Bash, Volume III Page 8

  And he’d told me he wanted to punish my pussy.

  Even changing to wolf wouldn’t allow me to escape the ropes.

  He must’ve smelled my fear as I realized not even a change would allow me to escape. “You agreed to this. You want to back out?”

  I shook my head and wished I could see his face, see him. “No, it just caught me off guard. Only another wolf would know how to tie me so I’ll still be bound if I change. I trust you, Bash.”

  He ran a hand down my abs, across my mound, and over the top of my lips. His fingers stilled, then stroked my outer lips a few seconds before he told me, “Gonna hurt you here, Princess.”

  My heart went into my throat with fear, but it was more anticipation than terror, and I told him, “You hurt my ass and my breasts, and I still want you to fuck me so bad, I’d beg for it if I thought it’d do any good. I know whatever you have planned will hurt, but I know it’ll be good, too.”

  I yelped as my entire pussy area, from the mound to my clit to my opening, exploded in pain. He’d brought his hand down on all of it, spanked it, and it took me a minute to process it.

  It wasn’t pain so much as… shit, I didn’t know what it was, and didn’t have time to come up with a word before he did it again. And again.

  He hadn’t tied my arms — they were still behind my head, and I resolved to keep them there as my legs tensed and my body pushed my hips up, wordlessly begging for more.

  Bash didn’t disappoint, and his hand came down harder, and faster, and I heard myself moaning and yelping. There were no words for this, it was both pain and bliss, torture and ecstasy. It hurt, it felt good, and I wanted it to hurt worse, to feel better, to be more, and I heard myself begging him for more.

  “Yours, Bash. It’s yours. I’m yours. Use me, hurt me. God, I need more. Prove to us both how much I’m yours.”

  His hand struck me over and over until I was frantic with need, with pleasure, with bliss, with pain, with sensation.

  When he stopped, my moan was a protest, but he said, “Gonna give you more, Angelica, but I need your help. Bring your hands down, hold your lips apart for me.”

  He talked me through it, so my fingers were on the edge of my lips, spreading me wide, making myself as vulnerable as I could possibly be.

  “Five strikes to your clit with my belt, and you’re going to hold yourself open for me. If your hands come away, I’ll wait for you to spread yourself again. No starting over, no anger, no consequences… just show me you want me to do it by spreading yourself again.”

  Five seconds passed, but I held myself open and waited. I couldn’t see him, but would feel the bed moving before I felt the pain.

  Ten seconds.

  I was a bundle of nerves when he said, “Need to put something in your mouth to muffle your screams, Princess. Hold tight a few seconds.”

  He got off the bed, I heard one of my drawers open, and he was back. He stuffed something in my mouth, then something else, then something else. I smelled the unscented detergent I used, felt the slick fabric, and realized he was stuffing multiple pairs of my own panties in my mouth. He layered them below my tongue, then above it, before some went in front of it, and I understood he was situating them so I couldn’t easily push the fabric out of my mouth.

  When he settled between my legs again, my mouth was stuffed full of fabric, my jaws stretched wide.

  “Okay, hold tight to those pussy lips, Angelica. I’ll count and then strike.”

  He said one a split second before my clit exploded in pain and I tried to come off the bed. My upper body lifted up, but I soon discovered the angle he’d bound my legs kept me from rising all the way to a seated position. I screamed, and screamed, the noise much louder in my head as the silky fabric in my mouth muffled the sound. My hands had come off my lips, and I didn’t know what to do with them now, so I spread my fingers wide, made a fist, spread them again, as my screams finally faded and I gasped for air through my nose.

  He immediately realized I was having trouble breathing, and began pulling the panties from my mouth. They were out in a second, and I sucked air into my lungs. He handed me some tissue, and I blew my nose. So unsexy, but it had to be done. I didn’t know what to do with the tissue, and he said, “Toss them on the floor. We’ll deal with them later.”

  I threw them to the side and then rubbed my face over and around the scarf as he caressed my legs, teased my lips, and ran his fingers just inside my opening. His voice still deep, the wolf not far below the surface, he murmured comforting words, telling me how much he loved me, how much this meant to him, how much he valued my trust.

  When at last my body relaxed and stopped fighting the ropes, I put my hands over my face and told him, “I can’t take four more of those.”

  “Yeah, you can. I need you to accept them, take them. The wolf needs to give them, but I need you to absorb them into your body, let the pain soak into your soul until you own it, until you own me as much as I own you.”

  I took a breath, brushed the hair away from my face, and reached to pull my pussy lips apart for him again.

  The next three strikes probably took ten or fifteen minutes, because he soothed me and gentled me between every strike —held me, caressed me, told me how much he loved me.

  And coached me through keeping my screams to a minimum. The whole concept of keeping your mouth sealed shut as you scream is fucked up, but actually putting it into practice… fuck.

  When I finally reached down to open myself for the final strike, his voice went deep and gravelly as he said, “Ask me for two more instead of one more, Angelica — given one after another, without a break, so you’ll have to hold on and keep yourself open for the second. Ask me for it. Tell me you want to give it to me.”

  I’d been convincing myself I only had one more strike to go, but as soon as he put the idea in my head, I knew this was what we needed to do.

  “You’re right. One more won’t do it — we need something big, something huge.” I adjusted my hold, so instead of pulling my lips straight out to the side, I stretched them towards my hips more, so it lifted my clit hood until I felt the cool, dry air on the tip of my clit.

  “Three more strikes, Bash. Make it fast, and if you can hold one of my hands in place, it’ll help me keep them both there.”

  He didn’t say anything else, but I felt his approval as his right hand touched my left, and he pressed it towards my body, holding it there.

  “Love you, Angelica.”

  The first strike landed a split second after he said my name, and I clenched my teeth and pressed my lips together as a scream ripped through my throat. The second and third strikes came soon after, pounding the already bruised and battered flesh.

  He put his hand over my mouth this time, and I screamed into his palm a few times before I could find enough control to dial them back. He put his mouth at my ear and spoke soft, so I had to be quiet to hear.

  “Absorb the pain. It’s my gift to you — don’t try to get rid of it. Accept it. Accept me.”

  My rational brain wanted to refuse, wanted to fight him, fight the ropes, fight the pain, but another part of my psyche immediately complied, and every sensation I felt sank into my soul. It wasn’t smooth, though, more like a tree accepting the lightning into its roots, and it seared my soul as well as my body, but the tenor changed as I accepted the pain, took it deeper, and deeper, until my pain fused Bash to me, and me to him — and I understood what he’d meant by my owning him when I took it into me.

  I vaguely remember him cutting the ropes, but I don’t remember him undressing at all. However, the next thing I knew, his cock was in my pussy, his pubic bone banging my bruised clit, and despite the pain, I wanted to come — needed to come — but it was too much sensation and I felt as if I were hanging weightless in space, my tether to Bash the only thing keeping me from being lost forever.

  His playlist had consisted of songs like Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses, Tesla’s Love Song, Ozzy’s Mamma I’m Coming Home,
Bon Jovi belting out I’ll Be There For You, and Whitesnake’s Is this Love?, but now I floated to the sounds of Queensryche’s Silent Lucidity, and Bash finally took the scarf from my face, and we had eye contact for the first time in what felt like hours. As our gazes met I once again felt him, felt his soul as if I could sense everything he was feeling, and tears came to my eyes as I sensed the love and caring he was drowning in — so much sensation he couldn’t contain it all. This wasn’t telepathy, but it wasn’t far off, and I breathed him in to keep it from being overwhelming. Just as I’d accepted and absorbed the pain, now I accepted and absorbed his love.

  The final notes of the song played, and I heard a single guitar as More Than Words began to play. I had to wonder how, or if, he’d timed it so well, because the meaning of the song was perfect. I loved him more than words could say, we didn’t need them anymore, didn’t need language to share our feelings with our love flowing between us. Tears spilled from my eyes as I felt so much emotion I couldn’t contain it, and Bash slid in and out of me, slow and easy, making love to me as no one had before, as no one else possibly could, and I reached for him, pulled him closer as I wrapped my legs around him.

  I stopped paying attention to the music as songs came and went once again, and Bash changed angles and directions and made me come over and over again until I might not have known my name if someone had asked me.

  However, when Take Me to Church came back on and he lifted over me, reality came rushing back as he said, “One more place I need to lay claim to, Princess.”

  I nodded, accepting it, wanting it, as I told him, “My ass.”

  He pulled out, sat up, and reached for the coconut oil. He slicked himself, and rubbed quite a bit of it around my entrance, but didn’t push a finger in.

  I let him move me to my side, and I snuggled into him when he situated behind me. My body relaxed into his as he lifted my right leg and wrapped his arm around it and my torso, holding it in the air as he pressed his cock to my ass.

  He held me in place as he pushed himself inside little by little. I didn’t ask him if he’d thinned himself — I knew he hadn’t, knew this was about my taking all of him, accepting him into me as he is, and I relaxed and let him invade my ass. It burned and hurt, but when it got to be too much, he slowed and gave me some time before he pushed more of himself in.

  Somehow, I relaxed and let him in enough to move, and within a few minutes of being all the way in, he was pounding me without mercy. It hurt, and felt good. It was too much and yet perfect, and a growl started deep in my throat but by the time it came out it was mixed with a moan, and the next thing I knew I was orgasming around his cock as it grew wider and threatened to split me open, but it was just one more way he claimed me, and I gave him all of me, with no exceptions.

  Songs came and went once again as I was lost in a sea of sensations and ecstasy, owned by the cock pounding me, spreading me wider and wider until I was certain he’d tear me apart, but I didn’t care. It was right, it was perfect, and when I came again, he came with me.

  We lay in bed a long while before he asked if I wanted to sleep in my apartment or go back to the compound. I’d been dozing, and part of me really wanted to sleep in my bed, but the more vocal parts of me wanted the security of the compound.

  However, I was so tired, I fell asleep without suggesting we go… but then came awake with a blood-curdling scream around two in the morning. Bash awoke with me, held and soothed me, and sent calming thought-waves to me through whatever bond we’d formed, until the major adrenaline surge dissipated enough I was no longer shaking.

  “Tell me about it.”

  I shook my head. “It was a nightmare, and it was awful, but I can’t remember what was happening, just the terror.”

  “Okay, Princess. Let’s get dressed enough to get back to the compound. You don’t feel safe here, we won’t stay.”

  When we arrived, he took me through the garage to his room, skipping the main areas of the clubhouse, and put me straight to bed where he held me, stroked me, and loved me until I fell back asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Angelica

  Once again, I came awake startled and afraid, but this time the noise wasn’t coming from me.

  Bash jumped out of bed and into his jeans as he told me, “Raid siren — LEO, not Disciples. Get your clothes on and stay in here. If the cops come in, do as they say. There’s nothing illegal or incriminating in this room, so no worries if they have a warrant to search it, though I can’t imagine they do.” He touched my chin, held eye contact long enough he was sure I was awake enough to understand. “Stay in here unless the cops want you somewhere else. If they come in or knock on the door, do what they say, but be careful how you answer questions.”

  He slid his feet into sneakers, grabbed a shirt, and walked out of the room, locking his door as he went.

  A quick look at the clock told me it was three forty in the morning, and I got up and put clothes on, just in case.

  Five minutes later I heard Brain in my head.

  Angelica, I’ll be there in a minute. Get dressed, if you aren’t already. When you see me, hand me your phone and act like it’s mine. They have an arrest warrant for you, for the murder of the driver of the van. If they had any bodies it would be for all five men. They’re fishing. You’re fine.

  Fuck, Brain.

  It’ll be fine. Wait until I get there to get it out, but when I tell you what’s up, get your ID out of your purse, but don’t bring your purse. They have a right to go through anything you bring with you. I know there’s nothing incriminating in there, but it’s none of their business.

  Do we know these cops?

  No. Duke, Tiny, and Dozer are restraining Bash upstairs so he doesn’t get arrested, too. Duke already has a call in to the attorney, and he should beat you to the station.

  Brain knocked on my door saying, “Angelica? Are you dressed? I need you to open the door please.”

  I opened the door and handed my phone to him as I said, “We’re going to have to pay better attention — this is yours, don’t suppose you have mine?” Brain took it and slid it into his pocket, and I saw the officers look at each other as he said, “No, sorry, I thought I’d lost mine, and the GPS can’t pick it up down here.”

  One of the officers stepped forward, told me I was being arrested on the charge of murder, named the guy who’d been driving the van, and read me my rights.

  “You have to be kidding! They kidnapped me! I have no idea where they went!”

  I’d put yoga pants and a t-shirt on, but the officers still frisked me, and their hands all over my body were just damned creepy.

  I’d been advocating for us to try to keep from pissing Thomas off any worse, but after this, I’d be taking the gloves off.

  “If you’ll point us to your purse, we’ll get it for you,” the officer said. “You’ll need your ID when we book you in.”

  I looked at Brain. “Get my ID out of my purse, please?”

  The officer watched Brain walk towards it and said, “Her not wanting to take it in gives us reasonable cause to search it.”

  Stay calm, came Brain’s voice in my head.

  I shrugged, awkward as it was with my arms cuffed behind my back. “You want to know what brand of tampon I use, and my favorite petroleum-free all-natural lip balm, feel free. I’d just as soon not take it with me where I won’t have custody of it, though. There’s a knife in there, as well as my ID badge for work. I figured ya’ll wouldn’t want to have to do the paperwork involved in having custody of a Federal secret-clearance badge.”

  “We’ll go through it in front of you, and then leave it here if we don’t find anything,” one of them said.

  “Unfortunately, I’m afraid you’ve brought up an excellent point, and I’m going to have to insist on bringing my badge. With my hands behind my back, I can’t put it in the safe, and I can’t leave it at the RTMC clubhouse when I’m not here to have custody of it.”

  They hadn’t
brought up the point, of course, but now that they knew it was in there, I couldn’t risk them reporting to my superiors that I’d left it here, with felons upstairs and me in police custody.

  The ride to the service center in the back of the car was humiliating, but I started wondering why they’d arrested me at the clubhouse, instead of getting me at work.

  It made sense that doing it at the clubhouse allowed them to go inside, and shove it in the RTMC’s face that they couldn’t keep the cops out, when push came to shove… but could it be something else? Graham might have to be involved if they arrested me in a Federal Building. He’d been there for my questioning, but that didn’t mean he was in on this.

  The booking process was beyond humiliating. I had to undress in front of two women, submit to a full cavity search, which involved them looking in my ears, running their hands through my hair, looking up my nose and inside my mouth. Then, I had to bend over and stay still while a smart-assed bitch fingered my sore cunt and ass. And she didn’t just finger me — she probed up deep inside me, pushing and feeling as far in as she could press.

  They kept my clothes and gave me panties, a bra, pants, and a shirt. The bra was hideous, and I declined it.

  With every humiliation I endured, I planned more of what I’d do to Thomas, as I was sure he was behind this. My imaginings placated my wolf a little, but she was beyond upset about the cuffs; the fingers in my mouth, ears, pussy, and ass; and the way everyone spoke to me as if I were less than human.

  The women noted the marks on my ass, and the obvious belt marks on my breasts, and I told them I’d fallen over a rail and then busted my ass on the steps. They didn’t believe me, and I didn’t give a shit.

  I was fingerprinted, someone took blood from me, I had to pee in a cup, and I had to stand and turn every direction for my mug shots. When I finally made it to one of those horrible little rooms with a table in the middle and a two way mirror, I laughed as I realized they’d put me in a chair that wobbled. My arms were handcuffed to the center of the table in front of me, but I bent my right arm enough to use it as a pillow for my head.