by Alta Hensley
“Why are you such a bastard?”
“Call me what you want. Here’s the thing about me, baby doll. I didn’t get handed my wealth. I wasn’t born into it. I was raised by a coupon cutting, single mother who gave me my name because she thought it sounded regal and hoped I would someday be a rich man. And I did exactly that. I built my empire on my own with no help from anyone, and without selling my body to the highest bidder. So if you really think I am going to sit here and attend your pity party so I’ll let you go, you are the one who is delusional. We all make choices in life. Some happen to make wiser ones. So don’t look at me and my wealth like I’m the lucky one. There was not one ounce of luck in what I got. I earned every cent of it. I busted my ass. I took risks. I didn’t make excuses. I did not let weakness win. I am where I am in life because I made it happen. Me. Am I rich? Yes. Was I poor growing up? Yes. But I will tell you this, nothing pisses me off more than when people assume rich people have it easy. Most of us rich fucks had to scratch our way to the top leaving a bloody trail behind us.”
I was losing this battle. Damn. Why did the man have to be as smart as he was handsome?
“I don’t want to go back there!” I snapped. “Please! Can’t you understand that? Can’t you understand that, yes, I got in above my head. I didn’t realize what signing that contract with my blood would mean. I was stupid. Fucking stupid!”
“Then give the money back. It really isn’t that hard.”
I sat there, biting my lower lip so it wouldn’t quiver and give away my despair. “I can’t. I won’t.”
“Why?”
“It’s none of your business.”
He shrugged. “Fine, I don’t care. But like I said, you have two choices. Money or making good on your signature. Black and white. No gray area in this world. Maybe there was in your trailer behind the gas station, but in my world, we don’t operate in grays.”
Kenneth reached for my wrists again and grabbed the rope that he had removed so I could eat. I didn’t offer any resistance. What was the point right now? The man was stronger than me, and I just looked like a wild banshee whipping around and trying to fight him off. I needed to regain some amount of dignity. I had lost every shred of it when my ass was stripped, spanked, and probed.
“Regardless of what you want, you are going back to New Orleans. Marco is waiting, and the longer he waits, the worse it will be for you.”
Once my wrists were bound, he secured the remaining rope to the headboard. “I need to take a shower and try to wash off some of this desert grime from my body.” He paused for a moment, and in a gentler voice said, “Unless you would like to use the bathroom first.”
“No,” I mumbled.
I watched as the man walked away and closed the door behind him. My anger at my own weakness growing, I pushed the tray away in a huff. I couldn’t go back. I just couldn’t. But handing over that money wasn’t an option either. Virgie needed it—or would need it the minute I got her out of that nursing home. I didn’t want her to die in a long-term facility. Her house meant too much to her. Now that I didn’t even have the sommelier job at Spiked Roses to fall back on, I would be penniless, barely surviving again. And even if I became Virgie’s full time nurse—since I was unemployed—she wasn’t able to pay me that much. I would be stuck in a shitty mile marker town with no real future. At least the money gave me a cushion.
The sound of the shower being turned on renewed my thirst for freedom. I tugged at the ropes that held me captive. I needed to escape, time was of the essence.
Pulling hard at the knots in the restraints, I finally began to see them loosen. The fact that Kenneth truly didn’t want to hurt me or cause me discomfort from the ropes, had him not tying them as tight as he should have.
Fool.
He must have thought his little display of dominance had permanently subdued me.
Hardly.
Maybe temporarily… I would give him that much. But never would I remain submissive for any extended period of time. And I wasn’t going to let all these assholes win. I had survived from being bitten by a rattlesnake all these years even though I’d tempted the fucking Gods, so I sure as hell could survive these venomous snakes who thought they could own me.
Frantically, I pulled at the rope around the headboard, needing it to loosen just enough that I could squeeze my wrists through. Ignoring the burn of the rope—my flesh raw with my struggles—I pushed the restraints off me as they fell to the bleached white sheets of the mattress. I shot off the bed instantly, prepared to run for my life onto the freeway and hitch a ride to anywhere. Anywhere at all. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could go to the police for help. What were they going to do? And the reality of the situation was I had committed a crime just as much as Marco had. I had stolen money. I sold my body. Illegal. Wrong. Immoral. Fuck.
The water stopped in the shower. Shit. It was too soon!
“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” Kenneth asked, his tone harsh, his wet body wrapped in a terry cloth towel covering his lower half as he opened the bathroom door. He stood in the doorway staring at me with a smirk as if he found my shitty attempt at escape amusing. He must have assumed I would try and, therefore, wasn’t surprised by my actions. “Where the fuck were you going to go? Willing to fuck a trucker for a ride?”
He walked over to me. His towel was barely tucked in around his muscled abdomen, tempting me with the urge to see what a simple tug of the material would reveal. Droplets of water ran down his chiseled chest. The sparkle off his wet skin contrasted against his tan flesh. Kenneth didn’t need a weapon. His entire being was a weapon that practically paralyzed me with the alluring sensual appeal he exuded. Yes, he was definitely a God. No doubt about it. Power. Sex. Dominance. Ruthless. All mighty. I stood before a fucking God.
As he took hold of my upper arm forcibly, I irrationally struggled against the strength of the man holding me, kicking his shins hard, hoping to injure him enough that he would have no choice but to let me go and wouldn’t be able to chase after me.
But I also wanted the chase. The thought of it thrilled me. So, I kicked harder, I flailed more, I hit with all my might, and yes… I removed that damn towel.
I shouldn’t have, however.
Naked.
It was all it took for me to lose the battle. The size of his hardened cock in all its wonderful glory, and with it, every bit of fight left my body.
I froze.
I glanced up into his eyes for a brief moment and then back down.
I stared.
I continued to stare.
I continued to stare some more.
And I wanted.
I never had wanted something so bad in my life.
“Either you are a goddamn idiot or a fucking masochist. Do you want me to hurt you?” He took a handful of my hair into his fist and growled against my ear. “Do I have to beat you? Chain you? Make you bleed? Will you not learn unless I have you screaming for mercy? You are making it near impossible to treat you with any ounce of kindness.” His voice boomed against my eardrum, matching with the thumping in my heart… and my pussy.
Regardless of his terrifying, and completely immobilizing voice, I continued fighting him simply to push him further. The sting to my scalp intensified as he tightened his grip—and I liked it. I wanted to dance with the devil, and I would kick and shove my way to his limits. I wanted to push him over the cliff so he wouldn’t hold back. I wanted to tempt the beast inside his soul that I could see he struggled to hold back.
I supposed he was right. I was a masochist. Yes, that was a fair assessment. Something about Kenneth. Something about me. Bring it. I wanted it. I wanted him to hurt me. I wanted the pain. And finally—finally—I would feel the bite from the elusive rattlesnake that I had craved all these years. I’d finally found my rattlesnake lurking in the bushes… and I was ready for his bite.
12
Kenneth
Spinning her around, my arms encircled her tiny frame
, holding her back against me tightly, her rear nestled into my groin, needing to stop her struggle. But once again, her fist reached up and curved just enough to pop me in the jaw. And with the angle of her tightly-clenched fist… shit, it hurt.
Fighting past the stars blanketing my eyes, I roared, “Enough! What did I tell you would happen if you hit me? I warned you! I fucking warned you! Did you listen to me? Did my warnings have no effect on your stupid ass?”
I needed to break her wild spirit. I would not tolerate. I would not allow. I would not let her win this battle of wills. I would come out the victor, and she would not like how I did it.
Without waiting for an answer, I threw her body over the edge of the bed, pinning her flailing hands behind her lower back, and securing her kicking legs with mine. In one swift motion, I lowered her pants as I had done before, revealing her still pink backside from the earlier spanking. But no spanking would happen this time. That was child’s play. No, not this time. She needed more. That much was clear. Now was the time for a reckoning she wouldn’t soon forget.
Reaching up, I grabbed her hair again, giving it a tug so that Anita cried out in pain. Yet, I also heard something else. Desire? Hunger? Unleashed passion? Yes, I could hear it laced alongside her delicate mewl. I could feel it.
She wanted me to release her. She wanted me to hurt her. She wanted two things, and her core so full of madness, was battling it out. I pulled on her hair again, listening closely as she released the same noise as before.
I almost paused for a moment at the sound of her discomfort… almost, but I was an asshole.
I liked it. I craved it. I wanted to hear more of it. I loved the sound of her cries. My cock hardened with each whimper and gasp. It throbbed with every hitch of her breath. Lucky for her, I couldn’t see her face. If I saw tears… if I saw tears, I would be undone.
I needed to teach this woman that she couldn’t behave like this and not expect ramifications. Not just with me, but if she continued in this fashion toward any other man—especially in the world of Spiked Roses—what I did, and planned to do, would be minor in comparison to what others would do to her. You can’t rattle the cage of the beast and not expect to unleash the fury. This was for her own good. She needed to learn how to, at the very least, fake submission, and if I had to fuck her raw to get that harsh concept through her willful head, I would.
“Please,” she pleaded as I removed her pants completely with my feet, spreading her legs widely and settling myself between them. “Please!”
Was she begging for me to stop? Or was she begging for me to continue?
It was a fine daggered line between consensual and non-consent, but I was willing to be cut by the blade.
Her body bucked as I tugged on her hair some more. I released her hands and took delight as she seized hold of the bedspread over her head and clutched the fabric between her fisted palms. She had given up the physical fight. The first sign of submission fueled my lust for her even more.
My cock ran along the seam of her ass, and it took every ounce of control I had to not just jam it inside her dry—tearing her as I did so. I was a bastard, but I wasn’t a monster, so I took hold of my dick and guided it to the folds of her sex. She was wet. So fucking wet, as I knew she’d be. Yes, this dirty girl liked it rough. Her secret divulged. I had cracked her sexual code. That knowledge gave me the power. She was mine. All mine to fuck and abuse as I wanted. And the harder I was on her, the more power I would have over her. She was a delicate flower who desired the thorn… I truly saw that now. How true those words were.
“Your cunt is wet. You want me,” I said as I bathed my cock in her arousal.
“No, I don’t,” she panted, but squeezed the bedspread even tighter. Her white knuckles exposed how she struggled for control.
“Yes, you do. I can see it. I can feel it. I can smell it.”
“I hate you,” she said but never once tried to move her pussy away from my jabbing cock.
“Good,” I said. “You are about to hate me more.”
I gave a harder tug on her hair, pulling her head back in order to place my palm at the front of her neck and hold firmly. I wanted her to know I could take her life at any moment I chose, just as I could take her body.
“Fuck you,” she said. The vile words were breathless.
“Say it again.” I squeezed her throat tighter.
“Fuck you.”
“Say it one more time so I can be sure I heard your words correctly.”
She paused, swallowing hard against my palm. “Fuck you,” she said in almost a whisper.
I placed the head of my dick at the opening of her pussy, fighting every urge to bury myself balls deep. “Do you want me to fuck this pussy of yours?”
She shook her head. “No! I fucking hate you!”
I smiled, liking that she answered correctly. “Very well. The choice was yours. I told you that if you ever said those words to me again, I would fuck you. So, since you don’t want me to fuck your pussy, I will fuck your ass.”
I took hold of my slick cock, placed it at the entrance of her puckered hole, and slowly eased in, breaking the surface slightly. I had stretched her anus less than an hour earlier, but I knew this was still going to hurt. Yet, by the delicious moan that escaped her lips, she knew that as well… and wanted it. She wanted the biting pain in her ass. Luckily, her wetness coated on my cock helped ease my way in, and I would go slow, but this was still going to hurt like hell.
She cried out as I eased my way in deeper, but she didn’t scream for me to stop. I wasn’t going to go light on her—there was no way of doing so with my size—and a twinge of sympathy on my conscience had me pause so she could catch her breath and allow her tight little hole to get used to the stretching.
“Have you ever had your ass fucked?”
She shook her head and tightened her grip on the bedspread.
“Well then, I’m going to have great pleasure in being the first to fuck this ass of yours.” I think that fact was pretty obvious, but I still wanted her to hear the words from my mouth. A virgin ass. There was something special about an anal virgin. They cried more. They tightened more. But they also wanted it more. Their curiosity made it so.
She didn’t reply, but she never resisted or put up a fight like I had really expected her to do. I had a lesson to teach her.
I plunged my dick in all the way. I could no longer hold back. I had to have her ass. I had to make it mine. She cried out, which made me want even more. I began thrusting in and out, driven by her whimpers of pain and pleasure. She bucked against me, silently demanding for me to go deeper with each push. The harder I was, the more she demanded.
In and out, moan after moan, her ass was mine. She was fucking mine.
And just as my control was wavering, and I was about to explode, Anita turned her head and made eye contact with me. Her eyes. I was undone.
With one final thrust, I spilled my seed inside of her, claiming her as mine, just as she had claimed me as hers with that one look in her eyes. I became her captive. Motherfucker, I became her captive.
13
Kenneth
I awoke with a start, my mind still a fog from the heavy sleep I’d been in. It wasn’t like me to sleep so soundly, but the stressful search when I had a million other things to take care of at Spiked Roses, not to mention my neglected practice, and everything about this woman and her behavior… my behavior… our behavior… had certainly worn me out. Frantically, I looked in the direction where Anita slept, needing to reassure myself that she was safe.
She was gone… not that it surprised me.
Motherfucker.
I bounded to my feet, looking around at the small hotel room as if she would somehow be sitting in the old chair staring at me while I slept or walking out of the bathroom after a shower, but nothing. There was nothing missing, and even her shoes were still in the room. She wouldn’t have fled barefoot… and if Marco’s men had found us and entered the room, surely I
would have heard them or even the slightest struggle. I hadn’t been in a coma. Sex induced slumber, but not a damn coma.
The shadows of the night were still fading into light of day, so I knew she couldn’t have gone too far… and again—I glanced at her boots—she was barefoot! Anxiety filled me as I thought that maybe she had run away again, though I had anticipated after what had happened last night, she would have been smart enough to understand how serious I was when I said I expected obedience. And had she no concern that she was a hunted woman? Marco’s men would be far less gentle than I.
I strained to think which way she would have run. But then a thought came to mind that maybe she had walked down to the lobby to get some coffee. A quick glance around the cheap room, and I could see that there wasn’t a coffee pot, and maybe she was as much of a caffeine junkie as I was.
Pulling on my clothes, and then my shoes, I charged out of the room in hopes of finding her innocently sipping out of a chipped mug at some sort of complimentary continental breakfast bar. I desperately hoped that I would find her before she was stupid enough to hitch a ride somewhere. As I exited the elevator and walked down the hallway by the indoor pool, I froze.
Sitting at the edge of the pool kicking her feet in the water was an image that knocked the breath right out of me. Anita slowly eased her way in at the shallow end of the pool, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, though to any random observer, the garments gave the illusion she was wearing a bikini. But I knew better. She was in nothing but her bra and panties and I wanted to remove them… all the way. Water droplets ran down her body, glistening on her skin as she walked slowly to the middle of the pool. My mouth watered as the water rose along the small of her back and over the curve of her heart-shaped ass. The water dripped down her erect nipples that weren’t concealed enough by the thin cotton fabric. I didn’t want her to go any deeper. I wanted to see all of her body and not have the chlorinated water cover even an inch of it. She was tiny in frame, yet muscular at the same time. Frail and resilient, delicate and powerful—a paradox indeed.