Micah

 

I reached into my fridge and pulled out two beers, one for me, one for Kaci. We'd cut out of Club Hades earlier than I normally would have, owing my long day doing repairs at Grandpa's. I was beat, and today had been one Hell of a day already.

 

I took the beer back into the dining room and slid it across the table to Kaci.

 

“So,” I said as I pulled out my chair and slid into it, “just so we're clear, here. You ain't gonna kill me now that we're away from my brothers, right?”

 

Kaci laughed and took a swig of beer, her eyes nearly dancing in her head with mirth as she looked at me over the bottle. “Nah, I won't try again. Promise.”

 

“Thank God,” I said. “Don't think I could handle twice in one day.”

 

“'Sides,” she added, “we got the same enemy now, ain't we?”

 

I shrugged. “The Bear ain't really my enemy, though,” I pointed out. “He's just another criminal to me. He ain't gonna go to the cops on this kind of thing, in case they start looking into his other business interests. Hell, I could keep robbing the fucker blind ‘til doomsday, and he wouldn't say a peep.”

 

Of course, just because he was a mobster wary of the cops, that didn't mean he wouldn't take other avenues to shut us down. I knew it, and Gov knew it, too. If he was onto us, we'd just have to be more careful in the future. Like, for instance, the kind of precautions we were taking with this job. I just didn't want to tell Kaci any of it.

 

At the end of the day, though, I didn't know which was worse: having the cops coming for you, or a Russian mob boss putting you in his sights. One might end up with you in prison three years from now, and the other might end with you dead in a back alley by the end of three days.

 

Then, there was the other thing to consider: Kaci.

 

Here she was, living under my roof. Me and the guys had taken her and Sydney in. We'd promised them a place with us when this job was over, a home forever if they wanted. And, a biker's word is his bond. Which meant they were as much under my protection now as any of my men.

 

Even though I was pushing her into harm's way on this job, I was worried. Worried about how I could keep her clear of future danger, worried how I could make sure she didn't go off half-cocked again like she had in the meeting room earlier tonight.

 

And, I'll be damned, but this girl knew how to get into danger. That much was for sure.

 

More than anything, though, I needed her to trust me, and I needed her to learn to follow orders. Because if she was going to be an honorary God’s Hellfire member, she had to learn to be a soldier, too. And soldiers listened to their commander.

 

But, I knew deep down, you needed to break a girl like Kaci. We did it to the prospects, but those were all guys. With her, it was going to take something a little more . . . inventive.

 

And, from the way she'd submitted under my hand the night before when I'd punished her for stripping in the meeting room, I knew just what kind of innovation would work.

 

# # #

Kaci

 

“Just so you know,” I said as I worked away at the label on the beer bottle, this time just a plain ol' crappy domestic, “I want the Bear dead. Rommy's ghost ain't gonna rest till I put that man in the ground.”

 

Micah laughed a little, but not with his eyes. “Ghost, huh?”

 

“What?” I asked. “You live in New Orleans and don't believe in ghosts?”

 

“Went to a voodoo thing once, when I was younger. Not my scene.”

 

“Well, that ain't mine, neither. Biting the heads off chickens and drinking blood?” I shook my head. “Nah. But, still ghosts are real. Even if you don't believe in them, they still haunt you every day of your life.”

 

“Maybe you should just call them memories, then?” Micah asked.

 

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But ghosts or memories, might as well be the same thing to me. I don't really see how I could live with either, knowing I let Rommy just be a victim.”

 

“Well,” Micah said, leaning forward at the table, “then help me. Help me hit Efraim where it counts, in his pocket book. That'll hurt him a thousand times more than killing a thousand Abram Morkov's. Make him suffer, make him pull his hair out. I promise you, we'll take him down, one piece at a time.”

 

I smiled, my eyes going from the beer bottle to his face, then down to his hands that were clasped in front of him. Those strong, deliberate hands that he'd used on me the night before.

 

There was something about the intimacy of the moment, just then. A feeling that hung in the air, like an electric storm had come in from the coast and was filling the room with its unpredictability.

 

“We need to trust each other, though,” he said after a while, and I noticed a certain severity that had crept, unseen, into his voice.

 

I bit my lower lip as I glanced back up at him, met his eyes.

 

They'd hardened, like the irises had shifted from blue to steel gray. I'd seen that look before, not just in other men, but the night before when he'd punished me for stripping for the other bikers.

 

“You need to learn to obey me,” he continued, his lips set in a thin line.

 

I realized my breath had sped up, become more shallow, the moment his tone of voice had shifted. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and I realized I was nervous.

 

Me. Nervous.

 

I couldn't believe it. The last time I'd been nervous, I'd been in the back seat of a car with my first boy, Scott Taylor. He'd been fast, and it had hurt at first, but the deed had been done. That night, it seemed like my trepidation about sex had fled alongside my virginity.

 

But, tonight I knew more was on the line than just sex. This was as much about trust, and if I didn't perform exactly the way Micah wanted, I wasn't going in that truck with Sydney. They'd find some other way to pull off the heist, and I'd be high and dry.

 

“Undress,” he commanded, his voice not too loud or too quiet. Just right.

 

I realized my hands were shaking a little as I took one more swig of beer and set the bottle on the table. I stood up and reached for the bottom of my shirt and tugged it up and over my head. I began to remove my clothes. Not slowly, or sensually, or erotically.

 

Micah hadn't ordered it that way. He'd said to undress, not strip.

 

Soon, my clothes were pooled at my feet. I could feel my nipples rising from the combination of cool air and excitement, could feel myself getting damp between my legs as I stood here in front of this total, commanding piece of masculinity. I arched my back a little and pushed my shoulders back, giving him the best view possible. Despite this being as much about proving I could follow orders, I realized I also wanted to please him, at least a little bit.

 

After all, I had insisted that he owned me, and that I was his to do with as he pleased.

 

“Now, come here,” he said, setting his beer aside. The whole time I'd been undressing, he'd just watched me like some kind of barely-contained wild animal.

 

“Ready for me to begin my duties,” I started to ask, my voice low and throaty like I hadn't had water for days, “as your property?”

 

His eyes traveled up and down my body, taking me in like a long drink. I nearly shivered under his appraisal. “No.” He shook his head and licked those kissable lips of his. He patted his leg. “Going to teach you about why you shouldn't try and kill your owner. Now, come here.”

 

I crossed the short distance and bent over his lap, the worn denim a combination of soft and rough as I slid my naked body over his legs. My tits hung into the air, my underboob pushing into the side of his thigh. His hardening cock pressed through his clothes and into my belly like a steel rod, and I could feel my mouth already salivating at the thought of it.

 

“Are you ready for your punishment?” he asked.

 

My breath was coming even faster, now. I lifted my butt in the air for him, thought about giving it a little wiggle, then reconsidered. My new owner might not appreciate it. I nodded.

 

“Count for me,” he said, but didn't do anything.

 

I whined a little. This was even worse than last night. At least, then, I hadn't known it was coming. I couldn't prepare for it, or even dread it being about to happen. I was just suddenly bent over, screaming as he spanked my bare ass. I bit my lip and gave a little nod.

 

Then, he started to spank me. His first slap came down, harder than I remembered from the last time, then his hand retreated for a moment until I remembered my part of this arrangement.

 

“One,” I croaked out, my pussy already getting wetter as his other, non-spanking hand pressed me more firmly down on his lap.

 

He brought his hand down again on the opposite bare cheek.

 

“Two!” I cried out, struggling a little to move, but unable to.

 

Again, he slapped the first cheek.

 

I squawked in pain. “Three!” I called, my eyes already tearing up from the mixture of pleasure and pain.

 

Another time.

 

I spread my legs a little, centering my feet as I pushed my ass higher into the air, exposing myself like a wanton little hussy. I wanted his hand to slip down a little, to accidentally trail his fingers over my bare sex. Just his touch, that's all I wanted. “Four,” I called out.

 

Another swat.

 

More pleasure than pain blossomed now, like my head had moved into a special place where I craved his touch in any way I could possibly get it. “Five!” I yelled, my voice almost cracking.

 

He paused and brought his hand down and began to tenderly rub my back side, alleviating the burning pain I felt back there. I whimpered, whining as his attention set me to gushing again.

 

Then he started again. We got to fifteen licks before he stopped.

 

Thinking he was done, I went to get up from his lap, but the hand pressed into my back didn't budge.

 

His hands slid over my back, over my reddened ass, stinging even as they soothed. I whimpered again as his fingers began to explore the back of my thighs, the inner tops of my thighs where they met my hairless pussy. His touch was electric, like I'd been waiting for it my whole life.

 

I didn't say a word, just groaned a little as I spread my legs wider for him.

 

He grunted as I shifted on his lap and rubbed against his rock-hard cock still pressing into my belly.

 

I moved my hips, trying to somehow convince his hands to touch me, for his fingers to lower just a fraction of an inch and give me some relief.

 

“Is this what you're begging for?” he asked, his voice a strange combination of stern kindness, as he stroked a finger between my lips, opening me like a damp flower.

 

“Yes sir,” I said, nodding as pleasure rippled through my body. I'd never so willingly called a man sir like that in all my life. For some reason, it just seemed to come out naturally.

 

He slid his finger lower, found the hood of my clit. He circled around it, sending off a little chain of fireworks, pop pop pop, throughout me.

 

I bit my lip and groaned low, trying to control my urges to push back into his hand, to get more of him on my body. I was worried, though, that he'd suddenly refuse if I did.

 

“Do you like that?” he asked as he his other hand slid from my back up into my hair, his fingers entwining in my auburn tresses.

 

I nodded urgently. “Yes sir,” I said. “I do.”

 

“Good,” he said, simply, continuing his rhythmic circling of my clit. I was drenched back there, completely gushing with my need for him.

 

My mind was fixated on the hard cock in his pants, filled with visions of Micah taking me on the dining room table. Bent over it, with my legs spread wide for him. It didn't matter, I just wanted him inside me, deep and hard. I just had an insatiable need to be filled.

 

His fingers, kept up their movements, and I began to meet them, grinding my pussy on his hand.

 

The pleasure was becoming too much, and I could feel myself about to cum.

 

His hand that had been in my hair snaked around in front of me, first grasping my throat, then traveling up over my chin and jaw.

 

As his rough fingers ran over my pouting lips, I opened my mouth and sucked them in, swirled my tongue.

 

“Just like a good girl,” he said, his voice approving as he withdrew his fingers from my clit.

 

I whined around his fingers, but continued to suck on them like a hard, ready cock.

 

“Such a good little slut,” he said. “Keep sucking, Kaci, keep being a good girl.” He just readjusted positions, though, and soon his hand was back to working on me. I pushed back into him as he dipped two fingers into my honeypot for the first time, giving me a slight imitation of what a real cock felt like.

 

Pleasure flooded me again as I pushed back into him more violently than before. I gasped around his fingers, but quickly resumed sucking on them. For some reason I couldn’t quite pin down, I didn't want to disappoint. I couldn't disappoint.

 

His thumb dipped down, found my clit, and began to swirl around it. Then, his fingers hooked a little and found my g-spot.

 

My eyes rolled back in my head as pleasure seemed to briefly shove my consciousness into the back of my brain.

 

“Are you close?” he asked as he took his fingers from my mouth.

 

I squeezed my eyes tight and nodded furiously. “Yes sir, so close,” I said, my words tumbling from my mouth like an avalanche.

 

“How close?” he asked as he rubbed the tip of his fingers over my g-spot another time.

 

“So very, sir.”

 

“Good,” he said.

 

Then he stopped.

 

“Not yet,” he said, stroking my ass with his now free hand. “Later.”

 

“Later?” I whined, my voice keening a little. “But, I want it now.”

 

“Later,” he repeated, his voice more stern. “Remember, I own you, Kaci. You said so yourself. You belong to me.”

 

I nodded externally, while internally I was screaming at myself for letting this man have a hold on me like this. Even though, somehow, in a deeper part of me, I knew I craved it. In that place, I knew that if I submitted to him, really submitted to him, I wouldn't have to worry. He'd take care of me in the end.

 

“Up,” he said. “Off my lap.”

 

I got up off his lap and stood there, my legs wobbling. I grasped the edge of the dining room table, used it to stabilize myself. The world seemed to swim between my eyes, and the passion was still burning between my thighs.

 

“Trust me,” he said as he stood, his erection painfully obvious in the front of his jeans, “this hurts me more than it hurts you.”

 

I bit my lip and nodded, surprised at how I was going along with this. But, somehow, I'd felt something new and wonderful while I was lying under his grip, under his not-so-tender caresses. My cheeks still burned, but in such a sexy way.

 

“Good,” he said, nodding to himself. “Now, put your clothes back on and head upstairs. We've got another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

I nodded, and my eyes followed him as he went to leave. I stooped to gather my clothes and began pulling them back on.

 

“Kaci?” Micah said from the dining room, his voice sending a thrill through my body.

 

“Yes sir?” I asked, my voice still in that submissive tone from a few moments earlier.

 

“You can't take care of the problem yourself.”

 

I frowned and nodded. “I understand,” I said. Inside, though, I was nearly crying.

 

I mentally slapped myself, then, and reminded me of what I was supposed to be doing this for. I needed to convince him I was on board with his plan. That was all.

 

Orgasms would come later.

 

But, still, as I drifted off to sleep that night, I didn't relieve the pressure I felt building up inside of me. I listened to his order, and I took it to heart.