by BJ Bentley
“Pixie. You will look at me. Now,” Jensen commanded as he dropped to his knees in front of me.
With no other choice, I did as I was told. The moment I did, Jensen buried his face in my pussy and ate me like a starving man. He licked and sucked my clit with gusto. I forgot about the other two men in the room momentarily as my orgasm ripped through me. Before I could come down from my high, Jensen roughly thrust his cock into me. I was well lubricated from my orgasm, but Jensen’s cock was long and thick, and no matter how wet I was, it still hurt. I let out a small scream at the intrusion, but it only served to spur him on. The tears that had welled in my eyes at my earlier frustration began to roll down my face in full force. As I looked around the room, hoping for someone to see my pain and stop this, I noticed that the other two men had their cocks out and were stroking themselves furiously. They were getting off on this!
Jensen grabbed both of my ass cheeks in his hands and pulled me toward him as he continued to pound into me. With each grunt and groan he emitted, another tear left its mark on my face.
“Please stop,” I begged, but my plea was ignored.
When he finally came, he released his punishing grip on my ass and stepped away from me. And when he did, the other two men in the room stepped forward. They both continued to stroke themselves to completion, and when they came, they came all over me. Then they too, simply stepped back and walked away. All three men turned to exit the room, and I was left there. Naked. Alone. Ashamed. And dripping with the cum of three men.
I didn’t know how long I had been standing there, still restrained at the hands and feet, but it felt like hours. I used that time to take in my surroundings. The room was red. The walls, the ceiling, and the floor. Everything red. There were a few pieces of minimalist furniture which looked to be covered in red leather. The restraints on my wrists were connected to chains suspended from a wooden beam which dropped from the ceiling. The restraints on my ankles were also connected to chains, but these fed through metal hoops bolted to the floor. Both sets of chains had some slack, so at least I wasn’t strung tight. What few lights there were were recessed into the ceiling.
I was having a hard time keeping my head up when I heard the door finally open again. But none of the men walked in. No, this time it was Rosario.
I gasped, “Please, help me.”
Rosario only glanced at me briefly before turning to shut the door behind her. She walked toward me with my bathrobe over one arm. She quickly and roughly wiped the remnants of the men’s orgasms from my skin with a damp cloth and tossed it into a bucket sitting along the wall. She reached into her pocket and produced another key. She didn’t speak, but she gave me a look that practically screamed, ‘Don’t try anything.’ I nodded my head once to convey my understanding, and she proceeded to unlock the restraints from my wrists first, then my ankles. Once she repocketed the key, she hurriedly wrapped the robe around my shoulders.
“Can you help me?” I asked again, my voice hoarse from my earlier tears.
She didn’t speak nor make eye contact with me. She just led me out the door and directed me back to my room. I stood there in a daze for a moment, until I heard the lock click into place behind me. Slumping my shoulders in defeat, I surveyed the room and noticed that someone, presumably Rosario, but maybe Sarah, had left a plated sandwich on the tray table. My stomach growled its need, but I decided to forgo the meal in favor of a hot shower. I just wanted so very badly to feel clean.
Jensen
That will NOT happen again, I thought to myself as I entered my private quarters. Seeing Aleksander’s and Rafe’s cum dripping from her body ignited some primal possessiveness in me. She was mine alone. No one else would touch her, or they would die. And I would gladly do the deed myself.
I entered my bathroom, turned on the shower, and stood under the scalding hot spray. I scrubbed myself raw, trying to wash away my self-loathing. Her tears did something to me. I know I’m a sick fuck, but between her tears and her pleas, I’d never been more turned on in my life. Though they were the two men closest to me, I regretted inviting Aleksander and Rafael over to see my new pet. To touch her. The only thing giving me solace was the fact that I’d had the foresight to forbid anyone else from taking her sweet pussy. That belonged to me.
I realized that I’m now walking a very fine line. I was in control; I needed to be in control. But that woman had the power to bring me to my knees. I feared I was no match for her soft skin, the sound of her voice, her smell, or her taste. She was everything I’d ever desired in a woman. Feisty yet obedient at the same time. Her spirit made my cock just as hard as her submission did. Nevermind that she was acting under threat. She feared that I’d harm her brother if she defied me. Truth be told, I had no intention of harming Chace Benson. I was not a cruel or sadistic man, and Chace Benson had done nothing to earn my ire. I was just a man determined to get what he wanted. So much so, that I sent a group of armed men into the lair of Dmetri Sokolov, a dangerous and evil man, to steal his prisoner in a bid to gain leverage over the object of my desire.
Chapter 9
Charlotte
I woke up the next morning with a sore body but a strengthened spirit. I refused to cry anymore. I may have been forced into this situation, but I was going to do my best to spin it to my advantage. I was smart, and I was resourceful. What I was not, was simpering.
Growing up, in my family, we were taught how to improvise and adapt. There were times when preparing for a job would only get you so far. Sometimes, you never knew what you were going to get. You could case a joint until the cows came home. Studying blueprints, learning to deactivate different types of security systems, tracking the habits of the guards, and cracking different types of safes were all necessary skills, but none of them accounted for the human element in any situation. While people, in general, tended to be creatures of habit, one always had to account for the unexpected. The unexpected phone call that caused a distraction. The unexpected early arrival home. The unexpected emotional response a man might have to discovering that you were being played for a fool by the wide-eyed, innocent-looking girl who insisted that she had no idea how valuable that item was, yet looked suitably impressed, when you flaunted it.
Or, you know, being clumsy enough to make the rookie mistake of tripping on the edge of the carpet, hitting your head hard enough you passed out, and becoming the prisoner of a criminal kingpin. Those kinds of things.
There were three things that I knew for sure about my current situation. One, that Jensen wanted me. Two, I would do whatever it took to keep Chace safe. And three, that I had an indispensable tool: feminine wiles.
With renewed determination and purpose, I bounded out of bed and into the bathroom. Forty-five minutes later, I was washed, dressed, and coiffed. I had purposefully chosen a pair of skinny jeans that hung low on my hips and hugged my curves in all the best ways. I paired them with a plain white tank top. My bra and underwear were a matching lace set in electric blue, and the bra was easily visible underneath the tank top. Since I was finally allowed shoes, I slid on a pair of strappy brown sandals.
Realizing that Sarah had not yet brought up breakfast, I knocked on the door to have Jason escort me downstairs to the kitchen. Only, there was no answer. I knocked again.
“Jason?” I called through the door.
Still not getting an answer, I tried the knob, which turned easily in my hand. I opened the door slowly and peered out into the hallway. No Jason. No guard at all, it appeared. I stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. I walked down the hallway to the top of the stairs. It felt odd not having my every move monitored or constantly being shadowed. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen where I found Sarah humming softly as she worked.
“Good morning, Sarah,” I said cheerfully.
“Oh! Good morning, Charlotte,” she replied as her hand flew to her chest. “You startled me. You’re up early. Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“No, no. Do you want to eat in the dining room?” she asked me with a raised eyebrow.
“What’s wrong with eating right here?”
“Well, Mr. Holm is in the dining room. I thought you might like to join him,” she hinted with a knowing look.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Yes, you’re right. I think I would like to join Mr. Holm in the dining room. Thank you, Sarah.”
I only had the thirty or so feet to the dining room to figure out how I was going to play this, and what I figured out was that I was totally winging it. Here goes nothing.
“Good morning, Mr. Holm,” I said pleasantly as I pulled out a chair.
I purposely chose to place an empty seat between us. I was setting the stage. This was my game now.
“Good morning, pixie,” he returned and narrowed his gaze when he noticed that I was not sitting in the chair directly next to him. He smiled slightly, as if he knew what I was up to.
I was putting space between us. Not just physically, but emotionally, by addressing him so formally.
Sarah appeared then to place heaping plates of food in front of us.
“Thank you, Sarah, this looks delicious.” My compliment and my smile were genuine.
I ignored Jensen and dug in to my oversized Denver omelet and crispy home fries. God, Sarah could cook.
Suddenly, the chair that sat between Jensen and me was missing, and Jensen was grabbing my seat and yanking me, chair and all, toward him.
“That’s better,” he murmured once he had me where he wanted me.
He sat back in his chair, looking quite relaxed and satisfied with himself.
“I have some calls to make this morning,” he informed me as if that was supposed to mean something to me.
“Okay…,” I dragged the word out, expecting him to elaborate on why I needed to know what he would be doing this morning.
“You will be with me,” he stated matter of factly.
“Why do I need to be with you while you make phone calls?”
“Because I wish it to be so,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Fine,” I huffed, which only caused him to smile.
“There is no doubt that you are beautiful, pixie, but I must say, it is your spirit that is most alluring. I shall enjoy getting a rise out of you,” he says seductively. “And I particularly look forward to doing that with a firm hand.”
His words and tone had the desired effect of making my heart race and my skin flush. There was no doubt, I was as excited about the prospect as I was terrified of it. My mind and body were still at war with one another.
We finished breakfast, and Jensen led me into his office where he deposited himself into the chair behind the desk before promptly pulling me into his lap.
“Sit,” he commanded. “Stay.”
I huffed, “I’m not a dog, you know!” Which only made him chuckle.
I hated to admit, the rumble his chuckle generated in his chest felt good against my back.
I sat there, on his lap, with my back ramrod straight and my arms crossed over my chest. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that I wanted to be there. I was only there because I was, once again, being blackmailed.
He made several calls, some of which I paid attention to, but since I couldn’t glean anything that seemed particularly useful, I stopped listening and took my time examining the room. All the woodwork was dark mahogany, the furniture black leather, and the walls painted gray. It was very monochromatic. The only color was the wine-colored accents in the oriental rug that covered a good portion of the floor. One wall was lined with shelves filled with a collection of books and a couple of model cars. Jensen didn’t strike me as the type of man who enjoyed building model cars, but what did I really know about him?
I was so distracted taking in my surroundings, I hadn’t even realized that Jensen had gotten quiet. I felt his hand skim up my back, and I turned to find he was no longer on the phone. His touch left a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
His eyes moved over my face, searching. “I know we had quite the unconventional beginning, Charlotte, but I can feel how much you want me.”
I don’t know what unnerved me more about his comment- the fact that he addressed me by my name rather than ‘pixie’ or the fact that what he said was true. So, I deflected.
“So, tell me Jensen, what exactly is it that you do?”
I could tell by his expression that he was disappointed in the change of subject, but he allowed it. At least for now.
“I am in real estate.”
“Uh huh, and what about the stuff you do that isn’t real estate?” I asked because I think I probably knew a bit more about him that he realized.
His lips twitched before he answered, “I’m what some call a coyote.”
My face must have shown my confusion because then he went on to explain, “I assist those who wish to enter our country by less than legal means by smuggling them across the border. In Mexico, they call that person a coyote.”
I tried to stand, but his arm was like a vice around my waist.
“So, you’re a human trafficker?” the disgust in my tone obvious.
“No, pixie,” he snapped. “I do not force anyone to leave their homes or to come here. I only help those who ask it of me.”
I relaxed slightly against his hold. “Oh.”
He tapped my butt as a request to stand. “You may have the afternoon to yourself, as I have some other business to attend to, but you will be joining me this evening. We’re going to one of my casinos, so dress appropriately. I trust there are at least a few selections in the clothing I’ve provided?”
“Um. Yes, I’m sure I can find something.”
“Good. Be ready by eight. We’ll have dinner at the casino.”
Chapter 10
Charlotte
After being booted from the office, I went in search of Sarah. I helped her plan a menu for the week ahead and then we had lunch together. While we ate, Sarah explained to me that she was one of the people Jensen helped come into the country illegally. She was originally from a small village in Nicaragua. Her mother, an American humanitarian, and her father, a Nicaraguan native, were dead and her uncle, who was supposed to look after her since her parents were gone, was vicious. Unable to withstand any more of the beatings, and beginning to fear rape or worse, Sarah ran. She told me that she stole what little money her uncle had not managed to squander on booze and sneaked out in the middle of the night. She survived by mostly by stealing food and water along the way. She made it across the border into Honduras when she started hearing rumors of a man who was able to provide passage for people into the US, but his price could be high. Sarah decided to take a chance, and while Jensen has been known to charge for ‘protection’ once in the States, he instead gave Sarah a job. She was extremely grateful. That was three years ago.
As Sarah wrapped up her story, Jason entered the kitchen.
“Hey! There’s my shadow! I know you must miss following me around like a puppy all day,” I smirked.
“Yeah, I really don’t know what to do with myself these days. It’s like I no longer have a purpose” he replied, drolly.
I smiled widely at him, but his focus had already shifted to Sarah. And she seemed uncomfortable under his gaze. Interesting.
“Well, kids, I’m going to go on up to my room and pick out an outfit for tonight. You two have fun. Bye!” I scurried out of the room, but only far enough so that my eavesdropping wouldn’t be noticed.
“Sarah,” Jason rumbled.
“Can I get you something to eat?” Sarah replied.
“Please,” he replied as he sat at the table, never taking his eyes off her as she worked.
“What are you doing, pixie?” Jensen’s soft voice made me jump.
Damnit. I am an experienced thief. People aren’t supposed to get the drop on me, and unexpected noises aren’t supposed to unnerve me. How does he do that?
I w
hirled around to face him. “Nothing. I’m going upstairs,” I said as I breezed by him toward the staircase.
Up in my room, I perused the closet for something that would be appropriate for the casino. I found an emerald green slip dress that complimented my eyes. It was a form-fitting tea-length number with spaghetti straps and molded cups. It was sexy yet classy. I decided to pair it with some sparkly, strappy heels.
It was too early to start getting ready for tonight, but a bath sounded like heaven, so I went into the bathroom and liberally poured some of the expensive bubble bath into the deep tub.
I spent the next hour turning myself into a human prune and worrying about Chace. Could I trust Jensen when he said no harm would come to Chace? Was Chace comfortable or was he locked up in a cell with no natural light? I made a note to myself to get answers from Jensen tonight and see if I could convince him to let me see Chace for myself.
