His Devil's Chains

by Linzi Basset

  His gaze was unfathomable as she reached him. He showed no reaction when she pushed his legs apart and ran her hands up and down his rippling thighs. His hands remained relaxed on the arms of the chair; he appeared unaffected by Jordan’s ministrations. She unzipped his pants and pushed his boxers out of the way to stroke her finger over the length of his rising tumescence.

  “Liked the taste of me, did you, love?”

  Jack wasn’t surprised to see the becoming blush blooming over her cheeks, although she didn’t falter in her quest. Her fingers traced the bulbous head of his cock.

  “But not this time.” His words stopped her when she ventured further. “Today, I want a taste. On your feet. Get on the chair and stand over me.”

  Jordan blindly followed his directions. Her body glowed with a rosy hue everywhere his eyes roamed from the position below her.

  “Good girl. Now, hook your left leg over the back of the chair.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Jack—”

  She squeaked when he guided her leg to where he wanted it. It stretched her open to his gaze and left her standing with her gaping vagina right in his face!

  “Ohhh,” she moaned as he blew a hot breath against her center.

  “Now, kitten, sit on my face.”

  The combination of shocked surprise and affront was like a painted canvas over her beautiful features. It was time his bratty sub learned he always had the upper hand, even at times when he allowed her sassiness. It was part of the power game as a Dom he loved to play―fucking with her mind. His eyes narrowed.

  Oh yes but let’s not forget how much I’m going to love fucking other parts of her.

  “S-sit on … your face?” Her cheeks had gone from a rosy glow to tomato red. He returned her feverish stare unblinking.

  “Do. It. Now!”

  Jordan’s stared at him with slumberous eyes, spellbound by the sudden curtness in his voice and the ensorcelled look on his face as his eyes dropped to her perfectly rounded breasts with their coral tipped nipples. His big, ripped frame was taut with arousal. It filled her with immense pleasure to realize she was the cause of it. The muscles in her thighs rippled in a desperate attempt to keep her sexual feverishness contained. There was no denying the instantaneous chemical attraction and reckless impulsiveness that overcame her every time she was in his presence.

  Her moan sounded like the mewl of a kitten as she lowered her body.

  “Uhm, this feels … ohhh,” she moaned as she felt his warm breath and soft lips brush against her labia.

  “I’m not going to repeat myself again, Jordan. Sit on my fucking face!”

  A hot blush painted her face red but she didn’t hesitate any longer. She pushed her core into his face.

  “Oh, sweet loving heaven.”

  The husky, plea-like wail caused a flush of lust to excoriate Jack’s body like a sunburn brushing against linen. It became a persistent and painful throb in tune with his heartbeat.

  The sound of him dragging in a breath was hypnotic against the silence in the room, shattered by his carnal growl which came in the wake of another tickle that made him squirm inside his flesh. He had become the slave to his own lust. In an honest reflection he acknowledged that she had bewitched him. Her innocent sensuality had chipped away at the master control he always had over his own emotions.

  Her nipples tightened in response to the sound that resonated inside her. The sensual purr was the conduit to the ripples of pleasure that thrilled through her. He was the conductor, directing his baton with skillful mastery of every sensation his touch and caresses evoked.

  She surrendered with an arch of her neck as his lips trailed over her labia. Shards of pleasure penetrated her loins.

  “Ohh.” Her moans echoed back to them as he nibbled on the satiny folds. She was overwhelmed by the heat that surged through her veins as he sucked, tossing her mind into a whirlpool of sensations. He lapped at her clit, drawing circles over the nub until she whimpered with the need for more.

  “Oh … mmm, please,” she panted; her lips had gone dry. Jack threw her equipoise into sheer chaos with foreign sensations surging through her mind and body. She twitched and squirmed against his mouth in paroxysms of rampant eroticism. Her loins ached and throbbed as he sucked her clit, inflaming the nub and pushing her closer to the edge. His tongue teased the slit between her labia.

  Jordan froze, her breath hitched in her throat before it hissed to the surface in an exhale of, “Yessss!”

  “If you want it, then take it, my pet. Go on, let your inhibitions go, love. Fuck my tongue.”

  His words were still rumbling against her aching core when she pushed down her hips. Her moan turned carnal as his stiff tongue spread open the soft, puffy lips to delve deep into the fleshy walls of her channel. Her muscles wrapped around the appendage, sucking it in deeper. He caressed her silky skin, feasting on the sticky nectar he found there. He plunged in and out, swirling the tip to lap at the satiny walls. Jordan’s movements became desperate as she thrashed on his face, pushing down and grinding her pussy into his mouth, fucking his tongue with a wild abandon completely foreign to her. In that moment of unexpurgated passion, she lost all inhibitions.

  “Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” Her cry ricocheted off the walls. She lost herself in the ebullience of the climax that rippled through her loins. Heat engulfed her as Jack continued to feed her climax and forced two more from her defenseless body. By the time he eased her from the height she had been careening on, she was slumped over the back of the chair like a ragdoll.

  Jack’s gentle hands allowed her to slip onto his lap. She leaned against his hard chest, desperately trying to regulate her breathing. He listened to the haggard sound gentling and slowing. She snuggled her face into his throat.

  “Oh, no, my pet. Now, it’s time for your reward.” He pushed her upright. “Turn around and straddle my lap.”

  Jordan was still too weak to protest and followed his instructions without thought. He pinched her chin to force her gaze to his.

  “We already had this discussion. We’ve both been tested and you’re on the pill but this is the first time I will fuck you. Do you stay by your decision that I don’t wear condoms?”

  “Yes, but only for as long as you don’t fuck other subs bareback.”

  “I never have and I have no intention of starting now.”

  His hands curled around her hips to lift her. He positioned his cock against her cleft, leaning back to watch the large mushroom shaped tip spread open her labia and disappear inside her small pussy.

  “Jesus, you’re hot,” he rumbled. He kept pushing until she whimpered at the sheer size of him, but he didn’t stop until he was buried hilt deep inside her.

  “I never get tired of this sight. Fucking beautiful,” he grunted. His hand fisted around a tuft of her hair. He pulled until her neck arched back and her face was pointed toward the roof. “Yes, my pet,” he murmured, “completely at my mercy.”

  Jordan whimpered. Her pussy clenched with anticipation. She was stretched to the max to accommodate his wide girth. She could feel the hot pulsing weight of his cock deep inside her.

  “You feel good inside me, Jack. So, fucking good.”

  Her husky whisper unleashed the wild beast inside Jack. He was amazed at the sudden desire to stamp his ownership onto her. With his hands, lips, and his cock.

  It felt right. For the first time in years.

  “Are you ready to receive your reward, my pet?” he whispered into her ear. It sounded ominous. Jordan instinctively knew what was coming. She braced herself when he confirmed with a deep voice, “I don’t do slow and steady, my pet. When I have sex, I fuck. Hard and fast. When I’m done, you won’t be able to crawl, let alone walk. Pray you have the stamina to keep up because this is only the beginning.”

  He slowly pulled out and waited until her breathing settled. Then he slammed back inside her.

  To the hilt.

  Again, and again and again.

  Har
d and fast.

  “Fuuuck me,” she screamed.

  Jordan couldn’t utter any further coherent words as he continued to pound into her, dragging her hips down to receive the full force of his power. He watched with a lustful glint in his eyes as her heavy breasts bounced with every forceful thrust.

  Her mind spun wildly as she was lost in a vortex of rapture, raked from head to toe, bombarded by the powerful possession of her body. He stoked the furnace inside her, heating her core to prep her body for one onslaught after the other.

  Jack was stunned by his own unabashed hunger. It drove him to speed up, slamming into her so hard and fast that her entire body rippled with every thrust. The sound of slapping skin was a lustful accompaniment to their passionate moans.

  “Give me more, my pet. I want to see you lose it completely.” He released her hips to slap her nipples, hard, then her clit, alternating between them, over and over with a precision that Jordan could only gasp at. She was utterly defenseless in the face of a climax that ripped through her. The intensity caught her unprepared and she was hurled into licentious stupefaction.

  Jack didn’t stop. He continued the race to find his own release with merciless power until he climaxed with unchecked jerks inside her, leading to another frenzied orgasm for Jordan.

  She slumped forward but the grip on her hair yanked her back. He leaned closer to growl into her ear, “Oh no, my pet. I warned you. You wanted my cock and now, my lovely trial sub, you’re gonna have it. All night long.”

  Jack got up with her limp body in his arms and carried her upstairs. He followed her down as he laid her on the bed. The kiss they shared was hard and passionate, a confirmation of Jack’s ownership.

  Jordan was mesmerized by the dark look in his eyes which were filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. A delicious shiver rippled through her at the deep growl that echoed in the room.

  “Tonight, you will learn what it means to be fucked by your Dom.”

  Chapter Nine

  The silence in the luxurious meeting room made William Seely’s blood run cold. It was oppressing. He was encased, along with Dexter Powell, in the Massage Parlor of the Sixth Order’s secret operation unit. He shook off the desire to squirm in the chair. Dexter had given him no more than a perfunctory nod upon his arrival, told him to take a seat and carried on working on his laptop. William glanced at the large clock on the wall. Thirty minutes. That was how long he’d been sitting in tense silence waiting for the bomb to explode. Such a short time, but under the circumstances, it felt perpetual.

  He squared his shoulders. It was unusual to be called to report in over a weekend but when he’d received the call to meet with Dexter, he’d known what was coming. He was ready for whatever he was going to throw at him. The sooner the Sixth Order realized he wasn’t a pushover like all the weasels who had preceded him, the better. They wanted the information and he got it for them—at no cost. He suppressed the satisfied smile that threatened to curve his lips upward.

  William thrived on cruelty. It was in his DNA. Born from the brutal and abusive hand of his father, it was a natural evolution for him. He had just taken it to a much higher level. The adrenaline rush that flooded his body was heady, in that moment when he knew; this was it. The split second when he would gaze into his victim’s eyes and watch the life force slowly ebb from their bodies. He rode the demon inside him to new heights of barbarity and thrived on every experience.

  William had always believed that the brain used the same apparatus for love and hate. Case in point, how often did romantic love turn to hate when a relationship ended? The conversion of love to hate was used in propaganda too. It stirred up strong love for children, family, community, and country, only to weaponize it. It was pointless, which was why he never wasted his time. Everyone was his enemy. Friendships and all that shit didn’t exist. To each his own, was William’s motto.

  The sudden flickering of the television monitor that covered the entire wall drew his attention. His hands curled into fists as he watched the black give way to gray and finally morph into a shadowy picture of a shape in front of a brightly lit window. He could make out large skyscrapers in the background.

  “Dexter, Seely.” The voice was gravely deep, although, from the static, William was certain it was disguised.

  Dexter leaned back in the chair and folded his hands over his chest. With a face of utter nonchalance, his eyes turned hooded as they rested on William. The message was clear. He was in the hot seat. Paul Burgess had told him before his death that Mr. Z only appeared when someone had fucked up.

  An uneasy feeling awakened the nerve endings in his skin. The world fell through his feet. He had a premonition that what was about to happen wouldn’t be good for him.

  “I had my doubts about your ability to be the kind of Bossam we need, Seely. It seems my first intuition was accurate.”

  William squared his shoulders, the affront at the insult was evident in his expression. He opened his mouth to respond. A sharp look from Dexter snapped it shut. It didn’t sit well with William that he had become the piece of salami in the sandwich of the two powerful men.

  Mr. Z lit a thin cigar. The silence became thick and uncomfortable. William watched the ribbon of smoke twist and squirm like a garter snake in torment trying to escape until it dissolved into nothing. He hated that he couldn’t see the man’s face. It was how he managed to intimidate people, staring them down, even in the face of being reprimanded.

  “If, and it’s a very big if, you continue in your position as the Bossam, there is something you should know about Dexter and me.” He paused to take a drag on the cigar and leaned forward. William could see the sharp edge of his chin jutting out. “We don’t suffer fools, Seely, period. Especially those who believe they have the upper hand over us. Do not make the same mistake as your predecessor. Your worth is measured by the success of carrying out instructions. So far, you have fallen short of the mark.”

  “Suffice it to say, Seely, Mr. Z isn’t impressed with your actions yesterday,” Dexter interjected. His gaze sharpened in warning as William’s chest bulged out. “And neither am I.”

  “Mr. Powell, you instructed me to obtain the information of the Wattley Trust, which is exactly what I did,” William burst out through thin lips.

  “Yes,” Mr. Z drawled. He dragged out the word like he was rolling it over his tongue. “Using the funds you have access to.”

  “Well, this way, I didn’t need to use the funds,” William barked in his defense. The silence that followed his words felt like the vacuum after a bomb had exploded just before the secondary effect bombarded innocent victims with debris.

  “It seems you were correct in your assessment, Mr. Z,” Dexter finally said. He pushed back his chair but didn’t rise. He pinned William in place with a stare colder than an Arctic blizzard. “If I had wanted you to kill anyone, I would’ve told you. I wanted information, Seely, that is it. Easy and simple. In and out without anyone being the wiser about the data we required.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Powell, no one would know what information—”

  “Are you truly such an imbecile that you don’t realize how badly you have fucked up?” Dexter bellowed. His jaw stood rigid with rage.

  “It might have been how you operated while working for the Occhipintis but we don’t work like that. We thrive on operating under the radar, Seely. That is why we’ve been successful in all our operations to date,” Mr. Z said in a cool, even tone.

  William detected a hidden meaning, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He squirmed in the chair, unraveling fast under the two men’s intense scrutiny.

  “No one would’ve known the woman had accessed the files if you had done what I asked you to do. Killing her in broad daylight, under the noses of all her coworkers, created a red smoke signal, Seely. The entire FBI is on the case and they know why she was killed.”

  “How the fuck would they know?”

  “Jesus,” Mr. Z snapped irritab
ly. He got up and started to pace in front of the window.

  “How?” Dexter sneered. “A death warrants an investigation, Seely, and the first thing they did was check which files she had accessed before her death. Now, everyone has been put on alert. We’ve lost the advantage we had.”

  William went pale. He recalled the moment he’d stood behind Lillian Dunn and knew he was going to wrap the thin white string he always carried in his pocket around her neck and strangle her. It had been like a flash flood of excitement rushing through him. Like always when it happened, he’d lost sight of the main purpose. All that had filled his mind was the hot flush of satisfaction to feel her body turn rigid in shocked death under his hands. He’d hurried her along, eager to look into her eyes as she struggled for breath and then watch as the realization took hold of her, turning into a frenzy as she fought for her life. Maybe this time, he should’ve given his actions more thought. He opted to remain silent and awaited his fate.

  “What have you found?” Mr. Z’s sneer penetrated his frayed mind.

  He reached inside his jacket and handed the neatly folded sheet of paper to Dexter.

  “The Wattley Trust refers to Brad Flint’s two children—twins—Gideon and Peyton. His ex-wife’s maiden name was Wattley. I assume she must have changed their names after the divorce which is why he set up the trust like that. According to the documentation, they are the sole beneficiaries of his entire estate and owners of Crown International.”

  “Find out everything you can about them. I want to know where they are and every little detail about their lives.” Mr. Z leaned his fists on the desk and his faceless countenance stared into the screen. “Don’t fuck this up, Seely. It’s the only opportunity I’ll offer you to redeem yourself.”

  The next moment he was gone and the monitor turned black. Dexter closed his laptop and put it away. He got up. The look he shot at William was another warning, fuck this up and you’re gone.