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The Manor (Mr. Quixotic & Malicious Lullaby)

Harper looked gorgeous, sitting in the café with the soft morning light shining through the window, highlighting her hair, and amazing green eyes. She took Steve's breath away, as she did every time, and he missed her more by being in her presence than he had at any time in the past week. As he sat down and issued an apology, he hoped it'd be enough.

As he awaited Harper's reaction, Steve ordered a coffee from the waitress who'd approached their table; unsure if they'd be staying to eat. That, he presumed, would be dependent on his girlfriend's response. She could have agreed to meet to advise face-to-face that it was over. His blue eyes met hers when the waitress departed, and an eyebrow arched. Steve bent forward, and rested his elbows on the table, and let her speak; the only sound that escaped his lips was a relieved sigh when her hand found his, and he realised he wasn't being dumped.

Steve Kirk felt happier than he ever could recall as he squeezed her fingers in return, and smiled. Harper and he were okay. "Sure baby, I understand." Both of his hands now covered hers. "I'm truly sorry. I've never acted like that before. Possibly it was from not being fully awake and alert; I was napping on the sofa when you called." He shot her a smile to let her know that he wasn't apportioning blame, and continued to talk. "We are great together, so I'd like to give us a chance. Every relationship requires compromise, and who knows where we could end up?" Married, with two kids, dog, and a white picket fence, was his dream but now probably wasn't the occasion on which to express that to Harper.

He unclasped his hands to take a sip of the coffee which had been delivered, and nodded. "We'll slow down, and really become acquainted with each other. I can see a future between us, and that may partly be the reason I acted the way I did. However, don't imagine for a second that I don't enjoy being with you. In every way." Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. I just wanted you to realise that I consider you special; unlike any woman I've dated before."

The Physical Education teacher held Harper's eyes for a few further moments, then changed the subject, hopefully before she could ask him special in which way. He didn't wish to have to attempt to explain himself again; not after how it had gone the first time. All was now right with the world, and they'd discuss it in depth at a more appropriate time; which in Steve's mind would be never.

"Now, should we order. I guess you'll be having the Eggs Benedict?" He lifted an arm to attract the attention of a waitress, and flicked Harper a cheeky grin. "I thought I could make it up to you, but displaying my culinary skills, and watching a movie together tonight? Don't worry, you can choose the film, and as we both have work tomorrow, I promise I won't keep you too late."

Always the considerate gentleman was Steve Kirk.

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Keeping Harper up all night was the least of Hawthorne Tisch's concerns as he glanced at his watch for the fifth time in two minutes. The last time he'd so often checked the time, he'd been a fifteen year old schoolboy, waiting to ask a girl out on a date. However, on this occasion it wasn't nerves which had him fidgeting and pacing his office, but a keen anticipation.

"What is it about this particular woman, Hawthorne?"

Tische's gaze was locked on the ornamental horse-hair flogger hung on the wall, and pondering his comments on punishment to 'Izabel' the night of the ball, when the words gave him pause, and he glanced over his shoulder.

"You wouldn't understand, George." Tisch met his friends eyes. "Why don't you retire to the cottage, and advise the staff to depart for the day. I'll accommodate Ms Collin's when she arrives."

"Yes, Sir"

If provided the opportunity, Hawthorne Tisch planned to accommodate Harper Collin's in more ways than one; though the whip he now lightly caressed with fingertips may need be left for another day.

Too caught up in his imaginings, the master of the Manor barely registered the sounds of George's footsteps clicking down the hallway.
 
“It probably didn’t help that I made you wake up from a nap, come over and send you back home only a few moments later.” She gave a small frown and in hindsight, it was really a shitty thing to do. Even more though, she loved that he was so receptive and understanding to wanting to start over, get to know each other even better and make compromises about things. She did want to make this work and maybe it was vain to think that all it took was seeing him come into the diner and remember that despite everything, she did still find him so very attractive, but it was the truth. Put that together with his beautiful personality and that he was truly a respectable man who would cherish his girlfriend and his future wife, he was a match-made in heaven. She knew she could grow to love him. It would take work but it wasn’t impossible.

Resting her free hand over his, she smiled gently at him. She brought one of his hands up and kissed the center of his palm and then put his warm hand around her cheek. Her eyes closed as she savored his touch. Perhaps she could teach him to use his touch to sizzle her skin and make shivers run up her spine. Perhaps she could make him see that no matter how he treated her in the bedroom from time to time, she loved and cherished how he treated her outside of the bedroom. Perhaps if they could reach some common ground, they could have something really special and that would make her want to look away from Hawthorne Tisch. Until then, she still needed to see what Hawthorne could offer her. Because then she could settle for Steve. With. Not for. With. Duh…

She held his gaze as he held hers and that was it. It had been settled and now it was time to order food. She smiled her approval and nodded her head. Looking at him after he signaled a waitress, she felt a surge of guilt. She would love to spend the evening with him and drool over him making her something to eat—it was so sexy when a man cooked—but she didn’t want to pass up on Hawthorne’s invite. So she did what she had to; she started off their new relationship and…lied. “I would love to baby but me and Stephanie are having a girl’s night. And since I have hardly seen her all week, we’d really love the girl time.” It sounded believable and it was true that Steph had been working a lot but it wasn’t entirely true that they needed a girl’s night. Although she did miss the both of them hanging out.

Steve seemed to take it pretty okay. Harper promised him that tomorrow night, if he wasn’t busy, he could come over to make her that dinner. She’d make sure she was all ready to go for the week and then they could have a romantic dinner cooked by him. She even promised to wear that dress he liked so much on her and the rest of their brunch went very nicely and smoothly and all spirits were up and on a positive note. They parted ways for the day until tomorrow night and Harper felt good about their rejuvenated relationship. Now onto her next task; Hawthorne Tisch.

Before returning home, she got her new contacts. She liked wearing her glasses from time to time but tonight, she wanted to look her best for a man who intimidated her beyond belief. He saw beautiful women who were stunning and sculpted perfectly for the nightly excursions and she wanted to not look like them but at least not show up in a stunning outfit while wearing her glasses. Once the contacts were settled in, she let them stew in and she adjusted, thankful for the couple of hours down time before the limo would collect her. She spent the remainder of the time rifling through her closet for something to wear. She decided on a black and white dress. It was white on the top and it blended into black at the hem with grays in the middle. It was a halter neck and slightly form fitting but not skin tight and it came mid-thigh. She paired it with black fishnet stockings, a funny gift from Stephanie that she never thought she would actually wear and put on ankle boots to finish. She styled her hair with soft waves after using her curling iron and applied light make up; nothing too heavy but nothing too light either. It was clear she was wearing make up but it was even clearer that she wasn’t wearing pounds of it. Light blush, a thin line of eyeliner, a soft rosy red lipstick and mascara that made her eyelashes curled properly and her hazel eyes pop.

Walking out of her apartment with a simple black cardigan draped over her arm and her purse, she went downstairs and found a limo waiting for her.
“Miss Harper Collins?” The driver asked.
“That would be me.” She smiled a glorious smile, doing her best to tamper down her excitement mixed with nerves.
“A pleasure. Please.” He opened the door for her and she got right in. The drive was simple and quiet and soon she was dropped off at the Manor and ascended the steps slowly to the front door. Raising her hand in a gentle fist, she knocked on the door hard enough for it to echo in the large halls behind the door and from there, she waited. The more she waited, the more nervous she became. Damn, why couldn’t she get a control on her nerves? She was excited yes but the nerves were becoming more.
 
The Harper that Steve Kirk had met for the first time the night she'd awoken him from his nap seemed to have disappeared, and the Physical Education teacher had almost, despite her brief comment about still discovering what it is she liked, convinced himself that her behaviour had been an exception; induced by alcohol, hormones, or some secret women's business that no matter how hard he tried, he'd never understand. She was back to the sweet, caring, and mature woman he'd come to know, and which had been the cause of his initial attraction. Harper was a good girl.

The dichotomy was the that more she displayed that side of herself, the more difficult it was for Steve to comprehend ever treating her with anything but gentleness, care and respect, regardless of what it was Harper desired otherwise, even if were only fantasies contained to the sexual side of the relationship. How could one ever wish to hurt or demean the one they loved, in any way?

"It's okay baby, just a miscommunication, and these things happen in every relationship. It's good we can talk about them." Steve shot her a smile, and squeezed her hand in return, then motioned for the waitress. A look of disappointment crossed his features at her mention of being busy that night, but he quickly swallowed down any retort, and brightened up again at the memory of his favourite dress. He grinned after their order had been placed, and cocked a teasing brow. "The blue one right? I can't promise I'll be allowing you to wear it all night." However, that was about the extent of his Steve's dirty talk, and he deftly changed the subject.

The reference to Stephanie had, as always, piqued his curiosity, and Steve remained unsure of what work she performed which allowed the woman to afford such a luxurious apartment. However, he refrained from asking questions, and instead turned the conversation to his and Harper's work. If he'd known what Stephanie did for money - whored herself out -, or that the girlfriend he'd just made up with had deliberately lied to him, and was intending to see another man that evening, he'd have fallen from his seat in disbelief. Harper wouldn't do such a thing; not her. For a twenty-eight year old man, Steve Kirk could be extremely naïve. Others would claim he was just an expert at avoidance.

Either way, the rest of the lunch went smoothly, and outside, as Steve kissed Harper chastely on the cheek; extravagant displays of affection were best kept private; and said his goodbyes, he was by the far the happiest he'd been in a week, and very much anticipating their date the next night.

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Tisch; still unable to relax once George had departed and the Manor was empty; wandered the rooms until he ended up in the Grand Hall. So different from the night of the ball, the chandeliers were dimmed, making the oak walls and bar barely visible in the gloom, and the only sound was that of his boots clicking on the polished wooden floorboards.

Hawthorne loved it; the peace and quiet. As much as he enjoyed the cacophony of noise, and hustle and bustle of people, the urgency of conversations, secrets exchanged between businessmen, and private transactions conducted with Escorts, he was also a man who appreciated solitude and privacy. What would Harper think when she arrived? Hawthorne was in no doubt now, that she indeed would. What woman could resist the lure of Limousine transport, and the offer of a private tour of a residence which was rumoured to hold many secrets.

A glance at his watch, and Hawthorne realised he'd been lost in his reverie and introspection for almost two hours. She was due shortly. He quickly ascended the spiral staircase which led to the Master Bedroom, and selected a pair of dark gray woollen slacks to combine with a light blue silk shirt, and pair of polished back wing-tips. Casual, and comfortable, he decided to forgo a tie, and left the top button of the shirt undone. Hawthorne had just run a comb through his hair, and was appreciating the distinguished look the slight greying of his hair at the temples provided his features when the knock on the front door echoed from downstairs. He opened his mouth to call for George, when he remembered he'd banished the man to the outside cottage for the evening. Shit, and he hadn't even prepared dinner. Tisch hoped Harper enjoyed pasta.

Two minutes after the knock, Hawthorne Tisch opened the front door, to be met by a set of gorgeous green eyes. "Hello, Ms Collins. I assume you're here for your check?" His own orbs crinkled with amusement and his tone was full of warmth and humour as he appraised her dress, emitted a low whistle of approval, then stepped aside, and invited her to enter. "I can't imagine why else you may have returned, unless it's discuss that matter which wasn't concluded on the night we first met?"

Tisch flicked her a conspiratorial wink as he placed a hand on the small of Harper Collins' back, and shut the door behind them. "Can I offer you a drink prior to dinner and the tour. We'll leave that until last; some rooms are best viewed in the full dark of night."
 
The two minutes of waiting outside his door was total agony. Harper even cast a glance back and saw that the limo she had arrived in no longer stood outside of the gates. Maybe it was a company car of a sort, employed by Hawthorne Tisch and went around the estate where all the limos were kept? Possibly in their own stall because surely rich men raised limos, not horses. The joke of it made her lips turn up into a smile and a small laugh escaped her. Man, and there was no one around to tell that joke to which was an even bigger shame.

Shaking her head of the immature thought, she realized that she couldn’t exactly leave if it turned out that this entire invitation for the night was a total sham and just to embarrass her. Surely, even he wasn’t that cruel. Sure, she had a feeling he liked to play with his meal before he devoured it but he wouldn’t go this far, right?

Harper thought back to Steve. Even though they had made up, it almost sickened her at how deluded he was about things. He seemed to have this picture of her painted in his mind of how she was supposed to be in comparison to how she truly was and despite the fact that they both agreed that they would communicate more and take things slower with this new found relationship—she really should have broken up with him when she had the chance—she still had a feeling that he wouldn’t be very receptive to things she wanted in the bedroom. He’d only be open to what he wanted and wouldn’t even dream of treating her in such a ‘demeaning’ way. It was a little frustrating, since she felt like they were right back to where they were, but hey who was she to talk? Because before, she wasn’t going to the high end sex clubs with its very own prostitution ring to be charmed and potentially seduced by the owner. That was the point. She would get her security and safety net from Steve. She would get all her oats sowed with Hawthorne.

That was the truth of it all. Steve was safe and permanent, Hawthorne was dangerous, risky with no possible foreseeable future. Simple as that. What Steve didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Harper Collins was about to take a walk on the dark and wild side and she had never felt so ready.

She was brought out of her mind when the door opened and there stood an immaculately dressed Hawthorne looking handsome and crisp as ever. The very sight of him robbed her lungs of breath but she quickly recovered from his light charm of a joke and she flashed a radiant smile that hopefully exuded more confidence than nerves. “Oh yes, of course. I had second thoughts. I am a bad, bad, dirty, money grubbing whore.” She bat her eyelashes innocently and gave a gentle tilt of her head to give off more feigned innocence before stepping inside after he deemed her to.

“No, I came because you gave me an offer I could not refuse.” Although she was vague, it was clear; who else got to come to the Manor off open hours and work with the owner in private and also get a personal tour with so much more to occur? She wanted to believe not many, but as she posed that exact question in her mind, she genuinely wondered how many women he ‘courted’ this way. Pushing that from her mind, she turned slightly to face him and smiled gently, giving a small nod to her head. “I’d like that. Though perhaps none of Gustav’s lethal cocktails or copious amounts of champagne. I wouldn’t like a repeat of last Friday and I have a feeling that neither would you. Besides, these heels are definitely not made for running.” She cast her green orbs down to her ankle boots which were a good four to five inches and then looked back up at him. They were suede black ankle boots but with the kind of heel it had, Stephanie called them Harper’s ‘Come fuck me heels.’
 
As he turned back inside the Manor with Harper in tow, Ticsch nodded at the Limousine driver, who returned the gesture. The man had been given permission to depart for the night, and park the vehicle in the garage. Harper hadn't been far wrong in her thoughts. The dark blue Cadillac was one of five of the same, make, model and colour, fed and watered - or oiled and gassed - each night, before being covered with a tarpaulin, and put to bed for the evening. The driver would take his own vehicle home.

How Ms Collin's would arrive back at her apartment wasn't a major concern for Hawthorne; he intended for there to be no requirement for her to return at all until the sun had risen the following morning, and they'd breakfasted together; muscles still aching a sleepless night of rough fucking, and basking in the afterglow of many an orgasm. If not, and Harper resisted his charms, the Manor had no shortage of guest rooms for her to choose from. The chauffeur would arrive at dawn; in time to take her wherever she needed to be, to ready herself for a day's teaching. Tisch wouldn't want to be responsible for any children missing out on their education.

Those thoughts weren't mentioned to the woman beside him, however, as he placed a hand on her waist in a pretence to guide her inside, but in reality just an excuse to touch, and met her gaze. Each time he laid eyes on Harper Collin's, and she spoke, he found himself even more attracted to her personality, intelligence, and quick wit. Tisch loved a woman who could give back as good as she got, and make him laugh as she did so. "You know, Ms Collin's, you're the first woman to ever attend one of my events and refuse payment. And, even if was the purpose for which you've returned, I believe to be classified as a whore, you actually need to sleep with someone. Not simply just wish that you had."

The door closed behind them with a push and a cheeky grin from the man beside her, and his grip tightened on her waist as he continued to speak. "No false pretences; simply an excuse to converse, and become better acquainted, without interruption, and who knows what may occur. However, I promise not to give you any cause to run." Tisch flicked his gaze down to the black boots, and his expression was one of mischief when his focus moved back to her face. "Because, I'd much prefer you keep those on. As for the rest of your attire, that's up for negotiation. This way."

The comment accompanied with a nonchalant shrug, the man's lips curled up in mirth as he deliberately pulled his gaze away from hers, and, instead, of leading Harper towards the ballroom, where Gustav usually tended the bar, he directed her to a door opposite that entrance. "Gustav has the evening off, so I'm afraid it's only you and I. I'll be mixing your drinks tonight. Feel free to request I stop anytime you like." Having halted at the door, he met Harper's gaze, wondering if she caught the double meaning, and promise in his words, before he took hold of the handle, dropped his arm from her waist, and nodded for her to enter.

This room was much more intimate. As the lights flicked on, an oak bar in one corner was revealed, with four round tables, each surrounded by a quartet of comfortable leather chairs, evenly distributed around the room. Hawthorne stepped around her, and behind the bar, reached for a bottle of whiskey and a glass, poured himself a half measure, and arched an eyebrow at the woman. "Just to ensure there is no confusion, such as that of last Friday, all of what I've just said means that I do intend to fuck you tonight, Ms Collins."

Tisch maintained eye contact as he lifted the glass to his lips, then tilted his head back, and sighed in contentment with the sensation of the burning alcohol sliding down his throat. His eyes closed momentarily, then reopened to focus on Harper, and he placed the empty tumbler on the oak counter. "But only with your permission, of course. Now, what is it you'd like to drink?"
 
“For the record Mr. Tisch, don’t act like I only wished I had. If I recall correctly, I believe I made the advances but you were kind enough to decline.” She looked up at him and she smiled demurely but her eyes said otherwise. “I could have been a very bad…bad…dirty…money grubbing whore, but you wouldn’t let me, much to my dismay.” Each pause and drag of the sentence, she leaned closer and her voice dropped until it was but a gentle purr or whisper. And to her surprise, it wasn’t ‘Izabel’ and neither was it forced. It just came from somewhere inside of her. Plus, it was really fun to say, ‘bad, bad, dirty, money-grubbing whore.’

Stepping back, she eased on her heels and slowly took her gaze from his and back to her shoes. Her cheeks burned and she looked up at him. She didn’t know how to counter that one. She dearly couldn’t. He got her tongue, that mangy and vicious cool cat he was. If anything, it just justified her choice in wearing these heels tonight. Stephanie would be proud, especially since Harper did wear them well. She might be clumsy but she was surprisingly holding herself in the shoes very well. She hadn’t fallen. Yet.

It surprised her as he led her away from the ballroom she had met Gustav in and somewhere else, opposite of it in fact. Glancing up back at the empty ballroom and then up at him, she nodded her head slowly. “That’s fine. I may not know how to tell you to stop Mr. Tisch.” She looked up his profile and into his eyes. “After three or four drinks, the difference between yes and no becomes a little blurred. Please, I ask you now, nothing too strong. I’d hate for a repeat of last week.” That was her way of telling him she didn’t plan on going anywhere. Considering at the ball, he told her he wouldn’t want to take her under the cloud of alcohol that she had surely been in, she didn’t want to make that same mistake again. She came here to see the Manor and to spend time with him. She didn’t care if he wanted to event plan anything pertaining to the illicit business here. She had it in her mind of what tonight would be like. She was doing her best to let him know but without being overtly obvious about it. While she might feel like a bitch in heat who seriously needed to get raunchy and dirty, she wasn’t desperate. She had some respect for herself.

The last thing she needed tonight was to embarrass herself. Again.

Walking into the room, it was just as big as the other room, maybe a little smaller in fact since it wasn’t really a ballroom. It looked almost like a dining room of a sort but she wasn’t sure. The round tables threw her off. But she wasn’t going to say anything. It just felt more…comfortable than the ballroom. She had to admit though, she missed his arm around her. While she wasn’t particularly close to him, just the fact he touched her, even if it was her waist, was nice. Or she was so erotically charged that even if he looked at her in a certain way, she might pool with desire or simply melt. Just like that. As if he snapped and on command, she melted. She didn’t want that. Not so quickly at least.

Harper sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs and she crossed one leg over the other, pulling the hem of her dress so it covered her more modestly. Although with the way she was sitting, she showed off more leg, more skin, even with the fishnets and only hoped that despite her nerves, she came off alluring in a way. Her eyes were on him, watching him deliberately as he very finely and deftly poured himself some whiskey. Her eyes were locked on his that were locked on hers and she seemed to freeze by his next statement. A statement that turned her insides into mush and she melted. Fuck…me. Whether it was a mental plea or epithet, she wasn’t sure but now it was impossible to take her eyes off of him. She wanted to go right to him and beg him to do unspeakable things to her, things that she could only imagine, the very things he too wanted to do to her. She was rooted in the leather chair, unable to move. Only when she seemed to get some of her resolve back, she learned she was clenching the hem of her dress so tightly and deeply, she could feel her nails dig into her palms and it’s not like her nails were short either. She also let out a breath of air she didn’t realize she was holding and her entire body seemed to relax. “You have my permission.” Harper didn’t hesitate to say it.

It took her a moment to recuperate and then she stood. She walked over to him, slowly and almost deliberately with a natural sway in her hips, watching as he drank, found such pleasure in the sip of whiskey. She stopped when she reached the bar, standing opposite of him with the bar top the barrier between them. Her hands rested on the edge and then spread over it and she leaned her body against it slightly from the weight of her hands. “I’ll have what you’re having. But not as much.” She said softly. “With a splash of orange juice and lemon juice.” Her voice was soft, gentle but with a sultry undertone as she spoke slowly. Her gaze never left his. “Just for that perfect bit of tang, sweet and sour and a delicious burn. I’d like to feel it trickle down my throat, burning a bittersweet path down into the pit of my stomach.” And to think, she was a Kindergarten teacher by day. Astonishing. One wouldn’t be able to guess it by the way she was talking, by the sexual undertones and innuendos suggested.

She lowered her chin, a demure look encompassing over her face but once more, her eyes said otherwise, just like before. Her lips tipped up into a sweet and innocent smile and with a small tilt of her head, she just barely whispered, “I want to feel it, Mr. Tisch.” Never once did her gaze drop from the level of his. He could pounce hard. But she could pounce too. Maybe not as hard but nonetheless...she was pouncing. In the only way that Harper Collins knew. Sweet, bittersweet, tangy and taunting seduction. It felt so real, so natural. It wasn't her inner Izabel. It was her inner Harper. The one that Steve refused to acknowledge. The one that she was afraid to unleash. The one that Stephanie never saw. The one that was brought out by the meer proximity of one, Hawthorne Tisch.
 
Hawthorne couldn't help but grin at her comeback. Harper Collin's indeed had a point. It was she who'd offered herself to him, and Tisch had refused; no wonder the woman had been slightly offended, and decided to leave the ball. "No need to worry about me attempting to blur the lines Ms Collin's, I'm not a man who wishes to get a woman drunk, so that I can attempt to take advantage of her; as you may already be aware." His eyes founds hers as they walked. "I'm not saying you were drunk the other evening, but I didn't know you well enough to be certain that you were sober, either, and where would that have left us?" It was a rhetorical question, and one which the man intended to answer himself. However, rather than do so straight away, he remained silent until they'd reached the smaller bar; one he kept for business clients, and more intimate meetings, and ushered her in.

He enjoyed playing the gracious host, and tending the bar, and this room was where he'd sealed some of his most lucrative deals. "Possibly you'd have considered me a man who habitually sleeps with ladies of the night, and I'd have considered you just another dirty, money, grubbing whore, no different from the others?" It was fun to say, and the comment wasn't intended as an insult, but a compliment, which Hawthorne hoped Harper would understand as he continued. "No, that wouldn't have done, because I didn't wish for you to gain the wrong impression of myself, and as for you? I sensed you were different, in a way which intrigued and enraptured me, and the more time I spend in your company, the more I believe I was correct."

Tisch then moved behind the bar to pour his drink, and downed it, before he told Harper in no uncertain terms that he intended to fuck her. His gaze didn't leave her the entire time, to gauge her reaction, and he attempted to maintain his cool façade as she responded. "A whiskey on ice, it is." The man nodded, and collected another glass, then placed it and the liquor bottle on the counter as Harper moved towards him. An eyebrow arched, and the man poured them both a drink as she spoke. There was a sultriness to her demeanour, and tone of voice, that had him aching for something more physical between them. However, not here, not yet. He'd made the woman a promise, and Hawthorne Tisch was a man who liked to deliver.

He slid a half-filled glass across to her, then leaned to match her posture so that their faces were only inches apart; almost close enough to kiss. Slowly, he lifted a hand, and caressed her cheek, then cupped her chin in his palm. With his piercing green eyes locked on hers, the man ran the pad of his thumb slowly across her lower lip, then increased the pressure, and pressed it against her teeth; urging the woman to part her lips to his touch. The man's voice had lowered to a seductive whisper, and his gaze was unwavering. "I'm glad to have your permission, and believe me, you'll feel it. That warm sensation in the pit of your stomach, slowly growing hotter, and expanding ever outwards, until eventually every nerve and pore is on fire, burning with desire and need, and you start to believe that if you don't receive release, soon, so very soon, the pleasure will kill you. Do you think it's possible to die from pleasure, Ms Collins? From need?" You'll feel it; as Steve Kirk could not make you feel it, in a million years." Yes, he knew her boyfriend's name.

After discovering who Harper Collins was, it hadn't been difficult to find out more. Not that Tisch had any malicious intent; it was more just a way of showing the woman the influence he possessed. Plus, he'd been damn curious. His thumb gently pushed its way into her mouth, and he sipped his Scotch as his voice returned to a more normal volume. "Just because you're not actually a dirty, money-grubbing whore, doesn't mean you can't be treated as such. I hope you recall my comment about punishment the other evening."

Tisch held her eyes a moment longer, then removed his digit from her mouth, and lightly caressed her cheek with his palm, before his hand dropped completely and he stepped back to open up the distance between them. "We'll take a tour once you've finished your drink." Hawthorne downed the remainder of his own, placed the tumbler on the counter, and shot Harper a smile. "Isn't anticipation such a wonderful thing?"
 
Oh she was very much aware. It was astonishing at how kind he seemed to be in regards to women, yet he employed here a lot of beautiful women who were every man’s fantasy. A variety of shapes, sizes and colors and in a place that could be determined as seedy but with a refined elegance so that the last thing anyone would think was ‘cheap’ or ‘seedy.’ His concern and lack of want for taking advantage of any women was admirable and the question he posed, while she knew was rhetorical, had her wanting to answer. She refrained though and let it be what it was—rhetorical. After all, she really didn’t know what to say in response to that. She could only look awed and baffled by it because she never would have associated ‘respectful to women of all stature and profession’ with Hawthorne Tisch. No, you were thinking most likely misogynistic because every man who employs high end prostitutes and is dominating has to be misogynistic. Probably a good thing to keep in her brain and not mention it all.

Lending her gaze in his direction, she smiled. “I suppose I can’t fault you for that, now can I?” She asked. “Thank you for being kind and respectable. It definitely changed the way I thought of you.” She paused. Well…no, she just thought he rejected her and wanted to humiliate her. “A-After I got over the pain of the rejection and humiliation.” She smiled a sort of lopsided ‘oops’ smile and shrugged her shoulders.

The ambiance in the more intimate setting of the room changed. It felt like one challenge after the other. He’d pounce, she’d pounce back and now, here she stood, against the bar and feeling like at any moment she might melt. If he touched her right then…she wasn’t sure if she’d have any kind of strength of mobility left in her knees, they might go weak. Perhaps it was simply knowing that he did have all the intentions of fucking her tonight. Part of her wanted it to be right now but the other part of her enjoyed the anticipation, no matter how much it was truly taunting her. It was still exciting and right now, she was thriving on it. It was bringing her out of her shell more and that was what she wanted.

Her hand or her attention had yet to move to the glass he slid in front of her. The final words echoed off her tongue in a sensual roll of fluidity and seduction and all she could focus on right now was him. She was completely drawn into his flame and if it weren’t for the bar in front of him, she would have no doubt brought herself closer to him. He did it for her and just as she had thought, she nearly went weak in the knees as his hand skirted gently along her cheek, caressing her soft skin. Shivers ran up her spine and she was very much aware of how close they were, with a little barrier right now. Her heart started beating faster and she could have come undone right that moment as he cupped her chin and did the unthinkable—something she could have only dreamed of. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip before slipping into her mouth. She was aware of how quickly she might not be breathing and hoped he didn’t find her hot breath against his thumb disheartening.

As if on cue or obediently, her lips parted and welcomed his thumb into her mouth. There was a tang of whiskey on it and she could not, for the life of her, dare to dream to pull her gaze from his. He was sex on a stick and his words of hot seduction were like liquid sex, causing her to pool greatly between her legs. She was very thankful for her panties but she was pretty sure that by the end of the tour or the end of the evening until he finally decided to put her out of her misery and fuck her, her panties would be soaking wet. How ever so inviting.

It didn’t even faze her that he dragged Steve into this conversation in a way to slam his ability in the bedroom to make her feel what Hawthorne made her feel. Right now, Steve didn’t even exist. The only man that existed was Hawthorne and she was wanting so badly to go to bed with him; right now, right this instant, maybe on this bar…

Her head nodding, recalling his take on punishment fondly before a groan nearly escaped from the confines of her throat at the withdrawal of his thumb. Her grip on the bar was so deathly, her knuckles turned white. It was the only think keeping her standing since at this very moment, she could not feel her legs. Picking up her drink, her gaze stayed fixed on his, even as he backed away and she let the choice of his questioning words mull in her head while she took deep gulps of her whiskey. It burned and she hardly felt it. She was already so warm inside, it was like she drank to stoke the fire inside of her. This anticipation is killing me. It is not a wonderful thing! But at the same time…it’s so wonderful, I am so wrapped up in it I can’t even feel what I am drinking.

“Not in the slightest.” Her lips turned up in a half smile and she turned and by some miracle of grace or sheer dumb luck, she walked back to her seat on the comfortable plush leather chair and sat back, once more crossing one leg over the other without falling flat on her face and eating a mouthful of fancy tiled ground.

Harper drank and she kept drinking until she downed the rest of the glass’ contents in one deep and satisfying gulp. Only then did she feel the burn of the whiskey as it burned the pit of her stomach and a profound warmth and heat radiated inside. She let out a cool breath and without sounding too eager, she once more stood and set her glass aside. “My drink is finished. I believe you owe me a tour Mr. Tisch. I am waiting.” And needing, full of so much excitement, so impatiently. Touch me. Take me. Right now. Right here…fuck the tour. Fuck me. Everything she wanted to say but none of which would come to the surface. She wanted the tour. She wanted the anticipation. She was becoming addicted to this…wicked game.
 
Hawthorne wasn't a misogynist, nor a misandrist, he was an equalist, and didn't have an issue taking advantage of either sex when the situation required it. The man was capable of extreme cruelty; whether it be of a sexual and psychological nature towards a woman, through some of the other activities conducted at the Manor, or the intimidation and extortion of men by more subtle means; however it had naught to do with any discrimination towards, or hatred of, a particular gender. It was simply because they possessed something which he desired, or that would increase his wealth and influence, and he could.

However, business was separated from leisure, and in his personal life, he treated men and women, regardless of wealth, privilege, status or profession, with courtesy and respect; the way in which he expected to be treated in return. The whores who attended the balls, and the Madame who supplied them, were friends. As was Ms Collin's, with the possibility of more. "It wasn't a deliberate attempt to reject and humiliate you Harper. If it was, I would have done a much better job, but I am sorry I made you feel of it as that way. However, that you did, provides me motivation to wish to atone, and ensure that you, on this occasion, leave fully satisfied"

The burn of the whiskey made its way down his throat and warmed the pit of his stomach, and coincided with the heat of the sexual tension between them, which had become a physical presence. When he leaned to look in her eyes, and brought a hand to her face, her skin felt so soft and smooth to his touch, and the sight of her taking his thumb into her mouth so erotic, that the man gasped aloud. Her green eyes, locked on his own, were hypnotic, and he wouldn't have been able to avert his gaze, even if he'd wished to, as he slipped his digit further between her lips, and moved the pad of his thumb across the woman's tongue. He moved it slowly back and forth as he spoke, and finished the last of his whiskey.

Every moment, the air seemed to thicken, and caused the objects in the room to disappear, as if hidden by a thick fog, until nothing else existed except he and the woman, and their combined arousal. What was running through her mind? Was the woman wet and quivering, and her sex aching under her clothing. Tische imagined her bent over with ripped, and hopefully soaked, panties discarded, dress pushed up over her hips, ass; bright red from the punishment he'd given it; up in the air, with legs spread, as she writhed, moaned, and pleaded for his cock.

When his thumb finally withdrew, the man sported an erection which threatened to burst the seams of his pants, and was tempted to leap over the bar, and take Harper just there; on one of the tables. However, Tische had other plans for Ms Collin's, and the sound of her voice was enough to break the spell, and for him to recall what they were."I'm not sure I believe you; from your expression, you certainly appear to be enjoying the anticipation?"

Ticsh's eyes had followed her back to the table, and he laughed at the speed with which she hurriedly finished her drink, and stepped toward her. The man nodded down at the empty glass, then extended his hand for her to take. "So much so that it seems to have you a little, um shall I say, flustered?" Hawthorne teased as he caressed her cheek with the back of his other hand, then cupped the nape of her neck in his palm. "And that makes me wonder if you're up for the full tour." The man paused to slowly tilt her head down, so that the throbbing erection which strained the fabric of his pants was at the level of her eyes, then hooked his fingers in her hair, and pulled her head back up to meet his gaze. "Of if, instead, we should head directly to the main attraction?"
 
His words were like a wonderful declaration full of such a heavy promise that she only hoped he would be able to fulfill it. Then again, she knew she was the ignorant one if she were to doubt him. She didn’t need to hold him up to a high standard because he held himself to such a high standard. She knew he was more than capable of making good on any promise he made. All he had to do was barely touch her and she was basically putty in his hands. She didn’t want to be so easily susceptible but perhaps it was simply because she needed it so different than vanilla, needed something wild and totally new that she was feeling extra needy. She wasn’t an easy woman, neither was she loose. She was a respectable woman with different tastes that her boyfriend couldn’t give her. Harper was rationalizing it that as long as Steve never found out, there was no harm. Steve was her future. Hawthorne was her fling she never had in college.

It felt like she was saying it more often in her head now as if she needed to really believe it when deep down…she knew it wouldn’t be true. A girl could certainly fall for Hawthorne Tisch. A girl like her, would have to be a complete and total idiot to let that happen.

There she stood to him, eager and waiting. Harper watched as he rounded from the bar and her gaze fell to his pants where she could see his eager erection straining against the fabric. She actually swallowed. There was a clear outline of what the man was packing and for a moment, she felt faint, like it would almost be too much to handle. Then again, she was a firm believer that a woman truly loved a man’s cock inside of her, regardless of the pain. If it hurt too much and she expressed her discomfort in some way, unless it was her first time, she didn’t really like it but was simply giving in. Her first time with Steve was painful for a minute and then it became something really good. He was a wonderful lover. He just didn’t know how to give her what she really wanted. He seemed too adverse to it. He didn’t have the open mind that he needed to have, that she wished he would have.

Gingerly, Harper took his hand and she stepped closer to him, her gaze back on his face as opposed to the lovely bulge he was sporting and she looked up into his eyes. Biting her lower lip hard, her lips parted and she gasped softly. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. She was showing just how flustered she truly was. Even more so, she found it incredibly hot the way he cupped the nape of her neck. Tingles of tantalizing pleasure scorched through her and she was nearly breathless by the time he finished talking. From the sight of his erection to his face, her eyes seemed to zero in on his mouth. He had such a fine and beautifully sculpted mouth, she actually gulped.

Her answer would be a defining moment. But then again, he was calling the shots. He could choose to turn down what would be her defining moment.

“I think…” She took a pause to gulp and moisten her lips with her tongue, still gazing at his mouth like an awestruck bitch and heat. “Mr. Tisch that perhaps we should continue with the tour. I’m flustered. I’m feeling impatient and the easy route would be to simply skip to the moment we’re both waiting for. But there would be no fun in that, would there be?”

Mustering up all her courage, Harper pressed her hand against his chest. It took all she had not to let it slide down his front and cup his erection. Pushing him back, she smiled softly and motioned with her eyes to the door. “The tour please, Mr. Tisch. I’m quite curious about the secrets this place has to offer.” Stepping around him, she walked toward the door and pulled it open, glancing back at him. “Besides, you’ve made your intentions clear that I will leave this place satisfied. However, you’ll need to catch me, entice me and seduce me first. I’m not easy.” Humor and amusement were alight in her eyes and she even giggled.

He rejected her first. She wanted to make him think she was going to reject him after all of his efforts. This cat and mouse game was addicting and intoxicating.
 
Hawthorne stood above her, with his hand on the nape of the woman's neck, and directed her gaze to the bulge of his cock, to evidence his arousal for her, then pulled it back up to lock his piercing blue eyes on hers. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and the man's nails lightly scraped across skin when his fingers hooked in her hair, and he gave it just the gentlest tug; a hint to Harper of more to come. There was an aura about her that couldn't articulate in words; the look on her face, the expression in her eyes, the manner in which her mouth curved when she smiled, and the smile itself.

However, her appearance was only a bonus to the woman herself. That moment, as with Harper still seated, they stared at each other, though only mere seconds, seemed to last an eternity. He'd yet to take a breath as he began to pull her from the seat. What would she choose; to continue the game of cat-and-mouse, or to give in to her arousal?

That she would be the first to give, Hawthorne had no doubt in his own mind. He was older, and experienced in the ways of the world, and a man accustomed to such games, whilst he believed Harper not to be. Self control, in all aspects of his life, was an attribute Tisch prided himself on, and this provided another for him to demonstrate his capability. No mention was made of the erection, though he was certain both were totally aware that she'd have experienced it in all its glory by dawn; as she rose to her feet, and their bodies stood only inches apart. Her scent was intoxicating.

An eyebrow raised as she began to answer his question, which quickly became a chuckle, and his eyes gleamed bright with amusement. "Flustered, Ms Collin's? And whatever in the world would have caused that?" His free hand moved to her waist as he curiously watched her gaze focus on his lips. As her eyes met hers again, the digits which had twisted in her hair, ran down her back, and traced the curve of her spine through fabric. "Surely it couldn't have been I; I do like your choice, by the way. The full tour it is."

He winked, and his touched travelled lightly further south before she stepped away to the door, and his arm fell to his side. The taunt when opened it brought forth a full-blown laugh; Harper's wit and personality was truly something to behold. Hawthorne placed a hand over his heart as he moved towards her, curled his lips into a frown, and shook his head in mock disappointment, "Was that a rejection? I'm hurt.", then gently took hold of her elbow. "I believe I've already enticed you, and really you should be more concerned about what's to occur after the capture, because I then intend to place you in a position from which there will be no escape. Now, get a move-on before I decide that your attitude merits a spanking." A cheerful tone accompanied the firm swat applied to Harper's butt as he moved past her, into the Hallway.

Once he had, he turned to face her, and inclined his head to the right. "This way. I had the residence renovated and restored to its original condition when I returned a year ago. Apart from the kitchen, which now contains every stainless-steel appliance known to man, and believe it, or not, I'm adept at using. The parlour, dining area, outdoor patio, and games room are all as they were when the Manor was first built. You've already experienced the Ballroom, of course, so we'll view those, then finish with what's contained behind the mysterious doors, and inside the rooms that my wealthy guests, and their bad, bad dirty money-grubbing whores, spent so much time in last Friday night." Tisch smiled, and offered his hand for her to take. "Sound good? I wouldn't want you to leave tonight without having your curiosity fully satiated."
 
The smile on her face turned into that of a highly amused grin and she shrugged her shoulders. “No, of course not. Would I dare to do such a thing?” She feigned innocence and then giggled, breaking through the small façade. When she smiled or laughed, she looked her age. Young and in her early twenties. She didn’t look like she was fresh out of college and despite what she liked, there was still an innocence to her that shined brightly like the smile in her hazel eyes, making them brighter almost. She was full of life and as shy and awkward as she was, she had an incurable thirst to know things and learn. And right now, she had an incurable thirst for Hawthorne Tisch and the many things he held in store for her that night.

She listened to him and giggled again, finding his brash words amusing more than anything but was quickly silenced by that swat to her rear which had her jump lightly and cause a squeak to come from her. “Well…when that moment comes…” She started toward the door after him, leaving the room altogether after him and turned to face him. “I shall hope you won’t go easy on me. I didn’t come here for easy. I came here for a challenge. Just as I’m sure you didn’t invite me here to expect me to turn into putty for you. You like a challenge like the rest of them Mr. Tisch and I respect you highly for that. So don’t disappoint.”

And with that, the tour began. She knew the Manor to be quite spacious and opulent but knowing was different than seeing. He took her to parlor where a couple of very luxurious looking chaise lounge couches that could seat three, maybe four at max, were parallel each other. To the left of them against the wall was an ornate fire place and it looked to be old fashioned and not induced by a light switch. It was as he said, aside from it having electrical wiring going through it since the chandelier at the top was not lit by candles but bulbs, the entire room looked like it had been modeled from a Victorian time or possible earlier. It was beautiful. The carpet was a beige color but it had such a beautiful and intricate tapestry rug that was at least underneath the chaise lounges and the mahogany wood coffee table in the middle of it. There were sconces all along the wall in various areas and corners that gave off dim light, the most of the light coming from the chandelier. Pictures were on the walls, either priceless art or portraits but not many of them. Just a few. The wallpaper was beige crème with a golden Fleur De Lis pattern. In the corner, there was a small bar top and a fully stocked bar.

She would continue to see fully stocked bars in almost the rooms he took her. There was more of a drink cart in the dining room. It had the same wallpaper like the parlor and a smaller chandelier but the table was like a bigger version of the mahogany coffee table in the parlor. It seated twelve and it was a large room with two china cabinets side to side. The china inside artfully arranged as more of an attraction than in use. The carpet was plush red and so soft. It looked like velvet carpet and the padding on the chairs was the same color and material. Nice, plushy seats for the sometime achy bottoms.

The outdoor patio was probably the most beautiful part of the entire estate. It was a patio and a beautiful garden and it was huge! The actual patio itself was a few tables scattered on the ground with mosaic tile on the ground. There were steps that led out to the grassy garden, kept nicely trimmed and organized. Hedges and a small maze-looking design in them. People could actually walk it and most likely get lost even if the hedges weren’t too high up. Lights and paper lanterns were strung up to cast overhead light at night aside from the lanterns, the lights looked like twinkling stars. There were two fountains of what she could see. One in the middle of the maze and the other outside of it, near a small pond where she saw Koi fish swimming around. Fancy. Really fancy and gorgeous. She would love it out there.

The game room wasn’t what she thought. She was expecting an actual modernized game room with video games and what not. Not video games but four billiards tables with tiffany lamps over each of them, giving extra light. But what struck her as odd were the crosses of X’s lining the walls. Four of them and she opened her mouth to ask. They were big too and she knew it wasn’t for the cue sticks or the chalk, or the balls or even the triangle thing to rack the balls with.

“Hawthorne…” She walked to the X and upon closer inspection, saw shackles. IN the middle of the X, a long board ran down the middle with other strappies and she blinked her eyes. She moved off to the side and tripped over her own footing and her shoulder pressed into wall and she heard a click. When Harper stepped back, she saw the wall spin open and then close but it was a different side and this side had all sorts of varieties of canes, whips and floggers. Her eyes widened. “Oh…” Well that answered her question. “Well, this is certainly a new take on a games room.” She giggled. “I can see now what the stakes must be should someone lose.” She blushed to herself and then pressed the small section of the wall again and it turned back inside, replacing it with simple wood finish that was there before.

She wanted to be strung up on that X, naked. It looked like it would be a lot of fun. “Fancy a game of pool Mr. Tisch?” She asked innocently. “And if you win, you can use any one of those assortments on me.” She grinned. She wasn’t kidding either. She was dead serious. She never joked when it came to a punishment like that.

It was a good thing she was a total crap player at pool too.
 
Hawthorne tilted his head, and pursed his lips at her response; attempting to keep a serious expression on his face, even though a grin wanted to break out. "Oh, I think you would Harper, I'm sure you'll never allow me to live down my actions of last Friday night." The words were spoken as his hand hit her ass; not the last time he intended to focus his attention on that particular part of her anatomy, and when his lips could hold their straight line no longer, they curled up into a smile.

Though he allowed Harper to walk in front, and for her curiosity to guide them through the Manor, his fingers grasped her elbow, and their bodies brushed as they walked. "You're definitely a challenge, and I can promise that I won't go easy." His head tilted to look directly into her eyes, and his tone, still soft and friendly, lost some of it's humour. Underneath the mask which had covered his features the night of the ball, Hawthorne Tisch wore yet others. The teasing, jocular and friendly host was a man who could transform instantaneously, when it came time to fulfil his promise to Harper.

For the majority of the tour, he remained silent; mostly enjoying the woman's reaction, and her expressions as they journeyed from room to room; the man taking pleasure in her 'oohs' and 'ahhs', and obvious appreciation for the furnishings, and quality of restoration. On occasion, he'd stopped to expand on the use of each room or to explain what had been required to bring it back to it's original condition. At the patio, he promised Harper they'd breakfast out there the next morning, where she could enjoy the chirping of the birds which made their homes in the large oaks, and the relaxing gurgling sounds emitted by the water flowing from the fountains. The presumption that Harper would wish to stay until daybreak went unspoken. Then they reached the games room.

Tische laughed aloud at Harper's reaction as she surveyed the four full sized billiard tables. A mahogany bar was placed in the corner, and the tiffany lamps provided a soft light. He walked in after her, and watched in curiosity as her attention was caught by the X's marked on the wall. Gently, he pushed the door shut, the click of the latch barely audible, and by the time she'd discovered the implements hidden away, and uttered his name, he'd reached her side. "A games room for the wealthiest of the wealthy,"

Hawthorne replied as his hips brushed hers, and he reached into the open space before the door closed, to remove a wood-handled leather whip from between two metal clamps, with his eyes still on Harper. "They play for very high-stakes, more than a few Companies have exchanged hands in this very room," He stepped back, with the whip at his side, "And the men on the losing side often find it cathartic to have someone upon whom to unleash their frustrations," and turned to the table when she offered a game. "Though I believe a lady should earn her punishment."

The triangle sat on top of the lamp, and he was silent as he placed the balls within it, lined them up; the only sound that of the balls clacking together, then removed the triangle, pulled a cue from the rack, and held it out to Harper. An eyebrow raised as he allowed the pool-stick to fall against her, and the man's demeanour had changed, as had the timbre of his voice. Not quite as gentle now, his pupils had slightly darkened, and there was a renewed intensity about him. "If I find you're not attempting to win, I'll whip your butt black-and-blue, then fuck you like a bad, bad, dirty money-grubbing whore."

As he uttered the words, Tisch raised the whip in his hand, and with his eyes locked on Harper's, in an obviously practiced motion brought it down with enough force that the air around them dispersed, and a loud 'crack' filled the room, and echoed off the walls. "Some women require a ball-gag to bite down on, to assist with the pain. However, I prefer not to utilise them. They limit the volume of her screams, and a woman's screams really are music to my ears." Hawthorne continued after the sound abated, then motioned to the table with a smile. "You break."
 
Harper had noticed the intensity in Hawthorne’s eyes. Gone was the smooth talker full of so much charm for his own good and now came out the man she had yet to seen. Perhaps it was the real Hawthorne Tisch when lust and desire were the gambling points of the night’s entertainment. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was the very sight of his gaze heated her to her very core and she wanted nothing much than to stare into those eyes when he was either whipping her into submission or fucking her, balls deep and rough. The very thought has her wanting to clench her legs together to maybe suppress the ache between her legs. She was so ready, if she wasn’t so into this game, she would just beg him to fuck her already.

Watching him with that whip, her insides nearly turned to jelly and she could have buckled. Hawthorne holding that whip was so incredibly sexy; it was like he was born to wield it. She found herself licking her lips, her eyes drawn to his hands and the whip but mostly his hands. She imagined all the things he would do with those hands alone and she was turning into a serious bitch in heat, it was a wonder she didn’t grind her body all over his just for some touch and attention.

She was only brought out of it by the sound of balls clacking against each other and she realized he was racking the balls in the triangle, getting them organized. She also only then realized she had a cue stick against her, so lost in her own day dreams that it was against her and not actually in her hand. She quickly took it before it fell when she moved and she walked to the table. Harper was left speechless and it wasn’t an easy thing to do, even from being in the presence of someone like Hawthorne. She was usually good with words, good at thinking on her feet no matter how awkward or nervous she was. Right now, she was at the highest she ever felt awkward and nervous and it was like she had gone into full brain shutdown because if she had a penis, that’s where all her blood would be.

Her gaze lifted to meet his and she bit her lower lip hard. Hard enough that if she didn’t feel the twinge of pain, she could have made her lip bleed. She took a deep intake of breath and her grip on the cue stick was so tight, she might have snapped it in half. “Oh my…” She just felt her panties become very wet, very slick and very drenched in her arousal, she wondered if she just came from those words spoken or if she just got really turned on, more than she already was. She couldn’t exactly tell but she could definitely tell just how wet those words alone made her. If anything, that made her want to suck at this game even harder—like she had to try—just so he would do exactly that. Her patience was wearing thin and all she wanted was for him to spank her ass until it was black and blue and fuck her so insanely that she wouldn’t know her name or his and only know his sheer dominance when he erased any previous sexual encounter she ever had; Steve Kirk.

Harper was brought back to reality by the sound of a whip. “Honestly, if it seems like I am trying to lose, I really am not. I am not good at this game.” Once the balls were racked up, she rounded to the proper side of the table and twirled the cue once between her fingers, so the butt was aimed at the ball and the actual pointer was facing the wall. She bent down and then looked up at him, challengingly. Perhaps it was the excitement or just random surges of adrenaline. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that if he challenged her, she’d keep challenging him back. That’s what made half the fun, even if the challenges seem so far-fetched to what she was actually capable of. It didn’t hurt to try. It just made things that more interesting, more exciting. She liked interesting and she definitely like exciting.

Just when it seemed like she was actually going to break with the butt as the pointer, she pulled back and giggled, twirling the stick again so it was the right way and she leaned down. “Okay, so perhaps there are ways to attempt faking sucking at pool.” She grinned. And with that final testament, she aimed, drew back and hit the cue ball to go straight for the triangle of balls at the other end. It wasn’t the great break. She barely made the balls in the very center move, the others scattering and not a single one went in. She really did suck at this game but breaking was always fun. She liked to think she could do it really well. Obviously…she couldn’t and it was kind of hilarious.

Standing up, she perched the butt of the stick on the ground and wrapped her fingers around it, putting her weight into it a little bit. “Don’t worry Hawthorne. When I am on that X, you won’t need to gag me with anything. You know I’ll like it too much. You know I’ll be happy to scream your name.” Her lips turned up in a smile. It wasn’t cocky, it wasn’t shy, it wasn’t even the smile of a woman trying to be a temptress. It was just a smile, like her assent to everything to come, displaying her ever eagerness.
 
Hawthorne's demeanour, along with the atmosphere in the room had changed the moment Harper discovered the X on the wall, and the implements that lay beside it on the board. From the moment she'd arrived at the Manor, he'd resisted his own arousal, and attempted to gauge how far Harper would go, or what her fantasies entailed. Her reaction, which demonstrated surprise and curiosity, to him, rather than shock or fear, had eased any concerns that she'd flee as reality hit. Harper Collin's seemed to relish what she'd discovered, and that only increased his desire to ravage her like the dirty, little slut he'd promised.

Tische wasn't a man afraid to exert control, verbally or physically, over a woman, and to treat her as most, deep down in the darkest recesses of their mind desired to be treated; some occasionally, and others each and every time. As a whore. It aroused them both, and bore no relation to his respect for a woman itself. It was only those he wasn't intellectually attracted to, or had nothing but their bodies to offer, that had anything to fear. For them, unlike Harper Collins, Tische cared not if they acquiesced to his desires, or derived pleasure from the acts.

However, Hawthorne was enamoured with Harper, and as filled with lust and the need to sink his cock into her willing pussy, and fuck her so hard that she wouldn't be able to walk the next morning, he was, above all, keen to provide her with what it was she most desired, and ensure the night was one not soon forgotten. That it would entail her ass being left black-and-blue, skin welted from the whip, and flesh marked with bruises, was a bonus. Her screams, and moans and groans, would only serve to turn him on even further, and when he did fuck Harper, it would be the fuck of her life.

He knew that she must have noted the new intensity when he spoke, and demonstrated his expertise with the whip. His voice lowered, but the words remained clear, each one enunciated slowly, with not a hint of doubt. They weren't spoken as a question, or a challenge, but a statement of fact. Harper Collin's was going to scream, and it wouldn't all be in pleasure; though wasn't pain just another form of pleasure? "I guess I'll have to teach you. Another time." The man shrugged, and though he'd taken on a seriousness which he hadn't previously displayed, he still couldn't help but emit a laugh at her playfulness, and the cheeky manner in which she reversed the pool cue. "Because, let's be honest. Tonight, it won't matter if you win or lose, the end result will be the same. You'll be bound, cuffed, whipped, flogged, and fucked, at my whim."

The host cracked the whip a second time as she corrected the cue, and bent over the table to take the shot. His gaze drifted to the curve of her ass under the fabric of her dress, and didn't rise again until she'd completed the break. His eyes briefly flicked to the table to note that no balls had been sunk, then he pushed himself off the wall, and moved them back to the gorgeous, and enticing Harper Collin's; the smile on her face appearing totally natural, and without intent. Just a smile.

Hawthorne raised an arm as he approached her; piercing green eyes locked with piercing green eyes. "Time to cease the games, Harper." Leather softly brushed her cheek when he raised the tail of the implement he held, to her face, and reached for the pool cue. The stick hit the floor with a thud, but Hawthorne didn't even glance down as, light as the touch of a feather, the leather glided across her throat and neck, then journeyed southward; caressing her through fabric. "Are you dripping for me, Harper, aching for my touch?"

He held her gaze for a moment after the question, then a sudden change came over him, and his voice turned harsh as the palm that grasped the wooden handle of the whip thrust between Harper's legs, and the digits of his other hooked into the hair at the nape of her neck, and jerked her head roughly back. "Yes, you'll scream for me, slut. Now turn around, and bend over. Remove the dress. I want you naked before I string you up."
 
You’ll be bound, cuffed, whipped, flogged and fucked, at my whim. Those words that he spoke with a tone of voice that chilled her yet also ignited her fire even more, turned into a mantra. The smile she wore on her face slowly faded but not in fear, disgust or anger or even sadness. In wonderment. Harper watched as he drew nearer, the look in his eyes seemingly taking on the most primal, animalistic of lust and if not for that cue, her knees would have buckled because it was the single thing that she held onto for all dear life. He was seducing her all over again with the steps he took. He was milking into her need with the heat emanating from his gaze and she was powerless to move. She could only stare.

Her eyes indulged, leaving his fine form and watched his hand holding the whip lift and soon she felt the velvet of the leather slide along her skin in such a tantalizing and feather light whisper of touch that her eyes closed and her lips parted so she may savor it. Her breathing came quicker now and she slightly tilted her head back but a sudden force nearly pushed her to the ground. The cue stick she clung to was no longer in her reach and before her body could have fallen, the leather whip pressed roughly between her legs, against her very soaked panties and the strong fingers of his free hand buried into her hair. A soft cry of pleasure emitted from her and she felt her body press into his, the only thing between them being the whip that teased her more than his words for it was the first thing against her to fuel her need. It was pressed directly against her heated core that begged and screamed for his attention, as did the rest of her body no less and she pooled greatly.

Opening her eyes, Harper’s gazed into the hooded gorgeous pools of his own and she licked her lips, so suddenly dry as her throat. And yet even with the intensity of his gaze, the shrewdness of his words in his demand and the raw authority that he carried that told her this man was not to be trifled with one bit, her lips twitched in suppressing a smile. Failing, she grinned broadly and a bubble of giggles passed up her throat and into the air. Excitement brightened her eyes and her hands moved to his chest. Her hips pushed against the whip still so tightly pressed to her quivering whim and she pushed herself up so her lips were only so far from his own, a very small gap between them. “You leave me confused Mr. Tisch.” She leaned closer so that her lips brushed against his own, allowing him to know just how excited she was, just how fast her beat, just how quickly she breathed.

“Am I to turn around and bend over before I remove my dress?” She giggled again, finding it a game. It had been a game from the very beginning and she was only obliging it further by testing him, challenging. “I’ll always meet your challenge with another.” She whispered. “Or am I remove my dress and then turn around to bend over?” She was either a fresh, young and nubile spirit to dare cross him and his limits or she was a complete and utter fool to find any manner of this humorous. It was but at the same time, not.

Harper Collins was most likely way in over her head but it couldn’t be helped. She was an innocent and one was prone to easy laughter, mostly to her dismay sometimes when times called for serious moments. Like now. She should be quaking, trembling, on her knees and begging him for some kind of release to the unbelievable and unmistakable need that he sparked in her—oh wait, she was already all of that. But the simple technicality of his words sparked another rebellion in her and she found herself wanting to comply to his demands but easily shy away from them and do something else, do something entirely unpredictable. She wanted to make Hawthorne Tisch gasp and his eyes widen in complete surprise. After all, very little about her could her and so much more was expected of her; the current situation being on the cusp of shock to anyone who ever knew her truly.

“Do you know what I want Mr. Tisch?” Her lips brushed against his once more and it took all she had not to steal a kiss, one of the very things she had been dying to do since first meeting him. When he wore a mask, his lips were very enticing. She had been drawn to his eyes and his mouth, the latter being the first thing she saw which attracted her to him greatly. The wonders he could possibly do with that mouth…

“Let me show you what I want…” Capturing his lower lip with her teeth, she pulled slightly, gently, only to abruptly let it go. Managing to push the whip away, she slid down to her knees, feeling the resistance from his fingers tangled in her hair but that only fueled her further. Harper found herself face to face with the very part of him she had wanted to examine since seeing how hard he was earlier. Giving into her impulses and her cravings, she leaned forward and her nose pressed against the outline of his bulging erection, strained by the fabric of his pants. She let out a happy sigh as her hands slid up his legs, further nuzzling against him.

Tilting her head back, she drew her gaze to his and smiled a giddy smile, that belonging truly to a dirty little slut who was deprived, depraved. “This.” Never taking her eyes off of his, her tongue came out to brush against the strained fabric that encased such a precious jewel and her gaze smoldered with a shrewd and heated intensity. “I want all of it.”
 
Hawthorne could feel her arousal through the thin fabric of her dress, and panties she wore underneath. His body pressed to hers, with the whip between her thighs, and his palm against her. His eyes glowed with lust, and the direction which slipped from his mouth was uttered in a guttural, breathless whisper. His need to see her naked, to touch and spank and flog her was as great, if not greater, than her own. "Bend over, and remove the dress." His free hand hooked into her hair, as stared directly at her gorgeous face, unblinking, expecting her to acquiesce to his demand. That's what she desired wasn't it; what she'd asked for, and wanted from the moment she'd discovered the X on the wall?

Most other women probably would have withered under the intensity of Hawthorne's gaze, and demeanour. However, Harper Collin's wasn't any other women, she was a breed all of her own, and as their lips barely touched; almost a kiss, but not quite; her words, and the manner in which they were issued reverberated in his ears. At a moment like this, she continued to tease? it was as if she deliberately challenged him, and when her teeth bit down on his lip, and she pushed against his engorged manhood, Hawthorne Tisch experienced a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time. That he was losing control of the situation.

That feeling only increased with each word she spoke, and he considered exerting his authority, and taking her right there and then; lifting Harper onto the pool table, not worry about the spanking or the caning, but just hike her dress and drive his cock into her to to satiate his own growing lust as their tongues entwined in a hot kiss. And he may just have done so, if at that moment, she hadn't surprised him further. His grip had released slightly, and his hips pulled back, which allowed Harper Collin's room to sink to her knees.

Momentarily he was stunned. Hawthorne Tisch, the confident, and in-control Landlord of the Manor could do nothing but stand there and emit a groan of pleasure as she whispered her own wants and needs, and toyed with him. The gleam in her eyes was mischievous, and he wondered how he must look to her. After threatening to bound her, and whip her ass black and blue, here he was, slack-jawed, and with both his mouth and eyes wide-open, unable to emit anything other than a gasp of pure pleasure when her nose rubbed against his bulge. "Fuck."

His eyes fluttered open and closed and his breath grew heavy, and Hawthorne Tisch's mind changed again. Instead of wanting to ram his manhood into her tight cunt, he pumped his bulge against her face, and was instead tempted to release his grip on her hair, free himself from the constraints of his pants, and thrust his throbbing and pulsing cock between her soft, wet lips. The temptation was great, however his desire to regain control was greater, and as he bit his lips with enough force to almost draw blood; the slight pain allowed his mind to re-set and refocus, and for Hawthorne to regain a little composure.

"I think my instructions were quite clear, Ms Collins." His head shook, and the arm which held the whip suddenly drew back, and the sound of leather cracking against her butt filled the room. Simultaneously, his other hand moved from her hair, and thumb and forefinger gripped her chin between them. The whip cracked again, and using his leverage. Hawthorne Tisch pulled Harper Collin's up from her knees, and pinned her body to the pool table with his.

His eyes danced with amusement, but his voice was husky and rough; not one to be denied or played with any longer. "Your dress is first to be removed." The whip hand raised, and Tisch held her gaze as he hooked his digits into the fabric at her cleavage. He remained silent until the garment had been ripped from her body, and fallen to pool at her feet. "Then." Hawthorne spoke again as he appraised Harper Collin's curves, and bare skin, then raised his eyes back to hers. "You are to bend over." As the words slipped from his mouth, and displaying a strength which belied his size, Hawthorne Tisch gripped Harper's elbow, twisted her around, placed a hand on the back of her head, forced her torso to bend, and planted her cheek to the green felt of the table.

Simultaneously the digits of his free hand hooked into her panties, and jerked them down her hips, so that the flat of his palm could smack harshly against a bare ass-cheek. "Slut." Another crack of his hand, this even harder than the previous, he tightened his grip, and held her head to the table as he began to spank her, first with his palm, then with the whip. His breath soon became heavy from exertion, and Hawthorne's voice cut through the noise of skin and leather slapping against skin. "What are you, Harper? Are you a dirty little, fucking whore"
 
She waited, she watched and she expected something else entirely. Perhaps Harper wanted to completely unhinge him and make him lose all control. She was craving for someone to lose control with her and basically take her and do all sorts of things to her that she could only fantasize about and not actually know since she never experienced it. With Steve, she nearly begged him to fuck her in a way he might have done back in his college days; taking a girl with so much passion and need that all logic and sense was muddled through the haze of absolute need. He questioned her instead. Now what Hawthorne would do…all she could hope was that he too would not question but simply take what she was offering. If someone carried her in on a silver platter, naked and so ready and needing, then perhaps it would be even clearer; Harper Collins was his for the taking, whatever he wanted to do to her—within reason of course—she wanted him to do just that.

Her breath was robbed from her as he spoke; the heat, the dominance and the sheer force of his words penetrated through her and she felt more excited than she did just a moment ago. It felt like she had slipped into a trance and her breathing came a little shakily the moment the whip cracked onto her bottom. Her eyes slid closed and her entire body shook from the reverberation of that one hit from the whip. She felt like she got some release but she needed more, so much more that she gripped the sides of his pants as if about ready to pull them down roughly.

This time, when he cracked the whip again, she moaned softly and it felt like such a whirlwind of speed when he pulled her up just by grasping her chin. She was awkward on her footing and was easily pinned back against the pool table by his heavy, hot, sexy body. She was breathing hard now as if she just ran a marathon and if she wasn’t so turned to care, she would have felt intensely embarrassed. All she wanted was for Hawthorne to continue this string of pushing his will on her because his will was her will as well. She wanted everything he could give to her that night. She wanted it now, she needed it.

“I’m pretty sure they were as well Mr. Tisch but you see…I don’t typically follow instructions so well.” It was a cheeky response but this time she wasn’t pushing away from him. She was giving in because right now, she was in total ‘fuck it’ mood and she wanted him to whip her, flog her and fuck her. He worked quickly in ridding her of her clothes; first her dress was ripped and she was roughly bent over the pool table. Her cheek pressed down into the green felt lining and her hands came up on either side of her face. The harshness that he used to pull her panties off stimulated her so much when the soaked cloth of it creased against her very needing, very dripping pussy. Her eyes closed and she moaned again. Her legs were already shaking and it felt that the moment she was exposed to him completely, she was further more turned on as her arousal pool greatly between her legs. She swore she felt her juices started to drip down legs but she didn’t say anything or even show any signs of complaints.

“Please…” She begged now and it was like she was reward with several harsh spanks to her ass. Some with his hand and then more with the whip. Each time they got harder, the louder she became as she cried out. Her body kept jerking and the pain she felt was such a stimulator that it felt like she was rising in pleasure. Her nails clawed at the green felt and she was panting so hard. Already she felt her ass was stinging so deliciously and she didn’t care if it would be black and blue in the morning; she wanted it to be. She just needed more. It felt like years of repressed feelings and emotions were finally being let free. She felt that for the first time, she was letting loose with all her control and inhibitions and she found someone who had no qualms or worries in letting go of their control and inhibitions and simply doing as they pleased. No worries of how it may be perceived and no psycho-analyzing. It was so freeing. She loved feeling this free.

Even through the rain of his spanks, she could hear his heavy breathing from the sheer exertion and she imagined what it would be like to hear that same heavy breathing with sexy grunts as he fucked her roughly from behind, plunging his thick cock so deep inside of her each time, that it was like explosions of pleasure.

More spanks. More leather against skin that was so loud, it was a cacophony of sexy sounds in her ears, combined with his heavy breathing and her cries of pleasure. “Yes…” She breathed, the ache and need between her legs increasing, from the way he spoke alone. Yes, the spanks were divine and added to fuel her need but the way his words affected her showed how dirty words went such a long way. It mattered and before now, she didn’t think she really cared too much for it but there was just something about the way he said it and the fact he was calling her a dirty little whore. It made her knees want to give out and her pussy want to just gush with so much juices. “Yes, I’m a dirty little whore.” She whimpered. “I want to be your dirty little whore Hawthorne. Please…” She pushed back into the spanks, anticipating them, expecting them and needing them. “Oh just fuck me Hawthorne. I need you so badly, I think I might go insane.”

Harper never thought she’d be one to beg but she couldn’t help herself. She really couldn’t and she didn’t think it was her fault. She was so crazily and erotically charged that she was about ready to rub her naked and writhing body against his just for some more stimulation. “Fuck me.”
 
Hawthorne didn't take too much time to appraise Harper's body; from a quick appraisal, it appeared as gorgeous as he'd anticipated, and the man knew that he'd have plenty of opportunities to acquaint himself with every inch, in intimate detail, at a later date. For the time being, he was more interested in the woman herself, her reaction, and giving her what it was she desired whilst simultaneously asserting his dominance.

The fabric of her dress tearing was loud in the closed room, and accompanied only by the sounds of his heavy breathing, and the noises emitted by Harper. The eyes which burned into hers still contained a hint of amusement, but Tisch's pupils had narrowed and darkened, and his head shook. "I'm beginning to learn that you have a problem with doing what you're told, Ms Collin's." He half whispered, and half panted as he released the grip on the jaw by which he'd pulled up from her knees, and roughly bent her over. Her panties were soon pooled at her feet on the floor, alongside her dress.

"And for that, you deserve to be punished." Hawthorne grunted as he curled his digits in her hair, and with Harper's cheek pressed to the green felt of the pool table, harshly struck the flesh of her ass with his palm. As skin slapped against skin, he could feel the wetness that dribbled down her thighs, and he bent to place his mouth adjacent to her ear. "You're dripping for it, aren't you, whore? For a flogging. For my cock? Aching to be ravaged?" As he asked that last question, he stepped around from behind her, so that he could gain full leverage and power, and ensured the whip cracked as the leather struck her ass. He then spanked her twice with his hand, once on each cheek, before the whip struck her again. And again. And again. With each strike, he pulled at her hair, flesh and leather slapped against flesh, the belt slammed against her ass, and the tip hit the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Hawthorne's tone was guttural, and harsh, and his hot breath vibrated off the woman's neck as, with each spank, his palm became coated with the juices that flowed from her pussy, and the harder and rougher his ministrations became, the more it appeared to arouse her. Soon, the volume of her pleasure almost matched that of his own heavy breathing, and the slaps of skin and leather against her flesh. Hawthorne's cock threatened to burst the seams of his pants, and as he ceased, to regain some of his breath, she began to plead for him to fuck her. Tisch almost gave in to his own need. Almost.

Oh god, he could have just released himself from his pants, and rammed his length into her from behind, and fucked Harper Collin's, bent over, as roughly as he'd just spanked her. His desire was so great, and the throbbing of his erection caused him to groan in pleasure and frustration as he imagined how it would feel to sink his cock into Harper's soaked and quivering pussy. However, the very fact that she'd asked for it was motivation enough for him not to do so. The teasing and games had been enjoyable, but Ms Collin's may have gained the impression that she'd won the upper hand, and Tisch wasn't the type who'd allow that to occur. If Harper wished to be fucked, asking and pleading for it wasn't enough; she was going to need beg to his satisfaction.

"Whore." He spoke as the spanks stopped, and pulled her head off the table. "My whore." Then, for the first time, he kissed her. Hawthorne's tongue forcefully parted her lips, then slipped into her mouth, as a palm rested on her butt, striped red and white, and marked with the imprint of his palm and that of the whip. A deep, hard kiss, filled with heat, lust and passion, he entwined her tongue with hers, drew it into his own mouth, and scraped with his teeth. It only lasted a few seconds, and as he pulled back, Tisch bit down on her lower lip almost, but not quite, hard enough to draw blood. "You want me to fuck you, Harper?" His brow raised, and a glint of amusement had returned to his features, as his eyes roamed over her shoulders, to focus on the wall. "Or you'll go insane?"

He smiled then, and moved behind her. Her hair was still tangled in his fingers as he pushed his erection into Harper, with his chest pressed to her back, and reached up to cup a breast in his palm. His fingers located a nipple and pinched it between them as he ground his cock into her ass, and bit down on her ear-lobe from the rear. "But, I thought you were curious about the cross. You really don't know what it is you want, Ms Collin's, do you?" He taunted again, as both hands moved to her shoulders to take a firm hold. In a matter of seconds, he'd dragged her from the pool table, and pinned Harper's back to the X on the wall. With practiced ease, he forced her arms above her head, and shackled her wrists. "If you want to be fucked, you're going to have to beg for it." Next came her ankles, and with Harper bound to the cross; arms above her head, and legs spread; his eyes locked on hers. "Can you do that for me, whore?"

Hawthorne wondered what Harper's reaction would be if he revealed to her the truth of what had happened to many other women who'd been placed in the very position she was in now. Not ladies supplied by the Madame; the type who attend the Ball's; but runaways, hitchhikers, and other 'invisible' members of society, who would not be easily missed. The ones wealthy men would pay upwards of $50,000 to be able to whip within an inch of their lives, and turn every depraved fantasy into reality. Those men who'd been removed from the events Hawthorne held for requesting an act from the Escorts that was strictly forbidden, and whom Tisch maintained a database of.

"Has Steve Kirk ever made you beg for it? Look at you, dripping like a cock-hungry, needy slut." Hawthorne appraised Harper's body, and slid a hand between her legs. Two digits sunk easily into her soaked slit, and as he drove them in and out, Ticsch planted a kiss on her mouth; the vulgarity and harshness of his words belied by the almost gentle gesture. His digits then withdrew, and his palm slapped between her legs as he reached for a suede flogger that hung from the wall. "What is it you want, Harper, and how bad do you desire it?" He asked as, with Harper Collin's completely at his mercy, the strands of the flogger trailed over inner thighs, before Hawthorne Tisch then began to spank her pussy, as he just had her ass.
 
It was easy to see that she was affecting him just like he was affecting her. It was easy to hear that in his voice, he was doing all he could to maintain his self control and his dominance over the entire situation. It was easy for her, even in her slowly muddled mind that Hawthorne Tisch, the sexy, enigmatic owner of The Manor was as turned on as she was and he was right in his element of executing his sheer will over her. It was the sexiest scene ever and she couldn’t believe her stars that she was here right now. It was like a dream come true except it wasn’t the most orthodox of dreams. It was what she needed. It was exactly everything she desired to feel more alive. Harper never felt so alive until now, during her entire ‘courtship’ with this unbelievable man. And he was all hers for the night.

Despite her appearance, Harper always had a hard time following instructions. She was a sort of a silent and closet rebel and her parents would happily attest to that with how much trouble she used to cause a child. Somewhere along the way, she turned into a quiet and meek young woman who didn’t say what she really wanted to say. Her actions said otherwise and she often didn’t listen and did as she pleased. This was just another example of that and she was kind of glad for that because it brought out the best in this man and his dominance over her. This is what she had craved; for a man to be so dominant with her that he didn’t hold back and she sincerely—albeit desperately, too—hoped that he wasn’t holding back one bit right this moment.

Her body was already singing with the many spanks to her flesh. Her skin and flesh burned in the most delicious way. The pain was so pleasurable it excited her more and she desired for more, to be spanked more, to be hit more. She didn’t like abuse and so long as he never hit her face, it wouldn’t be abuse in her mind. Especially if she wanted this. The pain translated into pleasure and it was exactly everything she hoped it would be, but so much more at the same time.

His voice was deep, harsh and so sexy, just the authority of it and the fact it was dripping with so much need, just like she was dripping with the need of him between her legs, spurred her on even more. Her eyes closed as shivers ran up her spine, just from the heat of his breath against her ear as he spoke. “Yes.” She breathed. It was almost embarrassing how breathy her words came out but it couldn’t be helped. Her body was slick with a sheen of sweat, as if it was a visual test of endurance for what he was doing to her. She wanted more. She needed more. “Yes, yes, yes, all of that.” She half-moaned, half-breathed and pushed back into him, wanting to rub her aching ass cheeks against his throbbing cock still in the harsh confines of his pants. She could practically feel him already thrusting so deep inside of her wet and tight depths, it was an even bigger tease that he wasn’t doing it already.

Harper pleaded, begged more than she ever begged for something in her life since she was a child and he didn’t give in. Oh, he had to want to give in so badly. That or he was truly a master at this skill and while he was hard as steel, he knew how to control himself to make her beg until any shred of sanity left her completely. She was so close to that but so very quickly, her drive to beg more dialed down a little bit. All of a sudden, he pulled her off the table, calling her a whore, his whore in fact and the title of it was enough justification for her. She wanted to be his whore, she wanted to be only his whore and she nearly melted in his embrace. His lips were on hers and it was the first kiss they shared and it was more than anything she had ever felt. She never kissed a man and felt like this. She felt it for a time with Steve, until the night of the ball at The Manor when she met Hawthorne and then her entire life changed. She leaned into him and her arms slid around his neck, clutching him to her as she kissed him back with so much passion, so much heat, desire, need, and lust. A soft moan came from her into the kiss as his tongue forcibly pushed into her mouth and she sucked on it with her own. It was a deep entanglement of tongues, a sexy tango of passion and need that made her heart beat faster as well as made her want to pounce on him and simply take what she wanted it.

As quickly as it started though, it was over and she whimpered at the loss of contact, her lips following his to bring him back into another kiss. Instead, he bit down on her lower lip and the very act was so sexy, so primal. A soft groan of appreciation came from her and mesmerized, she nodded her head slowly, her eyes opening to look into his own and more desired pooled between her shaking legs. “Yes.” She breathed, so consumed with the lust that she didn’t even notice him looking behind her. “I’m already going insane Hawthorne, I need you. Right. Now.” She leaned up to kiss him again but he evaded her. She wanted to cry out in frustration but held back and felt him behind her, a soft gasp coming from as his erection pressed between her ass cheeks. She pushed back as well, grinding back into his hips and closing her eyes, her head tilting back into his shoulder and she relished the sensation of it. So close, yet so far.

Teasing her nipples, pleasure shot down between her legs and she moaned softly, pushing back into his hips even more, as if she was really getting down with all the gyrating. If this was the closest to sex he’d give her, she’d take dry humping over nothing. But it wasn’t enough. His taunting words though…that was a whole other story and instead of embarrassing her, she only smiled, even laughed a little bit. “I can’t help it.” She crooned. “It’s your fault. Not mine. I’m the innocent one here. I’m—“ She never finished her statement and neither did she remember it at all. Her body was pushed back artfully into the wall and before she knew it, her entire body was shackled back. Arms above her head and wrists shackled. Legs spread apart wide enough and ankles shackled and she wasn’t going anywhere. She was on full display for this man.

Her nipples were peaked so hard, begging for his lips, his mouth, his teeth. Her body had a slight shine to it from the sweat that covered it and under the light, she didn’t look so pale. She looked like she had a lot of color to her skin, but that might be mostly from how flushed she was right now from everything he did to her. Her ass, which was pressed to the X on the wall was covered in bright red streaks from the whip and also had some hand prints still on her flesh. It was very red, very plump, very…spankable and it was still stinging so deliciously. She was shaved and completely bare, especially between her legs which was the center and core of her heat and arousal; it glistened slightly from the light. Her body was soft, her stomach was flat and there were faint traces of stretch marks that gave way to the fact she wasn’t perfect, she had never been perfect.

Could she beg? She already did and it wasn’t enough. Instead of answering him, she chose the defiant route and kept her mouth shut, staring him down with an audacity and tenacity that was so very unlike her. It was so exciting to be restrained up like this, her body on full display to him and at his mercy, however he liked. She wouldn’t be able to try and stop him and he could learn exactly what made her tick even more and how far she could go, how much she was willing to endure. That was even more exciting. The question was: would she even want him to stop, no matter what?

Something in her brought her attention back to reality and the question of begging when he mentioned Steve Kirk, her boyfriend. They hadn’t broken up and were technically very much together, albeit taking things at a much slower pace—mostly so she could enjoy her time with Hawthorne guilt free without the worry of deeper attachment and commitment with a man who was too safe for her. “You know the answer to that Mr. Tisch.” Her lips twisted into a grin and it felt like her inner ‘Izabel’ was officially unleashed. She felt like herself, Harper Collins, but this was the more depraved, deprived and cock-hungry slut version of herself. She didn’t feel as shy. She felt like being a smart-mouthed bitch who would evoke everything necessary from him to make him as ruthless as she craved. And that’s exactly what she was doing.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else though, his fingers shoved deep inside of her and her head tilted back. It was the closest sense of satisfaction she got all night because he was finally close to giving her exactly what she wanted. She moaned deeply and her hips pushed up into his fingers as if she was so close to fucking herself on them herself. His lips claimed hers and she moaned again into his mouth, almost kissing him hungrily but even in her muddled state, she was able to see the gentleness of such a gesture, while his fingers inside of her said anything but gentle. All too quickly she was left with this empty void where his fingers were but was rewarded with such a delicious spank, it made her pussy throb. She got wetter from it alone and was left a panting and writhing mess. What would he do next?

Again, she wouldn’t answer, settling for the defiant little bitch she was acting like. So only when he began to spank her pussy with a flogger, was that defiant attitude leaving her and she once more became the depraved and deprived whore with a looser tongue. She moaned loudly and very quickly, her loud and deep guttural moans turned into screams of pleasure. Her body shook in the X-frame, the cuffs rattled each time he hit her and her pussy throbbed and hummed with the rising pleasure of her impending orgasm. “Please!” She screamed. “Hawthorne, please!” She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to fuck her. She needed him right now.

“I need you…” she breathed, her eyes closed, tears actually leaking out of the corners of her closed lids. She wasn’t crying because it hurt. She was crying because it felt so good, the pleasure was so intense that she hadn’t even realized she lost herself in a frenzied orgasm that rocked through her entire being, most intense at her very heated core that just exploded like a dam flooding everywhere. She even gushed a little bit, a small bit of a squirt of her own nectar and her body thrashed a bit against the X.

Only when it stopped and only when he would stop flogging her, her body relaxed back into the wall, into the restraints and she shook, hard. Harper breathed heavily and her head lolled on her shoulder. “Fuck me, Mr. Tisch.” She rasped breathlessly. “Fuck me like the dirty little whore I am.” Her body seemed to calm down but she still breathed fast. This was unlike anything she ever could have expected or foreseen.

Opening her eyes, Harper looked up at him and she lifted her chin, as hard of a struggle it was because that orgasm practically drained her. But there was a little hope when she smiled that smile of hers; the one that said she was still there, she was still coherent and that meant…”Drive me insane. If I am still coherent, if I can still speak properly…you’re not doing it right.”

Once more, Harper Collins challenged the ruthless owner. One challenge after the other and she’d always rise to meet each of them. Could he?
 
Hawthorne had slept with many a woman, both paid for, and not, however Harper Collin's had an allure that he'd never previously encountered, and it was what he'd been searching for. The qualities he'd believed to reside within her, from the first moments of their meeting in the Ballroom, when he hadn't even known or name or been able to see her features had, in his mind, begun to materialise in front of his very eyes. Harper's arousal, her breathy whispers and moans, the taunting and teasing, and the way she continued to challenge him at every turn. No matter what Tisch did, what he threatened, how he spoke, or changed his demeanour, she didn't shy away or submit mentally, and Hawthorne loved it.

He fucking loved it, and his desire to be as close to Harper Collin's as he could possibly be; to satisfy her and prove himself a man of his word; and bury his throbbing cock to the hilt in her warm, enveloping folds, was almost unbearable. Goosebumps ran up and down his spine, beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, and coated the skin of his torso under his garments. Each word he uttered; slut, whore, bitch; as he pinned her to the table, and palm and leather smacked against flesh, was accompanied by a growl and a moan.

How long the spanking continued, he didn't know, and didn't care, but as the strikes stopped and he panted with exertion, the need to kiss her was overwhelming. To have their lips pressed together, her tongue entwined with his and their hot, wet, greedy mouths in tune with each others. An act that the whores charged extra for due to it's intimacy and meaning, Harper Collin's, despite his epithets, and the harsh ministrations of whip and palm; both of which had left imprints, and the beginnings of bruises on the smooth pale flesh of her butt; was already much more to him than a slut to be used, a whore to be fucked once, then forgotten, or a runaway to be strung up, abused, mistreated and degraded purely for a man's enjoyment, and an increase to Tisch's own bank balance.

Was it love? Not a chance; Hawthorne Tische wasn't a sentimentalist, or one to kowtow to base desires; especially with a woman he'd known for only a few days. It didn't run that deep, however of one thing he he was certain. Tisch enjoyed Harper Collin's; soon to be in more ways that one; and wished for more of her company. A feminine touch was something the Manor missed, and his business interests could suffer no harm from receiving input from a woman's perspective.

When the kiss broke, his lips were swollen and Tisch panted, and his hips possessed a mind of their own when he grabbed her from behind, and pressed his erection to her ass. Her skin was slick with sweat, and her thighs glistened with the juices of her arousal, as his touch roamed her body, and his bucked of it's own accord, Hawthorne dry-humped her ass, faster and faster; as if that would satiate him, or at least the sensations be distracting enough for him to allow Harper to experience how it felt to completely at his mercy, naked and bound to the X on the wall. As other women had, though this night there'd be one difference. Harper Collin's would be still be conscious when she was untied, and able to relieve the experience as a pleasurable fantasy come true, rather than being awoken with a bucket of water, and forever caused to cower in fear and nightmarish memories at the mention of being strung up again.

He pinched a nipple, and moments later she was bound and cuffed, and his fingers entered her slippery cunt. His breath was ragged, and his utterances barely discernible when he leaned in to kiss her, and removed the flogger from the wall. "Beg for me, slut. Beg like the dirty, cock-craving whore you are." As he spoke the last word, an arm drew back, and the suede struck her dripping pussy, and inner thigh. Then again, and again and again. Each harder than the one which preceded it. His palm, the flogger, the tips of fingers and the flat of Tisch's hand smacked repeatedly against her thighs and slit. Once or twice, he paused to pinch her clit between two fingers, and lightly twist, or rub with his palm, before he flogged her again.

Her moans and groans and sounds of pleasure rose in volume, and mingled with those of his exertion, and the wet noises of her pussy being spanked. "Beg for me, bitch. Fucking beg for it." He panted as he moved to kiss her once more. Their tongues tangled, and he bit down on her lip, then his slipped out, and his teeth found her neck. Hawthorne nibbled, licked, and scraped Harper's skin; leaving his mark on her flesh; then moved lower still until one of her erect nipples was trapped between his lips. As he slapped between her thighs, simultaneously with both flogger and flat of his hand, he bit down on her bud hard enough to cause pain, but not so much that it could be distinguished from pleasure, and glanced up at her face. "Cum for me whore, show me what a slut you are." He gasped as her nipples, wet and glistening from his mouth, popped free of his teeth, then stepped back. When Harper Collin's came for the first time, Hawthorne Tische wasn't laying a hand on her.

If he'd ever witnessed a sight more erotic than that of this naked and writhing, sweat-sheened woman, with breasts bouncing, pussy juices dribbling down her thighs, arms pinned above her head, ankles shackled and legs spread, moaning and panting as she begged him to fuck her like the slut she was, Hawthorne Tische couldn't recall it. "You are a horny, dirty little fucking bitch, aren't you?" He spoke in a raspy, rough tone, as she began to come down from her high, and moved closer. His mouth closed, then his head shook. She'd challenged him. Again.

"Not doing it properly?" Hawthorne's chest heaved, and his skin gleamed with beads of sweat as he reached to cup her chin between thumb and forefinger. He pulled her head up so their eyes met, then slowly and deliberately run his gaze down her body. "I don't really think you're in any position to make demands. To beg, yes. To demand, no." His attention moved back to her face, and he pressed closer so that their bodies touched, and tightened his already firm grip. Green orbs held green orbs, as he appraised her in silence for a few moments, then he smiled. "Because, Ms Collin's, if you truly want me to drive you insane, do you know what I could do?"

With the intent to distract her attention with his words, and grasp of her chin, Hawthorne Tisch dropped his free arm, and silently slid down the zipper of his trousers. "What I could do, is to leave you strung up here for the entire night, dripping, aching, and quivering for my cock. Wanting, needing nothing more than to be fucked, and unable to imagine ever needing anything more than you do at that very moment. That need, so intense, that you can't figure out if it's pleasure or pain, but you're aware that there's only one way in which it can be relieved or satiated. And one man. Me. Eight hours, ten, an entire day, a week. I could leave you, right here, untouched. Do you think that would drive you....."

His erection, thick and throbbing, with precum dripping from the engorged purple head, sprung from Hawthorne's Tische's pants a mere second before the words stopped, and he released his grip on Harper's face, then locked the fingers of both hands around her bound wrists. Only as he drove every last inch of his length into Harper Collin's dripping hole with enough force to lift her onto her tiptoes and slam her entire body against the cross, did Hawthorne complete the sentence; in a guttural, animalistic growl, "Insane?"
 
Every word, every touch, every single thing he did only fueled her more. Harper was intensely surprised to be so wet and so needing, she was never like this even with Steve. Still, he was a far away name in the back of her mind that had shut off because all she could comprehend was this moment with the ever delectable and even more mysterious Hawthorne Tisch. She wanted him though. She was so ready for it, she needed it so bad. For months, she needed this release. She got one from all the spanks he gave to her dripping pussy; that orgasm was a very necessary one but all it did was make her want more.

Her eyes opened and she met his gaze. He was so affected, he was just waiting for the chance to really take her, absolutely destroy and break her. “Yes I am, just for you.” She breathed. Her body was his for the taking and she knew he would relish it as much as she would. She could practically feel it already, that moment when he finally plunged his thick and hard cock so deep inside of her. It would feel like he was splitting her apart, splitting her in half and it was the exact feeling and sensation she craved. Harper didn’t want gentle, she didn’t want soft caresses and sweet little nothings whispered into her ear. She didn’t want to be coddled or held or anything at all one would classify as typically ‘respectable.’ No, she just wanted pure, unadulterated, uninhibited rough sex that was so intense and maybe some passion in there that she wouldn’t forget this night at all. She wanted to scream, she wanted to pull so tightly on her restraints that there would be little welts on her wrists and ankles tomorrow morning. She wanted there to be every single reminder of this night on her body and she wanted to keep feeling it. She needed this. She had been needing this for so long that it wasn’t even occurring to her that she was becoming the worst girlfriend ever. No, she saw no wrong in what she was doing because the simple truth existed; perhaps she wasn’t meant to be some simple man’s girlfriend. Her name was Harper Collins and she was destined for so much more than a simple boyfriend and a simple job teaching little children. This night, this moment was the start of it.

Once more, Harper challenged him and once more, Hawthorne ate it up exactly the way she wanted him to. She didn’t want him to go easy on her tonight. She wanted his absolute worst because her body craved the most intense sensations of all pleasure. The more she goaded him, the more she hoped any inhibitions he might have would fade away and he’d unleash on her the way he probably unleashed on several sluts in the past, not showing them any mercy. There was no such thing as mercy right now.

The grin on her face was difficult to hold back. Only because he was walking right into her little trap. Sure, he had a point that she wasn’t in any position to make any demands, only beg. Oh, she had done enough begging. It was time to finally get things going. Harper handled enough of the torture. She needed so badly for him to be inside of her, for something to be inside of her. Whether it was the hilt of that whip he carried or a dildo or something, just something! She got off to actual penetration more than anything else when it was done just right. She knew without a doubt that he could do it just right. He was going to be perfect. Everything she always hoped and wanted for.

Watching him, she felt his body get closer to hers and a soft gasp came from her. “I think you’re about to tell me.” She whispered. And he did. It all happened so quickly. The sound of his zipper as he pulled it down, the teasing and taunting behind his words which made her ache even more for him, Harper started to actually believe he would leave her up there all night long and make her writhe without anything. Simply be left to feel and want so badly that she’d go insane alone from the lack of his touch or the presence of his cock inside of her.

She started imagining the worst; he’d leave her there for hours, aching, begging, potentially screaming and all it would do would fuel him even more and give him the satisfaction that he needed. He would know that she needed him otherwise she would go insane. She needed this one night and he was going to give it to her. She didn’t care if she had to scream or try and fight her way out of this cross. One way or the other, he was fucking her tonight. There was no other option.

Harper was getting so lost in his words, having closed her eyes to absorb the sweet seduction of his words—even if she was terrified that he’d do just that—that she didn’t notice he had taken himself out. She didn’t notice how hard he was or how ready he was. She was too lost in the possible grief of losing her chance. Suddenly, she felt his hands grip her wrists and no second later than that, she felt the impossible thickness of his cock slam deep inside of her, filling her so fully deep that she actually felt her body rise and her tippy toes be what touched the ground, instead of the entirety of her feet.

Her head tilted back and she let out a strangled moan so taken back by it all that she nearly missed his gruffly uttered word that was nearly her undoing, that finished his entire epithet. “Fuck…” She breathed. Her eyes clenched tightly closed now but she slowly opened them. Her body pushed back down which pushed her pussy against his cock that was so deeply buried inside of her, she almost couldn’t believe it.

“Finally…” She goaded once more. This game would never tire. Never. Not once. Where was the fun without it? “Took you long Hawthorne.” She grinned and pushed her hips forward, biting her lower lip which sort of muffled a soft moan. “Fuck me already. Don’t deny how good your cock feels inside of my dripping cunt. We both want it.” She pushed her hips into his again and brought her face closer to her, her lips brushing against his own. “Fuck me like the dirty little slut that I am, that you own.”
 
Hawthorne Tisch was on fire. Every nerve ending in his entire body was jangling, and urging him on to ravish Harper Collins. The man's erection strained the fabric of his pants, and felt as if it was almost about to burst the seams; thicker, and throbbing with more urgency than he could recall. The sounds of her words, taunts, moans and whimpers, and the sight her body, skin sheened with perspiration, juices from her orgasm glistening on her thighs, neck and chest marked by his teeth, and ass and thighs welted and bruised from his spanks, was almost too much to bear. He wanted to take her, more-so than any other woman he'd ever met, and Harper Collins needed to cease with the taunts so that she could be filled with his cock. But would she ever stop challenging him? Not a hope in hell, and that's the way he liked it.

As desperate as she was to be satiated, Hawthorne was the same, and as he gripped her wrists and threatened to leave her there, writhing and needy, until she truly went insane, that's all it was. A threat. Possibly, on another occasion, the man would do it, leave Harper bound, and tease and taunt her to the edge of no return, time and time again until she was nothing but a dripping, begging, pleading, drooling, crazy mess, unable to remember her own name, and to whom what occurred on this particular night would be looked back upon as a walk in the park. However, to do so that evening would mean Hawthorne Tisch would be required to deny himself as well, and that was not in the nature. If the man wanted something, he took it, and right now he was going to take Harper. If she believed she'd contributed to that, or that she'd somehow won the 'game', then that was just fine with the Landlord of the Manor. Sometimes there were no losers.

He could see in her expression that for a moment she must have believed that he would truly do it, and it brought a smile to his face. However, that moment soon passed when, with his raging erection released, he slammed her against the cross, and buried every thick, hard inch of his cock into her soaked cunt. His eyes burned bright with lust as they stared into hers, and his mouth dropped open to emit a loud groan of pleasure at the sensation of her muscles clamped around his pulsing shaft, then he leaned forward to bite down on her lower lip in a heated kiss, and simultaneously bent his legs and released his hold on her wrists. A second later, he'd planted both palms on her bruised and beaten ass, pulled her writing hips further toward him, unbent his knees, shot up, and rammed his erection into Harper with all the force he could muster. The man panted, and groaned, and bit her lip, teeth and neck as his nails scratched the flesh of her butt, then one arm raised and a hand slapped an ass cheek before his digits hooked into the hair at the nape of her neck.

Hawthorne forced her entire body to stretch out to its limit as he forcefully pulled on her tresses, and almost split her in half with the next thrust. Buried balls deep, the man shook his head when her lips brushed his, and she issued another taunt. "That's because I wanted you dripping like the dirty, little cock-craving slut you truly are, before I fucked you." The response came out in gasps, and groans, 'I knew what you were, before you did, Harper Collins. And you're right, your dripping cunt feels so good. I intended to make it mine from the first moment I laid eyes on you, and I'm a man who always gets what he wants." Tisch smiled, and eyes flashed with an indescribable emotion before his head dipped, and he sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin of the woman's throat.

The wood of the cross creaked as if were about to snap, and hammered against the wall when, with Harper's legs and arms spread and bound, and her tits bouncing, Hawthorne began to pound her with ever increasing intensity and force. He hadn't thought his cock could get any deeper, but soon discovered he was wrong, and a moan of pure ecstasy escaped his mouth as Harper's tight walls clamped around him, and her juices soaked his invading cock. The angle of each thrust was different from the last, and hit every inch of her dripping pussy. Hawthorne's member filled her perfectly, as if it had been made for just one purpose. To fuck Harper Collin's with.

His bite loosened on her throat as the salty taste of blood dribbled onto his tongue, however his fingers continued to scrape the flesh of her ass, and rake down the back of her thighs, to leave even more scratches and bruises to later be soothed, and he almost tore clumps of hair from her scalp with the digits that maintained a hold on her tresses. The manner in which Hawthorne fucked her was that of a madman or animal. He owned her body, and the noises of his pants and moans mingled with those emanating from her, the slap of his balls against her thighs, and that of his cock ravaging her cunt. His eyes rolled back in his head, and as sweat dripped down his skin to soak his shirt, with Harper impaled on his swollen shaft, he titled his head back, and locked eyes. "Come for me slut, come all over my cock, and show me who owns this fucking pussy now." Hawthorne Tisch could barely hold on, and though crazy with his own need for relief, the man still retained enough of his senses to not want to give Harper Collin's the satisfaction of him finishing before her.
 
Harper remembered the night that Steve took her virginity. Then, she didn’t know what she liked and she certainly was more than content to be taken by such a sweet man who would never hurt her. A man who was very careful with how he moved, how he lay on top of her and so mindful of her own pleasure that he probably could have foregone his own just to make sure she was more than satisfied. That night, she had been so satisfied but it was only because she had no idea what she was missing.

It’s funny to say that after a night at a Manor with an enigmatic man whom she didn’t know at the time was the owner of this ‘fine’ establishment, her entire life changed. She was opened up to a potential life where pleasure could be at there ready for her to grip and take by the balls and have literally thrust upon her, rather into her. Just because she had been a virgin up until a few months ago in her twenty-something years of existence, didn’t mean she was all too naïve. Sure, she was naïve about some things and very innocence but it didn’t mean she didn’t know. And after meeting Stephanie, she became so much more aware of things she hadn’t known. Different types of pleasure, an occupration that allowed her to enjoy all kinds of carnal pleasures she could want. See, Stephanie didn’t do what she did because she had to or someone twisted her arm. She did it because she liked it. Women like her enjoyed the control that being a ‘lady of the night’ could offer because they were the ones in charge. If a customer did something that they didn’t liked and even tried to push them, they were taken away and ‘thrown out.’ Every woman was different and Harper learned that she was different than she thought.

She didn’t want to be a ‘lady of the night.’ She loved her job as a kindergarten teacher but she was a woman with a secret of her own and it became more poignant after that night with Hawthorne at the ball. The things she learned, the way she felt when he teased her, the feeling of simply melting just by being in his close proximity, it opened her eyes. Suddenly, what she had with Steve wasn’t enough and it would never be enough. She never imagined in her wildest dreams that she would turn into that kind of woman who would willingly cheat on her boyfriend just to have the kind of feeling she was craving. But she was and there was no turning back. That’s okay, I don’t want to. I’ll never be the same, and that is just fine with me so long as I get this.

The feeling of Hawthorne’s cock slamming deep inside of her relatively recently deflowered pussy was excruciatingly delicious. Some didn’t seem to understand that pleasure could be painful and pain could be pleasurable. They were complete opposites like oil and vinegar yet somehow, when combined, they created something utterly delicious and it was impossible to stray away. It felt like he might try to break her and by egging him on for more, she got everything she wanted, craved and dreamed in all her wildest and naughtiest fantasies.

He wasn’t gentle one bit. No, he gave her exactly what she begged him for, taunted him with, challenged him against. Each bite of her lower lip made her melt with a greater need, each kiss and bite to her lips, neck, throat or shoulder, everywhere he could reach as he impaled her over and over again sent her reeling with so much pleasure. It was like she was deafening her own ears with how loud she cried out. Each loud moan was deep and guttural and not at all forced. The way he plunged each time from the ground up and buried himself balls deep in her was like an explosion of pleasure each time he slammed to the end of her vaginal channel. It was almost like he was trying to rip her in half which is probably what he would have intended if he didn’t want to murder her in the process. No, this Hawthorne Tisch was relatively in control but at the same time, he was a primal animal filled with lust to the very brim and he was taking it out on her.

He bit so hard on her throat that she felt the warmth of blood being sucked into his mouth and she didn’t even care. She’d probably be a broken mess by tomorrow and feeling the full ramification of tonight to the point that she couldn’t move but she didn’t care. Harper never felt so alive before. The more he pounded, the more her pleasure increased, the sooner she was pushed to screaming and her eyes actually watering up from the intensity of the pleasure that she almost, almost thought she couldn’t handle.

The pleasure built up like a mushroom cloud like from nuclear bombs. It billowed up into the air so quick but it seemed like it was so slow, although it was thundering deep inside of her, concentrated deep in her belly at the very center of her hot core. She threw her head back and didn’t feel the potential painful thud of it hitting the wood of the cross that sounded like it was splintering with each forceful thrust. His words were final undoing because he was right, he was totally and completely owning her pussy right now. She never stood a chance especially with how much she begged him and challenged him. Now she gave in and she lost herself completely.

Harper screamed in pleasure as the mushroom cloud of pleasure came rushing down and flooded through her entire being that she lost feeling of her arms, legs and even her neck. It was an orgasm that left her completely and utterly spineless, like her entire body just turned into jelly. Her pussy spasmed almost uncontrollably around his cock, clenching and unclenching from the muscle spasms. She gushed and her juices dripped down her legs, her cream mixed against his cock, coating it in a silky blanket of warmth and all sense of coherency was lost on her. She was senseless. She was incoherent. She even forgot her own name. The only thing she knew was that Hawthorne Tisch owned her body and that she’d never be the same.
 
Hawthorne was lost in the moment; his eyes closed, and breathing heavy as his hands, lips and teeth wandered Harper's body. Through his mind flashed images of 'Isabel' on the night of the ball, and Harper Collin's when she'd walked into his study, and he attempted to reconcile both against the woman now bound to the Cross, legs and arms spread, ass bruised and welted from his spanks, skin scratched and marked, throat dripping blood from, and her juices flowing around his cock. Who was she, Harper or Izabel, and who would remain once she was satiated?

It had been an eternity since Tisch's had lost such control of his faculties, however he knew he wasn't in a dream, from the sensations he experienced as his shaft sank ever deeper into her tight cunt. Harper's muscles clamped and squeezed him, and he threw his head back, and groaned. The wood slammed against the wall with increased urgency and force, and he thrashed, her vice-like grip holding him so tightly that the only way he could force himself deeper, was with violent, animalistic thrusts; not caring, if in the process, he split her in half.

The words he uttered slipped from his lips without conscious thought, and afterwards he wouldn't be able to recall half of what he had said. All he knew was that the woman impaled on his cock, and screaming in pleasure was unlike any he'd ever been with before. He was giving her what she'd asked for, through all the mocking and taunts, and making her plead and cry out with pleasure as their flesh slapped together, his balls smacked her thighs, and the lewd, wet sounds of their fucking echoed around the room. The pleasure or the pain, which would remain in her linger in her memory for longest, and which would she in future crave most?

This night was the beginning. Of what, Tisch wasn't completely sure, however he knew it was more than just sex. As he returned to reality, with every nerve end on fire, and a growing warmth spreading from the pit of his stomach to the tip of the cock buried inside her, that warned of his own release being barely seconds away, he gripped her throat with one hand, pinned her head to the wall, and issued the order for her to cum.

And my god, did Harper Collin's come. Her scream almost burst his eardrums, and her juices soaked his shaft as Tisch continued to ravage her limp form. He tossed her around as if she were a rag doll, and fucked her raw through the climax, owning not just Harper's body, nor her pussy, but also her mind, her pain and her pleasure. The look in her eyes as she experienced what Steve Kirk had refused to give her, and possibly something that only Hawthorne Tisch could, was too much for the Landlord of the Manor.

As her walls convulsed, and clenched around him, he threw his head back, emitted a primal scream to match hers, and allowed himself to release. The build-up and the sexual tension of the day departed his body, with the spurt of his thick, viscous seed deep inside her. The man came with enough force for the effort to contort his features, and for him to thrash even more harshly. His come combined with her juices as the two of them became one, and sprayed from her slit onto his thighs with each continued thrust. Together they climaxed, and Hawthorne had no concept of the time that had elapsed before they were done.

It seemed to have lasted an eternity, and would never stop, but simultaneously appeared to have been over in just a moment. Eventually his gripped left her throat, and panting and moaning, with eyes brimming with lust, desire and satisfaction, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, in a hot, passionate kiss. The other hand reached up to release one of the shackles around her wrists. "Had enough, Ms Collin's?" Tisch grinned, as with his shaft still buried inside her, he bounced her ass off the Cross with a jerk of his hips, and broke the kiss.

His touch, when it moved from the second shackle to her waist, was soft and gentle, and totally unlike his brutal fucking. He pecked her lips. "And is the mocking done for the night, or are you going to risk further punishment?" Hawthorne was aware that once Harper came down from her high, the scratches and bruises, and soreness between her legs would kick in, and she possibly wouldn't be able to take any more. Not if she still wished to be still able to walk in the morning. However, what occurred in that regard for the remainder of the evening would be in her hands. He had nowhere in particular to be the next day.
 
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