Torment Me (Rough Love Part One) Read Online Free PDF

there,” he said, when I sat back on my heels. “Don’t move. Don’t get up.”
    Shit. I suspected the blowjob was a mere aperitif. It had been fifteen minutes, maybe, since I knocked on the door. One hour and forty-five minutes to go. I heard water running in the bathroom. Strangely, my freakiest customers were also my most fastidious. A moment later I heard him return, and felt his hand beneath my chin. He tipped my face up and swabbed the drool that was drying in the corners of my mouth and along my neck.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “You’re welcome.”
    “Can I take off the mask?”
    “No.”
    Argh. I shook my head like I could somehow dislodge the straps. He was off again, running water, clinking ice into a glass. What the hell was he doing? Why wouldn’t he let me see him? Or see anything? But I knew why—because it kept me perpetually on edge.
    When he grabbed my face again, I didn’t feel it coming. He put a glass to my mouth and said, “Drink.”
    What was he holding against my lips? What did he want me to drink? Might be water, might be battery acid. It turned out to be something alcoholic. I choked and sucked in a breath.
    “What is that?” I gasped.
    “Scotch. Be civilized, for God’s sake.”
    He tipped the glass up again and I drank, because my other option was to drool it all over the front of me after he’d just finished cleaning me up.
    “I don’t really like the taste of liquor,” I said.
    “I don’t really like the taste of pussy, but we’re all adults here. Stand up.”
    I tried to be graceful about it. I probably failed. “Where are you taking me?”
    “Nowhere scary.” His arms guided me forward until he sat me down on the bed. He pushed me back and I relaxed into the clean-smelling sheets.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
My mouth tasted like scotch now instead of the flavored condom. He kissed me again, open-mouthed. Why did he kiss me so much, when his main goal was to hurt me?
    “W,” I said against his lips. “You’re so strange.”
    He pushed my legs open and fondled me. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His fingers slid through my wetness, teasing my clit. “Chere,” he said, mimicking my earlier statement, “you’re so horny.”
    Yes, that was a fact. I was a horny, confused, scared call girl being groped by a person I still hadn’t laid eyes on. I couldn’t get comfortable. When I shifted and drew my legs together, he tsked and pushed them apart.
    “Leave them open.”
    I sighed. “You make it very hard for me to do my job properly.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean that I’m supposed to be beautiful and alluring, and sexy. I can’t do any of that when I’m trussed up like some hostage.”
    His lips grazed my ear. “I think you’re most beautiful and alluring when you’re trussed up like a hostage. Open your damn legs.”
    He accompanied this insistent command with a couple of stinging slaps to my inner thighs. I tried to roll away from the pain, only to have my hair grabbed and my body yanked against his.
    “Stay where I put you. Be a good girl. I like good girls.”
    I gritted my teeth until he loosened his grasp on my hair. “So, are you one of those Master guys?” I asked. “Those BDSM Dominants with whips and chains and collars?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “You have slaves?”
    His lips brushed over my cheek and down my jaw. “Sometimes.”
    I shivered. I felt like his slave at the moment, although there were no whips, chains, or collars. My thighs still stung where he’d slapped me. “I’m not into that shit,” I whispered.
    “Noted.”
    “Why then?” I asked. “Why me? Why didn’t you make arrangements to see a call girl who’s into this?”
    “The girls who are into this aren’t as fun to play with. They aren’t as fun to torment.” He stroked my breasts and squeezed each nipple until I whined and pulled away from him.
    “The thing is—” I began.
    “The thing is, I fucking paid for you, and I want to play with you. I