The Bitch (9 page)

That was when
Jenna, with a sadistic grin like I’d never imagined before, started thrusting
up into me as hard as she could. Every movement she made pulled hard against
the clamps on my nipples and clit, and her nipples too, and forced that massive
dildo up into me higher and harder.

Alex picked up a
flogger from a table nearby and started swinging it against my back. The
pleasure-pain was too much, too intense, and even though I hurt everywhere, I
couldn’t stop the orgasm from sweeping through me and causing my fingers and
toes to cramp into contorted positions. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw
Dustin pick up a rattan cane and head back in our direction. He swung it, striking
the soles of my feet repeatedly.

Through it all,
I came and came, screaming out my pleasure while they kept up my torture.

At some point,
Alex and Dustin put down their torture devices and started fucking us, Dustin
in my ass and Alex in Jenna’s. That only drove her to jerk up into me harder, and
so they thrust harder, too. Then they switched, so Alex was fucking me where
I’d never allowed him to before.

Even after
they’d both shot their loads up our asses, Jenna kept jerking her body and
causing my climax to go on and on.

I finally passed
out, still hanging there with a giant strap-on dildo deep in my cunt.

When I woke up
(I don’t know where Jenna was, but I was sandwiches between Dustin and Alex
with a cock in both orifices and a ball gag in my mouth, my knees drawn up near
my shoulders and belted into place), Dustin explained the changes that would
take place to my position at work. I didn’t know what I thought about it, at
first. I mean, I didn’t know what I thought about any of it.

I mean, yeah, I think
it was well established that I was a pain slut. I seriously got off on pain, to
the point that it probably really wasn’t good for me. And I guess the kinkier
things got, the better, in terms of my libido.

Who knew? I sure
didn’t. At least not until that weekend.

But now, the
whole office knew. Or at least all of the guys did.

Still…the idea
that any time, I acted like a bitch (or, as Dustin was so keen to tell me, any
time I acted like
myself
), I would be taken by one of the guys in the
building to Mr. Tyson’s office, where Mr. Tyson and the offended guy would
proceed to tie me up, spank me, and fuck me? I wasn’t too thrilled at the
prospect.

At least not at
first.

It didn’t take
long, though, before I was finding excuses to be extra bitchy to one of them.
And once I started down that path… Well, let’s just say it was no coincidence
that I ended up how I was one night, about two months after my weekend with
Bradford and Davis.

Now, don’t get
me wrong. Luis really did lose a piece of mail, so he deserved to have a
talking-to for it. But it wasn’t really an important piece of mail, so the
massive screaming fit that I threw in the break room at lunch, when half the
office was watching? Not quite called for.

I hadn’t been
surprised in the least when Luis had suggested we take the issue before Mr.
Tyson. What did surprise me was that seven of the other guys who’d been eating
their lunch at the time thought they should join us.

That was how I
ended up in Mr. Tyson’s office, tied bent over to a wheeled chair, my ass and
thighs as red as a tomato, being passed around the room for one fuck after
another. It was a Friday, and they hadn’t had enough of me by the time the
office closed for the day, so Dustin sent Alex a message after he’d shot his
load in my pussy, saying that I might need a weekend long punishment.

To no one’s
surprise, Alex decided to join the party. To my surprise, he didn’t come alone.
He brought Bradford and Davis with him, and a few other employees of Bradford’s
Bond Services, and a whole lot of toys he’d bought for the play room (which had
been the guest bedroom) but which we hadn’t gotten around to using yet.

They finally let
me go today, Monday morning, when it was time to get back to work. I can’t sit,
though. I can’t really walk, either. I’ve spent the whole day trying to find a
comfortable position, which isn’t easy to do with a rope harness squeezing my
breasts like crazy, a giant dildo in my pussy, another in my ass, and more rope
holding them both in place. Oh, yeah. And how could I forget about the knot in
the rope that’s right over my clit? There’s not a chance in hell.

Needless to say,
I’ve spent the majority of my day thinking about what bitchy thing I can do
next and who I should do it to.

Dear
readers:

I
hope you have enjoyed this jaunt into my fantasy world. If you have, would you
please consider leaving a positive review at the site where you purchased this
e-book? Thank you so much.

Wham,
bam, thank you, ma’am,

Lacey
Kane

I do not write romance!
Let me rephrase: there is nothing even remotely
romantic about my stories. What you will find in the pages of my work is BDSM,
smut, often consists of dubious consent, and is sometimes rather harsh.
My stories have been compared to those of JJ
Argus. This is a much closer comparison, by far, than romance.
Do not purchase one of my books, hoping it will
be even remotely romantic. You will be disappointed. You might be offended.
Additionally, the BDSM found within my stories
is of a fantasy nature. In other words, my characters do not conform to the
BDSM community's edict of Safe, Sane, and Consensual. Please do not attempt any
act described in one of my books without first consulting an experienced BDSM
practitioner as to its safety, feasibility, and/or legality.
All that said, if you're here for smut, I hope
you try me out.