Bounty Hunter

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Finally, too restless to stay by herself, she jumped from the bed, grabbed her clothes and dressed—just jeans, her boots and the leather jacket she bought in Chicago. She took to the night with an aggressive fever rare in Jill Ingalls, slamming the door behind her as she fled the oppressive motel room. As soon as she realized that she was alone in the cool darkness of the big outdoors, with its huge sky and empty streets, she closed her jacket around her nakedness in fear. There was little comfort in the murky streetlights, which brought to her mind the set of the X-Files, and she stopped to appraise her rash move. Where was so going? What possible destination could she have on foot at two a.m. in a strange city? She wasn’t accustomed to walking the streets in limbo.

  Two blocks down the road toward the highway, she was about to turn around, when she gazed down a culvert to her left little more than fifty feet away, seeing Johnny Gold leaning against the footings of an old bridge, smoking. Her heart lifted and the quaking subsided. Thank God he hadn’t taken the cycle and left. Maybe he didn’t have anywhere to go either.

  Buoyed by the sight of him and a lot less afraid, she found the path leading into the culvert and slowly made her way down, stepping silently across a yard of crushed rock to a dirt path. He didn’t notice her until she was nearly on him and even then, he didn’t turn around.

  “How about a drag on your cigarette?” she asked, so reminiscent of the night she tracked him to Nick’s Tavern in Cold River Falls. How far they’d come since then!

  “You don’t smoke,” he replied with a shrug, as if he knew she’d been there all along.

  “I could try.”

  “No, you won’t.” He made a quarter turn in her direction. “You’d only have another bad habit to kick, and you don’t need more than you already have.” It was a blatant judgment, but sweet at the same time. As if he actually did care for her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Aren’t I supposed to be?”

  “No. If I hurt you, I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know. It’s really okay, because it didn’t really hurt that much.”

  “No, I think it did,” he said, still an edge in his voice. That edgy roughness swam over her like a sudden breeze. Her body swelled, remembering why she’d fled the motel room. Desire. Grabbing, inflated desire, waving its red flag like a fighter taunting his bull.

  Johnny finally looked at her face: the smeared makeup, the tangled hair, and the leather jacket half unzipped enough to reveal a pair of tits bulging from underneath, luridly claiming his attention.

  “Whorish look,” he noted.

  “You think so?” She stared down, surprised herself to see her naked breasts by the light from the dusty amber streetlamps a block away.

  “Like a tramp who wants to get fucked.” He squashed the butt of his cigarette with his boot and moved on her with a hefty dose of attitude. He was back in his own skin now, unafraid, and loath to borrow anyone’s moves. He wouldn’t need them.

  With his confidence back, his one hand lowered the zipper on her jacket, while the other grabbed her ass cheek and squeezed. “This better be what you want, bitch, because this is where you’ll get it next.”

  Their lips pressed, as his body urgently pressed into hers—he was in familiar territory again.

  She couldn’t stop him—wouldn’t stop him, despite their compromising venue just below the street. He scowled at her as he stripped off the jacket and stared hungrily at her naked tits. The two mounds seemed to glow as goose bumps fanned across the surface and her nipples puckered in the cool air. She shivered, staring into his eyes. Every few seconds she nervously looked toward the street above them.

  “It’s after midnight, babe. You came after me. Don’t expect me to stop because someone’s looking.”

  This was the kind of talk she liked. “I won’t.” Just saying so made her bones tremble.

  Unsnapping her jeans, Johnny ripped the sides apart and the zipper opened. He jerked the denim off her hips and moved in, clutching her wet crotch in one hand, while grasping her tits with the other.

  “You’re going to fuck me here,” she gasped, as razor sharp spasms gripped her pussy. He nestled two fingers inside the opening and fucked the hole like a jackhammer.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna fuck you, as soon as you’re naked.” He pulled away. “Take care of the boots and jeans, Jill.”

  It was the closest thing to an order he’d given her since their affair began. While her body warmed excitedly, wary instinct make her search the street above one more time, where she spotted a couple looking down at them.

  Johnny gazed with her briefly and looking back made his order stick with a firm, “Do it, Jill. Now.”

  ‘But…’ was on the tip of her tongue, like she was supposed to protest even though she knew it wouldn’t matter. It had always been like that with her; to give in to men, to defer, please, opt for the easiest way out. In a public place—was it really any different, in the dead of night? Would they think it was rape? Would they call the cops? Her focus returned to his eyes, which ruthlessly blazed with an unexpected fury. He seemed volcanic. Any false move, she’d be physically wrestled to the ground or subdued by a hot slap from the back of his hand.

  Given the circumstances, she scrambled to pull her feet from her boots and her jeans from her legs, while determinedly keeping her eyes fixed on Johnny, not the pair above.

  “What if they call the cops?” she whispered.

  “Then they call the cops.”

  He pushed her further down the path, under the bridge, not so out in the open, but still within the sight of their audience—who were attentively waiting for the conclusion of the scene between the naked girl and her scoundrel lover. Johnny pushed her toward an ancient bridge post with a firm shove. She turned with her back to the post, her eyes on Johnny, now glazing over as the sexual reality became all that mattered. Her face flushed hot, her heart beat rapidly, and the pulse in her belly and crotch became almost painful. Pussy juice dripped down the insides of her legs, while Johnny’s cum leaked from her ass.

  He reached for her vagina, grabbing it hard again and loving the way his taunting made her wiggle on top of his fingers.

  “You want to cum now, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Then keep dancing, slut,” he scowled as he shoved his hand deeper into the sopping hole.

  “Oh, yes, get me off.” Her head fell back against the post, while her chest heaved toward him seductively.

  “What? Play with your clitty? Huh? That’s what you want?”

  He fingered the swollen bud, watching her face contort in rapture.

  “You’re not quite there, are you?” he determined.

  “Yes, yes, I’m close. Just a second more, please.” She sounded desperate, and contrite.

  But he pulled his hand away. “No, babe. Not yet. Not until I get what I want.”

  Of course not, she thought to herself.

  “You’re wet, Jill, gushing like a fountain down here. You suppose this is enough to grease your ass? Huh?”

  She writhed with her back to the rough wood, unable to answer him.

  “Yeah, I think it’s enough this time.” He jerked her forward, turned her around and pushed her back against the stanchion face forward. Prying her ass cheeks wide, he swathed his wet hand along her cleft, liberally coating her anus. Then gathering another load of her pussy juices, he used the slick liquid to massage the hole. “This good enough for you this time? I wouldn’t want you dry.”

  The wait was killing her; the torture like the worst of her sessions with Christopher. She wanted him in her pussy, in her ass, anywhere he’d find a way to get her off.

  “How’s it feel, bitch?” he mocked, as he hand-fucked her asshole. Each thrust opened the cavity wider. Her wanting didn’t stop with her sensitive clit; it could only end with her ass raped.

  “Tell me how it feels, bitch.” He stood close, seething in her ear. His hot br
eath made her spine tingle all the way to her ass. “Tell me!” he shook her hard.

  “Like I want you in there.”

  “In where?”

  She whispered something under her breath that he couldn’t hear.

  “In where, slut! Tell me, spell it out. I don’t want to make a mistake this time. I want to make sure that you’re getting everything you want. So, tell me!”

  He reached deep between her legs one more time and collected another wet handful of her juices to smear against her asshole.

  “Tell me!”

  “I want you in my ass,” she whispered.

  “You’re sure? Say it louder.”

  “I want you in my ass,” she used her normal voice.

  He slapped her bottom hard with the flat of his broad hand. “No, that’s not loud enough. I want our friends up there to hear you say it, Jill.” His hand went back to her asshole with four fingers shoving their way easily inside the worked hole.

  “Yes, Johnny, fuck my ass,” she seethed with a low rumbling quality to her voice. It carried from the culvert upward to the awestruck pair on street.

  “Again.”

  “Fuck it, Johnny,” she said louder. She clutched the post and closed her eyes. She was only a body now, her mind disappearing into a wasteland. Not even a body, she was all crotch, all pussy, all asshole and throbbing clit. “Do me, fucker!” she roared.

  “Oh, I’ll fuck you, babe. No need to worry.”

  Unzipping his fly, he pushed his jeans off his ass and with an authoritative jab rammed his erection into her ass. The taut channel gripped him like a vise as he cruelly thrust to the far reaches of that amazing space. He held her at the hips, drew her ass into his groin and rocked heartlessly toward the approaching climax.

  Johnny brutalized her ass for the second time that night, but this time was much different. She wanted it hard. She wanted it fast. She didn’t want him to stop. After the first few thrusts, she plateaued on a cumming high. “Yes, yes, yes,” she spit at the hard wood against her face. The roughhewn piling scratched her tits, while Johnny’s fingernails clawed her bottom. But none of that mattered, not while she was getting fucked. It wouldn’t matter even later, when she gazed at the damage, the bruises, the scraps, the traces of blood, the evidence of this glorious abuse.

  “Harder,” she kept telling him as his body banged against hers. “Harder.” She was almost weeping for the joy and pain.

  He gave her everything she asked for. And yet, as hard as he fucked, as meanly as he treated her, it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her ache, her raw obsession, her enormous soul-deep wanting.

  Johnny couldn’t wait forever. His body crescendoed quickly, and for a while he held back, pinching her nipples and toying with her clit, feeling her inner muscles spasm against his cock again. But then, unable to hold back any longer, his cum suddenly crashed through his body like a raging steer.

  Her body went limp as if she’d fainted. Her body was as spent as his. But pulling out of her, Johnny pushed her to the dirt and lightly slapped her face to wake her.

  “Polish me off, Jill,” he ordered.

  Was he still angry, even now?

  She’d been trained to take spent cock in her mouth, so this was nothing new to her. That tangy, sweaty, nasty smell of fucking soothed her every time she licked her remains off a prick. It was enough to make her pussy jolt for the umpteenth time. A sassy thing a pussy can become when sex gets this good.

  Satisfied that she’d sufficiently cleaned his cock, Johnny withdrew from her mouth and stuffed his penis inside his pants.

  “See. It wasn’t so bad with me now, was it?”

  “No, Johnny,” she said, while wiping her mouth on her arm.

  He smiled in a way she’d never seen before, with a pitiless scorn that would have hurt, if she weren’t so satiated, and still tingling erotically from her mouth right down her spine and into her fucked ass. Johnny viewed her like he would a well-used whore, only this was far more satisfying—his bastard father’s lover on her knees. What could be better?

  “That’s good. Glad we finally agree.” He broke their gaze, shrugged and turned to walk away.

  “Johnny, aren’t you going to wait for me?” she called to him as she scrambled to her feet.

  He looked back over his shoulder “Hell, no. You got here by yourself, didn’t you?”

  “But Johnny,” she pleaded as she searched the ground for her clothes. She looked up at her forgotten audience, seeing the man circle his girlfriend’s waist with his arm and guide her away from the edge of the street.

  Johnny just kept walking as if he didn’t hear her.

  Two minutes later, she banged on the motel room door. Having dressed enough to cover her naked body, she stood there waiting, holding her boots in one fist, while she clutched the sides of her leather jacket together with the other.

  “Sure you want to spend the night with me?” he asked when he opened the door.

  “It’s my room, too,” she said, looking a little terrified.

  He smiled more warmly. Maybe some of his contempt was gone. He opened the door wide and let her in.

  Once she showered, Jill burrowed into Johnny’s arms like a wounded child.

  “Did you see the bruises?” she asked.

  “There are bruises? Really?” He pushed her away slightly, noting a scrape on her face, and when she opened the towel, there were several more scratches on her breasts and belly. He turned her around, touching the marred places on her ass where blotchy purple marks rose like angry clouds. “Should we worry about these?” He didn’t know whether he should regret the last hour, or praise himself for having the guts to do what he’d wanted to do to a woman for a long long time.

  “I don’t think so. I kind of like them,” she admitted with a sheepish, sleepy grin.

  He was relieved. “Yeah, I guess you would.” He tried to laugh.

  “Will you just hold me?” she asked, as she fell into his chest again.

  “Sure, but in bed. I’m tired.”

  They huddled into each other’s arms as if it were freezing in the world beyond their blankets and the motel walls. He stroked her head, while trying to understand himself.

  “You know that was really hot,” she finally broke the silence.

  “Yeah, it was hot, but probably not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, I’m not like that with women.”

  “But you were.”

  “Then you bring out the worst in me.”

  “How was that the worst when we both had such a good time?” All her calm was destroyed now, and she pulled from his arms and sat up in bed.

  “I can’t answer that; it just was.”

  “And how could it be good for you? You don’t know what you want. Be glad I’m basically a nice guy. And before you get much further you better figure it out what you want from life, or you’ll never survive in the big wide world.”

  “Johnny, you frighten me.”

  “I think I should, Jill. Come here.”

  Like a soothing father, he pulled her back into his arms and made her stay this time until they were both asleep.

  Chapter Six - Lady Jane

  “Logan, good to see you again.” The waiting man stood and reached out to shake hands.

  The bar was nearly empty and they were meeting in the back where only the waitress would venture occasionally to offer them another drink.

  “And you, sir,” Logan replied as he sat down.

  “My thanks and your payment.” The stately graying gentleman handed him an envelope.

  Opening it, he flipped through the bills and smiled. “My pleasure, Mr. Rainey.” He pocketed the cash inside his jacket.

  “I hope the girl didn’t give you too much trouble?”

  “Hardly any at all. She’s the easiest mark I’ve had in some time.”

  “I suppose that’s good. You said that you found her in a club?”

  “Yes. She was dancing,” he
hesitated just briefly, “nude.”

  Mr. Rainy’s face darkened slightly. “I see.”

  “Unlike her?”

  “Very, I’m afraid. But she does have a petulant streak, so I suppose that I shouldn’t be surprised. And she gave you no problem?”

  “Annie may have a petulant streak, but she knew she was out of her league in that environment. She’d fallen in with a man who pushed her to it. Not all that surprising. Pretty common for runaways. Every one of them is a submissive where it counts. They push themselves to do something outrageous and then don’t know what the hell to do when they get in a jam.”

  “Exactly. But this one is a little different than the others I’ve had. In fact, I was a bit embarrassed to admit to anyone that she’d run away. If I thought she could have survived on her own, I would have just let her go, but I knew she wasn’t up to it. She is rash and impulsive and completely witless. And I actually…” He started to blush, looking chagrinned. “I think I love her.”

  Logan offered a sympathetic smile.

  “Well, then I’m glad she’s back where she belongs.”

  “Indeed. Once she’s been thoroughly reprimanded, we can restore our relationship. Until then, she’ll be squirming in her chair, if she’s sitting at all.” He laughed in a knowing way.

  “I guess you have the matter in hand.”

  “In a firm hand. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the kind to beat my submissives. But I do spank and paddle and lay on a hefty razor strap if necessary. And the razor strap was just what Annie got last night, for nearly a half hour. Her big behind was lit up like a firecracker, red as a beet, raw as sandpaper. She’ll be bruised for several days and sore a whole lot longer. There will be no thought of rebellion in my pretty redhead by the end of the week.” The man sighed and fingered his glass of scotch. “I was too lax with her. That happens when you’re in love. When I started to pull in the reins, well, you probably know yourself, she started to struggle, I pulled harder and she split, stupid as that was.”

  His memories seem to drive themselves and required expression.

  “I thought I would let her go, but then… well… that’s when I called you in.”