Stray

by Suzanne Steele

  The coroner tutted at Agent Turner’s attempt to snap off a few pictures with his cell phone. “Go right over there and pick up that packet I have already made for you. It’s just the basics but I put it together because I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait. I can’t stress to you enough that paperwork isn’t definitive. At this point, it’s educated guesses.” He pulled his mask back up before bending down to begin again. He mumbled under his breath, talking more to himself than Agent Turner. “That should be enough to keep you out of my hair until I’m officially done.” Agent Turner never heard him because he had already said thanks and was making his way out the door with Rene on his heels.

  Agent Turner

  David never saw the slap coming when he turned from locking the door after they entered his home, but he sure as hell felt it when his head bounced off the door.

  “You ungrateful brat of a slave!”

  Rene’s facial expression no longer mimicked that of a professional agent. Now, it had taken on the form of a very displeased Mistress.

  His eyes immediately looked down as he spoke, “I’m sorry, Mistress. It’s just the stress of the job; I meant no disrespect.”

  She viciously fisted a handful of his hair, forcing his eyes to look up at her. She spit her words out as if they were venom, effectively striking him much harder than the slap, and clearly informing him that he had displeased his Mistress.

  Her manicured finger pointed towards the spiral staircase as she spit out her demand, “Get your ass up those steps and in that bedroom.” She pulled his face in nose to nose with her and before releasing him, she spoke in a whisper, “If you aren’t naked, kneeling, collared, and leashed by the time I get up those steps, I’m going to cane you so viciously you won’t be able to sit down tomorrow.”

  All he could hear was her sinister laugh as he took off to run up the stairs. He quickly shed his clothing after neatly placing the file from the coroner’s office on his desk. His hands shook as he placed the collar around his neck and attached the leash to it. He sat on his haunches, with his hands facing palm up on his thighs and his knees spread widely apart, revealing his stiff cock that already throbbed in anticipation of his Mistress’s punishment.

  He could hear Rene making her way around the room, gathering different toys. He resisted the urge to look up and see what she was wearing. He could hear her approaching and his heart began to race as he viewed the stiletto heel of a thigh-high boot planted directly in front of him.

  She eyed him with contempt as she firmly ground the sharp spike into his inner thigh until he cried out for mercy. “You know, slave,” she drawled out in a contemptible manner, “that little, virgin ass of yours has been safe from violation, but I’m beginning to wonder if you don’t need to be fucked into submission.” She laughed at him when he squirmed. She was well aware of the fact that she was the first woman he had ever allowed to dominate him and he had no desire to be violated by her with one of her toys.

  “Because I’m so merciful, I’m going to give you a choice. You can have the cane or I can take your precious, little, virginal ass that you so desperately try to keep intact.”

  “The cane,” the words tumbled from his mouth quickly, with no hesitation.

  Her sadistic laugh rang through the air, “How did I know you were going to say that? That’s a rhetorical question so please don’t be presumptuous enough to try and answer it. I knew what you would say because I know you…”

  She viciously jerked his head back and pushed the opening of her crotchless panties into his face. That’s a good boy. Lap at it like the dog you are.”

  His tongue shot out, hungry to appease the sadist in his Mistress. She pushed her crotch into his face, burying his nose into her like she was purposely trying to suffocate him with her femininity. “Spread it open and lick it like you mean business, boy.”

  He dove into her like a starving man at a buffet until she was trembling with an orgasm and telling him what a good, little boy he was. She waited until she was sated and then rubbed her juices all over his face to further humiliate him.

  His body ached and throbbed for this sadistic woman he had come to know as his Mistress. She was the only woman who had ever made him feel like he was going to explode with an orgasm without her hands even touching him. She was a drug and he was addicted.

  Her lips barely moved as her voice came out in a throaty and very threatening manner, “assume the fucking position.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at the bed. He scrambled to stand and spread his arms out like wings, grabbing onto the posts at the end of the bed.

  She stood right behind him in an intimidating manner and leaned into his ear to whisper, “This is going to hurt badly. It would be so much easier for you if I tied your arms and that’s exactly why I’m not going to. Now, if you move your hands from those bedposts, it will be bye, bye, ass virginity.”

  With lightning speed, she moved away from him and swung the cane through the air, connecting with his tender ass. The agonizing pain forced his eyes to water but, ironically enough, those tears, brought on by the pain she served up on a platter of sadism, washed away the stress of his day.

  Each strike was delivered in a different spot. She was careful never to land a hit in the vicinity of a kidney or overlap a previous strike. As sadistic as his Mistress was, she was very diligent in taking care of her property.

  Five strikes later, she gently laid him on the soft duvet. “Arms above your head, angel. That’s a good boy,” she cooed as she ran her tongue around the head of his cock, teasing him. “Let’s get you ready for Mistress.” She sucked him with her full lips and pumped his cock with her hand, bringing him right to the point of climaxing before she stopped.

  She sat over him, spreading her pussy lips apart and easing down onto his hard cock to envelope him in her warmth. She tossed her head back as she spoke to him, “Oh, that is one healthy cock you’ve got there, boy. Now be a good boy and fuck Mistress real hard for being merciful in not taking that little, virgin ass of yours and making it mine.”

  He grabbed her hips and began fucking her like a madman. He was too far gone now and he pounded into her, desperate for release. “That’s a good boy,” she moaned as she pressed the vibrator she had plugged in earlier to her clit.

  He watched her body shake with release as he emptied all the stress and strain of being an agent for the FBI into her. They gave each other something that they both needed—an escape from the brutality of a job that forced them to see things no one should ever have to witness.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Claire

  Claire tossed the mail down on her desk and groaned as she removed her heels and rubbed one of her hosed feet. She pushed the thought out of her mind how discriminated against she felt at work just for the mere fact that she was a woman. It had her wondering how men would handle it if they were approached like that and expected to fuck their way up the corporate ladder. Honestly, they’d probably be fine with it, she thought disgustedly.

  She rubbed her temples, groaning as she started going through the mail but hesitated when she reached a manila envelope in the pile. “Striker, come here.”

  She looked up to see him holding Little Bit and scratching him behind his ears. “Is there something the two of you need to tell me,” she laughed.

  “He doesn’t like you since you threatened to cut his nuts off.”

  “Tell him I’m saving him from testosterone filled, feral males of all species.” She rolled her eyes as she continued, “you, being a feral stray I brought home,” she joked, “should be able to relay the message to him.”

  Striker looked down, speaking to the cat, “She called us in here for this?”

  “No, I called you in here for this.” She tossed the manila envelope in his direction. She looked up and found herself suddenly studying the man standing before her. His features were chiseled, yet there was a laid back ease to his demeanor. It lured you into being relaxed only to have him strike out so quickly tha
t you never saw it coming. His blue eyes weren’t cold but they were intense. You couldn’t hold his gaze for too long because they held a challenge within them that promised an opponent punishment if he was crossed in any manner.

  His sandy blonde hair fell in waves of disarray over his prominent brow that only accentuated the blue in eyes. His brows would furrow when he studied whoever was addressing him, making whomever he was talking to feel as if he could see through them and right down into the core of their motives. His skin was tan, like he lived in a climate where people surfed all day and lounged in the sun. His full lips would set in a straight line when he was irritated or angry. He was a contradiction in terms aesthetically, as well as temperamentally. Claire couldn’t ever remember a time she had been so confused when trying to figure a man out.

  “Are you done checking me out yet?” he asked, obviously humored with her as he handed her the cat and reached for the manila envelope she had tossed in his direction.

  She could feel her complexion turning crimson red so she focused on the kitten she held to try and take the attention off of the fact that she had been staring. As if to rub it in, he lifted her chin with his forefinger and spoke, “Baby, you can check me out anytime you want.”

  She jerked her chin away in irritation at being caught and, once again, focused on the kitten. “Just open the envelope already,” she hissed.

  He chuckled and leaned over her much closer than necessary to grab a letter opener, taking the time to purposely breathe in her scent and never removing his eyes from her. The kitten languidly reached over to touch his arm with a paw and yawned.

  “See? He likes me. Do you like me?” His voice was a seductive whisper. He was purposely taunting her, taking his time opening the manila envelope just to play up on the anticipation she was feeling over its mysterious contents.”

  He tutted as he backed away while he opened it. He raised his brows and slowly shook his head. “It appears you are in trouble, young lady.” He quickly flipped an 8x10 glossy print over, revealing the body of a dead woman—a woman who was laid out on a metal table that looked much like what might be found in a morgue. Though the metal table resembled medical furniture, the background in the picture looked like that of a warehouse, not a medical facility.

  “You know, the more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you need to keep me around. In fact, you might want to consider adding bodyguard to my job description because from where I’m standing, it appears I’m the only thing standing between you and, well, a killer.” He shoved the picture in her direction for emphasis. He soaked in the fear in her eyes, watching them open wider with disbelief at what she was viewing. She attempted to back away but wasn’t able to in time before he reached for her.

  “Don’t you trust me?” He leaned in, gently running the back of his hand over her cheek. For some reason, the action felt very sinister and not at all consoling or sincere in nature. She almost felt as if he was taunting her with the fact that, with each passing day, her need for him was growing.

  He was exactly what she had been thinking just moments before—a contradiction in terms. He had this way of making her feel like he could protect her, but only on his terms. At this moment in time, she found herself being more afraid of the man who was living in her home, than the one who was sending blood soaked kittens and pictures of dead bodies.

  Striker

  “Hey, hey, hey, girl… it’s okay. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” He grabbed the picture she still held in her hands while she stared at it in disbelief.

  “She is cut everywhere, all over her body. Why would someone do this, Striker? Why would they send this to me? There is some psycho killer out there and now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m next on his list.”

  He took the kitten from her lap and set him on the bed before he grabbed Claire and pulled her into his arms. He smoothed her hair down as he tried to comfort her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Here’s what we’ll do… we’ll set up cameras with the security system you already have and, for now, I’ll escort you wherever you need to go. Do I need to show you a clip of one of my fights to assure you that I’m tough enough to protect you?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’ve already seen one,” she sniffled, laughing.

  He leaned back and looked into her face, wiping her tears away with his thumb. “Well aren’t you a little, sneaky snake?” he chuckled.

  “I’m curious and, hell yes, I’m sneaky. I work in a man’s world.”

  “What’d ya think about the fight?”

  “I think you’re ruthless. I thought you were going to kill the guy.”

  “You’d do well to remember that, love.”

  “How can you go from making me feel safe to making me feel threatened?” she sighed, obviously exasperated with him.

  “I’m gifted. Now, lie down with Little Bit for a minute and pet him while I run us a bath.”

  He watched as she made her way over and curled up on the bed, stroking the kitten who was very quickly becoming a spoiled part of the family. He had no intentions of letting the woman, or the cat, go anywhere. He’d already made up his mind that he was going to have a chip put in the cat. The thought had crossed his mind of doing the same with her.

  He made his way into the bathroom and began to run the water, getting it to the perfect temperature before pouring bubbles into the rapidly running stream. He lit candles, turned the lights off, and shut the bathroom door to keep the heat in.

  It was becoming harder, with each passing day, to ignore the pangs of guilt that threatened to pierce his conscience. This is what he had planned for years to get even with the man who had sentenced his father to death by lethal injection for a crime he didn’t commit. He hadn’t counted on Claire being so innocent and he damn sure hadn’t counted on getting attached to her.

  This was becoming much more of conundrum than what he had counted on. He tried to reassure himself that doing the things he was doing was forcing her to need him, but now all he could think about was what she was going to do if she ever found out that he was the one mind-fucking her. She would hate him, absolutely hate him, and for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, the thought of that wasn’t sitting well with him. Hadn’t he decided that her family deserved to be subjected to a little fear considering the horrible conditions he had been forced to endure growing up? He had lost both parents because of two men’s greed to gain promotions and notoriety. It wasn’t fair for them to live in wealth and prestige after what they had done to him and his family. Why was he feeling so conflicted?

  He knew exactly why… She shouldn’t be made to pay for the sins of her father. It was time to redirect his revenge. Maybe that would ward off the guilt he had been feeling. Claire’s voice cut through his thoughts and he looked up to see her standing in the doorway, rubbing her finger under an eye as if wiping off imaginary mascara streaks.

  “You wear waterproof mascara. There isn’t any black under your eyes,” he stated as he eyed her, impressed with her beauty.

  “You’re the most attentive man I have ever met. What did you do? Look at what brand I wear?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did. Take your clothes off, Claire.” He watched as she disrobed, biting at her bottom lip.

  “You are so fucking beautiful and when you bite that bottom lip like that, it makes me want to pin your ass down and fuck you senseless, girl. What are doing to me, Claire? What the fuck are you doing to me?”

  He reached over from where he was sitting on the edge of the tub and turned the water faucet off. “Get in. The water’s perfect and it will help you relax.”

  She eased down into the water, adjusting to the heat of it, and sighed as she let the stress of the day out. He undressed and scooted behind her, pulling her back against his chest and continued talking to her.

  “You’ll never get rid of me now. I have no intentions of going anywhere. You’ve gotten under my skin, girl.”

  She sighed, sha
king her head, “I can’t get rid of you now anyway; I need a bodyguard.”

  “Oh, so that’s the only reason you’re keeping me?”

  “No, I’m using you for your body too,” she chuckled, teasing him. “On a serious note, I think we need to go to the police. I’m scared, Striker. For some unknown reason, somebody is out to get me.”

  “Maybe it isn’t you they’re out to get.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Over the years, how many people do you think your father has put away? I’m sure the man has more than his fair share of enemies. You can’t be in that line of work and not piss people off.”

  “But why would someone take it out on me? That’s not fair.”

  He laughed, shaking his head at her. “Now that is hilarious. Do you honestly think a psycho killer is going to be concerned with being fair? What better way to get even with your father than through his precious princess of a daughter?”

  She splashed water in his face. “Quit calling me that!”

  He cut his eyes at her, resisting the urge to dunk her under the water.

  “Stop looking at me like that. You look like you want to drown me.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re assessment is correct,” he answered, still glaring at her. “Look, all I’m saying is I’m sure your dad has pissed off more than his share of criminals. Maybe you aren’t the one they’re after.”

  “Are you going to protect me?”

  “With my life, young lady. It will be over my dead body that anyone harms one hair on that pretty, little head of yours. Now, there are a couple of things you can do. You can go to police, confront your father about prospective enemies he may have, or do both. I’ll support you regardless of what you decide to do.”

  “Don’t want to drown me anymore?”

  “Not unless I’m fucking your brains out and we’re playing at breath control while I’m doing it.”