By Way of Pain: Assassins (Criminal Delights Book 12)

by J. M. Dabney

  “You do. You crave the lash of my whip. The sting of my hand. You beg with every look for me to fuck that pretty mouth. You love that I hold your life in my hands. Lie to me again.”

  The monstrous cock that didn't fit his skinny frame pushed at my bare ass. His slacks were the only protection between us. Unlike my time in the basement where his body showed no response, he was hard. My brain urged me to fight—to run—my body had other plans.

  “Kiss me, sir.”

  “That would be a reward, of which you are undeserving.”

  The words forming in my mind frightened me, but I parted my lips and let them free. “Punish me then.” I couldn’t lie any longer, and I hated myself for these new and frightening cravings. I didn't like being in charge—agonizing over every decision, worrying if it was right or wrong. He took that burden from me and as sick as that made me, I was too weak to give it up. I wanted him to keep me. I'd longed for Cowen since I interviewed for the job as his office manager. I'd enjoyed his control in the office, and now that I knew he was my captor, I wanted more.

  I'd fought it so hard, and I was tired. I gasped as he pushed me away, and as I turned to him, he handed me a paper bag.

  “Take it upstairs, use the items to ready yourself for me. I will come for you when I'm done working. When I come upstairs, you will be on the bed with your plug in and ready to take my cock. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Go.” He turned away as he dismissed me.

  I wanted to question, to ask what was in the bag, but I slowly strode through the house and upstairs to the bedroom. When I entered the bathroom, I opened the bag to find several boxes, my face flamed at the items inside. I was embarrassed as I read the directions and knelt on the floor, bending forward. For the next hour, I prepared myself, taking a long shower and savoring the hot water. I used lubed fingers to prepare my ass for the massive plug. As much as I wanted to linger, I needed to be ready when he came for me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cowen

  I ran the smooth lengths of ropes through my hands as I unhurriedly took the stairs to the second floor. Once I'd dismissed him, I'd cleaned up the minimal mess in my kitchen and stored the food for later. I'd stayed in my office working until I heard the water stop and gave him a few minutes to comply with my order to be waiting in the bed. All day I'd imagined what I had planned for him. I'd decided to reveal who I was only for the fact I wanted to keep him. It still confused me—the possessiveness that I had for Harrison. I'd spent my life alone, hating everyone and everything, killing without remorse for work and fun.

  I'd excelled at many things over my lifetime, but killing was the one I took the most pride. Although I’d felt content with my existence, something inside me had shifted when I’d met Harrison. It was all disorienting wanting someone. When I'd entered the kitchen, I enjoyed the sight of him standing in my home naked and waiting for me. I felt something I assumed was disappointment when he found me lacking and his faceless captor worth more.

  When I made it to my room, I let my gaze move over him where he lay stiffly on my bed. I approached silently and draped the ropes over the footboard, grabbing one. I placed my knees on the mattress and knelt beside him, I secured one end of the rope around his ankle, looping it around his knee. I fed it through the slats of the headboard, pulling until I drew his leg to the side exposing him for me. I repeated on the other limb until I could see the large base of the plug I'd bought for him. His legs were pulled back enough that his ass was tipped off the mattress.

  “Do you know what I'm going to do to you?” As I slipped off the bed, I asked unconcerned with his answer. I strode to my closet and removed my shoes. Until he had asked me to let him go, I'd enjoyed the newness of my erection, but now I was angry that my body responded to him. I darted a glance over my shoulder. “Well?”

  “No.”

  “I'm going to fuck you.” I stripped and placed each item in the dry-cleaning bag until I stood naked. My scars and ugliness on display. I turned to face the bed and heard him gasp. Was it shock or disgust?

  “What happened to you?”

  “Reminders of the mistakes I've made and why they’re never repeated. Did you do as I asked?”

  His face turned red, and his only answer was a nod.

  I closed the distance between us, stopped briefly for the lube in the nightstand drawer. I crawled onto the bed and sat on my heels when I positioned myself between his legs. I took the base of the plug in my left hand and tugged until his reddened hole stretched around it. He whimpered, and I let it go to watch it sink back into his ass. While I continued to pull at the plug, I surged forward to wrap my hand around his throat, squeezing until he started to claw again at my wrist like he'd done earlier in the kitchen.

  My cock jerked as I eased my hold and he drew in a ragged breath. I did it again and again, each time fucking him harder with the plug until the silicone slapped against his skin. Instead of fighting me, he tapped my wrist when he needed a breath. I wasn't gentle as I removed the plug and set it aside.

  “Do you think you've earned my cock, boy?” I had to stop touching him in order to slick my length, and it was painful. Sensations I’d never dreamed existed overwhelmed me with their intensity. My mind was flooded with all the possibilities that my body’s response could conjure.

  “N-no,” he answered. But even as he did, Harrison rolled his hips as his body trembled from head to toe.

  His heavy body was already covered in sweat that glistened in his body hair.

  “So you think you deserve punishment?”

  “I—I don't know, sir.”

  He squealed as I spanked the lower curves of his cheeks where they met his thighs, then repeating the strikes until the skin rose with the welts of my hands. I felt my breathing pick up so fast that my chest hurt. My concave stomach pulled in tighter, making my ribs stand out more starkly. I placed my thumb under his heavy balls and circled my fingers around his cock, constricting until he whimpered. His cock and balls turned red. I slicked my cock and placed it at his hole. I thrust and pushed his body up the bed—the heat and tightness shocked me.

  I measured my cock in his hole, once, twice and a third time. The rim squeezed the base of my dick like a cockring. I memorized the sensation, analyzed the emotions I felt and realized sweat was trickling down my temples. My gaze moved to his face, and he watched me with teary eyes. I frowned at that expression. I released his cock and blanketed his body with mine. The hair on his chest and stomach tickled my skin.

  I drew my hips backward and slammed forward, and his deep grunt fanned his breath across my mouth. He asked for a kiss earlier. I don't know what came over me, but I brushed my lips to his. I felt awkward as I kissed him. Blindly, I reached out and tugged the ends of the ropes freeing his legs.

  The urge to hurt him faded away as he returned my kiss. He didn't fight or attempt to pull away. His heels dug into my ass cheeks. It was all too overwhelming, the pleasure too much. He parted his lips, and his tongue touched mine—I jerked away. His face was flushed and the waves of his hair stuck to his forehead and temples.

  “I've never done this before.”

  He confessed his inexperience before he’d sucked my cock. I didn’t understand the covetousness over the fact that he’d known no other cock but mine. I frantically searched for another point of reference in my life where I’d felt this and I couldn’t find a single second to compare.

  He touched me. His fingertips stroked along my sides and down to my hips. I enjoyed his softness and the way it conformed to my thin frame. I pulled away completely, and then the tears did start—they wet his cheeks, and my cock got harder.

  “On your hands and knees.” He obeyed so sweetly for me, and soon his hairy ass was in the air, his face buried in the pillows. I added more slick to my dick and came up behind him. Then I placed the fat head at his hole. I rammed into him without warning. His back arched and his head tipped backward. I gripped his hips and fucked him. />
  “Tell me, boy, who owns you?”

  “You do.”

  I rode him and realized that he pushed back just as hard as I thrust. His ass bounced, and I froze. “Take it, boy.”

  He started slowly, pushing backward, rolling his hips as he worked his ass on and off my dick. He screamed and begged like a pretty little slut. He clenched every time he rocked forward.

  I was done letting him play. I wanted the orgasm I felt building—my first where I’d fill his ass with cum. I leaned over his back, fisted my hand in his hair and wrapped the free one around his throat. As soon as I controlled his breathing, his movements went wild, and I fucked him with every ounce of my strength. I eased my grip every few seconds, let him catch his breath only to choke him again. His entire body stiffened, and he whimpered in his throat, and I released his hair. Shoving my hand under him to find his cock slicked with cum.

  I straightened, retook his hips, and I dropped my gaze to his hole, watching as my length disappeared. His ass was red from the abuse, and I pounded into his limp body.

  “Beg me for my cum.”

  I pulled out until nothing but the head was inside him, and he grabbed my hips, his nails painfully dug into my flesh.

  “Beg.”

  “Give me your cum, sir.”

  “You want me to fill you? Let you feel it leak out later?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me you're my slut.”

  “I'm your slut, sir. Give it to me, sir.”

  With piston-hard snaps of my hips, I gave him my cock over and over, my release refusing to come. Every muscle in my body pulled tight to the point of pain, but still, I couldn't get off. Frustration turned to anger, so I used him harder and rougher. I felt it was right there, but I couldn't get there.

  I jerked from him, angry at him and my body. He turned over and stared at me. His cock was again semi-hard. I took him again. I slammed my mouth violently onto his, and he clawed at my back. I felt the skin split beneath the pressure of nails he hadn't cut in weeks. I lowered my face to his neck and bit, causing him to throw his head back. I left marks over his throat, shoulders, and chest as I pounded him.

  “Sir, it hurts, cum in my ass, please.”

  My balls drew up, and my body pulled into an arch as I released, slick and cum making wet sex sounds as I fed his ass my cock. I was forcing him to take every drop. Cum dribbled from his ass wetting my balls and his ass. I didn't stop until it was agony to move and I left him. I grabbed his hard, red cock and jacked him as he writhed on the bed, screaming and calling my name, not sir, but Cowen in a desperate litany. Cum splashed onto my stomach and covered my hand as he relaxed into a sweaty, exhausted heap on the bed.

  “Clean up your mess, boy.”

  He struggled to sit up and then moved until he was on his hands and knees to lick his cum from my stomach. I combed my fingers through his hair. His tongue was hot and wet where it moved over my stomach and pelvic bones.

  “Good boy. You're sir's prefect little slut.”

  While he cleaned my stomach, I picked up the plug and reinserted it. He shoved his face into my stomach. “You keep it in. I'm not done using that ass. When I'm done, you'll feel empty without me every second of your days and nights. Do you understand, boy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you mine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Will you always stay with me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His gaze came up to mine, and I saw the honesty in his eyes. Saw the promise there. A sense of contentment came over me, that's all I could assume it was as I'd never experienced it before. He was mine, and I wasn't letting him go. I'd always wanted to understand what others felt, and he would always give me that. I should've realized it before, but I’d come so close to losing it and Harrison.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Harrison

  I groaned as I slowly awakened and snuggled under the covers. The bed was super comfortable, and I was so warm. I started to nuzzle into my pillow, and the feeling of a lean, smooth chest against my cheek had me slowly opening my eyes. Then the night before came back to me with the impact of a sledgehammer. He'd removed the ropes then had taken me to the bathroom to shower with him.

  The tenderness that he'd shown was almost dizzying. One minute he was brutal and punishing and the next he'd fucked me with such passion and need. He'd taken me three times over the night. The way he'd looked—his face flushed and his breathing harsh—I'd been amazed at the controlled Cowen losing his cool. He took the reins so easily—knew exactly what I craved and how much to give; he knew when to ease off.

  Every muscle in my body ached, my hole was raw and still stretched with the plug. Each time he'd cum inside me, he'd replaced the toy. He seemed to want his sign of ownership to remain in my body.

  His breathing was deep and even beneath my cheek. I didn't move as I let my gaze move over him. His body was covered in scars, and the ones on his arms couldn't be anything other than self-inflicted. He had patches of thick raised tissue that looked like burn marks. He was even missing hunks of flesh. I was concerned by the thinness of his frame. Although, I liked that he was smaller than me but able to dominate me so easily.

  What I loved the most was that his response said he didn't find my body lacking. I'd grown content in the body I was blessed with, but I'd never found it appealing in other people's eyes.

  I brought my fingers to my lips and remembered his kiss. It had been awkward as if he hadn't done it before or at the very least rarely. I didn't know what to think of the new development. I'd assumed when he ordered me upstairs that I'd earned a punishment for telling him I wanted to leave. His rage had clearly shown on his face and in his eyes. I didn't anticipate that he would be my first.

  When he'd asked me was I his and would I stay, I hadn't hesitated to answer yes. When he was just my captor, I'd accepted that he would keep me until the moment he was tired of me. Now that I knew it was Cowen, I wanted to be his. I'd wanted him for years. I'd imagined Cowen loving on me in my dreams. Now, it was a reality, and I didn't want to go anywhere.

  I didn't believe it was love. I wouldn't hold my feelings or his to such a lofty position. Did I believe he'd keep me forever? No, but even a limited time was better than none. I loved the way he filled me. The passion he showed when he pushed me over the precipice of desire I'd never felt in my life.

  “Turn over on your side.”

  I gasped at the gruff order and obeyed, and the plug was eased from my raw hole. I whimpered as I was filled with every thick, hard inch.

  “Mine, boy.”

  The words were nothing but a feral growl as he slammed his hips to my ass. The high-pitched grunt almost embarrassed me as he fucked me. He told me he owned me with every word and action. I drew my left leg to my chest to open myself further. His possession was everything I'd always needed and never knew I could have.

  Three Weeks Later

  Two weeks after I'd promised to stay with him, he'd allowed me to come back to work, but unlike before, I went home with Cowen every night. Sometimes back to his cabin or the penthouse apartment he kept in the city.

  My new reality still took some adjustment. I'd nearly had a panic attack when I'd had to deal with the detectives that had looked for me. Lying wasn't a skill I possessed, but Cowen had taken care of my story. I just needed time away—a vacation. In some ways, it was a twisted truth. I'd discovered something about myself while held captive by him. I liked being taken care of and not having to worry about things.

  He made sure I ate, slept, he'd even helped me pack up my things and move to his place. I loved my mother and wouldn't regret the years I had with her, even the ones that I acted as her caretaker. When I'd walked back into my house, it had felt more like a prison than the basement had. The memories were too much.

  I still wondered if something was wrong with me. How easily I'd accepted the relationship. I lived for the lash of his whip. He grounded me when I felt lost. He rewarded me
when I did something right. Most of my days were spent working with a plug in and ready for when he needed me. He fucked me numerous times a day. I relished the ache after he used me. Yet, my favorite reward out of everything was his kisses.

  The way he wanted me was unrestrained. He didn't hide it, and when his cock would harden, he'd call me. I had a feeling that he'd never kissed before. It made the act more special for me.

  The nights he left, he didn't lie about where he was going. I wondered how many people he'd killed. As soon as I started to think about it, I pushed the thoughts away. It was a part of him he never brought into the house or apartment. Some part of me was still terrified of his silences and coldness, as if I knew that one day, he'd grow bored with me.

  Today he was in court, and I was alone in the office. I didn't like it when he left me unaccompanied. My separation anxiety was at an all-time high.

  The outer door opened and I pasted a smile on my face. A man in an expensive suit and a hundred-dollar haircut entered. The stranger was gorgeous in that distinguished way that made mere mortal men insecure. Elegant and handsome, rich and entitled, and he put me on edge.

  “Good afternoon, how can I help you?”

  “Is Mr. Kingsley in?”

  We didn't get many walk-in clients, it was mostly by appointment, but I was always supposed to ask them to leave a message or schedule a time. Cowen didn't like being disturbed when he worked. Closed door meant not to bother him.

  “No, sir, he's in court. Can I take a message or schedule a convenient time for a meeting?”

  “No, I can wait.”

  I frowned as the guy unbuttoned his jacket and took a seat in one of a few chairs we had for clients.

  “It could be a few hours.”

  “I have time. We have a bit of business to discuss.” The man lazily crossed his legs and seemed to settle in for the wait.

  “Okay.” The man made me uncomfortable, and I’d let Cowen deal with the pushy man when he returned. “Would you like a cup of coffee or some water?”