Candi’s Debt

by Aubrey Cara

  Now…dragging me to the car like a caveman had been bad enough, but the kiss—I don’t know what the hell was up with that kiss—but it clinched it. How do I explain to a psycho drug boss the guy shoving his tongue down my throat in the parking lot doesn’t even like me? The kiss. That kiss had been an angry hate kiss.

  And how do I explain any of this to Hank?

  When he’d first climbed in behind the wheel his expression was closed as a steel trap and he clenched the steering wheel so tight I thought he was going to snap it off. Keeping quiet had seemed like the best option. I mean, telling him I owe money to a soulless drug dealer and I’m going to be a stripper until that debt is paid off, is bad enough. But then I have to add ‘and by the way, the soulless drug dealer has seen you kiss me so you need to watch your back’.

  Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it I realize I can’t tell him anything.

  No matter how guilty I feel, no matter how much my conscience is screaming at me to spill the beans on everything, there is always the chance that Hank will call the cops. He was in the military. He’s a good man. The kind of man who would turn my brother, and maybe even Dom into the police if he thinks it’s the right thing to do. And I can’t ever let him do that because it’s also the surest way to get us all killed.

  The situation is hopeless and there is no way he’d understand.

  I’m so busy worrying over everything I don’t notice where we’re going until we pull into a popular adult novelty store off the highway. Pinky’s. The sign is black, backlit by hot pink. The whole vibe of the place is reminiscent of the strip club, but the clientele coming and going is more subdued. I’ve never been in a novelty store before. Even though I’m kind of curious, my mind keeps circling back to Hank insinuating he’s going to treat me like a whore. Then there’s his whole “big girl punishment” threat.

  The man is cracked in the head.

  Hank comes around and opens my door, but I just keep staring at the old black building. It has windows along the front with every different kind of neon sign.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask as I step out of the 4Runner.

  “It’s time to get you some naughty girl toys.”

  Naughty girl toys. For some reason, and despite us being at a sex shop, I don’t think he’s referring to the fun kind of naughty.

  HANK

  The look on her face is priceless. It’s obvious she’s never been to a place like this. Her mouth is hanging open in a shocked and fascinated way that makes me want to put her on her knees. Any qualms I had about entering a sexual relationship with this girl are flying out the window so fast my head’s spinning.

  “Let’s see here.” Taking her hand, I pull her to a display case where there are row after row of nipple clamps and butt plugs. “We’ll definitely be needing some of these,” I say plucking a package containing a big black plug off the display.

  “Wh-wha-what?!” The last syllable comes out so high I’m sure only dogs can hear it.

  “You’re right. That’s probably too big. I want something you’ll know is there, but daddy doesn’t want to hurt his little girl. Well, I do but…speaking of, what would you like to be spanked with? I see some paddles over there we can peruse.”

  “This is wrong on so many levels,” she hisses. Grabbing the butt plug out of my hand she re-shelves it as she looks around, turning all kinds of red in embarrassment. “We’re not picking out implements you plan on torturing me with.”

  “Torture is such a strong word.”

  “I don’t want to be clamped, plugged, or spanked.”

  “That’s why it’s called punishment. Not that I don’t think you’re going to enjoy it more than you hate it.”

  Her huff of outrage is followed by, “You’re delusional. I won’t like it. I know I won’t.”

  “Oh, princess.” Her breath is coming fast and her cheeks are flushed. Pushing her further back behind the display, so we’re blocked from view, I slip my hand under her skirt and enjoy her quick indrawn breath as she grabs my wrist. Too late. My fingers sneak past the soaking wet crotch of her panties and sink up into her slippery core. “Tsk, tsk, someone is lying to me and to themselves? You know what happens to girls who lie?”

  “Hank.” My name on her lips comes out strangled. She’s still clutching my wrist for dear life, but she’s not trying to yank me away.

  I start a leisurely back and forth glide just to watch her eyes haze over and roll back. Fuck, the way her breath hitches makes me rock hard in an instant.

  “Seems something about this little outing we’re on is tripping your trigger. So tell me, is it all the naughty vibrators and dildos doing it for you?”

  “Dammit, Hank.” This time my name comes out on a pant, but I keep a maddeningly slow pace. She doesn’t know it yet, but I don’t plan on letting her come anytime soon.

  “No? Not the vibrators. I would have thought you’d like those. Hmm, maybe it’s the butt plugs and nipple clamps, or maybe just maybe,” I say leaning close into her space so my breath is puffing on her neck, “It’s the fact that I’m going to take you back to my place, and clamp your lovely tits.” I pinch her nipples as a preview, and she jerks. “Then daddy’s going to bend your hot little ass over and work a plug into your tight little back hole before spanking you so hard and so long, you’ll think of me for a week every time you sit down.”

  Her body shudders in my arms as she comes. I’m not sure who’s more surprised, her or me.

  “Hey y’all take it outside. There is none of that in here.” A store clerk says from the other side of the display.

  Candice buries her face in my chest as I mumble an apology even though I’ve never been less sorry in my life. I scrape her clit just to feel her body jerk against mine as I pull my fingers free and wipe them on the inside of her thighs. She whimpers and I tweak her nose in a move that makes her scowl up at me.

  “Naughty girls have to walk around with sticky thighs,” I say as I pluck a little butt plug off the shelf and hand it to her. “No putting it back. You’re going to carry everything I give you up to the counter for me, like a good girl. And do you know why?”

  “Why?” Not at all looking like she’s wanting to follow my directions.

  “Because everyone in here is going to be watching you, the girl they heard gasp through her little orgasm behind the display of nipple clamps and butt plugs—”

  “I hardly orgasmed. It was a semi-orgasm at most,” she furiously whispers.

  I give her a patronizing look before continuing as if she didn’t say anything, “And they are going to see everything you bring up to the counter and know I’m going to be doing dirty, dirty things to you with each and every one of the items you place on that counter.”

  “I’m still not doing it,” she says petulantly.

  “But most of all, you’re going to do as you’re told because deep down you know you messed up big time tonight, and you want to be a good girl for me.” That makes her stiffen her spine. Oh, yeah, I got her with that.

  Not waiting for any more of a reaction I turn and walk over to the paddles and pluck two off the wall. One rubber with heart cut outs down the center and one leather.

  Still holding the butt plug and nipple clamps I handed her, she slowly makes her way over to where I’m holding up the paddles. Lips pursed in irritation she snatches the rubber one with heart shaped cutouts and I have to hide my grin. Taking mercy on her, I only grab two more things off the shelves before we make our way to the checkout.

  I know this is supposed to be a punishment, and I should still be angry about having to pick her up, half clad, outside that damn strip club, but I haven’t had this much fun in ages.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CANDI

  Hank is living at John’s. Not that there is anything wrong with that, the man is his father, and Hank is newly back in town. But I’d been expecting to be taken to an apartment complex or something. I’ve never been here but as soon as we pull onto the long driv
eway and come to a stop in front of an old ranch style house with a flag pole out front flying an American flag over a Don’t Tread On Me flag, I know, this is John’s house. I don’t know why that freaks me out, but I have to remind myself John’s not here. He will not be seeing me like this.

  I’ve been stewing in embarrassment and anger since we left the naughty shop. My thighs are still sticky and my panties are uncomfortably wet. Just thinking of Hank making me walk up to the checkout like that makes my panties flood a little more and I clamp my knees together in frustration. It’s like he’s flipped some hormonal switch inside me, and I’d love for him to turn it the hell back off.

  His hand is on my thigh. It’s been there since we left Pinky’s, and it hasn’t moved an inch. It’s been driving me crazy. I keep thinking about how that same warm hand feels tucked between my legs. How those callused digits feel inside me. He’d fingered me in the middle of a sex shop. I’m a little miffed, but not nearly as mad as I should be.

  Anticipation for what he has planned is humming through me and I’m anxiously waiting for his hand that’s casually resting on my thigh to inch up and under my skirt, which is ridiculous.

  Hank had been almost playful in the store. Now…well, he’s reminding me of the saying, “mess with the bull, you get the horns.” I feel like I may have kicked the bull and I’m about to get the horns. If the little preview in the sex shop is any indication I am so not ready for the horns.

  Not tonight.

  Not any night.

  “Hank, I’m tired.” My voice is shaking, so I clear my throat and try for a steady tone, “And it’s really late. Will you please just take me home?” I sound like a coward, but it seems my well of pride is all run dry.

  Parking in front of the side garage he turns in his seat and looks me over like he can read every emotion shooting through me. I paste a wan look on my face trying to look tired, even though I’m anything but. My heart is racing I’m wound up so tight. He reaches over and runs the pad of his thumb along my lower lip in a maddening move and I can’t resist biting the tip. It startles a chuckle out of him that rumbles through me.

  I’ve got it bad for this guy. So bad it makes me wonder what the hell’s wrong with me.

  “I’ll take you home in the morning,” he says, getting out of the car. The implication is clear. He’ll take me home when he’s done with me and not a second before.

  He walks around and opens my door. When I don’t move he reaches in and unbuckles me. “Come on, princess,” he says, trying to lure me out.

  “Nuh-uh.” I’m shaking my head and when he moves to pull me out I latch onto the doorframe. I know it’s childish, but I don’t care.

  “It’s time for your punishment, and acting like this is just going to make it worse.”

  Oh yeah, that really makes me feel better. “Like hell it is.” My fight or flight is kicking in and I grip the doorframe even tighter. Lines from old movies like, I regret nothing. You won’t take me alive, are running through my head.

  Hank just reaches in and plucks me off the seat like I’m a much smaller woman. His arm around my waist locks me to his body while he pries my fingers off the door with frustrating ease.

  He tosses me over his shoulder with an oomph and my nose collides with his hard back.

  “Think about this, Hank.” I’m squirming to try to get off his shoulder while holding myself up by the waist of his pants. It’s unreasonably difficult to be taken seriously when you’re bouncing along upside down over someone’s shoulder.

  “Oh, I’m thinking about it.” There’s laughter in his voice and it pisses me the hell off.

  Renewing my efforts, the second he walks through the front door I latch onto the frame and am wholly satisfied when he stumbles back.

  “Dammit, Candi. Let go.” He smacks my ass and yanks at me and I squeal my outrage as I hold tight.

  “No. You put me down!”

  He puts me down, but only to unlatch me from the doorframe, so I punch him right in the sternum…and hurt my hand. “Ow, oh my god, what the hell is your chest made of, metal?” I’m shaking out my hand and I lose my opportunity to make a mad dash for it.

  “Can-dice,” he says, irritation clear. The asshole easily has me up and over his shoulder in an instant. “That’s enough.”

  The house is dark, but the living room we’re making our way through is big with high ceilings. It’s like an old hunting lodge. From my vantage point, I mostly see wood floors and Hank’s jean covered butt.

  “Let’s talk about this.” I’m momentarily subdued—my hand is throbbing—but I do not want any part of whatever “punishment” he feels I deserve.

  “Yeah, you wanna talk now?” he asks, not breaking his stride. “You can start by telling me what the hell you were doing at a strip club.”

  “Being interviewed. I’d rather take my clothes off for dirty old men than owe you one red cent!” My voice echoes off the walls of the dark hallway.

  “I suggest quieting down, unless you’d like Wyatt awake for this little shit show.” I go still and Hank huffs out a chuckle. “Forgot about him, huh?”

  I had, and I do not want him to see me with Hank. At least not like this.

  Opening a door, we enter a bedroom. Hank sets me on my feet before turning on a lamp, but he keeps a hold of my wrist, I’m guessing to keep me from fleeing. Looking around, the room doesn’t have much in the way of decorations. There is just a double bed in the center with a nice red and blue quilt on it. Two old wooden nightstands, each sporting a lamp, flank each side of the bed. A tall dresser stands against the far wall. A suitcase in the corner is laying open with clothes spilling out, making me wonder why he hasn’t unpacked.

  Hank moves around to the foot of the bed and sits down. He pulls me in until I’m standing between his open legs. His hands are casually on the back of my legs. It’s the intimate stance of a boyfriend and girlfriend. If we were dating I’d put my hands on his shoulders. Maybe clasp them behind his neck and lean down and kiss him in a sweet, flirty way.

  As it is, there is nothing sweet and flirty about our relationship. I stand with my arms down by my sides, wondering when all the punishment bit is going to begin.

  He’s looking at me with an unblinking gaze and it’s unnerving to say the least. His eyes are like banked embers that can flare into a fiery blaze at any moment.

  “Would you really rather take your clothes off for strangers than to stick to our deal?”

  His serious straight forward question throws me through a loop. If I didn’t know any better I would think I’d hurt the big buffoon’s feelings. I bite my lip and look away. I’d much rather owe him a lifetime of money than strip at Sugar Daddy’s. For more reasons than I can explain to Hank.

  He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. He stares at me so long I’m sure he’s read the answer off my face. “You’re an infuriating pain in my ass. But you’ve got the sexiest pout, princess.”

  “No, I don’t,” I say putting extra pout into it. I don’t even mind that he called me princess. Hell if it isn’t growing on me a little. I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever really complimented me—and it’s the worst most backhanded compliment ever—but it’s still warming me inside out. I’m gleaning intense satisfaction from the fact he may hate me but he’s attracted to me.

  “Yes, you do. And I’m going to enjoy watching you pout in the corner with your sore bottom sticking out.”

  I pull at his arms he has around my hips. He just grabs my ass and pulls me into his hard body.

  “That’s enough fighting for one night, young lady. You knew you were going to be in trouble the second you called me. Yet, here we are. You still called me. Out of everyone you could have called, you called me.”

  The starch is officially out of my britches. He’s right. I know he’s right. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

  “Well,” he starts, pulling me around to face him.“ Are you going to take your punishment like a goo
d girl, or am I going to have to tie you down?”

  He’s giving me a challenging look. I’m pretty sure he likes the prospect of tying me down. I’m not completely unmoved by the idea. But, no. No. That would be worse, much worse. The fluttering of butterflies in my stomach I had on the entire ride here are back.

  That doesn’t stop me from shooting him a haughty look of my own and lift my skirt as I bend over the end of the bed. If my legs slightly tremble it’s because it’s chilly in here. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, “do your worst,” but really why tempt fate…

  Bravado, I’m all bravado.

  I squeak and give myself away when he reaches under my skirt and pulls my hot pink, lacy panties down to mid-thigh. I look back at him and it’s a mistake. He looks hugely imposing towering over me. My stomach drops down to somewhere in the vicinity of my curling toes.

  “I-I’m wearing a thong. Why are you pulling down my panties?” My voice is so breathy when I ask I sound like I’m doing a bad impression of Marilyn Monroe.

  He raises a brow and his mouth kicks up in a half grin, but he’s not looking at me, or at least not my face. I feel the place he’s staring at heat and I move to close my legs, but he stops me with a hand. “Your panties are down so that daddy can have a full view of your sweet pussy,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

  I’m not sure what’s more messed up, the fact that he refers to himself as daddy or the fact that when he says it—every time he says it—new moisture floods my bits with tingles of awareness.

  Crouching down behind me he grabs my ankles and moves my feet even further apart. “And your panties are going to stay around your thighs so you remember just how exposed you are to me.”

  I bite my lip and hide my face in the soft quilt under me. I can feel his breath at the back of my thighs and I know his face is level with me, right there. I know he has to be able to see how humiliatingly wet I am right now.