Derek turned away from her now. It was time to take Arianna. Climbing on the bed he moved directly into position. There was to be no foreplay, no soft anticipation. Twice he smacked her with his hand – oh, how Chrissy knew that sound – then he was at her, his dick poised at the narrower of her two holes.
"What are you?" Derek asked.
"I'm your slut," she replied without hesitation.
"The whole world wants you. Men masturbate over you on every continent, but what are you to me?"
"A bitch," she gasped. "A bitch … who needs … her ass tamed."
Derek grabbed her narrow hips. "Take it," he reiterated. "Take it all."
"Yes," she grunted. "Yes, sir."
She was in fact taking it, right before Chrissy's eyes. Derek's clenched ass cheeks slid forward, steadily, as he injected himself. Using one of his hands, he reached under her and grabbed the woman's left breast. Mercilessly, he savaged the soft flesh.
Arianna cried out. Derek disciplined her with a smack to the hip, reducing the proud model to helpless whimpers.
"Tell my why I don't break you outright?" Derek hissed. "Give me a fucking reason."
"I … I deserve it, sir. I'm a spoiled … cunt."
Derek shoved his dick full force. "You better learn to keep your fucking distance from me … any more displays like I saw tonight and you'll be making a nice little unplanned trip."
Chrissy tried to follow the conversation. It was clear they had a history and he was obviously making some threat. But what exactly was it? And for that matter what was this trip he was alluding to? Fuck it, why wouldn't the man tell her anything?
"Oh, god," she cried. "You'd … you'd do it, too, wouldn't you?"
"In a fucking heartbeat, Arianna."
"Tell me, tell me," she breathed. "What do I have to do?"
"Right at this moment you can start by being the best ass fuck I've had in my entire life."
"Yes … yes … yes." Her ass was coming back at him hard. "Use me," she chanted, trying to equal and surpass his ferocious rhythm. "Use my asshole … fucking rape me."
But it wasn't rape, with her begging for it, with the two of them staging the entire scene, an elaborate game for their own amusement.
And Chrissy's too. Their cozy, captive little audience of one.
"Gonna … come," he growled.
Chrissy could hardly imagine the friction. Her own ass puckered, her own pussy burned, she was stretching at the binding tape, so totally fucking frustrated and horny. Arianna was beyond articulation. Her affirmations were high-pitched stabs of air, bleeding one into another. She was lost in some world, everything from the whole night coming together, culminating in this one moment, her voice melting with his, two pitches and tones, the two bodies, soft and hard, wedded in wicked conflict, sexual mayhem. Could it happen without Chrissy? Without the abuse they'd heaped on her as foreplay? She doubted it. They were birds of a feather, exhibitionists and sadists, and it was them getting their rocks off, not her.
Chrissy rocked in the chair, wanting to tip it over. Derek was making his final thrust; his head was back and he was roaring. Arianna, the perfect platinum bitch was getting her reward, taking it all up her tidy little hole. Later it would drip out in that Jacuzzi, probably, while Chrissy did … what exactly?
"Fucking … god…" said Arianna.
A minute later it was all over.
"Oh … yeah." Derek sighed deeply, withdrawing and flopping onto his back. Arianna crawled astride his still heaving chest immediately to grab at him with greedy little nails.
"Oh, lover, you were fucking fantastic," she praised.
He fanned his fingers over her back. "And you're still a vixen. A damned tricky, totally hellish vixen."
"Thank you, my dear."
His hand clutched possessively at her ass cheek. "Just remember, with me you always walk the line. One of these days … I might play for keeps."
"That's what makes it interesting, darling," she bent to kiss at his neck. "You're not entirely tame. One of these days you'll take my head off."
"Not your head, just your ego … a permanent realignment, so to speak."
Chrissy exhaled in pure aggravation. Just what were they talking about? What could he do permanently to change her? Did it have something to do with the 'unplanned trip'?
"Not much hope in my case," she gave a droll laugh. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of a lost cause."
"You'd be amazed," he replied, "of the redemptive power of the bull whip, for example on a naked back. Not to mention the effects of a good caging."
"Promises, promises," she purred, though Chrissy herself would be far too terrified to confront such nasty devices.
Was that what the trip was? A journey to some place of deep punishment?
"Well, little slut," Arianna craned her neck to address Chrissy. "Did you enjoy the show? Hope it was worth your price of admission."
"I hate you both," she said.
Arianna laughed. It was precisely the sort of desperate remark on Chrissy's part a woman like her would eat up. "Tsk, tsk, Derek," she rose to slap his chest. "See what a poor host you've been. Maybe you should get yourself worked up again and dip your wick in the poor little thing. There's nothing like a good pity fuck to end your night."
Derek wasn't amused. "Get dressed, Arianna. And get out."
She kept on laughing, low and wicked, as she clamored off the man. "I love you, too, snookums." She blew a kiss and gathered her clothes. "It's been a real hoot."
With a wink to Chrissy, she waltzed from the bedroom.
"I'd like us to have a drink," said Derek to the bound girl.
"Go to hell."
"Suit yourself." Derek snipped the duct tape, limb by limb, without another word. As soon as she was free, she leaped from the chair. She didn't stop to look back. Her motions were frantic, robotic and surreal all at once. It wasn't till she was in the elevator that it all hit her. The wash of events, like a tidal wave. Bracing herself against the shiny metal wall, she descended to the lobby, devastated.
"Taxi?" asked one of the doormen.
She nodded numbly.
Only two words came to mind. Never again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chrissy was a zombie at work the next day. She was literally going through the motions of her job, her mind a million miles away. There was no making sense of last night. All she knew was how hot, shamed and furious the experience in the hotel had left her. She'd refused to degrade herself by masturbating afterwards, though her pussy continued to burn till dawn. Sleep had evaded her. Flashing images of what she'd been made to witness kept playing in her mind's eye. The way the blonde had submitted, the way Derek had taken command of her and how he'd so easily reduced Chrissy herself to a whimpering, eager voyeur. It was almost more than she could bear.
She'd nearly stayed home, but that would only make it worse. Her only hope was to try to get on with her life, to keep herself busy, find new interests, maybe a brand new man. Dan from the tech department, maybe, or even that really cute security guard from the lobby.
The trouble was she'd have to work up the gumption to trust another representative of Derek's gender. That wouldn't be easy after what she'd been through. Better to keep on drifting right now, her consciousness floating freely down the river of amnesia.
Chrissy was so out of it she didn't hear her cell phone till the third full cycle of rings. Whoever it was, they were persistent. Fumbling with her purse under her desk, she pulled out the culprit.
"Hello?"
"You left without saying goodbye," rasped the rock steady voice, the voice she wanted least to hear, but which still seemed to have the greatest ability to discomfit her.
"It's you," she whispered, afraid to say his name.
"Who else?"
Her heart was up in her throat. "Why are you calling me?"
"I told you. Because you left without saying goodbye."
"I was through with you," she tried to steel herself. "I still am."
>
"If you were you'd have hung up by now."
Chrissy tried to refute the logic. "I can still hang up now."
"But you won't," he countered.
"You think you know everything," she blurted. "But you don't."
"I know you, Miss Newland, and that's what terrifies you."
"I'm hanging up," she announced. "Right now."
Derek ignored her. "You know that by rushing off like you did, you earned yourself a second round of punishment?"
Chrissy felt a warm flood in her pussy. "You're out of your mind," she argued. "I won't ever go near you, let alone allow you to lay your hands on me."
"I'll be picking you up after work our front of your building," he continued, oblivious. "You are to have your panties and bra off by the time I arrive. I'll be driving a red car. You'll get in the passenger side."
Chrissy imagined herself sitting next to sexy domineering Derek, dressed in her little white tank top and short black skirt, without the benefit of any underwear. It was a recipe for sexual disaster.
"Don't you dare come here." She squeezed her thighs together, fighting the deep, powerful sensations he was evoking in her. "I'll call the police if you do."
Derek broke the connection.
"I will," she said, as if he might somehow still be listening. "I'll call them, I mean it."
Her first impulse was to run. But where would she go? She couldn't hide from her own life. And why should she have to? He was the one doing something wrong, not her. So how should she handle it? Should she follow through on her threat to involve the authorities? They could be alerted to the situation and be here to intercept him. But what crime would they arrest him for? She'd been a willing partner in everything that had occurred so far. Sure, it was a little creepy that he'd figured out where she worked, but it wasn't a crime.
She continued her internal debate the rest of the day. By five she'd resolved nothing, except that she would never, ever get in that man's car nor would she so much as look him in the face again. To insure a clean getaway, she went out the back door of the building. She would walk up a block and catch her train at the next station.
Chrissy was nearly out of the parking lot when she heard the purr of an expensive engine. A red sports car, Italian, was rolling beside her on thick, glistening black tires. She didn't need to look at the driver's face to know who it was.
"Get in," he called through the opened window.
She was alongside the passenger door, right where he wanted her. "No. Go away it's your last warning."
"I'll follow you home if I need to."
Something inside her snapped.
Chrissy wrenched open the door handle and lunged in, totally defying her own will. "What the fuck is your problem? Okay, I'm sitting in your fucking car. Are you happy now?"
Oh, god, she really was sitting in his car. Her ass plastered to the black leather. What had possessed her?
"Close the door," Derek said.
Chrissy slammed it. "I'm getting right back out. Just as soon as we've straightened this out, once and for all."
He drove to the exit of the parking lot and turned calmly onto the street. "Did you do as I asked?"
A wave of panic fell over her as she remembered the underwear. "That's none of your business. I demand you stop this car and let me out. Right this second."
"I'm going to take that as a no," he said dryly.
"Take it as a personal invitation to drop dead for all I care!"
Derek took them to the expressway. "You'll have to take them off now, instead."
She laughed sarcastically. "Oh, I'm so sure."
The white silk shirted man down shifted, moving to the center lane. "How fast have you ever driven?" He wanted to know.
"I don't know." Chrissy eyed him warily. "Maybe eighty or eighty five. Why?"
He smiled, full of the devil. "Is that all? A car like this can do one fifty. Want to see?"
"Derek, no … you'll get us killed."
The man pushed his foot on the accelerator, the fine leather of his boot against the perfectly calibrated pedal. The car immediately hummed into overdrive, the engine cycles pushing the needle up to seventy, eighty and higher."
Her pulse raced. They were weaving now, dodging the slower trucks and cars. "Derek, please … don't."
"My speed will continue to increase," he informed her. "Until I see your underwear flying out that window."
"But…but Derek, there are trucks out here. They will see everything."
"Should have thought of that a little earlier today." He pushed the needle up past a hundred to show he was serious.
"All right, I'll do it," she cried as they barely avoided rearending a tractor-trailer. "Just give me a minute."
"Take all the time you want. There's nowhere to go but up."
Chrissy lifted her plastered ass. There was no time for ceremony, no opportunity for decorum. Yanking up her skirt, she pulled down her panties, frantically working them over her ankles.
Damn it, she couldn't get the window down.
Derek did it for her.
"There," she exclaimed, releasing her panties into the roaring wind. "I did it."
"Your bra as well."
"I can't," she wailed. "Not without showing my tits."
"Suit yourself." The sports car revved up over a hundred ten, a hundred twenty. Where the fuck were the cops you needed them?
Again, she had no time to be subtle. They were liable to slam into a car or careen into a guardrail and wind up as chopped meat at this rate. Peeling off her top, she tore at the hooks on the back of the brasserie. "I did it, I did it," she cried tossing the bra out the window. It flew back inside, plastering itself against the rear window.
"Anything else under there?" He inquired, though it was clear there was nothing else she could be concealing.
"No, that was it, for god's sake, slow down!"
Derek eased off, barely avoiding an oil tanker. Had the man no fear of death?
"That made you wet," he declared. "Didn't it?"
"Absolutely not," she lied, pulling her shirt hastily back over her erect nipples.
"Shall I check for myself?"
"All right … I'm horny. Are you satisfied?"
"Hardly."
She couldn't help but look at the lump in his trousers. There was one to match in her throat. Did he intend to do something about his little problem? Something that involved her a little more directly this time?
"Where are you taking me?" she asked.
"For your punishment."
As if that hadn't been punishment enough.
"I won't accept anymore from you."
"Yes," he contradicted. "You will."
Chrissy was silent for a while. Arms folded over her freed breasts, she tried to wait him out. "I'm still not going to let you do anything," she said eventually, testing the waters.
Derek made no reply. They were going far up the road, past the northern metro area and the suburbs. They were rapidly losing the light; in a few more minutes it would be dark.
"If you don't tell me where we're going," she whipped out her cell phone. "I'm going to call 911."
"We're going to a truck stop, off Exit 125."
"A truck stop? What the hell for?"
"For your punishment, Miss Newland. Since you seemed unwilling to abide my company last night, you will abide another man's tonight."
"What do you mean 'abide'? Why won't you talk in plain English for once."
"Things happen at truck stops, Miss Newland. Drivers attend to their needs. Gasoline, sleep, food … sex."
"Sex?!" she exclaimed. "Are you suggesting I have sex with some sleazy truck driver."
Derek decelerated and moved right into the exit lane. Heavens, were they there already?
"You see, Miss Newland, that is part of your problem. Making judgments about people based on expectation. You must learn to look deeper than things like job classification and physical appearance."
"That's r
ight," she agreed. "For example I thought you were a decent guy because you looked good on the outside. See how wrong I was?"
It was a good barb, but it went wasted.
"There are prostitutes who walk this parking lot," he explained as they pulled onto the endless stretch of halogen lit blacktop that surrounded the small complex. "As I understand it they are paid twenty, thirty, even fifty dollars to perform basic sex acts."
"Where?" she demanded. "Sprawled out between the white lines?"
"These cabs have beds behind the seats. Evidently the drivers use them to sleep in while traveling cross country."
Chrissy checked out some of the truck cabs parked in the oversized spots. The beds would be cramped, smelly, and there was no telling what any of these drivers would be like. "You can't possibly expect me to do this. I won't."
"If you don't," said Derek, "I will drag you out of this car and spank your naked little ass over the hood of this car."
She pictured herself, pushed down over warm metal, glossy red, super expensive, her thinly covered tits squashed, palms and cheek to the hood, her skirt flipped up above her waist, halogen light bathing her pussy and ass for all to see.
And Derek's hand, fast, efficient, supreme, showing her who was boss, making her do what she'd have to do, regardless of her own wishes.
"Good," she bluffed, fighting the rapid tide of arousal that threatened to overwhelm her. "That will get the cops attention quicker so I can put your ass in jail where it belongs."
Chrissy's back was stiff. Creating this kind of friction of the blouse against her superheated nipples was a mistake. So was allowing her emotions to get charged up. Now she was dealing with anger, and that was too easily changeable into even greater lust.
"I'm not likely to be arrested," he countered with his typically exasperating logic. "I'm far too rich, and besides, I am forcing nothing on you."
"No? What about now, then? I don't want to be here. What do you say about that?"
Derek pulled into an isolated and dark spot. "Put your hands behind your head," he instructed, "and thrust out your breasts."
Controlling Chrissy Page 6
