by Zoe Blake
“You can’t footh me, you dump pitch. Youth thunk yous zo cleever.”
Chad’s words were slurred and indistinct. The drug was working.
Chloe just stared, silent. Had he guessed she’d spiked his drink? Would he kill her now?
“Thud toys ars in the study. Youth thaut to footh me.”
He stumbled across the kitchen back into the study. She could hear his heavy footsteps as they crunched on the broken glass from the picture frame.
She waited, barely daring to breathe.
Had it been an hour? Five minutes? Thirty?
She had no concept of how long she stood silent in the kitchen. Holding her breath.
Waiting.
In the other room, she heard Chad cry out in alarm. There was a loud crash.
The sound of a body hitting the floor.
Dead weight.
Then…silence.
Chloe lifted the bottle of whiskey and took a long drink. The burn from the liquid finally snapped her out of her stupor.
Her ordeal was not over.
She now had a body to bury.
Chapter 4
There was something about the smooth weight of a thick leather strap in his hand that always made his dick hard. He was looking forward to disciplining this particular stubborn little piece.
He knew more about Chloe Taylor than her own mother did. Born in a small town outside of Chicago, it hadn’t been long before Chloe’s mother had dumped her in the lap of her elderly grandmother. The grandmother raised Chloe as best she could, but Chloe spent long stints in foster care as the elderly woman was in and out of hospitals till her death when Chloe was seventeen. By then it was too late; the girl had grown up wild. No discipline. Relishing in defying authority, always skirting the law, careless about school and any kind of future. There was an uncle barely in the picture. Career military. Rarely saw the niece but did come through when she needed a place to stay. Wound up leaving her the cabin in his will when he’d died late last year.
And then there was Chad. The loser ex-boyfriend.
Chloe had followed him to Louisiana. As far as Logan could tell, the only reason Chad had become a cop was for the power trip and the easy access to drugs. The guy was a real asshole. Logan was unclear about how complicit Chloe had been in Chad’s exploits, but he did know she’d skipped town with more than just those cheap diamonds she’d offered him earlier.
Knowing Chad would be after the same thing he was, Logan had learned all about Chloe. Studied her. Even now there was a well-worn photograph of her in his back pocket. She was in ponytails, giving the camera a stubborn glare over her shoulder, as if she resented the intrusion of whoever was behind the lens into her private space.
It was her eyes that had first caught his attention.
No matter how many old Facebook posts and photos he flipped through to learn about his quarry, no matter what she was doing or what expression she was wearing…her eyes remained the same.
They always had this far-away pained look in their deep, gray depths. As if she were just going through the motions of happiness.
Lost.
A little girl lost.
But now she had been found by him.
“Look. Whatever you had going on with Chad, I wasn’t involved. I swear to you! I don’t know anything about his… his… business dealings.”
“You know more than you’re telling. I think you just need the proper motivation.”
He watched the slender column of her throat contract as she nervously swallowed. Her long fingers kept flexing and moving as her wrists twisted against his binding.
Laying his belt to the side, Logan pressed his chest against her bare breasts as he reached over her to grip the bone handle of his knife. With a sharp pull, the knife slid from its deep mooring inside the wall. Before she could give a sigh of relief, Logan grasped her shoulder and flipped her around, crushing her breasts against the wall.
“What are you doing?” she screamed.
Once more, he drove the knife into her twisted T-shirt, securing her wrists high above her head.
Leaning in close, his teeth nipped at the delicate curve of her ear. She instantly stilled. “Teaching you a lesson.”
Grasping her hip with one large hand to steady her, he forced his other hand between her waist and the wall. With a flick of his thumb and forefinger, he undid the small brass button of her jeans.
“No! No! No!”
She started to twist her hips, her bottom pushing out, brushing his already hard cock.
“Yes!” he ground out as he pulled down her zipper.
Her still wet and muddy jeans clung to her hips. Holding onto the denim waistband, he yanked them over her hip bones, exposing the curves of her pink, panty-clad bottom. He placed his big, black boot on the inside crotch of her jeans and forced the fabric down over her legs.
“Don’t do this! Please! Don’t!” Her voice warbled as she started to cry.
Logan left the damp denim clinging to her ankles, knowing it would prevent her from kicking out at his shins.
Ignoring her pleas, Logan ran one hand down her slim thigh. Her skin felt cold and damp. He would soon warm her up.
He placed his other hand on her lower back. Enjoying how it curved in slightly only to swell out into the upper curve of her ass. He forced two fingers into the thin fabric of her panties. Pulling the fabric outward, he skimmed his fingers along the ruffled elastic as he glimpsed the dark seam of her ass.
The soft damp curls of her hair brushed against his cheek as he leaned over her shoulder, feathering his lips along her jawline. “Tell me. Is there a Hello Kitty on the front of these pretty panties of yours?”
She remained stubbornly silent.
Logan raised his free hand and brought it swiftly down on her left bottom cheek. The crack of his open palm on her delicate skin echoed around the room.
She cried out, and he could feel her whole body jerk from the impact. Looking down, he could see the outline of his fingers slowly blossom on the undercurve of her ass and upper thigh, a dark pink against her white skin.
“I’ll just have to see for myself.”
Grabbing the flimsy fabric, he twisted his fist till the elastic snapped. There was the sound of fabric rending, then her panties fell limp against his palm. A Hello Kitty decal was distorted in their wrinkled folds.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
Her tears had brought a beautiful flush to her face. Her tears animated her eyes, making them almost sparkle.
“You know why, babygirl.” His voice was low and even.
“I don’t! I don’t!”
Logan picked up his leather belt. Taking a step back he admired her lithe form, petite yet curvy. Her slim thighs ended with the glorious curve of her ass. Her waist nipped in to accentuate the soft lines of her back. Sleek brown hair, straight till it curled at the edges, hung down past her shoulders. As she struggled against her T-shirt bind, he caught glimpses of her perky tits when her body twisted and turned.
Grabbing the long shaft of his cock through his jeans, he gave the rigid length a squeeze to ease the tension.
Flexing the belt a few times to warm up the leather, he folded it in half, the buckle dangling just below his wrist. Measuring its weight, he placed a restraining hand between her shoulder blades.
“I know all about you, Chloe. You need this more than even you know.”
He raised his arm and swung it sharply forward, catching her bare backside with the smooth, wide side of his belt. The contact of leather and skin made a deep, cracking noise.
Chloe screeched in pain as her hips swung sharply to the right.
Ignoring her cries, Logan cracked the leather on her ass a second time. “Your whole life you’ve acted without thought to consequence. Wild. Lacking discipline.”
The leather belt fell across her cheeks a third time. Her pale skin began to blotch a mottled red. He watched as she clenched her bottom cheeks against the pain only to release them t
he moment she realized that caused more agony to her burning skin.
“Getting yourself into all kinds of trouble. More trouble than you realize this time.”
He whipped her bottom again. This time the strap fell just below her cheeks to catch her upper thighs. An angry red stripe appeared on her flesh. Her howls of pain bounced off the wall.
“What you need, babygirl, is someone to keep you in line.”
The metal of the heavy belt buckle jangled as he increased his pace, peppering her bottom with leather swats.
“Someone to teach you it is dangerous to lie.”
“Stop! Stop! Please! I’ll tell you the truth! Please just stop!” she sobbed.
“Beg me.”
“Please! Please, stop.” She sniffed loudly as he watched the tears course down her bright red cheeks. Flushed with pain, they almost matched the crimson blush on her bottom.
Black eyelashes fluttered over dark gray eyes glazed with pain.
Logan knew the pain from her punishment clouded her thoughts. He stroked his knuckles down her cheek with the hand that held the belt. Lowering his hand, he let the smooth, warm leather of his belt slide along her delicate flesh. Tracing the path of her tears.
Her lower lip trembled.
He raised his arm.
“No!” Her eyes were wide with obvious alarm. “Please, please, stop.”
His cock twitched the moment the forced plea left her lips. Logan wasn’t sure where his demand had even come from. It just felt right with Chloe. All the while he had been researching her, learning about her, studying her as a means to get to Chad to find what he had been hired to recover…one prevailing thought kept coming to the fore. If ever there was a girl who needed direction in her life, some discipline, it was her.
His babygirl.
“Good girl. Now you’re going to tell me where Chad is, aren’t you?” He placed a threatening hand on her left bottom cheek. Splaying his fingers, he rubbed her heated skin in deceptively soothing circles.
“I can’t,” she whined.
“You don’t want to make me angry again do you, babygirl? Because I can get a lot meaner.”
“Please, you don’t understand.”
“Tell me.” His dug the tips of his fingers into the soft flesh of her bottom, squeezing hard. She rose up on her toes in a futile effort to escape his grip as he watched her flesh go from crimson to white from the pressure of his hand.
“All right! All right!” she gasped.
He loosened his grip.
“He’s dead. I… I killed him.”
His very bad babygirl.
Chapter 5
Chloe screwed her eyes shut, bracing for the lash of his leather belt at her admission.
None came.
She opened her eyes and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Chloe saw her tormentor through a prism of tears. He looked fearsome standing there in his torn jeans and tight white T-shirt. The dark ink of his tattoos peeked through the thin fabric, an ominous staccato across his tanned skin. In his fist was the folded leather belt.
She turned her head back around and pressed her forehead against the wall. Never in her life had she felt such a storm of conflicting emotions. Her body sagged a bit as her knees started to buckle. This evening she had run the gamut of emotions. To think, just a few hours ago she had been regretting how boring and humdrum her life had become since sequestering herself in Glennie!
Nothing made sense.
This man. This horrible, frightening man. She didn’t even know his name and yet he had already changed her in ways she could not fully fathom. The pain she felt from his punishing belt had done more than cause her physical anguish. The pain, that pure pain, had finally released her guilt. It was as if, deep down, she knew she deserved the belt and the pain…his lashing…his punishment of her. Her body had absorbed each strike of his belt like a boon. She wanted him to hurt her.
The realization caused her whole body to quake. She had wanted the pain, needed it. Then somehow it had gotten even more twisted. She not only wanted the punishing pain…she wanted the punisher as well. Wanted to feel his breath as he whispered threats into her ear. Wanted the feel of his hand on her punished ass. The feel of his teeth scraping along her skin. She could also vividly imagine his hand fisting into her hair as he forced his cock into her from behind.
What the fucking hell! What the fuck was wrong with her? This man had threatened to rape her. He still might. He now knew her to be a murderess!
She was at his mercy in more ways than she could count. How, in this moment, could her body betray her so badly? And in such a twisted, fucked up way. Had she really felt a small thrill deep between her legs the moment she’d felt the pain? Her only salvation would be if he never knew. Maybe, after learning of Chad’s death, he would simply leave.
Even as she thought it, Chloe knew it was an impossibility.
Her disturbed, chaotic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of movement behind her.
The man had left the room without uttering a word.
She struggled against her wrist binds as she strained to hear what he was doing. Her view was blocked by the gun cabinet.
Chloe could hear his heavy boot-clad footfalls on the kitchen floor. He took a few steps then stopped. He was probably standing in the doorway to the study. Chad’s lifeless form would be clearly visible from that viewpoint. Chloe wondered what the stranger would do now. Somehow she didn’t think he was the type to call the police. Was that a good or a bad thing? Would she pray for the safety of the law and the risk of prison over whatever the stranger may have planned for her?
There was the sound of his heavy steps again.
He was returning.
“Goddamn, baby. This time you weren’t lying. You actually killed the piece of shit.” His words held an unmistakable hint of amusement.
Chloe continued to face the wall, whether from mortification, humiliation or guilt, she did not know. Perhaps all three?
She could hear the swish of liquid against glass.
Then came the harsh feel of denim against her sensitive, exposed skin as he pressed his front to her back. His breath smelled of whiskey as he spoke. “Did you enjoy killing him, baby? Did you like the power, the rush that comes from taking another human being’s life?”
She felt the cold tip of what must have been the whiskey bottle press between her shoulder blades. The same whiskey she had used to kill Chad.
“How did you do it?”
The lip of the bottle moved downward. A sick caress.
“Did you hit him over the head?”
The bottle lip tapped against her lower back.
“No? Stab him?”
The glass lip slid over the curve of her right buttock, cold against her hot skin.
“No? Poison then? The choice of clever women for hundreds of years.” The tone of his voice was darkly seductive, teasing, belying the evil of his words.
Chloe sucked in a gasp as the lip of the bottle pushed between her legs, just under the curve of her ass. She pressed her legs together tightly in defiance. He forced the glass lip past her resistance. The neck of the bottle wedged between her thighs.
“Tell me, babygirl,” he whispered against her ear before giving her neck a quick lick with his tongue. “Tell me how you killed the bad man.”
Chloe cried out when she felt the bottle shift. The bottle lip pressed against her tight entrance. Her wet pussy offered no resistance to the smooth glass. The neck of the bottle slid inside her… one inch… then two.
A moan escaped through her clenched teeth.
The man gave a low, soft whistle. “Goddamn, I knew I was right about you.”
Chloe felt a hot tear escape down the side of her cheek. Right about her? That she was a murderess? That she was a freak who apparently got off on pain? She wasn’t sure what he meant and had absolutely no intention of asking him.
The bottle twisted inside of her. Chloe cried out, but not from pain. Despite her intention
not to, she begged him. “Take it out.” Her voice was hoarse from crying.
“You know how I like to be asked,” he responded as he gave the bottle another twist.
Chloe moaned. The friction inside her pussy as it stretched around the bottle neck was too much after the chaos of the feelings his punishment had inspired. Without hesitation, she answered, desperate to end her torment. “Please, take it out.”
He chuckled. “Good girl.”
The bottle was pulled free.
Chloe could not help but look at him over her shoulder. She watched in fascinated horror as he lifted the bottle to his full lips. Giving her a wink, he wrapped his lips around the tip and took a swig of whiskey. “Even better tasting,” he said as he gave her another wink with one of those deep blue eyes.
Her only response was a helpless whimper.
“Now, you stay here like a good babygirl while I go and clean up your mess.”
Chloe gritted her teeth at his patronizing tone. As if she had a choice! He had released her bound wrists only to drag her into the bathroom. There he’d handcuffed her to the radiator. Handcuffed! What kind of man carried handcuffs around with him? The kind who had neck tattoos and punished complete strangers with their belt, apparently.
“Are you going to call the cops on me?”
“Why would I do that?”
Chloe stared at him in confusion. “Because I killed a man.”
The stranger shrugged his shoulders. “Happens,” he responded dismissively. “Besides, if I call the cops, they will drag you away to prison, and I’m not finished with you yet.”
With those ominous words, the stranger turned to leave.
“What is your name?” she called after him. “You can at least tell me your name.”
He turned back to her, piercing her with those brilliantly blue eyes of his. “Logan,” he said simply. Then he leaned forward, caging her in between two muscular arms before straightening up and exiting the bathroom.
A few minutes later, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of a body being dragged across the floor, then the slamming of her back screen door.