If I kept her, I’d be forever tempted to break her mind down enough to figure out the mechanism Wolfe had used.
Controlling women was a hobby I’d never get bored with, unlike the calligraphy, the art, the shibari. I’d even enrolled in online psychology.
If I released her, she’d be snapped up by the CIA, interrogated over her reasons for what she’d done, maybe under that espionage act even, if they could make it stick. They’d find out about me in a roundabout way even though she couldn’t tell them directly. Wolfe would make them suspicious. I was linked to him by my past tracks.
I rubbed my chin, twirled the pen with my other hand. “Open your legs.”
If I couldn’t fuck her there, I could still enjoy the view. She opened, slowly at first until I drew a line from her belly downward, across her mound, through that thin wedge line of hair. By the time the pen reached her clit I’d run out of ink but there was a bright red mark showing its track.
If I was the monster, if I truly let it loose, using a knife there would be imperative...eventually.
I shuffled down the bed, lay beside her, propped on my elbow.
I lifted the pen from her skin, pulled apart her labia until I could see the darker pink. Touching her, of course, had her gasping and arching. As a mesmer, it would take a
great effort for me not to affect her. I couldn’t be bothered to make that great effort.
Besides, I’d slid the fat end of the pen into her until I’d fucked her about three inches deep. This way had more potential.
“Don’t come,” I murmured. “Not unless I say.” Then I lay down on my elbow and played there. The disappearing act of the pen, the shudders she gave, the spasms of her cunt as she grew more aroused...my cock was unhappy with me for not letting it do what the pen did.
“Maybe I should organize something more, soon, while I think. Can’t let you go. Can’t keep you.”
“More?” Red whimpered and clutched at the quilt, bunching it under her fingers.
“Yes, more.” I stuck a finger in her alongside the pen, then a second finger searched for her asshole. “Maybe here wouldn’t mess with the status quo.” Her eyes had rolled up and her thighs and spine tensed so much that her ass left the quilt. “Want me to keep you, dear girl? I would let you come.”
“Please, yes?”
Her whimpers would make any man cry. My cock was weeping and digging into the bed through my pants.
“Poor girl.” Loved seeing them do this, saying what they shouldn’t. “Can’t keep you. But...”
But I had to do something. She was driving me mad with this need to fuck her.
I shoved the pen and my fingers in further, until the pen vanished completely. I could get it out again though the nib might hurt. Maybe I’d get her to lick it clean.
The monster needed to be paid its due. As a temporary solution, I bit her thigh a few inches from her clit and listened to her scream.
Then we went out onto the deck and had breakfast. I dressed her first, of course, in a blue-and-white, floral, open-front gown with golden bows. It flowed all the way to her feet, concealing little, but enough. I tied her hair to the back of her chair and fed her when she begged. One of the things my other girls were past. They never thought enough, or were frightened enough, to make this sort of thing delicious.
The table was glass and so when I sat opposite her I could see everything.
“Open your legs more.”
Pretty cunt. Pretty wet and very red cunt. Needed to be redder. Which could be arranged.
I sighed and shifted.
“I need your second argument tomorrow.” She nodded. “Remember that.” Another nod.
Depending on how she said it, I would arrange the party.
Gently, I tinged my fork on my glass of apple juice, admiring the sunlight dappling the outer edge of the deck, where it filtered through the glass roof panels. Glass was good. Concealment could entice and seduce but seeing things clearly was often better.
I should start looking into places I could send her. It was too dangerous to keep her, for both me and her.
In the meantime...Vitor could get some of the other girls brought here. I could recall only one still installed in the lower room.