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sebstan2020 · 2 days

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The King

Chapter 5

Violet is a bad girl at school, not giving a care about her grades that are falling and getting in trouble every week. She smokes, drinks and she's only sixteen. Her mother has had enough of her and doesn't know what to do with her. But when she's forced to go to her mother's employee dinner for the United States Army, she meets the mysterious and handsome General James Barnes.

She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.

That night, Violet could not sleep. She tossed and turned in bed, fluffing her pillow, throwing it on top of her, kicking the bed sheets, and then snuggling up in them when the cold hit her. She was distracted. Her mind wasn’t clear, and it was all because of James. She huffed as she stared up at the ceiling, in complete defeat over the war in bed.

How the fuck has the guy messed with her mind already after only two meetings? He had her thinking of him every second, every minute, and every hour now. What’s worse is that her craving for him has become irrational and hard to resist. He wasn’t a nicotine addict; he was much more than that—deadlier than any drug on the planet and rare to get. Her only chance of a hit was at her ‘work experience’ and she’d have to wait a full day until she could have him again. Violet closed her eyes softly and imagined him. He had reached forward and tapped her chin with his thumb and finger. He had the softest fingers in the world, and his scent grew stronger with his contact. She was caught off guard by his use of the word ‘fuck’. Coming from a US army general, she hadn’t expected him to ever even utter a swear word.

He wasn’t just a strict, no-nonsense general of the United States Army. He had a heart that cared for others and a mind that was intellectual and straight-forward, and Violet moaned softly at all of that. But in the eyes of the law, this was all forbidden. Her desire for him was forbidden. She still didn’t know how old he was, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t of legal age yet. Could you imagine the headlines? US Army general scandal with a sixteen-year-old girl. That was a prison sentence waiting to happen, and it made Violet feel sick. Not because it was wrong, but because she couldn’t imagine that handsome man going to jail.

But being the bad, rebellious girl she was, she wasn’t going to let this stand in her way. She was an addict, and she needed her addiction. With her final thoughts of James, she drifted to sleep and woke to a blaring alarm for school. Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed, instantly wanting to crawl back in and make up some excuse for an illness so she didn’t have to go to school. But no school meant no work experience, which meant no James. No, she couldn’t lose any more time away from him. Besides, it’s not like she listens anyway, and she can probably skip last period.

“So how was the work experience?” Lexi, her friend, mocked her with a giggle, and Violet shrugged.

“Boring, mostly just stayed in my mom's office, but the base is cool,” she said simply. She wasn’t going to go into the details of her exploration or how General Barnes had sent off at least three tingles in her body that day. No, that was for her memory only. As long as she kept up this notion that she didn’t really want to go to work, Lexi wouldn’t suspect a thing. And, to be honest, she only wanted to go for James. She didn’t care about the work or what it took to get into the army. She just needed to hear his voice, smell his scent, and feel his touch. She was infatuated by him, and right now he was controlling it.

“I’m going to skip last period and head there early. Rather be there then here and not have to listen to Mr. Michael's drone on,” Violet smirked, and Lexi groaned.

“I wish I could skip last period. But Mrs. Hammersmith is on my ass with the warnings, and if I get one more, I’ll be suspended, which means I won’t have a free house in the summer." Lexi’s parents usually went away in the summer, but after a term of constant warnings, detention, and near suspensions, her parents made it clear they wouldn’t let her stay home alone and would have to go away with them, which meant no summer party at her house.

"Well, we can’t have that; I’ve been looking forward to that all year,” Violet grinned. It was going to be amazing. Booze, smoking, and probably drugs—they were going to have the time of their lives.

“It’s going to be epic. I’m going to get so much alcohol, and Daniel will be out, so he won’t give a shit." Her older brother was still living with them, but he wouldn’t care if Lexi had a party. As long as he got something in return.

“I can’t wait. Anyway, I’ll see you later." Violet gave a short wave before running outside the school to head around the back. Against the art block building, Axel stood, smoking a cigarette. He was wearing tight, skinny black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket, leaning casually against the wall. He blew a couple smoke rings from his toke and smirked as Violet trotted over, holding her hand out for a smoke. He handed her his already lit one, and she sucked in a heavy breath of the spicy smoke, blowing it out slowly.

“I swear you have your own cigarettes,” he said as she handed it back, and she grinned.

"I do, but I can’t be assed to get mine out right now,” he sighed, and he handed her the rest of his while he turned to her, still leaning on the wall.She didn't know how he hadn’t been expelled yet. This boy never went to class, and yet here he was, standing outside, smoking. The teachers obviously didn’t give a fuck about him to even bother expelling him. He was nearing the end of school, anyway.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” He asked, folding his arms, and Violet noticed he had a new tattoo on his knuckles. One was a cross, another looked like a bone, there was a sword on another, there was a skull, and finally there was an ace. It was a strange compilation of tattoos, but they suited him. He had so much ink already, and the idea of getting a tattoo herself was intriguing. Another step into her rebellious side.

“Your one to talk,” she said back, and he laughed.

“I’m joking. But seriously, what class are you skipping? I’m done, so maybe we can go and get something to eat,” he offered.

"English, and that’s a tempting offer, but I’m waiting for my mom. I’m going to her work,” she said as she took the final drag of the cigarette and stubbed it against the wall before pinging it across the lawn. Axel narrowed his eyes at her and scoffed.

“Work experience; since when did you become a good girl?” he teased, and she glared at him.

“Not by choice. Mom wants me to go because my grades are failing, so I don’t have much choice, but I’d rather be there than here,” if only he knew the real reason why. As long as she kept up this facade that she didn’t want to be there and had no choice, then no one would think she was turning into a good girl. She was a bad girl through and through.

"True,” he nodded.

"Hey, can you bring me a couple more packs tomorrow? I haven’t seen my dealer for ages, and I’m running low,” she asked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine, it will be $50,” he said, and she glared.

“$50, that's double what it was last time,” she exclaimed, and he shrugged.

"Well, if you want it,” he teased, and she groaned. She did want them, so she didn't have a choice.

“Fine, god, I can’t wait till my dealer is back. I wonder where he is; maybe he’s dead,” she said, and Axel hummed.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” he said, leaning against the wall, and Violet giggled.

"Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as she left. Her mother was going to be here any time soon. She told her mother that Mr. Michaels had gone home sick, so they finished early, despite the lesson going on right now. As soon as she jumped in the car, her mother could smell the sickly smoke through the cheap perfume, and she sighed. She wanted to bring it up again, but again, she didn’t want to lose this chance at some bonding time. Yesterday was nice to have Violet beside her; even if she wasn’t listening much, she hoped that she would become interested after a few days at her work.

“So mom, do you ever like to talk to the other people in the building? You know the ones upstairs?” Violet asked as they drove to the base.

“Not normally. Sometimes the sergeant will come down or another commanding officer, but I rarely see the general. He’s too busy to be coming down to us. He has a lot of work to do. But if I ever do go up, the closest I get to him is his secretary, Jane. She’s lovely. So is General Barnes. He isn’t like the other generals they’ve had before; he’s very kind and listens. Some of the other generals could be so harsh,” she explained, and Violet nodded.

So there is no chance of James coming down to see her then. That just meant she’d have to go and see him. The rest of the car journey was silent as Violet ran over in her head what her plan was going to be. She’d have to get up there again and see his lovely secretary, Jane. She was jealous of her because she was getting all his attention. The one with beautiful long legs and hair that was perfectly styled. Jealously fuelled in her again, and she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to hold her tongue against her. This woman had done nothing wrong; expect to steal James’s attention from her.

At the base, Violet sat bored once again in her mother’s office. Debra, for once, wasn’t being as annoying, and Violet groaned as she stared across the room. There wasn’t much action today, and she was desperate to get out of this room. She had decided she was going to explore.

“Mom, I’m going to go to the store room and get some more paper; I think we might be running out,” she announced as she stood, and her mother nodded, smiling at her.

"Ok, darling, do you remember the way?” She asked, and Violet grinned.

“Oh yes,” she would never forget it, not after James had personally led her there. She practically leaped out of the office and let out a breath. She cringed at her mother calling her darling, but it didn’t stay with her for too long. It was time for the operation to hunt down the general. Pressing the button for the top level, she glanced in the mirror and sorted herself out again. Today she wore ripped jeans and a t-shirt with her black converse and her hair down. Her makeup was smokey but not awful, and she had snuck her bottle of perfume in with her, giving herself a quick spritz before the doors opened to the hallway. She was careful this time, checking that the coast was clear before storming down to his office.

There they were, those two wide doors that held the handsome general behind them. Was he in there, or was he somewhere else? There was only one way to find it. Without any regard for anyone or anything around her, she reached for the door and moved to open it when a sharp voice made her jump.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” She turned and saw a scolding Jane staring at her from her desk. She stood tall, like a giraffe, and placed her hands firmly on her hips. As if she could just open the door to his office and invite herself in—what a stupid plan that was. The high security of Jane was placed directly outside his office.

“Oh, is General Barnes in?” She asked simply, and Jane scoffed.

“Excuse me,” she repeated, and Violet narrowed her eyes and brows.

“Is he in his office?” She repeated herself with sass in her tone, and Jane laughed.

“That is none of your business. This office is highly classified; you cannot just come up here and waltz in like this is your home. And why are you even here?” Jane had emerged from her desk and stepped around to stand before her, towering over Violet like a tall skyscraper. She really was tall, but was that just because of the heels? Violet didn’t back down, however. She wasn’t going to let this beauty on her legs tell her what she could and couldn’t do, even if it was in the general’s office.

“General Barnes told me to meet him up here yesterday,” she said through her teeth. She hadn’t even thought about it; the words just came out before she could even think, and Jane looked at her with confusion.

“General Barnes would have notified me of this. If you need to speak to him, you’ll need to make an official appointment. Besides, you don’t even look old enough to be up here,” she scolded at her, and Violet’s face grew red with anger.

“Well I-“ The door to the office swung open, and James stood tall and proud at the opening of his office. A quick glance from tall to short gave him all the information he needed, and he stepped out.

“General I'm sorry about this; I was just telling this young lady she shouldn’t be up here. She insisted you told her to meet you, but I wasn’t certain." Jane began with a sweet voice, her scolding one pushed back into storage while she spoke to the highest-ranking man between them, and he gave her a soft look.

“Miss Smyth, it’s alright. Violet here is on work experience; her mother works in the office down stairs, and we have met already.” He offered Violet a kind smile, and she smiled back before smirking at Jane, who huffed through her flared nostrils.

“Sir, I can take her back down if you like,” she offered, and Violet glared, ready to put up a fight. No, she needed her hit from him, and if she didn't, she’d be shaking and shivering all night.

"No, it’s fine. I’ll deal with her. In fact, I was wondering if you could head over to the training base and ask for the sergeants reports on the programmes if you wouldn’t mind." Jane had no choice but to smile and nod before grabbing her jacket and heading down the hallway. Yes, finally they were alone, and Violet turned to him, trying not to show the big grin on her face as Miss Giraffe walked away. Yet again, she had won against his staff. But as she looked up, she didn’t meet the soft, kind eyes she had hoped for. No, these ones were darker and harder, with a stiff line in his lips, giving the impression he wasn’t quite pleased.

“Really, lying?” He scolded, and she shrugged.

“What else was I supposed to say?” She answered, and James sighed, turning around and heading back to his office, but not without a command.

“Come in,” he called, and Violet felt her stomach flip. She was actually going into his office. Just yesterday, he sent her away from this classified area of the building, and now he was bringing her in. This man was a mystery, one that she couldn’t quite solve. She stepped in, and the door shut behind her firmly.

His office was huge. With a big oak desk against the far wall and big windows looking over the beautiful large lawn across from the building, there was a big leather chair behind the desk and two comfy ones in front. His desk held a fancy computer with a sleek keyboard and mouse, along with two pens stuck in ink pots. The office was littered with pictures in sturdy frames, an American flag in the corner, and maps on the wall. Very professional and clearly classified.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed in here,” she said as James came to stand at his desk, leaning on the edge of it. He was dressed in his general's uniform again, which fitted him so perfectly with his long legs and polished dress shoes. He looked sensational, and Violet was trying to hold it together, keeping herself from staring at him.

"Well, you’re under my supervision, so if anything happens, then I’ll be the one to get in trouble,” he said with reassurance, and Violet relaxed. As if he were putting his job on the line by bringing a sixteen-year-old girl into his classified office. James wasn’t stupid, though. The information in the room had no classification whatsoever. Everything that didn’t need to be spread across the whole world was on the safely locked computer, and storage draws were under his desk, locked by a key that he kept in his pocket at all times. There was nothing Violet could see and take home with her that would affect this country.

“Breaking the rules for me then,” she slightly grinned.

"Well, if we’re on the subject of breaking rules, I did say you shouldn’t be up here,” he warned her, and she sighed.

“I know, but I was getting bored down there. Not that my mom's job is boring, but maybe that side just isn’t for me. You secretary’s job sounds interesting, though.” That was the dream. To be this man's secretary and be at his beck and call, obeying every order and command, and James chuckled softly.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to do that. And she’s not a secretary; she’s an adjutant,” he said.

“Which is basically your secretary?” Violet clarified, and he slowly nodded.

“Why did you lie to her and say I wanted to meet you?” He asked.

"Well, how else was I going to get up here? I’m more interested in what goes on up here; again, no offence to my mom, but this stuff is way more interesting.” She took a step forward to explore the office when a hand shot out and stopped her in her tracks. Again, there was nothing Violet would be able to see, but James had an instant reaction to stop her from walking around his desk. His hand had come into contact with her chest, and she stopped, looking up with wide eyes at him. His touch had sent off a spark inside her, and she never wanted him to remove his hand.

“Stop. If you’re going to be in my office, you’ll stay there where I can see you,” he said firmly, and Violet was at a loss for words. Ordinarily, she would have sassed back, but there was nothing brewing in the back of her throat to snap at him with, so obediently she stepped back. His sudden change of authority sent a tingle through her, and she bit her bottom lip to distract her from her cheeks heating up. He was so quick to command her, and she fell in line, like a soldier to their officer. His hand dropped beside him with a slap to his thigh, and his face softened from the hard, stern look he had given her on command.

"Fine,” she huffed, acting like she wasn’t just reprimanded by him, and James smirked.

“You’ve been smoking,” he pointed out, and she gave him a pointed look.

“How did you know?”. She had sprayed herself a hundred times with her perfume, and yet he could still smell the sickly scent of tobacco on her. It made her a little embarrassed that he could smell it, and she instantly wanted to get her perfume bottle out and spray it all over her so he wouldn’t think she smelled awful. If that wasn’t one way for her to quit smoking, she didn’t want him to smell the smoke on her. Perhaps because she knew that smokers smelt awful and the disgusting scent made them curl their noses in disgust and find them unattractive. Maybe it was time to invest in a more expensive perfume that lasted longer. The cheap ones from Walmart only last an hour or less.

"I can smell it on you. Trust me, being in the army for fourteen years means I can tell when someone’s been smoking.”.

“Maybe I was just hanging around a smoker today,” she pointed out as a possibility. She had been hanging around Axel today, but she did have the rest of his cigarettes, so she wasn’t out of the loop.

“With the two times I’ve met, you were intending to smoke, and you admitted to smoking, so I’m going to go with my gut,” he smirked.

“Damn, your good." James chuckled and pushed himself off the desk.

“Look, I don’t mind you being here for work experience, but what I do ask is that you be respectful here and refrain from smoking. Besides, you are underage, and if I see you smoking myself, I will personally confiscate your cigarettes and have to report it to your mother,” he warned. Violet would like for him to confiscate her cigarettes himself. To watch him slip them in that uniform dress jacket of his and walk off with them, scolding her for being a bad girl. She’d like that very much.

“I’m sure my mom already knows I smoke; I don’t know why I hide it from her, to be honest.” She hadn’t ever thought about it, but she had been so used to covering it up that she carried on.

“Because you know you shouldn’t be doing it,” he offered.

“Maybe. I guess I’m just used to hiding it from her that I just naturally do so.”.

“Perhaps that’s a reason to quit,” he said, and Violet scoffed.

“No way,” she said quickly.

“What if I told you you couldn’t be here unless you quit?”.

“Is it here in your office or here on the grounds?” Violet asked.

“Here on the grounds, on the base, completely. You know I have complete authority over who comes in here,” he smirked.

“Well then, I guess I better quit,” and she would do so in a heartbeat, just for him. If he really wanted her to quit, then she’d flush every last stick down the toilet. She only had two years to go before she'd be eighteen, and she’d have the freedom to do whatever she liked. Plus, her birthday was coming up soon, and that meant only a year before no rules and complete freedom.

"But you know I can just do it again when I’m eighteen. My birthday is next month, so that only leaves a year left until I can do whatever I want,” she grinned.

"Well, who knows, you might have changed by then,” he shrugged.

“Hopefully not; I’ll be a bad girl for the rest of my life.” It was more than likely she’d be leading down that road.

“We’ll see,” he whispered.

“Why do you care if I smoke or not?” She asked, folding her arms tightly. She really wanted to know about his obsession with it.

"I told you it’s my duty to protect the people around me. You are too young to die now. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I’d hate for you to miss out on it." Again, he had shown his compassion and heart for her, as if he were the only person who truly cared about her. Violet softly smiled and hid her eyes from him. He had sent that tingle up in her body again just from his kind protective words.

James glanced over at the window before walking over to Violet and placing a hand on her back as he led her to the doors. “Jane is coming back, and I don’t think she’d like to see you in my office,” he admitted, and Violet gasped softly as she looked up at him.

"So you purposefully gave her some random job so she wouldn’t be sitting outside,” she said, and James only smirked as he opened the door. He didn’t admit to it, nor did he deny it.

“You are sneaky,” she grinned as she stood outside his office like a good girl.

“Not sneaky, just smart. Go on. I’m sure this isn’t the last I’ll be seeing of you,” he smiled, and Violet shook her head.

“Of course not, same time tomorrow,” she joked, and he chuckled, and with that, he calmly shut the door, leaving Violet in the silent hallway.

After a couple more hours of watching her mother work, she took a trip to the bathroom just before they were going to leave. She had spritzed herself again with perfume, now conscious that everyone could smell it on her, and made her way out of the bathroom to meet her mother at the front doors. But as she turned the corner, she stopped in surprise as James stood talking to her mother. He easily towered over her, like he did with everyone here.

Violet watched with wide eyes as her mother nodded excitedly and beamed at him with a smile, grinning. She heard her say a million thanks before she stormed over there, and James turned his head at the oncoming girl.

“Hey, what’s going on?” She immediately said it, a somewhat nervous voice in her throat, and her mother turned to her with a grin.

“General Barnes has very kindly offered to hold a tutoring session with you to help with your grades.”.

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sebstan2020 · 2 days

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Red Ties

Chapter 39

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Mary awkwardly followed James down the long hallway to the grand doors at the end. The halls of this hotel, BDSM Club, whatever it was called, were clean and simple. The hallway was lit with warm lights and a deep carpet with cream-coloured walls. The doors were deep wood with gold locks and were evenly spaced out, indicating the rooms themselves were large, and Mary wondered if they all looked the same. As they reached the door at the end of the hallway, her stomach flipped with caution.

Just a few hours ago, she was excited and curious about this club that James talked about and was about to step into his dark personal room of pain and pleasure. But after her encounter with Natalie, that feeling was replaced with nervousness and questions. She was questioning herself. Was she enough for James? Natalie knew all his needs and wants. She was his submissive for so long that she knew him inside and out, knowing every button to press to please him. Mary was nothing like her. Even her looks were of a higher standard. The way her breasts looked in that tight latex dress, her long, dark hair cascading down her slim body—compared to her, Mary was plain Jane.

Why would James pick her over someone who could please him down to a T? Mary was a novice to this whole submissive, BDSM world, so why would he pick someone so inexperienced when he could easily have someone who knew what they were doing? It was so confusing, and yet another hurdle had been thrown at them. It seemed like lately everything was a test for their relationship, and Mary was starting to overthink it again. No matter how much James assured her and comforted her that she was the one for him, there was always something in the way. Natalie was obviously jealous and was quite vocal about it, and Mary didn’t want the girl to win, but she couldn’t escape the facts.

James pulled out his personal key to the door, inserting it slowly and turning it; the click almost echoed down the silent hallway, and Mary’s stomach flipped. He opened the door, revealing his personal playroom, dungeon, whatever you wanted to call it, and Mary’s breath was taken away. If she had been surprised and stricken by his closest secret, then she was in for an even bigger surprise.

The room was huge, with warm lights imbedded into the high ceiling. To the right side of the room was a large bed, kind of sized with four posters, and a ceiling made from dark mahogany. The sheets were black and neatly tucked away. Each poster had a gold ring drilled into the wood, for obvious reasons, and the same on the headboard. Above the ceiling were more rings, and Mary imagined they were for the same reason. She suddenly envisioned a girl hanging from those rings on ropes, hanging at his mercy, and she imagined they could be tied in all sorts of positions.

Across the far wall were hundreds of implements. Floggers, canes, riding crops, belts, paddles, whips, and single tails, as well as long electric cattle prods and sticks, each hung on their own hook, ranging from the least to the most dangerous. As she stared at them, her body shivered as she imagined the type of pain they could inflict. She had only experienced the cruelty of the riding crop as well as its pleasure, but looking at the scary canes and long whips made her cringe. She wasn’t ready for those yet.

At the wall behind the bed hung bundles of different ropes, different lengths, leather cuffs, belts, straps, harnesses, chains, and handcuffs, each hanging on their own hook as well. She never imagined there could be so many different types of cuffs and bondage gear. Across the room at the other end was a built-in wardrobe set of cupboards and draws beside another door leading to the ensuite. In the cupboards and drawers, there were more toys. Different outfits range from leather, latex, stockings, playful outfits, including school girl uniforms, nurse outfits, and sexy lingerie with matching heels. Bondage gear consists of masks, hoods, gags, blindfolds, nipple clamps, candles, and more electrical play gear. The room also held a large couch, a plush armchair, a St. Andrews cross, and a padded leather bench. Above the ceiling were more hanging rings on a rig that could be pulled down. There wasn’t one thing James didn’t have in his room.

He had many submissives over the years of opening his club, and just because Natalie was his regular didn’t mean he didn’t divulge into other women and their needs. Some liked masociative pain; others enjoyed intense pleasure. Some enjoyed role-playing, while others enjoyed humiliation. He wasn’t just here to be pleased; he was there to please their needs.

It was all so intimidating and overwhelming that Mary hadn’t realised James had shut the door, leaving them to privacy, and had pressed a hand to her shoulder, making her jump back to reality. She turned to him with a flushed face but pale eyes, and he frowned.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and she sighed.

“Yeah… I just wasn’t expecting this,” she giggled nervously as she rolled her eyes at the hugeness of the room. But that wasn’t the only thing on her mind. She hated that Natalie had gotten to her, making her think about her and wondering if she was any good for James. She didn’t want to argue; they had such a nice couple of days since the argument about Reverend McCarthy, and now this. It seemed like they were never going to relax again.

“Yeah, it’s a lot,” he agreed as he looked around as well.

There was an awkward silence, and Mary sighed, turning to him. She had to ask him; it was only going to play on her mind, and if they were going to enter the world of pleasure and pain, she wouldn’t be able to focus if this was running through her head.

“Why are you with me?” She asked straight up, and James looked at her, furrowing his brows as if he were annoyed.

“What?” He said.

“I mean, you could have Natalie or anyone else who knows all about this stuff and probably does it better than me; why would you pick me over her?”.

If James didn’t love her so much, he would have slapped her right then and there for saying something so stupid. But that definitely wasn’t the answer to this question. He scoffed and shook his head.

“How could you ask something so stupid? That display she just made is exactly why I’m not with her. Just because she was my submissive for so long doesn’t mean I feel the same way about her as I do about you. I never once loved her like I do you,” he exclaimed, and Mary stared at him with wide eyes.

Love her. Did he actually just say he loved her? The words had come so quickly from James’s mouth that he didn’t bother to try and stop them, and for a minute he didn’t realise he had uttered them until Mary squeaked them back.

“You love me,” she whispered, and James took a breath as silence fell between them. There was no going back now, and he didn’t want to. He never wanted to go back. Not to Natalie, not to any of the girls he had fucked. He only wanted her. He wanted every inch of her forever and ever. He never wanted anyone but himself to touch her, kiss her, or fuck her. He wanted all her first, and so far he has gotten every single one of them.

“Yes. I do. Natalie is a sub, someone I used to fuck. You are my girlfriend, someone I love. I don't know her or anyone else, ever. I only want you,” he had stepped forward, his voice softening, and he reached up and took her face in his hands, cupping her gently and lifting up her chin. His fingers curled around her jaw and under her chin, and she rested in his soft hold. It was the first time he had called her his girlfriend, and it was a strange feeling. Not because she didn’t want to be, but because they hadn’t used labels up until now. Mary stared up at him with wide eyes and silence.

“I love you,” he said it again, and this time it sank in further. And right there and then, Mary could not hold back her feelings for him, and she said the words without thinking as well.

“I love you too,” she whispered, as if she were committing a crime. James stared at her and softly smiled, his lips curling at the corners, and he pulled her face up to kiss her deeply and slowly. She leaned into his kiss and melted into his touch. The words were out, and there was no going back. James held her tighter, his fingers clutching her face harder, and he pushed her backwards onto the bed, her knees buckling, so she fell. He fell on top of her, pinning her to the bed, and kissed her again. As he pulled away, they both caught their breath and stared at each other.

“Don’t worry about Natalie. She’s just jealous; she’ll get over it,” he assured, and Mary nodded. Right now she wasn’t thinking about her; in fact, the moment he had uttered those three words, she had left her mind straight away. She had won this fight. Mary one, Natalie zero.

James pressed a teasing peck to her lips before smirking as he pushed up from her. Mary stayed there, pressed into the soft, dark sheets with her arms out and her hair a wild mess, as she watched with curiosity as James padded to the wall with the hundreds of bondage ropes and cuffs. He meticulously picked up a pair of leather cuffs, a bundle of rope, and what looked like a stiff bar with cuffs on either side. He carried the items back to the bed and threw them beside Mary, the cuffs landing with a clink, and she felt her stomach flip. Just a minute ago, they were confessing their love, and now he was ready to divulge it in a hot kinky play. James placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned on top of her, a darkness across his face as his smirk deepened.

“Now, I think it’s time we do what we intended to do,” he whispered, and Mary felt her cheeks heat, and she couldn’t help but see the excited girl appear on her lips. She was stripped naked, pulled over to the clear wall, and pressed against it. James eagerly buckled the cuffs around her wrists, pulling them tight before roughly turning her against the wall. Her face was pressed against it. The tingles in her body grew, and her pussycat twitched. How did getting tied up make her wet already?

James placed what was called a spreader bar between her legs, explaining its purpose was to keep her legs open so she couldn’t close them. Her wrists were tied to two small rings drilled into the wall by the bundle of rope, and she was completely at his mercy, her back and ass on show for him. As he buckled the last buckle around her ankle, he ran his hands up the inside of her legs, across her thigh, and one hand cupped her wet, hot mound.

Mary moaned against the hard wall, gripping the small piece of rope she could grab. Her lips pressed into the polished wood, leaving wet marks as James pressed a finger to her wet slit, teasing her as he pressed against her body, his lips so close to her ear.

“God, you’re already wet, and I’ve only tied you up.” It was almost an insult, and that turned her on even more. The seriousness in his voice was a change from his gentle voice, and Mary was enjoying it. His finger gently rubbed back and forth, teasing her and sending tingles up and down her body. She yanked against her restraints, and the spreader bar was the most torturous of them all. The ability to not be able to press her legs together was both infuriating and addicting. She would receive every last bit of pleasure. James chuckled evilly in her ear and dropped his hand from her aching pussy, walking over to the wall of torture, deciding which implent to pull out.

Mary groaned and looked over her shoulder, getting just enough room to see what he was doing. She watched as James lazily walked over her clothes, having no regard for them. He was still fully clothed in his suit, and she wondered when he was going to undress. She wanted to see that fine body of his, feel his tough abs pressed against her back, and feel his long, strong arms wrapped around her body.

She softly gasped as he ran his fingers over every implement, teasing her from afar. He could stop at any moment and pick one of the more dangerous ones. But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to subject her to the masochistic torture some of the other girls live for. Not yet, anyway. Finally, he stopped at a large flogger with a hard handle and several leather strands. It was black all over, matching his suit, and he picked it up and gripped it hard across the handle. As he turned, Mary quickly turned her head back to the wall, as if she were going to get caught.

His light footsteps sounded so heavy in the silence, and as he reached her, his lips pressed against her ear again. “Do you remember what the safe word is?” He asked, and Mary swallowed.

“Red and Mercy, sir,” she answered, and he grinned, pressing a kiss on her neck. He pulled back, and suddenly she felt the strands of the flogger press against her back. They were torturers. running across her skin and teasing her with their softness. She knew they weren't going to be soft, and she shivered against them. James brushed the ends of the strands across the backs of her legs, and she flinched, pushing herself against the wall. When was it going to end, and would she feel their real intentions?

And then it came. the thudding pain that was released on her bare back. The strands flicked and whacked her, sending a harsh tingle across her body. She yelled at the first hit, pressing into the wall and pulling on the restraints. The spreader bar was making things very difficult for her, keeping her in place and leaving no room for resistance or movement, just as James wanted to see her squirming and trembling.

James flicked the flogger against her body again, and she gasped at its second hit. Her back was heating up quickly with every hit and turning a bright red colour, flush against her pale skin. It was getting warm, and a numbness was beginning to radiate across her body. But the pain was making her pussy drip, and she felt her pussy heating up, unable to hold back the pleasure. James worked so elegantly, throwing the flogger in all directions, across her back, down her thighs, and over her shoulder blades. She couldn't escape it.

Finally, the flogging stopped, and James stood a step forward, pressing his palm against her burning back. The touch was worse than the flogger, and as he pressed it in the centre of her back, she hissed and yanked at the cuffs. "Shhh," he hushed into her ear, running a light hand over the redness, his fingertips gently brushing her almost bruised skin. In a few places, the skin had broken and left red welts, and he gently ran his fingertips over them. Later, he would properly take care of those areas.

When he reached a hand between her legs, she was soaking. He pushed a finger inside her, and she moaned, falling into his hand and letting go of the restraints. James curled his finger inside, his thumb reaching out to her clitoral area and rubbing circles against her sensitive good spot. She shivered into his hand, and James pressed his lips against her neck, biting gently and then hard, leaving bite marks on her skin. He wasn't able to hold back now. He was in full-dominant mode now.

Moans, groans, and begs escaped her as James led her to orgasm. His finger worked faster as she crumpled against the wall, breathing heavily and shaking his fingers. The pain in her back was a blur now, and the pleasure of her orgasm was more torture than the flogging.

"Oh, please," she begged, and James chuckled softly in her ear.

"Please, what?' he teased.

"Oh, please, can I..." She felt embarrassed just saying the words.

"Can you say it?" he commanded, and she whimpered.

"Please, can I come?" She whispered with bright red cheeks. Whether that was from the humour or the whole ordeal, she didn't know, as long as she got what she wanted.

James rubbed faster and uttered the precious words, granting her the right to orgasm. She came into his hand, the juices falling onto his fingers and coating them. Her body spasmed, and she was complete with exhaustion, falling into the cuffs and against the wall with no energy. She huffed and puffed against the wall, fighting the exhaustion that threatened her. James untied her, catching her as she fell into his arms. She carried her over to her, laying her down gently on her stomach as her back was still sore.

Mary cracked an eye open, and a grin appeared across her lips as James gathered the aftercare creams and lotions from the cupboard. She loved this bit the most: James massaging her with his big hands, touching every inch of her body, and pressing soft kisses on those tender places.

"That was... different," she whispered, and James softly laughed under his breath as he climbed on the bed.

"Different good or different bad?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Different good," she claified, and he grinned. He poured a heap of lotion onto his hand and began to gently rub it into her back. massaging her shoulders, around her sides, and over her hips.

"What about you?" A sudden thought came over her as he rubbed the lotion into her skin, watching its white colour dissolve and soothe her sore back.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused as he ran his hands all the way to her neck and through her hair.

"I mean, you didn't get any pleasure," she said, and James slowly grinned, leaning down and kissing just behind her ear.

"Sometimes it's not always about me. Don't worry, you can make it up to me next time," he whispered, and Mary gently moaned. James finished with a deep heat cream across the very sore parts of her body, an antiseptic cream on the welts, and a kiss to the centre of her back for good measure. She had done so well, taking that beating that any girl could find painful.

James cralwed up the bed, pulling Mary with him so her head was laid on his chest, softly stroking her hair as she drifted off into a deep sleep, falling to the rhythm of his strokes. "You did so well tonight," he whispered, and she let out a soft grunt in agreement. She was too tired to answer with words, and his stroking was making her more sleepy.

He laughed softly and reached under her chin, pulling her head up and leaning down to kiss her softly.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she whispered back.

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

28 notes · View notes

sebstan2020 · 14 days

Text

The King

Chapter 4

She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.

Violet twirled around in the office chair, the never-ending voice of Debra ringing in her ears, and she groaned silently. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea at all. Her mother, Debra, and Wendy mostly typed on their computers while gossiping about each other, or more likely, it was Debra talking and Wendy and her mother laughing back in response. Her mother must have conditioned herself to endure Debra, because how on earth could she survive every day like this? Violet had sat and pretended to listen to her mother while she explained what her role was and what she was doing on her computer, although she generally couldn't concentrate with Debra’s snorting laugh in the background, and Violet’s fuse was getting lower and lower.

She was getting ready to explode, and sooner or later, she was going to need a cigarette. But she couldn't—not here, not on government property. Surely there were other employees here who went out for smoke breaks; we can’t all be good people. But she didn’t want to disappoint her mother, and this was her only opportunity to even get a chance at seeing James again, so she knew she couldn't blow it.

“Violet, are you listening?" Her mother said this as she stopped spinning abruptly and faced her mother.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, and her mother huffed.

“Come on, you're supposed to be paying attention to what I’m doing." Violet brought her chair in closer and said it in a hushed voice.

“No offence, mom, but how can I when I’ve got Debra laughing and snorting like a pig every three seconds?” As if on cue, Debra laughed with a snort, and Violet groaned. She was really getting on her nerves. In a minute, she was going to pick up that stapler and throw it at her stupid head to shut her up.

“Just ignore her; it’s what I do; now I wanted to show you this." Violet did wonder if any of the information her mother was showing her was classified, but she assured her it wasn’t. If it were, her boss wouldn’t have let her have her daughter here for work experience. Her mother was showing her some sort of spreadsheet that Violet pretended to understand, and she nodded along.

"Oh, shoot, we’re out of paper; I just need to get some for the printer,” her mother began to say when Violet quickly got up before her.

“I’ll get it; I could do with stretching my legs and getting away from,” she silently nodded her head in Debra’s direction, who luckily had her back to her so she didn’t see, and her mother slightly giggled but rolled her eyes at the same time.

“Alright, if you go down to the storage room, there’s a pack of printer paper. We need 80gsm; otherwise, it doesn’t work, and can you also get some post-it notes? I’m running low,” her mother ordered, and she nodded, eagerly skipping out of the stuffy office and into the cool, air-conditioned hallway. Violet made it her mission to go to the storage room, but at the same time she was on the hunt for something—or someone else. Wandering the corridors, she gazed in wonder at the pictures adorning the walls, the glass cases with historical images, and several tall flags. This country prided itself on its army, and it sent a warm feeling inside Violet.

As she reached the end of the hallway, she saw an elevator. Perfect. The general office must be on the top floor. The elevator had wooden dark doors matching the interior of the hallways, and she pressed for it to go up, bouncing from one leg to another and racing inside. She pressed the number for the top floor and felt it move up. Her heart was beating fast, her stomach tossing and turning as if on a rollercoaster, and she quickly stared in the giant mirror behind her, sorting her hair and makeup out. The doors dinged open, and she stepped out into the busy hallway.

Several men in fine suits walked past her, but they didn’t acknowledge her or even notice she was there. She stood out like a sore thumb, a thin, petite girl in black and white standing in the corridor of a US army base. It was bright and yet again filled with historical memorabilia. Violet stepped out just before the elevator doors sucked her back in, and she wondered down the hallway, staring up in awe at everything.

There were voices up ahead from two men talking loudly. She decided not to head that way and went down a different hall. She passed many doors but was too nervous to open them, fearing she might enter in on an important meeting or someone she shouldn’t be stepping into. There was no doubt that she shouldn't be up here, but who were they to tell her she couldn’t come up here? She was Violet fucking Wallace, and she could do whatever she liked. If they asked, she’d just say she got lost. Besides, the more experience, the better, right?

Wandering the corridor, she heard a sweet voice up ahead. She looked up and saw the grand doors of an office. Wide and dark, with bright gold handles, she could only imagine who was behind them. Had she found him? Was he just up ahead? Her feet were moving faster than she thought, and her eyes stared forward as the doors grew bigger and closer. But it ended abruptly as she headed into something hard. She stumbled back, and a pain went through her head at the impact.

“Excuse me, what are you doing up here?” Violet hummed in confusion, catching her balance before looking up and gasping softly. A tall man stood in front of her, most likely the hard thing she bumped into, and glared down at her. He had short, dark hair, and he wore a professional uniform. He had a dark scowl on his face, one that was intimidating and stern, and Violet swallowed. Shit, she was in trouble. She knew she shouldn’t be up here, and the tall, frightening man made her stutter on her words.

“I was just looking for the storage room; I’m here on work experience,” she uttered with a squeak in her voice. It wasn’t like her to get scared and intimidated. She normally would have stood up to someone like this. But this was obviously an important officer of the army, whatever his rank, and she didn’t want to piss them off.

"Well, this clearly isn't the storage room. This is a classified area; you shouldn’t be up here, little girl,” he scolded, and Violet felt a flash of anger transfer through her. She stood as tall as she could, glaring up at him, and was about to throw a mean word at him, something along the lines of an ugly frog, only because he looked like a frog with his strangely cut hair and wide mouth. "Listen, frog,“ but a voice cut her off—a softer voice and one she had been looking forward to all day.

“What’s going on?” The two of them turned as James stepped over, standing tall and proud. Violet felt her breath get taken away, as if carried off by angels, and she stared up at him. He was just as gorgeous as she remembered. Only this time he was dressed in his generals uniform, all those shiny medals on his chest, the tie tightly around his neck but still showing it off, the beard still there just as she had hoped. She liked him more with the beard. And those dazzling blue eyes were still there. His dark lashes shadowed them. Oh, they were to die for. Violet got a whiff of his rich cologne, which took over her like a drug—better than any in the entire world—and she had to hold herself together. As James stepped into the circle of the three of them, he looked towards her and the man beside him, acting as if he didn’t know her or had ever seen her.

“This girl is in a classified area of the base; she shouldn’t be here,” he scolded the general, who glanced at her, his eyes blinking downward.

“And as I said, I’m on work experience; my mom sent me to go get paper from the storage room,” she sassed back to him, to which he glared at her and took a threatening step forward.

“You should watch who you’re speaking to, young lady or not.“.

"Okay, thank you, Sergeant." James halted him, pressing a hand against his stomach to further prevent him from moving forward and giving him a pointed look.

“I’ll take it from here,” James assured him, and the man, now known as a sergeant to Violet, looked back at him with shock.

"But, sir, she’s-“.

“I said I'd take it from here,” James repeated in a low voice, one that sounded like he shouldn't be questioned, and the sergeant scoffed, glaring down at Violet, who equally glared back at him before he stormed off. Violet hummed in delight to herself as she watched him scurry off in defeat. She liked winning. But she was suddenly brought back to life when his voice addressed her, and she turned to face him.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you standing outside my office,” he said in surprise as he stood firmly in front of her. She wasn’t sure if it was the uniform or not, but he looked taller, and she liked it. Violet cleared her throat and threw a piece of hair over her shoulder, smiling up at him.

“I really was trying to find the storage room. I’m here on work experience with my mom,” she said innocently, as if she had done no wrong, and he smiled.

“Thinking about joining the army,” he said with a raised brow.

“Maybe if someone can convince me to,” she shrugged, as if hinting at James that she wanted him to do that. If he told her to join the army now, she’d sign up without a doubt. James chuckled, looking down at his shoes, and shook his head.

“If I’m going to be honest, I’d say no,” he said, and she furrowed her brows at him in shock.

“Really, but you’re the general of the US Army,” she pointed out as if he didn’t know it, and he nodded.

“Yes, but it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Long hours, hard work, less social life, lots of travelling—you're too young to be doing all that.” Again, he had told her she was too young for something, and Violet felt the urge to argue back. But she didn’t. She hummed and twiddled a piece of hair around her finger.

"Yeah, it doesn’t sound like you get much of a social life,” she admitted, and he nodded.

“If you’ll excuse me a minute,” he said. He turned away and walked a couple feet to the left, where a young lady sat at a large wooden desk with gold accents on it. She wore dark black glasses on her natural face, with her hair in a neat up-do. She wore a white blouse and black skirt with black sheet tights and heels. James handed her some documents he had been holding in his hand and whispered something in a hushed tone, and she nodded politely.

"Yes, sir,” she answered, and Violet realised the sweet voice she heard earlier belonged to her. She was very pretty and looked very professional, and Violet assumed she was some sort of secretary. She suddenly felt a little jealous that she was getting all his attention and not hers. She shot a glare at her, although the pretty secretary didn’t look her way, and stood from her desk, carrying the documents James had just handed her, and strutted down the hallway, adjusting her glasses on her noses. She was tall, all legs, and a perfect figure, and it only fuelled more jealousy in Violet. But as she trotted down the hallway like an obedient horse, Violet realised it was just her and James.

“Sorry about that,” he said simply as he came to stand in front of her again. His cologne swept between them, and Violet breathed it in deeply, almost moaning at the rich scent.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were the general of the US Army,” she said, crossing her arms as she stared up at him, and he chuckled.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he replied, and she hummed.

“By the way, I did have a cigarette that night,” she sassed, and he smirked.

"I thought you would. If you want to join the army, you’d have to quit smoking,” he said, and she raised a brow at him.

“Really, I bet hundreds of those soldiers were smoking that night. I bet you’ve smoked,” she grinned, trying to get some dirt on him, and he shook his head.

“I don’t doubt that my men smoke, but if you want to join the army, you have to show you’re physically fit to join, and a smoker is not,” he explained. Violet scoffed. She was fitter than anything. Although she rarely made it to gym class, she still had a thin figure, and she hadn't reached that smoker's stage of coughing their lungs out and sounding like one.

“I’m fit as a fiddle, and I smoke. I mean, not all the time, but here and there,” she shrugged. That might have been an understatement. She had at least two cigarettes a day. She didn’t even know why she cared. She wasn’t actually going to join the army, but something made her want to prove him wrong, and he chuckled.

“Wait a year, and we’ll see. And no, I don’t smoke, and I never have, and I never will,” he said softly.

"Really, have you not even tried one?” She asked, and he shook his head.

"Well, you can’t say you don’t own a cigarette; I gave you one,” she pointed out, and he tilted his head up slightly.

"Yes, you did, but I did that to keep you from smoking it, not for me to smoke it,” he corrected. In fact, the little sin stick was still in his jacket pocket from dinner night.

“So if you’re not wanting to join the army, why are you here?” He asked, and Violet sighed a little. She, of course, wasn’t going to tell him she was only here to see him; otherwise, she really would look like a creep.

“My grades are falling a little, and if I’m going to get a decent job, I need some life skills,” she admitted, and he frowned a little.

“How come your grades are falling?” He asked, and she scoffed, looking up from her dark eyes.

“Because I don’t pay attention in school. School is just not for me. I’d much rather go out and enjoy life while I can,” she smiled with a cheeky grin, and James hummed.

“But you risk not being able to get a good job and a salary. If you don’t work, how are you going to afford your sin sticks?” he said, and Violet felt her mouth drop open in shock but gathered herself quickly before James could bask in that moment of winning. He had a point: no job equals no cigarettes, no booze, no nothing.

“Which is why I’m here?” She held her hands out, and James softly laughed under his breath.

“I see”.

“Maybe you could show me around, tell me what goes on around here, and give me some work experience; perhaps let me in on some secrets.” She winked, hoping he would say yes.

"Well, as much as I would like to, Sergeant Mills is right; you are in a classified area of the building, one you shouldn’t really be in,” he said with a tilt of his head and a raise of his brow, and both movements sent the tingles pushing through Violet’s body. Oh, how this man was making her feel things she had never felt before, and he was doing such an easy job of it. All he had to do was look at her, and she was begging for more.

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” she said in a true voice. She suddenly didn’t like upsetting him and wanted to do whatever it took to please him.

"However, I can show you to the storage room,” he said, and Violet’s face lit up.

It seemed funny to her that James, the general of the US Army, had the highest rank you could have and knew where the storage room was. It didn’t seem like a place he would ever venture to. But Violet was not complaining. In fact, she was jumping for joy that James was escorting her to the storage room. On the way, they passed a few men dressed in formal uniforms, most likely other sergeants or officers, and she noticed they didn't dare question or give their general a look of uncertainty about the young girl walking next to him. Violet hadn't even begun to think of how long she had been gone and what her mother was thinking; she was just basking in James and his company.

The storage room was located on the lower levels of the building, and he led her to a plain door, opening it for her and revealing stacks of papers, brown folders, brown envelopes, sticky notes, pens, and other stationery needed around the offices.

"Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Your welcome; it was nice to see you again, Violet,” he said softly, as if he wasn’t going to see her again.

"Well, get used to it because I’m going to be here every day,” she grinned. She had decided then that she was going to do work experience every day. He was her nicotine rush; even after talking about cigarettes, she didn’t even want one; she wanted him.

“Are you going to be able to fit that in with school?” He asked with a frown.

“Yes, I can come after school and on the weekends,” she shrugged simply.

“Forgive me, but how is work experience here going to help with your grades?” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, and Violet was a little stumped. It wasn't, but she needed her fix on James and had no other excuse.

“It’s teaching me about life and what it’s going to be like out there.”.

“Maybe you need a tutor, some extra studying?” He advised, and Violet sighed.

“My mom can’t afford a tutor, and there’s no point. I don’t want to learn, but I’m hoping maybe this might open my eyes a bit and make me focus more if I know I can be like someone here, someone important, or someone who can actually do something,” she said truthfully. It was the first time the words coming out of her mouth were true and meant something. It did scare her to think that if she failed everything in life, she’d be homeless, living on the streets, and end up being a crack addict and having to sell her toes for a single hit. She grimaced at the image of the homeless she saw during her nightly travels—the skinny, frail men and women begging for drugs and money, the ones without their teeth and glassy eyes that meant they were high nonstop. No, she didn’t want to stoop to that level of life.

“I’m sure you can; you just have to focus. Perhaps you just need a little structure and some discipline in your life. Anyone can learn if they put their mind to it, and anyone can do anything as long as they put the effort in. You shouldn’t be hard on yourself. I know someone like you who hated school, and now he’s a businessman with a million-dollar company.”.

Violet looked up at James, her eyes softer and lighter than before, and she shyly smiled. She felt a warmth inside her, and she liked it. For once, someone wasn’t having a go at her for failing. Everyone was so quick to judge her, but not James. Even the first time they met, he didn’t snap or treat her like a reckless child.

"Really?” she asked quietly, and he nodded. And then, to her shock and delight, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze.

“We can all have a little fun in life; otherwise, we’d be boring as fuck. But remember that life isn’t just handed to you; you have to earn it through hard work, and soon enough, it pays off.” He smiled lightly, lifted his hand off her shoulder, and gently took her chin in his finger and thumb, giving it a sweet caress before dropping and walking off without another word. Violet scurried into the storage room, slamming the door behind her and letting out a shaken breath of excitement, nerves, and wonder. She reached up and touched her chin, just where he had touched her, and closed her eyes, remembering that sweet, beautiful touch.

Chapter 5

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

@pattiemac1

@sebastiansluts

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@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

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@samjuarezzz

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@buckysgirl85

@captainsarahscratches

@thischubbydumpling

@dhoruwolfie

@silvaren-ladybird

@hazomi

@unaxv

@wintxr-widow

@identity2212

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@cjand10

@redheadonfire20

@carrotlove

@skulliecadaver-blog

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

18 notes · View notes

sebstan2020 · 15 days

Text

The King

Chapter 3

She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.

The fucking general of the fucking US fucking army. James Barnes. That was her mysterious man. The man who had taken her sin stick from her slipped it into his jacket pocket as if he were her father. And there he was, standing at the podium, the light glowing on top of him as if he were a god, his disciples basking in his glory. He was intoxicating, as if he had planted a spell on the entire crowd for them to gawk at and stare at.

Violet didn’t even listen to the words flowing out of his mouth, as she was too star struck to even be able to listen. It was as if she had turned deaf and could only focus on looking at him. The sublet movements of his hands, his long fingers with perfectly manicured nails, and the peak of his wrist from his shirt. The glint in his teeth as he smiled earned a hushed laugh across the floor from the small joke he made and the movements of his lips. Everything about him was intriguing, and Violet wanted more. The crowd applauded his speech, and as he stepped off the poduim to return to his seat near the front, Violet whimpered. It was like being left on a cliffhanger at the end of a movie or a series and having to wait for the next one. But could she?

The evening finished, and at the beginning of the dinner, Violet couldn’t wait for this moment, but now she didn’t want it to end. She didn’t want to leave without another interaction with James. She was eager to see him, and as the crowd moved towards the exit, she searched for him as if she were searching for her own child, ducking between people, but he was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she’d never see him again. He is the US Army general, probably one of the most important people in this country. He’s got better things to do than hang around for a sixteen-year-old girl.

Violet reluctantly followed her mother to the exit door, keeping a couple steps back to get a few seconds more of searching in before she stepped into the dark, cold night. Just as she turned into the hallway to the front door, she looked to the side and stopped midway in the moving crowd, her eyes focused on the beautiful man standing a couple feet away. She wanted to push her way through to him, shove everyone else out of the way to get to him, and bask in his glory. But he wasn’t alone. A couple of other highly ranked males stood next to him, chatting lowly, and she sighed, knowing she didn’t have a choice but to leave. But as she turned to make her way out, James turned his head, and his azure eyes met her emerald ones, and she gasped with excitement. A curl of his lips indicated he saw her and acknowledged her; the way his eye slightly creased as if he were winking at her, and Violet felt a tingle shot through her body. She hummed at the feeling, having never felt it before.

It was like a firework had been set on inside her; a bomb detonated as a result of his smile, and she looked up at him with wider eyes this time, an almost confused look on her face. James slightly smirked at her but turned back to his colleagues after a few seconds. He didn’t have long, and that subtle gesture would last for hours in Violet. In the distance, her mother called her name, and she had to drag herself away into the sea of people, away from James. She grinned to herself and held a hand to her stomach to calm herself down. What was this feeling? She had never felt anything like this before.

In the car on the way home, Violet stared out the window, watching the city go by. Not a single thing, but James was on her mind. His smile, his eyes, his voice, and that tingle—a delicioso mix inside her that she didn’t want to forget.

“See, wasn’t it a nice night?” Her mother said, trying to make conversation, but Violet was stuck in her vision of James.

“Violet!” Her mother scolded her, and she jumped back to reality, glaring at her mother for taking her mind off of James.

“What?” She asked in a more questionable manner than annoyed.

“I said, wasn’t it a nice night?” Her mother repeated, and she blew her lips.

"Yeah, it was okay, although Debra was getting on my nerves. Mom, I don’t know how you can stand her; she is so annoying, and why are you telling everyone my grades are down?” She huffed, throwing her arms in a tight fold against her chest.

“Because you’re not taking your schoolwork seriously, Violet. I might take Debra up on that idea of a tutor; your exams are coming up, and I’m worried you won’t be able to get a job if you don’t do well enough,” her mother said with worry in her voice, and Violet groaned.

“Who cares, mom? I swear places don’t even look at your grades, and anyway, we can’t afford it. Just because their prescious Sally Has A’s all around doesn’t mean I will,” she resorted to looking out the window, and the car ride was silent the rest of the way home. Now she really needed a cigarette.

In her room, the black dress and hair band lay in the middle of the room, discarded with no respect as Violet sat at her window, dressed in a skimpy t-shirt and PJ shorts and her cigarette in hand, blowing out the window so her room wouldn’t stink of smoke. She stared off into the dark night, her memories of James replying over and over in her head. Some might call it obsessive; some might call it psychotic or sociopathic, but not Violet. She didn’t know what to call it. It was so new and exciting. She grinned at the burning stick in her fingers, remembering how he took it from her so easily and slipped it into his pocket. At first, she demanded it back, but looking back on it now, she enjoyed it for some reason. A man she didn’t know had authority over her within a couple minutes of meeting her.

She had to see him again. She wouldn’t be able to think unless she did. To get a taste of his voice again, his assertiveness, and his authority over her. She was craving him more than she craved a cigarette. But why did she want to see him again? Was it to rub in his face that she had been smoking despite him telling her she shouldn’t? To beat him and come out on top. She wouldn’t know until she saw him again. Taking the last few drags, she blew the long line of smoke back into the cold air and slammed the window shut before it could make its way into her room. She sprayed the room with a cheap Walmart spray to cover the evidence and brushed her teeth before climbing in bed. School was back on Monday, which meant she had a whole day to think about James.

Violet didn’t get out of bed until eleven o'clock. She was a late sleeper and certainly not an early bird. Anyone who wakes her up early will receive hell from her. She liked her beauty sleep, certainly on the weekends. She woke with a groan and a craving for a cigarette. It was a normal craving, and she dragged herself out of bed. Her hair was a mess, her eyes tired, and she groaned at the look of herself in the mirror. Her feet slapped against the floor as she entered the small bathroom connected to her room. There was no way she would be awake until she had a cigarette and a cup of coffee, something a grownup would do to get themselves working for the day.

After brushing her teeth and taming whatever hair she could, she sat at her window and lit up the stick in her lips. As the flame touched the end, she couldn’t help but think of James. Was this going to be a thing from now on? Every time she smoked, she’d think of him. Instead of smoking it, she held it firmly between her thumb and finger, staring as smoke drifted off into the sunny morning, slowly getting shorter. Her chance for a nicotine rush was fading in front of her, but for some reason she didn’t want to smoke it. Just look at it.

James. He was so mysterious and exhilarating that Violet had to come up with a way to see him again. Her mother was the closest thing to him; perhaps she’d find a way into his company. With all this talk about grades and jobs, Violet thought of the perfect solution. She grinned in delight and quickly stubbed out the stick, soaking herself in perfume before running downstairs. Her mother was in the kitchen tidying away the breakfast she had made when Violet ran in.

“There you are; I was calling you down for breakfast,” she huffed.

"Sorry, mom, I was in a deep sleep,” which wasn’t a complete lie.

"Do you want some breakfast?” She asked, and Violet nodded, grabbing a glass of orange juice to gulp down. The nicotine urge was still deep inside her, so she needed something to help it go away. As her mother fried up some eggs, bacon, toast, and baked beans, Violet ran over in her head what she was going to ask. It was a risky move, but she hoped that her smile and pleading would win her mother over.

“So mom, I’ve been thinking, and you’re right, I do need to work on my grades a little bit,” she started as her mother brought over the breakfast plate. The bacon smelled delicious, and the eggs were just how she liked them. sunny side up. Her mother raised a brow at her and stood firmly with her hands on her hips.

"Okay, what do you want?” She glared down.

“What, nothing!” Violet exlaimed.

"Oh, come on, you said yesterday you didn’t care about your grades, and now all of a sudden you do; you obviously want something." Her mother was smart, and Violet scoffed, trying to act innocent. But she did want something. She wanted James.

“Just listen to me. I was thinking about what you said last night and what Debra was saying, and you’re right: if I don’t get good grades, then I won’t be able to find a decent job. I was thinking maybe I could do some work experience with you, see what you do, and that way, if I get good grades, I could go into the army. I promise, I’m not trying to get anything out of you. I’ve only got two years left of school before I might have to go to college, or I don’t even know what I want to do,” she explained, and her mother stared down at her.

“Are you saying that truthfully, or are you just trying to get me on your good side so you can ask for something later?” She said it hesitantly.

“I promise, mom, I want to do better, and face it, we can’t afford a tutor; you work hard enough as it is. Would you be able to ask if I can do some work experience with you?” She pleaded, giving her puppy dog eyes, and her mother hummed, softening her stance. Her mother didn’t want to look like a fool, falling into her daughter's tactics of tricking her, but she seemed genuine, and secretly, she had hoped that one day her daughter would turn around and give up with the bad girl rebel stage of her life.

"Well, I'll have to ask my boss, but I don’t see a problem with it. I can pick you up after school, and on weekends we can go together,” she said in a happier tone, as if she were excited for her daughter to be working with her. It wasn’t exactly the mother-daughter time she had hoped for, but it was better than nothing and better than her worrying about what her teenage daughter was doing on the dangerous streets of New York.

"Thanks, Mom; I really appreciate this.” Violet grinned up at her and dug into her breakfast, grinning on both the inside and outside. Soon, she was going to see James again. To Violet’s delight, her mother's boss approved of the work experience. She said they were always keen to have young people come and see what working for the army was like, to bring in new young recruits to help their country. They were always looking for new soldiers. It was deceiving of her to make her mother think she was really interested in what she does for a living—to pay the bills and keep them from living off the streets—when in fact all she wanted was a sneak peek at the general of the US army. Violet had clarified that his office was in her mother's building, which it was. They worked in the main building of the army complex, with his office on the top floor and the administrators at the bottom. It was a strange complex, but Violet was not complaining. Her only way in was through her mother, as she had an ID card. Only members with ID could enter the facility through guarded gates, so there was no option of Violet sneaking in to get a look at her handsome general.

Monday came quickly, and Violet was glad. After school, her mother was going to pick her up and take her to her office, where she would see James for the second time. She had especially dolled herself up today, her hair brushed to straight perfection, her eyes lined with black kohl liner, and a sparkly lip gloss she found deep in her draws with her best perfume on. She matched her face with a pair of skinny leather jeans and a cropped white t-shirt, hoping the slit across her belly would catch his attention.

At the lockers, she and her best friend Lexi stood there, with Lexi chewing loudly on some gum while Violet shoved her books in her locker. "Hey, do you want to come to mine after school? My parents are out, so I got a free house,” she grinned, and Violet slammed her locker and smirked, shoving her bag on her shoulder. “I can't; I’m going to my mom's work with her,” she said with excitement, and Lexi narrowed her eyes at her.

“You, go to work,” she laughed, and Violet shoved her shoulder playfully as they wandered down the hallway to head outside for a smoke. They still had one lesson left, but that could wait.

"Look, I’m failing class, and so my mom said I should do work experience with her. Besides, I went to their annual dinner thing on Saturday, and there were a lot of fit soldiers there.” She wiggled her brows as they went to the back of the school to hide as they lit up the cigarettes, blowing smoke into the air through pursed lips, and Lexi hummed.

“Nice. I like a man in uniform. Well, if you get too bored, you can tell your mom you're coming to study at mine,” she offered, and Violet nodded. Although she wasn’t going to get bored at all, Violet wasn’t being exactly truthful with Lexi. She had made it out like it was her mom's idea for her to do work experience, although it was hers completely. But she didn’t want to tell Lexi about General Barnes, the mysterious, sexy man she was already head over heels for. She wanted him to be her dirty secret. And right now he was. She didn’t know how old he was, but he was surely a log older than her, and in the eyes of the law, that was a big no-no. But she wasn’t doing anything illegal; all she was doing was saying hello and hoping to get a chance to either flirt with or sass him. Either way, she kept it to herself.

Right on time, her mother picked her up from school. After another soaking of perfume and chewing gum, she jumped in the car as her mother drove them to the US army base. Her mother wrinkled her nose at the overpowering smell of mint and spices, knowing full well that her daughter had been smoking, but she didn’t say anything. For once, they seemed to be getting along, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment. She had spoken to Debra and Wendy at work, saying she was bringing Violet over, and they were just as delighted. She glanced over to Violet, who was bouncing up and down like an excited puppy ready to play, and she smiled. She just hoped it wasn’t too good to be true.

The base was massive, and Violet was in awe of it. They passed a field of troops lined up in perfect formation, following the tough orders of their sergeant. The base was beautiful, without a single flower, blade of grass, or rock out of place. It was historical, with big buildings, flags, and statues telling the story of the nations fighting men and women. Violet was a little shocked, and when her mother parked the car, she didn’t hesitate to get out. The ground was smooth and well placed, with not a single bump. There was little to no mud and perfectly cut grass on every lawn, littered with colourful little flowers. Stone with metal plaques with important names engraved, giving honour to worthy men and women who had died for their country.

Violet followed her mother into the administration office, watching as she held up her badge for ID and was granted immediate access. If Violet had one of those, she could come here anytime. In fact, if she worked here, she could come anytime. The inside was just as beautiful as the outside. Pictures upon pictures of men dressed in well-cleaned uniforms, medals upon medals littering the front with gold plaques under their pictures sporting their names. It was the past generals of the US army, dating back at least a hundred years. And who was at the end? James Barnes. Violet stopped and stared up at the grand picture.

He was just as beautiful in real life. In the picture above, his hair was slightly neater, combed back and held by gel; he had a clean, shaven face with a broad smile; and those dazzling blue eyes were staring across the room. He wore a fitted dark green jacket with models, a tie tightly around his neck, and a bright shirt underneath. There he was. General James Barnes of the United States of America. He looked so young compared to everyone else, and staring up at that picture gave Violet a tingle. There it was again—that tingle that made her want to moan out loud.

She had to tear herself away from the picture as her mother called her over. They entered her small office, which consisted of a room with three desks, three computers, and a large printer in the corner, a small coffee break area, and large windows looking out onto the perfect lawn. As she entered the office, Violet groaned as Debra waved an annoying hello at her, and Wendy joined in as well. She was going to have to endure her own war to win what she wanted.

Chapter 4

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sebstan2020 · 17 days

Text

The King

Chapter 2

She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.

The dinner was in full swing. Small groups of people were scattered around the dining tables; others sat at their named seats with as many as five glasses of champagne already at their names. The bar was heaving with soldiers, ready for a good night. It was a welcome change to see them dressed in smart suits of black, white, and blue, away from the grungy green and brown they wore on a daily basis. The high-ranking staff were here as well, from sergeants to generals, including majors, lieutenants, and colonels. The whole US army of NYC was here tonight. Everyone played an important role in their devotion to their country, and the office staff were just as important as the men fighting for this country. The only odd one out was Violet. She almost felt silly being here, the teenage daughter of an office administrator sitting with men who had seen and heard things that could keep you up at night, wives that had missed their husbands for months of end, generals who had rose up the ranks of the US army to become the leaders they were today. And what was she? A misbehaving girl with a dirty attitude and mouth.

She sat at the table with her mother and the rest of the office staff. A couple of the other girls brought their husbands along with them, and they were shouting across the table at each other, giggling at the tops of their voices, and slugging down champagne. Violet rolled her eyes at the woman around her. They were nothing but annoying middle-aged women with nothing better to do than gossip about petty women's troubles. Violet prayed she would be nothing like these women when she grew older. No, she wasn’t going to be like them at all. She was going to be fun, spontatinous, and not give two shits about anything in life other than living it the way she wanted to live it. In other words, if she didn’t enter prison by the time she was twenty-five, then what the hell was she doing?

“So Violet, how’s school? Your mother was telling me you're having some trouble with your grades,” Debra said as she sipped her fourth glass of champagne. If Violet didn’t know any better, it sounded like this woman could take it too far when it came to having a drink. A drink seemed to loosen her tongue, and Violet wasn’t too happy about that. What was worse was that it was obvious her mother had been bitching about her to her work colleagues, saying how terrible she was doing in school, which wasn’t a false fact, but she didn’t need her mother spreading it around like it was the plague.

She glared over at her mother for a second before plastering on her fakest smile and turning to Debra. "Well, we can’t all be perfect,” she answered, when in fact she wanted to answer with ‘Stay the fuck out of my life’. This was exactly why she didn’t want to come here.

“You know I know a great tutor; he does amazing work. Our Sally has the best grades in school,” Debra pointed out. Oh yes, of course, her Sally, the daughter she worked so hard for, bought her so much extra tuition to get the best grades in school. That girl probably doesn’t even know what a cigarette is. Oh, how Violet was craving one right now. She was shaking in her chair, hands with a tremor, and the urge to scramble and race outside was getting harder and harder. Every day, she told herself she wasn’t addicted, but perhaps this proved her wrong. Her cigarettes were deep in her bag, and it wouldn’t take her long to go out and quickly smoke. But then the watchful eye of her mother was deeply set on her, and at this point, she didn’t have energy to argue with her.

But she’d do anything to get away from Debra right now. Any chance for her to brag about how great her children are and to rub it in other parents faces? They were a wealthy family, with her husband working for Wall Street, meaning that Debra didn’t even need to have a job for the family to survive, but she made out that this job was her life. ‘I’d go crazy if I didn’t work. The housewife's life isn’t for me; she’d giggle around others. But she certainly lived up to that name; the diamonds on her wrists and fingers spoke for themselves. They could easily afford the tutor, and it wouldn’t make a dent in their income. How her mother put up with her, Violet would never understand.

Dinner came shortly, and Violet silently tucked in to the delicious meal. For a six-star hotel, you’d hope the food was outstanding, and it was. A classic French onion soup with cheese and croutons on top, roasted leg of duck with a rich gravy, perfect potatoes and vegetables with a crisp to the outside, and a slice of warm apple pie and custard for dessert. The meal went down well and kept Violet from giving in to her nicotine urges. The shaking had died down now that it had eaten, and she sat back with a sigh as she had to endure more of Debra’s annoying voice.

“Did you want me to give you a number for the tutor? He’s excellent, our Sally,“ she continued, and Violet had had enough. If she was going to be slagged off in front of everyone at the table, then she definitely needed a smoke. With a grunt and a huff, she stormed from the table, grabbing her clutch, and from behind her she heard the almost sympathetic voice of Debra.

“Did I upset her?”.

Violet didn’t care if she would get shouted at later for causing a scene, but she was glad that she did. There was no way Debra was going to speak about her like that. Yes, her grades were falling apart, but Violet didn’t give a shit and probably never would. It was her life, and if she wanted to fail at school, then she would. She prayed to God that her mother wasn’t going to get the number of this so-called fantastic tutor that would give her all A’s. They didn’t have the money for it. Her mother was working enough as it was, and to afford a tutor, she’d most likely have to get a second job. No, even Violet couldn’t put her through that, despite their relationship being fragile at the moment.

Instead of venturing outside, Violet headed to the bathroom. Luckily, when she went in, it was empty, so she quickly used the bathroom before dumping her bag on the side and fishing for her sin sticks. She glanced in the mirror and grimaced at herself. She looked so different compared to her normal style. She stared at the black dress and wanted to rip it off, which was a stupid idea given she’d have nothing else to put on, so she’d have to endure it for a couple more hours. She could hear in the background someone talking over a microphone and giving some speeches for the guests. It must have been a high-ranking member, so Violet was glad she left at that time. Staring in the mirror, she took a deep breath and stared.

She wondered what her life would be like if she hadn’t taken this rebellious turn. If she had studied hard and her grades were at the highest level they could be, if she had never met Axel and fallen down the line of smoking, at least she hadn’t resorted to drugs yet. She wasn’t completed fucked. But the drinking and smoking were only the start of something. If she didn’t have anyone to hold her back, to guide her properly, or to implement a little discipline in her life, then she could go anywhere. It was a scary thought—one Violet didn’t really think about until now. The whole talk about tutors and Debra’s precious Sally had spun something in her head, and it made her feel sick. The only cure for that is a cigarette.

Blowing the breath she was holding out, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and stormed out with pride, a cigarette in her fingers, and a lighter ready to spark and take that first hit that would instantly relax her. She was heading out on a mission. As the door creaked open, the same door opposite opened as well, with a tall man stepping out just as she did. Violet stopped abruptly, nearly crashing into him, and looked up to give him what for, a scowl on her face when she froze.

She had never seen someone so beautiful, so handsome, and so captivating. He was tall, with dark hair almost to the colour of black but no lighter than chocolate. It was slightly longer for it not to be called short, but not long enough for it to be called long. Strands fell from his head just around his eyes, and the rest was combed back by fingers behind his ears and over his head. It looked like it would glide through the hands and be softer than a baby blanket. His facial hair matched evenly with his hair and covered his jaw and upper lip. It was unusual for army men to have any facial hair, keeping it trimmed when they could unless out at war.

But what dazzled her the most were his eyes. Pure Persian blue with a slight darkness to them, staring down at her with dark lashes shadowing them. They were both perfect and dangerous. Violet could get lost in them, as if she had been cast a spell by a wizard. There was a rich scent about him—warm and spicy with hints of coolness. He was dressed in an impeccable dark suit of all black, a black shirt and jacket, long pants that fitted him to perfection, and polished black shoes with a bow tie. The spitting image of a gentleman. Violet almost forgot how to breathe for a moment.

“Sorry, are you alright?” He said it politely, his voice smooth and just as rich as his suit or cologne. He was at least six feet, if not a few inches more, and he spoke with a slight authority in his voice. Violet shook herself out of the trance and stepped back, throwing her scowl back on her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she almost snapped, exerting her attitude towards him. No one was going to be her boss or make her feel vulnerable. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to nearly knock you over,” he said politely again, and Violet huffed, throwing her hair over her shoulder as if she had total control of this.

"Well, they do say you should look where you’re going,” she replied, and the man chuckled, standing back, and somehow, by standing back, he looked even taller. “Your right, next time I’ll be more careful,” he nodded. Violet was slightly surprised at his reaction. He expected a little fight from him from a sixteen-year-old girl. Had she hoped he was going to fight back against her? There was a quick silence before the man's eyes averted downward to the carpet. He bent down, his long legs bending and spreading as he reached down and picked up her cigerette, which must have dropped when she nearly crashed into him. He held it delicately between two fingers and held it up.

“I’m guessing this belongs to you,” he said, raising a brow at her, and Violet stepped forward to snatch it from him. Not her sin stick; she needed that right now! "Yeah,” she said and reached for it, but the man snatched his hand back away from her, and she glared up at him.

"Hey, give that back; that’s mine,” she ordered.

“You don’t look old enough to be smoking.”.

“So, why do you care? You don’t know me,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, and the man smirked.

“No, but it’s my duty to protect people, which means stopping this.” He held the cigerette out again, offering it to Violet, who leaped forward to grab it, but he pulled away again. It was like he was holding a carrot out to a donkey, teasing them to make them walk.

"Well, mister, you might not know this, but smoking can’t kill you right away; why don’t you come save me in thirty years?”.

“You might be dead by then; it only takes a few of these, and you’ve got cancer,” he warned, and Violet huffed, almost stamping her feet.

“How old are you?” He asked softly, and she glared up at him.

“Who wants to know?” She teased back, and he smiled.

“I won’t tell your parents if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured, and she scoffed, laughing at him.

“My mom probably knows I smoke anyway, and my dad is probably off stealing something, so he won’t give a shit either,” she shrugged, and the man softened his gaze, a frown forming on his face.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said genuinely, but Violet clicked her tongue against her cheek.

"Yeah, everyone says that. Now can I have my cigarette back, please?” She held her hand out for it, and the man looked at it before looking back at her.

“Tell me how old you are first,” he demanded.

“Sixteen”

“Who are you here with?” He asked.

“My mom. She works in administration for the office, and she invited me down.”.

“I hope you’re enjoying the dinner. I think there’s going to be a couple more speeches,” he said, and Violet rolled her eyes. What was with all the questions? All she wanted was her sin stick back to go and smoke, and this man was giving her none of it.

“I would if I didn’t have to sit at that table with all her annoying colleagues. Look, are you going to give me that or not?” She argued, and the man smirked, lifting it up to inspect it before tucking it in the inside of his pocket.

“You know I have a whole pack in my bag, right?” She smirked at him.

“I know, but at least you have one less now. Seriously, you should stop. You are only sixteen, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Besides, no one wants to kiss a smoker.”.

How dare he! Violet’s jaw dropped in shock, and her eyebrows furrowed in anger. Oh, she was really going to give him what for. Who does this guy think he is, talking to her like that? But as she went to open her mouth and spill out some dirty, offensive words, they never came. He stared down at her, towering over her with his immense height, and she suddenly went shy and intimidated, as if he had this power over her, his eyes holding back her ability to speak. Violet swallowed and took a safety step back from him.

“I’ve kissed hundreds of boys,” she bragged, despite it being false. She had kissed a couple of guys, but not enough for it to be hundreds. The man chuckled under his breath, as if he straightaway knew it was a lie.

“What’s your name?” He asked, and Violet looked at him for a moment before speaking. She didn’t have any attitude in her voice—no spiciness, no rebellion. Pure innocence and truthfulness.

“Violet”.

“Like the flower,” he smiled, and before Violet could ask him his name, a loud eruption of clapping interrupted them, and the man looked ahead of the hallway.

“I need to go; it was lovely to meet you, Violet,” he said with a certain air to his voice, and he began to walk down the hallway.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me your name,” she shouted after him.

“You’ll find out,” he called back, and he was gone. Violet took a breath, her stomach bouncing with all sorts of different feelings, as if she had been on a roller coast. Her shakes were gone, and the sudden urge to smoke had also slid away. Who the hell was that man, and why was he so interesting? Why was he still on her mind? What had he done to her to make her think about him as she walked back to the dinner table?

There was a soft hush around the hall before a man came to the microphone at a small podium.

“Now I would like to welcome our General of the US Army; he is a former soldier of ours and has done this country great service. I have so much respect for him, and he would like to say a few words. So please give a round of applause to General James Barnes.” The hall erupted in a wave of clapping as a tall man, dressed in an impeccable suit of black with dazzling blue eyes, walked in the most sexy fashion to the podium and stood, shaking his hand with the host of the evening before turning his attention to the crowd.

“Holy shit”.

Chapter 3

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

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sebstan2020 · 17 days

Text

The King

She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom #the winter soldier

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sebstan2020 · 17 days

Text

New story out!

Hey everyone, I've just posted a new story it's called the king if you want to go and check it out

If you want to be tagged then just leave a comment on the story and I'll add to the tag list

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

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sebstan2020 · 17 days

Text

The King

Chapter 1

She is infatuated with him and can't seem to stay away. The closer she gets to him, the more she craves him and soon she finds herself entering a world of darkness, pain and pleasure.

Violet glared at herself in the tall mirror in her bedroom, a look of utter disgust at the outfit she was adorning. It wasn’t her usual leather pants with a crop top look, but she had been forced to wear this black dress, reaching just above her knees, with thin straps across her shoulders and loose around her body. Normally, she’d be all up for a tight-fitting number, but this one just didn’t suit her. It was too innocent. At least it was black. If her mother had come in with a pink dress, she would have fought tooth and nail to not have to wear it. She was already being forced to do something she didn’t want to do today, and now she had to endure wearing this cheap old thing with her black boots and hair pinned up. She was much more of a hair-down girl with thick eyeliner and bronzer that didn’t do much to shape her face, although she thought it did. The black brought out the green in her eyes, and her bleach blonde hair was usually in a ratty, powerful state, but tonight it was in a high pony, something she absolutely hated. The constriction on her hair made her want to rip it out. She wanted to be wild and free, not tamed by a simple band.

She was a bad girl—a girl with no rules, no discipline, and no one to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. She was at the top of her year with her attitude and power at school, skipping lessons and going around the back of the school to smoke cigarettes. She brought off an older boy. Her dealer liked to call him, mostly because she forgot his name at the time and, secondly, because she didn’t want anyone else to buy him off, even though the whole school knew what shady business he was into. Violet didn’t give a fuck about school, and her grades were starting to show it. Her homework was never done on time, and over the last few months she had spent rebelling against everyone and anyone. She had sworn to Mr. Michaels, her English Lit teacher, that she had been in detention every week and received a written warning from the headmaster for her absences. Her mother was furious, but Violet didn’t care.

After-school was even worse. She used to take the bus home, but now she just walks it, smoking her cigarette the whole time before reaching a few blocks to her house, drenching herself in a cheap perfume she found at Walmart, and chewing five pieces of gum before walking in the house. Her mother knew what she was doing; she found the packet in her school bag one Saturday afternoon. She was glad it wasn't drugs, though. Violet hadn't stooped to that level of mischeif, despite her dealer offering her a joint now and then. She declined, although there was the temptation to take it and know what it felt like. Her mother feared this would happen sooner or later. Her father was no figure in her life, and his criminal influence was nothing but a hurdle in the way. But her rebellious daughter was getting harder to discipline, and having no regard for her mother's respect, she was slowly giving up.

But today, her mother won. After a whole week of fighting and arguing over today, Violet had given up and accepted her fate. She was dreading this day, and waking up this morning, she felt sick to her stomach. She hoped she could fake illness to the point her mother would genuinely think she was too sick to go, but she wasn’t having any of it, and after a row this morning and a slam of her bedroom door, she had no choice but to admit defeat. Today was the annual employee dinner for the anniversary of the United States government army in the New York district. It was a common dinner held all over the United States for each state to recognise everyone who put their hard work into helping the United States Army. Everyone was going to be there. Soldiers fighting for the country, nurses, engineers, technical staff, every rank known in the army, and the chief of staff. It was a pretty important dinner. It wasn’t just a dinner for employees but for the loved ones of everyone fighting and helping the country with the terrible wars happening over seas. And Violet was forced to come.

She groaned at the first mention that she was going. “Why the fuck do I have to go? I don’t work there,” she had practically stamped her foot when her mother had told her. “Watch your language; you're going, and that’s final." Her mother had snapped and stormed off, and Violet had groaned at the top of her lungs, stomping upstairs, slamming her bedroom door, and throwing on loud music to drown out her feelings and thoughts. She wasn’t one to come to terms with how she was feeling. She would bottle them up and throw them in the sea, hoping they would just float away and never return. But the problem with the sea was that things can be washed on the shore, and Violet prayed her bottle wouldn’t.

So here she was, standing in front of the mirror in a dress she didn’t want to wear, with a plain face on. Her mother had specifically said no thick eyeliner and no messy hair. Her bosses were going to be there, and she needed to look presentable. Her mother had worked for the US, Amy, for over thirty years now as an office administrator. Her job was mostly to take care of the needs of the soldiers and people in the office. Keeping documents safe and secure, forwarding important letters and emails, and gathering information for future assignments and training for the soldiers. Their base was located in the town of Brooklyn, a high-security sealed base for training and discussion. The general of the army’s office was located at the base, with her mother working just a few levels below. It seemed strange to think her mother was working in the vicinity of the general of the United States Army. Her mother didn't come across him often—he came here and there, but not enough to say they knew each other well. But they weren’t having dinner at the base. The dinner was located at the Aman Hotel in Brooklyn. It was one of the most expensive hotels, and they had hired out the entire hall for dinner. There was no doubt some of the attendees would be sleeping over at the hotel, most likely soldiers. Being a national dinner, the whole thing was already paid for.

"Violet, let’s go; otherwise, we’ll be late,” her mother screamed at her, and she huffed, snatching her clutch from her bed and storming out. This was not what she wanted to be doing tonight. She wanted to put on her best outfit and head out into the mysterious lights of New York City with her best friend Lexi, scoring free drinks for guys in bars and hoping to con some money out of some poor sap. She and Lexi were very good at conning men, especially the rich ones, and it was a weekend activity. Her mother used to stay up and wait for her to get back, standing with her arms crossed and a foot tapping the ground as if to say, ‘What time do you call this? but her words were only ignored as her daughter would barge past her and throw her hair over her shoulder with attitude.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons she was bringing Violet tonight. She had missed their mother-daughter relationship, which had slowly fizzled out as she got older. Being a typical sixteen-year-old teenager meant the days of her daughter skipping home and helping her make dinner were over. No matter how hard she tried to discipline, punish, or even talk to Violet, nothing worked. It was more worry than anger for her daughter. She worried she was going down a path her father had taken and feared that she would end up like him—constantly in trouble with the police, running cons and cheap tricks for thousands of dollars at a time. It was why she divorced him six years ago. She hoped it wouldn’t have an effect on Violet, but she is now worried that it did.

"Coming,�� she spat, stomping down the stairs with her disgust written all over her face. Her mother was dressed in a red frock, paired with nude small heels; her hair was lovely and straight, with a soft sheen to it and a hint of aloe and coconuts. She wore a splash of sparkle on her eyes with mascara and a red lip to match her dress. She was beautiful, and Violet was the spitting image of her mother, as she would be without all the thick cake makeup and tight eyeliner on her waterline. Her mother offered her a pleased smile at her attire, and Violet glared back, complete despair on her face.

“Seriously, why do I have to go?” She huffed, tightly folding her arms over her chest.

“Because I said so, each member gets one guest, and I want you and I to spend more time together. Now get your coat; we’re leaving,” she ushered her to the door, trotting behind her as she worriedly looked at her silver watch on her thin wrist. They needed to leave now to get there on time. Violet gave one last groan before snatching her coat off the hook and being forced into the car. There was no going back now.

On the way to the hotel, her mother wouldn’t shut up about who was going to be there and how she was going to behave, and if she embarrassed her, it wouldn't look good for her. Violet merely sat against the window, trying to ignore everything her mother was saying, and prayed that the next couple hours were going to go by quickly. Perhaps she could sneak out later and meet with Axel, another friend of hers who was into some drug-related stuff. Stealing, drugs, and sex. He was a bad boy and a womaniser at the school. Violet admired him in some sort of way. Perhaps it was his no-nonsense attitude and way of thinking that got him everything he wanted. Not to mention, he was fit as fuck. Short dark hair with dazzling eyes and that hint of bad boy in him. Leathers and tattoos that, at his age, you could only get from an illegal tattooer in this city or you had a fake ID, which both of them had.

However, there was one thing that Violet was still yet to try: sex. She hadn’t been with anyone, not even in a small high school fling or relationship. She hadn’t kissed many people, including Alex Gibson at last year's prom, who had fobbed her off only an hour later for another girl. Violet had called him an asshole and threw her drink in his face before storming off to find somewhere to smoke. Apart from that, she hadn't lost her virginity. It felt like everyone around her was losing theirs, and yet she was still clinging to hers. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to lose it; she just hadn’t found the right person for it. She was a little more dignified than people thought, and she wasn’t going to lose it to some stranger just to give her brownie points.

They soon reached the hotel, and, to her mother's surprise, they had valet parking. The valet driver at the hotel had kindly offered to take her car to the car park while they headed inside, and she smiled politely and nodded, pulling Violet with her. Violet stared back as the car was driven off, and she sighed. There was definitely no turning back now.

Inside, the hall was laid out beautifully. Large circle tables with ten seats around and name cards on each plate were evenly distributed around the hall. Long red curtains and gold decor were the features of the hall. The tables were lined with fine china, a wine glass, polished silver, and a table number in the centre, held by a gold stand. It was all very fancy, and there were already at least half the staff there.

Men were dressed in fine suits of black, white, blue, and grey, polished shoes that reflected the warm lights of the hall, slicked-back hair, or messy; they looked smart and professional. The women were just as beautiful, wearing dresses to every curve and figure, tall heels, small heels, hair up, hair down, and small clutches. A sweet aroma of perfume clouds is interjected with the male aromas of sophistication and richness in their colognes. Violet looked down at herself as she had spotted a group of young women, most likely wives of soldiers, dressed in very tight dresses, some very skimpy and revealing, and thought to herself that she was slightly underdressed. Her mother insisted she wear this dress because it was innocent and smart enough for tonight's dinner. She didn’t want to be made a fool out of.

The staff of the hotel were dressed in fine suits of black and white with tight black ties and white velvet gloves, carrying gold trays holding flutes of champagne and offering them to each one of the guests as they walked past. Violet tried to grab one without her mother seeing it, but a swift yank on her wrist kept her in line, and she glared up at her mother. So no alcohol for her, and a night of having to listen to her mother's colleagues gossiping about the latest office drama. What a fun night this was going to be.

“Oh Andrea, over here,” a tall woman waved at her, making a big scene in the hall as she called over Violet’s mother. She grinned and scuttled off to her friend and colleague, Debra, who was dressed in an ugly green dress, not to Violet’s liking, and wore long black earrings, a matching bracelet, and black shoes. Her hair was curled at the ends but looked terrible, and her makeup was smokey but looked like panda eyes. Violet groaned, crossing her arms tightly across her chest as she walked over, knowing her mother would punish her if she didn’t go anyway.

“Oh my god, look at you,” Debra gushed as she pulled her into a tight hug, careful not to spill her nearly empty glass of champagne. Violet had to hide herself, rolling her eyes. Debra was too much for her, and how she was going to survive this night, she didn’t know. “You look wonderful as well; I love the green, darling,” her mother responded, and Violet nearly gagged. When did her mother start calling her darling?

"Oh, and look at you, Violet; you look so different and so pretty." Debra reached for her, placing her hand under her chin as if to get a good look at the teenager standing before her, and Violet yanked her head away in disgust. She could smell a sickly perfume on her, which made her want to retch, and Debra giggled. That giggle was the most annoying sound Violet had ever heard, and she didn't want to hear it again.

"Thanks,” she gritted with a scowl on her face, and her mother tutted at her.

“Violet, please,” she warned her, and Violet glared at her mother. She was already being tortured by being made to come here; having to endure Debra would surely make her want to kill herself.

"So, have you heard that Nicole isn’t coming?" Debra dove deep into the gossip around the office, and after five minutes of listening to Debra’s annoying voice, Violet stormed off with a groan. She needed peace and quiet from that woman. How her mother could work with her day after day, she didn’t know, and she deserved a medal for it. If Violet had the opportunity to, she would have sliced her neck open with a broken flute so she didn’t have to listen to her anymore. How nice would that be, silencing her? The idea was a bit deranged, but anything would work at this point in time.

Deciding to explore the grand hall and hotel, Violet budged through the sea of oncoming guests as they arrived. Soldiers with their wives on their hips, linked arms, and matching ties to dresses entered the hotel, being ticked off the list before entering the dining hall, where they began a conversation that Violet couldn’t care less about. Oh, how she wanted to go outside for a smoke right now and run off into the city to great mischief. She could call her friend Lexi and see if she wanted to sneak into a club. As she reached the entrance hall, the doors were wide open, the New York sun was still setting, and it would only take her a few steps. She turned, pushing her legs further and further to the wide open doors for freedom, freedom waiting for her otherwise, her hair gushing behind her as if she were running in the wind. She was almost there.

But as she reached the doors, they slammed shut, and she was stuck inside until the night was over.

Chapter 2

Hey everyone, another story on the go. I know I should probably finish a couple of the others before starting another one but I couldn't resist. I've already got four chapters of this written down so I couldn't help post the first one. I hope you like it. I just wanted to give a heads up, in the warnings it says about underage themes. In this story the main female character starts off as sixteen however I want to make it clear that nothing will happen to her until she turns eighteen. I know some people don't like to read things like that so wanted to make it clear before people come at me in the comments.

This story will have extreme sadism/masochism themes, dominance and submissive and themes of violence. Please if this isn't something you're into then don't come at me in the comments, I always enjoy reading comments from people who enjoy the things I write but if you're going to post something that you don't even like why bother reading the story. Sorry for the rant but I can just feel it coming, Anyway hope you enjoy

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sebstan2020 · 24 days

Text

Red Ties

Chapter 38

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Mary flipped off the bathroom light and entered the bedroom, dressed in her white robe and night dress. James was looking gorgeous in the dark sheets of the bed with no shirt on, the light boucning off his radiant chest. His hair was messy and untamed from a spicey evening with Mary. She herself was exhausted, and with every step, she wobbled, trying not to blush at the reason.

but something was on her mind. her apartment. Yet again, she had forgotten to bring up the subject. The subject wasn't even a touchy one or one that would warrant an argument, but she wondered what James's reaction was going to be. Tonight, she wasn't going to miss her chance. It had to be said, and that was the end of it. Mary sat on the bed in front of him, crossing her legs together, and James smirked. He sat up, slowly leaning over to reach for her as if he were going to kiss her, but she quickly interrupted him before he could carry out his desire.

"So there's something I wanted to talk to you about," she said, and he froze, quirking up an eyebrow. It wasn't like him to get nervous about anything, but after his track record lately, he couldn't be too careful.

"Okay," he said with a slight concern in his voice.

"It's nothing serious; don't worry," James said, relaxing back into the pillows as he stared at her.

"It's just that I'm paying for my apartment but not really using it, and I wondered if maybe we could take turns staying here and there. I don't want to waste my money on it.".

"Why don't you move in here with me?" He hurried, as if the answer were so simple. and it was a simple resolution, but Mary hadn't thought about it being one. She had this perceived notion that you could only move in with a boyfriend after at least a year of dating, like she had brainwashed herself into thinking that. Perhaps it was all the girls around here with long-term boyfriends who didn't move in until they were serious. She and James had only been with each other for four months now. Was she ready to move in with him?

"Oh," she said in shock.

"I mean, you're practically here all the time anyway, and my house is bigger and better.".

Jeez, what a way to make her feel better by telling her her apartment is shit. not that he was wrong. His house was three times bigger than her small apartment, and it was a lot nicer here, but that wasn't the point.

"It's just that I'm spending a lot of money on it and don't want to pay for something I'm not using.".

"So move here. We can sell your apartment, get someone else to rent it, and you can move in here with me," he suggested. A smirk came upon his lips as he rose up from the pillows again.

"Besides, I don't think your apartment has enough room for what we do in here," he murmured softly, and Mary blushed. What he meant was that her room wasn't big enough for elaborate bondage scenes or her bed long enough for him to lick her pussycat to death all night and have her screaming his name. His gear was all neatly organised in the secret closet, and she was certain her neighbours would not appreciate hearing her scream and shout 'Yes, sir' while James flogged her.

Mary thought about it for a bit. It wasn't a bad idea, but something was holding her back. Was it because she was scared to move in and nervous to find out more secrets about him? He was right that she practically spent every night here now, as if she already lived here.

"Move in with me; I want you here all the time," he whispered as he towered over her, and Mary glanced up at him with her bright eyes.

"I'll think about it," she answered, which meant she had a couple days to decide her final answer. James cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her gently in the silence of the room. Mary moaned into the kiss, and he pulled back.

"Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you." He said it with a smirk on the corner of his lips. It was Mary's turn to raise her brow at his question.

"I want to take you to vanilla," he said. His club was the place where big, powerful men came to dominate or be dominated by beautiful women and pay hundreds to thousands of dollars worth of money for it. The club he had started up with an ex-partner and dear friend of his. The place where he was most comfortable.

"That's your club, right?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded. He and Mary had done a few scenes now, as he liked to call them, and he wanted to bring her to vanilla, not just to completely dominate her but to show her who he was and where he could let out his frustrations. She seemed comfortable with this one side of him, and he didn't want to keep his business away from her. She had every right to see and know all about it.

"To do what?" She asked softly, and James chuckled under his breath, still cupping her face. He ran the tip of his nose across hers, his warm breath tickling her lips.

"Anything I like," he whispered darkly, and Mary let out a soft moan.

"Don't worry, it's not some skanky brothel; it's much more sophisticated than that," he assured her, and she wouldn't be disappointed. After her drunken confession to him about how much she enjoyed his dominance over her, he was going to take every advantage of that.

"Okay," she answered, more quickly than she would have liked, but the grin on James's face said everything. She was curious and nervous, but it was a good type of nervousness—an excited nervousness. James tugged her forward into his lap, throwing her into the bed and earning a playful squeal from Mary as he attacked her.

Mary finished her shift of independent work. She had quickly hopped back to her apartment to freshen up and dress in a tight white dress and small kitten heels, her hair bouncy and soft with a light layer of makeup. Sometimes she hardly recognises herself in the mirror, no matter how much effort she puts in. Tonight, she was meeting James at Vanilla. He had important business to attend to, and he would have picked her up if he could.

Mary didn't mind meeting him there; at least she had an escape plan if it was all too much for her, but she kept saying to herself that it wasn't going to be like that. She spritzed her perfume on before running out of her apartment, leaving it a complete tip, and heding down to her car. Her stomach was a sea of nerves and excitement, and the closer she got to the address,the more she felt a little sick to her stomach.

Driving up the long driveway, she was surprised to see what looked like a six-star hotel from the front. Beautiful stone steps lead up to the front doors of the high building, which has many windows. Outside stood two smartly dressed men that looked like valet parking, and upon arriving at the front doors, they immediately sprung to her, opening the door and offering their hands.

"Welcome, Miss. Would you like me to park your car?" one said politely as she stumbled out, completely fazed by the beautiful building in front of her. marbels of cream, white, and brown, where the colour story of the buidling and warm lights flooded both the outside and inside.

"Oh, um, yes, please," she stuttered, and the man nodded poletly before slipping into her car and whisking it away. Well, there goes her escape plan. Mary held her small clutch bag close to her as she walked up the steps to the revolving doors leading inside. It was huge. The reception looked just like a fancy hotel, wide with a long desk at the back.

Bright, warm lights illuminated the lower floor, and the decor was gold, black, and white with glass tables and marble statues. A soft scent was in the air, not too overpowering to distract. It was quiet except for soft music playing over hidden speakers, and as she neared the large desk, she noticed a bar off to the side. much darker than the reception, and it only showered the front bar with a couple of stools.

Two men dressed in fancy suits were sitting at the bar, slugging down expensive whisky and laughing more loudly than she liked. James was right when he said this place was suspicious. Perhaps it was a cover to stop people from knowing what it really was. But it didn't seem like James wanted to keep this place hidden or unknown. He just wanted a classy place to offer this service and not let it be treated like a brothel.

The desk was empty, and Mary waited a while, staring around the beautiful lower floor. If this floor was stunning, then she wondered how stunning the other floors were. But then again, this was no ordinary hotel, so most likely the rooms weren't going to be your average staycation room.

"Can I help you?" she whisked around as a voice appeared behind her. A tall girl stood behind the desk. Dark red hair in big, bouncy waves ran down her shoulders, and dark makeup surrounded her eyes with thick eyeliner and lashes. She wore a skimpy dark brown dress in leather that hugged her body. She must be an employee.

"Oh, um, I'm here to meet James," Mary said innocently, and the girl stared at her for a moment before plastering on a smile.

"Oh, you must be her," she replied, leaning on the desk with her arms spread wide and her long nails tapping on the countertop. Mary blinks in confusion at her choice of words.

"Her?" she asked, and the woman giggled.

"I'm Natalie," she said, holding her hand out to shake Mary's, who at first thought it was a little strange, but out of politeness, she took it anyway.

"Nice to meet you," Mary started, but was rudely cut off by her.

"So obviously, this is your first time here, so you'll need to sign the book." She pulled out a large book and flipped to the most recent page, and Mary was quite confused.

"Oh, okay." She didn't want to question anything because, as Natalie had said, it was her first time here.

"Just sign here; it's a legal thing, you know." Her voice was very patronising, and Mary held back her tongue.

"Okay," she said, giving a tight smile to Natalie, who hummed and snapped the book shut.

"So I'm guessing you're his new sub," Natalie said, and Mary took a step back.

"Um, no, I'm not his sub," she stammered.

"Oh, come on, you can tell me, we are all the same here. Did he tell you I was his original sub here?" Natalie pointed to herself with furrowed brows. Oh, so that's why she was being so cold to her.

"No, he didn't," Mary admitted softly.

"Oh, well, I was. He used to come over, like, four times a week, to fuck me. He didn't ask for anyone else but me, you know?" She smirked at Mary as if she were trying to rub this information in her face, and she wasn't quite sure how to respond. The Christian thing to do would be a polite nod, but her little demon side wanted to pounce out and shut this girl up. It wasn't the best feeling in the world standing across from your boyfriend's ex while they tell you all about the times they used to fuck and do kinky shit.

"Then he stopped seeing me because he met someone else; I'm guessing that's you." Natalie spat at Mary with deadly eyes, and Mary scoffed a little.

"I'm sorry, I don't know." She was trying to deflate the conversation, but Natalie had already built up a fire inside her that was waiting to be breathed out.

"Look, just because you're new, small, and fun doesn't mean you have the right to come walking in here. I had him first. I bet he didn't even tell you about the things we used to do together. In fact, he'll probably ditch you in a month or two and come running back to me. I was the only girl who could satisfy his needs, and I don't need you coming here and fucking that up." Natalie stormed around the desk, getting closer and closer to Mary, almost towering over her in her high heels.

Where the fuck did this come from? All Mary did was walk to the front desk, hoping to meet James, and yet she was arguing with his ex-sub. Before Mary even had a chance to say something back, his voice erupted.

"Hey, what's going on?" He said it sternly as he came over, dressed impeccably in a dark suit. God, why did he always have to look this good? His brows furrowed as he came to stand by Natalie and Mary, who were at a loss for words.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" Natalie threw her sweetest voice at James, reaching for his arm, but he pulled away as if he were disgusted with her, not wanting her hands on him.

"Not right now," he said, dismissing her quickly and taking Mary's hand.

"Come on," he tugged at her, so they began walking away, a clear scoff heard from Natalie. James was not in the mood for her right now, and he was naive to think she wasn't going to cause a problem.

"Fine, go fuck your little whore. YOU KNOW I'LL ALWAYS BE BETTER!" Natalie yelled across the lower floor as James huffed, dragging Mary behind her. He furiously pressed the button for the lift and yanked Mary inside, leaving the two in silence.

Chapter 39

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know in the comments what you think

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanficiton #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom #mafia bucky barnes

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sebstan2020 · 26 days

Text

Red Ties

Chapter 37

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

The week had flown by, and Mary was grateful for it. She didn't want to dwell anymore on the harsh facts of life that had come to her attention and wanted to just enjoy the moments she had with James. He had been so touchy with her recently, constantly grabbing her around the waist, kissing her at any minute possible, cupping her face, and grasping her chin for that spark to ignite in both of them. She wondered if something was up but shook the thought away immediately. She feared this would happen; every little movement and action he took had a deeper, darker meaning to it.

She couldn't let paranoia get to her. Not everything James did had an ulterior motive, she hoped. But her week had been filled with giggles, moans, and the endless grin on her face. She was in love. Her feud with Reverend McCarthy had died down, and she was back to her normal Christian self. She was being very strict from now on. No more alcohol; alchol and her are a bad mix; no more swearing; and no more missing church. If she broke any of these rules, she'd wholeheartedly give permission to James to spank her for it. He had smirked at the idea when she said it, and he hadn't realised the corner she had backed herself into.

James, on the other hand, wasn't having such a good week. The business wasn't going to go as planned. Payments weren't being made on time, and shitheads were fucking him over, thinking they could win these games. Whoever thought they could beat James Barnes had death coming their way. He was pissed and finding it hard not to take his frustrations out like he normally would.

One bad night, he'd be calling Natalie over for a rough session in his playroom at Vanilla, involving whips, canes, and chains. But Natalie was out of the picture, and Mary was at no stage to be taking on any hard stuff. He had thought about it a lot, but at this moment, she was fragile and could break with a single flick of a whip, and he couldn't go through that right now.

So instead, he took his frustration out on the boys. Steve and Sam had just about enough of his teenage attidude, ordering them to do his dirty business while he ran off with Mary. Ordinarily, it wouldn't bother either of them, but James had been rather ratty this past week, and the two of them both knew what he needed. Steve even took the risk of suggesting he go to Vanilla and play with one of the subs there for one night only. He nearly ended up over the docks with that comment.

But the boys were right, and James knew he'd need to settle this frustration sooner or later. Mary had arrived at his from a normal working shift, parking her beat-up car next to his sleek black BMW. Every time she saw his car, she thought to herself about buying a new one, but the funds weren't there. The subject of her apartment also floated around in her headspace, but every time she went to discuss it with James, he distracted her, and she forgot. Tonight, she wouldn't.

Inside, she hung her jacket on the coat hook and went in search of James, hopping up the stairs in hopes of finding him in the bedroom, and to her luck, he was there. He ripped off his tie in a gruff way and threw it across the room, the creak of the floorboards catching his attention as he looked over at her.

"Hey," she said with a smile as she padded inside.

"Hey," he said in a sullen voice, and Mary frowned slightly.

"Is everything okay?" She asked as he slumped down on the edge of the bed, his suit jacket loose and the top button of his shirt open, revealing his gorgeous neck.

"Yeah, just a long day," he said softly as he looked up with dark eyes that looked tired and raw. Mary stepped closer to him to stand in between his legs, placing her small hands on his broad shoulders. Something was up; he was never this cold towards her, and for a minute she was worried she had done something.

"Have I done something?" She squeaked, and James took a deep breath, running his hands over her sides as he looked up at her.

"No, of course not. Why would you think that?" he asked.

"I've never seen you like this, so... sad." She couldn't think of a better word, and James chuckled a little, shaking his head. He wasn't sad; he was pissed. But he had no right to take it out on her, or did he?

"I'm just tired, and work is not going as I'd like it to," he admitted, and she nodded. Did she want to ask for the details? She didn't particularly want to hear about him having some coke addict get beat up by Sam because he had missed the payment on his loan from James.

"Oh" was all she could conjure up, and James laughed, his smile broadening. He loved her innocent reactions to his darkness.

"Well, if there's anything I can do to cheer you up, then I'm all yours," she said, holding her hands up as if she were offering herself to him, and he stared up at her in silence for a minute. He chose to take that literally.

"Well, there is one thing." His voice turned husky, dark, and dominant, and Mary stared down with parted lips and wide eyes.

"What?" she whispered.

"You did say that if you ever broke your three rules again, then I have permission to punish you. I believe you broke all three in a matter of two days," he said, raising a quirky brow, and Mary gasped softly, as if trying to get her words out.

"Yeah, but I said that after I broke them," she tried to defend, but James gripped her waist tighter as he stared up at her.

"Yes, and you should be punished for them; you know you put yourself in real danger that night by drinking that much." His voice was soft, but with a growl to it, and as he stood and towered over her, Mary's heart began to beat ever so fast, her stomach tickling and her body tingling. Was he going to spank her?

"I did?" she said, acting all innocent, and James nodded, reaching up and throwing her blonde locks over her shoulder, placing a hand over her neck as he leaned over her, forcing her head back.

"Yes, and bad girls who break the rules need to be punished," he whispered on top of her, and she took a breath. In an instant, she was flung over his knee, hands pressed firmly into the floor, ass in the air, as James moved her like a rag doll to his desired position. It all happened so fast that she didn't have time or energy to argue or pull away. or Myabe, it was because she didn't want to.

James gripped her long hair in his hand, tugging her head back and hearing a sweet gasp escape from her as he parted her feet with his foot, keeping them wide to allow his other hand to slip over her ass. Tugging down her scrub bottoms, she revealed the lacey pants she had put on just for him—the ones with small red hearts that slipped up her backside. Her ass was perfect in them—so round and smooth, with the perfect glow to it.

Mary gripped onto his leg for support as James ran his hand across her smooth behind, and he tutted softly.

"Now I'm going to spank you ten times, and I want you to say thank you, sir, each time. Do I make myself clear?" His tone was so stern that there was no question, and when Mary didn't answer, a quick swat to her thigh made her yell and bring her back to reality.

"Yes, sir," she whispered, and he chuckled.

"Good girl." His voice softened, and Mary groaned, the groan coming from the back of her throat. His hand slipped across her round ass, deciding where to strike first, and when he pulled up and smacked his palm hard against her skin, she yelled, gripping his knee. It hurt. It really hurt. Why she thought it wasn't going to hurt, she didn't know, but as his palm stayed there, pressing on the sore piece of skin, she responded just as he wanted.

"Thank you, sir." Her voice was slightly ragged and out of breath, and he pulled up and spanked her again. Her pussycat tingled, and Mary blushed with redness as she felt her juices dripping out of her onto her pants. Another spank came, this one further down under her ass, and she gasped. It was painful but pleasurable at the same time, and she felt so anxious about enjoying it.

James stared down at her as he waited for those sweet words to come off her lips, and as she spoke them each time, he moaned just as much as she did. His cock pressed tightly against his tight pants, begging to be free, and he wouldn't be surprised if Mary felt him underneath.

His frustration flowed with every spank he gave, and as he reached the last couple, he curled his fingertips into her skin to grip it harshly, leaving finger marks of redness across her pale ass, which was no longer pale but bright red and sore. The events of this week no longer plagued him. He was back to cool, calm, and collective James, smirking as Mary yanked against his bondage, but he pulled her back into place. No one is running here.

It's as if Mary knew he would need to let out his frustrations this week, and what better chance to spank her after she had pretty much asked him to? She was made for him. The last spank was a big one, and it stung all the way through her body. Mary took a moment to calm down, catching her breath before she whispered.

"Thank you, sir," she breathed, and James rubbed her aching behind. His hand crept up along her back and to her head, where he gently tugged her back so she knelt between his legs, looking up with glassy eyes, parted lips, and short breaths. She was in subspace. She didn't know it, but he could see it. He cupped her face in his large hands and bent down to kiss her softly, sweetly, and slowly. Mary held on for dear life, clutching his arm and moaning into his lips. He was warm, soft, and gentle, unlike a minute ago when he was cold, hard, and rough.

When he pulled back, he looked at her deeply with his ocean eyes, a grin playing on his lips as she breathed heavily as if she had run a marathon. He was instantly more relaxed, and as Mary came, she laughed softly up at him and furrowed his brows.

"What?" he asked.

"I can't believe I just let you do that," she murmured, and he chuckled, picking her up into his lap.

"Don't worry, it won't be the last time," he whispered as he eagerly kissed her once more.

Chapter 38

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know in the comments what you think

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom #mafia bucky barnes

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sebstan2020 · 26 days

Text

Red Ties

Chapter 36

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Sunday came sooner than Mary would have liked. The dread of going to church knowing that Reverend McCarthy would be standing at the podium, giving a speech to his congregation on something that he himself might not believe in. Was he a true worshipper, someone devoting his life to God, or was he just a fake? She had so many mixed feelings about it and him that for the first time in all her life of going to church, even when she was just a couple weeks old, she missed it.

She would normally leave early to attend the early service; however, at nine o'clock, she was downstairs in James's kitchen, her dressing robe tied tightly around her waist, and stirring a cup of tea. To James's surprise, as he walked in, fastening the last button on his shirt cuff, he stopped mid-step as he saw her there and furrowed his brows.

"Shouldn't you be at church?" he asked as he came to stand beside her, tilting his head in confusion. Mary gave a sweet smile, almost fake, as she happily chucked the spoon under the tap to give it a quick rinse.

"No," she said simply, and James gave a short chuckle, a nervous one, as Mary scuffled about the kitchen.

"It is Sunday, right?" He asked as if he were going crazy, and she nodded.

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"Are you going to a later service?" he asked, and she shook her head no. Okay, this was getting werid, he thought. But after everything that had happened over the last couple of days, he shouldn't have expected less. Even after their morning debrief of the night before, Mary wasn't in the mood for church or to see John.

"But you always go to church on Sundays," he said as if he were hinting at her to go. First the drinking and now skipping chuch, James was beginning to think someone had swapped Mary for a different one.

"I know," she shurgged again, and he sighed softly. He had managed to dogde the bullet on this one for once, giving his sincere apologies to her and hoping she would forgive him. Mary was beginning to understand that no matter how much she wanted to distance herself from this dangerous side of James, it would keep crawling back. Her faith wasn't strong enough to keep her at a safe distance, but even now she was beginning to question that herself. Had John just been a big fat lier to her all this time?

But leaving James seemed to be harder than following what she knew was morally right. Her love for him was stronger than she thought, and at this point, she had broken so many of her own rules that she was ready to throw them all out the window. Why the fuck not? She might as well start going out every night and partying. If she texted Anya for a night out, her head would literally explode, and she'd be over faster than a cheetah could catch its dinner.

James was right; it wasn't his place to defend or speak for John. They were two people of their own, and although both of them were involved, it was John who needed to explain himself. For once, James was secretly glad he wasn't on the firing line.

"Look, I know you're mad at John, but maybe you should give him a chance to explain. It's not like you to not go to church," he said.

"Well, I've already broken three rules so far, so I might as well throw it all out the window," she said in an almost too cheery voice.

"He's been your family friend and reverend for years; are you really going to throw that all away without giving him a chance to speak?" That was rich coming from James, and he almost sheilded himself, ready for the blow. but it never came as Mary picked up her tea and padded past him.

"What's there to talk about? He's obviously involved in that side; you said so yesterday, and if that's who he is, then I don't need him to explain." James followed her upstairs, rushing up to stop her in her tracks as she placed her tea on the side and went for the shower. He took her hands in his, covering them entirely, and looked down into her eyes.

"Please just give him a chance to explain. He's been your reverend for years, but that doesn't mean he was faking it. Everyone has their reasons, and it wouldn't be fair for you to not let him explain. You let me explain, and I know that you love him dearly. You can't throw years of your faith out the window without letting someone give their reasons; that wouldn't be the Christian thing to do.".

Fuck, he was right. She hated that he was right. Deep down, she knew this: she knew she couldn't give up years of trust and faith in her god and her reverend without letting them take their side. She was just trying to avoid it. To avoid having to talk yet again about this dangerous world she didn't understand. Trying to avoid John's wisdom and sense and knowing he could turn any situation into a positive. These men and their ways.

Mary sighed, finally giving up this attitude that she wasn't bothered by all this because she was. Not being at church right now was killing her, and why should she punish God when he had done nothing wrong?

"I don't even know what to say, though. He's like a second father to me. Since being in this city, he's the only person I could go to with my problems and fears and not be judged by them. After all these years, it feels like it's blown up in front of my face," she admitted, and James softened, shortening his stance slightly.

"Well, maybe don't say and just listen first. You can be angry at me; in fact, I would rather you'd be angry at me, but not him." The fact that James was willing to let the girl he loved take her frustration and anger out on him meant more to her now than it would have been if he said that a couple weeks ago. She knew she needed to give John a chance, but she had hoped it hadn't come so soon.

The congregation left with smiles and chatter, and the church fell to an eerie silence. John quickly picked up the tattered bibles, stabbing them in his strong arms as he reached the front, dropping them with a heavy thump on the floor to neatly pack away later. It was hot, and he was dying to get out of his robe. The small pattern of shoes alerted him, and he assumed it was one of his parishioners, but as he turned, he went rigid as he met the slightly darkened eyes of Mary.

"Mary," he spoke with surprise as she stood a few feet away from him, clutching her hands in front of her and shuffled about on her feet. She tried to place a stoic look on her face but failed miserably.

"Hi," she murmured, and John took a deep breath. He himself had hoped this day wouldn't have come so soon. He was dreading the day would come and hoped it never would, and now it was here, staring him in the face—one he couldn't ignore.

"Can we go to my office?" He wanted to say it would be more appropriate to talk in there, but after the events of two days ago, he held back that fact, and Mary simply nodded, following him in. The office was boiling, and he excused himself as he peeled off his white robe and hung it on a hook on the wall.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," he said as he sat in his office chair slowly, clasping his hands together on the desk. Mary distracted herself by tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I do," she said softly, but she wasn't sure which one to start with. Silence fell between the both of them, and John cut through it with a deep sigh.

"I don't blame you for hating me if you do or judging me. But if there is one thing I ask of you, it is to listen. I don't expect you to forgive me so easily; I would never ask that of someone or even forgive me at all if you didn't want to. I have my past, one that I cannot ignore or run from, and if I could have told you in better circumstances, I would have," he admitted.

"What would you have told me?" he asked.

"I would have told you who I am and where I come from. It's not easy when you're born into this life; you can't hide from it or run away from it, no matter what you do. Even becoming a reverend didn't mean I'd be free of this life. I hate to use this phrase, but it's in my blood." He slightly chuckled, but Mary didn't respond; she just listened.

"When I was twelve, my father sat me down and told me that he was the head of an organised crime gang here in Manhattan. I didn't quite understand it then and thought it was all fiction, like those mobster movies you see. At the age of sixteen, I witnessed my first murder. He deserved it, of course, but at that age, you can't quite know how you're going to react."

"From there, I realised who my family was and who I was going to be as I grew older. I wanted to hide, I wanted to run, and I didn't want to believe I was destined for this life. My family was heavily religious, despite our actions. We attended church every Sunday as a normal family, or what people thought was a normal family, and I knew I couldn't give up my faith; I could never".

"I said to my father that if he wants me to be in this life, then he would have to accept my choice to join the church. I think back then I secretly hoped it would give me a way out, but I was surprised to see my father just nod and say, "Okay."

"So I joined the church, became a reverend, and carried on with what was going to come. I've done things that are shameful, and I wish I could say I'm ashamed of them, but I'm not. I never once faked my faith or my love for you or anyone else in the congregation. I want you to know that.".

Silecne fell again, and Mary took a deep breath, blowing through pouted lips.

"James said you and him have known each other for a while.".

"Yes, our family's knew each other. He and I have done business together, which I'm sure you don't want to hear.".

"Well, the more I don't want to hear about it, the more I do. It seems like I can't get away from it anymore than you can." She slightly smiled at the end, but it fell again.

"I wish I could have told you, Mary, but I was scared that I would lose you. Not just as a parishioner but as a dear friend. Your family has been with this church for so long, and if I could, I would have told you all sooner, but some things are meant to be left covered. We shouldn't all have to let our demons be known.".

"When I came to you about James, the first time he told me who he was, did he have any input?" She was scared to ask, but the faint flutter of John's eyes gave her the answer.

"He loves you so much he didn't want to lose you, and I guess selfishly he knew I could make you stay. But that's James for you; he does this to those he loves. He knew I could get you to give him another chance," he admitted, and Mary sighed. The pieces were all coming together.

"But I'll be honest, and this isn't me making this up. Over the years, I've become less involved in this life. Luckily, for us, getting older is a way out of it. I'm not as heavily involved as I used to be. James, it is a different story, and that is between both of you, but I only do business if necessary. James and I are old friends, friends with never-ending favours. I do hope one day I'll be able to retire and live in peace, but I don't think I am there yet.".

"So on Friday, was that a favour?" Mary asked, and John nodded.

"James said you didn't want to know the details," he clarified, and she nodded.

"I did, but it seems like it's getting harder for myself to not be involved.".

For a moment, Mary took everything in. She hadn't realised that despite growing up in a mob gang mafia family, whatever you want to call it, John didn't want this life for himself, and if he was going to be forced into it, he had his own rules about how to live it. Mafia and Christianity don't mix, but John proved the system wrong. And still, while Mary listened to his kind, nuturing voice, he made her accept him for who he is. It sounded like John didn't have much choice in the matter. One thing she couldn't quite understand about this life was that there seemed to be no escape.

But how could she understand that when she had never experienced how they lived and grew up?

"I promise you, Mary, that I will be here, as the reverend and devoted Christian that I am, any time of day, to listen and advise on what I can. And if you feel you can't come to me, I accept that fully, but I've given you my truth, my confession, if you will.".

"Are you sure you're not Catholic, then?" She joked, and he let out a laugh, strong but low, and the tension disappeared.

"I guess all I can ask for is your forgiveness," he asked softly, holding out his hands and his palms. Mary took a breath.

If reverend John McCarthy had told her months ago he was actually the son of a mobster family and had it running through his veins, she would have turned the corner as quick as she could and had never returned to this church again. But the last few months had changed her. Meeting James had changed her, and she had learned things she might not have wanted to learn. But this was life. No more fairy tale romance for her waiting on a horse to ride off into the sunset. There are no more love story plots to follow. The books and movies were all wrong. This isn't how life goes. It takes you on an emotional rollercoaster, one you can't seem to stop and get off at.

"I can't give up all my years of service to you and the church, not after everything that happened with mom and living here on my own. If you had asked me that a few months ago, I would have run out screaming, but I guess this is a life I'm going to have to learn and understand as well." She stood from the desk, John following in her footsteps, and she padded around, standing in front of him for a few seconds before reaching forward and wrapping herself in his arms.

He hugged her tightly, giving her a squeeze, and she sighed in relief. She felt cleansed. This dreaded conversation was over, and she hoped she wouldn't have to go through it again. even though she wasn't counting on it. Knowing here someone else she knew for years would now turn up and say, 'Oh yeah, I'm also apart of the mafia world'. but she'd worry about that when it comes to it.

Right now, she was just glad her reverend was back, and although it was going to be tricky to release any pent-up anger she had towardss James and his illegal doings towards John, he was still her reverend and always would be.

Chapter 37

Hey I hope you like this chapter, this one is a bit boring I think but going to move on to some juicy stuff now. I've just had some surgery so haven't been feeling the best but hoping to update at least once a day, let me know in the comments what you think

@pattiemac1

@sebastiansluts

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@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

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@samjuarezzz

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@buckysgirl85

@captainsarahscratches

@thischubbydumpling

@dhoruwolfie

@silvaren-ladybird

@hazomi

@unaxv

@wintxr-widow

@identity2212

@mrsstuckyboo

@cjand10

@redheadonfire20

@carrotlove

@skulliecadaver-blog

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sebstan2020 · 1 month

Text

Red Ties

Chapter 35

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Mary's head was pounding. It was as if someone were banging her with a hammer on her forehead. The digusting taste of alcohol lingered on her tongue and breath, causing her to cough as she woke. The moment she opened her eyes, she shut them in a wince as the blinding sun blinded her to the point that it made her head spin even more. A wave of nausea rippled inside her, and she groaned to the point where she wanted to die.

Even the slightest movement made her want to throw herself back in bed, and pain riddled her body. This was the worst she had ever felt. Who said drinking was fun? This was not fun. How the hell did Anya keep up with this? With it being Mary's first time ever drinking, she was bound to feel the effects a hundred times more than anyone who had been drinking for longer than her. But not only were the physical effects of her drunken night taking a toll on her, but the mental effects were also there.

What did Anya call it? Hangxiety. A mixture of being hungover and the anxiety of one's actions the night before. What did she say? What did she do? Did she embarrass herself in public? Did she say anything that she'd regret instantly now that she was sober? Mary prayed to God; she didn't, but right now she couldn't think with the pounding in her head. Or was it something that she couldn't remember? That was the more likely cause.

She groaned into the pillow, barely able to move, when the sound of a cup placed beside her made her lift her head. James placed a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table and seated himself on the edge of the bed, a devilish smile playing on his lips. How the tables had turned. He remembered countless nights of endless drinking, shots, and drunken sex, and then waking up feeling like he had been thrown off a cliff. It gets easier every time, but it made him chuckle that, for once, he wasn't in the position Mary currently was.

Mary turned slightly to look up at him and sighed. She was a mess. Her sea of blonde hair in all sorts of knots, makeup smeared, and the rotton taste in her mouth made her want to gag. not to mention the bruises and cuts covering her body from the violent man she had met last night.

"Morning, how are you feeling?" he asked. He was dressed impeccably in a dark navey suit, a dark shirt, and a tie with his intoxicating cologne.

"Like I've been hit by a bus," she croaked, and James lightly laughed under his breath. "The first time is always the hardest," he said, trying to comfort her, but Mary whined, turning her body over and letting it fall on the pillows. Her energy was all used up by that one movement. She was regretting everything.

"I don't remember anything. Why did I do that last night?" She placed her hands over her face as if to hide herself. Why, oh, why did she break her strict rule of never drinking? All her life, she hadn't touched a single drop, and all her hard work had ended in one night. James's smile fell slightly as the truth floated around him. He didn't want to bring it up, but he knew he had to.

"Because you were mad at me," he said simply, and Mary pulled her hands away and looked up, confused.

"I was?" she asked, and he nodded. At this point, she couldn't think of what she'd be mad at James.

Mary thought hard, trying to remember what had happened to her last night while leading this rebellious change. She remembers baking in her apartment, getting ready for the church bake sale, ringing them over, meeting Steve, and... oh yes, now she remembers.

"Oh," was all she said. The guns, Reverend McCarthy, James—she remembers it all. That was what led her to the small bar, which was filled with only two people. The man in the corner and pervy Mike.

"Yeah," he said, and Mary pushed herself up to sit against the headboard, wincing at the pain in her arm. She lifted it to see a bandage taped to her skin.

"Oh god, I hope I didn't do anything embarrassing." She pleaded, rubbing her tired face. Right now, she was more concerned with the fact of her actions last night than the reason she was mad at James. She was praying she hadn't made a fool of herself, especially in front of James.

James slightly smirked, shifting on the bed, and Mary peeked between her fingers.

"What?" she asked in a scared tone, afraid of what he was going to retell.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" he asked, and she shook her head no with big eyes and her hands clamped over her mouth.

"What did I do?" she whispered.

"Well, after you were mad at me, you went off to some bar halfway across town. I managed to find you by tracking your phone. which I only did because I wanted to say sorry," he quickly intercepted before she could argue with his possessive finding skills. He didn't mention Ned, mostly because it wasn't an important fact at this moment.

"When I did find you, you were lying face down in a puddle because some creep was trying to get in your pants. Luckily, I got there in time, but he had pushed you over, hence the arm. You landed on a glass bottle." Mary looked once more at her arm before looking back at James.

"And?" she said with horror, not sure she wanted to hear the rest.

"I took you home and cleaned you up. You were very vocal with me about what had happened last night. I don't blame you for being mad, though. I wish I could have told you. You called me the devil and said that I was sexy and handsome," he said, and Mary stared at him.

Jesus. really Mary, the devil. She is sexy and handsome. She was at a loss for words.

"Oh, and also, you were saying how much you enjoy the kinky side of me and those toys I have," he mentioned with a smirk, and she gasped.

"I did," she said in horror, and he nodded.

Mary wanted to die at this moment. She wanted to fold herself into a ball and throw herself out the window. She had drunkily admitted to James that she enjoyed being dominant, tied up, and used with those toys before passing out in his bed. She had called him a sexy, handsome devil, which he was, but her choice of words wasn't what she'd pick at this moment in time.

"Oh god," she murmured into her hands. Never again would she drink—never, ever, ever.

"Here, drink this." He handed her the cup of tea, and she sipped it, the vile taste in her mouth washing away, and she sighed.

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me," she murmured, and James furrowed his brows at her.

"Don't be sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry." Oh yes, that little detail. Mary didn't want to talk about it, but she knew she had to. She didn't want to accept what she had seen yesterday. Reverend John McCarthy, discarded of his robe and collar and holding a gun in his hand like he had done it every day, twirled it with ease as he looked over the fine details of it. She didn't want to accept that the man who had been an important part of her life was leading a double life on the side of darkness.

"How long have you known him for?" she asked softly, and James took a deep breath, looking up as if he were thinking.

"Since my father died, our fathers were good friends, allies, if you will. He's at least twenty years older than me, but when my father passed, I came to him for some guidance. He knew him well. He hasn't been much involved in our world for years now, and I'm not just saying that to make you think he's a better person. He and I have a trust that we hold dear. He's owed me, and I've owed him. When I need someone whose kind of aloof he's the perfect man, no one would ever suspect a reverend." Mary winced slightly at the fact that her reverend of many years has been involved in the dark mafia world.

"I wish I could have told you, but he explicitly told me not to. He didn't want you to lose your faith. He didn't want you to think he was going behind your back, which I guess he was, but that was my doing as well.".

Mary silently placed the mug on the side and sighed.

"Did you go to him after our first argument?" when you told me, Who are you?" She asked, and his silence said it all. James was ready to grab her to stop her from running, but Mary wasn't. She stayed in bed, glancing up at him with hooded eyes and tight lips.

"I didn't want to lose you," he whispered.

"You have every right to be mad; I'd never take that from you. But I know you and him have a tight bond as well. He's been a friend of your family for years as well, and since your mother died, he's been a big part of your faith. I don't want to tell you what you can and can't do or can and can't feel, but please give him a chance to explain. It's his place, not mine.".

Goddamn, why is James so smart right now? Why did he have to speak the truth and be kind about it? Why did he have to make it so hard for her to scream and shout at him? She took back what she said. He is the devil. He was right; it was John's place to explain, not James. James could only apologise for his part in not telling her and for what she saw last night.

"I know I said I didn't want to know about any of this, but it's getting harder and harder to keep myself in the dark about it. I mean, who knows what I'll walk into next?" James wanted to laugh at her dig at him but kept his lips to only a smile.

"I'm sorry. I know I keep saying that, but I am. I didn't want you to see that last night. I can't change who I am or what I do, and I'm trying to keep you from asking, but you're right, it is getting harder," he said a little sadly, and Mary looked up at him.

He was right; he was abiding by her wishes to keep this side of him from her. She didn't want to know much about it, only when she asked, and he had done that. But she had just so happened to walk in on her boyfriend, bringing over cases of guns to her, whom she had known for years and thought was the most innocent man on this earth.

James couldn't change who he is, and Mary would be selfish to want that. Either accept James and his darkness or walk away into lightness. As she looked up, her answer came to her head. Mary crawled across the sheets into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. A sudden blush on her cheeks appeared as she embarrassedly thought about her breath, reeking of alcohol and tea, but a look at his dark blue eyes instantly made her forget.

James dragged his hand up her back to the back of her head, her hair still soft despite it being covered in dirt and puddle water. Mary didn't utter a word; she only leaned her head across his shoulder and fell into his arms as he held her close, his arms like a tight bondage around her, warm and safe. Her mother had always warned her that the devil was hard to resist, and right now she couldn't resist anymore.

"My mother always did warn me that the devil is attractive," she murmured against his jacket, and James chuckled. He took that as an acceptance of his apology.

Chapter 36

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

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Kink Series

So I was thinking about doing a kink series sort of fic where bucky Barnes is the most famous dominant in New York in their community and each chapter is a different submissive with a different type of feitsh they enjoy and they come to Bucky to live that out. What do you guys think? Would you want to see that? Let me know in the comments

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes dom

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Red Ties

Chapter 34

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

James paced in the small church office, his phone pressed hard against his ear as he listened to the never-ending ringing. He was trying to get through to Mary, but at the third attempt at calling and getting no further than her voicemail box, he sighed heavily and dropped his phone. He had well and truly messed up this time. John was slumped in his desk chair, having just witnessed the look of terror on Mary's face and the realisation of who he was.

"You need to go find her," James ordered John, who scowled up at him.

"Me, your the one who decided to bring the shipment here," he aruged, and James growled as he stormed over, towering over the reverend.

"She'll listen to you; she won't answer my calls," he snapped, and John stood, almost meeting James's gaze.

"Not now; she won't. She's trusted me her whole life, and now, after what she's seen today, she'll never want to speak or even come close to me. I told you not to fuck this up, James," he argued, and James groaned. John was right. He fucking hated it when he was right.

It was his idea to bring the guns over to the church, having thought that no one would be attending on a Friday afternoon, and with Steve on watch, it was the perfect opportunity to bring them in. John was going to store them in the back until the transaction between James and the small business requiring them had been completed.

Everyone around John was the kindest reverend to the city of New York; his ears were always open for discussion and support. He was the heart and soul of this church, giving his time and money to it. A Christian at heart. However, like many other people in this city, he had a dark secret and a past, and frankly, he wasn't ashamed. Growing up in the mafia world, he never expected to become a reverend for the church. Guaratee, it was the perfect cover story—not that he was faking any ounce of his faith in God.

His family growing up was heavily religious, and his father took him to church every Sunday for service. It was at the mature age of twelve that his father revealed who they really were. A family of power and money, although the fasade they kept up made others think otherwise. At the age of sixteen, he witnessed his first murder in front of him. a sleezy guy with no remorse, and yet John himself felt nothing for him.

He was destined to grow up in this world and become who his father was. But he didn't want to. not at first. he refused. said he didn't want to get involved in shit like that. His father only gave him a soft pat on the shoulder to relax him, which was inevitable. And from that point on, his life grew further and further into the dangerous world of violence, power, and dominance.

But he didn't want to look back on his faith. He didn't want to be a walking sin. He had spent too long praying to God, day and night, for his spot in heaven. It was as if an angel had come down to him one night and placed a pale hand on his shoulder, a sign that he should join him. He told his father of his plan to become a reverend and had expected him to laugh, throw a fit of anger, and scream and shout at his son. But he didn't. Instead, he nodded.

"If that's what needs to be done, then so be it." If becoming a reverend was going to help him with this life he was leading up to, then he had his father's respect. He wasn't ashamed of the things he'd done in the past, and sometimes he wished he was, but God was here with him now, and the only person he would let judge him would be him. He could never escape this life, and there was no point sitting and moping and praying for forgiveness when he knew he'd never receive it. So he found a balance. His love for the church and the community, and his attention to the dangerous life built for him by his bloodline.

But there was one thing he never wanted, and that was for Mary to find out. His father and James's father knew each other well, and since both their passings, James and John have come to know each other. John was much older than James and almost treated him like a son. When James came to him that afternoon, a day after meeting the sweet girl, he warned him not to mention anything about knowing him. If Mary ever found out he was involved in the deep, dark world of organised crime, she'd never come to church again, and he prided himself on offering his services to those who needed them. He was a good friend to her family, close with her father and mother, and promised to look after her while she was here.

and James had messed up.

"Fuck, you're right," he hated admitting defeat, but for once he knew he had fucked up. Mary had stormed off, and she didn't even want to speak to him. All he wanted was a chance to explain. But what would he explain? How did he know John longer than she did? How did he decide to bring over a shipment of guns into the sacred church? John was involved in his crimes and had his own history of organised crime. It was a sticky situation, one that he wasn't going to get out of very easily.

Sam and Steve were stadning silently against the wall, watching as James paced himself to madness around the office. The guns still needed to be unloaded and placed in the very back. The two of them looked at each other, giving them the same look as James furiosously typed in a number on his phone.

"Ned, it's me. I need you to do me a favour; I need you to track a phone," he ordered, as Ned typed in the background.

"What's the number?" He didn't ask for any details or explanations; it wasn't his place. As James gave out Mary's number, Steve and Sam gave each other another look, this time with wider eyes and a huff. They were in no position to argue with the boss right now, so they stayed silent. James wasn't going to let this go until he saw Mary, and with the city being so big, he'd never find her on foot. It was only a matter of seconds before Ned pinged over her location, and he rushed out of the office.

"You two get those in the back now; I'll be back later," he glanced at John before storming down the asile, the voice of the reverend calling out behind him.

"Don't fuck this up!" he yelled, and James didn't turn; he just headed on out.

Mary sighed softly as she dragged herself across the sidewalk, hugging her cold arms as the sun went in, leaving the sky grey and cloudy. She had been walking for what felt like hours, and as she glanced around the city, she hadn't a clue where she ended up. Looking up at the street signs, she realised she was far from home and wished she had gotten in her car before storming off. But she was just so mad, so angry, that all she could do was walk away and not look back.

Her feet were aching, and she was dehydrated. Coming to a stop, she looked up to see she had stopped in front of a dark bar, the door wide open with loud music blaring inside. She was desperate for a drink, so she stepped inside, cuddling herself further as she wandered into the darkness. She had never been in a bar before. Alcohol wasn't her thing. There were several wooden tables around the bar floor and a couple of booths at the back, along with bar stools at the front bar.

It was dead inside, with only two people. One sat at the bar, a man who looked middle-aged with dark, short hair and slightly wrinkled eyes. The other was a lot older and sat in the corner with at least five empty glasses around him as he stared up at the small TV playing a football game. He was pissed but kept to himself.

Mary padded up to the bar, slipping into one of the high seats, and placed her bag on top. Her phone buzzed, and she groaned as she saw it was James. He had called her three times now, but she didn't want to speak to him. She needed time. She slammed her phone down into her bag after hanging up on his call and ran her hands through her bushy hair.

Recently, it felt like every time they took a step forward, they took two steps back. First his surprise confession that he was a mafia lord and a BDSM master, then his jealosuy and threat towards Peter, and now his connection to Reverend McCarthy. The last one seemed to top them all. She felt betrayed that the one man she trusted the most, having gone to him for years with her faith and problems, was a man like James. involved in crime and murder, and yet he was supposed to be a religious man, a man devoting his life to God. However, she now realises that things aren't always what they seem. A man says he's one thing when he's actually something else.

The young barman came to her, leaning across with a kind smile. His arms were thick with tattoos, and he had a dazzling smile, dark hair, and a button shirt that was open at the collar.

"What would you like, Miss?" he said kindly, and Mary sighed.

"Just some juice, please," she answered sadly as she turned and looked over at the man not too far from her. He sipped on a small glass of brown liquid and a lime wedge, accompanied by ice and a stirrer. He sipped it well and looked over at her with a smile. Mary never drank alcohol, and yet something inside her was yelling at her to try it. Why the fuck not? After everything she's been through, she deserves to let loose and relax.

"Actually, I'll have one of those," she says nervously to the drink in the man's hand, and the barman nods, turning to fix one up for her. ' Fuck it, she thought. After all these years, she can't trust the one man she thought she could always trust. Was anything he said true? time for a change.

"You like old-fashioned," the guy said across from her, and Mary gave a shrug.

"I've never had one," she admitted, and the man raised his brows in surprise.

"Really, well, you're missing out. Barman, another for me as well." The man stood and scooted over to sit next to Mary. He was large and much older than her. He had dark hair that was turning grey in some areas, a crooked nose and lips, and saggy cheekbones. His hands were big with studdy fingers, unlike James's long, slender ones that made her body tingle just thinking about them. But now wasn't the time to think of him.

"What's your name, darling?" Mary slightly cringed at the pet name but offered a kind smile.

"Mary," she answered.

"I'm Mike; nice to meet you," he held out his hands, and Mary politely took it, shaking his.

"So what brings you here?" He asked, and Mary sighed. Right now, she didn't even care who she was talking to, just as long as it wasn't James or John.

"I had an argument with someone, and I just needed to let some steam off," she admitted.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Alcohol is very good at letting out steam. What's your go-to?".

"My go-to?" she asked curiously with furrowed brows.

"Yeah, your go-to drink?" he asked. He had a slight hint of cigarettes on his breath, and the yellowness on his fingers was confirmed. His jacket was creased and his shirt was ruffled, but Mary was taught never to judge a book by its cover. He was offering a sympathetic ear, and that was enough.

"Oh well, I never drink, normally. But I think I've had a change of heart. And like you said, it seems to blow off steam well." She smiled, and he chuckled.

"Absolutely," the barman placed two glasses of old fashion in front of them, and a small napkin slipped across. Mary picked up the drink nervously, and Mike took his, holding it up.

"Cheers," he said, and she clinked her drink with his. In an easy gulp, the man swallowed his breath as if it were water. Mary took the tiniest sip, which was enough for her to cough and splutter. The taste was strong, the alcohol hitting her brain instantly, and Mike couldn't help but laugh.

"First time is always the hardest," Mary coughed still, wiping at her mouth. The taste was so strong that she couldn't take another sip for a moment, and she wondered how James could swig this stuff down like it was water.

"That's so strong," she said, holding a hand to her chest. but the voice inside her screamed to take more, and after a couple more sips, her palete became adjusted to its bitterness. It wasn't long before alcohol hit her stream and her hands began to feel fuzzy and tingly, like she had sat on them for so long and they had gone dead.

Mike and Mary sat, talking and listening to one another. He sipped on his old-fashioned as Mary gassed on about being a nurse and a Christian and how she had never drunk alcohol before, the words soon becoming a slur as the alcohol took over. It was her first time drinking, and she was going to be on the floor soon. Mike had slipped closer to her, his horrible breath reeking over her as he nodded along to her voice, his eyes gazing into hers. But Mary was obvlious; the alcohol was having a big effect on her, and Mike was glad about it. His hand slipped a couple of times onto her knee, and Mary passed it off with a giggle as she adjusted herself on the stool.

Two more rounds of old-fashioneds came, and Mary was pissed. She giggled and hiccuped, and her head lolled to the side as she stared over at him, asking what he does. Right now, she wasn't thinking about James; she wasn't thinking about John. She wasn't thinking about anything. She was just enjoying the moment.

although the last sip of her drink made her wobble in her chair, and the barman looked over cautiously as he wiped down glasses. Even in her drunken state, Mary knew she needed to stop, and the darkness outside told her what time it was.

"I should really get going," she announced as she pulled her purse out to pay for the drinks. Mike placed a rough hand on top of hers, stopping her, and pulled out a black credit card, handing it over to the barman.

"My treat!" he grinned, but the grin was rather uncomfortable. crooked yellow teeth with dark stains in between. Mary jumped from the stool and stumbled out of the bar, a soft giggle as she began to make her way home, Mike close in her tracks.

"Here, let me take you home," he offered, and Mary shook her head.

"No, no, it's fine; I live so far away." She brushed off his request, but Mike stepped in front of her.

"Come on, we can have some fun," he growled softly, as if he were trying to sound sexy, but Mary shook her head.

"Oh no, I don't think we should." Her voice slightly trailed off as she stumbled across the sidewalk, falling into an alley beside the bar. Mike stumbled in with her, pushing her against the wall, and Mary whimpered. The alcohol was still there; however, her head was beginning to clear.

"Come on, baby, I can make you feel good," he whispered, and Mary turned her head as he tried to kiss her, his rich breath falling on her, and she gagged.

"No, Mike, this isn't." Her words were cut off as he gripped her jaw tightly, forcing her face into his, and he slammed his lips on hers. She squealed against him, fighting against his heavy body, and in a desperate attempt at escape, she bit down hard.

"Fuck, you fucking bitch," he growled as he pulled back, his lip bleeding. His rough hands grabbed her and threw her to the ground, throwing her into the concrete and beside a puddle. Mary screamed as she hit the floor hard, her arm landing on a pile of broken glass and sliding into her skin. Just her luck, she would land straight on it. Mike growled with fury as he stepped towards her, but a scuffle could only be heard next.

"Get your fucking hands off her." That voice could be recognised anywhere, even in her drunken state.

James glared into Mike with fury, his lips hard and his hands gripping the collars of his open shirt, holding him against the wall. He was much taller than Mike, who was currently squirming beneath his grip. He growled back at James, his blood running down his chin.

"Get your hands off me, asshole.".

"If you ever touch her again, if you even come near her again, I will fucking kill you." James's voice was low and meancing, with no onuce of volume but deadliness. Mike's glare turned into horror as he stared up at James, who held him firmly to the wall.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" He tried to free himself from the deadly grip, but James only shoved him harder into the wall.

"I'm her boyfriend. You don't want to cross me," he warned, and with a quick swipe, he showed the gun tucked in his belt. Mike whimpered and slid down the hall, desperate to escape, as James finally released him and watched as he ran like a scared puppy.

Mary groaned as she knelt up, looking down at her bleeding arm. "Shit," she swore. The alcohol must have taken over again because she never swore in her whole life, and the word had left her lips like it had been waiting to for many years. James rushed over to help her up, his arms hooking under hers to pull her from the floor.

"Here, let me help," he said softly as he brought Mary to her feet. Her knees were scraped, her dress was ruined, and her hair was a wild mess. Her eyes were barely open as her drunkenness became apparent to James, and he could smell the alcohol on her.

"I'm fine." She tried to pull away, but James held a firm grip on her, inspecting her arm.

"Come on, let's go home," he ordered as he walked her out of the alley. His car was just parked outside the bar. Ned had given him the location of the bar, and he was so glad he had left when he did; otherwise, he may not have gotten there in time. It scared him to think about what could have happened to Mary had he not turned up, and it scared Mike to death. He was certain he wasn't going to see him again, and if he did, he would most certainly hurt him for hurting Mary.

"I don't need you to take me home; I can go there myself." Her words were a slur, and she could barely hold herself up. Despite knowing she was furious with him, he wasn't going to let her go home on her own in this state.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"Just one; I can drink, you know," she sassed, and James sighed. She had more than one bloody drink.

"I'm taking you home; you can't go home on your own like this," he said sternly as he brought her to his car. Blood was running down her arm and dripping onto her dress, and James didn't want the public to see her like this.

"Oh, so you're in charge of me now," she teased, and James opened the door, ushering her in. If he weren't in this situation, he would have turned around and said yes, with sexy eyes and a kiss to her throat. But right now, all that mattered was getting her home safe and cleaning her up. James slipped into the driver's seat and reached over to get her seatbelt, but she battered him away.

"I can do it," she snapped as she tried to grab the belt, but her hands were so numb to the point they slipped, and she giggled, trying to find the belt again, but she wasn't anywhere near it. James reached over with one swift move and tugged the belt, buckling her in. If she wasn't hurt right now, he'd take her over his knee and spank her back to sobriety.

Mary sighed and dropped her head against the seat. The car roared to life, and he powered down the road.

"I'm mad at you," she murmured, and James stared forward.

"I know," he said softly back.

"You know, I was just a normal Christian girl before I bumped into you; I was so innocent, and now my whole life has just been thrown upwards like a ball. like a football. or a basketball. And now I'm a mafia kingpins girlfriend who does crazy hot kinky stuff, which I enjoy." James couldn't help the smirk reach his lips at the last sentence. Perhaps drunken Mary was something he wanted to see more often. At least she was honest.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. He didn't want to keep thinking like this. Where had their sweet honeymoon phase gone? It seemed to have ended so quickly. but, like they say, it doesn't last forever.

"Don't be sorry; I like when you bring out those things you call toys," she murmured as her eyes closed and James chuckled. He wasn't saying sorry for the kinky shit; he meant for the fact that he had fucked up again. Now that he had it on record, she admitted to liking the kinky life. but that wasn't the focus of this.

Instead of saying anymore, it was more important to get her home cleaned up. Her arm was bleeding, and she was cold and wet. James pulled into the driveway and raced around the car to help Mary out. She stumbled along the stone driveway, clinging onto his arm as he pulled her inside, and she hissed at the sudden pain in her arm. She was turning into a tired, drunk state now and could barely keep her eyes open.

"Mary, just step up." James became slightly frustrated as she slipped on the steps, giggling and rolling about as he tried to get her up. She was making no effort to step up, and in a huff of inpatience, James threw her over his shoulder and carried her up. It was like battling a stubborn child.

After a battle of getting her into some dry and warm pjyamas, the next task of cleaning her arm came. He held her arm steady in his firm grip as he pulled out tiny pieces of glass wedged in her skin, dropping them into a small bowl he found in the bathroom.

"Oww. I don't know how you can do this all day long," she slurred as she sat cross-legged in front of him on the bed. James furrowed his brows at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked, pulling the last piece of glass out of her arm.

"I'm sure you've had your fair share of injuries over the years. Plus the drinking. That stuff is vile. I knew I should have stopped at one," James chuckled softly. Why is Mary so confident and sassy when she's drunk? She was right, though; he had had his fair share of injuries. none of them as easy as picking out glass. A couple slugs here and there, and a knife wound to his leg. The drinking—well, he started at the age of sixteen, so it was like second nature to him. He didn't dignify her question with an answer as he wrapped her arm in a tight bandage.

"Come on, you need some rest and to sleep this off," he gently ordered as he pulled back the covers for her.

"You know, I wish I could ignore you sometimes. perhaps the day we met. But you make it so hard, and I can't help but want more of you. Even if you are a mafia, whatever it is, you call yourself," she slipped in the covers, burying herself deep in the pillows as James wrapped her in the warm duvet. He stared at her from above, silent in his own world.

She knew he was bad for her, and yet she couldn't resist him. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

"You're like the devil sometimes. So tempting and sexy and hot and handsome. Even right now, I'm thinking about you," she mumbled into the pillow as sleep began to take over. James smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her head softly until he heard faint snores. Without getting in the covers, he turned on his side, draped his arm over her, and pressed himself against her, his face nuzzling the back of her head.

"So am I"

Chapter 35

Hey I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

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Repaying The Debt

Chapter 9

Violet Williams, a typical rich daddy's girl who did nothing but spend his money and hang our with her girlfriends. Her life couldn't be better. But that all changes when her father gets in trouble with New Yorks biggest and most ruthless mob boss, James Barnes and she finds herself repaying the debt of her father.

Violet jumped from the blanket as the door to her small prison slammed open, shaking her from her deep sleep. She hadn’t slept so deeply since she arrived, and the exhaustion must have knocked her out. She glared over as Steve stormed inside, dropping the breakfast tray onto the desk, and glared back at her.

"Breakfast,” he spat, and then left in seconds, slamming the door. Violet groaned, rubbing her tired eyes, and she nearly couldn’t get out of bed, struggling to pull herself awake. All this fighting was making her so tired, and she wondered if she was going to be able to keep it up. Dragging herself from the floor, she grimaced at the bland and cold breakfast. The least they could do was give her it hot. Why torture her with a cold breakfast? James had a secret motive. Her days of living a rich, spoiled life were over. No more butlers bringing hot, steaming breakfasts of pancakes, bacon, eggs, morning coffee, strawberries and yogurt, and orange juice. No more being waited on hand and foot. If she wanted a nice breakfast, she was going to have to earn it.

She chewed the rubbery scrambled eggs and burned toast but forced it down her throat anyway, washing it with the glass of water. She needed whatever strength she could get to keep up her attitude and fight. Slowly, James was beginning to break her, and she came out on top. Slowly, she would bend to his will and submit fully, and when she did, he was going to enjoy it.

He wasn’t going to tolerate this kind of behavior. He wasn’t going to tolerate a brat in front of him. The next few weeks were going to be hard on discipline and rules, and if Violet broke any of these rules, then there would be consequences.

After breakfast, Violet found herself pacing the small room, the walls falling in on her. If she didn't get out of here soon, she was going to go crazy. The constant clink of the chain made her frustrated, and her anger boiled to the top, making her want to unleash it. She wanted to scream and kick the door down, but that would only result in a sore throat and a sore foot.

Violet groaned heavily but whipped around as the door opened again, and she looked over as James stood there this time, a smirk on his lips as he entered inside. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit, his hair brushed back, all except a few little strands, and his cologne was rich and potent. She glared at him with dark eyes, but his body easily towered over her from afar.

“Enjoy breakfast?” He asked, and she scoffed.

“If you can even call that breakfast, it’s not even hot,” she snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chests, and James gave a sarcastic ‘Aww’ in response.

“What a shame!” he frowned, and Violet stomped forward as if to get up in his face, although she had forgotten how tall he was and that she had to completely stare up at him to even look him in the eyes.

“I want a proper breakfast; this sh*t is making me sick,” she ordered. It wasn’t that the food was bad, but her years of large breakfasts made her feel like she was being starved like a dog, and her demand for a proper breakfast had James tilting his head and setting his lips into a hard line.

“Try that again, this time with please, sir,” he commanded back, and Violet glared up at him. She didn’t want to break; she didn’t want to give in to these commands. Was she that desperate for a decent breakfast that she would bend to his will? James waited; he could wait all day, and Violet sighed, falling to the soles of her feet. She hadn’t realized she was on her tippy toes.

"Please, may I have a proper breakfast, sir?” She asked softly, and he smirked. How easy this was becoming.

“I’ll think about it for now, though we have something else to address,” he said, unlocking her collar from the chain and grabbing her forearm, yanking her out of the room and down the hallway. She stumbled along with his long strides, huffing and puffing as he brought her upstairs. She almost tripped on a step, as he was going too fast.

“Where are we going?” She gritted through her teeth as James opened a sleek brown mahogany door and shoved her inside. The door slammed shut, and Violet turned, gasping softly. The room was darker, with a hint of red to it. A large bed sat on the right-hand side, with beautiful carved bed posts and frames complete with gold rings hanging off every post. To the side was a long couch, red leather with polished dark wood. The floor itself was dark and hard and polished to perfection, with dim lights bouncing off. Along the walls were lengths of rope, chains, and leather dangling in all sorts of lengths and fashions. Beside that, an entire wall of erotic whips, canes, riding crops, floggers, paddles, straps, and belts hung on small hooks, each one deadly and intimidating. A dark chest of drawers was pressed against one of the walls, and a separate door leading to a walk-in closet was on the other side.

“What the fuck is this?” She turned, and James strode up to her, smacking a hand across her cheek. Her cheek burned, and Violet gasped, lifting a shaky hand up to press where he hit her.

“Do not speak to me with that tone or language,” for once Violet didn’t reply with a comeback or sass in her voice. She blinked and slowly looked up, speechless and with wide eyes. As James stared down at her, his face settled into nothing but glassy eyes.

“I think it’s time you were taught a lesson in respect. If you want your time here to be comfortable and easy, you will do what I say. I will not have a brat in my presence, and if you think I will bend over backwards to your attitude, then you are wrong.” He had taken a step forward, so his chest was almost touching hers, and Violet craned her neck backwards as he leaned closer, complete control in his grasp. She was stunned, too stunned to speak, and all she did was swallow, nodding slowly. James grinned. She was starting to submit and realized she had no power in this exchange.

This was why he brought her here—to teach her some discipline and manners.

“Good, now take off your clothes,” he said, brushing past her to fetch some things from the wall. Violet stared forward for a moment before shaking herself back to reality. His command, tone, and swiftness to discipline her had cast her under a spell of submission and conformity. She had nodded and listened, and all her fight had been shone away. But not for long. The very order of him wanting her naked had been enough for her to come back and realize where she was and who she was.

She turned and watched him as he took several items from the wall. A long, thin, pale stick, a set of cuffs, and a chain. As he turned back, he saw she hadn’t moved and hadn’t done as he had asked. Throwing the cuffs and chain on the bed, the long stick was held through his long fingers, and he dangled it beside his leg as he padded it over to her.

“I said take your clothes off,” he ordered again, his voice growing sterner and a hint of frustration in there. Violet took a step toward him and pressed herself close to his chest, raising her head and smiling a devilish smile.

"No,” she answered back with a sweet voice, and James took a deep breath through his nose, his eyes looming over her. In a matter of seconds, he clutched her wrist in his hand, bending her arm behind her back and twisting her so her body knelt to the ground, an agonizing cry emulating from Violet. She struggled and squirmed under his hold, but he was far too powerful for her to get out. The pain in her wrist was excruciating, as if he were about to snap it in half, and she whimpered. James stared down with no emotion on his face and, ever so slightly, twisted even more to the point where she arched her back.

“This is exactly what we are going to be disciplining out of you, that smart mouth. The first thing you need to learn, Violet, is that when I give you an order, you will obey me, or there will be consequences and punishment. If I were you, I would do as you told me, because I certainly wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of any of this.” He spoke to her as if she were a child, and she groaned as he tugged her wrist ever so slightly back, forcing her to look up at him.

“Do I make myself clear?” He raised a brow, and she groaned, forcing herself not to answer. But the pain was too much, and she huffed.

"Yes,” she squeaked.

“Yes what?”.

“Yes Sir” James chuckled and released her.

“Good girl, now clothes off,” he released her, and she fell to the floor, panting and wincing as her wrist hurt with every movement now. Violet looked up at James, heavy breaths escaping her as he waited for her to obey, and she sucked a hard one before slowly peeling the clothes off her body. The room was hot, but her body shivered as she fell naked, her body shivering from the loss of her clothes, her nipples perking up as her breasts fell out of the t-shirt she was wearing. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the erotic room, unsure where to place her hands as James smiled, slowly walking closer to her and circling her as if he were inspecting.

She had a beautiful body, one he was going to enjoy shaping to his every command, and James came to stand in front of her, grabbing the leather cuffs from the bed. He wrapped them around her wrists, pulling them tight and easily buckling them. Last but not least, he attached the chain to her collar and, with a firm hand, shoved her to her knees on the floor, where she yelled. James began to circle her.

“I have had enough of your smart mouth, constantly trying to rebel and give me attitude. I don’t think anyone has ever taught you some manners,” he teased, and Violet growled. That wasn’t true at all. She knew how to say please and thank you; it was only this asshole she didn’t want to say them to.

"Well, maybe if—“ She was cut off instantly by a swift strike of his cane, snapping against her skin and slicing through the air, leaving a long red strip across her backside. She hissed and gritted her teeth, trying to keep her composure.

“You do not speak unless I give you permission to speak. From now on, the only words I want you to hear from your mouth are Yes, sir,” he ordered, and she took a breath.

"Yes, sir,” she answered, and he smirked.

“Good. Like I said, if you want your time here to be comfortable, you are going to have to work on not being such a smart little brat and show me some respect.” He came to stand in front of her, and with the end of his cane, he tapped the toe of his polished leather shoe.

“Lips here” His order was simple, and Violet looked up in shock. Did he seriously expect her to kiss his shoe? He raised a single brow, and Violet sighed, slowly leaning down to press her lips to the toe of his shoe.

“Good girl, kiss my shoe. Show me your respect,” he ordered, and with a blush on her cheeks, she began to kiss the leather. It was strong and lingered on her lips—the tangy taste. With the end of his cane, he moved her mane of hair away to get a good look at the sight of her submitting to him.

This was humiliating and went against all the fight she had mustered up. Never in a million years would anyone see Violet Williams submitting to anyone and kissing the shoe of the most notorious mobster in New York City. She was one of the richest girls in the city, with hundreds of friends and contacts and a fiery attitude. But not anymore. As she kissed his shoe, James ran the cane along her back, pulling it up and smacking it across her pale skin, and she hissed, lurching forward. She hadn’t experienced pain like this before.

“For each time you’ve mouthed off at me, you’ll get a strike, and I’ve been counting,” he informed her, running the cane further down to her ass and smacking her there.

"Ahhh!” she screamed, beginning to rise up from his shoe, but he shoved her back down. Another strike came on the backs of her thighs and on the soles of her feet, which made her squeal into his foot before resuming her respectful kissing. James worked the cane over his skin, tender welts being brought to the surface.

“See, that’s better. You’re actually listening and doing as you were told. Perhaps you deserve a reward,” he teased, although he wasn’t going to grant her one.

“Now say thank you, sir, for correcting me on my smart mouth.” Violet groaned under her breath and mustered up the courage to speak those words.

“Thank you, sir, for correcting me on my smart mouth,” she managed to say without the grit in her voice, and James smirked.

“Good girl,” he praised, and a sudden tingle went through her body. Why did those words make her relax? Violet settled further into the floor, pressing a final kiss to his shoe until his hand came and pulled the chain up, bringing her to her knees.

“See how much better that is when you're not a brat,” he teased as he crouched before her, running the cane down her thin stomach and smacking it across, a sharp red welt burning into her skin. She groaned with her lips held tightly together and let out a long breath through puckered lips.

“Yes Sir”

James grinned and stood, his hand reaching into her hair and pulling her to his leg, patting her and caressing her cheek. His leg was warm and soft to the touch on her cheek, the one he had slapped.

“Let this be a reminder to you that if you smart mouth me again, then I will punish you much harder than this,” he warned her, and Violet gasped, looking up with wide eyes. Her mouth dropped open. The cane could be so excruciating, and yet he had used it lightly on her, and she thought that was the worst. His warning was true, and she gulped.

"Yes, sir,” she responded, and James grinned.

“Good girl”.

Hey, sorry I haven't updated in a while, I think I was feeling a bit burned out, I hope you like this chapter, let me know what you think in the comments

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sebstan2020 · 1 month

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Red Ties

Chapter 33

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Mary tugged on the handcuffs binding her to James’s bed, the metal digging into her skin and her fingers latching around the small chain in between. James pressed light kisses down her back, running his lips over the center of her ass and lifting up her hips as he sucked on her tender mound, a beautiful moan escaping her lips as he did. She was tied, blindfolded, and completely at his mercy. The small leather paddle sat beside her that he had tapped along her body, leaving small red marks—nothing that was too painful but enough to get her hot and bothered and send her body soaring high. He was a master at this, making her feel pain and pleasure and having her enjoy it.

The blindfold was new. Black, thick leather covering her eyes and strapped tightly around her head. He had slipped it over her head with ease, the way his fingers softly brushed over her as he tightened it and pressed an erotic kiss to her neck. The handcuffs were also new, a change from the black, sleek rope he used the other day on her. These were much harsher, biting into her skin and rattling with every movement as a reminder she was tied for his submission. She was moaning, groaning, pleading, and begging for more and for him to stop. But she didn’t want him to.

His hands touched her in ways she hadn’t experienced, and she thought she had experienced everything. She thought she knew all his touches, yet he still surprised her all the time.

"Sir,” she moaned as he licked up her aching pussy, sticking his tongue inside her so she arched her ass in the air, pressing her head further into the pillow. He grinned and took her into his mouth again, as if he were eating a dessert, sucking on her aching clit and letting it ripple. His hand creeped under between her legs, cupping her tender pussy, and his thumb slipped just between her cheeks and nestled on her puckered hole. She gasped and pulled away; the sensation was a shock, and it left a tingle through her body.

James chuckled. She was nowhere near ready for any sort of anal play. He hadn’t even fucked her yet, let alone been about to insert something into her ass. Although he wasn’t going to rule it out, Something about having her plugged or taking her tight little hole made his whole body so hard with pleasure. Every inch of her belonged to him and he would take it all. He kept his hand there, pressing his thumb there again as she squirmed under him and leaned across her back, letting his lips linger over her ear.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he whispered as she sucked in a breath. She desperately wanted the blindfold off and wanted to see him—to see those dark ocean eyes with her glassy green ones and whisper back to him him.

“You Sir” she said shyly as he bit her ear and she giggled softly as his growing beard tickled her. She tried to scramble away but she was held firmly in place by his use of restraints and he chuckled in her ear. She was so submissive, and he was having too much fun with her. Perhaps he wouldn’t let her come at all tonight. James had to remind himself that they had only jus begun this new side of their relationship. She wasn’t like the other submissive’s he had in the past. She was inexperienced and had no knowledge of a proper dominant submissive relationship that would be displayed twenty four seven. As much as he wanted that he needed to hold back.

There was so much for her to learn. Orgasm denial. The proper address to a dominant as a sign of respect, rules and the consequences for breaking them. The difference between punishment and a correction. Serving her dominant and pleasing him to his satisfaction. So much to learn and yet a small part of him in the very back of his head whispered softly that she would never be able to keep that up to his liking. James shook the thoughts out of his head and returned to the now, listening to her cries and pleas. Her begging was enough to let him grant her the pleasure and the both of them came, screaming and panting as James collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.

A hot shower and some sweet aftercare was delivered shortly after and as James packed away the handcuffs, blindfold and paddle, he gently shut the door as Mary sat by the bed praying softly, careful not to disturb her. He watched her intently. She was so graceful as she prayed, her long lashes billowing over her eyes, her lips moving slowly and softly to a silent prayer, her hands equally pressed together. You could say she was an expect at this, a specialist in the art of praying.

Her soft ‘Amen’ made him smile as she pushed away from the bed as she looked up at him. If she could do something for him then it was only fair he did something back.

“Can you show me how to do that?” he asked and she furrowed her brows in confusion. He slowly padded over to her and he nodded down to her kneeling state. The realisation hit Mary as if it were a bus and she was a little taken back.

“Ohh, um sure” she was so surprised her words came out in a nervous stutter for some reason and as she patted the space beside her and James kneeled, she realised she was somewhat in control. Mary wasn’t much of a teacher or one to explain things well but praying was like second nature to her, as if she had been born to do it. It seemed so easy and simple to her and to explain it to a man like James who was so articulate, so controlling, she found herself nervous. She had never been in charge of anything in her life, outside of her work of course which was completely different to this situation and it seemed unnatural to her. Perhaps that’s why she fitted the submissive aesthetic so well. She almost giggled at that thought but kept it down. She could giggle about it later.

Even kneeling next to her, James was taller and towered over her. It felt so strange being on his knees. He was so used to the woman doing this and yet it made him uncomfortable.

“Put your hands together like this and lean on the bed. In church we just lean slightly forward but when I pray in my bedroom or here I like to use the bed” she explained and James did as he was told. He placed his large hands together, fingers pressed to one another perfectly and Mary wanted to roll her eyes. Of course he got it spot on first time. She couldn’t help but feel a tingle just by looking at his large hands, how his fingers looked so sexy being pressed together and she had to shove the thoughts away. Why did he have to make praying sexy. This man was relentless.

“And then you just pray” she shrugged. She had no idea how to even explain it. It was just so natural to her.

“About what?” He asked.

“Anything. God is always here to listen and never judges a single prayer. Even if its something silly” she giggled.

“Can’t you say it for me” he tempted. What the fuck was he going to pray about. How he likes to whip girls and can’t wait to cane Mary’s entire body. How he killed a man no long ago and didn’t feel any remorse about it? Maybe this was a mistake.

“No, that’s not the point. When you pray it’s supposed to come from your heart. You speaking tp god in hope that you feel cleansed after and content” she argued back and James took a deep breath. Something came to mind and he nodded.

“Okay” he turned forwards.

“You can either say it out loud or in your head… here why don’t I go first” she cleared her throat and turned forward as well, closing her eyes.

“Dear god, as I lie down for sleep tonight, wash over me with the warmth of Your love. In Your mercy, soothe my pain, whether in my body, mind or soul. Grant me a restful night of sleep so that when I awake, I'm strengthened to do Your will. Amen” a simple prayer for bedtime and James glanced at her as she turned to him.

“Your turn” she nodded and faced forward again.

“Alright” James took another deep breath, letting his muscles relax as he closed his eyes, darkness filling around him. His voice sounded louder with his loss of sight.

“Dear god. I ask that you always guide, love and protect my one love, my Mary. I ask that you follow her and look after her when I am not there, that you protect her with all your strength and keep her from harms way. I ask that you guide her to safety and in her hourly need answer her calls to you and grant me the power to do so. Amen” silence took over as they both pulled back and looked at each other. Mary felt a tear to her eye and quickly blinked it away, speechless at the beautiful voice that had cut the silence away with that prayer.

“Thank you” was all she said. Thank you for saying a prayer with me, thank you for having a ounce of faith inside you, thank you for those kind and sweet words. Thank you for loving me. James smiled at her and reached out, cupping her face as he pulled her closer, kissing her softly and sweetly. He left his lips lingering on hers, as their foreheads pressed together, kneeling together. He didn’t feel cleansed, but he felt content in this moment.

The last couple days with James had been a whirlwind. Praying together, more kinky action in the bedroom, giggles and laughs and hot showers. Mary had forgotten what it was like to live on her own. She was currently baking a batch of cake squares for the bake sale tonight at the church. James was on important business so it was the perfect time for her to head home and bake. She had missed these fun afternoons in her kitchen, baking to music blaring from her tired old radio which was still working since she got it at fourteen years old. Everyone always went mad for her blueberry and white chocolate squares and she had no doubt they would sell within minutes.

The church bake sale was raising money for better equipment and facilities for the church. Unfortunately they had little funding so had to rely on small charitable events like these to get any source of money for better supplies. John had come to terms that the church was becoming old and tatty, the bibles ripped and the kneel paddings caked in dirt and their softness gone. He hoped tonight’s bake sale would bring enough in for at least one of those things.

Mary gently pulled out the cakes and carefully cut them into small squares, packing them tightly in a container and sealing them up. She was going to head over to the church now and help set up for the bake sale. As she cleaned up, she glanced around her apartment and sighed a little. She was still paying rent and still paying every single bill despite her rarely being at her apartment. It seemed like money going to waste.

She wondered if James would ever come over here, spend the night in her small bedroom which only really fit her inside. James would be hanging off the edges, legs dangling over the edge if he slept in her bed. But with a gaff like his, why would he want to spend his nights here. Her money was draining from her bank and if she ever needed it for a rainy day or for a better living space she was going to have nothing. She’d have to speak to James about it, explain that she was spending too much on a space she wasn’t using and maybe they could spend a bit of time over here to make up for it. But she didn’t envision that would go well.

Hopping in her car, she made her way to church. The sun was blaring and it was getting hotter by the day. This June weather was beautiful although she couldn’t wait for autumn days, big coats and scarfs and cosy tea under blankets. She wondered how James could still wear a suit in this hot weather and not be sweating his ass off.

As she pulled into the church parking lot, she noticed a sleek black car there, very familiar. Her stomach jolted a little and she instantly recognised as James’s car. Was he here? Maybe he had taken her advice to pray a step froward and gone to church. As she walked quickly up the steps to the church, her small heels clicking on her stone, she looked up and saw Steve outside, smoking the remnants of a cigarette. So he was here as well.

“Hi Steve” she smiled at him as she passed him, making her way inside to head down to Johns office. Steve hadn’t realised it was her until she had passed and he quickly threw the stub away, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth as he chased after her.

“Oh Mary, hey, what are you doing here?’ He caught up with her as she zoomed down the aisle, carrying the tray of cakes high up.

“I’m just here to drop these off and help set up for the bake sale, what are you doing here?” She asked, furrowing her brows. She was so close to the office door which was shut so she assumed John was in there.

“Um Mary, wait a second there’s something-“ Steve hadn’t made it in time as he tried to stop her. Mary grabbed the office door and opened it up, looking confused at Steve as he stammered to get there first.

“What is it?” She asked him as she turned and stared in the office.

James and Reverend McCarthy were stood in the small office. Large wooden cases were stacked upon each other, one pried open by the looks of a crow bar. A sleek metal gun laid in straw shone under the sunlight, almost blinding her. James walked across to John who stood at the corner of the desk, dressed in black slacks and a white tank top, his gold cross hanging over his neck, his white robe flung over the back of the chair. In James’s hands was another gun, the same as the one in the case, firmly held in those large hands, long finger wrapping around the handle and the barrel. John took the gun with ease, looking over it, cocking it and smiling with delight on his face.

The opening of his office door had alerted them both and James turned, darkness inches eyes first however they softened as he locked with Mary’s. She was froze still, the tray shaking in her hands. A short gasp left his lips and his heart slammed against his chest. John looked up from the gun and his lips fell open in shock.

“What’s going on?” She squeaked. The sound of shoes clicking on the floor made her scoot over as Sam came trudging in, carrying another wooden case.

“Hey Mary” he said cheerfully however realised in a matter of seconds it was her. She took one last look at the gun in John’s hands. She didn’t need to look further to know what was going on. The cakes fell, splattering on the floor, her heels clicking off into the distance as she shoved past Steve and ran for it.

“Mary wait” James scooted past and ran after her.

“Shit” John sighed, laying the gun on the desk and held on tightly to the edge, leaning forward. Sam and Steve stood awkwardly as James’s voice echoed in the church.

Mary stormed down the steps, forcing herself on the side walk as she stomped away from the church, a scowl tight on her face as James raced after her.

“Mary!” He called, gaining up on her quick. She ignored him and powered on.

“Mary wait!” He called again as he ran to her and as he reached her he pulled on her wrist to stop her.

“Hey!” He tugged her back and Mary shoved at him.

“DON’T TOUCH ME” she yelled and James stood back stunned, eyes wide and breath short. They both stood rigged, Mary puffing with anger and James with shock.

“Mary let me explain-“ he began.

“I don’t want to hear anything James” she shut him off too quickly.

“Please lets just go inside and talk” he pleaded.

“Why, so you can turn around and say this is what I do and expect me to be okay with it. I’m going” she huffed and James tugged on her again, yanking her back and turning her.

“Where are you going?” He ordered, his tone strict and hard.

“I’m going away from you, you don’t own me I can go where I want” she shouted and James stiffened, mouth setting in a hard line.

“Let me explain-“ he gritted and she yanked her hand form his.

“I said I don’t want to hear it, now leave me alone” she spat and turned on her heels, storming off into the distance. James sighed, slumping as he stood and watched her leave, turning and running an exhausted hand through his hair.

“Fuck” he muttered under his breath.

Chapter 34

Hey, sorry for not posting in a while, think I just got burned out a bit, I hope you like it, let me know what you think in the comments

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sebstan2020 · 2 months

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Footstool

Peter is offered an internship at the Avengers tower. However it's not the sort of internship he imagined.

Tags: BDSM, Cock cage, CBT, Butt Plug, Master/Slave, Sub Peter, Dom Bucky, Boot Worship, Cock ring, Collars, Cuffs

When Peter was told he was given the opportunity to be an intern at the Avengers Tower, he jumped for joy. It was the greatest opportunity anyone could get. To be able to work at the Avengers Tower with the very people helping to save the world. He was actually going to be in the presence of Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow, Hawkeye, The Winter Soldier, The Falcon, the Hulk, and so many others. This friendly neighbourhood Spiderman was finally going to be doing something for this world, and he couldn’t refuse to say no.

But he hadn’t expected the internship to go this way.

He was hoping to be some sort of apprentice on mission, helping out in any way he could, flinging his webs to catch the bat guys, send them away to prison, and return back to the tower for celebrations. But he wasn’t an apprentice; he wasn’t even a spider man.

He was a bitch boy.

Someone should clean up after their mess. A boy to be used and abused to whatever the avengers likings were. Someone to do all the dirty work for them that they didn’t want to do. His Spider-Man suit had been taken off him the moment he stepped foot in the tower, along with his belongings, and he was reduced to nothing. Literally nothing. He only wore a few items, none of them clothes. A black collar around his neck, with four rings evenly spaced out for a leash, rope, or whatever could fit through them, kept him restrained. A matching set of black cuffs on his wrists and ankles, the same gear as the collar. And lastly, a chastity device on his cock and a butt plug. The cage was made of a hard metal, cold and stiff, which covered the whole of his cock, leaving a small slit at the end so he could go to the toilet. The base of the cage, wrapped around the base of his cock and around his balls, was a tight metal ring, keeping them bulging. The cage hadn’t come off since he arrived here, and that was two months ago.

The plug in his ass was metal as well, with two small holes at the round base, which would allow for electrodes if wanted. It was huge and had adjusted well to his anus now. It kept him submissive and in control. He was only allowed to take it out to go to the toilet, and then it went straight back in. There were a few other plugs that he had trialled—rubber ones, ones that inflated, ones with several bumps on them—but the electro one was the one that kept him in check.

If one of the avengers wanted to have a little fun with him, they could simply attack the electrodes on his plug and watch him squirm and beg for them to stop it. He had been used and abused in every way possible.

As instructed, Peter waited patiently for the group to arrive back from one of the missions. He was kneeling in the corridor of their quarters, hands behind his back and back straight, not a single arch of slouch in his position. His body was still the muscular-toned chest it was before he arrived here, and he never wore clothes around the tower. He didn’t have any to wear. They had taken him off the second he stepped foot inside the tower.

At the sound of the elevator opening, he sucked in a quick breath and kept his eyes forward as he waited by the door to the lounge room. The group of voices got closer and walked past him, not giving him any acknowledgement. Peter was glad, and he sighed a little, dropping his tense posture as they gathered in the lounge room to cool off from the mission. Beer bottles were cracked open, and the TV turned on loud as they settled into the many chairs and sofas. Peter would have to kneel here all day until someone instructed him to do something.

But he’d rather kneel than be ordered to please one of the avengers.

But the scuff of boots alerted him, and he quickly returned to his posture of high sitting and eyes forward. The sight of long legs in heavy black boots crowded his vision, and he gulped. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Bucky.

“Let's go, boy.” With a quick shove, he was forced to his hands and knees and made to crawl along side the winter solider, one of the deadliest assassins ever to grace this world. He was completely reformed now, but that didn't mean he wasn’t intimidating. Bucky was a tough solider, hard as nails, and didn’t take no shit from anyone, especially now that he had escaped Hydra’s hold on him. His condition had been turned off, and he was back to the Bucky he was before all that happened.

But something in him liked being in control, having that power to be able to tell someone what to do. Perhaps it was all the trauma he suffered such a long time ago. But Peter was a frequent request of his and probably one of the most sadistic and demanding members of the group. As Peter crawled to his room, he wondered what Bucky had in store for him tonight. Inside the bedroom, warm and cosy, Bucky threw his jacket off to the side, and Peter waited patiently in the middle of the room while he flung himself into one of the plush chairs.

“Come here, boy, and clean my boots; they are filthy,” he ordered, stretching out his legs. Peter nodded, standing up from the floor to gather the boot-cleaning equipment. "Yes, sir,” he muttered, and gathered the bucket in the bathroom, filling it up with warm water and a brush, along with leather polish and a sponge. It was normal for Peter to sit and clean their boots daily, making sure they were ready for any mission. As he kneeled before Bucky, he noticed they were particularly muddy and took one of his feet and began cleaning them.

It was rare that Peter was called anything else other than boy, slut, bitch, or any other name under the sun. He hadn’t been called Peter since he was invited to join the Avengers. Bucky pulled out his phone and made a call, watching and talking as Peter cleaned his boots, scrubbing them hard to remove all the mud and dirt caked on them, deep in the groves at the bottom. The metal rings of the cuffs rattled slightly as he scrubbed and scraped mud and dirt from his boots.

Bucky soon ended his call, throwing the phone to the side and watching in glory as Peter cleaned his boots. His pale, naked body was nothing but cuffs, collars, cages, and plugs. His cock was straining against the cage, desperate to come out for any ounce of pleasure. He’d never get it. He’d be locked up for eternity.

“That’s it, boy, get them nice and clean,” Bucky ordered as Peter moved to the next boot, scrubbing them hard. They were so heavy that he had to use both hands to pick them up. As he cleaned the other boot, Bucky moved his foot to his aching cock, pressing on it with the tip of his boot. Peter flinched and hissed as his balls bulged, and the slightest touch sent him off, gritting his teeth through the pain.

"God, you little slut, you’re just aching for someone to come and squeeze on those balls, aren’t you?” Bucky teased, and Peter blushed.

"Yes, sir.” If he didn’t answer, he’d be punished. Bucky chuckled and pressed his boot on his balls, squishing them into the carpet. Peter yelped with agony, trying his hardest not to be distracted by the pain and continue cleaning Bucky’s boots.

“Don’t stop cleaning. In fact, why don’t you put that tongue to good use and clean my boots with it?” he ordered, and Peter gulped. An order was an order. Putting the sponge down, he leant forward and licked the wet boot, a taste of leather and soap now lingering on his tongue. He was lucky to have removed all the mud. Bucky reached over and pressed the base of the plug, earning a groan from Peter as it pressed on his prostate.

“You like that, don’t you, boy?” he teased, and Peter breathed, catching his breath.

"Yes, sir,” he whimpered, and he returned to cleaning. Bucky chuckled and reached for his blue balls, giving them a squeeze. Peter gasped, the pain so excruciating he was keeling over, gripping the boot in front of his as his back smacked them, watching him flinch, and he laughed.

“Fucking bitch boy, this is why you need to be locked up like this, to keep you in check.” Bucky sat back and watched with pleasure as Peter winced from the smack and continued to lick his boots. They were slick with saliva and bubbles, and Peter looked up with wide, glassy eyes.

“Is this to your liking, sir?” he winced, and Bucky glanced down at his boot.

“It will do; now present your ass to me." Peter immediately turned and presented his bare ass to Bucky, the metal plug shining back at him. Peter splayed his arms on the floor, cheeks to the carpet, and legs spread open, balls hanging low. Bucky pulled out the small electric pack, with wires running from it. Peter heard the two clicks of the probes entering their connectors, and it wasn’t long before shocks entered his anal cavity. He gritted and winced, flinching as the shocks were turned up higher and more intense. It was like his whole ass was on fire.

Bucky let out a breath and placed the pack on the arm of the chair, lifting his legs to rest on Peter's bare ass. He was done for the evening and wanted to sit and relax whilst watching Peter endure the torture both in his ass and cock and balls. He was a footstool for the rest of the evening.

Hey I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you think in the comments

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