Torment Me (Rough Love Part One) (7 page)

“Are you thinking about what I said?” he asked.

What had he said? A weekly rate. Ah, God, my pussy was so wet. Why was I wet? I was scared and suffering, in a world of pain.

“I don’t want to see you every day,” he said, continuing his earlier conversation. “That’s not the point. But when I want you, I want you to fucking be available.”

Whap.

“None of your other jackass clients know how to satisfy you. How to work you over.”

Whap.

“But I do.”

Whap.

What? He thought he was satisfying me right now? If I wasn’t bound and gagged, I’d probably be calling the police.

He stopped. “Look at you,” he said. “Look at you struggling, hurting. Are you pretending that gag is my cock in your mouth? You want me inside you?”

I shook my head, even though it made the clamps hurt worse. I shook my head hard, denying, protesting.

Lying.

He slapped my pussy again, this time with his hand. He shoved his fingers inside me and I could actually hear how wet I’d become.

“You’re so juicy from having your pussy whipped, it’s dripping onto the bed. You’re making a fucking mess, you little pain slut. Next time, I’m going to bring harder clamps. You need it harder. You
want
it harder.”

I shook my head again. Harder clamps would kill me, but part of me remembered how wet I’d gotten the moment he put them on. Maybe harder ones would only make me wetter.

Damn it, I hated myself. I hated being a liar. I wanted to come so bad. I wanted to come while he was flailing away at my pussy with his horrible, punishing belt. I wanted him to free my hands so I could open myself up, so he could bring the leather right down on my swollen clit.

“Please,” I moaned behind the gag. “Please let me go. Please take off the clamps.”

It sounded like nothing, a bunch of desperate whining. He slid the belt over my nipples, joggling the clamps, then trailed it down my trembling stomach and over my pussy. Then he slid it beneath me and pulled it up from the front and the back so I could feel the leather all along my slit. My pussy ached to be fucked. He moved the belt back and forth, and my hips bucked for more of the contact.

He chuckled. So humiliating. I felt his body close to mine, his bare skin. He must have undressed at some point. I felt the brush of his warm shoulder and his hard, muscular chest.

“When you’re mine, only mine, we can do this all the time,” he said. “I can gag you and hurt you and make you come and come and come until you can’t stand it. We can fluid bond, and go bareback, and I’ll come in you over and over, until my cum’s dripping out of you like a fucking waterfall. I’d like that, Chere. You suit me perfectly, and I hate to share. I’ll pay not to share you.”

I shook my head, but clearly, at this point, I was only amusing him with my frantic, fake denials. He took off the clamps and I sucked air through the gag as my nipples flared in protest. His hands yanked my hips closer to the edge of the bed and his cock poked against my ass.

“When I’m pissed, I don’t use as much lube,” he said. “Good thing your pussy’s so messy and drippy.”

As if to demonstrate, he jammed his fingers in my pussy and gathered the copious wetness. I almost came right then, with his fingers rough inside me and his cock against my hole. Then he started pushing forward into my ass, and it hurt too much to come.

Oh, shit, it hurt. I fought him, but I couldn’t really fight him. I couldn’t draw away, or deny him, only squirm and toss on the bed. When he was fully seated inside me, he leaned his weight on me, and I wished I could see what he looked like, looming over me with his cock hard and deep in my ass.

I pictured dark eyes, a lover’s gaze, even though he was brutal to me. He started to ride me with harsh, steady thrusts. I groaned behind the gag, hating this and loving it. When he drove especially deep, his pelvis ground against my clit and I ached for climax. Anal hurt, but it was a thrilling, hot kind of pain. I didn’t want him to stop. My pussy clenched, still flowing with everything I felt for him.

He wanted me to himself.

He didn’t want to share me with anyone else.

He pinched my still-tender nipples while he fucked my ass. I arched my back, and he made a pleased sound, a nonverbal cue, like a trainer rewarding a dumb animal. I was that dumb animal, blind, mute, strapped down, my asshole stuffed to the hilt, my nipples sore and sensitive. I tugged at my stocking bondage, but he obviously knew his knots, and nylon was impossible to break. Drool leaked from the corners of my gagged mouth as his pace quickened, along with his force. He hurt my nipples and toyed with my clit in equal measure, so the depth of my pain and degradation was matched by the height of my pleasure. The two of them got mixed up, these two powerful feelings, dread and bliss.

“You know why you like it in the ass?” he said. “Because that’s what you deserve.”

I did deserve it. I was a whore, a slut, an animal who couldn’t stop myself from enjoying the perverted things he did. So much for being hard and unreachable. The only one hard and unreachable in our current scenario was him.

“You have one minute to come,” he said as I endured his quickening thrusts. “One minute to come with my cock buried in your whore ass. You should have come already.”

He fucked me harder, twisting my nipples. I panted behind the gag and spread my legs as far as I could, arching toward his pain and his pleasure, eager to take both of them to get what I wanted, which was relief. Or release. Maybe they were the same thing.

When I finally let go, I came hard, my ass clenching around his shaft in rhythmic pulsations. I vaguely remembered one of my fellow call girls bragging about anal orgasms, that her ass could come just like her pussy, and I remember thinking
bullshit
. But my ass was coming like hell, along with my pussy, and my clit, and my sore, aching nipples, all of it at once. I didn’t make a sound. There was no energy left for sound, except maybe a rasping outlet of breath.

As for W, he made a sound like the one he’d made earlier, another animal-trainer cue, only more intense. He held my shoulders as he came, then his hands crept up to my neck and gripped me there. It made me clench him harder, everywhere, all over. I moaned, choking.
Don’t hurt me anymore. I can’t take anymore.

He was gone in a flash. His hands gone from my neck, his cock gone from my ass. I was afraid he’d deserted me completely, but then I felt his weight dip the bed beside me. A moment later, his fingers ruffled my hair, touching, teasing. I fought the urge to turn my body toward him for more contact. I didn’t want to need him. He was too rough, too cruel. I absolutely wasn’t going to see him again.

He rose a moment later and went into the bathroom. I heard water. Not a shower, a bathtub. I drowsed to the sound of the bubbling water until he touched one of my ankles.
Snip, snip
through the stockings. Him and his damned scissors. The gag came off next. I opened and closed my mouth, waggled my tongue. My chin was coated with drool.

“Let’s go take a bath,” he said. “You’re a fucking mess.”

I let him lead me into the bathroom, not sure if he intended to bathe me or drown me.

“My arms ache,” I said, my mouth still stiff and awkward. “Please unbind my wrists. I’m afraid to be in the water with my hands bound behind my back.” No response. “I won’t try to take off the blindfold, I promise. I don’t care what you look like.” Huge lie, but I really was scared.

I guess he heard enough fear in my voice—not the sexy kind of fear—to take pity on me. He cut off the zip ties but kept hold of one of my wrists. He guided me to the tub and helped me get in. Oh, God, it felt so warm, perfect temperature. He climbed in too, settling me in his lap. I leaned my head against his shoulder and thought I could fall asleep right here, cradled against his body with his muscles sliding under my skin. I was too tired to even care that I was blindfolded. My eyes closed behind the leather mask, and my body relaxed against his.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said, and I perked up again. “We need to talk, remember?”

“Talk about what?”

He started washing me, using the Park Hyatt’s fragrant soap, and a soft washcloth to sponge the drool from my chin and neck. “About an exclusive arrangement,” he said.

“Why? Why do you want me to stop seeing other people?”

“So I can see you whenever I want. And because I want to fluid bond with you. Bareback.”

“I’m not allowed to do that.”

“Says who?”

“My boss.”

“When you’re with me, I’m your boss.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. I need to work at least four appointments a week.”

“For what? For money? I’m offering you money.” He named an amount that was four appointments worth of cash, plus extra. A lot of extra. It scared me. What would he demand for that kind of money?

“The thing is, I have a life,” I said. “A home. A boyfriend. I can’t be at your beck and call, no matter how much you pay me.”

“I don’t want you at my beck and call. I’d be reasonable. I just don’t want you seeing other guys.”

“Why?”

He ran a hand down between my breasts. “Because I don’t like to share.” He laughed softly. “Your fucking boyfriend. He puts up with your job?”

I wasn’t going to talk to him about Simon, or my personal life. It was bad enough he was asking me to be exclusive. “I can’t bareback with you, ever,” I said.

“Okay, but you can stop seeing other people.”

“Did you talk to Henry about this?”

“Yes, I’ve talked to Henry. He said it was up to you.”

W was washing me so gently. I didn’t think he was even washing me anymore, just stroking me.
Don’t do this, Chere. Don’t be swayed by how good he makes you feel. By this body, his scent, the rumble of his voice...

“The thing is, you’re not my only regular client,” I said. “Those johns will move on when I’m not available. When you’re finished with me, when you’re finished doing...whatever this is we’re doing together, I’ll need to build up my client list all over again.”

“You’ll have enough money to coast for a while. And I don’t think you’d have a whole lot of trouble finding new clients. You’re a good lay.”

His fingers delved between my legs. He stroked me until I couldn’t hold back the noises, the need. His cock was hard, jutting up between us, and next thing I knew, I was sliding along the length of it, sloshing water back and forth in the tub.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked, stilling me with the tip of his cock against my entrance.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, you can’t.” I reached down to block him. I was on the pill, but he wasn’t coming inside me without a rubber. No.

“I’m clean, Chere. I’m a very responsible person.”

“How do you know
I’m
responsible?”

That laugh again. “Because you’re too much of a bitch to be careless. I bet you don’t even let the boyfriend in without a condom. If you really have a boyfriend.”

There was a shift and a splash, and the sound of a condom wrapper, and then he was back again. I checked with my fingers and yes, he was sheathed. Yes, I was a bitch when it came to protection. Yes, since the drugs, I hadn’t let Simon near me without a condom, although the truth was, we hadn’t had sex for months.

“Be mine, Chere, just for a while.” He surged into me. I was primed, even in the water. He teased my still-hurting breasts and filled me oh, so perfectly. “Be exclusive with me. It won’t be that long. Just a few months. I’ll probably get bored of you by then.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

“I can hardly get up the motivation to see you from week to week, much less be exclusive with you,” I said. “You’re cruel and full of yourself. There’s nothing about you I like.”

He manipulated my clit, just to prove me a liar. My hips bucked, rebelling, arching for more. “Nothing you like, huh?” he said in that bemused tone of his.

“And I don’t know anything about you. You act like your personal information is some holy grail that no mere mortal can look upon.”

“You know my name.”

“Your fake name.”

A pause, just long enough for me to realize how cranky and pathetic I sounded.

“You like me that much, huh?” he said, pressing me down on his cock. “You’re crazy about me.”

“No.”

“You are. You want to know all about me. It’s killing you that you don’t know my name, my favorite color, my birthday—”

“I don’t want to know anything about you.” Jesus, if only he wasn’t such a good fuck, even now, in a bathtub, when I was pissed at him for being a jerk. “You know, if you want to build up an exclusive arrangement with an escort, zip ties and blindfolds aren’t the way to go about it. Or hard anal, tied to a bed.”

“You love hard anal, tied to a bed.”

“I don’t.”

“Admit that you do, or I will take you back, tie you down again, and prove you wrong.”

I was silent a moment. He said, “Okay,” and started to get up, cock inside me and everything.

I grabbed his shoulders in a panic. “No. Please. Okay, I admit it.” I couldn’t go through that again.

“You fucking idiot,” he said. That was his only answer to my capitulation. That, and renewed bathtub intercourse. He hit my G-spot like magic. I hated him for it. I hated him for making me feel good when he was such an asshole.

“I hate you,” I said.

“You don’t, but I don’t mind if you pretend.”

“I’m not pretending,” I said with more fire.

“I like design, Chere. I like chocolate cake. What do you like?”

I committed these small and pointless details about him to memory, and hated myself for it. “You’re giving me tidbits of information about you, what, as some form of apology for being an asshole?”

He ignored my vitriol. “What do you like, Chere?” he asked in a tone that demanded an answer.

“Seeing people who are fucking me.” That was my answer, and I felt like crying, and I still hated myself. “I like seeing the person whose cock is inside me. I know that sounds crazy and unreasonable.”

His fingers tightened on my arms. I waited for him to drown me, or throw me out of the tub, but he did neither. Instead he said, “If you want to date me without the blindfold, you have to be mine. Exclusive.”