Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (8 page)

Apparently he had already
decided on how to deal with her. A breathy giggle fluttered past
her lips at the thought.

Sudden icy contempt flashed
in his eyes. “We’ll see if you’re still laughing when I’m
done.”

Nervous butterflies
fluttered in her belly and Elsa gulped down air causing her stomach
to rumble. In a heartbeat, the scarf was draped over her eyes and
tied behind her head, shielding all light from her vision. Her
pulse skittered with excitement and her breathing became erratic
once she felt his body shift and hover over her.

“Let’s see how you like
this…”

Her body jerked when she
felt Mr. Black’s nails graze lightly over her stomach and ribcage,
then sensually over her arms. The same breathy giggle spilled out
of her and her nethers dampened once again. Lighter stroking was
felt over her upper thighs and she wriggled around, her laughing
becoming louder and more nervous.

Without warning, she felt
his fingertips on the soles of her feet and in between her toes
tickling hard and fast, then slow. She hated being tickled. Reviled
it, in fact, and it seemed to be made worse by the fact that she
couldn’t move and was blinded to his actions and what was coming
next. She attempted to sit up but Mr. Black straddled her like
before and held her down.

Elsa shrieked and tried to
shimmy her bottom out from beneath him, but it was no use. She
begged and pleaded as his fingers jabbed into her armpits and
worked their way up. God, not her neck. She couldn’t stand being
touched there. Kissed, yes, but not tickled. She thrashed around
wildly and screamed as she began to retch from the horrible feeling
on her throat.

“Stop, stop it!” she
wailed, choking on her words.

“Why aren’t you laughing
now, Elsa?” he growled as he held her bound wrists high above her
head while his fingers continued their assault on her sensitive
areas.

“Stop… I hate being
tickled!”

Mr. Black’s tone was
velvet, yet edged with cruelty when he responded. “I
know.”

How? How could he know that
her older brother had found it amusing to hold her down when she
was a child and torment her in the same way? How could he know that
she had come to despise it with all her being? There was nothing
funny about it. It was torture. Absolute. Fucking.
Torture.

Then it happened – the
thing she hated most and the tears began to seep from her eyes,
soaking the satin around them and her rage boiled over. She fought
with the kind of strength she didn’t even know she had, kicking and
yelling, drooling and spitting as she tried to fight him
off.

“Get off of me!” she
howled.

It was no use. He was
strong and impossibly solid and immovable. And excruciatingly
inexorable. Her body began to quake from the unrelenting onslaught
of his hands and digits as her tears flowed down her cheeks when
the dreaded happened. Her bladder began to contract painfully and
she knew she couldn’t stop what was about to happen.

“Please, please, Mr.
Black…my water…”

To her sheer relief, he
eased back and just as she relaxed and let out another pitiful sob,
he dusted his fingers against her neck.

Her body hardened as the
warm wetness between her legs began to trickle out of her
uncontrollably and she worked her Kegel muscles as if her life
depended on it.

“Let it go, Elsa. Let me
see how beautiful you look when you accept your punishment,” he
leaned into her ear and breathed out low and intentionally
seductive.

Elsa bit back her tears and
sunk her teeth into her bottom lip until she tasted her own blood.
No. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing her humiliate
herself. But damn it, there they were again - his fingers in her
armpits, stabbing and poking until she screamed one last time,
unable to hold back any longer and let her urine go.

So that was her punishment.
Not the tickling, but the lack of control and what came after. The
seat beneath her became thoroughly drenched and cold, repulsing her
as the stench of urine filled the room. When Mr. Black stood, she
scrambled off the lounger, trying to distance herself from the mess
she had made. Still bound, she stumbled and fell to her knees, but
promptly ripped the blindfold from her eyes.

She squinted against the
light as her eyes came into focus and when she met Mr. Black’s
self-righteous glare, she stiffened, momentarily abashed. She
flushed miserably and was glad for the semidarkness of the room
which was hiding her face.

Angry at herself for her
juvenile actions, she bit back her anger while he helped her to her
feet and steadied her. He bent down to untie her ankles and wrists,
and once her hands were freed and she came face-to-face with her
punisher, her humiliation turned to raw fury when she saw the
arrogant, satisfied look on his face. Reaching her hand back, her
palm caught him full force and square in the jaw, the strike so
hard her palm tingled and ached.

He stood there, tall and
infuriated, glaring down at her. The muscle in his jaw quivered and
he leaned into her, only a mere few inches away, his eerie calm
unwavering.

“Irrational behavior will
only make matters worse for you. And just for future reference: the
first one is free,” he touched his reddened cheek. “But
only
the first
one. Now clean yourself up,” he waved toward the
staircase.

Elsa’s breath burned in her
throat, but she turned, pulled her skirt down over her thighs,
grabbed her bag and headed to the shower without another
word.

Finally under the hot
water, she tried to clear her mind of what had just transpired. She
scanned her body and except for the light scuff marks on her knees
from when she had fallen, she was shocked to see no evidence of Mr.
Black’s persecution. He didn’t lie when he said no irreparable
physical damage would be caused, but still… She had just been made
to piss herself all because she didn’t do as he had ‘expected’ her
to do. What a complete douchebag. What the hell was his problem?
Was he this cruel to all his women? And what exactly was his
profession, other than being a gorgeous asshole?

She shook her head. She
didn’t care. She finished cleaning up and quickly clothed herself
in a clean dress, ready to run for the hills. Exiting from the
bathroom with her belongings in hand, Mr. Black was seated on the
corner of the bed waiting for her.

“So that’s it?” he asked as
he eyed her backpack.

“You’re an asshole,” she
countered icily.

He raised his eyebrows
condescendingly. “I never said I wasn’t.”

She blinked long and hard
before spinning on her heel to leave.

“You’re forgetting about
our contract, Ms. Cassidy,” she heard over her shoulder.

She laughed inwardly and
allowed her rebellious emotions to get out of hand. “It’s not a
real contract and I didn’t forget,” she retorted.

Just as she turned the knob
of the door, she felt hot hands on her shoulders as Mr. Black
whirled her around to stare at her, quick anger rising in his eyes.
“Oh, it’s real, Sweetheart.”

“Shove it,” she narrowed
her eyes back.

Pushing her against the
door and pinning her between his solid body and the wood, a deep
rumble floated up from his throat, “I’d rather shove my cock down
your throat.” He nipped at her bottom lip while pulling the strap
of her bag off her arm and letting it fall to the floor.

As appealing as that
sounded, Elsa still put her hands up and pushed against his chest
to get a better look at the expression on his cocky
face.

“I want you, Elsa, and I
won’t be denied; most especially not when you’ve agreed to all of
this.”

Her eyes widened with
disbelief. “I never agreed to you humiliating me.”

“You agreed to play my game
and follow my rules, and my rules include reprisal when you don’t
do as I ask. It’s that simple.”

Simple? She doubted that.
This was only the beginning of things to come. She was smart enough
to figure that much out. And as for his game, he could shove that,
too.

“Now…” he backed away and
motioned toward the bed. “Seeing as you accepted your punishment so
well, I’d very much like to pleasure you.”

***

Elsa’s normally radiant
brown eyes were black and glittering with vehemence. It was quite a
sensual look for her. On too many occasions Victor had been the
victim of a glare like this, but Elsa’s eyes… they held a different
kind of passion than the other Chapters. She was defiant from the
get go and she wasn’t impressed with him. The others knew who he
was and were eager to be his fuck toy. As for the boldness with the
others, well, that didn’t come until later – after he had used and
abused them and set them free. She might prove to be a worthy
player after all in his game, so long as she followed his fucking
rules. But then again, he did enjoy watching her squirm and beg
beneath him. And the tears… sweet Christ she was beautiful when she
cried. His cock hardened just thinking about it. God, he was a sick
fuck.

As he waited less than
patiently for her response, he smiled as he recalled the look of
revulsion on her face when she emptied her bladder in front of him.
Surprisingly though, she held her composure considering her wet,
smelly circumstances.

The slap, though - that was
something he wouldn’t allow again.
Ever
. He had no room in his life
for physical interactions of that nature. His mother had dealt out
plenty of her own emotional and physical revenge when he was
growing up and there was no way in hell he would put up with that
shit ever again - from anyone.

“Ms. Cassidy,” he prompted
when she stood watching him cautiously, deliberating on his offer
of pleasuring her. His actions, though cruel, had made her more
vigilant and he mentally patted himself on the back for the favor
he had done for her. Now perhaps her trustfulness would be less
than forthcoming in the future.

He watched her closely, all
her subtle little movements. Like the clenching and unclenching of
her fists; the barely noticeable swaying of her body; the way the
corners of her mouth twitched with tension as her eyes scanned his
face for some kind of explanation of his actions. Even her
breathing pattern didn’t go unnoticed. Her rapid and shallow
breaths clearly told him that she wanted his touch and he was more
than happy to give it to her. He wanted to savor her flavor again
and to fill her to maximum capacity.

When she stood frozen, his
throbbing cock urged him forward. “I promise I won’t tickle you
again,” he winked. Elsa’s bold gaze averted to the floor and she
shuffled from foot to foot, and he knew at that moment he would
have her. “Not tonight anyway,” he added to be ornery.

Her bright eyes darted up
and she gave him a look so nasty he couldn’t resist throwing his
head back and laughing obnoxiously. When her face came back into
focus, a furtive, confused smile tipped the corners of her
mouth.

Backing up, he casually
began to undress for her. Slipping his pants down his legs, he
kicked them to the side, then removed his shirt, amused with the
way Elsa watched his every move. She hadn’t been with a man in over
five months and he looked forward to fucking her revirginized
pussy. He hoped she was as good in real life as he had built her up
to be in his mind. After removing his briefs, he gripped his thick
cock and stroked it, giving her a good show.

He motioned for her with
his index finger. “Come to me, my pretty, little plaything. I want
to taste you again.”

The flush on her skin
glowed under the bright lights of the bedroom, but she suddenly
paled with tension. This again? Laid out in bed and leaning on an
elbow, Victor shook his head with disapproval.

“I’ve already told you that
I have no time for embarrassment. You have no reason for it. Do I
really need to point out the obvious? You’re beautiful; intelligent
and spirited.” The hidden smile lines on Elsa’s face materialized
but she stood unmoving. “Now come over here and let me make up for
making you piss yourself.”

Her joy disappeared and the
blood rose to her cheeks as if recalling the memory. She scanned
the floor but he could see she was thinking about his offer,
causing a smile to creep onto his face. She wore her humiliation
well and he couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself.

Growing more impatient as
she stood contemplating what to do, he leaned back onto a pillow,
closed his eyes and began to stroke himself again in hopes that he
could entice her. Right on cue, he felt her hands on him, warm,
damp with nervousness and greedy. He left his eyes closed, enjoying
the randomness of her movements. When she took a hold of his shaft,
he rested his hands under his head and focused on all the
sensations she was providing him with.

Several long, slow strokes
later, her wet mouth was felt on his dick. He grunted when she
swirled her tongue over the crown and his abdominal muscles
contracted with longing. Thankfully she was good at giving head.
Much better than Seven. She was good at it too, but that was her
only saving grace. Hell, Elsa was a close second place behind Five
when it came to oral talents and that was saying a lot because that
man could suck cock like a rock star.