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Excerpt for Slave 11: Captured, Demented, Lost by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Slave 11: Captured, Demented, Lost

by D. Michaels

Published by D. Michaels at Smashwords

Copyright © 2018 D. Michaels


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Note to Readers: This short story is a follow up to the previous ten titles of the BDSM series, Slave. If you haven’t read any, I strongly recommend reading the Slave BDSM series in order to make the best of this final experience as it starts one year after Slave 10: Freedom, Reward, Majesty, and references are made to previous storylines. The following are the Slave series book titles:


Slave: Obedience, Loyalty, Submission

Slave 2: Rescue, Conquest, Surrender

Slave 3: Lesson, Reward, Discipline

Slave 4: Possessed, Tormented, Death

Slave 5: Pain, Pleasure, Re-Birth

Slave 6: Command, Reward, Punishment

Slave 7: Respect, Fear, Pleasure

Slave 8: Seduction, Foreplay, Release

Slave 9: Test, Art, Mastery

Slave 10: Freedom, Reward, Majesty


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Slave 11: Captured, Demented, Lost



The sun dawned between two large sun blocking window curtains into the emotionally base shade of the bedroom just enough to see the chandelier with the lights off, when Mina’s eyes awoke in fright. Her window caught it first, on the second story of the mini mansion Lord Jon gave her, but would fail the promise of a sunny day with him once again. After a year of not serving him, her heart felt like the old core of an Avocado, splintered, barely moist. Though he’d returned the contract, it wasn’t marked void or destroyed, and she couldn’t have parted with the timeless vow. Like a ghost adrift, trapped in a dungeon,

Shortly after, her lids started losing its liveliness and openness, unable to carry the weight of them, and hovered just about the horizon of her pupils.

She’d suffered day terrors in the form of marriage-like fantasies far from the touch of her lips, as she lay there shackled by the thickness of her Luxe comforter. Fit for a ten-million-dollar queen, it was extravagant in rich faux fur embellishments, in a shimmering golden color palette a Pope would own. Its long chain pattern across the edges let her mind wander back to her days as his slave.

She’d missed the chain collar around her neck, walked by him, loved by him, transformed by him. Her rising posts with crossbeams that connected them at the top made her crave the cold metal shackles and the onyx-gem links that kept her down like a spider’s web, giving only gave her last breaths of life.

The Egyptian cotton bed cover had a hundreds more intricate thread counts, like sleeping the back of a giant feather, yet cold, neglected by lack of affection. And despite the softness of silky pillows against her face, she was yet again sick to her stomach. It’d been one cycle of eternity since she’d last seen Jon, and though she’d sent over fifty gigabyte’s worth of text messages to his number. Not one reply.

A single tear the shape of a sunflower seed rolled down her right eye, and the other remained puddle in her left cornea. Like a small rocky pond at the bottom of a waterfall, her memories swimming like tadpoles, leaving behind trails of poisonous ink, until her tears came down like lines of maple syrup over slightly burnt pancakes.

How could she have ever started a new life with a man other than Jon? Lord Jon, her captor, her benefactor, her extraterrestrial lover? He’d walked her, like a recently rescued street dog that one couldn’t know the breed to at first sight, still recovering, along the patio, throughout the garden, between the mountains. She’d live her life through the tinted windows of a black Lexus.

Mina turned her face up to admire the pendant chandelier with hammered ore finish. The two-tone finish, the thin crystal bulbs spreading outwards, reflected her lightless ghost in the dimness and dullness, trapped in the few minutes before midnight. The only hand that would moved, his commanding finger tracing over her, every instruction. Silent as an empty coffin, kneeling here and crawling there without question, opinion or doubt.


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