There's a pallet bed stored underneath the double bed in the room I stay in when I'm here for long periods of time, and need somewhere to crash after a long day of persuading my guests to talk. The pallet bed is for if any of my brothers also need somewhere to crash. Sometimes, if it's someone super high profile the Prez or VP will order two prospects to trade off in round-the-clock guard duties. Thank fuck he didn't see the need for that with Mitch Herschel's daughter being here.
She's watching me setting this fucking pallet bed up in the corner in silence. A quick peek at her confirms it. Yeah, she's confused. When I glance over, her eyes dart away, which has me biting back a smirk. I’m pretty sure that she was just checking out my ass. Interesting. An idea is starting to take shape in my head about what “honey” could be, and fuck me I like it.
Once the bed is in place, with a threadbare pillow and a matching blanket – hey, this isn't the fucking Hilton – I turn my attention back to her. She blanches at the sight of my knife I’ve just pulled out. I can hear her terrified pants and her fucking racing heartbeat from here when I place the tip of it on her chest, right between those modestly covered breasts. She's breathing so heavily that I have to be careful not to press too hard, as her rising chest would do more damage than my hand.
Not looking her in the eye, I grab the neckline of her top and use the knife to slice down effortlessly; until the fabric flutters to each side and I'm presented with her flawless chest. Wren’s breath catches as her ruined top falls open, and when my eyes flicker up to her face, I can see that she’s biting her lip and her pupils have dilated. When she catches me looking at her though, the faintly excited look drops away. Biting back a triumphant smirk, I slowly move my eyes back down to her chest and my breath catches in my throat a bit and I stare for a moment at the bounty I have uncovered.
Her breasts are perky and plump. Not overly large, probably no more than a B-cup, but they suit her frame. They’re encased in a lacy pink bra. Fucking lingerie and I can feel myself harden in arousal. I know that she's panting out of fear, but tell that to my cock, which has completely misinterpreted the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Blinking, I put my knife back to my belt and reach over and pop the button of her jeans. A muffled squeak has me glancing up, and I can see that she has her lips pressed together, as though she doesn't want to give me the satisfaction of hearing her make a sound. I smirk at her, as her eyes stare into mine, like she's trying to see into my soul and beg me for something. But then I return my attention to the task at hand. Undoing the zipper, I ease her jeans down until they are pooled around her bound ankles. Though I had to press her knees together to get the denim over them, the way her ankles are tied makes them spring back open once I'm done and I stand, surveying the scene before me.
Fuck yes. She's wearing matching lacy pink panties. They're tiny and barely cover anything, and I let my eyes rake over her glorious body for a moment. She might be slender, but she still has enough curves that I can tell she's not actually sixteen. And when she's sitting there, bound to the chair, clad in lingerie and the remains of her clothes; she sure as shit doesn't look sixteen anymore. Fingering my knife, I contemplate cutting the lingerie off her, because that would be sexy as fuck. But I decide against it, because they’re the only ones she has here, and I might want to enjoy this view again. So I drop my knife onto the table against the wall and crouch on my knees before her, barely a foot from her scantily clad pussy.
Apart from another hitch in her breathing, there’s still no sound from her, but that's going to change soon, I smirk. Placing a hand on her left knee, I run it slowly up her thigh, applying just enough pressure that I can hear her breath catching and her panting change slightly. Yeah, she's still scared – she’s tied to a chair, who wouldn’t be scared? But now she's also intrigued, and more than a bit turned on, a glance at her face confirms. My hand doesn't stop, and I can see that her eyes are tracking it. Once I reach her crotch, my fingers brush against the lacy fabric and the wet lace that they encounter almost drags a groan from me, but I swallow it back. My eyes lock on hers, which dart up from where they were still focused on my hand, and her lips part as my fingers freeze.
Neither of us speak, our eyes just burning into each other’s for a long moment, and then she blushes slightly as her eyes drop back down to my hand. Her panting breaths kick up a notch and then her legs widen slightly. Her eyes dart back up to mine and her lips part, just the tiniest bit. Then her hips move, thrusting forwards slightly until my fingers are pressed firmly against the lace there. My eyes lock on hers and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. That’s enough of an invitation for me, and my fingers start to move again, creeping around the lace before they encounter her wet folds. As I slide a finger through them gently, her eyes close and a slight moan escapes from her. This time, I can't swallow back my groan at the evidence of how much she wants this, and I slide a finger inside her. As I slowly finger fuck her, her head tips back and she bites down on that plump lower lip that I want so badly to taste. Sliding a second finger in, my thumb moves up to find the hard nub of her clit, roughly brushing over it as she exhales sharply.
She's panting heavily, eyes still closed, head still thrown back, lip still firmly caught between even, white teeth when I work in a third finger. Fuck she's tight, and her mouth falls open at the feeling of three of my fingers fucking her. Her breathing picks up and my somewhat gentle movements become rougher. I grind my thumb into her clit, determined to make her come apart on my hand as I watch. I can feel she's close, and her eyes spring open, looking like molten gold again, but this time it's not from tears, and she looks me dead in the eye as she comes, her pussy contracting, clenching around my fingers.
While she's still looking at me, I remove my hand from her panties and pop my dripping fingers, one at a time, into my mouth, sucking them clean of her juices. Her eyes widen at the sight, and fuck, but she tastes sweet. I just want to bury my face between those soft thighs of hers, but I think she's had enough excitement for tonight. Besides, I really need to hit the shower and take care of myself before I start suffering from some extreme blue balls. Reaching over, I snatch my knife off the table, cutting her bindings, before picking her up. Walking over to the pallet bed, I drop her there. She scrambles to pull up her jeans and then tries to cover herself with the ripped fabric of her shirt. Sighing, I shrug out of my cut, tugging my shirt over my head before dropping it on top of her blanket. Grabbing my cut off the ground, I head out the door, leaving her curled up on the pallet, post orgasm, staring after me, the harsh light blazing overhead.
Chapter 4
WREN
He's gone, and I'm all alone in this prison cell, a mess of emotions, still heaving from the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced. I can still feel him there, roughly finger fucking me while grinding my clit with his calloused thumb. I'm not a virgin. I had my share of boyfriends and the occasional drunken one night stand at college; but they were all preppy rich boys from UCB. Berkeley didn't really let rough bikers on the campus. I can't believe that I was turned on by him checking me out and cutting my clothes off me with that scary looking knife of his. I just about died of embarrassment when he first touched my panties and I saw his eyes dilate at the humiliating wetness he encountered.