Ch 5 Take It All Bts

Beyond the Shadows - Chapter 5: Take It All

I stumble into the house, grabbing the table in the entryway to stable myself. Spinning, I hold up a hand, as if that's going to stop whatever the fuck my shadow has planned. "Don't...don't come any closer," I say, tripping on my words as I skirt around the table.

Lucas turns the key in the lock, then tucks it in his jeans pocket. "I warned you this would happen," he says, leaning against the front door. "I've been patient. I've waited. But today you pushed my buttons."

I grab the edge of the table, glaring over at him. "How? What the hell did I do? I didn't invite you in, I don't even know you!" Hysteria creeps up as the reality of the situation settles in. I take a deep breath and try to calm my breathing.

Lucas continues to stare, watching with interest as I hold a hand over my beating heart. "You know me, Riley. We met a long time ago," he finally says. "Think." Those blue eyes narrow slightly at the challenge, and he crosses his arms, muscles tensing under the white shirt.

I swallow, thinking back to where I'd seen his face. Something about him seems familiar, but I'm certain it's just because of the fliers at Benson's club. "I don't know," I whisper.

His mouth tips up in a grin and his arms uncross. "Then I'll have to remind you." He takes a step forward, eyes lighting when I mirror his movement and take a tentative step back. "You're all mine now, and I can't wait to deliver your punishment."

Something must be broken in me, because despite the evident threat of his words, my pussy tightens, my nipples hardening as his gaze rakes over my body. "Punishment?" I ask, the single word sounding strangled.

He bites his lip as he nods his head, and already I notice a bulge forming beneath his jeans. "That's right, baby girl." He steps forward again and I swear my pussy has a death wish. "One that's been long, long overdue."

I can't help the whimper that pushes past my lips, and as he takes yet another step forward. I turn on the spot, running for the stairs. His laugh behind me sends a shiver up my spine, but I don't slow, taking the stairs two at a time. Where the fuck did I leave the rifle? I head for my bedroom, crawling over the bed to where my weapon is still stashed beside the small table.

Two hands grip my ankles, dragging me back over the bed. I shriek, trying to kick my shadow, but his grip is too tight. Wrapping one arm around my stomach, he spins me, then ducks and launches me over his shoulder. His hand spanks my ass as he leaves the room and carries me kicking and screaming down the stairs.

"The more you fight it, the worse it will be, little lamb," he says, the barely concealed glee in his tone driving me from fearful to furious as he heads for the kitchen.

"I swear to fuck, if you hurt me--"

"Hurt you?" he asks, cutting me off. With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he pulls me from his shoulder and grips both my arms, his face so close to mine I can see the flecks of green in his aqua eyes. "Punishment isn't about simply hurting you, Riley."

I wriggle in his grip and angle my head away, but he rolls his eyes, spinning me so my back is against his chest, my stomach pinned to the small kitchen island. "Please," I beg, thinking back to the utensils he had laid out only the day before. The sound of his belt unbuckling behind me has me thrashing under his grip, bruising my hips on the cold marble of the kitchen counter.

Placing his hand between my legs, he hoists me up and bends me over so my feet are dangling and my stomach is lying flush with the marble. Quicker than I can match, he grabs my arms and side steps around the kitchen island, stretching my body taught over the counter before wrapping his belt around my wrists. "I've thought about this every night since seeing you at Benson's club two weeks ago," he growls, voice strained as he tries to keep me in place and secure my now tied hands to the towel rail on the opposite side of the island.

Two weeks? I'd only noticed him lurking outside my house a week ago...what had he witnessed when I thought I was alone? My face turns a bright crimson, panic building and building until tears threaten to spill down my cheeks. "Please don't do this," I whisper, my strength waning.

He steps back, releasing a long breath as he admires his captured prey, bent over and totally at his mercy. Seeing my tears, he leans down and kisses the top of my head, his hand gently rubbing the centre of my back in soothing circles. "I'm not going to do anything you haven't already asked me to do, Riley," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I tug against the belt, using my hips as leverage to try and snap the towel rail. It doesn't budge. I'd had this kitchen fitted a week after I moved in, so everything was sparkly new and annoyingly sturdy. "I don't understand. You must have me confused with someone else!"

His hand remains on my back as he circles around to stand behind me. I squeeze my legs shut ignoring the slick wetness between my thighs, and seriously regretting my fashion choice for the evening. He smiles. "No, little lamb. There isn't a woman in the world I could confuse you with."

The sound of receding footsteps echoes through the kitchen and down the hall. I turn my head, trying to see where my captor has gone. "Don't leave me like this!" I cry out, pushing out the mental image of my tombstone reading. "Died from sexual starvation tied to a kitchen counter...dumb hoe."

The guy is nuts, I'd established that much when I'd first seen him skulking in the shadows. But this is a whole new level of crazy...So why the hell am I so fucking wet? Sure, I've talked to strange men online, let them tell me all the terrible, nasty, absolutely fabulous things they want to do to me -- it clicks. Is Lucas Morrows someone who tracked me down online? No. Impossible. I was careful. I'm ALWAYS careful.

Footsteps emerge from the hall and I suck in a breath, going deathly still...deludedly praying he's a fucking dinosaur that only senses movement. He enters the kitchen and I groan internally when he slaps my ass as he passes me by.

"We're going to reminisce, little lamb," he says, placing something flat on the counter in front of me. I immediately register the sleek black laptop, and my gut clenches when he opens the lid and takes one of my fingers to unlock the fingerprint ID. I cringe when the homescreen pops up, a cartoon of a man railing a sobbing woman, with a speech bubble at the top reading: She told me to make her cry, and I love to please my woman.

Great. Now this fucker is going to get the wrong idea. "I'm a spicy romance author...that's the only reason I have that image, I don't relate to it or anything." I wonder if he can hear the lie in my voice? The way he raises his eyebrow suggests I've failed to convince him.

"Don't be embarrassed, It's entirely fitting for a woman with needs like yours," he says. Clicking on an icon at the bottom of the screen, he brings up the internet and I groan again, closing my eyes and praying for a swift death. The first thing that springs onto the screen is my last viewed, a porn site featuring rows of videos showing hardcore public spankings. Fucking kill me.

"That's for research," I lie again.

"I'm sure," he says with a wide grin. "But your search history isn't what I wanted to show you." He clicks on the address bar and types in the name of an adult chat site...one I use damn near every day.

"Shit," I whisper. I'd really hoped I was wrong.

"Mmm-hmmmm, are you starting to remember, Riley?" he asks, navigating to the login page and once again using my fingerprint ID to gain access.

I start shaking my head, but mentally scan through all the conversations with all the different men I've had over the years...yes, I'm a hoe, I've never once denied that. I don't have long to ponder, however, as Lucas clicks on the message icon, currently lit red with twenty unread messages. I glance up at him as the page loads, and what I see beneath the shadow of his dark hair frightens me. He's a perfect storm of angry and aroused, the kind of storm I'd usually walk right into and have the time of my life...but he's different.

"Seems my lamb is popular prey among the predators here," Lucas says, his eyes practically glowing with barely concealed fury. "But I found you first, and now you're mine."

"I'm not--" I gasp when Lucas raises his hand and brings it down hard on my ass. He stares at me, waiting for another denial. I open my mouth, and again my words are lost when his palm cracks against my cheeks, making me whimper. "Never mind," I whisper.

He smiles. "Good girl." Scrolling down the messages, he stops at one from over three weeks ago, the profile picture of a muscular chest with scars dotted across the pecs and abdominals.

"I remember," I say softly. He had reached out to me after seeing one of my pictures. I remember scanning through his photos, admiring his rough and rugged body, the scars only attracting me that much more.

"What do you remember, Riley?" he asks, those eyes holding a slight sadness as he looks from the screen, to me.

We had talked of the things we like in life...our vanilla interests, as well as our kinks. We seemed to match perfectly, and I was surprised to find he liked a bigger girl. I told him my obsession with being spanked, indoors, outdoors, over the knee or tied up...it never matters, I just need that contact, that deep impact. "I remember what you said you would do, if we ever met," I finally answer.

"That's right," he says. "And what was the first thing I told you I would do once I found you?"

I swallow, the sound an audible gulp as I try to readjust my hips on the marble. He warned me if he ever found me, if he ever captured me, he would never let me go. The notion was oddly thrilling, the idea of a man wanting and needing me so much, his fantasy was to keep me locked away forever, ready for his use. "You said you would tie me up," I say.

"Good girl. Do you remember exactly how I said I'd tie you up?"

I don't have to search my memory for the answer, it's all flooding back. "In the kitchen, bent over the counter," I whisper, closing my eyes.

His hand strokes along my back, then down to my ass, his fingers playing with the end of my dress, the material barely covering me. "I'm a man of my word, little lamb, and I told you I would take it all."

I suck in a breath as he flips up my dress, completely exposing the thong barely covering my pussy and ass. I thrash against my bound hands, trying once again to get free, to cover myself, to run and hide. The belt keeps me firmly in place, bent and stretched over the counter, my feet still dangling over the floor.

A growl of predatory approval rumbles through his chest as he bends down and spreads my cheeks to inspect my holes, and again the tears threaten to spill. "Please," I beg, but at this point I honestly don't know what I want. This is something I've always fantasised about, something I dreamt up with Lucas himself.

"I know what you need, little lamb," he hooks two fingers in my thong and pulls its to one side, taking in a deep breath before running his tongue along my wet slit. "So sweet," he says with a sigh. "Your pussy betrays your mouth, Riley."

Fucking traitorous little hussy. My pussy is always the first to fall. I bite my lip as Lucas slips one finger inside my throbbing cunt, curling the end slightly and making me moan. A second finger joins the first as he sticks out his tongue and rims around my asshole. "Fuck!" I call out, wriggling, mortified by the intrusion. His fingers pull out, the voracity of the movement against my wet lips creating a sucking noise.

He stands, and walks to one of my kitchen draws. "Do you remember, I asked you what toys you had that I could use on your body?" he asks, turning to look at me with one hand still inside the open drawer.

I hesitantly shake my head. I don't have many toys..."No."

"You said your kitchen is full of things we could make use of." He removes his hand from the draw, and pulls out a rolling pin. "You said, we could experiment with each of your holes." Next he pulls out a wide, plastic spatula. "You said I could find different things to spank you with...preferably till you cry." His mouths tilts up at that last part. "You have such a wonderful imagination, baby girl."

He's right. My dumb ass did say that. "It was only a fantasy!" I cry out, my futile attempt to pull at the belt making him chuckle.

"I fucking love seeing you like this," he groans, taking the rolling pin and spatula and laying them beside me on the counter. Ignoring my pleas, he heads for another drawer, clearly knowing where all my kitchen items live.

There's nothing I can do but watch as he opens the drawer and pulls out a heavy stone pestle, then moves to another and grabs some clingfilm. "You said you would care for me...protect me."

He spins around, hearing the sob on the tip of my tongue, and walks back over to me. "Riley. I always protect those under my care. Don't mistake what we're doing for something purely born of cruelty."

"How!?" I scream. "How is this not cruel, Lucas?" The sob unfolds and tears race down my cheeks. "You're scaring me."

He hesitates, then pulls up a chair and opens my laptop once again. "Then I guess you need another reminder." Taking his time, he goes through our messages one by one, and I get the sense I'm looking into my imminent future, rather than the past. But...in a way he's right. The more I hear my words from his mouth, hear him repeat my deep-seated needs and desires, my dark and terrible fantasies...the more my pussy tightens and the wetness creeps down my thighs.

"I told you I would care for you, Riley...but I also said I was push you to your limits, punish you and make you realise just how much better the real thing is compared to a mere fantasy," he says. Standing, he wipes my already drying tears and pushes the chair back. Returning to his mission.

"I'm not ready, Lucas," I moan, my voice cracked with emotions even I can't quite comprehend.

"You'll never be ready, Little Lamb. That's why i'm here, to take control and show you just how perfect we are for each other." He taps a finger to his chin as he regards the instruments laid out before him, then smiles. Picking up the pestle and moving to stand behind me, he places a hand on my ass, once again reading my cheeks apart. "Now, let's see how tight that little asshole is."

To be continued...

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This is a work of fiction. All characters in this publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

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