February 21, 2023
The Ramchandra Series. Approved reading by the captive. On the warm afternoons she liked to lay naked on her bed, covered only in a thin sheet, reading novels.
It was, as was promised to her, a life of captivity.
She was confined in the giant hall, no clothes or footwear. No money. No keys. Her nudity was her leash.
A blind but capable lady stayed at her beck and call. She watched movies from drives. She listened to music on her ipod.
She stretched and did Yoga, under the instructions of her assistant; the blind lady.
In the course of her stay, she had grown fairly self-contained. She was accustomed to spending time alone. She found her own amusement.
She had grown to know that she was restricted, but she was secured. She was safe, hidden, caged in her captor's private world. He liked to keep it suitable for his prize. Bonsai and orchids assembled along the window panes. Replaced every week with a fresh batch by her caretaker. A pool of crystal clear water just outside, for refreshments. Her captive kept keen eyes that she was cared for.
When she first arrived, she had a name. Tista.
Sweet name, but she had to grow beyond that. She had to abandon her name, her first identity.
"He will come for you. Just you wait". She had hissed like a tormented feline.
"Does he know where you are?" Her captor had sneered.
"Do you know where you are?"
"I will find out by myself. Even if just the locality". She explained.
"Then," he said, "Nobody knows where you are."
She feared this. In fact, it seemed to give her a thrill. It excited her. She looked at the front door. Locked tight.
Her captor spelt out the situation:
"Nobody knows where you are. Nobody is coming to get you. Nobody can hear you. Nobody can reach you. Nobody can rescue you. Nobody can judge you. It is just you, and I".
"I", meaning her Keeper. Her Captor.
He had kept her for sex.
He kept her- his bonded prize- to enjoy, for pleasure, to shape her according to his desires.
Quiet captivity is the necessary setting. He maintained her hall-her prison- a quiet and secluded space.
This conformed to the restraints he had put in the hall. She was to speak low. She was to be demure. She was provided a bell to beckon her caretaker. They were to speak in half-whisper. Calling from room to room was strictly forbidden.
It took time, it took effort. Slowly, but surely, the rebellious mare had turned into a compliant rabbit.
The captor's intention always was to lull his prize into a serene safety net of leisure and ordered routine.
The purpose of that, was to subdue her. To render her malleable.
And the goal of that, of course, was to prepare her for his use.
On the first day she arrived, her master had looked at her and said three things he needed to do to her. Sexualize her. Physicalize her. Simplify her.
He therefore placed her in an environment of low stimulation. Every attempt she made to raise her voice was silenced down. Every attempt she tried to raise her arms was subdued. Her caretaker, though blind, guarded her with iron fists.
She was tutored to spend her time, leisuring around, separated, protected, isolated. Naked and exposed.
He had an unspoken policy. To keep her captive, yet not devoid of the entertainment. He kept her aware of the latest developments in regards. Hence, the latest book of Ramchandra Series. Lanka.
And now, he had his control.
The lady was presented before him as the offering on her knees. Her shapely posterior facing him.
A high flush of red on her cheeks exposed how excited she was. How terrified, yet composed.
The Captor took a careful look at his prize. His eyes looked dangerous. Brimming with thoughts and emotions she would never articulate.
He was built like a linebacker, with dark hair and brown eyes. His skin was deeply tanned from the sun, and despite the fact that he looked really good in his button down shirt that hugged his hard earned muscles.
His breath was rugged, like a beast watching over his prey.
His musk started to fill up the hall. The air she breathed.
Permeated her defenses. Overwhelmed her inhibitions. Banished her indecision.
When he laid his hand on her, all hopes of her rescue was quelled.
She could feel the shimmed in his hands. The excitement that he was holding back, with great restraint. Excitement of thoughts regarding what he was to do to her.
He cuffed her wrists and ankles. A gag and blindfold followed next.
A stocking hood, and a pair of earbuds and were placed on her ears. The ear buds were substitute for earplugs. They fitted snugly in her ears and conveniently played a soft music in high sterio from the wireless music system.
Once the hood was fitted, she was sense deprived. Sans the music flowing seamlessly into her ear and consciousness.
"What do you think when you are around me?" The first sentence spoke into her ears.
"Scared? Owned?" She guessed.
A sharp slap crossed across her face. Her cheek began to sting. A slap followed through, leaving her senses reeling.
"I do not like the fact that you are thinking". He explained.
She nodded obediently. She had understood her Captor was a control freak.
"Just listen to me." He reached into his pocket and pressed on the switch. An slow, deep music started playing and filled her nerves with calmness.
Her Captor's voice started rumbling, overshadowing the music into the background.
"Just listen to me". His captor said in a soothing voice as he prepared her for himself.
He started lubricating her as the voice started to play. It was heavy, rugged. Her Captor was speaking in low growls. Sending shivers down her spine.
"Listen to me, you little rabbit." The voice kept playing in her head. "Listen to my voice. That is all you have to do. You do not need to think. You just are your Master's prized property. His prey."
The audio kept playing for 45 minutes.
She was overwhelmed with the stimulations. Her defenses dropped. All tensions of self possession dropped from her flesh.
Once he was convinced it had entered her mind, her soul, her shackles of self identity abandoned, he let the audio close and hissed in her ears.
"Do you accept me now as your master?"
"Yes," she replied. "Yes, Master Aarav."
"Who are you now? Tista?"
"Tista is gone. Her husband will not find her anymore." Her voice echoed in the walls of her prison.