Beg Me: Cat and Kit

This story is becoming my most widely presented. It's in TWO of the books, and is also going to be in an anthology.

I've taken part of it down, but the beginning is still there to enjoy.

“With a stroke length anywhere from two to ten inches, up to three hundred strokes per minute, and an engine at a full horse power of torque, this thing could all but split you in two.” He might have been talking about a power tool. Hell, he could've been talking about his car. I wouldn't be able to tell the difference. He's just a grunting boy with his tools, showing off to impress his new girlfriend.

At least, that's how I would think of it normally. But as my struggle against the ropes makes me drift slowly back around and I see what he's talking about, I know it's not just some tool. Not just a machine.

There's a dildo screwed onto the end of a long piston. And an engine on the other end of the piston. 

That's not a machine. It's a fucking machine. And there is no way that dildo is going to fit between my legs. Not without a lot of lube and a very, very slow start.

“Do you like it, Cat?”

I struggle again against the rope. My heels rub against my ass, and I try to flex my fingers. But the rope won't let me move any more than that. There isn't any pressure; he's a good rigger. The rope is soft.

“You look so beautiful hanging there,” he says. He leaves his machine where I can see it and runs a finger over the ridges of the rope, tracing the patterns of the knots. “Are you comfortable?”

I give him a sarcastic smirk, but the truth is that I actually am. The ropes distribute the weight to the point where I feel completely weightless. “It's not bad,” I say.

He chuckles, then his fingers run up my leg. Gently, softly, he touches me, sliding between my lips in that soft teasing way he knows how to do so well. I moan softly. It's nowhere near enough, but it's a start.

“Seems like it's more than just 'not bad,'” he says. He leans over and gentle blows between my legs, sending a shiver through my entire body.

He laughs again and walks back to the machine. For just a second, he turns it on, and I get to watch it work. It pumps and thrusts with the kind of force you'd expect in a jackhammer. That thing is going to tear me apart.

“No way,” I say. “Not a chance.”

He turns back and gently rubs my cheek. Normally, this is when he'd run his hands through my hair. But my hair is otherwise occupied, braided in with the rope. “Are you calling it quits already?” he asks. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little strand of leather. The studs are diamonds. “Don't you want this?”

The collar twinkles in the light. I lick my lips.

“You wanted to be mine,” he says. “I told you there was going to be a test.”

My eyes flick from the diamonds to the machine, still humming and pounding back and forth. “I don't think I can,” I say.

He shakes his head. Then he shrugs. “I'll cut you down.”

“No, wait!” Those look like real diamonds. He wasn't kidding. This would be for real. “If I do this, that's it? I'm yours? You claim me?”

He nods. “As my slave,” he says. “Forever.”

I bite my lip. Let out a bit of a whimper. “It's not that I don't want to,” I say. “I'm just--” I look back at the machine. “I just think I'm going to need a bit of help.”

He laughs at that, gives my clit a light tap. “I had a feeling that would be the problem,” he says. “But don't worry. I thought ahead.”

He puts his fingers to his lips and whistles.

Her heels make a solid sound on the floor as she walks in. I can't see her, though. She's behind me. “Cat,” he says, “I want you to meet Kit.”

I roll my eyes. “No candybar jokes, please.”

Kit laughs. It's a deep, throaty laugh. Confident, assured. And dangerous.

She walks into my line of vision. She's beautiful. Taller than me. Dark skin. Red nails, red boots, red leather corset. She smiles at me, but there's an angry glint in her eyes.

She keeps her eyes on me while she kisses my man. While she thrusts her tongue into his throat, runs her crimson nails through his hair. I thrash around. I'd cut the bitch if I could.

She laughs at me. Then she looks at the machine. Then back to me.

“That thing is going to seriously injure you, honey,” she says. “I'm talking real damage. The permanent kind. You'll bleed. Maybe even die.”

I bite my lip. She's taunting me, I know that. But she's saying what I was thinking.

“Unless she gets some lube.”

He nods. “And that's where you come in.”

Kit gives me an evil grin, though her voice is innocent. “Me? What can I do?”

Want more? It's in Book One. And Book Two