Chapter Eighteen #2
Nobody knows this, but the “penthouse” will be a prison essentially.
I want to keep Surry close to me and not give her any means of escape.
A house is too easy. Top floor of a monitored sky scraper with no escape unless you have a keycard, which she will obviously not possess; she is not likely to succeed no matter what help she receives, and there damn sure wont be any chances of stupid bitches walking in to call the cops At least, not without serious damage done.
“Yes, sir, otherwise your schedule is pretty open. I have Warehouse written on most of the days. I am not sure what that means, other than you told me to put it.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly where we’re headin’ now.”
“Oh, I thought you said we were going to your home. No matter. What else can I do for you sir?”
“That’ll do for schedulin’ today. Tell me, how’re ya likin’ workin’ for me—our little arrangement, hmm?”
“I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to work for such an esteemed man, such as yourself sir. I am also very happy with our arrangement. Have I been satisfactory for you?”
“Yes, matter of fact, remove yer underwear and get on yer knees.” I say nothing more, she knows what I am requesting.
She seems caught off guard. Maybe by the sudden change in conversation, or maybe my face looks angrier than usual. No matter.
“Uh, okay sir.” She looks nervous, as she should.
“This is part of yer duty as me secretary. Car rides’ll always require this. Would ya like to quit now, or keep workin’ for Kelly Enterprises?” It’s a simple question, really.
“ I will do whatever you ask of me, boss.” She looks compliant now. I won’t need long to ruin that.
“Good, now take off yer underwear, get on yer knees, and face the back of the vehicle. I don’t want to see yer face.”
Her face falls a bit, but she does as I have commanded her.
Good, she will make a great addition to my regular whores if she takes my dick well during these random events as she does my regular commands.
She has been good about coming to my home to service me after work, but this is the first time during a workday that I have required her to give her body to me.
“Head t’the warehouse. We’ll wait there for news,” I tell the driver, my voice low and clipped. He nods, turns the key, and the engine rumbles to life as we roll toward the seedy side o’ Seattle, where the city’s shine fades and the rot begins to show.
With the prospect of being able to have my bride back in her cage, I am ready to go for round two, but a soft throat is not what I’m after. I want tears.
I take my dick out and begin to stroke it, but it was already hard so I don’t require much stimulation to be ready to go.
I yank her dress up and hear a tearing sound.
Callie lets out a small shriek, but I ignore her.
Her pretty pink pussy and her tight, apparently bleached, ass hole are ready and waiting for me.
I spit on her ass, and then again on my hand to get my dick wet.
I don’t warm her up or give her any warning, I shove my dick into her pussy to help get even more wet.
She begins to moan and move with my thrusts, shoving her hips back into my groin, causing me to go deeper.
But her pleasure brings me none. Before I can stop it, she lays her face down on the leather seat, her cheek pressed against the cool surface, and reaches behind her until her long fingers with a French tip manicure—pristine white crescents against pale pink—grab ahold of my shirt, bunching the fabric between her knuckles.
She starts slamming herself onto me, greedy with need, her spine arching like a bow, hips working in desperate rhythm.
For a moment, I let her, taking it as a challenge to thrust into her harder, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the confined space, until she starts orgasming on my dick, her body trembling, inner walls pulsing around me.
I nearly lose my erection at this, my desire suddenly cooling like metal plunged into water.
I grab her hands, peeling her manicured fingers free of my silk shirt one by one.
Now I will punish her for the audacity of thinking this was about her pleasure.
I withdraw my half limp length from her slick, pulsating cunt and, without warning, drive myself to the hilt into her tight ass.
Her piercing screams fills the leather interior as she claws desperately at the butter-soft seat in front of her, her body arching away from me like a frightened animal.
"Sir," she gasps, her voice breaking as I feel her body's resistance—that delicious tension of muscle fighting against intrusion.
Sobs breaking free from her throat, she looks back at me with tears dropping from her fake eyelashes.
"Sir, please stop," she begs through ragged breaths, each desperate plea sending electric currents of excitement through my veins, hardening me further inside her.
She must be able to feel it because her screams renew almost instantly.
I respond by gripping her hips harder, leaving crescent-shaped indentations from my own nails as I increase my pace.
Through the privacy partition, I hear my driver's knowing chuckle.
He's heard this symphony before. He knows precisely how I savor this moment.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch and hold still. Stop scratching me. You will take my cock up your slutty little ass hole, or ye’ll be sent to swim with the fishes.
What’s it gonna be, then?” I say all of this with labored breath as I continue to fuck into her.
She stops screaming but I can still hear her whimpering and painful moans.
I grab her wrists and put her hands behind her back, using them as a hold to fuck her deeper.
“We’re here, sir,” my driver says as I feel him turn and then park the car.
“Good, open the door ‘n let the men see the little hoor I brought them today as I finish,” I say between heavy breaths and gritted teeth.
“Very good, sir.”
The back hatch opens, and the seats fold backward so that the view of her crying face is in full view of all my men as they come out of the warehouse.
Callie is crying again, but not struggling anymore, which nearly ruins my enjoyment.
I yank her arms up her back a bit, causing her to cry out, which helps.
I thrust into her a few more times, my dick going in and out of her abused ass, and blow my load deep inside of her.
I unceremoniously pull out of her seeing blood stains along the sides, before using her skirt to wipe myself clean, and put my dick back in my pants.
“Thank you, Callie. The men will see to the rest of your pleasure now. Boys, make sure she’s fit to work at the office tomorrow and that she gets home in one piece.
Don’t fail me.” I say the last part to my driver.
He will get his turn when he takes her home, that’s always been the ritual.
Although he likes to be a little more civil.
He will take care of her, pretend he gives a single fuck about her.
News flash—he doesn’t. Then once she’s asleep he will tie her to the bed and cut her clothes off with a knife, and fuck her until she wakes.
That’s how he likes them. Shocked, surprised, and scared.
I only hire men who can appreciate women the way I do.
I have been very lucky to find the men I have that now belong to my inner sanctum.
Once I am fully redressed, I grab my briefcase and hop out of the SUV and walk to the warehouse where I know the rest of my inner circle is waiting for me all the while listening to Callie scream from the car I just left her in with five men.
The warehouse is just that, an old abandoned warehouse outside of downtown.
It is over in the district where the football stadium is.
It’s the bad part of town, which helps keep all my dealings quiet.
I step into the front doors of the dilapidated building and feel as though I have entered another dimension.
The warehouse is falling apart outside, or so we want you to think.
Inside looks as if you walked into a spaceship from a sci-fi movie.
There are screens up on one of the tall walls, about twenty of them.
They are connected to cameras all throughout my holdings, as well as some public cameras to keep watch, such as the docks down where Surry is supposed to arrive.
Beneath them is a chair, in it is Surry’s maid, Bridget.
She looks a little worse for wear. But she won’t be getting out of here alive regardless.
“Hello, sir, we haven’t seen her arrive at the port yet.
We also aren’t sure where she will come in, or how.
So we will continue watching.” I nod at them and go to my office to set my things down.
Once my coat, briefcase, and hat are put away, I go into my private bathroom to change.
I don’t like to get dirty in my work clothes.
I change into a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a plain white t-shirt.
I like to see all the blood spatter, so I wear light colored clothing.
Before I go out to see the men and our newest guest, I decide to go see the most recent resident of the warehouse following my overthrowing of the Russian mafia.
The Bratva. Dear Natasha, she has a nice pussy.
Today I will have her take a pregnancy test, see if I’m going to be the daddy of the new Russian Mafia leader. I head down the hall to do just that.
“Ah, hello, love. How are ye this fine evenin’? Comfortable, are ya? They’ve been feedin’ ya on time, I hope?” I enter the code to the door and walk into her…bedroom? Cell? Eh, same difference. It’s more comfortable than a normal prisoner would get.
Natasha doesn’t move, look at me, or make a single sound. She knows better. She just lies on her bed, staring at the ceiling.