Page 31 of Bought

As Forsyth leaves for a third time, Ethan adjusts my bonds. First he frees my legs, then he extends the chains, keeping my wrists attached to the legs of the table. His hands clamp around my hips and pull me down so my legs are off the table, and my pussy. I’m no longer pressed against the hard wood from the hips down. My toes support my lower body, my arms are stretched up over the table. This position is much less comfortable than the first one—and then it gets even worse as Ethan pushes my legs apart with his own, spreading my thighs wide. More furniture is brought into play as points of tie-down. One leg is attached to the base of a couch, the other is secured in a loop to something I can’t quite turn my head to see. My legs are spread wide enough that I can feel the stretch, and my pussy is lewdly exposed, the wet petals of my sex spread with the motion of my thighs. To a casual onlooker—and odds are there will be at least one of those given that Forsyth is yet to return—I’m physically enjoying this.

The cane welts sting as Ethan runs his hand over my ass in a possessive sort of way, the same way he might feel a nice car.

“I thought you sick assholes had special rooms for this sort of thing,” I bite out, trying to hide my shame behind aggressive sarcasm.

“I don’t need a special room to deal with you,” he purrs. “And you wanted to take this public, so I’m making sure this is all nice and public, just how you wanted it.”

I let out a little growl, but he just laughs.

“Your equipment, sir,” Forsyth says. Again, I don’t hear him coming until he announces himself in that elegant voice that makes all this decadence feel somehow even more perverse. He lays an armful of things down on a nearby chair. I catch a quick glimpse of some of them before Ethan picks up a length of black fabric and brings it around my eyes, obscuring my vision. I feel him tighten it behind my head.

Is this better, or worse? I can’t tell in the immediate moment. I can no longer see the room I’m in, but that doesn’t change much. I still know I’m exposed. I still know that there is nothing I can do to stop men looking at me. Forsyth himself is no doubt getting yet another informative view of my most intimate places.

“I’ll have to tell you what I’m doing,” Ethan says in a deep, satisfied purr. “So you can appreciate it as it happens. I’m going to start with a small set of clips. Like the ones that jump start an engine, but smaller. Do you know where I’m going to put one, Casey?”

He asks the question like a kindly teacher prompting the slower student in the class. His arrogance makes my temper burn, but the question is frightening. There really aren’t that many places to put a little clip.

“I don’t know,” I mutter between gritted teeth. My response turns to a growling moan as his fingers slide up between my thighs, find my sex, and rub past the wet folds.

“It’s going to go on your naughty little clit,” he growls down at me. “It’s going to teach your pussy the lesson your mind seems to refuse to learn.”

My clit? That doesn’t make sense. Or maybe I just don’t want it to make sense. It doesn’t matter whether I understand or not, because he’s rubbing down there, his finger circling that sensitive little spot. I find myself holding my breath as he pinches the skin just above the clit itself—and then I feel the cool sides of the clamp, which is mercifully rubber covered, as he slides it over the hood of my clit, trapping a little bit of soft flesh around the bud in a protective grasp.

“There,” he says. “At least one part of you is under control.”

He gives a light little tug to the chain, pulling at my pussy. All the intensity of the caning has been diverted to my sex. I am tender and I am sore, and I am so fucking aroused he could do this, or practically anything else to me and I wouldn’t stop him.

“One last chance,” he says. “After this, I don’t care what you tell me, I won’t stop with you until I’m done. Where is the phone?”

I clench my teeth and shake my head.

Zzt!

I buck against my bonds as a new sensation arcs through me, right on the top of my bare upper thigh.

“That’s the wand,” he explains to me in the darkness of the blindfold. “Think of it like an electric swatter for naughty girls.”

The tip of the wand snaps against my inner thigh. My body tenses, the muscle flinching at the electric pulse. And now I feel the devilish effects of that clamp keeping my clit pinched. Every time I buck it yanks against my clit, brings me back down into position, and sends a bolt of desire through me even as I yowl.

Zzzt! Zzzt! Zzzt!The wand buzzes in short arcs, each one a new spot on my tender inner thighs. This should not feel good. Doesn’t feel good. I am being toyed with like a bound puppet, my muscles jerking against the chains holding me in place.

In the darkness, I don’t know what’s coming next. All I know is what I feel. He has left me imprisoned in my body, unable to deny or escape the intense sensations running through my punished flesh.

He has me on the brink of orgasm, and he hasn’t even begun to do what I know he really wants to do. Take me. Roughly.

And then a grease-smeared finger finds the bud of my bottom. He pushes his index finger inside my ass with one simple thrust, little fanfare. He takes what is his, and that includes my bottom.

“I’m going to fuck your ass again,” he growls softly. “I’m going to make sure you never forget this night, and what happens when you decide to defy me.”

He works his finger in and out of my ass, the lube making it slide almost frighteningly easily. Am I already so physically submissive that my body is ready to give him my tightest hole at any moment? The cane has left an ache in my bottom, but Ethan doesn’t care about that. He steadies my hips, fingers splayed across the fullness of my cheeks, that damn wand coming into play once or twice against my hip just to make it so I don’t get too comfortable having my ass prepared for his cock.

This is thoroughly depraved, but this is what billionaires can do. This is real power. He is demonstrating to me that there is no limit to what could happen to me.

I feel his finger pull out of my ass, and a moment later, something much thicker and harder takes its place. His cock rubs against my asshole, up and down, slowly and deliberately avoiding actually going inside me. He’s teasing me, the fucker. He’s making me want him. With every grinding motion my traitorous hips make, I feel that clamp on my clit. Soon, I am grinding on purpose, because I want the sensation. I want my trapped clitoris to be stimulated.

“You’re a horny little slut,” he growls down at me. “Of course you didn’t tell me where the phone is. Pain is foreplay to you, isn’t it, Casey?”

“No!” I cry out the denial just as he sinks the head of his cock into the tight grip of my ass.

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