Page 37 of Claimed (The Captain’s Captive #2)

Trish ran.

Down the hall to her room—what she thought of as her room—where she felt safest. It was also where Jordan liked to play with her and do wicked things to her and punish her, but it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.

The heavy tread of his feet coming up the stairs, slow and implacable, had Trish’s heart pounding her throat.

Why had she told him to fuck off?

She never said anything like that.

She’d never said anything like that to anyone before, ever.

So why him and now, knowing what the likely consequence would be?

A psychologist could have had a field day with her. Trish was too panicked to examine her own motivations, but that didn’t stop her from yelling ‘whyyyyyy’ at herself in her head.

All the doors along the hallway were shut, so Jordan wouldn’t immediately know which room she’d gone into.

A quick look out the windows convinced her there was no real escape there.

Even if she could get the windows up and herself out in time, the fall from one would be onto hard concrete and the other had some plants made up of as much branch as they were leaf.

Running from Jordan would not be worth being even a little impaled.

Trish didn’t want to think about what he might do if she hurt herself. Of course, he’d take care of her until she was better—she absolutely believed and trusted in that—but once she was better …

So not worth the punishment.

The sound of his footsteps coming down the hall, heading inexorably for the room and apparently passing by the others—she hadn’t heard a single other door open—told Trish she didn’t have much time.

She took the only fast option there was and scooted under the bed.

As a hiding place, it was awful, and her heart pounded faster.

Her breathing became more like panting, and Trish squeezed her eyes shut as the door to the room opened.

She didn’t know why she had. It was an instinct, an urge she had, as if some part of her brain insisting Trish would be safer with her eyes shut.

That part of her brain was wrong, of course.

She shrieked as hard fingers closed around her wrist and ankle and pulled her out from underneath the bed with a hard, fast yank. The expression on Jordan’s face was torn somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“Let me go!” It came out as a squeaky shriek instead of an order, and Jordan ignored it.

“I’ve had enough of your mouth, babygirl,” he said, shaking his head at her.

A moment later, Trish was biting down on what looked and felt like a pacifier, except it strapped around her head and she couldn’t spit it out.

She hated it.

But as he bent her over what had seemed like a padded, leather lectern, with her wrists and ankles secured to the base, it wasn’t as though there was a whole lot Trish could do about it.

The pacifier gag was a punishment for telling him to fuck off.

Even now, she didn’t know why she’d done it. Trish already regretted it.

Jordan didn’t care if she asked questions, he wasn’t bothered when Trish disagreed with him or yelled or threw a tantrum, but any time she became disrespectful, it provoked an immediate reaction. Just like it had today.

“What do you think the punishment should be for ignoring a direct order and trying to go outside, hmmm?” he asked, musing as he ran his hands up her legs from where he’d finished cuffing her ankles. He palmed her ass, squeezing the soft globes and readying them for whatever torment he’d decided on.

She made a whining noise behind her gag as Jordan tapped the base of her plug.

“I think we’ll start with this.”

The plug slid out easily, but the emptiness only agitated her more because Jordan hadn’t said what he would do, instead. It wouldn’t be anything as easy or enjoyable as just shoving his cock in. Which, yes, would hurt initially if he was rough about it, but would ultimately not be a punishment.

The door chime sounded throughout the house, and Trish squealed behind her gag and tugged on her bonds.

Chuckling, Jordan patted her bottom. “Stay right here, little girl. I’ll be back once I’ve seen who it is.”

She whined again, but he ignored her and left the room.

His absence only gave her anxieties and imagination more time to grow. If she hadn’t known better, Trish might think he’d planned it.

Having the time to think about what he might do was sometimes worse than what he did do. She wriggled against the padded leather and tried not to think about what an easy target the position made of her bottom, with her bent over the higher portion of the stand.

With her legs slightly spread, it also meant Trish’s pussy was wide open and accessible—another easy target for both punishment and fucking, depending on how Jordan felt.

The support only reached her breasts, ending just underneath the base of each mound as if it had been made for her—and maybe it had.

Trish’s breasts and head hung down, along with her arms—he’d probably done so deliberately.

She strained to listen for whoever was at the door, and, to her horror, heard the noises of people talking and coming up the stairs.

It only took Trish a few moments to identify Marek’s and Laura’s voices, and then she tugged uselessly at her restraints again and made muffled, unhappy noises around her gag.

This was not how she wanted to see her friend!

And no matter what she and Jordan had done in front of them—and even with them—she’d never been tied up with all her privates on display to greet them as they entered the room.

Of course, struggling was useless, and a moment later, the door opened, leaving her to moan in embarrassment as Laura made a startled noise at the sight Trish presented.

“Well, that’s very nice,” Marek said, coming inside, his voice getting closer.

“I know you told me how it could be used, but I hadn’t quite realized exactly how attractive the final picture would be.

I may have to order one of these for Laura.

” The other woman didn’t speak up but made a little squeaking sound that indicated Marek had probably fondled some portion of her anatomy.

“Sorry to interrupt your time with Trish.”

“No problem.” Jordan came over to stand by Trish, patting her bottom again as if reassuring her he was back.

She wasn’t very reassured, at all, and made another whining noise at him.

“Trish has been particularly naughty today, and I certainly don’t mind an audience. Feel free to take a seat and watch.”

Trish would say her preference was for no audience at all, but her excitement had started rising higher and faster from the moment she’d heard voices coming up the stairs.

Recognizing them as belonging Marek and Laura had only bolstered Trish’s arousal.

They weren’t an integral part of hers and Jordan’s sex lives, but she’d found it incredibly hot to have sex with Laura and Marek present as a small audience.

Out of the corner of her eye, Trish could see Mark leading Laura over to the swing in the middle of the room.

When Trish caught Laura’s eye, the other woman made a sympathetic face, but it was obvious she was also turned on by the situation.

Her eyes wandered over Trish’s bent form as if Laura were imagining herself in Trish’s position—and enjoying the idea.

Maybe Laura was also turned on just seeing Trish bent over, bound, and vulnerable.

There was no denying that both Trish and Laura were submissive.

Giving Trish’s bottom a final pat, Jordan moved around the room, collecting various items. Since lifting her head for too long made her neck ache, Trish couldn’t see a lot of what he picked up, and it only made her more nervous.

What she could do was watch Marek undressing Laura while both constantly looked over at Trish, and Marek alternated between caressing and roughly manhandling Laura’s body.

By the time he had her set up in a seated position on the swing, her knees and hands cuffed to the hanging ropes so her arms and legs were spread wide, Jordan was moving back to Trish.

Something hard, but no bigger than the plug she’d previously held, prodded at her bottom and then slid neatly inside. Trish couldn’t relax with how devious Jordan was. There was no way he’d replaced the usual plug inside her with something exactly the same—not when she was being punished.

“Hmmm,” was the only sound he made, and then he was kneeling beside her, cupping her breasts. “Let’s decorate these first.” His voice was almost jovial.

Sure, now he decided he wanted to be talkative.

Trish wriggled, but all that did was make her small breasts sway and jiggle, as though she were trying to entice him, which was not the case.

Sharp pain pinched her nipple, crushing the tender bud, and Trish protested from behind her gag as Jordan repeated the process on her other nipple.

The clamps he’d placed were harsh, pinching sharply and making her tiny buds ache and throb with jagged edges of pain that went straight to her already soaked pussy.

She didn’t know why her body responded in this manner, only that it did.

Tiny chains hung down from the clamps and made her breasts tingle as they swayed, tugging gently. She whimpered as Jordan attached the chains to the stand of the lectern and pulled them taut, making it impossible for Trish to move a centimeter without the clamps pulling painfully.

Marek watched and chuckled. “Quite a little predicament you have her in there. I assume you’ll spank her now?”

“In a few minutes,” Jordan answered, and Trish moaned behind her gag. A few minutes? What would he do in between? Her anxiety ramped up, exciting her arousal even further. “I’ve been wanting to test this out for a while.”

Laura made a sympathetic noise, and Marek’s chuckling grew louder. “Oh, that’s what you put in her. Laura had fun with that one last week, didn’t you love?”