Anything for Him: Dominated (#1) Page 5

  “Sir! Will you please fuck me Sir? Oh please…!’

  “I am going to fuck you.” Those words filled her with gleeful lust; the next ones froze her in place. “I’m going to fuck you in this precious little ass.”

  Danny moved to the bedside table, he opened a drawer and pulled out a slim dildo and a bottle of lube. He put a generous amount of the slippery substance on the lightweight cock before taking up his previous position again.

  Meghan had grown rigid with fear and he murmured at her to relax, his hands stroking her knees and thighs as his lips found her pussy and began to torment her once more. Little by little she did relax and when he felt that softening in her muscles he pressed the dildo against her ass crack and gave a slight push.

  She opened for him; he went past the ring of muscle and deep inside her ass. She grunted and then screamed but he kept his tongue firmly on her clit and eventually her moans of protest and pain became groans of pleasure. He waited for her to adjust to the hard length inside of her and when she did she tilted her pelvis, gasping at the rapture that followed that tiny movement. Danny worked his tongue against her pussy, relishing her sweetly salty taste and smell while she bucked her hips against the fist that held the dildo tightly.

  He watched it going in and out of her body, seeing her being fucked was turning him on to no end but he wanted her to come before seeking his own orgasm. He wanted to give her something nobody else ever had.

  When her pussy began to throb and a thick gush of liquid spilled out he lifted his head, watching her face. He loved the way her eyes rolled back in her head, the way she struggled to keep her eyes open at his command, the red tide that spread up her neck and onto her cheeks.

  When her orgasm finally slowed then halted he removed the dildo and walked to the side of the bed, grasping her head firmly in his strong hands.

  “You didn’t ask my permission to come. You never come without permission, rule number one when I fuck you. Did I not make that clear?”

  Meghan lay there sated and yet she still wanted more. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “I’m sorry Sir. I will always ask for your permission to come.”

  “In the meantime you already came. Now what should we do to make sure you never forget again?”

  “You could fuck me again and let me make sure I ask.” Meghan could not even believe she had put forth that suggestion and the gleam in his eyes told her she was in trouble for doing so. But was it a good kind of trouble or bad?

  It did not take her long to find out. Danny sheathed his prick and grabbed a fistful of her hair. “Let’s see if you making me come with that smart mouth will ensure that you remember your manners from here on out,” he said and shoved his hard prick down her throat.

  To her surprise the way her head was positioned made it almost ridiculously easy to deep throat his dick. She lingered along the shaft, stroking the belly with her tongue, eliciting an inhale from him. Her tongue swirled across the tight helmet and then rubbed the indented spot right below it. She nipped adroitly at the head and he hissed in a breath.

  “I’m going to come,” Danny ground out.

  Looking up at his face, swollen and red, his eyes narrowed to slits, made pride flow through Meghan. She considered gurgling out, ‘Say please’ but decided against it but the spark of mischief that thought had lit in her remained. She took him out of her mouth for one moment and said, ”Why thank you Sir,” and Danny howled laughter even as his hardness began to throb and pulse inside the channel of her throat.

  He went to the bathroom to clean himself and came back bearing a soft, scented cloth that he had dampened with warm water. She lay blissful and still as he cleaned her gently and then unbound her. They cuddled together, her head cradled on his strong chest and their limbs intertwined.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  A few hours later they were both dressed and having lunch at a small café on the east side of town. A filthy young man with blonde dreads under a knitted cap was blowing some of the sweetest jazz Meghan had ever heard and every few moments Danny would look up at some note or another and nod his head.

  The man came over to their table and asked, “Hey man, how about a contribution to the cause?”

  Danny pulled a twenty out of his pocket and handed it over. The young man’s eyes gleamed with blue fire and he yelled, “Hey all right! Thanks man! That is so fucking awesome!” before he dashed down the avenue and out of sight.

  “Would you like to see the museum?” Danny asked. “There is a great new exhibit there this week.”

  “I would love to!” Meghan answered cheerfully. “That is what I missed the most, having the money to go to museums. I wish, oh how I wish that they were all free. I understand they have huge operating costs but think of all the people who never get to see the things inside simply for lack of money.”

  “I know exactly how that feels,” Danny said. “Shall we walk? It’s just a few blocks.”

  “Walking sounds good to me.”

  Danny held out his arm and she took it, her fingers settling in the crook of his elbow. It occurred to her how unusually old fashioned his manners were. He opened every door for her, he insisted on walking on the outside of every hallway and sidewalk, he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her into a room. A smile creased her face as they walked through the mild air.

  The street was small and tucked into a quiet neighborhood, the grinding traffic of the city had dulled to a faraway roar and neither of them paid any attention to the low black car cruising behind them.

  Meghan heard an engine slow down and a car door open but she thought nothing of it. Neither did Danny. One minute they were discussing their favorite painters; the next two men wearing ski masks came running up behind them, it was their footsteps that alerted Danny.

  He turned already prepared to fight and his fist sent one man crashing to the ground but a third jumped from the car. Meghan was knocked sideways over the wrought iron banister of a stoop. Her palms and knees collided with hard concrete and she screamed in pain. There was a short and serious scuffle going on between Danny and the three men and she got to her feet and dashed in.

  Her fists connected with the back of one man’s head, he shook her off and sent her back down onto the ground. Danny punched another one, sending bright scarlet blood squirting from his nose. The sounds of the scuffle caused a window above to open and she yelled, “Call the police!” before charging back in.

  She was knocked down a third time and that time her head connected with a gray concrete stair. Dark spots exploded in her vision and she put a shaking hand up to the wet trickle of blood oozing down her forehead. Danny was still fighting but he was one against three and he was being dragged away slowly but surely.

  Meghan stared in horror as he was shoved into the car and the door slammed shut. The engine revved and roared and the tires squealed, leaving black streaks on the pavement. As the car passed her she saw one of the men yank the mask off of his face and she let out a tiny shrill sound that was half disbelief, half misery.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The cops had taken her statement and she sat, alone and in a huddle, on the same stoop that had almost knocked her out. The ambulance drivers wanted her to go to the hospital but she refused. While she had told the cops almost everything she had not told them all of it, she knew who one of the men who had abducted Danny was.

  He was Gerry Moore; a shadow of a man known to do her father’s bidding.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  Night had fallen and she stood in the shadows that gathered around her family’s summer home. The light burning in one of the lower windows cast a square of golden light on the well-tended lawn and she skirted it stealthily before heading for a small but sturdy drainpipe against the easterly facing wall.

  The alarm would go off if she so much as touched the wall but the window above her was open, it had a broken latch that had yet to be repaired, a fact she knew because she had been the o
ne to break it and she had never told anyone, she had been too afraid she would get yelled at.

  “Hi Daddy,” she muttered as she reached for the drainpipe, “It’s the prodigal daughter. And I have come for my man.”

  She put one hand over the other and began the climb.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The window loomed above her head and Meghan pulled herself up with one last effort. She put her fingers on the frame and pushed lightly, hoping that nobody had discovered the broken latch.

  To her immense relief the window swung open soundlessly and she clambered inside. Her feet hit the thick carpeting and she stood there, adrenaline pumping through her veins and a slight sheen of sweat coating her body. Her breath was a little too fast and it hit her that as serious as what she was doing was, she was actually having fun.

  She let her eyes adjust to the gloom. There was a faint gleam of light coming from one direction, it was boxy in shape and so she knew that the door lay that way, and that the hallway had been left lit. That might pose a problem, she admitted to herself.

  She knew the house fairly well but the truth was she had been left at the house in the city more than she had been brought to the waterfront house in which she stood. She knew, thanks to Gregory locking her in them, that there was an extensive underground cellar system, complete with a wine cellar and a small room that had been used to hold the flotsam and jetsam of their summer lives: old boogie boards and the wicker lawn furniture, the croquet sets and the nets from the tennis courts. She doubted that they would be holding Danny in there; it was too small to even walk in, much less contain a man as large and powerful as he was.

  That left the wine cellar and the dank old rooms that were what Gregory gleefully called the horror chamber when they had been kids. After he had locked her in there that summer she had been relieved to be allowed to stay away from the house during the summers. Being alone in the city had not been as difficult for her as her family would have thought it was for her.

  The oldest section of the house it contained long shelves that were filled with the literal fruits of her grandmother’s labor. Having weathered a Depression and two husbands her grandmother Ellie was not one to waste money or turn her back on traditions. She had often grown huge gardens filled with fruits and vegetables, canning quite a lot of them as well. She had retired from the city completely in the years before her death and the section of cellar that she had used to store those tightly sealed jars had never been cleaned out. In other families that would have been due to sentiment, in the Lowry’s case the room simply sat there unremarked and mostly forgotten because nothing about their plain beauty held appeal.

  Meghan hated the cellar but she knew if she was going to help Danny she had to go down there, it was the only place that they could hope to hide him and keep him hidden. It was not yet the season but there were locals who lived nearby and many of them worked for the people who owned the large waterfront homes, if any of them saw something suspicious at any house they would report it.

  The room she stood in had been her bedroom when she had been allowed to spend time at the house. She cast a glance around it, there was nothing of her personality imprinted upon it, the curtains were the same spotless white voile, the floors were gleaming hardwood, and the bed lay under smoothed straight linens. The same bland seascapes dotted the walls and as she passed the armoire she caught sight of a glimmer of lace. Curious she eased the door open and found herself staring at her forgotten confirmation dress. She had been drinking an orange soda, she remembered, and she had gotten a spot on it and her mother had been furious, the dress and the day had both been ruined by that spot. The dress had somehow managed to escape the trash barrel or being given away to charity and as she looked at it Meghan found herself wanting to weep with frustration and sorrow.

  “Why did you hate me so much? It couldn’t have just been money,” she whispered and then she softly closed the door as she realized that she was wasting precious time.

  The hallway was lined with old-fashioned sconces. Her grandmother had loved them and she had refused to have them removed. Meghan put her back to the wall and clung to the shadows as she neared the landing, her ears straining to hear any noise that would tell her if there were other people in the house. She had seen her father’s jaguar parked in the garage when she had peeked inside, parked cheek and jowl to the low black car. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the time she had cleared the graceful staircase and stood in the low ceilinged kitchen. The door to the cellar was firmly closed but a bottle of brandy stood on the granite countertop with a lipstick-imprinted glass next to it. Meghan knew that color all too well; it was a deep plummy red shot through with gold undertones. It was her mother’s signature color and had been for years, it was made specifically for her.

  The wave of anger that crested inside her at the sight of that lipstick shocked her. She had often feared her mother, and there had been many days when she had wished for her approval but she had never felt anger, and she was not sure how to deal with that emotion.

  She was still standing there, too caught up in the unexpected feeling to pay attention to her surroundings when she caught the musky spice of her mother’s perfume mingled with fresh cigarette smoke. She whirled around just in time to see Gloria come through the small door that led to the patio.

  The surprise on her mother’s face quickly turned to suspicion and uneasy fear, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Where is he?” Meghan hissed.

  “Who?”

  “Danny.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Yes you do. Gerry took him, I was with him when it happened and the car is here. Tell me where they are right now.”

  Meghan had a feeling that her mother would not tell her, and what was more she knew from hard experience that nothing said or down on the top floor could be heard in the cellar so she was not really concerned that someone would hear the two of them, she was trying to make up her mind what to do with her.

  “Get out of my house.” Gloria said casually and turned her back, reaching for the glass and bottle on the counter.

  “Did you use my money to keep living here?”

  The words were as lethally sharp as any knife. Gloria actually flinched. “Your money,” she sneered as she reached for the bottle yet again, Meghan saw her hand tremble as she lifted it to pour another finger of the amber colored liquor into the heavy bottomed glass. “You know, that man is just some blue collar opportunist who turned petty thievery into millions.”

  “Unlike you and father, who turned millions into nothing with your thievery?”

  “I like that caustic tone on you. It makes you sound like you actually have a backbone.”

  “I do have a backbone.” The words were quiet but they rang with sincerity.

  Gloria’s eyes came to rest on the silver cuffs and her lips moved to form words but before she could the doorknob on the door she had entered through jiggled. Meghan slid to the right and grasped the doorknob for the door that opened the door to the cellar. She took one step into the inky darkness of the staircase and it was from there that she saw Gerry move into the room, his sullen and grim face as large as a moon over the pistol that gleamed dully in his right hand.

  “What…” was all Gloria managed to get out before Gerry fired.

  Shock was upstaged by terror. Meghan did not wait to see what would happen next, she reached out one shaking hand and shut the door, praying he had not noticed it being open. Instantly she was thrown into blackness so deep her senses were rendered momentarily useless. Her fingers fumbled at the knob, the click that was the lock sliding home made her sag in relief but that was shattered when a hard kick made the door rattle in its frame.

  She reached out blindly, scraping her nails across the rough walls until she found the banister. Her feet shuffled as she tried desperately not to lose her balance, the fall alone could kill her and she knew it. The stairs were pitched at a nearly direct angle but worse, th
e floors were cold and uncovered concrete.

  A second kick made her whimper in fear and she felt her knees start to shake. A thin high pitched whine followed by a loud noise that sounded like a hollow thud coupled with light pouring through a hole that had appeared in the door told her Gerry was shooting his way in.

  She ran, her feet slipping and her heart racing. She cleared the last stair just as the door caved in under the brutality and allowed him entry.

  “I know it’s you!” Gerry yelled. “Come on up here and I won’t have to do anything to you.”

  “You killed my mother!” Meghan screamed before she could help herself.

  “No, Meghan…” His words dripped with annoyance.

  “I saw you!”

  “She wasn’t your mother,” there was a slow chuckle from above her and Meghan ducked into the shelter of a small overhang that had been used to store small bags of fertilizer at one time. There was another whine and small chips of the plaster and brick from the wall splintered and flew. “Hell, you little bitch. You’re all grown up now; it’s time you knew. She wasn’t your mother and Tom…well, he isn’t your father.”

  Meghan saw Danny just then; he was seated in an old kitchen chair that had been placed in the center of the large central room. His head was hanging and his arms and legs were bound to the chair with thick lengths of hemp rope. He raised his head and, carefully - steadily, he tipped his head her way, in a quiet attempt to let her know that he was okay.

  Another bullet whined off of the cold floor and she saw that if she didn’t get Danny out of harm’s way he would be killed. She smiled at him and his face went stern. “No,” she heard him say and then she was moving across the floor.

  Bullets chunked and thudded. She grabbed the chair, with him in it, and half-dragged, half- threw it across the room. They hit the far wall with a solid thunk and Danny wheezed out an injured breath. More bullets shattered the shelves in front of them.