Chapter 11: The Unexpected Call
The tenth strike landed with a final, echoing crack across the meat of her right thigh. The sound seemed to hang in the loft’s still air, a period at the end of a brutal sentence. Evie’s body, already vibrating with pain and need, convulsed. The chain rattled sharply as she swayed, her toes scrambling.
“Ten!” she screamed, the number tearing from a raw throat.
Silence descended, broken only by her ragged, sobbing breaths. The fiery lines on her back, ass, and thighs pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She hung there, suspended in the aftermath, every nerve ending shrieking. The plug inside her felt monstrous, a crown of his dominion.
Then his hands were on her, not striking but smoothing, palms skating over the heated landscape of her punished skin. The touch was almost reverent. It made her whimper.
“Thank you, Sir,” she breathed, the words automatic, fervent.
His hands moved to the front of her, fingers finding the clasp of her simple bra between her heaving breasts. With a sharp tug, the flimsy fabric gave way. He ripped it from her body, the sound of tearing cotton obscenely loud. The cool air touched her nipples, making them draw into tight, aching peaks. He didn’t pause. His fingers hooked into the sides of her soaked, ruined thong. Another violent pull, and the red lace shredded, falling away from her hips to dangle pathetically from one ankle before dropping to the concrete.
She was naked now. Stripped. Suspended by her cuffed wrists, adorned only by the marks from his belt, the black leather collar, the plug buried in her ass, and the thin socks on her feet. It was the most exposed she had ever been. The most seen.
He stepped close, his body heat a brand against her front. He cupped her face, his thumbs wiping at the tear tracks on her cheeks. Then he kissed her. It was deep, consuming, a conqueror’s claim. She moaned into his mouth, her tongue meeting his with a desperation that bordered on violence.
He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her jaw, her neck, over the collar, until his mouth closed over one tight nipple. He sucked hard, nipping at the peak with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. She cried out, her back arching as much as the chain allowed, offering herself more fully. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same brutal worship.
“You take it so fucking well,” he growled against her skin, his voice rough with lust. “My perfect, filthy girl.” His hand slid between her legs, his fingers sliding effortlessly through the slickness coating her cunt. He rubbed two fingers over her clit, a rough, circular pressure that made her legs tremble. “But I’m not done with you. I want to pound this desperate little pussy until you’re sobbing. Until you can’t remember any name but mine. You want that?”
“Yes!” she begged, the word a hoarse scrape. “Please, Sir, please fuck me. I need it. I need your cock. Please, use me. Pound me. Make me cry for you. I’m your slut, your fucktoy, please!”
He snarled, a feral sound of approval. He undid his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. It was thick, hard, jutting angrily from his body. He grasped himself, giving a few rough strokes, the head already gleaming. He positioned himself, one hand gripping her hip to steady her swinging weight, the other guiding his cock to her dripping entrance.
He didn’t ease in. He drove forward in one savage, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside her.
Evie’s scream was shattered glass. The fullness was immense, breathtaking. He was stretching her, filling her in a way the plug had only hinted at. The chain went taut as her body was pushed forward by the force, then pulled back as he dragged almost all the way out.
“Fuck! Yes! Sir!” she chanted, mindless.
He set a punishing rhythm, fucking her with hard, deep strokes that hammered into her core. Each thrust rocked her suspended body, making the chain sing and her shoulders scream in protest. The pain from the belt strokes, the strain in her muscles, the brutal penetration—it all fused into a single, blinding white-hot circuit of sensation. The plug shifted with every slam of his hips, a dual invasion that stripped her mind bare.
“You love this, don’t you?” he grunted, his own breath coming in harsh pants. “You love being my little suspended whore.”
“I love it! I love your cock, Sir! It’s so deep! Give me more, please, more!” she babbled, words tumbling out in a stream of filth and submission. “Own me! Ruin me! This pussy is yours! Fuck it harder!”
He obliged, his pace becoming reckless, animalistic. His grip on her hip was sure to bruise. The sounds were obscene—the wet slap of skin on skin, the rattle of the chain, their ragged cries. Evie was sobbing now, tears of overwhelming ecstasy streaming down her face as he pistoned into her, hitting a spot deep inside that made her vision swim.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned, his voice tight.
“Yes! Please, fill me Sir! Mark me inside!” she begged.
With a final, guttural roar, he slammed into her and held, his body jerking as he emptied himself deep into her cunt. The feeling of his hot release pumping inside her triggered her own climax, a second, devastating wave that tore through her with even more force than the first. She screamed, a long, broken sound, her cunt clenching wildly around his still-pulsing cock as she shuddered through it.
He stayed inside her for a moment, both of them panting, suspended in the aftermath. Then he slowly pulled out, his cock slick with their combined fluids. He reached around her, his fingers finding the jeweled base of the plug. With a slow, deliberate pull, he drew it from her ass. The sudden emptiness was shocking, a cool rush of air where there had been solid, stretching fullness.
He held the glistening plug before her bleary eyes. “Now,” he promised, his voice low and possessive, “I’m stretching this tight little ass open properly.”
Before she could form a coherent thought, the sharp, electronic buzz of his phone shattered the haze. It vibrated against the black countertop, an insistent, jarring intruder.
“Fuck,” Jay spat, his posture coiling with immediate annoyance. He delivered a hard, stinging spank to her already tender ass, more punctuation than punishment. “Quiet.”
He snatched the remains of her ripped thong from the floor. Before she could even gasp, he balled the damp lace and shoved it firmly into her mouth. The taste of her own arousal was sharp on her tongue. He held her jaw for a second, ensuring her compliance, then turned and grabbed the phone.
“Yeah?” he answered, his voice still thick with sex but now edged with impatience.
Evie could hear the muffled, tinny voice of a man on the other end. Jay listened, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “The Lancer? Shit. No, I haven’t checked the diff. I told Pete to do it.” A pause, a louder, frustrated sigh. “I know what tomorrow is, Liam. I’ve just been… preoccupied.” His eyes flicked back to Evie, hanging silently, the lace gag in her mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m on my way. Thirty minutes.”
He ended the call and threw the phone onto the counter with a clatter. He walked back to her, his expression a complex mask of frustration and regret. He gently removed the sodden thong from her mouth. His hands went to the chain, unhooking it from the ceiling beam. Her arms collapsed, heavy and numb, as he lowered them. He unclipped the cuffs, rubbing her wrists where the metal had bitten in.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice genuine. “That’s the team. I haven’t prepped the rally car. It’s a fucking crucial check. I have to go. Tonight. I really wanted to finish this.”
He helped her stand, her legs buckling. She leaned against him, her body a wreck of glorious sensation and sudden, hollow interruption. An idea, reckless and terrifying, formed in the void.
“Can I…” she started, her voice small and hesitant. “Can I come with you, Sir?”
Jay froze. He looked down at her, his surprise plain. “To the garage? It’s a workshop, Evie. It’s loud, it’s dirty, it’s all men.”
“I don’t care,” she said, finding a sliver of strength. “I want to be where you are. If… if that’s allowed.”
A slow, incredulous smile touched his lips. He nodded once. “Okay. Okay, yeah. If you want.” He helped her gather her clothes—the torn bra was useless, the thong a wreck. He handed her the skirt and the soft shirt. She pulled the shirt on, the fabric whispering over her tender skin, then stepped into the skirt. She was dressed, but naked beneath, marked and aching and wet with his come.
Then, moving before she could think twice, she picked up the plug from where he’d dropped it on the counter. Without breaking eye contact, she turned slightly, hiked her skirt, and guided the tapered end back to her ass. She took a sharp breath as she pushed, working it slowly past the tight ring of muscle until the jeweled base settled snugly against her. A full-body shudder wracked her. She was stuffed again, claimed, ready.
Jay stared, his jaw tight. “Evie…”
“The rules,” she whispered, straightening her shirt. She reached for the black leather collar, which had never left her neck, and fastened the buckle herself. She looked up at him, her eyes clear. “I’m still yours, Sir. The night’s not over.”
He let out a short, amazed breath, almost a laugh. He cupped the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the collar. “No,” he agreed, his voice rough with something new, something beyond lust. “It’s not.” He grabbed his keys from the counter. “Let’s go.”