Page 15 of Double Shot

I hadn’t been prepared for this. There was no training from the academy or advanced courses on how to deal with being tied up and molested by technically attractive women. I treated it like any other torture. Pleasure and pain were closely related, and I started putting the sensations she had generated in me in the same mental box I would have locked agony in. Controlled breathing, meditative techniques, recitation of lists and other minutia, so that when I finally came, it was less a sexual act and just the reaction of biological function.

I almost preferred it when she brought sadism and pain. She would have her minions wrestle me down and tie me to a whipping post, or some piece of sex furniture, and she would come after me with whips and lashes, or canes and paddles.

She took a perverse delight in this. Once she was sated with her violence, she would put the bands around me, and would have her way with me.

The things she did.

The things she fucking did.

I found solace knowing that Lach would eventually find me, and that they would all pay. It was easier when I had a croissant or cassoulet. It was harder when that sadistic bitch had something up my arse and was whipping me like a lunatic.

Or biting me until she drew blood. Her teeth were so bloody sharp.

I could put on a good show, keep that upper lip stiff and unyielding. I could also take some satisfaction knowing her hair was a wig, and that her vanity had been deeply gouged by that loss.

“You seem content today,” she said. “You know that irritates me.”

“Sorry,lass,” I said.

“I think that we need to have an attitude adjustment.” She checked the ties holding me down, and took a minute to give my cock some rough tugs and a few full hand slaps, certainly enough to hurt. As much I wanted to give her no satisfaction, the wee bastard had its own will. “Do you remember that last session we had?”

“How could I forget, visiting the Louvre and then the boulangerie afterward with that hot bread and the brie?” I said in a mocking tone.

“Always the comedian.” She pulled out a blindfold. I gave a theatrical sigh. “Just like in my last visit, when you came so quickly, I might have thought you some eager teenage boy.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about someone else,” I admitted. I had closed my eyes and imagined Sadie in her place, and rather than keep that control, I let everything go. Princess Kaijin didn’t even have a chance to settle into a good rhythm riding me before I was trying to go soft.

She tugged the blindfold tight and gave me a few open-handed hard slaps to the face. This was her foreplay. “So here are the rules for this game.” I heard the soft metal on metal sound of a safety being clicked off and the slide of a pistol being racked back. “This is a Walther PPK, with a platinum finish. It is a very pretty gun, and I think a man of your worldliness and attention to detail would understand what it could do.”

I felt the cold barrel of the gun pressed against my forehead.

“I’m going to have my way with you, and if you come, I’m going to blow your brains out.”

“Shoot me in the head and you’ll not get anything from me,” I said, my teeth gritted.

“What makes you think you are anything more than my plaything?” she asked. There was a tugging sensation and then I could feel the tension band snugged around the base of my cock.

“I was under the impression that I was a prisoner of the Escadrille,” I said. “And this was some sort of strangeFifty Shades of Interrogation.” Her laugh was haughty and sharp.

“You great stupid English-American. You, belong…” I felt her teeth biting down onto the head of my cock and I hissed between my teeth. “To me,” she finished. “You are mine to do with what I want. The Escadrille doesn’t give afuckabout you. Chauvignon doesn’t care about you at all. The only reason you are still alive is because of how muchcockyou’ve got between your legs.” She worked me roughly, using strokes and a hard grip to emphasize her words.

“Do your worst, you bloody whore,” I growled at her.

“Oh, I’m going to. Do you know what the great sport of the world is, Mister Roan?”

“Football,” I said. I could feel her straddling me.

“Killing Englishmen,” she said and slowly impaled herself on me. “I fully intend on killing you, Englishman. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, I haven’t decided.” The entire time the weight of the pistol against my forehead didn’t change.

“You’ll get yours,” I said. I was digging down into my bag of tricks – meditation techniques, controlled breathing, flexing the muscles of my thighs and keeping my stomach as relaxed as possible. If I could short circuit the blood flow through my groin, I might be able to lose my erection. That was close to impossible with the tension band wrapped around my tackle.

This seemed to excite Kaijin, and she rode me hard, quick, and then she would stop and just roll her hips and clench. She was sopping wet, and it didn’t take long for her to start a series of orgasms. Each time she came, she would let out these loud, dramatic screams, and then there would be claws in my chest, or she would move the pistol long enough to slap the hell out of me again and again.

My control was starting to falter.

When she leaned forward onto my chest, and my cock finally slipped out of her, my relief was audible. If she had kept at that slow grind much longer, I was going to lose it. My muscles burned from stress, from the way I was tied, and how many times I had struggled against the bonds. The worst part was that I could feel my heartbeat pulsing through my member, and could only imagine how enlarged it must look, the blood flow constricted as it was.

I gasped when something else wrapped around me, something softer. It was her lips.

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