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7
AXL
“Hello,” she replied timidly.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
She stared at me, confused, as well she should be.
“Who are you?”
The better question was who was she?
“I’m Axl. Are you hurt?”
She curled up into a tighter ball, as though her nakedness was making her shy. Cute.
“A-Axl?”
There was something off about this. When had Grayson ever had a date who agreed to his plethora of kinks without weeks of negotiations and lesser play?
“Unfortunately for me, my father was a metalhead.” The small lie made me feel happier. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, which was difficult to summon considering she was at my mercy. “They almost called me Lemmy. I’m not sure I’m better off.”
She gave me a shaky smile. “Mr. Scott sent you to check on me?”
I turned the spare key in the cage lock. She crawled out as though I were trustworthy, and I helped her to her feet. Once upon a time I’d been taught good manners. She definitely had a body worth kidnapping, and that face of hers—nice. Very nice. She was much more beautiful than Grayson’s usual type. The man could get almost any woman he wanted, but he tended to avoid women this perfect.
Why a girl like this would choose to get mixed up in this risky game I couldn’t guess. The whys and wherefores were her concern, until men took advantage. Dangerous stuff, with looks like hers.
She was worth auctioning off to a rich deviant with a private island. This girl wouldn’t have been out of place on a red carpet or at a charity ball. Instead, she was shaking with need and covered in little indentations from the carpeting in the cage.
“Turn for me.”
Confused, she obeyed, moving like a shy co-ed rather than a well-trained sex slave.
“Bend over.”
After the smallest hesitation, she obeyed that also, letting me see what I needed to. How to give a man an instant hard-on. The glistening and faint redness around her asshole explained why she was agitated. He’d had his finger in there, painting her with something.
What a sweet fucking ass, and not a tattoo in sight. It made me want to put some marks on her next to the pretty welts and bruises Grayson had left.
“I—the marks were consensual,” she explained, as though I might not be familiar with kink.
“You consented to letting him beat you that hard with a belt?”
She blushed a bright red. “It’s not a real kidnapping. I arranged this through a friend.” She draped an arm over her breasts, as though there was a chance I’d never seen tits before. Nice of her to care about my poor virgin eyes.
“Not real?”
“No. It’s consensual nonconsent. Do you know what that is?”
I nodded.
After what had happened the last time, Grayson had vowed never to play CNC games again. He’d mused about doing a real kidnapping a few times since, but I’d assumed it was only a daydream.
Couldn’t be, could it?
I ran my tongue behind my top teeth, thinking…hoping.
