Hostage of my Heart Ch. 02

Sainte chuckled, a truly evil sound, as his thumb slid up the middle of her slit.

Opal moaned and soon she was coming again, Sainte's laugh an agonizing accompaniment to her orgasm. Even then, he didn't let up, and Opal began writhing, trying to get her elbows underneath her to pull herself away from the delectable, intolerable sensations between her legs.

Sainte controlled her the same efficient way he had before- with one strong hand gradually clamping down on her throat, blocking her air supply. She yielded abruptly, falling back without regard for tabletop knocks to elbows and shoulder-blades. Sainte reeled her in by the knees until her ass was right at the edge of the table. Lifting his head, he glanced around. "Be good for a minute, honey."

He didn't even look back at her as he walked away, Opal thought sickly. He was so positive she'd obey his commands that he didn't bother keeping an eye on her, and he was right. Her breast ached, her pussy was already sore, and there was no escape from the building, the man, or the things he made her feel.

She waited while he fished in the trashcan, not even curious.

Back at the table with a length of the phone cord his men had cut earlier, Sainte tied her hands individually, threading the line between them through the arms of the chairs nearest her head. Her arms secured, spread wide and high, Sainte returned to his position between her knees, where he bent over her once more, tweaking the nipple of her wounded breast. "I don't need to tie your feet too, do I, Opal?"

She shook her head, and he casually swatted the bruised flesh he'd been caressing earlier. She cried out and gasped an answer. "No, no, sir."

With a callous grin, he straightened. "Okay, then. Feet up."

She did as he commanded, pulling her heels up to the edge of the table beside her bottom.

"Spread your knees, honey."

Again she gave in.

"Wider... wider." He shoved her knees toward the table.

Her inner thighs burned from the strain, and her hips screamed, but Opal gritted her teeth and held on.

"Okay, honey, right there."

In that position, her outer lips were spread and her clit exposed to his visual probing, but it wasn't enough for Sainte. With four fingers on each side, he pulled her lips apart until her flesh was taut and the little nub stood upright and unprotected. There he stopped, and for a long time nothing moved but his eyes.

Opal's legs trembled as a feeling of sick anticipation gathered in her belly. If he hadn't touched her nipples so softly when Richard was licking her... if only he hadn't fingered her so expertly...

She tried to concentrate on the pain he'd caused, the throbbing in her breast and temple, but the minute adjustments of his fingertips distracted her, and his eyes made the flesh of her pussy tingle with awareness. Her eyesight blurred mercifully as she felt her cunt growing wet beneath his gaze.

Sainte must have seen some sign of her arousal because he laughed, a low, derogatory sound. "I like you, slut."

The momentary relief she felt when his hands left her body was superseded by alarm at the sound of his zipper. Pressing her lips together, she tried not to sob aloud. Her step-father's many violations were foul foreplay; she suspected Dominic Sainte would be just as rough.

She wasn't looking at him, so she flinched at his touch, and grimaced when she realized what it was: Sainte was stroking the fragile skin of her inner thigh with the head of his penis.

"No." The whispered plea slipped out, and she braced herself for retribution. Instead, a cool drop of precum painted her skin as his cock crept upward. Opal shivered, an allover reaction impossible to hide.

The firm head butted up against her entrance, and Sainte leaned into her field of vision. "Eyes on me, honey."

She blinked, mechanically trying to clear her tears. Sainte's shirt was gone, she saw, troubled because she didn't remember him removing it. His torso was as flinty as his face: the wide shoulders and ropy muscles over his ribcage made him seem even more dangerous, as though his skin could barely contain the violence within. He smelled like whatever shaving cream or shampoo he'd used, light and piney, a nice, masculine scent that Opal knew she'd forever associate with that moment.

Putting his hand flat on the table by her head, Sainte watched Opal's face as he filled her pussy.

She gasped, her tensing muscles rattling the chairs on their phone-cord ties. It hadn't been long since Rand's cock had bulled its way into her body, and this new penetration hurt. Her pelvis titled as Sainte continued the assault, driving deeper inch by inch until his hips hit hers and he bottomed out against her cervix.

Sainte didn't begin thrusting immediately. Instead, he lowered his chest to hers and cupped her face between his hands, holding her in place while he twisted side to side, letting his warm, wide chest caress the sensitive skin of her bare breasts. The diamond-shaped patch of hair between his nipples stroked hers like a million miniature fingers, while his hips drilled into hers, mashing her clit between them.

Opal's lips parted. She shifted her shoulders, attempting to evade some of the stimulation. but the extreme angle of her thighs made her efforts useless, only serving to thrust her breasts higher, drawing his notice.

Sainte bent and took one upturned nipple between his lips to suckle.

Opal began to beg wordlessly, pathetic mewling squeaks of yearning that she heard but couldn't stop.

With a final lick, Sainte let her nipple pop from his mouth. "You want to come, don't you, honey?"

She rolled her head from side to side, denying her obvious desire.

He lifted his torso away and began to rock his hips, a measured, inexorable onslaught she was helpless to resist, since he'd done such a good job of winding her up.

He watched her inner battle with the eager interest of a scientist- excited, but aloof.

"You like that, don't you, slut?"

The position wasn't just uncomfortable, the way it stretched her skin and tissue was arousing. And, as much as Opal didn't want to admit it, the evil fuck had a nice cock. Not as nice as Rand's- she tore her mind away from Rand, afraid to wonder where he might be now.

Sainte slowed drastically as he switched techniques again, hard thrusts changing to mere echoes of movement, subtly shifting the taut flesh which enflamed her. "Right there? Mmm... you are a hot little cum-slut, aren't you, Opal?"

Sainte stopped, and she whimpered again.

"C'mon, honey, all you have to do is say it."

He shifted and she groaned, blood thundering in her ears as an immense orgasm hovered just out of reach.

"Look at me, honey."

She panted helplessly, her brows drawing together in pain.

"Now just say it." He pulled out, leaving the hard head of his cock wedged between her lower lips, delighted at the battle taking place behind Opal's eyes.

He leaned closer and whispered. "Tell me what you want, honey."

"Ahhhh," she wailed, an ululation of despair morphing quickly into capitulation. "Oh, god! Make me come! Make me come! Please, I need-"

Curling his spine, Sainte slid back into her pussy. His thumb returned to massaging her clit, matching the exquisitely slow forays of the hard column of cock slipping in and out of her body.

The pressure built and built as the open folds of her pussy swelled with blood and lust. When she thought she'd scream in agony, Opal shattered. Her eyes closed and she nearly drew blood biting back a scream.

Sainte began really fucking her then, and she screeched, her nails digging into her palms as his pistoning hips prolonged her spasms, the sibilant crash of the chairs unnoticed by either of them.

She tried closing her legs to put an end to his torment, but he pinched her inner thigh viciously, holding on while she struggled and moaned. A new orgasm engulfed her before the previous one had fled, and Sainte teased her pussy into extended waves of ecstasy.

Finally her body exhausted itself and her contractions subsided, leaving Opal flat on the table, humiliated beyond belief but too weak to shed any more tears.

Then he really slammed her, hammering violently into the open saddle of her legs, his cock sawing at her delicate flesh and his fingers digging into her thighs. He came quickly, groaning as he emptied his seed.

With the anesthetizing haze of fatigue taking over her mind, Opal's traitorous body was free to relish the sexual epilogue: the throbbing cock in her vagina, the warmth as she was flooded with his come. What should have made her retch made her muscles tighten in involuntary pleasure, grasping at the invader and drawing new grunts from Sainte.

He slowed, and when he was sure he could wring no more amusement from Opal's cunt, his cock slipped out. He wiped the softening rod on her thigh, leaving it slick with their juices.

Breathlessly, he laughed. "Honey, you made a mess. You even squirted that last time, did you know? I never saw a woman come as much as you do."

Still laughing, Sainte slapped the spot on her thigh where he'd wiped his cock- the unnecessary blow splashing fire across her skin.

Opal jumped and a weak sob stuck in her throat. She heard his zipper as he walked away.

Still chuckling at the other side of the table, he untied one of her hands. "Don't bother putting your clothes on, slut. I'm not finished with you yet."

Wearily, tears drying on her face, she struggled to climb from the enervating depths of self-pity to haul herself upright as she felt the pressure-change of Sainte opening the heavy glass door. Quickly, she freed herself from the phone cord, wishing it was as easy to free herself from shame.

-- o --

In the supply closet, Helena was still snuffling and crying, holding a wad of bloody paper towels to her nose while the others ignored her. They actually look relieved to see him.

Sainte glanced around. "Okay, everyone up. Not you, Helena, or you-" he pointed at the old broad sitting on a rolling stool beside her. Gavin and the two chicks rose.

"Go along to the break room, folks." He held the door as they passed, waiting to make sure it locked behind them. You couldn't be too careful: even an old or injured woman was capable of dialing a phone.

Helena began to wail as he departed. "You can't leave me here like this! I'm bleeding, you bastard!"

Sainte pushed the door wide again, looking down at her. He shrugged. "I guess you're right."

Helena bent her knees, preparing to stand, and Sainte shot her in the head, spraying blood over the stacks of paperclips and printer ink behind her. For a millisecond, the only sound in the world was the shock wave of the 9mm echoing in his ears. His hearing returned and the soft smack of Helena's body hitting the floor punctuated the moment. It was another second yet before anyone reacted: one of the girls behind him whimpered, the other uttered a choked little sob, and the old woman exhaled loudly, her dentures clacking shut.

He used his foot to prop the metal door open while he tucked the pistol back into his waistband. He raised his eyebrows to the old broad, who was finally displaying actual emotion. "You want to come out here or stay there?"

She hesitated for only a second, her surprise fading quickly. "May I have a snack in here?"

Sainte shrugged again. Didn't matter to him if the old bat preferred to eat with a corpse than his guys. "Sure."

She nodded. "I'll stay here, then, thank you."

He turned away. "Gavin, get her some munchies and a couple of sodas. Give her a napkin, too, if there aren't any in there. She looks like the napkin type."

Bob scurried ahead to the break room.

Ignoring the younger women's shocked stares, Sainte motioned them forward.

Bob passed by with the secretary's snacks as the others entered the break room.

Sainte commented. "Gavin, if you behave yourself I have a surprise for you."

Bob nodded. "Yes, sir."

Sainte wasn't worried about the worm growing a pair; he joined the others in the break room, where the girls took seats at the table.

Dick leaned against a cabinet, but Sainte's men stood at attention, pistols holstered and assault rifles in hand, forefinger resting on the trigger guard just as he'd taught them. Neither had budged at the sound of the shot, also as he'd taught them; everyone minded his own assignment until he said otherwise.

Sainte gestured to the two young women. "Give them food and drinks if they want it, then-" He shrugged.

The girls didn't understand his implication until they saw smiles of appraisal on his men's faces, then the whining started.

Sainte heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes as he reached behind him, and both women froze, remembering the redhead.

Sainte stopped. "Yes, please shut the fuck up."

To his men: "Let Dick have a piece, too, if you feel like it."

Both nodded, and Sainte turned away, nearly bumping into Bob behind him. "Gavin, you're with me."

With nary a glance for his sobbing co-workers, Bob followed in his wake. "Yes, sir."

-

... stay tuned for Chapter 3... ETA: middle of April.

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