Ariana DeSousa.
She was only six years old. Taken from a playground in the blink of an eye when her mom’s back was turned in conversation with another woman. Her parents are distraught, I’m told, but grateful an anonymous tip led them to recover their only daughter’s body.
It should never have happened, but part of me is glad for whatever caused her death before she’d been ferried overseas and her life became a living hell.
It’s only made me more determined to find out what Drew Manning is up to. Dad made it sound like he has some kind of vengeance plan against the Luminaries or maybe he is going after his competition in the trade. The latter doesn’t seem likely now. I have pored over every scrap of evidence I can find on Manning, and there is nothing that says he’s the kind of man who would be involved in sex trafficking or harming kids. He’s no saint, none of those elite bastards are, but he tends to turn his violent charm on sinners not innocents.
In fact, Manning and his friends took down the elite years ago, and they were instrumental in lobbying for reform when the entire elite organization was restructured more than ten years ago.
Is it possible he’s working to stop them?
If that’s the case, why has the board asked Dad to take him down? Surely, they would support his efforts if he is one of the good guys? Unless they want to be the ones to handle it, and they prefer outsiders are not involved?
What if they’re trying to bury this?
That thought sits like sour milk in my stomach. The board has fought hard to make changes in our world, and I have supported them because I always believed they were trying to do good. But what if they’ve changed? What if they are gunning for Manning to hide these evil deeds?
I’m conflicted and not sure who or what to believe.
All I know for sure is it’s not making much sense.
I should probably tackle Dad about it, but something is telling me not to say anything for now. I’ll continue following Manning and gather more intel, and maybe it’ll be clearer then.
I can’t figure out what is going on, but I will get to the bottom of it.
The elevator pings when I reach the lower level, but the doors don’t open. Which means there is someone else in the hallway. It’s all operated via heat sensors, and the doors will only let me out when the hallway is empty. I’m glad they take anonymity seriously. If Beast found out I broke one of his terms, it’d likely be the end of our fuckfests, and I’m not finished with the man yet.
I’m not sure I ever will be.
No man has ever fucked me to within an inch of my life and had me begging for more. His hands are magical, and I’m putty beneath his skilled touch.
After a couple minutes, I’m released from the elevator, and I’m grinning to myself like a loon as I walk to the private dungeon Beast reserved and tap in the code that admits me to the female changing area. Removing my clothes, I hang them up on the hooks and slip off my heels. Then I pee, brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair, and rub scented coconut oil into my naked body, grateful I found time to visit the salon this week for waxing and pampering.
Standing in front of the mirror, I admire the lingering bruising on my skin. My pussy pulses with liquid lust as I imagine the fresh marks he’ll leave on my body tonight.
When the light over the door turns green—indicating he’s in the dungeon—I don’t waste a second, my desire to feel his hands all over my body charging my steps as I move forward. I press the button at the door, and the light dies behind me. Only then does the door open with a loud click, and I step into the pitch-black room.
“On your knees, whore,” he says from close to my left, making me jump a little at his nearness.
I drop down onto the padded floor without hesitation. Sex is the only time I willingly and happily bow to a man’s command. Part of the allure is handing the responsibility for my pleasure to another. In here, I don’t have to make any decisions or carry the weight of any burden. There is no stress. Only indescribable pleasure. He knows what my limits are, can read the signs from my body, and he tells me what to do understanding my desires fully.
I love shedding the responsibilities that weigh so heavily on my soul.
It’s the greatest form of freedom.
“Such a pretty slut,” he growls, wrapping his hand around my hair and tugging on it sharply. He yanks down hard, and my head lifts, my neck stretching. “Suck.” He forces my mouth apart before plunging his cock between my lips in one violent thrust.
I suck him enthusiastically, concentrating on giving him pleasure as my body purrs and sings, and there are no other thoughts in my mind.
“Fuck, you’re so good at that, but I want to come in your pussy first.”
His dick leaves my mouth with a loud pop, and he lifts me carefully to my feet. “Hold still and look at the floor.”
I do as I’m told, moaning quietly as his hands sweep over my body. His touch is feather-soft at first, more tender than any time before. “Your body is exquisite,” he says, which might seem strange since we’ve never seen one another in the flesh. But learning a person’s body through touch alone is one of the most intimate things I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know if every experience is like this in the dungeon because this is the first time I’ve tried this, but I’m addicted. Obsessed. Hungry for more.
His hands move to my breasts, and he cups them in large callused palms as his touch grows rougher and more familiar. “I want to eat these,” he growls before dipping his head and sucking one breast into his hot, wet mouth. He isn’t gentle, sucking and biting my breast while his free hand tugs at my other boob and flicks my hard nipple. He alternates between them, and it takes massive effort not to sway on my feet. It’s as if there’s a direct line from my tits to my pussy because I’m dripping with need, and we’ve barely gotten started.
I almost weep when his attention leaves my breasts and heads south.
