A Wicked Game You Play

by Leo Bulero

  Kate hesitated. He seemed to be taking the circumstances very casually, and there was an implication in his question she wasn’t at all sure she liked. “Please, have you got anything I can wear until I get home? It’s awful cold.”

  “Of course, I’ll get you something. You must be frozen. Excuse my bad manners, but you took me by surprise,” he said with a smile. He put his arm around her quaking shoulders.

  Grateful for his warmth, Kate wondered when he would take off his coat and wrap it around her. Instead, he opened the trunk of the car.

  “In you get,” he said.

  Kate stared at the opened trunk. It was all but empty, meticulously clean save for a set of jumper cables, a toolbox and a coil of thin rope. She felt her heart start to race. Oh my God… There? In the trunk?

  She looked at him for an explanation, but he offered none.

  More sternly, he said, “Get in the trunk, Kate while I find something appropriate for you to wear.”

  Despite growing concerns, she stammered a quiet, “Yes, Mr. Johnson,” and climbed in to crouch in the rear of the car while he disappeared up front. She could hear him opening the glove compartment. She looked at the rope and shivered. A few moments later, he reappeared.

  “Put this on,” he said.

  Still embarrassed by her predicament, Kate looked closer at the object he was holding out to her. A dog collar? She supposed she should have been happy it wasn’t a roll of duct tape or a knife, but the fact did little to calm her.

  “Here, it goes on like this,” he said. He opened the red leather collar, clipped it around her neck then fastened it closed.

  “Mr. Johnson?” Kate asked, still unsure whether this was his idea of a sick joke.

  “Quiet girl,” he said, sharply. He had a long chain in his other hand which he fastened to the collar.

  “I don’t understand,” Kate began tentatively. What was going on?

  “This is a dog collar,” he explained, almost kindly. “I’ve decided that, because of what you’ve done, you’ll wear one. All bitches should wear a collar rather than run loose in the woods, don’t you think?”

  Kate felt her mouth drop open, but she was too shocked and embarrassed by what he’d said to speak.

  “Now be quiet. I don’t want to hear another word out of you until I say you can speak.”

  He walked away from the car, leaving her there. Alone. Naked and collared. Too afraid to move, Kate crouched uncomfortably in the trunk, trying to shield herself from the cold air. She wondered what Robert’s dad was going on about. She’d done nothing wrong! She and Robert had just been playing. They were adults. Adults played that way.

  Part of her felt scared, but she felt strangely attracted to the man too. She’d seen how he’d looked at her. He hadn’t even attempted to disguise his lust when his penetrating gaze had scoured her body. For a second, the fantasies came back. She shook them away. She hardly knew this man. For all she knew, he’d act them out and worse, and then leave her for dead.

  But he did, after all, favor his son. Watching him, Kate wondered how she’d react if he decided to take her. Any thoughts she’d entertained about controlling the situation vanished. She could tell he wasn’t a man to be controlled. So the question was, would she fight or surrender?

  Mr. Johnson, his hands deep in his pockets, came back to Kate. He took her by surprise, pulling on her chain so she had to use her hands to stop from falling as she scrambled out of the car. She gave a cry of surprise before finding herself wrapped in his strong, urgent embrace. He pressed his lips to hers, kissed her violently, forcing his tongue into her mouth, probing and tasting. Kate surrendered. Her body went limp in his arms. Her arms encircled his neck, prolonging the kiss.

  “Kate,” he said, “If you want to behave like a bitch in heat then I’ll treat you like one.”

  Surprise and hurt showed in her eyes. A bitch? She wasn’t a bitch. What did he mean?

  “Down,” he said, pulling the chain harder. Giving a small cry of surprise, Kate obeyed. She sank to her knees, her face suddenly level with his crotch. She felt her nipples harden again as the cold cut through the confusion. She clutched her breasts and looked up at him.

  “That’s better. You’ve been bad, Kate, very bad.”

  What did he mean, bad? It was just harmless fun. “Mr. Johnson…”

  “Don’t interrupt me, girl,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I know what you’ve been up to. Smoking dope is one thing. I don’t have a problem with that, but dealing? Do you have any idea how stupid and dangerous that is?”

  Kate reddened. My God, he knew about the dealing? Her stomach started to knot up.

  “We didn’t mean any harm; it was just to a few friends.”

  At that, he shook his head, dismissing her story almost wearily.

  “And you have friends in the police, is that what you’re saying? Robert got caught yesterday selling your dope to an undercover police officer.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. No!

  Mr. Johnson looked down at her. “So, go ahead and try and tell me you’re innocent and know nothing about it.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Johnson, I didn’t know Robert was selling on the street, I swear.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough. You’ve caused a lot of trouble. I’d turn you in myself, but I can think of other ways to teach you a lesson.”

  He picked up a stick. The same stick Kate had used to pleasure herself earlier.

  “Fetch the stick,” he said, and threw it high into the air.

  She stared, unbelieving, as it landed several yards away.

  “Go fetch,” he repeated.

  Kate tried to stand, but he tugged at her leash. “On your hands and knees. I didn’t say you could walk. You haven’t earned that privilege with me yet. And when you get the stick, bring it back in your mouth.”

  Kate wiped her nose. She shivered, her body trembling.

  “Go fetch,” Mr. Johnson repeated.

  Kate did as she was told. Her breasts beat from side to side, bouncing like full udders as she scrabbled over the flinty ground on her hands and knees. Besides the humiliation, she knew that was exactly what he wanted. When she found the stick, she gripped it between her teeth, and loped back to where Mr. Johnson waited, his hands folded solemnly in front of him.

  She’d never felt so humiliated.

  “Give it to me,” he said.

  She pressed her head against his thigh, and he took the stick from her mouth.

  “Up on your feet.”

  Shakily, Kate stood, grateful that he’d returned at least some of her dignity back to her.

  “You’re a good looking girl, Kate,” said Mr. Johnson. “I’m beginning to appreciate what my son sees in you.”

  She shivered, aware of that penetrating gaze. Once again, he kissed her harshly, owning her. She murmured as his tongue opened her lips and thrust inside. Her arms raised and folded around his neck.

  “You’re shaking,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Please, Mr. Johnson, I’m really sorry for any trouble I got Robert into. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Really? Then show me how sorry you are.”

  She took his hands and guided them to her breasts. His first touch, light and teasing as it followed her soft contours, sent a thrill of pleasure through her. She threw back her head. Her lips opened in a timid moan of surrender. Her hands guided his, pressing his fingers, asking that he squeeze them harder.

  “You like that?” he whispered. He firmly cupped her breast as she grabbed his hair to pull his head down to the throbbing nipple.

  Resisting, he kissed her open mouth. Her lips softened under his kiss. Her pink tongue darted out to meet his. But her moans of pleasure turned into a cry of alarm as he suddenly caught her stiff nipples and pulled sharply.

  “Ow!” Her cry was driven more by surprise than pain.

  Fingers closed tighter on one nipple in a vice-like grip that would have easily ended it had he been using the pliers. His
other hand, arrogant and conquering, sought out her trembling belly, the cusp of her girlish slit. She shivered in ecstasy. His touch—like an electric current as it strayed over the naked mound of her sex—was only compounded by the shooting pain in her breast.

  “Whose idea was it that you shave your pussy? Robert’s?”

  She nodded.

  “I like it, you’re more naked like this,” he said, sliding his fingers in deeper.

  Kate groaned with delight as his thumb found her clit. Deftly he coaxed the tiny bud from its hood, stimulating it until it tingled, engorged, and the desire to give herself to this charismatic man swelled within her again. He rolled his thumb-pad over the swollen organ until Kate’s orgasm nearly took her, then he pinched her clit cruelly. His sudden kiss sucked the cry of protest from her throat.

  “You’re wet already. You like it, the pain. Robert said you would.”

  At the mention of Robert’s name, Kate started. Robert; where did he fit into all this? But, before she could think over what he’d said, he trailed his finger, wet with her juices, up to her mouth.

  “Suck,” he said, pressing his index finger into her lips.

  Obediently, Kate fellated his finger. She tasted her musky, salty flavor as she licked it clean.

  “Kate, I’m going to punish you now,” he said, hoarsely. She read the desire in his eyes, and the disapproval. She felt confused about his motives and about her conflicting emotions. She didn’t deserve punishment. It sounded horrible, medieval, yet thrilling also. Unbidden, her fantasy came back to her again. Maybe she could control it after all.

  “Will it hurt?” She asked, her voice small and childlike.

  “Yes it will,” he said simply.

  Taking the stick again, he traced its point over her body. He drew lines over her trembling flesh, leaving in its wake pinpricks of anticipation as she tried to figure out what else he intended to do with it.

  He used the stick in a way that suggested he did not want to touch her body. It contradicted his earlier intimacy—the intimacy she’d allowed and given freely. He explored her, like a plantation owner from the south gone by. It was, for Kate, both humiliating and strangely arousing. She found the poking of her breasts; her nipples, the timid line of her hips; her taut thighs; and, finally, leisurely, the protruding folds of her sex, incredibly stimulating. She suppressed a groan of pleasure. The stick returned as if honing in on her cries and lifted her breasts.

  “Walk with me,” he said, softly, but in a way that brooked no argument. “We’ll go into the trees, where it’s more secluded.”

  A rush of fear threatened to overwhelm her. The trees, where he could do the unspeakable. Kate followed meekly anyway. He led her into a thicket where they stopped. Shivering with cold and anticipation, she turned to face him, her mouth open to receive his kisses. Instead of his mouth, she felt his hands gripping her bare shoulders. She opened her eyes and stared questioningly at him.

  Saying nothing, holding her in his steely gaze, Anthony reached up and easily snapped a long, thin branch from a nearby tree. His gaze fell not on her bottom, where she would have expected, but her breasts.

  Looking imploringly at him, her eyes widened even further. He planned to whip her breasts! She felt her heart start to drum even harder in her chest. Could she take that? What would he do to her if she couldn’t?

  Before she could decide what to do, or what not to do, he reached out with all the confident finesse of an artist putting the finishing touches to a painting and lightly brushed the end across her nipple. Instinctively, Kate tensed and started to moved her body away, but he tapped the inside of her breast sharply enough to warn her; don’t move. He drew the branch back menacingly and held it about a foot from her chest. The implied threat was obvious.

  “Caress yourself,” he ordered.

  Kate hesitated, oddly embarrassed. Shaking his head, he snapped the stick forward, slapping her left breast with a loud, stinging thwap. Not only did the blow sting, it sent a dull ache deep into her breast, making it bounce from the impact. She moaned, though not just from the pain. She started to reach for her sex, but not quick enough. The next lash made her jump.

  “You will do as I say. If I have to repeat myself I’ll use this branch on you in ways even your perverted mind couldn’t fathom.”

  Kate looked at the ground, in embarrassment, not so much from his demand, but from his comment. Perverted? How did he know she enjoyed it? The pain from the second lash lingered, demanding pleasure to balance it out, yet she still hesitated. She wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought Robert may have been watching her just minutes before. But she hadn’t played with herself knowing someone was there, not even for Robert.

  But even that shouldn’t have been humiliating enough to keep her from doing as he ordered. She could see the desire in his eyes, despite his severe expression. He wanted her to resist, giving him an excuse to whip her. She wanted to give him that excuse.

  It wasn’t until after the third lash cut across both her breasts that she dropped a hand to her lower belly, more because she had to do something to distract her from the new, and more brutal, sting than because she was ready for him to stop. She closed her eyes, blushing in shame as her fingers moved over her mound. She could feel his eyes on her, could hear his breathing speed up. She heard him come closer as she gently brushed her index finger along the lips of her cunt.

  The inner lips parted, displaying the light pink of her inner pussy. Her breathing quickened. She imagined his hand replacing hers, his cock, hard and remorseless, punishing her as he somehow found a way to lash her breasts while he took her. Quicker now, she stroked, falling into the rhythm she needed.

  Her hips arched forward, inviting him to take her. Her bottom quivered. She raised her thigh to show more of herself. Another wicked slap of the stick against her breasts only increased her excitement. As though from faraway, she heard him call her name and felt a rough cylindrical shape press into her palm.

  Opening her eyes, she saw the fetch stick in her hand. Guessing what he wanted from her, Kate drew the branch over her clit, sawing the wood roughly against her sex, crying out in pain as the more supple branch cracked across the underside of her breasts.

  She angled the stick, pressing it slowly into her body while he snapped the branch twice more. Her breasts were burning constantly, and wonderful new pain from the fresh blows shot like lightning through her.

  “Oh, yes!” she cried, as she thrust her chest out, daring him to beat her, pinching her clit so sweet agony burned through both her breasts and loins.

  But, instead of whipping her more, Anthony’s lips crushed hers, hot and probing. They kissed like forbidden lovers and she felt his hand tiptoe along her thigh, working toward the hot wetness until he stopped abruptly and took a step back.

  “Enough for now.” His eyes were full of cruelty and mischief.

  She panted, frustrated and unbelieving, while he grabbed a nipple and yanked, leading her back to the car by her breast.

  Kate felt elated, and numb. The cold no longer bothered her much. Her thoughts were chaotic and jumbled. What am I thinking? She asked herself. Guilt too, was rearing its ugly head. There was Robert to think about.

  Interrupting her thoughts, Anthony pressed her towards the back car door.

  “Press yourself up against the car,” Anthony said. His voice was as cold as the afternoon’s sun.

  As he spoke, he passed his hand over the trembling cheeks of her naked bottom and gave the bountiful globes a hard squeeze. Kate groaned, then sighed as his fingers pressed deeper between her legs, the palm of his hand cupping her wet warmth. He stroked her with affection, caressing as though she had become his lover.

  Surrendering, Kate pressed her body against the cold window of the car.

  “Closer,” she heard him say.

  Closer, yes. She shoved her chest forward and squashed her breasts flat against the window. The glass was so cold she was almost afraid they'd stick, b
ut it still felt wonderful on her fiery flesh. Her stomach touched the car’s door handle. Surreptitiously, she rubbed her pussy there, grinding her sex against it as if it were his cock, rubbing herself to take her mind off whatever imminent chastisement he planned.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, a tremble in her voice, not daring to turn around to look at her tormentor.

  “First, I’m going to fix it so you can’t move,” Anthony replied in that same reassuring way, politely, though firmly.

  Getting into the car from the passenger side, he pressed the rear window control. Kate felt the cozy warmth of the car’s interior waft through the opened window. The heat bathed her body briefly, warming her before dissipating.

  “You’ve got beautiful breasts,” Mr. Johnson said. “So soft and firm. I’ve often wondered what you’d look like naked. Robert talks about you all the time. He’s quite taken with you.”

  “I love him too,” Kate replied. But, even to her own ears, her voice didn’t sound convincing.

  “Lean in further.”

  Kate did as she was told, letting her breasts drop in through the open window for him to enjoy in the warm comfort of the car, while she shivered outside. She felt goose bumps tighten across her bottom and thighs. The contrast was invigorating.

  Instantly, his lips found her nipples and sucked hard. He suckled hungrily, drawing pleasure from her as a baby draws milk from its mother. The longer he sucked, the more enthusiastic he got, causing Kate to groan in response. They’d always been very sensitive. Even before she met Robert and grew to relish his rougher touch, she’d adored having them stroked and fondled. She especially loved feeling a soft mouth envelope them.

  Mr. Johnson knew how to excite a girl, arouse her. Kate offered more of her breasts, feeding the responding flesh into his mouth, enjoying the way he started kneading them with his fingers and the hint of pain as he raked his teeth back, stretching her nipple until it popped free, glistening with his saliva.

  “Oh, that feels good,” she crooned, hoping it would encourage him. She put a hand between her legs and traced the line of her pussy lips.