by Renard, Loki
“I know exactly what to do with you, girl,” he says, his lip curling with contempt on that last word.
He yanks at the skirt I’m wearing - something that looks like it is straight out of the 1940’s, and pulls it off completely. My wardrobe for the last few weeks has been dictated entirely by what they could be bothered scrounging up. That’s the least of my worries really, especially now, as Angelo slams me down across the table, sending toast and butter and cereal and bacon flying over Mark, Bobby, and whatever expensive rug was declared worthy to gather the crumbs.
His belt flies through the air a moment later and makes hard contact not with my ass, but with the back of my thighs. This sadistic fucking asshole is making sure this just plain hurts.
“What have you done to deserve anything besides the little jobs of cleaning up?” He growls down at me. “You’re a petulant little girl, with very little in the way of…”
“Fuck you, Angelo!” I scream out. “I’ve survived bigger monsters than you!”
It’s true, and we all know it.
I can take pain. He can beat me all day long and, yeah, it will hurt, but it won’t fucking change anything that matters. I don’t belong here, and they don’t want me here. I need to go back to Vicious.
The belt snaps across my thighs five more times, harsh burning strokes which make involuntary tears rise to my eyes. It hurts like hell, but it’s not doing a thing to me on the inside, because Angelo doesn’t do a thing to me there.
After the sixth stroke lands, he pulls me back up. I’m a mess. Various condiments have been smeared all over my shirt and belly, and there’s a bit of toast stuck over my crotch, temporarily glued by marmalade.
Bobby takes one look at me, crumb filled, sore, defiant, and busts out laughing.
I expect Angelo to berate him, but instead, a small smirk appears on the older man’s lips.
“You’re right,” he admits. “We don’t have a clue what to do with you. But you’re stuck with us.”
“And so is the toast,” Bobby smirks. “Stuck with her, I mean.”
I peel it off my panties and frisbee it at him. He lets out a very uncharacteristic girlish shriek as he dodges it, and it’s my turn to laugh, even though the backs of my thighs are fucking searing with heat. I give up my pride and reach down to rub them.
“You’re stuck with me, you mean,” I gasp as my fingers run over what used to be perfectly functional flesh and is now nothing but molten lava in skin form.
Angelo puts his hand on my shoulder. “You are welcome here, Kitty. Believe me, if I did not want you here, you wouldn’t be here at all. I am not in the habit of entertaining unwanted house guests out of a misguided sense of politeness. I am also not in the habit of letting spoiled young people do as they please, or giving free passes for gender. I’ve kept you busy and out of trouble because what will happen if you push me again is going to make both you and your master very angry.”
My master. Yes, that’s what Vicious is, at least in the sense that I pine for him and eagerly await his return, even knowing that I have been a very bad girl, and will be punished for all of it.
“Okay,” I nod. “I get it.”
“Good.” He pats my shoulder. “Now, you and Bobby can clean up this mess.”
“Why me!?” Bobby whines.
“Why not you, boy?”
The question shuts Bobby’s rebellion down. I think we all get the feeling that Angelo is looking for someone to punish. I’ve given him disciplinus interruptus, and Bobby is likely to take the rest of whatever deviant thing was bubbling in Angelo’s brain.
Mark and Angelo leave. Bobby and I get to work.
“Mark says you killed Ivan Petrov.”
I’m surprised when Bobby talks to me. Even more so when it’s not something nasty that comes out of his mouth. I fully expect him to blame me for this. Everything in this house trickles down onto his shoulders, I’ve noticed. Now I’m here, I’m bottom of the food chain.
“I didn’t. I just wounded him. Vicious killed him.”
“Huh.” Bobby picks up a bit of cereal. “Mark says you were being hunted, and you set up a whole trap thing…”
“Well yeah. Didn’t want to, you know, die.”
“Yeah. Well. That’s kind of cool.”
I try to get some jelly out of the rug .”Didn’t feel cool at the time. I thought I was going to die. But I figured I’d take some of them with me.”
Bobby smirks. “Fuck yeah. That’s what I’d do.”
I stay quiet. Nobody knows what they’d do in that situation. Even though Bobby is an asshole, I wouldn’t want him to have to find out.
“I think, what I did, in the end, is I ran away from the only man who loves me, and I blew up his car, and fucked up his life and I tried to do something really fucking stupid,” I mumble, sitting down on the floor, tossing bits of cereal into a bowl.
There’s silence. “I’ve done some stupid shit too,” Bobby confesses. “You might have blown up his shit. I tried to kill Angelo. More than once.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“How did that go?”
Bobby rights a tipped over glass. “Not great.”
“I bet,” I smirk to myself at the thought, then I remember that this isn’t over for me. My not great is yet to come. Vicious hasn’t dealt with me yet, and at this point I have to hope he does. I’ve overheard Mark and Angelo talking. Apparently, Vicious lost his apartment. Law enforcement is all over it. They’ve confiscated a lot of his assets. I think I might actually have achieved what I set out to do - and I feel like complete shit about it.
I deserve what Angelo did to me. Both times. I deserve whatever Vicious does to me. And I deserve nothing at all. I should be grateful they let me stay here. I’ve fucked Vicious’ ability to protect me, and now Angelo is offering me his protection. I’ve ended up in the one place nobody will dare come for me, and I don’t even really appreciate that.
“Why are we such dicks?”
“You and me?” Bobby points at himself.
“Yeah.”
“I dunno. Maybe we weren’t hugged enough,” he says, giving me one of those rare smiles which makes him look almost cute.
“Maybe.”
We finish tidying up. It’s not a perfect effort, but it’s better than nothing, and for once, it seems to be good enough.
15
“Where is he?”
It’s been a month since I last saw Vicious, and I am frantic. He sent word two days ago to expect him, but he’s yet to show up. Angelo says not to worry. Mark says not to worry. Bobby says…
“He’s probably in jail.”
“Fuck off, Bobby.”
I’ve been glued to the front window with the best view of the drive for thirty-six hours. At any moment, Vicious is going to drive up and everything is going to be okay again. He’ll take me back to New York. Things will be like they were. It’s all going to be fine.
It’s going to be fine.
It’s. Going. To. Be…
“Where the fuck is he?”
“Covered in ants.”
“Seriously. Fuck. Off Bobby!”
Bobby lets out a chuckle and sucks on his vape pen. I hate that fucking thing. I hate him. I hate this place. If Vicious doesn’t get here in the next ten minutes, I’m going to steal Angelo’s damn car, and I’m going to find Vicious myself.
Twenty minutes later, I make a noise about needing to go to the bathroom, and I go to the garage.
“Yeah, you have to know this isn’t happening,” Mark says from behind me. He’s been following me, obviously. These guys seem to know my moves before I make them. Maybe that’s because I’m predictable, or maybe it’s because they know I’m desperate. Either way, it means I’m not going anywhere.
I walk up to the car and pull on the driver’s door, just to see what will happen.
It’s fairly predictable. Mark grabs me around the waist and pulls me away, kicking and screaming, and on the verge of
crying, not because I really expected him to let me steal a car, but because I just have to get to Vicious.
“Settle down, you’re fine.”
“I’m not fine. I have to see him. You can take me.”
“I’m not taking you anywhere. We’re going to have lunch. You haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.”
I don’t care. I don’t need food. I just need him.
Vicious
“Is she ready?”
“She’s beyond ready,” Angelo says. “She’s about to tear my house apart. Come and get her.”
Fuck. Yes.
The last month has been hell. I have paid off more agents, officials, judges, and officers in thirty days than I have in the previous thirty years. I’ve dealt with at least half a dozen wanna be criminals who think they can move in on my territory because I’m distracted. Not that fucking distracted, as it turns out.
My accountant estimates Kitty has cost me somewhere in the neighborhood of nine million dollars in damage control.
Every dollar was worth it.
And now I’m coming to claim her.
It’s a long drive to Angelo’s, but that’s a good thing. I have time to think about everything. The first moment we properly met, pulling her off the street and into the van. From the beginning, she was extraordinary. I expected wild panic, but she gave me pure attitude. Every moment since then, she’s proved that she’s stronger than I thought. She’s refused to take the pittance I agreed to give her. When I told her she was going to have to take my lies, she turned around and fucked me up as best she could.
She’s not going to have my lies anymore. She’s going to get the truth. She can take it - and I sure as hell can’t take the hell she unleashes when she doesn’t get it.
As I roll up the driveway, the front door flies open. Kitty comes bursting out of the house. I’m barely out of the car before she’s in my arms, holding onto me so tight. I sweep her up and carry her back in, past Angelo, up the stairs to the bedroom where she’s been staying.
“I missed you!”
“I missed you too, little kitty.”
I missed her. And now I’m going to punish her.
Kitty
Vicious throws me over his knee and his palm meets my cheeks, the pain bursting through me like a flower of pure sensation. I gasp, not because I don’t remember what it’s like to be spanked, or because the pain takes me by surprise, but because the way he does it is so unique to him. Vicious is just that. He finds the softest parts of me and he strikes them just so, creating exquisite sensation which does more than hurt. It burns with a pleasure fire I can’t begin to describe. Already I am pressing myself against the hard ridge of his thigh, my clit brimming with excitement.
But this isn’t for my excitement. This is punishment. His palm lands again, harder. I grunt and gasp, knowing better than to cry out or ask for mercy. There can’t be any mercy. Not now. He starts off slow, but soon the slaps come faster, and even harder, and I am caught up in the turbulence of the pain which makes my body writhe over his thighs.
Vicious has punished me before, but not like this. Usually he torments me, uses the pain to augment pleasure. But this time it is clear, in spite of our intimacy, that there is no pleasure to be had. I will remember this unto the end of my days, his palm searing across my sensitive skin which grows redder and hotter with every slap.
When I can no longer stay still of my own accord, he takes hold of my hair and controls my head. My body follows and my hips stay over his thighs, bucking with every swift slap.
“Never again, Kitty. Not ever,” he says, tightening that grip on my hair to pull my head up. “You have a problem with our relationship, you stay and you argue it out. You don’t go rogue. You don’t play games with me, and I won’t play games with you.”
Is that an admission that he’s as guilty in this as I am? Maybe. But even if it is, it’s not going to change the fact that I’m the one getting punished.
“Understand?” He grips my ass firmly, his fingers curling around my cheeks and down between my thighs to find my pussy. It’s just barely the tip of his fingers which find my sex, but that’s enough to start another cascade of reactions amplified by the heat in my ass and the hard grip in my hair. I’m his. All his. Just like I need to be.
Vicious
I feel her cunt beneath my fingers, already slippery and wet. Kitty has always responded to me with an incredible instinctual submission. She’s caused all this trouble, damn near brought me to my knees. I’m going to make sure she ends up on hers.
Keeping that grip on her hair, I plunge a finger into her pussy. God I’ve missed this hot little cunt. Her inner walls grip me desperately, and I hear that soft little moan of hers which makes me rock hard. I’ve heard it so many times before when she’s wrapped around my dick. Soon enough I’ll fuck her senseless, but she’s got a whole lot more to endure before then.
Pulling my finger free, I put it to her mouth and have her suck it clean. She does so without question. She wants to please me. What a good girl. It’s a pity it’s all coming far too late. Her sweet tongue twirls around my digit, a desperate little motion designed to make me go softer on her. I don’t think so. She’s not going to distract me from teaching this lesson.
“Off my knee,” I say, guiding her down onto the floor, face first, head down, ass up, a position I particularly enjoy seeing her in, her sex and little asshole displayed to me in the most lewd of ways. She’s my little smorgasbord of fuck. Do I sink my dick into that creamy cunt? No. That tight ass is going to be spread first.
I came prepared. A little bottle of intense lubricant with a twist relinquishes two or three drops onto that cute little sphincter of hers. It takes her a moment to realize that it’s not typical lube. This has been well spiced with ginger, and as I rub my thumb all over that little hole, she starts to make the sounds I wanted to hear, gasping little whimpers of anticipation. I’m going to fuck this deep inside her ass, and every part of her is going to feel the effects of her misbehavior.
Thrusting my thumb into that tight ring, I force more lube deeper, adding it a little at a time, building the intensity as I work that hole.
Kitty
My bottom is stinging and sore, but its the aperture between my cheeks which draws my attention now. Holy fucking god. It’s just his thumb, but there’s a heat to that lube which makes the sensitive tissues of my poor bottom react.
I make a range of shamefully involuntary sounds, little whimpers and moans, gasps and others which completely defy description. He has turned me into an animal, consumed with sensation, forgetting words altogether.
Again and again, his thumb plunges into my ass, pushing to the first knuckle, not too deep, but deep enough to make his point and to spread that vicious lubricant gel around the immediate interior of my poor little ass.
The sounds I make are ones of aroused self-pity. My pussy is so wet I can feel the moisture between my lips sliding together with the undulations of my hips. I’m being punished. Everything is sore. But everything is aroused too. My bare nipples are hard, scraping against the carpet with the motions of my body which I find impossible to control.
“Stay still.” His other hand clamps down on my hip, just as his thumb pulls free, only to be replaced with two thick fingers which plunge into my bottom, the muscle protecting that sensitive hole betraying me and allowing them deep inside me, taking more of that spicy lubricant inside.
How can I possibly stay still under this intense stimulation of my senses? I bite at my hand and try my best, but I can’t. My bottom is aching. It feels tight and oh so sore. I don’t want to displease him any more, but obedience is near impossible right now.
“I can’t,” I whimper. “I’m sorry. I can’t…”
“Do you want to feel my belt?”
“No! Please! I promise! I’m trying!”
Vicious
“I’m trying!” She whimpers the words so pathetically I almost feel sorry for her, but her trying isn�
��t good enough, not now. Not that we’ve reached this impasse in our relationship, the point where she needs to either be broken past the point of what she can think she can take, or where I have to let her go, because this rebellion will get us both killed.
“Stay. Still.” I snarl the words mercilessly, making my voice cold and cruel.
She freezes in place, leaving her rear perfectly displayed for my probing fingers. This is a mercy, and she doesn’t even realize it. I could pull my cock free right now and plunge it inside her ass, fuck her roughly against the floor, my hand wrapped around her mouth to muffle the inevitable screams… but I’m taking my time with her, lubricating this not so often used little hole.
I’ve allowed her so much innocence, given her too much leeway. I taught her how to scheme and plot, to break the law and all laws of common sense besides, but I never truly taught her obedience - not until this moment.
Kitty holds position while I twist my fingers inside her bottom, pulling out and adding even more lubricant. When I take her, it’s going to be hard and fast, entirely ruthless. I need for her to be ready. And I need for it to hurt.
I take my time, not letting her know when my cock is coming. We both know that it is. We both know she’s going to find another reason to cry tonight, besides the shame and horror at the consequences of her own behavior.
“Tell me, Kitty,” I say, sinking my fingers in and holding them as deep in her ass as they can go. I feel her bottom clenching around me, trying to expel me, but no part of her can get rid of me that easily. “What do you want from me?”
“M.. mercy,” she whimpers.
“Not tonight,” I say. “I mean in the years to come. What is it you want to be to me?”
“I want to be yours,” she gasps. “Whatever that means.”
The edge of desperation in her voice makes me wonder if she is merely telling me what she thinks I want to hear. The truth is, she is already part of my soul. Letting her go is not an option. Being apart from her these weeks, knowing she has been at the mercy of her own poor decisions, the world at large, and then Angelo Vitali, I have wanted nothing more than to have her by my side, to protect her and guide her, and make her mine. But even I don’t know what our future looks like. Before I met Kitty, I didn’t have one.
