by K. Webster
I whimper and nod. I’m afraid to open my mouth for fear of the sort of sick things I’ll beg him to do to me. Heat creeps up my neck as my orgasm nears, but he yanks away from me and stands just out of reach.
“Stop, Bunny. Enough. I just wanted you to get the toy wet. Your pussy is dripping down the crack of your ass so you’ll have no problems.”
Tears of frustration trickle out of the corner of my eyes as I slip the vibrator from my clit and push it into myself. It’s small, no bigger than one of his thumbs, so it doesn’t really do much from the inside.
“Now give it to me,” he demands.
My body quakes with an intensity that can no longer be contained. I’m on the cusp of something big. Right on the very edge and each time he rips me back. He’s a bastard, yet I keep hoping he’ll give me just the little push I need.
Once he has it in his hand, I relax until he pushes it into my ass. Being a prostitute that took it in the ass from time to time, I’ve never enjoyed any sort of pleasure from the act. It’s degrading and not in a good way. My frightened mewls are silenced though by his gentle shushing and I let him in with it. The toy isn’t very invasive and the moment the vibrations course through the walls, I shudder in delight.
His excited groan thrills me. “Use those fingers to take care of yourself. Get creative. Show me what feels good. I’ll hold this here so it doesn’t pop out.” His voice is husky and it rattles through me in a provocative way much like the object he holds into my ass.
I close my eyes and let my fingers explore. Rubbing and pinching and pulling—anything to find relief. I push one, two, three fingers into myself. The fullness of the toy in my ass coupled with my fingers in my pussy dizzies me. With my other hand, I massage uneven circles against my clit while I fuck myself with my other hand.
“That’s it, whore. Remember what you’re here for. Pleasure. Fucking pleasure. I promised I’d take what I wanted, but I also promised I’d give you more than you’ve ever known existed.”
My heart thumps erratically and I fear it might stop at any moment. Without warning, an obliterating orgasm slices through me so viciously that I think I might pass out. I shudder with the intensity of a woman during an exorcism and no longer know the world around me. All I am able to sense is him—his scent and presence. I’m blissed out on this fucked up sex game and I don’t even care. This whole morning was worth this one moment of crazed, insane pleasure.
His chair squeaks as he sits down. Gently, he tugs my fingers from inside my body and removes the vibrator from my ass.
“Come here, toy.” I’m so weak, but with his help he assists me in sliding off the desk. He pulls me into his lap and strokes my hair. “Training wasn’t so hard today, now was it?”
I’m too limp to even form a reply. Too confused to even attempt to bite back with a snippy remark. I bury my face against his chest and attempt to regain control over my breathing. But with his heady scent intoxicating me, I only find myself on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Shhh,” he says soothingly, crushing a little part of my soul with his kindness. “I have you now.”
I hope he does, because I’m more lost now than I was a week and a half ago when I was spaced out on skag.
Christine brings us BLT sandwiches for lunch. Apparently, my torture session lasted well through breakfast. I don’t miss the disappointment in my housemaid’s eyes and it bothers me. I’ve never seen the look in her eyes before. I have done shit like this for years so I’m confused that she suddenly seems offended.
“Thank you,” I tell her as she scurries off. “Tell Cartier to come here.”
Bunny sits quietly in my lap. She’s long since stopped crying and when she started to shiver, I covered her in her robe. Now she’s simply silent. I miss her voice and my chest aches.
This is exactly why I needed to see Nat. To get my head back on straight. I’m weak when it comes to Bunny.
“You need me, sir?” Cartier’s normally playful smile is gone and he’s all business. I glare at him in confusion. Are they all fucking pissed at me? Again, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this shit.
But Bunny is different.
I swallow down the fact that my staff sees it too and grunt out my command. “Take care of Bunny. I have shit to do. I want her playing the part of perfect whore by dinner.” I attempt to keep my voice even and bored but when she tenses in my arms, guilt washes over me. Instead of letting the guilt win, I nudge her to get out of my lap.
“Come on, honey,” Cart says with a sigh of exasperation, “let’s go work some magic. It’ll take a lot to make you the way Mr. Kennedy wants you.”
His comment is a dig and I snap my gaze to his. We standoff for a moment as he helps her to her feet but eventually he chickens out and looks away.
“Pure. Street. Trash.” My reminder makes him huff.
“Got it, sir,” he says over his shoulder. “But this will take all day.”
The dig again.
He wants me to understand that she is far from street trash. Fuck him and his girly attitude. I’ll have a little conversation with him about it later. But right now, I need to sort through some work and focus on anything but how warm she felt in my arms.
“Just get it done, Cart, if you want to keep your goddamn job. I want her ready by five for dinner.”
All I get is a wave before the door closes behind them. As soon as she’s gone, the air is colder. My office seems empty. Lonely. I fucking hate it.
I attempt to keep my mind off of her by diving into work. Several emails wait in my inbox from Glenna and Jamal. Apparently Trevor is doing well and he’s “deeply saddened by his actions and the consequence of said actions.”
Good.
He should be fucking scared out of his goddamned mind. I’m not done with his ass yet.
An email pops up from a name I don’t recognize.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
RE: Membership
Mr. Kennedy,
I’m very interested in discussing your exclusive membership opportunities. Please ring my office so we can talk privately on the matter.
—J—
I pick up the phone and dial the number he’s listed just under his picture. He’s a politician with a friendly smile. The Black membership is incredibly expensive to the tune of a hundred grand a year. Accounts like this don’t come around every day, so when they do, I make sure to handle the transaction. He answers on the first ring. “James Dixon.”
Sitting back in my office chair, I swivel around so I can stare out at the lake. “Hello, Mr. Dixon. Braxton Kennedy speaking. I received your email and understand you’ve read the terms and pricing for our Black membership?”
After a lengthy discussion, I discover that James is a freak like me. He’s even had my grumpy ass chuckling a few times with his easygoing personality. His only concern was making sure that his paying for the Black membership will keep his dealings discreet because of his political affiliations. It’s a legitimate concern and one he won’t have to worry about. Even I can’t access his “requests.” He could be asking for dudes for all I know. Many other clients like to brag about the toys they’re interested in and what they do to them but James has been absolutely silent on the subject. All I know is he’s willing to drop a lot of fucking cash in my company for his needs.
“I have a thing for brunettes,” he tells me finally with a chuckle, giving me a sneak peek into his private world.
So do I apparently.
“I have some time off at the end of February. That’s probably when I’ll set up my meeting with my toy. I’d love to meet up with you and play a round of golf, Mr. Kennedy.”
“Please, call me Brax. We’ll make it happen. In the meantime, upon completion of your payment, you’ll be given access to the Black section of the site. Feel free to call me if you have any questions as I want to make this a pleasurable experience for you.”
“I have
no doubts I will be pleased. I’m looking forward to some fun before I have to work my ass off. I’m running in 2020 so that means I won’t be getting too many vacation days in the near future.”
“What race?”
“Presidential.”
I whistle. “Impressive. Your dealings with our company will be handled with the utmost discretion, I can assure you. As long as you follow your rules, we follow ours. But, for the record, I’m not voting for you,” I joke.
We both laugh.
“I like you, Braxton Kennedy. Can’t wait to meet you in person.”
“Likewise, buddy.”
I don’t make friends very easily but I already like this guy. Perhaps I will vote for him.
“Where’s Bunny?” I question from the doorway of the salon. Cartier is putting all the makeup back in a drawer and doesn’t look up at me.
“Upstairs.”
I cross my arms and wait for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t I growl. “Do you have a fucking problem, Cart?”
He snaps his head up and his jaw works in desperation to keep what he really wants to say from escaping. “Not at all, sir. She’s a skanky, little whore just like you requested.”
Nodding at him, I start to leave but his words stop me.
“Sir,” he says with a sigh, “I don’t mean to step out of line but something is different about Bunny. She doesn’t belong here.”
My blood boils. If another goddamn person tells me this, I’m going to choke the fucking shit out of them.
“Is that all, Cartier?”
He mutters out a yes and goes back to cleaning.
Stalking out of the salon, I storm past the kitchen that smells heavenly and get on the elevator. The ride upstairs is long and I’m tight like a rubber band stretched to its limit by the time I step out on the top floor. Her room is empty and my stomach drops.
“Bunny?”
She responds from the Theater Room. I find her inside hiding in the dark. “Did you not find any movies to watch?”
Her laugh is harsh and cold. “I don’t watch Disney princess movies. I’d hoped for a Reese Witherspoon flick or something.”
I shrug my shoulders. “You’ll have to earn more movies.”
Flicking on the light, I’m surprised to see her standing. The dress Cartier picked out for her is neon yellow and short, barely covering the nice swell of her ass. Her long slender legs are sparkly in the light from some kind of lotion or some shit. And she wears spiked black heels that make her a few inches taller. He’s teased her hair all over her head and it’s twice its normal size. She glares at me beneath long false lashes. The rouge on her cheeks has been overdone and her lips are stained blood red.
She’s supposed to look like a whore.
But she somehow looks hot.
“Come here.”
Her hesitation is minimal as she steps toward me. The light in her eyes isn’t dulled but it has darkened. She’s not afraid of me like she should be. She fucking hates me. The very thought sends a trickle of unease sliding down my spine.
I don’t care if my toys like me.
I don’t care if they think I’m the fucking devil.
So why the fuck am I craving the way she looked at me last night?
“I’m embarrassed,” she says softly and it slices into my gut.
Studying her features, I frown. “Why?”
“Look at me. I look like a whore.”
I should remind her that she is a whore but I can’t. I can’t fucking do it. Instead, my mouth blurts out what I want to say and the moment it slips out, I’m angry with myself for being a pussy. “You don’t look like a whore. You’re beautiful.”
Her long lashes bat against her cheeks and I see surprise morphing her pretty features. “Master?”
My cock thickens with one word. All sweetness drains into the floor and my back stiffens. I like my whore looking the way she does. “Yes, my toy?”
“Can we go shopping one day?”
I raise a confused brow. “Bunny, you have a closet full of clothes, from the finest retailers in Seattle.”
She frowns and looks away. “Never mind.”
I reach for her hand and she lets me take it. Dragging her out of the Theater Room, I head toward the Hole. I know we’re supposed to be going to dinner but I want to fuck her before we go. She needs to be dripping with my cum during dinner. That’s what good whores do—they drip with their owner’s cum.
There’s no resistance on her part as I push through the unlocked door and into the room. The light’s still on from last night and the air is cold like it’s supposed to be.
“On your knees, skank.” I give her a small shove toward the mattress.
She saunters over there as if she owns the fucking place and gets on all fours. “Like this, master?”
I groan as I begin unfastening my pants. “I want to see your ass when I fuck you. Push your panties down and lift up your dress.”
Her chuckle is fake but it stirs my cock. “But master,” she purrs, “I’m not wearing any panties.”
Tugging my hard-as-steel dick from my pants, I saddle up behind her. Bruises mar her ass and it makes me want to put them all over her body—but with my mouth.
“Are you wet?” I question.
She shakes her head. “No, sir.”
“Good.” I line my cock up against her opening and shove myself inside of her.
Her scream isn’t one of pain and with how easily I slid in, I know she was lying. She’s so fucking wet and I’m confused. My toy hates me yet she’s eager for me to fuck her. This shit hole of a room turns her on.
I have half a mind to drag her unwilling ass into the Princess Room and fuck her there. But I don’t have any rope handy and I’m guessing she’d try to run. I’ll save that little fantasy for another day.
“Does your ass hurt?” I question as I thrust into her.
She whimpers every time my nuts slap against her clit and it turns me right the fuck on. “Yes, sir.”
“Does my dick make it all better?”
“Yes, sir.”
Reaching into her knotty hair, I tangle my fingers in it and yank. She yelps but her pussy clenches around my cock. My toy likes it rough.
“Beg for me to spank you again, Bunny.”
She whines. “Please don’t.”
“Bunny,” I warn with a growl.
I’m surprised when she falls to her elbows and offers her ass up to me. I take her deeper and groan. Jesus, she feels so fucking good.
“Beg, baby.”
“Please spank me, master.”
My sight darkens with pleasure and my groin tightens. She clenches her butt cheeks as she prepares for a spanking which makes her body grip my cock. It’s intense. I crave to pause this moment with her. To live inside of her for eternity. My thoughts are running wild in my head as I live in the sheer fucking pleasure she rewards me with. She tenses, waiting for pain—pain I’m not sure I can even deliver because I’m too frozen in the moment that’s her. I don’t spank her but I do cum without warning.
“Shit!”
She gasps and as I throb into her, her body begins to shudder, milking my dick as if I could suddenly produce more cum for her. Her body is still shaking when I yank out of her.
Fuck!
This was supposed to drag on. To last longer than three goddamned seconds. I wanted to whip her and hurt her. I fucking wanted to own her mind and body for hours as I kept her away from her much coveted bliss.
But instead, she messed with my damn head. I lost myself in her again. This woman confuses the hell out of me and she’s ruining my carefully constructed plans.
I stand with a disgusted snarl and shove my wet dick back into my pants. All through dinner I want to feel her sticky pussy mixed with my seed.
“Pull your dress down, whore. We’re going to dinner.”
She stands and drags her short dress back over her ass with a satisfied smile playing at her lips as if my instructions were normal. The t
wo of us are not fucking normal. I want to be pissed at her—for scrambling my brain—but the fire is simmering. A smile of my own tugs at my lips against my will.
“What are we having?” Her curious expression snuffs out my anger and I can’t help but think she’s cute. Especially knowing my hot cum is running down her thighs.
Chuckling, I reach for her hand. “My favorite. Today’s been a good day, Bunny. I’m pleased with your progress. You’re making me very happy.”
She flashes me a shy grin and my cock reacts. But I’m fucking starved. I’ll have her suck our juices off later for dessert. Her hand slides into mine and the iciness of it sobers me right the fuck up. Dragging her out of the room, I hastily get her to the elevator and out of the Hole.
We get onto the elevator and she shivers. Even though she looks like the prostitute she is, her wide, green eyes are eager. For food. Just like me. When you live on the streets, food becomes just as much of a drug as heroin or cocaine.
“Christine is a fantastic cook. You haven’t had home cooking like hers,” I tell her, excitement in my voice.
She raises a challenging brow. “Then you, sir, have not had Jessica’s Famous Fried Chicken. One taste and you’ll be mine forever,” she teases.
The thought of her bouncing around the kitchen with flour on her nose stirs much more than my cock this time. An ache forms inside my chest and I don’t like it.
“Can we go shopping tomorrow?”
Her question once again confuses me. “What is your obsession with shopping?”
She swallows, her icy hand in mine becomes clammy. “I wanted to get some yoga pants and some T-shirts.”
I start to protest but stop to listen to her next whispered words.
“And I was hoping I could get some socks,” she says, turning her sad eyes to mine. “My feet have been so cold.”
The ache is in my chest again.
I don’t know what I’m going to do with this toy.
But I know for sure that tomorrow we’re going to buy her some fucking socks. Every goddamn pair at every goddamn store.
