Chapter 7

Seven

JANE

Rainier’s what one would call the strong, silent type. About six-foot-something extra and built like a tank. Bullied all the way through school, he decided to take his internalized hatred out on those smaller than him, which turned out to be everyone after he started hitting the gym. As a teenager, he had a crush on his best friend’s younger sister. Her name was… Well, fuck, I can’t remember. But no matter, because as soon as he had the courage to ask her to prom, she turned him down loudly in front of his group of loser friends.

Now he just hates women in general.

He has a constant wrinkled brow and a deep hairline of russet-colored strands, which does nothing to hide wide ears that sit too low on his head. The thickness of his neck and his protruding hard nipples give him the utmost ape-like appearance when I slide onto a red velvet stool at the Crimson Angel bar. Glancing around innocently, I take in the busy lounge area.

A pianist wearing sunglasses plays jazz with a tall saxophone accompanist on the stage, clouded from view by the billowing smoke bouncing off the low-beamed ceiling. The music is blurred by murmured conversations between couples wearing fancy dresses or suits. One trail of well-worn carpet leads a guest from the entry of the bar into the sitting area, and despite the newness of the barback, the wooden top and front of the counter is quite ancient appearing. The stone walls surrounding us give the place a cozy, yet tortured feeling. Like there’s no escape, but would one even want to?

The bartender asks for an order while Rainier scopes me out with hunger in his eyes.

“Um, just a water, please,” I say, making my voice as coquettish as possible.

Rainier scoffs from two seats down, then grabs his Crown and Coke and moves to the one next to me. “Aren’t you…”

“Oh? Rainier?”

Thin lips smirk like I’m dumb as he gives me a curt nod. “Jane. You’re a lot curvier than I thought you’d be.” His dark brown eyes delve deep into my cleavage, which only appears plumper due to the extremely uncomfortable boned leather corset adorning my upper half. A velvet mini skirt barely covers my ass. Holding back a sigh, I yearn for my fuzzy sweatpants.

“Is that a problem?” Sipping my water through a straw, I blink slowly, letting my lashes entice him. Just a ditzy girl…

“Not at all. I like it. But you do look like you’d put on a few after a baby or two.”

Well, now. It’s very difficult to surprise me, but I think he’s done it. He’s intrusive, insecure, rude, arrogant… Only one appropriate response to this situation will get what I need. “And are you going to be the one to put a few in me?” Some upswept tendrils of my hair fall out of my loose bun when I tilt my head.

Rainier becomes the speechless one. Narrowing his already beady eyes until they are almost invisible, his wide mouth forms a nefarious grin. “You’re a brat, aren’t you? Fuck, I love that. I’ll enjoy taming you.” I’m not, but he likes them, so tonight I’ll be snarky.

The bartender leaves us in peace after sliding Rainier a refill. “And how will you do that?”

“You said everything except crops and anal, right?”

Nodding, I recall the form he had me fill out online before our date. “Yes, that’s right.”

Leaning in closer to me, his overpowering cologne clouds my mouth before I can shut it. “Maybe I’ll start with a little spanking. Then, work my way up to the paddle if you still misbehave. Do you remember the safe word you picked?”

“Turgid.”

Just being near his bloated ego makes me regret not canceling to go out with Cal instead. But that would devalue myself. It’s not femme noir as the Be a Bitch, Get the Boy book said. If I had left Rainier, Cal may have gotten turned off. Men like what they can’t have. It’s science.

Rainier downs his drink as if he’s ready to go. Before I can slow him down, he grabs my hand and stands. “You ready?”

“Um, okay.” Dawdling as we walk toward the back hall, I slide my hand up his carved arm. “Wha-what do you do for the clan again?”

“You shy now? Told you, I guard the fields. I’m one of the tanks. Yeah, yeah. I always carry, but obviously I can’t in here, or else I’d show you my gun.” Lies, lies. Another lie. My snooping has told me everything out of his mouth so far is just fluff. But if he wants to pretend, that’s fine by me.

“Do you see much action in the field? Like intruders and such?”

Pausing by room seven, he slides the vacant sign to occupied and opens the door for us. “What’s with all these questions?”

“I just wanted to get to know you before we…” Moving past him, I let a painted fingernail drag along his chest before wiggling my hips as I glide inside.

“If you don’t want it in your ass, you better stop shakin’ it at me.”

Ugh! The only reason I put a hard stop to something with Rainier is because I knew he wouldn’t be able to respect a boundary. It’s a test. Plus, I just don’t think I can stomach his average penis in my asshole. Butt sex isn’t my favorite.

Turning around, my breasts jiggle as I wait for him to approach. When he does, I pull his shirt out of his pants and slowly undo the buttons one at a time. Gazing into his eyes, I ask, “I bet you have to defend the fields a lot.”

He grunts, then takes a thumb and pulls down my corset enough to expose one nipple. Brushing it gingerly, it hardens under his touch. “You want to role play intruder, is that it? We sometimes get them from the south gates. You want to be a Southie chick? They’re nice and slutty, like you.”

“Yeah…big guy. Where do I enter from?” Peeling off his shirt, he stops my hands before I can undo his belt. His arms wrap around my waist and loosen the stays along my back. Finally, I can breathe.

“From this one big oak. I’ve caught a few men there, but never a hottie like you.” Done with my top, he tugs it down my body, freeing my breasts. “And now you need your punishment.” The jingle of the metal buckle on his belt makes me nervous, not fully trusting that he will stop if I tell him to. Sliding the leather out of his pants loops, he folds it in half and snaps it a few times in front of me, the sound making my pussy salivate like Pavlov’s dog. Just conditioning. Walking past me, he stands next to the side of the bed and beckons me with a nod. “Come bend over and let me show you what we do to thieves.”

My thighs brush together as I waltz toward him and fold onto the bed with my butt up to the sky, palms spreading out to clutch the plastic sheet covering the mattress. His fingers roughly lift my mini skirt but leave my lacy black thong. The first slap of the belt is shocking, causing my legs to quiver. An exaggerated yelp leaves my lips.

His husky voice looms over me. “How many do you deserve, you think?”

“I-I don’t know, sir. How many do you usually give to trespassers?”

A warm palm grips my back cheek roughly where he’d just swatted before he gives me another on the opposite side. “Hmm, I don’t normally spank them, but your ass is too fine to leave white. Can’t wait to mark it all red, then stick my dick inside.”

My head whips to look at him. “I said no anal.”

“Right, right. I forgot.” With another swat, I gasp for a breath before blowing it out through puffed cheeks. He’s definitely not playing around.

After a few more, grunting from deep within his barrel chest with each smack, his big finger digs around my panties, pulling the crotch aside to fumble around my slit. “Fuck! You’re wet as a river. You love pain, huh?” But before I can answer, he slides some of the evidence of my arousal from my pussy to my back hole and presses there.

Clenching my cheeks together, I yell, “Hey!”

My disgruntled exclamation is met with an open-handed smack on my ass cheek as his waist pushes into me, holding me on the bed. “Relax, relax.” Shuffling his clothes off, his hard dick lines up with my entrance.

I try to scramble away, but he holds me with his arm. “I also said you needed to wear a condom.”

His hot breath lands in pulses on my back as he chuckles. “I thought you said you wanted me to put a few babies inside you.”

Whipping my head around, my mouth gapes at him. “Not now!”

“I’m clean. Everyone here is. Had to get tested to become a member. Relax.” His dick wiggles up against my entrance once more, but my torso twists out of his grip.

“No. Wear a fucking condom or nothing.”

“Jesus. You’re more than a brat; you’re a fucking headache. I should tie you up, use the crop, and take that ass. Maybe then you’d calm down.” Despite the protest, he reaches for a bowl of rubbers on the side table.

“I’m done. Turgid. No, thank you. Have a great time by yourself.” Lowering my skirt, I stoop to gather my corset, but his large palm grips my bicep before I can.

My hair catches in his grasp, and I have to turn to look in his hate-filled eyes. Spittle flies from the corners of his mouth as he asks, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“I said the safe word. I don’t want to play with you anymore.” My eyes dance over his thick digits still clutching my bare arm. The tightness of his squeeze will surely leave bruises tomorrow.

His expression darkens as he smirks at me. “You love pain so much I guess I gotta force you into this, don’t I? Is that what you want?” My face screws up in disgust. He’s so gross. Part of me hopes he’ll try something.

“No. I’m telling you no. And if you try to make me, you’ll regret it.”

With a challenge in his glare, he snags me around the waist, tossing my body across the room and onto the bed before he makes a giant leap to land on top of me. His sweat smells like Old Spice, which only makes the nausea of being around him that much worse.

Locking my thighs around his waist, I roll to get on guard before he can steady himself on the cushion of the mattress. Using the heels of my palms, I thrust both into his eye sockets with quick jabs as he cries out, trying to stop me by gripping my wrists. My knee jams into his groin, and I jump up to a stand and kick his nose in with the toe of my boot until blood spurts and he spits it out.

Rainier curls up on his side and sobs in agony. Hopefully, I didn’t get any of his blood on my skin. I don’t need his sort of infection.

“Now who’s the brat?”

Gathering my corset, I tighten it enough so that I can leave without flashing anyone. What a prick. He’s lucky I didn’t break his arm while I was there. Or worse.

Once in my car, regretting my decision not to cancel, I bang on the steering wheel a few times. It’s definitely a self-care night. I haven’t been allowed one in a long time.

That thought has me popping into a convenience store. I find the freezer section and frown at the sparse selection. Not that it was much better when I was a child, but I do think there was more then. It’s hard to recall. Maybe someone told me there was more once, and the lie got spread so much, we all just believed it to be the truth.

It doesn’t matter, because even with only vanilla or chocolate ice cream to choose from, it’s impossible. Staring at the paper pints makes my eyes go blurry until I see myself in the reflection of the glass door, haggard and scared. Why is it that I can take down a big man without a care in the world, but the thought of having to pick a book or a flavor is terrifying? It’s just a dessert, I keep telling myself. But the more I do, the more panicked I become.

“Hey, do you need help?” The sound of a young man’s voice breaks my spiral. He’s probably in high school and thinks I’m an insane woman standing in front of an empty case in a miniskirt and corset. Crossing my arms, I point a tucked finger at my current nemeses.

“Which would you choose?”

Slowly creeping toward me as if I may bite him, he peeks at the products. “Uh, which do you want?”

“That’s the problem! I don’t know!” Tears burst from my eyes. It’s not a manipulation for once. These water droplets rush from the dam of what I believe to be frustration.

Skirting past me, the kid opens the door and shoves the cold cup in my hand. “Sorry. Chocolate. Here, take the chocolate.”

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and give him a small smile, sniffling. “Thank you.”

Behind the glasses of the old man at the register, his eyes scan my frame with judgment, but he doesn’t say anything except the price as he rings up my defeat. Skirting out of the place, I hold my little carton of ice cream in front of me all the way home, another piece of sad evidence of my lies.

But nothing true survives.

As I place my back to the apartment door, I gaze at the half-melted strings of milk chocolate running down my hand, then toss it in the sink. Maybe I don’t want ice cream.

My muscles don’t relax until twenty minutes into my hot bath. And once I slide into my bed, I’m able to fall asleep easily, not dreaming of Rainier.