by Linzi Basset
Crack, crack, crack.
“Oh … my,” she puffed in surprise at the thuddy explosion on her ass. It didn’t hurt, rather it felt like warm water washed over her skin. She was still trying to compute the sensation when the next set fell and the next and the next.
She panted and moaned in confusion. The combination of the strikes that intensified with each hit, left a stinging pain that stunned her … because of the increasing pressure in her loins, not to mention the way her juices were soaking the piece of lace between her legs. She hissed as she felt Bruce’s hard chest press against her back as he hunched behind her.
“Shall I continue, little one?”
“I ....”
Crack, crack, crack, crack.
“Aahhh! Holy shit!” Morgan’s raw cry came in the wake of the biting strikes against each nipple. Her knees threatened to buckle. She had the urgent desire to close her legs in an attempt to stay the arousal that was rapidly overwhelming her.
“I need an answer, my pet.”
“Yes,” Morgan whimpered without hesitation. She needed to see where this experience was going to take her. Hard fingers pinched her still throbbing nipples. Her breath hissed from her lips.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Master Goliath, please continue.”
Bruce gently brushed his palms over her flushed bottom. His smile was one of satisfaction as he stared at the reddening welts on her white skin. She might have been beaten and whipped during her slavery but it was evident that she was drowning in the sensations the spanking elicited. He brushed his hand down the crevice of her cheeks.
“Ah, Morgan, I had hoped for this reaction to my belt,” he crooned in her ear as he pushed his fingers under the triangle of lace to slowly run one just inside her slit to find it dripping with arousal.
“Lord … I can’t, I never imagined … please,” she wailed as she canted her hips against his hand.
Her cries bounded off against the walls as he inserted another finger and slowly pumped them in and out while brushing his thumb over her clitoris. Her desperation, her uncontrolled jerking body, was all testimony to the level of her arousal. Bruce felt his cock swell as his testosterone spiked with the tantalizing whiff of her bouquet that filled his nostrils.
“Please what, sub?”
“I need to come, Sir. I have to come, please make me … ahh fucking shit!” she screamed as four more strikes landed with acute accuracy against the taut nubs of her nipples. His fingers delved deeper, searching for and finding the swollen bundle of nerves at the front of her vagina.
“Now, little one, come for me.”
Crack, crack, crack, crack!
This time the strikes on her nipples were sharp and tight, coinciding with his thumb toggling her clit and his fingers tapping against its twin on the inside wall of her pussy.
“Gaaawwd!”
Bruce felt the punch of Morgan’s cry in the blood flooding his cock as she climaxed. Hot juices coated his fingers as he continued to pump his fingers deep inside her.
“One more, Morgan.”
He slapped his hand faster, deeper and pressed his thumb hard onto her clit. She shattered once more, this time going limp in his arms as her knees gave way.
Bruce picked her up and carried her to the sofa. He sat down with her on his lap and quickly untied her hands. Morgan slumped weakly against him, unaware of the relief he offered by massaging her upper arms. She was having too hard a time finding her breath … and her wits, which she believed she’d lost on the cloud of euphoria she just couldn’t seem to come down from.
Chapter Six
The Sauna House, The Sixth Order’s new underground operation hub in the Michaux State Forest in Pennsylvania.
“Jack! Wake up, honey, please,” Jordan cried as she yanked on the chain that allowed only enough movement for her to sit up on the bed or stand next to it.
She was desperate to get through to him. The beatings didn’t satisfy the demented Jaden Bower anymore and he had turned to whipping Jack with a cat o'nine tails. His chest was covered in bloody streaks from the sharp pieces of metal on the knotted ends of the leather strips. She had known Jack was strong but he had amazed her with his ability to endure torture. She had cringed with every taunt Jack had continued to fling at Jaden throughout the brutal whipping, eliciting his fury but it had also managed to unsettle him so much that he’d stormed out well before he’d intended. Only then had Jack given in to the dark cloud of unconsciousness that had wrapped its tentacles around him. By her estimation, that had been over an hour ago. She was becoming exceedingly concerned that she couldn’t wake him.
More than anything, she was worried about the wounds that covered his face and body. None of which had been attended to. It expounded her concern about the possibility of infection. She kept praying that Rhone and the team were already looking for them but she had little hope of their success. They were in an underground shelter of some kind that had taken hours by plane to reach. Tears spilled from her eyes as she stared at Jack’s beloved face, battered and bruised as it was.
“I love you so much, Jack. Please don’t die on me,” she sobbed in a broken voice.
“I p-promised you a future, baby. I have every … ugh fuck, it hurts … intention of keeping it.”
“Oh, thank god!” she cried with relief flooding her mind. “I’ve been trying forever to wake you.”
Jack lifted his head wearily and stared at her through swollen and bloodied eyes. “How long was I out?”
“At a guess, over an hour.”
He groaned as he moved his arms to alleviate the cramps from being tied for so long. He had managed to keep his mind focused. Mind over matter, something he had perfected while in captivity in Afghanistan and later in Iraq. Jaden wasn’t a match to the torture he'd had to endure during those long months.
Jack noticed the tears streaming over Jordan’s cheeks as she watched him with a worried expression. His smile was lopsided, courtesy of a split lip that must look grotesquely swollen.
“Baby, calm down, I’ll be okay.”
“How can you say that, Jack? Look at you! You’re bleeding from all the wounds, you barely get enough food and water to live on. What … what if they become infected?”
“I’m strong, love.” He swallowed painfully, his throat drier than the Sahara Desert. “Remember I told you about that last tour into Afghanistan?”
“Yes,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. She forced herself to relax, drawing her strength from Jack’s loving eyes.
“I was captured and held hostage for six months, baby. What this piss ant, Jaden Bower, is doing is nothing compared to that. I’ll hang in there, my love, for as long as it takes Rhone and the guys to find us.”
“How?” she cried with fresh tears burning behind her eyelids. “We’re in the middle of nowhere! I don’t even know where we are.”
“But I do. Remember I told you I always leave a backdoor open. I’m positive that Rhone is aware you and I have been captured. Max and Lance know enough about my habits and the underground armory at the farm to find the clues I left behind.”
“Are you saying they might already be on their way?”
Jack offered another painful grimace. “I left the information about who Dexter and Zee are. Rhone would know to plan carefully. They won’t just jump in the chopper and rush over here. It’s imperative that they have a proper rescue plan in place, cover all possible scenarios before they attempt to save us.”
“God, honey! If they wait too long, you might be dead or I … he might make good on his threat and …” Jordan swallowed down the hysteria. Just the thought that this time Jaden wouldn’t fail in his attempt to rape her had slowly been driving her insane. He’d been taunting Jack with it and although Jack hadn’t responded, they both knew in the end, Jaden would do it, realizing it would be the one thing that would drive Jack insane … watching and helpless to save her or come to her rescue.
“No, Jordan, baby, don’t even
think about it. I won’t allow it to happen.” His eyes glowed like onyx over the short distance. “I’ll kill him before that happens.”
She didn’t respond but forced herself to draw her calm from his reassurance, however much impossible it would be for Jack to get out of the shackles chaining him to the wall.
Jack dug deep to keep his own fears from surfacing. He was battered and bruised but he was healthy and strong, which meant he usually healed quickly. Only, his body was struggling to recover, to repair the damage of the daily beatings, electrocutions, water boarding and now, the whipping. He searched his memory. By his calculation, this was their fifth day. Luckily for him, the injection they’d given him on the plane had been so strong, he’d been out of it the first day, limiting the intense torture to the past four days. The throbbing inside his gut warned him that he had internal injuries; a bigger concern than the whippings. Depending on the severity of it and whether he had internal bleeding, it may very well mean his death—
No! I’m not going to give in to negative thoughts.
His gaze settled on Jordan who sat watching him silently. He dragged in a deep, painful breath, his ribs responding with a knife-like slash in his side. Goddamned bastard broke my ribs. None of it showed on his face. Jordan was already in a state of despair, he couldn’t add to it. He’d last—he had to—until his friends arrived. Hopefully, Lexi had spoken to them within a day or two of Michael Flores’ disappearance, not to mention Jordan’s. He was positive they already had a rescue plan in place.
He glanced around the brightly lit room. The assholes left on the fluorescent lights 24/7. There was no way for them to know what time it was, or whether it was night or day. Jack had been concentrating on preserving his strength by remaining calm, focusing on taking each breath, on savoring every swallow of the precious water the guard trickled down his throat now and then. He slowly chewed the dried bread which was his daily ration, squeezing every bit of nutrition from it that he could. He’d been doing passive muscle exercises in between the sessions to keep them supple and strong.
He’d get the best of the bastard and then he’d start on Reece who usually just stood silently watching from the doorway.
Today, Jack had noticed signs of irritation on Reece’s face. It was evident that he wanted Jaden to put an end to it, probably because he was itching to get back to L.A. Jack had a suspicion that Lance had been in contact with him about Precision Secure business as part of their rescue operation. When it came to work, Lance was immovable. Reece knew he’d immediately detect if something was amiss, especially if it had to come to his attention that both of them were frequently absent from the office and have left the management of it in the hands of their second in charge.
“I tried to keep you safe, Jordan, that’s why I staged my death. To put these bastards at ease and give me time to get close to them.” His lips twitched ruefully. “I didn’t want you here, baby.”
“I know, my love, but I’m glad I am. Even if it breaks my heart to watch you beaten and whipped, I don’t want to be anywhere else. Especially if … we were to die here.”
Jack forced another painful smile on his lips. “No negative thoughts, baby. Concentrate on positive vibes. God knows we need it.”
“You’ve had your fun, Dexter, it’s—”
“Jaden! My fucking name is Jaden.” He gestured to his face. “Maskless! You might wish to be known as the mighty Mr. Z all the time but I don’t.” He glared at Reece who appeared unperturbed by his outburst. “Look at you. Jack knows who you are and yet you still wear that damn mask.”
“I warned you when we started this, Jaden. We live a double life. Neither of us can afford to expose ourselves. You know as well as I do we’re not alone in the Sauna House. Walking around here without your mask puts you at risk.” Reece’s gaze turned glacial. “I won’t allow you to destroy everything we’ve worked so hard for because of your desire for vengeance.”
“He has to pay for what he did! He caused Maureen’s death. I won’t stop until he admits that and then begs for mercy while I fuck his little whore to death.”
Reece’s heavy sigh carried to Jaden over the distance that separated them. “How’s that going, Jaden? Your knuckles are raw and still, he taunts you. Does he even know why you hate him so much? Why he’s being tortured?” He snorted at the look of realization on Jaden’s face. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You were so eager to start dishing out pain, you never bothered to talk about it.”
“Why should I? The bastard deserves every hit, kick, and lash I give him.” Jaden paced their private living quarters like a caged lion.
“You really are a piece of work. All this because of a woman who cuckolded you over and over, and has been dead for years, while we have more important issues to address. I don’t know why the fuck I continue to put up with your shit.”
Jaden spun to face him. “Don’t patronize me, Reece. You’re driven by the same hatred toward Rhone. A woman, one who did the exact same to you with Rhone and Bruce.”
Reece stared at his partner in crime, amazed as always that Jaden had never come to realize what truly drove him. Why he did what he did and why he needed Rhone Greer and the entire Precision Secure team out of the way. His lips twitched, he stretched his legs lazily and slumped low in the sofa.
“You’re naive if you believe I’m building an empire purely to spite or prove something to Rhone Greer and Bruce Rickett … or that I'm driven by an ill begotten desire for vengeance over a woman. Yes, I was pissed off at Jacklyn for playing me off against Bruce, to find her constantly in his company. Believe me, it paled in comparison to the satisfaction of foiling then and the authorities over the years.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, Jaden, that I don’t give a shit about Rhone, Bruce, or Jacklyn, wherever the fuck she might be. I can’t believe that you never caught on over the years,” Reece shook his head. He gestured around them. “This is what it’s all about for me, buddy. The success, the respect, and the fear that just the mention of my name elicits from friend and foe. Our wealth is undisputed proof of that.” He leaned forward. “It’s all about power, my friend, and I have it all. No,” his jaw grew rigid, his eyes glittered like diamonds, “I … AM power.”
“You lied to me all these years. You made me believe we did what we do because of your hatred for Rhone and Bruce. That they had everything you never did, Jacklyn included.”
Reece jumped up, his face pulled into an angry grimace. “They did and they still fucking do. Everything comes so easy to them. Women, the accolades they received while in the military, working for the government, everything I had dreamed of all my life. That was the catalyst in my decision to become all powerful, to undermine them around every nook and cranny.” He cackled out a raw laugh. “And I did.” His laugh turned evil. “With the help of Rhone Greer, no less. If not for him teaching me to become a strategist, the way to get inside another’s mind … hah! Yeah, I have to give him that. All the skills he taught me helped me throughout the years. It gave me the utmost pleasure to watch them fail in their attempt to bring down The Sixth Order. It was genius of me to propose they keep the L.A. office open and under our management. With them out of the way and concentrating on opening the headquarters in Washington DC, it gave me the opportunity to implement the final stage of our growth to become the biggest and most feared crime syndicate in the U.S.”
Reece growled low in his throat at Jaden’s expression. “Get over it, Jaden. Don’t stand there and pretend a sense of betrayal. In our world, it’s what makes the wheel turn. You can’t deny that you’ve become a man to be reckoned with. Someone who is feared by all our followers by your own right. I’ve seen your expression when we succeed in a new endeavor. You thrive on this shit as much as I do.”
“You still should’ve told me. All these years, I believed we were driven by the same thing.”
“If you still believe that, you’re in the wrong business, Jaden. It might have started off lik
e that but if you’re honest, even you forgot the reasons long ago.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.” His eyes darkened. “We have to get our business back on track. We suffered massive losses that need to be recouped and quickly.”
“I’m already on top of that, so stop worrying about money. The new drug labs are already operational. The first batches will hit the streets in less than two weeks. In the meantime, I’ve procured some cheap shit from the La Cahonas cartel in Mexico. Gun reported this morning that the past week’s sales were better than expected.”
“And how many of those fucking precincts have you hit?”
“Three. Four more are scheduled for this week. They’ll go up simultaneously. This time in L.A. and Dallas.”
“Good. At least you did one thing right.” Reece ignored his furious expression at the blatant rebuff. “On top of all the fucking shit we’ve had to deal with lately, I have a suspicion that the Bratva isn’t completely honest with us. The fact that we’ve not been able to get that design folder decrypted makes us look like incompetent idiots.”
“What makes you think something’s up with the Russians?”
“My sixth sense, Jaden. They’ve been on our backs every step of the way but suddenly, they’ve gone quiet. I have a feeling William Seely’s disappearance has something to do with it.”
“Are you saying he might have been an informant for them?”
Reece lit a thin cigar and puffed on it as he considered his response. His dark eyes followed the trail of slithering smoke until it dissolved.
“The last meeting we had with Andrei Smirnov and Tasha Alenichev scratches at me, Jaden. Something was off that day with their attitude. Andrei had a smug expression on his face, like he knew what we were going to say even before we opened our mouths.”
Andrei Smirnov was the main Avtoritet, or Brigadier in charge of the Support Group Brigade of the Russian mob. Tasha Alenichev was the daughter of the Vladimir Alenichev, the most powerful mobster in the world. Although Vladimir had been rumored to have been killed in an assassination, his body had never been found. It was one of the reasons Reece now felt on edge. If he was still alive, they better deliver or Precision Secure would be the least of their worries.
