No Limits

by Knox, Elizabeth

  He was dirty and rough, and I wasn’t sure why I didn’t fear him, why I didn’t push him away, kick him off and run. Instead, I spread my legs wantonly and screamed out as another orgasm ricocheted through me. My body lifted, pressing against him as my pussy sucked the streams of white fluid that he spilled into me. Shuddering in her need to be fed.

  I stared up at the ceiling, my body shuddering as his cock continued to pulse inside of me. His breaths were uneven shudders as pleasure coiled around him, his muscles tensing as he rocked his hips against me. I grinded my nails against his back, scratching him as he slid in and out of my slickened core.

  He growled in lust and slammed my hands down on the bed, trapping my wrists as he lifted himself above me and stared down at me.

  “I like how you fight, baby girl. You’re pussy likes it too. You feel that?” He slid out and the sound of my wetness filled the room. “It likes to suck my dick up, real good. Ugh,” he slammed back into me and I whimpered, fisting my hands and turning my head, hiding the pleasure that ran through me.

  “You can fight me all you want, but I’m not leaving you, and I’m not leaving this.”

  My eyes flew to his, tear drops sliding slowly down my face. “Why?”

  He gently ran his tongue along my cheek, my tears falling on it before he nuzzled my neck. “Because you’re mine.”

  “But I don’t want this.”

  “It’s not about what you want, baby girl. It’s about what you need.”

  He gripped my hips and began that torturous movement once again. He was far from done with me and I hated that with every stroke, I was closer to becoming convinced that he was right, that this was what I truly needed.

  Chapter Seven

  Eric

  “Fuck! You were supposed to call me a week ago! What the fuck do I pay you for if you’re not going to do your job.”

  “I’m on her trail. It’s not an easy task. She’s smart, knows where to hide.”

  “Bullshit! My wife is the dumbest whore you’ll ever meet,” I gripped the phone tightly, hearing a slight crack and wishing it was his skull I had between my hands instead.

  “When I find her, I’ll let you know.” I gritted out, my eyes drifting to my precious girl.

  I was afraid she’d leave, but she hadn’t. She knew this was a safe haven even though I was around. I’d warned her last night that if she left I’d come find her. I found her once, I would most definitely find her again, especially now that I had her scent on me. I could tell she hated it. People didn’t do well when the truth was slammed in their face. And my Aracely was going to fight me tooth and nail.

  After a long time, she’d finally closed her eyes and curled up in the bed, her back to me as I left her lying there. I had avoided Shane Wyatt at all costs, but I thought it was best to finally answer one of his calls. A very bad idea.

  “You better. If not, I’ll find you.”

  “Is that a threat,” I growled into the phone. I knew his twisted wheels were turning, the silence engulfing the line.

  “Just find her,” he snapped, and the phone went dead.

  He knew better than to instigate anything with me. I’m not one of the good guys. I track people for money and hand them over to whoever pays the most. FBI, underground government agencies, Mafias, cartels, fucking sick people who don’t want their secrets being discovered. What they do with them, I don’t give a fuck, as long as that dollar sign keeps showing up.

  I was thinking of retiring after my last job. That last job that nearly fucking drove me to the edge. A sixteen-year-old girl who’d run away from home. Her parents were devastated, they also knew how to work the media. The fake sobbing, the worn out looks in their eyes, how they appealed to those parents who’d lost a child. I found her quickly enough, most teenagers didn’t think of covering their tracks. She’d been hiding in a basement of a friend’s house.

  I watched her for a couple days, just like I do with all my targets, including Aracely. I followed her step by step. I even knew what she ate and when she went to bed. One night, her routine was disrupted. Her friend had wanted to go out and convinced her to do so. Stupid move if you want to remain under the radar. On her way out of the club, I grabbed her. She was leaning against the wall on the side of the building, smoking a cigarette. It was easy enough to steal her away and bring her right back to her front porch.

  Three months later, her body was found in the woods behind her home. A hiker had found her raped and mutilated body under a pile of dried leaves. Turns out her Father wasn’t as perfect as he appeared to be. He’d been raping her for years, until finally he got angry enough to hurt her. He’d smashed her head in with a rock, thinking he’d knocked her out. He proceeded to rape her, leaving his seed inside of her. When he went to wake her, she’d already been dead for at least fifteen minutes. He’d flipped out and hid her. Told his wife, she’d run away again.

  I heard his whole confession on the mics I’d kept in their home. I never did trust them. I shot him that night. Right between the eyes while he stared up at me, pleading for his life. But he hadn’t had that mercy with his daughter, why would I ever give it to him. She deserved to have her retribution and killing him was almost satisfying.

  Almost.

  I spent months trying to tell myself it wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t good at feeling guilt or remorse. I knew how to shut it down, how to shove it deep down inside and stay cold. But this one… fuck, this one got to me. And then the prettiest girl in the world appeared, and she erased everything I had become. Nothing mattered anymore, not the dollar signs, not the targets, not my life. I’d die for her. I knew it from the instant I saw that picture.

  She was mine to own.

  She belonged to me.

  Fuck, we belonged together. And besides, even if she didn’t want it, which she did, I didn’t give a fuck. Finders keepers and all.

  I made my way down the stairs and headed towards my pretty girl. As soon as she saw me, she ducked her head and focused on another client. There was no escaping me and she knew it. The other bartender, Trent, was his name, came up to take my order and I shook my head.

  “She’ll do just fine.”

  The young man frowned but knew better and leaning in, he whispered to her. Her eyes flew to mine and she pursed her lips in the cutest angry pout. Moving past Trent, she came up to me.

  “What do you want?” She hissed.

  “Your pussy on a silver platter.” I smirked as her cheeks inflamed.

  “You can’t be here. They’ll kick you out.”

  “Now why would they do that? I’m a paying customer with an invitation. Then again, they could try, but not before I grab you and take you with me.”

  She clutched the dirty rag in her hand and that fire I loved about her started to simmer. “Good girl,” I whispered. “Now take that delicious ass over to those bottles back there and get me the best whiskey you’ve got. Later you can give me what I want.”

  “And what is that?” She gritted.

  “The taste of your pussy on my tongue,” I groaned as I played with a long strand of her hair, deliberately stroking the hard tip of her tit through the thin tank she was wearing.

  She whirled around and slammed down the glass on the bar as she poured me a shot while eyeing me angrily. My cock liked it, leaping at attention as she propped a hand on her curvy hip. Coming back to me, she slammed the whiskey glass in front of me, the liquid sloshing around her fingertips. She leaned in and narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Stay. Away. From me.”

  Before she could leave I grabbed her by the back of her head and forced her to stay where she was. Taking her hand, I gripped her index finger and brought it to my lips. She struggled lightly against my hold, but as soon as my mouth wrapped around her finger, sucking the whiskey off them, her lips parted, and her eyes glazed over. I twirled my tongue along the tip and licked along the inside of her slim digit, knowing how sensitive that area was. Her pussy was soaking itself as she bit down on th
at juicy lip of hers.

  Pulling her towards me, I pressed my lips against hers, not kissing her, just holding her there. Captive. “You don’t tell me what to do, Princess. It’s best you remember that.”

  I let her go and she swayed back. She stared back at me, her eyes slowly clearing from that delicious sub space she so easily entered. Swallowing hard, she turned, a look of resilience in her eyes. Fuck I loved that. That look made my cock stretch out, eager to take what was his. Letting the whiskey coat my throat, my hands itched to make her mine again. But I was a patient man, and besides, I wasn’t leaving her side. We had all the time in the world to make her realize that I was who she needed.

  The lights suddenly went out and I turned in my seat to face the stage directly in front of the bar. A spotlight turned on, centered on a bondage table. The infamous, Mistress Alondrea stepped out. She held a thick chain dangling from her fingertips and on the other end of it there crawled a man, collared and gagged, and attached to her heels.

  “Up!”

  Her voice was strong, crisp, and cut through the silence like a knife. The man obeyed instantly, lying face down on the table. Immediately, two other men surrounded him, making sure to cuff his ankles and his wrists, securing him. All the while, Mistress Alondrea stood there, swatting the crop she held, against the palm of her hand.

  She was a stunning woman, mid-forties, bright green eyes. Her dark hair was up in a tight bun, loose curls outlined her face. Her pale skin shone pristine in the spotlight, and her red lips glittered. There was something about her that caught a man’s eye. Maybe it was the swell of her ass in the leather leotard, or the statuesque legs in those red whore boots. Or maybe it was the assertiveness in which she wielded that crop in her hand, as if it were a part of her.

  She rounded the table, the crop gliding down the man’s spine, and my cock lurched as she raised her hand, swatting it against his muscled ass cheek. The flesh flinches, the muscle spasming. The sound echoed through the room as everyone watched their Mistress at play.

  “What am I going to do with you?” she asked him.

  “Whatever you want, Mistress,” he responded loud and clear.

  “That’s music to my ears,” she said, just before smacking his ass hard with the crop.

  Before long, his buttocks were fiery red. She smiled, leaned over and caressed them, a hiss resounded from his lips as he bucked back into her hand while she cupped his balls. She smiled at the audience while she squeezed him, her tongue grazing her lips as she tossed the crop aside.

  A torch was lit by one of the male spotters beside her, and they obediently handed it to their Mistress when she asked for it. She smirked knowingly as she approached the table, the man groaned as she dragged her nails across his bruised buttocks. His grunts filling the silent space.

  My eyes suddenly wavered from the stage to the tight ass that was sashaying past me. I reached out, grabbing her wrist and tugging her between my legs. She struggled against me which made me chuckle. Twirling her around, I pulled her against my hard cock while we both took in the show.

  “Running away?” I whispered huskily into her ear.

  “N-no,” she stuttered, and I found her uncertainty so fucking tempting.

  “So, where you off to?” I played with her hair, pulling it aside, wrapping it around my fist while tilting her head back.

  “I... I’m taking my break.”

  “Mmmmm,” I wrapped my hand around her neck, holding her there while her eyes held mine. They were filled with fear, with regret, with curiosity.

  Smiling, I released her, and she followed my eyes back to the stage. She stood there, hypnotized as we all were by Mistress Alondrea. She taunted the audience while she teased her slave. Slowly, the two spotters on her side helped her up on a step so that she was standing on the bench, her sharp heels on either side of his hips.

  “You’ve been a bad boy, Ladon. Touching yourself when your Mistress forbade it.” Taking her heel, she pressed it down on a butt cheek making him grunt in a cross between pleasure and pain.

  Meanwhile, between my legs, my sultry vixen was leaning against me as my hands travelled beneath her tank top, roaming along her bare skin. Her breath hitched, yet her eyes kept focused on the stage.

  “Do you enjoy touching yourself too, Princess?”

  She bit down on her lip before pulling away, but I held her tight, gripping her hips between my thigh. I combed her hair with my fingers, pulling it into a ponytail and forcing her head to the side and back against my shoulder. Her lips were near my mouth, and I gently teased her.

  “I bet you do. I bet you like running your fingers down that slick pussy of yours.”

  “I hate you,” she breathed as my fingers played along her soaked panties.

  “That’s good sweetheart. That means you’ll fight me, and I sure do love when you fight.”

  “I won’t ever give you that satisfaction.”

  I grinned against her lips, dragging my tongue along her bottom lip. Her breaths came out in angry little puffs as my finger slid her panties to the side, slowly outlining her lips. Up on the stage, Mistress Alondrea was having her own torture session.

  “Watch,” I whispered to her as I slid my arms around her, securing her against me. I didn’t miss her needy whimper as I pulled my hand away from her core, I simply ignored it.

  The Mistress crouched down over the man, sitting her pretty ass down on his back. Taking the torch, she swiped it along his ass cheeks, gently swiping away the heat with the palm of her hand. He grunted and humped at the table while he received his punishment. She leaned over, her form, panther like as she stretched out on him. He yelled out as she passed the flames along the bottoms of his feet.

  “What happens when you disobey your Mistress, Ladon?”

  He jolted against his restrains as she swept the torch up his calves, singeing any hair she found.

  “You get punished!”

  “Good, boy.”

  She continued to torture him with her fire play. Singeing the back of his calves and feet. The men soon came and helped her down while she leisurely stepped over the man she had tied down and helpless. Like a surgeon, she was handed the cane. Aracely’s hands gripped my thighs and her body tensed.

  “Punishment is for those who need to be reminded that rules are set in place for a reason. Sometimes for their own safety,” I whispered as I stroked her arms, easing her tension.

  “Count!” Alondrea’s voice cut through as the whoosh of the cane sliced through the air.

  “One!” He screamed as he jolted on that table.

  “Twooooo,” he fought the cuffs.

  “Thre…” his voice broke as the cane cut through the middle of his arch.

  She issued a session of five strong swipes. Her breasts heaved from the exertion and the audience received a glimpse of their Mistress in pure heat. Dropping the cane, she moved toward him, undoing his cuffs, cooing at him as she did so. She gently undid the cuffs at his ankles, massaging his feet and calves, soothing him.

  “Up,” she whispered softly, and I could see he was shaking as he tumbled to his knees before her. She stroked him gently, his head, his shoulders, his hand running across the hard length of his cock, and I wondered if I’d ever feel that tender touch from the woman who stood in my arms. I held her towards me, my nose nuzzled against her neck.

  Alondrea looked out at the crowd. “Tell them how you feel.”

  “Loved,” he whispered as she kissed his cheek.

  “Tell them why.”

  “Because I’m loved by you, Mistress.”

  She smiled and leaned in, kissing him softly. “Come, now.”

  Taking him by the leash, she led him off the stage and the lights dimmed and flickered back on after a few minutes. Several people milled around after the show, a few involved in their own orgasmic bliss. Me, I was happy just holding her. Her body shifted against me and I turned her. Her eyes met mine, a soft look on her face.

  “One day, I’m going to
put a collar around your neck.” I stroked her throat with my thumb, feeling how she swallowed nervously. “It’s going to be beautiful when I do, and you’re going to want it, you’re going to cherish it. You’re going to want me around you, always.”

  Kissing her lightly on the cheek, and moving her aside, I walked away. I walked away from what I wanted the most and I did it with purpose. Maybe with a bit of indifference, she’ll miss me, she’ll realize only I could make her feel safe and loved.

  Chapter Eight

  Aracely

  I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night, and in a way, I felt naked, exposed without him nearby. His intensity soothed me, his presence calming. At least, when he was around, everyone knew they couldn’t come near. Now, here I was being accosted and cornered by the man I least wanted to see.

  “Micah, please.”

  “Come on, Aracely. Mistress may have given you food and shelter, but I’m the only one who could teach how to survive in this place. Without a Dom you’re just a sheep out for the slaughter. Let me be the one.”

  “I already told you, I’m not here for that.”

  “But you were definitely there for that asshole that hangs around you. Did you know he threatened everyone in here if they got near you?”

  I was a bit taken by the statement, but not surprised. He would be the type to bring anyone down who came near me. It was an inexplicably warming thought.

  “Let me make you feel good, baby,” Micah’s hand slid down the curve of my ass and I placed my hands on his chest as he tugged me close.

  It wasn’t that Micah was a devious man, nor was he unattractive, I think that was the problem. He’d wanted me since I first met him, but I just didn’t want him in return and he didn’t seem to want to accept that. He was a handsome man, dark features, tall and muscular, he could have anyone in the room. Yet he wanted me, the broken one. The one who was slowly being taken by the one man who could destroy her.