Twisted Passion

Chapter One--Beginnings

Disclaimer: This is a work of original fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Author’s Note: Can anyone tell me how to include formatting italics into chapters? No matter what I do, I can’t seem to do it, so I had to use '/' Also, this chapter contains graphic sexual violence. You have been warned.

lll

As soon as the jet-black stretch Mercedes limousine turned off at Exit 12 of the New York State Thruway, Nathan Williams-Taylor dreaded coming home.

He should have spent the night in Manhattan. His lawyers had offered him his usual suite at the Plaza Hotel—minus, however, the usual female company. On his last trip to the city, however, anger at the falling stock market and that fact that several of his investments weren’t doing as well as the firm’s prospectus had promised made cruelty surge through his body, firing his rage to white-hot intensity…
After what had happened last time…The girl’s bruises, the bloody sheets…Nathan shuddered as he remembered it.

The CEO of Wolfram, Wolfram and Hart had made it clear that until further notice, if Nathan Williams-Taylor wanted a piece of tail, he’d have to get it on his own. The law firm would no longer foot the bill for that.

And if he couldn’t have a woman when he spent the night in Manhattan, what was the goddamn point of even staying in Manhattan?

After a long day of sitting in a boardroom, suffering through endless meetings regarding his investments and stock purchase options, the idea of having a beautiful young thing waiting for him in his bed was the only thing that kept him going. As every powerful man knew, a good hard fuck was the perfect way to relieve the stress of a difficult day.

When he returned to his suite, Nathan showered and changed his clothes, dressing in a pair of trousers and a designer button-down shirt. He gulped down several painkillers with a half-filled snifter of brandy, leaned back and waited for the drugs to take effect while he awaited the arrival of his well-paid hole.

When he heard the knock on his door, Nathan knew exactly what kind of woman was on the other side: impeccably dressed, with her natural red hair carefully coiffed—Nathan Williams-Taylor would tolerate no cheap dye jobs, nor would he accept a woman whose “curtains did not match the carpet” as the old saying went.

Wolfram, Wolfram and Hart ensured that the girl would be clean—their best client disliked wearing condoms. From the dossier the firm sent to him about her, he learned that she was taking psychology at an Ivy League university in Manhattan. At least she is reasonably intelligent, Nathan thought, tossing the file aside. However, it didn’t matter because he wouldn’t be fucking her brain, no matter how bright she was. The girl’s name was Marnie and she was twenty-two years old.

What always made these liaisons more exciting was that the same girl was never sent twice--the law firm of Wolfram, Wolfram and Hart knew he liked variety and could not afford to disregard the needs of their richest client.

When he heard the quiet knock on his suite door, Nathan downed his drink and rose to his feet to greet her. He sighed when he saw her. The girl was pretty but the overabundance of freckles over the bridge of her nose made her look like she belonged on a farm. Probably never believed in sunscreen, Nathan thought, once again in perfect control of his face, not allowing his disappointment to show.

As he helped her off with her coat, Nathan surreptitiously analyzed her figure. Not bad, he thought, but not great either. She was wearing a red silk dress that clung to her figure, emphasizing her generous C cup. As far as Nathan could tell, this girl’s breasts were real but that would only be determined when he put his hands on her.

This girl was different from the others the firm had sent to him in the past—her face wasn’t plastered with makeup: she was wearing a flattering shade of lipstick, eye shadow and mascara and that was all. To his relief, she wasn’t saturated in perfume—she wore enough to entice a man but did not overwhelm his senses.

“What did the agency tell you? About me and what I like?” He gave her a long deep look so that she would understand his meaning.

A faint blush crept up Marnie’s neck as she answered. “They told me not to speak until spoken to.”

“Correct. My rules are simple: when we go out to dinner, I will order for you. You should know the basics of classical music and literature, although I do not expect you to have memorized Shakespeare. You are to address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Taylor,’ but never by my given name until I give you permission. Do you understand so far, Marnie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wasn’t able to eat today so I made reservations for us at the Russian Tea Room. Before we leave, I must say that I hope you will not embarrass me in any way. Do I make myself clear?”

Marnie nodded and Nathan smiled approvingly. The girl was a quick learner. Let us see if she follows my instructions so easily when we get to the bedroom, he thought. He felt himself stir and the thought of possessing her made his body fill with another kind of hunger.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “Let me have a look at you.” He walked behind her, admiring her figure. Unable to resist, he slid his arms around her small waist and savoured the feel of her warm skin through the thin silk dress. Her flesh was firm but not muscular. She obviously works out, he mused. He cupped her breasts and discovered that they were real. So much the better.

He lifted the fragrant mass of her red hair out of the way so he could nuzzle her neck. The smell of her perfume filled his head and his nostrils flared from the heady scent. Wordlessly, Nathan indicated his approval by pulling her body closer to his, positioning his groin against her buttocks. “See how I am already reacting to you, Marnie?”

Marnie’s flesh trembled beneath Nathan’s fingers as he caressed and fondled whatever body part he was interested in.

“Are you afraid of me?” he murmured.

Afraid of incurring his anger for not asking permission to speak, she nodded. Nathan felt a surge of lust leisurely slither down his spine and pool in his groin. Breaking her is going to be the highlight of my week, he thought as he pushed her mane of red hair out of the way so he could find the zipper of her dress.

When the dress was pooled at her feet, he turned her body to face his. She was wearing a matching set of black lace bra and panties. His eyes devoured her and Marnie began to be afraid. It took every bit of resolve she had not to push him away when he took her into his arms. Something about this man was off but she could not understand exactly what it was about him that made her flesh crawl. He was rich and good-looking but there was something behind his eyes that frightened her.

Without a word, he guided her to the bed. He lay beside her and she breathed easier. This man wouldn't hurt her. He couldn’t. He was old enough to be her father.

She gasped at the unexpected pleasure she felt when his lips scorched its way down the line of her jaw. Her body relaxed against his and she arched her neck.

“Open your mouth for me,” Nathan whispered.

Her lips parted under his and she felt the first stirrings of desire tighten her nipples and pool in her pussy. She mewled in disappointment when her john pulled away. But he didn’t go far. He reached around her back and unhooked her bra. The cool air on her nipples made them harden and she blushed at being nearly naked in front of a man she had only just met.

He took a nipple into his mouth and expertly coaxed it to full hardness before turning his attention to the other. He pushed her back so that she was now fully reclined on the bed.

“Ah, that’s better, Nathan murmured. “Now let’s see how excited you really are.” He slid his hand into the girl’s black lacy panties. He could feel her juices smear over his fingers and there was something else, something else he wasn’t expecting. He tugged the sheer panties down until they were around her knees. No, he hadn’t been mistaken—the girl’s genitals were completely free of pubic hair. Her labia were as smooth as that of a ten-year-old girl.

He crouched over her, bringing his face less than a foot away from her pussy. He breathed in her scent; it was heady, intoxicating and he thought he would go mad if his lust wasn’t satisfied. To enhance and prolong the moment, he closed his eyes.

“Marjorie….” He never knew he had spoken.

“Who is she?” Marnie asked.

Nathan opened his eyes and blinked owlishly. What the hell? It was not Marjorie beneath him. Just some stupid whore. And that stupid whore ruined his moment of reflection of tender memories.

By God, he would make her pay!

He shoved her away and with slow deliberation, removed his pants so the little slut would have a good view of exactly what she got herself in for. The fear in her eyes only made him harder and now it was time to take what was rightfully his.

He pulled her legs apart savagely, and before she could take another breath, gripped her hips and had proceeded to enter her inch by inch. She was still dry inside and he smirked at the pain she must be feeling. But he didn’t care.

She was so tight; her flesh squeezed his cock until it was almost painful. And the sounds! His body slapping against hers, the whore’s mewling cries as he pounded her into the mattress…With each thrust, the years slipped away and he felt young and virile.

Growling like a dominant male that was taking what he wanted from the submissive female, Nathan sank his teeth deep into the fragrant flesh of the woman beneath him. His hands snaked around her body until they were cupping her buttocks in an iron grip, imprisoning her in case she sought to free herself.

His climax burst with such intensity that even through tightly closed eyes, white sparks of ecstasy shook his body from head to foot. When he felt strong enough to move, he harshly pulled himself out of the whore’s body, chuckling malevolently when he heard the girl whimper in pain. He glanced over and saw her edge away from him as far as she could get but not before curling herself into a tight ball, her knees jammed hard under her chin.

Nathan said nothing but got up to take a shower. While in the bathroom, he opened his traveling case and took a Viagra. He knew from long experience that what he needed the most was a long hot shower to scrape his body clean of the whore’s juices. Once the pill took effect, he would be ready to have another go at her.

As it turned out, Nathan found that he didn’t even need the Viagra. When he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his hips, he saw that the girl was still in her original position—huddled in a ball on the edge of the bed.

From the way her head turned when the bathroom door opened, he knew that she was aware of his presence. There was something about her attitude that told him she was not a career hooker. A seasoned pro would not be cowering as this girl was. A seasoned pro would be giving him well-rehearsed smouldering looks as a silent invitation to fuck her again.

“Look at me,” he ordered and he smiled when she did. Fear radiated from her eyes, every pore of her body told him how scared she was. In addition, the smell of a woman’s fear was more of a sexual stimulant to Nathan Williams-Taylor than any little blue pill.

He sat on the bed beside her and ran fingers down her back before trailing his lips along her heated flesh. “I paid, or I should say, the agency paid a great deal for your services for whatever length of time that I desire. You have only been in this room for two hours. It’s not as if you are some virgin I abducted from a nunnery. You…are…a…whore. And tonight, you are my whore. How am I different from any other man that has paid for you? I’m sure I am not the first who ever got rough with you, am I?”

“I—I needed the money and a friend told me I could make a lot of money this way. This is the first time I’ve…sold myself to a man.”

Nathan smirked when he saw a blush redden the girl’s features. Better and better he thought. He leaned forward. “Since you are new to this, let me tell you how it works. Spread your legs, do your job and I pay you. That is as simple as I can explain it. Look at me.” He removed the towel so the girl would have no choice but to see his rampant erection.

“I don’t want to! Leave me alone!” the girl wailed but a hard backhanded slap silenced any further outcry.

“Shut up, you ungrateful cunt. One night with me would pay for a year’s residence in the dormitory of that school you are attending. If you had pleased me, I would have left you a tip that would have paid for all of your textbooks.”

“Please…please don’t do this.”

Nathan touched her face with his index finger. So young, so lovely, he thought. And all mine. “And the reason why you refuse to do what you’re told because your poor little pussy hurts?” he jeered in a singsong tone. Marnie nodded. “In that case, I’ll just have to fuck something other than your pussy then, won’t I? Roll over on your stomach so I don’t have to look at your ridiculous face. Now!”

Nathan’s patience was extinguished by her continued wailing and sobbing. When Marnie showed no signs of obeying, he snarled and threw her down on the mattress, flipping her over onto her stomach.

“I was going to be gentle with you, Marnie, but not now.” He parted her cheeks and gazed at the tight rosette of her white ass. “Have you ever had a man fuck you up the ass? No? I love breaking in virgins.”

He laughed when he edged his penis to her tight opening. Her body tensed and she screamed when he edged himself inch by excruciating inch into her body. “That’s it, scream for me,” Nathan husked in her ear, between thrusts. “Tell me how much this hurts you.”

“No!” Beneath the fear, beneath the pain, Marnie found her spine.

“And I say yes, whore.”

However, it appeared that there was a streak of stubbornness in the girl beneath him. No matter what he did, no matter what cruel or sadistic act he unleashed on her body, she remained silent and still. Her unresponsiveness only angered him further.

He was so close to his release and this little bitch was not going to cooperate? How dare she! He placed his hands around her neck and squeezed. As he came closer with every thrust, he tightened his grip. When his orgasm burst, he screamed his release, pumping manically until he did not have a single once of energy left.

He pulled out of her and flopped back down on the bed, waiting for his breathing and heart rate to return to normal. He closed his eyes and felt the sweat cool on his body.

He resolved to ask the law firm to send this girl again. Her relative inexperience was refreshing—so different from all the others he had fucked; jaded whores who only went through the motions. Whores who had fucked too many men to come up with anything original. By her fear, Marnie had proved to be infinitely more stimulating and intoxicating than any woman he had been with for years.

He didn’t know how long he lay there but when he turned his head to look at his fucktoy, the combination of narcotics and alcohol opened a door in his mind that had long been closed. Memories from a similar occasion more than thirty years ago flooded through his tormented mind and he remembered. Oh God, he remembered!

Marjorie had lain like that after a time when he’d been rougher than he meant to. She was having her period, and like all women, thought that that meant she didn’t have to please him. How wrong she had been! After he had climaxed deep into her ass, she had lain there; still and unmoving. Exactly like this girl, her long red hair hid her face, and she was unresponsive to his voice. And like his sister from a lifetime ago, this girl was also bleeding.

The richest man in Rockland County took the prostitute in his arms and rocked back and forth. “Marjorie…please forgive me…I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He never felt the tears stream from his eyes. Don’t leave me again….”

Nathan fumbled to free himself from the impediment of the sweaty and bloodstained sheets. Through a haze, he reached for his cell phone to dial 911…

/Fool! Do not call the ambulance!/

“But she might be dead! What else can I do?”

/Call the CEO of Wolfram. He’ll know what to do. He has bailed you out of messes like this before, remember?/

“You’re right,” Nathan mumbled.

The next day, Nathan made certain to give the firm a large check to ensure the incident was kept quiet and out of the papers. The girl received a bank draft for fifteen thousand dollars with the sole condition that she would not press charges.

lll

As the limousine came closer to his home, the voice spoke more frequently and insistently.

/Then why didn’t you stay in the city?/

Sometimes having a voice in your head could be damn irritating at times, Nathan thought. However, unlike everyone else in the world, the voice had never lied to him.

“Because I didn’t want to.”

He scowled at the empty brandy bottle in the limousine’s mini bar. Had he really drank that much? Nathan poured the last of the brandy into his glass before tossing it back. The alcohol burned the back of this throat and it wasn’t long before he felt the warming effects as it spread through his body and dulled his mind.

/You had another flashback that time, didn’t you?/

“Go to hell.”

/It’s not too late to turn the car around and go back./

“How many times do I have to say this? I don’t want to go back to the city tonight.”

/Well, go to the bar instead. Even though it’s late, you still might get a piece of ass./

Nathan grimaced. He knew many of the town’s single women and the idea of sharing his bed with any of them made him ill. The women over thirty were far too old. In any case, his bedroom exploits would be breakfast table gossip for the entire county for a month.

“If I’d stayed in the city, I could have had that. Much better than anything here.”

/Does it really matter? Your dick doesn’t care if she is a local twat or a two thousand dollar whore in designer clothes. A hole is still a hole./.

The voice was starting to get on his nerves. “Go to hell.”

/Swearing isn’t going to change the facts. If you found yourself a local girl to screw now and again, you’d actually have some company in that big, empty bed of yours./

Nathan had had enough. He leaned forward and pressed the button that lowered the partition between the driver and himself. “Take me to Wheeler’s bar. You know the way.” Nathan Williams-Taylor scowled into the bottom of his now-empty snifter. At any other time, the amount of alcohol he had consumed would have silenced the voice in his head.

Tonight, however, it had not.

“Certainly, Mr.--,” came the reply but Nathan did not wait to hear the rest before the partition was already on its way up again. His driver was just another anonymous suited drone from the firm and what he thought was of no importance.

Nathan looked out of the window. The limo was not going fast enough for his liking. If it kept at this speed, he’d never get there. His finger jabbed sharply at the intercom button. “Drive faster. I’d like to get there before last call.”

“I’m already at the speed limit, sir,” came the reply, “We might get a ticket—“

“If you want to have your job tomorrow, then do as I say,” Nathan snapped. “If we get a ticket, I’ll handle it.”

Feeling the powerful car pick up speed, Nathan preened before the blank screen of the television that was mounted in front of him. He smoothed his hand over his raven hair, proud that there was not a strand of gray to be seen. The fine lines around his eyes and mouth only added to his natural good looks. By society’s standards, women at forty-eight were “old” but men of the same age were “distinguished.”

The perfect double standard.

Nathan crossed his legs and flicked away a stray hair from his perfectly pressed wool trousers. Almost every piece of his extensive wardrobe was custom-made which was as it should be for one of Rockland County’s richest men.

Nathan leaned back and gazed out of the tinted car windows. They were almost there; the lights of West Haven’s main street came into view. He waited impatiently for his driver to open his door and once that was done, Nathan stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The car was parked in a no-parking zone but Nathan did not care. What he had in his pocket could pay for any traffic ticket one hundred times over.

It was the only bar in town and if you wanted a drink, you had to come here. Styled after an English pub, the interior was paneled with dark wood. The bar and the beveled mirror behind it were original from when the place was built in the mid-nineteenth century. The current owner, Frank Wheeler, renovated the building so it was now a sports bar. A large room off to the left side of the entrance held the widescreen television and a small dining room was installed so that patrons could order from a menu if they chose.

As usual, the noise from the pub died down somewhat at his appearance. It annoyed him that from one corner of the room, a quartet of four giggling young women did not follow the unspoken yet understood custom. They continued their boisterous conversations, one girl interrupting the next until that portion of the bar sounded like a flock of chattering crows.

From his usual table located in the most secluded corner nook by the exit, Nathan was able to watch everyone as they came and went. Being the bar’s most regular patron, no one had to be told what he wanted to drink—three fingers’ of Courvoisier brandy in a warmed snifter.

Hearing a sharp peal of feminine laughter from that corner of the room, he turned his attention again to the table where the girls were. Judging by the line up by the bar, Nathan deduced that his drink order might take a few minutes and having nothing better to do while his order was being prepared, he studied the foursome.

Three of them were seated facing him while the fourth girl was not. He knew the three who faced him. Their cumbersome backpacks were against the wall, piled up in an undignified heap. If local gossip was correct, the only reason they were in college in Manhattan was to please their families. Nathan doubted if any of the expensive textbooks inside those backpacks had ever been opened. They were only for show, not actual studying.

Nathan watched as their food orders arrived and was dismayed to see that even between mouthfuls, their constant chatter showed no sign of stopping. It was beginning to give him a headache.

The fourth girl had her back to him but studying her profile, Nathan was sure he had seen her somewhere, in another time, another place. Everything about this girl was maddeningly familiar: the way she sat, even the way she tucked her hair behind her ear with her finger, as if she were dialing an old-fashioned rotary telephone.

Until she turned and looked his way, he would have to be satisfied with those parts of her he could see. Her hair was a rat’s nest of frothy auburn curls that touched her shoulders. Out of the four at the table, she was the only one not dressed in Colombia University logo labeled clothes. Her clothing was typical for a girl her age--jeans and a sweatshirt that came from some big box department store.

Nathan shuddered. Off the rack. How gauche.

He turned his attention to his part of the pub. His waitress was coming with his drink. With disgust, he saw that the stupid twit put his drink in a tumbler, not a snifter. However, the need to feel the numbing effects of the expensive alcohol was greater than his annoyance. His fingers touched the glass, and he found it cool to the touch, which meant the Courvoisier brandy inside was the wrong temperature.

Anyone with the slightest breeding and class knew that brandy served at the incorrect temperature was only fit for peasants to drink.

Nathan shoved the glass across the table. “Take it away. Are you so stupid that you do not know that brandy is to be served in a snifter?” His voice had risen and the room went silent as even the quartet of young women stilled their own conversations to listen.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m new. This is my first shift….”

Nathan raised his hand with a commanding air and the girl fell silent. “I have no wish to hear your life story.”

“If you’ll just wait for a second, I can get another glass from behind the bar…”

“No, I have waited long enough. Instead, let me tell you what is going to happen and I will use terms even you can understand. You are going to pour me three fingers’ worth of Courvoisier and put it in a snifter. I usually prefer it heated but I am sure you would only find a way to screw even that up. What are you waiting for? Go.”

His waitress said nothing and left. His headache was firmly settled behind his right eye and that meant only one thing: a migraine was on its way.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the redhead had disappeared from her table. Instead, she was standing by the bar, her arm around the waitress’ shoulder, speaking in low tones.

Why, she is comforting the twit, Nathan thought contemptuously. If she didn’t have the backbone to handle his reproach, then she was in the wrong profession. The redheaded young woman, as if sensing his eyes on her, turned her head and gave him a defiant glare.

As soon as her eyes met his, his heart stopped. It was Marjorie. That unforgettable face that haunted his dreams for thirty years had impossibly, miraculously, come back to him. He felt the blood drain from his face and the ringing in his ears became so intense, it overrode every other sound.

Like everyone else in the bar, Frank Wheeler witnessed the altercation between his newest employee and his best customer. Busy with another order when Mr. Taylor came in, he had not been able to tell the girl how he liked his drink prepared. He poured a generous amount into the snifter before popping it into the small microwave for the usual time of fifteen seconds that would make the expensive liquor exactly to Nathan’s liking. As prosperous as his tavern was with the college crowd and heavy tourist traffic in summer, Frank could not afford to have Nathan Williams-Taylor take his money and slowly eroding liver elsewhere.

When the microwave beeped, Frank removed the glass and swirled the brandy around to distribute the heat evenly. “Here you go. No charge, Mr. Taylor.”

“I should hope not,” Nathan replied curtly as he reached for the glass, instantly regaining his composure. He took a sip and gave a brisk nod to indicate that he was satisfied. He took another swallow then put the snifter down.

His headache was growing worse by the second and he did not want to stay in this place any longer. His eyes scanned the room, searching for his driver. Their eyes met and Nathan imperiously jerked his chin toward the door and the man understood it was time to drive Nathan Williams-Taylor home. As he reached for his Brooks Brothers overcoat, a clear voice broke the silence.

“You’re such an asshole.”

Nathan had to give the redhead credit; she had more balls than all the men in this room put together. As if he had all the time in the world, he put on his overcoat, his eyes never breaking the leveled stare of the young woman in front of him. To all appearances, Nathan Taylor seemed completely unaware the eyes of the bar’s patrons upon him. Always in full command of his face, he allowed none of his anger to show. Anyone watching would swear that he hadn't heard the insult.

It made his blood boil with anger but he would be damned if he would let anyone here see that. He had a reputation to consider and if he reacted in any way, that reaction would be broadcast all over Rockland County by dawn. No, it was better if he ignored her.

Nathan stared at the girl, silently daring her to lower her eyes. But she did not. She continued to stare at him with a stubbornness that matched his own.

Nathan took in her appearance, leisurely scanning her figure from bottom to top, lingering on the areas that interested him the most. This one was tall and slim-hipped with long legs, just the way he liked. However, she was too thin for her height.

His lip curled in a sneer as he perused her chest. Since she was wearing a bulky sweatshirt, it was difficult to tell what bra size she was, but he estimated it to be an A-cup at best. A cleft chin jutted insolently at him from a heart-shaped face. Her eye colour was impossible to determine at this distance, especially since they were hidden behind a pair of thick glasses.

He could see her resolve to stare him down showed no signs of faltering. Interesting, he thought. She’s obviously not from around here or else she would have known who he was.

“Are you gonna just stand there and stare at me?” she demanded, finally breaking the silence between them. She folded her arms across her chest.

As he had done to her, she inspected him. Even squinting her eyes in an effort to see him was useless; because she was so nearsighted, he was a blur in a black suit but even in her inebriated state, she knew custom-made clothes when she saw them.

“Does Agent Smith know you stole his suit?”

From the blank look on the man’s face, she knew the pop culture reference went right over his head. She turned away and continued to comfort the girl who continued to cry. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a jerkoff.”

Pain from his migraine and anger at his choice to return home instead of staying in Manhattan made his anger surge to the surface. “What did you just say to me?”

“Go fuck yourself,” she stated, jutting a belligerent chin at him. “Better yet, why don’t you just leave? No one wants you here anyway.”

As Nathan exited, he couldn’t help but overhear the redheaded girl’s parting comment: “Who the hell was that old man?”

The last sound he heard before the door closed behind him was the laughter of the bar’s patrons.