Chapter 10
Juniper
Surrounded by three large screens, Loxland taps at the keyboard for a desktop PC. Lights change slowly on the keys, from pink to green to blue.
They have me kneeling on a padded surface with my arms in an armbinder—a leather sheath that holds them straight behind me, at my back.
Though my butt smarts from the spanking, they did it lightly and made it nothing more than teasing.
Tomás did say I’m best kept lightly damaged, for the party. For that, I am grateful.
The gag is because I swore at them while they did that. The assholes.
I mouth the long rod of the bit gag, feeling drool escape me and drip onto my chest as I remember their conversation and Tomás’ words. That neither of them fucked me is surprising.
That they threatened to sew my lips together…that is a vile revelation. Too far. Much too far. That they think I will say yes to that? Hell to the no.
I will sneak away once I get what I came for—the names of the others. I will. Somehow.
They haven’t done anything that horrific to me, yet.
Only bondage, incessant sex, and teasing, and what I guess some would see as degradation, and that kink was high on my list when I tried the Fet BDSM questionnaire.
With the program running, Mr. Loxland swivels the desk chair so he can study me. His hands are on his knees and locks of his fair hair fall over his eyes.
None of the things they’ve done have left me traumatized.
Even this, which is what? Yep, it’s a kind of degradation.
I eye them from beneath my brow. On display, bound, and drooling on myself while they watch me…
fuck, it’s strangely hot. I lick my lips and draw a deep breath, and they’re suddenly watching me, and my bare breasts, with greedy intent.
It’s a kind of devotion.
My nipples tighten. Ashamed of my reaction, I bow my head. I am not normal. Someone connected my wires all wrong. I need to admit I’m a totally weird ho.
Reality check. Once they’re done with me, they’ll discard me, and that they said they want to stitch me below. Nope. Nope. Nope.
“Is she ours, Tomás?” Loxland makes quotation marks for the ours, and semi-magically twirls a pen across the fingers of one hand. He tilts his head. “Or just mine?”
My arms are aching in the armbinder, and I wriggle to get the leather to shift.
“I like ours. We can do things together.”
“True. Equal partners then in Miss Juniper. I haven’t given you access to her yet, have I?”
I narrow my eyes and grunt around the leather bit gag.
“And look how her patented turn-a-man-to-ash stare intensifies.”
“Access to her pussy?” Tomás asks.
“Yep. To that.”
“You have not. Though I fingered her. Do I have to ask for it? Pay for it?”
He swivels halfway back to see the computer which seems to have made a sound and paused. With such a short clip there wouldn’t be much for it to chew on.
What if it has already found what I need to know?
Then I’m going, leaving with a new shovel in hand, or something.
I’d almost be sorry. This party they’re going to will have people from the upper echelons of the rich and vaguely famous, with diamonds spewing in the pools or something. Kinky deviant nasty people. I want to see it, but with my pussy intact.
I wriggle again and wish they’d let me loose. If I pretend to lose my balance and topple sideways, I will land on the padding, and they might rescue me. I eye it. It’s thick enough.
“A dollar?” Loxland continues. “Got that kind of cash?”
“Yes.”
I’m being valued at a dollar, but I know it’s a joke. They’re being idiots. I start to lean.
“Good. That’s settled. Also, the program has spat out some finds.”
He springs from the chair and comes to me as I am falling and catches me.
“That was on purpose.” He delivers a stinging swat to my ass cheek. “I’ll let you out of this, if you behave.” He undoes the now slippery gag, pulls it off. “What a mess you made of yourself. Dirty.”
Then he kisses me, and my arms are still bound. After a small wriggle, I give in and I angle my mouth to return the kiss, with our lips sliding, pressing, and much delicious sighing.
He ends the kiss. “Behaving?”
I nod because I’m confused. I’m panting already, I’m flushed of face. I didn’t resist but didn’t really want to. I’m often confused around him. Am I getting a little addicted to this man? To his sexiness, yes.
A day is all it’s been. I’d fail any interrogation in enemy hands.
He unbuckles the binder, removes it, and leads me to the computer, where he gets me to kneel again, having tossed the padding to the floor for me. There he sits on the desk chair and puts his palms together in a praying gesture beneath his nose, as if he’s thinking.
With his legs apart and arms folded, Tomás stands unmoving in the middle of this computer room. He’s well over six feet tall and dominates the room. Though his scar still distorts his mouth, some of the sternness has left him. I guess that first time he knew he would have to wrestle me down.
Whatever I agreed to, whatever I think of them, I need to tread carefully. These two are dedicated kinky sadists and rich as fuck. Or Mr. Loxland is. Any retribution they organize if I harm them could be as devastating as being arrested and charged.
“So.” Loxland places a hand on my head. “We need to re-bargain what we agreed to. Shush. Down.” He points at me, where I’m rising on my knees.
I subside. I was about to interject but I close my mouth.
“Thank you. What I said about keeping you for a while even if you say stop, that clause remains. It will make you think before you just try to fuck off. However, I see trouble.”
“You always do, Mr. Aaron.” Tomás’ mouth twitches into a fleeting smile, and he looks at me.
Where is this going? They already hold all the cards.
Loxland says dryly, “Maybe. If I find what you want, miss, you’ll disappear. I want my money and time’s worth. Whatever this program spat out, whatever else I find out for you, you pay for that in obedience as well as submission to our needs. Obedience. Understood?”
I look down at my knees on the padding. I’m doing that already. I raise my head to squint dubiously at him. “I suppose it did find something?”
“Yes.” He waits.
Is this extra? I don’t understand what he means. Whatever. “Still blackmail.”
“You knew that. Help with this, and not reporting your crime, in return for your submission. Have we treated you badly? No. I’ve seen your Fet profile and what you thought you liked.
I’ve seen you fuck yourself with a dildo for men who pay.
Tie yourself up, have a climax for them, and decorate yourself with things.
” He leans down to caress my face, my mouth, the curve of my ear before letting his hand fall away.
“You want this. You like us fucking with you. If nothing else, we’re helping you try things. Say yes.”
My frown is a little broken. He slips his hand lower, takes my nipple, and starts to squeeze.
“You want it.”
The pressure spins down through me, making pain and a wave of skittering excitement I cannot deny.
Do I like what they’ve done? Sorta, kinda, maybe. I focus on where he’s caught my nipple, feel my toes scrunch up, and I grimace, but it’s not simply the pain, not only that, it’s him.
“You like this,” he repeats, softly, with his other hand wrapping about my hair as I bow away from the hurt. The pressure increases, and I wince and stare disbelieving at how he has a precious part of me trapped and is crushing it.
I hiss in a breath then hear myself offer a betraying whimper.
“Juniper.” Tomás has arrived, and stops Loxland, pulls away that torturing hand.
I suck in a much needed, shuddering breath, shield my hurt breast with my hand.
“Juniper?”
Two men both doing things to me, fucking me? “Yes!” I sob, yet I know I will still run once I have what I want. “Yes, I will obey.”
Two names is my end game. Pussy stitching is still a no. Why would I ever want that?
I look up at them both with new tears in my eyes and a clit throbbing for attention. I swallow. “Yes, I like it. So far.”
“You earned the first clue. One of the men has a scar.”
My nipple aches, but I steel myself for whatever image this will be as he clicks the mouse. The screen shows a single enhanced frame from the video of a…a cock. What else would I expect in this disgusting vid?
A crescent-shaped scar swipes across, midway down an erect penis.
He hauls me onto his lap so I can see it properly, and I try to ignore his hands as he draws my hair back from my shoulders then puts his arm about my waist.
“There. See it?”
“Yes. I don’t suppose you know who?” What a question. Out of how many billion men.
Tomás answers, “We don’t, but the odds are good that he will be a CNC Frat member.”
“Yes,” Loxland says. “Nathan associated closely with our people. He was a member of my syndicate also.”
“Your what?” I half turn, a squeak having entered my voice.
“A betting syndicate. It’s worldwide. We make money using the statistical chance of winning things such as lotteries.”
“Not money,” Tomás says. “You make billions.”
“Ah.” I blink. I guess billions are more than just money.
For a math nerd, this is almost expected.
This or him being a stockbroker. And there, I’ve run out of possibles.
That’s how much I know about making billions.
An idea lights up, slots into place, and I realize that what they’ve demanded of me is nothing.
Far more important is what I just figured out.
I’m no math genius, but what he is doing here, it’s grounds for charging them with aiding a murderer—as in me. He said he would hand me over to the law if I reneged, but now he can’t, if I do this right.
If this hard drive or evidence of him doing that search on the video ever reaches the cops, he and Tomás will be charged.
Yes, I may love my introduction to kink and domination, and even this new appreciation of fear they’ve given me—fear is like extra spice on your food, except it’s sex, not food—but I’m not doing this for personal discovery. I’m getting vengeance for Riley.