Tess woke up slowly. The first thing she noticed was the incredible ache in her head. Her memory was fuzzy, as if she was thinking back through cotton to see what had happened… that morning? Yesterday? Her time sense was gone. It could have been a few hours that she had been unconscious, or it could have been days. She was pretty sure it was more like hours, as if her body would have sensed a longer stretch of time passing, but she couldn’t be sure. But there was no way to really know.
She ached in all sorts of places, it turned out, not just her head. There were piecemeal memories, which settled back in slowly, like watching a handful of pictures appear on a computer screen in a slideshow, but without any particular sense of order. She remembered the appearance of the man, Milo, the hitter. She remembered seeing him dive in front of her to protect her from a gunshot. She remembered him wrapping her legs around his waist and fucking her until she came, screaming. That memory should have made her blush, but instead, it just made her crave him inside of her again. Big and thick and hard, nothing like Toro’s half-mast dick. She’d been wondering for months if he sent his goons to her because his own hard-on wasn’t reliable enough to fuck her anymore.
She pushed her eyes open, reaching to scrub them with the backs of her hands. Her right hand was fine, did its job. Her left hand, she realized quickly, was restrained. Something metal, something that rattled. She made herself glance up; she was handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. Well… That was a disturbing turn of events. She liked being tied down and fucked as much as the next kinky submissive girl, but it was friendly when consent was at least considered. Unless that was the game that was being played, of course.
It seemed obvious that Toro had not somehow gotten her back. After what she’d done, he would have just killed her, never mind tying her down and leaving her alone. Toro was not one to leave a snake at his back when he had the opportunity to cut its head off. And that’s how he would see her. She knew too much about his dealings, his business, his contacts. He couldn’t let her stay loose; he couldn’t let her be a liability.
Which meant that either Milo or one of Toro’s enemies had her in their “care”. If it were one of Toro’s enemies, she was fairly sure she would be in a nicer hotel room. Toro had a stranglehold on the city’s drug trade, but that didn’t mean he was the only player in town. It would make sense, however, for Milo to be in a nondescript chain hotel room, anonymous and unimportant. Just another businessman in the city. The handcuffs, however, were a bit of an annoyance.
Of course, when Toro was actually capable of keeping it up, they’d played like this more than once. She’d loved the sensation of the paddle on her ass, the crop falling on her thighs, her nipples and clit clamped and contained. He’d edged her, denied her, ruined her, everything he could think of to make her fall in line, and Tess had loved every second of it. When she was a dancer, she’d cultivated a bit of a switchy persona, able to top or Domme when her customers needed it, because it was better than no play at all. But left to her own devices, she was much more of a submissive. It was just that you could make money being a Domme-for-hire, while being a professional sub was a good way to get killed, if you weren’t incredibly careful.
She glanced around as she pulled herself up to sitting. She was completely naked, but she was fairly sure that all she’d been wearing before, leading Milo through the penthouse, was a silky robe. So, fair that she was nude. She’d been nude a lot, in a lot of situations that felt more awkward than this, so she was pretty sure she could manufacture some calm. She could even work around to being turned on by this; God knew it wasn’t all that much of a stretch. But she didn’t know where she was, or who had put her there. That was the part that was concerning. Well, and also that they’d felt it necessary to handcuff her in place. That was also… potentially concerning.
The room was very standard. It had that impersonal feel that screamed hotel room to her, something about the precise shade of beige on the walls, and how it was not quite perfectly meshed with the too-thin coverlet on the bed. She pulled her legs under herself and tried to come up with a plan.
But before she could even begin to organize her thoughts, the door to the bedroom opened, letting out a waft of steam. She hadn’t heard a shower running, but clearly, something had been happening. She slid onto her side, years of experience letting her fall into a comfortable, sexy pose without any real effort. When Milo stepped out of the bathroom, he looked towards her with his face neutral. He was wearing nothing but a pair of very short boxer briefs, his cock outlined against the cotton. As he caught sight of her, he kept that mild expression, but it was harder to hide the reaction from his body. His cock stiffened quickly, growing until she had to resist the urge to lick her lips. She loved how he refused to cover himself or try and disguise his pleasure in any way; her naked body was a pretty good naked body, as these things went, and she was proud to show herself off. It felt good and right, and as things ought to be.
“Good to see you’re still with us,” he said, but his tone implied that it wasn’t quite as good as he might have hoped.
She winced, just a little; she didn’t know what it had cost him to take her with him, but it clearly hadn’t been an easy situation. Carrying a naked, unconscious woman into a hotel room couldn’t have been a pleasant experience for either of them, even if she couldn’t remember it.
“I’m harder to get rid of than people might think,” she said. It was a really bad line, but her head was still aching, so it was the best she could do at that moment.
He reached down and adjusted himself, his cock even more carefully outlined now. She could see the ridge of his head, the thick line of his shaft, and she remembered how incredibly good he’d felt fucking her. But this was different now. Yesterday, she hadn’t thought she had a choice. Now? She didn’t belong to Toro anymore. She was quite sure of that. Did she belong to Milo? She certainly didn’t think so. But who was she, if she didn’t belong to someone? She wanted him to fuck her again, and she wanted to be able to say no to him, just for the novelty of the experience. She watched him rub his hand over the underside of his cock through his shorts, and she licked her lips, unable to stop fantasizing about wrapping her mouth around him, working to swallow him as far down her throat as she could take a man as wide and long as him.
“I want to be perfectly clear,” he said. They’d hardly talked yesterday, obviously; his voice sounded melodious and smooth, rich like whiskey, and just as delicious. “I took you out of that place not to protect you, but to protect me. You stay here until I’m sure you’re not a threat to me. I’ll keep you fed, I’ll get you some clothes, but you’re here until I’m done. You fight back, I will kill you. We clear?”
Tess swallowed hard, trying not to let the curl of fear she felt at his harsh words push into her brain. “Clear,” she said, pushing her mouth into a smile. “Perfectly clear.”
“Good.” He grinned, and it was a vicious sort of smile. “Do you know why you’re on the bed, and not in a cage, or tied up in the bathroom?”
She shook her head, her mouth running dry for a moment.
He moved to the end of the bed, tracing his hand over his cock for a moment. Her eyes followed the motion, and how could they not? God, it was incredible, huge and hard already, just from looking at her, and a few casual touches.
“Because I expect you to earn your keep. You get me?”
Her eyes locked on his hand, rubbing the heel of his palm over the base of his cock, letting the head stay sharply outlined on the fabric. “And what if I say no?”
He raised an eyebrow and moved onto the bed. There was a menace to him now, something that made that curl of fear grow, twisting her belly into a knot of both want and nerves.
“Do you think it would mean a damn thing to me if you did?” he asked.
There was more to the question, she thought, a wondering if she wanted it to mean anything to him. But she couldn’t be sure, not with the way he was looking at her. She couldn’t be sure. So, she said exactly the truth. Conveniently, it was the answer to both questions.
“No,” she said. “No.”
He didn’t pause or hesitate. His hands closed around her ankles, and he yanked. Her legs pulled out from under her, and she dropped onto her back, the bracelet of the handcuff squeezing her wrist painfully, making her yelp. He descended on her like a hurricane, one hand pinching her nipple until she whimpered, the other shoving into her cunt, twisting to open her. She wasn’t wet enough for that sort of rough treatment, and she fought back a shout of discomfort. He fucked her harder with his fingers, covering her mouth with his to swallow her screams. She bucked her hips, trying to throw him off, but he rode her easily, his fingers twisting and turning inside of her. She yanked on the handcuffs, feeling the metal bite into the soft underside of her wrist, and that fear got even bigger, tightening into an adrenaline rush that surged through her, turning her inside out.
She wasn’t sure exactly when his boxers disappeared, simply that his cock was poised at her entrance, and his hand was on one thigh, lifting it up to drape over his shoulder. He pushed into her hard, pulling back only when she let out another tiny scream at the incredible pain of being fucked when she was so closed. His hand on her breast twisted so hard that she was sure he’d leave a bruise, and she bucked underneath him again, a movement which drove him further into her. She cried out, her hands twisted into fists in their cuffs, her fingernails digging into her palms, and he groaned into her mouth.
But when he slid back just enough to gain leverage and push forward again, she was wet, deliriously wet, and he slid home inside of her in that one thrust. She arched her back, using her raised leg on his shoulder to pull him in tight as he ground his hips into hers. He bit her collarbone, not hard enough to tear or wound, but enough that she cried out again.
“Does your ‘no’ matter?” he asked, his voice ragged in her ear.
Her cunt was throbbing with pain and need and desire. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Just saying the word made her cunt clench around his shaft, tight and aching and demanding.
“Does your ‘no’ fucking matter?” he asked again. He sounded just as ragged and close as she did. His hand left her nipple and reached between them; he made enough space to find her clit and pinch it hard between his fingers. She howled, slamming up against him as hard as she could with the small amount of leverage he had afforded her, but he held himself back now. “Answer me.”
His cock was tantalizingly close to driving her right over the edge into oblivion, and she made her answer loud and very, very clear. “No. No, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Fuck. Please. Please, give it to me. Please.”
He obliged her, sliding one hand under her hips and lifting them up so that he had exactly the angle he wanted, slamming into her again and again. She lost track of when her orgasm started because it didn’t stop, or crest, or peak, it just kept surging up and up and up until he spasmed deep inside of her, groaning as he came. She could feel him pulsing inside of her as he twisted her clit hard, one last time, and she screamed. The pleasure shattered over her, bowing her back and leaving her free hand twisting in the sheets to avoid clawing his back to shreds. She yanked hard on her restrained hand, relishing the feel of the relentless steel against the fragile skin of her wrist as they both came down to earth, gasping.
He sagged over her, then rolled free. She scooted up the bed just a tiny bit to relieve the pressure on her wrist and watched him warily. She knew what had just happened, for her, but it was difficult to tell what someone else was thinking in a moment like that. Was it play and kink for him, too, or was there something else going on? Did it really matter to her? She’d never been sure exactly where the lines existed for her anyway.
He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. There was a strange look in his eyes. His face was as neutral as it had been, but his eyes seemed… different. She couldn’t exactly place it.
“So long as we understand each other,” he said, his voice as neutral as his face. “You’re mine –
until I’m done with you.”
“Yes,” she said. What else could she have said?