by Lana Hartley
"I heard you, baby girl, I just didn't know how to answer that," Renaud said with a laugh. "I mean, I know what a shrink would say. I know what my pat answer could be. But the truth? I like to own beautiful things...and I find money is frequently the most beautiful thing. I steal canvasses from some of the most powerful people in the world, and I'm walking in so many worlds. There's nothing in this world I can't have." I regard how he is answering so plainly, yet the power in his voice seems to fill the room. The strength he has, coming from every inch of him. It is part of what makes him dangerous. I'm certain that Renaud has never feared anything. Has never taken no for an answer. I shiver. I remember what he asked me. Could I have said no?
I don't want to think about it.
Just like I don't want to think about what I'm doing today. I might be digging my own grave. Jacob Renaud, who bought me, insists that I'm not in a cage. But I'm the last person in the world without a phone. I'm never truly alone. If he isn't there, one of his men is nearby. So it makes the fact that I'm trying to contact Interpol that much harder. I could contact the police here in the US, but I think that with everything that I know Mr. Renaud is up to, I have a much better chance at aiming higher. I'm not a thing to be owned. Fucking him is wrong. I enjoy it, but I hate myself for it. I didn't know any better, I tell myself. It feels good, but that's just my body. The man bought me.
My father sold me.
I just have to get away from all of this. I'll put him away, and he'll never do this again.
No one will own me and hide me away from the world ever again.
Today, I'm going to find a way to make a phone call. I figure I may be the only person in my life without a phone. That means if I am around anyone else, then I can use their phone. I just need to do it where Jacob's people won't follow me. One girl in the bathroom is sure to let me use her phone. I can just say that my phone died. Seems plausible. Reasonable.
"I want to go shopping today," I announce. Is my voice shaky and nervous? It probably is. It feels like it is. I need to work up the nerve and figure out how I'm going to contact Interpol and tell them who I am and what I need to do.
What was I going to say? It overwhelmed me completely even thinking about it.
"Sure, baby girl, what for?" Jacob asks.
I jump about a mile in the air. At least, that's what it feels like.
"Umm, I want to get a journal. Maybe a novel. I think I'd like to go a bookstore." Fuck, I sound insane. It was the first thing that came to mind. Jacob does something on his phone and then looks up at me. “Davidson will drive you, no problem." Jacob reaches into his wallet and pulls out something that knocks the wind out of me.
He pulls out a black credit card with my name on it.
When did he even do this?
Why would he give me money? Access to his money, or something of my own? I'm shocked. But he's told me this whole time I wasn't his prisoner. I swallow and take the card nervously, my hand shaking as my fingers close over it. I look into his eyes, trying to read what he makes of my reaction. Should I say thanks? I guess I should, but my stomach turns. This whole surreal situation makes my head hurt, and I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to fake thinking this is all normal? Be gracious? Be a greedy bitch happy to have a billionaire's funds at my disposal? I thought fucking him every day was confusing.
"You buy whatever you want. I'm going to be home late tonight, so take yourself somewhere nice for dinner. Davidson will take you anywhere you like." Jacob says this, his eyes back on his phone.
"Should I have dinner with Davidson?" I know it is a dumb question, but it falls out of my mouth before I think about it.
"Well, he can eat at his own table if you prefer to be alone, but the man does eat," Jacob laughs and looks up at me.
"Oh," I say, my face heating. I feel bad about my question now like I was making Davidson sound like the problem. Jacob Renaud is the damn problem. "No, of course, I'll eat dinner with him." The stupid explanation that I have eaten dinner with Jacob almost every night since he bought me, almost comes out, but I hold back my words this time.
"Well, I'm not thrilled to give you up to Davidson for the day, but it is just as well that you wanted to go out because I have some things to attend to tonight. We'll have a nightcap if you're still awake when I make it back home." Jacob kisses me on the forehead, his lips lingering on my skin and his fingers entwined in my hair for a moment longer than expected. Like we are a normal couple or something. I shiver in reaction, and I'm not sure how he'll read it. My attraction to him is undeniable at this point, and maybe he'll take that shiver as just that. I don't know. Right now I want to pull my knees to my chest and think about how my life can't revolve around the man who bought me.
Leah
Jacob Renaud is going to fuck me. The way that he fucks me isn't quick. It isn't simple, or vanilla. He's a kinky fuck with all sorts of idiosyncrasies that I see play out on my body. Feel under my skin. And when we're done, I feel them through every inch of my body and covering me like the sheet of sweat I get from just how hard he makes me come.
"Baby girl," he purrs in my direction. I stare at the way his lips move when he says those words, his name for me. When it is isn't princess or kitten. I shouldn't like being called anything but my name. Especially not by the man who is using me, who bought me to fuck me. He valued that I was a virgin. That he's the only man who gets to fuck me. I should hate him.
Part of me really does. In fact, largely I hate him because when he touches me, it is almost impossible to remember I hate him and at the same time any thoughts I have are tinged with those truths. He bought me. He owns me. But when he touches me, I come alive in a way I never have before. If I'm honest, I fear that no one will ever make me feel what I feel when he touches me. I didn't know it could feel like that. Orgasms I'd have from my own masturbation were like pale whispers in a winter wind compared to the storm he summoned inside me. The man was a god of sex, and he fucking knew it. I could see it now in the self-assured look he was giving me.
Jacob looked at me while he loosened his tie. Removed it. Unbuttoned his cuffs, his shirt buttons, and pulled that off. There was something achingly sexy in how his shoulders rolled as he took off his collared shirt. His undershirt removal was sexy too. He grabbed the shirt with one hand, in between his shoulder blades, and pulled up, revealing every chiseled, defined inch of his abs. My mouth was watering, and I felt like my whole body was sweating already. He hadn't even touched me. Jacob wasn't even naked yet. The part where I hated him for owning me was burning right along with the fire he stoked in my belly knowing how he would touch me. I fucking needed what he was going to give me. I hated myself for feeling safe in it. I wanted to be able to resist. I didn't want to resist, though. I struggled with how I felt when he fucked me. But I never said no. I might scream in my mind that I wished I were anywhere else, but my torturous body silenced my mouth. I would say no such thing. I wanted no such thing. I was a prisoner because the way he made me feel erased my resistance when I might have offered.
I was going to get away. Far away. Somehow, I'd erase every feeling he created in me, and I'd stoke instead the flames of hate I had for him touching me, owning me, knowing what my body wanted and giving it to me even though I wanted to be on my own.
He slowly unzips his slacks, and he's wearing silky boxer briefs that outline every inch of that bastard's perfect cock. Fuck, it feels like heaven inside me, and I'm in hell with how much I want him. I swallow several times, unable to keep myself from getting nervous. Anxious. Fuck, who am I kidding? I'm desperate. I'm frozen in space, in time. I'm lingering on the thought that I'm not going to take my own clothes off. I can't help but be disappointed when he leaves just his boxer briefs on. I want him naked. I want him naked, and I want him to take off my clothes. I don't want to do a goddamn thing to make this happen. If he wants me, he'll have to take me. Not that I don't want Jacob to fuck me. I've never wanted anything more.
"Jacob," I say, breathing out the wo
rds. I didn't mean to say them. But the way that he looks at me, with such hunger, such desire, I want to say his name again if the words can elicit that response. I feel...treasured. I shouldn't. I'm a treasure to him, all right, but as a bounty and not as a person. Except, my mind races with how he's looking at me and I want to think, no, he really cares for me.
How could he?
What would it matter?
"Get undressed for me, princess." Jacob isn't asking. He's telling me, in a soft voice that is still firm, commanding.
But despite how much I want him, or how defying him is worthless, pointless, maybe even stupid, I'm going to. This is my line in the sand, and I've decided that no, I will not. If he wants me naked, he'll get me naked.
"No," I say. I'm grateful that my voice isn't a fragile, shaking sound like I thought it would be. I sound strong. Firm. I detect I even sound flirty, which is accidental. At least it wasn't consciously flirty. I can't help but suck in a breath at the idea of him tearing my clothes off of me.
"So far," Jacob says, closing the distance between us and putting his hand to the back of my neck and keeping me utterly captive, not just in this move but in wondering what he will do. "I have not asked but one rule of you. Are you going to earn more rules? A punishment?" Jacob smiles, a laugh of pure joy coming from him like it is a sound he doesn't make often. It does something I can't name to my heart, to my mind. "When I think I'll walk with you, I'm running. What are you doing to me, Leah?"
I groan. "What am I doing to you? Whatever you want. You own me." I'm getting scratched by the consequences of my line in the sand, but I can't help it. I have to resist. My urge to fight is stronger with every second I feel how much I want him growing. I'm so wet right now, and my nipples are so hard. My body is desperate for him. I can't stop looking at his lips and wishing they were kissing me.
Pulling back away from Jacob's touch, I want space for this war in my mind.
His hand drops and pulls me back to him almost instantly. He doesn't want space, and he'd already stalked over her and put his hand on me to express the ownership he has. I stumble at his grasp, falling against his bare chest. My hands grab him to regain my footing, but his blazing eyes make my knees weak.
"Leah, don't pretend like you don't want me. You're so wet for me, baby girl. You could tell me to stop..." He leaves the air hanging between us on what he hasn't said. I break my hands away from him, and he grabs both of my wrists, backing me into the wall, past the bed. "You want to ask. I won't stop."
Fuck. There it is. He's slammed me against the wall and told me he's not going to stop.
So why is what should signal my body to stop the very thing that makes me want to rip my own clothes off? Still, I want to push him more. "You want me naked; you undress me. You're going to punish me? Do it." I can hear how thick my voice is with lust, betraying how much I want him to do just that.
"You're so spoiled, baby girl," Jacob says, laughing. He releases my wrists and steps toward his dresser. The image of him reflected in the mirror takes my breath away. Every angle of him is more perfect than the last. What is he doing?
He opens a drawer and pulls out a bar with cuffs on it. There's an intricate red lacy trim over it and an equally striking crimson red rope over it for the cuffs. Metal with something softer, so it won't hurt as much, I guess, when it doesn't relent at all when he restrains me. Why does that make my pussy clench with anticipation? I should be fucking angry, not practically panting and desperate to run to him, begging him to touch me.
"Spoiled?" I register what preposterous words he's said to me.
"Yes." Jacob turns on his heel, a slow spin, and he lets this instrument smack against his thigh as he closes the drawer. His eyes pin me to the wall. His stride is somehow stronger, bigger. He seems like he could be an extra foot taller, and he's already at least that much taller than me. Jacob's shoulders even seem broader.
I remember what he told me. He's kinky...and whatever we're about to do is going to be just that. He's pinned my wrists. Tied my hands together. But Jacob Renaud isn't going to fuck me with training wheels on this time.
Or maybe this is still the training wheels? It all has my head spinning. I'm barely breathing, and my heart is hammering in my chest. My stomach is fluttering. What is coming? Why do I need it more than anything? My mind is a hazy mess of every consideration. But each step he takes closer to me, and I'm starting to be able to focus on nothing but him. The way he's a predator. I'm his prey. I'm in his trap, and I can't think of anything else but what his capturing me means.
"You're spoiled because I have gone so easy on you. Let you come so much. Not today. I'll punish you with pain soon enough, but first I want to show you just how much punishment the pleasure can be."
I gulp. I remember how much I came when he licked my pussy so much before he even took me to his house. I was so exhausted from all the orgasms...I couldn't take it. Now he's going to torture me with not letting me come? I'm terrified. I'm exhilarated. I couldn't even have conjured such a fantasy, and now I'm desperate to be led down the hallways of the dark desires he springs up in me.
"This is called a spreader ball. I had this made for you. I knew that the red against your beautiful porcelain skin would be goddamn divine." I can't breathe. I can't. Not with how he's looking at me now. I can hear my heart beating. He walks toward me and balls up my dress in his hand, making a fist at my stomach. Dropping to his knees, he hovers in front of my now-bared panties. I can feel his breath on my pussy and want to knock my legs up and put them on his shoulders and ride his face until I scream out an orgasm. He manhandles me, and that's what he does to my mind. Jacob creates fantasies in me, desires...things that are unbidden and new to me, and at once all I can thinking about. I need him. I'm desperate for his touch. Torturously, he kisses my pussy in almost chaste way, through my panties. He knows what he's doing to me. He's doing this on purpose. He stands, his grip on my dress even firmer. I feel the fabric giving. He tears it up, and Jacob exposes my breasts to his gaze, the air around us, and hopefully his touch. I'm trying to get closer to him but he's holding my torn dress to the wall, and it is enough to keep me against the wall. Fuck.
Jacob's mouth. That spreader bar. Jacob's growing erection. I can't decide where to keep my eyes, and I'm so totally overwhelmed. If I feel this way now, how will I survive when he touches me?
He releases his grip on the dress and tears it down me, and then my underwear. The movement is so quick that I circle my arms around his neck to make sure that I don't fall over. Keeping my balance was impossible with the yank, and now that he's trailing his hand up the juncture of my thighs, from my ankle to my aching pussy, and I'm shivering at his touch. I hate myself. I hate him. How can I want him so much? Was I not just horrified that this man owned me? That he was going to tear orgasms from my traitorous body? Now he touches me, and I'm not trembling out of fear. At least not out of fear that he will fuck me so much as the fear that it might not happen fast enough.
Torture by pleasure? How apt a punishment when I'm struggling with every second of this. His fingers connect with my clit, and I whimper.
"Oh, maybe you see how spoiled you are?" Jacob says, bringing his mouth to hover over the clit his finger is laying against. He's not doing anything to me, but my legs are trembling. His warm breath. That lazy touch and weight of his finger. I'm desperate for him to do something, anything. I realize that was a question. He's waiting on a response.
"I..." I have no clue what to say. I guess I could go with honesty? Begging. I don't know. "I have no context for any of this," I say, frantically. That's the truth. I'm not sure what to make of any of these games.
"Oh, princess, you don't have to play the virgin card with me. You know, experience or not, what's happening now. What's been happening. You've come enough with me to know you're getting it really damn good, baby girl."
Jacob's smug words make me start to back away from him, but the instant I move away from his breath and his touch, I regret it.
I need him to touch my clit, to feel how slick my pussy is for him. "I...I just don't know what you want me to do," I say. I am so uncomfortable with every word that comes out of my mouth, but I'm terrified into speaking. I feel so nervous to say anything, but I'm bolted into speech for fear he'll stop touching me entirely if I don't say something. And I need him to do something, anything to me.
"That's so humble of you," Jacob says, his voice revealing nothing. Is he being sarcastic? Is he serious? Am I supposed to say something else? I feel like I'm taking a test I didn't study for. Like my pussy is under pop quiz right now. The silly thought breaks out some of the tension I have right now.
Jacob extends his hand to me, and I take it. He leads me to the bed, and I feel so much calmer. "Turn around." For some reason, the simple fact that when I do means that I won't be able to see his face makes me skittish, but I don't dare hesitate now. I turn around.
As soon as I'm not facing him anymore, he grabs me and sets me on the bed.
"Put your arms under your stomach and put them out for me." He guides me, grabbing both of my thighs from behind and pushing up until my ass is in the air, and then clasps my ankles and wrists together. I'm bound on the bar so fast, and I can't catch my breath. I feel myself so naked and splayed for him. "So wet for me," he says. I'm desperate to see his face. I wanted to see him tell me that I'm wet for him, even though my face is heated and I'm nervous. "Do you want me to taste how wet you are, Leah?"
Fuck, I really do. I want to beg. But something in me, exposed liked this and totally helpless, I can't say anything. Whether I wanted to say something sassy or I wanted to be able to beg him for exactly what I want, neither words are coming. I am frozen. I can feel every hair on my body standing up, my skin all at attention. I'm not cold, but I've got an uncontrollable shiver. I think he'll spank me; he'll walk away, he'll do something for me not answering him. I remember that he said that he was going to punish me with pleasure...what does that mean?
