Page 7 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

My heart starts racing. What the fuck is this? I glance at the blank wall, already convinced that my life on the other side will be forever out of reach. Deacon exhales with slow satisfaction as my terror mounts.

I almost wish he would hold my hand again. The hand holding was just the slightest reprieve from the insanity.

"It's soundproof," Deacon says. "I could kill someone in here and no one would know."

Why the hell would he say that? I nearly flinch when his next move is to gently put his hand on my exposed ass cheek, but I muster up the willpower to remain totally still and await this psychopath's instructions.

He cups my ass cheek and then massages it slowly.

"How long do you think it will take for the marks to show on your skin?" he whispers.

Chapter Five

Rage

My dick yearns for another escape. I am already semi-hard in my pants, my desire growing with Keyshawn's continued obedience. The other girls who came here couldn't perform half as well. She demonstrates a strong ability to withstand pain with perfect stoicism. I didn't even mean to take her hand like that and give her a taste of sweetness so soon. From the second I put my dick in her mouth, I betrayed myself. The only thing that brings me comfort is my complete control here. She doesn't know what to expect and it's easy to find the words to make her still and compliant.

But I would never hurt her permanently. Not when she already has this much special power over me.

"The platform has a soft, memory foam beneath the leather," I explain to her. "And an adjustable height. Right now, it's set at about here."

I place my hand on her hips, unable to fight my second desire to touch her gently instead of only applying pain.

"I need you to bend over and show me your ass. I need to see some more color before I put my dick inside you."

She keeps her gaze averted, obeying instructions soperfectly. It's almost enough to make me cum in my pants. At this point, I don't need to spank her to get hard. I am desperate and curious to see how much her ass can withstand.

"Go now," I tell her. "Bend over and let me see you."

I stand near the door as I watch her walking towards the platform. The single bulb hanging over it will become crucial in identifying any marks on her skin. I have this fierce, dark urge to see how long it will take to turn her purple.

Can she really handle more pain than the others? Keyshawn. I don't know why the name sounds like a name I’ve heard before. It's like a memory I couldn't possibly have. I don't know anyone named Keyshawn. Her ass jiggles as she gets closer to the platform. Her flat, bare feet kiss the burgundy carpet with each step. She has sexy feet too. It seems impossibly lucky.

When she bends over, my dick almost rips out of my pants. Bent over and fully nude, I take in the details of her ass and legs from my position near the door. My tongue turns into a cotton ball in my throat. She is far too hot. Women this fucking sexy are... intimidating.

But not here. Not in my playroom. I have all the control here. My desires only grow stronger when I approach her and turn on the single bulb hanging over the platform. Her skin is the richest shade of brown. Truly deep and truly beautiful.

She's not my type by any stretch of the imagination, but looking at her spread out like this, my dick feels differently. I have never had an erection this painful -- and one that I refuse to satisfy before spanking her.

Normally, I need the spanking to get hard. But her ass...

It's so round and big, two cheeks spread apart slightly by her position on the platform, just enough that I can barelyglimpse her soft, glistening and fully waxed pussy lips. My chest heaves as a darker thought enters my head.

Between these two perfect ass cheeks, Keyshawn has another tight hole -- a forbidden hole perfectly obscured by the pumpkin-sized ass cheeks sitting in front of me, just waiting for a spanking.

Her slit is barely visible and I can't tell her state of arousal, but it doesn't matter. If she can be this obedient, this strong when presented with my sadistic desires, I guarantee a spanking will get this woman incredibly wet.

"I won't go easy on you," I say to her. The soundproofing dampens the sound of my voice, making me seem even more sinister. "You can choose - belt or paddle."

"Paddle," she says quickly.

Her choice fascinates me. Nobody ever chooses the paddle. I like paddling. I prefer it to using my belt. When it comes to disciplining a woman, I find either one equally effective. This is more play than discipline -- at least for me.

I have to cross her line of sight to get to the black acrylic set of drawers containing my collection of toys. I haven't used the paddle since college.

Heat prickles around my ears and cheeks. Every fantasy I aim to live out through my 3 a.m. appointments feels somehow... better. I don't know how I'll stop myself once I start paddling her, but I wrap my palm around the handle and feel a strong connection with it once again.

I can feel her eyes on me as I gaze over my weapon and then smack it once against my own palm to remind myself of the weight and force I will need to apply to make this woman bruise.

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