The Beast

by Jaden Wilkes

  “I want to go home,” she replied, still unwavering in her gaze.

  “I said answer with yes or no, and that is not going to happen,” he said, untying her hands and turning her around. “Put your hands up, hold onto the metal hooks. Do not turn back.” Although he loved looking at her beautiful face when she tried to stand up to him, he wanted to hit her backside even more. He drew back, saw her tense, and slapped her perfect round ass with the crop. She gasped and her head fell back. Her long braid swayed, half of it had fallen loose so he removed the elastic, undid it slowly and wrapped his hand in her hair.

  He pulled her head back farther and hit her ass repeatedly with the crop. There were beautiful bright red welts rising on the white skin. She hadn’t been able to cut herself on the back of her body; she was perfection from this angle.

  He held her tight and spoke into her ear, “Are you ready to ask me for my cock?”

  “I want to go home, let me go,” she whispered. He was proud of her, she was tough. She barely flinched as he rained blows down on her ass and back, holding her head in his tight grip the entire time.

  “I told you to say yes or no,” he told her and hit her several times in sharp succession. She moaned as he struck her with the whip.

  “What do you say now, little dove…” he asked in her ear again. His body was pressed against hers, from this angle his cock pressed against her firm ass. She didn’t pull away from his hardness like she had previously. He noted this with satisfaction; she was slowly warming up to him.

  “I want to go home,” she insisted stubbornly. She was single minded in her resolve, but he would break her.

  He took the end of the whip and ran the ivory knob along her skin, dragged it down her spine and rested it in the top of her cleft. He continued down her ass cheek, circled around and down her thigh. He edged his knee in between her legs and shoved her legs apart. She held her breath as he pushed the knob between her legs, sliding the ivory bulb across her soft folds before pushing it against her clit. She gasped and he said, “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Ye-,” she started to say but stopped when he slid the knob backwards and found her tight hole. He held it there for a moment, she sighed, shook her head and pulled against his grip on her hair. He slid the knob back and forth, teasing her slit and waiting for her reply to change.

  “Do you want me to stop,” he said, his voice hoarse with the anticipation of her answer.

  “No,” she finally replied in a strangled breath. He loved that she was conflicted, she was scared and knew this was wrong on some level, but she couldn’t hold back from her base desires. The two of them were very similar in that regard.

  “Good,” he said and shoved the crop up inside of her. She jumped but immediately loosened her limbs, accepting the device. “That’s right,” he said in her ear while slowly rotating the whip in her pussy, “you do like this, don’t you? You like to be used, to be told what to do. I can feel your need flooding out of your cunt, my hand is wet with it.”

  She nodded and moaned, backed herself up against him and pulled against the hand in her hair. He could tell she liked being held like this, liked losing control of her body.

  She started to rock against the crop, riding it like it was a cock. He slammed it deep inside of her, savoured her moans and sighs, the wet sound of the whip in her cunt and the blood rushing in his ears.

  He unwrapped his hand from her hair and in one smooth motion pulled himself free and started to stroke his hard length. She was going to cum, but he wanted her to wait. He pulled the crop free and watched her splayed legs, her tilted ass, waiting and ready. “Are you going to beg for it?” he whispered in her ear and pressed himself against her.

  “No, I never will,” she replied, her breath ragged with her need. She didn’t pull away though, she leaned back against him, he could sense her willing him to continue. He didn’t. He gripped his cock and slid his hand up and down the thick shaft until he could feel his balls tighten. He hadn’t been able to release himself in weeks, this felt like crying after holding it in too long. Like pissing after a long bus ride. As much as he expected pleasure, he was expecting relief.

  He wasn’t disappointed. He came hard all over the small of her back, spurts of thick cum dripped down her skin while he emitted a long groan. His head felt light with the release, as though unblocking something deep in the back of his brain. Columbia sighed heavily and tensed up, seeming perturbed at his orgasm and the lack of hers.

  “Do you want to finish, little dove?” he asked, his cock softening and cooling against her ass while his seed oozed along the curve of her spine. He took a finger and traced through his cum, slid it back down and let the pattern dry on her skin. He pushed the whip down and ran the knob along her cleft. She nodded and shivered in anticipation. “Then ask for it, beg for my cock inside of you. I want to hear you say it...say you want me to fuck you,” he continued. “I know you’re hungry for it, you already crave me. Just say it and I will fuck you right now, give you your release.” He grew harder with each passing second anticipating her reply, waiting for her to beg him to plunge himself inside of her.

  She was a hard bitch to crack though and she simply said, “No, I never will.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said and laughed, hiding his own growing frustration. “You know I want you to beg, I will wait until you ask for it, but I can’t say I’m disappointed in your spirit. You are a wild one, and I appreciate the challenge.”

  “I’m not doing this to challenge you, I’m doing it so you’ll let me go,” she replied curtly. He could see her jaw thrust out as she turned her head towards him. “I don’t want to beg, I’m not your pet, I’m not desperate.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he said and laughed again, dragging the knob between her legs, her body responded by opening up to him, her ass thrust out and her legs parted. “I don’t think you will beg me because you are desperate,” he whispered and leaned against her, “I think you will beg because you will realize how much you want me, how much you want to please me...and ultimately how much you want to please yourself. That’s not desperation, that’s clarity of vision. When your vision is clear, we will come together and you will be mine.”

  “Will you let me go?” she asked again.

  “I never will,” he said and smiled at her defiance. He was growing fond of her and could barely shove his cock back in his pants. He was tempted to take her there and show her how much she would enjoy him, but he didn’t want to become the Wolf in her tale, he wanted to be her everything. “Now let’s go choose your restraints, I’ll even let you help pick them out.”

  Chapter Fourteen – Columbia

  When the blindfold came off, Columbia blinked and covertly looked around. The room she was in had no windows, but was richly decorated with a thick carpet and marble accents. She recognized some items, but most of them were foreign to her. She knew they must be used in sex play, but had never been curious enough to find out about any of it. In any other circumstance, she might engage him in small talk, get him to talk about his obvious interest in BDSM. In this case, she shuddered and wondered how many women he had killed in here.

  Columbia did her best to engage him, to smile at him and soften him to her plight. She thought it might work after he took the blindfold off. He really seemed to warm up to her a little, but it changed as quickly as it happened. He was a mercurial man, obviously mentally unstable, terrifying and yet strangely fascinating. She thought she recognized some of her own madness in his actions.

  He raged at her, mistaking her acceptance of his appearance as mocking him. She supposed he was a proud man, used to being viewed as an attractive man. The scars on his face weren’t off putting to her however, she found them alluring, being so covered herself. There was something beautiful to be found in healed flesh, a physical reminder of hope and new growth.

  He’d flipped a switch though; she saw it in his eyes. They went flat, the light went out and rage took
over. It was like he became a different man, an angry man hell bent on destruction. She almost pissed herself out of fear this time, it was worse than anything she’d been through with her father. After his previous attempt to kill her, she was certain this was it; he would go through with her death this time. He dragged her to a heavy wooden cross in the centre of the room and tied her to it.

  She mostly obeyed simply because she was in shock at this point. That’s what she told herself anyhow, but there was that damned blooming thought that he could gratify her in ways she’d never imagined if only she’d let him break down her barriers.

  It wasn’t as though she was a virgin; she had just never had actual sex with anyone other than the Wolf in her house. Her father. But he had made her feel powerless and insignificant. He’d also never lit her nerves on fire and made her thoughts explode in bright points of light.

  This man, Dimitri he’d said his name was, The Beast, he was dangerous, but not as scary as her father. Dimitri was like a wildfire, if he was to do things to her, it would be hot and fast and burn her to the ground. Her father was like a sickness, a wasting disease that slowly drained her of her life, her joy.

  Dimitri also used words she’d never liked before, but they fell from his lips with his accent and deep, sensual timbre and seemed natural. Cock had made her wince the first time he’d used it. It was such a disgusting word, one that was never used in her world, but somehow it sent a scandalous thrill down her spine. Cock, cunt, pussy, fuck, he said them all in the same way, as though it were matter of fact. He was simply calling them what they were in the most basic fashion. She tried to picture Stuart saying these things and almost laughed to herself.

  At her house, her father had mostly referred to things in other terms, cloaked terms. His favourite, when drunk, was it. Suck it, lick it, get ready for it. Columbia hated the sound of his voice and would retreat deep inside of herself at the use of the word it.

  When he wasn’t drinking, when sober, he was ashamed of his actions. It didn’t stop him though, but he tried to make it seem fun, child like. He would say things like “lick my lolly” or “open your cunny”. This was worse than it, when he tried to sugar coat what he was doing, it made it seem more shameful and more her fault. He would look pained as he held her down, as though he was reluctant and she had asked for this somehow.

  Dimitri didn’t sugar coat. She knew he wanted to get inside of her...pussy...cunt. Even thinking it made her feel rebellious, a big fuck you to every time she’d cowered in the face of a euphemism for rape. Dimitri didn’t hide; he made his intentions clear and even laid out firm and fast rules of expectation. This brought Columbia comfort, to know what he wanted and how he was going to get it.

  It didn’t quite make it right though. She still wanted to go home, to escape this strange night and pretend it never happened. She would never tell a single soul what had gone on here, but she also knew she would never go back to her old life.

  And the way he made her feel. Not just respond but fucking feel. Everything. The way he grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted her head back. The way he caressed her with the riding crop and eventually found her wet and waiting, wanting what he was doing.

  It was insanity, she watched it with two different perspectives, two worlds lay on top of the other. In one, here on the left, is an innocent victim of a brutal kidnapper begging to be sent home. In the other, on the right, is a feral creature being brought to panting orgasm by a hot, dominant man. Nothing romantic, short and sweet and straight to the point.

  She tried to reconcile both worlds, and kept failing. He was relentless, twisting the crop inside of her, encouraging her, whispering in her ear and finally masturbating himself onto her body. She knew she should be disgusted, normally this would be disgusting...in the light of day this would be so wrong. It was so hot though, here in the dimly lit room with this beast of a man, a hardened criminal using her body for his own need. She felt ashamed for liking it so much.

  She wanted to tell him yes, she wanted to beg, but that stubborn part of her that had kept her placing one foot in front of the other for the last decade wouldn’t let her break. She might be lead to bend, but she couldn’t force herself to beg him for his...cock…no matter how much she wanted to find out how he could make her feel if he slid it inside of her and drove it deep.

  She was silent as he rubbed his cum on her skin and teased her cunt with the crop. She couldn’t give in, wouldn’t do it. Finally he dragged her to a large cabinet full of whips and metal things and objects she couldn’t guess the purpose of...and some she could.

  “What is your preference, little dove?” he asked her, as though offering her a choice of wine with dinner. It was that normal to him that this situation didn’t faze him. She wondered again how many women he had done this with before her.

  “I, uh, don’t really care,” she replied but her eyes were drawn to a beautiful pair of silver bracelets, they reminded her of something a warrior of old would wear. She wouldn’t feel like a captive if she had them on, she would feel like a fighter.

  “You like these?” he questioned and picked one of the pair up. “You have an excellent eye. These are platinum cuffs, designed and crafted by a certain Monsieur Delacroix, of Paris.” He took her hand and snapped a cuff on her wrist, locked it and held the key. “Beautiful, strong, expensive...and never used before. It’s almost as though they were waiting for you,” he continued, took her other hand and locked the cuff there as well.

  “They are beautiful,” she said, her voice distant as she looked at them as simply jewelry. She almost felt as though if she didn’t acknowledge his claim on her at any point, then it wouldn’t be realized. She knew this was wrong, and some how this man would find a way to force himself inside of her, but for now she maintained the illusion.

  “As are you,” he replied, stroked her cheek gently and immediately pulled back. “But I suppose you hear that all the time, until it loses meaning to you.”

  He was shy, she thought, embarrassed to be attracted to her, fearful of her rejection. “Not at all,” she said, “I never hear it in fact.”

  He looked disbelieving, as though she were lying about it. He quickly changed the subject and said, “You should get some rest,” and indicated for her to follow him. “I will show you to your room.”

  He lead her out the doors and she was grateful, she was dead on her feet and could barely stand as she followed him.

  Her room was a short walk away. He opened the doors and the lights of the city were laid out in front of her. She suppressed a sound of delight at how high up they were, she hadn’t realized. She thought she could see as far as Richmond, maybe the Gulf Islands even. This vantage point was intoxicating. She cleared her throat and gave her best impression of a disaffected captive. “Is this your room?” she asked, still looking at the view beyond him.

  He turned, saw her face and she caught him give a small smile. She must be wearing her wonderment on her face, so she stiffened it into a cold mask of disinterest.

  “No, this is your room,” he replied. “This is your bed, your closet and your private washroom. You will not be monitored in any way in this room; it is your small refuge of freedom. When we are settled in Hong Kong you will be given the same privilege. Now, should you choose to break the rules we discussed earlier, this freedom will be lost to you. If that is the case, I will leave you in the other room, or chain you to the foot of my bed. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said looking around, taking in the exquisite furnishings and beautiful pieces of art. Even the functional objects looked expensive and stylish, light fixtures and doorknobs, the closet doors. It was unbelievable to her that this would be her space, a far cry from the tiny room she had at home. But a prison nonetheless.

  “I will leave you to it. Make this space your own, little dove, for as long as you are with me, you are part of my home. If you do as you’re told, you will have a very comfortable life and want for nothing,” he said, gave her a nod
and left the room. She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or sincere in his promise. As with everything he did, she couldn’t read his intention.

  “Except for my freedom,” she whispered to his retreating form, and sighed in relief when he didn’t turn around to question what she had said.

  The first thing she did was go to the bathroom. She ran a hot bath and poured an entire bottle of what seemed like expensive bath oil into the water. It made her feel good to waste his money; she could get back at him in small ways.

  She stepped timidly into the water, let the steam rise around her and slid down until everything but her nose was submerged. She sat up and ran her hands along her skin, felt around her throat and was almost surprised to note there were no additional marks. His kind of brutal treatment surely left some trace, bruises would be expected but the level he took it to seemed like a scar or welt would be appropriate.

  She grabbed another bottle of oil and drenched her wrist with it. She gripped the metal cuff and twisted hard, trying to force it off her body. It didn’t work, it only served to gouge her other hand with the diamonds. She repeated this on the opposite cuff to the same result. It appeared they were on her wrists to stay. Once she escaped, she could get them cut off and sell them to pay for a few month’s rent for her and Eden or something. She decided that keeping them on was a good thing after all.

  It felt surreal to find herself soaking in a bath, even catching herself humming a little tune as she scrubbed herself clean, as though she were in a day spa. Any spa decked out like this would be out of her price range in the real world, she realized as she looked around.

  She would be a well-kept pet at least. It was strange though, the idea of being owned. In this day and age, in this country. She didn’t know if he expected her to be his slave, or if he would keep her like a courtesan. She was nervous about his intentions, but that damned small part of her whispered in the back of her mind, imagine what he could do to your body…the pleasure he could bring. But would that level of ecstasy be worth giving up her former life?