Tormented

by EM BROWN

  “With what?”

  “Your hand.”

  “Anything else?”

  She glanced around at the many implements he owned. “The, um, paddle.”

  He looked at the various paddles, one with holes, one without, one with hearts, and another with the word “slut.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one with holes?”

  “Good choice.”

  His response seemed to startle her. She was second-guessing herself. In case she didn’t know, he explained, “The holes allow the paddle to move through the air faster. What else besides a paddling?”

  “The cage. You could leave me in one of those.”

  “Overnight?”

  She frowned, but maybe she thought it would be safer in the cage than out, because she replied, “If you wish, Master.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then you could tie me up in shibari.”

  He nodded. That had made his list as well. “And what should we do when you’re all tied up?”

  She met his gaze. “You could fuck me, Master.”

  He was tempted to do just that right now. Flip her over the back of the nearest chair and drive himself into that sweet, sweet cunt.

  “Is that it?” he asked.

  “And I could give you lots and lots of blow jobs.”

  He went to stand before her. He cradled a few of her braids in his hand. “With most of my subs, blow jobs are a reward, not a punishment, given after they’re begging for my cock.”

  “You want me to beg, Master? I’ll beg.”

  Her frequent address of him as “Master” surprised him, but he liked it. “Anything else you want to add to your punishment, pet?”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s a decent punishment. I think your ideas are good ones.”

  She let out a soft breath.

  “But I do want to mix it up with a few ideas of my own.”

  Her relief turned to alarm. “Like what?”

  He passed his fingers over the area of her collar and between her breasts. “You’ll see.”

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out her knickers and took a whiff. They smelled of her.

  “They’re a bit damp,” he told her. “As you won’t be using any safe words tonight, you can hold on to these.”

  Taking her by the jaw, he opened her mouth and stuffed the undergarment inside.

  “So pretty,” he murmured. “Go lay on the bed.”

  She did as told. He returned with several items, including a short cord of rope that he wrapped around her mouth to secure the knickers in place.

  “I’m not going to tie you down,” he said, “since you said earlier today that you were going to be a good pet. Spread your legs.”

  Gingerly, she parted her legs. He eyed the luscious flesh between before putting his thumb to her clit, encouraging it to emerge farther. Taking a narrow tube, he applied lubricant to the edge and fit it over the clit. He attached a small handheld motor to the top of the tube and turned it on, pulling the air out and sucking her clit into the glass. Her lashes fluttered quickly, and her chest heaved up and down. He detached the motor and tapped on the tube. She whimpered.

  “On your knees,” he instructed.

  While she got into position, he went to grab a spreader bar. He pulled her hands between her legs and cuffed her ankles and wrists into the spreader bar. She looked amazing with her legs spread, her arse in the air, the side of her face pressed into the mattress, red satin adorning her mouth, the glass tube dangling from her clit.

  He rubbed a buttock. Such a nice piece of arse. He liked booty that had padding, had never liked scrawny booties or bodies that looked like jailbait. Kimani was the perfect balance of athleticism and feminine suppleness.

  He slapped the cheek he caressed. She tensed. The pink and wrinkled hole between her buttocks teased him. He couldn’t wait to sink into that naughty opening.

  He spanked the other cheek.

  “Mmmph,” she mumbled.

  He spanked her harder, relishing the smacking sound, then went to get the wooden paddle with holes. He kneaded the flesh, preparing it for the first blow.

  She grunted into her panty-gag at the first whack, then yelped at the second. The third one made her scream. He saw her squeeze her eyes shut.

  “How many do you think you merit?” he asked as he rubbed where he had struck.

  She mumbled something that sounded like “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve done a lot of lying, which you know I don’t care for.”

  The paddle flew through the air without a sound till it connected with her arse, sending her body forward.

  “And I can’t help but feel like there’s more you’re not telling me.”

  The next whack left more visible imprints of the holes. He allowed them to fade before paddling her again.

  “So how many?” he demanded, pulling her head up by the braids.

  She blinked once. Twice. Thrice.

  “That’s it?” he replied. “I don’t think so. I’ll let you give me another number. If I don’t like it, I’m going to double your answer.”

  She started anew and blinked ten times.

  “That’s better,” he acknowledged. “But not good enough. We’re going to go with twenty.”

  Letting go of her hair, he rubbed her arse, saw her body brace itself, and gave her the first of twenty blows.

  “One,” he counted.

  She made a sound that could have been a wail or could have been a groan. The next strike made her scream. He stopped at five and looked to see her eyes had started to water. She clenched her hands as she took the next several whacks.

  “We’ll take a break,” he said, halfway through her paddling.

  Reaching between her legs, he wiggled the tube still attached to her clit. It stretched so far it could have made for a tiny penis. He broke the seal of the tube to pet her clit. Her body jumped at his touch. He slicked his fingers with his saliva and gently fondled the swollen bud. She gave a muffled squeal. He worked the clit till her cunt juices began dripping.

  Now that she was properly aroused, he went back to the paddling.

  Her arse blushed a nice rosy pink. After a few more blows, the knuckles of her fingers had turned white and he noticed she was digging her nails into her palms. He paused to plant kisses on her rump.

  “Only five more to go, pet.”

  Her breathing became shallow. He waited to make sure she wasn’t hyper-ventilating. When she had calmed, he continued with the rest of the paddling.

  By the time he was done, a tear had escaped the corner of her eye.

  He rewarded her with more fondling of the clit but stopped short of an orgasm. Surveying her body folded atop the table, he decided she was in the perfect position for bastinado. Setting aside the paddle, he traced the bottom of her foot with his thumb. She shivered.

  “This is an especially sensitive part of the body,” he noted. “Foot torture is still practiced in some parts of the world. You had given bastinado the max rating. I hope that wasn’t one of your exaggerations.”

  From his pocket, he took out two rubber bands he had grabbed earlier and wrapped them around one foot. He pulled one back and let it snap back into place. The pitch of her scream was the highest he had heard thus far. He caressed the bottom of her foot before snapping both bands. She screamed again.

  “Would you prefer to go back to the paddling?” he asked.

  She nodded. But he pulled the rubber bands back. After the snap, she emitted another scream. Her body wanted to scramble away, but there was nowhere for her to go.

  She mumbled into the knickers. Probably cursing him. But when she didn’t stop, he decided to pull the rope down her mouth. She spat out the knickers and tried to work the moisture back into her mouth before speaking.

  “Fuck me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kimani could tell it wasn’t what he had expected her to say, but she hoped he would take h
er up on it. Her ass felt battered and bruised, but she hated the sting of the rubber bands. New tears filled her eyes, and her nose had started to run.

  “Are you telling me to fuck you so I’ll end the bastinado?” he asked.

  “Just fuck me,” she replied. “Fuck me good and hard, Master.”

  She had decided that her best chance of being able to stay with him was to give him what he wanted. She had to admit that the fact he might not finish his week with her had wounded her pride. But a part of him still desired her. She could see it, sense it. If she could be the best pet he ever had, he wouldn’t want to give her back to Jake.

  For a few seconds, she heard nothing—then the sound of him unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. She hoped she had made the right choice. The tip of his cock grazed her clit, reminding her of how much it throbbed and how uber-sensitive it was. She could come so easily...

  He rubbed his shaft along her folds a few times before plunging in.

  Damn, that feels soooo good.

  The sensation was especially heavenly after the hellacious snapping of the rubber bands. She gave a sharp gasp when he gripped her hips and pushed deep into her.

  “Good and hard, as requested,” he said before another forceful thrust.

  He withdrew slowly, his cock stroking the best parts of her pussy. But then he drilled her so hard, her body scooted several inches. He pulled her back and pumped more softly. She moaned. If she could touch her clit, she could send herself over the edge within seconds. She ground herself on his cock, seeking release.

  “Someone likes it doggy-style,” he remarked.

  The snap of the rubber bands stopped her.

  Shit! The fucker.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t come because I haven’t given you permission yet.”

  She groaned. “May I come, Master?”

  “No.”

  He then started to bang her so hard, the bed would have moved if it weren’t bolted to the ground. Pain took the upper hand as his pelvis slammed into her sore bottom.

  What was he trying to do? Drive his dick into her head?

  She couldn’t decide if bracing or relaxing her body was better. Provided she could do either. She felt capable of nothing—nothing but serving as a receptacle for his furious pounding. He slowed, maybe trying to achieve one of his non-ejaculatory orgasms. She hoped he wasn’t trying to prolong his erection.

  He reached around her hip and found her clit.

  Sweet Jesus.

  He worked her clit while gently thrusting.

  Yes, yes, yes!

  “Permission, Master,” she begged. It felt so good maybe it was worth coming, permission or no?

  “Not yet, pet.”

  Then stop doing what you’re doing!

  “Aaaargh,” she moaned, wanting so desperately to come, to have euphoria wipe everything else away, but needing to resist, needing to stop herself from claiming what her body wanted more than air to breathe.

  Furious, her body fought her control, creeping closer to the edge of climax.

  Must not come...

  What if he punished her with more bastinado?

  But her arousal didn’t care.

  To her momentary relief, he started thrusting roughly once more. She cried out when it felt like he was hammering the depths of her womb.

  “That hard enough for you, pet?”

  “Y-Yes,” she said through chattering teeth.

  He planted a foot on the bed beside her, creating a different kind of leverage with which to thrust into her. He grabbed her braids and started banging away. She tried to find the pleasure amidst the discomfort. Occasionally it seemed his cock grazed the bottom of her clit, sending delightful flutters through her groin.

  Her scalp smarted from his pulling, and she wanted to collapse so badly, but the bar kept her body in its cramped position.

  Needing him to come, she encouraged him. “Yes, use me, Master. Give it to me. You’re so—unh—good at—unh—fucking your little slut.”

  That did it. With a loud grunt, he slammed himself home. He trembled violently against her. His liquid heat filled her pussy. After several more deep thrusts, he slowed to catch his breath. She felt his sweat fall upon her backside and breathed her own sigh of relief.

  If she was lucky, he would be done. But Ben wasn’t a typical guy.

  And she wasn’t so lucky.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A fucking reporter.

  Sitting in the living room, Ben shook his head as he listened to the audio file on the USB of Kimani’s pen. What else might she have recorded? And who was her intended target? Jake? The Lee family? Everyone involved in the Scarlet Auction?

  He should have dropped her as soon as he suspected she was up to something. But he had let his cock do the guiding. And the incredible pounding he had given her almost washed away all other consideration.

  As he had hoped, her body had withstood the rough fucking. And he was willing to bet that he could have gotten her to come easily. A part of him wanted to and had considered grabbing a vibrator for her. Instead, after releasing her from the spreader bar, he had bound her arms behind her with rope and attached three little clamps, all linked together by a thin chain, to her nipples and clit. He then had her climb into the shorter cage.

  “What’s that for?” she had asked when he’d set an empty dish into the cage.

  “In case you need to go,” he answered.

  She had looked horrified.

  He had then set a second dish, filled with water, into the cage before locking it shut, telling her, “If you’re able to get yourself to come, you have my permission.”

  Unless she was one of the lucky women who could come through thought alone, she’d have a hard time. Through the webcam, he watched her try to fit a leg between the bars of the cage, probably hoping to rub her clit against a bar, but the space between the bars was too narrow.

  “Where’s the girl?” asked Bataar when Ben met him at the gym. “She’s a cute one.”

  Ben frowned as he prepared to spar with the large Mongolian. “Back at my place.”

  Bataar threw the first punch, which Ben ducked. “When are you heading back to the cabin?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  They circled one another.

  “My research didn’t turn up anything else on Jake Whitehurst,” Bataar said.

  Ben threw a kick, which Bataar defended. “Didn’t think it would.”

  “I did find an ex-girlfriend who called him a prick in one of her Facebook posts.”

  “And?”

  “I thought there would be something more. You know, based on what Kimani had said.”

  “He’s been an asshole to her.”

  But I’m probably the bigger asshole.

  Bataar delivered a low kick, which Ben jumped over.

  “She’s inclined to think the worst of Jake,” he finished.

  “Don’t trust women’s intuitions?” Bataar asked.

  “Unbiased, women are more reliable than men. But I’m not sure she’s not biased. She’s working some angle.”

  “Angle?”

  “Yeah, she’s been jerking me around—”

  Bataar’s strike glanced off the side of his head. Ben shook off the blow. He was losing focus, which was becoming a habit when it came to Kimani.

  “How?” asked Bataar.

  “She’s an undercover reporter.”

  Ben got his revenge, faking a punch with his left before delivering with his right.

  “No shit?” Bataar asked before going low again.

  Ben jammed his foot over Bataar’s, pinning it to the mat. “She snuck a recording pen into the cabin.”

  “You on it?”

  “Along with Jake and the others.”

  “She working a story on lecherous guys who buy women for sex?”

  “You calling me a lech?”

  Bataar grinned. “Sure, boss. You bought her for sex, didn’t you?”

  Only I didn’t
have to. It turned out to be a big mistake.

  Apparently wanting to make his boss feel better, Bataar added, “Hey, you made a nice purchase. She’s—”

  Ben didn’t let him finish, kicking Bataar in the stomach. Bataar stumbled back.

  “Anyway,” Bataar said, rubbing his stomach before getting back into position. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Don’t know yet. I don’t know what she knows, and I don’t know her intentions.”

  He’d tried tormenting truth out of her and that hadn’t worked. He wasn’t sure he was up to doing it again. She had called it a low blow.

  “I’ve given her plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth.”

  “You could confront her,” Bataar suggested. “Tell her you’re onto her game.”

  He could. He had refrained from doing so in part because he hadn’t wanted to scare her off, and he’d thought he could find out what he needed to know in between fucking her brains out.

  “Or just let it go if you don’t think she has anything to bust you with. You’re not likely to cross paths again when you’re done with her.”

  For some reason, the thought rattled him. Bataar went low. Ben avoided the first kick, but Bataar spun around and swept his foot behind Ben, knocking him off balance. He fell to the mat.

  “Or maybe you don’t plan to be done with her?”

  Ben narrowed his eyes and hopped back up. “Of course I’m going to be done with her. Why do you think I wouldn’t be?”

  “Because I’ve never knocked you off your feet before. And it was almost too easy.”

  “I was distracted—thinking too much.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  The sparring ended less satisfactorily than Ben had wanted. Towards the end, Bataar had pinned him to the mat, a rare occurrence. Ben had hoped the sparring would take his mind off Kimani. Instead, she had barely left his mind.

  Back at his place, he drew in a deep breath. He had opted not to take a shower at the gym because he wanted to get to Kimani and see how she was doing in person. He found her lying on her back with her knees in the air. He walked up to the cage and dropped his sweats. His cock had stiffened on the drive back as he’d contemplated the rest of her punishment.

  He pointed his hard-on at her. She got to her knees. He fit his cock in between the bars of the cage. She took it into her mouth.