by Vivian Ward
Chapter 11
Ally
Most of my morning was spent working on the lame piece that Gretta emailed me to write, but I’ve also been trying to figure out if—and how—Colton is watching me. It was too convenient the way he walked in here last night. The more I’ve had time to think about it, the more I realize that his timing was too perfect. It was like he came in here for the sole purpose to punish me for masturbating, like he knew that I was doing it.
When I first got here, I was confused and angry but since my arrival, he’s done nothing but care for me—until my punishment last night. He’s made sure that I’m fed, and even brings food that I like; though, I’m not sure how he knows what I fancy, but he does. He’s also made sure that my bathroom is kept well stocked with clean linens and expensive shampoo that smells almost too good to use, but I love it because it makes my hair so soft. It must’ve cost him a small fortune to buy everything I needed, including my clothes, but I’m still not sure why I’m here or what exactly he wants from me.
If I thought I knew him at the club, I misjudged him. I would’ve never dreamed of him kidnapping me and bringing me here, holding me as his captive. I’ve wanted to be part of his world, and now I’m definitely in it—with no way out.
But I’m not sure that it’s a bad thing; though, I would like more freedom.
I’m interested to see what’s in store for me here, and what a future with Colton Kaswell is like, but there won’t be a future if he continues treating me like a prisoner. I think the only reason he offered to let me cook is because it saves him the trouble of calling someone to the house to prepare the food and explain where I came from. I also think it’s a test to see if I’ll try to run. Regardless what his reasoning is for allowing me out of my room, I’m grateful not to be staring at that old, ugly wallpaper that I’ve grown bored of and see something new. His home is beautiful, immaculate, and just like him, there’s a mixture of both vintage and modern themes throughout the house. Each room has its own personality for various reasons.
For example, there’s a small study—it’s just for looks, I’d imagine he works elsewhere in the home—with a dark oak desk, a vintage lamp, and cherry-stained wooden bookshelves filled with old books. The kitchen, however, is modern, sleek, and sophisticated. Everything about it demands power and excellence, as does the dining room. After I had the eggplant parmesan casserole in the oven, I quickly sat the dining table. The rich, mahogany table is a sleek, eight-inches and perfectly matches the China cabinet that’s settled in the back of the room. The dining room might be the most interesting room of the house because it’s has a modern appeal, yet it’s completely vintage. I’m not sure how he pulled it off, but it looks fantastic.
Stepping out of the shower, I towel dry my hair and inhale the lavish scent of the shampoo. It's sweet, yet exotic and leaves a lingering fresh scent that I find calming and addictive. Retrieving my watch from the hospital-white countertop, I check the time and note that I don't have much time to properly prepare myself for dinner and get the dish out of the oven to serve plates so I quickly grab the blow dryer and begin working on my hair. It would probably take much longer to get ready if I had makeup but I guess that was the last thing on Colton's mind when he kidnapped me from my apartment.
My lack of hatred for the man who took me from my home surprises me, but on the same note, I can connect with him on a much deeper level. I may not understand all of his reasons, but I believe that his intentions are good. He's taken extremely good care of me and I've wanted to be part of his world since the very beginning; though, my motives have certainly changed. When Kristin told me who he was and how I could use him to advance my career, that's all I was worried about but as I got to know him as a person, I began to like him. After I started liking him, I began caring for him, and now, my feelings are all over the map and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think or how I'm supposed to feel, but I do know that the way he looks at me––the way he can read me like he knows every thought––is a way that no other man has ever looked at me.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Ally," the sound of his unexpected voice startles me and I jump, nearly dropping my towel that's wrapped around my torso. "How much longer until the casserole will be ready?" Colton asks, standing in the bathroom doorway.
I'm not sure how long he's been standing there or why he scared me. The man caught me masturbating and then sucked my juices off my fingers before spanking my ass. I dismiss the images that begin to form in my mind before I have to take a cool shower to calm myself down.
I switch off the blow dryer. "Not much longer. Maybe about a half an hour? Why?"
"Our guests are will be here any minute. What else needs to be finished?"
"What? I thought they weren't coming for another 45 minutes or so?"
He shrugs, keeping his hands in the pockets of his trousers. It's hard to tell under the black cashmere pants, but it looks like he's clenching them. "Tyler just called and said they're coming early."
"Okay," I say, as I wait for him to leave the room.
"I'll leave you to get ready," he finally says, flashing me a grin as his eyes scan over me, x-raying my body as though he can see through my towel.
The minute he leaves, I head to the closet and begin looking for something to wear. Near the back of the closet, I find a couple of dresses and pull them out to try them on. One looks too fancy for tonight and the other one is too plain, but I do find a yellow summer blouse with silk straps and a pair of tight, dark denim jeans. Making my way down to the kitchen, I hear the men talking in the foyer as I remove the casserole from the oven and place it on top of a hot pad. I can't make out everything that's being said because their voices are somewhat muffled but it sounds like Tyler is doing most of the talking, which is unusual because any time I saw them interact at the club, Colton usually led the conversation. Finally, I hear him suggest that they head to the dining room and I make it a point to deliver the casserole dish so that we can begin dinner but the minute I get in there, I see her––the slut who had herself wrapped around him at the club––and I'm furious.
Sensing my immediate hostility and my urge to flee, Colton quickly excuses us and leads me out of the room by dragging me beside him.
"I am not eating dinner with her here. I refuse!" I say as we make our way back into the kitchen.
"You will eat with us and you will remain calm. She is his date, not mine."
The image of her with Colton is seared into my memory and I can't get it out of my head. I never want to think about her being his date. I don't even want to think about her being in his house. Judging by how comfortable the two of them were at the club and how cozy she seems in his house, I'd bet money that this isn't her first time here and it enrages me. I know it's stupid but I want to be the only girl he's ever had here, which is a silly thought onto itself considering the number of women he's been with but it's nice to pretend, even if I know it isn't true.
"You're being unreasonable," he says, pushing me into a parlor room and closes the doors behind us.
"I'm being unreasonable? Tell me how I'm being unreasonable. She's the reason why I ran out of the club in the first place," I say, pointing toward the dining room. "I don't like her being here."
A glimmer of recognition flashes in his eyes as he replays that last night that I was at the club with him. "So that's why you left," he says, nodding his head. "It all makes sense now, but you have nothing to worry about," he closes the distance between us, but I try to step away. "She means nothing to me."
"If she means nothing to you, then why was she draped across your lap at the club and why is she in your house right now?"
A throaty laughter rumbles from his chest, "She's just a girl, Ally. Girls like attention, and you are no different or you would not be jealous right now." The truth of his words anger me but he slowly continues to corner me as he stalks closer toward me. "But you, my Princess, you're angry over nothing."
I try to protest. I
want to tell him that he's wrong and that I'm not jealous but my words are swallowed up by his possessive lips. His mouth crashes against mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth, as he pins me against the wall. I should be angry at how quickly he dismisses my thoughts and feelings as he tries to shut me up with a kiss, but all I can feel is relief. I'm relieved that he wants me––that he's kissing me, and not her.
"Admit that you're jealous and I'll take you like I did in my office," he growls, his tongue tracing circles along my neck. "I'll fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk straight before we sit down to dinner with them."
Images of him pistoning in and out of me, fucking me on his desk in his office flood my mind. Closing my eyes, I wish them away but all I can smell is his intoxicating cologne as I try to gather my thoughts. I know that I can't give in to him. He's already taken so much from me––my story, my freedom, and possibly my internship. They may be allowing me to work remotely right now while he's dictating the orders, but what happens when he's no longer part of the equation? What happens when I go back to work and he's no longer there to protect my position at The Gateway Times? But he won't leave well enough alone with everything that he's taken from me. He won't settle until he owns me––my body and soul.
Colton is a dangerous man, and I don't stand a chance at winning his sadistic games. He's a skilled knight; I'm just another pawn in his game. I refuse to give him what he wants and comply with his commands when I'll be the one who loses everything in the end.
When he realizes that I'm not going to give in to his commands and refuse to admit that I'm jealous, an annoyed huff of air escapes his lips as he pushes me down on my knees and begins to unbuckle his belt.
"Have it your way, Princess. I'll fuck you how I want instead of doing what I know you'll enjoy. This goes back to the whole punishment thing."
He grabs my hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as he unzips his slacks and pushes my head forward so that I'm face-to-face with his stiffening cock. Forcing my cheek against it, he rubs it back and forth across my face as he stares into my eyes, dragging his pre-cum across my face in sloppy streaks.
"Suck it," he orders. "And let me feel the inside of your throat.”
Unable to move, I continue to hold his gaze, shocked by his words. They're so blunt and so cold, yet they're so damn hot at the same time. My mind is at a battle with my body. I want to give in and succumb to him, but I refuse to let myself do it. Maintaining eye contact with me, he slaps me across the face with his thick, fleshy cock, knocking me out of my trance as he unties the straps of my blouse and lets the strings fall until my breasts on display for him to look at. A victorious smile spreads across his face as my nipples harden when his thumbs brush over them, causing me to blush.
"You'll quickly learn how I treat my fuck toys, Princess." He leans in closer to me, his voice barely a whisper but I hear his words loud and clear. "I'll fuck you where I want, how I want, and when I want because you're as filthy and fucked up as I am.”
I try to argue with him and begin to shake my head no, but he grabs a hold of my chin and pries my lips apart with his fingers, making my mouth open wide to accept his cock. I make a weak attempt to keep my jaw closed but he's much stronger than I, and I quickly lose the battle. The minute my mouth opens, he shoves his cock all the way in. I nearly gag as his thick head hits my tonsils and his shaft slides down my throat but he is relentless and offers no remorse. I want his words to be false. I want to tell him that he is a liar. I am not filthy and fucked up like him, but I want—no, I need—this moment with him. I want him to defile me in the worst way possible right now. I need to prove to him—and myself—that I am all that he needs. I need to know that he doesn't want the whore out there because I am right here.
Chapter 12
Colton
Ally's only lying to herself if she believes that she doesn't enjoy me using her. Guiding her head like a puppet as she sucks my cock, I listen to her gagging on it. She wants this as much as I do. When I slide my hand down the front of her pants and feel her wetness, it's evidence of just how much she enjoys this and I want to show her how much I want her. I don’t want other women. I only want her.
"That's right," I wrap my hair tighter around my fist as I stare into her tear-streaked eyes. "My little Princess likes being a whore."
Pulling her hair, I effectively make her stand and turn her around so that her back is against my chest before I push her over the back of a chair. Placing my mouth next to her ear, I whisper, "I'm not sure which one of us will enjoy this the most, but I do know one thing." Reaching around her, I undo her pants and push them down until they're around her thighs. I rest my head against her wet, swollen entrance and feel the heat radiating from her as she remains perfectly still. "I'll be coming and you won't. I think that's a fair punishment, don't you?"
Pushing my way inside her, I don't wait for an answer. It's a rhetorical question and she's fully aware of this. Her sole purpose right now is to be my plaything.
My fuck doll.
My Princess.
I fuck her rough and sloppy, only using her to bring myself relief because it's been steadily building since I jacked off when I watched her masturbate. My hips move in a rhythmic motion as I drag my long cock in and out of her tight pussy. She's barely big enough to accommodate me, but it doesn't matter. She's perfect to me in every way. If she knew the truth, it would be that she has complete control over me. She might be the captive, but she stole my heart months ago when her innocence captivated me and even still, she continues to steal my breath every time I'm with her. She has no idea how much she means to me. If she insisted on plain old vanilla sex, I'd give it to her if it meant keeping her forever.
But I have other needs––darker needs––that need to be met, and I want her to meet them. I want her to experience the same euphoric high that I get from taking things to the darker side.
Bucking my hips, I fuck her harder and faster until she's about to come. I've been feeling it building deep within her whether she'll admit it or not, but before she can have that satisfaction, I pull out of her and finish by jacking off onto her ass. A few thick ropes of come cover her bare ass cheeks, but for good measure, I wipe the beads of come that are still dripping from my dick onto her back.
Tucking my shirt back into my slacks, I hand her a tissue. "You might want to clean that up before you serve dinner. Don't let our guests wait too long."
Her rosy cheeks give away her frustration as she turns around to take the tissue from my hand. "Ally?" She ignores me, refusing to even look at me. "Allison," I grab her hand. "Look at me." When her chocolate-colored eyes are focused on me, I stroke her hair. "You look pretty like this. My filthy little Princess. I like it very much."
"I thought she was your filthy little whore," she nods toward the dining table. "That's why she was at the club and that's why she's here now, isn't it?" she asks, wiping my come off her back.
"Not in the least, my Princess," I say, helping her tie one of the straps of her blouse. "She's here as Tyler's date. I have no control over who he fucks. He's a grown man, and as my business partner, I stay out of his sex life."
Her shoulders drop and the glare in her eyes fades as my words seem to lessen her hostility toward the situation. She knows that I would never lie to her; I have no reason to tell her anything but the truth.
Leaving her to finish cleaning herself up, I remind her that our dinner is getting cold as I slip out of the parlor doors and rejoin our dinner guests who seem annoyed at our absence.
"Sorry about the wait," I apologize. "Ally needed some help."
Things should go over well when Tyler and I discuss business in private and leave the girls alone. Hopefully, whatever he wants to discuss won't take long but I can't imagine what he wants to talk to me about.
"Ally? The bartender from the club?" Tyler asks. "Is it the same girl?"
I nod, "Yes, it's the same girl."
A gleam in his eye appears as he
nods. "Nice. I always liked her. I thought she looked familiar. Where is your housekeeper, Linda? She normally cooks for you, right?"
"Yes, she normally prepares all of my meals but she requested vacation to visit her family."
A little white lie never hurt anyone. It sounds better than telling him that I sent her away on a month-long vacation while I conditioned Ally to be the perfect captive before she returned.
A few seconds later, Ally emerges. She's very quiet, but not rude. I think our encounter in the parlor might have helped set her attitude for tonight's dinner. I feel bad that she has so much resentment toward Brooke but she has nothing to worry about. My eyes and heart belong to her and, hopefully, she will be able to say the same about me. "Would you like some wine?" she offers our guests.
"Yes, please," Brooke answers for both of them. She's always been a drinker so it doesn't surprise me.
There's something about the way she's looking at Ally that I don't like. Is she jealous, too? It looks that way, or maybe she’s just pissed in general. She knows I have other contracts besides her and it's been so long since we've played together that I figured she'd moved on by now. It's been about six months since Brooke and I have been together and even longer since I’ve been with Valerie who used to be my other regular. Surely, Brooke’s not still hanging on to the past. When Ally turns her back to retrieve the wine, I catch Brooke glaring at her and she does nothing to hide the fact when she sees me watching her.
"So, Ally," she says. "That's interesting."
I don't like her challenging me and I'm not about to get into a heated conversation before we even start dinner. Instead, I choose to ignore her and pay my attention to my originally intended guest.
