Hostile Takeover Hill, W (thriller books to read .txt) 📖

to a bedroom area, with a spacious window on the way up that let in afternoon sunlight. The kitchen looked modern and also full of sunlight. The house had obviously been remodeled inside, keeping the best of the old and integrating the new. It was tastefully decorated, but not female in the slightest. The walls were pale yellow with touches of bold earth-toned artwork here and there. No photos she could see.

Directly in front of her was the archway into a living area with a sectional sofa and wide-screen TV, as well as more artwork. A copper glaze vase was under a separate spotlight, obviously a gallery piece. A couple Japanese maples flanked it. Gifts from Jon, she was sure, since he said the delicate five-point leaf trees brought tranquility and blessings to a home. Cass had a few as well.

Though Ben had probably employed a decorator to reflect his tastes, the house had a good feel to it, like it was merely waiting for Ben to accept it as his home. She wondered what it would take for him to do that. He’d called the house a good investment, and the Warehouse District place was convenient to work. But this place felt like him. If he put down roots, staked his claim, this would be the place he’d do it.

And he’d brought her here.

She returned her gaze to the floor, everything within her coiling up in anticipation as his shoes tapped down the hall. She was completely naked. Naked in Ben’s home, waiting for his demands. She had that shaking thing going on, just beneath the skin, little thrills of sensation running along the insides of her thighs.

“Close your eyes. Clasp your hands at the small of your back.”

She did, and then he was touching her hair, gathering it up. He retrieved her barrette, used it to hold a flat twist on the back of her head.

“Since you have trouble obeying something as simple as not looking at me unless you have permission…”

She clutched her fingers hard as he fitted the head mask to her face. When her lashes fluttered, she found it had no eye holes, and then… She pushed down panic as he put ear plugs in those orifices before he brought the mask over them. The mask laced in the back, and he took his time, adjusting it and touching her face to ensure the opening for her nostrils was positioned properly. As he got the mask set, it constricted over her nose, cheekbones, forehead. The mouth opening was a mere slit, pressing against her lips.

When he was done with the lacing, she felt cool metal at her nape, a brief pressure, then a small weight. “I’ve inserted a small padlock in the last eyeholes of the lacing. Only I can remove this mask, Marcie.”

He was speaking right against her ear, but any other sounds were muted. He’d just blinded her, taken away most of her hearing.

Now he was putting a collar on her. As he buckled it, he tested the constriction by sliding two fingers beneath it to caress her chin. It was a serviceable collar, wide and solid. Not a formal collaring, but still. Her quivering increased. She felt a tug. A tether.

“On your feet. Follow me.”

He moved as soon as she rose, and he didn’t set a slow pace, giving her time to feel her way or figure out where they were going. He was expecting her to trust him, to follow at a normal walk. She managed it, but she couldn’t help some small flutters of panic. When he stopped, his hand touching her bare abdomen to bring her to a halt before she ran into him, she thought they were in the kitchen, but then he made a turn into a room she hadn’t yet seen. It was warm, maybe a sunroom, which meant lots of windows. Was she on display to his neighbors?

“On your knees, forehead to the floor, arms out front, wrists crossed. Ass in the air. Thighs spread.”

She obeyed. She wanted to talk, needed to speak, but it wasn’t to ask a question. She needed to interact for reassurance. Imagining this and doing it were very different. She bit down on her tongue, stayed silent. He’d gag her with the least provocation, she was sure, and she definitely wasn’t ready to lose the ability to speak.

Straps wrapped just beneath each of her knees, buckled snug so they wouldn’t slip down her calves. Then something else, something that pushed her out a little wider, made her have to rest more of her weight on her elbows and forehead. A spreader bar, one that would hold her thighs open no matter what. She could hear her rasping breath in her head. He wasn’t done yet, God help her. Cuffs around her ankles, and this time a light chain was run between them, a hobble. Moving around to her front, he cuffed her wrists together, and then she heard another chain run from them to something that anchored her there, perhaps the leg of a heavy piece of furniture, or a column in the sunroom.

He rose and was gone. No, not gone. She could barely hear him, but it sounded like…a chair scraping? A laptop turning on? Yes, the piercing chime of a boot-up filtered through the plugs. He was going to leave her in this position while he worked?

Not immediately, no. She drew in a breath as he touched her bare ass. Something rigid and small was inserted into her anus, followed by a feeling of warmth. Lube. He was lubing her up to fuck her, use her as he’d use a slave. More thick arousal trickled out onto her thighs. When she tied herself up, she always felt that peculiar stillness enter her, a dense type of arousal. This was ten times more intense, the volatility of an atom waiting to be split. She wanted to whimper, to moan, to cry a little. And she wanted him to keep