Harmon whipped her slowly and deliberately, drawing out the pauses between each whack. This was worse than anything he’d ever done. Silent tears coursed down her face, but she didn’t dare move. She heard the sheik make a comment to one of his men. Kyra didn’t speak Arabic, but she’d picked up a few phrases while preparing for this meeting over the last few days, enough to know that he was praising Harmon as a man who took charge of his women. Kyra’s pain and humiliation suddenly vanished, turning to white-hot anger. This wasn’t about punishment or submission. Harmon was obviously using this as a way to gain status in the eyes of the sheik, showing him an American could be tough when it was needed.
Somehow Kyra managed to remain in place for the entire whipping, in spite of the blistering fire it ignited on her backside. Finally Harmon tossed the belt on the floor next to her chair.
“You are excused, Miss Thornton,” he said, not even bothering to look in her direction.
Kyra pulled down her skirt and left the room without a word. She went straight upstairs to her suite in the penthouse and tore off the business suit, garter belt, and stockings, pulling on a shapeless pair of gray running shorts and an old navy blue tank top. She paced the rooms barefoot, furious, barely resisting the temptation to throw the rest of her clothes back into her suitcases and storm out of there.
How could she have thought he was beginning to care about her? She’d been duped by his soft caresses, the lingering kisses, the warmth of his arms around her after sex. She’d even started daydreaming about him, about their relationship continuing on beyond the end of the contract. How could she have allowed herself to feel anything for him? He was using her again, just like he’d used her to steal money from Alejandro’s company. Angrily she swiped bitter tears from her eyes.
She heard the persistent knocking on her door after about half an hour, but didn’t respond. A few seconds later, a white envelope was shoved underneath it to lie on the floor in the tiny foyer.
She walked over and deliberately kicked it back out into the hallway. She’d barely made another lap around the suite when her private phone buzzed, the one she’d been warned never to ignore. She had a text message. She opened it to find two words.
Lab. Now.
* * *
When Carmen told him Kyra had shoved the envelope back out into the hall, Jake was annoyed. He glanced at his watch, determined to administer extra punishment for every minute she kept him waiting.
The door to the lab burst open. Kyra stormed in.
Jake raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t hear a knock.”
“Fuck you,” she spat out. “I’m through with your bullshit games.”
“That’s strange. You’re saying you’re through but I don’t remember ‘fuck you’ being your safe word.”
“I just changed it,” she snarled, pacing back and forth across the lab like an enraged lioness. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you? You deliberately humiliated me in front of that room full of men, made me look like I’m just one of your possessions, all to raise your status in the eyes of some stupid third-world dictator no one’s ever heard of? Why didn’t the two of you get it over with once and for all—whip out your dicks and measure them, right there on the conference table?”
Jake’s tone was deceptively mild. “Are you through?”
“Not by a long shot. I was actually beginning to think there was a human being behind all those devices you love to hook me up to. But you’re more like a machine than any of them. No feelings, no emotions. I despise you.”
In two powerful strides, he had her by the arm. Pulling her along, he headed for the padded bench in front of the mirrored wall. “Apparently you’ve forgotten the rules here,” he said, as he bent her over. Ignoring Kyra’s curses as she struggled to get away, he held her over the bench and strapped first one wrist, then the other, to the legs on the front with a set of wide padded cuffs.
“First, you will refer to me as ‘master’ or ‘sir.’ Certainly not as ‘asshole.’ Second, you do not speak in here unless you’ve been asked a question or given permission to do so.”
She shrieked and tried to kick him with her bare feet. Harmon simply reached down and strapped both her ankles to the back legs.
“Now look in the mirror,” he demanded. Kyra deliberately turned her face away. Harmon yanked on her running shorts, tearing them from the waist to the crotch. Her ass was bare and pale, the marks from his belt already faded to faint stripes. He pulled again and the tattered shreds of her garment fell to the floor around her ankles.
“You think you’ve experienced all my machines? Here’s one I haven’t tried out on you yet.” He brought the odd wheeled contraption behind the bench up closer and saw Kyra wince. “The nice thing about this is that I can turn it on and walk away,” Harmon announced. “I don’t even have to be here for it to be effective. But while I’m hooking you up to it, I’ll tell you some things about that meeting that you didn’t know.”
He stepped behind her and fastened straps to her upper thighs, spreading them wide apart. Then he ran a hand casually back and forth between her legs from her clit to her ass, just to emphasize her helpless position.
“Sheik Naji Rahmadi is the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had. We were at Stanford together. Far from being a… what was it, oh, yes, a ‘stupid third-world dictator,’ Naji is one of the brightest men I’ve ever met.”
Harmon pulled the machine up to rest between her legs. He heard her draw in a sharp breath when she saw him attach a long thick black dildo to a rod on the machine. He bent down and worked it up inside her until it was buried to the hilt. She tried to wiggle away, but he fastened one more strap around her waist, holding her firmly in place. She cursed again, letting loose with a string of especially colorful four-letter words.
“You know I’m keeping track of those,” he remarked conversationally. “Every cuss word earns you five more minutes on this machine.”
He checked the fit and made a few adjustments. Then he fastened the same band she’d worn the first night around her head. The computer screen across the room lit up like a Christmas tree.
“I agreed to all the terms he wanted because I don’t need to make another fortune at his expense. It’s my way of helping him achieve his goal—bringing the people of his country into the modern world through technology. By the way, Naji is married to an American woman, a brilliant archeologist from the University of Chicago. She left this country to live with him in the desert, doing research on the ancient civilization Naji’s ancestors founded. He says they have a very happy, traditional Arabian marriage. Along with being head of his country, Naji is head of their household. I recently found out he disciplines his wife on a regular basis, whenever he feels she needs it, with her full consent.”
He heard a low buzz from the monitor attached to the headset. Kyra registered a definite response to his comments about Naji’s discipline. The headset showed him that she was becoming aroused even though right now she would never admit it. He flipped a switch on the machine. The dildo started to move in and out, slowly. The buzz turned into a deep hum, as a current of electricity traveled through the rod, making it vibrate as it moved.
He glanced at the monitors. Kyra’s level of sexual desire had just ramped up another notch. The sensors in the dildo recorded that her pussy was now fully lubricated. Harmon stepped back to watch as he flipped the final switch. This was going to be fun.
* * *
Kyra jerked as she felt the first thrust. The jerk turned into a shudder when the huge implement started to vibrate deep inside her. She was barely aware that Harmon was still speaking.
“He doesn’t only do it for punishment though. Naji told me once that spanking his wife arouses them both. In fact, he says he sometimes brings out her hairbrush just to spice up their love life.”
Right then, she heard the first sharp whack, followed by a blast of heat. She watched in the mirror, horrified, as a wide wooden paddle on the machine connected with he
r ass again. All the while, the enormous dong he’d attached was moving in and out, fucking her. Slowly, steadily, vibrating inside her with every thrust.
“You’ve earned much more but half an hour will do for today,” Harmon announced. “You’ll get the rest some other time. Don’t worry. I’m keeping track.”
Stunned, Kyra watched in the mirror as Harmon walked out of the room, leaving her strapped to this infernal machine. She struggled to move, but the restraints held her fast, arms immobilized, legs spread wide. The dildo slid in and out of her over and over from below while the paddle smacked her ass.
Kyra looked in the mirror. She was alone. All alone in the lab, strapped down, being fucked and spanked by a machine. She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t resist. With no one to see her reacting like a brazen slut, she closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations. The pain of the spanking became a savage seduction, enhanced by the vibrations in her pussy. This was no longer punishment. It was ravishment, lewd and indecent—and she loved every second of it. Her eyes snapped open again when the dildo came to a stop deep inside her and the paddle began delivering whacks faster and faster. Kyra let out a shriek and tried in vain to wiggle away. But she was held firmly in place by the thick rod inside her. Now it started to pulse against her G-spot.
She started panting heavily, the fiery sting of the paddle blending with the ecstasy of the rhythmic pulsing inside her. But just when she thought she would come, the pulsing stopped. And so did the spanking. She lay there, confused, aroused, and frustrated, watching the minutes tick by on the digital clock across the lab. Harmon said she’d get half an hour. She’d been strapped into this thing at 3 p.m. Now it was 3:13.
It began again, all at once, with no warning. First the fucking arm of the machine kicked on, then the spanking arm. The vibrator went off and on at random, so that sometimes she was spanked and vibrated, sometimes fucked and vibrated, sometimes all three at once. Kyra screamed out loud, ready to explode… and the machine turned itself off.
She cursed again at the top of her lungs when she realized what he had done. This was the ultimate punishment—getting her right to the edge, and then leaving her unsatisfied. The next time it began, she willed herself to come, but by now the machine seemed to know her, know how much she could take. She was driven right to the brink of orgasm yet again before it shut down.
The minutes ticked by slower than hours. Kyra was shaking all over when the twenty-five minute mark came. She nearly cried when the dildo kicked on again, taking her even higher. This time when the machine started spanking her, Kyra slumped over the bench, all the fight drained out of her, and gave way to tears.
Chapter Eleven
Harmon stood in the room behind the mirror on the wall, hands clenched at his sides, watching as Kyra was brought to the brink of orgasm over and over, only to be denied release. Now that he was out of the room, he found himself analyzing his own reactions to witnessing Kyra’s punishment. He tried to use the same detached interest he brought to all his experiments. First, intense arousal. That was to be expected. He did his best to ignore the erection straining against his zipper and went on cataloging his feelings.
Compassion—and an overwhelming desire to stop this and turn her punishment into pleasure for both of them. Surprising. He pulled out a chart and noted the intensity of his reaction. But when she began sobbing, her body lying limp over the bench, he couldn’t stand by any longer.
He opened the door and saw her feeble attempt to pull herself together when she heard his footsteps across the room. His voice was low and soothing as he flipped off the machine and knelt beside her to unbuckle the restraints.
“Shhh… it’s all right, baby. You took your punishment like a good girl. Hopefully you’ve learned not to question my decisions in front of other people in the future, no matter how right you think you are.”
He swept her half-naked body into his arms and carried her out of the room and down the hall to his private quarters. Kyra refused to look at him, burying her face in his shirt. Her sobs gradually turned into sniffles. Harmon laid Kyra on his bed. She turned away from him, huddling into a ball.
Harmon pulled off his clothes and climbed in beside her. He drew her close and felt her body stiffen.
“You’re angry with me right now. But I know how to change that.” His hands moved, stroking her back through the tank top she still wore. He got up and rummaged in a drawer in the nightstand, coming back with a jar of lotion.
“Roll over on your stomach.”
She shook her head fiercely.
Harmon ignored her stubborn refusal and nudged her over so that she was lying face down. Straddling her body, he dipped a hand into the jar. He heard her sharp intake of breath when he started spreading the cool lotion on her aching bottom. He could feel the heat pouring off her skin, could tell by her soft sighs when the lotion began easing the fiery sting.
He slid one finger between her legs in a slow, sensuous quest. Her breathing changed. This time he urged her legs apart a little, enough to slide his hand along the swollen lips of her pussy to find the bud of her clit. When he began circling it with the pad of his thumb, she gasped. Her hips ground against his hand, tiny movements at first, then harder as he kept stroking.
When he heard her moan, Harmon pulled his hand away and rolled her over, so she was face up. He slid his body down and buried his face between her legs. Kyra let out a wordless cry and fisted her hands in his hair. Harmon started sucking her clit. Kyra bucked beneath him. He got to his knees and grabbed her ass with both hands, holding her immobile as he rammed his tongue into her hot, wet slit.
This time she screamed. He kept on, first fucking her with his tongue, then sucking her clit, until he felt her whole body shudder. Only then did he stop and wrap his arms around her.
Harmon laid down beside her, pulling her close. Kyra curled her body against his and gave a deep sigh. She stirred slightly, nuzzling her head against his chest. He was surprised when he felt her fingers slide down his body. Her hand found his cock, long and stiff, and closed around it. He was even more surprised when she slid over him and took it in her mouth. She moved slowly, drawing out his pleasure, teasing and tormenting him the same way he’d done to her with the fucking machine. She ran her hot tongue all along the length and then wrapped her palm around it, stroking it while sucking the head. Then she took him deep in her mouth, moving her lips up and down his shaft until he was ready to come.
She stopped and looked up at him, laughing. Not a laugh of angry mockery, but one that told him she was enjoying the experience of having him at her mercy for once. He growled and pulled her up to capture her mouth in a savage kiss. She surrendered then, giving herself fully to his passion, meeting his kiss with a desperate hunger.
He rolled over without breaking the kiss, pulling her underneath him and thrusting himself into her. Kyra wrapped her legs around his waist and he lunged deeper, ramming his tongue into her mouth as he fucked her hard and fast. She sank her nails into his back and rode with him, grinding her hips against his with every stroke.
He knew her body, knew when she was about to reach orgasm. He let go then, let go of the iron-hard control he’d always had over his body, his mind and his emotions. Jake Harmon held a woman in his arms and for the first time in his life, lost himself, melding into one being, one soul, as they came together.
* * *
Kyra sat by the edge of the rooftop pool, happily dangling her feet in the water as Harmon swam lap after lap. She was thoroughly satisfied in every way. A soft breeze flowed in from the ocean, turning the hot steamy day into a warm, comfortable night. Off to the west, a spectacular display of lightning lit up the black sky again and again over the Everglades, promising a ferocious thunderstorm on its way.
Her thoughts drifted back to the evening they’d spent together, their first outside the lab. She’d never been in Harmon’s suite before tonight. The space was surprisingly traditional. She’d expected to see sleek, modern furniture, like h
e’d chosen for the cavernous two-story living room. But when she looked around his private quarters, she wondered if perhaps that very public room had been decorated by an interior designer who delivered what she expected a tech genius to want, rather than getting to know the real Harmon.
A king-sized bed with a charcoal gray suede headboard dominated his bedroom. It was flanked by a pair of teak nightstands that had a Chinese flair. A pair of matching crystal lamps with silver shades sat atop the nightstands. The only real color came from the artwork. His taste there was surprising as well. A Chagall watercolor hung across from the bed and an original painting by Christian Riese Lassen took up most of another wall. She was familiar with Lassen’s ocean scenes from his gallery in Key West, but this was one she’d never seen before and she asked Harmon about it.
“I chose it because I felt an immediate connection to the guy when I heard the story behind it,” Harmon replied. “Lassen was barely out of his teens when he was discovered by a gallery owner in Honolulu. Before long, his paintings of Lahaina harbor at night and his underwater scenes with dolphins and shipwrecks made him one of the most popular artists in Hawaii. But critics scoffed at his work, saying his paintings were just a higher-priced version of trashy tourist souvenirs. So Lassen decided to show them he could paint as well as any of the masters. He arranged a still life and painted it four different ways, one on each corner of this huge canvas. He did a Monet-style French Impressionist version, a dead ringer for what Picasso might have painted, a Renaissance masterpiece equal to anything in the great museums of Europe, and then his own rendition.
Bared by the Billionaire Page 11
