Taken by the Beast (6 page)

She lowered her panties and sat down, concentrating on the pattern of the tile floor. She finished, flushed, and washed her hands, then waited for his next command, suddenly unsure which part of the punishment she was more worried about.

“Come here,” he said.

She obeyed.

“Hold out your hands, palms together.”

She did and watched while he worked the loop of the rope around and between her wrists, leaving some slack, but securing it so she couldn’t get free. She couldn’t figure out what he was going to do with it; he hadn’t cut it, so the length was quite long.

Once it was secure, he tugged her along toward a spot between the bed and the desk. He looped the rope through a hook that hung from the ceiling. Likely for a plant or something, she imagined, wondering why she cared. From there, he pulled it until her arms were raised overhead and kept pulling so she had to stand on tiptoe. At that point, he looped the rope through the hook again, giving her no slack, and secured the other end of it. He then retrieved the gag he’d used last night.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

“I won’t scream.”

“I think you’ll understand when I say I don’t trust you.”

She pressed her lips tighter.

“I can use duct tape too, but this won’t hurt as much when I take it off.”

She glared at him, but opened her mouth and didn’t struggle as he secured it in place.

He walked behind her. “One more thing,” he said, taking her panties down to mid-thigh. “When I tell you to strip naked, you strip naked.”

She made a sound of protest.

“Feels even more exposed, doesn’t it?” he asked, coming around to meet her eyes, which filled with tears.

“If you drop them, you’ll get additional strokes added to your spanking,” he said. He then leaned against the wall, folded his arms across his chest and waited, his eyes never leaving hers.

She wondered what he was going to do. This was uncomfortable and humiliating, but no more than that. At least not at first.

* * *

Elijah scanned her body, his eyes moving slowly over the full mounds of her uplifted breasts, the curve of her waist, the rise of her hip. Her belly was flat and she had a neatly trimmed triangle of pale hair over her pussy. Underneath, she was shaved bare; he’d seen that last night. His cock grew hard at the memory of the slick, pink lips, swollen and open.

She shifted her weight so she now stood with flat feet. He watched her keep her legs spread just enough to keep her panties in place. She’d know in another moment how such a subtle punishment could provide such a satisfying result. At least for the disciplinarian. Although he wouldn’t let her off the hook as far as that spanking was concerned; he liked doing that entirely too much. An involuntary, low growl escaped his throat. She shifted again, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments. He looked at her hands; she would be feeling the pressure on her wrists, but her fingers were fine. She could go longer.

She made some sound, trying to grip the rope. She moved from tiptoes to flat feet again.

He held her gaze a little longer than would be comfortable for her, some part of him relishing in her discomfort. He wasn’t sure if that was more human or animal.

“I’m going to have a shower. I’ll take you down when I’m finished and we’ll get to that spanking. If you’re quiet throughout this part of the punishment, I’ll take your gag off.”

She mumbled something through her gag, but he turned his back and walked into the bathroom where he stripped off his clothes and climbed into the shower. He left the door open so he could keep an eye on her. He wouldn’t keep her in this predicament for long, but she didn’t need to know that.

His cock was hard and he knew it would have to stay that way for now. After five minutes, he climbed out and dried himself off. He pulled on his jeans and returned to the bedroom to find her staring at him with wide eyes, a layer of sweat having collected on her forehead.

“You ready for me to take you down and spank you?”

She nodded eagerly, shifting her weight from foot to foot, then to flat feet, then back up to tiptoes. It was time to bring her down, but first, he removed her gag.

She exhaled. “Please, my fingers.”

He moved to loosen the rope. In the next instant, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her still-bound hands against her legs. Her panties had fallen to the floor.

With purpose, he unbuckled his belt, watching her face as he did it.

“You dropped your panties,” he said, a small smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

She looked at the little slip of lace on the floor, then at him as if just realizing it.

“I’ll have to add on strokes for that.”

“No.” Her eyes went once again to where his hand rested on the buckle of his belt.

“Tell me why I’m going to punish you,” he said.

She scooted back on the bed and looked at him. She shook her head, mute.

“Kayla, tell me why I’m going to punish you,” he repeated.

“Because I lied to you and left that stupid message so someone would find us.”

“And why have I taken you with me?”

“To protect me from the people who are after you. Who killed your family.”

He wondered if she could see the emotion that crossed his face.

“Do I need to keep you bound for the next part?” he asked.

“Please don’t do the next part,” she said, her eyes welling with tears already. “I’ve learned my lesson, I promise.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He hoped he wouldn’t need to. A punishment needed to be taken; to be submitted to. Her wrists would be raw if he bound her while belting her and he was glad when she shook her head no and held her arms out to him. He took both her hands in one of his and freed her from the rope. He then spent some time rubbing them, looking them over, before pulling her to her feet.

He pulled his belt from its loops, watching her eyes widen. He doubled it and gripped the buckle in his palm. “Bend over the side of the bed, lean on your elbows.”

“Can you use your hand instead? Please?”

“I think the belt may make more of an impression. Over the side of the bed. Now.”

He watched her tentatively take position.

“Legs wider,” he said. He moved to stand behind and just to the side of her. She spread her legs a little and he didn’t miss the slick pink of her pussy, and when she lifted her hips just a little, he smiled.

He began right away, the sound of leather whistling through air satisfying, but not so much as when it connected with flesh.

“Ah!” she gasped with the contact.

“Count,” he said.

“One.” She didn’t hesitate; he liked that. She would learn and he’d enjoy teaching her.

He wasn’t hitting hard, but he imagined she wouldn’t know that. He swung again, striking once more across her buttocks.

“Two.”

He saw the bed covers drag a little and imagined she was fisting handfuls of it. Another strike.

“Three. How many?” she asked, sounding desperate already.

He swung twice in quick succession.

She whimpered and shifted her feet, rounding her back, then hollowing it out again.

“You are not to speak unless you’re asked a question during punishment. Those two won’t count.” He delivered the next round, fully aware of his cock wanting out of his jeans when he watched her scramble upward onto the bed.

“Down, Kayla. Back in position and we’ll continue.”

She didn’t beg him to stop, but made some sound as she resumed her position. He noticed he didn’t have to tell her to spread her legs and, gaining confidence he wasn’t hurting her too badly, he struck harder, seven more swats, with the last two across her thighs.

She screamed with those two, but counted each one. Her muscles tensed when he dragged the belt across her bottom, building anticipation. He waited just long enough for her to relax and when she did, he struck the hardest strike yet and she pressed her face into the bed, mumbling the count, reaching back to cover her buttocks.

“Put your hands back on the bed.”

It took her a minute, but she complied. Her bottom was dark red, each stroke clearly outlined. Another ten and he’d stop. Five he delivered to her thighs and the last five back on her bottom. She counted each one and he noted how difficult it was for him to stop.

“It’s over,” he said.

He looped his belt back through the loops and came to sit beside her. She lifted her torso, wanting to stand. He pushed her back down, one hand planting firmly on her buttock in a loud slap.

“No more,” she begged. “Please.”

“No more.” He caressed, the heat from her skin tingling against his hand. Without conscious intent, he dipped two fingers between her legs and she went perfectly still. She was warm and wet when he rubbed her pussy, her clit. He lifted her onto his lap so her torso rested on the bed and her hips were the highest part of her body. Her legs dangled off his and she didn’t move to close them when he slid one finger into the slick passage. She moaned and lifted into his hand and he wanted nothing more than to fuck her then and there.

“Elijah,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

Her face was flushed red and her eyes wet.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he hadn’t spoken in days.

“I want…” She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

He cleared his throat. This could not go there. He could not fuck her.

He removed his slick fingers from her pussy and dragged them up along the cleft toward her bottom hole. He kept his gaze steady on hers as he did it. She stiffened when he pressed a thick, wet finger against the tight passage, but he persisted and when his finger gained entry up to the first knuckle, she buried her face into the bed.

“Kayla,” he said. He pushed deeper, pulled out, and repeated. “Look at me.”

She turned slowly, her face just a shade lighter than her bottom.

“If you do something like this again, I’ll punish you here,” he said, driving his point home by pressing his finger all the way inside her.

She fisted her hands and he felt her muscles tightening around the invasion. He wondered if he were to pinch her nipples, her clit, how long it would take for her to come.

“Do you understand?” he asked, he needed to keep control of her, of the situation. Of himself.

She nodded.

“Good girl,” he said. He held inside her a moment longer, forcing her to keep her eyes on his the entire time, enjoying the flush of pink on her face turning magenta as he withdrew, then reinserted. It took all he had to contain himself, but he did, removing his finger and gathering her into his arms.

“You’re forgiven, Kayla,” he said.

She wept when he said it, burying her face in his chest, her body relaxing into his. He wondered if she’d been waiting for those words and held her tight, cradling her head close to his heart, allowing her to sob.

Chapter Six

Kayla sat on his lap, his arms holding her tightly, her tear-streaked face lying against his wet, naked chest. Her bottom burned, inside and out, but her pussy ached. She was grateful for the jeans he wore, keeping the moisture between her legs from smearing onto his thighs, his cock. She shifted a little as the latter pressed into her hip.

Although she knew she’d never want to be on the receiving end of that belt again, she couldn’t hide the fact that the punishment had aroused her, just as the spanking had. Maybe more so. And when he’d put his fingers inside her, as ashamed as she’d been at his knowing her arousal, she’d wanted him. She’d almost asked him to fuck her. What was wrong with her? Was she just a glutton for punishment? First Todd, now him.

Her mind put a halt to that thought before it got any farther. Elijah was nothing like Todd. Nothing. Although Elijah punished her, she didn’t feel unsafe with him. He wouldn’t hurt her, not like Todd. She realized how strange this line of thinking was, but it simply was. In fact, this moment was one of the most tender she’d ever experienced with any man. Him holding her, allowing her to cry without a word, without any judgment. Just forgiveness.

Her reaction at that, at his forgiveness, had baffled her. It was as if some part of her needed to hear him say it, to have him absolve her. And she’d only felt relief when he had.

He too had been aroused when he’d punished her; that was obvious. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide his erection—not that he could if he tried, she imagined. But she knew his punishments were meant to be just that and not sexual in nature, weren’t they? It had surprised her when he’d dipped his fingers inside her, making her wonder at his self-control. In that moment though, she’d wanted nothing more than for him to take her, to fuck her hard and make her come for him. She had the impression his self-restraint was thin.

When he’d penetrated her bottom with his finger, it had hurt. But as humiliating as it had been, she couldn’t deny the arousal that had accompanied the shame. And it wasn’t only that. It wasn’t only sexual. It somehow fulfilled something inside her, completed something.

She cleared her throat and wiped her face. She wasn’t stupid enough to romanticize this situation, was she?

“Can I have a shower?” she asked.

He lifted her off his lap and stood her between his legs. He looked at her for a moment and she couldn’t quite decide on the emotion that was in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Leave the door open.”

“Ok. Thank you,” she said, wondering which part she was thanking him for.

She didn’t waste time, getting the temperature of the water just right and collecting the bottle of cheap shampoo/conditioner combo. She climbed into the tub and stood under the water, just allowing it to soothe at first.

* * *

Elijah positioned a pillow behind his head and leaned back against the headboard. The remote control was glued onto the nightstand. Annoyed, he broke it off using very little effort and switched on the TV, finding the news channel.

He imagined there would be something about the murders at the apartment, but what he found was so much worse.