The Ox Who Got the Cream Ch. 03

"AWWWFFFTT!" Layla shouted indignantly, feeling the familiar exposure of her sensitive parts to air.

Truce laughed. "I love you, Layla." He began to wind a side lever, which slowly spread Layla's legs wider. Ignoring her desperate whines, he knelt between her thighs and spread her cheeks.

"Well, look who's wet?" he teased, gently spreading her glistening lips, but his eyes were on the tiny hole above.

Exhausted from futilely struggling, Layla sighed pitiably when Truce licked her, crying out into the gag when he spat and began to work a finger in her ass.

"There you go," he breathed, running his tongue over her clit, gently fucking her ass with his thumb. He felt Layla's mood shift, her limbs tense then relax, her rage disrupted by her bodily reaction.

Truce tortured her a while, retreating and returning, until her pussy was swollen and gushing wet. He withdrew and took his time collecting her juices on the butt-plug, not rubbing her clit enough for a climax, just enough to tease her atrociously.

"Unnnghhh!" Layla begged, her body shaking in the restraints. She couldn't see what Truce was doing, she could only see his legs in the mirror, and her flushed, muzzled face.

Then Truce gently twisted the plug against her ass, routinely flicking her clit and retreating before she could achieve a climax. Layla moaned pleadingly, then squeaked with alarm when the toy went in completely. It wasn't very large, but enough to make her squeal.

"There." Truce stood to survey his handiwork; Layla's spread legs, soaked pussy, decoratively plugged ass, her lithe body trembling against the table with the need for an intense release.

Truce wanted to fuck her so badly, it made him angry. What should have been a decadent evening had unnecessarily turned into a complete disaster. Layla needed to be punished, as he advised he would do if she broke his rules. He was a man of his word.

"Now, I want you think about what you did today," he said severely, struggling to pay attention to his task. "I want you to mull over the fact you made me a promise and carelessly broke it. You only have yourself to blame..." he trailed off, too distracted by the lure of her pink wetness.

He traced her swollen clit with a fingertip and Layla yowled for more. Truce sucked his finger, the sweet taste darkening his eyes with bad thoughts; all kinds of things he wanted to do, that he couldn't because he was so fucking pissed off.

Panting with desire, Layla's breath lodged in her throat when Truce unexpectedly brought his palm down on her ass. She shrieked around the gag and tried to twist away, but the blows continued to rain down on her flesh, jostling the butt-plug with the smacking force.

Weirdly aroused and wild with pain, Layla screamed into the rubber, watching Truce through the mirror, his handsome face set with determination, though something distinctly lustful in his eyes as they darted about her nether region.

Layla gazed at him, begging with her eyes, until they snapped shut to deal with the hurt. If she could say she was sorry, she would. If she could plead with him to stop, make seductive promises, he would listen. But she was completely immobilised and forced to take her penalty in silence. It was the worst part of the punishment.

Truce rotated around the area, never hitting the same place twice in a row so she wouldn't bruise. Well, not too much anyway. After a while she was too tired to cry, her thighs and buttocks stinging, a lingering burn from the spanking.

Layla wriggled, hissing around the gag as the soreness flared with her movement.

"Now you're really dripping," Truce observed, rubbing his stinging palms together. "Had enough?"

Though she glared at his reflection with teary eyes, Layla's muffled affirmation was clear. She miserably nodded against the padding just in case.

As much as she'd hate to admit it, deep down Layla knew that if Truce let the incident slide, she would have lost some respect for his authority.

Well, now she had learned that Truce's threats weren't idle, and she'd definitely think twice before blatantly flouting his rules in future. And now she could finally satisfy the agonising craving he'd built with the foreplay.

Layla moaned longingly, anticipating the release of her tired limbs, being carried to Truce's big, soft bed, ardently kissed and coddled and blissfully fucked before passing out in a deep, satisfied sleep.

Truce went to get something, and Layla sighed at the soothing ointment he massaged into her, not exactly avoiding her pussy as his hands ran over the skin, spreading her aching cheeks and squeezing them together, brushing her engorged clit.

Layla softly whimpered encouragement, warily opening her eyes when Truce chuckled ominously and stepped back without releasing her.

"If I fucked you right now, or even slapped that clit, you would have a legendary orgasm," he said thickly, spreading her cheeks again to see the tightly embedded toy glint cheekily back at him. "I want you to think about that as well."

Ignoring Layla's offended whine, Truce took his time putting things away. His manner was calm when he considered the sleek wall panel and selected a temperature to keep a chill from the air. Layla had no idea how much her plugged, tautly jiggling behind was seriously testing the limits of Truce's self-control.

"Maybe you'll take my limits seriously in future," he told her. "Meanwhile, think about what you've done. Think about how much you need to cum. I'm sure you'll be thinking about that family heirloom stretching your ass. It'll be a while, so you'll have plenty of time to wonder whether I'll return for you, or send Ralphred."

Layla choked incredulously, and Truce resisted the urge to close a tight fist around his aching erection. Layla looked fucking incredible; half-naked, restrained with her legs open, the toy rudely embedded, the delicious colour brightening her spanked, toned lower body. But it was the ferocity in those green eyes that really had him going, staring daggers in the reflection.

Though her mouthful of rubber was also pretty hot. Truce considered cumming on the rubber ball that would rotate into her mouth, but decided against it. Despite the painful temptation, he didn't want to merge his temper with his desires. Layla was adequately punished, and making it worse for her would not alleviate the new issue with Zole. Still, he was fucking furious about it.

Ignoring Layla's muted, screaming rage, Truce met her horrified eyes in the mirror and couldn't resist a wicked grin. Then he mockingly saluted her and closed the door behind him.

****

Truce took a moment to admire Layla's delectable figure on the monitor, before turning his attention to the large pot of tea Ralphred poured.

"I don't know what to do with her," Truce sighed, raking a hand through his hair, ruffling it.

"Well, Sir, you might have predicted something like this would happen," Ralphred said frankly. "How long is her punishment?"

"Not long. I just want her to think it might be." Truce's eyes were back on the screen. "I can't go back in there, yet. I have to cool off."

"A very wise decision," Ralphred quietly approved, scrutinising his employer. "You seem conflicted, Sir."

"I am," Truce admitted, reaching for the warm cup, then changing his mind. "I need vodka, Ralphred, not tea."

"I suggest a sober mind, if you are 'going back in there'," Ralphred remarked, edging Truce's cup closer to him. "Do you not like her initiative?"

"Not when..." Truce bit his lip, his eyes turned angry. "If you saw the way he looked at her, Ralphred. If you saw..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It was everything I wanted to avoid."

"Zole?" Ralphred winced.

Truce nodded. "It was a fucking infatuation waiting to happen, now it's in the making. He wasn't himself, Ralphred, you should have seen it. He flirted with her."

Silence settled for a while; Ralphred quietly enjoyed his tea and left Truce to his own thoughts.

"I don't know," Truce muttered. "I need her to understand she did the wrong thing. But I don't want to crush her spirit by making her feel like a total cockup."

"Like a...?" Ralphred questioned, unwilling to say the word. "Why would she?"

"She broke cover to save a girl."

"Well, isn't that nicely heroic, Sir?"

"Not when that girl is Chelsie Wiggham."

"Chelsie Wiggham?!" Ralphred's hold on his teacup almost slipped. "The corrupt senator's daughter?"

"You say 'corrupt' like it's remarkable," Truce mused.

"But the girl...isn't she the one who...who-"

"Who tried to stab me while I was dismantling a bomb? Yes."

"Oh, dear. Thank goodness for Felix."

"Yeah, maybe the suit held up its end, but the new cup-guard fucking folded when she kicked me in the nuts," Truce retorted.

Ralphred laughed softly. "I recall Felix arranged that on purpose."

"I suppose on that rare occasion he had cause." Truce eyed Ralphred with high suspicion. "You weren't in on that, were you?"

Ralphred innocently shook his head and sipped his tea.

"Anyway," Truce continued dryly, not entirely convinced of Ralphred's innocence. "If Layla finds out she risked life and limb for a little shit who will probably lead the next generation of villains, she might be discouraged."

Ralphred lightly nodded his agreement.

Truce speculatively smacked his lips. "Layla's a tough girl but she's also beautifully sensitive. This kind of mistake so early in the game could really strike her confidence. And deep down she knows she fucked up; she doesn't need to feel useless as well. Her father's done a good enough job of that."

Ralphred thoughtfully tilted his head. "And Zole?"

Truce's eyes flashed murderously and Ralphred carefully drew the cup of steaming liquid away from him.

"Layla understands now," Truce said slowly. "She was relieved when I showed up, which was a huge relief for me."

"Why?"

"Now I know her instincts will best her ego when it matters. She understood the gravity of the situation. The way Zole smiled at her, Ralphred, would have chilled your blood."

"I can imagine Sir," Ralphred shuddered.

"Sometimes it's intelligent to be afraid, and Layla is intelligent." Truce paused for an annoyed moment. "Most of the time."

"Well, Zole would have discovered Layla sooner or later, given her new endeavour..."

"But not like this," Truce groaned, covering his face. "Zole was practically in his pyjamas. She took him completely by surprise. Then there's the association with me-"

"Sir, how would you have introduced Layla to the scene?" Ralphred asked curiously.

"In stages," Truce tiredly shrugged. "I'd start her off with smaller missions to get her training up to speed, let Zole hear about her in a less impressive way, convince him she's not worth his interest. He'd probably have taken a shine to her anyway, but it'd be different. First impressions are everything to a man like Zole."

"You have that in common, Sir," Ralphred pointed out. "Your very first conversation with Layla was nothing short of an open challenge."

Truce speculatively narrowed his eyes. "Do you remember that?"

"I happened to notice whilst guarding the hors d'oeuvres."

Truce tapped a finger to the table. "Well, Zole could tell I was fucking displeased and he loved it; poaching Layla would amuse him. I wouldn't give a shit about that, if I didn't already know he wants to fuck her."

Ralphred flinched. "I suggest orchestrating a scenario that might sour Layla in The Poker's eyes?"

"I agree, though it might be too late for that," Truce said heavily. "I've no idea how to accomplish it without-"

"I think that's a problem for another day, Sir," Ralphred diplomatically interrupted with a pointed look at the screen. "Meanwhile, I don't cherish the prospect of helping you catch an angry female on the loose in this part of the wing-"

"How the fuck...?" Truce stared at the monitor. "Well, she won't get far. The area is designed for entrapment."

"No dangerous obstacles, I trust?" Ralphred queried with an edge of disapproval.

Truce grinned. "No, no. Just the frustrating kind."

"Well, perhaps there is something of value to be salvaged from this disaster after all," Ralphred said lightly.

"I would be ecstatic to hear it," Truce snorted, leaving his seat.

"Layla's forte," Ralphred explained. "Breaking free of that chair would have been no easy feat."

Truce's eyes narrowed. "Well, let escapism be her talent, so long as it's not from me."

"I wish you luck with that, Sir," Ralphred spoke to the empty chair in front of him and helped himself to more tea.