Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  “Fuck you, Eric. This is my site. You’re nothing but a bully. I bet deep down you’re a pussy boy, a submissive sissy boy who just needs a good, hard spanking.” Jessie’s eyes were flashing, the color rising in her cheeks. She bent to retrieve the whip, but Eric kicked it away.

  He laughed derisively. “You’re the one who needs to be taken in hand, you lying little bitch.” He reached for her wrists, intent on pinning her against the wall.

  “Let go of me!” She wrested herself from his grasp and reached out, swiping at his face. Her long, red-lacquered nails raked his cheek.

  “You fucking cunt!” Eric could feel the blood trickling down his face in stinging lines. He hurled himself toward her as she tried to duck around him. Reaching for her, he caught at her silky gown, grabbing hold. As she jerked away, the flimsy fabric tore and fell from her shoulder. Still furious, but also deeply excited by what was happening, Eric pulled it harder, ripping the gown completely from her body.

  Beneath it she wore only a black lace thong. Eric’s cock stiffened at the sight of her lush ass and heavy breasts. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.” Lust and anger pulsed in a primal beat inside his head, more potent than the strongest liquor, more powerful than any drug.

  Lunging for her, he caught Jessie around the waist and dropped to the carpet, taking her with him. They wrestled, rolling together along the floor. Jessie was a little hellcat, pummeling his chest and face, jerking her head from side to side, her dark hair flying. She tried to knee him, nearly catching him in the nuts, but he twisted aside just in time and pinned her down with his weight.

  Against the soft crush of her breasts, her heart thudded. She was panting as she struggled and twisted beneath him. “Let me go. Let me go, you bastard. Get off me.” She began to scream.

  The shrill sound pierced Eric’s eardrums. “Shut up,” he yelled. “Shut the fuck up.” But she kept on screaming. Eric put his hand over her mouth and nose, blotting out the sound. Jessie’s eyes were wild with fury and fear, her body trembling beneath him.

  A part of his brain was shouting at him to get off her, to quit before it was too late. But he couldn’t focus on the warnings. He couldn’t hear the message over the roar of his own blood, pulsing through his head like a freight train thundering along its tracks, pumping through his body and hardening his cock to steel.

  He moved his hand down so she could breathe through her nose, but he kept it clamped over her mouth. Using one shoulder pressed hard against her chest to keep her pinned, Eric lifted his hips, twisting to reach his fly with his other hand. He pulled down his shorts and underwear, shimmying out of them as his cock sprang free. Jessie was still struggling beneath him, but he didn’t let her squirm away.

  Using his knee, he forced Jessie’s thighs apart. He gripped the triangle of silk covering her cunt and jerked it roughly aside. Reaching between her legs, he pushed his finger inside her. Her vaginal muscles clamped down. The randy little bitch probably wanted him to fuck her. Didn’t every woman have a secret rape fantasy?

  Withdrawing his hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it between her legs, his other hand still firmly over her mouth. The lying, sneaky little thief deserved what she got. And he was going to give it to her, and then some.

  Jessie whimpered and jerked beneath him, but he was much stronger than she, and his cock was throbbing. Her cunt was hot and tight as he pressed his way inside. Though the room was air conditioned, their bodies were slick with sweat. Her skin was silky and slippery beneath him as he held her down. He could smell her fear, as potent as pheromones in his nostrils, making him nearly mad with lust and power.

  He lifted her arms over her head and pressed both her wrists together against the carpet with one hand, his other still covering her mouth. He moved inside her, pushing deep and thrusting hard.

  Mine, mine, mine. I own this cunt, now.

  Taking his hand from her mouth, he placed it on her throat. He could feel the rapid patter of her pulse beneath his fingers. He could choke her if he wanted to. Her life was literally in his hands.

  Lifting himself on one elbow, he bent over her, flicking her nipple with his tongue and then biting the hardening nubbin, spurred on by her yelping cries. He lifted his head, seeking her mouth with his, intent on claiming her. She spit at him and turned her head away.

  With a bark of angry laughter, he wiped the spittle from his face. Letting her wrists go, he slapped her cheek hard with the back of his hand. As she gasped in pain and surprise, he brought his mouth over hers and forced his tongue inside as he fucked her.

  Never in his life had he felt so powerful, so fully engaged, so alive!

  He wanted to make it last. He wanted to stay there forever, his cock cocooned in her velvet heat, his chest hard against her soft breasts as she trembled beneath him. She was his prisoner. His sex slave.

  He was a king.

  He was a god.

  He gasped, crying out as a blinding flash of pure pleasure hurtled through his body like a thunderbolt. For a moment he was suspended in time and space, held rigid in the grip of the most intense orgasm of his life.

  At last he collapsed against the woman beneath him, his heart slamming, his mind drifting in a deep blue sea of utter peace, disturbed only by the distant sound of her whimpering.

  Eventually Eric’s heart slowed to something approaching normal and the endorphins ebbed. He became aware of the sting of sweat along the scratches on his cheek and the throb of the welt on his neck.

  Jessie continued to cry quietly, still trapped beneath his bulk. His cock had softened, though it was still nestled inside her warmth. The bloodlust that had fueled his actions and left him momentarily out of his right mind now fully receded, replaced by a sickening panic.

  He had just assaulted and raped a woman in his own home.

  He forced himself to calm down. What was done, was done. There was no way he could let her go now. She was his.

  ~*~

  Jessie was thirsty and she had to pee. Her skin was itchy with dried sweat and the room was chilly. She shifted, trying to get more comfortable but it was no use. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, her ankles bound together with rope and she lay awkwardly on her side on the nubby indoor-outdoor carpet that lined the basement floor. Her shoulder and hip ached, and her pussy felt bruised and torn.

  The anger and indignation she’d felt toward Eric before tonight had blossomed into pure hatred. She fervently wished the whip had caught him dead in the face, instead of just grazing his neck when he’d surprised her. She wished she could have gouged out his eyes with her fingernails instead of just scratching his face. She wished she could have cut off his cock and shoved it into his mouth.

  She tugged against the leather cuffs, trying to get purchase on the clips just out of reach, but it was no use. She was exhausted and stunned. Though she’d reassessed Eric as a bully and a blackmailer, she never dreamed he’d go this far.

  What would happen to her now?

  He’d been gone for over an hour, at least it seemed like it—she wasn’t sure. She could hear the sound of the leaking tap in the small bathroom, dripping in a steady tattoo, reminding her again of how thirsty she was. Was he just going to leave her down here to die?

  She began to cry again.

  Just then, the sound of the bolt turning in the door at the top of the stairs made her startle and catch her breath. She gulped, her heart lurching as she listened for his footsteps.

  “Hello? Eric?” she called in a hoarse voice. Somehow she had to make him untie her. She had to convince him to let her go.

  He didn’t answer, but she could hear him thumping down the stairs. It sounded like he was carrying something big that he kept hitting against the walls of the stairwell as he descended.

  He came into view carrying a large oblong box, which he set down on the floor with a loud thunk. He had changed into jeans and a button-down shirt, making Jessie all the more aware o
f her own nakedness. She hunched and curled in on herself, trying to hide as much of her body as she could.

  As she watched Eric approach, she tried to keep her fear in check. If he was going to kill her, wouldn’t he have done it already?

  He had a plastic shopping bag slung over his arm. He opened it and took out a bottle of water.

  Jessie struggled to keep her features neutral, hiding her rage as best as she could. “Can you untie me, please? This is dangerous, to leave someone bound for so long. My feet and hands are numb.”

  Eric’s smile was cruel, his blue eyes hard and bright. “Not as dangerous as stringing an epileptic up in a noose and then beating the crap out of him, eh?” He approached her and crouched beside her. Instinctively she squeezed her eyes shut as he reached toward her face, afraid he was going to strike her, but he just tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

  “If I untie your feet, you better not try anything stupid, you hear me?”

  Jessie nodded. She had to play along. “I won’t.”

  She lay still as Eric undid the knots at her ankles. She wiggled her toes, wincing as her feet began to tingle painfully back to life. He lifted her to a sitting position and leaned her against the wall, her arms still cuffed behind her. His gaze moved insolently over her bare breasts and she drew her legs up, hating him. At least she was upright, though the position put more strain on her bladder.

  “You want some of this water?”

  Jessie nodded. “Yes. And I need to pee.”

  Eric raised his eyebrows, looking amused. “You have a lot of demands, little girl. Is that how a slave girl talks to her Master?”

  “What the—” Jessie bit off the indignant retort that had immediately risen to her lips. Was that the game he was playing? She’d have to force herself to play along so she could somehow get the fuck out of there.

  She tried to swallow, though her tongue felt thick and swollen. “Please,” she amended. “May I please have some water and use the bathroom?”

  Eric twisted the cap on the bottle. “Better. But not good enough. May I please have some water, Sir?”

  Puto gilipollas.

  Taking a breath, Jessie forced herself to parrot the words. This was about survival, not pride. Praying she could keep the scorn out of her tone, she said, “May I please have some water, Sir?”

  Eric’s grin was triumphant as he held the lip of the bottle to her mouth and tipped it. She drank greedily until he pulled the bottle away, causing it to splash between her breasts. “That’s enough for now. I want to show you the present I got for you.” He nodded toward the large cardboard box he’d heaved down the stairs.

  “Eric, please, I have to pee really bad. When are you going to let me go?” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to continue. “Look, I get it—we had a fight. Things went too far. I promise I won’t go to the police, if that’s what you’re thinking. Things just got out of hand. Please let me go. I just want to go home and take a shower.”

  As if he hadn’t heard her, Eric got to his feet and moved toward the box. Taking a razor knife from his jeans pocket, he cut the box open and pulled out what looked like prefab sections of steel bars, as well as a long rectangular padded table top.

  He began to assemble the pieces, talking as he did so. “This cost a fortune, but I decided it’s worth it, since you’ll be spending a lot of time in here. It’ll make a perfect addition to the dungeon.”

  She watched in silent horror as she realized what he was putting together. It was a sleep cage, about seven feet long, three feet wide and maybe thirty inches tall, The black padded table that fit on top of the cage was embedded with O-rings along its edges, no doubt for bondage play.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Eric said, glancing back at her as he worked. “You can get in and out through this panel, see?” He swung it upward. “When I allow it, that is. The dude at the BDSM shop said it’s the best model they carry.” He hefted a thin white mattress from the box and placed it inside the cage. “I even got you the padded mattress with a fitted sheet and a top sheet. Those cost extra.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Eric was totally freaking her out now. She’d hated, but understood, the cold, calculating bastard who’d tried to horn in on her business. She’d never dreamed he’d go ape-shit on her like this. Somehow she had to convince him she wasn’t a threat.

  “Look, Eric. Uh, Sir. This has gone far enough. Untie me and I’ll go. You can have all my gear, everything I own. You can even have my website. I’ll leave Houston. I’ll leave the state. I swear to you, you’ll never see Jessie Ramos again. It’ll be like I never existed.”

  He turned slowly toward her, his eyes glittering in a way that truly frightened her. As she felt the puddle pooling beneath her, Jessie realized to her shocked dismay that she’d peed on herself in her fear.

  “That’s right,” he said, staring down at her. “That’s just exactly what it will be like. As of this moment, Jessie Ramos has ceased to exist.”

  Chapter 4

  Eric saw the dark stain spreading beneath Jessie’s thighs. He frowned, but then brightened as an idea entered his head, drawn from the video of slave Julia scrubbing the floor at his favorite website.

  “Did that scare the piss out of you, Jess? No wait, you can’t be Jessie anymore. From now on you’re J. Just J. Or slave. I like that too. I’ve always wanted my own personal slave.” He watched her taking this in. “You soiled my nice carpet. That’s disgusting, J. I’m going to get you a bucket and a sponge, and you’re going to clean that up, understand? Then you’ll be punished. I haven’t decided how yet.”

  Jessie, or rather J., began to cry. Eric felt almost sorry for her. He touched the scratches on his face and as his fingers trailed down to the welt, fading but still visible, on his neck, he hardened his heart. Leaning over her, he lifted her from the wet spot and set her down again beside it. “Don’t move, you hear me? You do and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” He glowered at her to make sure she knew he meant business.

  Satisfied his threat would keep her in place, he took the stairs two at a time and returned in short order with a roll of paper towels, a bucket of hot, soapy water, a large sponge and some old towels. These he set down near the stain. J. hadn’t moved.

  “I’m going to take off the cuffs now, J. You’re going to use the paper towels first, to blot as much of your piss as you can. Then scrub the carpet and then use the towels to dry it, got it?”

  When she didn’t answer, he leaned down and gripped her throat, his cock rising with the thrill of his power. He could feel her swallow beneath his fingers, and her eyes widened. He squeezed harder. Only when she nodded did he let go.

  Pulling her to her feet, he reached behind her and unclipped the cuffs. “Once you’re done cleaning, you’ll have a shower. You stink.”

  He watched as she dabbed at the stain with the paper towels and then used the sponge. She looked incredibly hot, crouching naked with her hair falling into her face, her breasts swaying gently as she worked. He should make his own videos.

  What would that ass look like covered with the welts from a cane? How would she look when he chained her to the bondage table on top of the cage and gave her forced orgasms until she passed out? He would get one of those vibrating wands with the big heads they used on the porn sites. Maestro and Sir Stephen had nothing on him.

  He’d spent hours watching the two men in action, and they were the real deal. Even if the women were paid to be in the videos, the techniques the Doms employed were very effective. Those women weren’t acting when they screamed while being whipped or came so hard they cried. He would condition J., as they did on the site, to obey his every command. Her entire world would shrink to this dungeon. He would reduce her to a willing, obedient slave girl who lived to serve him and him alone.

  He massaged his cock through his jeans as he watched J. on her hands and knees. It was her fault she was here now. She was the one who had lied and cheated, and nearly destroyed his business i
n the process. She had brought this on herself. She would pay for her crimes.

  Once she’d cleaned the mess reasonably well, Eric hoisted her to her feet. “Time for a shower.” He led her to the tiny basement bathroom. It was barely big enough for a toilet and a shower stall, but it would suit his purposes. He turned on the water and pushed her into the stall, allowing her to pull the glass door closed.

  “Two minutes,” he said.

  Closing the lid of the toilet, Eric sat down and watched J. through the clear glass. She was still whimpering as she soaped her body and shampooed her hair. Once she rinsed, he barked, “Out. Now.”

  He could feel her reluctance as she turned off the water and stepped hesitantly out of the stall. He thrust a towel at her and watched her dry herself. When she started to wrap the towel around her body he said, “Nope. Drop it and then turn and face me.”

  In the small mirror over the sink, he saw the scowl move suddenly over her features, but to her credit she’d managed to wipe it off by the time she turned toward him, the towel puddling at her feet.

  He looked her over, purposefully lingering at her breasts and cunt, enjoying her obvious discomfiture. “I thought all porn stars had shaved cunts. What’s up with the pubes?”

  She didn’t answer. He would have to teach her to respond when spoken to, but there was time for that. He shifted his gaze to her face. The heavy makeup she’d worn for the shoot was mostly off, though there were raccoon rings of mascara left around her eyes.

  While she was in the shower he had noticed the makeup bag perched on the edge of the sink and now he nodded toward it. “You got something in there to get that crap off your face?”

  J. nodded and moved to reach for it, but Eric moved faster, grabbing it before she could. “Not so fast. For all I know you’ve got a nail file in there or something sharp. Slave girls can’t be trusted with sharp objects.”

  Sitting back on the toilet seat, he rummaged through a huge assortment of lipsticks and bottles and jars until he found a packet of makeup wipes. He held it up. “This it?”