Dementor (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 1)

by Candace Blevins

  “Yeah, and with the other women who stopped by, but it wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  “The club is family. Give it a few more tries.”

  She changed the subject, and that worried me, but I didn’t force us back to it.

  “There seemed to be unlimited liquor and beer. I saw the huge Jack Daniels bottle get emptied, tossed, and a new one magically appear several times. Does the club provide the food and drink?”

  “Yeah. When we have a bunch of ol’ladies, they bring side dishes. Without them, we’ve resorted to having that part catered, but it works out okay, I guess. We aren’t hurtin’ for money, but we lost so many people, we’re still off balance. We’d never admit that, of course, but it means I won’t be able to take off in the evenings to spend time with you as much as I’d like.”

  With my boots off, I stood, stripped, and stalked my way behind her. “Gonna have fun turning your white little ass red.” The paddle was on a table beside the sofa, and I leaned over to retrieve it. “You seem chatty. What shall we talk about while I paddle you?”

  She didn’t respond, and I gave her ten not-so-hard pops on her right cheek. She whined and wiggled, and I gave her ten to her left cheek.

  “Cat got your tongue?” I popped her right cheek a little harder. Ten strikes again. “You sure seemed interested in watching the sweetbutts get passed around.”

  When she didn’t respond, I popped her right cheek another ten times.

  “It wasn’t a question! I don’t know what to say!” She stopped yelling and brought her voice under control. “I could agree with you, I guess.”

  “Mmm. Tell me what you were thinking.”

  “I usually enjoyed it when it was me being passed around, but now that I’m away from it, I don’t want to do it again. It was a grand adventure, but it’s time for me to move forward.”

  I popped her left cheek ten times, and she breathed in relief. Being off-balance is apparently a bitch.

  “So, you never again want two people to go at you at the same time?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, the swan wants monogamy, eventually — once I’ve graduated and established myself and settled down. The woman wants that, too.”

  She needed a reward, so I gave her five on the right side and five on the left. I stepped forward and rubbed her ass. “Thanks for being honest and not just saying something that’s true.”

  Because the MC had taught me you can say something true without being honest, and I was betting that being owned by someone had taught Ember the same tricks. In the MC, you have to be able to do it in case you run into a supernatural cop who can smell when you lie. Ember likely had to learn to do it for self-preservation.

  “You’re welcome. While I’m being honest, I’d really love for you to shut the fuck up and spank me.”

  I chuckled. “Not feeling very submissive?”

  She was quiet a few moments, and finally sighed. “Total honesty? About a year after I moved into Able’s household, a new member of his inner circle gained access to me but wanted to be all gentle. I figured out how to get him to be rough with me. Able wasn’t pleased. He explained what a SAM is and then punished me for manipulating someone I was supposed to be submitting to. Turns out, I have SAM tendencies if someone isn’t playing with me hard enough. It wasn’t the only time I was punished for it.”

  “See, the sadist inside me wants to give you a night of slow, tender lovemaking just to prove a point, but I don’t think we’ll do that tonight.” I popped her right side another ten times — a lot harder this time. She was yelping and trying to jerk away by the time I hit the fifth one, and I got small screams on the ninth and tenth.

  “What’s the most extreme thing they put you through?”

  She shook her head. “I won’t tell you that. It feels too much like kissing and telling. I know they’re all dead, but they had some unusual kinks and it’s none of anyone’s business. Those aren’t things I have a desire to ever do again, and I’m pretty sure your kinks don’t head that direction. It’s in the past.”

  But, I needed to know what she’d gone through. If I was to know her, through and through, I needed to know the things that had formed her. I didn’t argue with her though. Now wasn’t the time. Instead, I delivered ten more pops to her right side at about the same intensity as before. Would she complain I was making her off balance? Most would’ve bitched about it by now.

  She needed a good two minutes to get on top of the pain this time, and I gave her time to breathe through it and settle before I rubbed her right cheek. It was a great deal rosier than the left cheek, and it was hot to the touch.

  I was in a bit of a catch-22 situation. If I did as she ordered, it put her in charge, and the submissive craving someone to have power over her wouldn’t be happy. However, if I kept up the interrogation and she wasn’t enjoying herself, I risked losing her. It was important I give her exactly what she needed on this night. I was aware she wasn’t sure she wanted me in her life. I don’t know exactly how I knew, but I did. I needed to give her a night she couldn’t walk away from knowing she’d never have it again.

  I gave her another ten pops to her right ass-cheek while I considered my next move, but I stopped and rubbed it a little halfway through. I didn’t let her fully recover until after the tenth, though.

  “Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

  “Able loaned me to Griffin for a month, once. It was hell. I was back for a couple of months before I could speak in complete sentences again. He messed me up. I don’t know what the owls got in exchange for it.”

  My jaw clenched. “If he hadn’t been killed in the big battle, I’d find a way to kill him.”

  Griffin was a Strigorii vampire, one of most powerful of the European vampires. He’s the historic King Manahem in the bible. He was rumored to enjoy inflicting physical torture rather than controlling his prey with vampire powers — the bastard preferred breaking people the old-fashioned way.

  She needed a reward, and it may sound warped, but I walloped on her left side, nonstop and fast, for thirty strikes. Halfway through, all thoughts of her time with Griffin had flown from her thoughts. When I finished, I only gave her enough time for me don a glove and get the fingers slick, and I jammed two fingers in her ass.

  Her scent was easy to read. I’d overwhelmed her with sensations and she was fully into it. She wasn’t bothered by memories or thoughts because she could barely keep up with what was happening to her. I counted to ten and added a third finger. Her scent told me she felt the stretch and it was perfect. Her breathing told me she was still struggling to deal with so many sensations.

  I stuck two fingers of my other hand in her pussy and moved them in and out, fast. She was so wet, no lube was necessary. I pressed down on the inside as a fingerfucked her. “Are you ready to come yet?”

  “Almost! Please! Fuck, I need this.”

  “I know you do. Ask for permission. Maybe I’ll even allow it.”

  Two minutes later, she started begging to come. I pulled both hands away and took a step back.

  Her fists squeezed and opened a few times. When she finally relaxed her hands, I said, “Permission given.”

  “It’s gone, Sir.”

  She didn’t call me a bastard, which I figured spoke to her former training more than her mindset.

  “Sir? Is that the word you wanted to use?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “What did you think, when you said Sir?”

  “I’d rather not say, Sir. It isn’t respectful.”

  “Say it anyway.”

  “It’s gone, you motherfucking cunt of a twatwaffle, Sir.”

  I laughed and I couldn’t help it. It didn’t even make sense, but it showed her frustration.

  “You get points for creativity, and since I asked, there’s no consequences. The paddling I’m about to deliver was planned before you told me.”

  “I understand, Sir.”

  “I need you to not call me Sir unless you mea
n it. Can you do that for me?”

  “I’ll try. My former training kicks in sometimes.”

  “I understand. I hope you’ll manage it. It’s possible to show respect without the titles. I’d like for the title to mean something.”

  “I’ll never promise something if I’m not certain I can do it. I can only promise I’ll try.”

  “Thank you.” I rubbed her butt to sooth it a little before I whaled on it again. “Okay. This is going to be long and hard. More about what I need to do to you than what you need from me. You have a safeword — use it if you need it.”

  That sentence wasn’t entirely honest, but there was enough truth in it so she wouldn’t smell it as a lie. It was true I needed to tear into her and hear her screams, but my sole purpose once I got started was what she needed. However, making her think it was all about me was also what she needed.

  I alternated cheeks now. One on the right and one on the left for a while, and then three on the right and three on the left when I needed to speed up even more. I spanked her for seven minutes without pause. In four hundred and twenty seconds, she likely had a little over five hundred strikes.

  In truth, I’m pretty sure I could have gone a minute longer, perhaps two, before she was in trouble, but I didn’t want to take her quite that far. Her screams came full strength and stopped only long enough for her to draw more breath. She was frantic, and danced around as much as her bondage allowed — enough I had to chase her ass down as it lurched left and right, trying to avoid the paddle.

  Some Doms like spanking someone who loses control. Others demand their submissives learn control, meaning they have to find the willpower to be still when punished. Able clearly hadn’t fallen into the latter category, and I approved.

  I was also certain any shapeshifters still at the party heard her screams as well as each impact of the paddle.

  I tossed the paddle onto the sofa and jammed my unlubed cock into her ass. I’d slicked her earlier, and it would be enough. I was in the mood for a rough fuck and I felt sure she was too.

  She wasn’t comfortable with my length yet, but I knew she could take it, so I went in all the way on the first, brutal shove. Her scream once again filled the room, but I didn’t give her a chance to get used to me before I started fucking her with intent. Fast, hard, and ruthless. She needed a good assfucking, and I needed to fuck the bad memories out of her.

  And yes, I’m aware that isn’t how it works, but the bear isn’t always logical.

  Chapter Ten

  Ember

  By the time he came deep in my ass, I was thankful it was over. He still wouldn’t let me have an orgasm, and I was frantic with need but my back door was on fire from the friction and stretch. He’d only used enough lube to keep from tearing me, but not enough to keep things as slick as one would like. His dick had to be feeling it, too, but he fucked me fast and hard and never slowed even a tiny bit.

  I realize it’s twisted, but it was exactly what I’d needed. He’d used me for his pleasure. He’d spanked me until he was finished spanking me, and then he’d fucked me until he got off. My pleasure wasn’t part of it. In fact, he’d denied me release, to underscore the fact this was about what he wanted and not what I wanted.

  I’d been a little jealous of the sweetbutts. Okay, more than a little jealous of them.

  I wasn’t anymore. Dementor gave me exactly what I’d craved.

  He left me bound while he went to the bathroom. I heard the water running and smelled soap. Was he washing his cock? It isn’t absolutely necessary since shapeshifters can’t get sick from e-coli or other fecal bacteria, but it was a nice gesture. Especially if he wanted to fuck my face later.

  When he returned, he released my cuffs from whatever he had under the sofa and moved me to his bed, on my stomach near the foot of the bed, but with my upper torso hanging off the side. The bed’s tall, so my head was a long way from the floor. Even my dangling arms didn’t reach it. He kept a hand on my thigh as he walked around, to keep me from sliding forward onto the floor.

  Dementor apparently keeps restraints all over his house, because he pulled something up from under the bed and connected it to both my ankle cuffs, and there was no longer a danger of me falling on my head. He had me put my hands at my back. I could only feel what he was doing, but I assumed he connected them to each other, since I could no longer move my hands apart. He snapped something else on, and I felt it with my fingers. Rope, maybe?

  “Use your ab muscles and pull yourself up. Look at the ceiling.”

  Fuck. I wanted to argue, but I didn’t. I strained to lift my upper body. I kept expecting him to help, but I was on my own, apparently. When I was finally up and staring at the ceiling, he connected the other end of the rope to whatever was holding my ankles in place.

  I tried to relax and let the restraints hold me because it was impossible to use my muscles to hold the position for long, but the strain on my wrists and shoulders hurt when I tried to relax.

  He wasn’t finished yet, though. He pulled my hair into a ponytail, and then I felt him weaving something into it, through it, and around it.

  I flinched and tried to squeeze even tighter when I felt something hard and unforgiving pressing at my asshole. Lubed and slick, but pretty big around. Hard and cold. Metal.

  “Don’t be naughty. Open up.”

  “I’m not sure I can relax anything while holding this position.”

  He put a hand between my breasts and I leaned into it and managed to relax my sphincter.

  Before it was all the way in and set, I knew it was an anal hook, and it was tied off to whatever was in my hair.

  Thirty seconds later, it was in and he slowly removed his hand from my chest. I whined at the pull on my scalp and asshole, but my treasonous clit swelled between my legs.

  My weight was now divided between my hair and my shoulders. Everything hurt.

  I love having my hair pulled, and I’m a big fan of having more than I can handle in my ass. Bondage always sets me off, even though I’m not necessarily a fan. All of this means that, despite how uncomfortable and strained the position was, I once again found myself teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

  “You like that?”

  “For the moment.” I had to take a breath to keep talking, but I was bent backwards to the point I couldn’t completely fill my lungs. “Not sure I’ll still like it in five minutes.” Especially since this was the perfect pose for nipple torture.

  “Grasp your hands together. Clasp the fingers.”

  I wanted to refuse. I wanted to call him something worse than I’d thought before, but I did as he ordered. Not surprisingly, he slid something over my hands. “It’s a clean sock. Not soiled. It’s just there to keep you from grabbing the rope and finding a little control while I play with you.”

  Right, because heaven forbid I find a way to grasp even a millimeter of control. As soon as the thought went through my head, I knew he was right to put it there. He wanted me focused on being helpless and completely beholden to his mercy. Holding the rope wouldn’t have given me much control, but it didn’t take much to change your entire mindset.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He froze. “Was that an accident?”

  “No, Sir. I might not like it, but I respect it. Thank you.”

  He kissed my forehead. “And I treasure your respect and trust.”

  “You’ve had my trust for a while, Sir.”

  “You’re beautiful like this. Muscles straining, bound aesthetically.” He ran his hands from my shoulders to my hands, then over my abs. “They’ll be straining even more later, and there will be tears, and you’ll be even more beautiful.”

  Ten seconds later both breasts exploded in pain. I didn’t have to see what was happening to know he was flogging them both simultaneously. Little known fact about bear shifters — most are ambidextrous. Bears don’t have a dominant hand, and this trait transfers to their human form more often than not.

  Since I couldn’t take a
deep breath, I was soon panting in shallow breaths. The ceiling twirled in a circle over my head faster and faster as I fought for oxygen.

  Before he’d connected my ponytail to my asshole, I’d have been able to strain my neck and look at him, but now, I could only see directly above me and a little to the side, since I have excellent peripheral vision.

  But I couldn’t see Dementor at all.

  The strikes came faster and harder, both floggers from the top for a while, then both from the left, then both from the right. He moved around seemingly at random for longer than I was happy with, and every once in a while, he hit from the bottom up. I couldn’t really scream because I couldn’t get enough air.

  He stopped. “Lift yourself up. Use your abs. Find a rhythm so you can draw a deeper breath in a pattern.”

  It took more than my abs. I had to engage my thighs and ass and back muscles, too, but I managed to lift my torso enough to pull in a deep breath. It pulled my hair worse and strained my asshole, but I didn’t care because it felt like heaven to finally get enough oxygen.

  I held the pose an extra few seconds to make sure I got every millimeter of oxygen out of each deep breath, and then relaxed and felt the air rush out of my chest.

  “Again.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order.

  When I relaxed a second time, the ceiling wasn’t spinning so much anymore.

  “Good girl.”

  And then the floggers were striking again, and I had to breathe shallow. The leather strands were relentless. I like sting more than thud, but this flogger delivered both, and I knew he’d be right about tears falling from my eyes before he finished. I counted fifteen strikes and engaged my muscles enough to hold myself at an angle so I could breathe. When I relaxed, I counted fifteen strikes and did it again.

  This became my world. Fifteen strikes and breathe. Sometimes the blows came so hard I could almost feel the bruises forming. Other times the impact wasn’t as severe but the pain wasn’t any easier to handle. I couldn’t get on top of it from this position. All I could do was breathe every time I counted to fifteen.