by Lucy Wild
I was pinned under him as he yanked my legs apart, spanking my left thigh and then my right. I shrieked and squirmed but he just pressed me more firmly downwards. “You’re not supposed to be like this,” he said, smacking my ass again.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Not as sorry as I am,” he replied. “I’m a dead man.”
SIXTEEN
JACK
I knew I was a dead man. When my employer found out what I’d done, there’d be hell to pay. I’d broken the one rule I was expected to follow above any other, keep my hands off her. I could blame the drink but I’d be lying. It wasn’t the drink. It was her. She had done something to me. I’d never done this before. I’d never screwed up a job like this.
I was crushing her under me but that would never do. If I was going down, I might as well enjoy myself, do things the way I wanted while I still could. “Stand up,” I said, rolling off her, sitting on the bed and watching as she got to her feet, her hands mashed together as she stood looking at me. “Strip.”
Her eyes widened and she looked like she was about to refuse. I twitched my hand towards her and that was enough of a threat. She lifted her dress up and over her head, revealing her naked body underneath. All she had on was her shoes and socks and for some reason that made her look even sexier. My cock began to throb with desire, with need for her. Her nipples were rock hard, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving as she continued to twist her fingers together.
“Touch yourself.”
She again stared at me, not moving, as if she wasn’t sure what I’d said.
“Get on the fucking bed and touch yourself, you little slut.”
“Please,” she muttered but there was no force to her voice. She took a step across to me. I could smell her sweetness, her innocence. It drove me wild.
She sank onto her back, her legs apart. I stared at her as her hands went between her legs, pressing against her pussy. “Do it,” I said. “You want to do it. I know you do.”
She closed her eyes, her hands starting to move. She slid her fingers over her folds as I moved my head closer, watching every motion of her fingers. She spread her lips apart, dipping down to the wetness that was dripping out of her, running down to her thighs. My cock ached for me to touch it so as I watched, I undid my trousers, pushing them down before kicking them off with my shoes. I grabbed my cock and began to stroke it, watching her touch herself slowly.
Any pretence that she was just doing it for my benefit vanished when she let out a quiet moan, her cheeks turning a deeper red, her pussy looking swollen. She slid a finger into herself and I almost came at the sight. I forced my hand to slow down, rubbing up and down my shaft slowly, not taking my eyes off her for a second.
“Come for me,” I said.
Her eyes opened and she looked at me in shock, her gaze moving down to my cock. Her face changed in that moment, a hunger for me appearing on it. I was never wrong. She wanted me. “This is for you,” I said, “but only after you’ve come.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You can. I know you can. Come for me.”
She fixed her gaze on my cock, watching my hand glide up and down as she began to stroke herself faster. I watched her fingers become a blur on her clit, her other hand dipping into her pussy, the smell of her desire driving me wild, making it almost impossible to remain where I was. “Come for me,” I said again. “Come for me, Bella.”
“Oh, fuck,” she muttered, a deep moan slipping from her lips as her hips began to shift from side to side, little upwards thrusts accompanying her motions. I was desperate to be in her but I waited, watching as her mouth fell open. Her hips slammed up and then it happened, the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
She came, her entire body in thrall to her orgasm. It made her limbs shake, her pussy contracting so much, I could see the muscles moving. I didn’t let her recover. While she was still shaking, I dived on her, taking her hand and wrapping it round my shaft. “Put it in you,” I said. “Show me you want it.”
“Please,” she said, but her hand was already sliding the head of my cock around her clit. “I can’t. You do it.”
“No way, sweetheart. You show me what a good girl you are. You put it in you.”
She moved my cock down and it became coated in her wetness. I remained perfectly still, making her move down and up until the head of me stretched her entrance. She let out an animal like sound, a deep growl that made it impossible for me to be patient. I slammed forwards, burying myself inside her. The sensation was incredible, she fitted around me perfectly, gripping me in her slick hole as I ground my hips against her.
I reached down, plunging my tongue into her mouth, wanting to become one with her. I grabbed her tits, groping them roughly while pulling my hips back. She groaned into my mouth, impatient for me to get back in, her hands clawing at my hips, trying to pull me back down. I teased her for all of a second before I had to slam down again.
With that I began to fuck her properly, my hips rocketing back and forth, my cock coated in her juices. I paused just long enough to grab her hand and move it to her clit. “I want to see you touch yourself for me, be a good girl for me.”
“I will,” she moaned, her hand already moving. “I am a good girl.”
“I know you are,” I said, slamming into her again. “And I’m going to come in you. Do you want me to?”
“I…” she paused, biting her lip before nodding. “I do.”
“Then tell me.”
“Come in me,” she muttered, barely able to speak through panting so heavily as I fucked her as fast as I could.
“Beg me.”
“Please come in me. Please, I need to feel it inside me. Oh, God, come in me.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, watching as a second orgasm raced through her. The contractions of her pussy around my cock pushed me over the edge and I spurted into her, filling her with my cum in one, two, then a third spray of it. She cried out, her hands clawing my back as her orgasm seemed to go on forever.
It passed just as I slumped against her, breathing heavily. I kissed her again, exploring her mouth, feeling her hot breath as she fought to regain control of herself.
She looked wild eyed even as I slipped out of her, rolling over to lay on the bed next to her. She sighed, snuggling up next to me. The warmth of her skin was the most wonderful feeling against me, her leg slipping over mine, holding onto me as if her life depended on it. Which it did.
SEVENTEEN
BELLA
When I woke up, for the briefest of moments, I thought everything was okay. I was snuggled into someone, blanket over us both. His chest was rising and lowering under my arm and I sighed with happiness. Then that moment was over. My mind laughed at my attempt to feel good, sending a reminder of everything that had happened coursing through me in under a second. I’d been kidnapped. I’d been trapped in a cellar. The man who’d done it to me, he was there next to me. Last night, he’d…we’d…I blushed furiously, all breath leaving my lungs, my heart seeming to stop entirely.
How had that happened? How had I let it happen? I could lie and say he forced me to do it, gave me no choice, threatened me into submitting to him. But the truth was that I wanted to. When he told me to strip, I did so gladly, the shackles of repression and modesty falling away from me. He was a caveman and I was his cavewoman, his to use, to protect, to…to…to fuck. The thought of it made me cringe. That’s what he’d done. He’d fucked me. There was no other way of putting it.
The hardest thing to cope with was the fact that it had felt so damn good. His cock inside me had felt like the greatest thing in the world, so different to the fumblings I’d gone through with my two previous boys. For that’s all they were in comparison to him. They were boys and he was a man, a real man, a man who knew what he wanted and took it and to hell with the consequences.
He groaned and I turned to find him putting a hand to his forehead as he sat up. “I’m a dead man,” he muttered, blinki
ng and coughing as he looked across at me.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, worried on his behalf. “You keep saying that.”
“I was told to keep my hands off you,” he said. “I think I fucked up.”
“Who told you that? Who told you not to touch me?”
“Your father.”
He carried on talking but I’d stopped listening. The word father rattled around my head, echoing louder and louder. My father had told him not to touch me. But that meant…
“Is my father alive?” I asked, sitting bolt upright.
He nodded. “Shit, I’m dead already. I might as well tell you. What does it matter now?” He fell silent for a moment before continuing, as if deciding how to word it. “I know you thought he was dead. I did too. But a week ago he got in touch, out of nowhere. Told me he wanted to hire me to keep you safe.”
“He hired you to keep me safe?” There was something he wasn’t telling me but I couldn’t work out what it was.
“Told me you were in danger, gave me your address, told me he’d bought the house next door for me. All I had to do was move in, get you in the cellar and keep you there until he could arrange to get you out of the country. He was going to come and get you but things have changed.” He looked down at my body before saying it again. “Things have changed.”
“But why does it matter if you touch me? I don’t understand.”
“He knows what I am.”
“What? What does that mean? What are you?”
“I’m a bad person. He knows that. I’ve done things in the past. Bad things. He wouldn’t want me corrupting you.”
“But kidnapping me is fine? What the fuck?”
“It was only temporary, just to keep you safe until he could get you out of the country.”
“But why couldn’t you tell me it was him? I don’t get why you had to keep it secret.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know but I can take a guess.”
“Go on.”
“Whoever is after you is after him. If you knew he was alive and they got to you first, you might tell them. They’d know he was alive and then all hell would break loose. He’s been dead for a long time. People might get a bit pissed to find out he’s pretty lively for a corpse.”
His watch suddenly started beeping. “What’s that for?” I asked.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m late for work.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He shook his head. “First rule of this work. Keep up appearances.” He stood up, scooping up his clothes. “I’ll be back tonight. I promise I’ll answer all your questions then.”
“You’re just going to leave me here?”
“It won’t be for much longer. He said he’d be in touch sometime today.”
“It’s not that.”
“What then? Come on, Bella, I need to go.”
“I…I’ll miss you.”
His face changed, as if that was the last thing he’d expected to hear me say. Until the words came out of my mouth, I wasn’t expecting to say it either. But I did. And it was true. I would miss him.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said, running naked up the stairs. I watched him go, taking in the sight of that magnificent body of his. After the door closed, I slumped back on the bed, torn between two thoughts. One was that my father was alive. The very idea should have consumed me. But it was having to compete with the fact that I’d been fucked by Jack. My father was alive. It was aggressive, violent sex, yet he’d kissed me so gently afterwards. It was incredible. My father was alive. My body was still aching from what he’d done to me. My father was alive. Jack wasn’t supposed to have touched me. My father was alive. What the hell was going to happen when he found out what Jack had done?
I leaned down the side of the bed, picking up the books he’d brought me. Proust, Milton, Hugo. Not what I’d have expected him to own. I’d managed Les Miserables when I was in school though it was a slog. I decided to give it another go.
Whenever something is overwhelming me, I have one skill. A skill that is more useful than it sounds. I can lose myself in a book. No matter what thoughts are churning around in my head, once I’m immersed in a story, I stay there, forgetting the real world so completely, it’s a wrench to ever return to it. I devoured the book, managing to forget about Jack, forget about my father, forget about everything but Jean Valjean and the injustices he underwent in search of salvation.
I lost track of time while I read, I forgot about feeling hungry, I forgot everything but Cosette and Gavroche and Eponine and I understood for the first time why she was willing to sacrifice herself for Gavroche. She loved him enough to do it. Even with no hope of reciprocation, she sacrificed herself for him. That thought stuck with me, the things people do for the ones they love. I was still mulling on the idea when Jack returned, heading down the cellar steps with a box in his arms and a strange look on his face.
EIGHTEEN
JACK
“What’s in the box?” she asked when I reached the bottom of the steps.
“Things for me to use,” I said. “Though it might be easier to show you than to tell you. Stand up.” She did as I asked. She was such a good sub. I reached into the box and brought out a silk blindfold. “Turn around.” When she was facing away from me, I placed the blindfold over her eyes, tying it behind her head, breathing in the scent of her, the heat coming off her skin.
Once I was certain she could see nothing, I slipped her dress off her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor. “I thought you weren’t supposed to touch me,” she said, the tension evident in her voice.
“It’s too late for that,” I replied, stroking a line down her spine before yanking down her panties. “Step out of them.”
She lifted her legs until they were off and then I was able to look at her properly. I was hard as a rock already, my cock needing to be in her. I ignored it. I was going to take my time. This might be the last chance I had. She’d be gone soon. The thought was gut wrenching. I’d barely gotten to know her and she would be leaving forever. I tried not to think about how my life would be without her.
I took her hand in mine, manoeuvring her onto the bed, lying her on her front. “Do not move,” I whispered in her ear before standing up. I opened the box. It was all in there. Everything I needed. I took out a length of rope, using it in place of the one she’d sawn through, industrious little thing that she was. I tied it around the bed post, not saying a word, letting her listen and wonder what I was doing.
I grabbed her wrist, looping the rope round it, tying it tightly in place, binding her to the bed. I did the same to her other limbs, not resting until she was tied down, unable to escape. “You’re mine,” I said, my voice cold. “I’ve kept you safe, kept you warm, kept you fed. And in return what have you done? You’ve seduced me, you’ve made me want you, you’ve made me need you. You’re a bad girl for tempting me with your beautiful body. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”
“No,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the blanket underneath her head.
“So many things,” I said, reaching into the box. I brought out a silicone buttplug and a bottle of lube. Coating the plug slowly, I watched her, seeing her shift in place, no doubt wondering what I was going to do. The thought of her fear turned me on even more than I already was. I was impatient to be in her.
Leaning over the bed, I pressed her left buttock with my hand, easing it to one side, groping it roughly, exposing her tight little hole. “What are you doing?” she asked as I reached down and flicked my tongue over it. Her question became a gasp of surprise. Remaining close to her, I pushed the tip of the plug against her hole.
“What is that?”
“A plug,” I replied.
“But I’ve never…nothing’s ever…”
“Shush, little one. Try and relax.”
She let out a cry that became a groan as the well lubricated plug slowly slid into her. I didn’t rush, not wanting to hurt her
too much at first. “Oh, fuck,” she muttered as it was swallowed by her ass. I was surprised by how easily it disappeared, the base all that remained outside her, the sight tormenting me, making me want to tear it out and shove my cock in there instead.
I stood back up, watching her shift in place for a moment before returning to the box. I took out the cane out of the box, swishing it through the air.
“What’s that noise?” she asked, fear coursing through every word.
“Something to punish you for being so bad,” I replied, setting my feet in place, my arm raised. “You will have six. After each strike, you will thank me. Understand?”
“Uh huh,” she muttered. “But-”
Whatever she was going to say, it went away, replaced by a shriek as I brought the cane down on her ass. The shriek was combined with her twisting in place and tugging at her bonds while I stared at her ass, watching the red line appear, turning into a raised welt from the blow of the cane. “Thank me,” I growled. “Or you’ll get twice as many.”
“Th…thank you,” she muttered, sounding on the verge of tears.
“That’s better.” The cane lashed down again and she let out another scream.
“Thank you,” she managed after a few seconds.
I struck her four more times, each blow bringing another raised line of redness to those beautiful buttocks of hers. Once the six were over, I wished I’d said twelve but it wouldn’t do to go back on my word. There was much more to do with her yet. I rummaged in the box and brought out the cooling cream. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I coated my fingers in lotion before smoothing it over her ass, gently soothing the sting from the caning. “That hurt so much,” she said, a tremble to her voice.
“It was supposed to,” I replied. “And I suppose you hated every second.” I slid my hand down between her legs, feeling how wet she was. She didn’t say anything but I heard her breathing change as I stroked her pussy, my other hand rolling the base of the plug, moving it inside her, thrusting it gently forwards.
Her breathing became even heavier. I kept stroking her pussy, teasing her clit until I was sure she was close to orgasm. “I’m going to come,” she muttered. “Oh, please don’t stop.”
