by Trent Evans
“No more… no more. God, please… no more.”
His strangled words were music to her ears, eliciting a strange combination of sympathy and lust within her. Divesting herself of her clothing, even her heels, she slid onto the bed before him, the lips of her sex rubbing together, the sensation making her bite her lip, lest her own moan escape from behind clenched teeth. Opening her thighs, she spread them to either side, her knees draping over his outstretched arms, his taut muscles trembling against her. The position left her wet sex mere inches from his upturned face.
“Your slate is clean, boy. No more pain today.” She watched his tear-bright blue eyes follow the movement of her fingers as she eased them down between the wet folds of her molten hot pussy. “But I want you to know this. If you hadn’t been so disobedient today, if you hadn’t cursed Brayden the way you did, you’d be tasting this right now, you’d be granted leave to serve your Mistress’ pussy with that clever tongue of yours. But since you weren’t…”
She let out a deep sigh as she circled her clit, stroking back the hood, swirling around and around, the pressure building inside her sex, her womb tightening. Her juices let down so strongly that they dripped down her perineum, wetting the bed below.
Quinton’s nostrils flared, her scent strong in the room, both of them knowing that smell of her arousal was the closest he was going to get to tasting that dripping slit taunting him a mere breath away from his lips.
“Oh, God, I’m going to fucking come, slave.” She plunged two fingers, three fingers, deep inside, thrusting them hard, fast. “This should have been… your tongue. Your obedient tongue.” She met his gaze, his brow furrowed deeply as he watched what he could not have. “You remember my taste, don’t you? Your mouth waters for it. Your poor, locked-up cock struggles for it.” The wet sounds of her fingers plundering her cunt were loud in the room, her orgasm nearing. “You… poor boy.”
She pinched and rubbed her clit, and it rocketed her off into space as she fell back against the bed, arching off of it as another hard contraction drew a strangled cry from her, the pleasure concentrating, squeezing, the impossible pressure at her clit making her pant, moan, another feather touch of her finger sparking off another groaning, exhausting orgasm.
Falling back for good, her breasts heaving rapidly, she slipped her dripping fingers from the clutch of her sex, her breathless moans the only sounds in the room.
She didn’t know how long she laid there, secure in the knowledge her slave was going nowhere until she desired it, knowing his entire existence was the scent and sight of her wet pussy, his sole reason for being in her world. His ass would seethe and ache and burn, and it would do all of it because she desired it, because it gave her pleasure.
Because he was hers.
Anna should have smiled at that, for it was what she’d ultimately wanted — but she didn’t. It was because of what welled within her at that moment, what her mind kept coming back to, the strength of the emotion as seductive as it was confusing.
Her growing affection for this man.
You’re in deep trouble here, Anna.
It was perhaps the most dangerous thing she could possibly feel at that moment, for it clouded her vision, her judgment.
And made her task that much harder to undertake.
There would be time to deal with that. She hoped.
Shaking off her troubled thoughts, she hoisted herself up on her elbows, looking down between her breasts at his deeply flushed, desperate face.
“If I untie you, do you think you can be good boy and do exactly as I tell you?”
It was a risk — a big one — but she needed this. She needed to show him that serving her wasn’t all pain, all humiliation. That if he were very good, gentleness, even tenderness, might be afforded him.
The truth was, after all that sadistic beating, after the overwhelming force of her lust, she needed this as much as he did. A confirmation of her humanity, a symbolic gesture that showed the both of them, that she was capable of kindness — when he deserved it.
For the first time, she was able to admit it at that moment. She wanted to comfort him, needed to comfort him — something she rarely did with male submissives.
Except for one.
Sliding off the bed, she spoke to him in a low, soft voice. “I’m going to undo your restraints, but you’re not to move. Understand me?”
“Yes, Mistress.” It was a quiet whisper, the man sounding as if he were barely conscious.
Be careful.
Before undoing his last ankle cuff, she decided to bind his arms behind his back again, the box tie looser than normal, but still effective. He laid in silence as she did it, not giving her one second of protest.
Finally, loosening him from his bonds, she laid down upon the bed, sprawled on her back, the pillows piled at the headboard allowing her to look down at him. She silently beckoned him with a wave of her hand. Instead of rising to his knees though, he wiggled down off the wedge, easing his body along the mattress until he laid next to her, his gaze intent, eyes alive with need, arousal, fear.
And that same devastating vulnerability.
This was new territory for him too.
Anna simply watched him for a moment, his eyes coursing up and down her naked, sweating body, drinking in a view of her he’d never been allowed until that moment. He closed his eyes, wincing.
“Cage?”
He nodded, burying his face against the bed in shame.
“You poor boy,” she said. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s where you need to be. We need to teach that cock of yours whom it belongs to, don’t we?”
He spoke the words into the covers. “Yes, Mistress.”
She smiled, fresh arousal firing deep within her belly. She reached for him then, playing with his hair, letting her fingers slide through the thick, silky locks. Not allowing herself to debate the wisdom of doing it, she clenched her hand tight in his hair, his face turning to look at her once more, alarm in his liquid gaze.
Smiling at him as she drew him close, he didn’t resist, cleaving his body to hers, the touch of his skin like electricity along her flesh. His eyes were wide as he looked up at her. She merely nodded her head as she cupped her breast, pulling his mouth to her, sighing and shivering as his lips closed around her aching hard nipple.
He closed his eyes then, his lips tightening upon her, his tongue moving languidly against her now and then before drawing hard over and over on her breast, the feel of his hot, wet mouth as sweetly comforting to her as it was arousing.
They lay there like that for a long while, Quinton worshiping her, her belly coiling and tightening with each deep suck upon her nipple, the fading afternoon light darkening the shadows in the silent room.
Chapter 30
She found him pouring over a spreadsheet in his tidy, spare office. No secretary or admin appeared to be on hand at all in the empty, if tasteful, lobby.
When she’d found out where Grayson’s office actually was — in the industrial district at the southern terminus of Elliot Bay, she thought the computer had given her a bad destination. But here he was, in a nondescript, anonymous two floor building surrounded by warehouses, gantry cranes and stacks and stacks of shipping containers. The area smelled strongly of diesel fuel, and the unpleasant olfactory mishmash of dirty ocean water, rusty metal, and algae.
Now and then, a hulking forklift ferrying a stack of containers would roar by outside, the containers gently swaying as the machine bounced along on dusty tarmac riven in places by battered railroad track.
“Anna, come in.” Grayson looked up from the screen, taking off a pair of frameless reading glasses. His pale green dress shirt was open at the neck revealing a tuft of chest hair flecked with gray. His white teeth shone bright — as a shark’s might — when he smiled at her. “Have a seat. Sorry about the cramped quarters.” His brow quirked. “I don’t get many visitors down here.”
“I wonder why,” Anna murmured, setting her coat dow
n on the metal framed chair next to hers. She crossed her legs demurely, thankful she’d picked a non-daring length skirt that day.
She’d never imagined she’d have to sit so close to the man.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a pleasure visit.” He gave her a wry quirk of his lips. “Not particularly interested in the steamship freight business, I reckon.”
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Corddray.” She smoothed her skirt along her thigh, taking a breath, willing her heartbeat to stay under a semblance of control. “I… need to discuss the contract.”
“And? I trust we’re still a go?” His eyes grew cold. “Have more pictures for me, do you? I can imagine he’s not a happy camper, right about now.”
If only he knew. She’d left him shackled on her bed, his ass no doubt throbbing from another session with her stout strap-on. She’d taken his cage off only long enough to stroke his cock to a full, throbbing erection, giving the shaft one long, slow lick before leaving him to hang, both of them watching in silence, waiting, until finally, his long-denied, tormented cock reluctantly went soft once again. He hid his blushing face as she locked the cage upon him again, whispering in his ear what a good boy he was, that his misery had left her pussy so wet, she intended to masturbate in the shower before she left.
Ordering him to lie down and sleep — if his frustrated penis let him — she’d done just that, screaming out her release so that he was sure to hear it from the bedroom.
As usual, she’d made him watch as she’d strolled from the shower, naked. She’d taken her time dressing in front of him, even going so far as to bend at the waist, her ass and cunt mere inches from his face as she pulled on the skimpiest black lace thong she owned. He’d groaned several times as she’d dressed, his cock trying — and failing — to rise to the occasion of her little impromptu display of her body to her helpless slave.
It was with a satisfied smile that she’d closed the bedroom door, the deep furrows at his brow, the haunted, desperate eyes her last image of Quinton before she left.
“That happy camper, as you say, is what I want to talk about.”
“Don’t tell me you want more money. I’d expected more of you, Ms. Shaw.” He pulled a drawer open, retrieving a deep green ledger, the cover a battered leather. “Still, I suppose we can discuss it. No expense need be spared for my… guest.”
“He’s not your guest — he’s mine.” She laced her fingers in her lap, locking her gaze with his. “What if I were to tell you that the contract needed to be voided.”
He went very still, except for fingers drumming lightly on the ledger’s cover. “I can’t think of any reason why such a thing would be necessary.”
“Humor me.” She cleared her throat. “A hypothetical, if you will.”
“You didn’t come down here to throw hypotheticals at me, Ms. Shaw.” He dropped the ledger back in the drawer, easing it shut. He leaned back in his chair, twirling a gold inlaid pen in one hand. “Don’t waste our time. I’m sure yours is almost as valuable as mine.”
“He’s changed. I don’t even recognize him anymore.” She lifted a finger toward him. “You won’t recognize him.”
“I don’t believe the contract said anything about that mattering. I’m sure I didn’t misunderstand the terms.”
She watched him for a moment, trying to decide which way to take this. “Do you make a habit of torturing people, Mr. Corddray?”
“Why? Would you like a job?” He grinned at her, his spinning pen coming to rest between his fingers. “I might have use of someone with your… skills.”
“I’d never work for you, Mr. Corddray. No offense.”
“Despite the fact you’re… working for me right now?” He inclined his head, mocking her. “None taken, by the way.”
“I haven’t been working for you for weeks.”
His keen eyes glittered as he regarded her. “I see. So… this is now, what? What you’ve taken on as your cause? Grown on you, has he? Found a new pet? Don’t you think George might object to you keeping his beloved son?”
“I think George would object to torturing a changed man for no reason. Especially for nothing more noble than pure sadism.”
“Is that what you think you represent? Noble sadism?”
“Try purposeful.”
“Right, right,” Grayson said, waving a hand, as he dropped the pen onto his desk blotter. “We all have a purpose, right? A reason for who we are? What we do?” His mouth drew to a thin, cruel line, his eyes twin orbs of brittle darkness. “Spare me your bullshit.”
“No bullshit, Mr. Corddray.” She looked out through the blinds, one of the forklifts hoisting a huge container ridiculously high outside, the hydraulic mast slowly swaying under the load, the rear of the forklift bouncing slightly. It looked as if a mere lift of a finger might fatally tip the machine over, sending its heavy cargo tumbling.
A precarious dance.
“You dominant women… I’ll never understand you. I think most of you are just confused. Daddy issues, maybe. But I don’t need to understand you.” He stroked the stubble just beginning to show at his jawline. “The only thing I need is for you to do your fucking job. The contract stands, Ms. Shaw.”
“I’ll return your money then. That’s part of the terms.” She was grinding her teeth, wanting to jam one of her heels right in his eye. The prick.
“Fine, fine.” He hopped to his feet, his movement far more fluid — and feline quick — than she’d ever expected from a man of his vintage. Strolling around his desk, he perched on the end, resting an elbow on one thigh, his foot swinging casually above the floor. “But I would still need something for my money. You see the position that would put me in.”
“You’d have every cent of it. With interest, if you need it. Why not leave it at that?”
“Ms. Shaw, I haven’t cared about interest since the best part of you left a slug trail down the inside of your Mommy’s thigh.”
“I think we’re done here.” Anna rose, collecting her coat, wanting to be away from the man. Stat.
“Suit yourself.” He lifted a hand, palm up. “I’d take the fee back, of course. No harm done. A business transaction canceled.” He stood, his height looming over her. “But the business at hand would remain, wouldn’t it? And you know, don’t you, that I don’t take well to unfinished business. I find it…distasteful.”
She turned for the door, but his next words froze her hand on the knob.
“I wonder. Maybe Mr. Brauer might be convinced to take up his other… talents. With the proper remuneration, that is. I understand he’s quite good.”
She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Why would it matter to the cool, aloof Ms. Shaw. A mere associate. You don’t care unless you’re paid to, after all.” He sauntered back around his desk, dropping back into his chair, one of the casters giving a muffled squeak. “Yes, that might do a sight.” He clapped his hands, the sound jarring in the cramped space, making her blink. “But where are my manners, Ms. Shaw? You were saying about the contract? Does it… still stand?”
Anna tried to look nonplussed, giving him a subtle shrug of one shoulder as she opened the door. “Like I said, Mr. Corddray. Only a hypothetical, right?”
“I’m glad we understand one another, Ms. Shaw.” Grayson’s smile was as cold as a mid-winter’s morning. Then he lifted a finger toward her. “I’ll be attending a special party at one of the Trust’s new clubs — Iridium — next week. I’d expect Trust associates would be attending as well. Iridium is your sort of establishment, I suspect. You should have the invitation on your phone by the time you get home. Perhaps there we could further discuss our charge’s… progress?”
It was an invitation in name only. She’d rather undergo a root canal without anesthetic than meet with Grayson at the club, but she knew he wasn’t asking. Grayson didn’t ask — he expected.
But it gave her an idea.
“Goodnight, Mr.
Corddray.” Inclining her head, she stepped out the door.
Outside, as she strode out across the dusty tarmac toward her truck, she allowed herself to hope.
If she were very lucky… it just might work.
Chapter 31
Anna dug her phone from her pocket as her truck passed down onto the floating section of the 520 bridge across Lake Washington. The rain was coming down in sheets now, the roadway almost totally obscured by spray and the increasingly heavy downpour. In the rearview mirror, a last strong beam of late afternoon sun shone through a break in the clouds, revealing the surreal spectacle of a faint rainbow over the eastern part of downtown Seattle.
She hit the speed dial, hoping she’d pick up. There was no telling where the woman had gone. For all Anna knew, she could have been on her Harley halfway across the country by now.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Then the call connected, the woman’s voice an annoyed growl. “Why the hell are you calling me?”
“Darynn. W-where are you?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you’re my best friend, idiot.” The turn signal indicator clicked softly as Anna pulled around a semi that had her nearly blinded with road spray.
“Tell me you’ve come to your senses and you’re back to at least attempting to do your job.”
Anna sighed. “I went to see Grayson.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
The highway rose back up onto the eastern shore, leaving the lake behind — and immediately, a storm of red brake lights erupted up ahead.
Anna cursed under her breath. Traffic was absolutely awful in the Seattle area now. It had never been good, but with the tech boom going on in the downtown core, life in Seattle was starting to resemble — in all the wrong ways — the insanity of Silicon Valley.
“I had to see what he was up to. What he might… do.”
“What do you mean? This is Grayson Corddray we’re talking about here. What he might do?” Darynn chuckled bitterly. “The answer is — anything he wants.”