by Naomi West
He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me back against his chest with one hand pulling and tugging at my nipple, twisting it with a hardness and cruelty that offset the pleasure from my pussy. With the other on my hips he lifted me all the way up and down like a feather. I threw my head back onto his shoulder, my back arched, my breasts pointed to the ceiling, as my voice broke into a keening wail as an orgasm ripped through me.
He leaned down, bit my neck, his hips moving his cock in and out of me in time with his arms, as my body spasmed under his attention. When I'd finished shaking he pulled us back onto the bed and lay back. My arms twisted behind me uncomfortably, somehow thrilling me even more. He reached one hand down between my legs and grabbed my thigh hard, pulling me apart for him as he began to fuck me long and hard from behind.
I panted through dry lips, licking them desperately to try and keep them moist. I cried out again as his other hand forgot my breast and found my clit instead. I bucked against his hand, my eyes rolling back in my head, as I cried out his name again. “Don't stop, Asa! Please don't stop!”
He fucked faster and I was completely helpless and at his mercy, his strong arms holding me in a place, but his cock making sure I never wanted to go anywhere else. “You love my cock, don't you?”
“God yes,” I groaned as I gyrated my hips and ground myself into his hand as he each of his strokes hit my g-spot. I cried out again as he stood up with me still on his cock and turned me around so I was bent over the bed. My mouth hung open in pleasure as he continued to use me for his pleasure.
He picked me up my legs, shoved them onto the bed so I was still on my face and my knees were propped on the mattress. He shoved my face forward, burying it in the covers as he grabbed my long blonde hair from behind. He pounded me hard and fast from behind, my ass and thighs shaking with each thrust. I pushed back into him, wishing there was somehow a way to get more of him into me, to somehow fill me even fuller.
His hands grabbed my thighs again, his thumbs on my ass cheeks, spreading them lewdly. He began to rub me on my pink little hole. I knew what he was going to do next. It was almost instinctual. Normally, I didn't like that kind of thing, but with Asa, I'd suddenly never wanted anything more. He pushed a finger into my ass as he drove into me harder from me behind, and it was like I'd been riding a lightning rod dildo and a bolt of electricity had struck my insides.
I clenched up around his cock as I screamed in ecstasy, my whole body contorting and shaking against my handcuffs. I grabbed at the air, trying to feel him with my hands and his finger slid inside me. I pushed back like a whore for him, trying to get more than just the barest amount.
“You ready for the real thing, Lauren?” he growled as he pulled his cock from me.
Was I? After all my years, I'd never done anything like that, not with any man or by myself. Although, I'd always been a little curious. And now, with my pussy figuratively on fire and Asa behind me, threatening to mount me, I wanted to be stuffed by him more than anything. Oddly, it was like there was nothing else that would ever bring us this close. This was my first time, and I wanted it to be with him.
I nodded fervently into the cushion. “Be gentle, please,” I said, my voice coming out as unexpectedly urgent whine. “I've never . . .”
“You've never, huh?” he said as he pushed his massive cock against my asshole. “Never what?”
I didn't reply at first as he moved his hands to stroke my slit and toy with it. I just closed my eyes and moaned, knowing how exposed and at his mercy I was with my ass and pussy in the air like this for him. He scooped up some of my juices with his fingers, spread them on my puckered hole. “You have to say it, Lauren. You have to say it for me, or I won't do it.”
I made a whining noise, secretly loving the humiliation he was making me feel. “Fucked in the ass.”
“Beg me for it, then,” he ordered as he put the head of his cock against my back entrance and began to draw my hips onto him.
It hurt at first. It felt like I was a virgin all over, and I was being torn apart for the first time. But it was such a good, intense feeling like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I cried out a little, panting into the covers. “Please, Asa, please fuck me there. Please.”
He swatted my ass hard as he pushed deeper into me. “Good girl,” he growled as he released my hair and grabbed hold of the link between the cuffs, his fingers grabbing the chain tightly. “Now stay steady. This may hurt a little.”
I gasped as he pushed deeper into me, stretching me around him. He'd been huge everywhere else, but here he felt awesomely gigantic. I cried out as he pushed deep into me, my whole body shaking from the intensity of it. I felt myself shake around his cock, and I began to cum before he could even start to fuck me. He slid out of me, then back in, then out. Over and over.
Time seemed to stand still, the motions of the clock replaced only by the motions of the bed, the ticks and tocks nothing more than alternating waves of pleasure as my whole body seemed to explode because of him. He picked up his pace, swearing loudly as he started to pound into me harder, truly using me. I felt his balls slapping against my exposed pussy, each time like a light smack that sent my pleasure higher. I pushed back against him as his balls tightened.
“I'm going to cum,” he groaned.
“Please,” I cried out, shaking around his tool, as I came again and felt its warmth trickle down the inside of my thighs, “cum in me Asa.”
He roared as he began to fill me, his cock seeming to grow inside, pulsing with each surge he sent a tingle deep inside me. We trembled and shook on the bed like it was vibrating, our calls weaving together like some lusty, sexy symphony that echoed throughout the whole motel. Then, as I felt him slowly wilting inside me, and his hands dropped from my body, I let out a long, low sigh of relief. I didn't know how much more I could cum after that.
A moment later, the upstairs and next door neighbors pounded on the ceiling and walls, with additional screams for us to shut the fuck up. Laughing from their objections, he quickly had the keys for my cuffs out, and he undid both sides of the bonds. I rolled over to my side, and he flopped down onto the bed with me, pulling my sweat slick body against his, his hands roaming all over my breasts, stomach, and ass. I rolled over and draped an arm over his damp, tattoo-decorated chest and kissed him squarely on the lips.
“Seemed to enjoy it,” he said with a grin.
“So did you,” I replied as I scraped my nails down his chest and ran one fingertip around his nipple. I kissed him again, sucking his tongue into my mouth for just a moment. “God, that was amazing.”
He grabbed a big handful of my ass and pulled me even closer as I dropped my head to his chest.
“Round two?” I asked as I settled into his strong, dominating, masterful embrace.
“Gonna have to give me a second,” he groaned. “Besides, the night's still young.”
“It sure is,” I agreed, my hand dipping down between his legs and grabbing his cock. “And tomorrow's going to be a long one.”
Even as he began to stiffen in my hand, I knew I was right. Because, even though I realized I was beginning to feel something beyond just my intense physical attraction to this man, I knew I was going to have to betray him if I wanted Pops dead. It wasn't going to work any other way.
I kissed Asa's chest again and snuggled up to him, sighing, just trying to enjoy this brief moment of happiness. It was going to be sad to have to let this one go.
Chapter Fourteen
Asa
With our destination so close, and both of us set on our goal of dethroning Dalton Saylor, we set out early the next morning. It seemed the air was electric with possibilities as I gassed up the car and we lit out of town, headed for the Fortress, pushing ninety the whole way. I hadn't wanted to speed like this before with Lauren in the car, since I hadn't been sure of what she'd do with the cops if I was pulled over. At least I knew she was on my side.
By late morning, the expanses of the plains had become dotted
by trees. By early afternoon, the stands of trees had become forest of pines and evergreens that swept out as far as I could see. The air seemed heavier here, more humid the closer we came to the gulf. Soon, the pine trees were replaced by oaks and elms, Spanish moss hanging low from their limbs. We were in Louisiana, and you could almost hear the jazz if you strained your ears enough, or smell the jambalaya and boudin cooking if you sniffed the wind.
I pulled over to gas up the car for the last stretch of the drive. The Fortress was in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't know how long it would be till I saw another station. I left Lauren in the car, unshackled, and went inside to pay. Soon as I was finished, I gave Galen a call to let him know I had Lauren Saylor and I was going in. Of course, I didn't tell him about anything else I had planned.
“Ready?” I asked Lauren as I climbed back in the car.
Her lips formed a firm, thin line, pressed together so hard they were almost white. “I think so,” she replied.
I grabbed her hand, squeezed. “We'll get through this,” I told her. “Together. Okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah,” she said, seemingly forcing a smile as she squeezed back. “Together.”
By evening, we were within spitting distance of Dalton's little fiefdom, his own private expanse of land where he lived like a depraved king, a place where the only law was his private whim. Here, where the woods bordered the bayou, and people lived on the edge of poverty, no one cared as long as you had money, and the cops could be easily paid to look the other way.
We turned off the main highway and took to the backroads, following the directions Galen had given me some weeks back. We threaded through the trees, over back creeks, and through a small, deserted town Dalton Saylor had bought and cleared out.
The road leading up to the Fortress was unmarked, and we took the turn in silence. Then the trees broke, and we saw Lauren's father's kingdom for the first time.
“Jesus H. Christ on crutch,” she whispered in awe.
“You said it, babe.”
The Fortress rose fifty feet in the air from the soil like a monstrous concrete monolith, its gray surface stained with water runoff. Each side was at least as long as a football field, maybe longer. No windows were cut into the sides, so it looked like some massive mausoleum plopped down on the edge of the Louisiana bayou.
The Fortress was Dalton's point of import from all places anywhere. South America, the Caribbean, Central America, Mexico. Even Europe and Africa, some whispered. A private air strip crossed one edge of the land, and small planes came in and out all the time with their smuggled goods. One side of the compound even had docks, a place where smugglers could bring their drugs and guns up off the coast, then secret them away in the Fortress and get them ready for distribution to the rest of the country. Finally, along the backside of the building, there were tractor-trailers lined up for bringing in and taking out goods, distributing overland to all forty-eight continental states.
On the land side a perimeter fence stretched nearly twenty feet high, with razor wire strung across the top, split the Fortress off from the world outside. A guardhouse stood next to the one entrance in, and it was always manned, day or night. People in our organization figured some of them were ex-military, private contractors just looking for an easy buck. Others were men who had been with Dalton from the beginning.
Saylor shipped other items in and out, of course. He had to have something to make everything look nice and legal. But, shipping normal dry goods wasn't where he made his money. Far from it. And, over it all, swarmed armed men like ants crawling over a carcass. Men walked the security fence, worked the security gate, and there were even snipers on top of the building. How much money was this costing the old man each day? Private security like this didn't come cheap. Neither did the men who were needed to watch the security cameras that dotted the building, cameras I could see even from this distance. There must have been dozens and dozens, covering the whole landscape from every angle possible.
“Never seen it before?” I asked as we slowly approached the gatehouse.
She shook her head. “Think my mom would have wanted me raised in this kind of place? Hell no, I've never seen it! Just heard Pops talking to the guys about improvements and all that kind of stuff. I hadn't imagined it'd be this big!”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Makes the Branch Davidians down in Waco look like amateurs.”
I pulled the Camaro up in front of the gatehouse, with its cross bar down across the road and spike strips laid out. A man with a big fiery red beard and arms as big as mine came out from the gatehouse and approached us with an assault rifle slung at his side. He wore camo fatigues, the kind you'd see in the military. He came around to my window as I began to roll it down, his hand on the rifle's grip.
“What can we do ya for?” he grated in a thick accent as he came to a stop about four feet away from the window, far enough away that I couldn't surprise him by slamming the car door open.
“Got someone your boss would probably like to see,” I said as Lauren shifted around to be able to see past me.
“Oh yeah? Who might that be?” he asked, slightly amused as he hunched down and looked in through my window. His eyes widened in shock. “Holy shit!” He grabbed a walkie talkie off his belt and hit the button. “Got a car coming up. You ain't gonna believe who's in it, either. Lauren fucking Saylor.”
I glanced back at Lauren and gave her a wink. She didn't return it, though. Her face had gone almost ashen with bad nerves.
“The prodigal daughter?” crackled the voice back. “Galen came through, then, just like he said he would.”
“The one and only, Mr. Vance,” Red Beard said.
Mr. Vance? I shook my head a little, trying to remember who was who from what Galen had told me before I got sent to retrieve Lauren. The man on the radio, if I remembered correctly, was Anderson Vance, Dalton Saylor's second-in-command, his right-hand man.
“Send 'em on up, then,” Anderson replied over the radio, his voice full of static. “I'll let Mr. Saylor know she's returned.”
“Well,” Red Beard said as he put the radio back on his belt, “y'all heard the man. Let's get y'all on up there.”
“Right,” I said, nodding as he went over and pulled away the spike strips from the road, then went into the guard house and hit a button that raised the crossbar from the roadway.
I pulled through the gatehouse area and drove up the road to the main structure. There was a large parking lot area, not much more than an expanse of packed and reinforced earth, off to the side and I pulled the Camaro around and found a spot.
“Ready for this?” I asked Lauren again.
She swallowed, clearly nervous. “Yeah,” she rasped, nodding. “Let's go.”
We climbed out of the car and headed up to the warehouse. I wanted to put my arm around her, to reassure her that everything was going to be fine, but I didn't know who was watching. I didn't want to give anyone the impression that we'd been sleeping together. Somehow, it just seemed that might give them more leverage.
“What's your plan when we get in there?” Lauren asked as we got closer to the front entrance.
“Plan?” I asked with a shrug. “No plan, yet. No one knows anything about the way the Fortress works, so I don't have one.”
Lauren stopped in her tracks and just looked at me. I stopped and turned to her.
She leaned in closer, her eyebrows narrowing. “You mean you fucking dragged me half-way across the country, and you don't have a fucking plan yet?”
“Well,” I said, grabbing her shoulders, “you're the starting point of the plan. It's just going to take some time. That's all.”
She shook her head. “Fine, Asa, fine.” She brushed my hand from her shoulders, wiggled away from my grasp, then started back up the path. “Whatever.”
I thought she knew that I hadn't had a concrete plan once I got in – we were both playing this thing by ear. She was the biggest stumbling block to getting to her father. She knew th
at. “Lauren,” I growled as I came up behind her. I went to grab her shoulder, but as I did, the metal double doors of the warehouse clanged open.
A solidly built man in his late forties, early fifties, came out. He had a jaw line beard and dark, slicked back hair with hints of gray at the temples. His clothing was plain, run of the mill jeans and a t-shirt. A gun holster with a 9mm in it was tucked at his side.
“Lauren!” the man boomed boisterously as he came down the little path towards us.
“Uncle Anderson,” Lauren replied, her face surprised as he swept her into his arms and kissed her on the cheek.
