Stalking Amber Ch. 04

The girl's hips swayed hypnotically, the blue sequinned g-string glittering as it caught the flickering lights at various angles. Fred suppressed a yawn as the dancer bent over, batting false eyelashes at him from between her legs.

Fred could barely conceal his distaste when the girl twirled and leaned forward, proudly displaying large fake breasts. They jutted toward him unflatteringly through a thin layer of vibrant, blue mesh. In an ordinary setting, he imagined the girl could be quite striking. But aside from an athletic physique, it was difficult to detect anything else.

The woman was a walking, over-exaggeration of 'sex'. Any natural beauty was buried beneath layer upon layer of makeup. The sparkling, highly spiked, blue heels seemed more a health hazard than an enticement. The colour of her eyes were indiscernible, burdened almost to the point of full closure by the giant set of false lashes.

Sighing, Fred felt nothing except sorry for the girl who was compelled, for whatever reason, to spend an evening shaking ass for money. Above that, he felt sorrier for himself. He longed to be home with Amber, snuggling on the lounge like they used to. Dark eyes hardening at the reality of his newly single status, Fred coped as best he could with the unwelcome reminder that his apartment was cold and empty, and he had an arrogant schmuck to babysit for the night.

Both men were clear targets for the dancing girls. It wasn't every day that two customers whom most women would fuck for free came to the establishment to pay for entertainment. With similar builds, Brad was slightly taller than Fred, but none would tell the difference as they sat together, observing what the club had to offer.

Brad was what most would describe as runway, drop-dead gorgeous. Deep, ocean-blue eyes, curling brown hair, and perfectly smooth, tanned skin. The intensity of his expression complimented his strong jawline, which was clean-shaven. His handsome mouth was prone to curve into a confident, cruel smile, which was no less tantalising than his laughing self when he was genuinely at ease.

Blessed with a perfect physique, his broad shoulders and strong arms complimented his height. He was a delight to the naked eye, so much that without any inkling of his character women gravitated towards him, motivated by a primal need for pleasure. Brad oozed raw sexuality, power and money; a manifestation of female fantasy.

Fred was also very attractive, but he was no poser - his jet-black hair was usually styled in a hurry, if at all. He was genuine, kind, and very funny. It didn't take long for the women who crossed his path to see beyond his looks - he wasn't just a guy to lust after, he was a guy to take home to meet the family.

That wasn't to say Fred lacked sex appeal - he was compelling in a roguish, mischievous way. With little effort, his dark looks could easily have a similar visual impact to Brad's, but it wasn't in his nature to take such care in his appearance. His stance was normally relaxed, and he was naturally charming. He didn't have Brad's ego, nor did he enjoy multiple women hanging off each arm. For Fred, sex was deeply personal. It was an intense, intimate connection between two people.

Due to the recent circumstances, Fred was displaying a style more akin to Brad's. The current tension in his broad shoulders and the severity in his face, combined with the five-o-clock shadow creeping across his jawline, gave him a sexier edge than he'd have wanted.

Under the guise of admiring the stripper, Brad obliquely observed Fred. Tiring of the pretence and increasingly impatient with the continued failure of his plans, Brad struggled to maintain a jovial appearance. It was particularly difficult, given the woman he truly desired was waiting at his home, albeit unwillingly.

Before leaving to meet Fred, Brad had to move Amber. After she'd tried to flood the place, he couldn't trust her volatile temperament. Confident he could handle her antics whilst under the same roof, he wasn't taking any chances when off the premises.

And so, he surprised her, purposefully striding into the bedroom in full business attire. Rapidly rousing from sleep when he entered, Amber was just as he remembered, how he pictured her every waking moment they were apart.

Amber was strikingly beautiful. She had soft, fair skin, parts of which glowed beautifully pink when she flushed with embarrassment, arousal, or anger. The colour complimented her pouting, rose-coloured lips. Her shoulder-length, ash-blonde hair was naturally pale, like silken, white gold. With a toned, petite figure, her lovely breasts were firmly rounded; not overly large, but shaped perfectly to tantalise a grown man's hand.

Most unique was her eye colour - a vibrant, glowing, pastel-blue. It was incredibly distracting, and she was well-accustomed to the stares and comments about her rare looks. Beauty aside, she was incredibly loyal, hard-working, and humble - she didn't have the same arrogance about her appearance that Brad did. And for the limited few who brought it out in her, Amber had quite a temper. Brad was, unsurprisingly, one of the few.

Having only seen Brad either casually dressed, or naked, the suit gave him a more respectable, sombre appearance. Beneath the suit's sharp black, a soft, yellow business shirt brought out the colour of his eyes by contrast. Ignoring Amber's gaping, Brad knelt on the bed and reached beneath the quilt to unlock her ankle.

Then in one fluid movement he cast the sky-blue blanket to the floor and seized her arm, tugging her over his shoulder. In a no-nonsense manner Amber was briskly carried, kicking and screaming, out of the bedroom, down two sets of stairs into his basement.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted, as he lowered her to the concrete floor. "A dungeon? A fucking dungeon! You, sick fuck!"

"It's a basement, not a dungeon!" Brad replied shortly, exasperated she continued to think the worst of him, and that her opinions were well-justified. "You're going to stay here, and you're going to behave," he told her. "If you don't behave, I'll know."

Brad raised his eyes to a surveillance camera fixed next to a light-globe, high up on the ceiling, well out of reach. "And I'll come in here and fuck you. Keep that in mind, baby."

"You are such a creep!" Amber screamed. Though she stayed on the ground, her small hands curled into white fists of rage as she glared at her dim surroundings.

The room was very clean and quite small, more of a cellar than a basement. The walls appeared to be dampened, charcoal-coloured cement. There was furniture, but these items made the room seem most like a prison. A small, spindly table with two accompanying stools, all glinting metal. The only exception was a large, beige settee, which had been made up as a bed and took up almost a quarter of the room.

Following her angry gaze, even Brad couldn't deny it certainly looked like a dungeon.

"I assumed at some point I'd have to put you in here, for short periods," he sighed, more to himself. Meeting her indignant stare, Brad's body tingled with desire, building between his legs and extending to his extremities.

As he sauntered forward, Amber quickly scrambled away until she was up against the cold wall. Two more of Brads steps closed the distance between them, and when she dropped her gaze to the ground, he crouched down before her. The dark atmosphere made his blue eyes shine like grey steel as he watched her intently.

Admiring her angelic face, Brad slowly reached out and tucked a few blond strands behind her left ear. With nothing but stone at her back, Amber anxiously turned her face to the side to escape his lingering hand as his fingers traced down her elegant jawline and neck.

"No comeback, Amber?" he remarked, slightly disappointed that she hadn't physically lashed out at his touch, or dished out the verbal sass he'd come to enjoy.

Although conscious of the clock, he was never in a hurry to leave her. Glancing down at his chest, he smoothed the collar of his black blazer, wrinkled from carrying her to the basement. Lifting his head, Brad thoughtfully fingered the silken crease.

Wary of her precarious position, Amber carefully stayed silent. Returning his gaze unblinkingly, she wanted to attack him, berate him, get free. But knowing how he responded to her, she knew it would be pure stupidity. Though it could never excuse his conduct in her eyes, Amber vaguely understood that her physical nearness impacted him.

In her everyday life, Amber had no issue keeping her reckless anger under wraps. But she had never been kidnapped, imprisoned, obscenely insulted and assaulted. Never had her basic rights mockingly withheld, her pride consistently provoked to a reaction. Holding back around Brad would always be a vicious inner-battle.

"This is one of my favourites," Brad continued chidingly, clicking his tongue. Watching her sullen face with a small, affectionate smile, he continued to caress the sleek material.

"Not to worry, baby. I'll procure a special one for our wedding. You can damage it as much as you like, on our wedding night." Cheekily winking at her, he slowly grazed his bottom lip with his teeth in a suggestive gesture.

"I wouldn't marry a pig!" Amber snarled, and spat without warning, decorating the front of Brad's crisp, canary-yellow shirt with saliva.

Quickly recovering from his surprise, Brad lazily stood with a predatory smile. Taking in the sight of her, his cock twitched and began to swell. The way she glared up at him from the ground, with wide, angry eyes. Lips parted as she breathed heavily, flushed with vibrant colour.

The way her chest heaved, revealing the deliciously rounded outline of her pert breasts as they pushed against the red material of her t-shirt with every breath. The brazen fury heating her lovely, doll-face. Golden hair sexily tousled from her nap, the strands voluminously framed her perfect features.

These combined responses made Amber look hot and bothered, not least of all extremely fuckable. Taking a few steps away from her, Brad checked his watch, then pulled out his phone.

Sending the message, Brad's lips curled into a mocking smile, imagining Fred's irritation at the last minute delay. Moving his eyes from the phone screen back to Amber, his expression sobered and the lingering smile drifted from his face. Though watching her with a dark intensity, his eyes gleamed electrifyingly blue, alight with sexual excitement. Amber knew that look.

"Oh god, no! Brad, I'm sorry!" she mumbled in a rush, cursing her temper as Brad shed his blazer. Chestnut-brown hair reflecting the dull light as he shook his head, with one hand he expertly unbuttoned his shirt, whilst the other worked on his trousers.

"Now, I have to change," he said with exaggerated resignation, kicking off his shoes. "I may as well make it worth my while."

"You're disgusting!" Amber sneered her contempt as he continued to undress. "You can't get a woman without force?"

"Now that we have some extra time, in a new setting," Brad drawled, ignoring her jibe and glancing around. "This is an opportunity to teach you a proper lesson."

"You've shown me everything there is to know about being a perverted sex-attacker," Amber retorted, shuddering.

"Oh, no, I haven't..." Brad softly replied, standing intimidatingly tall in nothing but navy briefs. "And I think we should talk about your unladylike spitting habit."

Though his voice was calm, his erection was clearly outlined beneath his underwear. His chest and arms appeared more solid than usual, as his whole body tensed with desire.

Amber angrily looked away from his taut, muscled physique. There was a time when the sight of him in a state of undress radically aroused her, but she wasn't drugged with an aphrodisiac this time, and she was overcome with loathing.

Brad took a moment to consider his next line of action. He'd restrained Amber and made her come. He'd drugged her, forcing her to seek pleasure from him of her own free will. They had one verbal standoff, which he calculatingly retreated from. But he'd never really addressed her disrespect. Knowing he'd be kidding himself in aspiring to eradicate this habit, at least for the moment he could have some fun with it.

Amber ducked to the side as Brad approached, but not fast enough. Quickly bending, his long arm snaked out and tightly seized her hair. After a painful attempt to tug her head free, Amber was forced to follow his lead, crawling on hands and knees, swearing at him all the way. Ignoring her resistance, Brad comfortably seated himself on one of the small stools, and though she scratched and fought him, Amber was dragged across his lap in one rough movement.

Gasping in surprise at the sudden impact of his thighs across her stomach, Amber was firmly kept down by the large hand in her hair. Brad's other hand comfortingly rubbed her back over the t-shirt, before slipping beneath the material to caress the soft skin of her torso.

"Mmmmm," Brad said huskily, watching her wriggle angrily, trying to distance herself from his cock, which poked into her waist with blatant hardness. After tracing the outline of her tracksuit pants for an indulgent moment, Amber cried out as Brad suddenly tugged them down, along with her underwear, exposing her bare ass to his palm.

"Ever tried a little BDSM, Amber?" he inquired conversationally. His tone was mildly curious, as though she weren't vigorously fighting to escape his lap.

"No!" she shouted at the ground, appalled by the suggestion. Futilely trying to jerk her hair free, she winced as it only brought pain. "But I know consent is essential! Let me go!"

Brad laughed heartily, his teeth flashing white as he grinned down at her toned derrière with delighted anticipation.

"Now, normally I'd make you call me 'Sir'," he breathed, his heart racing, "but with your attitude I think 'Master' is more appropriate. What do you think, baby?"

"'Fuckface' suits you," Amber snapped, struggling with more vigour.

She squealed as his fingers tickled her naked pussy, and she tried kicking out to repel the unwelcome hand. But the pants and underwear gathered about her knees restricted the movement of her legs.

"Mm-hmm," Brad answered thoughtfully, and withdrew his hand.

SMACK!

Amber screeched in surprise and pain as he sharply brought his palm down on a taut buttock.

"Yeow! FUCK!" she swore, her rage temporarily clouded by the shocking sensation of the spank.

"No..." Brad grinned. Stroking her pussy, he teasingly spread her lips with two fingers and nudged her clit with his thumb, before raising his arm to smack her ass again, this time with more force.

"ARGHH! You- You fucking-!" Amber shrieked, desperately struggling to be free of the hand firmly twisted through her hair. "You motherfucker!"

Brad didn't answer, but his blue eyes glowed with amused lust. With a satisfied smile he began to rhythmically spank her, his cock throbbing painfully as she twisted against him, stimulating him physically. Warming to his task, Brad ignored her objections, studiously alternating between her left and right buttocks until both had reddened and radiated heat against his palm.

"Ow! Brad, please! Oh, God, it hurts! Stop!" Amber pleaded tearfully, her skin burning from the sharp sting his hand delivered. Though shaking with fury, she could barely think through the startling pain. As he steadily carried on with the discipline, she knew there was only one way to stop him.

"Ok, Brad! Please! Master! Please!" Amber begged.

Despite the earnest plea, her bright eyes widened with incredulous rage, her teeth clenched from the humiliation. As Brad immediately ceased, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief, moaning pitifully as he gently caressed her trembling, bruised ass.

"Was that so hard, naughty girl?" he asked lightly.

Seemingly nonchalant, his heartbeat rapidly thundered with the power he felt. All of his nerves pleasantly tingled, hearing her address him with respect whilst sexily bent over his knee, like a misbehaved schoolgirl. It was so fucking hot.

The cocky humour in Brad's voice chimed clear as a church bell, and Amber had never wished so hard for a gun. At her resentful silence, Brad abruptly tugged her head up to face him. To take the strain off her hair, Amber was forced to grip his naked thighs to support her raised position.

"Was that so hard?" he repeated harshly, tightening his hold in her hair for emphasis.

Though Amber was tempted to claw his arrogant, handsome face to shreds, she didn't want to go another round of spanking.

"No," she returned sullenly, showing her teeth in a snarl, her cheeks glistening with tears of pain. Brad

basked in her defeat for a satisfied moment, before giving in to temptation.

Amber disgustedly rolled her eyes to the ceiling as Brad kissed her passionately, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth to slide against hers. Still holding her hair as they kissed, Brad's other hand reached under to feel up Amber's smooth, flat stomach and roam across her chest.

Leisurely fondling her breasts, he traced their soft, curved shape. Finally settling to cup one in his hand, he squeezed it indulgently, moaning his approval into her mouth as he captured a rosy nipple between thumb and forefinger. Amber protestingly whined back, as her nipple ached and hardened in response.

After a long moment Brad finally freed her mouth, and smugly kissed both of her wet cheeks. Amber groaned bitterly when he didn't release her as she'd hoped. Giving her breast a last teasing caress, he gently guided her down over his knees to face the floor.

"I love naughty Amber, but obedient Amber is something else," Brad said thickly, wondering why the fuck he hadn't tried this earlier.

"I said what you wanted! Let me go! Ouch!" Amber whimpered as his hand lightly kneaded her sore behind.

"Yes." Brad took a deep, shaky breath as he inspected her lovely, rounded ass. "Your butt looks fucking perfect with a little colour," he chuckled, feeling her jump as his hand lowered to her pussy.

"I think you enjoyed being disciplined. You're wet, you know." He grinned, hearing her angrily huff as he gently traced her pussy lips, making her squirm. "Perhaps we should we put this matter to bed?"

"Fuck you, no! Uhhh-!" Amber's face constricted and she snapped her eyes shut as Brad slid a finger inside her.

"What a shame," Brad sighed, slowly and sinuously fingering her pussy. Though his wide chest trembled to contain his lust, he casually raised his hand and licked his fingers before resuming finger-fucking her.

"I loved you sucking my cock the other day. More than that, I loved that you loved it." At this comment, Amber growled and strained to loosen his hold on her.

Amber couldn't believe that someone so seemingly intelligent, rich and attractive could be such an awfully twisted, sexual deviant. The situation rapidly worsened as she learned disturbing new things about Brad the longer she was trapped in his company. Obviously no one was coming to rescue her. Was this her new life - helpless over a strangers lap, a sex slave? Calling him her Master?

The last line of thought quickly snapped Amber out of her docile daze. For a brief, horrified moment she was shocked by the sharp realisation that Brad was slowly training her to be submissive to him. From outright rape to sneaky drugs, civil compromise to BDSM role-play. Brad was using a different tactic every time to keep her confused and break her down.

Whether she fought him, relented, or was drugged into cooperation, he'd patiently wear her out until she ultimately accepted her fate. Whatever their arrangement was, he was determined to win. Even if he was capable of murder, if Amber was looking at a lifetime of imprisonment and sexual abuse, the sole purpose of her existence to be a piece of meat at Brad's arrogant beck and call, she'd rather be dead. Fuck him.