My head spun, making me slow and hazy, but I managed to mumble, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I won't run again, I promise!", while Noom's well-toned body pressed against my back, letting me feel the raging hard-on my attempt to flee had given him.
The heat radiating from his body felt incredibly good on my skin, made me want to close my eyes and cuddle up to his muscular front, but the throbbing pain on my forehead reminded me of my current and very bleak situation. I couldn't stop rubbing my ass against Noom's bulging crotch though, moving my heels outward to spread my legs a bit more and to get his straining shaft right between my ass cheeks. The sensation made my own dick jump happily and I instinctively purred in delight, while my mind was still unsure if I liked or feared what my captor was doing to me.
Noom grabbed one of my arms, twisted it on my back and pulled me away from the wall. His other hand was still buried in my hair, controlling my head while he shoved me up the stairs, making sure I felt his every push, shove and pull. My shoulder joint throbbed and screamed when he tugged my arm higher, and he pulled my head back so I couldn't see where I stepped. Somehow I managed to go up the stairs without stumbling or falling. I was unsure if he would have given in or simply held me to dislocate my arm and loose a few strands of hair if I tripped, and I decided that I didn't want to test him and his bad mood.
Noom escorted me to the bed, pushed me over the edge of the mattress and made me kneel there. The breeze of air between us brought his scent to my nostrils and made me inhale deeply - even in stress I still was a creature of smells and nosework. He smelled of anger and excitement, musty arousal met fresh soap and aftershave, but there was also a note that was uniquely him. His personal aroma burned itself into my brain to an extent that made me believe I could have found him in a group of a thousand people purely using my nose.
It was odd.
Normally I was able to distinguish people by their scent, but it hadn't been that intense ever before. For a few seconds my brain itched right between the eyes, a place I couldn't scratch even if I would've tried. Then a piercing headache roared from the back of my head right to that prickling, itchy spot, converted into a feeling of pressure behind my eyes, and dissipated with a numbing sensation all over my face. I gasped for air, and realised that my head hung low while I had undergone my short episode of traumalike pain.
"Something is not right." I mumbled, and tried to sit up. My reward was another brutal shove against my back, right between the shoulderblades, and I fell forward again.
"Shut up." Noom snapped behind me, and dropped to his knees to reach under the bed. I heard the metallic clinking of chains when he pulled out something heavy, and got back to his feet.
My ears buzzed and my head still felt as if something moved behind my skull, making me feel drunk and lost in reverie. The slow change from pain to something vaguely arousing unnerved me, but I seemed to be unable to lay my finger on what was different exactly.
"No, something's wrong." I insisted, again trying to get up and off the bed, but I should have known that ignoring his command would only enrage him.
The whistling of a leather belt cutting air was the only warning I got, then it bit into my backside. The sheer force of that one hit made me yelp and buck, but it also made me drop to all fours again. Getting hit with a leather belt always was a very unpleasant experience, the pain biting and stinging for minutes before it dissipated, but it wasn't something new for me. My father had exchanged his belt for a rattan rod years ago, since it 'doesn't seem to force my point of opinion enough to get through your thick head,' as he had liked to point out.
Noom on the other hand had the benefit of surprise on his side, and he only needed a few more seconds, not a life-changing epiphany from me. While I still gasped for air he let go of the belt, picked up his clinking and clanking metal construct he had hid under the bed, and reached above me to clip two safety hooks attached to chains into big rings drilled to the inner side of the posters. Something cold and hard swept over my buttocks and waist before he grabbed hold of it, but it made me look over my shoulder. The chains led down to the ends of a black crossbar, forming some kind of a kinky swing. The crossbar itself had six metal rings welded to the underside of it, ready to be used with everything from chains to ropes.
I was definitely running out of time, if I wanted to warn Noom of... what? That I had an eerie feeling about the whole thing? He was seconds away from raping me, for Christ's sake!
