Vicious

I don’t usually have this much trouble recruiting new employees. At least, I’m fairly certain I don’t. This isn’t something I usually handle personally. I have generals I trust to pick their people. But this position is a special one. I have an opening for a personal courier. A lot of men in my line of work treat couriers as disposable, hardly paying any attention whatsoever to who handles the most important aspect of their work: their deliveries. But I need a messenger I can trust with anything. I need someone adept at their job, someone smart enough to avoid the wrong kind of trouble, and ballsy enough to handle the right kind. In this case, I’ve chosen all those things as well as someone who has literally no option but to work for me, because her silly little life is in danger.

She’s not perfect. She’s young, she’s relatively inexperienced and she needs training. But I always knew I wasn’t going to pick someone up off the street perfectly formed for the task. I’m going to have to mold someone. I’m going to have to instill loyalty and most importantly: obedience.

This girl is a better candidate than she seems. She’s strong minded and she’s smart. She’s young enough to learn what she needs to, and pretty enough for that process to be fun. I know she doesn’t want to work for me, and that is already only adding to my enjoyment.

For now, there’s no rush. I stand and take stock of her.

She’s beautiful. She tries to hide it by wearing that incredibly generic makeup which obscures her features. The lipstick is garish. The mascara is too thick in the center and stops short of the outer lashes. The liner is too heavy. She’s made a mask for herself, one I can’t help but admire.

This little kitty already knows how to hide in plain sight. That’s a talent that is hard to teach. Most people spend their lives desperately trying to be whatever they think counts as ‘themselves’. When they put on a disguise, they end up being parodies of their hopes, their fears. But I don’t get anything from this girl. She’s turned herself into a trope, and that makes her almost unreadable.

Bound to a chair, she’s vulnerable. I know she doesn’t like those bonds, but they’re more than a convenient way to restrain her. They’re a test. I want to see how she handles the stress of confinement.

Right now, she’s handling it perfectly. She’s scared, but still sassy. As much pressure as I put on her, she comes right back with resistance.

I don’t think she’s a natural blonde. I’m guessing she’s a brunette. Most blondes are. Surveillance images show her natural eyes are a hazel gray blue green, a mixture of colors which suits her. Right now, they’re plastic blue. Colored contacts make her look like a doll.

My baser instincts whisper to me. That word: doll. I could use her like one. Wrap her up in rope and spread her thighs and… I draw my attention back to the moment. Can’t allow myself to be distracted by her physical charms, though they’re really not what is piquing my interest. There is something about this young woman. Something that reaches out and grabs me. I see strength in her eyes, but I also see pain, hidden all the way in the back, out of reach of most people. I want to reach in and pull it out, look at it and see what it is made of. It sings to me, that hidden angst.

Kitty

I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. I don’t like how deep his gaze seems to go. I definitely don’t like how he seems to be stripping away my outer layers, discovering my secrets without a word.

“I really mean it,” I repeat. “I’m not interested in working for you.”

“That’s a lie,” he says. “A naughty one at that. You’re very interested, Kitty. I can tell. You’re simply afraid.”

“You’re a mind reader, huh?”

He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach those emerald eyes. “In my line of work, it’s best to be able to read people. You’re upset at the way you’ve been taken. You’re afraid of what it will mean to become mine, but…”

“Become yours?” I snort. “I thought this was a job interview.”

“Oh, you’ll be mine, Kitty,” he smirks.

He’s an asshole. He knows what these words do to a woman. He’s making it sound like this is way more of a personal offer than it really is. I bet he makes women fall for him all the time. I bet they beg him for the chance to work for him.

“No. I’m not into this. Untie me, let me go, and let’s pretend this never happened.”

“You’re not in charge here, Kitty.” His face darkens. His brows draw down. He does not like my refusal and he seems to be struggling to avoid showing the depth of his displeasure. He doesn’t want me to see his brutal side, at least, not yet.

I lapse into silence. He can keep me here, I guess, but my answer isn’t going to change. I have enough work. I don’t need to take this underworld boogeyman on as a client.

“Looks like I have my work cut out for me with you, Kitty.”

He stalks toward me and crouches down in front of me. Up close, he is even more impressive. I swallow and try to keep my composure, but I know he can see the effect he has on me. My heart beats faster, my breaths are more shallow. There is a tingling low in my belly, a response to his sheer masculinity.

There are not many men in the world like Vicious. He has English elegance mixed with American brutality. He reaches out and puts his hand on my knee. I feel the heat of his body through my leggings. It feels sinful. When he speaks again, it’s in a casual drawl.

“When I was a boy, we got a new kitten. Little ginger and black thing. Speckled all over. Its mother had been wild and it wasn’t entirely tame. We were told we had to keep it inside until it settled down and realized we were where its food was going to come from. I think you’re not all that different.”

“Cute story, but I’m not a kitten. I can get my own food. And you’re delusional if you think I’m going to let you hold me captive.”

He smiles, but it’s not a pleasant one. “You don’t know enough to refuse me, Kitty. You’re an innocent in many ways.”

“I’m really not.”

“Oh but you are. You think having run a few packages for low level drug lords makes you worldly? It doesn’t. You and your friends are in more danger than you think. Whether you realize it or not, I did you a favor today by kidnapping you. And I’m doing you even more of a favor by keeping you.”

“Why?”

“You’ve drawn the attention of all the wrong people,” he smirks. “I’m just one of them.”

I don’t believe him, but I can’t ignore the fact that I am indeed captive, and that means he does know about me. Which means others could too. Which also means someone has been talking. I’m angry. Angry at Vicious for keeping me here. Angry at myself for being vulnerable enough to be caught. This is exactly what is not supposed to happen to me.

“So what’s the plan? Leave me tied to a chair until I agree to work for you?”

“Oh I think I can come up with more inventive ways to get your cooperation,” Vicious smiles darkly.

“Torture me? Beat me?” I don’t know why I’m giving him suggestions.

“Beating you is appealing, especially given your attitude,” he says, rising to his full height. “But I think we can avoid the torture for now. First, a little road trip is in order.”

He walks behind the chair. I feel his presence, strong and somehow calming even though this is a terrible situation. The bonds at my ankles loosen first, and then the ones at my wrists. I spring out of the chair as soon as I can and put distance between myself and Vicious.

He stands there, the ties in his hands, watching my every move. I get the feeling I am being thoroughly examined. He doesn’t know me, but he wants to. I have to avoid feeling flattered. I have to shut down all the stupid female instincts which are already making me want to agree to do whatever he wants. Resistance might be futile, but it is important.

“Come with me,” he says. “And don’t think about running, or that beating will be closer than you think.”

I shoot a dark look at him. I don’t appreciate the threats of violence. He looks back at me, his expression calm and certain. He means it. Goddamn.

Vicious turns on his heel and walks toward the door. He seems to simply expect me to follow him, and I do. I could make a break for it, but I’m smart enough to know there’s no point running. He could chase me down no trouble at all and then things might get really nasty.

Yes, I’m afraid of him. Any smart girl would be. Mouthing off is one thing, but outright defiance is too much to risk. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it already. He is actually trying to get me on his side of my own free will, and that’s interesting.

He didn’t need to kidnap me. He could have just asked me to meet him. I would have come. I still would have said no to the job, though. My refusal comes out of a mixture of fear, self-preservation, and a sense that I would never be up to the sort of work he’d require of me. I don’t play at his level, and I wouldn’t want to.

We leave the room and I discover that it’s been walled up out of a small warehouse. A car is waiting outside, a large white SUV. It’s so pedestrian it makes me laugh.

“Need a vehicle that doubles as a drive by assault weapon, and a practical car for dropping the kids off at soccer?” The snark escapes my lips before I can stop it.

He snorts and opens the back seat rear door. “I’m not a family man, Kitty. Get in.”

I get in the back. He shuts the door and leaves me there, then gets in the driver’s seat. This crazy day is about to get even crazier, I can tell. After being tied up and threatened, I’m now being chauffeured around by a master criminal for reasons I’m not privy to.

“Put your seat belt on.”

He snaps the order as if I’m a bratty kid. I bristle, but I do as he says. If anything crazy happens, I don’t want to be rattling around loose in the back of this thing. I choose to sit behind the front passenger seat so I can keep an eye on him. I can only see the side of his face, but that’s enough.

“This doesn’t make sense…”

“What doesn’t?”

“You could hire any courier. You don’t have to go through this much hassle. Like I said, I have a friend who…”

He gives a brief sigh as he turns the key in the ignition. “I want you, Kitty, so I’m taking you.”

Those words send warmth coursing through me, but I know better than to trust whatever this is. We pull out of the industrial park and start heading toward the river. I know this city as a series of zones. There are parts of it where I’m not comfortable. There are parts that make my inner warning systems scream. The river is one of them. Nothing good happens down by the water. Its a dumping ground for all the city’s trash, and more than one of my associates has ended up floating in it, debris just like the old tires, used diapers, and stolen bicycles. The closer we get to the water, the more concerned I become. Fear makes me start asking the same questions I asked before, the ones he already refused to answer.

“You need to tell me what’s going on. You need to tell me why you’ve taken me.”

“I’m trying to…” his lips quirk as if something humorous just struck him. “I’m trying to save you.”

“Save me? From what?”

“No more questions, Kitty. It’s time for me to show, not tell.”

“What are you saving me from?” My voice is getting pitchy and shrill.

“From what you probably damn well deserve, now shut up.”

“Asshole.”

He pulls the car over and turns around, gives me the full benefit of his clear, green gaze.

“Earlier today, several of your associates met an unpleasant and premature end. You were scheduled to be among them. I decided I didn’t want that to be the case.”

“That’s bullshit.”

His eyes narrow at me. “You’re not a good listener, Kitty. You’re going to have to work on that.”

“I heard you, I just don’t believe you.”

He gives a shrug. It doesn’t matter to him if I believe him or not. He starts the car again and we drift down the road. The river gleams at the side of the bank. There are people walking along it in short shorts, walking dogs, gliding on roller skates. It’s a sunny day and they’re blissfully unaware of who is driving down the road next to them.

Sunlight flashes off the ripples, but it is a different hue of lights which get my attention. There are two ambulances up ahead, and at least three cop cars. Tape indicates that there’s an active incident occurring. Vicious is obviously implying that this has something to do with me and the people I work with, but there’s no evidence for that.

I say nothing as Vicious swings round and parks the car on the other side of the road and rolls the window down so I can see what’s going on. It looks like someone has been pulled out of the water. There’s a stretcher being wheeled into an ambulance with a black bodybag on top of it.

“Why are we here?”

I half-whisper the question.

“That,” Vicious says. “Is, or rather was, Rollo Hall.”

Rollo is someone I worked for. One of my best clients. A big guy with an easy laugh and a lot of stuff that needed to get around the city. Some months he made up over half my income. And he was a good payer. Never had to chase down what I was owed.

“How do you know that?” My mouth is dry.

“I know that for the same reason I know he caught two nine millimeter bullets to the head.”

“You killed him?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“Rollo got in business with the wrong people. He got you into business with the wrong people. And now, every inch of his network is being wiped out. Top down. A complete clean. All his foot soldiers. All his employees. All his independent contractors. The city is running red today, Kitty. And you’re on the list.”

I’m frozen. Sitting in the backseat, staring at the crime scene, wondering if he is telling me the truth and feeling somewhere in my gut that he must be. There would be no point lying to me about this. I would soon find out if Rollo was alive the next time he called me. Usually I’m able to forget about this side of the business. Couriers might participate in crime, but we stay away from the bloody stuff, most of the time, at least.

“Why me? Why am I on the list? I haven’t done anything…”

“Why not you, Kitty?” Vicious rolls the window up and sends the car back into the flow of traffic. “This is why I’m offering you a job. I think you can be better than you are. I think you can improve to the point where you won’t need a knight in a white SUV to rescue you.”

I don’t buy this. There’s something very strange going on. There’s no reason for Vicious to take an interest in me, and he knows far too much to not be involved. That’s assuming that what I just saw is actually what he says it was. For all I know he just drove around until he found the first ambulance and then told me a story.

Sitting back in the seat, I try to think, but Vicious has no interest in letting me have time to think.

“There is one way to avoid meeting his fate, Kitty. You work for me and you become untouchable.”

I’m barely listening to him. Someone is dead. He wanted me to see a body. There is obviously a threat, whether it comes from him, or someone else. I have to take this seriously. I have to pretend to accept his offer. At least until I can work out what is really going on. If there is someone else trying to hurt me, maybe he can help. If this is his twisted way of pulling me into his web, then maybe I’ll have a better chance of getting out of his grip if I at least play along.

“Alright.”

“What was that, Kitty?”

“I said alright. I’ll work for you.”

He glances in the rear view mirror, and I’m sure I can see triumph in his eyes.

“We’ll see.”

My jaw drops. “What do you mean, we’ll see? You just spent the last hour trying to convince me!”

“I offered you an opportunity. It remains to be seen if you are up to it.”

“You…” I can’t believe this.

“Now that you understand, you’ll have your chance to earn your place with me.”

He fucking played me like a fiddle.

“And if I’m not up to it?”

Those green eyes turn toward me again. “Then you’re on your own.”

That’s probably supposed to scare me, but I’ve been on my own for a long time. Right now, I’d like nothing more than to be alone. I need to put some feelers out and find out if Rollo really is dead. I need to talk to Blaze. She’d give me good advice, or at least, advice.

“I’m going to put you in an apartment,” he says. “It’s nicer than your old one, and much more secure. I will have your things moved at a later date.”

“So this has all been about, what, mindfucking me? Making me think I was captive, then giving me a choice, then telling me you might help me…” God he’s an asshole. The dramatics surrounding this whole situation are just ridiculous. “You know what you should do? Take me to a morgue and try and scare me straight down there. Or to a shooting range and tell me the bullets are all for me…”

“Enough!” He snaps the word harshly and I fall silent. “I don’t enjoy or want your attitude,” he says firmly. “I’ve done what I’ve done because your profile suggested you needed to be shown, not told.”

My profile? That’s cop talk. But Vicious is no cop. He’s a manipulative fucking dick. I keep that thought to myself as we roll up to a midtown apartment block. It’s four stories high, solid brick construction. Old. Probably used to be a single family home until a developer bought it and turned it into multiple apartments.

I get out of the car, still in shock. I’m keeping it together, but this day hit a ten on the weird scale the moment Vicious took me, and it only got worse from there.

The interior of the building is modern. Vicious leads me into an elevator and punches the number three. The elevator rises for about ten seconds, then the doors slide open directly into an apartment far fancier than anything I thought I’d ever live in.

It has exposed brick work and beams. Floor to ceiling windows. An open plan kitchen. It looks like something out of a real estate reality tv show and I hate it. My apartment is small and closed in. When I go into it, I feel protected by the walls and the heavy doors. Here I feel exposed.

“So this is basically the least secure place you could find? Elevator opens into it? Enough window space to let even the most amateur of snipers get a shot?” I turn to Vicious, shaking my head. “I’m not staying here.”

Vicious reaches out, grabs me by the front of my shirt and yanks me hard up against his body. When he speaks, there’s nothing civilized left in him.

“Listen, you spoiled little shit,” he snarls. “This is nicer than you deserve, and better than you’ve earned. I’m just about tired of arguing with you. You’re going to stay here. You’re going to do as you’re told, and you’re going to fucking like it. Understand?”

I freeze. I stare at him, but nothing comes out of my mouth. He is huge. He could crush me. He could kill me and nobody would ever find out or care. That’s the truth of the situation, no matter how much I cover it up by being petulant about the whole thing.

After a few seconds, his jaw unclenches and his expression softens. “You’re going to get into serious trouble with me if you don’t get your attitude in check. Now, be a good girl and say thank you for the apartment.”

“Th.. thank you for the apartment,” I stammer.

Vicious

She’s beautiful right now. Her fear makes her flush with what could be desire, and her eyes are wide and expressive as hell. She’s regretting what she said. This girl is all mouth. She’s never learned not to run it, but I’ll teach her that and so much more. By the time I’m done with her, she’s going to be obedient.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I murmur the words down at her. “Just a little gratitude.”

Her eyes flash. We both know she’s my captive. I don’t have to tie her up. I don’t have to lay a finger on her. She’s fucking mine. She can sense it, even though she doesn’t understand all the events that have led her to this point.

I haven’t lied to her. She is in danger. Rollo made a big mistake recently and today it cost him his life, along with ten of his known associates. Kitty is a ways down the list, but they’ll be coming for her to get information about drop off points, contacts, all the little bits and pieces of information a good courier collects in her line of work.

That intel is going to be mine.

I release my grip and let her stumble back. The couch catches her behind the knees and she plops down, still staring at me. God, the things I could do to this girl. Tear off those tacky clothes for starters and examine every inch of her body. Wash the makeup off her face and make her look at me as she truly is. I know why she wears that crap, but it’s beneath her. She has a hell of a lot of natural beauty hiding behind all that foundation and blush.

“So, uh. What now?” She asks the question nervously.

“What now, Kitty,” I say. “Is you start talking. I want to know where you’ve been lately. I want to know who you’ve been delivering to.”

“Oh. Hm.” She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “No. Can’t tell you that.”

A second ago I felt her trembling in my grasp. Now she tells me no? I am finding her ability to be terribly afraid and yet resist that fear entirely charming in all the wrong ways.

“This is part of the deal,” I tell her. “I take you on. I keep you safe. And in return, you tell me what you know.”

Her lips thin even more. “I’m not going to do that, Vicious.”

She uses my street moniker like it’s my name. I’ve never met anyone who did that before. It’s oddly charming, and, in an off-beat way, quite respectful. She’s given me so much attitude, far more than I’d usually tolerate, but there are moments like this when her respect shines through, even in her defiance. Interesting. Usually people smile and simper and tell me precisely what I want to hear while they have hatred in their eyes. My little kitty is the exact opposite.

“Oh, but you are. The question is, how much is it going to have to hurt before you do?”

I expect to see the fear return, but she shakes her head again. “That’s my whole reason for being. My job depends on me being able to keep my mouth shut. If you want me to work for you, you have to know I’m not going to tell someone your business if they put me in their mom wagon and show me an ambulance.”

She just called my car a mom wagon.

Damn brat.

“Do I need to get rough with you, little girl?”

I extend my arm and begin unbuttoning the cuff of my shirt before rolling it up. This was always going to get physical, I just wasn’t precisely sure how. Now I know.

Kitty

Oh. God.

He has tattoos running all the way up his forearm, which is brutishly muscled in the way that men who use their bodies for doing things are. Sinewy, you might call it. He is so fucking hot. I know he’s dangerous. I know he’s going to hurt me. Hell, I know he wants to hurt me. He’s counting on it. It’s in his eyes, that green intensity, that devilish charm.

So why do I keep taunting him? And why do we have such an easy dynamic already — tense, sure, aggressive, no doubt— but we were strangers not long ago and now we’re locked in a battle of wills like a couple who just moved in together and can’t decide on bar soap or shower gel. There’s a familiarity to him that I know is going to get me in more trouble than I need to be in - because I don’t know him. I need to stop feeling like I do.

“You don’t need to get rough with me,” I lie, my voice husky as he works at the other sleeve, preparing himself for I don’t know what.

“Are you sure? Because you keep asking for it, Kitty. You’re begging for it.”

He crosses over to where I’m sitting, prowling like an animal.

I start to crawl back over the couch, shimmying with every step he takes until I run out of couch and then I end up back on my feet, backing toward the far wall, which is just a window.

“Stop moving.”

Two words pin my feet in place. I stand still as he closes the distance between us and takes hold of me again. There’s a rush when he does. A sensation of excitement and fear mixed together.

“I want you to tell me everywhere you’ve been in the last week. Every job. Every package. Every drop off.”

I shake my head wordlessly. That’s not going to happen. If he respects what I do at all, he will understand that. This is probably a test. And I don’t intend to fail it.

“I’m not going to tell you anything. You know I can’t.”

“Loyalty is an excellent trait, and discretion is even more admirable, but you’re mine now, and you will have no secrets from me. What job did you do yesterday?” He asks the question softly, his big hands running up and down my arms in a stroking motion. It’s soothing, but I know better than to trust it, or him.

“I’m going to enjoy making you talk,” he says in a gentle voice.

His hands curl around my wrists and draw them up over my head. His hips come forward and urge me backward toward a support pillar. My back finds the brick. My wrists are pushed against the hard surface, one of his hands pinning them in place as the other roams down my side over my hip and settles at the top of my thigh.

Those eyes sear into mine.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

Click.

No sooner is the question out of my mouth than I find myself trapped. I didn’t notice the shackle on the pillar, but I feel the metal close around my wrists. He stands back and folds his arms over his chest.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, Kitty. We’re a long way from that.”

“Vicious, this…” I tug at the shackle. It doesn’t move. “This isn’t fair.”

“Fair?” He laughs. “There’s no such thing as fair. You know that. You get out of those when you tell me what you did yesterday.”

“Well. I woke up. I had breakfast…”

“Without the redundant parts, please.”

“How am I supposed to know what’s redundant and what isn’t?”

His brows draw down over those incredible eyes, eyes which are fast becoming my entire world. “You know what I want.”

I do know what he wants. And I’m not going to give it to him.

Vicious shakes his head and walks away.

These shackles are not comfortable. They’re not so high I can’t bring my elbows down a bit, taking the pressure off my shoulders, but they’re still not good. This, like all things, is a demonstration. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ll worry when things stop being demonstrations and start being real.

He walks back into the room.

“What the fuck?!” The exclamation escapes my mouth as things get really fucking real, really fucking quick.

Vicious has returned with a goddamn bullwhip curled in his hand. He stands back several dozen feet unfurling the thing with a CRACK which makes me jolt in my shackles.

“This is why I like open plan spaces,” he says. “So much more room for activities.”

His arm swings back and the whip follows, the thick leather plait arcing through the air until the tongue of it snaps just a few inches away from my chest. I snug back against the pillar as far as I can go and shake my head. “This is crazy. What are you going to do? Whip the information out of me?”

He walks toward me, the handle of the whip in his hand as he reaches out and takes hold of the neckline of my shirt. Looking me dead in the eye, he yanks at it hard enough to tear the fabric right down the middle. My bra is exposed, my bare belly and the tops of my breasts now vulnerable not just to his whip, but to his gaze.

“Very nice, Kitty,” he smiles. “Keep resisting, and I’ll get to see every part of you.”

“Fuck you,” I growl.

His hand slides up to my face and taps the left side of my cheek firmly. “Enough,” he purrs. “I want to know what you’ve been up to, Kitty, and you’re going to tell me.”

He walks back, marks his distance again. My eyes are locked on the arm holding the whip, the way his forearm ripples when…

CRACK!

The tip of the whip snaps just under my nose.

“Pay attention, Kitty.”

I feel a blush creeping over my face. He knows the effect he has on me. The bra I’m wearing doesn’t help. It’s black lace, not my usual attire, but today was supposed to be my day off. My nipples are erect, pressing against the soft fabric.

“Yesterday. What work did you do?”

I bite my lower lip. If I tell him, I’m betraying myself, my entire code. If I don’t…

CRACK!

The tip of the whip zips against the underside of my left breast. It’s a sharp sensation, just the very end of it licking across the satiny fabric of the lower cup. I gasp as my body reacts, the signals from my breast running through my flesh, finding the core of me, making my face blush furiously.

“You’re adorable,” he drawls in that English accent. “But you have to obey me. Your loyalty belongs to me from this point forward. I own you now, Kitty.”

Again there is that sense of familiarity. It feels like I know him, but I don’t really. It’s just his reputation I know. He is living up to every bit of it right now.

“You won’t,” I say. “You’ll do what men do. Get what you want and be done with me.”

“We’re not talking business anymore, are we?” He’s perceptive.

The lash snakes out again, finds my right breast. A little higher than the one that landed on the left. A little closer to the nipple. I draw in a hissing breath and bite my lower lip to stop myself from crying out, not in agony, but in pleasure. He knows how to handle that whip. I can tell I am on the receiving end of a master’s touch.

“This is all very Fifty Shades, but I’m still not interested. Professionally, or otherwise.”

My dry response belies the fact that my body is lit with sexual fire. He’s dangerously close to discovering my most closely held, fiercely guarded secret. I like pain. Everything that hurts makes it better. If he cracks that whip again, if he makes me hurt, I win.

He lets out a laugh. It’s charming and it too does things to me. There’s a part of me that wants to give in. It’s growing all the time. He hasn’t exactly given me a choice, and maybe that’s why I need to resist. Or maybe it’s because I really do know what men like him are like. All this intense attention is because he wants something. This with the shackles and the apartment and the whip, for all I know it’s utterly calculated. Maybe he did his research. Maybe somehow he knows…

CRACK

This time the whip lands with more intensity, back on the left breast, the tip of it curls around under my nipple, drawing me to my toes as I let out another hissing breath.

“Eyes on me,” he growls.

I look at him. Really look at him. He’s impossibly handsome, and entirely focused on me. Right now, it feels like it is just the two of us in this world. The fucked up thing is, this might be the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.

“It’s not going to work.”

“I think it is.” he says. “I think it’s already working.”

I take a shuddering breath. He is mindfucking me. I have to resist his pull. I have to keep myself separate and safe. I have to…

CRACK

The same stroke blazes across my left breast. I crunch, my knees drawing up as a powerful bolt of sensation zips right down to my crotch. He thinks he’s humiliating me. Hurting me. And he is. But he’s also going to make me cum if this keeps up.

“Fucking asshole,” I growl.

“Yes. And worse.”

The whip lands again. And again.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

I gasp. I hiss. And then, I moan.

Vicious

This was not the plan. I’m losing control almost as much as she is. I meant for this to frighten her. I meant to scare her into compliance. I thought one crack of the whip would be enough to turn her into a sobbing, begging mess, but she’s absorbed everything I’ve given her, and from the way her hips are moving, I can tell she’d take more. Maybe everything I have to give. The whip is tasting her, making her dance for me. Her nipples are two hard little nubs under her bra. She moves with an elegance I didn’t think she had in her, her head falling back, her red lips parting to give voice to the most exquisite sounds I have heard come from a woman. There is yearning, desperate need in her voice.

I am rock hard.

This is dangerous.

I want to fuck her. But I can’t. Not yet.

It takes all the self control I have to coil the whip back up and leave both her and me in a state of unfulfilled desire.

She’s red and panting. She’s so close to orgasm it’s beautiful.

Maybe I can use that.

I drop the whip and walk over to her, kick her feet apart. She looks at me with those sparkling eyes, her cheeks still so flushed. She looks like she’s been fucked already, and I’ve barely touched her. I can only imagine how she would react if I were to cut these leggings off her and push myself inside her.

I need to stay in control. She needs to lose it.

“Do you want to cum, Kitty?”

I hear a soft moan and nothing more.

“Answer me. Now.” I fist her hair and pull it back, making her raise her eyes to me as I thrust my thigh between hers. The hard ridge of my leg finds her soft sex. She pushes back, grinding, dry humping me like a teenager.

“Yesss….” The word is dragged from the very core of her.

My hand goes to the breasts my whip has tasted, my fingers finding the tips of her nipples. I pinch them lightly as she rubs her crotch over my leg, shamelessly stimulating herself. The whip has made the world a different place, it has intoxicated her with endorphins. She would do anything right now, sexually at least. But she still isn’t telling me what I want to know.

“You’re going to cum for me, Kitty, because you’re a naughty girl and you like pain, don’t you… don’t you!” I insist more, my fingers pinching her nipples harder. She jolts her hips forward, grinding against me with growing desperation.

I am giving her almost nothing in the way of stimulation. Not my kiss. Not my cock. Just my fingertips and my thigh, and that is enough for her to rub her frenzied body over my leg. In my experience, sexual release like this is symptomatic of long periods of repression. This is a girl who usually keeps her nose clean. Stays away from the wrong men and the wrong situations. Now she doesn’t have a choice. The juices from her sex are soaking through her leggings and dampening my pants.

“I do,” her admission is hissed through clenched teeth.

My hands slide from her breasts and find her bottom. I pull her forward, harder against my thigh, giving myself enough room to swing my arm while still keeping her in her shackles, and I slap her round ass hard and fast, jolting her against my hard thigh over and over until she screams her climax and goes limp in my grasp.

Kitty

I collapse, sated, hanging from my shackles. That was an orgasm like I have never had before. He just took everything that was pent up inside me and released it in one torrent of pure pleasure. The sensation is still rippling through my body, making me tingle all over. My bottom aches where he slapped me, my breasts sting from the little kisses of the whip, and I am trapped on the fulcrum of his thigh, my pussy grinding against his leg until he withdraws and steps back.

I am a mess.

“I’m still not going to tell you what you want to know,” I gasp weakly.

“Uh huh.” He smirks, triumphant. He’s already back to business, standing before me cool and collected while I lean against my shackles and try to gather a semblance of thought. “Let me tell you what I know, in that case. Yesterday, you took a message to a man. You met him at the municipal library. Your exchange was uneventful, at least on the surface.”

That’s right. That’s exactly what I did yesterday. “What the… if you knew, why did you take all this time interrogating me?”

“You can always assume I don’t ask a question I don’t know the answer to,” he rumbles. “You will have to get into the habit of answering me when I ask. Not because I don’t know, but because it is your duty to tell me.”

He comes forward and unhooks my shackles. My arms are aching, and I am flushed and embarrassed at my reaction to his treatment. All it took was a touch of the whip and I was lost in sensation, ready to give my intimate self to him.

Vicious could have taken full advantage of me. He could have… I don’t even dare to think of all the things I would have allowed him to do to me once that lash started to land.

Blaze is right. I don’t have much sex. That’s because most sex is pedestrian and uninteresting. Grunting and thrusting, in and out, in and out, nothing exciting. But when there is pain, that’s when I come alive. That’s when my desire rages out of control. I just rutted myself shamelessly on a near stranger’s leg because he used a whip on me. Any respect Vicious might have had for me must be obliterated by now.

“Asshole,” I groan, collapsing down onto the couch he guides me over to. As I grow weaker, he seems to be growing stronger. I curl up on the soft surface. To my surprise, he pulls a blanket over me, his hand drifting lightly over my hair.

“Rest, Kitty. You’ll need your strength.”

I lie there, utterly undone. I don’t fully understand what happened. On a mechanical level, it was just a sexual encounter, and not even a very explicit or intimate one. He was fully dressed the whole time, and for the most part, so was I.

I have been running on adrenaline for hours. Suddenly, I am bereft of it. He has given me release which lets the full force of my exhaustion be felt. I have to stay alert. I have to keep whatever shreds of control remain. I have to…