Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys

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Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Page 69

by Annabel Joseph


  They didn’t follow me in. One of them threw something blue at me that floated to the ground. “You have fifteen minutes to get changed. If you aren’t changed, you’ll lose all your clothes, and there will be punishment.”

  “Fuck you!”

  The door slammed shut, and I was alone.

  The most obvious thing to do was throw myself at the door and try to rip it open. Once I got that out of my system, I turned around and sank down to the floor, looking around the room. At first glance, it was a pretty, girly bedroom, with a big four-poster bed and multiple pink pillows and pink netting hanging from the rails that ran between the tops of each post. The carpet was a thick, dark, red. In a corner by the window was a small wooden table and two chairs. A free-standing wardrobe of dark wood stood against one wall. Antique bookshelves, the kind with the glass fronts that lift up and push back out of the way, lined another wall.

  But when I finally got up and looked around, I began to see the room for what it really was. At each of the corners of the bed, close to the mattress, hung manacles. Not velvet cuffs, like some silly ‘Fifty Shades’ knockoff, but metal, with chains attached to the posts. There was another set, up towards the top of each post, and again down at the bottom near the floor. Each rail overhead between the posts had eye bolts every foot or so.

  I covered my mouth with my hand as I turned away, only to see what I knew was a spanking bench with enough straps to secure an elephant. Flat against one wall was a dark wooden X, taller than me, with restraints.

  The pièce de résistance to this torture chamber were the bookshelves. When I finally brought myself to look through the glass, which was really plastic, I saw everything my nightmares were made of. Whips and floggers, canes, and quirts. Riding crops and straps, both thin and thick. Nipple clamps. Needles. Dildos so thick no human could ever take them. Dildos with pointy spikes all over. Dildos with inflation bulbs. Butt plugs: short, long, fat, thin. And one that made me shiver—it looked like a metal flower. I knew from erotic books that, once placed inside the ass, a crank of the mechanism would unfold the metal petals inside. It could cause mild stimulation, or great pain, depending on how wide it was cranked open. And once positioned, it could be locked in place.

  I hugged my arms around my chest, fighting the urge to give in to despair. What kind of monster was this man? Was this what my mother lived through, too? I had no idea how she’d ended up here.

  I tried to calm my panicky breathing. What had they said when they left? I had fifteen minutes to do something. My glance fell on the thing that had been thrown at me. I scooped it up. It was a negligee, light blue, knee-length, and completely sheer. I threw it away from me and it floated back down to the floor. Suddenly, that wasn’t good enough. I grabbed it again, and with two hands, I ripped it completely in half. No way in hell was I wearing this! I tore it into strips just to make a point.

  The door opened behind me. I whirled around. It was him.

  “You like to learn lessons the hard way, don’t you?” He stood with his hands in his pockets as if he was casually inquiring what I ate for lunch today.

  He looked at the shreds on the floor. “A pity. That was one of my favorites.” He nodded to the two men behind him. They moved towards me, looks of undisguised lust and hunger on their faces. I backed away as they advanced, the prey hoping for a reprieve from the predator, but I finally ran into the wall behind me. As they closed in, one on either side, I broke for the middle, but each caught me by one arm and my flight was abruptly stopped. Without words, they worked in tandem to pull my sweater up over my head, and my pants down. My bra took even less time. I fought them and yelled, but it was a losing battle, and it only took a moment before I was stark naked, my breath heaving, my arms pinned behind my back.

  “Get her on her knees.” One of them kicked me from behind, collapsing my legs, and suddenly I was kneeling with my arms pulled high behind me. I glared at him, refusing to give in.

  “There’s one rule here in this house. I tell you what to do, and you obey. It’s easy, really. And when you don’t obey, you’re punished.” He looked over my head. “End of the bed, feet on the floor.”

  Two sets of hands lifted me off the floor and almost threw me at the end of the bed. A hand pushed me flat on my face, and I felt another hand grab an ankle and drag it to the side, where it stayed. The same happened to my right ankle. And then they both grabbed a wrist and pulled my arms towards the top corners of the bed, where they fished out the manacles I’d seen before. With my wrists secured, I was pulled so tight my feet almost left the floor. The cold metal bit into the skin of my wrists almost right away, and there was no way to relieve the pressure.

  “I’m going lightly on you this time, girl. There won’t be a second time.” I heard the door to a cabinet open and shut, heard him walk back towards me, and then the pain exploded across my backside.

  I’d never been punished before. Jack had given me a few spanks during sex. I always hoped he’d do just a little more, but something always seemed to hold him back. This, though—this was unlike anything I could have ever imagined. Blow after searing blow hit my skin as I screamed and pulled on the cuffs. It took only a few seconds before I was pleading with him to stop. Apologizing. Promising to obey. None of it stopped the beating I was getting.

  I was only half aware of what was happening when it finally ended. I was sobbing and repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over. And as my sobs eased, I realized the room was silent. I lifted my head and peered through my tears. They were gone. I was alone, still manacled to the bed. I was both relieved and panicked. They didn’t intend to leave me this way, did they?

  After a while, it seemed they did. There was no comfortable way to stand, no way to relieve the pressure on my raw wrists. But it must have been three or four o’clock in the morning by then. I was terrified to fall asleep, but my body had other ideas, and I faded out.

  In my dreams, Jack came for me. He picked me up, cradling me in his arms, promising to take care of me. I believed him. A tender kiss on my mouth was followed by little kisses all over my neck and shoulders that made my skin tingle. He laid me carefully back on the bed, rolling me over, and stroking my ass. The touch was pleasure and pain mingled together in a kaleidoscope of dark and light inside my head. I felt his fingers between my folds, slipping easily through the wetness. They filled and stretched my passage until I arched my head up in ecstasy. Then he pulled his fingers out. I cried out at the emptiness left behind.

  He rolled me over to my back, changing his attention to my breasts. The pleasure that shot through my body as he sucked on each stiff bud left me moaning and thrusting up to the empty air. At the same time, his fingers pushed between my legs again, insisting they part for him. Once they were splayed wide, his fingers began to dance over my clit. I could feel it aching and swollen with desire. As he gently bit my nipple, it took mere seconds to bring me up to an orgasm that shattered me into pieces.

  Then, in my dream, he kissed me and told me to be brave, no matter what happened, and he placed his hands around my neck. I saw him get off the bed and vanish into the mist of my dream, but oddly enough, I still felt his hands around my neck.

  When I opened my eyes, sunshine was flooding the room. I was in the bed, under the covers. It took me more than a moment to remember what had happened, and the lingering pain on the skin of my rear, and the abrasions around my wrists, let me know for certain that my strapping last night had not been a dream. My first instinct was to curl up in the bed and hide, but a bed was probably not the safest place for me. Anyway, I was alone, so I sat up cautiously on one hip, swung my feet over the side of the bed to stand—

  And fell backward when the collar around my neck reached the end of its chain. Oh Jesus, oh Jesus. My fingers flew up to my throat. It was wide, and metal, and tight, and very heavy on my collarbone. The chain attached to it was heavy and thick, and bolted to the headboard. I yanked hard on the anchor-point, but it was solid. It was not going to come loose wit
h my feeble attempts.

  I crawled back into the bed, and now I did curl up, pulling the covers to my chin. No, no, this wasn’t a dream, this was real, and Jacob Schultzman had taken me prisoner.

  I was going to be sick. I rocked back and forth in the bed, whimpering, clutching my stomach, trying to force the acid back down my throat, trying to calm the panicked breathing. The heavy silence of the room weighed on me. How many women over the years had he imprisoned like this? Did they start here willingly and get trapped, or did he snatch them off the street?

  I heard the door to the room unlock. I twisted around to face it. The room was bright, but the door was in shadow, so I couldn’t tell who came through at first.

  “Hello, Livvi.”

  The world stopped.

  “Jack?”

  Chapter 3

  My husband had come to save me. The nightmare was over.

  “Oh my god, Jack, get me out of here! Please get me home! I can’t get this collar off! C’mon, Jack, why are you just standing there? He’ll find us, please, Jack, hurry!”

  He walked out of the shadows, but stood away from me, with his hands in his pockets, and just stared. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, one of my favorites. Why would he wear a suit to come rescue me?

  Something was wrong. Really wrong.

  “Jack, what are you doing? Please, Jack—”

  “I’m not taking you home.”

  “What?”

  “Let me formally introduce myself. I was born Jonathan Schultzman, son of Jacob Schultzman.”

  I stared at him, not comprehending. “What? What are you talking about?”

  “A few years before your mother came here, my mother was here, as well. She gave birth to me, and a little while later, ran off, leaving me behind. About the time I was sent away to my first school, your mother arrived here.

  “When I was old enough to be interested in girls, my father told me the story of how your mother loved him, but he was betrayed by a friend who convinced her to leave. You know that part of the story. What you don’t know, is that he planned to take revenge one day. Getting your father to work for him was the first step. Keeping me away from here at different schools, so no one knew who I was, was next. Because he planned to give you to me. You were to become the canvas that I could act out all my worst instincts upon. He raised me on fantasies of revenge until I could think of nothing else. Until I was obsessed with having you, forcing you to your knees in front of me, whipping you, hearing you scream. Making you sorry for what your father did to my father. Breaking you completely.”

  White-hot horror enveloped me. “You lied to me all these years? You laughed at me, told me I was being silly, made me doubt my own father!”

  He nodded. “Yes. I followed you to college. I became your best friend. I became the man you always wanted, the man of your dreams. But I’m not really the man of your dreams. I’m the man of your nightmares.”

  I stared at him. It made no sense. “Jack—”

  “I’m not Jack anymore. I pretended to be Jack. But Jack is dead.”

  “But you love me. I love you. We made promises to each other!” No no no no no, this can’t be happening! “You’re telling me that, for five years, you’ve only been pretending to care for me?”

  He shrugged. “It was tough. I had to fake interest in things I hated, or laugh at stupid shit to make you happy. It was a relief to take all those business trips. They weren’t real trips, by the way. I actually just came here, where I didn’t have to pretend to be your husband for a day or two.”

  He’d always told me how much he’d miss me before he left, and he called me every night he was gone. And when he came home…

  “What about all those times we made love—”

  “You’re a decent fuck. Not much more than that.”

  “Jack…” Grief was starting to duel with my fear.

  With betrayal.

  With anger.

  “I don’t know what sick and twisted fantasies your father fed you, but my mother was never the same after she was abused by your father! He took her and raped her! How can you defend him?”

  “The strong take from the weak. That’s the way life is. And when the weak manage to get the better of the strong, for even a moment, the only suitable reaction is vengeance so overwhelming that the weak are broken forever.”

  “Jack, please!”

  He was over to me in a mere second, and the slap to the side of my face stunned me, not just for the unexpectedness, but for the ferocity. “Jack is dead!”

  My arms were curled over my head in a futile effort to protect my face. “Then what do I call you?”

  “The same name you called me at home when you were playing our pathetic little submission games. Master.”

  Fuck no. Never again in a million years. But I was beginning to understand that protesting for no good reason wasn’t going to help things. “What are you going to do to me?” I huddled on the bed, my face still aching from the slap, the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. I touched my fingers to my lips and they came away smeared with red. I think it was then I truly realized this was not the man I married.

  “I’m going to train you.”

  “Train me? Like a dog?”

  “In a manner of speaking. When I say go, you go. When I say fetch, you fetch. And when I say bend over so I can ream your ass with my cock, you’ll be on your knees holding your cheeks open for me before I finish the sentence.”

  “Oh my god, Jack, please!”

  As soon as I said his name I realized my mistake. Again, he covered the distance between us in a flash. This time, though, he grabbed me and flipped me face down onto the bed. My arms were pulled roughly back and secured. I heard the clank of the chain against the wood and I was yanked back up and off the bed. He had the chain in one hand and my arm in the other, and without a word, he pulled me towards the door.

  “I’m not going out there naked!” I pulled back. He was suddenly up in my face, the chain pulled tight in his hand. I looked into the eyes of the man I loved, the man I had planned to spend the rest of my life with, and saw only cold emptiness.

  “I believe you ripped up the only garment you were given. It will be a while before you’re given another.” He resumed pulling me to the door, and resisting him made no difference. He paraded me out the door and down the hall almost faster than I could walk. We went back down the marble stairs, the stone cold on my bare feet. I stumbled once, but he caught me and paused a moment until I got my feet back under me.

  As soon as we arrived at the bottom, I knew we were headed to the same office I’d been in when I arrived. Was that yesterday? Last night? A few hours ago? I had no idea.

  The sight that greeted me as we came in took my breath away. J.S. was there, of course. So was the mayor. And the chief of police. Across the room was a woman whom I recognized as the district attorney. And several other men I didn’t know. They all looked my way as I entered, and their mouths dropped open as one. The DA went pale. Jack held me still for a moment as though he were presenting me for inspection.

  “Jacob, what the hell is this?” The police chief was the first to speak. I looked at him and mouthed ‘help me.’ Jack saw, and slapped me hard again, and I fell to my knees.

  “This, Bill, is an object lesson. Her father betrayed me years ago. He paid for it the rest of his life, but he died right before he was finished with his sentence, so his daughter will finish her father’s term, on her knees. She just arrived last night, so is not very obedient yet, I’m afraid. But she will be. I thought all of you would enjoy seeing how her first day of training starts.”

  Jack pulled on my arm once more and I half stumbled to my feet as he led me to the center of the room. I just now noticed what was waiting there. Over the carpet was a waterproof pad. Sitting on top of the pad was a vise, like the kind woodworkers use. And next to it was a ring gag.

  “No! Please, god, no!” The terror rose in my throat along with my vomit.

 
Jack turned to face me. “Kneel.”

  “No, Jack! Please, let me go!”

  He nodded to someone behind him, and as he yanked down on my collar, something hit me behind my knees and they buckled. In less than a heartbeat I was down in front of him. He stepped on the chain and I couldn’t raise up. He bent over to talk to me.

  “I’m going to help you remember to kneel.” The words were a whisper, but the tone underneath was iron. He removed his foot from the chain, and there was a pressure on my back that prevented me from moving. He pulled the vise over and centered it under my left breast.

  My breathing was fast and erratic with fear. “No, no, no…” I whispered over and over.

  He spun the metal rod that spread the two sides apart. They looked like the mouth of some nightmarish beast opening up to swallow me. Jack grabbed my swinging breast and centered the nipple over the maw, and spun the metal rod to close it. I was still begging softly when the two sides came together, right at the edge of my areola. A searing pain tore through the whole breast.

  “Stop! Please! Ow, ow, ow please stop! It’s crushing me! Please!”

  “That’s the point,” J.S. cut in. “Though my son is having trouble following instructions. He was supposed to put your whole breast in there, not just that small part. Every time you look in the mirror for the rest of your life, I want you to see in your misshapen flesh the imprint of our disappointment. I want you to think about how your family let our family down.”

  He nodded to Jack, who spun the rod all the way around again. The pain was blinding. I was screaming; I was begging. I was frantic. I thrashed around under the weight on my back, the pain from pulling on my trapped breast scarcely registering against the pain of the crushed part.

  Suddenly the pain eased just a little. I took in great heaving sobs of air, my mind unable to form coherent thoughts. When I opened my eyes and looked down, my breast was still trapped, but the jaws of the vise were a little wider.

 

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