Chapter 3: A Lesson for Others (CBK)
Foggy confusion overtakes me as consciousness slowly returns, the residual taste of chloroform gnawing at my tongue, the rest of my mouth dry and parched. Even as my eyes open, the initial sensation I feel is the soft, smooth fabric encasing me, hugging and caressing my body...an unusual feeling considering I had been donning a scratchy sweater and too-tight skinny jeans earlier.
My eyes shoot open, and I try to sit up. I hear the rattle of chains, and my arms remain resolutely constrained above my head. My ankles, too, are in compromising positions, spread wide apart along the lush, black, silk sheets. My heart races as I realize that I'm not just lying on a bed, but naked –without even my underwear– as a result of neglecting to go commando, or simply ignoring what I was wearing. Hell, if it were up to me, no one would see my underwear at all!
I press my chin into my chest to check that I'm, indeed, completely nude. Unfortunately, though, that's not quite the case. Catastrophe strikes as I realize I'd put on my "emergency knickers" –the ones with a cheeky feline giving its thumb's up. "Fucking hell," I groan, burying my face in the pillow. Struggling to wriggle my wrists, I attempt to wriggle out of the manacles, awkwardly twisting my fingers and tugging, attempting to wiggle through. With an exasperated sigh, I surrender, allowing my arms to fall limp again.
My head lifts, and I take in my surroundings, almost admiring the spacious, luxe ambiance of the room. A gilded mirror on the wall opposite hangs above the fireplace, its angle slightly down. It reflects back at me, my predicament intensified– my undies right there in the spotlight. I seethe at my rotten luck, and surreptitiously survey the rest of the room.
A vanity table sits beside me, adorned with crystal bottles and a silver-backed hairbrush, seemingly caught in the act of morning preparations. Overhead, a portrait of a solemn-faced woman in a dress from a long-gone era gazes at me from the other side of the room, possibly judging my current state of affairs or maybe even my panties.
Surprisingly, it occurs to me that the curtains to my left aren't drawn across the windows. The room is dim, the sun having set a while ago. I realize I'd been knocked out all day. My head swivels to the door, and the sound of muffled voices floats in from outside.
I force myself to remain still, attempting to mimic a sleeping person's calm, even breathing.
The voices cease in the hallway, replaced by footsteps. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I tell myself.
The door prizes open, and despite my best efforts, I know my heart is racing. I clench my eyes shut.
The door clicks shut behind her, muffling the sound of the pair's conversing. The footsteps fade, then stop unexpectedly. "I know you're awake," a man announces.
I stay silent, feigning sleep, swallowing deeply and matching my breathing with a sleeping person's. A moment passes, and he's still quiet. I detect him moving across the room.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my ankle, undoing the chain. "One down… three to go."
Impatience overtakes me. The mattress springs back as he releases the chain from my other ankle with a soft click. I seethe inwardly, fighting the urge to curl my toes and kick him.
"You stole from me," Logan utters icily. "Do you know who I am?"
I remain rigid, breathing deeply and evenly, my thoughts calm. His hand moves towards my thigh, coming perilously close to the most private part between my legs. My eyes spring open, and I kick out.
Logan catches my foot in one hand and smiles down at me. "I see you're finally awake, Miss Bloomer. What a smart thief you are, entering a man's home wearing cat-themed lingerie."
"Crap you," I retort angrily, jerking my foot away from his hold and crossing my legs to hide my overactive cat panties. "You know it's rude to abduct people, right?"
His grin broadens as he runs his hand through his short, light-brown hair. His piercing blue eyes lock onto mine as he settles on the chair beside the vanity, sweeping his gaze down my body. I tighten my thighs, my needy pussy responding and clearly unaware of the seriousness of the situation.
"Stealing is also considered impolite," he counters, unbuttoning the top button of his immaculate white shirt and loosening his tie. "So is kicking someone in the face or..." he smirks back, his amusement almost palpable. "..or headbutting people."
My eyes are drawn to a dark bruise just below the stubble on his chin, which must have been from where I headbutted him before fleeing the night before.
"You trapped me, so I defended," I mumble, struggling to keep my composure.
"I apprehended a thief who should've been far away from here in the first place," he lectures, shaking his head in disappointment. The light seems to dim in his eyes, the playful tone turning bitter. "I'll ask again. Do you know who I am?"
I had investigated the location before planning the robbery, but not the man himself. Crow Keep Manor is known among the locals as a place for business, a gentleman's club for the wealthy and heartless. I hadn't anticipated anyone residing here. Logan Kincaid surfaced in my research as the owner of the manor, but there was insufficient information beyond rumors and conjecture, with the more severe speculations implicating him in a string of murders over the past decade.
"This place is a tiny dick club?" I ask cheekily, going to great lengths to seem aloof and unfazed by the whole kidnapping debacle. The sound of his laughter startles me, and I gape at the man as he leans forward, placing both forearms on his knees. He shows off his sculpted arms underneath his shirt, no doubt a gym rat.
"A tiny dick club?" he inquires with a smirk. "It's more than that." Stepping towards the door, he unlocks it from the inside, revealing the same man who caught me yesterday, Leo. His frown and narrowed eyes make it clear that he isn't pleased with my presence...or maybe it's because his left eye is swollen and discolored from my roundhouse kick.
"Can I have my clothing back, please?" I ask, trying to sound overly confident. "And compensation for a taxi home." I figure they didn't confiscate my wallet when they drugged me - inconsiderate buggers.
Both Leo and Logan smirk simultaneously, Logan crossing his arms. "Oh, darling, you won't be needing those," he remarks.
A sense of dread consumes me as both men stare intently. "So what do you want from me?" I ask tentatively.
"That ring you stole for Macy Williams sold for £12,000," Logan answers mockingly, twiddling his thumbs as if he's flippantly choosing lint on his shirt. "Given your lifestyle, I presume you don't have the funds to repay me?"
My face pales and I shake my head. "Why was something worth £12,000 just lying around?!?" I blurt out. I can't pay that back...but I could steal it back. "I'll retrieve your ring. I'll go to Macy-"
"No." The amused look Logan gives me is like that of a cat who's been given cream. "I'll be taking payment in a manner of my choosing...or alternatively, I could send the footage of you breaking into my home, seriously hurting my partner, and stealing the ring to the police."
Fuck....Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck. "Screw you," I mutter under my breath. That could mean years in prison. I'd lose my business. I'd lose everything. "What do you plan to make me do?" I ask in a trembling voice.
Logan's gaze takes on a lewd tinge, and he leans against the door. "Whatever I want, pet."
I sag my head and get up from the bed, rubbing my wrists. "No. There must be rules. There has to be a time frame, we require-"
"Take it easy," Logan says, his playful grin only serving to aggravate me. He leans away from the door frame, walking towards me, covering the distance in five lengthy strides until he's in front of me. "We'll work out the specifics when I've shown you around your new abode." Taking my hand, he leads me through the door, past a scowling Leo, and down the hallway.
I'm too dumbfounded to speak. How in the world did this occur? What do I do? I can't go to jail...but after seeing how Veronica was tied up on display...I don't believe I'm capable of being this man's bloodied house slave! My body and mind remain numb as Logan continues down the hall to the elegant staircase, but I'm interrupted from my thoughts by the sound of voices downstairs...lots of voices...all sounding very deep.
Logan stops as I break from his grip. "There's no point in attempting to flee, little one. My influence extends across the country, there's nowhere you can go that I won't locate you." He once again takes my hand in his and gently leads me down the stairs. "You might as well accept it."
Tears well up behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them drop, instead straightening my back as we take the final step and head left, into a large, open area. I freeze and again attempt to pull my hand from Logan's, but his grip this time is like a vice, refusing to relinquish me.
Inside the area, at least a dozen men are present, some smoking cigars at the open windows, others enjoying a glass of amber liquid, probably top-shelf whiskey. Some have naked women on their laps, or at their feet...Little Men's Club, exactly what I thought.
"Wow, Boss. Dinner and a show?" one man inquires, lifting his head from between a woman's legs on the table in front of him, his stubble slightly wet from his 'meal'.
My mind revs, What show?
Logan's hand abandons mine to wrap around the back of my neck, the other hand grasping my upper arm and leading me forward...towards a padded bench, just like the ones we had in gym class and were instructed to jump over.
Oh fuck.
I struggle against him, but I may as well be fighting a brick wall for all the good it does. Stopping in front of the bench, I'm hoisted up off the floor and unceremoniously dumped over it like a weighted blanket. Without instruction, Leo snatches my left wrist and attaches the cuff on me, swiftly doing the same with the right as Logan locks my ankles.
Apprehension and panic seize me, my cheeks tinged red as both Leo and Logan take a step back, leaving me at the mercy of the men in the room, bent over, legs splayed, completely vulnerable...just like the woman in red. I'm grateful I put on underwear...at least my modesty is somewhat intact.
"Meet Miss Katherine Bloomer," Logan proclaims proudly, his hand cupping my backside.
"Don't fucking touch me!" I shout, bucking against my bonds. Several men in the room chuckle, not an ounce of empathy in their laughter. "I'll take prison time, give the footage to the police, I don't care, just let me go!"
Again, the men snicker as Logan's hand returns to my backside, caressing it. His fingers curl and, in one abrupt motion, he lifts the material up, flossing my ass and pussy in a harsh wedgie. I scream out and grunt as they're pulled up my back, and Leo plucks them away from Logan, attaching them to a hook on a chain across my back.
I close my eyes as a finger runs alongside my pussy, and Logan chuckles softly. "Not much of a punishment if you enjoy it, little one," he states.
Enjoy it? I'm not even slightly aroused...my pussy is lying, my entire body is equally perplexed if my rock-hard nipples are anything to go by. I cry out and gasp as the hook is tightened, panties rubbing against my clit and complicating my already confused state.
"What's on the menu for this one then, sir?" a voice calls out from the back of the room. "Do we all get a taste?"
"No." Logan's stern voice silences the lively crowd. "With permission, you may touch, discipline, but never taste. This one is mine, and mine alone. Understood?"
The men all shout their acknowledgment in a single "Sir" - denoting their acceptance of his simple decree.
He chuckles, looking me in the eye while bending at the waist. "I'm just a simple businessman, Logan Kincaid." He winks at the men in the room. "And I also happen to oversee the largest underground operation in the South."
"Underground...you're a mobster?" I ask, puzzled. The men laugh, and I roll my eyes.
Logan brushes a strand of red hair from my face, cupping my chin. "The term is gangster, and yes. My men and I run several gambling rackets, prostitution rings, and act as intermediaries between international arms dealers."
I gasp. This guy is brilliant. I've stolen from a psychopath. "Please," I whisper, my voice small and pathetic as tears well up again. "I don't want to be a prostitute."
Logan's eyes harden. "I'm not going to make you engage in the sex trade, Kat. Fucking hell." He runs a hand through his hair and stands up. "All of our sex workers are here willingly."
I scoff. "Oh, I'm sorry for misunderstanding, it's not like you kidnapped me and showed me off in front of a bunch of strange guys, Logan!" He stands and unbuckles his belt. "What are you doing?" I ask uncertainly, perspiration forming along my spine and forehead.
"I don't make the women in my employ fuck my men," Logan says, folding the belt in half and stroking it along my exposed ass. "But discipline is handed out for misbehavior, whether they like it or not, it's in their contract." He folds the belt in half and rubs it across my buttocks. "You stole from me, Katherine Bloomer. If you were one of my women, you'd be dead. Be grateful all you're getting is a good spanking."
I shake my head as he raises his hand, then cry out as the belt lands on both my buttocks. I squirm against my bonds as the belt rises again, and the sound of leather on skin fills the room. The men all stop what they're doing, their drinks half-raised to their mouths, the women turning to glare at the victim attracting attention.
"Nice marks," Logan says, stroking a hand over my ass. "I think, considering the value of the item you stole, I'll give you twelve lashings with the belt...then we'll see what happens next."
My pussy tightens at his words, at the sight of the men leaning forward eagerly, their cocks growing harder at seeing me bent over, at the mercy of their boss. I open my mouth and lick my dry lips, wishing they were wet like the skin on my thighs.
Logan seems to notice this because he smiles as he raises the belt and brings it down with a hard crack across both my cheeks. I yelp, tensing my cheeks together and clenching my teeth as two more lashes land in rapid succession. How many is that? Five? I can't take another seven. I groan as Logan's hand dabs my ass, soaking up the heat from his whippings.
"Leo, come here," Logan calls over his henchman and gives him the belt. "I think it's only fair that you get your retribution for Miss Bloomer's actions. Give her three strokes."
I detest the grin Leo offers his boss, the way his eyes lock on mine and silently vow to take his revenge. He grasps the belt in one hand, the other resting on my lower back as he lines up his target. The belt ascends and descends with unbelievable swiftness. I have no time to scream before the following strike lands.
"Leonardo," Logan chides. "Don't break her on the first day." His eyes harden with warning, and Leo nods, raising the belt and bringing it down on my reddened cheeks with less ferocity than before. He gives the belt back to Logan, expressing gratitude, then returns to his seat to continue watching the performance.
A sob escapes my lips, and I look up tearfully at Logan. "I can't...I can't handle any more."
"You will endure more, Kat," Logan says softly, licking the streak of tears from one cheek. "There's a lesson to be learned here, by you and everyone in this room." He stands, and like Leo before him, he lifts me up and carries me out of the room and up the marble stairs. He whispers reassuring words in my ear while I cry into his chest.
We step back into the same room, and this time, I don't object when he lays me down on the bed, clipping a shackle around my wrist. Leaving me there, sobbing into the pillow, he leaves to retrieve a bottle of moisturizer. Opening it, he rubs some onto his hands before turning back to attend to my swollen skin.
"You're heartless," I whimper, my voice raspy from the screaming.
"Yes, I am," Logan replies gently, covering my bruises with the cream. "I can't display vulnerability in front of my boys, and your successful escape shamed me in front of them."
I comprehend his need to express strength to his gang, but I can't help but question his actions. "That's why you punished me in front of them?"
He nods, putting the bottle aside. "Although, I do derive pleasure from showcasing what's mine," he adds, flashing me a playful smile. Seeing the pain on my face, he lets out a sigh and envelops me in his arms, the shackle pulling slightly. "You never should've come to my hangout, Kat. You've nudged me into a corner. With what you did, I had to either kill you or claim you."
"Why!?" I sob. "Why not just let me go? Why keep me?"
Logan cradles me, comforting me by rocking me gently. "There are two reasons. My gang expects severe punishment for serious crimes. You'd have been sentenced to prison for stealing the ring...so your punishment is three years of serving my gang--"
"Three years!" I push against his chest, but he remains firm, strong arms hugging me close.
"My men demanded it, Kat, according to our laws. Otherwise, you'd be dead." He explains dispassionately. "But here's the kicker...When I saw you gazing at Veronica, strapped up in the basement...I desired you," he said, his voice growing deeper with lust. "So, I shared my men's decision, promising you'll serve your three years under my care--to belong to me."
My sobs subside as my heart beats slower, my body numbing. I think I might collapse. "What will you make me do?" I ask tentatively.
Logan's eyes brighten as he gazes into mine. "You're eager, Kat," he says, caressing my cheek. "I'm going to show you my world...I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll crave more...I'm going to demonstrate to you just how much you adore being the alpha wolf's adorable Kat."
To be continued...
This is a fictional work. All individuals in this text are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Read also:
- First Day of Amelié's Adventure
- Errant Erotica by Erica: Part 3
- Arriving at the Pool First: Chapter 10
- Exploring the Pleasure of Being Nude in Part 3 Experiencing the Delight of Baring All, Part 3
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