Embers: A Dark Romance Love Triangle (A Special Agent Novel Book 5)

by C. P. Mandara

  Great big steaming plates of beef fill the room and my mouth waters. I haven’t been hungry in days, but now I decide I want to eat. Typical. Portly decides to feed me the occasional titbit, but I’m not going to get much judging by his voracious appetite. His eyes settle down over his meal and he eats with unbridled enthusiasm. I wonder if he is as similarly dedicated in the bedroom. If he is, I’m in for a fun night. When he finishes his meal, he wipes splatters of sauce from his lips with a white linen napkin and then resumes his conversation with the men around him. We’re talking drugs and racketeering for the most part, but I am careful to keep my gaze on the floor and my expression neutral. No one here knows I can speak any language other than English, and I intend to keep it that way. Dessert is served, and the wine is flowing freely. Everyone seems to have loosened up a bit, judging by the laughter and bawdy comments. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch James at the opposite end of the table, with his hand gently stroking his submissives neck. She has thick, bright red lips, sultry brown eyes, glossy black hair, and a body any man would die for. My world suddenly turns a deep, vivid shade of green at the thought that he might be fucking her this evening and the small morsels of food I’ve eaten turn to bile in my throat. Jesus. What is wrong with me? James isn’t mine. He’ll never be mine. I need to remember that.

  Portly then decides to pay me some attention, and his hand comes down to brush against my tits, finding the clamps and tugging on them. Grabbing my hair, he tilts my face up, while his gaze lingers on my chest for far longer than necessary. It doesn’t exactly make my skin crawl, but it’s not a particularly pleasant sensation. He makes me feel like a whore, and for the duration of my stay here, that’s exactly what I am. When his gaze drops further, I know I’m in trouble.

  “Hitch your skirt up around your waist.” He says the command in English, though his accent is Italian. I do as I’m told. His eyes then devour the sight of my naked pussy and he licks his lips. “Spread yourself,” he barks, and when I don’t instantly comply, I get a cuff around my ear for the trouble, which sends me reeling. Somehow, I manage not to gasp. “Don’t keep my waiting, slave. I am not a patient man.” My fingers rush to do his bidding before he can cuff me again. Peeling apart my labia, I show him my pussy in all of its most intimate glory. Portly stares at it for a long time, before saying, “Finger fuck yourself.” My hands rush to obey. Shoving two fingers inside my wet heat, I pull them slowly back and forth. Portly may not be the most attractive man on earth, but James is on the other side of the room, and I’m usually feeling hot and flushed whenever he’s near me.

  “Good, you are wet.” He then frowns. “The dominants here are supposed to make sure their submissives are hungry and wet at all times, but some are better at it than others.” Score one for James, then, I think, before I am battered with another demand. “Faster.” Portly’s eyes begin to glaze over as I thrust my fingers inside myself as fast as they will go. I am so aroused, I could weep. I don’t know if it’s because I’m sitting with my legs spread wide open, my lack of decent clothing, or the occasional heated glance from James, but I am ready to burst. It wouldn’t take much to send me soaring this evening.

  “Strip.” The command makes my throat close up, but I do it. Wiggling out of my tight dress, I drop it to the floor beside me. Every other submissive in the room is still clothed as far as I can see, but Portly is clearly impatient. Perhaps he wants to be the first to get his submissive punished. That would be just my luck. Placing my arms behind my back once again, I wait silently, readying myself for his next order.

  “I am going to flog you tonight, slave. I am going to tie you to the cross and flog every inch of your back. Does that turn you on?” There really is only one response to that question. His gaze is now on my eyes, so I put some enthusiasm into my answer.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. After the flogging, I’m going to fuck you in your cunt, then your ass, and your Dom is going to watch me do it.” He smiles then, an evil little smile, as his gaze travels back to James who is now looking at us over the table. That adds a whole new dimension to my evening. I wonder if James already knew about this.

  “He’s going to watch me eat you, and you will not be allowed to come. Not at all. Think you can do that, slave? Think you can resist me?”

  I certainly hoped so. “Yes, Sir,” I whisper, wondering if that’s the right or wrong answer.

  “I hope so,” he says, as the corners of his lips twitch, “because if you don’t, your dominant gets to bend over and take twenty strikes of my belt.” I stop breathing at that revelation. “I’ve never failed at this game yet,” he continues, “so it should be an interesting evening. I want to be at the top of that score board later and believe me when I say that you aren’t going to get in my way.” Grabbing hold of a clamped nipple he then pulls it sharply, and I bite back my sound of distress. My head is spinning. If this is the first game of the weekend, I hate to think what the last will be. Will I be able to hold myself back? I can’t bear the thought of James suffering under this man’s hands. The indignity of a Dom having to face that must be pretty unpleasant. Does James know about this? These games are sick and twisted in the worst way, and we’ve barely started.

  “On your hands and knees, facing away from me,” he then growls, and I don’t need another knock round the head to tell me to hurry. Widening my legs, as I’ve been taught, I give him an eyeful. His fingers trail across my bright red butt cheeks and I can feel his stare upon me. “Been a naughty girl, have we?” His hand slaps my ass so hard, I can feel my teeth snap together. This man is desperate to make an example of me, but I’m equally as determined not to let him. No noise will leave my lips at this table. It helps that I find Portly quite unpleasant in all the ways that matter. I resolve to give this brute a run for his money.

  He tries everything in the book to get me to squawk. More slaps, some pinches, rough penetration, and a fierce pounding of the butt plug are only some of the tactics he uses. I let him get on with it. It’s important to me that he fails at this first hurdle, although I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s because James’s eyes are constantly trained on me, wondering if I’ll be able to cope with all of this. My pride refuses to let me disappoint him on our first challenge. The shame would be too much to bear.

  Interestingly enough, James’s submissive is the first to squeal. She claws at her face as her eyes water and choking sounds emit from her mouth. An attendant leads her quickly from the room, and scores begin to go up on the board. Portly’s face darkens after that, and I have to wonder if she’s his submissive, because he then pulls out all the tricks in the book. Biting, face slapping, clit squeezing – he even pulls one of my nipple clamps free from my body, but still I remain mute. To be honest, I’m debating making a noise to call an end to all this rubbish, but James is staring at me intently, and I feel the need to impress him. Holding out until the last submissive in the room has made a noise, I then turn to him, and smile brightly. I get a slap from Portly for my troubles, but James and I are at the top of the leader board.

  When the attendant comes for me, he grabs my leash and I am led away to a room off the main hallway. It features two sturdy black leather ‘X’ frames on opposite walls, a king-sized bed with a white duvet, and a spanking bench. There’s also a yellow plastic tub filled with whips and paddles. It looks like I’m in for a fun evening.

  Waiting on my hands and knees with all my holes open and spread, I try not to think about what’s going to happen next. When the door opens, my eyes dart to the floor expecting the return of Portly, so it is with surprise that I spot James’s shoes standing in front of my nose.

  “Were you trying to impress me out there?” Squatting down, he lifts my face up and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek.

  I give him a rueful smile. “A little, Sir,” I confess, “although Portly isn’t my best friend at the moment.” My eyes flare in contempt, as I relay what I think of my new dominant without using words.

  “I guesse
d. Has he told you what’s happening next?” James’s eyes are serious now, which makes me worried.

  “Yes, Sir. He’s going to flog and fuck me, and then bring me to orgasm. If he succeeds, you have to take twenty strokes of his belt.” I bite my lip. I don’t want to think about that.

  “Don’t worry about me, just try your best. All of the games we play here have consequences, which are designed to make the proceedings more exciting.” I don’t miss his meaning. “At some point during our stay here, I’ll be getting some. Nearly all of the dominants will. This is the ultimate power play – seeing who can take what. Generally, it’s the men who buckle in the end. Most can give it, but they don’t like taking it. There’s not a dominant alive who wants to bend over and get his ass tanned. It certainly separates the men from the boys.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you, Sir?” I can’t understand how he can remain so upbeat about this. I know I can’t. The thought of failing him makes me sick.

  “Getting my ass tanned?” He raises his eyebrows and I nod. Shaking his head, James wrestles with a smile. Eventually he loses the battle, and it lights up his face. “Not really. I learned how to deal with pain a long time ago. While these games are unpleasant, they are tame compared to anything Alain might dish out. A sore ass is far preferable to steel pins through my hand.” He’s got a point.

  “Up on the cross, Lois. I need to get you fastened in before Giovanni gets here.” The next few minutes are spent fastening leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles, while James tells me what’s about to happen. “The sub I was with is Giovanni’s. She’ll be pinned opposite you while I work on her. The first sub to orgasm loses.”

  “Oh shit,” I whisper, and then hurriedly add, “Sir,” before James has a fit. “He’s going to be mightily pissed after what happened at the table.” James nods. “How did you do that, by the way?” I am asking questions without permission, which almost certainly means punishment, but I figure it will be worth it. I want to know his secret.

  “Lois,” he warns, “remember your place.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper, my head dipping low to let him know I am sorry for my outburst.

  He takes pity on me, though. Leaning in close, he murmurs, “Jalapeno Chilli powder. A little on my fingers applied straight to her clit, amongst other places, and there’s not much left to do but wail.” I press my lips together. That’s truly evil.

  “Isn’t that cheating, Sir?” My tongue is firmly in my cheek.

  “I prefer to think of it as improvising. I might have peeled chillies for breakfast, so sue me. I like hot things.” He bites my neck and his tongue then laves at the spot, soothing the ache, while his hands move between my legs. “The good news is that her clit is now going to be very swollen, and it shouldn’t take much to get her to explode. Right now, Giovanni is doing his best to make sure that won’t happen, but I’m pretty confident it will. Time will tell.”

  “How is Giovanni going to make sure it won’t happen, Sir?” For a moment, I’m confused.

  “Like this,” James purrs, and his fingers are all over me.

  I’ve managed four orgasms before the door bursts opens and Giovanni storms in with his submissive in tow. He doesn’t look at us. With business-like efficiency he fastens his partner into the cross opposite me and then looks at James. Although I can’t see them, with my nose pressed into the black leather of the cross, I know a pissing competition is about to ensue.

  “The little stunt you pulled back there with Valeria wasn’t very sporting.” The menace in Giovanni’s voice is unmistakable.

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” James replies, and I can already tell there’s a smirk on his face. Are we really supposed to be making enemies this early in the game? I hope James knows what he’s doing.

  “When I give you your twenty lashes, I’m not going to hold back asshole. I’m going to rip into you so hard you won’t be able to stand tomorrow.” Great. Portly is going to do everything in his power to win this little stunt, and I’m the idiot he’s got lined up in his crosshairs. Thanks, James. This next scene is going to be so much fun.

  “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Lois is the queen of orgasm denial,” James says, with more confidence than a con artist. Seriously? Since when? I’ve been at this submissive game for a few weeks, whereas Giovanni’s sub has been at it for years.

  “She won’t beat Valeria. No fucking way. No one has, and she’s not about to be the first,” Giovanni spits. That puts my nose out of joint slightly. Just because Valeria hasn’t been beaten before, it doesn’t mean she’s going to win today. I bet the bitch has never come up against an assassin before. Besides, the skill is mostly with the dominant, surely? The more talented he is with his fingers and tongue, the better, and in this case, James has definitely got to be king. Valeria only needs to take one look at those baby blues, and she’ll swoon like the rest of the female population.

  “Well, I wish you the best of luck. May the best man win.” James is at least trying to be civil now, though I detect a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “He will.” Giovanni sounds sure of himself. I suspect James just tried for a handshake and didn’t get one. Serves him right for cheating.

  Next thing I know James is at my ear. “Giovanni only gets to fuck you if you lose this competition. The man is pretty brutal, just so you know. Good luck, Lois.” I get a friendly pat on the ass and James is off. Here we go again.

  Giovanni is a man on a mission. He wields his impact toy with a heavy hand and is intent on making me pay for James’s transgressions. At first, he doesn’t speak to me. He’s far too focused on slicing into my body with the harsh rubber fronds of the flogger. Nerve endings begin to zing into life, and even though I am well sated for the moment, I get the feeling that this man knows what he’s doing. Have these two been in the lifestyle long? Will he be able to spot me for the faker I am?

  The flails of the flogger pause then, and Giovanni trails them gently over my shoulders, down the expanse of my back, and over my buttocks. He’s wasting time. I prefer pain. If he wants me to come quickly, he’ll need to put more effort in.

  His fingers then reach between my legs, testing for wetness. They find it, but it’s not for him. My desire is for the man I can hear on the opposite side of the room, and even now, his presence may well be my downfall. If he was in a room across the hall I’d be fine, damnit. I try my best not to think about him, but I can hear his soft purr as he whispers in Valeria’s ear, and know the bastard is trying his best to seduce her. No woman in her right mind can resist James Leveritt. I should know. Wait. Does James get to fuck her if we win? I’m not sure I like the sound of that. If I’ve got to watch them, I might go mad. Maybe I should lose, after all.

  When Valeria whimpers it’s the first sign that James is on the right track, and I can feel Giovanni’s body visibly stiffen beside me.

  “Are you going to dance on my fingers, Valeria?” James says it loud enough that Giovanni can hear, and I’m guessing he then thrusts a handful of them inside her because the sound she makes is akin to keening. I can’t resist a smirk. Beauty is about to get beasted. Her owner is not going to take this lying down, though. He palms my pussy and begins finger fucking me, too. My clit roars to life, even though I have been thoroughly serviced not five minute ago and a buzzing need begins to build. I need to think of something that will distract me.

  Twisting my face to the side, it’s to see James on his knees, nose buried in Valeria’s ass while he begins tonguing her. The woman tries to bury her moans, but the odd one escapes here and there, and I can tell that Giovanni is worried. He copies James’s actions and begins suckling at me, but I’ve prepared myself for that. I can counter desire with fear. All I have to do is imagine Adie threatening me with thirty lashes from the bullwhip, and I’m immediately doused with cold water. That image helps for a while, but Portly doesn’t stop and my orgasm begins to build again.

  The man is incredibly talented with his fingers and
tongue and puts just as much dedication into oral as he does into eating, but I’m not going to lose it. Mostly because he’s an asshole and the thought of fucking him is abhorrent, but also because I don’t want to watch James take a beating. Things take a turn for the worse when the bastard shoves a finger into my ass, though. I let out my first moan, and I can almost feel his smile of satisfaction behind me. He’s found my Achilles heel, and if I’m not careful, that man is going to win our showdown. That can’t happen. Letting out another groan as his fingers probe further, I imagine myself back in the pitch-black darkness of the tank, with water swimming all around me, as I’m cocooned in a cold bath of death. I envision the exact moment I lost my breathing tube for good, and watched it float away from me, knowing there would be no chance of retrieving it. The shock and panic I felt at thinking I was going to die. The utter exhaustion that numbed my whole body from head to toe, making me unable to move a muscle to save myself.

  The fear paralyzing my bones right now is real and returns easily. I’ve had a few sleepless nights since that episode, and I expect to have several more. I never want to experience anything like that ever again.

  In the corner of my mind, I hear Valeria whimpering and moaning. She’s close. James is good at what he does, and I wouldn’t want to be the person that had to resist him. Meanwhile, Giovanni is alternating between thrusts, and furious little swipes over my clit, but I give him nothing. I am the fucking ice queen, and I am lost in my own personal hell. The Italian must know, for he grabs my neck and tries to whisper something in my ear, but I’ve tuned him out. I have no interest in what he wants to say. Keeping his fingers in play, he then tries to get me back by releasing several furious swats of the flogger, but even that doesn’t raise me from the underworld. I am drowning. I can feel water begin to trickle in through my nostrils as it starts to fill my lungs. I can’t even think straight because I’m not breathing. Lack of oxygen has clouded my vision and is slowly switching my brain off. It’s like a series of lightbulbs being turned off, with a one second delay, so they extinguish one after the other. Pop, pop, pop.