Bruce ran his thumb around her trembling lips. Still open. Still waiting. Even though he said that she could swallow once she answered, Pet didn’t dare move an inch without a direct order. It felt like an eternity for her, waiting for that release. She couldn’t keep her throat closed forever. At some point, she’d have to let go. More than obedient. He smiled.

This was his life now.

"Swallow," he commanded.

Before he could finish the word, she opened her throat and let the hot mixture gush down her throat. No hesitation. No moment to think. She couldn’t take it inside her mouth anymore. She made a show out of the swallow — doing her best to keep her mouth opened. On display for him. She showed him that his hot seed had entered her body. He was inside her now. Soon, she knew, part of her would be made from his cum. She hated it. Hated him.

Immediately after she swallowed, her trembling body collapsed. She was limp, a rag doll on the deck of a stranger’s ship. Ready for use. She breathed heavily, heaving chest, shuddering breaths. She knew it was best to lie there, motionless, until he decided her next torture.

--- To Be Continued ---