Chapter 4
Juniper
Girl. Is that a demotion? Open my legs. He said I’ve already done this for strangers on the internet, so he knows my secret. My other secret. What doesn’t he know about me?
I guess this is like OnlyFans but with less money.
And more murder. I do still want to see Nathan’s friends dead.
“Juniper.” He prompts, and I straighten my mouth.
Except it’s not the same. This is too intimate—that’s the problem. The internet cannot tie you up. Or touch you.
I stare at him. He stares back. Then Tomás grasps my hair and winds it around his fist. The belt at my neck is also pulled tighter. Not that tight, but again, it screams threat. Aaron flicks his gaze to his friend and says nothing more.
The tingles spreading through me have everything to do with this whole fucked-up situation and I’m terribly aware of the belt, the cuffs, the two men watching me, and that hand painfully twisting my hair.
A whimper escapes as Tomás twists his hand, making my hair roots scream, and I’m panting, flexing against the cuffs. It’s the pain making me react. Only that.
When I rise onto my toes and arch to try to lessen the strain on my scalp and throat, Tomás quietly chuckles.
Understanding clicks in and I gasp out, “This is blackmail!”
“Of course it is,” Loxland says. “And you’re a murderer. Now. Open. Your legs.”
I won’t hurt you irreversibly unless you ask me for it.
Fuck, though, I’m lying to myself. Why is this turning me on?
Two men manhandling me, and that instruction is so utterly sexual.
I want to spit on them both, yet I’m swelling below, the wetness gathering.
And the tightness in my throat isn’t just from the belt.
I won’t hurt you.
I can back out. And lose every chance of killing those men.
Tomás must have brought the belt to the fist holding my hair, for he cradles the front of my neck in the other hand, his fingers settle there, gently, one by one, and I’m forced to look up at him.
My feet press to the floor.
To spit or not to spit?
He caresses my throat.
Slowly, I open my legs, and equally slowly Tomás lets go of my hair and the belt. He leans over me and gathers my skirt high then he hooks his fingers in my panties and cuts the sides, pulls the cloth from under me, revealing what lies between my legs. He slaps one inner thigh.
Shocked at the stinging pain, I grasp what he wants me to do and open my legs further.
“Thank you, Tomás,” Loxland murmurs. He stands and approaches me, stops where he can still see everything. “I think you will suit me. Say, thank you.”
I hesitate. Words mean a lot. Surrendering my body is one thing but this?
It’s worth it, isn’t it?
“Thank you, Mr. Loxland? Aaron?”
“Mr. Loxland is good. So were you.”
Am I breathing hard? Am I ridiculously turned on?
I lick across the seam of my lips.
If this arouses me, I’m programmed badly, and yet I am, and if he looks closely, he’ll know.
“You can…” I clear my throat. “Let me go now?”
“Fuck no. We’re not done with you.”
“We?” Tomás says, almost purring.
“I’ll share her a little with you. Maybe. Maybe sometimes.” He’s taunting Tomás. Or me. Both really. “If you want her?”
Fuck. Asshole. How did I not see him as a total dick when he taught us that time? Maybe because his surfer blond hair blinded me to his dickheadedness?
Tomás doesn’t reply, but Loxland beams down at me as if I’m a Christmas present he just unwrapped.
“I have suggestions. Many suggestions.” The belt is still loose, but Tomás returns his hand to my neck. “Her clothes for starters. She’s not naked enough.”
“Mmmm.” He flicks a finger, saying yes.
I hold my breath and try not to move as the back of the knife blade kisses my shoulder. It’s slid along, cutting away my top and my bra. He gathers the sides and does the same. His moves are efficient, ruthless even.
I test the cuffs. Maybe I’m hoping I can wriggle free, that they’re loose or something, but I cannot budge them. Unbreakable metal circles my wrists.
And as I give in to where I am and how helpless I am, a tendril of sensation uncurls from deep within, and whispers of animalistic needs. I squirm on the seat of the chair even as Tomás throws aside my clothes.
They can’t have seen that minute body betrayal.
Only my skirt remains.
Fuck, though. I am getting such a rush from this.
Loxland moves in to stand between my legs. His jeans brush my skin and I’m transfixed, wanting yet dreading what might come next. As a shiver runs through me, I dare to meet his eyes.
“What a pretty little victim. How many ways can we use you?” He goes to one knee then places his hands on my upper thighs, and begins to stroke my skin with his thumbs. They’re mere inches from my pussy, and my clit was already rising and now, with him doing that?
Not fair.
I try not to watch how he’s slowly caressing me, try to keep my breathing steady. It’s as if he’s daring me to say something.
My thigh muscles tense, and I resist the urge to arch and push myself at him. I swallow, annoyed at myself, and one corner of his mouth curves upward.
“Wait.” This comes out as a whisper, so I try again, croaking out, “Wait. Please.”
His hands still, leaving me aching. “Yes?”
“Um. I need to know.” This is a delaying tactic, but I’m scrambling. The unknown is frightening. “How. How are you going to help me find them, the other men? That’s real?”
“I’ll try in every way I can. Tracking information down on the internet is my territory, as are the sort of people Nathan ran with. The rich and powerful. I can’t promise a result, but I promise to try. Happy?”
He leans one arm across my legs then reaches forward and wanders his finger from the tip of my nose to my lips.
I nod. What else can I do? I open my mouth to add a “yes” and he slips his finger in, pushes down on my front teeth.
“Keep your mouth open.” He nudges that finger inside and strokes my tongue, while he brushes dangling locks of hair off my forehead, clearing it from my eyes. “Kitten soft, but you have claws. Claws make you interesting.”
Do they? It makes me wonder how much pain he will tolerate. I let my teeth graze him and he shows a glimpse of his own white teeth.
Biting him is probably unwise.
I relax my jaw and let him fingerfuck my mouth.
“I will warn you that Tomás comes from some South American country. He won’t tell me which one. I don’t know why they let you into this country.”
“I have friends. Good friends.”
Loxland grunts.
I blink, wondering where this is going, how he intends to ‘use’ me today. It sounds ominous.
His finger pauses, the length pressing down on my tongue.
“He says he used to be in the secret police.”
My chest tightens; my eyes go wide.
Loxland studies my face. “And that he knows every torture method in the book.”
I shake my head and spit out his finger, glaring at the man.
With cruel force, he grips my jaw and makes me take his finger again, pushing it in, resuming the rude fingerfucking. “What would you do to her?”
Though he releases my face, I’m close to gagging at the invasion.
“Let me think.” Tomás is laughing, but I barely register his amusement since Loxland has cupped my breast.
He fondles it, weighing it for a moment, before he goes from one to the other, handling me, brushing around each nipple.
He circles them, squeezing with finger and thumb.
When he starts to use both hands on me there, the sensations are overwhelming.
I close my eyes, panting softly. When he pinches me, then he puts his mouth there, and sucks on one nipple, my breathing halts.
That tongue...
Disbelieving, I watch him, his head bobbing as he licks and sucks. I clamp my teeth on my lip and stifle a whimper. Don’t moan. Don’t. God, that would be shameful. I try to jerk away—
And Tomás holds me, fastening me in place for Loxland to play with.
“I can string her up beneath that chandelier you have in the stairwell. Rope her to the railings, spread her—legs, arms. Then we can do whatever you like. Fuck her, use those clamps on her tits, brand her if you want?”
“No! Please. You can’t do that.” I squeak as Loxland bites me.
He lifts his head then growls in the lowest of tones, “Can’t?
I get to fuck with you and fuck you however I want.
No ifs or fucking buts, unless you want the cops involved.
Begging me to stop is allowed, but it won’t stop anything.
You’re mine.” He taps the side of my face then slips his finger along below my mouth.
“Until I find the others. No brands, though, Tomás.”
Thank fuck.
“Mine. Remember that. You said yes. You agreed. To this.”
Oh god. Am I making weird little whimpery noises? I have been. I shut myself down.
Despite the alarming things Tomás said, wetness leaks out between my legs. When Loxland painfully crushes my nipple, I squirm and plead with my eyes. He doesn’t stop, though, until I break and whine a little, then he lets go.
“Maybe another time with the brand, Tomás. Another time, when she asks me for one.” When? “Just rope her to the chair with her ass out. I’ll let you watch. Nothing else.”
“I’ll get the rope.”
Loxland stands over me, maybe admiring what he’s done to my body. Where he’s bitten my breasts, I’m showing marks that he drags his gaze over. “Beautifully red.” While pinning me by my neck, he unzips his fly and strokes his erection.
I’m regretting this, so much, already, but I chose this. I did. Prison would be worse. The instant he reneges on anything…I will protect myself.
If I can. Once they uncuff me, I can do more, and they can’t keep me cuffed forever.
There are always more shovels and knives. I’ll find something if I must. I’ve killed one man.
Go back on your word, and I will fuck you over…somehow.
Tomás soon returns and stops beside me, carrying loops of red rope.
“No requests?” Loxland asks him.
“You’re paying me. I can watch. It is enough. Tying her up and watching her be fucked and destroyed…”
He pauses, and the way he studies me says he’s savoring his next words.
“Go on.” Loxland leans over me, puts his hand between my legs, and casually plunges two fingers inside me. “Fuck. Knew you’d be wet.”
And I can’t stop myself arching and gasping as he enters me, with my fingers scrabbling for a nonexistent hold on the back of the chair.
Unblinking, Tomás finishes. “It is my thing, my kink, you call it? You know?”
“I do know. You’re a sadistic cunt. Like me.”
Then he thrusts those fingers deeper and pumps them in and out. When I moan and my shaking thighs squash onto his buried-deep hand, he grunts his approval.
After that, being flipped over and made to lie face down on the seat of a chair feels like a relief.
I don’t have to see either of them while they debase me further.
My hands remain cuffed, but my arms are roped to the chair while my legs are tied above the knee to the chair legs to hold them apart.
My skirt remains but is close to useless, bunched at my waist.
“Nice access,” Loxland says, with satisfied low voice of his—like the cat that licked the cream. The image amuses me until Tomás squats beside me.
“Keep your eyes open, pretty one,” he drawls. “I want to see all your thoughts.” Despite the cruelness of him and his asshole attitude, the crouching reminds me of Gollum.
“Fuck you and him.” Scowling, I stick out my tongue then hear a rustle of cloth, and Loxland slams inside me in one deep thrust while his hands are anchored to my hips.
My gutteral “Oh!” brings a smile to the asshole Tomás, so I keep glaring at him as the man inside me starts to fuck me with force—enough to jar the chair and make my knees slide.
“Hey, mano. She just stuck out her tongue at me. Can I do something to her?”
“Fuck, yes.” He slams in again then grinds into me, and that awesome fullness triggers me. I moan quietly and close my eyes.
“Hey! Eyes on me. You want me to stick some needles in your tits? Open your mouth. Open your fucking eyes,” he says the last word with a hiss.
Blinking, I fear he might be allowed to do that, because needles aren’t irrevocable damage.
I open my mouth and I look on as he drops something made of metal tubing and leather straps on the chair near my nose.
He grabs my face and wriggles it inside my mouth, and it fits, just, stretching my lips scarily wide as he cranks it open then fastens it at the back with a click.
“It’s a spider gag, little fucktoy.”
Loxland has paused to watch, and he curses then restarts his fucking.
He hammers in, leaving me breathless, fairly nails me to the fucking chair while Tomás caresses my face and plays inside my mouth with his fingers. I cannot curb the rise of pleasure from all the dirty foreplay or from what that cock is doing to me, filling me, shoving in, wrecking my thoughts.
In and out. Over and over. It’s perfectly ruthless. Relentless. Rutting. He doesn’t care whether I come, and even that has me teetering on the edge of an orgasm.
I’m gasping and groaning, barely keeping my eyes open, with sweat and drool under my face, when I feel the pressure of him coming inside me.
All while Tomás says filthy words at me.
He tells me I’m a nasty whore and hooks fingers in my mouth as the weight of Mr. Loxland presses on my ass and his hand claws at my hip.
Then he wrenches back my head and he’s peering down at me, groaning as the last of his come spurts inside. Trapped and turned into a fucktoy, I try to spread my legs, as if that will help me have more of him.
“Fuck you, Tomás. A spider gag? I could have mouth fucked her too.”
He grinds in then withdraws, and I hear his bare feet pad along on the floor, on my other side.
“You going to punish her now?” Tomás leans in to whisper in my ear, “You’re lucky it’s not me.”
Something swishes through the air.
“Yes. She was disrespectful to you and forgot the purpose of this deal.” He walks past at the front, then stops behind Tomás. His half-erect cock sticks out through his fly, his pants not even unbuckled.
He fucked me without undressing at all. He didn’t even use a condom.
I don’t care anymore. I’m on birth control. He’s a rich prick. And I’m swimming in half satisfied arousal, almost spasming from the desire to be fucked some more, to come. I need more. Even from these two bastards.
Another swish makes me see the cane in his hand. Oh. Oh no. I get what he means by punish. Unable to speak, I gargle noises through the gag.
He moves behind me, and I tense.
The first strike of the cane draws a line of fire across both my ass cheeks, and I jerk and whimper. Tomás wears that scarred smile that doesn’t move.
The cane strikes me ten more times, and his smile never changes. He only grips the back of my head and draws lines where the tears run down my face. I give one last sob, and he stands, leaving me roped and quivering.
“Good enough?” Mr. Loxland asks.
“Not bad.” He sounds noncommittal. “Another day, we use the needles.”
“Probably.” Mr. Loxland bends over to stare into my eyes then pat my head. “Now, before we lock you away, I want to hear you cry.”
Oh shit. What does that mean? I whimper.