Savage Mind - Thought Police Bundle #1: (Sci Fi Rough BDSM) Read online

  She wasn't even sure why she did it, save the scenario seemed to dictate it. She was safe, she knew it, but she wanted him to chase her. She was playing with fire, and didn't care.

  She was fast, but he was faster. She blindly took turn after turn while his heavy boot steps were an ever present echo. She reached one dead end and doubled back meeting him at the end of the corridor. His suit made him big enough to block the whole thing, but she darted underneath one arm and almost made it. He caught her wrist and jerked it backwards painfully.

  “Guess you can't be trusted. Pity.” He forcefully pulled her other hand behind her back, and held them both in one of his large gloves. “March”.

  They made their way back to the cart that he'd left outside her room. He transferred his hold to his left hand and began to rummage around in his supplies. She struggled, but her shoulder was in pain from where he'd jerked it back earlier.

  “Aha!” he exclaimed, and stood back up. In his hands was a thick, black collar and a long, silver leash. He pulled back her hair and put it around her neck, a bit tighter than was necessary. He then let her go, while holding onto the leash. She eyed him wildly. She'd never even thought of using a leash in this way. It was humiliating, exhilarating, and she worried he'd be able to smell how excited it made her.

  “Act like a bitch and this is how you'll be treated.” He jerked the leash, and her, closer to him. When she was close enough, he reached down to her chin and tilted her head to him.

  “You should stop all of this fighting, or things are going to go very badly for you. My boss does not tolerate this sort of frivolousness.” He kept a tight grip on her collar as he spoke.

  She spit directly in his mask, then before she could react the world went dark.

  CHAPTER 5

  She blinked a few times coming to in the dim light. Once more she found herself chained, her arms pinned above her, though this time her legs too had manacles attached. She tried to lean forward to see how her legs were pinned only to find another chain wrapped twice around her midsection.

  At some point while she was out, someone had bothered to clothe her. She wore a short red dress now, and different taller heels than the ones she had originally begun with.

  But the room was what was most important. Now she'd come as far as she could imagine from the cinder block prison of her earlier hours, instead every inch of this room was opulence. Every available surface was covered in shades of red and purple pillows, beds, lounging chairs. A huge drapery was suspended from the ceiling and cascading down all of the walls. Well, at least her accuser had a vivid imagination.

  She wasn't alone. In the far corner of the room, nearly hidden in darkness, the sound of ice tinkling against a glass cup. She did not feign sleep, simply stared into the darkness, listening to the occasional sounds of his drinking.

  Finally he stood and stepped out of his shadowy corner. He was not quite what she expected. His suit was dark, obviously tailored and it appeared he'd picked the red of his shirt to match the room in which they found themselves in. His hair was a true black, falling to his shoulders. In his hand he held a tumbler full of some amber liquid. Though he was the same man she'd seen in the chair beside her, the same man she was touching in real life, he was different, more primal.

  His pale eyes betrayed an intensity that caught her breath in her throat.

  This was clearly the boss.

  He downed the rest of his drink while coolly regarding her predicament. Then he poured himself another, taking one more sip. Finally, he took the last remaining steps to her captive form and reached to her face. He delicately ran the back of his hand against her cheek, down her neck.

  When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost a whisper so that it commanded her full attention. “You understand why you are here?”

  She had not spoken until then yet his manner pulled her voice from her lungs. “Yes.”

  “Good. Then you understand there is nothing you can do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why fight?”

  That brought a wry smile to her lips. “Why fight? It's what I do. Even when it seems hopeless, I will still fight.”

  He stared at her for another long moment, deeply into her eyes. Then his eyes moved lower to her breasts. He turned and stalked to the bar, pouring another tall glass of the liquid. This was good for her, if he managed to get inebriated.

  It was her turn to ask the question. “How will you do it then?”

  His eyes, which had been roaming over her body suddenly went full force back to her own.

  “Why does it matter?”

  She frowned. “It matters. I've dreamed of this day for years. I just want to know.”

  A shot of confusion crossed his face, then amusement. “I'm not willing to ruin the surprise.”

  “Ah.” She was silent for another long moment, and his eyes went back to examining her body. “Were there many others, other than me?”

  He was startled back to her face. “What?”

  “Others, you know, others you did this to?”

  Was it pride that touched his face? “Yes, a few.”

  “You are professional then? Good.” Again the confusion touched his face. He took a long drink of his liquor and used his other hand to trace along the side of her body.

  “You are unusual, my dear. Most would already be in tears, or denying what we both know.” His hand trailed down, and squeezed her breast. “Yet you do not. I think you do not understand what's going on.”

  He leaned forward, his body pressing into hers, though she could not move from the chains. His lips were centimeters from her ear as he spoke, “I'm going to do things to you that you cannot imagine. You will not enjoy it.”

  At the same moment he spoke, he flipped some switch behind her , causing the chains to loosen just enough that she fell to her knees. She recovered from her surprise quickly. Her eyes sought his out, as he towered above her.

  “This is the point, my dear, when you start to beg.”

  She laughed throatily. He clearly could not imagine a scenario in which she might want this as much as he. She held his gaze as she began. “Do you want me to beg for my life,” her gaze drifted to his crotch, which was at eye level. He was straining against his tailored suit, “or do you want me to beg for you to fuck me?”

  Something primal crossed his face then. Clearly he'd not expected this sort of reaction. She knew from his files that he was incredibly organized, very orderly. His life was ruled by precision, that he woke up at a specific time, arrived at work a specific time, went home at a specific time. Of course in his fantasies of control he would be exactly the same. He would expect her to scream, to cry, to beg.

  She should do as he asked, get all of the evidence she needed to lock him away for good. There was no question he was guilty. But she was not done. She stared lustfully into his eyes.

  He lost the control he'd kept such a tight reign on. She'd thrown a wrench into his gears. He tossed back the rest of his drink, then threw the empty glass into the corner, shattering it. One hand grabbed a huge mass of her dark hair, the other expertly unzipped his pants, freeing him.

  He pulled out the largest dick she'd ever seen. It was long, thick, engorged nearly purple. She could see the veins furiously pumping blood. Already a drop of his juice glimmered at the head, excitedly.

  He slowly ran his hand up and down the length, keeping the tight hold on her hair. He jerked her head back a bit so that he was sure she was staring at his monster dick.

  “Ever seen anything like this?” he slapped it against her cheek. It was heavy, hard, and it hurt. He liked to see her wince, so he did the same thing to the other side. She could feel the juices against her face as he continued the humiliation.

  In her society, oral sex was simply not done. She'd never had a dick in her mouth, but she found herself thrilled to try. If he wanted begging, she'd give it to him.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “Please, what?” he asked, slow
ly rubbing the head against her lips.

  “Put it in my mouth,” she pleaded.

  “Master...” he prompted.

  She wanted to recoil from the appellation. Yet it seemed so appropriate right then.

  “Please put it in my mouth, Master.”

  Without further preamble, he stabbed the whole thing deep in her mouth..

  He was long, longer than her throat, and his girth filled up her mouth. Still he shoved until it was curving down her throat. He held it there, though she tried to fight back. He watched her eyes as she struggled to breathe. When she was at the verge of passing out, he pulled out, then jammed it back in. A few thrusts for his pleasure, then he'd show her again what it felt like not to breathe. He was trying to make her cower, to force her to being his sex slave.

  She had every intention of doing so, especially if her forced it. She knew there was no way she was going to jump out of this.

  And so he kept going, thrusting deep inside her mouth, pulling out to the head. Then again he would smash inside, stuffing her whole mouth full to the brim. It was such a weird sensation, she felt so full, then empty again. She let herself go, let herself feel the fear, truly let herself enjoy the experience. She only wished she could touch herself at the same time.

  The fear that had crossed her eyes was exactly what he needed. He kept her gaze, watching the submission that came over her. That was what he needed to see, and the sight plus a few more thrusts took him over the edge. He spilled all of the seed he'd stored up for her down her throat. He kept her head, unable to move as he shot wave after wave all the way down her throat.

  Over and over he shot himself, deep inside of her mouth, a cry escaping his lips.

  When he finally finished, he pulled out, and she collapsed forward. Not a drip fell from her lips.

  “Now you understand how serious this is.”

  When her eyes found his, they were glazed over, as if she'd actually enjoyed what just happened.

  “I never doubted it.”

  The world suddenly went dark, and she awoke back in her chair in the real world.

  No Remorse

  Thought Police #2

  by

  Claudia Balvenie

  Cover Art by

  Xalanx

  Copyright 2014.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  CHAPTER 1

  Rori awoke in the reclining medical chair, next to the accused man. Unlike herself, he was still unconscious.

  She licked her lips and brushed the sweat away from her forehead. She tried to make sense of his vitals, displayed on a screen above him. Nothing was abnormal, save that he appeared to be quite aroused.

  Why then was she brought out of the dream sequence?

  She took a few moments to steady herself. She took several deep breaths, tried to calm down. In this clinical society, she'd never felt the sort of sexual excitement that she'd felt inside his brain. Part of her was certain it would be written all over her face. Yet she was a talented and trained psychic. She could, and would, suppress it.

  Finally she pressed on the intercom, calling for her monitor. A young, male voice piped in from the other room. “Yes, Investigator?”

  Rori hid her excitement behind a mask of anger. “Why was my connection severed? I had important work going on within that man's mind. I see no issue with his stats.”

  “It wasn't his stats ma'am, it was yours,” he stammered, clearly intimidated by her position. Barely out of college, the kid was lucky to be interning in this scenario. But his youth would make him easier to manipulate. As a licensed criminal investigator, it was her job to determine if the perps would commit a crime in the future. Her abilities allowed her to delve into the darkest fantasies and make the determination if the individual would actually break the law, given the opportunity.

  These outliers, the ones who were not content with the governmentally approved sexual acts, were the ones she was asked to investigate. And this man, her first lone investigation, was one who'd set off several flags during a brain scan.

  So she was sent inside his dreams to see what he might do, given his darkest fantasies. Inside she was free to make the determination. Was he a criminal? Would he commit a crime, given the opportunity? But Rori had a problem.

  She too was one of the outliers.

  In the dark recesses of her mind, she wanted the same sort of depravity that the men she investigated desired. She wanted to be taken, to be held down, to be bound. She wanted a man inside her in every possible way, perhaps even multiple men.

  She knew deep down that she was just as filthy as the men she investigated, but she was protected. As a psychic herself, no one could see into the most secret parts of her brain. And the brain scans did not pick up on her outlier status, for she did not want to dominate others, merely to submit.

  All of this she knew, even before she went under. She'd had months in training, viewing exactly what could happen inside these dreams. At night, she would go home and imagine that she were the one bound. She was the one waiting to see what would happen next.

  And she'd been so careful to hide what she'd felt.

  Now, as she slowly turned to see her own vitals, it was clear. Her heartbeat was elevated, her brain scans showed clear signs of arousal. She had really only one option, one she was not proud of. She would lie to the intern monitor.

  “What the Hell is wrong with you, kid? You know good and damn well that it's normal to see these numbers when a psychic is in dream state!” She yelled the same way she'd seen her bosses do, putting all the inflection of superiority in her voice.

  “Ma'am, my books...” he stammered again, thumbing through them.

  “Your books? Your books!?” She screamed, walking over to the glass window, shouting directly into it. Her breath, hot and furious, fogged up the thin screen between the two of them. “This is real life, kid! You do not pull me out without an actual emergency! Fear! Depression! Anxiety! Those are emotions you pull me out for, got it?”

  “But I was just told, all strong emotions...” his eyes were wide, frightened of being pulled off the case. She couldn't break now even though he'd done exactly as he should have.

  “Not for this! I can pull myself out. You see me flat line, you see me in fear, you pull the plug. Else wise you risk us getting incomplete data. Is that what you want? Do you want to see an innocent man get convicted, or a guilty one go free?” She pushed all her fury into her big eyes, and pounded once, hard, on the glass to drive home her point.

  “No... no, ma'am.” He held his hands tightly in his lap. He glanced again to the still aroused man sitting in the cold, white chair. “If you wish to go back under, I can …”

  “Of course I want to go back under! And no more interruptions, or I'll make sure your new intern job is at the morgue, got it?”

  He nodded and frantically began to turn dials in front of her. She didn't bother to watch him, the dressing down would be enough for him to ignore what she was doing. She felt guilty, the intern was actually doing his job correctly. Still, she had to do her job as well.

  She lay back down and took the perp's hand in both of her own. She closed her eye and let the connection whisk her back into his mind.

  CHAPTER 2

  She took several long moments to get her bearings from where he had left her alone. The accused was nowhere to be found, nor was he in any of his guises. Doctor, Hazmat, Boss. None of his personalities were present. Perhaps he was resting?

  She was still kneeling on the floor, as the boss had left her. Her arms were pinned above her, though somewhat more loosely that before. Her stomach was still held against the slab by the crossed chain.

  A good while had passed before anyone came back to check on her. She'd been dozing at that point. Her game plan was already set and the boss had confirmed her path. All she need do now was wait. Once she'd
seen what he was capable of, she would judge if the man was worthy of living in society. If truly he would not harm her, she would let him be. Was he any worse than she was, after all?

  Then again, she was manipulating a young intern to ignore her own lustful dream scape romps. Was she any better?

  It was Hazmat who came to see her next. He pushed in a cart before him. He seemed disconcerted, completely different than the man who'd been so rough with her before. She hid a smile.