“Do you need to use the restroom?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, my voice weaker.
He took that time to open the glove compartment and retrieved the small revolver. “Do you think you can be a good girl and do as I say when we’re inside or do you think I should drive to a more secluded area where you can piss along the side of the road while I watch?”
“I’ll be good,” I said quickly, my eyes on the gun.
“What will happen if you’re not?” he asked.
My chest felt tight at his words.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked.
“You’ll hurt me,” I answered, looking directly at him.
“I’m glad we understand each other. Hold out your hands.”
I did so without hesitation and watched while he unlocked the cuffs. I rubbed my wrists, my brain already working out a plan. Any plan. The way I saw it, my options were very limited. My best chance at escape was when we were in public, when there were people around. I wondered then if anyone was even looking for me. If anyone knew the original plan had gone wrong, so terribly wrong, but I doubted it. It wasn’t as if the feds were looking out for my best interests. They were doing what they needed to do to get my dad to testify.
“Let’s go,” he said, climbing out of the truck.
He came around to my side and opened the door, took my arm and “helped” me out. He then locked the truck and wrapped his big hand around mine, squeezing hard enough to make me wince. He looked down at me and smiled as we passed a family with small children. We then entered the building, which contained a small convenience store and restrooms. There were maybe a dozen people inside and two cashiers. He walked me not to the ladies room but to the large and private handicap bathroom. It was when we went inside it together that I dug my heels in.
“I am not going to go to the bathroom in front of you!”
He ignored me and unzipped his pants.
“What are you doing?” I asked, backing up when he let me go.
“I’m taking a leak,” he said. “If it so offends you, then don’t watch.”
My mouth opened and closed but when he proceeded to take himself out of his jeans, I quickly looked away, not missing his chuckle.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this!”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he flushed the toilet when he was finished.
He washed his hands and plucked two paper towels out of the dispenser to dry them. “Your turn,” he said, standing back as if to watch.
“I don’t think so. You can wait outside.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll be right on the other side of the door and you will not lock it, understand?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t try anything,” he said before he walked out.
I gave him a smirk and locked the door as soon as he was gone. Jerk.
At least the toilet was clean. Once I was finished, I quickly washed my hands but left the water running.
“You done?” Lake asked from the other side of the door.
“Almost,” I said, looking around.
I reached for a paper towel and saw the small cabinet beneath the sink. The lock was loose so I yanked hard and managed to get the door open. Inside were cleaning supplies: an empty bottle of bleach, rags, toilet cleaner, and Windex.
He knocked again. I ignored him and picked up the Windex. I would have preferred the bleach, but this would have to do.
“Open the door, Lily.”
“Just a minute,” I said, spraying the Windex into the air. If I got him in the face, in the eyes, well, that would hurt and possibly give me the moment I’d need to get help.
I smiled and unlocked the door, and just as I knew he would, he didn’t wait for me to open it. Instead, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, already muttering something I couldn’t quite make out because once he was in, he pushed the door closed and I extended my arm, aimed for his face, and squeezed.
“Ah! Fuck!” he called out, squeezing his eyes shut with one hand and trying to reach for me with the other.
I squeezed again and almost made it out. I would have made it if it hadn’t been for the woman who had reached to open the door in the meantime, her daughter’s wheelchair in front of her blocking my exit.
“What’s going on in here?” she began.
“Just a minute!” Lake said, taking the opportunity to push the door closed and grab hold of me. He stared at me, furious, while turning on the tap. He kept his hand locked on my arm as he splashed water over his face, his eyes.
“I’m sorry!” I began, stunned at my failed plan. I’d been so close.
The woman knocked again. “This is a handicap restroom!”
Lake made some noise as he towel dried his face. Taking me by the collar of my coat, he pulled me to him. “You are in so much fucking trouble. Keep your mouth shut,” he said, making a point of showing me the gun tucked inside the waistband of his jeans.
I shook my head, “I’m so sorry…” I began, but he cut me off.
“No, not yet you’re not, but you will be.”
* * *
It was very, very close. He’d been sloppy — and there wasn’t room for that anymore.
“You’re going to walk with me back out to the truck.” He stood close enough that his whisper was loud and clear, her wide liquid eyes fixed upon him, her face ashen. “You’re going to do exactly that, and nothing more. You don’t talk — not a single word. You don’t resist, you don’t run. Got me, Ms. Cross?”
For a moment she simply stared, her mouth open. Then she swallowed, nodding.
“Good.”
His hand engulfed hers, squeezing tightly enough that she winced. He liked that. She’d be getting a lot more where that came from in a few minutes.
Striding back across the patched asphalt parking lot, Lily in tow, he scanned the area, going over the possibilities in his mind. None of them were good. But first, he needed to get them moving again. Movement, was life.
Fortunately, the place was practically deserted. But the woman with the girl in the wheelchair might be a problem. He’d glanced back at her as they’d rushed out of the bathroom. The woman’s beady eyes, peering over flushed jowls, had watched them the entire time.
Much too closely.
He hoisted Lily up into the back seat of the truck, her body jerking at the loud clatter of a Jake brake sounding from a tractor-trailer racing past on the freeway beyond them.
“Don’t move an inch,” he rumbled, buckling the belt tight. He cuffed her hands once more, and, fortunately for her, she seemed to be learning, offering her wrists without so much as a peep. He looked behind him once more, just to be sure, then reached for her, a hand tight in the curls of her dark hair.
“No, wait—” she yelped as he slapped the tape over her mouth once more, smoothing it over her soft lips.
His fingers shook as he walked around to the driver’s side, his eyes checking the parking lot one last time. With any luck, Lake and Lily would fade out of memory for everyone there, even Ms. Beady Eyes. But it had nearly been disaster.
As he pulled the truck down the on-ramp and accelerated back onto the freeway, he gripped the steering wheel hard, his hands creaking.
Not now, Lake. You can’t do it now. You’re too pissed.
He breathed slowly, deeply, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Her eyes met his in the reflection, and what he saw in them made him smile.
Fear.
It was what he wanted to see because if she feared him, maybe she’d listen to him. And if she listened to him, it might keep them alive. Simply fearing him wasn’t enough though. Not for him.
It was time to teach her to obey him, too.
Watching the road once more, he brought the truck up to just under seventy. Willing himself to calm, he visualized what needed to be done next. There was so little time, and yet being careful, calm was so important. Swiftness, precision, decisiveness. He’d need all of them to get them to safety.
And he’d need a little luck too.
Once the scenery turned from suburban to rural, he took an exit that looked suitably deserted, driving away from the freeway until he found a turnabout spot partially screened by a dense stand of tall evergreens. The gravel was loud under his tires as the truck bounced over the edge of the shoulder. It was far enough off the road to be relatively secluded, but not so far as to raise suspicion. He parked and got out, laying both hands on the hot hood and inhaling deeply, the air smelling faintly of the cedars soaring above them.
It was time she learned that first lesson.
Opening the rear passenger door on the driver’s side, he climbed in, closing it behind him, the air inside still, quiet. Her chest heaved with her panicky breathing, her nostrils flaring. Her body leaned against her door, as far from him as she could get.
“When I tell you to do something, Ms. Cross, you’d damn well better do it.” He brought his face closer to hers, inhaling the clean scent of her perfume. He spoke slowly, steel in his voice.
“You’re going to learn to start obeying me. And you want to know why? Because it’s going to keep us alive, but more importantly, you’ll do it because I told you to. Do you understand?”
Her eyes grew wide, and she looked down at the tape. He reached for it, curling fingers under one corner. “I’ll pull this back, and I’d better hear the words: ‘Yes, Sir’” His fingers yanked it to the side, leaving it to hang from her flushed cheek
“Fuck, that hurts!” She reached up with her cuffed hands, running fingertips along her lips.
“Those weren’t the words I wanted to hear.” He batted her hands away, stilling her with a fist twisting in her hair and a slap of the tape back over swollen, reddened lips. “That’s going to cost you.”
Her eyes narrowed, and enraged, but unintelligible, squalling erupted from behind the tape, two utterances sounding suspiciously close to “asshole.”
Not a quick learner, this one.
He found he rather appreciated that — but first it was time to get the beautiful woman’s attention. Sliding toward the middle of the rear bench seat, he deftly unlatched her belt. She moved instantly, trying to lunge forward. He threaded his fingers into the rich, silky weight of her hair then clenched his fist. She froze, her eyes squeezing shut with a pained grunt.
Yanking roughly, he pulled her down, drawing her over his lap. Her cuffed hands pushed at his lap as she tried to rise, but he grasped them by the chain linking her wrists, and hauled her hands out in front of her. He yanked her blouse from the clutch of her dark jeans, rucking it up to expose the satin paleness of her lower back.
She kicked out, hard, her heel connecting against the door with a loud thud, and she pushed against it with surprising strength. He twisted his fist in her hair further, and she squealed once more. Pulling one leg from beneath her struggling body, he laid it over the back of her kicking legs, clamping down on them until only her feet drummed against the door. He leaned over her, his lips at her ear.
“You’ll lie still, or it’ll be worse for you. Nobody knows you’re out here. Nobody. Be good, and this’ll be quick.”
Though he wanted this lesson to get through to her, part of him hoped very much that she’d defy his order.
Of course, she struggled and squirmed, no matter how fruitless it was. He allowed himself a grim smile at her fire, knowing it was going to make things all the harder — but knowing it made things all the more interesting too.
The jeans she wore hugged her figure well, and up close, he got the first good glimpse at it. Despite her petite build, her ass was actually quite generous, plump and round, the jeans displaying its curves enticingly.
Survival first, Lake. Then you can indulge yourself.
But that wasn’t quite true. She needed to learn — and the faster, the better — that doing what she was told was vital for her, for her very survival — and it was vital for the comfort of that little bubble butt she’d been hiding too.
He’d teach her a lesson, but there was nothing wrong with enjoying himself while he did it.
Pushing her head down steadily, he held her by the hair at the base of her skull, not allowing her an inch of movement. He brought his hand down on her jeans-clad ass once, then again, harder. The rough fabric stung his palm.
She froze, a puzzled little sound coming from behind the tape. Then, as if a switch had been turned on, her entire body writhed in every direction, her hips rising and falling as she struggled against the iron grip of his legs. He felt his cock stir as she moved against him, the feeling of overpowering her with his strength speaking to something deep inside himself he hadn’t known was there.
Kidnapping her wasn’t enough? Are you planning on adding rapist to your rap sheet too?
He didn’t even answer such a ridiculous question, didn’t need to. All he intended to do was teach this spirited little woman what happened when she defied him. His fingers insinuated under the waistband of her jeans, the smooth, soft flesh against the back of his hand. He hauled on them, trying to pull them off, but they hugged her hips too tightly. She screeched again, struggling even harder.
“Oh no. I’m not going to fuck you, Lily. Not yet.” He reached around her hip, fingers searching for the button in front, undoing it. “But your jeans are giving you way too much protection.”
A lost whimper escaped the tape as he worked the jeans roughly down, exposing more of her pale flesh to his gaze. Then he saw the little dark swatch of fabric between her buttocks and laughed.
“A thong? You little slut, Lily.” The black lace had worked partially off as he’d pulled down her jeans some more. He yanked the jeans fully clear of her ass, letting them bunch where his thigh clamped down on her legs. His fingers snatched up the lace, and he ripped it down her thighs too, leaving it in a tangled bundle with her jeans.
Her bottom was even more beautiful than he’d imagined: soft, smooth, but its contours surprisingly broad and lush for so slight a frame. Between the tense, trembling thighs, the dark slot below her buttocks invited, hinting at the hidden sex, calling to him despite how wrong this all was.
Get it done, Lake.
“I’d never have guessed you were hiding an ass like this. Little thing like you?” His hand smoothed over the curve of one hip, and she grew very still at the touch of his hand to her warm, bare skin. “That’s better. Lie quiet now, and we’ll get this over with, Lily.”
He palmed the soft curve of her buttock, enjoying the feel of her for just a moment. His cock was fully at attention now, and he tried to ignore it — there’d be time to think about what to do about that later.
Then he began.
He slapped her bottom slowly at first, getting a feel for how hard he needed to smack. Each spank rang out crisply in the confines of the quiet cab, her body vibrating with each blow. He watched the way her white bottom jiggled at each slap, the rich flesh wobbling as he smacked one cheek then the other. He covered each cheek thoroughly with slaps until the flesh glowed a uniform red. His palm rested over the fleshiest part of her bottom.
“What do you think we’re up to here, Lily? Do you understand how much danger we’re in?”
She snarled unintelligibly behind the tape, arching up, her feet kicking the door.
He spanked her faster then, landing hard smacks in a methodical fashion, making sure the whole of one cheek burned, the color deepening to scarlet, then marching another flurry of smacks up and down the other cheek. He traced a finger along two raised welts left by his blows. Her thighs trembled under his leg, her cries growing more plaintive.
“The first thing you need to learn is to listen.” He landed a harsh blow where her plump buttock met sleek thigh, the flesh bounding, the scream muffled by the tape. “When I tell you to do something, you do it. You don’t argue with me. Ever.”
His palm cracked down on the same spot three times in quick succession on the lower part of her far bottom cheek, the flesh blazing under his hand, wrenching more cries from her.
“You’re not Daddy’s little girl out here. You’re lost at sea. And I’m your only hope of making it home, Lily.” He landed two smacks to the tender flesh of each thigh, and she reared up, shrieking again. “Get it through your head, Ms. Cross. I’m all you’ve got, and if you don’t start acting like it, you’re going to be spending a lot of time with a very sore ass.”
Truthfully, he was going comparatively easy on her, but she didn’t need to know that. Once he got her to their destination, he’d be able to deal with her more effectively, more strictly — how he really wanted to go about demonstrating her new role in life. As pleasing as this little spanking was, she had a lot more — and worse — to look forward to once he finally got them to safety.
There, she’d finally understand she’d been dropped into the deep end of the pool.
He tightened his grip on her hair, pausing to stroke her bottom, the heat radiating from her skin like a furnace. He laid the comparatively cool back of his hand across her inflamed buttocks, and she tensed, whimpering. The feel of her flesh made his cock throb, the hard bulge pressing to her naked hip. He knew he shouldn’t let her know this was turning him on — he wasn’t quite sure what that meant anyway — but getting her through this, getting this message across was more important.
Landing loud blows across those burning, clenching cheeks, he varied the timing, smacking her once, then waiting, only to land a flurry of hard blows when she least expected it. Concentrating most of the spanks on a narrow band at the base of her buttocks and the tops of her thighs, he kept at her until her keening was continuous, her bottom a deep, swollen crimson, a crazy patchwork of darker welts and handprints over the flushed canvas of her plump buttocks.
Stroking her scorched cheeks, he loosened his grip on her hair. “Now, your punishment is done, as long as you start doing what you’re told. Do you think you can do that?”
She dropped her head as far as his grip allowed, her back hitching.
“I’m not doing this because I want to, Lily.”
I’m sure the fact your cock is hard as a rock against her hip doesn’t make that a lie right?
Captive, Mine Page 4