by Nicole Fox
Well, you’re in for a long life of enjoyment, I thought bitterly. He’s got you good.
But what about Honi? Obviously, I had failed to find the financial data she needed, and I knew, because I knew Honi, that she was still probably going on with that lie anyway. How could she be so stupid? All she had to do was tell the truth, and this would all be over for her. Was whoring really that bad, that she’d rather gamble her life with Tom Minghelli?
I remembered Leo’s sausage-like arms groping for me in the bunkroom, and I was forced to acknowledge that, yes, maybe Tom Minghelli was better than whoring. But not by much.
At that point, I heard the sedan’s engine spring to life. I tensed, wondering if something had gone wrong, if the driver was about to speed away without Connor. But instead of putting it into gear, he waited.
A few seconds later, there was the sound of the door being wrenched open.
“Take her!” someone cried. “Take her! Go! Go!”
There was a thump as something heavy was thrown into the back seat, a slam as the car door was shoved closed, and then the final roar of the engine being thrown in gear. The floor of the trunk began to shake, and I felt us tearing out of there.
But Connor! I thought. What about Connor? I wished desperately that I could see what was going on. Instead, I slowed my breaths, calmed my pounding heart, and listened.
“Hello, Farrah,” I heard the driver say. “Did they rough you up real bad? I see some bruises.”
A laugh followed, deep, knowing, and old—way too old for the woman emitting it. It was Honi. “No, not too bad,” she snapped. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
That, at least, was probably true.
Obviously she was hurt, but not enough to be serious. As I realized that, I felt a strong thrill of joy surging through me. Honi was safe! But what about the rest of them?
As if she was reading my mind, I heard her ask, “Where are the other men going? The ones who found me?”
“They’ve got their own bikes. It makes for a faster getaway. Look, you can see them starting up now.”
Of course, I couldn’t see, but I felt the cold hand of fear that had been squeezing my heart slowly loosen its grip. Connor was safe! They were getting away!
Which still left me tied up with duct tape over my mouth, locked in a fucking car trunk.
Determinedly, I began squirming, hoping to loosen the tape around my body. I couldn’t see anything in the dark, but, thanks to the tightness of the duct tape, I had a pretty exact idea of how I was bound. I soon found that by flexing my jaw, I was able to work free the tape over my mouth. I didn’t cry out though. I didn’t want them noticing me and then doing it up again.
Instead, I continued to wriggle. At one point, I heard a strange crinkling inside the pocket of the coat Connor had thrown over me. I felt for it, pushing with my bound hands until it was up near my chin.
The envelope! I realized. Christ!
As quickly as I could, not knowing how long we had until we arrived back at the compound, I worked the envelope free and then stuffed it, as far as I was able, down into my bra. I wanted it out of sight by the time the trunk was opened. It was hard work, but eventually, by flexing my neck, lips, hands, and even my knees and hips, I was able to get it properly hidden.
Literally seconds after the final corner of the envelope was hidden, I felt the car stop and heard the doors open.
“Johnny!” I heard Honi cry, followed by the clatter of heels on pavement.
“Oh, Honi, thank God! Did they hurt you?” I heard Montengo bellow happily back. In a way, his concern touched me. He might enjoy her only for her body, but about that he certainly cared. I could just imagine the pair of them as Honi was swept up into Montengo’s arms. An idiot and a whore. How romantic.
My greeting, however, was far less sweet.
Connor clicked open the trunk, his eyes glowering down at me as I winced in the sudden light.
“Come on, Princess,” he growled. “You’re coming with me.”
And with that, he seized me by my shirt, hoisted me right out of the car, and carried me back into the Devil’s Wings’ compound. Whether he wanted to fuck me or kill me, I couldn’t be sure.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Connor
Princess was still bound up good and tight as I carried her into the compound. This pleased me. Even after the ride back from the Minghelli estate, I could feel my anger thundering in my ears. Princess had almost fucked it all up. And for what? What was the stupid whore up to?
At first, I thought about taking her to the bunkroom. I knew she hated it there, and I wanted to revel in her discomfort. But then I decided against it. I wanted her alone, where no one would interfere with us. With her slung over my shoulders like a sack of potatoes, I carried her to my office. I felt her breasts bouncing against my shoulder, and sent my hand exploring the smooth shape of her ass. She squirmed, but I didn’t care. The heat growing in my loins only fed my rage, making me feel more and more powerful. I was excited. It was the same feeling I always got before a fight. Like when I beat up the skimmers.
I wrenched open the office door, barreled into the room, and slammed the door behind me. Then, with a single sweep of my hand, I cleared my desk of all my papers. Not caring about gentleness at all, I hurled Princess upon it. She winced, and I heard her mutter, “Ow!”
Which meant that the duct tape over her mouth had come loose.
Well, that wouldn’t do at all.
I walked around to the other side of my desk, not caring as Princess toppled over onto her side. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was helpless. With sharp, violent movements I tore open my drawers, found a roll of hefty scotch tape, and brought it back to her. With a single hand I pinned her down and began taping her mouth shut again. I wanted her to feel how helpless she was. How much she was in my power.
That was when I noticed a small corner of white poking out from her stolen leather jacket.
“What the fuck?” I demanded. I wrenched the zipper open and saw, pinned between her breasts, an envelope—my envelope—crumpled and hidden. The same fucking envelope Venus Fucking Michaels wanted the Devil’s Wings to have.
“You bitch,” I growled. “You stole my fucking envelope. Right out of my fucking jacket. What the fuck were you thinking?”
She gazed at me, terrified, but of course she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was taped shut. I grabbed her by the hair, wrenched her head all the way back, and tore all the tape off in one go. She whimpered and looked away from me.
“You whore!” I bellowed, feeling my anger grow. “What the fuck are you doing with my envelope?” I shook her, relishing the way her breasts bobbed as her whole body quaked. I shook her harder. “Answer me!”
“I … I … I found it, and was just keeping it safe!” dhe lied. Of course she was lying. I could see it in her conniving little whore eyes.
“Lying bitch!” I roared, pulling her up by her hair. “Tell me! What were you planning to do with it?”
Tears sprang in her eyes, but she refused to answer.
I dropped her, letting her slam against the desk. Suddenly, an icy clarity came over me. I thought about all of our past interactions. Her subtle way of showing me her skills. The way she could be silent and companionable. Her changing attitudes about sex, one time vulnerable and sweet, the next whorish and slutty. And I realized something that turned my anger into a deadly blade:
She had been manipulating me. The whole time, she had been manipulating me. Tricking me—me!—into caring about her. And I had almost fucking fallen for it!
“I’ve been nice to you, so far, huh, Princess?” I growled. It was a low sound, deep in my throat. Threatening. Dangerous. “So far, I think I’ve been pretty fucking nice to you!”
With that, I ripped her shirt away from her. The fabric tore easily, bruising her skin and freeing those lovely fucking tits to my hands. She was still tied, so I couldn’t take the jacket off. Instead, I wrenched it back over her shoulders, so that it hung a
round her wrists. With her arms pinned behind her, her breasts were lifted into the air. I could see the nipples growing harder as the cool air washed over them.
I reached out and pinched one, hard. I saw Princess wince.
“Really, it’s my fault,” I said, squeezing her breast now so hard I knew it would hurt. “I’ve been too nice to you. So nice that you’ve forgotten your place. And you know what your place is?”
Smack! I struck that same tit, watching her flesh ripple with the impact and a bright pink handprint appearing a moment later.
“You’re a whore,” I said, slapping the other one. “A stupid fucking whore, and it’s time you remembered it!”
I grabbed the belt line of her leather pants and wrenched them down between her ankles. Her ass was exposed, pretty and white as a bowl of cream.
I spanked that ass. Hard.
“Oh!” She moaned, grimacing with discomfort. A red handprint appeared on that perfect, porcelain skin. I liked the way it looked, so I hit it again. And again for good measure.
“Ouch! Please!” she whimpered.
“Shut up,” I growled. “Shut up and take your spanking, you fucking whore.”
Slap!
She could not help but whimper. I decided it was time to silence her mouth. I reached for the tape again, but then had a better idea.
My hand went to my fly, and I undid the zipper. My cock burst out, rigid and enormous. I grabbed her by the back of the head and pressed her mouth against it, so hard that she had no choice but to open her lips and take me in. I swear, she was so scared that I could feel her pulse fluttering through the warm, soft skin of her cheeks.
“That’s right. Suck it, you whore,” I growled.
Slap! I struck her ass. She tried to moan, but it was muffled, her throat filled up with too much cock.
“I told you to suck, damn it!” I roared, thrusting into her mouth. Eyelids fluttering, she squirmed to obey, sliding her neck back and forth to pleasure the length of my shaft.
“Good slut,” I muttered.
Slap!
Her rhythm increased.
Slap! She was almost frantic now, the duct tape biting into her skin as she struggled to gain enough motion to please me. I loved seeing how eagerly she obeyed me. I spanked her, and her tempo increased. When I wanted it slow and deep, all I had to do was take a break from her poor, bright red ass and lace both my hands behind her head, fucking her face, forcing her to take it balls deep.
“This is your place, you slut,” I grunted. “Face full of dick and a sopping wet pussy.”
I reached to her thighs, working my fingers between her impressive muscles. She tried to resist, clamping her legs shut, so I slapped her thighs until she had no choice but to open, exposing her pretty little pink treasure trove to whatever I wanted.
With a jab, I drove my thumb inside her. I was pleased to see that she was, in fact, all wet, and, as I pressed against her g-spot, her cock-sucking deepened. She could wince and struggle all she wanted, but her body’s reactions were clear: she wanted it. She wanted my fucking dick.
Smiling, I swirled my thumb inside her, then popped it out with the sound of a cork and held it up to enjoy its wetness. Then I fastened that hand over her breast, flicking the nipple and loving the way a gleaming stream of wetness was left across her tit.
“That’s it, you bitch,” I murmured, still thrusting into her mouth. I wanted to humiliate her further, to show her how low she really was.
I slid my cock from her mouth and drew it up against my belly. Then I released it.
Slap! It sprang back into a horizontal position, striking her in the face. That was a good show. Whore being slammed with cock.
I did it again, loving the way she tried to turn her face away, as if to dodge it. All this did was spread where my cock hit. She had no choice but to take the impact.
Then, the crowning moment.
I shifted closer, pinching her jaw with one hand to open her mouth. Carefully, I guided my balls between her lips and lowered myself. I felt her hot, moist mouth taking them in.
“Suck them, you whore,” I ordered. “Lick them.”
And, as a reminder of what a bad idea it would have been to disobey me, I gave her breast a pinch.
She opened her mouth and obeyed.
“Oh, yeah,” I murmured. Her little pink tongue was expert, both taking in and circling each of my balls in turn. I could sense that my lesson was working. There was no defiance in her eyes. She was doing exactly as I told her.
She was learning her place.
I decided it was high time to let her speak.
I wrenched my cock from her mouth, then leaned over her, so close that my lips tickled against her ear.
“So tell me, Princess,” I growled. “Who’s in charge?”
“You are,” she whispered back. There was not a moment’s hesitation.
“Good girl,” I said. “Why?”
As I spoke, my hand slithered down between her legs and began pressing on her pussy, spreading around that wetness.
“Because I’m a whore.”
“You’re what?” A pinch to her clit.
“I’m your whore,” she gasped. Frantic. Eager to obey me. Pussy open wide, wanting me to fuck her brains out.
“Good girl,” I stated, and then whirled her round so that her ass was to me.
I did not enter gently, worrying about friction or pinching. No, I took my massive, rock hard tip and rammed it into that pussy, as hard and deep as I could.
“Ah!” she cried out, in pain or pleasure. I couldn’t tell which. I didn’t care. I was fucking her as hard and as long as I wanted. That was her fucking job.
My hands fastened into the cheeks of her ass, so hard that my nails left gouges in her flesh. I thrust all the way in, feeling my balls swing up and slap her right against her pussy. Within seconds the both of us were soaking, her wetness gleaming down the sides of my shaft and dripping down my thighs.
“Oh, yeah!” I roared, reaching round to pinch her clit. She screamed, bucking against me, unable to contain herself. Her breasts bounced. Her hair flew. She was being fucked out of control.
Now we couldn’t have that, now could we?
With a violent jerk of my hips, I rammed her body upward. I wrapped my arms around her, pinning her back against my chest. One hand closed around her tit, flicking and massaging the nipple, while the other hand closed around her mouth.
“Try screaming now, you bitch,” I grunted, my hand tightening over her lips. “Try screaming now.”
I thrust harder and deeper than ever before. I could feel my cock reaching its limits, pounding up against a wall inside her, but I didn’t care. I would bruise that wall to hell if I wanted to. So I pounded, again and again.
She did try to scream. I could feel it starting in her lungs, working its way up her fluttering throat, and trying to escape her mouth. It couldn’t. I felt it vanish in a gust of hot air as she panted against my palm. I gripped her tighter, now pinching both breasts together with one hand, holding her mouth so hard that she struggled to breath.
My control over her was all-powerful. Absolute. Irrevocable.
I owned her body. Everything she could offer me was mine.
“I’m gonna cum in you,” I whispered in her ear, attacking the soft flesh of her neck. She tried to moan, caught by the gag of my hand, and squirmed against me instead.
“I’m gonna pump you full of so much fucking cum,” I growled again. My hand ravaged her breasts. I pinned her up against me. She had nowhere to go. The air from her nose pounded in hot bursts against my knuckles and her lips trembled beneath my palm.
“You whore. You whore. You fucking whore …. ah ….”
I felt myself burst. It was deep inside her, so deep I felt the exploding wetness of the load. I rocked against her, giving her every last drop, feeling her pussy twitch and spasm every time my cock throbbed with a another burst of cum. I held her there, with me inside her, letting her soak in the feeling.
Letting her feel every wave of my cum.
At last, I let go of her mouth and tits. She gasped, defeated, collapsing down against my desk. I felt a surge of wetness, and then my cock slid out of her.
“Good fucking, whore,” I muttered, and stood back, taking her all in.
Her panting lungs. Her quivering skin. The red handprints all over her ass, tits, and thighs, many of them sure to be bruises. Her pussy, dripping with my load, bright pink and sore from all that fucking. Even her lips were swollen, from sucking me so hard. It was a beautiful sight.
And yet it made me feel very strange.
