Chapter 1 #3
I blink repeatedly as the world draws in on me and nightmarish colors infiltrate the dream. Whimpering, I pull at the cuffs and try to scoot off the bench. But Killian grabs the chain of the cuffs and keeps me pressed to the surface.
“Fuuck,” he groans. It’s my only warning before sticky ribbons of cum spurt onto my lower back and ass.
“Ooo,” I cry out around the gag, trying to say no and stop. But it’s already too late. The transgression has already happened; it just hasn’t quite sunk in yet.
“Disgusting slut,” he spits and delivers another smack to my ass. Keeping his grip on the cuffs, he leans over the piano beside me. “Now, let’s see what delicious footage you’ve given me, princess.”
Tears sting my eyes as I jerk against his grip without achieving anything.
I try to protest again, but the pathetic sounds coming out around the gag has me swallowing back the words.
Humiliation hits me over the head and knocks the air from my lungs.
I turn my head as the sound of his voice comes through the phone speaker, playing what I thought was the start of a dream, but really was a nightmare.
Do you want me to take off your panties, Jenna?
My moaned response has me drawing up my shoulders with the need to cover my ears.
“Watch with me, princess,” Killian says, releasing the cuffs to grab a fistful of my hair instead.
“Ooo,” I protest, and a string of drool drips down my chin, driving the humiliation deeper, searing at my very soul. Suddenly, I hate myself as I remember how I enjoyed the humiliation only moments ago.
I try to squeeze my eyes shut to block out the sight of the video of me lying over the piano, cuffed and blindfolded, while Killian spanks my ass.
“Watch,” he demands with a cruel shake of my head that smarts deep in my roots.
I peel my eyes open and watch as he goes harder and I start moaning.
When I shut my eyes again, he simply tightens his grip on my hair and gives me another shake.
When I close my eyes a third time, he leans in, his voice a low threat against my ear.
“If I have to tell you one more time to keep your fucking eyes open, I’ll make my dad come up here and see you like this. ”
From then on, I don’t try to close my eyes again. Tears stream down my cheeks while I watch Killian on the screen shove a butt plug inside my ass, and when the video is finally over, I’m shaking with the effort to hold myself together.
Pulling at my hair, Killian brings me up on my knees and turns my head at an awkward angle, getting in my face.
“Here’s how this is gonna go, princess. You’ll stop playing the piano. No more lessons, no more recitals, no more competitions.”
The tears come faster, and I shake my head frantically against his hand, my heart breaking in a thousand little pieces.
He holds his phone up. “If I find out that you’re doing it anyway, or if you tell anyone about this night, I’ll put this video online and email it to everyone, including your mom, our teachers, and everyone at school.
Everyone will see what a dirty little whore you are, asking me to gag you and stuff your ass. Do you want that?”
I shut my eyes around the cascade of tears.
“Good. Do we have an agreement then?”
Sniffling, I nod my head.
“I’m happy we understand each other.” He gives me a light slap on the cheek.
“This really was much easier than I thought it would be. I had no idea you were such a disgusting little slut.” He says those last three words with a vehemence that cuts deep into my soul.
I remain frozen in place, eyes tightly shut and every muscle locked up, as Killian moves behind me and takes off the gag, the nipple clamps, the collar, and the cuffs.
“Now get the fuck out of my house,” he demands.
I scramble off the piano bench, onto the floor where I gather my dress and my purse in my arms. When I straighten, about to rush for the door, the butt plug stirs inside me, sending sparks of electricity through my nerves.
“Wha-what about...” Shame unlike any burns my face as I reach behind me to feel the smooth end of the plug between my ass cheeks. My voice goes shrill. “How do I get this out?”
“Not my problem,” Killian says with a smirk.
I stare at him for a moment, and then I run.
The tears come faster, and I start sniffling. Pausing just at the stairs, I pull the dress over my head, then hurry down the steps.
The mortification continues when I reach the bottom and his dad is there, watching me like I’m some flea-ridden cat that somehow got into his house.
He doesn’t say anything, and I rush past him, out of his house, through the gate, and down the street.
The chilly evening air beats around my naked legs, and the unforgiving pavement scratches at my soles.
I keep going, running and running without direction, until my lungs are raw, my muscles aching from the strain.
Then I find the nearest bus stop and take the bus home, somehow managing to hold the tears back all the way.
“How did it go?” my mom asks when I get home, not even bothering to look up from her computer and whatever new ridiculous game she’s playing.
I slam the golden trophy down beside her glass of vodka and rush past her toward my room.
“Finally,” is the last thing I hear before I slam and lock the door and give in to the tears.