by Loki Renard
Is this better, or worse? I can’t tell in the immediate moment. I can no longer see the room I’m in, but that doesn’t change much. I still know I’m exposed. I still know that there is nothing I can do to stop men looking at me. Forsyth himself is no doubt getting yet another informative view of my most intimate places.
“I’ll have to tell you what I’m doing,” Ethan says in a deep, satisfied purr. “So you can appreciate it as it happens. I’m going to start with a small set of clips. Like the ones that jump start an engine, but smaller. Do you know where I’m going to put one, Casey?”
He asks the question like a kindly teacher prompting the slower student in the class. His arrogance makes my temper burn, but the question is frightening. There really aren’t that many places to put a little clip.
“I don’t know,” I mutter between gritted teeth. My response turns to a growling moan as his fingers slide up between my thighs, find my sex, and rub past the wet folds.
“It’s going to go on your naughty little clit,” he growls down at me. “It’s going to teach your pussy the lesson your mind seems to refuse to learn.”
My clit? That doesn’t make sense. Or maybe I just don’t want it to make sense. It doesn’t matter whether I understand or not, because he’s rubbing down there, his finger circling that sensitive little spot. I find myself holding my breath as he pinches the skin just above the clit itself—and then I feel the cool sides of the clamp, which is mercifully rubber covered, as he slides it over the hood of my clit, trapping a little bit of soft flesh around the bud in a protective grasp.
“There,” he says. “At least one part of you is under control.”
He gives a light little tug to the chain, pulling at my pussy. All the intensity of the caning has been diverted to my sex. I am tender and I am sore, and I am so fucking aroused he could do this, or practically anything else to me and I wouldn’t stop him.
“One last chance,” he says. “After this, I don’t care what you tell me, I won’t stop with you until I’m done. Where is the phone?”
I clench my teeth and shake my head.
Zzt!
I buck against my bonds as a new sensation arcs through me, right on the top of my bare upper thigh.
“That’s the wand,” he explains to me in the darkness of the blindfold. “Think of it like an electric swatter for naughty girls.”
The tip of the wand snaps against my inner thigh. My body tenses, the muscle flinching at the electric pulse. And now I feel the devilish effects of that clamp keeping my clit pinched. Every time I buck it yanks against my clit, brings me back down into position, and sends a bolt of desire through me even as I yowl.
Zzzt! Zzzt! Zzzt! The wand buzzes in short arcs, each one a new spot on my tender inner thighs. This should not feel good. Doesn’t feel good. I am being toyed with like a bound puppet, my muscles jerking against the chains holding me in place.
In the darkness, I don’t know what’s coming next. All I know is what I feel. He has left me imprisoned in my body, unable to deny or escape the intense sensations running through my punished flesh.
He has me on the brink of orgasm, and he hasn’t even begun to do what I know he really wants to do. Take me. Roughly.
And then a grease-smeared finger finds the bud of my bottom. He pushes his index finger inside my ass with one simple thrust, little fanfare. He takes what is his, and that includes my bottom.
“I’m going to fuck your ass again,” he growls softly. “I’m going to make sure you never forget this night, and what happens when you decide to defy me.”
He works his finger in and out of my ass, the lube making it slide almost frighteningly easily. Am I already so physically submissive that my body is ready to give him my tightest hole at any moment? The cane has left an ache in my bottom, but Ethan doesn’t care about that. He steadies my hips, fingers splayed across the fullness of my cheeks, that damn wand coming into play once or twice against my hip just to make it so I don’t get too comfortable having my ass prepared for his cock.
This is thoroughly depraved, but this is what billionaires can do. This is real power. He is demonstrating to me that there is no limit to what could happen to me.
I feel his finger pull out of my ass, and a moment later, something much thicker and harder takes its place. His cock rubs against my asshole, up and down, slowly and deliberately avoiding actually going inside me. He’s teasing me, the fucker. He’s making me want him. With every grinding motion my traitorous hips make, I feel that clamp on my clit. Soon, I am grinding on purpose, because I want the sensation. I want my trapped clitoris to be stimulated.
“You’re a horny little slut,” he growls down at me. “Of course you didn’t tell me where the phone is. Pain is foreplay to you, isn’t it, Casey?”
“No!” I cry out the denial just as he sinks the head of his cock into the tight grip of my ass.
“Yes,” he snarls back. “Anyone else would have spent the last few days begging for her release. Promising not to tell. Doing anything, everything to get me to let her go. But you haven’t done that. You’ve defied me. You’ve made sure to get my attention. You’ve turned what would have been a slap on the wrist into a bound and blindfolded ass fuck, because that’s what you need.”
His accusation makes hot shame flash through me. Is he right? I don’t know. His cock is several inches inside me now, and I am not in pain. The ache of the cane, the sting of my welted skin, the little places where the wand discharged current against my skin, I can feel them all. But none of them hurt.
They are part of the wave of sensation crashing through my body, propelled by the thrusting of Ethan’s cock as he takes my caned ass in his hands and starts to fuck me without further comment.
My hole struggles to adjust, but he doesn’t care. When his cock hangs up against the ring of resistance, he smears more lubricant on and pushes in more firmly until my bottom gives way to him completely and he is fucking my ass just like he fucks my pussy.
I can only imagine what I sight I must make, semi-suspended between fine furniture, my striped ass wrapped around his cock, my blindfolded eyes obscured, but my mouth hanging open in constant wails. I am sure he has made a spectacle of me.
“You have a tight little ass, Casey,” he grunts as he fucks as deep as he can inside my hole. “It’s going to see a lot of punishment if you can’t learn to do as you’re told.”
I am jolted back and forth on his cock, my flesh sucking at his dick as he uses me for his pleasure, my body gripping and pleasuring him while my poor clit pays the price in the form of pressure that comes and goes just as hard and just as fast.
“Fuck,” he exclaims. “You have such a hot little hole… fuck… Casey…”
Ethan comes inside my ass, his hips slamming hard against my ass as he pushes as deep as possible, spending his seed inside my belly. And then he says something that makes my hot blood run cold.
“You’re going to suck my cock clean,” he growls as he pulls out of me, his voice breathless with desire.
His cock has been in my ass. I can’t suck it. He can’t make me. But I can hear him moving around and a second later his hand bunches in my hair and he rubs his cock against my cheek. Oh, god. Oh, fuck. He’s really going to do this to me.
I take a deep breath, ready to refuse this act, but then I realize that the hard cock head rubbing over my lips doesn’t smell like it has been in my ass. It smells like soap and a warm towelette. And maybe a condom.
He cleaned himself off already, a mercy for me as his hand slides under my chin, and his fingers press on either side of my jaw, making me open my mouth. I don’t resist. I let his cock slide inside my mouth. I let him fuck me in the final hole he’s yet to take.
It’s not because he caned me, or tied me up, or clamped me, or fucked my ass. It’s because he just went out of his way to make sure I wouldn’t get sick. As fucked up as Ethan is, little moments of care keep belying his actions.
His fingers slide into the blindf
old, pull it from my eyes and I find myself looking up into his gaze as he feeds his cock slowly in and out of my lips.
“You’re being a good girl,” he says, his tone pleased, and more than a little surprised. “Do you like sucking on my cock, Casey?”
I give a little nod. I do like sucking his cock. There’s something comforting about having it in my mouth, an oral fixation satisfied. My legs are still spread wide, my pussy is still leaking arousal, and my clit is still in the grip of his clamp, but I am satisfied for a brief moment as Ethan looks down at me, his fingers running through my hair almost tenderly.
“If you keep being a good girl, I will fuck your cunt again soon,” he tells me. “Would you like that, my little fuck toy?”
God. I want to say no. I’m supposed to bristle at being called his fuck toy, but instead my clit tingles.
“Very good,” he praises me. “You were naughty today, Casey, but you can make up for it if you stay as compliant as this.”
He spends a few more minutes just casually stroking his cock in and out of my mouth, then pulls it out. I am not sure what he has planned for me next, but I feel the physical tension of being splayed at his whim begin to loosen off as he walks around me and releases the shackles that held me by the wrists and the ankles.
“Stand up, Casey.”
I do as I’m told, rising to my feet somewhat unsteadily. I feel ravaged. I’m sure I look it too. Ethan’s hand circles my throat lightly as he pulls me in for a masterful kiss, his tongue dominating mine as his other hand slides down between my legs, reminding me that there is just one last clamp to go.
He releases the clasp of the clamp and almost immediately a rush of sensation returns to my pussy. I let out a squeal and clap my hand between my legs, half bent over, my ravaged bottom hole no doubt displayed as an unexpected orgasm tears through me then and there. He’s not even touching me anymore, but I can’t stop coming.
Ethan catches me before I can fall over; swinging my orgasming body up into his arms, he sits down on the same coffee table I just vacated and cradles me in his lap, pushing his fingers between my legs and right into my pussy, fingering me adeptly through the last of the trembling orgasms that run through my broken body.
“You’re mine,” he growls in my ear as I whimper with dark pleasure. “There is no escape. There’s nobody you can call. The police. The federal agencies. Even Interpol is on my side. I own you. The sooner you get used to that, the better it will be for you.”
There are so many conflicting feelings running through me. The release of orgasm, the blush of shame, the pain of punishment. He has left me in a state where I am unable to do anything but what he wills me to do.
I curl up against him, taking refuge in his arms, burying my face in his chest. And he holds me, even though I was a bad girl. Even though I never gave him what he wanted, he lets me take some comfort from him. It’s more than I deserve. But it’s everything I need.
Chapter Nine
Ethan
I will give Casey one thing, she’s brave as hell. And she doesn’t back down once she sets her mind on something, which is why she’s now in danger. Jack is circling like a shark that smells blood in the water. He wants her dealt with properly. He’s been trying to convince me of that for three days, and when my FBI contact told me that there was a woman claiming to be held hostage in my home, he was there. It was the worst possible timing.
I need that damn phone she used. I have my suspicions about how she got it, and also, how quickly she called the FBI.
I could try asking her about it yet again, but right now, she is exhausted, and I have enough security here to make sure nothing happens to her. Federal and private. This girl doesn’t know it, but she’s as well protected as I can make anyone. Unfortunately, that may not be enough.
Picking her up, I carry her upstairs and to my room. She’s already dozing lightly, the sleep of a well-fucked woman. When she wakes she will be sore. No doubt bad-tempered, but for now I take her into my bedroom for the first time, lay her down on my bed, and undress her slowly, letting her drift in and of that space that is more than just orgasm. She’s riding on a wave of endorphins released during the submission she gave me.
When she is naked, I go to the bathroom, run a few washcloths under the hot tap, and wring them out until they are nice and steamy warm. I bring them back and rub her down, removing the sticky cum that clings to her flesh, the sweat that beaded all over her skin. She whimpers softly as I work very gently over the cane lines too. I have a gel for those that will settle the skin, and I apply that with the same care.
She is mine, and I am going to take care of her, even when I have to punish her. And I did have to punish her. I’m not sure she learned the lesson fully either. Her absolute refusal to do as she was told and give me the phone is not acceptable. We will have a long discussion about that tomorrow. For now, I slip her beneath the covers and let her curl up with me again.
She hates me, but she reaches for me. She wants to be free of me, but she nuzzles under my chin and wraps her arm around my waist. She is a bundle of contradictions, and I don’t yet know her as well as I need to, to untangle them all.
* * *
Casey
I wake in the middle of the night. Ethan is fast asleep in bed next to me. Seeing him there sends flashes of memory through me. He chained me down and caned me. He fucked my ass as punishment. He made me come so hard I thought it might be the last thing I would ever do. But I didn’t give up that phone. That’s my lifeline. That’s my way out.
I need to pee, so I get up as quietly as possible. Every step is pain, but I make it to the bathroom. Ethan doesn’t seem to stir as I pad past the bed and out of his room. I am naked and I want clothes. And I want something else too.
I find my room in the maze of the house and dress myself in a knee-length skirt, a silk blouse, and one of the few pairs of flats I’ve been allowed. And then I go to the hiding place where I secreted the phone. To my immense relief, it’s right where I left it. They didn’t find it.
I turn it on, knowing how much trouble I will be in if I am caught with this. But this is no three-bedroom two-bath house. There are dozens of empty rooms to hide in. I find one of them and look at the phone.
There’s a message.
Need help, Casey?
Shit. Someone has sent that to me. Knows I have this phone. It could be a trap. Could be Ethan trying to get me to text him and give away where it is. But I don’t think so. Ethan doesn’t seem to be one for traps and tricks. He’s one to just grab you and try to make you do something. It’s more likely to be from the FBI, I reason. Maybe an agent who saw what happened to me and wanted to make it right.
Y. E. S. I tap the three letters into the message and return it.
It’s three o’clock in the morning. Whoever sent the message sent it hours ago. If I do have an ally in the FBI, I’ve just woken them up.
I’m shocked when the phone buzzes again a second or two later. The reply is a set of instructions for getting out of Ethan’s place undetected. Certain doors, hallways, certain paths. Whoever sent this knows this place well. Again my suspicion spikes. Is this Ethan?
I’m so nervous about that, I put the phone away and sneak back to Ethan’s room. He’s in bed, and I can tell from his breathing that he’s fast asleep. He’s not texting me escape routes. Someone else is.
Fuck it. This is the first offer of help I have gotten from anyone since this started, and I am not going to turn it down. I follow the directions on the phone exactly, slip out of the house, through the gardens, and find myself standing on a side road I didn’t know was there.
A car sweeps up. The passenger window rolls down.
It’s Jack Ford.
“Come on,” he says. “Get in.”
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you get out of here,” he sneers. “Unless you like being tied up and fucked publicly? Or think that it will end well once Ethan gets tired of you? You’re a problem,
Casey. Vipyr doesn’t tolerate problems.”
He’s right. And I’ve been wondering what will happen to me when the novelty of fucking my ass wears off. Ethan could be with any woman. There is no reason for him to keep me around.
But still. This is Jack Ford, and he gave me a bad feeling from the beginning.
“Get in,” he repeats. “First chance and last chance. I’m risking Ethan’s cops coming down on me to do this.”
So Jack doesn’t like Ethan’s means of controlling the law either. We’re allies in that regard. I reach for the passenger door. I took a dislike to Jack, but he is the first person who has tried to help me. He was the only one who seemed to object when he found Ethan caning me. He might actually be the most sane person in miles. And he’s the only one I know Ethan can’t buy off.
“Uhm, just before I get in…”
Jack sighs, reaches into the glovebox, and pulls out a fucking gun. Suddenly I realize how stupid I am. I am alone. On a dark road. There are no security people here. And now Jack Ford has a gun on me.
“Get in.”
There’s something about the barrel of a gun that hypnotizes and sedates. I find my brain moving so much slower than it should. The options for escape, which I know must be there, don’t present themselves to me.
“Get. In,” he repeats. The order doesn’t seem to be coming from him. It seems to be coming from the gun itself—and there’s no arguing with a gun. I get into the car, knowing I have probably made the very last mistake in a long line of mistakes.
Jack accelerates away from the house, and as Ethan’s mansion recedes into darkness, so does any and all hope.
“Where are you going to take me?”