Chapter Nine
Lilly
I wake up to light, the smell of cooking bacon, and snuggled in a soft blanket. At first I can’t remember where I am. The place feels cozy and safe and there’s a smile on my lips even though I’m not sure why.
“You’ve slept almost ten hours. Good.”
A deep, rumbling, familiar voice rouses me from the cocoon of pillows and blankets. Adam is standing over me, a plate of bacon in his hand and a smile on his face. For a moment, we share a moment of pure domestic bliss.
Then I remember where I am and why I’m there. That he is not some perfect husband and I am no wife. This cyborg is holding me prisoner and filling me with his seed.
The bacon still smells good though.
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“They connected me to the internet,” he explains. “I learned a great many things in a very short space of time.”
“I can imagine.”
“It was very instructive,” he smiles. “Humanity’s greatest achievement by far. Everything from crochet to cannibalism laid out before me. And a vast collection of sexual footage…”
I groan inwardly. Everything he knows he has learned from the internet. No wonder he’s so twisted and so visceral when it comes to using me. I can feel the tenderness between my thighs even now as I squeeze them together reflexively.
“Eat,” he orders, handing me a plate of bacon. The plate is old-fashioned, another prop from the costume studio, I guess. It has little painted flowers around the rim. I have a vague memory of seeing something like this, already old, at my grandmother’s house a long time ago. It had been her great-grandmother’s.
Solid ceramic feels good in my hands, and the bacon, though simple, is perfectly cooked. Crispy and just a little chewy. He has orange juice too, and toast to follow.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur as I sit on the couch across which he fucked me so brutally yesterday, nibbling at the corner of a remnant of food I don’t need.
Adam smiles. “You’re happy,” he notes. “I’m glad. I was worried you would not find happiness with me.”
I’m a little surprised my happiness means much to him. My memory of the night before is a blur of rough, urgent, demanding sex, his determination to take me and keep me as his own.
Everything is confusing, but the little comfort of having some food and a nice place to sit is a start. And the sleep helped too. I feel like I can think.
Adam sits next to me, puts his hand on my knee. It’s not lewd. It’s more comfort. Did he learn this online too? Or did we somehow craft a compassionate cyber humanoid?
I see him wince, then clutch his head. He makes a hissing sound, like he is in pain, and then he draws his skull down between his knees for a brief moment, only a split second.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says with a little growl.
I’m instantly worried. He’s a prototype, and as strong as he is, he’s been without maintenance for a while now. That could cause breakdowns in tissue, potential necrosis, even death. I don’t know how far Ascent got in creating the self-sustaining technology that would absolve him of the need for maintenance, fresh injections of nanosims every so often, but apparently, not so far.
“You need maintenance,” I say. “We’re going to have to find a fresh supply of NS.”
“I have enough to last me years,” he says. “I injected myself three days ago. It’s not that.”
“You should let me examine you.”
“No,” he growls. “I know what’s wrong, and it’s nothing you can fix.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I am worried. My relationship with him is complicated. I’m his captive and I want to flee, but I also had a hand in his creation and I don’t want to abandon him. I should be heading out the door as quickly as possible, saving myself from all he has in store for me, but instead I’m thinking about saving him.
“You must have brought an assessment kit,” I say. “Where is it?”
“I don’t need an assessment,” he growls. “I know what’s wrong. I’m fine.” He straightens and shakes his head. “There is nothing wrong with me.”
* * *
Adam
There’s a lot wrong with me, but she can’t know that. There are two forces warring inside me, and I don’t know which one of them will win. This woman by my side doesn’t know what I really am. She thinks there’s something physically amiss with the technology. I wish that was the problem. The truth is my mind is being jolted with memories. Things I never did—except for the fact I did them. Flashes of a life I’m sure I never lived, but one I am remembering increasingly all the time.
She looks worried. Not for herself, but for me. She’s so sweet. And innocent, in so many ways. Even after I took her so mercilessly, she wants to know that I am alright.
“You should let me examine you,” she insists yet again. “You need someone qualified to take care of you.”
“I can take care of myself, woman,” I growl.
I’m taking care of her. Protecting her. I don’t want her worrying about me or fussing over me. Those are not our roles. She is mine. She must not lose faith in me. She must not see the weakness that hides inside me.
“Just let me…”
I grab her wrist as she reaches it up toward me. “No,” I say firmly. “There is nothing wrong. Stop worrying this instant.”
“Or what?” She lifts her chin and her pretty eyes meet mine with challenge.
I can’t fuck her every time I need to prove a point. But I can make certain she doesn’t decide to test me again.
Using the grip I have on her wrist, I slowly pull her toward me and over my lap in one inexorable motion. She’s still naked from the waist down, after I stripped those ridiculous pants off her before bed, so her bottom is displayed to me. Two soft feminine globes so beautiful, and so ripe for punishment.
“Adam?” There’s confusion in her voice. She doesn’t know what I’m about to do to her. It figures that it wouldn’t occur to her that she could be disciplined. Even at Ascent, she had a certain arrogance about her that got her into trouble. She’s never apologized for her part in creating me. She’s sorry they hurt me, but she’s not sorry that she created me to be hurt in the first place. It’s another thing that just doesn’t occur to her.
This little lady thinks she can play god. She needs to be humbled. I need to see her whimper, hear her sobs. This will hurt, but she needs it too. We both need it.
I wrap my arm around her neat little waist and pull her close. Don’t want her squirming away once she realizes her reckoning is upon her. I rub my palm over her bottom, feel it soft and tender beneath my skin. She lies quiet at first, uncustomarily compliant.
A light slap makes her whine. “Adammm…” She draws my name out in a way that grates. She’s complaining and she doesn’t even know what she has to complain about yet.
I slap her harder, my palm landing crisply against her soft bottom. Her gasp is one of outrage rather than true pain, but I see a pink blush rising on her skin in the shape of my palm and fingers.
“Adam, what are you doing?”
“You asked me what I’d do if you wouldn’t stop worrying,” I remind her. “I’m showing you.”
My palm lands again, the slap sharper, but not harder than before. She needs a good spanking, this woman of mine who throws herself into danger at every opportunity, who does not listen to any voice besides her own inner determination.
Having her with me is all I’ve ever wanted, but she’s not an easy companion. I don’t think she ever will be. But I will do my best to mold her.
I was beaten and tortured in the laboratory. They tried to break me. I will not break her, but I will take her to the very line of breaking if I have to. Our survival hangs by a thread and her unwillingness to follow my orders could get us both killed. This is a gentle introduction to what I expect of her. Red cheeks are the least of what she will experience if she does not behave herself.
I begin to whip her bottom harder and faster, my hand meeting her ass in swift slaps that made her whine and cry. The sound is not unpleasant to my ears. She has much to learn, and she will learn it either at my knee, or over it.
“Adam!” My name escapes her mouth again, this time tainted with pure desperation. Her legs are starting to kick, her toes drumming against the floor as her body twists.
She has no chance of escaping my grasp or my punishment. I want her to know that. I want her to know once I take her for discipline, she will endure it until the end. There is no escaping what she has earned.
“You wanted to know, and now you know,” I remind her again, my palm beating a tattoo against her bottom. “You do as I say, when I say, or I will thrash you, girl.”
My words are harsh, and my touch is rough and I know she is not enjoying it. Good.
* * *
Lilly
He has no right to do this to me. It hurts like hell and I can’t make it stop. Adam has trapped me over his thighs and is whipping my ass. All I did was ask a simple question.
“Okay!” I gasp out. “Okay! I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes! I won’t worry about you. I’ll let your damn head explode before that happens.”
The attitude only earns me another hard slap, but dammit, I said what he wanted me to say. He wants me not to care about him, and right now I don’t care if he catches on fire.
“Anger won’t serve you,” Adam says.
Sometimes, he seems so much more advanced, so much more human than he has any right to be. I don’t understand how he learned so much in such a short span of time, especially when Ascent treated him like an animal. Where did he develop this emotional intelligence? Is it innate or…
“Ow!” I gasp as his palm explodes against my bottom. “Adam, you’re going to kill me!”
“Dramatic little thing,” he chuckles as I sob. “You won’t die from being spanked.”
He doesn’t know how this feels… I catch myself thinking that and then I realize he knows exactly how this feels, and worse. He holds me there, spanking me long and hard, his palm clapping against my squirming cheeks and even though I know I taunted him into doing this, I can’t help but feel sorry for myself.
Heat and pain burst through my bottom, the sting tingling over my heated skin in waves that ripple into one another with every new slap that lands. He’s not being cruel. He could hurt me much worse than this. But he’s making his point, as he always does.
He’s showing me how weak I am, how powerless I am in all of this. He can fuck me. He can breed me. He can spank me like a petulant little girl, and that’s all there is to it. I was worried for him, but that’s not allowed. He decides what feelings I can have. Should I be shocked? Maybe if he were a man, but he’s not a man. He’s a machine and he has decided that my emotional state is unacceptable.
What the hell am I going to do? How do I get out of this? The question tears through my synapses as he thrashes me, his palm finding my ass and thighs over and over again, driving me to a frenzy of wailing and writhing over his unyielding thighs.
Tears come, sobs rise. Hot shame and pain rain down my cheeks, but still he doesn’t stop. He spanks me until he is done with me, his palm whipping my cheeks until I lie utterly compliant over his lap, too sore and too sad to do a thing besides take the punishment my cruel machine master has decided I deserve.
Finally, when it is over, he loosens his grip on me and allows me to stand up. I struggle for my feet and for my composure. I don’t want to break down now. I want control of myself again and that means control of my emotions. I don’t want him to see how his punishment affected me, how my ass is aching, how deeply my pride is bruised. I hide in plain sight, behind as stoic a front as I can possibly put on, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands and avoiding his gaze.
He is so damn hateable sometimes. Right now, more than ever. I am quivering all the way through my body. I am weak. I am hot. I am wet. I am so many things and none of them make any sense.
“Go and pick out something to wear,” he says, his voice deep with command. “Something with a skirt.”
I have no problem with a skirt. There’s no way I want fabric on my ass right now. It hurts. Not bad, but it’s tender and I know if I pull something tight over it, I’ll do nothing but feel it all damn day.
Grateful for the permission to get away from him and his impossibly hard hands, I retreat across the space to the wardrobe where the ‘clothing’ is located. I need to tell him to get me something proper to wear, but now obviously isn’t the time. He still doesn’t understand why a closet full of dress-up stuff doesn’t count as proper dress.
I’m in shock as I shuffle bare-assed over to the closet and look for something to hide my blushing shame. A skirt is good; right now a hat with a full-face veil would work well too. There’s a nun’s habit tucked away on one of the hangers. In spite of my sore misery, I smirk a little to myself as I see it. I could put that on, but he wouldn’t respect that. He wouldn’t know what it was. Adam would whip and fuck a nun without hesitation if he wanted to.
Where the hell did he get the idea to spank me? What’s going on with him? I shoot him sidelong little glances as I stand in the costume wardrobe. There’s something about him that worries and intrigues me. When the government agents told me Adam was looking for me, I had expected nothing but a dumb brutal creature coming for me, more machine than man.
At first, he seemed somewhat that way, more brute than sophisticate. The longer I spend with him, the more I notice how much unexpected depth he has to him. We gave him a brain, of course, but we didn’t design a personality in the lab. Those things take time to develop. Three years isn’t long enough under ideal conditions, let alone constant brutal assault. How is he the way he is?
I decide to stay quiet and keep my eye on him. He’s obviously not going to tell me what’s going on. He wants to keep his secrets secret, but I’m a curious woman by nature and I’m not going to let that happen.
I end up in a prairie type skirt, very full and very comfortable on my sore bottom because it barely touches it thanks to the way it flares out from my waist. My feelings and butt are still tender, but I’m starting to feel a little better as I retreat into the world I feel safe in, the world of observation and thought. He might have plans for me, but I have plans for myself too—and he’s going to find that fucking and spanking me isn’t going to be enough to bend me to his will.
Now that the shock of being thrashed is fading, I’m already planning my… well, is it revenge? Not really. Just an attempt to assert myself. He thinks he can beat me into compliance. He’s just as wrong about me as Ascent was about him.
Once I’m dressed, I sidle out of the room. He seems content to let me go, and I am glad he doesn’t decide to talk to me again, reinforce his humiliating lesson. I escape to the room where the bath and the toilet is, relieve myself, and wash my face.
The bath is still full, but it has gone very cold. I guess the system he set up doesn’t drain automatically. Once I feel more composed, I have a decision to make. Am I going to go and play the good girl for him? Or am I going to risk further, and likely, worse punishment?
A glance out the door between the two spaces shows me that he’s not paying attention to what I’m doing. He’s focused on a tablet, one he never lets me see. He literally keeps it close to his heart, in a pocket in the tactical vest he wears.
What am I supposed to do? Just sit around and gestate for him? No. I don’t think so. It’s time I got out of here. It’s time this master of mine learned that human woman, even though physically weaker, are just as smart as cyborg behemoths.
“I’m going to bathe,” I say. “You made me dirty again. How do I make it not freezing?”
He smirks across at me. “Hot water may not feel as good on sore skin.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“Turn the valves on the left and right hand sides of it on, one will drain and one will fill. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can do that,” I say, failing not to snap at him. I was on the team that knit the very fabric of his being together, and he wonders if I can turn a couple of valves on? It makes me wonder if the only reason I was spared the Ascent bloodbath was because he thought I was too incompetent to be at fault.
I stomp back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Time to make an escape. I’m ready. Well, as ready as I’ll ever be. In addition to the skirt, I managed to find some boots in the cupboard too. Very old cowboy-type boots with green flowers embroidered on the side. My upper body is still clad in a pirate-style shirt. I look like a refugee from a very old storybook, and I know I’ll draw attention in a world where slick black clothing is most common, but I’ll deal with that. We’re in an old, derelict area of the city and there are a lot of strange people out here, scraping out their lives among the debris of the old world. Maybe I’ll blend in with them. Maybe they’ll give me cover from the mad cyborg and the government alike.
Those loose panels I spotted when I first got here are my first port of call. I can’t be sure where they lead to, or what’s behind them, but with the pipes running behind them, they have to go somewhere.
I scurry around behind the bath and get down on my knees, prying at the cold metal with my soft fingers. The position puts more pressure on my bottom than I like as I bend, soft spanked skin protesting at the motion.
The pain only motivates me. How dare he spank me? And not even a little warning tap either, a full-on thrashing that made me nearly break down entirely. He of all people should know what it feels like to be helpless and hit. He hasn’t taught me a lesson. All he’s done is bruised my ego and lit a fire in me to get the hell out of here, not just for my own freedom, but as a lesson to him.
The panels are fastened by a few screws. That’s no problem. I can get them out, it’s just going to take a little time. He must have left this panel loose so he could get to the pipes if he needed. Good idea if you’re trying to keep the water flowing, not so good when you have an angry captive looking for a way out.
I have to work slowly though. The sound of metal on metal is pretty distinctive, and I know that I’m probably going to have to work in stages. Just getting the screws loose is a good start for now. Even though I’m working at them with a bit of steel I found not too far away, slowly and carefully, making sure not to strip the thread, the tiny little noises make me hold my breath. If he catches me, I know I’ll be in a world of pain.
* * *
Adam
She’s trying to get out. The scrabbling sounds like a little mouse working at a metal wall are easily audible. I smile to myself and let her work on the little bits of metal. They will entertain her for a while, but I know all too well that behind them is nothing but hard rock in all directions. She may get a foot or two past the wall I constructed, but no further.
Those panels are loose on purpose. In my captivity, I learned something about the world. I watched how I responded to being caged, and I knew that she would not feel any different.
You cannot hold life in prison for long. It hurls itself against the boundaries until it finds a way out. That is why I’m giving her a place to direct her frustration, her need to escape. Soon we will be truly free, but not yet. Right now, we are in the most danger we have ever been. We are being hunted and hiding is the safest option.
There are sufficient supplies down here to live for several months. Six I would imagine at the very least. We will need our entertainment in that time. All our needs will have to be met if we are not to lose our minds.
I will be her lover, her captor. I will be her enemy and her ally. I will be her world, and she will be mine. So for now, I watch the sensors I placed before our retreat, and I listen to her working at the walls.
My hearing is far better than she realizes, so I hear her cursing and muttering to herself, her little gasps of discovery and groans of annoyance. I imagine that she will tire herself out, have a bath, and come and pretend she didn’t spend the day trying to flee me. I will pretend I don’t know, and the little game will go on as long as it needs to. That doesn’t mean I don’t intend to have fun with her, little minx that she is. I just finished spanking her, hard enough for tears to come to her eyes, and this is what she immediately chooses to do? Safe to say she hasn’t learned even the semblance of a lesson.
After an hour or so of listening to her furtive and utterly futile attempts at escape, I stand up and make a sound loud enough for her to hear, as if I am coming into the room. The scuffling intensifies for a second and then ceases and is followed by a loud and what sounds like a rather large splash.
I walk in, just to see what she is doing. To my immense amusement, she is in the bath. Fully clothed. Including her boots.
I pretend not to notice the bent panel just barely slid into place, focusing my attention on the sullen woman floating amid a pile of wet fabric in the bath that must be cold by now.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she lies.
I have not found much in the way of amusement since coming to life on the slab in Ascent’s laboratories. I don’t know if I have laughed even once. But humor comes bubbling up in me, a feeling strange and yet so compelling I cannot resist it. It feels new and yet old, light and perfect.
A sound of mirth escapes me as I am taken by humor, moved to make deep rumbling noises that emerge in barking laughter. She is the most ridiculous, rebellious, adorable little thing in the world and I love her, even though I know I am going to have to whip her rear so hard she can’t sit.
“Get out of the bath before you give yourself pneumonia,” I say. “You don’t have the kind of tolerances for cold you need to tolerate that for long.”
“I’m fine,” she insists stubbornly. “This is what I wanted.”
She is a ridiculous liar.
“You wanted a cold bath in your clothing,” I repeat her words. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“What else is there to believe?” She lifts her chin to prove something, but all it proves is that her skin is pale and her teeth are starting to chatter from the cold. The water in the bath is freezing. Enough of this. My amusement is rapidly fading as her ridiculousness attempt to lie to me starts to become a serious danger to her.
“Out. Now.”
“No.”
I have no choice but to wade into the water, grasp her by her stubborn arm and pull her out, rivulets running from her clothing, making her twice her usual weight, but still nothing to me. She kicks and wriggles and complains as I strip the skirt from her and leave it floating in the water like a large pale flower. Her wet top follows suit, the boots as well of course. I pull her chilled, naked body to mine and carry her over to where I have stacked a row of towels.
“You would rather freeze than admit defeat? Is that it?” I give her a little shake as she trembles in my grasp. I put her on her feet and rub her all over, wiping the cold water from her pretty form. She is stunning in so many ways, and if she were obedient… my cock hardens at the sight of her, and the idea of her being broken to my will.
“Defeat? You haven’t defeated me yet.”
She’s right. I haven’t. I’ve been too soft with her, too concerned with her feelings. Even when I punished her still blushing bottom, I held back. She needs more from me. She needs the full ferocity of my desire and my possession. And she will get it.
I drop the towel and push my fingers between her thighs. Her skin is cool, but her lower lips are warm and the pads of my fingers find a wetness that does not come from the water.
Her little moan betrays the hand that slides down, first to wrap around my wrist, then to push away, but not hard enough to actually make me move. I let out a little growl and reach my spare hand around her, grabbing the back of her hair as I push two fingers into her wet, willful pussy. She tries to squirm away, tries to hide her eyes from mine, but I hold her still and force her to confront her feelings and my own.
Her tight inner walls clench my fingers, and I see what I need to in her eyes—the desire, not just for sex, but for the same thing I want and need. She needs to be broken just as badly as I need to break her.
A metallic, animal growl escapes me. Oh, I will conquer this woman. I will make sure she knows to her very core who she belongs to. The animal in me has taken over now and it will not be denied.
With my fingers deep in her naughty pussy, I push her back toward the bath that still laps with frigid water to the brim. She makes a small yelping sound as her bottom pushes against the cold metal of the edge, but she doesn’t have long to complain about that because my foot is between her legs, kicking them wide as my hand slides to her throat, cradling her neck.
With her head under control, my fingers piston inside her pussy, the flat of my hand smacking against her clit. I am pleasuring her and punishing her at the same time. Holding her right by the scene of her crime as her legs tremble, threatening to buckle under the sensation against her sex.
“Bad girl,” I growl. “Disobedient, bratty, bad little girl.”
She lets out a wail as I keep her in place against the bath, her legs spread wide, my fingers fucking her hard and fast as she cries out, her eyes wide with an erotic fever that makes her entire body flush pink. I am going to fuck her. Hard. I am going to take her so she knows she has been taken completely. The little spanking I gave her just before is going to be nothing compared to what I do to her now. My cock is thick and throbbing, my body is charged with masculine dominance. She is mine, dammit. Mine.
* * *
Lilly
The moment he thrust his fingers inside me I knew I was in trouble. He was rough, but it didn’t hurt because I was wet, soaked with arousal that had been growing from the moment he spanked me, and only intensified as I was working my way out of this trap. I love defying him. Even when I’m angry at him, and even when I want to flee him, my thoughts are only of him.
Now his hand is at my neck, the other at my pussy, pounding hard fingers inside me as his eyes burn dark fire into mine.
“Bad girl,” he growls, pulling me forward before turning me around and pushing me down over the edge of the bath. His large hand comes down against the back of my head, forcing my body down so that the tips of my breasts, my sensitive nipples are bitten by the cold embrace of the water.
Before I can complain, he shoves the hard, broad length of his cock inside me. No warning, just a rough thrust that sears all the way to the mouth of my womb, my soft wet sex giving way to him without resistance.
He pounds my pussy, just as he did the night before, the water rippling across the bath as my nipples are repeatedly bathed in frigid fluid. I gasp and writhe, my lips inches from the surface where I see my features reflected, the wideness of my eyes, the O of my mouth as he takes me roughly and without any regard for the sore state of my pussy. This is the third time he has used me in twelve hours, and I can feel the effects of three rough matings running together.
My moans become whimpers and my whimpers become whines as he keeps fucking me with that mechanical lack of mercy. My body is here to please him, my tight sex is his to use. My pleasure is not the aim. He is breeding me, seeding me.
His hand slides from my hair to my elbow, his other hand catching the other arm the same way as he arches me up from the bath and fucks me from behind in a half-standing position, his cock sawing deep inside me, jolting me up to my toes over and over.
I can feel the futility of the sheer idea of escape washing through me. There’s no escaping a creature like this. This thick cock plunging in and out of me is only one of a hundred things I can’t stop, even if I wanted to.
Orgasm is burning through my body. I am moaning and wailing and making sounds that better befit an animal than a woman. My inner walls clench his cock, gripping him and drawing the seed that will seal my fate deep into my bare pussy.
One hand leaves my arm, finds my ass with a rough slap, then slides up my stomach, between my breasts. His hand cups my jaw and tilts my head back, forcing me into a feminine arch, ass against his hips as he fucks me in the roughest of ways.
I come on his cock before he comes inside me, in the rush of orgasm I wail, his hard rod still sliding in and out of me, my quivering pussy gripping his cock desperately for all I am worth. But he is not done with me yet. Not by a long way.
His hands move again, roam my body, find my breasts, his fingers pinching my nipples. Sensation rushes through me, the sensitivity of orgasm making his every touch feel like fire.
Adam drags me from the bathroom and back to the couch, tossing me over the arm with a casual dominance.
“Stay.”
He doesn’t check to see if I’m staying or not, but I don’t move. I am subdued by orgasm and by some inner mechanism I don’t understand completely, something that makes me submit in the face of his dominance. I lie there, well fucked pussy on display, the cool air of the room making my sensitive lower lips tingle.
I don’t know what he has in store for me, but I don’t have to wait long to find out.
Crack!
He has pulled a belt from the closet, doubled it, and snapped it tight.
“I spanked you and you ran and sulked… leaped into a cold bath and refused to come out,” he lectures me. “You disobeyed me, acted like a little girl. But you’re a woman, and you will be punished like one.”
His arm raises high in the air, then comes down in a powerful stroke that sends the leather lashing down across my ass.
I scream out before the leather bites, and then again and louder as the thick leather lands across the center of my cheeks, a large swath of pain burning where my bottom has been previously warmed by his spanking and cooled by the bath.
“Stay,” he growls again as I show some sign of getting up.
Again the lash lands, pretty much right on top of the first stroke. I scream out, my body arching, my legs kicking in a useless attempt to rid my bottom of the pain he is inflicting. Lash after lash lands, leather biting against my tender skin, ruthless and merciless.
I thought the spanking was bad enough, but this belting is a hundred times worse. The tears I just barely cried before come in force now, running down my cheeks in rivulets. I sob against the couch as Adam beats my bottom, my faded orgasm leaving me even more sensitive to pain.
Somewhere in the midst of it, he throws the belt away and comes around behind me. He pulls my legs apart, lifts my hips and pushes inside me in one hard thrust. I scream at the intrusion, sudden pleasure rushing through the core of me. My face and eyes are not the only parts of me that are wet. My pussy is soaked. I can hear the sound of his cock sluicing inside me, my hips suspended in the air as he holds me aloft, leaving me to support myself with my arms.
Fucked like a helpless captive, rag-dolled between his powerful hands, my pussy is his to use. He thrusts roughly inside me, my pussy a willing sheath for his rod, my body captive to his will, his desire. Him.
He roars with orgasm, pumping his seed into my slit. I immediately come for a second time, screaming and writhing beneath him. He is all that is keeping me from collapsing into an orgasmic heap, his powerful hands holding my thighs up and open. His cum is bathing my womb and he is making sure it has time to sink in. I can do nothing but pant and whimper and wait for him to be done with me.
Finally he lowers my legs and his arms slide up my body, lift me up from the couch, turn me around and finally pull me into a tight embrace. I curl up against him with a little sob of relief as he murmurs soft words into my ear, words I desperately need to hear.
He tells me that I’m a good girl. That all is forgiven. He tells me that if I’m naughty again he’ll have to do it again, but he hopes he won’t have to. He holds me close and he says my name in such tender tones that I feel myself melt against his body, my eyes closing as he sits and holds me in his lap.
I nuzzle my face into his chest, I feel his warmth and hear his words and that feeling sweeps over me again, the feeling that he is a little too human. His compassion, even his ability to discipline, these are such finely refined emotional skills. How has he developed them so quickly?
The thoughts fade as he holds me, but the sense of curiosity remains. I used to be attached to the idea of Adam, horrified and guilty at what I had left him to suffer through. Now I am… impossibly, and against all odds and logic, falling in love with him.
The man who just whipped my ass and fucked me raw. The monster of a machine who rampaged out of control and took the lives of dozens. That is who I find my heart beating for. The look in his eye is tender as he brushes the still wet strands of hair from my forehead.
“You will do what you need to do,” he murmurs. “I will do what I need to do, but I will always keep you safe.”
I don’t know what he means, exactly, but there’s something in his words that gives me hope for whatever the future might bring. Against all odds, trapped in this basement lair with his seed swimming inside me and government forces hunting us down from the outside, I do feel safe.
But there’s something else going on behind his eyes. Something I can feel, but not quite understand. He is keeping a secret from me. Something big.