The Ox Who Got the Cream Ch. 05

Layla couldn't believe it. The bastard followed her off the fucking building.

Breathless and stunned, she tried to disengage herself as they twirled together, suspended for a horrible second.

The suit was designed for her weight; a seamless glide she'd practiced to perfection. But with Zole's bulk added, they were doomed.

It happened so fast. The stinging cold air smacking their faces, the Poker's hand was around Layla's throat, choking her as they plummeted. The other moved like lightening on her body, his fingers roughly stabbing her suit. Layla raggedly yelped when he found the chute latch under her arm and brutally activated it.

The white balloon exploded from Layla's left shoulder, almost taking out Zole. It immediately filled with air, six seconds before they landed.

Layla moaned with pain. She felt like she'd just endured a sound thrashing, but the agony slowly ebbed as she adjusted to being carried. The man was strong and holding her firmly. She pressed her face into his neck, searching for Truce's familiar warmth. Then she smelled a different cologne and remembered.

The survival adrenaline returned when she saw the red car waiting where the Oxmobile should have been. Waiting for them to be there. The whole thing was a set-up.

"No!" Layla screamed, fighting despite the pain through her limbs.

"And we were having such a nice moment," Zole said, dropping her into the boot and slamming it before she could get her bearings.

Layla's shrieks were muffled, light thuds coming from inside as she kicked at the interior. Zole looked up with a grin as Truce leapt from the roof, a shiny dark speck in the distance, and gave him an enthusiastic salute.

Truce knew it was too late, but he jumped anyway. Distracted and impatient, he didn't land gracefully. He snarled at the scent of rubber on the road and stared after the car as it vanished in a red flash.

He pulled off his mask, his face shining with sweat. His dark hair stuck out all directions and he ran a hand through it.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he panted.

***

Layla groggily tried to lift her head and failed. Someone had untied her plait; silky blonde hair curtained her face. She knew she was naked, on a soft surface in a room at ambient temperature. She wasn't restrained, but it was a little worse than that. She was sedated.

"Hello, beautiful." Zole eased her back, his eyes roaming her slender figure, lingering on her perfect round tits, smooth belly, curved hips and tight thighs.

"Don't...Don't touch me," Layla slurred, lying still with her eyes shut.

"That's a good one."

Layla finally managed to open her eyes to serve him a tired but contemptuous glare. "Fuck you." She closed her eyes.

"I have to get you ready for the Inspector," Zole said, circling her left nipple with the tip of his finger, licking his finger then circling the soft peak again. He did the same with the other, chuckling when Layla quietly snarled at him. "This was part of the deal, I'm afraid. You have the most beautiful breasts."

Layla tried to lift her arms to stop him, but they just shuddered at her sides.

The Poker smiled at her efforts. "It'll wear off. But for the next few minutes, you'll be a sleepy tiger posing for photographs with tourists. Then you can growl and scratch all you want. I hope you do."

"You...can't..." Layla breathed heavily, her voice getting stronger, moving the tips of her fingers. He'd told the truth; she was getting stronger. But she could barely piece a thought together. "Fuck...you."

"You should really stop saying that," Zole advised, still smiling. "It's uncouth and inviting."

"Oxman will kill you." Layla wriggled up to a sitting position, but Zole lightly pushed her shoulder, and down she went. "Fuck."

"I'm sure he enjoys gagging you," Zole teased, tickling her belly with his fingers. Despite his calm manner, he had a raging hardon.

Layla groaned and slapped at his hand, but he seized it and her other wrist, holding her down easily. She grunted angrily when Zole moved on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. He was still in a suit; the sleek material chilled her bare skin. His erection poked her.

Layla wanted to scream. She wanted to claw his smirking, handsome face to ribbons, but she didn't have the strength. She scowled instead, and even that was too disoriented to have the desired effect.

"Layla," Zole said, staring closely at her face. "You have the most expressive green eyes, has anyone ever told you that?" His smile widened when they burned indignantly greener.

"Chasing you off that roof was possibly the most exciting moment of my life," he confided in an intimate whisper. "I'm tempted to set you loose, just so I can catch you again."

Then he kissed her, feeling Layla's resistance flare from the insult. She groaned weakly against his lips, but that was all she could do. Zole took his time, guiding her mouth open to accept his tongue, sucking her lower lip before he finally withdrew, leaving her panting angrily.

"I love a good chase," Zole grinned, his warm gaze on her heaving tits. "Maybe I'll have Reggie design a small maze, so I can experience that thrill again without any real risk of losing you."

Layla desperately flipped onto her belly and tried to crawl away. Until that point, she'd only seen Zole and the immense white ceiling above them, light spurting from a gold and crystal chandelier that hurt her eyes.

The colour décor was like a wealthy child's nursery. White ceiling, white carpet, pink walls. The contents of the room seemed distinctly adult; she tried not to look at them.

Layla clumsily slipped over the edge of the bed. Her face almost hit the floor before Zole scooped her back into his lap. Unable to support herself, she leaned into him with an angry sigh, her head flopping against his broad shoulder.

"Inspector Magnet wasn't so interested in helping me catch you last minute," Zole murmured into her ear, his fingertips stroking up her back.

"He's so involved in creative projects at the moment, I had to make promises on your behalf. I'm ashamed to admit those promises were sordid in nature. But I think you'll enjoy his work. Oof-!" he broke off when Layla elbowed him in the ribs.

"Easy," Zole laughed and affectionately kissed her temple, just to aggravate her. He turned with her in his arms to consider his contraptions. "He'll be here soon. Now I'm not sure which..."

Layla gasped when The Poker's embrace turned menacingly tight. It was difficult to breathe, and she quickly realised how much he held back with her.

Zole navigated her limbs, holding her wrists behind her back in a brutal grip with one hand. The other banded around her waist, so she could only kick outward, which was pointless.

She still did, wasting her strength as it returned then depleted. When she tried to dig her heels, Zole merely lifted her.

"You're adorable," he murmured, distracted by contemplation. He considered the silver chains, manacles, hanging down one side of the room, a strange black Lego-like chair that could clearly be manipulated various ways, and a small platform on wheels.

Zole exhaled thoughtfully. "The wall, the chair, or...." He grinned as his gaze landed on the sturdy platform. "The table, I think, yes. Definitely."

Layla knew there was little point talking to him, but she still struggled when he forced her onto the table. When she tried to crawl forward, she realised her ankles were clasped to the platform's rear corners.

Her resistance to the shackling was weak, something of a pathetic cat fight as Zole laughingly deflected her slow hits, his image blurring and in double at points.

Gasping with exhaustion, Layla swore under her breath. She was stuck on all fours, naked.

Zole was quiet for a moment while he considered her. "A body to die for. Oxman chose well," he concluded, circling her like a predator.

He unlocked the wheels to test the platforms momentum, then locked them again. He navigated the height, so she was raised enough for him to pull her hair back and stare into her face. Layla stared viciously at him.

"Strapped naked to my table and still full of sass," he mused, playfully sniffing as though he might catch a scent of fear. "He's a lucky bastard."

Zole's face swam before her eyes and Layla shook her head dizzily, blinking to refocus. She was stronger, like he said, but it was pointless now she was restrained. But she still felt tipsy, her vision not great but slowly sharpening.

"Inspector Magnet wants to test some of his new gadgets," The Poker revealed. "He's a real innovator. That magnetic trap you witnessed earlier only responds to certain metals and at his command, imagine that. I might invest in that contraption."

Layla did wonder how the net managed to discriminately catch them without attracting the metal in their suits or their weapons.

"With your help, he's going to demonstrate other ways that magnetism can work," The Poker continued, tilting his head at her silence. "You're very quiet."

Layla didn't want to talk to him, conscious of being in the one position that Truce advised her to avoid. She couldn't flirt her way out of this, and being insolent wasn't going to help the situation.

"It's a lonely life, that of a scientist," Zole said whimsically, his hand forming a fist in Layla's sleek blonde hair and forcing her to face him. "It's the same for villains."

Layla grunted with revulsion as Zole indulgently cupped her face.

"You're so fucking beautiful, like someone made you in a lab," he muttered, lightly tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs, her full, rosy lips. His palms tightened when she tried to wrench free.

"I know who you are, Layla Brandles, " he said with quiet triumph. "You've no identity to hide behind. You can bite your tongue as long as you last, but you will speak to me in the end." He released her and stepped back, checking his watch, then matching the time with a large clock on the wall.

"The Inspector is running late," he remarked, smacking his lips. "He has my cane. I never like to leave it, but I wouldn't have caught you otherwise." He admired Layla's lithe, bent over figure. "I feel a bit naked without it, I'm sure that currently resonates with you."

"You're pathetic!" Layla snapped then dropped her head, irked to have broken the silent treatment. She considered her breasts, tautly pointed at the ground and hoped Zole wouldn't slice them off. She knew he was capable of horrible things.

"You're delightful," Zole countered sweetly, the pale blue of his eyes darkening the longer he ogled her.

Layla raised her head and watched Zole pick a flogger from the wall. When he stood behind her and crouched down, she twisted to see what he was doing.

"Not even gleaming," he observed her soft, pink flesh with disappointment. "I'd hoped the chemistry wasn't just on my end."

Layla opened her mouth to insult him, but abruptly faced forward with a hiss of pain when The Poker whipped her right buttock.

"Fuck!" she breathed, resting her forehead on the platform, not caring the position exposed her more. It was harsher than any blow Oxman had dealt.

"Did that hurt?" Zole cordially inquired.

"No!" Layla sneered. The next blow brought tears to her eyes and an agonised whimper slipped out.

"What was that?" Zole asked sweetly.

"I said 'eat a bag of dicks'!" Layla shouted, crying out when the new blow landed across both cheeks. The after-sting was the worst part. "AGH!"

"Was that lovely sound from pleasure or pain?" Zole grinned, knowing either option would offend her.

"Did you say something?" Layla heaved; her cheek firmly pressed to the platform to cope with the onslaught. "I'd forgotten you were there."

The Poker laughed and tossed the whip aside.

Layla quietly moaned in pain, seizing up with an angry hiss when Zole's hands pressed into her skin, kneading a chilled ointment across the burning streaks.

"Don't worry, little fox. When I mark you permanently, it'll be tasteful and you'll approve of it. Speaking of taste..."

Layla sniffed angrily and wiped tears on one arm. She arched with a yelp when Zole's wet tongue snaked up her pussy. She tried to lean forward, but she couldn't get far, stuck on all fours.

"Disgusting prick!" she raged.

"Fucking delicious," he muttered, spreading her delicate lips with two fingers before pressing his face there, his tongue poking deeper.

Layla squealed and tried to overturn the platform. The Poker's deep laugh thrummed through her sensitive parts, his tongue teased higher, flicking and nudging, and Layla choked with outrage.

"Get your fucking tongue out of my ass!" she shrieked.

Zole broke into a laugh and held her steady, resting his forehead on her left buttock. "I'm sure the guards outside appreciated that."

Layla bit her lip, humiliated and dismayed that The Poker hadn't relaxed his security. She winced when Zole kissed one of the lash marks.

"Oho," Zole grinned, spreading her cheeks and scrutinising her. "A prettier sight no man has seen. You're wet."

Layla shook her head with disgust, wriggling when Zole traced a finger up her glistening slit and sucked it.

"Mm-mm. Just like honey," he cooed. "Definitely your flavour."

Inspector Magnet knocked on the door. "Sorry, Zole. Bork took me to the wrong residence."

"Of course, he did," The Poker sighed. "You have my cane?"

"Among other things," Inspector Magnet confirmed, holding up a small suitcase, his eyes admiring Layla. "She sure looks different out of that getup."

"Sadly, we don't all look as impressive out of clothes, as we do in them," Zole chuckled. "I'm sure Oxman struggled with the decision to fuck her nude or clothed."

"Right," Inspector Magnet said gruffly, souring at Oxman's mention. He approached and opened the case on a small table. Zole joined him, accepting his cane and making sounds of approval as Inspector Magnet handled various items.

"And the rest of my payment?" The Inspector asked.

"The three redheads have already been received by your clinic."

Inspector Magnet pursed his lips. "Most turn into retards, they're not quality." His eyes moved to the side and lit up in Layla's direction. "If you're interested, I can tell this one would be an excellent candidate-"

"I'm afraid the Stepford scheme holds little appeal for me," Zole coolly shut him down. "I enjoy her mental presence and I have little use for a robotically obedient hussy. Takes all the fun out of it when you can't share your victory with the vanquished."

"Very well." The Inspector held something up for Zole.

"Oof! This has heft!" he looked back at Layla. "You're going to love this!"

Layla was trying not to hyperventilate. She wasn't in a contraption designed for mainstream sex. There was no emergency release.

Inspector Magnet handed Zole something. "Put this in her first. See these ridges? When your cock goes through it triggers the sensors this direction and attracts the counterpart. When your cock pulls out, the opposite happens."

"The magnetic strength reduces?" The Poker clarified, his handsome face tense with focus.

"Correct," The Inspector nodded. "If you pull out all the way and break contact, the counterpart loses all magnetism and falls out. And this," he handed Truce something small, "pairs with the counterpart, but it'll move in place on the outside, but alongside, if that makes sense. Will follow the counterpart's movement."

Inspector Magnet paused with a chuckle. "In cruder terms -- when you fuck her mouth, the dildo will mirror the movement and fuck her pussy. If that doesn't make her cum, the clit-stimulator certainly will."

"You're brilliant, Inspector," Zole chuckled.

"Thank you," The Inspector said graciously, a sucker for praise and recognition, like all mad scientists. "Now, I understand I'm not allowed to use her, but I will have to assist with the proceedings..."

"Of course," The Poker frowned. "I'd not go back on our bargain, Inspector. I'm afraid I must stay firm on my specified limits, but you may cum on her, if you wish."

"Thank you, Zole," Inspector Magnet beamed. "I'd really enjoy that."

"You're very welcome," Zole cheerfully replied.

And finally, they turned to Layla.

Layla was tempted to ask: 'Are you two done blowing each other?' but it seemed unwise. Her ass-cheeks were stinging like crazy.

Zole was holding a small metal ring with a soft rubber border. Inspector Magnet held a thick, gunmetal dildo and a small device the size of a penny.

"No," Layla sharply objected to whatever they were planning, as if it would make any difference.

"You'll love it," Zole said enthusiastically.

"Gag her first, so I can show you how they connect," The Inspector instructed.

Layla tried to evade him, but The Poker seized her hair and held her steady.

"Open, my dear," he smiled, and Layla tightly grit her teeth. He looked at the Inspector. "I can force it into her mouth easily enough, but I don't want to damage your equipment with improper placement."

"Pinch the nose first, then press the jaw," The Inspector advised Zole, preparing to demonstrate.

Layla squeezed her eyes shut, deciding to die of suffocation before conceding.

"And like this," The Inspector announced.

Expecting fingers to dig into her cheeks, Layla clamped down harder. But the Inspector didn't press there as expected. Instead, he sharply poked his fingers into Layla's neck in a lightspeed movement.

She choked, retched, and when the Inspector lightly pressed her jaw, her mouth fell open like a trapdoor.

"You didn't mention the prod," Zole said, not losing his grip on Layla's hair while she coughed. "Don't do it again."

"Well, they're always listening," Inspector Magnet explained defensively, watching The Poker carefully pinch Layla's cheeks and slip the rubber ring-gag into her mouth. "Even when they pretend not to. So, my last piece of advice would be not to let them know what's coming. I'm an expert in handling-"

"Don't do it again," Zole repeated with cold anger, and Layla caught another glimpse of the maniac beneath the attractive guise. "You might be accustomed to handling abandoned nobodies and discarding them when they don't work out, but this isn't one of your experiments and this woman is not replaceable."

The Inspector's eyes dropped nervously to where The Poker's cane was balanced against a nearby table. "Got it."

"Good." The Poker was all smiles again, admiring Layla's dismayed, open-mouthed face. "Now we can have some fun. You look breathtaking."

"Uhhh!" Layla protested through the ring.

The men walked behind Layla's spread thighs. Inspector Magnet picked up the heavy dildo.

"This contains a weighted magnet," he clarified, turning the thick piece over in his hands. "As I said before - when the magnetic strength reduces, the dildo will begin to slide out as gravity demands. When the magnetic strength is increased, the dildo goes after it, effectively fucking in unison with your movement."

He tapped the extended plug end. "This will stop it going through her entrails. If you go all the way through the ring-gag, depending on your length, it'll just strain against her. Like someone trying to really bury their cock. But it won't go any further."

"Hmm," Zole took the dildo. "How many inches?"

"Seven," The Inspector answered. "It's more about the girth with this particular gadget, as it gets progressively wider toward the base."

"Uh huh," Zole purred, deciding his erection was painful enough. "Let's try this out."

"Don't forget the counterpart accessary." Inspector Magnet held up the little oval device. "I'll lube her up and do the insertion, you make the placement and I'll hold position until you start."

The Poker looked perplexed. "I'll always need another person's aid?"