Tormented

by EM BROWN

  He indulged her question. “Because I make the rules, pet.”

  “How does my having a chastity belt on benefit you?” she challenged.

  He cupped the back of her head and drew her ear close to his mouth. “I can fuck you in the arse with the belt on.”

  She started straining against the bonds.

  Remembering that she had put down a 5, the max score, for anal sex, he asked, “When was the last time you had cock up your arse?”

  “A long time ago.”

  “What’s a long time?”

  “Two, two and a half years, maybe.”

  “I thought you liked it. Your answer to the Scarlet Auction questionnaire indicated you did.”

  “I think I misread that one.”

  More lies.

  “Too bad,” he said.

  He released her and took a step back. If she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted, she could keep the belt on longer. He would show her that she would be the one worse for wear.

  He unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection. Just thinking about being buried inside her made him stiffer than anything. His cock felt so hard he could probably use it to hammer nails. Slowly, he stroked himself. He wished he had some of her natural lubrication, but his arousal was high enough he could make himself come without much effort.

  Her gaze fixed upon his hand job, as if mesmerized by the rhythm of his hand going up and down his shaft. She licked her lower lip. His gaze took in the tip of her tongue, her plump, glistening lip, the swell of her hips, the smoothness of her belly.

  He could go for a non-ejaculating orgasm, but he wanted to prove a point. So when the boiling in his bollocks reached its peak, he allowed his climax to shoot through him. His jism landed on her belly and splattered the belt and upper thighs. He bucked his hips, and a final spurt splashed on a breast. He shuddered as waves of hot rapture rolled through him.

  When the tide had receded, he shook his head to get his bearings. He replaced his cock and zipped up his pants. For the moment, he drank in the sight of his cum marking her body, some of it starting to slide down her leg.

  “Enjoy the chastity belt, pet,” he said. “I’ll be back later.”

  Resisting the urge to tear the belt off her and fondle her till she came screaming for him, he left the playroom and went to retrieve his phone. He texted Stephens:

  Get me pics of Sam Green.

  He drew in a long breath as he thought about Kimani hanging from the ceiling. She didn’t know it, but keeping the chastity belt on was the safer option. When the belt came off, things were going to get a lot harder for her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  He had left her to stew in her juices—literally—again. Kimani could feel the wetness collected on the belt. She yanked on the shirt binding her wrists. It had no give at all. This was exactly the sort of situation she should have been avoiding.

  Stupid, stupid her. She should have kept her trap shut. Now she was paying the price for her desire to be helpful. She should have walked out that door when she had the chance. Screw the scoop.

  But what about Claire? She could call the cops and have them check on the cabin. But what if they didn’t find anything worth investigating? She couldn’t risk pissing off Jake. What if he took his anger out on Claire?

  She had come this far, invested more than she had ever thought she would. She couldn’t give up without seeing it through. Her life wasn’t in peril, so what would her excuse be? That she was afraid of more BDSM? That was a wimpy reason to quit when there were reporters who risked their lives—had lost their lives—to bring the truth to the world.

  And she wasn’t fooling anyone about Ben. She wasn’t quite ready to leave him. Her body wanted him to finish what he had started. Jesus, even watching him masturbate had been hot, seeing the flush across his chiseled chest, the tightening of his muscles, the hardness of his cock.

  Why hadn’t she simply told him what he wanted to hear? Her pussy clenched on emptiness. She did want to be fucked, after all. By him. She wanted an encore of the sex they’d had in the shower. But she was more than a little worried. She could tell he was upset. He had mentioned punishment. Getting fucked by Ben when he was in a good mood was one thing. In a bad mood, what might he be capable of?

  Good going, Kimani. How could you have let this happen?

  But beating herself up wouldn’t help matters. She had to focus. What were her options? Could she use willpower to stop from becoming aroused? Could she suffer through whatever torment he had in mind and eventually outlast him? He wasn’t all asshole. Maybe he would have mercy on her.

  Mercy. That was her safety word. He would honor it. Only a total jerk like Jake wouldn’t.

  Jake. She had to find out what the guy was up to and how Claire was truly doing. She probably couldn’t do it without Ben. It was too dangerous to return to the cabin without him. And if she brought someone like Sam with her, Jake probably wouldn’t let them in.

  She wondered if the second recording pen she’d left behind had picked up anything. And where had that first one disappeared to? It would have picked up the exchange between her and Jake on the matter of the safety word. If she was lucky, it had also picked up the incident with the shock collar, when Claire used her safety word but Jake ignored it. She had to get that pen back.

  Okay, so she needed Ben to get her back to the cabin. Could she get him to do what she wanted for a change? She hated finding herself between a rock and a hard place, i.e. him, all the time. Should she be a better pet? Would that get her further? It was worth a shot. But it also meant submitting more of herself than she wanted to. Was she ready to do that?

  Yes. His kisses are to die for, his caresses melt you faster than butter on burning coal, and he fucking made you squirt for the first time ever. Not to mention his cock feels so damn good inside you, you might never again be satisfied with your vibrator.

  With a groan, she tried to think of something else, like the soreness of her feet from being on imaginary five-inch stilettos. When was he going to come back?

  She tested the shirt again. No go. Not that he would be happy to find her out of her bonds.

  Looking around the room, she remembered that she was supposed to come up with her punishment. She wondered which of the implements would be the least harsh. The flogger hadn’t been too bad. She could probably handle more of that. The cane was another story. She eyed the stocks, one tall, one short. How bad could being locked in one of those be? The shorter one would probably be more comfortable since one could kneel.

  Her gaze moved next to the cages. One was tall and narrow, almost like a coffin, obviously for standing. The other was cube-shaped and cramped-looking. Even in a sitting position, she would have to bend over to prevent her head from hitting the top of it, and there was definitely not enough room to stretch one’s legs. But the cages didn’t look as ominous as the wooden pony. Somewhere she had read that, in medieval days, victims would be placed atop the edge with anchors tied to their ankles.

  She started to get nervous. There had to be a way out of the punishment. Could she stall him? Maybe make him come until he was exhausted? But the man wasn’t built like most guys she knew. Jesus, he was capable of multiple orgasms. She even had the feeling he could outlast women.

  She shuddered. Maybe she could bribe him.

  With what? What could you possibly offer a billionaire who has it all?

  Herself. Her body. Her submission.

  But a guy like him can get dozens of women willing and waiting to do his bidding. He could probably walk out the door, snap his fingers, and find women ready to jump down his pants. Hotter women. Women more experienced with BDSM.

  Information.

  That was the only thing she had of value, and that he clearly wanted.

  One of the flat screens on the wall flickered on. A film started to play. The setting was dark, with illumination coming from a single spotlight behind a curtain. An Asian female, naked and bound in shibari, dangled from an appa
ratus onstage. In the audience were dozens of Japanese men in suits.

  Onstage, a man held a long black dildo attached to the end of a stick. He pushed the dildo at her crotch till it slid between her folds. She winced but soon began to moan as the dildo pumped in and out of her. Across the stage, another petite woman was tied with her arms stretched above her. A man pounded his cock into her from behind.

  The scene faded away into one from Nagisa Oshima’s In the Realm of the Senses, in which the character of Kichizo Ishida receives a blow job while smoking a cigarette. The following scene was of Ishida and Sada Abe, a former prostitute, having sex while a woman played the shamisen in the background.

  Kimani found herself drawn into the scenes. They felt like porn, for they titillated, but they looked so artistic that they felt like more than porn,

  The door opened. At first she was excited to see Ben, like a dog happy for its owner’s return at the end of the day, but his jaw seemed a little tight, and his eyes shone with determination. Her excitement turned to trepidation.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Already got one,” had been Stephens’ reply.

  Prior to returning to the playroom, mobile in hand, Ben had studied the headshot Stephens had sent over of a good-looking guy in his mid to late forties. According to the background research Stephens had conducted, Samuel Green was married to Kyle Santos and had two children. That didn’t mean Kimani wasn’t romantically involved with the Tribune editor, but Ben would wager their relationship had more to do with work or education. Perhaps this Sam fellow filled a mentor role for Kimani.

  “That is the man she met at the coffee shop,” Wong had confirmed after Ben had forwarded the photo.

  Ben had considered forwarding the photo to Ezra as well, but he didn’t trust Ezra’s discretion. He was fairly certain anyway that Sam was the one who had approached Ezra.

  What was Kimani up to?

  Ben recalled the snippets of conversation he had overheard Kimani having on his mobile with Sam. The two of them were digging into his family, probably with Uncle Gordon as the target.

  Had that been her intent all along?

  She couldn’t know that he would show up at Jake’s cabin and decide to buy her. Did she somehow know that Jason would be at the Scarlet Auction? Was that why she was an auction participant?

  That seemed unlikely as well. It was a roundabout way to get access to Jason, who wasn’t even that involved in his uncle’s campaign. And why would she think there was anything worth investigating? Uncle Gordon was a fucking Boy Scout.

  And Kimani seemed to genuinely like Gordon.

  Sam had asked about the political action committee, so maybe Gordon wasn’t the target. A group of developers raising more than half a million might be somewhat interesting, but it hardly seemed newsworthy. Independent expenditures, whether organized by labor or business, happened all the time. Unless Kimani and Sam were hoping to make mountains out of molehills, there was nothing to report there.

  He wondered if Jason’s participation in the Scarlet Auction as well as his own could hurt Uncle Gordon. The intrigue and scandal would draw attention, but, as nephews, they were a step removed from Gordon. Voters should be savvy enough to know that Gordon couldn’t control what other members of his family did. Nevertheless, the political consultant might have to take a run at the scenario.

  Fuck.

  Buying Kimani had come with complications he hadn’t expected. Whether she had set out to find dirt on the Lee family or she’d decided to take advantage of an opportunity that had fallen in her lap, Ben didn’t like it.

  He glanced at the monitor to see that Kimani was fixed on the screen, currently depicting a scene from In the Realm of the Senses, a timeless film that seemed not the slightest bit dated though it had been made in 1976. She rubbed her thighs together.

  Fuck.

  She looked so hot. He couldn’t wait to sink himself, sans a condom, into her.

  He headed for the playroom and threw open the door. When her gaze met his, he could see the hunger of lust in her eyes, and that turned him on as much of anything.

  "Please fuck me."

  Surprised, he raised his brows.

  "Fuck me hard."

  It was music to his ears. The hottest thing he had ever heard. His emotions ran high at her statement, half plea, half demand. He wanted nothing more than to give her what she wanted. He wanted to see her come, wanted to see her brow furrowed in passion, wanted to hear her scream out his name.

  But first, he had something to take care of.

  Stepping to her, he grabbed her by the jaw and lifted her chin. "You say it so well. Say it again."

  Her eyes were dark pools of shiny arousal. "Fuck me hard. Master."

  His cock throbbed.

  "Again."

  "Fuck me hard, Master."

  "More. Beg like you mean it."

  "Please, Master, please fuck me. Your pet needs to be fucked so badly. Please let me have your cock inside me. Please, Master!"

  This was an unexpected turn of events, but good.

  Releasing her jaw, he retrieved the key from his pocket and unlocked the chastity belt. The scent of her hit him hard, making the blood flow through him fast and hot. He let the belt drop to the floor and felt for her wetness.

  "You're nice and ready for cock, aren't you?"

  She closed her eyes as his fingers grazed her clitoris. "Yes, Master, I am."

  He dipped a finger into her channel. Feeling her sodden heat, he had to take a calming breath. She moaned as he withdrew his digit. She swayed her hips, and for a while he allowed her to hump his hand. He plunged two fingers into her pussy, and easily found her swollen G-spot. Her groans grew louder. He pulled his fingers out and shoved them into her mouth. She licked and sucked.

  "Good pet," he praised.

  After she had cleaned off his fingers, he bent down and picked up the belt and placed it atop a dresser. Opening one of the drawers, he pulled out a vibrating egg and its accompanying controller. He slipped the remote control into his pocket, remembering that he still had the remote and shock collar that Jake had used on Claire. He didn’t rule out using the collar on Kimani, but he would wait on it for now. He had other toys at his disposal.

  Before he inserted the egg, he kissed her first. Kissing got her juices flowing, he had noticed. And he loved that something so simple, something that was just him, without accessories, could have such an effect on her. It got him going as well.

  He grabbed a fistful of braids and pulled her head back as he tongued or bit every inch of her mouth. With his other hand, he rubbed the egg between her clit and folds. When he placed it at her slit, her cunt eagerly sucked up the egg. Her kisses grew more urgent. Reaching into his pocket for the remote, he turned the egg on to its lowest setting while he continued to devour her mouth.

  He increased the vibration. Distracted by the sensations that were filling her cunt, she stopped kissing and moaned against his lips.

  “Jesus, that feels good,” she whispered.

  “Does it, pet?” he murmured on her lips. “I can make it feel even better.”

  “Yeah?”

  He dialed the vibration up a couple notches and watched her lashes flutter, her lips part, her breath become erratic.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Oh...wow...”

  “All you got to do is tell me what you know about De Reyes and Chang.”

  “Wh...?”

  “You’re not someone who talks for the sake of talking. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  He could tell she had trouble thinking, so he decreased the vibration. “Dawson Chang and Carlos De Reyes. What do you know?”

  “They’re colleagues.”

  He yanked her hair hard. “Don’t fuck with me by telling me shit I already know.”

  Her eyes flashed in anger. “Why do you keep thinking I know something?”

  “Are you suggesting you’ve been completely truthful with me?”

  She didn’t sa
y anything.

  “Thought so,” he muttered, releasing her and returning the vibration to its lowest setting.

  He walked over to the wall and flipped a switch. The hook began to rise, pulling her a few feet off the floor before stopping.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with apprehension.

  “I’m going to get the truth one way or another. It’s up to you how long you want the torment to last.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  What the...?

  This was not good. Dangling in the air had transferred the pressure from her toes to her arms but not necessarily for the better. Kimani wriggled, trying to find a way back down to the ground. How the hell was she going to get herself out of this predicament?

  Wait. Had he mentioned “torment” again?

  A jolt of vibration through her lower body caused her to shudder. Her thoughts scattered. She tried to rein them back in. She couldn’t escape without them.

  But the vibrations felt so good. She was sure she could come any minute now. All that time left to herself with erotic imagery on the screen had built tension that desperately wanted release.

  Hadn’t she been a good pet? Didn’t she ask to be fucked, beg for his cock like he’d wanted her to?

  She moaned as the vibrations faded once more to a faint and dull hum, enough to keep her arousal front and center but not enough to send her over the edge.

  Ben unbuttoned and removed his shirt. She swept her gaze appreciatively over his chiseled chest and scrumptious six-pack, wishing she could run her hands over every muscle.

  Stop drooling, Kimani, and focus on getting yourself outta here.

  Right. What could she do? Convincing him that he was wrong, that he only imagined she knew something, wasn’t working out.

  She watched him select a flogger from the wall. Shit.

  The flogger had about two dozen leather falls. He whipped the flogger against her leg.

  “Ooof!”

  Okay, maybe this one could be bad. This flogger stung more, though she wasn’t sure why. The vibrations from the egg flared before settling back down.