Tormented

“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.