Chapter 1
1
M ara stood shivering on the doorstep of the strange apartment. She tugged at her long grey skirt, trying to straighten it as though it wasn’t soaked through; as though she didn’t look entirely like a drowned rat. She stared at the unfamiliar door. Music thrummed behind it. Angry sounds, like a gang of murder hornets preparing to sting at once. She braced to knock, but before she could summon the courage, the door burst open, and a tall, dark-eyed man towered above her.
“You,” he said flatly. “About time.”
The man was shirtless, his body a living map of ink and scars. He gripped her forearm and steered her into his home. It was dark and musty, the grey carpet thick with dust. He dragged her in front of him and looked her right in the face. She forced a smile, trying to melt his icy facade. He looked away, his jaw set. “Go to the end. The last door on the right. Take off everything except your underwear and get under the covers.”
With a thrill of fear, Mara scurried up the hall, still in her wet sneakers, skirt, and everything else.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but the room was big and bland. The only furniture was an empty bookcase and a bed with a grey duvet. Framed photos of spooky trees hung on the walls, but they looked like they’d come with the Airbnb.
“House,” she corrected herself. This was his house. She was in his home.
She sat on the bed, toeing off her shoes and struggling out of her skirt. ‘Except your underwear’ could have meant keeping on her bra, but Mara pulled hers off, folding an elbow over her bare breasts as though she had a reason to be modest. She crawled into bed and pulled the blankets over herself. It was like a balm to be in here, with the rain pattering outside. But that wasn’t really true, because soon the man would return.
She glanced at the open doorframe. When would he come? It could be in five minutes or half an hour. She shivered, pulling the duvet up to her chin. Her nipples were cold against the sheets, already hard and starting to tingle…
There was a rustling sound, and the man appeared, still shirtless and barefoot, holding a bottle of vodka.
“H-Hello,” Mara whispered, shocked, as she always was by how mean Derek could make himself look when he wanted to. His powerful body was taut as wire, his black eyes colder than steel. It made these fantasies so easy to engage with. The reality of the situation was lost in the intensity of his gaze. It was all too easy to imagine her husband was a criminal, maybe even a killer, and her lowlife family had sent her to appease him. The space between her legs began to thrum. “I’m sorry. Is this not what you wanted?”
Derek didn’t reply. He strode to the bed and pulled back the covers, devouring her with his eyes. “You’re the girl they sent?”
Mara hugged her breasts tighter. “I… yes.”
He ran his free hand along her leg, and her skin burned at his touch. She let out a cry he didn’t acknowledge.
“Know why you’re in my bed?”
“N-No.”
“Because I gave your old man a lot of money, and he hasn’t paid it back. Know what that means?”
She gaped up at him, smelling the liquor on his breath, braced for whatever pleasure or punishment might be coming next.
Derek’s black brows furrowed like arrows. “I asked you a question. Do you know what being here means?”
She shook her head, unable to even say ‘no.’
A humourless smile. “That makes sense. It means I own you.”
“But—”
“Your old man’s a hundred grand in the hole. That means giving me something worth at least a little of that or eating dirt. He chose this.” Derek gripped her chin hard, turning her face left and right. “You’re pretty for a Kennedy.”
It was strange to hear her old name. She’d been Mara Hardiman for so long. The stranger looked at her expectantly, and she found her tongue. “I… Thank you.”
“Virgin?”
The idea was ridiculous. She’d lost her virginity years ago; she and Derek had twins—beautiful boys currently at home with their babysitter, Saskia—but in the moment, it didn’t feel like lying to mumble, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”
“Right.” He let go of her face, both hands moving to his fly. “Open up.”
And then it was just there, his cock in her face. Semi-hard, growing harder by the second. Mara gasped as if she was a virgin. Derek traced the soft head over her lips, and she almost gagged. She tried to pull away, but his hand was already in her hair, holding her fast. “Don’t piss me off. Suck.”
Mara allowed herself to be pulled forward, parting her lips and drawing him into her mouth. His thickness made her choke, and Derek laughed. “That’s it. Do your job, slut.”
She drew on him slowly, trying to act like she’d never done this before and didn’t know exactly how her husband liked it. A sudden coldness made Mara start.
“Watch ya fuckin’ teeth,” Derek snarled. He was pressing his vodka bottle to her face.
Mara tried to continue sucking him, but it was hard while she was lying on her back with the bottle on her face. Derek pushed his tattooed hips forward so she choked and sputtered saliva. He wiped a splash off her chin with the rough pad of his thumb.
“You’re going to live here with me. Not in this room, you’ll have your own. If I want you to come fuck me, I’ll let you know; otherwise, you stay in there, understand?”
Mara nodded.
The bottle pressed harder against her cheek. “I said, ‘Do you understand?’”
“ Ige ungerstanggg ,” she garbled.
“Good.” He resumed pumping in and out of her mouth, swigging from the bottle before returning it to her face, the glass already warm from her skin.
“Most of your job’ll be this,” he said. “But you’ll clean too. There’s a uniform in your room. You’ll wear it whenever you work.”
Mara felt her whole body flush. She could just imagine the uniform this man would pick out for her.
“Your old man said you’re a good cook,” he continued. “You’ll do that for me too. I’ll tell you when I won’t be here; otherwise, it’ll be morning and night.”
The complications of this were too much, even in a fantasy. She pulled her mouth away from his cock, careful not to disturb the vodka bottle. “How will I know what you’ll like?”
He glared down at her. “You’ll figure it out. Get your mouth back on my dick.”
She obeyed, sucking him deeper, raising her head off the pillow as high as she could without hurting herself. He was so hard he felt like a smooth club between her teeth.
“Like doing that, whore?”
“Yeggs.”
“You’re lying, but fuck it.” Derek drank again, returning the bottle to her skull as though she were a human coffee table. “You’ll stay in this house twenty-four seven. I’ll pick out your clothes, and if any of my boys come around, you go straight to your room. I don’t want any men looking at you. Got it?”
She nodded.
He reached down and began playing with her right breast, squeezing it absently as he drank and talked about how he would drive her anywhere she needed to go, and she wasn’t allowed a phone. Mara pressed her thighs together as she worked. She could taste that Derek was getting close, yet his voice hadn’t changed in the slightest. She was awed by his control at times. His absolute mastery over his own body. He’d once used it to become the greatest AFL footballer of his age, but now he pushed her into the most desperate, needy places while acting like he could take it or leave it.
Derek gave her left nipple a hard tug. “I’m done with your introduction. Stop sucking.”
She released him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Derek’s cock stood over her accusingly, the end angry with blood.
“Very good,” he said, stroking himself across her face, spreading silken pre-come on her nose and cheeks. “I like my girls quiet.”
Mara’s skin itched, but she didn’t scrub her face. He liked looking at her this way, lying beneath him, covered in him and her own spit. Degraded. He stared down at her like a cruel king, and she blinked back, her nipples throbbing. From the mean look in his eyes, he wasn’t done playing, and she desperately wanted to feel him. To have more.
“H-How long will I be here?” she asked.
“Dunno, princess. Until I get bored.”
Mara’s heart clenched. “W-What will happen then?”
“Maybe I’ll give you back to your old man. Although he might not want you after what I’m gonna do to you.”
Her asshole clenched involuntarily, and Derek grinned wider as he traced the line of her jaw with the vodka bottle. “Maybe I’ll give you to someone else. Maybe you can work a pole, and I’ll make money off you. We’ll see.”
Mara felt a hot rush of jealousy. Even in this fantasy, she didn’t want Derek to own clubs where he’d see other women. She wanted to make him happy. Be his only girl. His only pet. He watched her, smirking as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. He backed away from the bed. “Take off your underwear and get on all fours. Show me your pussy.”
Her hand shook as she pulled her thong down her thighs and scrambled onto her knees. She forced herself into position, turning so her ass was facing him.
Please like it , she thought. Please like me.
“Little girl,” Derek said, his voice softly terrifying. “… show me. Your fucking. Cunt.”
Cringing, Mara reached a hand between her legs, parting her lips, showing this cruel man everything she was.
“Good.” His voice came from lower, and she knew he was crouched behind her, staring into her pussy. A pearl of wetness dripped between her fingers, and she flushed, pressing her face into the strange sheets.
Derek laughed. “You really are a virgin, aren’t you?”
In some ways, she wished she was. That Derek had been the one to take that from her. But their history, ancient as it was, didn’t include that—which was probably why Derek was obsessed with rewriting the scene in his fantasies. That and?—
Enough , she told herself. Focus.
“Y-Yes,” she mumbled into the covers. She waited for him to touch her, but he didn’t. Instead, she heard him straighten and drink, the vodka glugging noisily.
Please don’t get too drunk , she thought, but that, too, wasn’t focusing on the scene. She let her worries siphon into her character—the fear this big, scary man would lose control and take it out on her.
There was a loud thunk , and she flinched, knowing Derek had probably dropped the empty bottle onto the carpet. Then his hands were on her back, stroking along her spine. His palms were scratchy, as coarse as when he played football. The gym, she guessed, though in this fantasy, it was probably from digging graves.
A hard fingertip traced one of her back dimples. “Ever kissed anyone?”
Mara froze, unsure what the correct answer should be. “I?—”
“Let me tell you,” Derek said, his voice dangerous again. “‘No.’ Far as I’m concerned, you never kissed anyone before me.”
Derek , Mara thought with a throb of sadness. You know that’s true.
“I-I haven’t kissed anyone,” she repeated. She wished he’d kiss her now, but he rarely did when they roleplayed lately. Their scenes were all hardness and tension and not?—
Stop, Mara. Not now.
Derek’s finger circled close to her asshole, and Mara tensed.
“Don’t be like that, princess. You’ve barely started paying off your daddy’s debt. Now, do you wanna make a start, or do you want a drink first?”
Mara shook her head, and he laughed. “You think I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re wrong. When I said you’d be paying for your daddy’s debt, I want pain. I want blood.”
Mara’s butt quivered in pre-emptive agony. She knew what that meant when it came to her husband. He was going to spank her, and while she liked spankings, it was hard to look forward to them—they really, really hurt.
She listened as Derek undid his pants and sat on the bed beside her, his tattooed thighs like tree trunks. “Turn around. Get over my lap.”
She paused, and he grabbed her hair, dragging her into place, her stomach over his hard cock, the flesh throbbing even through his underwear.
“You’ll get a hundred,” he told her. “One for every grand your old man owes me.”
“Oh God,” Mara muttered. One hundred wasn’t impossible, but it was the upper limit of what she could take. She knew Derek would warm her up and include the lighter strokes in the total, but still.
“Shut up,” Derek said, slapping her left cheek. “That’s one.”
Time blurred as he worked his way through the strikes. He didn’t count aloud, and she didn’t keep track. The pain started warm, then got white hot, hovering like a mirage as her flesh caught fire. She cried out, yelping and thrashing for all the good it did her. Derek held her fast, as impossible to move as a concrete cage.
She wanted it to be over, but as the slaps continued, she felt the same submissive pull she always did—to push harder, to keep going. Her heart began to race, her head floating like she was on drugs. Her pussy felt tight and wet—impossibly small, impossibly empty. By the time he lifted his hand, Mara wanted to stay exactly where she was.
“One more to go,” he said, reaching beneath her and twisting a nipple. “You like it, huh?”
“Nooooo,” she moaned.
“Liar. You’re soaked. I can smell you.”
He slapped her ass one last time, so hard her whole body jerked tight. She clawed Derek’s shin, digging her nails into his tattooed flesh. He laughed and squeezed one of her abused cheeks, making her gasp.
“That’s enough. Be good for me, or I’ll film what happens next and send it to Daddy to watch.”
He bent his head to look her in the eyes, a smirk contorting his beautiful face. “Do you think he’ll jack off to it? Do you think he’ll come?”
“You’re disgusting,” Mara moaned.
“You have no fucking idea.” His fingers found her slit, lazily rubbing her cunt and asshole. Her body was so primed, orgasm descended like a swirl of butterflies, and she cried out in pleasure and humiliation.
“I’m gonna buy you a dog collar. Put it on you and pull the chain while I fuck you.”
Mara imagined watching them from the outside: a powerful man and his helpless slave girl. She pictured her bruised backside and Derek expertly manipulating her holes, and she came, the oxygen drawing out of her lungs like a backdraft.
“Fuck,” Derek muttered, rubbing faster. “That’s perfect.”
She pounced on the encouragement, arching her back and moaning as prettily as she could as her orgasm spun to a close.
“Good girl,” he said. “Good little slut.”
Mara hoped he’d take her now that he could find release and return them to their real lives—their sons, their bed, and their easy, affectionate relationship.
Derek gripped her thighs, pulling her back into the cradle of his hips. “You want me to fuck you now, slut?”
“Y-You can do whatever you want to me.”
“I know. You want my dick?”
“I… Yes.”
He tossed her onto the bed, and she lay sprawled there with her legs apart. Derek turned her over and climbed on top, sucking at her right nipple. His teeth glanced at the tip, and she cried out.
“What? You don’t like that?”
Looking into her husband’s hard face, Mara knew he still wasn’t done messing with her and felt a pang of disappointment. “It hurts...”
“You think I give a fuck?” He lowered his tongue and teeth to her left nipple, but he was gentler this time. The slow, pulling sensations made Mara ache for his cock.
“Please?” she whispered. “I need more.”
He ignored her, alternating between her tits until her back was arching off the bed, then he moved, settling his face between her thighs.
Mara raised her head, shocked at the thought of this evil guy going down on her.
Derek grinned. “Surprised I wanna eat you?”
She nodded.
“Wouldn’t if you’d taken a dick before, but you haven’t, so I’ll taste your little cunt.”
It was a disgusting statement, but Mara liked disgusting things sometimes, and when he licked her softly, she screamed. Again, she was so primed that orgasm was almost inevitable, but between the spanking and everything else, the sensation was sharp, nearly painful. She closed her eyes as she finished, and as soon as Derek was done licking, she reached for the duvet. He snatched it away. “Not so fast, princess. You still need to be broken in.”
Mara moaned her disapproval, but she was more than happy to be taken by him—as long as he didn’t expect her to do anything more than lie there and be used. She was exhausted and nearing her sexual limits.
“Are you on something?” he demanded. “To stop you from getting pregnant?”
Yes. Toddler twins were more than enough babies for now. But not in this universe. “N-No.”
He reached for the bedside table drawer and pulled out a condom. “I’ll get you on the pill tomorrow. We’ll use this for now, but I’m not happy about it.”
She watched nervously as he rolled the condom down his shaft. After all they’d done, she wasn’t sure why this unsettled her.
Because , her mind whispered, he’s so into this scene he’d rather wear a condom than feel you.
Shh , Mara thought. Later.
Derek paused, his sheathed cock in his hand. “You want me to bareback you? Because I will. I’ll fuck you raw. Put my kid in you.”
Mara made herself flinch. “Please don’t do that?”
“I’ll do whatever I want.” Derek rubbed his palm across his face before wiping his sweat across her breasts, cackling as she shied away.
“These are nice tits, princess. Your daddy pay for them?”
Shame and lust sizzled through Mara. She’d gotten her boobs done years ago, but it was still a little embarrassing to have that acknowledged. “I… Please stop.”
“No. You like having big tits? You like men looking at you?”
“I don’t…” She could barely think. “Please just do it?”
He laughed. “You liked getting them done, didn’t you? Making men froth after you even more than they already did?”
“No!”
“You do. And it worked. No one can look at those legs and not want to spread ‘em.”
He settled between them, his body arching over hers like a bridge. He rubbed the head of his cock through her oversensitive folds, and Mara whimpered.
“Like that, do you?” he demanded, but before she could answer, he thrust inside her. She squealed as he split her open, his weight bearing down on hers.
“Fuck yes,” Derek hissed, his breath hot in her ear. “That’s at least ten grand right there.”
“I—”
“Shut up and take it, bitch.” He surged back, his hips driving hard, and Mara clung to his shoulders for dear life, her hair snagging on the sheets beneath her.
“Christ, you’re tight,” Derek grunted. “Get your legs around my ass.”
She wrapped herself around him, torn between pleasure and the strange awareness that this was the same man who’d made gentle love to her two nights ago, kissing her so deeply she thought she’d drown. But that was love with Derek. Hard and light. Soft and cruel.
He rose on his palms, the new angle rolling into places Mara could never seem to find on her own. She closed her eyes and tried not to make the squeaking sounds she always found embarrassing when she got close.
“Time for you to come,” Derek snarled. “Rub your clit.”
The strain in his voice said the order wasn’t just for her sake. They’d been at this for a while, and Derek had to be close. She played with herself, but she was so sensitive she could barely brush her fingers over her clit. She stayed at it, but no position seemed right. Her orgasm kept slipping away, moving forward and back as he rolled his hips. She needed his help, and there was only one way to get his help in times like these. She looked up, meeting Derek’s gaze directly. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”
Her husband scowled. “You gonna come? I’ve got places to be.”
“I, um, don’t know. If I?—”
“What, you need a fuckin’ hand?” He rolled his hips, forcing himself flush inside her. “This isn’t enough?”
“I—”
He slapped her. Not hard, but enough that it shocked her. She stared at him. His expression was stony, his hips never missing a thrust.
Mara closed her eyes. “Please...?”
“Jesus, fine.” Derek withdrew, flipping her over like she was a couch cushion and hauling her back onto all fours. There was a snap as he yanked off the condom, and rough fingers spread her ass wide. Mara screamed at the sensation. “What are you doing?”
“I wanna look at your holes while I fuck you,” he said, sliding back into her pussy.
He felt twice as big this way, and Mara moaned, “No,” while all she could think was ‘Oh God, yes.’
“Shut up and get your hands back on your cunt,” Derek barked. “Fucking come, or I’ll send you back home, and your old man can face the consequences.”
She obeyed, rubbing herself furiously.
“Yes,” Derek muttered, his thumb stroking over her asshole. “Yeah, you’ll stay here with me, cook my food and fuck me every night, won’t you?”
“Yes,” she sobbed, feeling her climax rise like the tide. “Yessss.”
“Good. Then maybe I won’t kill you.”
She yelped, the horror of his words blazing through her as the physical sensations reached their peak, and she bit into the mattress as she came. She was dimly aware of Derek moving faster, saying things and driving deep, but her mind was so melted that she wasn’t listening. It was raining outside, the droplets pattering onto the windows. She couldn’t wait to leave this place, smell the clean air, and walk through the streets to a restaurant with her calm, loving husband, Derek Hardiman.
“Jesusssss,” he snarled, his hips slamming into hers. “Fuck!”
She felt him release inside her, grateful that he’d taken off the condom. Having him there was nice—almost as nice as knowing the scene was almost over. She just had one more job to do. When he pulled away, she pressed two fingers inside herself. “What should I do with…?”
“Keep it,” Derek said, tapping her still-burning ass. “It’s all yours, princess. See ya later.”
He left the room, somehow managing to look scary even when naked and staggering. Smiling to herself, Mara moved into the tiny ensuite bathroom to pee and wipe between her legs.
“Hey, baby,” Derek called when she was almost done. “That was fucking incredible.”
She found him slumped into the sheets, grinning from ear to ear, and with a jolt, she realised it had been weeks since she’d seen him smile like that. Not since?—
“The last time we did this,” she muttered.
“What?” Derek said, still grinning.
“Never mind. That was good.”
“Fuck yeah, it was. C’mere, you sexy little nymph. Daddy needs a cuddle.”
He opened his arms, and Mara tumbled onto him like she always did.
“You’re such an amazing lay,” Derek said, kissing her forehead. “Blows my fucking mind…”
Mara smiled into his slightly sweaty chest. She was, and would always be, far less sexually experienced than Derek, but he never made her feel that way. Exactly the opposite. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“Anytime, baby. Fuck I needed that. You know what? Next time, I’m gonna get some handcuffs. Maybe do a little kidnapping. Kick it up a notch.”
“Sure,” Mara said, but as Derek turned to the topic of where they could get dinner, all she could think was ‘I can’t keep up with this.’