Beautiful Disaster (Page 146)

"I thought you wanted me all docile."

No appellation, no nothing. If this were a trap I’d have ample opportunity to make her life hell, but as it is, I don’t really give a shit right now.

"And now I don’t. Is that a problem?"

She shakes her head, then whimpers when I increase the pressure of my fingers on her nipple.

"How do you want me to react in turn?"

"Like your usual charming self. As defiant as you think you can take the ramifications."

At that she pauses for a moment.

"Any reason I’m wearing these clothes? Other than so you can tear them off me again, I mean. And, as you didn’t bring me any shoes, I’m guessing we’re going to stay inside?"

"I was thinking about the old hostage / kidnapper scenario. I’m too lazy to carry you back through the building where people might see us and call the police, but assume yourself snatched up and dragged back to my lair."

Bella gives a contented hum that makes me smirk, so I add, "If you want to, you can struggle for real, but if you don’t hold back, I won’t, either."

I expect her to answer me, but she catches me completely by surprise when she suddenly rams her elbow into my stomach, then pushes up onto her feet. She’s already scrambling away from me while my mind is still reeling from the slight but real pain from her jab, and the fact that I’m no longer groping her. Because she has been kneeling for so long it still takes her too much time to get to her feet and put some distance between us. I will freely admit that the fact that she even got a blind swing at me brings out my vengeful side. Instead of trying to catch her, I hurl myself at her with my full weight, pinning her under me as the impact drives the air out of her lungs with a loud ‘oof’.

"Do you really think you can get away from me?" I snarl in her ear, but again she’s too quick for me to keep her down. A little bit of struggling and we end up with her half on her back, her legs trapped by mine, glaring up at me while she punches my biceps hard.

"Let me go!"

"Not a chance," I laugh, then grunt when her next punch hits my ribs again.

I finally manage to restrain her arms by grabbing her wrists, but because I have to stretch to do so, she manages to draw one of her knees to her chest and in between us. I’m again surprised by her strength and how much of a real fight she puts up, but then I don’t really have anything to compare this to. The only other time she’s ever had a chance to struggle was when we were in the woods with Jazz, and I still vividly remember how reluctant she had been to do anything then. Not so today, it seems, for when I finally have her flat on her back again she starts to scream for help, forcing me to let go of her wrists so I can clap my hand over her mouth and shut her up.

More struggling ensues and I’m sure I’ll bear a few bruises from that tomorrow. Eventually I manage to securely press her against me, her arms immobilized between us, while my hand still covers her mouth. At least she doesn’t try to bite, but dragging her upstairs still proves to be a hard, slow process.

When I’m finally inside the playroom, I’m confronted with another problem I haven’t anticipated – with her struggling to break free I can hardly tie her up with rope, or use the padded leather cuffs. I barely manage to fling the door to the supplies cabinet open without letting her escape, but once I scan all of the items inside, an idea starts to form in my mind. I have to actively push her down with my whole weight to be able to slap the handcuffs onto her wrists, but if anything, she fights harder once her arms are secured behind her back.

I let her tear herself free then so that I can root through my stuff to hunt down the only thing I can come up with that might work. In the meantime, she flees across the room, panting heavily when she finally stops and leans against the mirrored wall in the opposite corner of the room.

I stuff a coil of rope into the waistband of my jeans and grab a bunch of black cable binders in my hand before I finally go after her, doing my best to leer at her. She seems torn between open defiance and badly hidden but superbly played fear.

"Why are you doing this?" she shouts, trying to make a dive to my right but only ending up slammed against the wall with her back towards me. I let a dark chuckle be my only answer as I swap the cuffs for a cable binder after some more struggling. Her legs are far harder to restrain, but eventually I manage to lock them together at her ankles and below and above the knees, the black plastic biting into her flushed skin. She tries to break free one last time and I have to lunge forward to catch her properly, cursing under my breath. I should have planned to do something like this together with Jazz, both for practicality and safety reasons, but as I’m on my own, I’ll have to make do somehow.

With her now facing me, I grab her chin and dig my fingers into her cheeks until she lets out a small sound, my eyes boring into hers. I love the defiance in her look, at least until she manages to spit at me and actually aims true. My mind wants to shut down my motions when I let go of her so I can slap her – not hard, but enough to sting – yet the fire in her eyes doesn’t dim in the least, and I know I can continue like with this.

Holding her chin again, I lean into her until I have her pinned with my lower body while I force her to keep looking at me.

"If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop fighting now."

She doesn’t answer, only tries to jerk her head out of my grasp but when I don’t let go she leaves it at a mute glare. Bella tries to fight again when I step away and grab her upper arm, but she is mostly helpless and has to suffer me picking her up and carrying her through the room. She thankfully doesn’t struggle when I leave her leaning against my body and stretch up and grab the rope hanging from the ceiling, but I pause right there. I don’t want to strain her shoulders much yet, so instead of tying her elbows together and fixing the rope to that, I turn her around and start to fondle her br**sts.

Bella does her best to appear put off by my groping, even more so when I manage to tear the front of the dress apart so I can drag her bra down and completely expose her tits. Her angry whimpers when I roll her ni**les between my fingers make my c**k hard again, as does her body wriggling against my own, but I don’t waste much time with groping her.

Her struggling ceases a bit when I get the rope out of my waistband and start to wind it around the base of her breast double-stranded, but she nearly falls down when I have to leave her for a moment to get yet more rope to do the same with her other tit. I love how the rope does a great job at making her tits stick out obscenely, the effect only increased when I tie the two ropes together and then to the one suspended from the ceiling so that I can force her onto the balls of her feet with a simple pull on the suspension rope.

Tying that off at the winch on the wall, I watch her try to keep her balance, but with three cable binders around her legs that’s no small feat. The pain resulting from the pressure on her br**sts must be substantial when she finally loses her footing for a few moments, but I let her tire herself out a bit before I step in to steady her. Her gaze is a little wild when she looks at me again, but it’s nothing she can’t bear. I leave it at a somewhat evil smirk before I grab her already ruined dress and continue to tear it apart until the front is completely open, the tatters sliding down to her elbows. Her panties are much harder to destroy, and I give up on her bra, cutting it off with the safety scissors I always keep handy for emergency reasons. On second thought I do the same with the remainder of the dress, too.

She doesn’t look particularly happy when I return to her after putting the scissors away. For a moment I even think that she has already given up, but when she spits in my general direction I know that the game’s still on.