Beast’s Demands by Sam Crescent

Chapter Eleven

Ashley

 

I hadn’t seen Earl since last night.

He didn’t come to bed.

At least, I didn’t think he did. There was no mark on the bed to show he’d been there. I lay for an hour after I woke, touching his pillow, wondering why he didn’t join me.

It wasn’t like him.

In the short time I’d known him and we’d been sleeping together in the same bed, I’d gotten used to his arms holding me.

One night, and I already missed him.

Even after what happened last night, I still wanted him to hold me.

The game shouldn’t have gone the way it did.

I couldn’t take the dare back, and once it left my mouth, and I wanted to see if he’d actually see it through. Of course, he may not, and my submission to him was fruitful. Only … I’d enjoyed it.

The way he’d taken me.

His gruff demand.

His hands on my body.

The touch of his cock.

His fingers.

All of it created a hunger I didn’t understand.

How could I feel anything for him? And yet, I had.

By the time he’d worked my ass and my pussy, I’d wanted it. I didn’t mind what he had to do to get it.

I was sore this morning. After he’d completed inside my ass, he hadn’t wasted any time. He’d used tissues to cover my anus, wiping the drops of his cum that spilled out. Then he’d picked me up and carried me upstairs even though I told him not to. He’d run me a bath and stayed with me as I washed.

The salts had helped to ease the tension that had built within my body.

I couldn’t believe I was still a virgin but had experienced anal sex.

After flinging off the blanket, I walked to the bathroom. Once I’d used the toilet, I flushed and went to the sink. I washed my hands, reached for my toothbrush, and went through the motions of my morning routine.

Breath fresh, face washed, hair in some kind of order, I walked back into the bedroom.

Without thinking, I made the bed before finding something to wear. I settled on a summer dress. This time, I wore a bra and panties.

I’d been a little more adventurous on the island and opted for no underwear, but today, it felt like an extra layer of protection.

When my stomach’s growls got too loud to ignore, I left the bedroom in search of the kitchen.

Stale bread lay on the counter beneath a towel, getting ready for the French toast I intended to make.

Gathering my ingredients from the fridge, I started to prepare, aware I couldn’t hear a sound.

Silence wasn’t usual.

Earl sometimes came and found me when I was making breakfast.

Still nothing.

I wanted to call out.

I was tempted to stop making breakfast, to go and find him. As I dipped the bread into the bowl, letting it soak up the mixture, I headed toward the kitchen door but stopped myself.

If Earl wanted me, he’d have come and found me.

Maybe he needed space.

Last night had been intense.

I knew because even as I tried not to think about it, I couldn’t seem to stop. Each action seemed to remind me of last night.

My body ached in places I didn’t know were capable. Drawing my focus back to breakfast, I pre-heated a skillet, added a tiny bit of butter, and then layered the two drenched slices of toast, turning the heat down. I wanted it to be lovely and crisp on the outside.

I stood at the stove and couldn’t help but sense someone was watching me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I looked left, then turned to look right. Nothing. I got the same sense wherever I went. When I didn’t allow myself to think and to just feel.

It was an odd sensation to have. One I knew that meant I must be going crazy. No one was around.

There was no way anyone was watching me. I checked to see if one side of the bread was lovely and golden. It was, so I did a nice little flip to toast the other side.

Cooking was my therapy.

I loved being in the kitchen and had often fantasized about having my own cooking show. Crazy, I knew, but it was what helped me get through when Emily had her really bad days.

With my toast done, I slid it onto a plate, grabbed a knife and fork, poured myself a cup of coffee, and dug in.

I ate alone. Still with the lingering sensation of someone watching.

The hairs on the back of my neck seemed to rise. I finished my breakfast and rather than linger indoors as the house made me a little nervous, I headed out to the garden. I passed the pool and kept on moving until I found a shaded area with lots of trees providing shelter. I stood beneath them. I hadn’t gone too far because I could still see the house.

Crossing my arms beneath my breasts, I stood and waited, wondering what the hell I was doing.

It was stupid to be afraid of a house.

Earl wasn’t too far.

Annoyed with myself, I went back, but I didn’t enter.

Lowering into one of the chaise lounges, I sat back and tried to relax.

Boredom hit me hard. My need to go into the kitchen built with every passing second.

The fear hit me hard, and I hated myself for being so afraid.

There was no way Earl would allow anything to happen to me.

I stood up.

Sat down.

Stood up.

Sat down.

Angry, I released a groan and stood the fuck up. I wasn’t going to be beaten by a feeling. A feeling had no meaning to it. My imagination was running wild.

I walked slowly back to the house.

I hadn’t cleaned the breakfast dishes this morning, but entering the kitchen, I see they were already gone. This made me pause. Maybe those were the eyes on me? The people who worked here, they needed to know when to come and go, right?

I had yet to see anyone else besides Earl.

He’d told me they were around, knowing how to do their job. They had to be the ones I’d felt watching me.

Feeling stupid, I turned the stove on. Just the sound of the oven firing up brought me a sense of calm.

With that on, I was ready. I pulled out some ingredients from the fridge that were necessary for baking, and then checked to make sure I had the relevant pans.

There weren’t many, but I had enough.

I even spotted some yeast in the fridge. I checked the date and was happy to notice it hadn’t been opened.

Some cinnamon rolls were in my future, providing I actually had the key ingredient to make them all work.

Going to the pantry, of course, I found it.

I didn’t know how Earl knew this was what I’d want to make.

I got to work.

Pouring out some milk, sprinkling in some sugar, then the yeast to allow it to bloom.

I hummed to myself as I worked.

No knowable tune, just a sound.

I was happy.

Even with the feel of someone watching me. I tuned it out and focused on baking. I measured out the flour, then some salt as the yeast started to work. I included some more sugar, melted some butter, and then some vanilla.

Again, I was shocked by how many ingredients he had that I could use.

I loved baking almost as much as I loved cooking.

With the yeast ready, I poured the mixture into the bowl and started to knead it with my hand. I couldn’t find a mixer, but a little handwork was no problem.

Once it was all mixed, I poured it out onto the counter and got to work, kneading the living daylights out of it. Pushing my palms in, drawing the dough back.

The moment it was springy, and I’d built up a bit of a sweat, I swiped my arm across my brow and then oiled the bowl. Dumping the dough inside, I covered it with some plastic wrap and left it to rise.

Cleaning up my mess didn’t take any time at all.

The oven was still on. While I waited, I made a batch of sweet scones. Everyone liked a scone with a cup of tea.

They were in the oven, and the dough was nearly ready after just an hour. I got back to work, making the cinnamon filling.

I’d finished assembling them and allowed them to proof for a second time when Earl arrived.

I put the tin in the oven and gave him my full attention.

He was in a suit.

In his hand was a piece of paper.

I’d already cleaned all the mess.

He slid the paper across the counter to me.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Look at it.”

I didn’t know if I want to.

My heart had already started to pound. Lifting it up, I saw they were a list of names, followed by locations. Turning it over, I counted fifteen female names on the list, and then looked over at Earl.

The sickness swirled in my gut.

“I didn’t back out of my dare.”

“You had them waiting?” I asked.

When it came to his life, I shouldn’t question it. This was his work, not mine. Had I saved these women? Put them in more danger?

“Yes.”

Earl turned back to face me. “An auction was scheduled in three days. It gives the men enough time to get them in line.”

“You mean beat and rape them?” I didn’t miss the tic in his jaw.

He was pissed off. I made him that way.

“I’ve told you to not ask me questions you don’t want answers to.”

“I’m not asking you anything I don’t want answers to. Your men beat and rape the women into fear. So they don’t fight. So they stand obediently for others to pick over them like cattle.”

“This is the end of this discussion,” he said.

“I will pay you back all the money that you’re saving for me for company.”

He’d turned away, heading toward the door. My words made him stop.

His hand reached out, touching the doorframe as he turned toward me. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Every single penny. I don’t want it. In return, you never take women again.”

“You’re a fool, Ashley.” He left the kitchen, and I rushed to catch up with him.

I wouldn’t forget about the cinnamon rolls, but they were the last thing on my mind right now. All I wanted was to know if I could save more women.

“Don’t walk away.” I reached out for his arm.

He grabbed me roughly and pressed me against the wall. “No.”

“Please. The money you’re paying me. There’s no way you would be getting that much in a shipment of girls.”

“In one shipment, no, but you’re meddling in shit you have no right to.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Earl.”

“No!” The word was final, the sound echoing around the walls. I couldn’t help but feel the tears flood my eyes because I knew it was useless in fighting.

“You need to stop trying to save everyone and think about yourself every once in a while.”

“What is so wrong with me wanting to help people?” I asked. I didn’t get it.

Where he held me hurt, but I didn’t ask him to stop.

“Do you think they’d give a shit if the roles were reversed? That they’d even lose sleep knowing someone was hurt and they could do something about it?” he asked.

“I don’t care if they would do the same or not. I’m not doing this for any other reason than because I want to. If I can help, then I will. What is so wrong with that?”

He moved so fast, his lips right next to my ear. His body pressed against mine, and it wasn’t erotic. It was a threat.

“You’re a naïve fool, Ashley. This world is full of monsters and beasts. We don’t pander to you. Left out in the world, someone would come and hurt you. They’d eat you alive and spit out your carcass.”

“Do you think you’re scaring me?” I asked. He was, but I hoped he didn’t know that. Emily had said many the same things in the past seven years. She told me I was too trusting. Too open. Too vulnerable. I cared too much.

If all of that was true, and I guessed it really was, why did it have to be such a bad thing? I cared about people. In a cold, hard world, I tried to offer some kind of hope, and yet, according to Earl and Emily, it made me a fool.

At that moment, I was angry.

“You’re terrified. You’re shaking.”

“Don’t mistake my anger with fear. I’m not afraid of you.” I pushed against him.

“I haven’t given you any true reason to fear me, sweetheart. You want to push those buttons, last night was a walk in the fucking park. I can make you do things that will have you on the edge of your fucking seat. Now, that money is yours. The women are saved, and don’t ever fucking test me again. You won’t like it.”

He let me go. His grip had been holding me up. Now I sank to the floor.

He was right. I was terrified.

I wanted to help people.

I was tired of those closest to me seeing that as a weakness rather than a strength.

****

Earl

“Women are a tool. They’re there to be used and taken. It’s why they’re the weaker sex. They’re not strong. Our cocks are hard. We’re designed to take.”

Running a hand down my face, I poured myself a large brandy. One of my grandfather’s many little speeches, pertaining to the differences between men and women, ran through my head. At the time, I had no choice but to listen. To my grandfather, women were put on this earth to be taken by men. To be used by them. They didn’t have a mind. They had no right to think for themselves. The only uses they had were their mouths, assholes, and pussies. Everything else about them was useless.

Even with all that teaching and attempt of brainwashing, I didn’t believe it.

I’d learned to close myself off.

Business was exactly that, business.

It couldn’t be changed.

I adapted what needed to be done.

Now, as I drink the brandy, a luxury in life, I knew the fifteen women from the shipment that would have brought in a pretty penny were all back with their families. I’d kept my word. Followed through with my agreement, and I couldn’t stand the tightness within my gut.

I’d lost count of the number of women I’d sold. They were nothing more than numbers. Tallies on a piece of paper, numbers in the bank.

They weren’t supposed to matter. I’d resigned myself to them being lonely, runaways, lost. Women who’d been easily led astray, who had a shit life to begin with.

I didn’t have to see Ashley’s dare through, but for some fucked-up reason, it was important to me to show her that I kept my word. I had. Apart from the renegotiation I’d done with the Monsters, I’d never lied. I’d manipulated the truth.

The women had been waiting in the usual location. A warehouse with each room locked and bolted. A single mattress with a bucket in the corner for them to use for the toilet, giving them nothing. The lives they were purchased for, some were good. I knew that. Some of the men even fell for their products. Others, I didn’t imagine the life was as good.

As I poured myself another shot of brandy, my hand shook, and I ignored it, swallowing down the amber liquid.

None of it should have mattered.

Nothing.

Yet, as I’d given the order, my men had been arguing. Telling me that I was making a mistake.

The women didn’t see me, but I made sure they knew they had been protected by a fucking angel, and if they talked, I would hunt them down and kill them. Once I discovered that each young woman had a family. The cop on my payroll, whom I paid greatly for information, had found out there was a missing person report on all of them.

They weren’t lost.

They were fucking wanted.

I only questioned once, but I was clearly fucking lied to about how they were taken. I truly thought they were lost, not actually taken.

My grandfather had once hinted at what they did and where they found them. Now, I was sick.

The brandy didn’t help. Nor did the smell of the cinnamon rolls.

So many fucking women.

They were nothing more than a job. I shouldn’t fucking care.

Ashley was my problem. She had made me see them.

With the brandy no longer helping, I loosened my tie and threw it across the room.

I felt out of my mind. Ashley was the problem. She could fucking fix it.

After leaving the office, I found her in the kitchen.

She’d removed her oven glove. Her eyes were a little red.

Going to her, I grabbed her arm, pressed her up against the fridge, and sank my fingers into her long brown locks. After tilting her head back, I slammed my lips down on hers, silencing any protest, ravishing her mouth.

Each touch of this sweet angel soothed my soul.

No one else had cared about her, not really.

Not the Monsters. Not Emily. Just me. She’d been used and discarded. Her mother had been a piece of shit.

I’d assembled pieces of her life and knew there was a part of Ashley’s heart that was shattered.

It fed her need to help others. To make sure they didn’t ever feel like she did.

I got it, but I didn’t like it.

She was the treasure in life. No one else.

It pissed me off.

Her hands went to my waist. She wasn’t pushing me away.

Breaking from the kiss, I grabbed her hand and pulled her upstairs. She didn’t tug back, nor did she fight me. There was no one to stop us. No one to hold me back.

Ashley was mine. Fucking mine.

I entered our bedroom and removed my jacket. The clothes were too restrictive. Grabbing my shirt, I pulled it apart. Buttons sprayed left and right.

Before I got to my pants, I was on Ashley, tearing her dress. The fabric gave way beneath my grip.

It was a pretty dress, but it looked even better in pieces on the floor. The moment it was off her, I felt a sense of achievement. The bra was next, followed by her panties.

I quickly took care of my pants and boxers, kicking off my shoes too. I moved Ashley to the bed, getting her to lie down.

Gripping her knees, I spread them open, not giving her a chance to argue with me as I slid my hands down toward her pussy. The lips were already slightly open.

I moved my fingers between her slit to find she was a little dry. I held her thighs open and leaned down, pressing my face against her inner thigh, laying kisses on the tender flesh. There was so much more I wanted to do, but I merely bit down. Once again, I was holding myself back.

When it came to Ashley, I had to. I didn’t want her to fear me. I wanted her to crave me as I did her. To become addicted.

Leaving her was a fucking chore and I hated it.

I hated this woman with a fiery passion for how she made me feel. I was a bastard beast. I didn’t have feelings. The women I bought were a product. They were a means to an end.

Angry at Ashley, I held the lips of her sex open and took her clit into my mouth, sucking on it hard.

Her cries filled the air, and that was exactly what I wanted, what I needed to replace whatever the fuck was going on in my head.

Ashley caused this. She could help to take it all away.

I used my teeth, scoring around her bud. She arched up, her tits shaking.

Flicking my tongue back and forth, I watched her, hypnotized as she ground herself on my face, enjoying the pleasure I could give her.

I wanted her to come hard. I didn’t stop, making her take all the pleasure I had to offer. She was mine. All mine, and I didn’t share. I wasn’t letting her go.

I brought Ashley to orgasm, but as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I drew a second orgasm out of her, and by the time she was on her third, she was screaming my name. She wanted me to stop but not stop at the same time.

She couldn’t take anymore.

Kissing my way up her body, I glided my tongue toward her nipples, circling each bud as I took one then the other into my mouth. I pressed them together, flicking my tongue between each moan, hearing her moans.

I let her go and wrapped my fingers around my dick, working from the base up to the tip, then back down again.

The desire to fuck her cunt was so strong.

Her virginity would be mine.

She was slick enough. Ready for me.

I placed the tip of my dick at her entrance. I couldn’t turn away. Staring at where she’d take me. Her thighs quivered.

I wanted this.

To fuck her.

To break her in.

To make her mine.

I didn’t penetrate.

I was angry. This wasn’t the time to savor.

Pulling away from her pussy, I stood up and worked my dick. Ashley sat up, and I wrapped my fingers in her hair, taking her to the floor.

“Open for me.”

She opened her mouth, and I placed the tip of my cock there. Then I started to fuck her lips, sliding across her tongue, going to the back of her throat.

This time, I didn’t go easy.

I made her choke on my dick, swallowing me down.

Ashley’s hands sank into the flesh of my thighs, holding me still, but I had a firm grip on her hair and stroked myself to completion.

“Don’t swallow until I fucking tell you to.”

My cum flooded her mouth, and I eased from between her lips, tilting her head back. Some of my release was already on her pink lips.

“Show me.”

She opened her mouth, and it was full of my spunk.

“Now swallow it.”

She closed her mouth, and I watched her throat move.

“Show me.”

Ashley swallowed all of my cum.

“Good girl.”

Letting go of her hair, I should have felt satisfied, but I wasn’t. The orgasm had taken away my anger and my tension. I was so close to fucking her for the first time, and that wouldn’t do.

When I claimed her pussy, I’d enjoy every single second, and it wouldn’t be in anger.