by Alta Hensley
I threw my head back, giving in. At that moment, my body was under his rule, to decree however he pleased. And it seemed to please him to suck on me again and again, in and out, twisting gently to one side then the other, as though stretching me for something else. Mindless in pleasure, I no longer was a woman with a man I barely knew in the back of a car. I was only there to be pleased. I blocked out everything else but the extreme need for him to thrust his cock deep inside of me. His mouth and tongue were not enough. I needed all of him. I could barely wait for when he would bring the broad tip of his cock to touch my folds and spread me so wide I would once again feel the fangs of the snake.
But once again, Kenneth stopped. He sat up, once more draping my dress over me, and scooted over to his side of the back seat.
He’d stopped, but I wasn’t surprised.
Ignoring what had just happened, he looked out the window into nothing and pretended I wasn’t there.
Bastard.
Bastard.
Chapter Eighteen
Kenneth
“We’re here,” I announced as we pulled up the circular driveway that sat in front of the large plantation house. A house that years ago housed rich men who owned slaves. Funny how nothing really had changed over time.
“Yeah, we’re here,” Anita mumbled under her breath.
For a brief moment, I could see she considered escape again. She had glanced down at the door handle, and knew she wondered if she would be able to open the door, hop out of the vehicle and head to the bayou that surrounded the property and hide with the gators. The gators would be safer than Marco Nunez. She would be better off taking her chances with the beasts in the wilderness than the beasts all around her now.
“It’s not too late. You can cancel the contract right now. Do you want out of this?” I asked, actually feeling concerned. I wanted to help her, but she needed to help herself. She could help herself.
“You know I do.”
“Well then, you know what you need to do. Give the money back. Where is it?”
She shook her head. She was going to stand by her decision. So, if that meant getting pissed on and smacked around a bit, then so be it.
“You really are infuriating,” I said as I got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her.
I walked with my hand on Anita’s lower back up the long walkway toward Marco’s mansion. It was going to take all my might not to rip off Marco’s arm from his body if he so much as touched Anita in any violent manner. No sooner had we reached the door than Marco opened it with fury in his eyes.
“It’s about time,” he began as he scowled at both Anita and me. “Go up to my study, Anita, where we were before and wait for me,” he ordered.
Anita didn’t hesitate. She didn’t look back. She simply walked away like a lifeless robot. Had I stolen all the life from her?
“Everyone but Kenneth leave,” he commanded to the entourage of his shitheads who’d entered the house along with me.
No sooner had the last man walked out the door, than Marco took hold of my collar, bunching the fabric with his clenched fist. His other hand held my arm behind my back painfully. He forced me down the hallway and into the front room.
“What the fuck happened? You all assured me when I paid for her and signed that contract that everything would go smoothly. How is one of your staff members running off with my goddamn money everything running smoothly? I had your word, Mr. Saxon. I take a man’s word seriously,” Marco said, slamming me into a chair.
I suppose I could have resisted and tried to put up a fight, though most likely would have ended up being killed by the end of it. Marco had men all around, so even if I escaped Marco, other men would be waiting. Where the fuck was Harley Crow now? Fuck me, I should have let him handle this whole mess from the very beginning.
I held strong against him, showing no signs of weakness or surrender, yet I struggled to maintain my temper. I couldn’t fight him—even though I had a good chance of winning the battle—but I had to also consider Anita in all this. If I pissed Marco off too much, he would just have me and Anita killed and wash his hands of the whole dirty situation.
“You did have my word, which is why I personally delivered her back to you. I take that contract you had with her and Spiked Roses very seriously. I too believe in a man’s word,” I answered him. “I can understand why you are pissed.” As I said the last word, the vision of Marco pissing on Anita came to mind and I internally scolded my sick sense of humor.
Marco studied me, no doubt looking for any reason to hurt me. “So the contract is still in place?” Marco asked me. “I can do what I had planned?”
I nodded, hating myself as I did so. “Unless she wants to terminate it and give you the money back.”
His eyebrows rose. “Does she?”
“No,” I said. “She wants to keep the money and plans to earn it as agreed upon.”
“I want extra days,” he added. “The days she was gone don’t count.”
“Of course. And because of all the problems, Spiked Roses is prepared to waive your yearly dues. Consider it our apology, and hopefully it will not taint you on future tastings in The Tasting Room.”
He didn’t say anything, but crossed his arms against his chest and stared at me.
I cleared my throat. “Miss Kyle got scared off. She is new to this, and although she is wrong and knows it, she really meant no ill will.”
“I’ve killed people for less than that. She stole from me.”
I nodded. “I can see how you would feel that way. But I assure you, she did not intend for it to come across as stealing from you.”
Again, Marco said nothing but just studied me.
“But, Marco, I need to have your word that no harm will come of her. I can’t leave here until I have your word. And since you believe in the power of the word, as do I, I know I can trust it. You can not kill her, or torture her, or do anything that is not spelled out in the contract.”
Reaching for a knife in his belt, Marco placed the tip of the dagger at my neck, piercing my flesh until blood was dripping down and staining the cotton material of my shirt. Marco stared at me directly in the eyes, assessing, waiting for me to cry out in pain, to beg for him to stop his torture and have mercy on me. He was trying to scare me. He was trying to prove he was the mighty mafia and could kill me, bury me, and no one would be the wiser.
I refused to give him the satisfaction, remaining silent, barely flinching as the blade cut into my skin even though the fire sizzled along my flesh. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. It was bluff. He wasn’t an idiot. He would have had to deal with the wrath of the other members of Spiked Roses. Even if you took the lethal Harley Crow out of the equation, each man would rain down their wrath on Marco and his goons if they did kill me. Marco wasn’t a stupid man. A motherfucker, yes. But not stupid.
“Did you fuck her?” Marco asked, bending down close to my ear, the blade still threatening. “Did you fuck her while she was under contract with me?”
When I didn’t answer right away, Marco pressed the dagger into my neck a little further. I was going to kill this motherfucker… but I had to keep Anita in mind. If I acted rashly, she would surely pay the price too. No witnesses. No mess. But enough was fucking enough. Reaching up, I grabbed his wrist pulling the knife away, my eyes locked on his.
“I admit I owed you one, but if you ever put a knife to me again, the outcome will be different.” Dropping my hold on his wrist, I stood, forcing him to step back, never looking at the knife, never allowing my gaze to drift from his.
“Did you? Did you fuck that tight ass of hers?” Marco demanded, his anger bubbling over at my reaction, and yet he slid the knife back into its sheath. Just like in a courtroom, the calmer and more collected I was, the better chance I had of winning.
“Yes.” It took all my might to not beat the living shit out of the man for having the audacity of being so fucking stupid as to threaten my life. “Do you blame me?”
<
br /> “No, I guess I don’t.” He smiled. Sick fucker. “I bet it was good.”
I shrugged. “Nothing you and I haven’t had before.” Lying between my teeth, but I didn’t want the asshole to picture having amazing, mind blowing sex with Anita. No fucking way.
“Maybe I should have added that to the contract,” he said as he took a few steps back.
I shrugged again. “Not worth the money if you want my opinion. It’ll cost you a pretty penny and frankly… mediocre pussy.”
“Yeah, the pretty ones are usually the worst fucks,” Marco said as he walked toward the door. Looking over his shoulder, he added, “I’m sure you can show yourself out. I have a contract to honor on my end.” With that, he left the room leaving me tempted to kill the motherfucker with my bare hands.
Chapter Nineteen
Anita
“Let go of me. You’re hurting me,” I snapped, my words laced with pain. “You might be pissed off at me, but you can’t cause bodily harm. It says so in the contract.”
He only squeezed my arm harder, not seeming to care about the bruises that undoubtedly would be inflicted. I suppose I should have been grateful that he hadn’t beaten me to death, or killed me in some other tortuous way the minute he entered the room. But I couldn’t cower for the man. I couldn’t.
“You have been a very, very bad pet. Do you know what I do to bad little kitties?”
I readied myself for the fury that was about to be unleashed on me. Marco was not a gentle man, this much I could figure out. Nor a caring, a compassionate, or a man of mercy. Tennessee had warned me. The girls at the club had warned me. And yet, I was the stubborn idiot who not only signed on to his list of kinky demands, but I’d taken the money and ran. I couldn’t blame the man for being angry. Not really. I was the one who broke the rules. Not him. But I still hated him, and he was nothing but a disgusting monster in my book. The look in his eyes exuded evil. The devil himself could not have looked any more menacing.
“Did you have fun running away only to be caught? Is that how you like it? You want your body to be taken? You say no but you really mean yes? You’re just lucky I didn’t put a hit on your bitch ass.” His laugh cut through every ounce of bravado I could gather.
What good would begging do? He wouldn’t change his mind. He wouldn’t grant me leniency for my crime. No pardon in his world. And even if I wanted to terminate the contract and give back the money, something told me that all negotiations were over.
Slap!
The sound of his open hand making contact with my cheek crashed in my head louder than any noise I had heard before. But there would be no bruise bad enough to cry foul. A slap was not in violation of the contract. No blood. No damage. Just a fucked up way to treat a woman. Who slaps women across the face these days?
Marco Nunez apparently.
The shock, the stunned surprise—whatever it was had mercifully saved me from retaliating and attacking like a pitbull. I would have never allowed a man to hit me. Never. Not if he wanted to keep his hand. But this was different. What could I do? Scream? Cry? Fight back? I had no real viable option other than to continue to stand there in stunned silence.
“Take your fucking clothes off and become my pet,” was his only command.
I hated him. I hated this. Was the money worth it? No, but I had already climbed the hill that I would die on. The battle had begun and there was no choice but to see it through.
Putting up a fight, screaming, pleading—all would fuel his hate. Weakness only made him stronger. My only hope of enduring this night—these two weeks—was by doing as he ordered and try not to add to his evil onslaught.
I did as he asked, removed my dress, and lowered myself on all fours before him, awaiting his next command.
“Suck me, my dirty bitch,” he said as he lowered his pants revealing his flaccid penis.
My stomach recoiled at the thought of placing his limp, shriveled nub on my tongue, but I also knew I had no choice. Hopefully, if I performed the act well enough, I wouldn’t have to do anything else because he would be too exhausted from coming and not be able to do anything but sleep like the lazy fucker he was.
Closing my eyes in hopes I could ease the nightmare before me, I placed his salty flesh in my mouth, struggling not to gag when his musky scent entered my nostrils. My eyes watered as I desperately tried not to vomit all over his bristly pubic hairs.
His moan burned my ears. I hated giving this man pleasure of any sort. As his hips thrust his growing cock further into my mouth, I dutifully bobbed my head up and down, refusing to let this man take what very little was left of my soul. Up and down, up and down was the cadence I silently chanted. I could… and would survive this, but I was so ashamed. So very ashamed of what I had become. Nothing was worth this. Nothing would make this right. I had become a whore. There was no euphemism, and no way to sugar coat the situation that I had willingly placed myself in.
He fisted a chunk of my hair. “There’s no escaping me,” he said as if he was the all mighty master. If I hadn’t been closing my eyes, I would have rolled them at how little I respected this man. “You belong to me. You make no choices.” He moaned and thrust even deeper, filling my mouth with his creamy seed without warning. “You make no choices, bitch. None. I make them all,” he grunted as he pumped his hips against my lips, emptying himself completely in the back of my throat. I considered spitting it back out, but again, I needed to pick my battles. Maybe this evening would end with just a vile blowjob.
He kept his dick in my mouth until it began to soften. I did nothing more but remain in position, swallowing the last remnants of his filthy essence as I tried to block out the black demons in my mind that threatened to consume me with despair.
“Lick me clean, my kitty. Lick every last bit of my milk.”
He was a sick motherfucker, and I wanted to gouge out his eyes with my kitty nails. Yes, I’d be his pussycat. Let me claw the fuck out of him until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.
“Stay on all fours, pet,” he commanded as he pulled up his pants. “Spread your legs wider so I can see that little kitty of yours.”
I did so, not allowing the panic in that knocked on my soul. But my body involuntarily shook as I waited to see what would happen next.
“Put your face on the floor and spread your legs further. I want to see that tight puckered hole of your ass before I punish it raw.”
Giving me only a second to do as he asked, Marco placed a cold metal dildo at my opening. I didn’t need to look back to know what it was, but when I pushed up on my elbows and glanced back, my assumptions were correct. But what surprised me was at the end of the dildo was a fur tail, giving off the impression of a kitty tail. He was going to fuck my ass with a kitty tail dildo. I could also see that the dildo was so large that no matter how relaxed I tried to be, the dildo would spread my anus to the point of maybe tearing. Fuck what if he tore me? It would be against the contract and cause bodily harm, but by the time I could cry breach, it would be too late. I would have a torn asshole. My only saving grace was that the metal was so smooth it slid in easily enough, because lube was clearly not something Marco believed in.
In it went. No ease, no waiting until my body naturally allowed entry, nothing but a firm thrust. This was not at all like the erotic sensations of what Kenneth had given me. This was not Kenneth in any way. And, of course, Marco didn’t allow my bottom hole to adjust to the intrusion as he began thrusting in and out, quick and strong. I whimpered, but I would not cry out. I would not give the man the power of knowing how the painful and humiliating punishment ripped at my shattered soul even more.
In went the metal dildo—feeling as if it had ripped me in two. Out went the dildo—expanding my tight entrance to the point where my whimper turned to an uncontrolled scream. The fur of the kitty tail brushed against my upper thighs and along the seam of my ass. With tears running down my face, I could no longer show courage because I had none left. My body hurt, my soul destroyed by the
excessive anal abuse coming down on me.
“Please,” I cried out. Not for Marco’s ears since I knew my plea would mean nothing to this vile creature. But I called out to the angels of mercy around me, begging for something. Desperately pleading to anyone or anything. “Please, please, please,” I cried out. “Please.”
“You are my pet. My kitty. Meow for me as I fuck your ass with your dirty little tail.”
What the fuck? What was wrong with this man? Was he getting off on this?
“Now,” he commanded as he shoved the kitty dildo up my ass further. “Meow like a good little pussy. Be my dirty kitty.” He pushed the dildo in harder. “Now!”
“Meow,” I squeaked as the anal rod plunged even deeper into my back channel. “Meow.”
“That’s my dirty, dirty pussy. Master likes his dirty kitty when she meows. Again!” He punctuated every syllable with a push or pull of the punishing tool.
“Meow.” What more could I say? What more could I do?
“You are my bad pussy, and I will lock you in a cage for trying to escape.” He jammed the dildo even deeper, harder. The fur of the tail made contact with my anus, telling me that the large dildo was fully inside of me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. And I was. I was so sorry that I did this to myself. So sorry that I had allowed greed to put me in this situation. Nothing, and no amount of money was worth this. I would rather be the poor trailer trash on exit 222, mile marker 51 eating expired canned beans than this.