10. Frank #3
“Ah, ah, ah!” I scold, wrapping the bandana around the lower half of my face—covering my nose and mouth, tying the corners at the nape of my neck.
“Don’t think about making a run for it—there’s three big strong men and a full syringe of night-night-juice on the other side of that door if you think you’re going to get past me.
” I wag my finger, aware of the flex of my biceps under the bare bulb’s light; incentive for her to cooperate.
Louise’s jaw juts forward slightly, her sternum lifting, her eyes—though glittering with furious tears—still defiant as she presses her lips together into a hard, unforgiving line.
“Now—this little beauty.” I pull the atomizer from its hiding place, twisting the small, brushed aluminum cylinder until the push button nozzle rises from its top.
Louise’s entire posture becomes loaded—as if ready to spring into action, but before she can move a muscle, I press the button down and a fine, pale blue mist clouds around her face.
She reaches to cover her mouth with her cuffed hands, but the mist is pervasive—her eyes water. A chain of violent, wet coughs force her to double over with the effort of drawing a breath of untainted air.
“You see—this fun stuff is a little number your mom and pop cooked up for the US Military,” I explain dutifully as Louise struggles against her choking lungs—nearly falling forward out of her chair.
“This aerosolized spray was developed to be able to completely cut through the effects of all known suppressant drugs in the short term, while also diminishing the half life of the remaining dosage in the affected person’s system,” I explain academically as I drop into a low squat, my face level with Louise’s as she finally begins to gulp down fresh air.
“You were only about a week or so out from your next dose, so you were already on the ropes—but now…” I rumble, grabbing a handful of her fiery copper hair before I rise to standing pulling Louise upright—her eyes wild and unfocused as they roll up to meet mine, her pupils dilated so large that her eyes look like pools of endless black.
“I’m willing to bet you’re really feeling it. ”
Louise lets out a little breathy moan as I close my fist tighter in her hair, drawing her head back.
“I know you’ve been wondering why we took you.
I think it’s about time I gave you a little explanation,” I growl, watching as her lips part—her pink tongue gently lolling over her bottom lip as she pants with need, her glazed eyes half hooded as her gaze falls to my erection, valiantly straining against my jeans.
“I’m Francis Stone, but don’t fucking call me anything other than Frank if you value your life.”
Though she’s been swept far beneath the tides of her desire—a glimmer of the real Louise, the vitriolic fighter, can be glimpsed from the surface as I say my name aloud. No doubt I’ve rubbed up against one of her memories from the bureau, but that’s not what I’m looking to stroke right now.
“I used to work for the FBI… till we had a little misunderstanding and I had to make my exit. Now the Saints and I clean up the messes left by your parents' dirty work.” I gloss over the details, reaching down and begin to work my silver belt buckle open.
As if through the haze of intoxication, a lazy smile spreads across Louise’s petal pink lips, a slow croaking laugh creaking eerily from deep in her chest.
I’m about to ask her what’s so funny when she speaks; a funny little sighing sound compared to her voice earlier.
“Cazimer, Sébastien, Quentin, Francis.” She gives a girlish giggle and a chill runs up my spine. “I get it now.” She blinks in slow motion, her eyelids fluttering closed before slurring open again. “Where are your birds? Saint Francis ,” she laughs.
“Shhh, I’m talking right now, Sweetheart.
You listen, and when I start asking the questions—that’s when you can unzip those lips,” I shush her, letting go of my belt to press the pad of my index finger against her lips; my other hand still fisted in the hair at the crown of her head—my grip like iron.
She looks up at me. Those terracotta eyes—purest rancor under a gauzy sheen of lust. She purses her lips around my finger, tilting her head as far forward as she can under her current restraints, and she slips my digit into her mouth up to the second knuckle.
Her eyes roll back under her drooping eyelids for a moment as her cheeks hollow with gentle suction and I can’t tell how much is her inability to fight against her own urgest and how much is her challenging me.
“And you—Little Lou, our devil, we think that you’re the missing piece—our lucky penny—Lucifer, our shining morning star,” I groan, my cock twitching as I pull my finger from her mouth.
Something happens and the two of us find ourselves frozen—electric stillness charging the moment; the very air around us suddenly crackling with unseen possibility.
Before I can regain my footing, Louise’s handcuffed hands are in motion, creeping up from my knees toward the heavy metal rivet button atop my fly.
“What makes you think I believe a word of what you and Mr. Fancy-pants-British-accent have to say?” she titters like a tipsy sorority girl, the belt buckle jangling against her cuffs as she begins to work the button through the heavy denim buttonhole.
“Why else would we have snatched up such a dangerous little thing?” I rumble, hooking a finger over the edge of the bandanna at the bridge of my nose— the mist settled—freeing the lower half of my face from the confines of the triangle of cotton.
“No reason to risk our asses if we didn’t absolutely need the missing piece of our puzzle,” I rasp out, doing my best not to moan as she carefully undoes my zipper—my fingers woven in the hair at the crown of her head, allowing her the slightest slack as she rocks forward onto her knees.
“Even if I wanted to tell you, what makes you think I have anything worth sharing?” she croons, pulling down the elastic band of my boxers—my hard cock springing forth, a bead of precum at my head making contact at the corner of her mouth—leaving a glittering wet spot just beyond the boundary of her lips.
“I think that we can help each other,” I hiss under my breath as she takes my cock in one of her pale hands.
“You and Posh are playing crime-family house with the chem-himbo and the hacker twink. Don’t you have enough help around the house already? Or are you and Mum really that greedy?”
“That’s an awful lot of backtalk for someone who’s in cuffs, little girl,” I growl, giving her tresses a slight yank, bringing her to the upper limits of her kneel—my cock hard against her high, curved cheekbone.
“So what I’m hearing is that I can help you, but I’m not quite sure how you can help me, Daddy,” she growls defiantly before running her tongue up the underside of my throbbing erection, my knot beginning to swell.
“Is that so?” I grunt , taking hold of my cock at the base, tracing my head over her full, parted lips as she flicks her pink tongue over my cock head.
“Mmmmhmmmm.” Eyes glittering with a bottomless, liquid lust, Louise closes her mouth around me—my cock buzzing with the vibration of her response.
“Fuck,” I hiss, low and raw as I flex my hips forward, sliding further toward the back of her throat.
“I tell you what, Little Lucifer,” I growl, tilting my hips back so that my cock clears the suction of her lips with a loud, wet ‘pop’.
She looks up at me, a mix of purest acrimony and unfettered passion burning deep within.
“You make me cum with that fresh little mouth of yours, and I’ll not only get you proof that you should be working with us—but when those suppressants have faded away and you’re begging for a knot,” I slide my cock up her eager tongue as she hate-fucks me with those cinnamon eyes of hers.
“I’ll be sure to stretch you real good ,” I vow.
“If you can prove that I’m the missing link to finding a cure for the Zeitnot virus, and whatever horrors you claim my parents unleashed, I’ll co-operate.
” She keeps those burning eyes on me as she closes her mouth around me again, cheeks hollowed as I rock my hips forward, pushing toward the back of her throat.
“Look up at me with those hateful eyes all you want—but you’ll do more than co-operate, sweetheart,” I grunt as I fuck her face.
The way Louise’s hips tilt back and her legs press together at my words isn’t lost on me. In fact—it makes that taught line of pleasure snap—my body jerking momentarily forward as I flood her mouth with cum.
“See?” I huff, catching my ragged breath as I pull my cock from her mouth, letting her hair go from my fist and wiping my cock on the side of her face. “You can be more than cooperative.”
Louise tilts her head back, pursing her lips closed only as long as it takes for her to spit her mouthful of cum and saliva back into my face; the mess splattering directly beneath my right eye, across the bridge of my nose—a droplet at the corner of my mouth; the mirror of my earlier attempts at humiliating her.
“If you can prove yourself to me—and that’s a near impossible ‘if’; you can cry and beg—you can drug me and use me like your little sex doll, but you will never-ever get me to cum for you,” she growls low and menacing, her teeth bared—even though I can smell the thick sweet smell of her slick from here.
“You’ll never ever get the pleasure of begging me for sweet release—you’ll never make me cum,” she warns.
“I’ll teach you to threaten me with a good time, I love fucked up little brats like you,” I chuff, my tongue slipping to the corner of my lips to retrieve the stud of her saliva mixed with my own seed, savoring the look of horrified exhilaration in her eyes.
“Don’t get me going again, Sweetheart.”