by Sansa Rayne
Satisfied, he turns to Chase. “Who’s this?”
“A friend,” Sibel says, before either of us can answer. I turn to her, wondering what could possibly be going through her head. She looks over to Chase, her expression filled with pity, rather than fury.
“Sergeant Wax, thank you for everything,” she continues, approaching the officer. “I know how this looks, but I’m okay.”
I don’t think he believes Sibel, and I don’t blame him — I don’t either. For a moment, I consider contradicting her and telling Wax exactly what happened. Yet, if she wants Chase arrested and charged, all she has to do is say so — and I can respect her wishes, for now.
Wax, on the other hand, looks back and forth between us, incredulous. “Mind if we search the building?” he asks. “Just to be sure?”
“Of course,” I say. “Take your time.”
The police spend half an hour searching the building thoroughly — the whole time I watch Sibel and Chase, who in turn watch each other and me. The scene feels like something out of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly — a standoff with everyone waiting for someone else to make a move.
Only, none of us do. The search concludes, and Wax — certain he’s not being told the whole story — informs Sibel to call them should she change her mind and would like to make a statement.
“Again, thank you, Sergeant,” she says as we show the police out of the building. Judging by the grins and scowls on the officers faces, some believe Sibel and some do not.
When all the cops have left, I sit down with Sibel on the bed, holding her in my arms.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” I say. “You should be running away screaming right now.”
She nuzzles her head against my shoulder and starts to cry a little; after everything she’s been through, it’s a wonder she kept it together so long.
“I’ll be okay,” she says. “I’ll be okay.”
I hold her for a long time, shaking as my adrenaline rush finally goes dry. Relief flows through me, neutralizing my rage and fear.
It’s over.
At least, the part I feared most is done. Sibel’s unhurt — though, I don’t understand what just happened any more than the police. I still can’t let go of how badly I want to hurt Chase for what he’s done.
“What the fuck?” I say to him. “We could have found a way. It didn’t have to come to this.”
Chase sighs. “Not this again. I think I know myself better than you do. Kick my ass if you have to — cut off my fucking balls, kill me — I don’t care. I gave in to my compulsion; if I’m given the chance, I’ll do it again. That’s how it is.”
“No it’s not,” Sibel snaps. I turn to her, and see her face ashen and wet, with fresh tears falling, her brows knitted with anger. “It was working just fine until I came along.”
“Hey, no, that’s not-”
She shakes her head. “It’s true, Pierce. It couldn’t be helped, sure, but I’m the one who pushed Chase over the edge. That’s why I didn’t turn him in. I don’t want to ruin his life.”
“Sibel, I got fucking obsessed,” Chase argues. “I’m the one who should have checked my shit. You’re blameless.”
“I know,” says Sibel as she slips out from between my arms. “It may not make sense, but I still feel partly responsible.”
“You’re not,” I assert, getting between her and Chase.
She sets a hand on my shoulder and looks up into my eyes. “Yeah, but maybe there’s something I can do to help.”
All I want is to keep her as far away from Chase as possible right now, but I owe it to her to at least hear her out. “Go on.”
Sibel steps toward the bed and looks at the chains lying on the ground. “The problem is Chase can’t have what he really wants,” I say to Pierce. “Your videos gave him a close second. What if we did the same?”
“How do you mean?”
She turns toward us both and takes off my shirt, revealing her nude form. “We could let him watch.”
Both of them look at me in disbelief. I get it. Chase was going to rape me. I should have told the police what he did and sent him away for the rest of his life. Shouldn’t I feel an unrelenting wrath, a thirst for vengeance or at least a mind-numbing fear?
Well, I don’t.
This whole thing just makes me miserable. Arresting or killing Chase won’t make any of us happy. Yeah, he’d never hurt anyone else, but why can’t there be another way? Maybe I’m thinking like Pierce — looking for a solution that doesn’t exist — and Chase knows better. Still, I’d like to try.
Chase wants to smile at my suggestion, but he’s straining to keep his face impassive and to not celebrate his inexplicable luck.
Pierce, I can understand being a little surprised at my idea. Chase isn’t likely his favorite person right now. Yet, I don’t want to see years of loyalty and effort just thrown away. And, if Pierce doesn’t mind giving his oldest friend a chance to watch us from afar, then I can live with it.
I know Pierce is right about my role in this situation. Nobody but Chase can control his obsession, and his actions are his own — but how can I live with the knowledge that I destroyed their friendship, even if it was inadvertent? The least I can do is try and make it right.
“That’s… crazy,” Pierce says at last.
“No,” I reply. “It’s compromise. Do you have a better idea?”
Pierce glares at his friend, balling a fist, then letting it go. “I don’t… but that doesn’t mean I like this one.”
“Yeah, it’s not perfect,” I admit. “It may not work. But it’s that, or taking Chase to jail, right? What other choice is there?”
After a minute, Pierce nods. “Fine. I can set up a video feed, and a room where Chase can watch.”
“Can I suggest something?” Chase asks. He waits for us to turn to him. “A loudspeaker in here, so I can tell Pierce what to do.”
Pierce looks to me. “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”
I nod, glad for his concern, though he knows me by now to have a good sense of what acts I like and what not. At the same time, he should realize that if we’re not going to make this good, then Chase won’t get anything out of it. There’s a balance we’ll have to strike — it may not be easy, but I’ll do what I can. I trust Pierce to do his part. “I’ll use my safeword if I have to,” I say. “What about you? Sure this is what you want?”
He brushes his hair back with his hand, eyes wide as if he’s still not certain this is really happening. “I don’t want to share you, Sibel. But, if it works…”
“Guys, I’m warning you,” Chase cuts in. “You can’t fix me. I’m not gonna say no to trying, but don’t get your hopes up.”
“Shut up,” I mutter. “Don’t make us regret this, okay?”
He backs up, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Thank you for doing this, both of you.”
I grab my phone so I can message Steph and let her know I’m fine, then sit down on the bed. “All right, guys,” I say. “Get to work.”
—
Seconds stand still as I wait for Pierce and Chase to finish setting up. To provide a scenario that Chase will find satisfying, I’ve gotten dressed in some spare leggings and a t-shirt I keep on hand. My arms are tied behind my back, and a simple cloth gag cuts into my cheeks, tight and unyielding.
I can hear them clattering around the warehouse, setting up monitors and cameras, laying out cables to connect it all together. Remnants of their conversation filter back to me, but I can’t make out the words. I get the sense that Chase is giving Pierce a general outline of what he’d like to see, reducing his need to interrupt during the act.
Then I hear footsteps; Pierce grabs my arm and pulls me along, just like the girls in his videos. I shriek, getting into the performance. It’s not hard; I’m a little scared. This won’t be just like normal for Pierce and I. More importantly, I can’t help wondering if I’ll end up liking things I tell myself I shouldn’t.
�
�Quiet, bitch,” Pierce whispers, yanking my hair back. I squeal, furious, but my pussy drips, dampening my fresh panties. I wish I could say I’m surprised.
He directs me through the warehouse, passing a couple of cameras, until we reach the main video room. The bed and chains have been removed, replaced by a wooden bondage bench.
Pierce guides me toward it, smacking my ass through my leggings. He hits hard, making sure the sound of each slap echoes through the chamber. I yelp with each one, savoring the pain, though with some trepidation over how much this whole ordeal may hurt. It occurs to me I don’t really know the depths of Chase’s potential sadism, and I may not want to.
Binding me to the bondage bench only takes a minute, as it has built-on straps that lock with an easy pull. I struggle to free myself, but I can’t — I’m stuck, bent over the side of the device. My bruised bottom sticks out into the air, and though I can’t see all the cameras, I have no doubt there are several pointed at me.
Once I’m secure, Pierce draws down my leggings, slowly revealing my panties.
“Rub her cunt.”
Chase’s voice startles me. I jerk in place, stymied by my bonds.
Pierce does as instructed, massaging my sodden folds through my panties. I groan, grinding my pussy against his strong fingers.
In response, Pierce smacks the undersides of my buttocks. “You’re a naughty slut, aren’t you?”
I bristle at being called a slut, and growl out of confusion. Am I supposed to be pretending not to enjoy this? Chase didn’t explicitly say so, and in their videos, the women frequently get into it.
“Use the cane.”
Pierce disappears for a minute; when he returns, I hear the woosh of him practicing his swing. He doesn’t give me any warning before he begins, other than to pull my panties down, exposing my already throbbing ass.
I hold in my moans, trying to resist. Each snap of the cane brings fresh torment, and soon I can’t help crying out with each hit. Pierce draws the end of the cane along my skin, leaving me twitching in anticipation of where the next shot will fall. With my head pitched downward, tears drip up my forehead and wet my hair.
In my imagination, I picture Chase watching me suffer. I don’t know whether he’s got a bank of monitors to take in the scene from every angle, or just one screen, forcing him to frantically switch perspectives; either way he’s transfixed, cock hard in his pants. Or maybe he’s already pulled it out…
Okay, stop.
While I normally enjoy imagining my audience and how they’re reacting to my exhibitions, right now I really don’t want to think about what he’s doing.
When my ass feels like a raging brush fire, Pierce stops, setting the cane down on the floor in front of me. To my surprise, he unlocks me from the bench and pulls out my gag. As I stand, he lifts off my shirt, exposing my breasts, and then immediately cuffs my hands behind my back.
“You’re going to suck my cock, slut,” he says, taking my neck in his hand and forcing me to my knees. Though I can breathe, he holds on tight enough to make my body go into panic mode. I shake and struggle in his grasp, though he doesn’t let go. “Tell me you’re not going to try anything stupid.”
“I won’t,” I gasp.
“Good.”
Pierce lets go, and I take the reprieve to inhale deeply, knowing I won’t get long to recover. Sure enough, as soon as he unzips his pants, he jams his cock in my mouth. I stretch my jaw to help take in his shaft, gagging as his tip enters my throat.
Saliva begins to trail down my chin as Pierce fucks my mouth — all I can do is feel his length slide across my tongue and listen to his blissful exhalations. Beneath my shirt, my nipples ache, sensitive and erect. I inhale the salty taste of his skin, and my moans sound on and off in rhythm with his thrusting.
“Hold her still.”
Pierce clutches my hair and forces my head against his body, driving his cock all the way in. I gag and choke, trying to break free, but I can’t. My heart races, and fluid drips as I can’t help thinking of how this all must look.
I feel an eruption in my mouth as Pierce climaxes, dropping his load in my throat. As soon as it happens he lets me go. He strokes his cock a few times, coaxing out the remaining drops of his seed, which he deposits on my face. Shuddering at the warm wetness, I hold out my tongue to collect the rest.
I don’t expect what comes next: Pierce slaps me in the face. It’s not hard — it doesn’t even hurt. My ass has taken shots a thousand times worse. Yet, the shock of it makes my adrenaline spike. My jaw hangs in disbelief, and my pussy clenches with need.
“Are you getting off on this, bitch?” Pierce asks, pinching my cheeks in his hand.
I sneer back at him, shaking out of his grip. There’s no question, I am. Though the situation we’re in is a bit confusing, there is one thing I’m sure of: the pleasure I get from this comes from Pierce, and not necessarily from his actions. I know that some people have found pleasure in getting slapped — is that what just happened? It’s an area we haven’t explored yet, and right now my mind is reeling. I can’t process everything that’s happening, not in these circumstances. Later, I expect Pierce and I will examine all of it, picking the experience apart.
For now, I spit, “Fuck you.” I expect it to bring on another slap, and it does; again, it’s too soft to cause any serious pain. For Chase’s sake, I hope it looks real enough.
“Get up,” Pierce snarls, lifting me to my feet. He spanks my ass a few times, getting me to retreat back to the bondage bench. Once there, he binds me to it again, only this time he positions me so that my body lies across its surface facing down, my limbs spread apart. It’s more comfortable and less degrading than the previous position, but I have a feeling I’m going to be stuck in it a lot longer.
At least from this direction I can see myself on a single monitor. It’s angled at my side, allowing me to view my restraints, as well as everything a few feet in front of me and behind.
Pierce probes a couple of fingers into my drenched orifice, eliciting waves of mild euphoria. Each one cuts into the pain emanating from my punished rear, but not enough to bring me to climax. He stops and comes around to show me his glistening fingers.
“You want to come, don’t you, bitch?”
“No,” I lie, tearing away from his gaze.
Pierce actually laughs. “I should punish you for that. The only thing worse than a slut is a lying slut.”
“Fuck off, asshole,” I mumble.
Standing over me from behind, Pierce pulls my hair back and looks into my eyes with pure fire. “You want me to fuck your asshole? Did I hear that correctly?”
I clench hard, trembling at the thought, and moan softly.
“Yeah, I did. We’ll do that later. First, I’m teaching you a lesson.”
His words play on repeat in my head while he walks away.
A lesson…
Considering what we’re doing and who’s watching, that could mean anything right now. I strain against the straps binding my wrists and ankles, but to no avail. All it gets me is more pent-up arousal.
Pierce comes back, and on the screen I see he’s carrying a magic wand. The sight should fill me with relief, but I’m not so sure an explosive orgasm is what he means by “a lesson.”
“You better tell me if you’re about to come, bitch. You come without permission, you will fucking regret it.”
I snort and turn away defiantly, tossing my hair.
“Oh, is that how you want to play it? You just gave me a great idea,” Pierce says, sticking the magic wand between my thighs. The toy is cold against my hot, swollen lips, but it feels incredible. “Hold this. Do not fucking drop it.”
I squeeze my legs together to hold the toy as Pierce steps away, wondering what diabolical plan I’ve helped hatch. He returns very quickly, practically power walking; he’s got a length of rope and a bottle of lube in one hand; in the other, he carries a long, curved metal bar: an anal hook.
Oh fuck.
&n
bsp; “Yeah, that’s right, slut. I’m gonna get that ass of yours nice and ready.”
He spreads oil across the hooked end of the toy, and then my tight, rear, getting the fluid all over between my cheeks. Just his touch is enough to make me quake with need.
Then he presses the bar into my bud and drives it inward. I lurch forward, struck by the cold rod’s penetration; the motion causes me to drop the vibrator, which clatters to the ground.
“Look what you did, slut,” Pierce chides. I blush red as an apple and squirm in my bonds, overwhelmed by my arousal.
He gathers my hair in his hand and ties it with the rope he brought; once he’s made a good knot, he feeds the rope through a ring at the other end of the ass hook and ties it off. For good measure, he tightens the rope a little, forcing me to tilt my head back until I’m holding it upright, the horizon of my sight parallel to the floor.
“Look at that,” Pierce says, running his fingers over my ass.
On the monitor, my predicament is perfectly visible — I can even make out the beige rope against the dark backdrop of the warehouse. If I move my head even slightly, I feel it in my rear. My pussy clamps down at nothing, desperate to be filled. I look incredible — helpless, humiliated and submissive. It would be so easy to make myself orgasm right now.
It would feel so good…
I don’t know what hidden reserve of willpower I’ve tapped into — it’s the only explanation for my resolve against temptation. However, I know it won’t last very long.
“God, you’re soaked,” Pierce says as he retrieves the vibrator. “That’s too fucking bad. Better not come, bitch.”
He turns on the vibrator, and I scream. The sensation is the cruelest punishment I can imagine — pure, unadulterated bliss waits for me on the other side of release, but I have to hold it back. Sweat drips down my brow from the effort — delaying orgasm takes every ounce of concentration I’ve got. Time slows to a crawl — I can feel my heart’s every beat. I command myself to resist, but my strength drains like sand in an hourglass. There are only a few grains left and I know they’re about to fall.
And then, just like that, Pierce shuts off the vibrator and pulls it back. Whether from frustration or relief, I howl, bucking against my bonds.
