A Soul Redeemed

by Dakota Black

  Crack! Slap!

  The pain was intense, and she jerked, a muffled sound pushing past the silk and lace.

  He pressed his hand on the small of her back, his fingers digging in. “Hold your position.”

  Pop! Crack! Slap!

  His hand slapped against her backside, hard and fast.

  She wiggled, blinking away tears of frustration. She was supposed to be in charge, a woman of distinct prominence. The thought gave her an inward groan. She was nothing but a little girl, begging for a man to dominate and control her every move. What had she become?

  Smack! Crack! Pop! Crack!

  Harder and faster his hand fell, peppering first one then the other ass cheek.

  Hot and wet, she could tell he was turned on, his cock throbbing against her stomach. She continued to moan, the sounds turning into strangled whimpers as the tears flowed, salty beads hitting the floor. Agony mixed with a tingling of pleasure.

  Nash breathed out and rubbed her back and ass. “You’ll come to my cabin every day.” This was another statement and one in which he would never take excuses.

  Smack! Pop! Crack!

  The spanking continued until she sagged against the floor, her blood pressure rising. She was no longer certain of who or where she was, but the thoughts racing through her mind were delicious.

  One after the other the spanks and slaps came, a perfect rhythm, a symphony of punishment. He was a Master at what he did.

  Veronica closed her eyes and fell into his control. Her nipples ached, her mind longing to be taken and used at his bidding. This was as close to perfect as she would ever know.

  Crack! Smack!

  He grunted and brushed the tip of his finger down the length of her spine to the crack of her ass. Wiggling his finger, he slipped the tip past her tight folds, finding her dark hole. “I will take you in every hole when I want and how I want.” He pushed his finger inside until he hit the tight muscle.

  Hissing, she tensed as he plunged in and out. She panted over the panties, wanting to watch but refusing to disobey.

  “Tight. Just as I like,” he huffed.

  Now, she wanted to beg him to fuck her, shove his hard cock into her ass. There was no doubt, no question. She would give him anything he commanded.

  Gripping her neck with one hand, her upper arm with the other, he pushed her down onto the ground and onto all fours. “Crawl forward, spread your legs and lower your head.”

  She shuddered but obeyed, dropping her head as her mind grasped onto the fact he was going to fuck her hard and fast. There was nothing she wanted more. She remained in position as she heard him stand and yank his pants down his legs. He wasn’t undressing, there was no need.

  Nash wrapped his hand around her hair then pressed his thumb into her neck as he crouched behind her.

  Smack! Pop!

  Issuing two additional strikes, he growled then tapped the tip of his cock against her buttocks.

  The slap forced her to arch her back, yet she kept her head down, his required sign of respect. You will not disobey. You will not disobey. The mantra flowed through her mind, tipping her over the edge of reason.

  He shoved his hand between her legs, fingering her clit, swirling his finger in lazy circles. Pinching the tender tissue, he issued a guttural sound.

  She waited, her fingers extended, her knuckles white. Fuck me. Please! How she wanted to scream out the words.

  Beads of sweat dripped off his body, hitting the small of her back as he placed the tip of his cock against her cunt. “You belong to me.” Thrusting the entire length inside, he shifted and gripped her hip.

  Shoved forward, she blinked in an effort to focus and her pussy muscles clenched around his thick shaft. The grip of his hand around her throat tightened until she struggled to breathe. This was utter domination.

  He pulled out until just his cockhead remained inside and slapped her ass and upper thigh again. And again. Then he began to fuck her in a savage manner, harder and faster as he grunted. With each intense plunge, she was pushed further forward. He continued his manic actions for several minutes then released his hold.

  Veronica tossed her head back. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever.

  “Head down!” The words were harsh, direct.

  The moment he thrust his cock all the way into her asshole, she screamed past the gag, agony and pressure swirling through every muscle, searing every cell. As he held the position, his fingers digging into her hip, she tossed her head back and forth.

  Smack!

  “We begin again.” Nash’s words were laced with a dark and dangerous lilt as he began pumping into her asshole, pulling all the way out and shoving deep inside with each pass. He tugged her hair, yanking back her head as he thrust hard and fast.

  She was left breathless, succumbing completely. No man had been so forceful, invading her to such a degree. As the pain turned into sheer and incredible pleasure, she fell into a quiet place of peace.

  He grunted and groaned until his body tensed and he tipped his head back and roared, spewing hot cum into her ass.

  In the next several seconds, she completely let go. This man, this stranger had unlocked the darkest part of her. Now, she would forever belong to him, the man who owned her.

  Nash rolled over in bed and scrunched the pillow. He hadn’t been able to sleep since Veronica left. How could he sleep? He’d taken her, violated her. The thought was riveting. And delicious. Exhaling, he stared up at the ceiling and for the first time, wondered about the woman and what she was thinking. He shoved the sheets past his waist and wrapped his hand around his swollen balls. They remained aching even after pumping her full of his cum.

  Why did he give a shit about her thoughts, or her desires for that matter? Caring about her was the last thing on his mind. The rig was in a precarious position and he needed to be able to think clearly until he unearthed the fucker trying to derail the operation. Still, he remained hard, hungry for more. Would she do as she was told, come to him every day? He closed his eyes, envisioning the look on her face as he took her ass. Damn, the woman was tight, so hot.

  He pumped his shaft, enjoying the friction and the slice of pain. He didn’t deserve any less than experiencing complete agony. She could never know the man inside, the monster he’d become. Then again, perhaps she already had learned. He swore under his breath and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. A quick glance at the clock reminded him that it was still early, only a little after five in the morning. The crew would already be awake and getting started. Today, he would solve the puzzle.

  What she’d overheard and the way she’d been warned meant someone was fearful of information being found. He knew her tenacious attitude. She’d never stop searching.

  Tap. Tap.

  The knock on his door was swift, harder than she’d done the night before. He rose to his feet and grabbed his pants, pulling them on and walking to the door, flipping the switch for the lights. He couldn’t have been more surprised at the visitor. And the anger boiled. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Tank’s upper lip curled as he looked past Nash’s shoulder. “Did I interrupt anything?”

  Nash remained silent, the glare on his face hardening. “What. Do. You. Want?”

  “To talk to you. Settle things between us.”

  He snorted and took a step back. This should be good. “What’s there to settle? Did you come here to confess your sins?”

  Tank closed the door and shook his head. “I don’t know you and you sure as shit don’t know me.”

  “And I don’t want to.”

  “Yeah? Well, we have to work together whether we like it or not.”

  Nash exhaled and walked toward the coffee maker. He needed a jolt this morning, if for no other reason than to keep from punching the asshole in the gut. “For now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tank bristled, moving further into the room.

  “That means that I don’t trust you. You’re a loose canno
n. I don’t need that shit on my watch.”

  “This isn’t your watch.”

  Laughing, Nash filled the canister with water and started the machine, already weary of the crap Tank was spewing. “Look, we don’t have to like each other. However, I do expect you to do your job.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  Did he hear a hint of remorse in Tank’s words? He studied the man, the way his eyes narrowed, the tenseness in his body. This was new for the brute of a crewman. “What do you need to tell me?”

  “I came to warn you.”

  “I’ve already been warned.”

  Tank walked closer, cocking his head. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “That means,” Nash said as he turned to face him, “that someone doesn’t want me here. I suspect that person is you. I have news for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Tank’s eyes shifted back and forth, and he closed the distance. “I didn’t warn you in any manner, at least before. But now…” The words trailed off.

  “But now?”

  Tank exhaled and rubbed his eyes. “There’s someone out to sabotage this ship.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  “And you have the details? Go on. I’m dying to hear what you have to say.” Nash’s words were laced with discord, perhaps even malice.

  “Have you ever heard of Canterfield Industries?”

  He thought about the question, searching his brain. “No. What does this have to do with this rig?”

  “Everything.”

  “Explain.” Nash folded his arms. This should be good.

  “No matter what you think, Parker was just a pawn. He was a buffoon, an asshole and had no understanding of what we do, but he wasn’t the real issue.”

  “And I assume you know who is?”

  Tank shook his head. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”

  “Is that why you attacked the doctor?”

  His eyes opening wide, he snarled. “I didn’t attack her. In fact, I was trying to keep her safe.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t!” Tank puffed up, his breathing ragged. “She managed to stumble on a conversation, one that could get her killed. You have no idea what you’re dealing with, but I do. Canterfield Industries is a front. That much I know.”

  “A front. For what or whom?” Could he trust this man in any manner or the words he was saying?

  “They run an operation out of Germany with ties here in the States. They sell mechanical parts, including equipment needed for oil companies. They also have military backing.”

  Nash thought about the information. “They’re not a German company.”

  Tank’s eyes flashed. “No.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Just assume I have a damn good source.”

  “Let me guess, Parker ordered from them.” Nash had a feeling any information would come in a calculated format. He’d listen. And learn.

  Tank nodded. “I was able to see two of the work orders. He bypassed the system, claiming the parts were of better quality at a reasonable price.”

  “Why in God’s name is any of this worth possibly dying for?”

  “You should check on their Press Releases. You’re a smart guy. You’ll make the connection.”

  Nash grabbed his shirt collar, yanking him forward. “I’m not into playing games. Either you tell me what the fuck is going on or I’ll expose you to Rush.”

  Tank raised his arms, the look on his face stoic. “Canterfield is a front for a very specialized group of men.”

  “Military men. And?”

  “The world thinks they are organized crime. In a way, they are. They’ve used their connections in the military and high-ranking officials, to strong arm companies into selling. If they don’t sell, they find a way to discredit the operations.”

  “That’s what you think is happening here.” He snorted and let Tank go, disgusted he was even listening to such drivel. Maybe the story was true, but damn farfetched. Still, not one to be made up on a whim.

  “They are into everything, but controlling the oil fields is vital to their operation.” When Nash waved his hand, Tank hissed. “I’ve discovered connections to Steele, which is why I have no reason to trust you.”

  Steele? Hearing the name, the company that was purchased by Rush Enterprises dragged him back to the past. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting that you are nothing more than a pawn, an expendable employee that Rush won’t mind losing. I’m also telling you that these dangerous men have zero issue killing anyone who gets in their way, including your precious doctor.”

  Chapter 8

  Veronica spent the entire morning in the clinic, going over paperwork and inputting data into the computer. While Sam had been helpful, answering every one of her questions, she couldn’t help but continue to think that he was hiding a hell of a lot of details. What she had learned is that the RN who’d worked alongside Sam for almost a year had left without notice. The reason? There were evidently two stories and the truth had left the rig with Franklin Parker. However, Sam had his own ideas, including the fact he had been using drugs, not performing and faking medical reports. Was this the reason so many records were missing?

  What she had made certain was to follow Nash’s lead, acting as if nothing was wrong while she searched through files. Unfortunately, she had no new emails and her limited blood tests came up negative for any additional medical issues. Besides, Roger was heading home for some much needed R & R. Maybe she’d been wrong about her suspicions.

  She stood and stretched her back, grateful they had no new patients. As her shorts scraped against her backside, she winced and bit back a moan. The spanking hadn’t left any detectable bruises but she was sore nonetheless. The time spent with him had been incredible, a wild experience. A chill trickled down her spine as she remembered every detail, the way he demanded more from her. She glanced at her watch. A tingle of anticipation washed over her. She was commanded to come back to his cabin.

  Eyeing the computer screen, she slid the mouse, clicking on a previous page. Every scrap of information she’d found about Nash indicated he was a rough man with an interesting background, including almost three years that were missing, at least as far as any employment records. Had he been in the military, serving overseas? Wouldn’t that be in his records? Perhaps he’d moved from job to job until he began working for Steele, a family owned oil production company and one purchased by Rush only months before.

  The newsletter article highlighting how Nash had saved Mitchell Rush’s life certainly had its fifteen minutes of fame. She closed the file and rubbed her finger across her lips. She would bet that Nash had a terrible secret, which kept him from getting close to anyone. What was she doing submitting to a man she didn’t even know? The answer filtered up from the depths of her soul. They were very much alike. Lost.

  Sighing, she grabbed the pile of paper files and headed for the cabinet. She was starving and needed a long, hot shower. Then? The thought made her nipples harden.

  After leaving the clinic, she walked up to the deck for fresh air. The late afternoon day was humid but beautiful, the sky tinged with pink and tangerine. She walked closer to the edge, mesmerized by the ocean waves. Tipping her head, she closed her eyes and inhaled, savoring the peaceful moment.

  Hearing footsteps, she took a quick look over her shoulder. She didn’t know these men, had never even seen them before, yet they seemed to know her. At least they certainly were concentrating on watching her every move. They probably hadn’t seen a woman in at least a month. Ignoring them, she inched closer, peering into the water. Even from where she stood, she could see fish jumping in and out, hovering around the rig. There were miles and miles of little else but water.

  Her stomach rumbled and she turned to go back in. The men were closer. Far too close in her opinion and what were th
ey actually doing? Their faces were blank, even angry. Oil smudges covered their skin, masking their identities. This could be nothing. She took quick steps away, admonishing her ridiculous thoughts. Now, she was freaking paranoid. The chill remained as she walked toward the doorway. The sound of their footsteps seemed closer. Fear trickled down her spine. Stopping short, she turned and knew from their harsh expressions that they were issuing an implied threat. “Can I help you with something, gentlemen?”

  One looked at the other then narrowed his eyes. Neither attempted to come any closer, nor did they say a word.

  But they were watching.

  She swallowed but refused to allow them to see any indication of fear. “Do I need to report a particular concern to your supervisor?”

  The second man snorted and tipped his head as he walked past her. Just as he did, he leaned in, issuing a slurping noise. Both laughed as they headed into the compound.

  Veronica remained where she was, controlling her breathing as she calmed her nerves. They wanted her rattled. Fuck them. She brushed her shaking hand through the wisps of hair that had fallen into her face, dogged determination fueling her anger. Clenching her fists, she stepped through the doorway just as the sound of an approaching helicopter pulled her back on deck. She inched closer, observing the group of men who bounded out from the second doorway as the chopper landed.

  A few crates were lifted off the helicopter, no doubt food and her medical supplies. At least she’d have a fully stocked clinic. Another shiver slithered down the back of her legs. If a war broke out? Another fire? She moved even closer, curious as to what was going to happen.

  The crewmen were all carrying satchels, no doubt going on leave. She counted eight men going out and none coming in. She searched and found the two men from the clinic, or so she thought, but she couldn’t tell if Roger was one of the passengers. No one else had arrived to replace them. After a few minutes, the pilot jumped out, an old-fashioned clipboard in his hands.