by Nicola Diaz
I don’t have the faintest idea as to who hired Alessandro, but I can guess it’s Cerys Pharmaceuticals, our primary competitors in the market. They must’ve found out about the deal, and sent a professional tormentor to extract the specifics from me. Not that he is getting anything out of me, but still.
I’m still lost in my thoughts, and he brutally shoves half the dildo up my hole. I let out a loud scream, and he ignores it, while pushing the rest inside. I want to kick him, but all my limbs are tied.
“Stop it, you motherfucker! You can do whatever you want, but you’re not getting a single detail out of me. I’m Nicolette o’Connor, and I’ve pulled Gamma out of more tough spots than you have hair. And I’m not throwing all of that to the dogs just because of whatever you might do to me.”
He continues as though he hasn’t heard me, and begins to pull the dildo out. I almost heave a sigh of relief, but he pushes it back again without warning. My throat is still hurting from the last scream, but a louder scream leaves me as he sets up a rhythm and begins to move the dildo in and out. It hurts like you can imagine it would: those spikes scraping against the walls of my vagina, and the dildo itself is bigger than any dick that’s ever been inside me.
I’m screaming, and he’s relentless. “Contact person. Account books. Exact amount. Tell me, and I’ll stop.”
I glare daggers at him, and remain silent. It clearly infuriates him, and he starts moving the dildo faster. I don’t know if I should be afraid or alarmed that I’m fully aroused by now, and doing all I can to stop myself from coming. It worries me how he’s a complete stranger, who clearly doesn’t have my best interests in mind, who is literally raping my pussy with a huge spiked dildo, and all I can think about is reaching orgasm. I know I should be bothered by the fact that the whole set-up: the abduction, the dungeon-lodge, the sex toys…is evoking lust instead of fear, but no, my pussy is wet, hungry for more and seems to have taken away my ability to think.
Suddenly, he pulls the dildo out, and I feel its absence acutely. I want it back inside, I want him to stroke me to orgasm. I’m mildly disgusted by my urges, but I can’t deny I’ve got them. He goes back to the cupboard, presumably to find another toy to torture me with. I wonder what it would be next. I find myself hoping it would cause me as much pain as the dildo did.
He brings a paddle, and smacks me hard across my ass. I whelp, but muffle the groan against my shoulder.
“Tell me who contacted the druglord, you dirty little cockslut. TELL ME!” He has raised his voice for the first time all night, and I realize that he sounds even sexier when angry.
When I say nothing, he smacks me again, harder this time. I let out a gasp, whether of pain or pleasure I’m not quite sure. What I do know is that I find myself waiting for the next one.
And he doesn’t make me wait. The next hit comes soon enough, and I feel myself warm up to the act. He’s shouting words like “Account books” and “details”, and I find it almost funny how all my attention is focused on how wet I’m getting. A few more smacks of the paddle, and I’m sure I’ll squirt all over myself. Now wouldn’t that be a sight!
He’s panting, and I can sense his increasing frustration in the tone in which he says, “Just say something, anything, goddamnit!” Despite the pain, I smirk to myself, thoroughly content that I’ve wrested the power from his hands. Back into mine, where power has always belonged. I feel a little bad for him; experienced BDSM practitioner he might be, but I can’t really blame him for not guessing that one of America’s most powerful CEOs could be such a resilient submissive.
The public Nicolette o’Connor is confidence, aggression and professionalism personified. She brooks no interference from those not as smart as her, and is known as a formidable rival. But the private Nicolette is a raging submissive. I have never trusted any of the men I’ve dated or casually fucked with this information, and my public persona ensures that my secret is pretty safe.
But in the hands of this one stranger who picked me up without my consent, and is doing all sorts of semi-erotic, semi-rape-y, semi-torturous things to me; I feel myself come apart and unable to hide my true desires. I want him to dominate me thoroughly; I want him to not listen to what I’m saying and treat me like his sex slave.
Good for me, he seems to know of my desires without my having to articulate them. He has now brought out a fire wand, and is dangling it threateningly in front of my eyes. Our eyes meet, and I see surprise flit across his face. I know it’s because he was probably expecting to see fear instead of arousal. I love how despite being physically vulnerable thanks to the bondage, I still manage to rile him up.
He brings the flame close to my thighs, and speaks. “One last chance, Nicolette. Tell me what I’m being paid to find out, and I’ll let you go. Withhold the information, and I’ll have no choice but to turn you over to the person who’s hired me.”
“Who has hired you?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.
“You seem smart enough. Can’t you guess?”
“Cerys Pharma. It’s Melina Motherfucking Patterson, isn’t it?”
He nods. “Does that change your decision?”
“It only makes me more determined to not give anything away.” Melina is one of my oldest rivals. I’ve hated her since college, and she’s always had this weird hate-attraction thing for me.
He runs the flame along my thigh. I suck in a breath, but don’t move my thigh. The flame begins to heat the spot, and I bear it for a few seconds before yelling “OUCH.” He pulls back a bit, and then moves the flame to another spot. He keeps doing it until both my thighs are covered with red spots, and are tingling with pain. I don’t feel much beyond a little discomfort, and Alessandro clearly looks amazed at my pain tolerance threshold.
“So what are you going to try next?” I ask him, the challenge in my voice obvious.
He heaves a deep sigh, and says, “You’ve brought this upon yourself, Nicolette. If I’m to receive my payment, I must hand you over to Melina. Those were the terms. Though I do think she wouldn’t know what’s hit her, if your resilience to pain is anything to go by.”
“Wait. So she’s going to subject me to non-consensual BDSM too?” I ask, feeling truly horrified for the first time since last evening. It must be morning by now, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of regret over the fact that my session with him is over.
“Yep. Unless you can give me information that can pass off as convincing,” he offers.
“No, she’s too smart. She’ll know.”
“Well then, my decision is made.” Having said that, he unties my bindings and lowers me to the floor.
********************************
An hour later, I’m at Melina’s house, in a similar dungeon. I didn’t know she was into fetish play. But if her past vindictiveness is anything to go by, then I should be really scared. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.
Alessandro leaves me with her, collects his check, and leaves.
“So Nicolette. How nice to see you again,” Melina remarks as she ties me to a St Andrew’s Cross. She has stripped me naked, and I feel much more exposed than I had felt around Alessandro. I just stare at her, communicating all my virulent hatred in a single glance. It’s not lost on her, and she smirks while tightening my bonds. They hurt, and I know that if left too long, they can cause permanent nerve damage. Knowing her, that’s probably her intention.
She takes out a riding crop, and starts circling me like a hawk. “I know about the Meyer Deal, Nico. And I’m going to do everything I can to ruin Gamma.”
“Not while I’m alive,” I spit out.
“Oh but I’ve taken care of that. You wouldn’t remain alive for very long,” she purrs.
I know she isn’t bluffing, so I just swallow and say nothing. I don’t even let out a yelp of pain as the riding crop hits my thighs right over the fire marks. She hits again, and demands information. If I’m going to die in this dungeon, with no one but my college-cum-business arch-nemesis for compan
y, the least I can do is ensure I don’t betray the company I have worked so hard to build.
On realizing that the riding crop isn’t doing much to cause me any significant pain, she brings out a clear plastic bag and covers my face with it. She ties it under my chin, and continues to hit me with the crop. The idea of breath play has always scared me, and I don’t like the fact that my first experience with it is because of the one woman I hate the most.
In about three minutes, I feel as though I’m choking. There’s no safe word, no signal, nothing I can do to tell her that I’m about to pass out. I don’t even the register the pain on my thighs anymore.
********************************
When I come to, I’m lying face down on a couch, and Alessandro is sitting beside me. I sit up, and see that Melina has been tied to her own St Andrew’s Cross, and looks in considerable pain. I don’t need to look very hard to see how that happened, but I am surprised that Alessandro came to my rescue.
“I will screw you over,” she spits at the both of us.
“Only if you manage to escape,” he says, looking at me conspiratorially. I’m still dazed from the asphyxiation that she had induced.
“Since when have you been on my side?” I ask him.
“I’m a freelance mercenary. I don’t have sides. But I do have an agenda of my own to push,” he says, winking at me. Despite my current sleep-and-food-deprived, raped-and-tortured state, I manage to register how good the wink and smile makes him look.
He gets up and gags Melina.
“If you ever try to institute any action against me, remember that you will be charged with inducing me to torture and rape Nicolette,” he tells her.
Whatever she might’ve wanted to say gets muffled by the gag, and I feel a near-sadistic satisfaction at watching her reduced to helplessness. We leave her gagged and bound, and leave.
********************************
Alessandro takes me to his flat, and I have no idea what he meant by ‘agenda of his own’, apart from the obviously sexual. But once we’re inside, he dashes straight to the kitchen and comes out fifteen minutes later with tacos and pasta. Wordlessly, he puts the plates down in front of me, and gives me a blanket to wrap around myself.
“Eat,” is all he says, before disappearing into the bathroom. I gorge on the food, realizing now that I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours. He comes back, carries my plates to the kitchen and gets me water. I cannot process how the brutal mercenary who had assaulted me in that lodge has been transformed into this caring…friend, almost. But I’m glad when he leads me to the bathroom, where he has filled the tub with warm water and bath salts.
“Err…what do you want to watch?” he asks as I exit the bathroom. This whole thing has begun to feel more and more like a normal sleepover between friends, and I’m not sure what to make of it. I wonder why he’s being so considerate all of a sudden. He hadn’t seemed the type.
“Doctor Who,” I say, looking every bit as befuddled as I’m feeling. He puts on ‘Blink’, and beckons me to the couch.
Once we’ve finished watching the episode, he turns to me. “Nicolette. I’d like to apologize for what I did last night. I understand that it can be classed as rape in any jurisdiction of the world, and that doing all that to you without your consent was wrong in every sense of the term. True, I used BDSM equipment, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that we never discussed safe words and limits. That’s not how BDSM works.”
“You were doing your job as a hired hand,” I say, uncharacteristically touched by his admission. “If it’s any consolation, know that I wanted to bang you from the minute I set eyes on you. So there was always consent in the broadest sense, if not in the specifics of what you did. Also, I’ve always fantasized about being sexually dominated by a stranger, so…thanks for letting me live that out, I guess.”
“So…erm. If you want to press charges, I wouldn’t stop you. I would try to ensure I got a life term, if I were you,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice rattles me. He does seem genuinely regretful. I pause for a while, and then begin.
“If you can guarantee that whatever happens between us from this point would be consensual, I would consider the past forgotten.” I don’t know if he even wants a long-term dominant/submissive relationship with me, but I just had to say that out loud.
He looks stunned, which I suppose is the appropriate reaction when someone you just assaulted has made a proposition for a long-term arrangement.
“Ahem…” he attempts, clearing his throat. “I hadn’t anticipated that…that you would want anything to do with me after last night.”
“So…is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes, of course yes. I’d be delighted to be your long-term Dom,” and his eyes light up.
I smile too, and feel the need to clarify. “Purely casual, of course, no strings attached.”
He looks a little thrown for a second, but recovers quickly and nods. “Of course.”
“My safe word is Bourbon. And the only hard limit I have is breath play. Much as I like kink, I don’t think I want to risk my life. After what Melina did, I think I’m going to be skeptical of it forever.”
“Sounds good,” he says, and we move to his bedroom.
He lays me down on the bed, and takes off my bathrobe. He ties my ankles and wrists cautiously to the bed, so that I’m lying spread-eagled. He ties a gag across my mouth, careful to not cover my nose. I’m holding a red scarf in my hand, to replace the safe word.
He kneels between my legs, and spreads my thighs a bit. I know what he’s going to do, but that doesn’t make the contact of his tongue with my clit less intense. He licks with abandon, and I want to scream with the toe-curling pleasure, but the gag restrains me. I want to clutch his hair between my fingers, but the bondage makes it impossible.
So I have to be content with moaning and spreading my thighs even wider, to allow him better access. He takes the chance, and licks deeper into my hole. I’ve begun to thrust into his mouth, and he’s holding my hips in place.
Suddenly, he replaces his tongue with two fingers, and I feel as though I’m going to come. But he pulls his fingers out, and says, “You can’t come until I ask you to.” A shiver of pure pleasure runs down my spine at his words, and I love being told what to do by him.
He fetches a dildo from the side of the bed, and begins to push it inside. This time, he takes it slow, and I’m thankful for it. Within a few seconds, the whole length is inside me, and once he’s certain that I’m comfortable, he begins to move it. Gasps of pleasure escape my mouth at every thrust, and my pleasure is doubled at not being able to shout freely.
My orgasm builds up slowly, and the memory of the spiked dildo in the lodge serves to heighten my arousal. He’s moving it in and out, and I’m getting more and desperate for release. Finally, I’m coming, my screams gagged and limbs bound. I want to thrash around and shout with the pleasure, but not being able to do all that makes it all the more sharply felt.
I’m panting, still coming down from what has been the most intense orgasm I’ve had in years. I don’t even get a chance to catch my breath as he releases my bindings and says, “Turn on your back.”
I obey instantly, without a second thought. The fact that I’m so quick to obey has stopped worrying me, and I’m looking forward to what he might do next.
He ties me up again, this time face down, and kneels between my thighs again. His finger finds his way into my asshole, and I shudder. Now I’m no anal virgin, but I haven’t had it up the ass for years, so I’m worried about how painful it’s going to be. One finger becomes two, and it’s beginning to hurt a little.
But the pain is momentary as I gradually stretch enough to accommodate four fingers. He pulls them out, and I can hear him tear the condom wrapper as he slips one on. I feel the head of his cock near my hole, and he gradually pushes it in. I like the fact that he’s considerate, given that I’ve been raped and tortured and starved all in the space of one day
.
I feel his cock stretch my hole, and a groan of pain escapes my throat. But I get used to it, and he’s beginning to thrust in and out. He sets up a tantalizing rhythm, and I want to yell at him to go faster but am helpless. I have no choice but to take what he’s giving me.
I’ve orgasmed barely minutes ago, but I can feel another one building up. He has increased his pace, and he isn’t showing any of the gentleness he has shown thus far. Now, he’s simply pounding into me with reckless abandon, and before long, I’m coming. A few seconds later, his orgasm follows mine, and he shouts “Nicolette!” hoarsely.
He falls on top of me, and for a while both of us are just listening to each other breathe. Then, he gets up, unties me and covers me with a blanket. “You need to sleep. I’ll be in the next room,” is all he says. I really am exhausted, so I don’t need much convincing to drift off to sleep.
