Peter Jensen - The Captive Bride

The older man had stood up and walked through the orchard toward her, saying something about wanting to show her the guest house although she still hadn't seen the main one. Becky had become uneasy again, but she followed him about a quarter mile through pine forest until they came to a small brick cottage overlooking the sea.

And so another four hours had passed… now, at eight o'clock, Becky sat on the cottage porch and watched the huge orange sun sink like an egg yolk into the Mediterranean. Schneider was inside the house, mixing her fourth drink of the afternoon. Where is Jack anyway? she wondered with growing irritation. Her mind raced over several hair-pin curves on the mountain road, but Schneider reassured her that an accident was highly unlikely. Besides, she thought now, if there had been any trouble the police would have contacted them by this time.

Becky sipped anxiously at the gin remaining in her almost empty glass. With mounting sadness, she watched as the sun disappeared over the fading purple horizon. If only Jack were here to enjoy it with her, if only he had been here all afternoon!

She had really drunk too much, she realized, noting a slight dizziness as she tried to fix her gaze on some distant palm trees.

"My dear, why don't you come inside?" Schneider asked from the door, interrupting her thoughts. "It's getting quite cool out there."

"No, I like it here," Becky said fearfully.

Schneider entered the patio and she took her drink, sinking back into the chair.

Suddenly, he strode to the deck railing and waved. Becky's heart rose hopefully in her chest. She leaned forward in her chair, peering over the edge of the deck to the ground almost two hundred feet below. Her heart fell in disappointment. A thin, middle-aged man stood at the edge of the pine forest that bordered along the water.

"Where's Eric?" Schneider grinned over the railing.

Becky couldn't make out the reply. She had the feeling it was in a different language.

"Send him up," Schneider ordered and waved again to the old man. Then he sat down in a deck chair beside Becky.

Schneider chuckled at her look of curiosity and explained with relish, "Eric is a German shepherd. He's totally faithful to his master as German shepherds always are. When I die he will have to be killed. It would be fatal for another man to attempt to control him."

Suddenly, Becky started in her chair as the huge black dog tore through the house and leapt onto the patio. He turned toward her and growled, his white fangs jutting from his black gums as Becky rose quickly out of her chair and backed toward the railing.

Schneider laughed as the dog approached her, his tail wagging and nose bobbing over her naked thighs as he sought to get his nose under her dress.

"Pet him, stroke him. He wouldn't hurt you unless I signaled. He is trained only to kill at my command."

"I can't, really I can't." Becky felt woozy, her legs already unsteady from the liquor she had been drinking the past several hours.

"Eric!" Schneider hit the dog playfully on the rump and sent him scampering off the patio and out through the house.

"German shepherds are a remarkable breed," Fritz said proudly. "I had my last dog twelve years. When his teeth fell out, I had steel false teeth put in. He was not a dog to tangle with, let me tell you."

Schneider watched as the young girl returned to her chair and bent forward, inadvertently exposing her youthfully swelling breasts to his lewd gaze. She was well-formed in a classical fashion, her hips flaring from a waist as thin as the stem of a wine-glass and her tanned thighs tapering down to perfectly curved legs.

His head reeled with lust-inciting thoughts of her naked and defenseless body, helplessly impaled on his skewering cock. But all that would come soon enough, he reminded himself. Hans had just signaled that Christina and Jack were finally at the main house and so it would be only a matter of time until the fun began.

"Could you drive me back to Palma now?" she finished off the drink and asked Schneider. "Christina must've stayed in town to shop."

"She'd better not have," Schneider joked, evading her question.

"Still, I'd better go," her words were slurred from the alcohol.

Schneider looked at her softly cascading blonde hair with an amused expression. He had caught the first signs of pleading in her voice, and it made his blood race, foreshadowing the further desperation she would exhibit before submitting her curvaceous body in total subjugation to him.

"My dear, we can't leave just when the stars are coming out," a cruelly teasing tone crept into his voice.

"Oh, it is late!" Becky exclaimed and struggled to rise out of the chaise lounge. She wobbled unsteadily and the dark-haired man grabbed her by the elbow. Her hands found the deck railing and grasped it tight. Leaning over the deck, she looked out to sea with blurred vision. The sky had turned a velvety black and was dotted thickly with stars.

As if in a dream, she felt Schneider move closer to her. His arm reached around her back to support her swaying body. Then she felt his hand inserting itself between her upper arm and side. Slowly, the hand pressed forward, moving so gently she was hardly aware of it at first. Then she felt the soft pressure cupping against her sweater-clad breast. He ran his hand in a soft circle over her breast and traced his fingers gently upward until they touched the hardening nipple. Becky tried to move away from him, but his fingers firmly clasped the tingling nipple. They massaged it until she felt a burst of pleasurable sensation pulse through her suddenly throbbing vagina.

"Don't…" Becky began. "Please don't… touch my breasts."

Suddenly, the young blonde wife's knees gave way and her body fell against the German. She felt him place one of her arms around his shoulder, one of his own around her back. Then they were moving out of the guest house and through the forest, branches snapping and her feet sailing over the hard earth as he half-carried.her back to the main villa.

"You took quite a spill," Schneider chuckled from where he stood beside the bed.

Becky looked dazedly around the room – it was a bedroom. Moments before she had come to, dressed only in a large robe.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked, a trace of alarm in her voice. She tried to stand up and had almost succeeded when the dark-haired older man put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her firmly back to a seated position on the edge of the bed.

"Where are my clothes?" she whimpered again.

"Be quiet. You're in no condition to go home."

She shuddered as Schneider sat down beside her on the bed; he roughly pulled at the clinging nylon robe the blonde had found herself in.

"No, don't do that!" the terrified girl gasped as the front slipped open, exposing her ripely uplifting young breasts and small girlish waist. She pulled the top of the robe closed, but his hands moved farther down her trembling body. He pulled at one of her thighs and her slender legs jerked open. Becky's eyes widened in disbelief at the lewd expression transforming the older man's face. He sighed deeply in appreciation, his eyes focused on the thin coral slit gleaming between her blonde, hair-covered vaginal lips.

"Please let me go," Becky sobbed as she tried to wrestle her thigh from his grasping hand. "I want to… get back to my husband."

Schneider chuckled. "You want to see your husband?"

"Yessss…" Becky followed Schneider's gaze over her shoulder. At the head of the bed was what seemed to be like a thick window because she heard no voices. There was only the image of Christina's ovaled mouth working hungrily up and down over Jack's thick upstanding cock!

"It's a two-way mirror," Schneider said. "But adjusted so that they can't see us."