Page 53 of Magnum, Volume 1

How fucked up was it that I was both dreading the next couple of hours, and looking forward to it? Doing chores while not plugged would’ve been… anticlimactic. Not that there would be any climaxes under any circumstances, but still.

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Magnum

My dick stayed hard while she worked. I was outside mowing for most of the time, but just knowing she was inside and working, feeling every movement deep in her asshole had me granite hard.

Today, she’d be changing the sheets on my bed, and my mind kept running through how she’d look doing so, how her breath would catch when she leaned over to tuck the corners, how the plug would shift. How she’d lift a knee to the mattress to reach across and smooth the pillows, and her slit would show to anyone standing behind her.

I beat off when I showered, remembering how it’d felt to fuck her tight little asshole while she fought, cried, and begged under me the night before.

But then came the part of the day where she calls me Magnum once I’ve taken everything off her and out of her, and fuck if that didn’t make me hard, too. Shit.

Eventually, I’d probably have to introduce her to the donut I use when I don’t want to hurt the woman I’m fucking, so we could have sex during non-protocol hours. Not that I won’t still dominate her, but it’ll be different.

But if she was only going to be here a few more weeks, I was inclined to keep our sex to the strict morning and night schedule. Especially with us working together during the day.

But her words from that morning came back to me. I’d stopped her from responding to whether she might want to stay once she’s safe, and her response had been to note we needed to have the conversation, but not mere hours after I’d ‘completely obliterated’ her.

First off, she’d so easily admitted what I’d done to her while noting it made her unstable enough that a serious conversation wasn’t wise. And second, she’d wanted to be certain to note that, while now wasn’t the time, we did need to have the conversation. That told me she was thinking this might continue in some fashion.

But, I reminded myself, she had Doms in a number of cities, and it seemed she visited them when her work brought her close to them. It was possible I’d just be another of the men she played with while she traveled the country, chasing the next story.

Or it could be more, my inner turtle noted, and I acknowledged it could be, but didn’t dwell on it because she was in full-on work mode, and she had other ideas about what to investigate today.

I sat and watched while she scoured the social media accounts of every connected asshole in the Virginia first family’s orbit. Storm’s got a sharp fucking eye, because she saw the way the First Gentleman was looking at someone in a party shot on Insta — and then looked at the bitch’s travel schedule, and fuck if it didn’t match up with the governor’s husband’s travel a half-dozen times over the past year. She wasn’t an employee, and that probably meant mistress or girlfriend or whatever we’re calling a side-chick these days.

“No idea what we’ll do with this,” she said once we were as certain as we could be without hacking into the woman’s phone or email, which I fully intended to do.

And then I realized I didn’t have to hide that from her, and probably shouldn’t, so I said, “Let me have the keyboard. We want to be sure.”

She eyed me a few seconds before saying, “Samsung phone. Not an Apple.”

I nodded. I’d looked, too, and it was good to be on the same page.

“Yeah. I can get into both, usually. Do we think he’s put alarms on her account, so he’ll know if someone tries to hack her?”

She furrowed her brow. “If he knows how, then yeah, but I’d be willing to bet he pays someone to do that shit for him, and he won’t want anyone to know about her. I figure she’s a secret to even his closest people. Maybe one person knows about her, someone he was in the teams with, but probably not the rest.”

I’d learned Storm is pretty good about guessing that kind of thing, but I was still slow and careful while working my way in. The great thing about people with gmail is that, once you’re into their account, you can see their calendar, their phone messages, their pictures — everything.

Figuring out her password based on past data breaches went surprisingly fast, but spoofing her number to get past the 2FA bullshit took some extra finessing.

“Fuck me,” she breathed out once I was in and we were looking at a video she’d taken — likely without him knowing — of the two of them fucking. I felt the same, because she had him tied up and helpless while she rode him reverse cowgirl and pummeled the shit out of his balls.

Still, I couldn’t resist saying, “On my time, not yours, little slave.”

“Goes without saying, Sir,” she said while she clicked to download the video so we’d have a copy.

“And now we have blackmail material to get the bastard to talk,” I noted. “He might not care if we show it to his wife, knowing he’ll be going to prison for a long-damned time, but he’s the kind of guy who’d be horrified for that to go out to the public.”

“Not to mention, having that out there might make prison a little more difficult,” she noted. “He’ll go from being a scary ex-teams guy to a sexual submissive who likes having his balls pounded.”

Chapter 23

Storm

I spent an hour soaking in the tub when we finished our research, and just closed my eyes and let the Epsom salts and vinegar do their jobs.