Rip's Baby: Hounds of Hades MC

by Nicole Fox

  “Yes sir, Mr. Williams,” Ford growled, stepping closer to me as Daddy bent down to the little stash he'd just spilled out in the middle of the empty room.

  I glared up at him as hard as I could. Even seeing him here, next to Daddy in the dormitory like this, seemed like just a horrible nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. To think, he was working with my pimp, helping to secure us women.

  “Got yourself quite the treasure trove here,” Daddy said as he sorted through it. “Jewelry, money. Looks like you was trying to make another go at a runner, huh?”

  I frowned, but didn't respond to his words.

  “No comment?” he asked, picking up a wad of cash and stuffing it in his jacket pocket.

  “Hey!” I shouted, taking a step forward, immediately getting caught in Ford's strong grip. He held me still by my wrists, strong enough for me to not be able to budge, but not enough to hurt me.

  “Hey, what?” Daddy growled, still squatting down on the floor in front of the pile. “Oh, looky here, Ford. That's one hell of a diamond right there.” Ford glanced back at Daddy's hand, at the ring I'd stolen from Ford. “Little old school for my taste, but still, it ain't too shabby.”

  Ford whipped around to face me, his hands tightening their grip as he glared down at me, his lip curling, his eyes burning with rage. I'd seen that look before.

  “Ow, Ford,” I said with a wince as he lowered his face to mine, his grip becoming more intense. “You're hurting me.”

  “My mother's ring?” he hissed into my face. “You stole my mother's fucking wedding ring from me?”

  Oh, no. I bit my lip and tried to turn away from him, tried to get away from him.

  This wasn't good. Not good at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ford

  “I didn't know it was your mother's ring!” she cried, trying to weasel out of my grip.

  “You still stole from me!” I cried. “Why?”

  Suddenly, I had zero regrets about the choice I'd made. None. I understood why she'd done what she'd done. She was desperate; she was just trying to get away from the consequences of a bad decision. I understood that, and I could empathize.

  But, not only was she leaving me high and dry here, she'd also taken the only thing I had left that even mattered to me. The one thing I never wanted to lose, not unless I absolutely had to.

  “I-I-I thought,” she said, falling over her words as she flinched away from me, “I thought I could sell it and get out of here. I took it the night I first met you, when you gave me your coat. I didn't know, Ford! I didn't know it was your mom's!”

  Daddy let out a little chuckle behind me as he stood up from his squat, his knees popping loudly as they straightened. “Well, well, well. Now maybe you understand, Ford, what I'm dealing with as a business owner here. Girls skimming, trying to run off without so much as a goodbye, see ya' later, that's all folks! Feel my pain?”

  My nostrils flared, and I nodded roughly, my hands still tight around her wrists. “Yeah,” I growled. “I feel you.”

  “Girls like this,” Daddy said, coming around to my side, “they need to learn some manners. That's my opinion. Their own daddies didn't use the rod damn near enough, and so we got to.”

  I nodded, having an idea of what he was talking about.

  “See, we got a room downstairs reserved for real special occasions, Ford. High paying customers, girls who get outta line. Got lots of toys, ways to make a girl feel real nice, or real hurt. Sometimes both.”

  “I believe I know where this is going,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “How about, as part of your signing bonus, you go ahead and take Micah on down there? Teach her a lesson or two before the other guys get in and have their turn?”

  I was still so pissed from this little revelation of her stealing my mother's ring that I didn’t even register the last part of his sentence. All I could think of was teaching Micah a little respect, a little discipline, and working out some of my own frustration. Nothing else mattered. I nodded. “Show me the way, boss, and I'll get to work.”

  “Ford,” she whispered, shaking her head, pleading with me.

  I just grinned at her, baring my teeth.

  Daddy Williams led us out the dorm room and into the hall. I kept Micah by my side the whole time, a watchful eye on her as we made our way through the halls, past the beautiful young women, who clearly knew something was up. I kept my hands off Micah, but she knew exactly what would happen if she tried to run or tried something else equally as stupid.

  The fear on her face was obvious, and I was torn by the look in her eyes. On the one hand, some vindictive, angry part of me wanted to relish it and wanted to make her hurt for what she'd done to me.

  But on the other, there was just something that made me feel like I was the lowest of the low. Was I really going to do this to her? Could I really hurt her and do any lasting damage? She had barely known me; I was just a ride home for the night; and she was desperate, worried about becoming nothing more than a prostitute, her dreams dashed to pieces. I was willing to do worse to her the second time I'd seen her, wasn't I? To just turn her in and collect the fee so I could save my own ass? How was I any different from her?

  I didn't know how to feel, but, with her this close to me, with me able to think about things, I realized I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with this. I cared too much about her to do the things Daddy Williams wanted from me. And I certainly couldn't leave her to the rest of the men, to use and abuse as they saw fit.

  And then it hit me. Did I care about her that way? Did I really? I shook my head as we walked, chewing my lip.

  The question was, how did I keep Daddy's confidence in me, but still get Micah out of harm's way?

  We crossed back over the rocky, dusty patch between the dorms and the Mansion, and went in through the back. We took a side door that led us to a set of beautifully wrought gilded stairs that led down into the basement level of the building.

  Daddy Williams flicked on the light, a big grin spreading on his face as I felt Micah tense up beside me. “Y'all two have fun, now,” Daddy said.

  “Not gonna watch?” I growled.

  “Oh, God, no. I trust you, Ford. You get some sense in that head of hers. Make her come around and see why she can't run far. 'Sides, we got plenty of cameras and microphones down there. Think running girls is my only business? Gotta have a few sidelines. Get me?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I took Micah's trembling arm and silently guided her to go downstairs in front me. “I get you.”

  Now, with Daddy trusting me, I just had to make sure I could gain Micah's again. With him watching as I punished her, though, I didn't know if that would be possible.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Micah

  With a chuckle on his fat lips, Daddy shut the door on us.

  Tears were filling up in my eyes, tears of fear, tears of guilt. The look on Ford’s face when he'd realized my betrayal was just like a punch in the gut. So, it was with mixed feelings that I let him lead me down the stairs. I knew I deserved to be punished for stealing from him. There was no question about that. But I didn't deserve it for running from Daddy, or for trying to get Kessa out.

  “I know you're upset,” I said quietly as he took me down, “but you have to understand where I was coming from, Ford. I needed the money I could get for that ring to run away from this place, to start a new life.”

  “Yeah? You think you need the fucking money?” he asked, his words clipped as we reached the bottom of the steps and looked around the room. “Well, I fucking needed it too. Had to pay off my loan shark with it. Only reason I didn't go looking for it was that you dropped right in my lap.”

  The dungeon, as Daddy called it, was beautiful, albeit a dark, creepy kind of beautiful. Crimson cloth, black leather, electric candles and dim lighting. Stationed around the room in the low light were various bits of painful-looking sexual paraphernalia. Adjustable chains hung from the wall. There were free-standing sto
cks in one corner, a device that locked a woman's head in place and kept her arms straight out and her legs spread, a rack to chain a woman to that would keep her spread eagled. Along the closest wall was a glass case full of whips, floggers, paddles, clamps, dildos, and vibrators.

  “Oh my,” I whispered.

  It was the kind of place where you expected things like this to happen.

  I heard him swallow dryly as he took it in, before leading me into the center of the room. He quickly got his bearings, though.

  “Ford,” I started in a shaky voice, “you don't have . . .”

  “Enough, Micah,” he snapped, his voice loud, but not quite shouting. It just held a sense of authority, of command, one that immediately shut me up. “These are the rules. Rule one, no speaking unless spoken to. Rule two, you will only call me sir. Rule three, if you veer from these, I will punish you. Each time, the punishment will get worse. Do you understand me?”

  It was my turn to swallow. I nodded.

  He stepped closer to me, his eyes like a wolf's as they fell on me.

  Feeling like a scared rabbit in that hungry gaze, I stepped back unconsciously.

  “Some of the things I'm going to do to you will hurt. Pain is a way to discipline. The reason why you're down here is because you've been bad, and you haven't played along the way you should. Now, strip.”

  I hesitated, licking my lips. Something about the look he gave me seemed to soften a little bit.

  “The only way you're going to get out of here,” he said as he began to circle me like a predator, “is if you realize how wrong you've been. You need to learn that following the rules is better for you. You need to learn to go with the flow. Now, what did I tell you to do?”

  “Strip?” I asked in a trembling voice.

  “Sir,” he corrected from behind me in a harsh whisper, his lips so close to my ear I could feel his hot breath rushing over my earlobe.

  I closed my eyes and nodded, a rush of something going through my body. Fear? Terror? Trepidation? Excitement? “You told me to strip, sir.”

  “Good girl,” he soothed. “Keep acting like this, and we'll have you understanding how this works in no time.”

  Eyes now open, I bit my lip and began. I pulled my shirt over my head, baring my pale skin to him, and to the hidden cameras, dropping it at my feet.

  “Leave the heels,” he growled.

  I bit my lip and unzipped the back of my black skirt. I pushed it down over my hips, sliding it down my slender legs. And then, like that, I stood in front of him, wearing just my matching set of black underwear I'd slipped into earlier.

  He ran his hands over my body as he described a circle with his walk, inspecting me like I was just a piece of wanton meat, sending a shiver through me. His rough fingers rang over my ribs, tracing up my spine, trailing over my stomach.

  I could feel myself getting wet at his touch, my body responding to the memories of how amazing he'd made me feel and the excitement of this, the prospect of being bent to his will.

  Maybe I was a natural submissive? I didn't know. I'd never done anything like this before. But, as frightening as it was, as horrible as things might go, my body was enjoying itself even as my mind tried to make it recoil in fear. I kept my eyes focused ahead, my breath shallow and fast.

  His fingers traced heat up and down my flat stomach, his blunted, rough nails grazing my skin as he continued his walk around me. He stopped behind me again, putting his big hands on my full hips. I could feel his hot breath on my skin. “I’m going to hurt you today,” he whispered.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, closing my eyes as I trembled.

  “But don’t worry. You’ll almost begin to enjoy it by the time I’m done. Now, stay.”

  I nodded, not saying a word.

  He walked away, over to the rack of toys and devices hanging from the wall. He began to look over the objects of delicious torture hanging there, inspecting each one.

  Desperately, I wanted to turn my head, to see what toys he was looking for. But I didn’t know if his order to stay carried so far that it kept me from following him. So I stayed. Like a good girl.

  Ford came back over a moment later, some kind of shackle hanging from his hands. He stepped up behind me. He reached up and unsnapped the back of my bra. As he did, the leather and metal in his hand brushed over my skin, producing another anticipatory shiver from me.

  I might have never used any of this. But I’d thought about it. Worried about it. Fantasized about it.

  Without a word, he slid my bra straps off my shoulders.

  Standing as still as a mannequin, I let my bra fall to the floor at my feet.

  He brushed my long red curls from the nape of my neck. I sucked in a breath as he reached around me and put a collar around my throat. Two long chains connected to strips of leather dangled down my naked, unblemished back. “Hands behind your back,” he commanded.

  “Yes, sir.” I willingly put my hands behind my back. He roughly grabbed one wrist, locked it into place, then grabbed the other and did the same. As I lightly tested the cuffs, it quickly became clear the two cuffs encircling my wrists were connected to each other by a thin but secure chain.

  I tried to relax my arms, to let them drop, and felt the leather collar choke me with my own weight. I sputtered and gagged in surprise, realizing that the whole kit was connected together. To keep the pressure from my throat, I had to keep my shoulders fully back, keeping my wrists raised and pressed against the middle of my back. My arms were already beginning to ache from having to keep them in this position, and I groaned in frustration.

  Ford walked around to the front, though, his admiring gaze falling on my breasts, which were raised even higher than normal. He smiled as he watched my chest heave with each frustrated breath. “Oh,” he said. “I like that one. What do you think, slut? Do you like that one?”

  I bit my lip. I knew what he wanted to hear. I knew exactly what words he wanted to pass my lips. One part of me wanted to give them to him. The other, though, wanted me to force him to break the words from me. I shook my head.

  “No?” he asked, smiling a little as his finger came up, circling my left nipple light as a feather. “You really don’t understand how this is going to do work, do you?”

  I bit my lip harder, a soft, gentle pleasure spreading through my body. “I do, sir,” I sighed, closing my eyes.

  “No,” he said, pinching my nipple hard. “You don’t.”

  I nearly screamed as the soft pleasure turned to sharp pain. “Shit!”

  “I told you. This was going to hurt.” He squeezed harder.

  Something strange happened, though. I felt my knees begin to go weak, not from pain, not from hurt, but from pleasure. I moaned softly, my lips half-parted. Oh God, I was beginning to enjoy this. Maybe I really was a submissive?

  He stopped, but the pain/pleasure continued to radiate from my nipple. “You like that, don’t you, slut? You like how much it hurts. Does it make you wet, Micah? Does it make you want more?”

  My breath was coming harder, faster. I bit my lip, nodded again. “Yes, sir. I-I-I do.”

  “Good. Because I’m going to introduce you to a lot of it.” He hooked his finger through the metal loop at the front of my collar and began to pull me.

  I stopped in my tracks, surprised.

  “You can either come along,” he growled as he turned back to me, “or I can get a leash from the wall and drag you like a dog. Which do you want?”

  I realized then that I wanted the pain, but not the degradation of being dragged across the floor like an animal. I dropped my resistance and went along with him as he led me to a sort of leather bench off to the side.

  The bench was like a miniature picnic table, with a long central padded area, and two equally long, but shorter in height, padded surfaces flanking the middle “table” on either side. Cuffs and hooks lined it up and down.

  Ford grabbed the bench and pulled it out closer to the center of the room. “Climb on,”
he said.

  I looked at him, then looked at it, then looked back at him.

  “Straddle it,” he growled, his voice deeper, more resonant than before. “Do you need help?”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He grabbed my bound arm and helped me climb on top of it, my legs sliding into the padded side benches. I was trembling with anticipation and trepidation as I straddled the central bench, my ass in the air, my wrists still bound behind my back.

  He bent down behind me, securing my ankles with leather cuffs that hung from the sides. “Now lean forward and lie down.”