by Selena Kitt
Glossy.
Wet.
Without conscious thought, Blaze lowered the strap again and reached out with his other hand, cupping her sex with his palm. The woman let out a gasp and then, when he allowed his thumb to slide between the puffy lips of her labia, feeling the undeniable slick proof of her arousal as he grazed her clit, she moaned.
Blaze knew pain when he heard it. He also knew lust.
And that moan had gone straight to his groin, making his throbbing dick twitch in his uniform.
He might not be able to save her from the strapping, but he might be able to find a way to make it more tolerable for her—maybe even enjoyable, if his instincts were correct. They usually were.
Adopting a casual air for the benefit of those watching them, he strolled around the table, putting the hand not holding the strap into his pocket and flicking the remote switch. He heard the muted buzzing noise begin but the woman did not flinch. As he passed her head, he leaned down and whispered, "Play along."
More loudly, he said, "Just your name. Tell me your name and I'll untie you, get you a blanket, and bring you some food and drink. Seems like a no-brainer to me. So what'll it be?"
Still she remained silent.
Blaze wasn't surprised. Calmly returning to his previous position behind her, he thanked the Gods for the placement of the table—the voyeurs could see her face, but not her mottled bare ass, or the pink temptation in between her thighs. Nor could they see what he was doing to it.
Lifting his chin, he pushed his shoulders back and sent out a silent prayer that what he was about to do would work. Then he raised the strap once more.
* * *
It was heaven, it was hell, it was agonizingly intense. Lena kept her head down, her cheek pressed firmly to the smooth white surface of the padded table as the egg sent waves of delight thrumming through her core.
Every time the strap landed against her buttocks, the waves crashed against the shore of her ever-increasing arousal, and every time the sergeant reached down to give her clit a quick circle with his fingertip, she had to suppress a moan.
The initial agony of each stroke seemed to have subsided. Lena wasn't sure whether she had simply grown accustomed to the blows; whether her ass had gone numb; or whether Blaze had reduced the force of the lashes, but something had definitely changed, and now she felt odd… almost as if she was floating.
The heat which had started unendurably on her buttocks had spread out, tingling its way throughout her entire body, and every echoing 'thwack' of the strap seemed to thud straight against that most sensitive part of her; the part which was swollen and aching and which Blaze occasionally reached out and teased oh so casually, until Lena was ready to scream with desperation.
"Play along," he had said, so softly she wasn't sure she had heard correctly. Play along? With what? Was this all just a game to him? Was he trying to tell her to give up; to admit defeat?
Or was he genuinely trying to help her?
Surely he couldn't know that she was actually enjoying what he was doing to her, could he?
But if not, why did he switch the bullet back on?
It was all too confusing, and thinking required far more effort than Lena was able to summon. Her entire being seemed to revolve around the present: being bound naked and helpless, splayed open, and panting with unfulfilled arousal while explosions of pain designed to torture her, to make her surrender, were actually causing her to focus her entire attention—her entire being—on that tiny, pulsing nub between her legs.
She gave a whimper of helpless mortification as she felt proof of her arousal trickle slowly down her inner thigh. He had to have noticed it. Those deep, coal-black eyes were constantly roving, assessing; she'd noticed that from the very beginning. He wasn't watching her so much as he was scrutinizing.
But was it purely from an interrogation standpoint, or was it more?
Surely a real interrogator wouldn't be so… so…
Another wave of delirious pleasure swept through her core as the leather struck her once more, sweeping her thoughts away and leaving her shuddering with need.
"Your name, woman. I'm not sure how much more your ass can take of this strap and I'd really hate to have to move on to your thighs." His voice was cool and clear; Lena wondered how he could remain so calm when she had never been so flustered in her life.
She didn't answer him. She wasn't sure she even could. She had thought she'd been desperate to climax before—what he was doing to her now had brought that desire up to a whole new level.
Without warning, his thickly muscled forearm slid between her abdomen and the table, pushing up against the egg even as he slid the flat of the strap against her swollen, dripping sex.
At the sudden, firm caress of the smooth leather against her clit, Lena came undone. With a great shudder, she flew over the edge and climaxed with a primal scream.
Her orgasm was so powerful, she forgot where she was, what was happening to her—she trembled, balling her hands into fists, her eyes squeezed shut and ignoble grunts escaping her lips as the leather continued to swipe against her heat, tearing every last spasm from her.
Then, abruptly, the strap fell to the ground with a thud and she heard Blaze, his tone icy, completely at odds with the way he'd just given her such pleasure.
"Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?" With brusque, fluid movements he tugged apart the buckles on the straps at her ankles, then the one around her waist. "Don't you see that you cannot win this? By being so damn uncooperative, you're just prolonging things."
Lena could barely register what he was saying; she was still floating back to earth.
He moved to the buckle at her right wrist, undoing it deftly. "Obviously I'm not making enough of an impression on you yet. I'm going to have another coffee, and then, when I come back, you will either start fucking talking, or you will go back to your cell for a while to cool down. Maybe a few days without food, water or heat will change your mind about giving me what I want."
For reasons beyond her comprehension, that thought struck real fear into her heart. "You wouldn't!" she choked.
Tugging apart the final strap on her left wrist, he replied curtly. "Try me."
It was too much. Without taking even a second to think about it, Lena leapt away from the table, gave it an almighty shove in his direction, and hurtled to the door.
Despite what he'd said earlier, he must have forgotten to lock it when he'd come back the second time that morning, and to her astonishment, it swung open when she threw herself at it, almost sending her tumbling to the floor. But she managed to catch herself and, ignoring his bellows to stop, Lena ran.
Chapter Five
She didn't get very far. Blinded by panic and confusion, she didn't even notice the two guards until it was too late, and she thudded headlong into a thick, uniformed chest.
"Got her, sir."
"Very good, Andy."
"You left the door unlocked, sir."
"Thank you, Andy, I'm well aware of that," Blaze retorted.
"What shall I do with her now, sir?"
As they had been talking, it had dawned on Lena that the guard holding her—Andy—was barely touching her; almost as if he was afraid to grip her too tightly. Taking immediate advantage, she tore herself out of his light grasp and fled through the first door to her left.
Fuck. Dead end.
It was an office. No windows, cold, grey painted walls, worn furniture and a massive, unnervingly tidy desk holding nothing but a pen, an ancient relic of a computer monitor, a keyboard and a photo frame. As Lena caught sight of the blue-eyed girl in the picture, she froze.
An icicle of fear dripped down the base of her spine.
"Sandra," she breathed, picking up the photograph to make absolutely sure her eyes weren't deceiving her.
"What did you say?"
Startled, she whirled around, dropping the frame back on the desk with a clatter. Blaze was leaning against the door jamb, his dark eyes
ablaze with an emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint.
Lifting her chin, hoping she didn't sound as afraid as she was feeling, Lena returned his glare. "Whose office is this?"
"It's mine."
"Then could you please explain why you have a photograph of one of my pupils on your desk?"
There was a long pause. Then, "One of your what?"
"One of my pupils." Even as she said it, Lena inwardly kicked herself. The shock of seeing Sandra had made her forget where she was. Holding her breath, she watched Blaze carefully, trying desperately to read his inscrutable expression.
Fully expecting him to resume his interrogation or to haul her back to her cell—or that fucking table—she was stunned when he jerked forward, kicked the door shut, twisted the key in the lock and crossed the office in a couple of strides, grabbing her shoulders roughly.
"Tell me how you know Sandrine," he said urgently.
"I—who? You mean Sandra?"
"The girl in this picture," he said impatiently, picking the photograph up and holding it in front of her nose. "You know her? You know where she is?"
"Wait a minute. You don't know where she is? Then why do you have a p—"
His hand left her shoulder and wrapped around her throat, cutting off her sentence as he pushed her up against the wall. "No more fucking games," he growled, "this is serious. You need to tell me where she is. Right fucking now."
His hand on her throat was warm and, while it was firm, he wasn't hurting her or cutting off her air. She could sense the heat of his proximity even through his uniform, and his mouth was almost touching her own. She was panting with a combination of exertion, fear, and anger; adrenaline coursing through her; suddenly very aware that she was still completely naked.
Lena had no idea what made her do it—the look in his dark eyes, desperation; the way he had her pinned to the wall by her throat and was looming over her—but she tilted her face forward just the tiniest bit and pressed her lips to his.
* * *
Normally so in control of himself, Blaze lost it when, instead of answering his question, the woman leaned forward and kissed him. The full lower lip he'd so admired for the past couple of days was as smooth and plump as he'd imagined and without thinking he crushed it with his own, dropping the photograph and releasing his grip on her throat as he forced his tongue into her sweet warm mouth to find hers.
It was as though a dam had broken.
In a frenzy, he picked her up, groaning against her lips as she wrapped her long, slender legs around his waist and he felt the wet warmth of her sex through his uniform trousers. Still kissing her hungrily, he set her down on the desk—not missing her grunt of pain as her weight settled on her swollen, raw ass—and fumbled with his fly.
Once he had tugged the bullet out of her and set his throbbing hard-on free, he hesitated. Every fiber of his being was crying out for him to fuck her; to finally own this slip of a woman who had been taunting and teasing him and had his cock straining since the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, but the kiss had been so unexpected. What if she didn't want this?
The woman answered his question by taking his pulsating length in her little hand and guiding it between her spread legs.
Blaze needed no further encouragement.
Entering her with a single, hard thrust, he wrapped her hair around his fist and yanked her head back, biting the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder until she cried out.
"Your name," he growled as he began to move inside her, relishing the slick, tight heat of her.
She moaned, once more wrapping her legs around his waist, drawing him in deeper, trying to control his pace.
Deliberately slowing down, he held her in place with her hair, pumping into her with deep, measured, hard strokes, savoring the cloudy look of lust in her jade green eyes.
"Tell. Me. Your. Fucking. Name." Every word was accentuated with another thrust, and he could feel her gush around him. He didn't think anything had ever felt so good.
A tiny smile curved her delicious lips. "Fuck you."
Blaze grinned. "Fuck me?" Tightening his hold on her hair until she yelped, he took her nipple in his other hand and began to twist and pull it, his eyes never leaving her exquisite face. "No, sweetheart. I'm fucking you."
He was hurting her; he could see the pain reflected in her gaze; didn't miss the way her body had tensed as he'd begun to pinch her nipple.
It felt so fucking good. And there was no doubt as to whether she was enjoying it, either—there was no mistaking the way her tight little cunt was leaking and tightening around his cock as he began to pound her faster. She gave a strangled moan when he finally let go of her nipple and once more wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing just enough that she could feel it. He ran his tongue over her lower lip and then leaned in, growling into her ear.
"You're so close, baby. I can feel it. But you're not gonna come until you tell me your name. You hear me?"
Her only response was a whimper as he gripped her long, soft hair even harder, still thrusting deep, deep inside her.
"You're so tight but I can feel you actually squirting on my dick," he went on. "You're brave, you've got more fucking courage than anyone I've ever met, and to tell you the truth, you fascinate me as much as you make me hard. But believe me, sweetheart, as much as you want to resist me, your cunt doesn't lie. You've enjoyed every single thing I've done to you… no matter whether I've hurt you, humiliated you, teased you, or made you come harder than you ever have in your life. When it comes to this hot little body of yours, I am in complete control."
Blaze was holding on by a thread but when she contracted around him, her pussy clenching and unclenching in those telltale spasms of orgasm, he allowed himself to climax with her; shooting into her with a deep groan, his release prolonging her own. It felt so good, it was a moment before he realized she was sobbing a single word, over and over again.
"Lena."
* * *
"I'm sorry. We shouldn't have done that." Blaze had zipped himself back up and was pacing the room while Lena sat on his office chair, wrapped in his jacket.
"Why not?" She narrowed her eyes, curious to hear his answer.
"Because… because it's all wrong. I basically forced myself on you."
She was unable to prevent a bark of laughter at that. Then, "Sorry. I suppose you don't see the irony of that statement."
"We didn't even use anything."
Lena shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. I'm going to die soon, anyway."
There was a long pause. Then he said, rather unconvincingly, "Don't talk like that."
"Why not? It's true." She ran her hand through her hair, wincing at the matted, tangled feel of it. "I would kill for a hot bath." She gave a deep sigh. "Anyway, enough self-pity. If it makes you feel better, know this: you did not force yourself on me. I wanted it. I kissed you first, remember?"
The corner of his wide, handsome mouth curved upward slightly. "I guess you did. Why?"
Lena found herself unable to resist flashing him a genuine grin in return. "I didn't want to answer any more of your stupid questions."
Blaze let out a deep, throaty chuckle. "I tell you one thing; you've got more balls than all those men out there," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "combined."
"Fat lot of good it's going to do me."
He stopped his pacing and came to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his own, large, rough ones. "Please," he said, searching her eyes intently. "Tell me how you know that girl in the picture."
Lena sighed again. "I can't. I'd give too much away."
"We don't have much time. We're safe from prying eyes and ears here, but if we don't show our faces to the men again soon, they're going to start wondering what the fuck I'm doing."
"So? You're the boss, aren't you? Just tell them… I don't know… tell them you raped me." She winked, surprised when his expression remained utterly serious.
"You don't understand," he said
.
"How can I, when you won't tell me? What's going on, Blaze? If that really is your name."
He looked around, as if assessing everything in his office with fresh eyes. "Yes it's my real name. I'd come up with something a helluva lot better if I was using a fake one," he said wearily. "My parents had a real sense of humor."
"Had?"
"They both died in the meteor aftermath."
"I'm sorry." Lena dropped her gaze to her lap, wondering why she hadn't ever considered before that the militia soldiers might have sad personal histories as well. She had always seen them as robots; brainwashed automatons without feelings. Sergeant Blaze Fielding was beginning to really put a dent in that perspective.
"It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Listen, Lena," he began, speaking so quietly she could barely make out the words. "You need to trust me. You have to tell me how you know that girl."
"Why is she so important to you?"
He hesitated, it was almost as if she could see him considering whether or not to tell her. Then a grim light of determination appeared in his onyx eyes. "She's my niece."
Lena sat back, stunned. "Sandra is… your niece?"
"Shh! Please, for the love of God, keep your voice down!" Then he nodded. "You say she's a pupil of yours?"
"Yes. I'm a teacher."
His expression brightened. "So you're not a member of the Resistance?"
Immediately Lena realized she had said too much and closed her eyes, willing herself not to break down.
You stupid, stupid girl. Why do you keep letting this man get under your skin? You really want to get a bunch of people killed just because you turn to mush when he lays those glittering eyes on you?
"Look," she said flatly. "I'm not going to say anything else. Just take me to the cell and do whatever you have to. I'm done talking."
A flash of anger crossed his striking face and he gripped her fingers hard. "And I'm done fucking around," he whispered harshly. "I'm not going to stand by and watch them kill you. And I'm certainly not going to take you anywhere until you tell me where I can find my niece."