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    "I'll be damned if I am. But don't you dare tell a soul."

    "Ah! my lips are sealed." She smiled then reached up and kissed him passionately on the mouth. "Til, later. I left the key on the downstairs table."

    As she hurried on down the stairs, Alain realized how relieved he was that she wouldn't be complicating the impending initiation of Miss Shaw."

The phone rang minutes later.

    "Chief, we have the Proctors threatening again. Liddy Proctor has been crying to the Major and Loren is spouting off to the media, when he's not hassling the district attorney."

    "Aw, let him spout. Anything on Natalie Moon?"

    "Only that she's boring as hell to follow. No sleazy trysts. No late night rendezvous. No furtive phone calls, at least that I'm privy to. Not a clue about Perry Livingston."

    "There probably won't be anything. We'll try following her another day or two, then we'll turn our attention elsewhere."

S
CENE
T
WELVE

He sat on his crate, gazing down at her naked, shackled beauty, admiring her lusty pose – legs scissored, her pink cunt peeking out below, while her milky white breasts looked particularly voluminous as she lounged on her side. Her aureoles were broad with just a slight bud of the nipple extending beyond the otherwise smooth surface.

    "So, tell me you love me, Kat Bloom."

    Hearing his request, she jerked upright, "Are you serious? Like hell I'll tell you that!"

    A little testy today, he noted.

    "Why would you even ask me to?"

    "I know what's going on for you," he snickered knowingly. "At night, I wait and listen. You don't cry anymore. I've even heard you masturbate. I've heard you moan. All those delicious sexual sounds."

    "So, how's that? You have the room bugged?"

    "I don't need to bug the room, doll. The sounds of your desire are loud enough to penetrate lead. I know your arousal is so fucking high you can hardly stand yourself. You climax on a dime. I've turned you into a veritable sex machine. And when I fuck you, it's obvious to me that you're enrapt by the cataclysmic power of our sex."

    "Cataclysmic?" She knew he was mocking her, but the comment didn't lack sincerity. "You think that's love? You're crazy," she fumed, miserably. "I don't even know your name."

    "Really?"

    "Yeah, like how would I know unless you tell me? Which you haven't."

    "It's Perry," he said, without hesitation.

    "Perry," she repeated back, letting the sound of it linger on her lips. Then she smiled. "That's what I thought."

    "What do you mean, that's what you thought?"

    "You're Perry Livingston?"

    He smiled broadly. "That's right, in the flesh."

    "You're quite the urban myth, but I guess you're not a myth at all."

    "I am what I am. An incorrigible bastard, a devilish SOB, the mysterious anonymous force that awakens you in the night, a criminal on the run… I'm lots of things." He peered at her befuddled expression with one fixed eye. "So, what's that look on your face, anyway? Kind of a strange smile for you. Like you're pleased. Is that it? You're pleased that Perry Livingston kidnapped you?"

    "Oh, get over yourself. Why would I be pleased to be taken against my will and held in shackles for months on end in this dumpy room?"

    "Because you love it," he sneered.

    "Yeah, I love sex. But I also love my life. I love my freedom. You've taken me as low as I can go, where I'm the horniest slut around, but I'm still not giving up my liberty freely. I miss my friends. I miss my job. I miss walking down the street on my own, running through the surf, making decisions for myself. You can try to bleed me dry of those desires, but it's not going to happen." She became more exorcised the more she spoke. "Not even if you are Perry Livingston. Even if you're God himself, I only bend so far."

    "See. That's why I like you, Kat Bloom. There's always a challenge."

    "Well, challenge yourself all you want with me, but you can't take it all. You can't."

    "I got that. But it doesn't stop me from enjoying the battle. I get a rush just seeing you here in shackles, knowing that you're my captive. That you're victim to me. I embrace my 'abusive asshole' self, Kat, just like you embrace your bitchiness. I think you love me. You're just too chicken to say so."

    "Yeah, right," she snapped off sarcastically. "So, do you love me, Perry Livingston?"

    His face lightened with a smile so amazingly pure that it took her aback. "Yeah. I do love you."

    He stood up, gave her bewildered expression one last look and then sauntered out.

***

Perry came back to the room hours later, just after Kat had finished the October issue of
Vanity Fair
. He'd bought it on her request, along with canned peaches and BJ's Cherry Garcia Ice Cream. Unfortunately for her, he divvied out special favors infrequently. Only when he was in a good mood and she'd been especially good in bed, or had taken such extreme punishment that his compassion eventually kicked in. Maybe it was remorse. Whatever. Handing over his sparse treats made him feel as powerful as putting her in shackles.

    He stood over his captive now, grinning.

    "You're being awfully nice," she said, when their eyes met.

    "Am I?" He smirked playfully, then reached down and lifted his prize to her feet. Yes, her shackles clattered and the sound was as sweet as the best rock and roll he'd ever heard. The music of the heavy metal went directly to his crotch. His cock hardened at its sound – and also at the sight of her any time of day, under any circumstances. He kept expecting his feelings to fade. They had before. But not with this one, this slave, this sassy-talking Kat Bloom.

    He kissed her on the mouth, his hands roving her body, tearing softly at her flesh. She kissed back and was warmed by her efforts. See, she was loving him, if not in love. In time, in time. He'd finally have her soul.

The kisses got bigger and wider and she was nearly delirious from the surging power flowing from him. He seemed so very different today, so connected to himself, not so restless, but determinedly forceful. This affected her greatly, having her lower regions deeply aroused. Her feral strength, her powerful obsession, even the clanking shackles she hated so much, seemed to drive her mad, freaking mad! Madly ravenous. Ravenously needy.

    "Your ass. I want your ass," he said.

    He'd had her ass before, and it was always brutally hard. But this time, as he lowered her shackle-laden body to the floor so she was on hands and knees, she could feel her ass want him and his fat, thrusting prick deep inside that dark channel.

    "Open yourself for me," he ordered. She reached back and grabbed her two cheeks, exposing the taut bud. A cool liquid suddenly dripped down the crevice, then gushed like a river until he tossed the lube away and let his fingers thrust into the vacant, sexy place. His fingers were followed by a hefty dildo intended to broaden the opening so she'd easily accept his cock.

    "Damn it, I want you!" she found herself exclaiming, seductively grinding her ass.

    "I'm happy to take advantage of you. But you don't get me easy, doll."

    Seconds later, two heavy pinchers pierced her labia and dangled beneath her body. The pain started to mount and make her scared. Almost as quickly, the raw sensations spread through her lower regions and her mind began to reel, caught up in the mind-numbing delirium. An obsession for coming gathered so forcefully that she knew she would not awaken from this bleary state of mind until the climax shook her body. It didn't matter what he did to her: how large the invading dildo was; or how her pussy lips ached from the cutting clamps; or how much the quirt he used to thrash her ass viciously cut into her skin. Every jerk and twist renewed the anguish and drove her arousal higher.

    "God, god, yesyesyesyesyes…" she rattled off … "Damn, you fucking asshole, fuck me fuuuuck me…" the obscenities poured from her mouth unchecked.

    "Yeah, I'm going to fuck you, bitch!"

    The quirt came down again, strike after strike whipping into her flesh, catching sharply down the sensitive crack, then curling around and snapping painfully against her heavily swinging pussy lips. The effect was a stinging reign of terror down the back of her thighs.

    Then all went quiet. The noise of the quirt ended, the pain receded and her cries diminished. Her pussy lips were numb by now, and the dildo ceased being a cumbersome burden. She wanted a cock as thick and forceful as the fake one in her ass. But she had to settle for a human one. For her master's, her captor's, for Perry Livingston's cock.

    He did just fine. While forcefully twisting the dildo, he steadily pulled it out, then with hardly a second, no recuperating time at all, he stuffed his hard erection into her back channel until his groin hit her ass cheeks and she was fully impaled.

    "God yes! Fuck me, fuck me hard!" she cried. Like he cared what she wanted.

    But they were so in sync by then that their desire was one. They were one person, one mingled soul, the used and the user, going at it with his muscled body banging into her backdoor, while her small shackle-laden one relinquished to everything he demanded of her with an ease that would astound her when they were done.

    She seemed too small, her ass too taut and pretty for acts this vile; her voice too girlish for the harsh cuss words she used. But she took it all, loving how he fucked her with no restraint, no apologies, no remorse.

    "Gawwwwwwwwwwwww!" she lifted her head a final time, crying out from her gut from the hard climaxing spasms. The clamps on her pussy lips banged back and forth, reminding her of that hurt, as her captor gripped her ass cheeks a little more brutally so that even through the pleasure of coming, she new the pain was there and would not stop even when she was too exhausted to come again.

    She felt every spasm of his ejaculating cock as the cum poured into her body. Jerking in response, she wiggled beneath him involuntarily until she couldn't move another muscle, or utter another glorious or pained cry. And when she finally slumped to the mattress, he was with her, still inside her with his cock still throbbing as his arms went around her body to embrace her in that safe place.

    "Oh, do I have plans," he crooned softly.

    But she barely heard that. Of course, he was baiting her, but she wasn't capable of uttering a sound, or even remembering much that he said now. For just a moment, heaven descended and all was right in her world, as miniscule as it had come to be in her room in the trees.

    "Tell me you love me, Kat Bloom," he said.

    "Oh, I do love you, Perry Livingston. You're all I have now."

S
CENE
T
HIRTEEN

Meredith Shaw was easy to train, although the willing sub was a nervous wreck before she arrived at Alain's house on Friday night. He had to admit that the tension between them was electric, palpable enough to make him afraid that those working around them at the station would notice. He felt her natural eroticism leap on him at work the moment he saw her in the hallway delivering files. She refused to look his way, and when he rather jovially mentioned that he felt snubbed, she confessed that she couldn't help but think of their night together in her apartment or the evening in his office. She coyly blushed, as she went on to say that she was trying very hard to contain her lust, and under the circumstances it wasn't all that easy.

    "Then you see the wisdom of your transfer?"

    "Please, sir. You make it more difficult to obey your order when you speak to me this way."

    "Then I should leave you be," he said, a playful twinkle in his eye.