Don't Miss
Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Mastering His Captive by Jaye Elise – Extended Preview

Mastering His Captive by Jaye Elise – Extended Preview

Emerging from her narcotic fog and quickly remembering what had happened at the campsite—man, needle, kidnap—Kit’s eyes flew wide open and she started screaming bloody murder. Once she realized she was fully restrained to the bed and understood that screaming was the only defense she had available to her, she had every intention of using it to the best of her ability. However, after only a few seconds, her head roared in protest and a wave of nausea silenced her.

As she continued to struggle in her bonds, her teary eyes gradually adjusted and took in her surroundings. Within moments, she’d assessed the situation. She was still in the woods—in a cabin of some sort, based on the wooden beams and the clean smell of sawdust. She was on a bed situated in the middle of a large living room area with vaulted ceilings and a couple of closed doors to the left. As she slowly turned her head, the majority of the space opened up to her right. Large windows interspersed throughout all the walls showcased the dense forest beyond, allowing the morning light to float in and paint each and every surface throughout the interior. Her eyes continued their sweep of the space, registering a sturdy desk and chair set, a couch and loveseat, and a large kitchen with mosaic tiling sprinkled throughout. Aside from the metal frame to which she was handcuffed, the bright kitchen tiles seemed to be the only detail she could see that wasn’t made of wood.

And then there he was. Floating in from the edge of her fuzzy peripheral vision, his name came to her mind, unbidden yet inevitable. Vaughn. The man from the campground. The one she’d thought was friendly. The one she’d thought was handsome. The one she’d thought was sane. She thrashed at the sight of his imposing frame as he approached and hovered over her, the leather cuffs chafing her wrists and ankles.

“Shh. Calm down, Kit. You’re okay, you’re safe. I promise you’re not in any danger. Calm down for me.” His words reached out to her across the void of her drug-induced stupor as his hand came to rest on her cheek. Something about his posture coupled with his reassuring tone soothed her in a way she wouldn’t have expected. Too nauseous and weakened to continue struggling, she settled into the bed and closed her eyes, her last-ditch effort to shut out the reality of what was happening to her. But despite the panic she felt rising to the surface, her fear-laden curiosity got the better of her.

“Wh-who are you and why did you take me?” Her voice came out thick and slurred, her tongue leaden in her mouth. Tamping down her disorientation and discomfort, she knew she might as well find out how dire her situation was and get the worst out of the way.

“Good girl, Kit. I like it when you’re calm,” he purred. “Although, I think you may’ve asked the wrong question. You already know who I am, don’t you? I’m Vaughn, the man who kidnapped you.” She instinctively pulled against her restraints again, the handcuffs clanging off the metal rails as he continued, “Now, the better question would be what am I. And the answer to that question is just as simple, but carries with it a tremendous responsibility.”

Kit had no idea what the hell he was talking about and even in her addled, fettered state, she made sure he knew how frustrated she was. “Well, that was helpful, Vaughn. Really helpful,” she responded, oozing sarcasm from every pore. “Now, what the hell are you and why the hell did you take me?”

“Mind your tone and language with me, Kit. You’re not in a position to smart-mouth me, so consider yourself warned. Next time, you get punished.” Kit couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but he didn’t give her more time to process. “Long story short, I’m a dominant. And, as for why I took you, well…” He paused, running his hand across his bearded cheek. “Until you get back on track with your writing and get to the bottom of what’s holding you back, I’m going to be your dominant, Kit.”

What in the holy living hell is he talking about? Kit’s mind flip-flopped in an effort to comprehend what he was telling her, but yet again, he pushed ahead without her. “It’s no secret that your work has taken a turn for the worse over the past few years. I mean, I’ve always been a huge fan of your books, but lately all I read are forced, ham-handed BDSM scenes coupled with silly, stilted dialogue. It’s beneath you. You’re better than that. And you know it.”

Kit was fit to explode. She didn’t even give herself time to grasp the irony that she was angrier about his literary criticism than about him drugging and kidnapping her. “Oh, so now you’re a dominant and a book critic? Where do you get off talking shit about my writing? Have you ever written a book? Have you ever sat down and tried to piece together a compelling story in an attempt to appeal to a discerning audience? Well, whenever you decide to do so, keep me in the know and I’ll be sure to come by and tell you how ‘ham-handed’ your efforts are, prick.”

Before she could take a restorative breath, he whipped the blanket off her, exposing her mostly naked body to the relatively cool air, and gave her tender inner thighs a few solid smacks. “I told you there’d be punishment, Kit. Watch. Your. Mouth.” Unable to pull her legs together, she squirmed at the lingering sting. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out, opting instead to bite down on her bottom lip. “Though to answer your question, no, I’ve never written a book.” She resettled herself on the bed, wishing she could rub her hands along her prickling thighs. “But I’m an experienced dominant. And as somebody who’s intimately familiar with your work, I think we both know that you’ve lost your way.” She heard his tone soften. “And I think I know why.”

His words burned worse than the smacks he’d dealt out. Because he was absolutely right. She had lost her creative spark and had no idea how to find her way back to the magic that had led her to success. Even though she was the literal definition of a captive audience, she knew she had to hear him out. “And why would that be?” she whispered, turning her head to meet his insistent gaze.

“Because you’ve never had anyone reach inside you and release the submissive that’s been hiding in there your whole life.” He sat down on the chair next to the bed, his deep blue eyes never leaving hers, and then murmured, “Isn’t that right, Kit?”

Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away to shield herself. From him. From the truth. She’d been writing about dominance and submission her entire career and had been widely credited with bringing the BDSM subculture into the fold of more mainstream romance literature. Sure, she knew it wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but there were more than enough people who were into it or merely curious about it to keep the storylines churning and the royalty checks flowing in.

But Kit had been living a lie. She was a fraud. But she thought she was the only one who knew it. Her stories didn’t come from a place of experience. They came from the deepest, darkest—and at times brightest—corners of her imagination. She’d never been able to let go—to cede control to anybody—for long enough to tap into the submission she knew she craved. Every dirty fantasy, every act that skirted the edge of decorum, every rugged dom she’d ever penned. None of it was real. It never had been. And Kit had assumed it never would be either. But evidently, Vaughn had other plans for her.

“Um, yeah. I mean, maybe you’re right,” she mumbled into her shoulder, still too embarrassed to face her all-knowing captor. “So, what are you going to do to me then?”

He wasted no time in responding. “Thank you for your honesty, Kit.” He stroked her cheek gently with the back of his hand, warm and reassuring, as he continued, “As for what I’m gonna do to you, the quick answer is that I’m gonna be your dominant and you’re gonna be my submissive. The longer answer is that until you better understand what’s entailed in a D/s relationship, you’ll learn under my hand. Under my rules. I’ll be training you and bringing your inner submissive out into the open. I know she’s in there, Kit. I know your novels weren’t inspired by idle curiosity. You wanna understand the lifestyle. You wanna live the lifestyle. And you’re gonna learn firsthand what it feels like to submit. Fully, unreservedly, completely.” He slid his finger under her chin and tilted her head so her tear-filled eyes met his. “So until you finish your next novel, that’s what you and I are going to work on.”

Kit still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This gorgeous dominant recluse had chosen her as his submissive and was determined to instruct her in a lifestyle that she’d only ever dreamed and written about. It was the fodder her books were full of. But she’d never written a plot quite like this one. One quite so close to home. “And I’m assuming I have no choice in the matter?” she choked out through her last few tears.

“I’m afraid not, Kit. From this point onward, you’re gonna submit to my training and my rules. They’re simple enough and there’re only three of them. Rule One. You obey me. In all things. You do as you’re told without hesitation. You learn from the experiences I’m giving you. You embrace your role as a submissive and accept my dominance. And look, I understand there’s a degree of trust we have to establish before getting to that point, but I want you to at least start by obeying me.”

“And Rule Two?” Her own voice startled her. Why in the hell was she encouraging him to continue? She should be shutting down and ignoring him. But she couldn’t. And they both knew why. He was giving her an opportunity she couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Rule Two is that you write every single day. It doesn’t have to be great, it doesn’t even have to be good, but you will write. You’ll fight your demons and struggle through your experience by writing about it. Of course, we’ll be discussing your training and what we’re doing together, but your gift is the written word. And you need to use what I’m giving you to fuel your creativity.”

Sighing, she nodded her assent.

“And Rule Three is the easiest of them all,” he pushed ahead. “Provided you follow the first two rules, you get to go home and you’ll have a bestseller on your hands when you get there. You’re an intelligent, creative, beautiful woman, Kit. My intent is that you leave here fully cognizant of your gifts. And fully embracing your submissive nature.”

And there it was. A verbal D/s agreement laid out for her in the starkest terms possible. He would dominate, she would submit. He would teach, she would learn. He would inspire, she would write. She didn’t have any choice in the matter, as the shackles binding her to the bed reminded her with each slight movement. But deep down she knew the truth. If she had a choice, if the restraints magically disappeared, at least a small part of her would still be there, begging to drink from Vaughn’s font of knowledge.

Rapidly changing topics on her and unsettling her from her slow, seductive slide into submission, he explained, “I think it’s time you had some breakfast. We didn’t get breakfast this morning at the campsite and the bacon and eggs I made are getting cold.” He pulled a key from his pocket and deftly released the catches on the handcuffs before helping her up from the bed. Kit felt stiff and achy, but her pains were nothing compared with the pressing need to pee.

“Um, can I go to the bathroom first?” she asked, still feeling shaky on her feet.

“Of course, Kit.” He smiled down at her, just as he’d smiled at her the first time they met. Despite the drastic change in circumstances, it still had the same warming effect on her. He scooped her up in his arms and brought her toward a back hallway and one of a couple of open doorways. Resting against his tight black t-shirt, she could feel the firm shelf of his chest rippling against her. Unsurprisingly, he smelled like the woods that surrounded them, crisp and earthy.

Flipping the lights on, he set her on her feet and closed the door to give her some privacy. She took in the utilitarian space before making a beeline for the toilet against the back wall. Across from her was a deep, inviting, and surprisingly modern tub and shower setup, and next to her was a long vanity with a couple of sinks and an assortment of drawers and cabinets, all done in the same wood as the rest of the cabin with some simple counter tile thrown in for good measure. After she heeded the call of nature and washed her hands, Kit took a long look at herself in the mirror. While she still felt woozy from whatever he’d given her, she was amazed she didn’t look worse than she did, although she had a pretty good idea what had brought the rosy flush to her cheeks. Amazing how discussing D/s with a complete stranger can really make a gal blush, huh? Vaughn seemed determined to keep her teetering on the knife’s edge between frustration and submission, and she’d need to try to keep her wits about her until she could figure out how to regain control of her situation and plan her way out.

With a final splash of water to her face, Kit did a quick scan of the bathroom and realized she wouldn’t be able to escape from there—there was only one small window set high up in the wall—and she wouldn’t be able to barricade herself either since there was no lock on the door. Giving up her search for an escape route for the time being, she came out and Vaughn escorted her back to the kitchen area and seated her at the knotty pine table. A substantial breakfast plate awaited her. Her mouth watered at the savory scent of bacon and at the sight of the condensation rolling down the side of the large glass of orange juice he’d poured for her. But, hungry and thirsty though she was, she had no intention of giving in. Not quite yet.

“I’m not hungry,” she balked as he stood beside her, arms folded across his chest and staring down at her.

“Don’t lie to me, Kit. And don’t fight me on this. You will eat. Now.” The icy tone of his voice resonated deep within her and called to a hidden part of her soul, commanding her to obey him. But her overactive brain refused to give up the struggle.

“No. I. Won’t.” She stood up and turned to face him in an attempt to communicate her disdain, but still suffering from some of the lingering effects of the sedative, she made herself dizzy and ended up slamming into his chest.

He didn’t respond to her last challenge. At least not verbally. With a devilish smirk twisting the edge of his mouth, he picked her up by the waist, dragged her back to the bed, and stood her up by the metal baseboard, cuffing her wrists with the handcuffs. “Time for your first real punishment, Kit.” His voice was pure calm precision, as if he were discussing the weather rather than disciplining a wayward submissive. “Spread your legs, hold on to the bar, and don’t let go.” She felt his hands pull her hips outward as he nudged her legs farther apart. “You’re gonna get spanked until you tell me you’re sorry and that you’re ready to eat your breakfast.”

Kit had never been on the receiving end of a true spanking before. She’d given herself a few over the years and had written about plenty of them—hands, belts, canes, floggers, wooden spoons, and even a particularly naughty pair of flip-flops—but hadn’t felt the searing burn that she’d assumed her protagonists experienced at the hand of a skillful dominant. She braced herself for the worst. And she got it.

Vaughn ripped her panties off, shredding the delicate fabric and causing the lace to bite into her tender pussy. And then the pain really started. Without further preamble, he began to pop his hand off her exposed cheeks, alternating sides before she could absorb the stinging shock of the blows.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to cover herself, but restrained as she was and with Vaughn’s implied threats looming largely, she bit down on her lower lip and whimpered through the fiery onslaught. And he showed no signs of stopping, peppering her without mercy. After twenty, she lost count. With her eyes screwed shut, she drew breath after rasping breath, unable to think about anything but the pain searing through her clenched ass. And about how much the spanking was sparking her desire. If the burn of his onslaught ran deep, the razor’s edge of her pleasure was just a hair’s breadth beyond, tantalizingly within reach and palpable in a way she’d never anticipated. Yet the intense ache continued to build and she knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand much more, despite wanting to tap into the itch he’d just begun to scratch.

The spanking continued and Vaughn was proving himself to be relentless. Although she’d always been a tough nut to crack, tenacious and strong, the nonstop searing throb across her entire backside threatened to bring her to her knees.

“You can stop this, Kit. At any time. The choice is yours. Tell me you’re sorry and that you’ll eat your breakfast like a good girl.” Even as he spoke to her in his measured voice, he didn’t let up on her for a moment. If anything, his spanking had grown more insistent. And Kit knew she was done for. If this was the kind of pain she’d subjected her heroines to throughout the years, she owed each and every one of them a sincere apology and a few bottles of wine as a peace offering.

With a blistering burn scalding her rear end and thighs and with no reprieve in sight, she let out a plaintive wail, finally giving voice to the pain she’d been bottling up since the very first spank. “Please! Please stop!” she cried.

“Tell me what I want to hear and I’ll stop.”

Although it killed her to give in, to give him the satisfaction of having bested her in their battle of wills, she needed a reprieve. And in her current state, she wasn’t above begging.

“I-I’m sorry, okay?” she pleaded. “I’m sorry and I’ll eat my breakfast like a good girl. Please!” A few tears fell from her eyes down to the wooden slats below, a tiny puddle of agony beneath her.

“Good girl, Kit. Very good. Now, I want you to remember this the next time you decide to disobey me.” He caressed her burning ass and, now that the immediate source of her pain had disappeared, she was surprised by how much she was turned on by the exchange between them. While the spanking had been painfully exquisite and unsettling, it was his manner that captivated her. The raw dominance he displayed. The tacit understanding that he was in charge. Evidently, he noticed her arousal as well. “Hmm, it looks like my new little submissive may have enjoyed her first punishment a little, yeah?” He ran the tip of his index finger along her glistening slit, just barely grazing her clit before drawing it all the way to her tight anus. Circling her rim with her essence and causing her to clench, he leaned into her body and whispered into her ear, “Tell me that you liked your spanking and I’ll let you come. C’mon, Kit, you know you want to. Look how turned on you are.” He traced his middle finger along her slit, coating himself in her arousal before holding it before her. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

Nothing would’ve pleased Kit more than to tell him to take his offer and shove it. Correction—nothing would’ve pleased Kit more than to tap into the orgasm that’d been building up inside her since before he’d reshackled her to the bed. And then to tell him to shove it. But she wasn’t proud. She had no leverage in this situation. And he already knew the submissive secret she’d so desperately tried to hide her entire life. Wasn’t it time to just fess up and give herself the release she craved?

No fucking way. An indignant, defiant surge welled up from within her, helping her to suppress her arousal, and she lashed out again. “Yeah, so maybe I was turned on by what you did, asshole, but I’ll be damned if I give in to you. Ever. You kidnapped the wrong woman if you thought I’d roll over and beg for you.” She gave her cuffs a good rattle against the bedframe, letting her fiery side surface to show him she meant business.

His response was twofold and it was quick in coming as he leveled a few sharp swats to her well-punished bottom. “You’d better watch that tongue of yours, young lady. It’s gonna get you into more trouble than it’s worth,” he growled, causing Kit to tense up nervously. But it was what he whispered into her ear next that really gave her chills. “And I would’ve been extremely disappointed had you given in so quickly, Kit, so just keep on denying yourself what you really want, if that’s how you want to play this.”

She met his eyes, and breathed through her teeth, frustrated that he seemed to be one step ahead of her at all turns.

“Of course, that also means no coming for you either, so time to get you back into bed.” He unlocked her wrists and resituated her on the bed, completely tethered and at his mercy.

“But I thought… Um, don’t I get breakfast?” she asked sheepishly, her hunger now ravenous. And not just for food. Damn him.

“Oh, you’re gonna have your breakfast now, don’t worry,” he explained as he covered her in the soft, warm blanket, providing her with some much-welcomed modesty. “But you forfeited your privilege to eat like a big girl at the table, so now I’m gonna feed you. Don’t go anywhere on me,” he chuckled, evidently pleased at his stupid joke.

She should’ve been pissed that he was about to feed her like a helpless child. She should’ve been pissed that he’d scorched her ass into oblivion over—what seemed to her—a minor infraction. She should’ve been pissed that he’d abducted her in the first place, without giving her any choice in the matter.

But she wasn’t.

As the heat in her bottom throbbed against the plush mattress, she took the opportunity to watch him in the kitchen. Picking up the plate she’d abandoned on the kitchen table, he microwaved it while grabbing cutlery, a couple of napkins, and her juice glass. Each move precise. Every gesture calculated. Always controlled. His painfully raw beauty undermined her anger and—combined with the hunger gnawing at her belly—she resolved to behave. For now.

He set everything down on the nightstand next to the bed and lay a napkin over the blanket on her chest before seating himself in the chair. “Open up for me, Kit.” Snapping a slice of crisp bacon in two, he slipped half into her waiting mouth. “There you go. Good girl.”

Kit was embarrassed to feel her slightly swollen pussy tense up each time he called her a ‘good girl.’ But there were bigger issues to deal with right now. Like the killer breakfast he had dished up. She moaned as the smoky goodness melted in her mouth. Being fed a plateful of bacon by a smoking hot guy? All things being equal—and despite the completely fucked-up situation she found herself in—this was one of the best mornings she’d had in a long time. She opened her mouth again as he fed her some lightly salted scrambled egg. He then lifted the juice glass to her lips and she gulped greedily, trying to quench the thirst she’d forgotten about over the past half hour.

She ate in silence, willingly accepting each mouthful he offered her and maintaining eye contact with him as she chewed and swallowed each bite. She’d never before shared such an intimate exchange. The spanking had been undeniably intense and she still felt a deep, needy hunger within her, but as Vaughn fed her the final forkful, cupping her cheek with his left hand and slipping the last of her meal between her lips, she knew they were sharing something more familiar than she dared to admit. And she soon saw her feelings reflected in his eyes.

“One last sip of juice and you’re all done, Kit.” But rather than bring the glass to her, he tipped it up to his own mouth and drained it. Squeezing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he coaxed her lips open, leaned into her, and poured the last mouthful into her waiting lips. She felt him tug on her lower lip with his before pulling away and whispering a final “Good girl.”

Swallowing the sweet nectar, Kit watched as he adjusted himself, his hardness unmistakable even through the thick fabric of his pants. Evidently I’m not only one who’s a fan of bacon, she mused to herself as she began to realize that she had some level of power over him.

With her belly full, her ass thoroughly spanked, and a watchful dominant looking over her, Kit couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She wasn’t ready to give up the fight—and she was determined to let Vaughn know exactly what he’d signed up for when he decided to take her—but it would have to wait. She fell asleep before he’d left her side.

Read More Info and Buy!

This content is linked through SNP’s newsletter! Don’t miss out on all the free content! It doesn’t stick around long! Add your email below!