CAPTURED: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys(148)

No clothes at night and random cavity searches by day.

All to protect our legacy. The way we made our money. The way we rose  from penniless thieves at the beck and call of the Weavers to gathering a  wealth that morphed to obscene a few centuries ago.

Stepping into the shower, I turned on the hot spray. Smiling at the  mirrored wall, I cupped my cock, washing the residue of my indiscretion.

The next time I come, I'll be inside the woman I inherited.

With my cock in my hand, I nodded at my reflection.

I'm a Hawk but blood doesn't flow in my veins. I'm born of a substance  unbeatable by any other-diamonds. I'm a smuggler. I'm a dealer. And I'm  about to become … a killer.





NEEDLE&THREAD: I'm warm and in bed. Surprisingly I slept better than  I thought I would. Did you have a good night? Did you lie in your bed  and picture me pleasuring you? What did I do to you? Tell me, Kite. I  want you to transport me from reality and give me a fantasy stronger  than my present humdrum life.

Kite007: Forward this morning, aren't we? You're that desperate to talk  about my cock? Not that I'd ever say no-but I'm rather impressed by your  forwardness. Tell me more … beg.

Needle&Thread: Beg? How does one beg for something they need rather  than want? Would you prefer me on my knees? Or perhaps on my back ready  for whatever you wanted to give me?

Kite007: Fuck. What's got into you? Beg. Imagine I'm standing over you  with my hard cock in my hand. I'm throttling it-my fist working so  fucking hard at the thought of you spread-eagled and fingering yourself.  Give me a visual. Now. Then I might reward you.

Needle&Thread: I'm exactly as you said. Begging, whimpering,  touching myself until my whimpers turn to pants and my begs turn to  moans. I'm wet for you. I'm hot for you. Please, Kite. Give me my  fantasy. Give me something warm to hold onto.

Kite007: What the fuck is this about? How can I come when you sound fucking weird?

Needle&Thread: Weird? I'm not. I'm giving you what you want in return for what I need.

Kite007: Is that supposed to make sense, ‘cause I don't understand bullshit code. Fuck, you're seriously making me do it.

Needle&Thread: Do what?

Kite007: Ask you! Okay, fine. What's got your panties so bunched that  you're coming onto me so strong. What happened to my timid naughty nun?  Why the fuck do you sound so different?

I stared at my phone, heart rate skyrocketing. I'd tried to play it coy  and courageous. I thought I'd pulled off the pantomime that I was still  myself, still living my content but uninspiring life.

Obviously not.

I re-read my past replies, unable to see the difference. Had I changed that much already?

There was nothing soft about Kite. There was no reason for me to seek  him out when I had enough bastard in my life thanks to Jethro. It made  no sense to let him use me-but it did in a strange way. It made sense  because I willingly gave him control over me-something I needed in my  rapidly spinning out of control life. While Jethro was determined to  undermine, throw away, and rule every inch of whatever little power I  had left, Kite gave it back in some strange, wonderful way.

He's the monster I know. He's not sweetness and light-but he's mine  because I choose him to be. The defiance was yet another stupid score  against the beast called Jethro Hawk.

Straightening my back, I tried to figure out a way to possibly get Kite  to soften-just a little-then everything would be a lot easier to bear.

Kite007: Tell me, then make me come. You've got two jobs to do. Do them.

Taking a deep breath, I opened a fresh message.

Needle&Thread: Tell me if this is out of bounds, but in answer to  your question-why do I sound different-I suppose it's because I feel  different. Everything is different. I thought I'd always fight against  different. I like normal. I like routine. I thought different would ruin  me. But … then … I changed.

Kite007: Changed? You really going to make me drag this out? My cock is  hard and balls want to come. Spill it, so we can get to the second part  of your to-do list.

Needle&Thread: I'm the one who's different now. It's as if  everything I've been dealing with suddenly doesn't matter. It's just  gone … .

Kite007: Gone?

Needle&Thread: Yes. It's liberating, scary as hell, and confusing.  But something's changing inside-it feels as if I'm … growing up.

I sighed. He'd send something horrible back-my response had been too personal. I knew that. But I'd sent it anyway.         

     



 

Kite007: Out of bounds. Get back to the subject. Let's try this, here's  something you obviously want: I'm happy you're growing up-makes me feel a  lot fucking easier knowing I'm not jerking off to a kinky fourteen year  old. And now for want I want: Too bad for you, I'm not gone or planning  to before you finish doing what you started. I'm done with the cryptic  crap. Pay attention, because I'm sliding my cock into your mouth. You  try to talk but you choke on my length, your voice is humming against my  balls. Stop trying to communicate and settle in to your task. Suck me.

I sighed. Two emotions swirled inside-exasperation and gratefulness.  He'd replied to my overshare. He hadn't shot me down or been the pillock  he usually was. Progress.

The tentative softness inside was enough to get me through the next few hours.

Shouldn't you want more?

My heart hardened.

Kite had replied to my veiled hints for encouragement but I'd hoped …

It doesn't matter what I hoped.

It seemed everything I wanted in this world wasn't available-including  more than one kind word from Kite. We'd been so close to a normal  conversation. Learning, sharing, building a connection despite the  complications of sexting.

He'd let me in for a microsecond then shut me out once again, using sex  as a tool to keep me in my place and remind me I didn't factor in his  life-either as a friend or even associate. I was the unseen whore. The  unpaid prostitute who lived in his phone.

I couldn't let him hurt me. I couldn't let him weaken me.

He'd done what I needed-reminding me I was strong enough. There was  nothing else to do but finish the conversation, so I could leave the  soul-sucking fantasy and return to the tragedy of my new world.

Kite007: You're not sucking. Fine, I'll give you some encouragement. If  you blow me, I'll return the favour. I'll flip you onto your back,  spread your legs, and bury my face between your legs. I'd bite you,  fucking you with my tongue until you forgot everything and came.

My stomach attempted a small swoop. It wasn't romantic, but it did give me a tiny bit more warmth I needed.

Before I could reply, another message vibrated.

Kite007: Tell me where you are right now. Are you naked? Finger yourself for me. Take a photo if you're brave.

I laughed. The sound shredded the space that Jethro had so kindly given  me for the night. Laughing was the only thing I could do. Take a photo?  Of what? The bruises on my palms from crawling to the kennels last  night? How about the cuts on my knees?

Maybe he wants a picture of my elegant bedroom and wonderful bedfellows.

Looking up for the first time since I woke, I let the uselessness of my  situation get the better of me. The bravery I'd been clutching to like a  raft in a rolling ocean, splintered and drowned. Painful despair  saturated my heart, weighing me down like the anchors I so often clung  to.

By all standards, the kennel was sheer luxury. The roof was watertight. The floor clean and sanitary. It was even draft free.

But it wasn't just mine. I had to share.

Squirrel, my favourite of the eleven canines I'd spent the night with,  nudged my arm. I'd named him after the tree-climbing rodent thanks to  his slightly bushy tail. With a doggy smile, he wheedled his way under  my arm, leaning heavily against my torso.

I'd never had pets growing up. As a family, we were too busy working or  travelling to exotic places to source more material and merchandise.  Until last night, I'd had an adolescent fear of dogs.

That had evolved to terror when Jethro threw me inside.

I shuddered, hugging Squirrel closer to me, stealing his gentle warmth.  Last night Jethro had tried to destroy me. Not through fists or rape or  even harsh words. No, he tried to destroy me by removing any entitlement  I had as a human. Marking me as no better than the dogs he kept.

He would've succeeded if my terror hadn't mellowed into bewilderment  then gratefulness. He'd done me a favour-I preferred the company of his  hounds. They not only tolerated my intrusion but welcomed me into the  pack.

Squirrel licked my pebble-indented palm, letting me know he understood  my aches. I still suffered from crawling from the manor, past immaculate  flower beds, over precision mowed grass, and cutting through shadows  cast by imposing hedges.

Everything throbbed when I finally crawled the last metre and sat  waiting beside a large roller door. My dress was torn, my knees  bleeding-not that he'd cared.

The estate was bigger than I could contemplate, but even in the  darkness, I'd made out the buildings around us. The stables were across  the cobblestone yard. A granary let its soft grainy fragrance permeate  the air. The gentle huffing of horses broke the silence along with  wuffles and snuffles from dogs.