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Her once pale white ass was now dappled red from my punishment, and her whimpers and cries had taken on an edge which wasn’t there when she first came to my bedroom.
Willingly, of course.
There was never force. I could charm with the best of them, and part of the sport lay in knowing they would eventually come to me. I could witness the conflict of fear and arousal from them and play with it and their minds until they submitted and came to my bed.
But I always warned them.
I might hurt you.
Yet the promise of pleasure, the forbidden, and unknown from abad boywas a strong and irresistible pull for humans.
This one was just about at her breaking point.
Right where I wanted her.
She knew who I was, my reputation, but still she came to me willingly, without fear.
Well, maybe a little bit of fear. She’d be foolish not to fear me.
I’d encouraged her to loosen up with something to drink before we started, and we’d sat together in silence, sipping vodka, the creak of the leather couch under my fingers gained her attention every time I gripped it in my impatience. My cock ached against my pants as I watched her lick the liquid from her lips, so delicate. She was a tiny thing, barely five foot three and a waist size God knows what. Almosttoosmall, I felt like I was going to break her when I threw her onto the mattress. But she’d proven herself to me, and I knew she was ready for more.
She hadn’t come yet. I hadn’t allowed it, and tying her hands had been a desperate measure when she couldn’t keep her fingers off her clit, no matter how many times I told her she didn’t have permission. I’d use her name to scold her, but I couldn’t remember what the fuck it was. I’d been calling herbaby girl, and she seemed to like that, mewing and squirming every time I dropped my voice and growled something into her ear.
Flipping her over, her eyes were brimming with tears, her cheeks flushed with humiliation and pain, and her hair which had been so perfectly combed into a ponytail had fallen out of the tie, and the ends stuck to the sweat on her forehead and neck.
Perfection.
“You’ve been a bad girl…” I hummed, smirking when she whimpered as I crawled over her, “… but you took your punishment so good, I think you deserve a reward.”
Kneeling on the bed, I lifted her hips, and without another word, I penetrated her. I knew she’d be wet for me, and she didn’t disappoint. As I leaned across her, I almost folded her over, her legs pushed back toward her chest as I pounded into her and slapped my hand over her mouth when she started screaming. I didn’t care if people in the club downstairs or my men outside the door heard her screams, but the way her eyes widened with lust when I handled her roughly was ecstasy.
She was screaming with pleasure, and I wondered how long it’d last before she begged me to stop. They all did, eventually, when their bodies grew exhausted from the orgasms. I wanted them to come, to have that pleasure, but I wanted to get them there my way.
I needed that power.
She’d been begging for it, literally begging, and as fun as teasing and punishing her was, it was my turn now. I’d use her pussy until I came, then I’d torture her at the meeting of pleasure and pain until I was ready to go again.
These men and women I took, none of them lasted long in the job. I know the bar managers downstairs were growing tired of having to hire new people every time one of them quit, which they always did after a night with me. They thought they could take it, but none of them could, not for as long as I needed or wanted them to. They’d leave in the early morning hours when it was still dark out, marked by my hands and teeth and their thighs dripping with my cum and theirs, and they’d never come back.
When I was close to my peak, I thumbed her clit, forcing an orgasm from her, wanting to feel her clamp around me so I could continue pushing into her and past her resistance. I had to remove my hand from her mouth to make her come, and fuck, she was soloud.
I’d punish her for that too.
She was in for a long night.
CARA
Who did he think he was?
Of course, Iknewwho he was, everyone did. Emrick—the man who owned the club, Urban, and as a fun little side project, also ran half the underground crime in the city. Everyone was in his pocket—police, politicians, pimps, distributors, small-time thugs, and their customers.
He ran the whole damn lot.
So, why any sane person would wonder, would I want to work at such a place?
Quite simply—money.
Many high-rollers patronized Urban, the sort of people who would tip ten times what I would have received for a night of dancing at the club a few blocks over. Of course, there were risks, but you needed to weigh those up when deciding about changing jobs.
