The Finest Line

by Catherine Taylor

  Mairead looked at Mark. “So who exactly are you?”

  “I’m nobody.” He replied. “But my father owns this hotel and several like it in Asia, Australia and New Zealand and I’m his only heir. Does that impress you enough?”

  “Yeah it does. It means I’m going to be stinking rich one day which might make up for the rest of my shitty life with you.”

  Mark nodded. “And what I have over you, it’s better than any pre-nuptial contract.”

  “Very true,” Mairead agreed. “We’ll be able to make each other miserable to the grave but we’ll do it in style.”

  Mark laughed. “You’re very funny Mairead. I think I’m going to like this arrangement very much. My father has been on me for years to marry and I’ve resisted until now. I’m not interested in marriage but he’s made quite clear that I won’t get anything until I have an heir of my own.”

  She shuddered at the thought. Having children to Mark had not even crossed her mind. She could almost hear James berating her for being too compulsive and not thinking things through clearly, making bad choices. But this was different. What choice did she have?

  “Why me,” Mairead demanded. “You had girls falling all over you that night. As much as it sickens me to say it, you’re not ugly by a long shot, on the outside at least.”

  “I don’t do relationships. If I’m forced to have a wife then I’m going to make sure she’s someone that’s going to be useful. I’ve told you all this: something pretty on my arm, in public and in my bed. Something worth looking at and who others find interesting. Nice walk on the scaffolding by the way and very entertaining.”

  A walk Mairead was beginning to wish she had never done. Mark sat down on the arm of a chair and ran his eyes over her. “And a virgin you tell me or is that a fucking lie?”

  The question sent ice through her veins and Mairead said nothing. He nodded and his face became menacing. “Come here.”

  When she didn’t move, he crossed the small distance between them and took hold of her hair, forcing her to look up at him. She showed nothing but contempt.

  “This is where the obeying begins,” he told her quietly. “I want so much to smack that look off your face but unfortunately the reporters will be here soon. Besides I think it would actually bother me to damage something so pretty.”

  Mairead scoffed, “I feel so safe now.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Mark warned her quietly, “I don’t have to hit your face to make you suffer and your attitude needs some serious adjusting.”

  Mairead grew a little nervous, remembering what he had done to her throat.

  Mark saw her reaction and grinned, “Not feeling so confident now Mairead? Let’s see how vulnerable you feel when you’re naked.”

  He took hold of the t-shirt and drew it up over her head and dropped it to the floor. His hands reached around to undo her bra and remove it. Mairead stood silently, her head turned away from his gaze.

  He looked at her breasts in awe, cupping them, running his thumbs over her nipples.

  Mairead felt sick as she felt her body betray her vilely. Her nipples were hardening under his touch.

  Her response did not go unnoticed. “You may not like me Mairead, but your tits certainly do. Tell me what your cunt is doing right now.”

  Mairead smirked. “He’s holding my tits.”

  Mark laughed. “You’re funny but that is really going to cost you.”

  His hands reached down and undid her jeans, pushing them down past her hips. “Take them off.”

  He watched her as she complied. “Tell me truthfully. Do you really have your period or is that just another lie?”

  Mairead nodded. “It started last night.”

  “How long does it go for?”

  “About four or five days,” She had no plans of telling him that she had just had the injection.

  Mark looked disgusted, “I don’t do blood but I don’t need to fuck you right away to have some fun.” He nodded decisively, “Don’t move.”

  He walked away to a bedroom coming off the lounge. With just her briefs still on, Mairead was still very tempted to run but to what avail? Nothing would change except her choice of fate where everyone else paid dearly. Only when he returned did her resolve begin to weaken.

  Mark had a cane. He brought it to her and held it up for her inspection, “My attitude adjuster.”

  She tried not to show her fear. “Would you like me to use that on you?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not the one with the fucking smart mouth.”

  Strangely she wasn’t afraid as she probably should have been. The thought of being punished was almost comforting. If only it was James holding the cane, she would welcome the retribution of her crimes. Perhaps it was justice that it be wielded by someone she hated as much as herself.

  When Mark produced handcuffs, she didn’t resist as he put them on her, but she shook her head. “You don’t have to restrain me.”

  He laughed. “I think you’ll find that I do.”

  To the handcuffs he clipped a long silver chain and then used it to lead her to a black leather couch. Along the front of it were long strips of leather that had been tied into bows.

  He put his arm around her. “I had this couch especially made for bad girls like you. You’ll find it very comfortable, thickly padded in the finest leather and with a few interesting accessories.”

  He pushed her forward. “Kneel on it and lean over the back.”

  Mairead did as she was told and was surprised at how comfortable it was. Her body and knees sank deeply into soft leather. Her breasts rested snugly on top. She stared down at the back of the couch and saw black metal rings at the bottom. It reminded her of the ones on James’ bed.

  Mark came round and took the end of the chain, pulling it down and attaching it to one of the rings. Her arms were stretched down the back and held securely, making her lift up on her knees, sticking her backside out. He crouched down to look at her and was surprised by her composure.

  “You really should be getting scared by now.”

  She looked back in contempt. “What’s the use of being scared? You’ll do it anyway.”

  He shook his head and his eyes wandered to her nipples. He took one in his fingers and rolled it gently between his fingers until he squeezed it hard. Mairead screamed until he let go. She cried as the last lingering agony faded.

  “It’s called pain,” Mark told her casually. “That’s why you should be afraid.”

  As she wept, Mairead summoned every drop of saliva in her mouth and spat it straight into his face. Mark flew to his feet and immediately and went to slap her face. He stayed his hand and glared down at her, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You fucking slut.”

  Mairead laughed weakly. “That’s called spit and that’s why you shouldn’t get too close.”

  He smirked, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to hurt a bitch so much.”

  Returning to the front of the couch, Mark took hold of her ankles. Mairead cried quietly, the fear beginning to rise in her, as she felt the leather restrain her feet, spreading her legs.

  He leaned into her again. “Are you wearing a pad or a tampon?”

  Mairead started to laugh, as her body sought release from a storm of emotion. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to look at him, laughing harder when he pulled his face away. “You’re not really good at this are you?”

  “I don’t want to see your filth.” He told her angrily.

  She contemplated not telling him but didn’t want to risk him attacking her back on any other exposed areas. Sighing she said, “Tampon.”

  She didn’t flinch as she felt her briefs pulled down to just below her cheeks. He was taking no chances on that tampon escaping. His hand wandered over the surface of her buttocks and gave some tentative pats. Again she felt the response between her opened legs and Mairead hated that he could do that to her. Her body and mind had become opposing forces.

  “You are
quite the package deal,” Mark was breathing heavier. “Great tits, great arse, just a pity about the mouth, but then again I haven’t used it to its full capacity.”

  To torment her further he swished the cane near her, an almost tangible whoosh cutting the air powerfully. Her courage began to wane.

  “Mark please,” Her voice was small and pleading. She pulled against the restraints, “Don’t do this.”

  He began tapping the cane against her buttocks. “I thought you weren’t scared Mairead. Are you beginning to understand who is in charge here?”

  She nodded furiously, her voice louder and tears adding to her pleas. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “I’m sorry too Mairead, that I’m not convinced.”

  The first stroke of the cane bit violently into her flesh. Mairead screamed in agony, pulling to the limit of her restraints. This was pain beyond anything she had experienced. It vibrated through her lower body, keeping its intensity long after the hit.

  The viciousness of it unleashed her fear with the realisation that this was not the application of punishment by someone who cared for her. This was pure brutality and she was in the hands of a man whose only motive was sadism and revenge.

  Mairead cried loudly. She was in a situation beyond her control and now frightened beyond belief.

  The cane was tapping her again but before she could plead, it was slammed against the centre of her buttocks. She released a long guttural scream and strained again, welcoming the pain of pulling against the handcuffs, anything but the pain in her backside. Why could she not refocus?

  Somehow she knew the mistake she had made, resisting her own arousal. Her body had been preparing her and she had allowed her shame to dictate. It was now up to her mind to reactivate that much needed lust for punishment.

  Closing her eyes she pictured James clearly, standing behind her holding the cane. As her concentration increased, she thought of the hurt she had caused James. Caning her this hard would be justified. Kylie had said that his eyes were red from crying. Her agony could not compare to his.

  Mark was tapping the cane against her. No, not Mark, it was James punishing her for hurting him so badly and when he had finished he would love her and comfort her. All her evil deeds would be paid for.

  A whoosh ended with a loud thwack upon naked skin.

  Mairead screamed through gritted teeth but this time she didn’t move allowing the path of the pain to radiate deeply into her reaching its apex well after the strike and gradually dulling.

  By the fourth strike she was no longer screaming, though her crying was loud and agonizing. James was really angry and reminding her that there were consequences to her actions. Slowly she was becoming thankful and calmer. James would stop as soon as she was properly punished and it was for him to know and her to obey.

  Her mouth turned up into a weak smile as she felt the tapping. James was going to punish her again because he loved her completely. She welcomed the fifth strike with a long groan. Her body had now surrendered and the pain was losing its impact.

  Her buttocks were burning and stinging furiously. Blood was coursing to her vagina engorging her clitoris, bringing the wonderful pulsation and tightening she needed so desperately to feel. At each subsequent strike, the agony grew sweeter and her vagina contracted deeply. With the ninth stroke, she climaxed and her caning ended on the tenth.

  Mairead remained still, breathing heavily, her tears increasing as her thoughts of James faded away. She already knew that movement was going to be agonising, but she was given no choice when Mark released her and pushed her down to the floor on her knees.

  Knowing what was expected of her, she allowed his hard penis to push into her mouth, still aroused enough not to be sickened by what he was doing to her. She accepted it as part of her punishment and her lips and tongue responded. His fingers grasped her hair, as her hand worked his penis with her mouth.

  It was over in less than a minute and Mairead pulled away to spew his come onto the floor. She retched and spit, trying to remove the taste.

  Mark was trembling and breathing deeply as he looked down at her. “There’s something not quite right about you.”

  Mairead got up slowly, resisting the urge to buckle under the pain. She wiped her mouth. Tears were still streaming down her face as she nodded. “It’s the knowledge of having nothing left to lose. You ever beat me like that again, and I will find a way to kill you.”

  Mark smirked, “After what you just did then, I think I would die a happy man.” He studied her curiously, “You take a hell of a hiding Mairead. If I didn’t know better, I would have to say, I think you enjoyed that.”

  She stared at him blankly, “Can I get dressed?”

  He nodded. “Yes but not in the shit you were wearing. There’s a dress on my bed. Put it on and then make yourself beautiful for our first public picture.”

  As she pulled her briefs back in place she gasped as she felt the sting. Every step hurt and she had to move slowly to the bedroom, knowing that he was watching her.

  Lying on his bed was a plain short black dress. She hated black but at least he had gotten the size right. Looking past the bed she saw a built in mirrored wardrobe. Every step was hell as she approached it apprehensively, rotating and pulling down the back of her briefs.

  She whimpered as she looked at the long thin red welts which crisscrossed her cheeks, some that had stained her skin with tiny droplets of blood.

  When she emerged dressed from the bedroom, Mark was waiting to hand her a pair of high heels, a gold chain and matching earrings. “I figured you wouldn’t dress for the occasion and so I was well prepared.” He also tossed her a bag of make-up. “Be perfect or despite your warning, I will hurt you again.”

  He stayed with her while she made up her face. “Don’t look so miserable Mairead and that’s an order. You have ten minutes to discover the joy of our romance and it better ring loud and clear in the photos. Is that understood?”

  Mairead smiled. “I’ll just think about where I’d like to stick that cane. Is that romantic enough?”

  “Whatever turns you on,” He answered dryly. “And I’ll just be thinking of a week from now when I’ll be fucking a lot more than you’re mouth.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  During the interview with the journalists, they sat on the very couch where he had beaten her only an hour before. Mairead leaned into Mark, to keep the most of the weight off her backside, the pain still rampantly radiating. She felt subdued and tired and hoped her quietness would be mistaken for a love struck girl. There was no denying that they seemed the perfect couple and Mark’s contrived love story was the very fodder of romance novels.

  In that time, Mairead learned a lot more about her fiancée. Like her, Mark knew how to play an audience and was quietly confident. He played his part perfectly, kissing her as the moment required, keeping his arm around her and holding her hand. He spoke clearly and plausibly, spinning his tale of whirlwind romance.

  She was indifferent to playing the blushing bride to be and allowed Mark to do most of the talking. When one journalist fired a question in her direction she found herself caught off guard.

  “Mairead, how does your father feel about you marrying the son of the very man who is giving him so much grief at the moment?”

  She dug a nail into Mark’s hand but he was already answering for her. “The answer to that one my friend is...” He grinned and gave the journalist a wink. “We haven’t told either of our fathers yet and we are both really sorry. This was the very reason we tried to go our separate ways, but a few days apart and we knew we couldn’t do it. Our love for each other was too deep and we had to believe that love conquers all, even politics.”

  His response brought sighs and smiles from the media. Another called out. “Do you think that this union will be the final catalyst needed for Sean Kavanagh to sign off on your father’s unpopular development proposal?”

  “Unpopular to wh
om,” Mark challenged back. A small number of residents in some run down apartments that should have been pulled down years ago?”

  “Fifteen hundred people to be exact Mr. Lewis,” someone called out. “Low income earners who can barely afford to eat, let alone relocate and start again.”

  “Beneficiaries, drug dealers and child abusers I’m led to believe if one can believe the very stories you people print about the area.” Mark eyed the journalist. “My father wants to completely redevelop it and provide a safe environment for families.”

  “As long as they have a six figure income,” The journalist scoffed and received a murmur of support.