“Then why don’t you just say so?”
“I figured you knew, since I’ve hardly spoken to you since McDonald’s last night.”
“I’d rather have my women be more direct with me.”
“We’ll I’m being direct now,” she sassed, her voice unusually shrill.
“Whew! You got one hellava nasty streak, don’t you?”
“You would too, if you’d been through what I’ve been through.”
“So? What? You’re blaming your life on what, Christopher Hurst?” he asked.
“I’m not blaming my life on anyone, least of all Christopher Hurst. But you’re hardly one to talk. You never have explained yourself and why you were at his house that day.”
“Anymore than you’ve explained why you were living with that jerk.”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“You always have choice.”
“Right.” The spiteful sarcasm of the last several years—what she thought she’d left behind with Christopher—seemed to have found another venue.
“You know, I’m a pretty good listener.”
No, she wouldn’t have known. It was impossible to have a conversation on the bike. And when they weren’t fucking in the evening or grabbing a bite to eat, they were sleeping soundly. There hadn’t been much time for anything else, with the exception of the three stoned days in Chicago. They had to keep moving, something about getting to LA by the end of the month—not that Johnny was actually pushing that hard. Still, until now, her traveling companion just didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who really wanted to talk.
“So, you’re a good listener, huh?”
“Sure. Why not? We have the time.” He looked out the rain-spattered window.
“I guess so,” she said, as she watched the light drizzle turn into a hard downpour.
“Lady at the counter says that it’s supposed to keep this up all night and all day. I guess we’ll crash in the motel next door.”
“Oh, wow.” She considered this information a little scary. Maybe they would have to talk. Was that a good thing? She wasn’t sure. Somehow Johnny Gold hadn’t impressed her as a friend as much as he impressed her as a proficient lover.
“Hey, what’s the problem? Just satisfy my curiosity a little. Why did you hook up with Christopher Hurst?”
“I ‘hooked up’ with Christopher because I really didn’t have anywhere else to go… and I didn’t have the guts to change things.”
“Oh, I see.” He took a deep breath, thinking that she just wasn’t going to answer his questions no matter how he phrased them.
He was rather cute when he pouted. “You really want the whole story? It’s long and twisted and you’re probably not going to believe half of it.”
“Long? Heck, if I can handle what we did all night. Twisted? Sounds interesting to me. I’m sure I can handle whatever you have to confess. And believe you? Why don’t you try me?” His willingness warmed her, his wit was playfully gentle and she liked that, too.
“Okay then…” she took a deep breath. “I was in boarding school, one of those fancy, hoity-toity places that teach young women virtue, good grooming and how to snag a rich husband. That wasn’t exactly what the curriculum stated, but that’s the essence of it. My father was very wealthy, but he died young and my mother just wasn’t cut out to be a mother; thus, the boarding school. I was there from the time I was twelve, while mother was out auditioning future husbands—although it was sort of like putting notches in a gun the way she moved from lover to lover. She was a better party girl than she’d ever be a wife. Her last lover was Christopher Hurst and for some reason, he seemed to stick. They got married. The only times I saw either of them was during the holidays, when I was put on the train to join them for these ‘lovely’ family gatherings. I didn’t like Christopher much and he didn’t like me, but we were stuck with each other. I moved on to college and the same pattern took place. If I’d had anywhere else to go, I would have, but being incredibly shy at the time, I didn’t make friends. I think everyone decided I was aloof and unreachable. I probably was. The Christmas of my junior year, I arrived at Christopher’s estate for the usual festivities, and he informed me that my mother was gone. Gone where? I asked. She just skipped out on him. We were two rather pathetic creatures. Disliking each other but stuck together for the holidays. However, by the time I was to go back to school, we’d called a truce. Nothing was actually said; we just stopped acting bitchy. I kept expecting my mother to resurface, but she never has. Not having anywhere else to go, I suppose out of habit, I returned regularly to Christopher’s estate for brief visits. He was in the audience when I graduated from college, and he invited me to live with him until I found a job that suited me. One thing led to another and I stayed until you took me away.”
“You despised him, but you stayed?”
“I had no idea what I really wanted to do with my life. Not a clue. I still don’t have a clue. After a few weeks the first summer, Christopher asked me if I would help him with some business projects and that seemed easy enough to do. I felt a little guilty for not having left the convenient situation by then, so I got involved with his projects and never left.”
Johnny looked at her suspiciously, head cocked. “You’re not telling me everything. There had to have been something else,” he decided.
“Yes, well…” she took a big bite of hamburger—which was really quite tasty.
“It was sex, wasn’t it?”
Her eyes shot open wide.
“There’s just some things you can tell,” he explained.
“Yes, we had sex.”
“Because that was convenient too?”
“Humm. Sort of.” She sighed and put the hamburger back down on her plate. “Heck, I don’t know what good it does to keep it a secret…” she felt her face flush hot, “we had sex, really kinky sex.” Jill couldn’t ever recall having said the word kinky, and trying it out now, the sound of it sent a little thrill through her quavering body. Johnny seemed innocuous enough, safe, non-threatening, what did it hurt to confess this awful truth?
“Kinky, huh? I might have guessed. You care to explain more?”
She gazed around self-consciously, just to make sure no one was listening. “He liked to tie me up.”
“Really? Heavy stuff?”
“Yeah, pretty heavy stuff. I liked it heavy, everything bound, immobile, put at his mercy.”
He looked confused. “So, how does something like this start?”
“I don’t know, I guess some couples talk about it, but with Christopher it sort of happened accidentally.”
“Like he accidentally tied you up?” He snickered amusedly.
“No, like I purposely tied myself up and he saw me.”
“Ooo, that’s nasty.”
“It was. And embarrassing. And a turn on.” She went on to explain. “Christopher Hurst has quite a sadistic streak. When he saw me in the bathroom with my crotch bound, I was so embarrassed that I was in tears. I tried slamming the door in his face, but he pushed right back and dragged me out. Then he held me. It was really strange. I sobbed in his arms, while he kept telling me that it was all right. For an entire sixty seconds, he was actually kind to me. And then, he took down the hall to his bedroom and hauled out more rope than I’d ever seen in one place. He put a blindfold over my eyes, told me to relax and started to bind me with his rope—my tits, my cunt, my arms behind me. He had me hog-tied and gagged, laid out on his bed, his prisoner. By the time he finished, all he had to do was finger my pussy for about ten seconds and I came.”
Jill caught her breath and took a long drink of Coke. Just telling the tale, her body heat soared, and that junction between her legs was so wet that she could feel the moisture through her jeans.
“That’s how it started, huh?”
“Yes, that’s how it started. For the first six months we had bondage sex at least twice a week. The craving in me was so strong, I never would have thought of leaving him. Tha
t’s all I cared about—at least for the first six months.”
“Until he turned into an ass.”
“Oh, he was always an ass. But that was part of the allure. I like the mind game, him being the stern master and I the victim submissive. Of course, I do have other needs. I started to want more than bondage sex. I expected it. I wanted a little romance, which he was incapable of, and conversation. It didn’t take long before my infatuation ran its course. He wore especially thin when he started to use me other ways. And it was just that, being used. Little quickies whenever he was horny, like I was obligated to service him. And then he asked to me have some fun with his friends… you know, do him a few favors. The first couple of times the guys really were fun, but then it was anyone he knew that he wanted to impress. I became his whore. The pretty, respectable, gracious princess whore.”
“You could have refused him.”
“I didn’t see it that way.”
“But you must have stayed because you liked it.”
She was offended by his conclusion.
“I stayed because he kept putting me in bondage and turning me on with his ropes and those amazing scenes where my body had a life of its own.”
“I’ll bet that obsession doesn’t end with him, does it?”
“Not really. But I haven’t thought about it much with you.”
“You don’t want to try it with me?”
“I didn’t say that. It just never came up, except that first night.”
“It’s got me turned on.”
“Oh?” She softened a little; the raw edges of her anger faded away, even the anger crawled back in the hole where it safely hid. Raw desire replaced it. The thought of ropes and cuffs and gags and spreader bars…
“You want to get a room now, or finish that hamburger?”
Her belly spasmed hard but not from hunger. “Get a room.”
Chapter Five - Sex Under The Bridge
Johnny Gold hadn’t a clue what he was doing. But obviously, he had a picture in his mind when he shoved Jill toward the bed and told her to undress.
“You know, you don’t have to be rough with me,” she said, feeling unsure if she liked him this way. It really wasn’t his style.
“I wanna be rough with you,” he countered as if he really meant it.
“But you don’t have to do this,” she begged off.
“Maybe you want that gag in your mouth, huh?”
He acted strangely, which made her body react exactly as it always did at the thought of being restrained, but something wasn’t quite right. Regardless, she took off her clothes and lay down on her back with her legs spread and her arms above her head, the classic pose of surrender. He’d be able to fuck her in this position, and once he got off, maybe he’d forget the bondage and go back to screwing the way they had been screwing for the last ten days.
Seeing her laid out, Johnny seemed to gather momentum for an act he’d only dreamed of on rare occasions when some stupid slut pissed him off—was that what he was feeling now toward Jill? Pissed off? Or did she just represent a dozen women who’d slapped him with rejection? Not a man to waste time on personal debate, and realizing how it gave him a decent sexual thrill, he moved forward with his plan.
As if he’d been putting women in bondage for years, he tied Jill’s wrists and ankles to the bed frame with the duct tape he bought in a hardware store across the street. The gray tape looked crude against her pink skin, and oddly erotic in a rough sort of way. It certainly did the trick, binding her tight enough to keep her in the pose for as long as he desired. Adding to his vulgar creation, he stuffed her mouth with her day- old panties, which reeked of body secretions and the smell of stale sex. He slapped a short piece of duct tape over her mouth to hold the panties in. “You oughta like this,” he had said, as he took a whiff of the panties and pushed them into her mouth.
Pleased with himself, he strutted around the bed, deciding what to do next. The sight of her was enough to have his dick throbbing happily inside his pants. He knew he wasn’t patient enough for the kind of drawn out session she must have had with the fussy Christopher Hurst.
In one last inspired thought, he shoved a pillow under her hips to raise her ass. That done, he mounted her like a conquering warrior and fucked her hard for nearly a half-hour, celebrating her inability to move. He came the first time with a brutal lunge and a barbaric grunt of satisfaction. Then pulling out of her, he scowled darkly. “You know, there’s something really nice, really anonymous about screwing a broad who can’t move and can’t say a word. You like it, don’t you?”
She nodded her head.
He moved off the bed. “What about in your ass? I’ve always wanted to take a woman up the butt, and you have such a cute one. Whadya say?” He sneered like most men testing their power with a woman. Of course, she couldn’t reply. But her eyes lit with a beastly glimmer of consent. That’s all he needed to see.
“Yeah, right up the butt next time,” he decided.
Not knowing what else to do until he was erect again, Johnny sat in a chair a few feet from the side of the bed and smoked three cigarettes while watching her watch him. The room was filled with blue smoke by the time he squashed the last butt in the ashtray. Wanting her ass now, his cock was in gear again, beginning to throb. How to do this? he wondered silently. He strolled around the bed deciding, then finally used his pocketknife to rip the duct tape holding her wrists and ankles. He tore it away with an angry tug and ordered her onto her belly.
Sensing his dark mood, Jill felt that funny tickle in her groin she loved so much. But oddly, the sensation was not the magnificent roar of excitement she normally felt in a scene like this. It wasn’t the duct tape, or the soiled panties in her mouth, or the shabby motel room that smelled like disinfectant—when it didn’t reek with cigarette smoke. In fact, all those things together could have tripped her sexual switches easily. Just not with Johnny Gold, not the way she liked it. The chemistry wasn’t there when it came to the bondage scene. And yet, he could have screwed her in the regular way and she would have been cumming by now in multiples.
Once she turned over, Johnny repeated the duct tape bondage as if he really knew what he was doing, making sure that her bottom was conveniently raised so he could take her doggy-style up the ass. Funny, he thought, he’d had an odd premonition when he saw her with Hurst. He’d wondered then if their relationship wasn’t sexual. He was right. Now, what he’d never had with a woman, he’d have courtesy of daddy, Christopher Hurst. How ironic.
With that deviant thought arousing him further, he climbed on the bed behind her and settled himself between her spread legs. Poised at the door of her anus, he looked down at the dry hole wondering what it took to get inside a woman’s backdoor. He felt her cunt, thinking that she might need some lubrication, and finding it wet, he mercifully smeared her juices over the higher opening and gently worked the little rosette for several seconds. Deciding that should be enough to soothe the passageway, he put the head of his circumcised cock at the doorway and lunged.
Jill emitted a garbled screech behind the panty-gag, wincing in pain, as Johnny forced his sizable erection to stretch wide her nearly dry channel and allow him inside. Thankfully, it didn’t take long before his throbbing member came in response to the violent contractions in her ass. Felt as she were squeezing his life away!
While he came, Jill buried her head in the sheets sobbing, her body cringing as the last of his thrusts deposited his seed inside her channel. Lost in his blissful climax, he paid little attention to her distress, although when he came to, he saw Jill’s struggles. Her frantic twists were pleasingly erotic, giving his spent cock an extra bonus before he finally pulled out. Though she gave off mixed messages, he assumed that the pain was just part of her kink.
Slumping to the bed beside her, Johnny caught his breath, while Jill continued to writhe, shaking her head back and forth, mumbling some unintelligible sounds.
Sensing that she wasn’t happy being bound,
he began to cut away the tape at her feet and wrists. Finally, he grabbed the end of the duct tape that held her panties in her mouth, and with a quick jerk of his hand, he ripped the tape away. Jill sputtered and gasped, spitting out the soggy cloth.
“Dammit, you fucked me dry! You dumb ass!” she immediately blared.
“Hey, I didn’t know,” Johnny shot back, stunned by her outburst.
“And what is it with ripping off that tape?” Her mouth felt six times its size. “You shouldn’t be doing what you don’t know anything about!”
He backed up seeing hell burning in her eyes. “Well, if I’m such a lousy fuck, maybe I should take you back to my daddy, so he can use the way you like.”
“No!” she roared.
“Then don’t turn into a bitch, Jill.”
Shaking with anger, he rose from the opposite side of the bed, pulled on his jeans, his shirt and a jacket. After sliding his feet into his boots, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Jill lay in the quiet of the motel room, letting the stormy mood slide slowly away. She thought if she remained still for the next half hour, the agitation in her would die away. Then Johnny would appear again with his feelings in check, and they could go on as they had before. It was a good plan. But something else stirred inside her—there always was something rustling, gnawing at her. But it seemed more powerful now following the quarrel, and it only grew more turbulent as the minutes passed. She hated endings like this one, but that wasn’t all that disturbed her. Johnny Gold disturbed her, and perhaps had even aroused her more than ever, when he flew out the door smoldering with anger.
A half hour passed. Nothing inside her had changed, and Johnny hadn’t returned. She hated herself for taking on his anger, but it didn’t seem as if she had a choice in the matter. He was there in the room, inside her, lurking. Worst of all, he seemed to be drawing her out into the dark night.
Bounty Hunter Page 7