Brawn: Lethal Darkness MC (42 page)

Chapter 18

Isabel

The sound of the door opening froze me in place. I was sitting on the ground with my knees to my chest, still naked. I was shivering as much from the fear as from the cold. Once again, I was being thrust into a situation where the rules were unknown and everyone around me was more powerful than I was. I wondered if I would ever be more than just a victim.

The hinges were greased and silent. The door swung a tiny bit inward, then shut again. I’d been expecting the haunting man who’d bought me to enter and have his way with me. But the person who actually came in was even worse.

“Serves you right, you murdering whore,” Angela said. She crossed her arms and snaked towards me, placing one heeled foot in front of the other. Her stilettos were midnight black and their spikes descended into a vicious point where they met the ground.

“I’m not a murderer,” I said quietly.

She pounced across the distance remaining between us, bent over, and seized my cheeks between her fingers. Her sharp nails dug into my flesh, drawing pinpricks of blood. Her eyes were wild and furious. Taut lines of anger were etched into her face. “You are whatever I say you are, do you understand that?” she spat. “You are a slut. You are a murderer. Say it.”

I stayed silent.

“Say it!” she roared, shaking my head and squeezing harder.

“I’m a slut,” I sobbed. “I’m a murderer.”

She released me and straightened up. The insane wrinkles disappeared from her temples and she became the picture of calm once again. Just a prim, attractive woman, too small for anyone to suspect the demon lurking inside of her. “Good.” She nodded, satisfied. “That is good for you to admit those things.”

She turned and began pacing around the room. As she passed the torture utensils hung up on the wall, she stroked them lovingly between her fingers, like the braided leather whips were precious to her. They might have been. Maybe she’d used them before, or maybe she just liked the idea of objects that inflicted pain. Neither one would have surprised me.

“You know, Isabel,” she said as she continued to round the small cell, “I never liked you. From the very beginning, you swayed Frank under your spell. I don’t know how you did it, but I hated you for it.” She spun to face me again.

“I didn’t,” I protested.

“Why did you kill him?” she asked. Her voice was soft and buttery smooth.

“I swear to you, I didn’t kill him.”

She tilted her head to the side. I noticed the tic was the exact same one that Antonio had. I wondered if she’d learned it from him or the other way around, or if all psychopaths had the same mannerisms.

“Let’s change the subject,” she said abruptly. She knelt in front of me again. This time, instead of grabbing me roughly, she cupped my chin gently between her fingertips. “You are very beautiful, I must admit,” she said.

I sniffled my tears and didn’t say a word. I was terrified of pressing the wrong button and unleashing the river of rage that ran so close to her surface.

“I hope your new owner will treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Still, I kept quiet.

“Which is, of course, like a whore.” The anger wasn’t lashing out suddenly, but I could feel it slowly simmering again, building back up to an intense inferno. She whipped around and stalked over to a chest of drawers shoved against the far wall. Opening one up, she pulled something out. When she turned to walk back to me, I saw something leather dangling in her hands.

A collar.

It was hard to breathe as she leaned over and buckled it around my neck. Not because of the tightness of the leather strap, but because of everything it represented. She wanted me to feel less than human. Like an animal headed for the slaughter. It was working. I could feel myself crumbling.

“I want you to know that when your man gets in here, he is going to ravage you. You will be lucky to walk out alive. Do you know that, dear?” she said. “Oh, tut, tut, darling, you’re crying!” She wiped away a solitary tear as it trekked down my face. “You mustn’t cry. Men don’t like that at all. No, when he fills you, I want you to beg for more, like the slut you are.”

I was collared, naked, and vulnerable to the entire world. I couldn’t help myself now. I had to ask her. “Why are you doing all this?” I said in a choked voice.

She was quiet for a moment as she stood once again, considering me where I sat on the floor. She began to retreat towards the door, one step at a time, without breaking eye contact.

“I didn’t kill Frank, I swear,” I sobbed again.

“I know you didn’t,” she told me. “I did.” Then the door shut.

Chapter 19

Dominic

The man descending the stairs in front of me was dour and silent. I followed him along a row of dank cells and across a threshold. The vibe changed as we crossed into the second wing. Instead of a prison environment, this felt more like some abandoned Gothic castle. A red carpet lined the floor and massive chunks of gray stone made up the walls and ceiling. Each of the doors was thick and wooden.

He led me to the last one. As he reached to open it, the handle turned and someone emerged from within. To my surprise, a small blond woman stepped out. “Just checking on your purchase,” Angela said to me with a twisted grin on her heavily made-up face. “She’s all ready for you.”

The stocky man looked back and forth at us for a moment, then shrugged. Angela trotted away. Her footsteps were nearly silent on the thick rug walkway. “Take as long as you want,” he told me. “But do what you’re supposed to.” Then he left, too.

I turned to face the door. I couldn’t decipher what I was feeling and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Time to see what lay within. I opened the door and stepped inside.

The room within was strange. I noticed the sex toys and whips covering each of the walls. This was a place for giving and receiving things. Whether that was pain or pleasure seemed to be up to whoever was in charge at the moment. I supposed, for now, that that was me.

The girl cowered in one corner. I could see fresh tear tracks glinting on her cheeks in the flickering light of the chandelier overhead. She was huddled into a little ball, hiding her body from me. But she was even more beautiful up close than she had been on the stage.

Her cheekbones stood in high relief, framing her delicate eyes perfectly. Her skin was flawless and had the creamy texture that had made my cock stir to attention. I wanted to run my hands over her, my tongue, to taste and feel that body. Even without being able to see all of her, I wanted her more badly than any other girl I’d ever come across.

But she looked terrified.

“What’s your name?” I asked. The room was silent enough that I could hear my pulse in my ears along with the soft whirr of her breathing.

“Isabel,” she murmured. She refused to look up at me. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on her knees.

Isabel.
Something was tickling at my memory, a long-forgotten sense of déjà vu. I couldn’t place it, but it persisted like an itch. I set it aside for now.

“I’m Dominic,” I said.

I thought she would stay quiet, but she whispered something I couldn’t quite hear. “What was that? Speak up,” I demanded.

“I said, you’re the one who bought me.”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I stared at her. Slowly, one by one, my thoughts fell away. In their absence, there was only a raw, pressing need. It was too powerful to ignore. I felt myself slipping into it and letting it consume me like fire. I became the wanting. I was my desire.

“Stand up.” She looked at me and knew right away not to refuse. She unfolded gracefully from the ground but stayed close to the wall. One hand covered her breasts and the other hid her slit from my view.

“Come here.” She still wouldn’t look at me, but she began to walk, step by tentative step, padding across the cold stone floor with her bare feet. She paused just out of arm’s reach. I turned and circled slowly around her. I wanted to take my time, to drink her in and appreciate the perfect angle of her hips, the way her ass swelled and swooped.

If I was going to fuck her, I was going to do it right.

I reached out a hand and touched her shoulder lightly. She recoiled, like I’d shocked her. That wouldn’t do. Neither would this bullshit with her keeping herself covered. “You’re mine now,” I said in a low rumble. “You’ll never hide anything from me.” I stopped in front of her. “Move your hands.”

She was shivering crazily, but the temperature in the room had begun to climb. She wouldn’t budge. I reached out and encircled each of her wrists with my fingers. I plucked them away from her and set them down by her sides.

There. Now she was perfect.

I paused to let the image sink in. Starting from her feet, I looked up, noticing and admiring each detail as my eyes swept over her. Her calves were thin and lithe, rising into a pair of thighs that I ached to shove my face between. I could see the dark, neatly trimmed strip of hair just above her slit, bordered on either sides by hips that would no doubt be perfect to wrap my hands around. Her stomach was taut and flat, making the heavy, full breasts dangling above look even rounder and perkier. I extended a thumb and forefinger and gently laid them to rest on one brown nipple.

She looked up at me. Her face was a mixture of fear and hate, but smoldering just below that was an animal desire that I recognized. So what if she was scared of me, so what if she hated me.

She was mine now.
Mine.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered suddenly. A bolt of courage must have just struck through her.

I laughed out loud. “Are you telling me what to do?”

She hesitated. I could see the sudden spike of bravery draining away from her face. She wasn’t as sure as she had been a moment ago.

I drew myself up to my full height and begin to slowly unbutton my shirt one at a time as I resumed my circles around her. With each patient rotation, my torso came more into view. I watched her eyes grow big and round as she saw more and more of my tattoos, my scars, my brawn. My body was saying everything for me; I didn’t need to add a word.

I am the master.

“You belong to me,” I said coldly as I walked behind her.

She spun around to face me. “You can do whatever you want to me. But you’ll never have my consent.”

I laughed my hardest yet and tossed my shirt to the side. Stepping forward, I moved my hand to her throat. I didn’t squeeze or pressure her, but I rested my broad palm over her airway as if to say,
Now what?

“We’ll see if you don’t change your mind,” I told her. “Very soon.”

Chapter 20

Isabel

The man’s hand was on my throat. I breathed as lightly as I could, only the tiniest amount of air passing between my lips and down into my rasping lungs.

He’d laughed right in my face when I’d told him he wouldn’t have my consent. I shouldn’t have been so stupid as to think that something like a woman’s consent would matter to a man like this. And why would it? When someone bought a person as carelessly as they would buy some groceries, they were unlikely to give a shit about such a silly little thing as consent. That certainly seemed to be the case here.

I was cornered, utterly powerless. The man was even bigger up close than he’d appeared from my position on the stage. He’d looked big, yes, but I hadn’t noticed the way veins trekked up his biceps, winding in and out alongside the artistic swoops of the ink on his skin. Here, in front of me, he looked like he was made from iron.

And yet, despite how horrified I was and how weak I felt, I couldn’t deny that there was a heat lingering deep in my core that responded to his aggressive touch. I wanted to squash it, to tell it to go away and let me suffer. But it refused to obey. Instead, every time he touched me or laughed at my futile attempts to defend myself, it burned hotter. It was telling me,
You don’t want to defend yourself, Isabel. You want to submit. You want to see what this man is capable of doing to your body. Don’t you?
I couldn’t ignore the answer, either.
Yes.

He released my throat and dropped his hand to my breasts. He hefted one on in his palm, then let it fall again. His eyes met mine. “You have a beautiful body, Isabel,” he whispered.

He started up again walking circles around me, but this time, his hand did not leave my skin. His fingertips traced over my neck, my shoulders, down my spine and around the small of my back. His touch was light and teasing.

“Have you ever been told that before?”

I shook my head. Before the Capparellis took me, I’d been too young to do anything other than a few furtive make-outs with the neighborhood boys on those rare occasions when I’d managed to steal an hour or two away from my daddy. And since I’d been a servant in the mansion, I was never allowed to leave. The closest I’d come to someone appreciating my body was when I closed my eyes late at night and let my imagination guide my wandering hand.

“I didn’t think so. You flinch so much. Don’t you know how to let a man touch you?”

I shook my head again. My eyes stayed rooted on the floor. He came to stand in front of me once more and lifted my chin. I had no choice but to look back at him. His eyes were a vivid blue. Flakes of different shades drifted around in his irises like glaciers in some Arctic ocean.

“Maybe it’s time for you to learn.” He wrapped his left hand around my throat once more, just as softly as he had done before. His other hand took a meandering path down my body, beginning at the crest of my shoulder. He tap-danced his fingertips down, across my nipple, sliding down the plain of my stomach, to where my thighs were squeezed together.

“I’m going to make you come, Isabel,” he said, “so you can see what it feels like for a man to make you his plaything.” He didn’t look away from me as he glided one finger between my thighs and stroked my outer lips.

I shivered. Heat and cold raced up my body simultaneously from where he touched me all the way to the back of my neck. His finger moved down and then back up to the top to tap delicately against my clit.

To my astonishment, I felt myself starting to get wet. My brain wanted to keep my thighs clamped shut, to stall him for as long as possible, if only to know that I did everything I could to keep him away from me. But that fire in my gut wanted something different, and I felt helpless to stop it.

He worked an easy circle around my clit. My lips parted involuntarily and let out a tiny sigh. I felt my throat rise and fall against his palm. “I’m going to slide my fingers inside of you and stroke you until you moan for me to do more,” he continued. Below, his finger began to push at my tunnel, probing the very beginnings and threatening to go deeper.

“After that, you’re going to take my cock into your mouth and you’re going to suck me. You’re going to have to do a good job if you want to earn a proper fucking.”

His words were despicable, downright appalling, and yet it felt like that was only part of the story. Maybe I needed that coarseness to break open the shell imprisoning that heat that was building where he was touching me. Maybe that raw, crude violence was exactly the thing to spring it free.

He moved his finger in me with excruciating deliberateness, one tiny millimeter at a time. It hurt for a brief pang, then, as I eased into it, pleasure quickly overtook the pain. I felt myself growing to accommodate him.

He stroked my clit with his thumb as he inserted his finger all the way up to the knuckle. My walls tightened around him, sucking at his finger and refusing to let go. The wetness had doubled and I realized I’d spread my thighs apart without even noticing. His eyes had yet to leave mine.

“Then, I’m going to spread you on that bed, and I’m going to put all of me inside of you. You’re going to take it and ask for more, like a good little girl. I can’t wait to hear you scream.”

His words were like keys unlocking a door inside me I never even knew existed. The voice in my head that was disgusted and frightened by him was growing quieter and quieter. In its place, this wordless fire raged. The pace of his fingering sped up. Sensation rippled through my body. It centered on the pressure in my pussy that kept increasing. I groaned out loud.

“That’s right,” he whispered, “let it out.” He brought his mouth to the side of my head and took my earlobe between his teeth. He nibbled and licked softly at the tender flesh, eliciting another moan from somewhere deep inside me. I started to move my hips against his hand to hurry the pace. The pressure was becoming too much to bear.

“Make me come,” I gasped. The words had short-circuited the filter in my brain that usually kept such thoughts buried deep below. I surprised myself with how forcefully they’d torn out of me.

Dominic smiled and his hand moved away from my cunt. I moaned, desperate for release. When I glanced down and saw that his fingers were glistening with my juices, for some inexplicable reason, it only turned me on more.

Suddenly, his hand on my neck turned and hooked two fingers into the collar that Angela had fastened around me. With a quick tug, he sent me to my knees. I hit the floor in shock as he unbuckled his belt and his jeans sagged down around his hips.

Then I saw it. His manhood was blunt and huge, almost the length of my forearm and as thick as my wrist. It stood stiff, pointing at me with steel hardness. I couldn’t believe the size of it. My jaw dropped.

“You thought I’d let you come that easily?” he asked me. He looked down on me from above. He looked even bigger from this angle, a titan made out of muscle and ink. He chuckled. “Not a chance. You’re going to have to wait until you deserve it.”

His member wavered in front of me. I knew what he wanted, and, more importantly, I knew what I wanted and what I had to do to get it.

I reached out a hand and wrapped it around the base of his shaft. I brought up the other one to join it. Even with both of them there, I could hardly grip it properly. It was just too big. If I was scared before, this made things a million times as terrifying. That thing would break me.

But it might just make me scream, too, for a whole different set of reasons.

My lips parted and I leaned forward to take the head of him into my mouth. I felt his weight shift forward and his breath whistle in a long sigh as I extended my tongue to lap teasingly at his tip.

He tasted salty and fleshy as I slid my mouth down the hardened length until my lips were as far down as they could go without forcing me to gag. When I’d found that point, I retreated, sucking my cheeks in and bathing his member with my tongue. Each tiny motion drew another soft grunt of satisfaction from him. I liked knowing that I was giving him pleasure. For a moment, it made me feel like I’d regained some power of my own.

Dominic’s hand fastened on the back of my head, urging me back down. I slurped at his cock, keeping both hands wrapped around it and pumping slowly to complement my moist mouth.

He began to thrust his hips forward to meet my lips. His huge manhood was stretching my lips to the maximum. It was all I could do to open wide enough to swallow him. The room no longer felt cold. Now, beads of sweat were beginning to break out across my skin as he thrusted faster. The wet smack of his saliva-slicked member against my lips resounded quietly against the stones of the floor and walls.

The bucking picked up even more. I felt him tensing, his quads flexing hard to show the striations of his muscle beneath the tanned skin. His hand on my head tightened. I looked up, his cock still in my mouth, and saw his eyes were closed. I wondered if he was about to burst and fill my mouth with his hot cum.

Instead, just before he reached the point of no return, he jerked himself away from me. His breath came in harsh gasps as he backed a step away. There was a tiny pause. Time hung still. His eyes were slitted in a savage way, like a panther going in for the kill. His hands pawed at the air.

I knelt on the ground and found that I felt no fear. The fire was far too hot to notice anything else except for it. There was no ignoring this inferno. The abruptly cut-off pressure in my pussy was still aching; intuitively I knew that the only way to make it explode was the man standing in front of me.

Then the tension snapped. Dominic strode forward and plucked me from the ground. In one effortless motion, he tossed me on my stomach on the bed. He was behind me in a split second, lining himself up against my entrance.

I was sopping wet, but the strike of pain when he slid into me was still shocking. I whimpered. It hurt so fucking badly. He was stretching me far beyond what I thought was possible. His stroke was painstakingly slow, but it didn’t make a difference. My walls could only go so far. He was barely halfway inside me, and still it hurt.

“Please, go slow,” I told him. “It hurts so much.”
 

I heard only a grunt in response, but the stroking slowed by half. Each little bit of progress took long seconds. I bit down hard on my lip. The blood rushing to my head was impeded by the collar, so that I felt dizzy and hot and weightless all at once. My pussy felt like it was going to explode with an overwhelming cocktail of pain and pleasure. The fire had churned into an unstoppable inferno, with jagged edges that hurt and healed at the same time. I balled up the sheets of the bed in my fists and tried not to cry out, though it did little good. Moans trickled from my mouth nonetheless.

The crazy thing was that I didn’t want him to stop. In spite of the pain erupting between my legs, it felt good at the same time, especially when he reached around and started pressing at my clit while he thrust back and forth. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the good edges of the feelings coursing through me. This was insane. I shouldn’t enjoy this. Being taken like this—from behind, on my hands and knees like an animal, by a man who’d just
bought me
and told me I was his property—was not the way I’d ever imagined it going.

But now that it had started, I couldn’t picture it ever happening a different way. This was fucking, the way my body knew it was supposed to be done. As Dominic speared me on his thick cock, my nerves cried out in silent gratitude and the juices in my pussy flowed faster.

His grunting was loud in my ear. I felt him towering over me, squeezing my left hip with his left hand and using his right to keep vibrating my clit. I reached back and wrapped my fingers around his wrist, needing to hold onto something tightly to ride out what had become a frenetic, fast-paced fucking.

My own groans mingled with his, so that the room was filled with the plaintive animal noises of two things in heat. His body was hot and strong against mine as he layered his torso on top of my back and breathed heavily into my ear.

I moved my knees apart farther and pushed my ass up, arching my back to give him the best angle, the one that led deepest into me. He pushed further inside, stretching new parts of me beyond their limits.

“Dominic,” I bawled like a refrain, over and over again.