Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Raven
Declan moves the vaulting horse next to me, end-on. It’s clearly heavy, about four feet wide with a flat tan suede top, four sturdy legs, waist high.
He eyes me like he’s measuring me, then adjusts each leg in turn, lowering it a little. A detail that makes my stomach clench, and hints at what might be coming next.
“On your feet, Hellcat.”
I don’t move. I’m not even sure I can.
“I'm just going to need a moment... to compose myself.”
“Take your time.” He doesn’t wait for me but returns to his box, pulling out another bundle of bondage rope. I wonder what else he has in there, and then realize I don’t actually want to know.
“Have you recovered?” he asks as he walks back, tugging the rope free.
I just stare at him. That wasn’t even five seconds.
“Evidently not yet.” He pulls out a remote from his pocket, and I tense. I’m not sure which one it is; the one for the egg that’s still inside me, or the one for the garage door that controls the ropes.
The latter, it transpires, as he uses this to encourage me to stir myself, getting up before I’m pulled there.
The rope stops retracting as soon as I’m on my feet, far before it’s drawn taut. “Oh good, you have recovered. Across the horse, if you please.”
He did that deliberately, the bastard. He wanted me to have enough slack to get into position; the use of the motor was just a motivation. I glare at him, not moving.
“What exactly do you expect me to do with my hands bound?”
“Lie on it.” He grips the rope that binds me and pulls, drawing my hands out.
It’s his strength against mine, and I briefly think about resisting.
But he’s so much stronger than I am, I’m still post-orgasmic and trembly, and what’s the point anyway?
He’ll find a way of ensuring my cooperation. He always does.
I slowly lower my upper body across the vaulting horse.
The suede top is firm, yet soft enough. Comfortable, save that I don’t much care for how vulnerable I am, yet again.
The motor whirs behind me, running out more rope that he’s wound around the drum, suggesting an unhealthy level of advanced planning.
Declan pulls until my arms are taut, but even then he doesn’t let up.
I’m forced onto my toes, legs extended, body inching along the top as it rubs against the tender skin of my breasts, my body still thrumming from his flogger work.
He uses the excess rope to tie some kind of knot beneath the far edge of the box.
I don’t know how he’s done it, but my bound hands are secured again, and a subtle tug shows there’s no give at all.
At least in this position, there’s no strain on my shoulders.
It’s almost comfortable, half lying across it.
But that’s not the pressing concern. It’s the way I’m bent at the waist, legs straight, forced onto my toes.
He lowered the box, and my upper body lies below my waist height.
It leaves me very conscious of how my ass is raised.
My legs are pressed together, but that doesn’t afford me any protection. Not bent this far over.
He has me presenting myself, bound once again for his convenience.
My concern grows as he walks behind me, whistling a little tune. Surprisingly melodic, sadistically chirpy. The rope he’s been holding he loops around my left thigh several times, binding it to the leg of the horse. Then repeats it with my right.
This is almost worse than being suspended.
“You. Look. Irresistible.” His admiration sounds genuine, warming and worrying in equal measures.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, voice trembling more than I appreciate. I’m not feeling very brave right now.
“To be honest, I haven’t quite decided.” His hand pats my ass; I can only imagine where his gaze is. “Would you like some more flogger, perhaps?”
“No! Please.” I’m not sure I could take it.
His hand trails over my bottom, cupping one cheek, his touch reminding me that he hit me harder here, my buttocks very much feeling the burn of his prior work. Then he squeezes, opening me. That’s just humiliating, but there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
“Shall I use this, then, perhaps?” His fingertips slip down the crack of my ass, brushing my anus. I can’t help my shudder. “Or this one?” They dip lower, running over my labia. His touch doesn’t even brush my thighs, proof that I’m presented in the most obscene way imaginable.
I whimper against the horse, not even sure if what I say will make a difference. It didn’t when he asked which clothing I wanted him to cut off. Is he going to fuck both my holes?
Declan’s hand leaves me, only for his palm to crack against my ass cheek. His spank enflames my sensitive skin, drives my thighs against the padded edge of the box, and pulls a gasp from me. He bends over me, mouth by my ear.
“I asked you a question.”
“I don’t know anything about the package,” I say desperately. “I’ve told you already. Kurt said nothing to me.”
He chuckles softly. “I know, Hellcat. I believe you, I really do. No, that wasn’t the question I was referring to.”
“What?” It takes me a moment to follow that. But in my defense, I’m not really at my mental peak right now. “You believe me?”
“Yes. You’ve convinced me.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, close enough to my ear that I can feel his breath. “To be fair, I did have my doubts that Renner would’ve shared his plans with you.”
“What?” So through all this, he never really believed I had the answers? “You tortured me for nothing?”
“Torture?” He laughs. “Is that what you call it when you come so hard?” A hand cups my bottom, squeezing. “I admit, I did start all of this with the sole intent of extracting information from you, but I abandoned that awhile ago. Still, it’s a little harsh to say this was all for nothing.”
His fingers slide lower, then one pushes inside me. I gasp softly, feeling the egg shift at his intrusion. He’s still leaning over me, mouth near my ear, his touch stroking within me as he speaks. “The question I was referring to you seem to have forgotten. So I’ll ask once more. Ass, or pussy?”
Declan’s making me decide. Stating my willingness, by choosing. Maybe I do get a say.
Or maybe it’s just another of his games. Making me beg for him to fuck one hole, then choosing the other. Or both, whatever answer I give.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
He won’t be gentle, either. I know he won’t. Even though he’s admitted he’s not interrogating me anymore. Now it’s just what… his own sadistic amusement?
Either way, there’s only one choice.
“Pussy,” I reply. Then tag on a belated, “…Please.” It might help to be polite. Not much, but a little. A minor cost in pride for the chance of an ounce of kindness.
“Are you sure?” he inquires solicitously. “Your ass might be fun, especially when the egg still has some battery left.”
I shudder at that image. No one’s ever taken my ass, but if he were to… the egg might help distract. “I’m sure,” I whisper.
“Your ass another time then,” he says, like it’s a promise. A foregone conclusion.
As if I’ll ever let myself be in such a predicament again.
His finger scoops the egg from within me, making me tense as it slides out. It bounces on the mat somewhere behind me.
“I did buy some lube,” he tells me, oversharing. “I don’t think we’re going to need it. Do you?”
Or in other words, I’m humiliatingly, demonstrably, soaking wet. But then I have just come, harder than I’ve come in… forever.
Actually, it’s not been that long. A week since he last tied me down, toyed with me, made me come hard enough to see stars.
It’s been a bit of a trend with him.
Better sex in four weeks of Declan than the rest of my life put together.
Mind blowing sex, if I’m honest. It’s not even a close comparison.
Tied up twice. Punished once, tortured once… unless I count his tongue. Tortured twice, then.
Maybe it’s so good because he ties me up and tortures me.
That’s a worrying thought.
“Can you make love?” I ask. “Or just fuck?” I don’t know why I asked that. Curious, I guess.
“Are you asking if I only fuck like you fight?” he says, amused.
Dirty and brutal.
Except I don’t… at least, not before him.
Now I do, I suppose.
“Don’t worry, Raven,” he adds, tone strangely reassuring. He places a soft kiss on my shoulder blade, right where my namesake tattoo is, like it prompted his use. “I intend to take you every way I can think of, and a few others we might yet discover. Hard, gently, everything in between.”
It sounds like a promise, one that makes me shudder as my imagination fills in some blanks. And not in a bad way, either.
And it assumes we’ll still be having sex after today. Or tonight… I don’t even know what time it is.
It also assumes I get untied at some point. That he won’t keep me in this basement forever.
At least I hope not. I suppose there are no guarantees. He did drug and kidnap me, after all.
Who does that?
Declan has moved behind me. Likely gazing at my upturned ass, my pussy on offer for him.
I hear his jean buttons pop open, and bite at my lip. Is he taking them off this time, or just pushing them down? Not bothering to strip properly before he uses me again.
His hand strokes across my ass, almost tenderly, like he can’t resist touching.
“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, tone filled with… awe?
I’m not sure I deserve such a note in his voice. Or that I can live up to it.
Did he actually tell me he loved me, or did I completely fabricate that?
I wish I knew.
But I can’t bring myself to ask him, in case he says no.
What if he says yes?
I’m not sure which would be worse.
I must’ve imagined it. It’s the only answer. He’s told me himself this is all just to get an answer from me—one I can’t give him—and for his own pleasure. And out of that comes I love you?
How dare he say that here, now?
If I could think straight, I’d be livid. But there are too many distractions.