Inside the Hotel Bentmoore: Training Ella

“I HAVE A QUESTION.”

“Okay,” Mr. Cox replied. His voice came out smooth, but Ella could detect a hint of wariness.

“Yesterday you said it’s hard for someone ‘like me’ to give up control. What did you mean by that?”

Mr. Cox looked at her in that probing way of his, as if he were already predicting Ella’s next three moves, and deciding the best way to counter-attack….

Which, Ella guessed, he probably was. The thought pleased her. Here was a man who thought he could beat her at her own game. Time would tell, but the prospect of a challenge made her smile with wicked revelry.

He had just told her to “get naked and come here,” but Ella had not obeyed, had instead ignored his order and asked him her question. If her recalcitrance had bothered him, he gave no sign of it, other than that probing look of his.

He answered, “I meant a woman like you, who will only submit to the right man, and only under the right circumstances.”

“I thought all women are supposed to be naturally submissive.” Ella’s smile turned smug. She thought she had scored one against him. She frowned when Mr. Cox began to laugh.

“Oh, princess, I don’t know where these ideas in your head come from, but that is so not true, it’s ridiculous,” he said, chuckling. “Why would you ever think that?”

“Isn’t that the basic philosophy of this place?” Ella answered, scowling. “That women everywhere are naturally submissive, they just need someone to show it to them, namely a dominant man?”

“Oh hell no,” Mr. Cox said, crossing his arms and pealing with laughter. “You’ve just managed to insult every dominant woman everywhere.” He calmed himself down, but continued to grin at her. “People are people, princess, they all have their own weird habits and idiosyncrasies—and their own kinks. They can’t be categorized and labeled just to fit inside someone else’s idea of how they should behave.”

Ella’s scowl deepened. “Mr. Harden and Mr. Lamont were certainly trying to get me to behave in a certain way.”

“Because they were trying to show you what your body is capable of, strip away all your inhibitions and your fear of judgment that was holding you back. That is the real philosophy of this place: we give people a chance to indulge in their desires, without them having to worry about what anyone else thinks. There’s no condemnation here, no looks of disapproval. Now I grant you, it’s more common for us to host submissive women. But we have submissive male guests, too.”

“You do?”

“Oh yeah. Life out there is even harder for them. Society doesn’t look too kindly on submissive males. Men are taught from an early age they have to be strong, aggressive, non-emotional…a guy who likes to be cuffed, whipped, ordered around? He’s not looked upon well in the outside world.”

Ella thought for a minute. “Are you comparing me to a submissive guy, then? Is that how I’m different?”

“Fuck no, Ella. No no no.” He laughed again, and Ella’s eyes became stormy blue. “I’m saying, there are many different kinds of kinksters out there, and many different kinds of subs. You can’t point to a submissive woman and think you know all there is to know about her, just because she’s a submissive; what her submission means is completely up to her. Now you—” he uncrossed his arms and pointed to her—“you are still discovering yourself, so I wouldn’t make too many assumptions about you just yet. But…I think it’s safe to say, you’re a special kind of sub. One who identifies as Prey.”

“Prey?” Ella’s voice was sharp. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, princess, that you don’t submit to just any man, not even if he’s a Dominant. You need to be hunted; you need to be taken down. You respond to the chase. Your play, if that’s what you want to call it, is about you making sure your Top is stronger, faster, and smarter than you. Once you’re in the paws of the beast, that’s when you feel comfortable enough to let yourself go.”

“You make me sound like a weakling. Like a lab mouse, happy in its cage.”

“Then you misunderstand. Tell me, have you ever heard of a lion hunting a mouse?”

Ella paused, thrown off. “No, lions don’t hunt mice. Do they?”

“No, and that’s my point. Lions hunt the big game: the zebras, the buffalo, the wildebeest. They take down animals no other predator can, because they are the apex predators, the very top of the food chain. You’re prey, Ella, but not just any predator can take you down. Only the apex predator, the guy at the top of the chain.”

“And you think that’s you.” She pursed her lips.

Mr. Cox didn’t smile. “You better believe it, princess. When I play the game, I don’t just play to win. I go for the kill. I never just walk away. I think you know it; I think you could tell that about me the first time you saw me in action, in the barn. I think that’s what drew you to me in the first place.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Really, I’m drawn to you, huh? It all makes sense now. I’m drawn to the guy who compares me to a wildebeest.”

“I never said it’s logical, princess. I think it’s totally primal. It’s the oldest game on the planet: predator and prey. Kill or be killed.” He pointed to her again. “You want to submit, you love the rush, the way your body feels when you’ve been caught. But you’ll never go meekly—that’s not the kind of woman you are. And you know what? I wouldn’t want it any other way.” His smile made Ella’s blood hum.

“I submitted pretty easily yesterday,” she reminded him.

“Yes, you did. And now look at you: you’re contentious, belligerent, combative—you want a fight on your hands.” He opened his arms wide. “So let’s fight.”

Ella’s veins pulsed. Her eyes lit up a sky blue. Excitement unfurled deep in her belly.

“I thought I’m supposed to submit freely,” she said, her voice hoarse. “That was the deal.”

“For you to submit freely? Ha. No woman’s submission is every free, Ella. I have a feeling yours is going to cost me some skin—but it’ll be worth it, when I take you down. You want to try taking me on? C’mon. Go for it.”

Ella let out her breath slowly. His words had stirred her own inner animal, one that was all too willing to rise to his challenge.

“Don’t think you know me so well,” she spat, feeling the adrenaline rushing her blood. She was already scanning the room, weighing her options.

“Really? You know you want to.” When she didn’t move, his tone went dangerously soft. “Come here, Ella, now, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“This.” In one swift movement, he had grabbed her arm, pulled her to his chest, and pinned her hand behind her back. Ella had no time to anticipate his attack, or try to defend herself.

“This is how easy I can take you,” he said, gazing down into her face full of outrage. “But since it’s a fight you want….” He let go of her arm and pushed her away. “This time try harder, Ella, because it’s on now. Once I get you, I’m not letting you go again.” He furrowed his brows, as if deciding something. “You know what? Let’s raise the stakes. I owe you a punishment. I catch you, you’ll get your first caning.”

“I’ve already had one. Mr. Lamont caned me.”

“Not the way I’m going to cane you, sweetheart, believe me. This is going to be your first real caning, and you’re going to know exactly what that means. The question is, how badly do you want to find out?”

Ella’s eyes flared. Then she ran.

Of course, there wasn’t much space for her to run. The room was large, but contained, and the door leading to any real escape was locked. Ella could evade his capture for a while, but deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught her.

But she would not make it easy for him, not by a long shot. The beast inside her, the one which now carried the name of Prey, controlled her actions, and Mr. Cox was right, giving into it was a thrilling rush.

He began to stalk her, trying to maneuver her into a corner. Ella avoided that at all costs, scooting around, faking turns, and running over the bed, barely missing Mr. Cox’s hand slipping out and making a grab for her. A padded sawhorse sat in the middle of the room, and she tried to lift it, thinking maybe she could throw it at him; but it was bolted down tight, and her attempt only seemed to amuse her pursuer, who chuckled from the other side of the room.

She could see in his eyes, the chase was turning him on.

It was turning her on, too.

But he let her duck and weave around him, letting her escape his grasp for as long as she could, letting the chase play out. It took some time, but he finally corralled her into the corner.

She had nowhere left to run.

Baring her teeth, she turned to fight.

Mr. Cox was ready for her: he spread his arms wide and bent his body in, preparing for anything she might try to pull on him as he inched his way closer.

When he got close enough, Ella dodged, trying to slip under his arm as she had once before. But he caught her by the hair, making her shriek, and yanked her back.

He thought she would try to grab his hands off her hair and duck. She surprised him by stepping back into his chest and elbowing him in the ribs.

He folded in with an “umph.” But he managed to keep his grip on her hair, and this time, when Ella tried to jerk away, he grabbed her around the waist and folded her in with him.

Ella struggled and fought, outraged by the turn of events. Mr. Cox dragged her along with him across the room until she was facing the wall.

He pressed her into it, hard, using the length of his body to restrain her. As Ella continued to yell out her rage, he pulled her hands high over her head and locked them in one of his, pressing her fists into the cool, smooth wall.

Ella was locked in place now between hard drywall and Mr. Cox’s hot body. Her breathing came hard and fast, and she still jerked now and then in a futile attempt to gain her freedom.

She screamed when she felt Mr. Cox’s wide fingers slip under her skirt and begin a leisurely rise up her leg. She kept screaming as his hand slipped under her panties to rub her ass. Then, he reached around, dipped his hand down the front of her panties, and lightly cupped her cunt.

Ella let out a primal yell that sounded like a battle cry.

Mr. Cox flipped her around and pinned her back against the wall facing him, so he had better access to her front. Ella was momentarily struck speechless, the breath knocked out of her. But then she was screaming again, kicking, thrashing, and fighting him for all she was worth.

Mr. Cox smiled in the face of her tantrum. He let her struggle for a while, watching in amusement. Then he pressed his free hand on top of her mouth to quiet her, looking directly into her fury-filled face.

“Ella, will you please shut the fuck up,” he said. “I want to hear it when I rip your clothes off.”

Ella’s deep blue eyes went wide. When Mr. Cox pulled his hand from her mouth, she remained still, her mouth agape, dumbfounded by what he had just said.

Placing his hand squarely in the V-neck opening of her button-down shirt, Mr. Cox pulled the material down. They both heard the loud tear as it ripped away from her body. He pulled at her skirt the same way, ripping the zipper open, and letting the frayed material fall to the floor.

“Maybe Harden had the right idea all along—I should start telling you not to wear underwear,” he growled as he pulled at her bra without any success.

“Don’t! Please!” Ella begged as he continued to grapple with the stubborn fabric and lace. Mr. Cox stopped his ineffective attempts to tear off her bra so he could put his hand over her mouth again.

“Shh,” he quieted her. “You don’t get to talk anymore. When I’m ready, I’ll let you beg. I’ll enjoy hearing you beg. But right now, you get to stay fucking quiet. Understand?”

Ella nodded and closed her eyes, turning her head away so she wouldn’t have to watch him tear her bra. But Mr. Cox pulled the wire and delicately laced cups over her breasts instead, leaving the bra intact.

He slapped her right nipple. “I said, do you understand?”

Ella turned her head back quickly, eyes wide with pain. “Yes! Yes Sir! I understand!”

He slapped her left nipple. “I told you to stay fucking quiet.”

“But—”

He slapped both her nipples, making her writhe and yell. “I take it back. You don’t have to stay completely quiet,” he said. “Feel free to cry.” Then, holding her hands tight above her head by the wrists, he reached down his face, and bit into her right breast.

Ella screamed, feeling his teeth sink into her. The shock and pain of it was acute, a breathtaking jolt of agony, and Ella’s cry was harrowing even to her own ears.

But as Mr. Cox pulled his face away, smiling at her with his devil eyes, a tiny bit of blood staining his lip, Ella could feel the animal inside her surrender the fight. She was caught now, taken down like prized game. She was his to do with as he wanted.

A part of her sighed in delighted relief.

Mr. Cox’s monstrous smile grew wider as he sensed the change in her, saw the capitulation in her eyes. With her surrender came a surge of arousal for them both, but Mr. Cox was far from done with her.

The prey had been caught. It was time to play.

He dragged her over to the high and wide padded sawhorse, yanked off her bra and panties, and pushed her over it. He had her quickly cuffed down. Ella was now bent over the sawhorse, legs and arms spread, soft, subdued, and defenseless.

Mr. Cox took a moment to circle the sawhorse, admiring the picture she presented, her lush body and wanton pose. The sawhorse was low enough that her feet stood flat on the floor, but in her bent and stretched pose, her calves strained, and her thigh muscles quivered with strain. With her legs spread so far apart, her ass cheeks opened just enough to reveal a shadowy crease between them, and where her thighs diverged, Mr. Cox could see the sealed glistening pouch of her pink-lipped cunt.

Ella didn’t move, save for the tense rise and fall of her back with each breath.

Mr. Cox went to the wardrobe and got out a long, knotted, wooden cane. He stepped over to Ella’s head and bent down to her face.

“Ella, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Ella said softly, with great difficulty. Her eyes were already cloudy and dazed, void of all cohesive thought. With her capture and surrender, her mind had fled. She was somewhere else now, somewhere light and free. Her prey instincts were in control, and they were telling her to relax, and revel in her fate.

“I’m going to make you hurt now. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked.

“Good. Just making sure.” He went back around to her spread buttocks, and without preamble, swung at her with the cane.

Mr. Cox had spoken the truth: this felt nothing like the caning Mr. Lamont had treated her to. Mr. Cox’s strikes with the cane were brutal and merciless. They struck her everywhere, on her hips, her thighs, her legs, her rump…they left wide crimson impression lines wherever they landed.

Still, it took a while for Ella to react to the pain. Her mind was so far gone, every lick felt like sizzling glory to her spirit. But slowly, the pelting began to have its desired affect.

By the tenth blow of the cane, Ella was crying. By the twentieth, she was screaming. And by the time Mr. Cox had gotten to somewhere in the thirties, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Mr. Cox kept going, marking up her blotchy skin with more strokes of jolting agony.

Ella struggled in her cuffs now, twisting and flailing after every impact of the vicious cane. Mr. Cox knew her thrashing was not any lucid attempt to get away; it was just her body’s natural reaction to the agony. But the cuffs insured she did not move in any way that would interfere with his aim, and possibly cause her harm.

Ella was a mess now, overwrought by all the sensations flooding her body. Her back and legs glistened with sweat, and she let out a ragged wheeze with each breath, her voice hoarse and raw.

Her ass and legs were a maze of lines in varying shades of crimson, many of them already turning purple. Mr. Cox struck her again with the cane, right across both buttocks, and listened as Ella screamed once more, her voice fading into a wracked sob.

He came around and knelt beside her, picking up her head by the chin. Ella’s face was a mask of red eyes, swollen nose and lips, and running mascara. Mr. Cox watched, fascinated, as her tears fell down her cheeks and made new track lines across her smeared makeup.

Then he kissed her lips hard, holding her head still and pressing it against his own. He was surprised by how hard Ella kissed him back.

“I really must fuck you now,” he whispered, once he had broken his lips away from hers.

“Oh god, yes please,” Ella whispered back.

Mr. Cox threw the cane on the bed, moved back around her splayed body, unzipped his pants, yanked them down, and thrust his rigid cock right into Ella’s cunt.

Her cunt lips curled into his thrust as if trying to push him in deeper. Mr. Cox slapped his body against hers, burying himself to the hilt. Ella’s cry now was low and breathless.

Mr. Cox grabbed her by the hips and began fucking her just as brutally as he had caned her, with quick, powerful thrusts of his hips, marveling at Ella’s tight hold and incredible heat. She was very wet, and very tight, and after the exhilaration of the caning he had just given her, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

It turned out, he didn’t have to hold on very long at all: Ella was already coming with his next thrust. Her orgasm rolled on as Mr. Cox continued to pump into her, awed by the vise-like grip of her pussy around his cock. Her delicate ripples of pleasure as she came thrilled him to the core.

He kept pumping as her orgasm ebbed, trying to hold out for as long as he could, trying to prolong the pleasure for them both. He was rewarded for his trouble when he felt her come again just as he did, letting out a deep-rooted cry.

He pushed against her body with powerful blows of his hips, rubbing his rough thighs against her tender and bruised ass. As his own orgasm faded, Mr. Cox could hear her quietly keening.

He uncuffed her as soon as he felt stable on his feet, and helped her off the sawhorse. Then he picked her up in his arms, carried her over to the bed, and lay down next to her.

He gazed into her dirty, tear-stained, swollen face.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips, pressing against her mouth tenderly.

Ella kissed him back, albeit weakly, and gave him an angelic smile. “Thank you Sir,” she said. Her features began to smooth out as she fell into a doze.

“No, Ella. Thank you,” Mr. Cox said, still gazing at her in awe.