HARDCORE: Storm MC(33)

Ultimately, though, the search came up empty for evidence against Mr. F. I wished I’d had my phone with me to take a few pictures but was doubtful that any such images would aid the cause. I’d have to have a whole string of pictures tying the contents of the drawer to the desk, to the room, to the hallway, to the stairs, to the foyer, to the house… And my ability to produce such a string tonight seemed unlikely at best.



I was starting to breathe faster, anxious that either I would be missed by Mr. F and he’d come searching for me, or that people from the party below would come in, looking for an available shag room. I had probably already been upstairs for a good fifteen minutes, at least. Possibly longer. I needed to speed up my search. I was praying for pay dirt, ASAP.



I moved along and found the next door led to another full bathroom. The last door on this left side of the stairs was another guest room, occupied by two men and another one of my fellow dancers. I don’t think she noticed me; her mouth and vag were probably all she could focus on, filled as they were with the men’s dicks. But the guy with his cock in her mouth had a clear view of me as I cracked open the door. He grinned. “Fuck yes. Join the party, bitch.”



“Um, no, thanks.” I tried to see if I could catch the girl’s eyes, to see if she needed saving, but they were closed and didn’t open when I spoke, so I figured if she had wanted help she’d have signaled me somehow. She didn’t. I speedily backed up, closed the door, and moved along to the other side of the staircase.



The next few rooms followed suit: another bedroom, another large bathroom—



Fuck. This one was occupied by none other than Mr. F himself, standing in front of an open drawer in the wardrobe, looking like he’d been poking through it for some specific item. The last of my fellow dancers was tied to the bed in a big X. She was naked, blindfolded, and gagged, and it was really hard to read any expression on her face. In fact, it was pretty much impossible. The lights in the room were on full force; clearly, Mr. F liked watching whatever it was he had going on. He himself was still fully dressed, although he had opened his bow tie and popped the top few buttons on his shirt.



But when he looked up at the door at my entry, his focus switched entirely to me. “Aha. There you are. Come in. Don’t be shy. Come in, Sienna. You’re just what I wanted. Perfect timing.” His nostrils flared.



Shit. This was not the plan.



“I can see that you’re busy, Mr. F. I’m actually looking for Mr. Ro—”



“I said: Come. In.”



He stalked to me at the door, took hold of my wrist, pulled me in, and shut the door. “Now, how shall we play this out? I rather like my options here. Have you ever played with toys, Sienna? Have you ever played with another woman? Do you like the idea? Does it excite you?”



“The answer to all of those questions is no. Now, please, let go of me and let me be on my way.”



“Wrong answer, Sienna. But then again, maybe the right one.”



He curled the fingers of his free hand in the top of the towel over my chest and pulled; the towel dropped immediately.



My heart was pounding at this point, and I wrenched my arm from his grasp. I turned to the door to escape the room, but he was too close. He caged me in at the door, leaning heavily on it with his arms on each of my sides, and his body pressed mine into the wood.



“Ah, Sienna. Feisty. I like it. I think the plan changes now; you need to be taught a lesson in obeying orders.”



I started to scream and he spun me around to face him, then shoved his palm up and over my jaw with force. I ended up biting my own tongue, hard, and the back of my head slammed against the door. I was shocked into momentary silence and almost immediately tasted my blood. I had concerns for my ability to breathe as his fingers mashed into my nose and his palm kept my mouth uncomfortably covered. Even my teeth ached from the crash of pressure.



“You want to play rough? Okay, you bitch, we’ll play this rough.” He whipped the bow tie from around his neck and stuffed it into my mouth, then wrapped his big arms around me and lifted me against him.



I did the only thing I could think of to do. I pulled my knee up, as hard as I could, in between his legs.



I have really strong legs.



He released me immediately, crouching and then falling over onto his side in the fetal position, moaning like a cow, but with a higher voice. I ran over to the woman who was still tied up to the cross and lifted her blindfold. “You want to be here?” I asked, recognizing her as Holiday, her stage name.



Her eyes indicated a definite no, so I removed her gag and unsnapped the wrist cuffs and waist belt and let her take care of the rest. Grabbing the towel, I rewrapped myself as I sneered down at the moaning bastard who had still not yet recovered from my excellently placed slam.