“I was naked at all times.”
“What you describe is illegal, is it not?”
“The police were among our best customers. I was often raped by their batons as well as their cocks.”
“Touch yourself, Colleen, massage your clitoris, and tell us, what is your future?”
“I—I belong to Trident,” Colleen shivered as she placed her hands where he had told her, her backside undulating invitingly before her master.
Unable to resist, Ashley crouched between Colleen’s legs, intent on licking her clit from behind.
“Ashley,” Simon said sternly, “come back and sit down. Now.”
Ashley obeyed, though it seemed inappropriate for her to sit on the couch, fully clothed in the presence of another of her kind. A naked slave.
“Turn about, now, Colleen. Lie on your back, draw your legs to your chest and bring yourself to orgasm. As you do, tell us again, what is your future?”
Her breath came in short spurts. “Trident owns me,” she said. “My future is in their hands.”
Simon reached across to grab Ashley’s hand, preventing her from touching his clothed penis. “Pay attention, Ashley. Colleen, will you ever be free?”
“No,” Colleen declared, “no, sir.” She tossed her head from side to side, a pretty, wicked owned slut in high heels, showing off her pussy as she stroked for them.
Ashley sighed, feeling the juices between her thighs. “Please,” she begged Simon. “May I get down and suck you?”
“No!” Simon roared, rising to his feet. “Have you understood nothing? Must I go to the next level in this little demonstration?”
Ashley felt herself grow feint as he took the belt from its loops. On the floor, Colleen continued her motions, lost in her own forced pleasures, oblivious to the pain she might be about to receive.
“Simon, please don’t!” Ashley cried, interposing her kneeling body between Rice and his intended target. “Do it to me instead! It is I who deserve your wrath!” She put her hands to the neckline of her dress. “Say the word, and I will tear the clothes from my body. Teach me, Simon. Teach me to fear your belt, teach me to fear your cock. Teach me as you taught Tia.”
He very nearly struck her then, his manhood surging as he beheld the small, vulnerable target below him: the girl, crouching, head to the floor, enticing, maddening ass poking in the air, soft, silky hair in disarray at his feet. Compared to her, what other woman mattered? What was Colleen or any of the others in this place, or in the brothels and clubs he owned or even the harems he stocked for Middle Eastern sheiks? They were nothing, that’s what they were, nothing in comparison to the infuriating, tempting, insolent, virgin Ashley.
Simon roared in rage as he snapped the belt down onto the floor, avoiding both girls. How he longed to release his fury, his passion on this virgin imp. How would she look submitting to him he wondered, her angelic face lit up and dreamy as he filled her to the quick with his aching cock. Like the Pirate Lord, when he took Tia.
Simon pressed his fingers into his skull. Now she had him thinking like this, dreaming of her ridiculous ghosts! And what was he doing here, anyway, playing house with a Trident whore, trying to please Ashley and convince her to pretty please go home now? For heaven’s sake, was he no longer a man?
If ever there was a time to get his house in order this was it. Lifting Ashley to her feet, he told her that the games were over. She was playing at something real and dangerous and it was time for her to make a choice. Thrusting his ring finger in her face, revealing the non-descript triple bands, each in a different base metal, he said, “Do you see this? This is a symbol of Trident. Trident is not just videos and pop music. It’s flesh trade. High end. This woman here belongs to me, Ashley. I could do anything to her, anything at all and get away with it. The law means nothing. And I like it that way. Do you know why I was at the club that night? Because it’s mine, Ashley. I own it. And do you know what I did to the men who wanted to hurt you? Nothing. As far as I was concerned, you got what you deserved for coming in there. The only reason I intervened was that I wanted you myself. That’s right, I smelled out your virginity, and it tempted my jaded palate. I was on the way to conquest, when you slid into the stratosphere on me, spouting all that stuff about pirates. Not wanting a lawsuit, I nursed you back to health. Well now I’m done, and I want you out of my life. And don’t say a word about love, Ashley. I love no one. I don’t even like women. I own them, I fuck them. I sell them. That’s all. Are we clear now, once and for all?”
Ashley lowered her head to the floor at his feet. “I do not wish to leave. I wish to be owned by you.”
“Very well then! Colleen, you are my witness. I tried to employ reason! Get up, Ashley; we are going to make your wish come true.”
“Do you mean it?” she asked, as he dragged her down the hall by the arm, having left the hapless Colleen on the floor, still recovering from her flood of climaxes.
“Never more serious,” he assured her. “When we are done with you, you will make Colleen look like a dominatrix by comparison.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, as she stumbled to the car. “Thank you, a thousand times.”
“Don’t thank me, girl. You haven’t a clue what you have let yourself in for.”
Chapter Seven
“Just a minute!” Andrea called, having already decided to keep him waiting at the door as long as possible. “I’m not decent.”
Actually she was to die for, clothed in pale blue latex, a second skin that began at mid thigh and ran no higher than the hollow of her breasts. Only one shoulder was covered, and as for what the dress did for her ass, suffice it to say it would make a dead man blush. The hair, in turn, was a sexy counter statement, upswept and tasteful. As a finishing touch, she wore diamonds, earrings and a choker with subtle but definite implications for a man of Falcon’s background.
Andrea giggled, thinking Tom would have loved the shoes, open toed, wispy silver things with long nasty heels. Painting her toes ice blue was of course a stroke of genius. Examining herself in the mirror, Andrea ran her hand up her flat torso, up under her breasts, which were bare underneath. Underwear just didn’t cut it with this ensemble, though from the outside the outfit still screamed ‘normal wholesome pinup girl’.
She would seduce John Falcon tonight, she decided, adding a bit of frost to her ideally shaped lips, or else kill him in the process. Andrea smiled at her reflection. Things were going her way again. She’d lined up Falcon to find her sister and gotten kudos and grateful hugs from Libby in the process, plus she was certain now she could control this new man. It made her laugh the way she handled him on the phone, telling him in no uncertain terms that he would take her along tonight to The Edge as he started his investigation.
“I work alone,” he’d grumbled, in typical male fashion.
“Well now you have a partner,” she’d told him. “Assuming you do want to get paid.”
Falcon was silent at first, but in the end he agreed to pick her up at her hotel by nine. You have to handle men, she thought, arranging a carefully chosen strand of loose hair. In the end, they are all putty in your hands even Lucas and Bosco, with their tough guy routine. Hadn’t they just given her what she wanted, after all, and on her terms, treating her to the rough sex she craved and then telling her what she wanted to know about Ashley?
No more knuckling under, she vowed, walking coolly and seductively to the door. From now on, she would take care of herself, and her men—bringing them to their knees, like she did with Tom. Dad would be proud of me, she thought. In fact, if things went well, she would call him, maybe get the family together for a reunion when all this was over.
“Why, John!” she cried, oozing saccharine surprise though it was already nine thirty. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
He looked at her, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He was scrumptious this way, hair slicked back and tied in a pony tail, clean shaven, smelling so fresh, arrogantly filling out his t-shirt and jeans.
“So, what do you think?” she asked, thrusting out her left hip, doing her best Vanna White. “Do I clean up pretty good or what?”
John shook his head. “There’s no way you’re going to The Edge dressed like that.”
Andrea stared in disbelief. “And exactly what’s wrong with my dress?”
He shrugged. “It’s too vanilla for one thing.”
Too vanilla? Was he for real?
“How’s this for vanilla?” she challenged, peeling up the hem of her dress to give him a flash of neatly shaved, perfumed beaver.
Falcon narrowed his gaze. “All right, that’s the last straw. Excuse me, please.”
Andrea tried unsuccessfully to lay a wet kiss on his neck as he brushed past her, moving with clinical precision.
“Falcon, are you gay?” she demanded, hot on his heels.
He laughed as he knelt to look under the head of her bed. “You really are a conceited little thing, aren’t you?”
“What the hell are you doing down there?” she asked, ignoring his childish insult. “Have you gone mad?”
“Checking on a little insurance,” he said, straightening himself to his full five foot ten inches. “Andrea, I don’t know how to put this in a way you’ll understand. The person we are after, the Tiger, is a very dangerous man by the name of Simon Rice. For him, whips and handcuffs aren’t a parlor game, they are a way of life. Women who get mixed up with him disappear, Andrea, and men, too. If I’m to find your sister, I have to be able to move freely, unencumbered.”
“I can move freely,” she said huskily, slithering towards him attempting to place a hand on his crotch. “And I’m great undercover.”
Falcon seized her wrist in midair. “No, Andrea, you’re not. You’re about as subtle as a five hundred pound gorilla in a china shop.”
“You’re hurting me!” she lied. “And it’s not a gorilla in a china shop, it’s a bull.”
“Whatever. And for your information, this is not even close to the pain you’ll be in for if Rice gets hold of you. I assure you, the man plays for keeps.”
Andrea tried to tug on his hand, with her whole weight, using his arm as a swing, but all she succeeded in doing was ending up on her knees. “For a man who doesn’t like dominating, you sure are a bully!” she cried. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to do down here with my mouth at your crotch.”
John brought her back to her feet, grabbing both her wrists this time. “Andrea, I really don’t have time for this. I’m going to ask you one more time. Will you promise to stay in your room tonight till I come back?”
“No! I’m going to the club with you tonight, whether you like it or not!”
John nodded. “That’s what I thought you’d say. You leave me no choice, then.”
“What are you doing?” she cried, as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slapped one of the bracelets on her right wrist. “Get that off of me, you bastard!”
“Sorry, kiddo, it’s too late for negotiating,” he said, pulling a second pair of cuffs from his pocket.
“More cuffs?” she cried. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re not into bondage?”
Falcon lifted her in his arms and deposited her on the bed. “It’s security,” he explained. “For your own good.”
Holding her squirming stomach down with one hand, he used the other to link up the cuffs, securing the free end to the bed frame.
“Much better,” he said grimly, having made her a prisoner on her own bed. “Now I can work in peace.”
Andrea tugged uselessly on the chain. “I’ll scream,” she threatened.
“I anticipated that,” he nodded, producing a rubber ball gag. “Will you behave, or do I have to use this?”
Andrea lifted her hips seductively. “I haven’t behaved so far, have I?”
“This isn’t a joke. I’m trying to save your life—or at least your freedom.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be free,” she taunted, her eyes glazing. “Look, Falcon, you showed me who’s boss. You win. I stay here in chains, you go to the club. Is there any law says you can’t enjoy your victory a little before you leave? I’m good, everyone tells me I fuck as good as I look.” She ran her free hand over her body, advertising its potential, from her ripe breasts down to her sopping pussy. “It’s here for the taking, Handcuff Man.”
He watched as Andrea dug her heels into the bed and spread her legs, giving him an unencumbered view. His expression was unreadable.
“Admit it. You hate me,” she taunted, tracing her long fingernails down her nether lips and inserting the fingers of her free hand. “You’ve pegged me as an ignorant, shallow slut, a BDSM wanna be, a poseur. You’re dying to teach me my place, make me beg and come and squeal all night. You’ve been turned on since the beginning, but you needed a reason to want me. Well, now I’m going to give you one—a chance to hate me. You know why my wholesome sister went to a BDSM club? Because she caught me scening with her fiancée. That’s right, he had his cock up my slutty ass, he was riding me, and I was collared and harnessed, too, totally nude on his bed.”
Andrea started undulating, trying to bring herself off. “I know that makes you want to punish me, Johnny Boy. But wait—” she put her cum soaked hand to her lips in mock distress. “Oh dear, I forgot. You aren’t into BDSM. Oh, well.”
Falcon smiled wryly. “That’s true,” he agreed. “Of course, if I were, the way I would torture a girl like you wouldn’t be to fuck her; it would be to not fuck her.”
Andrea froze in mid stroke. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a smart girl, think about it. Now, I’ll ask you once more, will you promise to be quiet?”
“If you kiss me first.”
“That settles it then.” He popped the ball in her mouth, securing the straps behind her head with a tiny padlock, one her free hand would never be able to release. “I’ll be back later,” he said. “Anything you need in the meantime? A blanket to cover with, more pillows. You can watch TV if you like.”
She flipped him her middle finger.
“No TV it is. Of course, I do hope you realize there’s no escape. I’m putting up the Do Not Disturb and I’m going to pay the desk clerk good money to see you’re not bothered in any way. You won’t mind if I take the money from your purse, will you? Consider it part of my expenses.”
She flashed a withering glance, then did her best to ignore him as he carefully counted out the money, wrote a receipt and put it in her purse with her wallet.
“Wish me luck, then,” he said, turning off the light on his way out. “Try to get some sleep. And by the way, when a real submissive begs for sex, she does so in silence, offering up her pussy, not touching it, not saying a word, begging with her eyes.”
Andrea started fighting as soon as he was gone. The first thing she tried to do was get off the bed, but when she tried rolling herself, she discovered she wasn’t close enough to the edge. By twisting herself, she did manage to kick the wall a few times, doing a half summersault, but this grew tiring very fast. Kicking the lamp over didn’t do any good, either. As for pulling on her chained wrist, all that got her was a chafed wrist.
At long last, she lay still. He’d really done it, hadn’t he? Made her a prisoner, gotten his way. No one had ever done that to her before. The frat games were just that, games, played with steel and rope and lots of beer. But this was no fraternity boy; this was a grown-up man who’d decided to keep her a prisoner on her own bed. Damn it, why was she still so horny? The bastard was long gone—why did her pussy do stuff like this to her?
Could it be that being chained against her will was the cause of her arousal? There was a sobering idea: Andrea Daniels enjoying hardcore domination, actually getting off on her total lack of control of the situation. She thrust a greedy hand into her pussy. Might as well get comfortable, she thought. It was going to be a long night. But what to fantasize over? The bellhop who brought room service today was pretty cute, or
maybe one of the soccer players she’d seen in the lobby?
Andrea tried them all, but in the end, she was frustrated. She couldn’t help it, all she could think of was Falcon, and what he’d done to her. How she had to lay like this in her scandalous dress, unable to get up or even go pee, and how she’d have to stay this way till he came back, till he decided to let her go. Flashes of heat moved down her cheeks and to her breasts and belly. Suddenly it didn’t seem like a game, lording it over men with her easy submissiveness, controlling them with her come hither beauty, making them feel like conquerors, like men.
She took her hand from her pussy. He’d said the way he’d punish a girl would be by frustrating her. Andrea put her free hand over her head, as though it, too, were bound. She spread her legs, as far as she could, till the hem of her short dress had ridden up to her waist. She imagined this was the way Falcon had ordered her to wait, burning, open, and unsatisfied. For hours if he so desired. Andrea moaned into her gag, a shadow prisoner, in her dark room. On the verge of orgasm, and yet denied. Clothed, and yet utterly bare to the man’s devices.
And at this very moment (and here was the most arousing thing of all) he was out there, with her money, her key, visiting a sexy club, maybe thinking of her, maybe not. But always knowing, in the back of his mind, that she was there for him and him alone, in his chains, locked away.
The saliva dribbled from Andrea’s mouth in a steady stream, staining the bed. Her swollen nipples pressed at the latex as her fragrant pussy wafted the smell of her submission. Never had she felt like more of a slut. Falcon had put her in her place, all right. Single-handedly, he’d made her horny enough to fuck a boatload of bellhops, but denied her to anyone but himself.
Over and over, she thought of touching herself, but she couldn’t bring her hand down to her sweet spot. Not without permission. How she wanted him to come back for her, to walk in the door, to sink himself deep and hard into her softness, till she cried and begged and submitted. Submitted for real, in the way Falcon told her real slaves did, using only their eyes, their captive bodies.
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