OUTLAW'S BABY

by Amy Brent

  Again—and she let out a groan as it smacked her right between her legs, kissing her clit with a sharp sting and then leaving her own body to work itself into a frenzy of pleasure—but this time he didn’t wait: he hit her again, and again, and again—almost letting the pain dissipate between each smack but not quite, so that even as the pleasure became more and more intense so too, did the pain, and as she cried and moaned and screamed he stepped into her and kissed her with a fierceness that matched her own. She felt his hands stroking her breasts again, and as he squeezed her nipples she felt herself clenching around his tongue, which only seemed to excite him more.

  “Make me hard,” he said, letting her arms down and pushing her gently to her knees.

  She gulped and whispered, “I don’t know—”

  “Just like in the movie theater,” he said, stepping out of his pants. His cock was before her, shining and gleaming and impertinent in its erection. “What you did with my fingers—taste—”

  She got the idea, even though his fingers were smaller. She licked it tentatively at first, wanting to please him, and she felt his hands clench her hair with glee. I can make you do things, too she thought, and she sucked on him just a bit, watching his body twitch. A little harder, and he began to swell inside her mouth, tasting strangely sweet as his cock pulsed inside her. A little more, and there came an animal groan from his throat and she was not the least bit surprised when he pushed her to the floor and thrust himself inside her—

  It hurt, like no other pain she’d ever experienced—a searing, tearing kind of pain, and yet when he pulled himself out she wanted nothing more than it for to continue, because with the pain came a brilliant, scintillating ecstasy that made her cry out and whimper. It changed as he thrust inside her, each thrust bringing another wave of pleasure mixed with pain, and each time the pleasure became greater and greater, each wave higher and higher—and when she let herself go and rode it, it felt like nothing she’d ever had before. “Thank you,” she heard herself whispering, as every nerve in her body quivered and sighed with relief. Relief that it was over, relief that it felt so good.

  She’d once thought that keeping the things Jack did to her at night a secret would be hard, and sometimes it was: sometimes her nipples were so sore from the night before that she could hardly stand the feel of a t-shirt over them—which wasn’t a problem on the weekends (Jack didn’t demand that she be naked but he did like it, and she liked to please him) but during class it was all she could do not to squirm, and she knew that some of the younger men snickered at her for not wearing a bra sometimes. But for the most part what took place in the basement, as they worked their way through the various clamps, vibrators, blindfolds, straps, chains, and ropes that were in that chest of drawers, was easy to keep secret, because it was something that she didn’t want to share with anybody.

  It was an odd arrangement when she thought about it, which wasn’t very often, nowadays. Six months after that first date, she had her own room in his house, and her own car to take to and from classes. He paid for her classes at MontCo. She even managed to find a modeling agency that was not too far from Jack’s house, and even resumed modeling. It wasn’t glamorous work, to be sure—mostly catalog work—but it paid enough for her to pay for her own gas and go shopping and get her hair done—all the little things that she felt weird asking Jack to pay for, even though he probably would.

  But what was their relationship? The question of whether she was a whore used to bother her immensely—there was no question that he was willing to keep her because she was willing to let him fuck her thirty-six ways from Sunday. But at the same time, she liked it—she liked pleasing him, she liked what he did to her, and she even liked him. They’d once spent a morning at the National Smithsonian discussing the virtues that got Michael Jackson’s glove into the exhibits but not David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust outfit. He’d discuss business with her over dinner; she’d talk about her classes and how eerily similar programming and coding was to languages. And no matter how long the day was, how tedious their lives were, she would wait in the basement on her hands and knees for him every night, the collar around her throat, hoping that she could please him.

  Was this love? It certainly felt like love, but she couldn’t deny that her parents—when she spoke to them, which wasn’t very often—had a point: what would happen to her once the sex stopped? What would happen if he truly hurt her? What would happen if she did refuse him? “It’s only love until you say, ‘No’,” her mother had said over the phone, haughtily. But that was the thing—he’d never, not once, asked her to do something that she would refuse. There was no real way to talk about how safe he made her feel, even as he nearly exposed her in public, even as he made her writhe on the floor in a strange combination of agony and ecstasy, and so she never tried to defend him—not that she had to. Her smiling, beatific presence by his side at corporate gatherings, next to all those hawkish forty-something wives who’d spent years stifling their own desires and snuffing out those of their husbands, was enough. She was young and pretty and they were happy together. “They just can’t stand to see people happy,” Jack would murmur after those nights.

  “My father was there,” she said after one such gathering. “He didn’t seem to approve.”

  “So fuck him,” said Jack. “The people who want to tear us apart are the ones who can’t get what we have.”

  But how do you know? She lay next to him, wondering if her parents had really been unhappy, and how they’d masqueraded such an appearance of bliss—and why they went to such lengths. “Truth be told, I feel bad for them,” he said, now. “They think that if they play by the rules, ‘work’ on their relationship, that makes happiness—but happiness is really just dumb luck, just like success—”

  “Hey,” she said, turning to face him. “That’s funny, coming from a self-made guy like you.”

  “If we’d been having this talk fifteen years ago, I’d have agreed,” he said, rolling onto his back, and she followed him, running her teeth over his nipple making him draw in a sharp breath and arch his back. “Ooh, you naughty little vixen,” he murmured, sliding his hand between her legs now, pressing on her until she quieted, becoming still. “Fifteen years ago, I’d have said that I did everything to get myself into the top law firm in the area, and that I was the one working my ass off to make partner. And that’s still true. But now I realize just how lucky I was: I got into and out of law school when it was still possible for lawyers to find a job, when going to a mediocre law school wasn’t a demerit on your resume but something that could be overcome with a shit-ton of hard work. I was lucky to be born into a race and gender which is universally favored by law firms. And above all, I was lucky enough to have had a summer job caddying for Jordan Wexler, the owner of the firm. We all get lucky,” he said, moving down to suck on her nipple. “Some of us just get luckier than others.”

  “That’s a very—” she gasped, as he did that thing with his tongue again “—optimistic way to look at the world.”

  “Optimism is the only way to see the world,” he said, his voice muffled by the blanket as he slithered down her body. “Hello, what have we here?”

  He’d trained her to spread her legs and lie still, whenever she heard him say those words, and now, she could feel her body flush with glee as she waited for him to take her. Usually it would be with his hands first, stretching her even as her body clenched down on his fingers, but sometimes he’d surprise her with a vibrator and make her scream. But a minute, then two, passed, and he did nothing. “Do you want to use some toys?” she prompted. “Or would you like me to masturbate for you?”

  “No,” he said, finally, pushing her legs together. “Neither. Just let me be with you for now. I want you to be fresh for tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Well, I think you’re finally ready for the weighted clamps.”

  “For my nipples?”

  “And your labia,” he added, and
she squealed with delight. She blushed and bit her lip, trying to hide how delighted she was, that he finally thought that she was ready for the weights.

  “I do love to please you,” she whispered.

  Which was why, the next morning, she was shocked to find out that she was, indeed, pregnant. She’d never really tracked her periods—but it had been a long time since her last one and she didn’t exactly know when she should have had it, but then last week on her way back from MontCo, while picking up some facial cleaner and cotton wipes and more lip gloss, she suddenly realized that it had been a long time. She’d picked up a pregnancy test, but after she put it away she’d forgotten about it for a while, until this morning when she was making her list of things to shop for and checked her stash of tampons.

  Even as the lines appeared she didn’t really believe this could happen, even though what she could remember of sex was hazy. She just remembered that getting pregnant was unlikely—and she’d always thought that Jack would have asked her to use birth control if he thought that it would be likely. But that was one conversation that they’d never had.

  She took the day off to ponder how to tell Jack. He would probably be delighted, but she couldn’t be sure. They were happy together, weren’t they? Wasn’t that enough? So why introduce a baby into this whole thing? Babies changed things—she could get back into shape, sure, with enough time at the gym, but there were parts that never felt quite the same, and tits would never be as perky or bouncy as they were now. She thought about her mother—as petite and as trim as she was, there were parts that sagged, a pooch that didn’t go away. Would he still love her after that? And how would they handle sleepless nights, endless diaper changes? Would they be able to swing child care, especially since they were so far away from anywhere else? And how would she make the kid realize that normal women did not wait in the basement every night for their husbands to spank them and make them scream?

  She did the only thing she could think of: she went home, to her parents’. Her mother was home but her father was not, which was fortunate because she didn’t think her father would handle the news very well at all. It wouldn’t be easy to tell her but Max needed to tell someone. Her mother sat her down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. Here goes. “I’m pregnant,” Max said, after a moment.

  “You’re—what?”

  Max just nodded. Her mother’s eyes went wide, watery with tears, and she broke out in a huge smile. “Oh, my sweet—I’m so happy for you—”

  Max had never felt more relieved in her life. Her mother dabbed at her eyes and said, “I suppose that means you and Jack will be getting married soon?”

  “That’s the thing,” Max said. “I don’t know if he’ll take kindly to the news. A kid changes everything.”

  “Well, yes, of course,” her mother said. “But your father wouldn’t be the man he is today without you, Max. And believe it or not he does miss you—”

  “He has a funny way of showing it,” Max muttered, recalling how her father had told her that Jack would beat her. Which was true enough. Just not in the way he thought—and she wasn’t about to give him any ideas.

  “Well, a grandchild would be a wonderful thing,” her mother said. “Leave your dad to me. I promise, when the child is born, your father will be the best grandfather in the world.”

  “He always did like to sneak me candy,” Max said, laughing.

  “He misses you,” her mother said, softly. “Give him a chance, will you?”

  “Jack didn’t beat his ex-wife,” Max said.

  “I think he’s finally gotten to accepting that.”

  By the time she left her parents’ place it was already getting late in the day. Jack would be home soon—and there was no way not to tell him about it. She wasn’t normally out this late—he would know something was up. Simple, direct—just say so, she thought. Like the way she’d told her mother—

  Except her mother was her mother, and Jack was—she didn’t want to call him her boyfriend, because he was so much more than that. But neither were they married, and while she might have been all right with being his sub forever had she not been pregnant, things were going to change, whether she wanted it or not.

  Jack’s car was already in the drive when she pulled up. She gulped. He’d wanted to try the weighted nipple clamps tonight—she’d finally earned them—but she wasn’t naked and waiting for him in the basement, which meant that he would be displeased—and that meant that he would get rough.

  She saw him sitting in the living room, waiting for her, through the window—holding the cat o’ nine. As soon as she came in, he raised his eyes and with a single look, commanded that she strip naked, “Please, let me speak—”

  He stood up and swatted at her legs with the cat. “What excuse could you possibly have for being late?” he demanded. “You know the rules, you know where you need to be, and you know the consequences of disobedience.”

  “I know,” she said, feeling his eyes on her breasts as she shimmied out of her dress and panties. “But I swear, I have a good reason—”

  “Hello, what have we here?” and when she looked into his eyes she saw that he expected her to obey, even now.

  “I’m pregnant,” she blurted out, as she laid down and spread her legs, closing her eyes against the tears that were welling up in her eyes, turning her face away because she knew he would whip her breasts. This wasn’t fair! She had something important to tell him and all he wanted to do was play his sex games—she could feel the cry starting in her chest—

  He picked her up and held her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I had no idea—I mean, I’m so sorry I thought you’d actually go against me—is it real?”

  She looked at him, now—his face had softened. He was happy, much to her surprise—so happy he was crying, even. “It is,” she said. “I found out just this morning. I had to see my mother, first—that’s where I’ve been—”

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” he said holding her tightly as he rocked her back and forth—trying to quiet her cries even as he began sobbing with joy himself. “I—I thought you’d left me or that you were using me and now—I’m just—we should go on a trip—let’s go to Vegas and get married—”

  She was crying, now, too—from relief. “If it’s a girl I’ve always liked the name Laila,” he said. “Nadia,” she said.

  They laughed, both of them, together, now, and as he helped her to her feet she could feel his hands warm on her ass. “Lincoln if it’s a boy,” he said.

  “I like that,” she said, splaying a hand over her belly.

  “I never thought I’d be a father,” he murmured now, as they interlaced their fingers. “After my ex-wife left, I just—I never thought it would happen,” he said. “And now—oh, I can hardly wait to meet you,” he said, talking to her belly.

  Strange, how one little line on a pregnancy test can mean so much, she thought. How much hope could be contained in it, how much happiness and joy could be contained in that promise of new life. His hand pressed against her abdomen, now. “We’ll have to take good care of her,” he murmured.

  HER GUARDIAN ANGEL

  Chapter One

  Everything was so boring in the summer, so boring that it made Kate Dillinger want to scream. She shifted her weight in her bed, stretching her arms up high and glancing outside her window onto the balcony. She needed some excitement, something worthwhile. She was still lost and a bit turned on by the evening before, though she was hesitant to admit it to herself, much less Aaron.

  Even now she could still see him, coming out of the pool, but this time he was naked, thinking she was out for the night. He had a woman over, which was rare all by itself. Kate stood crouched in the pool house, watching as the woman seemed to be in control at first. She kissed him, letting it deepen more and more until she found herself straddling him on the couch, her hands in his hair, kissing him, as he moved his hands up her back to pull her closer to him. They both kissed with abandon, seeking and searching the
other for something more. Kate felt her own body reacting the scene unfolding in front of her. Aaron was her guardian, and he was certainly not an old man. She saw that he was fully erect, helping the woman as she knelt down taking him in her mouth. She felt the excitement rise as he put his hands in the woman’s hair, winding it up until he controlled her head, using her mouth to make him feel good. He moved his hands down her body, roughly and eagerly, caressing her in every spot she wanted. He stood then, lifting her easily and flipping her over on the chaise lounge where he had just been.

  She was outside of herself, doing things that were completely outside of her comfort zone. This was not who she was and she loved it. She was deftly slipping her hands down into her panties, her eager fingers rubbing at the tiny nub there, stroking deftly as she watched Aaron push his massive rod into the woman on all fours. He hit her ass hard, the red tint could be seen even where Kate sat in the secluded room.

  His hands were everywhere, and she felt heat red hot course through her young body. He was using that woman, pounding into her from behind and owning her in a way Kate had only seen in movies. He moved with sure thrusts, pumping madly into her quivering body, her cries could be heard loudly as he moved more and more.

  He seemed to be touching her everywhere, his hands branding her body like fire. She was still moaning loudly when he stopped suddenly, standing up tall and erect, offering himself to her. Kate felt the pressure building as she pulled one of her rounded breasts out of her dress, pushing them together until she could just barely reach her own nipple with her pink tongue. She flicked at it wildly as she watched the woman move in front of him, and he pushed her back on the lounge once more.

  He moved his fingers down lower, until he grazed the soft opening of her, gently pressing there causing her to moan loudly. He continued on, playing and seeking her until she was panting with desire, her body flushed and her womanhood ready for him.