by Renard, Loki
As I try to think my way out of orgasm, the feather plays up and down my slit, dragging ever so slightly as it encounters the moisture my body is producing at his behest. This is slow madness. This is a gently building storm that assaults my senses. The muscles in my legs tighten as I try to draw them up and in. My stomach flexes, trying to draw my hips up toward the sensation that keeps slipping away just as it approaches my clitoris.
Back and forth the feather flows, making me mad with need little by little until I feel my pussy leaking with desire. I am so fucking wet, and so fucking aroused.
I wait for something more to happen, but nothing does. He moves that feather like a master, the tip of it brushing against my pussy until I can’t stand it any longer and I start to moan, giving voice to the throbbing pulsing need between my legs.
“Look at me.”
I look at him, immediately obeying the order in the hope that it will earn me either respite or release. I need a firmer touch. I need penetration. I need his cock inside me, thrusting roughly, making my cunt stretch. He has unlocked the filthiest recesses of my mind and left me helpless against his desires, and I will never forgive him for that.
Darko lifts the feather and twirls it with a smirk. Looking at him now, with this lust-heated gaze, I can hardly contain myself. He is fucking hot, his body ripped with the kind of muscles a man gets from hard work. The tattoos. The scars. His life is written on his body and I need it against me, inside me. Now. It is the only thing that drives the real darkness away. When he fucks me, I forget everything.
“How do you feel now, Chloe?”
“Please, just let me...”
“Let you what?”
“Come. Just let me come.”
“I don’t think so,” he says, shaking his head. “You haven’t behaved yourself today. Not at all.”
“But... please, I need to. I have to.”
He puts the feather aside and picks up something else. This time it is a little metal wheel with spikes. It looks like an instrument of torture, but when he touches it to the inside of my thigh, I don’t feel the sharp pain I am anticipating. It is a light prickling sensation that runs toward my sensitive pussy. He is sending me into a series of involuntary Kegels, my inner walls clenching desperately.
The tool reaches my sex and runs up the length of my lips, those little stinging sensations trailing all the way up to my clit, but not quite reaching it. I can feel it straining with the rest of me, a tiny, desperate, turgid little part of my body that could bring me mind-shattering orgasm if only he would...
“Oh, my god!” I shriek the words as he pulls the wheel away from my sex and his lips find my cunt instead, closing hot and wet over my clit.
A massive electric jolt shoots through my nervous system as I am propelled near instantly into orgasm that rolls through me, taking my senses and sanity with it. His tongue laps my clit the entire time, keeping the process firing, making climax after climax roll through me until finally there is nothing left but the ache of sated need and utterly drenched inner thighs.
He mutters something in thick foreign speech, pulls his cock from his pants, and thrusts it deep inside me. He is hard as hell; his cock throbs with every thrust as he fucks me ruthlessly, his hands on the stirrups, keeping my legs wide, his eyes locked on my wet cunt as my pussy grips him with every stroke.
I am screaming, near incoherent. I am begging, pleading. I am promising and lying. I am being taken for everything I am and everything I have, I am being broken down into the component parts of a woman, I am being utterly destroyed by this man and it doesn’t matter because what my instincts want is just one thing: his cum as deep inside me as it can go, bathing my bare cunt with fertile seed.
We’re two grunting animals copulating like any others as he fucks me, his cock thrusting so deep I can barely take it as he comes with a roar, filling my well ravaged sex with spurt after spurt of his seed.
“Good,” he breathes heavily as his cock slides from me, no longer as hard but still thick and heavy. “Now you stay there, and you think about what choices you want to make.”
He leaves. He fucking leaves me there, spread-eagled in the chair, my cunt dripping his cum, my clit tingling with the soft breeze emanating from the air conditioning.
That bastard.
I am left with the sensation of his domination, the way my cunt gave way to him, stretched for his cock and for his will. I am left with the memory of my most powerful orgasm to date, delivered by his talented mouth. I am left knowing, to the very core of me, that he is in total control of himself, and therefore, in total control of me.
I am in trouble.
Chapter Four
Darko
I have to clear my head. It always starts out the same way with her. I begin to tease, to caress. I start the process of seduction and somewhere in the middle I get caught up in the middle of it. I have never once intended to come inside her, but I’ve filled her up so fucking deep, the risk of pregnancy is high.
Fortunately, this place is well stocked with pharmaceuticals. Can’t risk not having the right supplies this far from land.
I leave her there for a good while, an hour at least. Long enough to give her time to worry about the consequences of my failure to return. Long enough for my cum to dry on those puffy, swollen pussy lips. I want the enormity of it to sink in for her as it has for me. I want her to feel as helpless as I do. My desire for her is becoming weakness. I have to harden my heart and become the man I need to be to make her submit. If I don’t, she will not obey me and the Order will dispose of her, just as they did her father.
I cannot stop thinking about her in the meantime. She is gorgeous. She is the sort of woman a man could fall for and become slave to. The kind of female who takes a red-blooded male and domesticates him. I have to be careful of my attachment to her for both our sakes.
When I return, she says very little. I let her out of the restraints and tell her to sit up on the bed. She does as she is told. Good. I am pleased by that.
I have come prepared. I hand her a pill from my pocket, and grab her a glass of water. She looks at both items blankly.
“What’s this?”
“A pill. Stops pregnancy.”
I expect her to refuse. I’m ready to hold her nose and push it down her throat myself, but she immediately downs the dose like a champ and throws it back with water as if it were nothing.
“What? You didn’t think I wanted to have your bastard, did you?”
There’s something almost mocking in her tone, as if I am not good enough to impregnate her. Suddenly, the idea of keeping her here and having her belly swell with my brat is appealing. That would bring her down to earth. That would disabuse her from the notions she holds on to, the ones that make her think she is somehow special and different.
Dammit. She is special and different. Even without her family’s money and heritage, she has that certain something that sets her apart from the crowd.
“No,” I say, my lips thinned. “From now on you will be on birth control to ensure no little accidents.”
“Good.”
“It is good, isn’t it? I know you would miss being fucked if I were to deny you my cock.”
“Yup, love that dick,” she deadpans.
I draw my breath in between my teeth. She never gives me the reaction I want. But maybe that’s because I keep expecting her to be a scandalized little virgin, when in reality she is closer to the reckless slut I am treating her as. I wonder how many other men have plunged their cocks inside her. Did she climax for them like she did for me?
The thought sparks immediate jealousy. That sexual energy she exudes, her beauty, her desire, her cunt, her orgasms. I want them to be mine. All mine.
I never planned to let her go, but now I know I can’t.
I have to have her, and just having her isn’t enough. It’s easy to keep her body captive, but I want her mind and maybe even her heart. First, I have to do what I set out to do. I need her obedie
nce and her submission.
Extending my hand to her, I help her down off the bed. “You need a shower.”
“You think?”
She has such an attitude.
“Before you get clean,” I say, pulling my cock out again, “you can clean me off. With your mouth of course.”
“But...”
“On your knees, mouth on my cock,” I order.
Is that a blush I see on her obstinate cheeks as she parts her lips and takes the tip of my cum-soaked cock into her mouth? Our juices have mingled and dried and the touch of her tongue makes them wet again. Our taste must be filling her mouth.
Her touch is entirely too hesitant for my liking. I slide my hand down to her head and pull her more firmly onto my cock, filling her mouth to the back of her throat, holding her there for a second before letting her pull free.
“You’re an asshole,” she gasps.
“Yes,” I agree, pulling her back down on my dick. This is risky. She could bite quite nastily down there, but I don’t think she will. She loves this cock far too much to hurt it, and she’d rather suck on it than sink her teeth into it, even as I start to fuck her rebellious hole, making it clear that her attitude will be dealt with.
“You love it now? You love it deep in your mouth, pushing into your throat?” I ask questions she can’t possibly answer, plunging my dick ever deeper into her mouth, pulling out only to allow her to breathe before pushing back inside.
I am going to come again. This time my seed will fill her belly rather than her pussy. She will drink my essence, take it deep inside her. Holding her hair in my hands, I draw her back and forth along my shaft until I feel the cum roiling in my balls. I grunt and growl and push my cock to the back of her tongue before releasing my load down her throat, making her swallow each and every virile drop.
When I release her, she is panting and pink, her nipples hard with fresh arousal. I feel emotion flowing through me, a sudden softening of my heart. She is incredible. She can take everything I have to give. Unlike any woman before, she is capable of matching the intensity of my desire and the depravity of my sexual needs.
“Come on,” I say, giving nothing away. “You’ve earned a shower.”
* * *
Chloe
I’ve earned more than a shower. I’ve earned my freedom, but I know he’s not going to give me that, not ever. So I’ll take the shower.
It is incredible to be clean, to wash the cum and sweat from my body. This all began in a shower, alone. Now I find myself standing beneath a fresh flow of water. He is here of course, watching. Still shirtless and wearing nothing but his pants. He leans against the wall, his arms folded as I work sweet-smelling bathing oils over my skin.
“Do you have to watch?”
“I want to watch,” he says flatly. “You’re gorgeous.”
I tip my head back, let the water cascade over my hair. Many men appreciate me, but not the way Darko does. There’s nothing simpering or desperate about his attention. It’s simple.
When I am done showering, he offers me more food. This time I take him up on the offer. I am hungry, and I have no interest in starving myself. I have to stay strong, and refusing to eat will only make me weaker.
“Here.”
He puts a plate in front of me with a ham sandwich on it. Hardly the food I’m used to, but I need to eat, so I eat.
Again he watches me. He seems to find everything about me fascinating.
“Tell me about the Order.”
He gives me a look, one dark brow raised. “I don’t believe it would be a good idea to give you fuel for that fire.”
“You want me to do what you say for a very long time. You may as well tell me. I will find out sooner or later.”
“True,” he admits. “What would you like to know?”
“Who are they?”
“Everybody and nobody,” he says. “The most powerful people in the world are the ones you’ve never heard of. Rockefellers and rock stars are nothing on these men. They have shadow control of companies and countries, judges, politicians, law enforcement. There’s nothing they don’t own.”
“And my father was in their way. How?”
“If I tell you that, I seal your fate,” he says. “Let’s just say they wanted to use the resources of his companies to further their aims.”
“What are their aims?”
“Total dominion over humanity,” he says without missing a beat. “These people don’t believe in democracy, governments, free people. They believe in control. Every day, a little more. People have given up vast swathes of it already, but it’s not enough and it never will be.”
“And you’re part of it, aren’t you.”
He looks at me honestly and answers simply, “Yes.”
“But you’ve decided not to kill me.”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that put you at risk?”
“Not if I can prove you are more controllable than your father was.”
“Good luck with that.”
“I don’t need luck. It’s only been a day and you’re already coming around. Imagine what you’ll be like in another week, another month.”
I don’t want to imagine that. I can’t imagine that. If I don’t escape his grasp, he’s right. I will be his. Entirely his. I might start to like him, maybe, even love him.
“Not going to happen.”
“Oh, it is going to happen. And soon.”
“Soon? Why?”
“Because certain people won’t trust you loose forever.”
Chapter Five
Darko
Days pass by and I train my pretty little captive to the best of my ability. She is sexually submissive, but otherwise she has endless attitude and spunk. If we were dating, I’d be falling for her hard, but I’m trying to claim her and that sass of hers is going to get her in so much trouble.
I don’t have endless amounts of time. I don’t have nearly enough of it. Five days in, and the Order wants an audience with Chloe. They want to see what I have done to her, and see if she is on her way to being a useful member of their collective.
I warn them that she is far from perfect, but I cannot put them off any longer. A date and time are set and a party is planned. I inform Chloe, who reacts as she always does, with a secret little smile and a promise to obey, which I do not believe even for a second.
* * *
Chloe
Tonight, I meet the murderers. Darko has fussed over me all day. He has cajoled, lectured, spanked, lectured again, and finally, dressed me up like his very own little doll. It is nice to be wearing clothing. It feels like an eternity since my body was covered.
He leads me into the gathering on his arm, and for a moment, I can almost pretend that this is a party like the thousands of society parties I have attended in the past. But the thoughts keep interjecting themselves into my brain.
The men milling about his house are the men responsible for my father’s death. These are the ones who wanted my death. And I have to stand here, smile, and impress them with my submissive obedience? Every cell in my body rebels at this meeting.
“I know you hate them. Believe me, they hate each other. There is no love in this room, only alliance. You are free to loathe them as much as you like, but you must pledge your loyalty,” Darko murmurs in my ear.
He looks incredible tonight. Suits suit him. There’s something about his big frame contained in the formal attire that makes me melt. It’s a juxtaposition of brutality and refinement, and it makes me squeeze my legs together a little more tightly every time I see him. At his warning, I grit my teeth. There is absolutely zero chance of me pledging loyalty to those who murdered my father. But I am going to get in the room. I want to see their faces. I want to look them in the eyes and tell them exactly what I think.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Darko says, taking me by the arm. “You put one toe out of line and I will make you regret it. This is your one chance to leave this island and return to th
e world.”
I keep from talking, just barely. A thousand angry words are clogging my throat. I end up silent because no one of them can find its way out above the others. If I were to part my lips, I would scream with rage.
He mistakes my quiet for obedience, and he guides me toward the doors that lead to the room where I can already hear their voices. They get to speak. To breathe. To exist. They took that away from my father.
We enter the room together. There are twelve men in there, ranging from late twenties to early nineties, I guess. A den of evil.
Darko makes the introductions. I can’t take the names in. There are too many of them and my mind is not processing anything as petty as names. Even their faces blur to me, every one of them contorted through my hatred into a beast.
It is hard to breathe in here. I want to leave. I can’t contain my anger, and I can’t give Darko what he needs. This little display of submission and acquiescence to their crimes is not going to work. I can’t hide the loathing in my eyes, the disdain that curls my lips, the sheer hatred that makes my voice shake with every one of the introductions.
I see no guilt on any of their faces. I see no remorse or sadness. If anything, they are triumphant, congratulating Darko on his efforts at keeping me, complimenting my beauty, but in the way a hunter might congratulate another hunter on his trophy. If my head was mounted on the wall, they would say the same things.
Darko guides me to a chair. I sit stiffly, blood rushing in my ears. Of all the things he has done to me, this is the cruelest. To make me sit here in the company of those who engineered my father’s passing and say not one word about it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Parker-Baskerville.” The man to my left speaks to me. He is about sixty years old, has dishwater brown eyes and skin spotted with sun and age.
I look at him coldly.
“Is it?”
“Of course,” he says. “You’re a beautiful young woman, and you have a long life ahead of you if you know how to play the game.”
The implication is that my father did not know how to play the game. But his death was no damn game, and my life won’t be either.
