The Executioner Read Online Free PDF Page A

days—my victim. 
    I drive through the night unnoticed and pull into the gated home I own, which is more of a compound than house. Every inch of it is under surveillance and no one goes in or out without invitation. She is the first visitor I’ve had since I took on the life of a hermit. We are alike in more ways than one; I too am unable to bond. It’s not due to suffering from any phobias but due to choice. I have had no desire to be close to anyone emotionally… until now.    

    Kansas
    I awaken, once again nude and chained, in the basement of my captor’s home. Though my mind is in a fog, this time I am well aware this is not a dream. Though a blindfold covers my eyes, I know he is here with me. His presence permeates the room and it stirs a mixture of fear and desire within me. I’m grateful for the drugs I can feel in my system because I know they are responsible for lowering my reservations about being naked and subjected to man who, up until now, I believed to be a figment of my imagination.
    His voice cuts through the air, confirming what I already know to be truth—he has taken me captive.
    He bends down, breathing in my scent as he speaks, and fear grips me.
    “You’re in trouble. You failed to wear perfume, my little Vixen.”
    I reach up and cautiously begin to touch the man’s face I have come to know as ‘The Executioner.’ Today he dons no hood. His brow is furrowed as if he is shocked at my boldness. Once again, I am grateful for the drugs in my system which have relieved any reticence I would normally experience. I gently run my fingers over the eyes I have come to love—one blue, one brown. I’m shocked when my fingers run over a thick scar that goes down his face in a straight line from his eye down to the middle of his cheek. I feel the close cut beard and mustache on his face. His features are carved out in prominent angles and my fingers trail down to his neck which is all thick muscle. His hand viciously grabs mine and his voice comes out in a rabid, threatening growl.
    “Have I given you permission to touch me?”
    “Please let me see you. I have to know if you’re real or a figment of my imagination.”
    He rips the blindfold from my eyes and I blink trying to focus. Though the lighting is dim, the drugs, along with being blindfolded, have caused my vision to be hazy. I look up into the face of the most beautiful man I have ever encountered and once again, against my better judgment, I touch his face. I run my hand over the scar that, on him, looks ironically angelic. He is a warrior of sorts, a dangerous specimen of man that looks as though he is from times long past.
    His hand rapidly shoots out, grabbing my wrist with a vengeance and guiding my fingers to where he wishes them to be—on his cock. I run my hands over his jeans and I feel his cock jump against the material that separates us.
    “Take it out, Vixen. Take it out and please me for your insolence in presuming you may touch me without my permission.”
    I scrape my knees on concrete floor when I kneel in front of him. I can feel the chain pulling at my ankle reminding me who is in control. He viciously fists a handful of my hair.
    “You better make it good, girl.”
    I swallow his cock, almost choking, as he blocks off my airway. He is deep in my throat when he begins fucking my face without mercy. If I’m looking for a kind lover, he won’t be found here.
    I gain a rhythm, allowing him to assault my throat and his groaning only spurs me on.
    “Ahh fuck, you’re such a good girl, letting me use you.”
    Warm spray bathes the back of my throat and I take everything he has to give in order to avoid the impending discipline for touching him without permission.
    He grabs me by my neck, pulling me up against the concrete wall and purposely scraping skin from my back. Tears stream down my face as his fingers close around my throat in a vice like grip. I’m unable to stop looking into the face of a man who looks like