The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(133)
Son of a bitch.
The girl was pleading through the muffling effect of the gag, her voice bouncing off the walls as she wailed, screamed, sobbed. He ignored her, reaching into his pocket to ensure he hadn’t missed a call.
Nothing.
The urge to destroy her resurfaced and he adjusted his grip on the belt, evening out the ends so it was perfectly doubled over—and then he started to land the belt in quick succession. As the minutes passed, he watched Rebecca’s expression contort with a kind of detached fascination, the leather peppering her front with bright red lines from nipples to knees. Every strike was followed by a yelp or a cry or a sob, her cheeks shining with tears. Those baby blue eyes sparkled when they were open, but she was mostly keeping them clenched tight—trying her best to be strong.
So strong for such a tiny thing.
Just as she started to hiccup, the sobs making her entire body shake in ways that had his cock uncomfortably hard against the pressure of his zipper, the little phone in his pocket rang. A sweet tone that chimed and stuttered her hysterical panting, her eyes opening wide. “Looks like Daddy got the message, princess.”
Pressing the button on the phone, he faced one of the cameras and stayed silent as the arguing from the other end of the line slowed. “Are you there, asshole?”
Adam raised his hand slowly and gave a single wave to the main camera, refusing to answer. While the video stream had a filter on the sound to distort their voices, the little cell phone did not.
“I signed your fucking paperwork! Now let her go! Let Rebecca go immediately!” The command made him want to snarl, and he walked back over to the soft, shuddering form of the girl.
Slowly crouching down beside her, he laid the belt across her stomach. She held her breath, but her pulse made her skin twitch anyway, the flicker of her heartbeat visible in her throat. Laying the phone down between her breasts, he tapped the speakerphone function.
As if on cue, Rebecca started to plead wordlessly, shaking her head through a mess of unintelligible, feminine sounds.
“Rebecca?!” Sinclair’s voice pumped out of the tinny little speaker, and she started to sob and shout even louder, ripping at the cuffs that bound her wrists and ankles, likely bruising them worse than they already were. Silently, Adam traced the welts on one thigh. She whined, pleading softly through the gag, and Daniel Sinclair started to shout. “DO NOT TOUCH HER! I signed your fucking contracts! I sent them back! Check with your people, it’s done, now let her go.”
Adam lifted his gaze to the camera and tilted his head. Sinclair was trying to command him? Was he really so used to being obeyed by all the lemmings around him that he didn’t even think about who was really in charge in this situation? The silence reigned between them, the anger a low boil in his blood as he slowly moved his hand between her thighs.
Wet. So fucking wet.
What the fuck?
She wasn’t just wet, she was slippery as he slid two fingers between her lips, spreading her wide. Glistening, pink skin that surprised him and made his cock ache, and his pants feel even tighter. Her hips bucked as he stroked, her cries increasing again as she likely begged him to stop.
“You said you would let her go!” Sinclair lied, and Adam looked up at the camera and shook his head slowly. Making sure the man saw it before he forced three fingers inside the girl. The wail that burst from behind the gag was unmistakable, and the series of curses that followed from the speaker confirmed that the self-proclaimed king of Monarch Systems was watching every glorious moment.
Hot, silken wetness clenched around his fingers as she kicked at the chains, arching her back prettily, and before he’d thought about it, he had started to stroke that bundle of nerves deep inside. She tried to twist away, to escape his touch, but he held her in place with one hand on her hip so his other could work. His thumb found her clit, rolling until she eventually went silent, shaking her head, but he could feel the steady squeezing as she fought the pleasure. Rebecca was swallowing, the beginnings of moans cut short in her throat, and he thought back to the way her body had gone rigid underneath him on the couch, her pussy milking him as she came—he wanted it again.
“Stop this. I sold the fucking companies, what else do you want?” Daniel Sinclair’s voice almost sounded concerned. Perhaps the glorious, squirming form under his hands was the man’s weakness, the only chink in the bastard’s armor.
Adam put a little more pressure on her clit, increasing the intensity, and she bowed beautifully for him. The phone slid up her chest, catching by her neck and he picked it up to rest it back between her breasts. Her eyes opened, blue eyes locking onto his, pleading wordlessly as a flush raced into her cheeks.
He knew exactly what she wanted even though she couldn’t articulate it—she wanted him to hang up before she fell apart. She didn’t want the son of a bitch on the other end of the line to hear her come for him.
Not a chance, princess.
With confident movements, he built her higher and higher, her hips twitching, her breaths increasing with soft murmurs of pleasure, those blue eyes clenching tight as she angled her head back to expose the tender column of her throat. It was a beautiful sight, her body stretched out and vulnerable, covered in his marks. Whether she hated it or not, her hips started to lift for him, matching each stroke of his fingers, hands balling into fists as she got closer and closer.
Then the first sweet moan slipped from around the gag. She bit down on it, her jaw muscle twitching as she sealed her lips to it, drawing in a hiss of air through her nose.