by Vivian Gray
I find myself surprisingly excited. I rationalize it, telling myself that I’m just glad I might have somebody here to talk to, but that’s not really it at all. No, I’m actually excited to see him again. Something is alluring about him, something that attracts me to him in spite of everything that’s going on. I’m not going to pretend to excuse it or act like it’s normal or whatever, but I would be lying if I said that feeling wasn’t there.
He doesn’t come downstairs at first. I don’t know what he’s doing upstairs, but he’s sure taking his sweet time. Part of me is horrified. I don’t know what to do. I can’t go anywhere, can’t change anything, so whatever he’s preparing to do to me, I’m just going to have to take. But another part of me is a little bit thrilled. I’ve got a real submissive side that I very rarely show – but it’s definitely there. And it totally came out when he was feeding me earlier.
I hear the stairs creak outside the door, which lets me know he’s coming down. I both want him and don’t want him to come through that door. I don’t know if he’s going to come with another sandwich and feed me again, or if he’s coming to rough me up. That scares the living fuck out of me, but the powerlessness of not knowing is indeed a little thrilling.
He bursts through the door. It’s like time stands still, and it’s clear to me that something has changed. He has a menacing look on his face that definitely frightens me.
“You’re back,” I say trying to keep it as light as possible. “Where were you?” I wait a few seconds for an answer that never comes, so I try again. “Did you have a meeting?”
Again, he says nothing to me, only inching closer to the bed. I involuntarily recoil, but I try to lay as firmly as possible to not show him how scared I am of him – scared and titillated.
“Any chance of you loosening these handcuffs?” I add, almost playfully.
Blade grunts, but he still doesn’t say anything. He comes over to me, and I cringe, ready for the worst. He raises a hand, and I turn over on my side to move as far away from it as I can. But he catches me in one hand and slaps me on the ass with the other.
Wait, on the ass? That actually felt—
I’m only just getting over the first slap when he does it again. The sting ripples through my body, sending sparks to every nerve ending in my lower torso – including in my pussy, which suddenly gushes with excitement. He does it a third time, and I bite my lower lip with my upper teeth, letting out a little gasp and a groan.
He begins alternating – two slaps to the left cheek, one to the right, then, two slaps to the right cheek, one to the left. He open-palms the center of my ass, and I feel it getting raw. I presume it’s already red when he slaps me again, harder this time, as if he’s disciplining me.
“Oh!” I cry out. I’m not quite sure what to do because, weirdly, I don’t want him to stop. I want more.
His fingers gently trace the contours of my ass, running over my cheeks slightly and making them tingle and tickle just a little bit. Just when it feels like I can’t handle any more tickling, and I’m about to giggle, he whacks me four straight times, two on each cheek, making me cry out in pain and delight.
He then repeats the ritual a few times, going from soft to hard so quickly, and so without warning, that each time I’m forced to cry out yet again in pleasure and pain. He hasn’t stopped with the slapping yet, but there’s something new happening now. He begins tracing the crack of my ass down past my asshole to my sopping wet pussy.
He does this a few times, always slapping me with his open hand when he returns, but he’s beginning to spend more and more time at the entrance to my hole. Finally, he smacks me as hard as he can, and the shock of it shakes me to the core. He forces me to turn over, which leaves me in an immense amount of pain, but in the best possible way. He pulls my legs down to give himself a better angle, then he licks his middle and ring fingers lewdly and inserts one, then the other, into my pussy.
In most scenarios, I would be shocked – scandalized, in fact. But this feels so good, I don’t want him to stop. I want him to thrust into me, which is exactly what he does. He pushes his fingers inside me, and I feel him pushing into me, filling me up. With his other hand, he parts my folds, and his index finger finds its way up and down my slit until he comes across my clit. He plays with my clit as he jams his fingers into me, and I’m quite taken with the fact that he’s pleasuring me on so many levels.
Suddenly, he stops playing with my clit, pulls back his hand, and slaps me hard on the inner thigh.
Involuntarily, I cry out, “Oh fuck!” as he continues pushing his fingers into my now drenched pussy.
He puts his hand up to my mouth to silence me, and I smell my scent on his hand, vaguely taste myself as his fingers touch my lips. He continues to finger me as he does this, and my pleasure increases.
I want him inside of me, I want his mouth on mine, I want to wrap my legs around him, but under the circumstances and in these restraints, all I can do is cry out in my most guttural, maniacal voice, “More...”
At that utterance, his fingers begin to work faster. He’s pushing into me more vigorously, more intensely, than I’ve ever been touched down there before. I can’t help myself – I completely let myself go, entirely putting myself under his spell.
I throw back my head in spite of myself and murmur, “Yes, yes! Finger-fuck me! Yes!”
I want to come so badly at this point, I could almost explode.
He seems to recognize this and, rather than slowing down, speeds up his attack on my pussy, pushing into me with such force that I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to fuck again. His other hand returns to my clit, rubbing it in exactly the right spot. His fingers begin hitting my G-spot, and I’m absolutely in fucking ecstasy as he slams into me. He pounds me, almost punching me with his two fingers, now three fingers, still inside of me, pleasuring me almost beyond belief.
I open my eyes to see him staring straight down at me, hovering over me, locked in an endless staring contest. I feel him pounding my pussy, and I get lost in those deep, dark eyes, almost like I’m in a trance.
“Oh God!” I cry out, closing my eyes again because the pleasure is just too much to bear. “Oh my God! I think – I think I – I think I’m going – I’m going to – to – aiiieeee!”
I absolutely lose my shit as I come all over his hand. He continues pounding into me and doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up. He pushes into me even more, and instead of coming down from my orgasm, I start to feel it building up again.
“Oh God! Please!” I beg him. “Please, please, please. I want to come again. I need to come again. Make me come again, please, please, please.” I’ve always been a talker during sex, but never this much, and never during sex that wasn’t actual intercourse. And certainly never while being held captive and tied up. It’s so hot that I can’t even help myself.
His fingers keep plunging into me, and I open myself up wide for him as he pushes even further into my pussy. His other hand slaps my thighs again, in a twice – once – twice pattern. I can’t keep track of my feelings as I just let myself go, let him have his way with my body, let him do whatever he wants to me.
Finally, I get my desire, as I feel myself building towards a second orgasm.
I throw back my head and yell out, “Fuck! Yes! I’m going to come again! Make me come again, please! Please make me come again!”
With that, I orgasm harder than I’ve ever orgasmed before, so hard that I feel my eyes roll up into my head as I come all over his hand again. The room starts to swirl; I close my eyes and collapse into the pillows on the bed, my arms still handcuffed behind me.
When I open my eyes again, Blade is gone. I must have passed out – or was it all a dream? No, it definitely wasn’t a dream – both my ass and my pussy are incredibly sore. I am surprised to find myself shaking. Something about the brutality of the encounter has made me even more afraid of Blade than I was previously.
But there was something so raw, so primal, about wha
t we were doing that I was really, really into. I could have gone on with his fingers inside of me for some time. I want to feel myself, to touch my tender ass and my sore pussy. I want to see Blade again, just to see what he made of this whole encounter.
Somehow, the fact that he just up and left when he was done with me makes the whole thing even hotter. He had finished; he had gotten what he wanted. So, he left. In a way, it makes perfect sense; in another way, it makes the whole thing feel even more brutal.
I’ve been brutalized; Blade was an animal. There’s really no other way of looking at it. He didn’t even say a word to me, didn’t answer a single one of my questions, didn’t let me out of my restraints or anything. He just came in and started slapping me, then fingered me into oblivion. I can scarcely believe that it even happened. But I know for sure it did; my pussy is still tingling.
And there was a ferocity to it. Blade wasn’t just dominant – he was angry. There was a real viciousness to him – evidenced by the hole he had put in the wall just a few hours ago. But there was something else, too. He wasn’t angry at me, I don’t think – why would he be? Something else was eating at him. Someone had twisted his arm to do this to me.
Not that I mind. Not even in the slightest. I’ve never had such hot sex before, especially not just using hands. There was something about the brutality that even now is turning me on. I never knew I could be so submissive. I mean, I knew I had a submissive side, but this is something else entirely. I had been completely his, despite every warning I’ve ever heard about guys like this. I’d always been told that these brutes will rip you apart and leave you hanging. And that’s almost exactly what he had done. And I am totally okay with it.
I wonder what he’s doing now? He’s probably back upstairs. Is he thinking of me? Is he feeling the same kind of passion and desire I’m feeling? Does he want to do it again? I don’t know if I would be able to do it that rough again, but dammit, that brutal encounter has awakened something inside of me.
I want him to take me again – and this time, it’s not his fingers I want inside of me. I want him completely in me. And I’m willing to be his, to do whatever it takes, to get him to do that to me again. This must be what women mean when they say they were “taken” by a guy. Well, that’s what I want: I want to be taken.
I want to be taken by Blade.
Chapter Seven
Blade
I pour myself yet another drink. I’m starting to get a little woozy, but it’s the good kind, the kind that feels good when you’re in the thick of it.
I can hardly believe I just did that. I mean, I’ve been with girls who only sort of wanted it before, but this girl wanted it. She got off on my being dominant – quite literally. And I was all too happy to give her exactly what she wanted – twice, no less. She even called out to me, begging me for it. I’m about half a second from jerking off right now, that was so hot.
But what does that mean for me? Am I just the brutal bastard I’ve always claimed to be against? I don’t want to be the guy who takes women against their will. This wasn’t against her will – but why do I still feel sort of scandalized? It’s fucking Slime. Fucking Slime and his bullshit. If he hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have gone in there after her. But I had to. I had to.
And it was fucking great.
The next morning, I go downstairs bare-chested to see Maria. I bring her upstairs to use the bathroom, still in cuffs, then bring her back downstairs and cuff her back to the bed. She doesn’t resist me. I feed her breakfast, and we talk a little bit – not about the night before, but about everything else. The conversation, naturally, turns to her sister, Carmen.
“How – how is she?” I ask stupidly. I don’t mean to sound like such a pussy when I say it, but that’s kind of how it comes out. There’s really no good way of asking that kind of question, I suppose.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Maria replies, a hair away from sounding apologetic about it. “I haven’t heard from her since she... since her... since she got married.”
She’s choosing her words carefully, and I’m not sure how much I appreciate it. I prefer to be direct about such things. Carmen and I used to be together. Then she dumped me and got married like a week later. Big shit. Happens all the time.
“We weren’t particularly close even when she was here though,” Maria continues. “We didn’t, like, share secrets or anything. We just kind of existed in the same space. I didn’t even know you existed until that night you were creeping around the room.”
“Yeah.” I laugh uncomfortably. “Sorry about that. I never meant to scare you. I guess I didn’t realize that you would be there. I mean, I knew you existed, at least, but... yeah, sorry.”
If her hands had been free, she probably would have waved me off because she smiles her very lovely smile.
“No worries at all,” she says in a seemingly happy voice. “I blame Carmen more than anything. Hell, I blame Carmen for a lot of shit that has happened since then.”
“Like what?” I ask, intrigued.
“Like the fact that my dad wants me to take over the family business.”
This stops me dead in my tracks. “I’m sorry, say that again.”
Could this be real? Could I possibly be holding the next head of the Espinozas? Has her father been grooming her for this role? A million thoughts run through my head at the exact same time, all coming together before she has the chance to answer.
“Well, that’s what we were fighting about,” she explains. “The... uh... the night you... you know, the night you... picked me up.”
“No need to dance around it, Maria,” I tell her straightforwardly. “I know what I’ve done.”
“Well, that’s good.” She cracks another of her lovely smiles. “Because I do, too.”
She actually laughs at that, and I chuckle a bit, too. Clearly, she’s learned to live, at least a little bit, with her captivity. Ever since last night anyway.
She continues, “Seriously, though, my dad always seemed like he favored Carmen to take over the business. But when she ran off and got married, he cut her off as much as she cut us out of her life. They’re both, like, so much alike, to be perfectly honest. And then Dad turned to me, as if I wanted to take over his stupid bullshit.”
“You don’t want to take over the... business?” I ask, not really sure what to call it.
She shakes her head. “Not a fucking chance. What I really want to do is go to college.”
“Oh really? For what?”
“Well, the funny thing is... I want to be a lawyer.”
That stops me cold again. “You... you want to be a lawyer?” That seems totally incongruent with the lifestyle her family has lived. “What... what makes you want to be a lawyer?”
“Well, everybody deserves representation, don’t they? What I’d really like to do is work with people who can’t afford lawyers. You know how they say, ‘If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you,’ or however it goes when you get arrested? I want to do that. Court-appointed attorney.”
“Doesn’t seem like there’s a lot of money in that,” I say, though I’m honestly impressed as hell that’s what she wants to do with her degree. Plenty of our guys who’ve gone down have needed to use the public attorneys, and they were always shit. If someone smart like Maria were doing it, they might have stood a chance.
“I’m not interested in the money,” she says valiantly. “As long as I can make enough to live on, I don’t need a whole lot. I’m kind of... you know, a minimalist.”
“A minimalist?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you know...” She laughs. “I don’t need a whole bunch of stuff. I like to live simply. I guess that’s the one thing I took with me from going to catechism classes at church – you know, Sunday school, but for Catholics? My mami used to make us go before she died. That’s how I made my first communion and shit.
“But they used to teach us, like, about how Jesus lived, and it was always sup
er simple, you know? He didn’t own anything except the clothes on his back and the sandals on his feet. So, I mean, if the dude could live like that, I can live without super expensive shit, you know?”
“I guess I never thought of it that way,” I tell her. “So you’re religious then?”
She shrugs again. “Not really. My mami was. She went to mass every Sunday, prayed the rosary, the whole thing, you know? My dad isn’t though. I think he figures that church never did him any favors, so why should he do favors for the church? And after Mami died, that was it for him. Carmen and me, too. I stopped going – it just made me too sad.”
“That’s fair,” I say, touched.
I’m a little bit amazed she is so willing to really open up to me. It seems a little odd, as she is still tied up to my bed and still is not allowed to wear clothes – or, rather, I’m not allowing her to. But I like talking to her, I find. I’m a little bit surprised by this fact.
I leave her to go out to HQ for a while.
When I get back, I feed her lunch and talk to her some more, then leave for a meeting back at HQ. At the meeting, Slime tests me again to see if I’ve done anything with or to Maria.
“Smell my fingers if you really want to know,” I joke, even though the joke makes me irritated with myself.
“So you got a li’l bit then?” Slime grins. “That’s good! And what about her? Did you leave any marks?”
“No marks,” I tell him, shaking my head. “But she won’t be able to sit down for a week, if you know what I mean.”
“Nice, man, nice!” Slime exclaims. “I have to admit, I had my doubts about you. But damn it all if you haven’t made me a little jealous! That’s a fine piece of ass you’re nailing. You... are nailing it, right?”
“Oh, you bet your ass I’m nailing it,” I brag. “Right to the fuckin’ wall.”
