Sadie
I was still panting and gasping for breath when Micah slid out of me, letting go of my wrists. I couldn’t believe that I’d agreed with him—that I’d said, loud enough for my brother to hear it in the next room, that I belonged to Micah Rintley. I was sore from the inside out, and I could feel Micah’s come, mingled with my fluids, beginning to ooze out of me as I lay there, still helpless. I said I was his own personal little slut, I thought—amazed and turned on and disgusted all at the same time. If anyone other than Micah had ever called me a slut I would have kneed them in the balls or punched them in the face. I turned over onto my side and felt the tingling soreness where he’d bitten me, where he’d pinched my nipples. How could I have come so hard from being treated like a piece of meat like that? I shivered and pulled my robe around me tightly.
It didn’t help that my whole body was still tingling with the aftermath of an orgasm, or that I couldn’t deny that I’d already been wet, almost soaking, when Micah had thrown me down onto my bed and started working on me.
Some part of you wanted it, or you wouldn’t have done what you did, I thought; it wasn’t nearly as frightening with the warm hazy feeling of my orgasm still flowing through my veins. I had known when I’d started playing with my robe, fidgeting so that he would catch little glimpses of skin, little hints of my naked body he wouldn’t see otherwise, that Micah wasn’t the kind of guy who would let me call the shots in sex. I’d known I was taking a risk, especially after the first time I’d let him fuck me the night before. Micah was not the man to manipulate, not the man to control.
It horrified me that I’d actually come so hard; for a few moments I’d actually blanked out completely, feeling pleasure so intense that my brain just refused to function. The feeling of Micah’s cock driving up against my g-spot, his fingers rubbing my clit, his teeth in my skin—all of it had turned me on so much that I hadn’t been able to help myself. I told him I belonged to him. That I was his. His personal little slut.
The words—from Micah and me both—made me remember all too well the dreams I’d had the night before, and it was only too easy to imagine how Micah might in the future make use of a “personal slut” if the opportunity arose. I wasn’t sure whether I was more aroused or disgusted at the idea of Micah making me stay naked in his bed every night for a month, there to be fucked whenever and however he wanted, to pay off my brother’s debt. He never said anything of the sort—just in your dreams. Stop jumping to conclusions. But Micah was obviously attracted to me, at least sexually; he had obviously enjoyed himself, and I got a very strong feeling that what Micah Rintley wanted, he generally managed to get.
By the time I managed to collect my composure, Micah was fully clothed, looking as if nothing at all had happened. I almost resented him for the fact that there was no sign he’d just gotten off inside of me; no lingering look on his face or in his eyes. It wasn’t fair! Two can play that game. I took a quick, deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the throbbing complaint in my nipples.
“Now that we have that out of the way,” Micah said, leaning slightly against my dresser. “We can talk about your new job.”
“New job?” I sat on the edge of my bed, legs crossed, back straight. I wasn’t about to let Micah enjoy the sight of me humiliated and reeling or even just satisfied from his rough fucking. “What do you mean by a new job?”
“You’re going to get my girls into bed with your bankers’ clients,” Micah told me. I stared at him.
“What?”
“Your bank has high-dollar clients,” he said. “I want them for my girls. You’re going to facilitate that.”
“And I’m going to do that, because…”
“Because I’ll cancel your brother’s debt against me.” I swallowed. I had only just really recovered from the mind-twist of saying that I belonged to a brutal mob boss, that my body belonged to him. I wasn’t ready for something so seemingly simple as a way to get rid of Chris’ problem.
The idea of hooking up the bank’s clientele with prostitutes was appalling. It could completely destroy me—it could get me fired. Worse: it would, I was sure, absolutely destroy my professional reputation.
“What about the bad debts I was collecting?”
Micah shook his head. “This is more important,” Micah told me. “If you find a way to get my girls into the clients’ hotel beds, Chris Bamber goes back to being a normal guy who doesn’t owe me anything.”
I wanted to reject the idea completely. I wanted to tell Micah that I wouldn’t do it in a million years; that he’d just have to keep to the original deal. This was putting my job at risk—my own life. So you’re fine with rolling up on drug addicts and dealers and mafia people with nothing more than a gun and your wits, but you’re not okay with facilitating prostitution? I shifted, able to feel Micah’s cum creeping along my labia. I needed another shower, but at the same time, there was part of me that liked the feeling. I pushed that realization out of my head.
“What do you expect me to do?” Micah smirked.
“It can’t be that hard to sell the idea of making their clients happy,” Micah told me. “If you could sell me on the idea of letting you collect bad debts to pay what your brother owed me, then people who actually trust you should be easy.” He stood up straight and came toward me, and I felt my whole body go tense—but I couldn’t say for sure whether it was because I was getting turned on by him again or because I was repulsed at the idea of him taking me so forcefully another time. You came all over his cock. You came harder than you’ve ever come with anyone else. Micah’s hand cupped my chin and he forced me to look up at him. “I’ll expect to hear from you soon,” he told me. I could still smell myself on his fingers, and felt a hot rush of something like shame flow through me, mingled with a weird kind of arousal at the memory of what Micah had just done to me only moments before. I still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t about to throw me down on the bed again, maybe pull my robe off completely and humiliate me by making me scream out about being his little slut so my brother could hear again. “Don’t disappoint me.”
He let go of my face and turned away from me, and for a long time I just sat there, staring at the door. I heard him say something to Manny, and I assumed that he left without Chris, but I was too busy reeling from everything that had happened in a span of no more than maybe an hour to make myself look.
I fell back onto my bed, staring up at my ceiling. Was I actually going to go through with Micah’s new demand? I didn’t really have much of a choice, did I? Micah obviously wasn’t willing to stick with the original deal of me getting back money for him to cover Chris’ debt. I closed my eyes and thought about the way that Micah had pinned me down. My wrists still ached from it, and my nipples felt tender, sensitive. The soreness between my hips, along my labia, had deepened, and my clit was still faintly throbbing from the rough treatment. But I couldn’t deny that it had been thrilling, that I’d come with him inside me, that some part of me had thrilled at the feeling of Micah’s cock twitching deep inside my pussy, the sensation of hot, sticky-slick cum flooding into me.
I forced my brain away from that fact and back onto the challenge at hand. Chris, at least, would probably be glad to know that he wasn’t going to have to drive me around town to the homes of various deadbeats. But it was harder than ever not to resent my brother for the fact that I was being put into the position I was—the whole thing, from the confrontation with Chester to the current plan to get my coworkers to hire Micah’s prostitutes for clients. That I’d been violated twice—not against my will exactly, but certainly brutally—seemed to just be part of the greater stress and strain of the situation my brother had put me into with his own stupidity.
It wasn’t his fault that he was robbed, I reminded myself. But it’s definitely his fault that he started working for Micah in the first place. What was he thinking? I had to laugh a bit to myself at that: after all, I had started working for Micah, too. What was I thinking?
Getting money from Micah’s debtors had been—and would have been—personally dangerous to me, no matter how cavalier I pretended to be. But the new plan; that was professionally and personally dangerous to me. I could absolutely sink my reputation, and end up getting fired, if I did it the wrong way—maybe even if I did it the right way. At the end of the day, it was hard to say what was scarier.
I decided I was going to take another shower before I confronted my brother with the news of the new plan; I didn’t really want to talk to him mostly naked and smelling of Micah.