Little Savage

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Rescue

Valerie Ryder settled in behind Daniel, wiggling her p***y against his warm and naked ass. She craved his hardened body and all those grisly muscles. Even his bark set her off. The previous evening had been crazy. She’d bravely called after ten pm, a first, and invited herself over for a late supper. She’d bring the meal. s*x was on both their brains, so not much would get eaten. Surprised that he’d even talk to her at that hour, let alone allow her in his house, she made the date before he could change his mind and was on his doorstep within a half hour.

After making her dance naked from one end of the house to the next while dodging his leather whip, they landed in the master bed where he screwed her ass until it was raw; Valerie loving every second of his foul abuse.

Because it was so late, he let her stay the night.

“Just don’t get used to it,” he’d warned.

At dawn, she was still there, purring in his ear. “Hum, now was that so bad? A whole night with a woman in your bed?”

Feeling the sensuous warmth of her soft skin, he turned inside her arms and kissed her forehead, almost too chastely for such an intimate moment.

“Bad? Did I say something was bad?” he groused.

“I just rarely spend the night.”

“As it should be, Val. You take up too much room.” He squeezed her ass cheek as though he’d tear it off.

She, in turn, gave his hip a firm smack, then quickly pulled from his arms and jumped to her feet. “Gotta leave, hon, I’m due in court early and I still have a brief to finish.” She gazed around the room. “So, where are my clothes?”

He peered up at her and shrugged. “You must have left them downstairs.”

“Right.” Her eyes twinkled merrily and she sped off. She washed, dressed and applied her make-up in the downstairs bath, then dashed back to the master bedroom and gave Daniel a peck on the cheek. He was already in the bath, just out of the shower and drying off.

He grumbled as usual. He was lousy in the early morning hours.

“You’re up early,” she noted, as she watched him shave.

“Mission of mercy,” he said without explanation.

“You? Mission of mercy?”

“Don’t ask. Just get out of here and on your way.”

“You know as charming as you are, Daniel Broc,” she ripped off sarcastically, “I’m surprised you don’t have women banging down your door and dropping at your feet.”

“Get the hell out of here!” he boomed.

She laughed from the bathroom door, smirked coyly, and turned to leave.

“Ah, Val…” he called her back.

“Yes, dear?” she singsonged, c*****g her head as he peeked out.

“Thanks for last night. You do know how to move that ass of yours.”

“Do I now?” She smiled broadly, then she sashayed out of the room, wiggling her robust fanny for a parting s****l tease. The dark-eyed brunette was a tough attorney who liked her demons purged by a good beating—no different from a number of women Daniel had become acquainted with since his return to the States. Beating her was a good way to assuage his own demons; plus she he liked the way she f****d.

***

A four foot stone wall surrounded much of Brauer’s estate, a fact that Marcus pointed out to Daniel while driving alongside that wall for nearly 200 yards as they made their approach to the fortress. He was quick to mention that the hefty structure had been built by slave labor to discourage riff-raff, nosy neighbors and curious law enforcement types. The Baron had begun erecting the wall twenty years before. Every morning for nearly ten years, he, or the estate foreman, was up at the crack of dawn marching scantily clad slaves to the newest portion of the wall where they spent as much as twelve grueling hours in everything from searing heat to bitter cold, uncovering field stones and fashioning them into a barricade that would separate Brauer’s domain from the real world. He would have been happier if he could have made the wall twelve feet high, but since that was impractical, he added concertina wire just inside the perimeter to fortify his defenses. Chain link and barbed wire would have been good enough on their own, but the stone wall created an important visual impact in Brauer’s mind. There were only three entrance points: a service entrance off the road, the main entrance fifty yards beyond that, and another at the back of the property which was heavily padlocked.

To drive onto the estate grounds, Marcus pulled off at the main entrance, parked his black SUV in front of the wrought iron gate, hopped from his car and engaged three separate keying systems and a pass code before the gate finally swung open. He had just enough time to pull inside before the gate began to swing back into place and shut. It would take a password to get out.

“You would have thought he was making moonshine,” Marcus laughed.

“Or keeping women enslaved,” Daniel added wryly, although he regarded the strict security measures with some interest. Was it just slave girls he was keeping protected from nosy neighbors?

“Looks as though he has something to hide, doesn’t it?” Marcus said, as he peered through the woods. The thick undergrowth of leafed out brambles and vines beneath the trees made the forest nearly impassible, unless you were on a dedicated trail. A half mile in, the woods gave way to an open space of manicured lawn and gardens, then the estate house: a bold, impressive but basically sprawling mix of brick and wood-sided additions to a 19th century stone farmhouse. Obviously, little thought had been given to the aesthetic integrity of the structure as the estate was expanded and yet somehow the odd elements didn’t look all that mismatched—unless you were to scrutinize the thing carefully. Taken as a whole, it made quite an impact on new visitors, though the ostentatious sort of wealth it implied hardly made much impact on Daniel.

“You have business in the house?” he asked, “or should we go straight for the girl?”

“I mentioned the computer…I’d like to get that now.” Marcus took off for the house with Daniel at his heels. “There’s still a caretaker here, but I’d feel better if that computer were in safe hands.” He unlocked the door with another three keys and password, then the pair went directly to Brauer’s office, a large paneled room lined with bookshelves, which had the appearance of being carefully picked over, dozens of volumes tipped to the side falling into the place where other books had been removed. A dozen packed boxes stood by the entrance waiting to be carried away. What was left were the large pieces of furniture, all massive, Old World in style, each as solid as the next and just as ugly to the eye, at least Daniel’s eye.

Marcus had already packed a box with the items he wanted. He checked through it one more time, then lifted it in his arms and carried it out through the front, placing the box in the tail end of the vehicle. Before closing the hatch, he withdrew a shopping bag. “Clothes, she’ll need some clothes.”

“I would imagine so,” Daniel replied.

All morning he had felt an undercurrent of anxiety from his friend which caused him some concern. Though Marcus seemed pretty straightforward in his description of the girl and her status on the estate, Daniel had to wonder if he were not entirely candid about the situation given his current state of nerves.

“She’s this way,” he said, starting off in the direction of the outbuildings. They passed by a stable that still housed several animals, and moved on to the frame and concrete structure just beyond. Opening the unlocked door, the two made their way through a small storeroom and office, then into a corridor of side-by-side kennels, twenty, maybe thirty feet in length. The chain link cages were each four feet high, just as wide and twice as long; all were empty. Each opened onto the dog run, a slab of concrete about eight feet wide that led to a grassy pasture area for the dogs to roam. The kennels were all cleaned and hosed down, smelling faintly of disinfectant. At the far end, and removed from the other cages, were three more of the same design, same height, width and length, which opened into another concrete area, and beyond that, to a smaller sloping grassy place shaded by a towering maple. Two of the cages were entirely empty, just like the others; in the third, which was bordered on one side by a concrete wall, was a pallet bed with a thin pillow and blanket, a water bowl, a food dish, and nothing else, except for a number of magazine pictures that were taped to the concrete just above the bed.

Daniel stared at them for a moment, studying them carefully. The largest picture was of New York’s Central Park at Christmastime, lit with thousands of twinkling white lights. There was a picture of the crescent moon in a sky filled with stars—looked as if it had been cut from National Geographic; then one of an English country garden, and several of individual flowers. Each photograph was dog-eared, some were stained, others were curling at the edges as if they had been there a long while. Other than the sparse furnishings the cage was empty. The two men exited the kennel through a door leading to the exercise area.

“The other kennels were for the dogs, these were for human canines.”

“Makes sense.”

The girl was not inside the fenced area, however gazing into the distance beyond the chain link, beyond the maple and down a sloping hillside, they could see a naked female walking through the gardens below, stopping occasionally to sniff something or pluck a weed from around a plant. There was nearly an acre of plowed garden area for vegetables and flowers; the flowers still bloomed, but much of the vegetable garden had been left untended and had become a mass of weeds. Beyond the garden were pasture areas butting up against the dense hardwood forest that surrounded the forty acre property.

The sight of the girl moving almost on tiptoe was immediately intoxicating and the two men stopped and stared as the lithe young female moved at her graceful and leisurely pace, apparently in no particular direction and looking as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Her slender body was nicely proportioned, firm, lean and energetic; her spirit surprisingly lighthearted given the current circumstances.

Her nicely rounded ass was plainly evident, so were her strong thighs. When she turned in profile, they saw her breasts, just handfuls of soft flesh crowned with pointy n*****s. Her brownish hair came nearly to her shoulders and looked shaggy, but maybe no more than the messy styles women were currently wearing. As far as he could tell, there were no physical signs of her slave status—no collar and cuffs, which might be expected under the circumstances, but no tattoos, piercings or other identify markings either. At least none that he could see from that distance. This surprised him considering the number of years she’d been with Brauer. The lack of markings made her appear almost virginal—which she certainly was not. Regardless, the pristine look of her youthful body suited her. She was small, almost fairy-like in her nimble movements. Was she smiling to herself? Hard to say, however, she was obviously enjoying the tranquility of the gardens and the noonday sun.

“Lovely girl,” Daniel spoke first.

“Yes, well,” Marcus sighed, “she looks innocuous now, but she can sure pack a punch.”

“Pack a punch?”

Marcus laughed nervously, while massaging his jaw. “And she can kick.”

“I see,” Daniel said, guarding his feelings, though the scene of the girl’s and Marcus’ first confrontation began to form a clear picture in his mind. Kicking. Punching. Apparently, she had a temper and if he were guessing right, she had no desire to be removed from the estate. Why would she be? Serenity of this sort was difficult to find in the modern world; Brauer’s domain had obviously been a throwback to an earlier time, one where El felt perfectly content.

“So, she’s a hellcat? This is why you insisted I come?” Daniel asked, as he continued observing the lovely female.

“Yes. I guess so,” he reluctantly admitted. “I’m sure that Nickolas, the caretaker, and I could have put her in chains and stuffed her in the back of my car. We could have caged and gagged her. But I was hoping for something a little less severe,” he grimaced. “But regardless of what it takes to get her out of here she can’t stay a day longer. I have to get back to my regular business for the next couple weeks and with the mansion nearly stripped of ‘all that nasty stuff’—that’s how Frieda, Brauer’s sister, refers to it—she can’t stay here. The truck comes tomorrow to pick up all the fetish gear, and everything the family wants gone. Once that’s taken to the warehouse I’m done until the auction at the end of the month.”