Sharon’s tanned cheeks just hinted at a blush, but she licked her lower lip, her eyes dilated and blazing.
Holy shit.
“That should do it, I think.” Forster tilted his head toward the door. “Thanks, Eldon.”
The door to the practice opened just as Eldon made it out to the front lobby. A tall, rangy man with a deep five o’clock shadow and a plain white t-shirt stretched over his wide, muscular shoulders strode in. He had a blazer slung over one shoulder, his eyes hidden behind mirrored aviator lenses.
“You must be the new guy,” the man’s deep voice rang out. “Blaine Forster.”
Damn—it’s him.
He’d seen the man’s name come up plenty of times in the background they’d gathered on the Trust, but he’d never in a million years anticipated meeting the guy in person. The man standing in the practice’s lobby was one of the current leaders of the entire Dominion Trust, his family going all the way back to the shadowy, mysterious founding of the organization decades earlier.
You wanna ask him for his fucking autograph, fan boy?
Blaine didn’t let him stew in thought long, though, shaking Eldon’s hand so hard, he thought he might have fractured bones. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to chat. Point me in the direction of my bastard brother. Seems he has some sort of surprise in store for me today.”
Chapter 7
“You know I don’t like that word here, Tamara.”
Heller leaned against the front of his desk, a cut tumbler with a couple of fingers of single malt swirling in the bottom, his fingertips dangling the glass between his thighs by the rim only.
“I know, sir. But… I can’t.”
“You know I’m going to ask you why. I’d ask even if I wasn’t inclined to deny your request.”
I swallowed hard, looking up at him from my customary position, on my knees before his great desk. His height was almost Olympian from that perspective, something I had no doubt the hard man took great pleasure in.
“I-I don’t think he needs a guide anymore. He’s been here before. He knows his way around—right?”
Heller’s dark brow arched. “I don’t know, does he? That was supposed to be your job to ensure he does, wasn’t it?”
My pulse picked up on the gathering menace in the man’s deep voice. I had to be careful here. Outright disobedience was never something tolerated lightly—or at all, really—at the farm.
“I—why does it need to be me?”
“Who else would you suggest?” He sipped from his glass, both of us knowing the question had no answer. I was the only person who could do what he needed me to do. My unique status at the installation ensured it.
And it was both my source of greatest joy and the cause of my deepest despair.
I came to both dread and anticipate Saturday mornings, even though it always meant, as sure as the sun rises, a trying visit from both of… them.
Their berating, their threats, their implied promises, no matter how frightening they could sometimes be—and not just because a part of me deep inside still responded in an animalistic way to such treatment—were all worth it, for that one moment.
The instant Nathan’s big Hummer came crunching up the driveway to deposit the tall drink of water medical assistant back in my lap for another weekend sojourn.
The rounds of the farm had become more or less routine, though I never, ever, grew tired of the wide-eyed shock he couldn’t help but express at the numerous and innumerably diverse tableau life on the farm was capable of. As the weeks passed, he’d grown ever more familiar with both the inmates and their demanding masters—and grown more adept at fielding even the most intimate of questions and problems.
From the owner who asked if his slave’s period influenced the quantity and quality of her milk, to the numerous times Eldon was offered the casual use of one of the debased, lactating females—inevitably followed by Eldon’s increasingly hesitant refusals—he’d adapted, as much as a kind, decent man could in a den of depravity, vice, and punishment allowed.
I could tell he’d learned to take a sort of pleasure in seeing to the various aches and pains and complaints that were part and parcel of his purpose there at the installation.
But it was the evenings that we both grew to savor.
For that first night had set the pattern.
After he’d showered and dressed, his feet often bare upon the carpet as he sprawled across the couch with a drink in his hand, he did what we’d both come to eagerly anticipate.
He made me answer questions.
It could be anything, from politics, to the inner workings of the farm, to what those poor women were thinking as the cups drained away their precious milk, their eager, aroused owners and husbands always waiting with stinging whips, and sharp tongues, and hard cocks. He’d made me tell him of my first love, and he’d told me of his.
He’d confessed that he looked forward to seeing me more than he wanted to admit. More than it was safe to admit.
And all the while he did this, I would kneel for him, and he’d order me—at random times—to take this or that off. Soon enough, I would be naked, save for my collar, cuffs and chains, the man looking at me from all angles, taking in my debased—but freely offered—nudity. I could always see how hard he’d get, pacing behind me, the weight of his gaze on my bottom, posed as it was primly upon my bare heels. How I wanted to lift it to him, to cry out as he thrust deep inside my cunt. I knew I would offer everything to him, ask him to make it hurt—just the way I’d dreamed.
But it was that desire that I knew burned within both of us, and one that we both knew we could not—should not—act upon that had me in Heller’s office, begging, pleading for him to let me off this duty.
For though it was the sweetest duty I had ever experienced, watching that Hummer drive down the road the next morning, its very special, decent, and kind cargo in the backseat, was the hardest, most bitter pill to swallow. My heart ached, a little of it dying each time I watched him go.
So it was that I knew what must be done, even if it would break my heart to do it.
Chapter 8
The Hummer bounced along the now familiar route. The rattle and crackle of gravel thrown up into the undercarriage as the big truck bombed off the highway onto the narrow access road, the dip in the pavement before the tires buzzed over the steel grating at the cattle crossing.
He knew he was in trouble—and probably in more ways than one. Exposure to the farm’s depravity was wearing him down, testing his will power, his resistance to temptation. It was a constant danger in vice, as it was to some extent for anyone entrusted with significant power. For Eldon, this was more than a moral struggle.
This was a battle to determine what he was made of. He knew he was in serious jeopardy of losing sight of what and who he was.
The sights and sounds and smells of his visits to the farm were invading his dreams, and more than once, he’d woken up, horrified at how much he’d been aroused—even in his dreams now—at the twisted use made of the helpless female inmates of the farm.
One thing helped him carry on though, and long ago it had ceased being simply ‘doing the right thing.’ No, this reason was much less noble—and that truth was one that was hard for him to admit.
More than anything, he looked forward to seeing Tamara each time he visited, his sweet memory of their time together sustaining his days, though his fevered dreams of her naked body haunted his nights.
It was the memory of the sweet, yielding, mysterious girl that kept him going back, week in and week out.
The weekday summons to the farm was an unusual one; he’d never been there at another time other than a weekend. The old Eldon—the non shitty cop—would have been instantly suspicious. But he knew it was likely just another wrinkle in Heller’s plan, the director playing everyone like puppet theater, Dr. Forester happily providing the marionette.
Eldon had lied—again—to the lieutenant, but this time, he’d done it for a purpose. He had resolved
to end this, one way or the other. She was the secret to it, even though he had no real idea how he was to end it. He knew one thing for certain though: he would figure out how to get Tamara away from that place.
He would take the girl from the farm and set her free, let her live life on her terms for perhaps the first time ever. Wouldn’t that—finally—be something the good guys did?
But he hadn’t yet figured out how to do it when the summons for a Wednesday visit had popped up on his phone.
The first problem was figuring out how to get her away from the immediate vicinity. Nathan was unlikely to just offer to spirit away someone who was essentially Heller’s property.
Worse, Eldon still wasn’t exactly sure where the farm actually was. He’d have time to plan, once his duties were through.
Chapter 9
The butterflies were pattering in my chest as I watched the black truck finally come bounding down the final length of the driveway. The sun shone bright upon my back, and I’d picked my briefest shorts, the thinnest top, the fabric ridiculously threadbare. My nipples—and their horrid clamps—were shown in stark relief beneath the white material of the midriff-baring top. I knew Eldon loved it as much as the other men did. I wanted to do what made him happy, if only this one time.
Before everything had to change.
I moved toward him as fast as my chains allowed. The light in his eyes… there was something missing there.
Then he squinted up at the sun, and set his gaze upon me—and that spark was back.
The warmth between my thighs reciprocated the heat I saw in him as he looked upon me.
Nathan was already pulling away as I went up on tip-toe and whispered in his ear, breathing deeply of his cologne. “Come with me first. There is no work today.”
He looked confused, then a grin creased his handsome face at the realization. “I wondered…”
Smiling mischievously, I took him by the hand and led him back to the residence.
I swayed my hips for him a little more than usual, delighting in knowing his gaze was locked upon my bottom as he followed my slow, careful ascent of the stairs—the hobble of my chains making any stairs a trial in even the best of circumstances.
Once safely inside his rooms, I bade him sit on his familiar couch, but this time I did not kneel. This time I would show him everything. I stood before him in the center of the sitting area, my hands clasped across my sex.
And waited.
For a long minute, the fear began to grow inside me that I’d confused his motives, misunderstood my intimate surrendering all those nights under his detailed, sometimes demanding, questioning.
Then he stood too, and my heart was in my throat as he removed every cuff, every chain, every vestige of what I’d been before this night.
“The top first,” he growled. “Always.”
His voice was rougher than usual, thick with a lust I knew he’d no longer allow himself to deny.
He stood close, the very air currents like the stroke of a lover’s hand as I bared my breasts to him, dropping the top to the floor as I met his gaze. Though I was bashful, I knew he took pleasure in my embarrassment—and that, in turn, fired my arousal still more.
“W-what’s happening here, Tamara?”
My voice shook but it was with desire, rather than fear. “What we’ve always wanted to happen, and never had the courage to try.”
He touched my lips and I trembled. How often had I dreamed of that moment of his first caress of my body?
“I… won’t be gentle.”
And I knew that too. His questions had always implied, hinted, given me the tiniest glimpse at the animal he hid deep inside. It would be hidden no more, and my body shivered in dreadful anticipation.
“I know. I want all of it—the ugliness, the hurt, the anger, the tenderness. Give it all to me, Eldon. For one night, let me have all of you.”
He took my hair in a savage grip, turning my chin up, making me face him. His eyes blazed with a fire I’d never seen before, but one that my body already knew on an elemental level. His thumb traced the cruel metal of one of my clamps as I drew a sharp breath, knowing the pain they could unleash once loosened.
“You can’t make me into this.” His grip grew tighter and I gasped, the roots of my hair burning, my dripping cunt burning still hotter. “You won’t make me this.”
He slapped my face, once, twice, and I groaned, cleaving to him, crying out. “Yes, yes! All of you. I want all of you!”
His lips crushed to mine and he kissed me savagely, taking, plundering, conquering. He drank of my fevered, panicked breaths as he worked the clamps free of each nipple in turn, the heavy metal thunking against the thick carpet. His lips devoured my neck and I nearly passed out from the pleasure of his hot breath, his rasping tongue, his sharp teeth at the soft, vulnerable hollows of my throat.
My tears spilled as the sensation flooded back into my nipples, hot liquid fire as the crushed nerves there roared back to life. I cried out as he kissed and sucked those too, the sensation making fresh tears flow down my cheeks, the river of woe matching the juices coursing down the insides of my thighs.
It was a sweet pain—because it was Eldon who gave it. He could never know the truth of that, how much power he held over me.
How much I was willing to give to him.
And so I never told him. My cries, his savage grunts, his foul curses, his growled demands, would be the only sounds of that night.
“Stand still.” He placed a finger across my trembling lips, his thumb smearing a hot tear across my fevered cheek. He met my eyes as he said it, darkness, and lust, and forever whirling in the depths of his gaze. “You move a muscle and I’ll whip you raw.”
I didn’t answer, though my lips curved in a knowing, playful smile, recognizing it was the cape before the bull.
Still, I obeyed, looking on in fascination when it was his turn to stand before me, and I watched him, my pussy a seething cauldron of lust as he pulled every stitch of clothing from his long, lean body. Though I’d dreamed of what it might look like, as his cock sprang free, it exceeded even my wildest imagination; its veined length was much like his tall, rangy body. Long and thick, the head broad and flushed, the glistening fluid at the tip already dripping a thin line of liquid tribute toward the carpet. His shoulders rippled with a striated, unbreakable strength, the primal appeal of the male animal at its finest, in its most raw—and untamed—form.
He stalked about me as he took in my nakedness, my vulnerability. My breasts heaved, the nipples swollen to twice their normal size. The feeling was already coming strongly, and I knew he would let it build, until I would beg him rather than suffer the shame of spilling involuntarily. He caressed, and pinched, and slapped. Squeezed and stroked and raked. Every inch of me he touched, until my breath was frantic, until my aching clit stood as hard and needy as my two tortured nipples.
“How long I’ve waited. Why did I wait so long?” He took me by the throat and my breath hitched in my chest. “Why, when you’ve always been here for me? Always mine.”
“Yes,” I breathed, even as he squeezed tighter.
He slapped me again, and more tears poured forth, tears for him, for me, for the time we’d lost, for the preciousness of the short while we still had left together.
Then the head of his penis nudged between my thighs and I gasped at the feel of him. In a flash, he was driving inside, up, up, impossibly far, exploding the breath from my lungs.
“Oh… my God!”
He gave me no time to adjust to his girth—and he was thick indeed—taking up a rampant, punishing rhythm, as if by pounding into me he could exorcise all the demons that tormented him, that tortured us both.
Still buried deep within me, he rushed me back toward the bedroom, holding me by the hips, pausing to pin me against the wall along the hallway. His fingers dug tight into my buttocks, his wiry pubic hair grinding deliciously upon my clit as his cock thundered into me again and again within the jealous
clutch of my sex.
Then we were in the bedroom, our twined bodies tumbling upon the bed, pillows exploding in all directions as he took me like a predator conquering its prey. In moments, we were both lost to our pleasure, our climaxes a cacophony of moaning, lost, animal delight.
He used me in every way a man could, deep, deep into the night.
Making me kneel upon the bed before him, he fed me his cock, slapping my face if I gagged, stroking my hair and murmuring wicked encouragement when I finally managed to swallow his entire length. I’d never sucked a man his size before, and it was a daunting task. But the prospect of failing him, or depriving him of his every want and desire was far, far worse.
I cried out in sweet, dark, twisted pain as he took my ass, no amount of lubrication making his passage any less than a trial. But bear it—and gladly—I did, until he was pounding against me, driving me toward that illicit, confusing, dark and dirty orgasm that only could come with a man’s hard cock deep in my ass.
He rained harsh, burning spanks upon my bouncing buttocks, growling at me to squeeze him even if it hurt, to squeeze him because it hurt.
Then I cried out my pleasure, finally dropping over the precipice of my orgasm as he exploded impossibly deep inside my bowels, his teeth sinking into the join of my shoulder. As he panted above me afterward, my body writhing, broken, gloriously used, below him, he promised me one thing, and one thing above all else.
I would always, always be his.
Chapter 10
He rolled over, his arm searching blindly for her warm, yielding body.
But the bed was empty.
“Would the real Eldon Bishop please stand up?”
The deep, drawled words sent a chill down his spine, and he spun immediately from the bed. Awake in a fraction of a second, he knew what he did in the next few moments might make the difference between life and death.
It was Heller.
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