He hadn't seen his sister since that night. Or more accurately, Regan hasn't seen him since. His eyes have been all over her though. The plan fell into place seamlessly - things were far too easy when you had enough money to throw around and a name that meant something in this city. He rented a van through a dummy corp that traced back to no one, paid cash. The plates were removed before he pulled out of the sketchy lot and drove off into the night, in search of one thing.
Regan has been strutting around like she was on top of the world, like she truly believed she had won. Things were about to change. Tracking his sister is childs play. Spiking her drink required a bit more attention to detail. He couldn't just appear at her side to say hello, she'd be suspicious. But in the end, it is merely a box to check off. So he waits in alley - propped against a wall near the door, dressed in dark denim jeans and a black sweatshirt -, patiently waiting for her to need a breath of fresh air, a bit of peace to try and sober up or whatever else drove her to slip up. Too bad only a goodnights sleep could chase off the effects of a roofie. Regan stumbles out of the back door, wobbly on her heels like a newborn gazelle. His sister's far from being so fragile, which is why he still sneak up on her, wrapping an arm around her waist, pinning her hands at her sides while his other arm wraps around her chest so he can clamp a hand over her mouth while simultaneously pinching her nose shut. She struggled immediately and her movements grew more frantic as her lungs begin to burn. Desperation only gets her so far as the drug continues to spread through her body. Eventually, she stops struggling and Ronen releases her mouth and nose.
Scooping her up, he carries her to his rented, flinging open the back doors before tossing her inside. And he's not gentle. Regan needs to believe this is real. A real kidnapper wouldn't coddle her. Climbing into the drivers seat, he gets on the road, his destination already set. His directions are written down, his regular phone is turned off. They are on the verge of being untraceable. Turning Regans phone off before tucking it into his pocket ensures that. Setting off, Ronen drives.
And drives.
And drives.
He only stops when he hears his little sister stirring. Then he pulls over, jabs a needle in her neck and sedates her all over again.
They are hours from home by the time he stops and hours from any city or town. The mountains are so remote, its useless to turn their phones back on. Pulling the van into the garage, he closes the door before he gets out and makes quick work of clearing the house. Flicking on a few lights, he adjusts the ambient temperature before making a few other small adjustments. Then, his focus is on Regan. Dragging her from the back of the van, he carries her inside and downstairs, to the basement. It's just as he left it. Setting her down in the middle of the room, he quickly zip ties her hands together, pulling the extra thick plastic tight before her wraps a chain in between her bound wrists. Putting a black hood over her head, he effectively blinds her, cutting off her more valuable sense.
Thats where he leaves her until she begins to stir. No time is wasted in hauling her up onto her feet. And then onto her tip toes. Still drugged, she sways for a bit until she finds her balance. All the while, Ronen stands in silence, just watching. His lips curl in a malicious grin. Even a mess, Regan is gorgeous. Her tight body is wrapped in an even tighter dress, leaving little to the imagination. Under the hood, her fiery red hair was a mess, her make up smeared from all her rolling around. Soon enough, she'll realize the trouble she's in. She just won't have any idea with who. Ronen went so far as to even wear a cheap cologne so she had nothing to recognize him by. Not even his voice. A small device sat on either side of his voice that vibrated when he spoke, just enough to change the bass in his voice, altering it just enough for it to not be his own voice.
Now the fun could truly began.
Arms are around her again, she can hear the ground beneath whoevers feet are moving them both. She isn't awake, but she isn't asleep as her mind races and tells her everything that's happening all once. The cover over her face, the restraints over her wrists. She feels gravity work against her and whoever is now lifting her, her body trying to fall to gravity's grip until she's... suspended. She feels the floor just at the tips of her toes. She only offers more mumbles as she forces herself to wake up in some way.
At first, her breathing is slow as she fades back into the world she kept falling from. Her mismatched eyes are half lidded, but she can't anything, only the faintest, hint of a small spot where she thinks it might be a lighter hue due to a fraction of light seeping in. She was unable to keep any sense of where she was going, who grabbed her, where she was, why was she here—and her heart gives in to the panic her mind is concocting for her. A few easy, heavy breathes allows her mouth to part as she tries not to also panic about the confined breathing space. She holds her breath for a moment to listen, assuming whoever brought her to wherever the fuck she was, was there with her. She's heard of these stories, knows it happens in her world all too often but why her? She was fucking useless—the one worth a ransom was her brother, atleast in the eyes of her father, who had a dynasty to maintain and Ronan was the only one able to do that appearntly. If they used her for such, she wouldn't hope for freedom, or even another day for that matter. Even if her mother caused a scene to get her point across, the chances that Regan Ivers would cease to exist was far greater than the chances of her father sending an army and millions of his money to find her.
So, she's already made up her mind that she can't weep, can't let wheoever this is end her like some pathetic stray. But the fight in her is still so far out of reach. She uses the only weapon she has in the moment, one that has always been a blessing and a curse. "I'm assuming you already know who I am.." she lets out the words in breathy bits, her hands and wrists working to try to pull her upright or let her down to find solid footing but she fails. Let me guess..she let's her head roll to the side as she inhales. "You saw something you liked and wanted it.. kudos to you for taking it— she lets out a moan as her head rolls back upright. Hmmm she ignores the throbbing In her head long enough to mutter more words. Another one of Ronan's friends? Or is it.. the smirk on her face is half attempted. Grayson... if you wanted to do a little role playing again... she gives a few clicks of her tongue, waiting to hear some sort of response, see if she can hear their breathing change or for them to shift or speak, anything at this point. Daddies friend? No—Daddies enemy? And what are you after, hmm? You have a priceless diamond in your hand, what are you going to do with it? she winces at the irritating tightening the chains do around her wrists as she pulls and pushes her way from them. The throbbing in her head returns, and she let's it go slack downwards, her breaths still heavy as she works with the panic that settled into her very bones.
Evidently her sense of self preservation is nonexistent. Regan immediately begins to goad him into anger, her words are so targeted that he almost questions whether she knows who he is or not. Right off the bat, she's running her mouth. Graysons name spills from her lips and he decides then that his best friend has to die. Its a shame really. He did like the guy. Her tongue clicks, like she's waiting. To his credit, Ronan forces his breathing to remain even. If he's to pull this off, she can't know its him, he can't show her he's affected by her accurately aimed jabs. Still, he had to let the rage out of his veins somehow. So he approaches her, letting his boots fall heavily against the dirty concrete, each step slow, calculated. And slightly quickened to belie his height.
He circles her before stopping behind her. Stepping up against her back, he presses against her, the feel of her round ass against his cock making the damn start to harden slightly. A hand clasps her hip before running up her side, carving a path straight for the zipper of her dress. Its loud, in the quite warehouse as he rips it down until her dress falls free. No bra, no surprise. Her perfect tits bounce free of their cage, he doesn't have to see it happen to already know exactly how she looks. Early on, Ronan learned how to gain access to the house cameras without anyone noticing. He had hours of footage of his dear little sister. "Don't worry your pretty little head about who I am." He growled, his voice still distorted. "You only have one thing to worry about." He sneered. "Doing what your told." It's laughable really. Its the one thing Regan is physically incapable of doing. She'd fail before they even began.
Its a shame they didn't have longer together. He knew he only had a week or two before his father tracked her down. But Ronan had been diligent, there was no path leading back to him. Dad would find Regan and be running in circles looking for someone to punish. Ronan had learned from the best and now he's becoming better. "Lets get started shall we?" He jerks the scrap of material down over her hips and lets it fall to the floor. Shockingly, she managed to put panties on today. A little black thong. Hooking a finger in one of the thing strands around her hips, he snapped it against her skin.
Fucked up desire threatened to consume him. Regan was at his mercy here. There's no around to hear her screams. No one to run to for help. It's just them. A vicious smile lifts his lips. But he's here to play the long game. If he wants to break her, to ruin her, he will have to find some patience. Though it does occur to him that fucking her over and over again might do that. But no matter his impatience, Ronan plays the long game. He wants every sob, every plea for mercy, every tear, ever drop of blood. "We're going to have fun together." His lips are at her ear then, whispering like its a promise, like he knows with every fiber of his being that her pussy will still be dripping wet.
She musters another lazy laugh, a grin wide across her drowsy face as she speaks. Someone didn't do their research... beiing told what to do isnt my.. type. she taunts. She takes in a few shakey breaths as she feels him just lingering behind her, likely soaking in every ounce of her bare skin. She begins to causally cross her legs, until the fabric that clings to her hips fall to the floor. A breath of shock falls from her lips, she twists and huffs as she tries to convicnce herself she can avoid any further contact. Then, a quick snap of the lace thong she wore—the only piece of material left on her—sends a pitch of sensation coursing through her veins. She's still in panic mode, the idea of being so vulnerable to a stranger, quite frankly, scared the living hell out of her. But she masks the concern with a wicked little giggle. Wanna rip em off, keep em as a souvenir when I leave? because she would do exactly that—leave. Whether it was by the hand of her father finding her, or her finding a way to get out of these binds and into this man's lap to distract him.
"We're going to have fun together." his words are seeping into her ears, soaking into her mind as panic makes a home out of her core now, while frustration begins to show across her face. She doesnt take a second to think about her next choice; she can only hope that he's still close enough as she musters up what spit she can in her dry mouth, pivots her head—and spits at this man's face. Soo.. much.. fun she lazily coos, a grin on her lips as her head hangs low, meanwhile her heart feels like it could jump out of her chest and find the nearest exit.
It’s all a facade. He knows she’s fighting the panic. He knows her. Regan puts up a good front though. Most might truly believe she’s indifferent to her current predicament. But he can hear the slight tremble in her voice, the way each breath is forced in its evenness. She’s barely keeping it together. Her gasp is loud in the near silent room. It only has to be compete with her breathing. The sound is music to his heard. He could hear that sound over and over again, and never grow tired of it And a her mask cracks further when she starts to twist, like she might stand a chance of escape. Regan could never escape him. She was his. Mind. Body. Soul.
His hands clamped down on her hips, holding her still in front of him. His fingers dug into her skin hard enough to bruise. Too bad she’s wearing a hood, he would have enjoyed seeing the raw panic in her eyes. He found himself considering one way glass. Could it be modified to fit the frames of some goggles? The chance to watch the panic swell in her eyes is made even more tantalizing by knowing she wouldn’t be able to see him. The slow grin that stretches manically across his lips is downright cruel. Regan has no idea what she’s in for. Wanna rip em off… She continues to taunt him, to pretend that she’s brave. ”Since you asked…” His voice trails off as he grips each thin strap at her hip and pulls until he hears the unmistakable sound of fabric ripping. He doesn’t care if her thong bites into her skin in the process.
As he tucks the scrap of fabric into his pocket, she turns to look at him over her shoulder. Too bad she’d see nothing but the inside of the black hood. Amusement arches his brow when she spits. His chuckle is low and dark. It’s a cute sentiment. He disappears for only a moment, returning with a thick roll of duct tape. He rips off a decent sized portion, holding a small corner of it between his teeth. At Regan’s back, he jerks her against him, wrapping a hand tightly around her throat to secure her in place. Ronan doesn’t miss the opportunity to pull the bag tight around her face, smearing her own spit across her skin. Only after does he lift the bag high enough to reveal just her mouth. Lifting his hand from her throat, he clamps it across her face, forcing her head back against his shoulder as he simultaneously blocks both her nostrils. She’d have to open her mouth sooner or later. And the moment she did? He stuffs her own panties deep into her mouth. Then he forces her jaws shut and slaps the tape over her mouth.
Tugging her hood back down into place, he releases her. Well not entirely. One hand snakes around her to tweak her nipple. Hard. He pinches the pebbled tip between his fingers, rolling it back and forth - just like he’d seen her do to herself. ”Anything else you’d like to say?” He presses his mouth against her ear through the material, his tone mocking. With just his fingertips, he traces her curves down her side, all the way until he’s crouching at her ankles.
Ronan isn’t naive to the hellion that is his sister. He’s carefully positioned so that he has control of one leg and is out of striking range of the other. With a firm grip of her ankle, he slaps a leather cuff around her and buckles it securely. He repeats the process on the other side. Though this time he pulls her leg would wide, securing it to the opposite end of a spreader bar. A very long spreader bar. Now he sit comfortably back on his heels, squatting down behind her still. Her perfect ass directly in front of him. With a featherlight touch, he runs his fingers up the inside of her legs, steadily creeping higher. And higher.
"Since you asked.." were three words that sk easily let the regret in fully. The very—last—piece of fabric on her is torn in the blink of an eye, her body used as leverage with the hands on either side of her to help tear the thong. She let's out a hissing exhale, a slight shake rattles her breath once more. She let's a fee more shakey breaths fall from her lips into the sack over her face as she hears footsteps disspearing, then she attempts to steady herself just as soon as the boots are heard coming back. A ripping sound floods her senses just as she's gripped and pulled tightly to another body. A solid slate of stone is behind her, towering over her if she's imagining what she feels correctly. The hand around her throat catches her off guard and she rallies a few short, whimpered breaths of panic as she feels the bag closing around her face all in the same motion.
Only when she feels cooler, fresh air caress her lips does she attempt to say anything again, but before she can there's a hand clamped down on her mouth. She has no choice but to open her mouth as she scrambles for oxygen. She can smell herself getting close to her mouth and nose, and just as she begins to protest, she can feel what used to be her thong touch her lips and then invade her mouth, where this stranger decides is the best place for them in this moment. She protests, of course, but is left with only the option to gag on her sobs and screams—or just keep quiet. She chooses the first, of course.
Her body writhes the second her nipple is met by the cool skin of her captor. There's a pinch that seamlessly blends into a rolling motion, something she was used to finding pleasure in but in this moment she only feels the urge to fight. With a quick reminder that she's not exactly in a position to do that. She stifled a whine, however, and focused on the twisting and turning she could do to move away from his touch.
She turns and leans her head away from his dangerously close lips as he's speaks—but the feeling of the man's finger tips, tracing their way down the features of her body had her head slowly rolling back to where it was in the first place. She then feels his hand around an ankle, prompting her to line up a foot with his possible whereabouts before her, but before can do so she feels cool metal against ther skin, and then sound of a something sliding and locking the second she can no longer hear the contraption moving. She gives a few grunts, groans and tries to yell but she's only gained a few tears that dare drop from her eyes. With a fee thrashes of her legs, she only makes her concern worsen. When she feels his hands creeping upward, that's what triggers her flight or fight response, but she's left neither option and let's out a defeated sigh of a sob through the panties she's trying not to choke on. She's frantically doing everything in her power to get away from the man's touch; she's tried twisting his fingers, tried bending her knees but the fucking contraption that keeps her spread apart reminds her that she can't do anything—which infuriates and scares the shit it out of her. Shes left with only the shaking of her head, and a sob in the tone of a plea. Her heart is hammering in her chest, her legs trying to move in any way possible while her hands are trying to grab ahold of the chains keeping them secure above and pulling her away from the touch that's slowly making it's way up her inner thighs. Kidnappings varied, in her world they could last a few hours, or a few fucking years. And she hopes this is one that comes to an end already somehow. If this is only the first few hours? She didn't want to know what was in-store for her later—if she were allowed to live that long.
Her sobs were muffled under her panties and tape. It’s a lovely sound. She struggles in his grasp, her body bucking is outrage and panic. She gives up on her act almost instantly as she elects to gag and sputter out s scream. "Scream as loud as you want, baby." He encourages her sweetly. He’ll fuck it out of her soon enough. Soon he’ll hear those pretty moans that he’s only ever heard through speakers or a door. He doesn’t stop her struggling, he lets her waste her energy in the futile. She could tug at her binds all she wanted, try to hoist herself up and away from him but it wouldn’t get her far from him. He enjoys watching her struggle, the way her body tightens and writhes in desperation. ”Such a pretty little slut.” The words leave his mouth without a second thought. His voice a lazy drawl as he stands.
Rather than walk around her, he spins her effortlessly - robbing her of her balance in the process. A strong forearm wraps around her waist, holding her against him as he pulls her lower half away from the chains above her so that her back arches almost painfully backwards. It gives him a birds eye view of her tits. Her sobs take on a pleading note, like she’s ready to beg for mercy. ”Don’t worry.” His tone is far from soothing. ”I won’t hurt you.” his opposite hand snakes up her side. ”Much.” Like this, he has complete access to her body. There’s nothing she can keep him from. So his thumb brushes over her peaked nipple. It’s only day one. He reminds himself of that over and over again. He wants her dripping wet before he slides his cock into her.
”Lets get started.”
He drops her, letting her weight fall away from him. He lets her struggle, lets her wrists take the brunt of her weight. Everything he could ever possible want or need, he already has here. Laid out on a plastic wrapped bench for easy clean up. He picks an average run of the mill flogger. It’s black, it’s leather tassels each adorned with a small bead. It would turn her skin a stunning shade of pink while also increasingly sensitivity. To both pain and pleasure.
Again, he doesn’t warn her. The first strike lands across her belly. It’s undoubtedly accompanied by the sting of the beads. It wouldn’t take long for her to be dancing away from the pin pricks of discomfort. In typical Ronan fashion, he sets a relentless pace. He never lands in the same place more than twice and he walks circles around her, peppering her entire body with sharp kisses. Across her chest, down her belly, the apex of her spread legs. Down her back, over each ass cheek. Up and down her sinful legs. It doesn’t take long for his cock to grow hard in his pants, pressing against his zipper impatiently. Adjusting himself, he just barely keeps it together. Only when he’s happy with the color of her skin does he stop. A deep breath fills his lungs, exertion making his shoulder ache. He can only imagine what her face looks like now under her hood. Her make up running down her face that is undoubtedly splotchy and red. Her eyes red and puffy from crying. Her nostrils flared as she sucks in each ragged breath. Just to drive his point home, he open palm slaps her ass, the sharp crack echoing through the vacant warehouse.
In an instant she's whirled around and pulled tightly to the man's body, the forearm around her waist only making the sinking feeling in her gut intensify. She let's out a short shriek of surprise from it all and then protests as he tugs her away from her point of center. His words only cause the panic she can't seem to shake to rise further, even as a ginger caresses her shamefully erect nipple. She let's out a shakey breath and attempts to pull away from the touch. She succeeds, but only because her captor has released her and let's her weight fall back to where it lines her up straight once again beneath the chains she's hanging from.
Just as begins to tug herself upwards to relieve the ache in her shoulders and back for a brief moment, something kisses her with sharp, rapid stings across her stomach and she cracks out another muffled sob as she curls her stomach away, but curls right in to his next few blows and is left to do the same motion from every direction, causing the same outcome every time as he relentlessly lashes her. Her hands ball into fists as she pulls and twists and curls away from his touch, the resounding crack of his hand lined perfectly with her ass and she let's out another moaning sob. The sting forces the tears welled in her eyes to finally release, her breathing distorting from trying to jusy simply breath and also reign in her crying, while also trying not to inhale the tears through her only means of oxygen. There's a moment of nothing as he's either studying his work or looking for his next device. In this moment, there's the a slight, subtle motion of air that creeps between her legs, likely from her trying to move in any way possible away from her captor. With this chill creeping between her reddened thighs, there's a brush of cold thay collides with.. heat, she now realizes that is collecting between her legs. Her insatiable, traitorous, twisted mind of its own cunt is turned on by all of this. She isn't entirely surprised, she enjoys the more sick and twisted enjoyments; but in this moment, alone and at the mercy of complete stranger who plans on doing God knows what with her, she should *not* be enjoying this in any fucking way. She realizes she's settled down long enough to realize this fact, her breaths slower but heavy. And she realizes she's done so right infront of the man who's likely going to take such a notion as a sign that she's already unphased. If the room were any quiet, she was sure they could both hear her heartbeat between the two of them. She slaps on a mask of defiance, even if he can't see and keeps her breathing low and slow.
Her own body betrays her. Roman expects nothing less from her. She’s just like him, full of dark and twisted desires. Regan sobs because a part of her is afraid and knows that is whole situation is so very wrong. He can't fault her for that. But he knows her well. There's an undertone of sickening desire in her voice. Even when she's helpless. At the complete mercy of a stranger. Part of him grows jealous, angry even. His precious little sister is hot and bothered for a stranger, someone she hasn't even seen, someone that could very well kill her. His lips curls with his fury. The way she flinches away from the flogger like she might exactly get a reprieve, does little to make him feel better.
Her breathing changes, becoming slow and low, like she's remembered who she is and is once against digging her heels in. Using the handle end on the flogger, he reaches between her legs, rubbing the smooth leather between her pussy lips. When he pulls it away, he tuts with mocking disapproval as it glistens in the low light. It doesn't stop him from going back for more. From smearing her own arousal all over her and the handle. Pressing the rounded tip against her hole, he taunts her, not giving her the satisfaction of being filled to the brim with it. "I don't think you've earned being fucked just yet." And he pulls away her, his free hand coming up -hard- to slap the underside of her tit.
The flogger is traded for a short, thin cane. It fits comfortably in his hand and is small enough that he can easily flick the end of against her nipples. Until she's sobbing in earnest. Then he assaults her inner thins with a similar treatment. Her already reddened skin welts and turns faintly purple with the beginnings of bruises. There's a lesson he hopes that she takes from this, though he assumes that she wont. He can do anything he likes to her and she is utterly powerless to stop him. Its thrilling. Its addictive. After he rescues her, he already knows that he wants to do this again. But maybe next time he won't have to go through quite the ordeal of covering their tracks. She can simply tell their parents she's going away with some friends. She can willingly submit herself to him. Not the stranger she thinks he is.
For now, he'll play her body the same as she does, when she thinks she's in her room alone at night. Impulsively, he leans into close, his tongue laving over one hard and abused nipple. He draws it into his mouth, his teeth grazing her skin. Her skin is likely on fire, he didn't need to do much but he still doesn't stop until he makes her squirm, until she's sobbing for mercy. If only he had been raised to be merciful. But he's heir to an empire, being cutthroat is all her knows. So he can't be gentle with her, he can't offer her sweet kisses and empty promises. Ronan can only offer her his violence, his control over her body as she stands helpless.