by Jade West
“That’s brave, offering your tender little pussy for a belting,” I said, and tapped the strap against those glorious puffy lips with a flick of my wrist.
She was flat on the bed again in a heartbeat.
I couldn’t hold back a sly laugh. “I do love a quick learner.”
With that she adjusted herself, rolling to the side enough to free her arms from under her. She lifted them overhead, supporting them against the headboard, fingers gripping the railings nice and tight.
The position suited her. Pretty as a fucking picture.
It suited me too.
I loved how her knuckles whitened as I punished her all over again. My own breaths were ragged with hers as I drove into the rhythm, lashing at her back, her ass, and losing sight of everything bar the burning pink of her skin as the leather cracked against it again and again.
Her cries became more screams than groans, even with her face buried in the pillow.
We were loud. Real fucking loud. Loud enough to risk a knock at our hotel room door and maybe some flashing blue lights on the street outside.
But I didn’t give one fucking shit for any of it.
I tipped my head to the ceiling and closed my eyes to savour her groans after another brutal round on her ass.
Pure. Fucking. Bliss.
“I told you you’d fucking hurt for me,” I said when she finally quieted, and my voice was dripping with liquid filth.
She spluttered for a moment as she dropped the pillow from her teeth, turning her cheek to the side and staring up at me with one wide eye.
“And I told you,” she said on a breath, “that I’d take whatever you gave me.”
“Brave words,” I told her with a smile. “But we’re a long way from done yet.”
I should’ve been long done. I had preparations to make back at the manor. A snotty Annabel to prod into subservience for the viewing public. Bids to provoke. Money to take.
But I didn’t give one fucking shit for any of that, either.
“Onto your back,” I said, but it was a pointless instruction. I’d flipped her before I’d finished speaking, hungry for more of the grimace as her brutalised skin hit the mattress.
Her tits were still flushed from my hand slaps. Her flat little belly was tense at the scrutiny.
She had hipbones, too pronounced to be healthy. Ribs I could count through her skin.
Her eyes were wide open on mine as I took her hips and tugged her down towards me. I lifted her thighs to her chest and splayed them, offering up her pouting cunt for my pleasure.
She held the position without argument.
She held her gaze, too. Eyes on me. Watching me.
I liked that. I liked that a lot.
The girl was trimmed but barely shaved. Her clit was standing to attention, poking out from its dark little hood as I splayed her with my fingers.
“I do love hurting pussy,” I told her softly. “It’s a personal favourite of mine, as you’ll soon discover.”
I grazed her with my fingers and she sucked in a breath.
“Still,” I continued. “You should know that already, shouldn’t you? Tell me. Are you still sore from taking my fist to the knuckles?”
A delicious little nod. “It still hurts,” she said. “I feel it when I clench.”
“You’re forgetting yourself,” I told her, and pushed two fingers in deep. “It’s sir,” I said. “Another tongue slip and I’ll clamp it for days.”
“It still hurts, sir,” she corrected.
I knew exactly the angle to dig for. She groaned as I found it and pressed hard.
“There, sir,” she hissed. “It hurts there.”
I could’ve amused myself with her pussy pain for days. Poking. Prodding. Stretching and pounding.
I could’ve clamped that clit between my teeth and sucked her raw enough that she sobbed.
But not tonight.
I pulled my fingers from the depths of her with a smirk and sucked on those instead. She was a flavour worth savouring; sweet innocence on my tongue. Sixty days with her delicious cunt on my menu would be a treasure.
Her eyes didn’t leave mine as I trailed the leather strap between her tits and down over her stomach. She kept her thighs strained high as I let the leather kiss her mound.
“Good girls get choices,” I told her. “Tell me, Miss Emmerson, are you going to be a good girl from here on in?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “I’ll be good.”
My smile was cold. Her eyes were scared.
Scared but wanting.
“What’s it going to be first, good little Paige? Tits, thighs, or pussy for the belt?
Her legs shuddered against her chest, but there was more to behold beneath her fear. A delightfully horny clench of that needy little slit, right before my eyes.
My mouth fucking watered, right there and then. She let out a whimper as she considered her options.
“Grateful girls decide quickly,” I told her, and that sweet cunt clenched again.
“Tits please, sir,” she said. “Please hurt my tits first.”
“My fucking pleasure,” I said, and yanked her legs back down.
My grip was tight as I squeezed her left tit and rubbed the leather strap against her nipple.
“Keep your eyes open,” I told her and she nodded.
I knew it would hurt like fucking sin when the belt slapped hard. I squeezed that fucking tit and whacked it. She tensed all over, mouth open wide, even though she fought back the scream. It gurgled in her throat. Raw enough that my balls nearly emptied in my fucking pants.
Her eyes watered to perfection. She blinked tears down her cheeks as her gaze stayed firm on mine.
I clamped my hand around her other tit and squeezed it hard until the flesh filled with blood. When I whacked it with the belt, she squirmed all the harder, snivelling deliciously as she struggled to take the pain.
My thumbs dancing on her nipples to ease the suffering was a lifeline I rarely granted, but grant it I did. I played with those nipples until her breaths came out panting. I swear I could hear her pussy getting wetter. She was straining for more, pain forgotten by the time the belt came down again.
This time she cried out loud.
Her yelps were pure fucking bliss to my cock twitching in my pants.
“That’s right,” I hissed. “Show me how much it fucking hurts.”
I wasn’t so considerate with her thighs. I landed three on each in quick succession without so much as a pause for thought.
Sweet little Paige showed me plenty. Her head thrashed from side to side as she hissed through the burn.
Another three on each and she was crying openly, chest heaving as I pinched the stripes on her skin.
“Beautiful,” I said. “You really are a delicious little creature, Paige Emmerson. I’m going to enjoy our sixty days.”
Her whimpers grew louder as I raised her legs back up.
“I always like to save the best for last,” I told her with a smirk, and her bottom limp trembled when I circled my thumb on her clit. “If you’re a very good girl for me, maybe I’ll kiss it better.”
“Oh God,” she breathed through the tears. “Oh God, oh God, oh God…”
“Sir would do fine, but I’ll take it,” I laughed, and lined the belt up flush against that perfect little cunt.
I shouldn’t be pushing her this far.
Shouldn’t be here in the first fucking place.
Shouldn’t be coasting dangerously close to my evening engagements with my dick throbbing for the dainty little slut spread wide for me.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my bastard pocket.
Once again, I found myself not giving a shit.
“Three on this pretty little slit,” I said. “You’ll take it like a good little girl.”
She gripped the headboard, mouth pursed tight as I tapped the belt between her legs.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” I told her and she took a breath.
She didn’t keep me waiting. The nod came shallow but fast.
The belt slapped hard when I brought it down. She slammed her thighs closed tight and yelped for me.
Jagged breaths.
Shudders.
Such glorious ripples right through her.
She rocked on the edge of control, her whole body daring to be pushed that little bit further.
I’ve always been one to accept a dare.
I pulled her back into position with strong hands. Made sure that pretty cunt was pouting for me. The next lash came down harder than the first, and it fucking showed.
How it fucking showed.
She was a dirty little angel breaking before me. Her cries were a slice of the divine.
“One more,” I grunted, yet I wished it was twenty.
This time she covered her face with her bound wrists when I struck her, doing her best to hide the sobs.
But I didn’t care.
My eyes were too busy feasting on that beautiful cunt as it pinked and swelled.
The final dregs of my sensibilities bailed and departed. Without them I was a fool.
I couldn’t resist.
Didn’t even fucking try.
Her groan was loud as I lowered my open mouth to that hurting little mound and clamped on tight. My tongue was a dart, aiming right for her clit. My lips were hungry to taste her sweet pain.
I wasn’t expecting her thighs to grip me tight so soon and coax for more.
I wasn’t expecting my groans to match with hers as I ate her out like I was starving.
She was grinding in mere seconds, bucking against my mouth like a whore gone wild.
I’d have expected her to ride the wave without another word, but as seemed to be the case all too often with this one, she fucking surprised me.
“Please hurt me,” she rasped. “Please, sir, just a little bit more.”
I pulled away with an open mouth to find her eyes begging.
She couldn’t be fucking serious.
Not for a single fucking second.
I reached for my discarded belt and she seemed to come to some semblance of reason. She shook her head as I brandished it, eyes open wide.
“Not that,” she breathed. “Please, sir, with your hand. Just your hand.”
I was dumbstruck. Kneeling mute with my dick throbbing worse than a priest’s at a nunnery.
In my years of beating sluts for money, not once had I taken a request like hers.
My phone buzzed again. Once, twice, three times fucking over.
My clients didn’t do late, and neither did I. Not ever.
So quite why I grabbed that girl and bundled her over my knee was a mystery I’d need a lifetime to fathom.
I rained the blows fast. Hard. Slapping her ass with such earnest I was soon grunting as she was.
My cock strained against her belly, threatening to blow, and still I slapped her. Over and over and fucking over. Caring for nothing but the bounce of her perky little rump as my palm landed.
I spanked her until her whole rear end was throbbing red. Until she was crying enough. Until she was begging, pleading, snivelling done, done, please sir, done.
And then, finally, I came to my fucking senses enough to stop.
My palm was smarting like a bastard. Forearm tense enough to ache through my elbow.
Crazy.
I was out of my fucking mind.
But so was she.
“Please,” she whispered all over again. “Please, sir, I want you to take me. Please take me.”
My phone buzzed again, and my sensibilities came piling back.
I was unceremonious as I shoved her from my lap. She landed on the carpet in a heap.
“I want doesn’t fucking get in my world, little girl,” I told her. “On your knees,” I snapped, and she pulled herself to kneeling as I rose to my feet.
My balls would never survive the trip back to the manor. My dick was so fucking hard it hurt as I unbuttoned my trousers and took it in hand.
“Open your mouth,” I grunted, and she opened wide enough that I could see her tonsils.
I worked my cock like a man possessed. A man out of time. A man done with this crazy bullshit for one sorry fucking night.
I hated the noises I made.
Hated the noises her needy little ways had drawn from me.
Hated my desperation.
My hunger.
My own fucking dick for its lack of control.
My cum came in jets, pooling at the back of her throat until she gagged, but still she kept her eyes on mine.
I took hold of her throat the moment I’d finished spurting. My eyes were angry as all hell as she attempted to swallow regardless.
“Don’t you dare gobble that gift down without my permission,” I snapped. “You do what you’re told and not one fucking thing besides. I thought we established that on the beach already.”
She managed a nod and I let her go, my cum still thick in her mouth as I pulled my phone from my pocket.
I cursed aloud as I saw the time, scrolling through the sea of messages with my pulse in my temples.
“Hands,” I barked, and she raised them up to me.
I freed her wrists and raised my collar, fastening my tie back around my neck like a madman.
I should’ve been out of there, cum still in her mouth or not, but even then I dashed for the cash on the dresser.
I held it up to her tear-streaked face.
“This is for you,” I hissed. “Not your sister. Not your sister’s drug habit. Not for any fucking thing other than keeping yourself in condition for our agreement.”
She nodded again.
“If you break my rules you’ll pay dearly,” I told her. “I don’t take fools kindly. Be warned.”
Another nod.
“Straight back to dorms,” I said. “No talking to Rebecca Lane. No talking to any of those beach pricks. No talking to fucking anyone about any of this until I call.”
I didn’t even wait for her nod this time.
“Swallow,” I said, and she did what she was told. She smacked her lips as my seed went down her throat, breaths shallow as she slumped in a heap at my feet.
With that I was done, and I had to be.
I stepped past her without another word, and didn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brandon
I paid the cab driver far too much to refuse my request to break the speed limit. The car screeched to a halt on the driveway, coming just shy of ploughing into Lance who was racing out to meet me.
I slammed the taxi door and rushed right past him, barking for an update even as he tried to fill me in.
“Eric’s with her,” he told me. “He said he couldn’t make the clients wait any longer. He’s been with her an hour already, and hell she’s fucking screaming.”
“Stupid fucking cunt,” I snarled and stormed into the hallway. The idiots were gathered around the webcam monitors in the office, all of them gormless as fucking turds.
I could hear Annabel’s screams from the stairway. The thwack of the cane was audible through the door well before I’d burst my way in there.
It took every scrap of my restraint to pull the plug on the cameras before I grabbed the son of a bitch by his collar. He dropped the cane in a beat, hands rising to his face as I took a swing at him.
They didn’t make it. My fist connected with his jaw like a hammer blow, once, twice, three times over. I dropped him to the floor and drove my toe into his ribs before I turned my attention to Annabel and headed to her side.
She was fucked. A crisscross of ridges dripping blood down her thighs as she struggled in her bonds.
Her eyes were wild, screams feral as I loosed her shackles. She made to bolt for it, but I held her firm, pulling her tight to my chest in a way that would make me retch under normal circumstances.
Today was anything but normal fucking circumstances it appeared.
“You’re fin
e,” I told her, forcing my voice into some semblance of smoothness.
“I want out!” she screamed. “Fuck the money, I want out!”
I kept my grip strong. Kept her close. Kept a fucking lid on her flight.
“There is no out,” I told her. “You knew there was no out when you signed. Sixty days without limits. No bail outs. No rescue. No fucking early exit.”
Her adrenaline cracked clean through and turned to sobs, soaking my shirt with her streaming fucking snot as she snivelled. If Eric hadn’t already been crawling dazed I’d have given him another shoeing for my disgust.
“Please,” Annabel cried. “Please let me go, sir! Please let me go! I won’t talk, I swear! I won’t say a word!”
I fought back a smile at the irony of her subservience in these conditions.
“What the fuck?!” Eric groaned from the floor. He stumbled around on his knees, pressing his palm to his jaw with a grunt.
I hoped it was fucking broken.
I eased Annabel back onto the mattress and she curled up into a ball with her welted ass in the air.
Eric wasn’t expecting me to grab him afresh by his collar. He clattered into the landing railings as I launched him clean out through the door.
I directed a hovering Lance into the room behind me. “Get her a drink and see that she’s not climbing the pissing walls,” I barked.
He brushed right on by me and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
I lit up a cigarette without giving a fuck for the indoors, shaking out my knuckles as Eric pulled himself to sitting.
“You’d best start fucking talking,” I said after a long drag. “Or you’ll be out of this place on your ass in thirty seconds flat.”
He spat blood to his left without giving a shit for the carpet. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” he asked, and I raised a brow.
“That’s precisely what I should be asking you, don’t you fucking think?”
His eyes were dark on mine. “Oh right, yeah. So you go swanning off like a fluffed up stallion, seeking out a sad little piece of ass like it’s made of fucking gold and saying fuck you to our whole fucking network, and it’s you who’s got the cheek to come back here and speak to me like I’m the idiot piece of shit?”
I jabbed a finger right at him. “I said she wasn’t ready. I said you weren’t fucking ready. Jesus fucking Christ, Eric, it’s me who makes the fucking rules around here. You do what you’re fucking told or you get the fuck out of here.”