“You happy?” she asked, dangling the shorts.
He gave her a passing glance. “Now the top,” he told her.
Reyna narrowed her gaze. “In your dreams, cowboy.”
Jason snatched her cutoffs, tucked them under his left thigh. “Show me your breasts, Reyna, or you go out of the car, just like you are.”
She looked down at her lower half, clad in green baby doll panties and an ankle chain. Hardly walking attire. Calling him a worse name than bastard, she yielded to the inevitable, bearing the whole of her beloved black snake tattoo. Not to mention the flesh around it.
After an indifferent look, he said, “Give me the shirt.”
She didn’t see any other choice, but once she complied it dawned on her she was even more in his control than ever. Sure enough, he put the new article of clothing with the old, under his leg, out of reach. Folding her arms, she made a mental note to never again go bra-less.
“I didn’t say you could cover your tits.”
Furious, eyes burning holes in his smug profile, she put her hands down, giving him and everyone else who might be on the road an uninterrupted view of her mammaries.
“Now I want you to play with yourself,” Jason continued, ignoring her blatant show of indignation.
The string of curse words fell out of her mouth without thought. When he began to slow down and pull to the shoulder, though, she got quiet real fast.
“We’re up to three miles,” he advised putting the car in park. “It’ll be dark soon, but you’ll be fine if you jog all the way back into town.”
Reyna grabbed his arm, trying to stop his sudden move to lean over and open her door. “This isn’t funny!” she exclaimed.
“I didn’t say it was,” he replied, continuing to reach for the passenger door handle.
Reyna came at him now with her fingernails, but Jason held her easily at bay with only one hand. His other hand was on the door catch, and she realized in a panic that he could evict her at any time.
“Jason, please don’t do this to me!”
“If you want to stay in, Reyna, you know what you need to do.”
“No, I can’t do that.” She shook her head vigorously.
“No wait!” she wailed, as the door clicked open and he shoved her out, so that her bare feet were touching the dusty ground. “I’ll do it!”
Pushing her the rest of the way, he closed the door behind her. “Do what?” he asked, unrolling the power window so he could hear her.
“This,” she cried, plunging her hand under the waistband of her panties to touch her throbbing sex, no longer caring if anyone could see her.
“Both hands,” he told her. “And make it hot.”
Desperate, scared, publicly exposed and aroused, barefoot and half naked on the shoulder of a highway, Reyna masturbated for him, thrusting as many fingers as she could into her sopping wet opening. Almost at once, she began to climax.
When she’d subsided, he told her to hand the panties through the window. Reyna obeyed, making herself naked and at his mercy. Arms at her side, she waited. A truck passed, horn blaring.
“Get in,” he decided at last.
After Reyna clambered back into the reclined seat, he told her to put her hands behind her head, gripping the headrest. She obeyed, clenching the seat with her sticky fingers. Hot, open, exposed, her juices trickling down her leg onto the expensive leather, Reyna waited, eyes closed, caught up in the rhythm of the road. She heard more horns honk, which meant more people could see her.
It was infuriating, but also exciting, like nothing she’d ever known. To be totally at the mercy of this person she’d only just met. With most boys, she was the natural leader, and she’d wrapped them round her finger with her slightest glances or flashes of flesh.
Contrary to the belief of her ever-paranoid mother, Reyna was still a virgin. She’d only gone this far today to piss Cynthia off. But now it was different. She was feeling deeper things, female things. Things that told her maybe Jason was the one to whom she was meant to surrender.
Jason pulled into an asphalt drive, punched some numbers into a keypad, causing a metal gate to roll aside. What on earth were they doing here? she wondered as row after row of large silver doors passed on either side. They were in a storage area of some kind, she could tell that much.
“Here we are,” Jason announced, pulling up in front of one of the identical rolling steel doors, this one marked Z 35. Taking all of her clothes in hand, he opened his door. “Come on, baby, this is the end of the line.”
“But I’m naked,” she said, as though it needed explaining.
He shrugged. “It’s not very far to the door. And hardly anyone comes out here.”
She watched in horror as he got out, closed the door behind him. “Best protection is in there,” he pointed out, inclining his head to the locked storage unit. “I’ll wait at the door for you.”
Reyna glared. He’d wait till hell froze, she told herself, releasing her hands from the seat rest and hugging her breasts. Just then she heard the truck engine. Oh God, someone was coming. If she went fast, maybe she’d make it in time. Flinging open the passenger door, Reyna made a mad dash, jiggling obscenely as she went.
“What are you waiting for?” she cried when she saw him lounging by the door, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles.
“The key’s in my pants,” he drawled, as though that meant something.
“Then take it out!” she screamed. “Hurry!”
The truck was closing in fast, and still he just stood there.
“Do you want to get us arrested?!”
He grinned slyly. “Not likely in my case,” he told her. “My mother runs the place.”
How nice for him, she thought.
“Of course, if you want, you can get the key out yourself,” he offered teasingly.
Frantically, she pawed at his pockets. “Give it to me!”
He brushed her hands away. “It’s not in my pocket.”
“What do you mean? Where is it then?”
The look on his face as she followed his eyes down to his crotch was all the answer she needed. The son of a bitch had put the key down his underwear.
“I hope this hurts!” she declared, reaching for his belt buckle.
This time he yanked her hands away by the wrists, holding them upright. “No hands,” he told her. “You have to use your teeth.”
Reyna’s face flushed hot. She felt weak all over. For all intents and purposes, Jason was asking her—forcing her—to go down on him, naked in the middle of an open storage yard.
She could hear the truck. It was close by. She could be caught at any minute, and by his own account, it would be her and not him who would pay the price if they were discovered. What choice did she have?
The concrete felt rough on her knees. Not knowing what to do with her unwanted hands, she put them instinctively behind her back.
Jason’s jeans—and opening them—became her world now. The belt was a challenge and she had to work hard at it, using all her jaw strength to undo the buckle. In the process, she had to press her naked breasts hard against the front of his pants for leverage, which only served to make her even wetter than she already was.
The snap she had to undo with her lips and teeth, applying them more delicately than with the belt. Midway down with the zipper, her teeth clenching the tiny metal tab, she heard the truck finally pass by. Whoever it was must have stopped to look because she heard the engine idle for quite awhile. Humiliated, but heated to boiling, Reyna continued her slavish task.
The jeans parted easily, but it was a struggle releasing his cock from the tight jockey shorts. He smelled so good, musky, with a pungent odor that was pure male. A sigh of relief, of distinct longing escaped her lips as she finally worked his organ free. In a single stroke, she deep throated him, forcing back the instinct to gag.
Another vehicle was passing, loud like a motorcycle, but she was beyond caring. All that mattered, all she could see
or feel or know was right in front of her, namely this strong, insolent boy with his totally unexpected power to dominate her, to bend her will to his, taking her way past the point of her own comfort.
“That’ll do for now,” Jason said, prying her loose and bending to retrieve the key, which had fallen to the ground. “Let’s save some for later.”
He had to hold her waist to get her inside, she felt so weak. She kept leaning against him, nuzzling his neck on tiptoes as he rolled the door back down, giving them utter privacy. It was dark momentarily, but then he flipped on an overhead fluorescent, bathing the empty steel walled room in an eerie white light.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Reyna exclaimed. She saw the handcuffs first, hanging from a chain on the ceiling, and just below that, a single mattress to which were attached four canvas straps with Velcro cuffs.
Bondage. Wasn’t that an old people’s game?
“Lay down, Reyna. Spread your legs, secure yourself to the bed.”
The voice sent her spinning. It wasn’t fair that a stranger could have such power over her. The mattress was dirty, it smelled like stale sex, but she was going to do exactly as he said, she knew she was.
The springy material violated her smooth skin. No illusion of rest or sleep, it was a place for fucking. How many others had there been? Were the blondes among his victims? Reyna did her ankles first, securing them wide apart. The arms were trickier, but she managed it. Only when she was helpless, splayed for sex did Jason disrobe.
Reyna’s dry mouth watered at the sight of him. He was absolutely perfect under his clothes, just as she knew he would be. Testing the limits of her bonds, she strained against the canvas, felt herself held, his perpetual prisoner if he so chose. So much frustration! She’d give anything to be able to leap up and claw him or suckle him or wrap her legs round his waist.
He was torturously slow about the whole thing. She gave in to whimpers when he finally lowered himself, seizing a ripe nipple between his teeth. Giving no quarter, he made her buck and writhe and ultimately beg for the very thing he already intended to take from her.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered as he sheathed himself in her wetness. Caught up in the fever, knowing he scarcely understood the implications anymore than she, Reyna responded in kind, offering soul and voice along with her already proffered body. Much did she promise, much did she reveal before he finally filled her slick virginal tunnel with his pulsing sex fluid.
The breaching went unnoticed, save for specks of blood afterwards. For a long time he held her, but then he rose alone for a cigarette, taking his time, enjoying her bound beauty.
For Reyna, being left there, a still available toy, was as erotic as the sex. Knowing how much he wanted her, that he would not let her free till he’d had his fill drove her wild. How she longed to please him further, to have him do forbidden things to her. Hints of these things lay all around them. The chains hanging above her, tantalizing. The whip dangling from a string on the wall, and the box marked Sex Toys.
But all that would have to wait. When his cigarette was done, he let her free, tossed her the skimpy clothes, sans underwear. “Mine for safe keeping,” he explained, hanging the silky panties over his rearview mirror as they got back into his car. The leather felt funny on her bare, denim-covered ass. It made her want to strip all over again, but for his part, he said nothing as they rode under the early night sky. It was like he was alone.
She was on the verge of thinking he’d lost interest when he told her to pop the glove compartment. “You’ll find a vibrator in there,” he told her. “Put it inside yourself and I’ll take you to dinner.”
“You got it, Cowboy,” she said, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
Chapter Two
Cynthia was feeling pretty good. Barefoot, short sleeve blouse tied up on her midriff, Reyna’s goofy Walkman in her ears as she cleaned the house, she felt like a new woman. Up until the door bell rang, in fact, she was thinking maybe she’d done right after all, making this house her own, with all its wonderful old memories of Marianne and the good life she’d given her.
And then she saw Caleb. On the other side of the door, in a white western shirt, Stetson hat, tight black jeans, alligator boots. Eyes dark and quick, face ruggedly perfect as ever, arrogantly decorated with a black mustache.
“Welcome back, Sin.”
Cynthia bristled, her every nerve on guard. “I don’t go by that name anymore, Cal.”
He looked her up and down. “That’s a shame, ‘cause as good as you’re looking, it should be a sin.”
She felt the burn, from her bared tummy, down her long legs to her painted toes. “What do you want, Cal?” she demanded, clutching the bottle of blue spray cleaner like a weapon.
He slipped his hands into his pockets, making himself look less dangerous, and a whole lot more sexy. “Shoot, I was just coming to welcome you home,” he drawled. “Can I come in?”
No, no, no, her head screamed. But lower down, somewhere beneath her cotton panties, a different voice was heard. “Just for a minute, Cal. That’s all.”
He touched his strong hand to the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
She hated how his hands were, and how charming he could be. More than that, she hated how he’d made her crave humiliation and abuse. “I’m not the same person I was,” she announced as she closed the door behind him, “so don’t think you can . . . ”
He moved so fast to pin her against the door, she couldn’t even finish her sentence.
“I’m different, too,” he said, chest pressed to hers, hands palm down on the door on either side of her.
“Back off, Cal, or I’ll use this!” She took aim with the cleaner.
He eyed the squirt bottle with amusement. “Just give me one little kiss darlin’, and then if you say so, I’ll go.”
“No, Caleb Trace, I am not falling for . . .”
But she did fall for that trick, because his mouth seemed so inviting, with his thirsty red lips and those devilish eyes bearing down on her.
Cynthia’s hands had gone to his chest to push (she’d dropped the bottle by now) but instead they just rested there, delicately on the white cotton shirt, feeling his heartbeat and his powerful pecs. Below this, her bare stomach tingled with the touch of his pearl buttons. She could see she was turning him on.
Why had she dressed like such a slut today?
“Cal, this isn’t right.” But she was already angling higher, going to tiptoes to match the ferocity of his kiss.
“I know you came back for me,” he said hoarsely, finally coming up for air.
“No, Cal, I . . .”
He cut her off yet again, this time seizing her head in his hands, positioning her for maximum penetration of his tongue. Damn it, she was melting, the way she always had before. Despite her own platonic intentions and years of maturing, she was still like putty.
“Are those titties of yours still firm as tomatoes?” he crooned, running his hands down the front of her, stopping at the knot of her shirt. “I bet your little nips are rock hard for me.”
Smug bastard. He was right, too. And if he went lower, to her crotch, he’d find even more to crow about.
“I want you to leave, Cal. Leave now.”
“Why? We’re just starting to have fun.” His hands were at the buttons of her blouse.
“No!” she finally cried out, bicycling her arms. But Cal just laughed as he took both her wrists in one of his capable hands and pinned her arms over her head. With the other hand he made short order of the blouse, tearing the material straight down. Fishing for a pocketknife, he neatly sliced the bra straps, baring her upper body.
“I hope you’re going to pay for those,” she said indignantly, as though this were somehow taking a stand against the onslaught.
Still holding her arms captive, he leered, grinning sideways as he studied her pendulant breasts. “Honey, if you’re as good as I remember, I’ll give you a hundred bucks to buy all the bras you want.”
Cynthia’s eyes narrowed. “Son of a bitch!”
He caught her knee just in time to avoid the intended blow to the crotch. For her punishment, Cal treated her to a full frontal grope, while scissoring her thighs with a knee of his own.
Helpless to resist, she turned her head to the side, scrunching her face to avoid any form of contact, any form of pleasure.
“What do you say, baby?” he drooled huskily into her ear. “How about you and me take a trip down memory lane?”
“Get off me!” she cried, sounding increasingly like a whining little girl. “I’m not your whore anymore!”
Cal grabbed her left breast, making her wince. “If you think your body forgot how to submit to mine, you’re wrong, Sin. I owned your body nineteen years ago and I still own it today.”
Cynthia wriggled impotently. She could feel his powerful erection digging in. She wanted out of his grip, but truth be told, if he let her go right now, she wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.
“Got a bed handy, sugar?” He winked, knowing he’d already won.
Doing her best to avoid his eyes, her face pink with shame, she said, “Just my aunt’s. Our stuff comes tomorrow. But please, Cal, don’t make me do it on Auntie’s bed.”
Cal looked wounded. “What do you think I am, a heartless bastard? I’ll take you right in there on the living room floor instead.”
What a sport.
He let her go, making her walk in front of him. To speed her up, he slapped her ass hard. When she reached the center of the circular weave rug, the same one Aunt Marianne had kept there for over forty years, he told her to take off the rest of her clothes and lay down on her back, legs spread wide. He made her go slow, so he could evaluate her body as she went along. It was like being in a trance. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Cynthia knew she shouldn’t be doing this. The rags of her blouse and bra came off first. He made her pause to pleasure herself. Using both hands, she was made to caress her own nipples, and he didn’t let her stop till he elicited from her a moan of frustrated pleasure.
Bondage Town Page 2
