Quinton's Crucible

by Trent Evans

  “There is… a problem.”

  “Tell me about it,” Darynn said, bitterness in her tone. “No — wait. Don’t tell me about it. If you’ve called me to explain, or try to weasel your way out of admitting how fucking stupid you’re being, then you can save your breath. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I want to cancel the contract.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Darynn? You there?”

  “Jesus.” Darynn mumbled something, but Anna couldn’t make it out. “You gonna just return the fee? Call it good? He’s a dick — but as far as I’ve ever heard, he’s a reliable dick. A businessman.”

  “It’s not that simple. I… if I do it, he’ll take the fee back. Without interest.”

  “So, what’s the problem? Do it. Maybe you’ll start thinking straight once that piece of shit is out of your house.”

  Anna’s mouth had gone dry. “Darynn, if I do that, he’s in danger.”

  “He’s already in danger, you crazy bitch. From you.”

  “I’m not talking about that. If I drop the contract… I think Corddray will do something to him.”

  Darynn’s voice went tight. “You serious? There’s no way he’d chance it. You really think he would?”

  “I’m positive. I saw it in the bastard’s eye.” Anna looked over her shoulder as she angled the truck into the far right lane. She’d roll onto the shoulder if she needed to, her exit only a few hundred feet away.

  “Jesus Christ, I knew this was going to go sideways. We shouldn’t have taken the fucking contract.”

  “I tried to call George — just tell him everything. But Elaina said he’s back east somewhere — she isn’t even sure where he is. So, he’s out.”

  Darynn grunted. “Sounds like George Trask. Jesus, why would you want to spill everything to him though? That really would be blowing up the contract.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the contract anymore, Darynn. I care about saving a man’s life.”

  “An asshole’s life.”

  Anna blew out a breath, trying to keep her temper under control. Trying not to think about the noose slowly tightening upon all of them if she didn’t figure out a way out of it.

  “I don’t care if he was an asshole or not.”

  “Was?”

  “He’s not the same guy he was. Even you have to admit that.”

  Darynn almost snarled the words. “I don’t have to admit a goddamned thing, Anna. This shit is fucked up, you know that?”

  “I know it.”

  Gravel sprayed up against the undercarriage as Anna lost patience and whipped the truck onto the shoulder, gunning the engine and zipping around the now completely stopped traffic. The ride smoothed instantly as she brought the tires back up onto the pavement, speeding up the exit ramp.

  “I’m going to park before I get my ass pulled over.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the way home — but we need to talk first.” Anna swallowed hard, silently praying. “I need your help, Darynn. I really… need your help.”

  The line was so silent, she began to despair that the stubborn ex-Marine had hung up on her. Then there was a weary sigh.

  “Looks like I have to bail your fucking ass out, Shaw. Again.”

  And Anna smiled.

  Chapter 32

  I’d waited for her in a state of anxiety I hadn’t experienced since the darkest days of my captivity in the hole downstairs.

  She’d left me in her office — chained to her desk, of course — my arms well-secured behind my back, my ankles with their familiar hobble.

  Over and over again, my thoughts returned to the night she’d punished me brutally — and then let me touch her for the first time. My ass was still sore, though it was more than two days since the punishment had been administered.

  I could still taste her skin on my tongue. Her body was even more beautiful than I’d imagined. But I knew my enthrallment to her was such that it probably wouldn’t have mattered what she looked like.

  I winced as my cock tried to fill, the cruel steel stopping my erection before it could start. For the thousandth time, I cursed that cage.

  It was undeniable that she was a beautiful woman though, perhaps one of the most striking I’d ever been with.

  You weren’t with her, dipshit. You’re her fucking toy.

  That was true too, and I wasn’t angry about it. Not anymore.

  I had no real idea when she’d be home, but she’d never left me alone for long. For all I knew, she was lounging in the next room, enjoying a nice effortless mindfuck, savoring the fact her mere absence made me begin to worry almost immediately.

  Though she was my source of pain, sorrow, and degradation — she was also my only chance at redemption. She was, effectively, my world.

  So, I sat in silence, staring at the door, as a dog might, waiting for his beloved owner to return home from a hard day at work. Her office was clean and tidy to the point of near-obsessive. I’d seen dirtier museums.

  Not so much as a paper clip was out of place; even her pens — a pair of them — perfectly aligned along one side of a spotless desk blotter. The deep brown overstuffed couch that lined one wall looked as if it had never been sat upon.

  It certainly wasn’t going to be sat upon by me.

  I hissed as I shifted on my knees, having to move periodically to prevent my legs from falling asleep. I didn’t know how long I’d been left there, my collar affixed via silver chain to the wooden leg of her huge desk. I did feel like a pet when she’d closed the door behind her.

  I didn’t really know if that was the intention. What did that mean if it was her intent?

  Shut up, asshole. You’re driving yourself nuts.

  Listening to my blood pounding in my ears, I breathed deeply, willing myself to calm. I would deal with whatever came next — even if it didn’t mean she’d let me touch her.

  God, how I wanted to touch her.

  The door opened with a crisp snick, and I practically jumped with the sudden noise. I’d expected to hear her heels clacking on the floor in the hallway, the sound one so associated with her that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to hear it again without thinking of Anna Shaw.

  Which was probably exactly how she wanted it.

  She stepped into the room, her eyes immediately alighting upon me.

  Oh, Jesus.

  She wore only her black lace thong and a white tank top, the upper curves of her breasts moving languidly as she walked toward me. My frustrated cock tried to stand up again. Her lips curved in a half smile as she beheld my subjugation once more. I knew my humiliation excited her.

  I used to rail at the injustice of that. Now? I simply accepted it as right, as the way things were. I could understand it, in a way. After all, I was the same way when I was the one holding the reins.

  Did I even remember what that was like though?

  “You were a good boy,” she murmured, unsnapping the chain from my collar, dropping it to the wood floor. I tried to move and she pressed a palm to the top of my head. “Stay.”

  I realized she was barefoot as she strolled to that couch, tucking a smooth leg under her as she curled up on it, her gaze fixing upon me. “Come over here.”

  My heart began to jackhammer as I rose shakily to my feet, pins and needles torturing my toes from the long period spent forced to kneel at the side of her desk.

  On unsteady legs, I shuffled around the desk as fast as the hobble would allow me. I stood before her then, the fact I was actually looking down at her something so unfamiliar as to make me shake my head a moment, unsure if I was seeing things correctly.

  She crooked a slender finger at me. “Closer.”

  Her sweet nipples were prominent bullets under the tank top, my mouth watering at the memory of her hard bud upon my tongue, the deep, pure satisfaction at sucking hard on them, knowing I was giving her pleasure. I did only want to please her now.

  Brainwashing complete?

&n
bsp; It didn’t matter.

  I drew closer until my shins pressed to the front of the couch, her alluring scent threatening to have my cock uncoiling futilely once more. I willed it to still, willed myself to keep my attention on her.

  The cage meant my pleasure didn’t matter. It meant my arousal didn’t matter.

  Only Mistress mattered.

  Saying not a single word, she bent low, her head at my knees as she reached down for my ankle cuffs. Her tank top rode up her lower back as she worked, and I fought the sudden urge to run my tongue over the sweet bumps of her spine. Amazingly, I felt the ankle cuffs pulled away, the chain clinking against the wood floor.

  She peered up at me. “Turn around.”

  I obeyed instantly, the alien feeling of freedom of unfettered feet something that made me smile giddily.

  Her deft fingers pulled at the harness binding my wrists to my elbows, the box tie position something that was now as normal and unremarkable as breathing.

  Then those bonds fell away too.

  “Look at me, Quinton.”

  I turned slowly, not daring to move my arms from their position, even though nothing kept them fastened behind me any longer.

  Anna was sitting back once more, one arm laid along the back of the couch, her other hand playing with the hem of her tank top, her sparkling eyes upon me.

  “W-what’s happening?”

  I was utterly at sea at that moment. I’d been a bound captive for so long, I actually felt a little anxious at the lack of tight leather or rope imprisoning parts of my body. I was free.

  Well, not totally.

  I felt my blush heat my cheeks as I remembered the cage. I knew better than to look down at it though, keeping my gaze on my beautiful, cruel Mistress.

  She smiled at me. “Not used to this, are you?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “I want you to listen very carefully to me now.” She raised her chin slightly, those intense dark eyes pinning me in place as surely as if I’d been bound hand and foot. “You’re only going to get this one opportunity, this one chance. Don’t expect it to happen again anytime soon — if ever.” She leaned forward then, peering up at me, the position exposing her deep cleavage, her elbows on her lap. “So don’t let me down.”

  My breath felt like it was caught in my chest. I wasn’t sure what to do. Did she mean… what I thought she meant?

  “I want to hear the words from your lips, Quinton,” she said softly, a husky, languid note to her tone. “I’m trusting you. Trusting you… to understand.”

  I swallowed down the painful lump in my throat, my mouth so dry my lips practically stuck together. “I understand, Mistress.”

  She smiled at me again, her eyes flashing. She held her fist up before me, then turned it, opening her hand, palm up.

  The tiny key glinted there.

  I gasped softly at the sight, trying not to plead with her, my cock instantly stirring. I dared not hope, dared not desire what I wanted very, very badly. Would she deny me at the last moment? Another cruel game?

  Oh, please, God in heaven…

  Then she reached for me, her gaze dropping to my crotch. The shaft of the cage was unlocked and pulled away, my cock instantly beginning to rise. It pulsed atop her wrist as she gently extricated my swollen balls, one at a time, from the prison of that ring.

  Then finally, blessedly, I was free.

  Free! Oh, Christ!

  My whisper was equal parts awe and disbelief. “Is… this really happening?”

  She leaned back again, and met my gaze. “It’s happening. Now do your worst, Quinton Trask.”

  For a heartbeat I stared at her, the words ringing in my head.

  I’m trusting you… to understand.

  I knew I could run from the room. I could do anything I wanted — and she couldn’t stop me.

  She knew it as well as I did. And we both knew I didn’t deserve it.

  So, prove you really are a man who can look himself in the mirror.

  I fell on her like a man dying of thirst, diving into a deep well of fresh, blessed water.

  My lips crushed hers, and I swallowed down her moans. I straddled her body with my legs, my weight pinning her to the couch, both of us watching the way the tip of my cock left a trail of wetness across the swells of her breasts.

  Then I took hold of her top and yanked it up, drawing a surprised sound from Anna. “Raise your arms,” I said, urgent, desperate.

  I was so unused to giving her orders, but I had to have her. Each second I had to wait was the worst torture I’d endured yet.

  She hoisted her arms to the sky, and I tore the top up and off of her, throwing it to the side as I dropped down, taking her sweet, soft breasts in my hands. She moaned again as I kissed down her throat, her chest, squeezing each breast harshly as I feasted on her hard, dark nipples. Her gasps were music to my ears as I sucked deeply, as I worried the sensitive tips with the sharp edges of my teeth, growling in primitive pleasure at the way she’d begun to tremble in my arms.

  Anna met my gaze as I pulled away, her nipples swollen, glistening, teeth marks upon her vulnerable flesh. She tried to move away, and I caught her by that long, luxurious hair.

  It was my turn.

  Pulling her back against my chest, the whites of her eyes shone as I smiled down at her, taking her chin in my hand, turning her face up to me.

  “I’ve dreamed of this,” I said against her lips. “Oh God, I’ve dreamed of this.”

  Then I kissed her again, savagely, taking, owning those lips. The same lips that had spoken countless words of cruelty, that smiled at my suffering, that moaned her climaxes as I watched and suffered, denied as was my lot.

  I threw her to the couch, using my grip on her hair to press her cheek to the cushion, murmuring to her to be still. She said nothing, but her body was like a coiled spring, her smooth, taut muscles vibrating with a feline strength. I pulled her to her knees, my grip in her hair keeping her face pressed to the couch, her round, vulnerable bottom presented to me.

  Time seemed to stop as I looked upon her beauty, her momentary, unbelievable surrender. It was a gift I never deserved, could live a lifetime without earning.

  And yet, she was giving it to me.

  My temporary slave.

  I smacked her ass hard. Left, right, and left again, my handprints blooming instantly upon her pale, flawless buttocks. She gasped again as I rubbed my cock upon her defenseless, reddening flesh, leaving wetness behind upon her skin.

  Gripping her bottom in both hands, I pressed those cheeks wide apart, almost groaning myself as I exposed everything. Her plump, well-trimmed sex, her tiny, dark hole. I plunged between them, laving her ass, over and over again until her hips began to wave, Anna pushing back, the pleas undeniable. Her taste - -so familiar — was the sweetest yet, her scent all around me. I drowned in it as I thrust my tongue deep, remembering all my hard lessons, the sting of her palm on my cheeks as she smiled down at me, whispering at me to do better, that she expected better. How many moaned threats, promised tortures had she hissed at me as my tongue brought her to climax again and again. How many times had she ground my face between her thighs once more, my jaw aching, my tongue numb?

  Now… it was for me. This one time, it was for me. A glorious gift.

  And I drowned in her, drowned in my gratitude to my Mistress for granting me something so special.

  I pressed my tongue inside her, an act that had my cock almost exploding, drawing a sharp intake of breath from her as I thrust over and over again. Licking between the swollen, soft lips, just as I’d been exactingly trained, I brought her closer and closer.

  Only this time, I was denying her for my pleasure — not hers.

  Unable to resist an instant longer, I slicked back her hood, sucking that prominent clit between my lips, Anna crying out as I drew hard upon it. I loved her clit, something I saw in my dreams more than once. Serving it, knowing it drove her insane, was a pleasure all its own, even with my cock
locked in its lonely prison.

  Giving her that pleasure, making her feel good. There was nothing better on Earth to me now.

  I circled that hard bud, her hips bucking each time. I smacked her ass, growling against her flesh, old instincts returning, the animal male let out of his cage — figuratively and literally — just this once.

  For her pleasure and mine.

  Laving between her lips again, I drank down her juices, pressing my face tight against her as I knew she loved, letting her sensitive flesh feel my hot breath. Then I swirled my tongue one last time around that desperately hard clit, and she spasmed, letting go a tight scream as her juices flooded forth. I licked up all of it, thanking her silently, remembering that she always required I take all of it, no matter how strong the let-down, no matter how many times she came.

  I thrust a finger between the soft petals of her cunt, the sensation almost magical as I sank deep into her wet heat, her thighs spreading wider, a lost whimper slipping from her lips as I continued to plunder the tight clutch of her sex.

  “Do you want me to fuck you, Mistress?”

  “Yes!”

  I added a second finger, curling them exactly as I knew she loved, reveling in the deep groans I drew from her each time I did it. I wanted to make her squirt. I had a secret obsession with it, a dark fascination with licking up her essence, my twisted pleasure at being forced to take each squirt upon my extended tongue something that even now made my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

  She’d taught me to love it all, to crave it all.

  Anything to please her.

  But I could wait no longer — it was time for my pleasure.

  Time for me to seek satisfaction for what she’d trained me to truly believe was my own selfish desires. Her desire had become my own.

  But not now. Now, I would take it, this lone, unique granting of a very special favor from my own dark goddess.

  My Mistress.

  Taking hold of her hips again, I presented the head of my desperate cock to her entrance, and she purred.

  “Do it, slave. Make it hurt.” She almost snarled it.

  I thrust into her in one long, brutal push, drawing a cry from her as I filled her. This wasn’t loving, this wasn’t gentle.