Chapter 17 #2
“There we are. You have no idea what this does for me, every morning, day after day. That was the worst on the list, and now it’s behind you.”
She nodded. “I’d really like to ask that you refill the list, so I don’t have those other two hanging over my head when I return. I’ll plan better in the future, get the worst out of the way, so I’m not stuck like this.”
He kissed her forehead. “Okay. I can accommodate you this one time.”
She hadn’t expected him to allow it, and she felt both relief and a flash of disappointment she hoped he didn’t scent, but she knew he would. Damned wolf noses.
She’d appreciate it in a week and a half, but now?
It felt a little anticlimactic.
Eventually, he stood and put her egg and plug back in before carelessly dismissing her as if she was already gone.
Thirty minutes later, she kissed him goodbye on his way out the door, his mouth forcing hers open, tongue invading, fingers squeezing and twisting her left nipple until tears threatened to spill.
Fuck, but she loved him all the way to the bottom of her painwhore little soul.
By midmorning, she was in Boone’s weight room, logging her workout on the shared spreadsheet. Squats, deadlifts, so many arm exercises, and then extensive stretching while she worked toward the splits.
Willow packed Kenny’s lunch with leftovers from the night before — fried rice with pork, beef, and chicken. And because hawks love eating all three animals as much as any other apex predator, she was pleased he’d texted instructions to pack enough for her to eat lunch with him.
No, she admitted to herself. She looked forward to talking to him a little one-on-one before she left. Nothing in particular, just spending time with him. She loved being ordered to pleasure him while he ate, but talking sometimes was nice, too.
She rushed upstairs to figure out which heels worked with the sage dress she was wearing, and finally drove to his office with their lunch in the insulated bag beside her.
He typed another twenty seconds after she entered and stepped inside the door, awaiting instructions, and then he rotated his chair sideways.
“On your knees and get me out, little fucktoy.”
She only hesitated a second at the unexpected command before she moved to obey, setting the lunch bag on his table, dropping gracefully to her knees. Fifteen seconds after he gave the order, she had him in her mouth, working him until he was thick. Granite hard.
He patted her head, and she sat back on her heels.
“Over the desk and spread your ass cheeks.”
She stood, heart hammering, and turned toward the desk. A few steps from it, and she leaned over so only her tits and cheek were on it.
He hadn’t told her to remove the dress, so she’d had to reach under it and back to spread herself for him.
Apparently, he wanted to lift it and tuck the fabric up under her arms today, to get it out of the way.
And fuck if she didn’t feel somehow more exposed like this.
She grunted when the plug came out because her body locked down, trying to protect itself.
Her hole was raw and wrecked, the burn from the capsaicin barely dulled, Silas’s brutal fucking still etched into her muscles like scars that hadn’t scabbed over.
It felt like something tearing open all over again.
She heard him with the lube behind her, but he only put it on his cock. Not inside her.
When he pushed in, her body tried to rebel, clenching hard against the invasion, but it didn’t matter. He forced himself in anyway. The pain didn’t just bloom, it exploded, white-hot and deep, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes squeezing shut as a soundless gasp tore from her throat.
The egg still inside her kicked on, the sudden vibrations brutal in her already overstimulated body. It pulsed so violently the sensation transferred straight to her clit — swollen, throbbing, painfully aware. Her whole body jolted from the contact, but she didn’t dare move.
Other than the few orgasms she hadn’t been able to hold back during training, she hadn’t been allowed to come since Sunday.
And those had been stolen, ruined by the wand before they could even begin.
Now, her cunt clenched and ached, nerve endings shot through with fire, her mind a snarled wreck of need, pain, and helplessness.
She was beyond desperate — but not just to come. Desperate to breathe, to endure, to survive the next few minutes without breaking completely.
She wasn’t surprised when Kenny said, “No words, fucktoy. I’m not going to give you permission to come, so don’t bother begging.”
Her nails curled against her ass cheeks.
She’d been about to ask permission to move her hands.
Fuck. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out — not from the pain, but the sheer frustration of it all.
Of being held together by ritual and rules, even as everything inside her threatened to splinter.
Her breath fogged the glass under her cheek as he drove into her again and again. The angle kept her weight on the edge, every thrust grinding her battered flesh across the desk, so her breasts smudged the surface she’d be cleaning soon enough.
Her hole throbbed like it had been flayed open, nerves flaring with every forced inch he pushed inside, each movement a fresh jolt of pain.
She couldn’t push back, couldn’t take control of the rhythm. Her fingers twitched against her own ass cheeks, craving movement, relief, anything. All she could do was hang there, held open and hurting, while he used her like she wasn’t human.
Her body gave no quarter. Her cunt spasming with each punishing pulse of the egg, her clit throbbing.
Her asshole clenched and fought, but it didn’t matter, he forced her to take it anyway. Again and again and again.
She couldn’t cry. Couldn’t come. Couldn’t speak. Just pain and noise and silence inside her own skull.
When he finally emptied into her, the heat of it filled her like a brand, and her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of it. He didn’t pause. The plug went back in without fanfare, thick and unforgiving, sealing everything in while her body screamed its protest.
“At ease,” he said, wiping his dick down, tucking it away. “Pull the chair up to the desk.”
She crossed the room to the chair, each step jostling the plug and sending sharp flares of pain through her abused hole.
Her ass throbbed, the ache sharp and pulsing, every muscle stretched and overworked, every nerve raw.
She dragged the chair to the desk, teeth clenched, and unpacked the containers.
Opened them. Distributed forks and spoons with hands that didn’t quite tremble.
Opened the bottles of tea. Created two place settings, and then waited.
He hadn’t told her to sit, so she remained standing, silent and still.
Lunch was all about protocol, and waiting anchored her again. Reminded her who she is, why she was there. Time with her owner. Ritual.
Every breath reminded her of the plug in her ass, but she stood while he took a drink of his tea. Looked everything over.
When he finally told her to sit, she carefully lowered herself onto the chair. The plug stayed heavy inside her, and the pressure of sitting sent fresh pain radiating through her lower back.
But as Silas was fond of reminding her, fucktoys are supposed to be sore. She’d miss this while she was gone.
Conversation was casual, asking about her workout, talking about plans for dinner. Tonight she’d have a scene with Boone, and then would sleep with Kenny and Silas. It was fitting, she thought, that all three men would be included this evening — her last before leaving for Birmingham.
When the food was gone, he got back to work and she put everything away, set the bag off to the side, retrieved the glass cleaner and paper towels from the cabinet, and cleaned the marks of her body from his desk.
He was on the phone when she left, but it didn’t matter. He’d dismissed her as soon as the food was gone.
During her personal time, she made lists of what needed packing, what she needed to do when she arrived in Birmingham, checked over her assignment, and who she’d report to at the hospital.
She found a building map online and refamiliarized herself with the layout, how to get from the ER to the various areas with food, and looked over the menus.
And then set the alarm on her phone to warn her when her personal time ended, and read a little of the murder mystery she’d started the day before.
Silas came home around four, drove into her ass with the same ruthless efficiency he’d used that morning, made her take every inch while her body screamed, shoved the plug back in like sealing a container, and then helped with dinner.
He’d brought ten pounds of smoked brisket home from work, so it was just a matter of making the roasted potatoes, cooking the greens, and cutting the bread she’d made that morning.
The other men arrived. Boone had her bend over so he could remove the plug and egg — neither extraction gentle, but the sheer relief of being emptied nearly buckled her knees.
Her body clenched on instinct, aching from overuse, but grateful to breathe again.
He gave no acknowledgment, just headed upstairs for his shower.
When Kenny stepped in the door, she followed him upstairs for her twenty minutes of orgasm training, her body already tight with unsatisfied need after days of denial, her cunt raw with want and still faintly burning from the capsaicin.
He clipped her ankles and wrists to the training bench, the wand in its holder six inches away from her clit so he could grab it and use it without pause.
And then his oh-so-skilled fingers inside her, working her. Devastating her from the start.