CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GRACE
This is hardly the time or place, but I god I need the escape right now.
I slink deeper into the cell, reaching down to the floor and scooping up a set of abandoned handcuffs. I dangle them in right of Hunter. “Lookie, lookie, what I found.”
He swipes them from me, pulling the key free
“And what do you intend to do with those?”
He smiles. “Wait and see.”
I stand with my back to the cold bite of the bars as he opens the cuffs and hooks one around my wrist. It snaps into place. He tightens it further. I wince as he loops the cuffs through the bar, higher where it runs parallel, so my arms are forced high above my head. The other cuff clicks around my free wrist. I’m locked in, afforded little movement.
I can barely keep my breathing steady in anticipation. It catches, Hunter steps forward, and with two hands tears my shirt down the middle, the buttons skittling across the floor. He pulls what remains loose and repeats the process with my bra, the thick material providing a satisfying sound as it too is torn free and discarded.
My breasts spring free, nipples pulling tight in the cold, subterranean air.
Hunter looks pleased with himself, finally able to assert himself as the alpha.
And right here, now, I’m happy to let him.
I breathe hard and ragged, breasts bouncing in my periphery below.
A smile lights up Hunter’s face. He lowers his head, eyes rolling over the soft mounds. “Are you ready to be inspected?”
He steps forward and takes my breasts in his hands, lifting and kneading them together. He rubs the nipples with the pad of his thumbs until they’re painfully erect, russet twigs atop my areolae.
The situation is surreal, but I’m keenly aware of everything around me. My senses are heightened. I hear more, feel more as my heartbeat gallops away and I start to pant.
Hunter’s hands fall away, and my breasts sit back in place, nipples tender. “All clear here, but I better check down below. You know, given the curious places you ladies like to conceal things.
His hand runs down my pants to bottom out in my crotch, a warm finger running right into my slit.
I’m so wet there’s barely any resistance.
I notice the bulge growing in his pants, my heartbeat quickening.
His finger turns upwards and runs right into my soaking pussy. My folds part easily for him, sucking the long digit in.
I gasp openly, mouth caught in shock as he slowly slides his finger in and out, squelching audibly in my arousal. His eyes are on mine the whole time, sharp blue and opalescent.
He presses his finger deeper, probing right to the end of my hot sex. “Do you know how fucking wet you are?” he whispers, stubble brushing my cheek. “Is this turning you on, Ms. Siddell?”
I’m so turned on I cannot summon my mouth to move. We might be on the run, fighting our lives, but none of that matters when he’s on me, in me.
Hunter draws his zipper down slowly, pulling his cock free and stroking the thick appendage before me. It’s already fiercely erect, the bulbous helmet of him flushed a deep and scarlet red. “This is what you want, isn’t it? Tell me.”
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I want your cock.”
His eyes are glazed over. He’s hungry—ravenous.
There’s a loud noise overhead, a car backfiring in a nearby alleyway. I twitch, the cuffs digging into the delicate skin of my wrists.
Hunter walks past me to the corner of the cell, crouching down to retrieve something from the floor.
He holds it before me, one of the old batons the Captain liked to pony around with. He probably used it to beat down countless perps in this very cell.
It’s smooth and long, at least eight inches or more.
Hunter examines it, polishing it against his pants until it’s a glossy, pitch black.
My pussy clenches hard.
Hunter kneels and draws my pants down to my ankles, my panties balled up inside. He removes my shoes first, adding each garment of clothing to the ever-growing pile on the floor until I’m bare and wet before him, his warm breath against my clit.
He stands and grips me under the knee, scissoring my leg up against the side of my body. He places tip of the baton against the warm cushion of my cleft. He holds it there against my opening, drawing out the anticipation.
He places his head beside mine, his voice level and even, all power. “What would like me to do with this, Ms. Siddell?
“Put it… Put it inside me.”
“Is that so?”
“Please,” I beg.
He slides it up, my own slick arousal to lubricate the thick head of it. He rubs it back and forth over my clit until my legs weaken and I mew, eyes closed, as I begin to break down internally and submit in full.
All my weight is placed on my wrists as I hang, Hunter still holding one leg up as the baton heads back down, nestling in my slippery folds.
His lips are at my ear. “You like that, don’t you?” The first inch of the baton slides into my body.
“You do, don’t you?”
He lets it slide and rise inside me, screwing it around before pulling it out and sliding it back in again, deeper still.
“You like that? Being fucked by my big black baton?”
My tongue is thick and heavy in my mouth. I hesitate before responding, “Yes.”
He fucks me harder with the baton, more and more of its black rubber disappearing into my wet depths.
“I like it,” I tell him.
“You like what?” he continues.
I look to him with hazy eyes, breasts bouncing on my chest as the baton spears manically into my heated seam. “I like being fucked by your baton.”
And with that he draws the baton away.
He places the glistening tip against my mouth. “Suck it.”
I part my lips and he slides the baton between them. I can taste rubber, myself, the tart taste of my own desire. “Good girl.”
I like this dominant side, seemingly restrained away for so long. This Hunter deserves to have his turn in the limelight.
Hunter turns me around violently, my face pressed up against the icy bars, my mouth slack and open in anticipation.
My ass rounded out to him, he kicks my legs apart, my ass cheeks forced to comply, pulling apart so I am completely exposed.
His cock bobs perpendicular to his body, swollen hard with need.
He doesn’t waste any time.
He dips the tip of the baton in and out of my pussy a few times to lubricate it before sliding it back to sit against my taint.
This is new.
I play along, trying to buck off the bars, but the pain in my wrists is excruciating—wonderfully excruciating.
I’ve had my share of interesting sexual encounters, but I’ve never been taken in the ass before. There’s no way the baton will fit inside me.
“It won’t fit,” I protest, but Hunter’s having none of it. With both hands on the handle at the base, he twists the baton until it gradually slides past the tight ring of my anus and into the hot corridor beyond.
I let out a low and loud groan as the baton fills me. He pulls it out and runs it in again, working and reaming out my backside until my head lolls on my shoulders and I really do think I’m stuck in some strange, twisted dream.
New sensations run from head to foot. The taboo is forcing my body into areas unknown, my head puzzled by these unknowns. Fear and dread rises and falls, mixing with a myriad of other emotions into a heady cocktail that’s fast threatening to pull me under.
The strange thing is I grow wetter, spread even wider with his efforts, because this is not the Hunter Beckett I’ve come to know. This is something new and fresh and frightening in the very best way possible.
“That’s a real tight asshole you have,” he says, grunting with the effort as last few inches of the baton disappear and I feel the hard crossbar of the handle kiss the bottom of my cheeks.
With a stunted gasp I realize the baton is completely buried inside me, all eight burning inches of it.
I’m close already, an orgasm simmering slowly beneath the surface, balling up in my lower body.
Hunter pulls the baton back and rams it forward again, slowly fucking me with it until the pain mixes with pleasure and I can no longer find the fine line that separates the two. Fresh pain flares in my wrists, my shoulders and arms sore. I don’t know what’s going on, how I got here or what I’m doing until finally, the baton is drawn away completely and my asshole draws closed.
Limp, lost, I’m dimly aware of the cuffs being undone in turn.
There’s another backfire outside. I jump again, startled.
Hunter carries me to the mattress in the corner and the steel frame that supports it inches off the ground.
“Kneel,” he commands.
I kneel in front of the cot.
He moves behind me and roughly pulls my hands behind my back.
I cry out as he twists them into position near my lower spine, hooking the cuffs around one wrist and then clicking the other into place so I’m fully restrained, my elbows butterflied out.
He gets up onto the cot, pulling me on top of him. His cock is poised at the heated folds of my pussy.
He directs his member deep inside my narrow passage. “Is this what you want?”
“God,” I whisper, as his huge cock glides inside me. It finds areas of sensation there I never knew existed, pleasure spiraling through my body as my hair hangs forward over the ground, a nipple pulled into his mouth.
There’s a thumb against the tight pastille of my anus, pressing, testing its resistance.
This can’t be happening.
But it is, and I’m losing myself, that tomboy girl who has always struggled to find the sexual submissive.
More than anything I want to be fucked, penetrated in every single hole I have. Just once I want to be that dirty girl all the boys banged behind the bleachers. Just once I want to deal with the consequences later.
Hunter grips the flesh of my cheeks tight and thrusts upwards. I tremble slightly as a finger disappears into my ass, followed by another, both of them reaming me out from the inside.
Ho-ly shit.
Again, he drives upwards with his cock and now I can feel his fingers and cock rubbing through the thin wall inside me, alternating and thrusting deeper.
He lets go of my ass and pulls my hair together into a tight ponytail, using it to reel my head back so I’m staring at the cracked roof of the cell and the caged light at its center.
There’s more commotion from the city streets outside.
This could be it. This could be the end, but I channel the fear and force it down to where my climax is steadily knitting itself together.
Suddenly Hunter pulls free, lifting me off and standing on the cot, his wet cock before me.
“Open wide,” he says, guiding it between my lips.
I take it willingly. He uses my hair to saw it in and out, telling me all the while how dirty I am, how ashamed I should be. The country boy is gone.
Right now, Hunter Beckett is alpha incarnate.
He thrusts deeper down my gullet, his hard length leaving little room to breathe. My jaw aches when he pulls away. I take in air, drawing it deep into my lungs as though it’s my last.
Satisfied, he lets go of my hair and flips me over, sliding easily into the deepest reaches of my pussy.
A few strokes in and I can’t fight back the wall of sensation any longer. I come, chocking out a sloppy string of syllables that serve no other purpose than demonstrating how truly far I’ve fallen.
His cock twitches inside me, grunting to hold himself back as my pussy palpitates and pulses around him.
I’m numb. There are parts of me that may never return to normal after this, but the orgasm that continues to ravage me, the intensity of pleasure, that has made it all worthwhile.
I’m sure he’s going to release when he draws away and leans forward to whisper in my ear. “If you think I’m done, you’re wrong.”
What’s he talking about? I wonder.
He lifts a foot up and presses on my back, pushing me forward over the low-lying cot so my ass is exposed and open.
I look back and sideways as much as my bondage will allow. Hunter kneels behind me and I know exactly what is coming.
The mattress is rough underneath my breasts, the coarse fabric flaking, my nipples pinned tight against it.
His shadow lengthens over my back as his heavy hands separate my buttocks. Instinctively, I contract, but I know it’s already been well stretched by the baton.
You can handle this.
I picture the pink halo gathered between the twin globes of my ass, the tiny hole between them, invitational and open—irresistible.
Hunter leans forward. His tongue comes against my taint. He rims me slowly with just the tip before gathering it into a sharp arrowhead and pressing with greater pressure against my asshole.
I’ve never been so ashamed, so humiliated… so fucking aroused. I’m wet again, literally splitting apart as his tongue leaves my hole and he guides his erection into my ass.
I relax as much as I can, but there’s still a deep pressure as he manages to thrust at least half of his hefty member into my rear passage. He draws back, and I move with him, the ringed muscle of my anus stretched to breaking point as he claws at my cheeks and pounds forward again, more of his length buried deep into the hot confines of my backside. Below, my tufted vagina widens, desperate to be filled again.
“Damn, you are tight,” he remarks, hammering forward. He pulls back and slams me against the metal frame of the cot. The cuffs chafe at my wrists, my face sliding across the dirty mattress.
As much as the idea of anal intrigued me, I always thought of it as something only men got off on, but the feeling of being stuffed like this, taken from behind, has me about to come all over again.
I wheeze, no longer able to separate pleasure from pain, his balls mashing against my sex.
He thrusts faster, pounding and hammering away at my body until he gives a primal cry and collapses over my back, my cuffed wrists crushed into the base of my spine.
I come again, sandwiched between the cot and the hard weight of Hunter’s body, the entire length of his cock filling my ass.
My climax is so deep, so complete, that it pulls me free of body so that I float somewhere high above, looking down from a world of such intense ecstasy it can’t possibly be real.
Hunter falls to the side and I go with him. His hand snakes around my chest. I can feel his heart beating hard against my back. His cock jerks between my cheeks not yet spent.
He kisses me on the neck, the tip of his tongue flicking out to capture the salty taste of my skin. “Now, where did I put that key?”