Taken by the Wolf Ch. 26

Trish didn't know what to think. Glancing at the big man seated next to her, his hand wrapped firmly around hers, she felt almost frightened. She hadn't been told anything, she had no idea what was going on, all she knew was that she was leaving the compound for the first time since she'd been taken.

And she didn't want to.

It was a startling and fairly frightening realization. But she felt safe in the compound. Everyone watched out for her, even when Jordan wasn't around. Everyone cared for her. She had actual friends, who waved to her in the hallway, chatted with her at mealtime, and never once looked at her with pity because she was an orphan or contempt because she wasn't rich. They all came from different places, different backgrounds, and yet they came together and none of that mattered. It was completely different from the way she'd grown up on the Moon, where background and family status were all that mattered and everyone was judged by that. Even winning a scholarship to Earth had been seen as a reason for derision, because anyone who mattered wouldn't need such a thing.

She told herself that she'd gotten used to the demands that Jordan put on her body, the pain and pleasure, the punishment and rewards, but the truth was, she'd started to like it.

Leaving the compound made her start to worry that this time in her life was over, even though Jordan hadn't said so. He was still holding her hand as the hover-car began to move, although he was talking on his earpiece to someone in one of the other cars. Looking around, Trish could see that there were six other cars, completely filled with the Wolf's soldiers, heading out with them. She couldn't imagine Jordan taking her on something dangerous... but would he take this many people if he was going to get rid of her somehow?

The buildings on Earth passed by the window; the compound was larger than it looked from the inside, when she peeked back at it. It was well hidden among plenty of other buildings with similar design. Surely they couldn't all be harboring criminals...

Next to her, Jordan pressed a finger to his earpiece. "Is everything in place? Good, we're on our way for pick-up... any concerns we should be aware of?" He snorted derisively at whatever the other person responded. "I mean real concerns. Okay, good. We'll be there soon."

He pressed the earpiece again, turning off the call, and then his hand came down on Trish's thigh, gripping her with his fingers as he turned his head to look down at her. She froze, only now realizing that she'd been squirming on the seat next to him, restless with all her anxious energy swirling around inside of her. The sensation of his hot palm against her thigh made her entire body quiver and then still, waiting to see what he would do next.

"Calm down, baby," he said softly, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you."

Almost immediately, she felt calmer. She trusted Jordan in that. If he said nothing bad was going to happen to her, she believed him.

"Where are we going?" she whispered, her eyes sliding across to the other soldiers in the car's interior. They weren't paying any attention to her and Jordan, but she never knew how he was going to take it when she questioned him in front of others.

"I have to make a pick-up for the Wolf," he said amiably, his fingers beginning to draw up her skirt so that he could stroke the soft inside of her thigh. Trish knew better than to try and stop him or to press her legs together, even though she hated being exposed in front of the other soldiers. They would never touch, but they would look, and that was bad enough. It was another demonstration of Jordan's domination, over her and over the soldiers.

Her nipples hardened as his hand slid deeper between her legs, his fingers searching out the lips of her pussy.

"Spread," he ordered, giving her a warning look not to argue. Trish bit her lower lip as she spread her legs, wishing that her skirt would fall into place to cover her, but instead it just moved up her thighs and showed off more of her body. Jordan's hand would cover her pussy though. His fingers slid into her folds, and he smiled as he found them already wet.

The slow exploration his fingers were making of her pussy wasn't going to get her off any time soon, it was just going to torment her as they drove. She shivered, keeping her hands by her sides, her body tingling and coming alive as he teased at her sensitive folds, slipping just the tip of a finger inside of her and then withdrawing it again. Cream was spread up to her clit, wetting the tiny nub and making it slick and hard under his ministrations.

She was panting and achy when he suddenly stopped, and she moaned in disappointment. With a little laugh, he brought his soaked fingers up to her lips and pressed them in, making her clean off her juices.

The man had timed it perfectly. The hover car landed just as she finished, leaving her unsatisfied, needy, and with the taste of sex on her tongue. But she didn't protest as Jordan helped her out of the car.

Blinking, she realized that she recognized where they were; it was a museum. One that she had visited before she'd been taken. Her hand firmly clasped in Jordan's, he pulled her inside. The Wolf's soldiers spread out throughout the crowd walking up the steps, and she realized that only a few of them were in uniform, mostly the ones that had ridden in the same car with her and Jordan. The rest were dressed just like anyone else. So was Jordan, although anyone who thought he was just a regular guy - at his height, with his muscles, and his fluid way of moving - was an idiot. With one heavy arm slung around Trish's shoulders, keeping her pressed close by his side, they moved into the museum.

It didn't take her more than a few minutes to realize that Jordan wasn't actually looking at any of the exhibits, although he did stop in front of several of them, taking a minute before moving on. Trish looked at the first few, but as she realized he had some destination, some goal, in mind, she found herself becoming too nervous to pay attention to them. Instead, her gaze began to dart around the room, wondering what he was looking for, as she began to shift her weight restlessly.

"Stay still and look at the painting," Jordan murmured in her ear, leaning down as if making some kind of innocuous comment about the restored Impressionist painting they were currently standing in front of. "Or I'll spank you the entire ride home."

Immediately, Trish focused in on the painting. It was beautiful, and she'd always loved old Earth art, so it should have more than enough to hold her attention, but she found herself staring at it without really seeing it. She didn't doubt that Jordan would spank her, the entire ride, which had taken about fifteen minutes and she really didn't want that. But at least now she knew what he had brought her there for. To help him blend in.

Someone like Jordan would always be noticed. He was too big, too lethal, for people to ignore. But pair him with a sweet-looking young woman like Trish, and he no longer stood out quite so much. People glanced and saw a large, protective man with a smaller female, a possessive one by his stance and the way he was constantly looking around at everyone. They would be judged as a couple, and he would immediately be seen as less threatening because of his presence. Everyone would assume that he was there because his girlfriend wanted to look at culture; they would accept his distraction and preoccupation as long as they saw her focusing on the exhibits.

She understood the psychological and sociological ramifications of her presence quite clearly. After all, she'd always been a good student. Most people wouldn't even realize how she was being used, they wouldn't actually think through everything she just had, their brains would just automatically do it for them.

Slowly they moved deeper into the Museum, Jordan directly where they went. Sometimes she glimpsed other members of his team, sometimes it seemed like they were completely alone. The further into the building they went, the more tense she became. To her dismay, he started adding minutes to a tally. Every time he felt she wasn't playing her part, he added another minute that he would be spanking her on the ride home.

By the time they reached the room filled with artifacts of the Ancient Egyptians, Trish was up to seven minutes. She felt Jordan tense beside her, his focus on the end of the room. Pretending to study the headdress in front of her (which, the sign said, was actually a reproduction, as the original was too old and delicate to have out on the museum floor), she dared to look down the long length of the room. There was a group of people down there, a couple and what looked like several bodyguards around them.

Bodyguards who weren't even trying to blend in. They were heavily muscled and wore athletic clothing, with suspicious bulges on their hips that were probably guns which had been covered up by the sashes around their waist. The couple must be from very prominent Moon families. Trish hadn't heard of anyone who could afford the bodyguards being attacked; only the wealthiest and most powerful could afford such men, and they were never needed as anything more than a deterrent.

Her heart began to pound as one of Jordan's soldiers - a ferociously deadly woman named Zadia - came up beside herself and Jordan. Zadia frightened Trish. The woman reminded her of the Wolf's ally Cora. Trish had seen the soldiers spar and she knew that if Zadia joined the mats, there was never any other winner. Only Jordan could go toe to toe with her, and even he could only beat her about half the time. He'd once told Trish that Zadia was going to be his replacement one day, as she was younger than him and soon even he wouldn't be able to defeat her as she grew in strength and skill.

"Everyone's in position," Zadia murmured, her dark black eyes focused on the headdress. She was dressed like a civilian, blending in much better than Jordan did, with her long dark hair and tanned skin. Small, but deadly. No one was frightened of Zadia when they first looked at her, unlike Jordan.

"Good. Watch over Trish."

Surprised, Trish didn't even protest as he moved away. Not that it would have done any good. Jordan began walking, nonchalantly, towards the guarded couple at the back of the room. Trish's eyes widened as she realized that she recognized every single person in the room. The couple and their guards were completely surrounded by the Wolf's soldiers. How had they managed to clear an entire museum room of everyone else?

"What's happening?" she whispered. Zadia hushed her, pulling Trish back towards the entrance to the room, keeping an eye out on the soldiers who were moving in the opposite direction - towards the couple. Were they the Wolf's next targets? Were Alex and Bella going to be returned to the Moon? But everyone knew the Wolf only took stragglers, those who were dumb enough (or overly confident enough) to venture out on their own. Not couples in the middle of a museum, in the middle of the afternoon, not people who were actually guarded. Whatever was happening, it was more important than the usual kidnapping. She eyed Zadia, keeping her voice to a whisper. "Why aren't you down there with them? Don't you want to be a part of what's happening."

"Show's what you know," Zadia whispered back harshly. Her dark eyes glinted with smugness. "I was given the more important assignment."

Trish.

She was the more important assignment?

Shouts echoed through the room and Trish immediately turned to see what was going on. Fighting - the soldiers swarming the bodyguards, who were fighting back. Screams - the woman, clinging to the man beside her and hampering him from any kind of defense he might have been able to put up. Jordan was next to them, reaching for them... and then a hand wrapped around Trish's wrist and pulled.

She yelped as she was dragged out of the room by Zadia.

"Come on," the other woman ordered. "We're going this way."

"Why?" Trish asked, digging in her heels. She could see people already moving towards the Egyptian hall, most of them curious onlookers, a few of them what looked like security guards of some kind.

"In case they get caught. My job is to get you to the rendezvous. From a different direction. Now come on."

There was no way Trish could shake off Zadia's grip, as the other woman waved frantically at the approaching museum guards.

"They have guns!" Zadia yelled, sounding completely panicked as she pulled Trish right by them.

Immediately the guards slowed down, approaching the room more cautiously even though the shouting had stopped. They ignored Zadia and Trish completely, which had probably been the goal from the beginning. Trish followed Zadia, knowing that it was useless to try and do anything else. She could probably escape right now, quite easily - but to what? If her scholarship hadn't already been given away, she doubted that the sponsors would be pleased to see her, regardless. No one had seemed to care enough to report her missing to the media. She'd seen the vids, only Alex and Bella had gotten any coverage.

And she wanted to know that Jordan was okay. Half of the fear pounding through her heart right now wasn't for herself, but because she was worried that he'd be caught or hurt. Stupid, because she knew that he was kidnapping or maybe even murdering someone else right now, but there it was. All she could think about was what might be happening in that other room. Sure, Zadia's warning about guns had slowed down the guard, but wouldn't it also make them more likely to use deadly force?

The fact that Jordan had separated himself from her, putting Zadia in charge of her safety, also said that he wasn't entirely confident in the smoothness of whatever plan he'd enacted. If he'd been sure of himself, he would have kept Trish by his side. She knew that much, because he rarely let her go anywhere without him.

People were already panicking all around them as the alarms began blaring, blending her and Zadia into the crowd as they rushed towards the exit. The second they got outside, Zadia turned, giving Trish no choice but to follow along behind her. She was sure that she was going to have red marks on her wrist from Zadia's unrelenting grip by the end of this. They hurried down the street, which was boiling with people going in all directions, staring at the museum as the alarm was audible even from the outside of the building.

Three blocks away, Zadia pulled Trish to a long line of hover cars, opening the door to the third one from the front and shoving Trish in. She fell to the floor of the car in a heap as the door slammed behind her, which meant that all she could see were multiple boots surrounding her.

"Careful baby girl," Jordan's deep voice murmured, sounding amused. Trish relaxed as he picked her up and pulled her onto his lap. Unlike her, Jordan wasn't even breathing hard, he looked as if he'd just gone for a stroll - except for the triumphant expression on his face. His eyes were practically glowing. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, although her hand automatically went to her wrist, which was feeling a bit sore. Immediately Jordan's focus changed, and he took her hand, lifting it so that he could inspect her wrist. It only took him a moment to nod, as if confirming her declaration.

"Good, then we can get on with your punishment."

"Wait!" Trish squealed as she was flipped over his knee, an all too familiar position, and her skirt was drawn up. She'd almost forgotten his threat from the museum.

"You earned seven minutes, sweetheart, starting now."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The slaps to her ass weren't particularly hard, but Trish moaned anyway, knowing that after seven minutes they were going still going to feel like fire. Each measured blow was firmly delivered, marching down one cheek and up the other from the top curve of her ass to her sit spot. The first three repetitions stung, but she didn't really start to squirm and whimper until the fourth. By then, her ass was a bright pink color, her skin warmed up and sensitive, and each firm smack felt like a little flame, licking at her bottom.

"That's one minute."

Grabbing onto the seat, Trish buried her face in it, trying to stifle her cries, knowing that it was only going to get worse over the next six minutes. Jordan didn't vary the intensity of his blows at all, but that's not how it felt. By the time he called out three minutes, Trish was openly crying, wriggling to try and escape the hard smacks, pinned in place by Jordan's hand.

Halfway through that minute, he picked her up and turned her over his lap the other way, joking to the soldiers that his hand was getting tired. Trish wanted to kick him. Then it started up again, only this time with a fresh hand, and the difference was definitely discernible to her poor cheeks. Trish howled.

The worst part was, despite the chuckling soldiers, despite the flaming pain, between her legs she knew that she was slick and creamy with arousal. Her mound pressed against Jordan's thigh, and as much as her bottom was wagging to try and ease the sting, she was also trying to rub herself against the hard muscle of his leg. The spanking might be humiliating, it might feel like her ass was on fire, but her pussy didn't care. It just got wetter and wetter even as she cried out with pain.

"Last minute."

She shrieked as Jordan's hand came down, not on her ass, but between her legs, firmly smacking her swollen pussy lips. They immediately plumped up even more under the unexpected assault. Pleasure flashed through her, edged with pain, and she shuddered and tried to close her legs. Immediately, Jordan smacked her sit spots, which were already red hot and painfully throbbing, and she sobbed as she forced her legs apart again.

The muted smacks landed on wet flesh as she bucked on his lap, throbbing inside and outside as he spanked her pussy, the tips of his fingers occasionally catching her clit and causing the little nubbin to puff up even further. Oh god... she couldn't cum - wouldn't cum - while he spanked her pussy... she wouldn't!

"Good girl," Jordan murmured, and his hand came down to rest on her pussy gently, fingers massaging the swollen, heated flesh, stroking away the sting. Immediately, Trish's body clenched, empty and grasping at nothing, but trying all the same.

He rubbed his hand over her bottom, making her gasp as sensations flared, coming back to life. As he'd spanked her pussy, she'd almost forgotten how much her ass hurt.

Then he was pushing her onto her knees, and Trish knew what came next. One hand slid into her hair while the other undid the front of his pants, and his cock sprung out, erect and ready.

"Play with yourself," he ordered her, as he pulled her head down, pushing her lips over the plump head of his dick. "If you can't make yourself cum before we arrive, you'll have to wait until this evening." As she opened her mouth to take him inside, her tongue flicking the sweet drop of liquid from his tip, his free hand cupped her breast and pinched the nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

Need shuddered through her, even as her lower body throbbed from the spanking. She pressed her fingers into her pussy, feeling the slick wetness coat her fingers immediately. The musky taste of man filled her mouth as Jordan pushed her head down, forcing himself into her throat. Rubbing her clit, she groaned, her vocal chords fluttering and humming against his cock and he groaned as well in response, thrusting his hips up and shoving himself across her tongue until her nose pressed against his groin.

Then he began to thrust in and out of her lips, fucking her mouth like it was her pussy. Trish found herself strumming her clit to the same rhythm, the nipple that he was playing with sending sparks of pleasure down to the emptiness inside of her and making her clench and shudder. Her tongue danced along the underside of his cock, stroking its length as it pushed past, his hand in her hair moving her head up and down over his groin.