by Alta Hensley
Standing tall again, refusing to show my anger and give her the power of knowing she was getting to me in any way, I looked her in the eye, about to end her temper tantrums once and for all. “You will go inside next to me. You will not say a single word, or do anything at all but walk. If you do not, I swear to fucking God, you will pay dearly. When I’m done with you, you will wish to hell to be in the grasp of a pissed off Marco Nunez over me.” I said the words through clenched teeth, struggling not to throttle her right where she stood. “Do you understand?”
She said nothing but stared into my eyes. Was she wondering if she could push further? Was she trying to read me? Well, good luck with that. I made millions off the fact that no one could read me in court and in negotiations. Cold, soulless, lacking any emotion was what made me richer than most men. So good luck, bitch. Try to read my ass.
Wiping the dirt from the seat of my pants, I once again placed the jacket over her bound wrists and lead her to the entrance of the Travel Lodge. Nothing this woman did would change things. She could struggle. She could beg and plead. Nothing would take the bounty from her head. Things were what they were. She had signed the contract, taken the money, and had tried to run away. Black and white. But I would keep her safe and unharmed to the best of my ability. I owed it to Spiked Roses to not have any of the girls be put in grave danger.
Glancing down to her as we crossed the threshold of the lobby where Anita walked calmly against her will, I had to admit the woman wasn’t at all what I had expected. Was she putting up a fight for show? Or did she actually think she could break free, out run me, and somehow hide from Marco Nunez? She didn’t seem to be afraid that death, or possible torture was knocking at her door if she had been captured by someone else. She seemed much spicier in spirit than what I’d thought I would get.
I could see by the bruises on her arms and cheek that Marco hadn’t been a gentle man. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be a forced sexual slave, but at the same time, she signed the fucking contract. This was her choice 100% and no one was holding a gun to her head. She didn’t seem stupid, or even naïve. I couldn’t put my finger on her personality and it was driving me crazy. I prided myself on being able to read people. Hell, it’s what made me one smart motherfucker.
She resisted submission clearly, but there was something of that nature hidden away—I could see it. I could feel it. That much I could be sure of. Every time I spanked her ass or showed any dominance at all, she did seem to submit slightly—not a lot, but I noticed a change in her breathing, a flutter of her eyes, a nibble on her lip. For a brief moment, her rage subsided. Maybe that was why she signed that damn contract. She was a natural submissive, but unfortunately, for her first experience, she’d chosen a fucking asshole to show her the ropes.
I shook my head, knowing I couldn’t afford to be thinking about this chick, a woman who would no doubt fight me every step of the way should I even lay an affectionate hand on her or simply offer a sympathetic word. I had to show her I meant no nonsense and to make her fear me. It was the only way we would get our asses back to New Orleans without killing each other.
She was striking though… far more so than any woman at Spiked Roses, and that was saying a lot. Had I met her under different circumstances… I would fuck her for hours, pause for a drink, and then fuck her some more.
Huffing to myself, I pushed against her lower back as I made eye contact with the driver at the counter, happy to see him nod that everything was going fine with check-in. One step closer to being done with this ordeal. I did feel for the girl a bit because of what I knew of this ruthless man who owned her for the next two weeks. A woman like Anita didn’t deserve the life waiting for her at the hands of Marco Nunez. But my business revolved around the strength of the contract and the terms to protect the tastings. If word got out that a woman could sign, and then take the money and run, Spiked Roses would be ruined. The fun little dirty tastings would become a joke. The only way to fix this was to make Anita pay up one way or the other. Harsh, but a reality nonetheless. Shit, Anita’s hands weren’t the only ones that were tied. Hers were bound with rope, but, fuck it, responsibility and duty bound mine just as tightly. And even if I let her go, it was just a matter of time until one of Marco’s goons found her. A goon who was fierce, thirsty for blood, and dangerous with the need of something to prove. A hired man who would soullessly fuck her, then return her to Marco—who would also fuck her, no doubt punish her, then fuck her again. Being pissed on would be minor compared to what I knew Marco could do to her.
The driver approached us with two key cards in his hand. We didn’t stop walking, but all made our way to the elevators and out of the eyes of the front desk staff. Even Anita was smart enough to know she needed to do that. Having police involved when she’d stolen $100,000 dollars would not be a good thing for her.
“I got two King bed rooms. They didn’t have any suites or anything fancier, sir,” the driver said, handing me a card.
I nodded and also took my large duffel bag from his shoulder. “That will be fine. It’s one night.”
Anita stopped as I pushed the button to the elevator. “That will not be fine! I’m assuming you think I’ll be sleeping with you? Fuck if I will sleep in the same bed with you. Nowhere in the contract did it say I had to do anything with you.”
I shoved her into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. “You will do whatever the fuck I say and shut your goddamn mouth.”
She glanced at me, the driver, and then back at me with pure venom in her eyes. “You two share a room then.”
I chuckled, but didn’t even dignify her comment with a verbal response.
It was a bit amusing to see her attempt to cross her arms, her bound wrists evidently forgotten for an instant. Still, she raised her arms to cover her chest in a pout, clearly fuming by the coloration on her pale complexion.
The elevator stopped on the 9th floor and we all walked off. The driver turned to me. “Will you need anything else for the evening, sir?”
“No.” I glanced down at Anita. “I have it covered. But I want to be on the road by 6 am.”
“Very well, sir. Goodnight.” He turned left down the hallway to his room, while I led Anita down the hallway to the right.
When I opened the door and we entered the room, I asked, “Can I trust that you can be a good girl if I untie you?” I struggled to hide my smile. I purposely taunted her by using the term ‘good girl’. I knew it would burn her insides through and through, but I couldn’t help myself. She was lucky that was all I was doing since I was still pissed from all her punching and kicking.
Anita nodded slightly, a look of trepidation on her face, mixed with death glares from her eyes. I could leave her tied until morning. Her comfort was of no concern to me. Or at least it shouldn’t be, but at the same time, I didn’t want to hear bitching all night. A night in this small room, with a worn bedspread and the stench of old cigarette smoke would be enough misery.
I reached forward and began untying the rope that restrained her, trying not to notice the way she stared at me. If she had a knife or a gun, I had no doubt she would use it on me without hesitation. And yet, I was still the fucking fool untying her. Harley would die if he knew how careless I was being. I’m sure he never conducted a job considering the captive’s comfort over all else.
“I have some different clothes in my bag for you. Something for you to sleep in. It’s just an oversized shirt of mine, but it will be more comfortable than the jeans and tee you are wearing now.”
My words were cut midstream as a hard denim-clad knee connected with my balls. Bent over in utter agony trying to regain my breath between groans, I noticed her shaking off the ropes that I’d loosened around her wrists. Swinging her right fist, she narrowly missed my face square on. In crippling pain, feeling as if my dick would never be the same, I fell to the worn carpet, doing my best not to punch back in retaliation. Or fucking kill her. If I were Harley Crow, she would be dead right
now. I was two seconds from taking a page from his playbook.
“What the fuck are you doing? Do you have a goddamn death wish?” I hissed at her, my words strained as I struggled to regain my breath. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking beat the crap out of you right now.”
“You piece of shit bastard!” Anita yelled, kicking me in the gut, knocking the air I’d somehow managed to regain right out of me again. “You can go to hell… along with all the fuckers at Spiked Roses! Men like you should rot.” The venom in her voice blended with a tiny ounce of fear. Her voice cracked and quavered as she spoke, revealing her true feelings whether she liked it or not. Tough exterior, but frightened kitten inside. I’d seen many like her before. Easy to read when they were trying to be their strongest.
Anita went to run away from me then, but I caught her calf, pulling her to the musty-smelling carpet beside me. For a moment, I worried she would hit her head on the edge of the bed, and I actually helped ease her fall to the best of my ability. Why I gave a damn, I had no fucking idea.
Reaching for the rope that had fallen to the ground in the onslaught of her attack, I again tied her wrists together—much tighter than before. Fire still burned in my breathless body, and my groin throbbed to the point of nausea.
“Listen here, bitch,” I bit out as I tied the last knot. “It’s high time I teach you a fucking lesson. You can’t hit, kick, and knee my junk and not think there will be goddamn repercussions!”
Anita struggled just enough that her constrained hands broke free from my grasp, and she swung her hands with as much force as she could muster, connecting to my jaw. For a moment, she paused in shock, clearly not expecting that she would punch me. The pause in motion was all I needed to grab her by the back of her neck, practically throwing her over my lap.
“I will not tolerate your explosive temper tantrums any further!” I spanked her ass two times with enough force that her stunned silence turned to a gasp of shock.
“Fuck you, asshole!”
I continued to spank, each blow harder than the last. At least it was on her ass and not her face. Her ass could take the beating, and her beautiful face could not—or should not. I wasn’t a spanker by nature, unless you count a few swats in the heat of passionate sex, but it did seem to work with her. And it was the only thing I could do so I wouldn’t knock her teeth out.
“No, but if you don’t change your attitude, I may just fuck you! And if you are really lucky, it will be in your asshole.”
“Go to hell! Don’t you dare lay a finger on me.” She was loud, but she never screamed. I suppose if she wanted to scream bloody murder, security would eventually show up. Not that I couldn’t fix everything with the wad of cash in my wallet, but it would still be inconvenient. And with how my luck was running today, some neighbor would call the police and they were a lot harder to buy off. Though in this piece of shit town, maybe they were cheaper than all my experiences in the past.
Her teeth clamped down on my thigh like a rabid dog.
That was it. I’d had enough. Yanking down her pants, which took very little effort on my part, I pummeled her backside with a fury of hard swats. I wasn’t going easy on her anymore. Over and over, I spanked, taking pleasure in watching the creamy white of her ass quickly change to an inferno of red. Oh yeah, this woman was about to learn her lesson. Don’t mess with me in a cheap fucking hotel when I was in a pissy frame of mind and in desperate need of a stiff drink. Her ass was about to pay the price for my foul mood.
She continued to fight, struggle anyway she could, and curse like a goddamn sailor. This stubborn woman wasn’t about to give me the satisfaction of knowing that her punishment had any effect. I knew it had to hurt like hell, but she wasn’t going to show it. “You are nothing but a filthy excuse of a man,” she spat, kicking her feet and bucking up as the spanking continued. “Fuck you! You bastard!”
“Shut your mouth now. I’m warning you.”
“Or what? You’ll beat me some more? Go ahead.”
“I’ll do something much worse. I have other ways of shutting you up rather than blistering your ass.”
“Fuck you! There is nothing you can do that will make me be the ‘good girl’ you so think you’ll get out of me.”
Enough with the language. I had never liked a girl with a foul mouth. It had always been a pet peeve of mine. But this was pushing me beyond slightly annoyed. I wanted to shut those luscious lips of hers and make the only sound coming from them be squeals of shock and discomfort. I wasn’t going to take it any longer. Dipping my finger into her pussy, I gathered her juices. Juices that were plentiful, regardless of her hatred toward her punisher. Oh yeah, this dirty talking girl liked a little forceful handling. Clearly, pleasure and surrender coursed through her body just as much as the rage did. Once my finger was properly slickened, I pulled it out—taking gratification in the tiny moan I heard escape from her—and inserted it into her anus without pause. I knew this little invasion would shut her up.
She gasped and clenched, desperately trying to prevent my finger from going any further than it already had. “Stop!” she screamed. “You sick, bastard!”
“Every time you say those revolting words ‘fuck you’ to me, I will do exactly that. I will fuck you one way or the other.” I pumped my finger into her puckered hole several times for emphasis, feeling my cock grow with every thrust. I wanted it to be my dick rather than my finger, but I had some control right now. Though it balanced very precariously. “You are lucky that right now I am simply fucking you in the ass with my finger. Trust me, my cock would have you crying out and begging for me to stop because I wouldn’t fit in this tiny hole comfortably.” I pumped my finger a few more times, going deeper into her tight channel with each push. When my second knuckle disappeared up her ass, Anita finally ceased in her struggles as she mewled like a kitten.
I wanted to fuck her.
I wanted to strangle her.
I wanted to beat her.
But I wanted to fuck her the most.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her full body weight melting against me in defeat. “Is that what you want me to say to make you stop?”
I wasn’t sure if it was the finger rooted into her tiny hole, or her bright red ass that ultimately taught her a lesson, but regardless, she had thankfully simmered down. I had finally removed all the animalistic nature to attack and flee from her body… for now.
“Sorry is a good start. So we are clear,” I began as I pumped in and out, feeling her muscles clench around my finger, “if you ever say those words to me, I will fuck you and not in a way that will have you purring for more.” I rubbed a second finger along her wet slit, coating it with her signs of arousal, placed it at her anus, and joined it with the one already in her.
Anita inhaled and keened but didn’t resist or fight the intrusion of my two fingers. She simply laid across my lap limply, her tangled hair covering her face, concealing her expression, making it impossible for me to truly get a good read on her. The wetness of her sex, the smell of her musk, the swelling of her pussy lips, all gave away the truth that her body desired this. Her mind—maybe not. But her body exposed her dirty little secret whether she liked that fact or not.
“And every time you decide to hit me, I would think twice,” I continued on, now with two fingers fully embedded in her ass, spreading her wide, relentlessly pushing her tight puckered hole past its limits with each movement of my fingers. “You will be punished much more severely than any blow you could possibly deliver to me. Unless you want to be sitting uncomfortably for the rest of our trip, I advise you to keep your hands to yourself.”
I scissored my two fingers, stretching her, hoping the sting of my discipline would make my warning heard loud and clear. She writhed in discomfort, but still did not put up a fight. Her breathing steadied as the submission took over, and her legs parted slightly, as if silently begging for more.
“Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
/> “Yes, what?”
“What do you mean? Yes, what?” she asked out of what appeared genuine confusion rather than defiance.
“Answer me with a sign of respect. Yes, sir,” I instructed.
“Yes, sir. You made yourself very clear.” I could tell she didn’t want to say the words, but she still did. I had to give her points for doing so.
Pulling my fingers from her anus—still wishing I could replace them with my cock—I spanked her two more times, still not getting a fight from her. I’d finally found a way to control this little vixen and the situation. But with the raging hard on that I had, I wondered if it were she who was truly in control.
Chapter Eleven
Anita
I pushed at the undercooked pasta in my bowl, deep in thought while I stared at it. It was the only thing that had seemed halfway decent on the room service menu, so both Kenneth and I ordered it. I should have been hungry since I had barely eaten anything in days, but the fear of my fucked up future stole any appetite I had. What would Marco do to me once I returned to New Orleans? I’d gathered by now that Marco was far from a merciful man, and no doubt would be pissed that I took the money and ran. I’m sure he had killed people for less than what I’d done. Would I be used and abused until I couldn’t walk without blood dribbling down my inner thighs? Abused to the point that I couldn’t move? Couldn’t breathe? Would I be beaten to death? I’m not sure the contract would protect me anymore. I had voided our signatures the minute I’d fled. Would he kill me?
No… death would be too merciful. Marco wouldn’t let me off the hook by simply killing me, and I really didn’t think Kenneth would allow me to be killed. Something inside of me told me that the tight ass, no nonsense businessman would make sure my safety was guaranteed before being handed over. If for no other reason than to protect Spiked Roses and make it appear to all the participants in The Tasting Room that every transaction was safe. Kenneth wouldn’t want the staff to fear for their lives. So, he would conduct some sort of business agreement ending with a gentlemanly handshake. But there were a lot of things that Marco could do that Kenneth wouldn’t even blink an eye over, and frankly would maybe even do himself to some poor woman. I could see that. Kenneth was a dark man with dark desires. The fact that he… he… shoved a finger up my ass after spanking me like a hero would do in some historical novel spoke volumes about the man sitting across from me.
