Bound by Blood (The Contract Book 3) (7 page)

Stormy

I’m sitting in the bathtub with suds up to my neck, drinking a glass of wine, and deep in thought. I look up to see Miller who is leaning against the doorway and holding a beer.

“Stop already, Miller”

“Don’t want to.”

“Why can’t you be normal and not so stalkerish?”

“It goes with my job description. Now, spill the beans. What’s going on in that pretty, little head of yours?”

I fake a southern drawl and answer his question as if I am some dimwitted blonde with no depth.

“Well, you know meeee, I’m thankin’ about shoppin’ and movie stars.”

“I don’t want you working with me then,” he answers, looking at me through hooded eyes.

“Fine. I’m thinking about the fact that while I’m sleeping in a bed tonight, that poor woman across town will be sleeping in a cage.”

“Maybe she likes sleeping in a cage.”

“That’s a typical male reply.”

“You know me, chauvinistic pig that I am.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far, you do offer equal employment opportunities to the opposite gender.”

“That’s only so can use you. I’m a self-serving asshole.”

“That you are. Anyway, I’m worried about her. Why didn’t we rescue her while we were there?”

“Timing is everything in this line of work, Stormy. Plus, I couldn’t deny my homeboys the thrill of a kill,” he sheepishly adds.

“You’re right. You are a chauvinistic asshole.”

“Get out of the tub and throw some jeans on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To check on this poor damsel in distress you’re worried about.”

“I take it back. You’re not a chauvinistic asshole.”

“I was going to check on her anyway, before you said anything.”

“Then I take it back again. You are a chauvinistic asshole once more.”

“I’m whatever I need to be to get the job done, young lady.” With that, he disappears as quickly as he had appeared…

Black Rose

I circle the bed. I have the flavor of the evening tied down and splayed before me.

I have her secured in a doggy style position with her arms straight out and attached to the posts of the bed. Though she is completely nude, I still don the suit I wore today. My demeanor is dangerous with just a hint of boyish mischief. I’m not a conceited man, but I am well aware that my looks, combined with my power and money, draw women like bees to honey. It takes a hell of a lot more than a beautiful woman to make an impression on me though. The old adage, “
What do you get someone who has everything?”
definitely applies to me. I have grown up in the lap of luxury. Ironically enough, the only thing that I have been denied in life is any sort of love or connection. Oh well, you can’t miss what you’ve never had.

I have what some may view as an eccentric sexual appetite, to say the least. I like control but my sexual conquests always return for more. They are nothing more than just that though—conquests. Lately, however, I have been experiencing something new to me. Though I haven’t slept with Melanie…yet… I find myself comparing the women I bed to her, and they never seem to measure up. In my mind, I am only curbing my appetite for now. I never make any promises. In fact, the more I assure a woman she is very likely never to see me again, the more they seem to want me. It is as if each and every woman believes she will be the exception, but there are no exceptions when it comes to me. There is only Melanie and me training her to my liking.

I make my way to the side of the bed and bend down beside it in order to ensure Debbie is looking at me straight in the eye when I speak. “Now, are you sure this is what you want to do?”

She looks up at me, as if I am the most gorgeous specimen of man who has ever addressed her, and nods her head.

I reach in, roughly squeezing her chin between my thumb and forefinger which, in turn, causes her to wince in pain.

“When I ask you a question, I want an answer! By the way, I don’t like repeating myself!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she cries out as a tear rolls down her cheek. Now we are getting somewhere. I like tears, I like degradation, I like bondage, and I like knowing I have subjected a woman to all of the above. As I said…now we’re getting somewhere. I can feel myself becoming excited by it all.

“Do you think having sex with your Boss is going to benefit your career? That is a rhetorical question just in case you’re so clueless as to believe I care about your opinion enough to want an answer. I am using you. You are nothing to me but a piece of ass, a mere toy, a toy to use.”

The more I demean her, the more turned on she gets.

I slowly and methodically begin to remove my clothing as I continue to speak.

“I’m sure you think latching onto a man with money and power is going to move you up the social ladder but, let me assure you, that is not the case. Also, if you ever tell one single, solitary soul about this little encounter, I will ensure you never find work in this town again. You won’t even be able to work as the menial temporary secretary you presently are and will probably remain for rest of your unimportant life, in someone else’s company other than mine, of course.”

I kneel beside her face, pulling her head towards my groin, but every time she tries to latch her lips onto my cock, I pull her back again, taunting her.

“Are you a slut?” I relish in watching the poor girl’s face turn beet red. “Say it. Say… I’m a slut for my Boss.”

I’m certain poor, little Debbie can’t understand why the humiliating manner in which I’m addressing her is sexually exciting for her, but it is nonetheless.

“I’m a slut for my Boss,” she whimpers as tears make their way down her cheeks.

“You are nothing but a slut!” I viciously hiss. “I’m talking to you like dirt and you are sexually aroused by it. You may want to come to grips with your sexuality, girl.”

She isn’t Melanie and I am going to make her pay for it. I want Melanie and I’m angry it isn’t her at my mercy right now. Someone is going to pay and, right now, Debbie is available. She is not only available, she is willing so why not use her to curb the beast raging inside me?

I close my eyes and begin to imagine that it is Melanie in my bed and at my mercy. I push my condom sheathed, rock hard cock into her spread open and easily accessed, soaking wet slit.

I slow my pace and enter as deeply as I can go. I begin to grind down into her, slowly moving in circles. I imagine that it’s Melanie’s moans and pleads for release I’m hearing, not those of some temporary secretary that I couldn’t possibly care less about.

She cries out, climaxing as wave after wave of pleasure courses through her body.

The sound of her scream is like a shock of cold water to my system. It’s almost as if I’m broken out of a trance as I suddenly realize that it isn’t my beloved little kitten strapped to my bed. I begin to roughly violate her as I viciously dig my fingers into her hips, spreading her open for full access.

As soon as I unload into her, I am immediately untying her and commanding her, “Get out, get the fuck out of my house!”

Miller

Though I play my cards close to the vest with Stormy in the sense that I purposely don’t let her know what I’m thinking, it doesn’t mean I’m not just as concerned as she is about this woman. I don’t want this crazy kook killing the woman he has caged in his basement. There isn’t just the issue of him killing her either. There is also the issue of her not being able to escape if there is a fire or some other freak accident. Therefore, I periodically check on her for my peace of mind.

“There are two basement windows of which you’re already aware. There is the one in the front and the less accessible, yet more hidden, one in the back. The fact that he doesn’t have curtains on either one, but opted for frosted window film instead, is all part of the mind-fuck he is using against her.”

I want to know if Stormy is paying attention so I catch her off guard and ask her why he did that.

“Why do you think that he chose not to use curtains when he is committing a felony by holding a woman against her will?”

“I’m assuming it limits anyone being able to see in but, by her being able to make out blurred images and body forms walking past the window, he’s giving her the illusion of help being so very close, yet she knows it’s out of her reach.”

“Very good, now what else did you notice about the basement?”

“He has a clock on the wall that he has removed the hands from.”

“Well done. There is one more thing about her surroundings and if you can’t tell me what it is when we check in on her, you’re going to be disciplined. Details are of the utmost importance in our line of work; they are a matter of life and death. My life is in your hands, the hands of a novice, mind you. I expect you to be at the top of your game at all times. I refuse to pamper and baby you. If at any time you want to be coddled, then you need to take your ass back home. You can always go back to blogging.”

“You’re a smart ass, Miller!”

“Yes, I am… I am a living, breathing smart ass. I emphasize the
living, breathing
aspect.”

She just rolls her eyes and turns away like she always does, as if it doesn’t matter. I’m fully aware her mind is already trying to come up with answer though, asking herself what she missed in that basement. She damn sure better hope she figures it out or her ass is going to feel the fire of the cane five times. That is, of course, unless my dick gets hard while I’m hurting her. If that happens, and it most likely will, she may be looking at ten strikes. There is also the issue of having to decipher my riddle through frosted glass. The crazy doc isn’t the only one subjecting his woman to mind-fucks and he certainly isn’t the only one who enjoys doing it…