Tormented

He indulged her question. “Because I make the rules, pet.”

“How does my having a chastity belt on benefit you?” she challenged.

He cupped the back of her head and drew her ear close to his mouth. “I can fuck you in the arse with the belt on.”

She started straining against the bonds.

Remembering that she had put down a 5, the max score, for anal sex, he asked, “When was the last time you had cock up your arse?”

“A long time ago.”

“What’s a long time?”

“Two, two and a half years, maybe.”

“I thought you liked it. Your answer to the Scarlet Auction questionnaire indicated you did.”

“I think I misread that one.”

More lies.

“Too bad,” he said.

He released her and took a step back. If she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted, she could keep the belt on longer. He would show her that she would be the one worse for wear.

He unzipped his pants and pulled out his erection. Just thinking about being buried inside her made him stiffer than anything. His cock felt so hard he could probably use it to hammer nails. Slowly, he stroked himself. He wished he had some of her natural lubrication, but his arousal was high enough he could make himself come without much effort.

Her gaze fixed upon his hand job, as if mesmerized by the rhythm of his hand going up and down his shaft. She licked her lower lip. His gaze took in the tip of her tongue, her plump, glistening lip, the swell of her hips, the smoothness of her belly.

He could go for a non-ejaculating orgasm, but he wanted to prove a point. So when the boiling in his bollocks reached its peak, he allowed his climax to shoot through him. His jism landed on her belly and splattered the belt and upper thighs. He bucked his hips, and a final spurt splashed on a breast. He shuddered as waves of hot rapture rolled through him.

When the tide had receded, he shook his head to get his bearings. He replaced his cock and zipped up his pants. For the moment, he drank in the sight of his cum marking her body, some of it starting to slide down her leg.

“Enjoy the chastity belt, pet,” he said. “I’ll be back later.”

Resisting the urge to tear the belt off her and fondle her till she came screaming for him, he left the playroom and went to retrieve his phone. He texted Stephens:

Get me pics of Sam Green.

He drew in a long breath as he thought about Kimani hanging from the ceiling. She didn’t know it, but keeping the chastity belt on was the safer option. When the belt came off, things were going to get a lot harder for her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

He had left her to stew in her juices—literally—again. Kimani could feel the wetness collected on the belt. She yanked on the shirt binding her wrists. It had no give at all. This was exactly the sort of situation she should have been avoiding.

Stupid, stupid her. She should have kept her trap shut. Now she was paying the price for her desire to be helpful. She should have walked out that door when she had the chance. Screw the scoop.

But what about Claire? She could call the cops and have them check on the cabin. But what if they didn’t find anything worth investigating? She couldn’t risk pissing off Jake. What if he took his anger out on Claire?

She had come this far, invested more than she had ever thought she would. She couldn’t give up without seeing it through. Her life wasn’t in peril, so what would her excuse be? That she was afraid of more BDSM? That was a wimpy reason to quit when there were reporters who risked their lives—had lost their lives—to bring the truth to the world.

And she wasn’t fooling anyone about Ben. She wasn’t quite ready to leave him. Her body wanted him to finish what he had started. Jesus, even watching him masturbate had been hot, seeing the flush across his chiseled chest, the tightening of his muscles, the hardness of his cock.

Why hadn’t she simply told him what he wanted to hear? Her pussy clenched on emptiness. She did want to be fucked, after all. By him. She wanted an encore of the sex they’d had in the shower. But she was more than a little worried. She could tell he was upset. He had mentioned punishment. Getting fucked by Ben when he was in a good mood was one thing. In a bad mood, what might he be capable of?

Good going, Kimani. How could you have let this happen?

But beating herself up wouldn’t help matters. She had to focus. What were her options? Could she use willpower to stop from becoming aroused? Could she suffer through whatever torment he had in mind and eventually outlast him? He wasn’t all asshole. Maybe he would have mercy on her.