“Your revolt is going so well, peasant!”
“Do not fucking call her that again,” Sig snaps with a volatile fury. “Or I swear if I don’t eat you alive, they will!”
“Or better yet,” The Queen contemplates, her ideas spinning out of control. “What if I put three of you on display for Lys?”
The madness rises from my feet and permeates every cell of my being. I have to say something. I must stop her before more people end up hurt. “Stop the games, Maddy! You don’t get to be a vindictive bitch just because you never made double digits. Your spirit is better than this!”
“I can’t!” She vacantly smiles as I know my words cut to the chase. “But you’re right. I no longer need this one!” The sharp blade drops swiftly and severs Sig’s manhood.
In shock and horror, the celebratory crowd gasps.
“I love you, Angel,” he painfully mutters at The Mistress. “Until the other side.”
“No!” The Mistress cries, trying to fall to her knees as the guards upright her.
Blood spews all over The Queen and her men as the only sound in the castle is the high-pitched siren’s wail of The Mistress. Lifting the blade, she lops off his head and kicks it away like a soccer ball.
“Score!” she remarkably boasts. “Who is next?”
“No, no, no!” I glance to Twig for answers, but he can’t even stand to look at me. “Help me, God, please. This is so bad.”
The screeching noise from the other platform ceases as the minions release The Mistress, and she steps to the edge. The despondent broken gaze in her eyes is unforgettable. Her demons rise in the shattered shadows of her lover’s death, for which there will be no recovery.
Struggling against the brutal chains, Twig shouts, “Don’t do it… God, no… Please... Don’t fucking do it!”
“I can’t hold onto this life...without him,” The Mistress mutters, trying to comprehend his death as the crowd hangs on every word. “He was everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever dreamed of…and you took him away.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” The Queen admonishes, expecting everyone to follow her lead, but they don’t because she’s a narcissistic succubus bleeding them dry.
The Mistress finds me in the crowd as a noisy flock of crows fly overhead. Reaching the other side, he is calling for her—his one true love. Swaying her arms, she smiles.
“When you find the one, don’t give him up for anything, Ellison. Love with every ounce of your soul and hold on until your knuckles turn white, through everything he gives and takes.” Her strict gaze hones in on my sister, wobbling on the platform. “You took him away, and I won’t breathe the air without his presence.”
“No!” Twig shouts with a begging plea. “Don’t fucking leave me! We can hold onto the essence...”
“It isn’t enough, Twig,” she answers with a knowing comfort. She’s safe in her decision. “Maybe it never was meant to be.”
With a kiss to her finger, she blows it to Twig and swan dives with impeccable grace, plunging to the soldiers and impaling her delicate body on a spade. The bloodstains pool over her virgin white dress as The Queen’s minions stomp and rally their forces through a harmonious chant. Spades and swords go up and down as The Mistress’ dead body slides along the handle.
“Burn the bodies!” The Queen commands as shock rolls through the gathering. “And anyone who defies me will lose their head!”
“Oh, my God!” I cry out. “This can’t be happening! You have to stop!”
“You’re composed of death, Lyssa,” she assesses, walking down the steps. “You know it so well. You’ve chased it your entire life, and it cost everyone dearly. Maybe now that you’ve lost people you care about, you’ll come to understand what a horrible person you truly are.”
“You will pay for this.”
“Hmph,” she counters, snapping her finger under my chin. “This is your nightmare, not mine.” She points to Twig as his fierce monster threatens to unleash, straining against the bindings. She smirks at Twig and orders, “Take Goldie with his very big cock to my quarters and imprison Lyssa with the other Merrymen until my verdict is made!”
In the cold dungeon, I sit in the corner on the floor. As much as I don’t want to think about what is going on with Twig and The Queen—I already know.
She is going to fuck him.
Love him. Come on him. Marry him.
All to spite me.
All to hate me more.
I feel incredibly guilty. I am responsible for Sig and The Mistress’ deaths. Their blood is on my hands. Their words are in my lungs. And their challenge for freedom is mine to fight.
Perhaps I could have done something differently, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m stuck behind the rusting bars of a cell with five very pissed off men. They’re unchained and on the loose, but not saying a word. The Merrymen—Zig, Zag, Dig, Jig, and Big—are beautiful feasts for my carnal desires.
They’re sitting around a small rectangular table like a pack of wolves contemplating their next attack. I don’t need to ask what they’re hunting. I already know. Unfortunately, I’m too hung up on one bad boy to partake in their magnificence.
But that implies I’ll have a choice.
I won’t.
I don’t.
My fate is destined.
I glance at the oldest one—Zag—in hopes of finding consolation or inspiration. His square jaw and cold, cruel assessing gaze give neither. He’s put together and attractively polished, but his foreboding silence scares me. He isn’t like the others with his silver-headed dragon cane and firm resolve.
“Get up,” Zig barks, glaring at the gorgeous sparkling silver heels Twig provided. “Now, bitch!”
“What are you doing?” I sob as his fingers grip beneath my arm. “Please, I didn’t mean for her to kill them!”
“It’s too late for your apologies!” he warns, tossing my body onto the table. I hit the surface hard and grimace. “We’ve lost our Mistress, and we need a new one.”
“I…”
“You will provide,” Big contends. “Like the good little slut, you are.”
His zipper flies open with lightning speed as I rapidly sit up. Jig pushes me back with a snarl. The youngest of the bunch, Dig, paws at my wrists, holding me down. He’s remarkably good looking with dark slick hair and penetrating green eyes.
Knowing I won’t get out of this, I surrender. “Is this what she did?”
“Until the selection…”
“What is that?”
“She chose for Sig to be her suitor,” Zag says, finally breaking his silence. “They were to be married during the fourth spring.”
“But she was,” Big mumbles, spreading my thighs and fearing the worst. I conjure his next words—with child—and I clench my fists and grind my jaw. “Determined to love them.”
Stunned, I ask, “… Who?”
“Sig and Twig—together—as one.”
We come as a pair or not at all.
Big spits on his hand and strokes his shaft once before thrusting into me. I fully understand his name as a moan slips from my lips. My eyes flutter, and I grab onto Dig’s inked forearms. “Shit.”
Zig cackles and flicks a switchblade open. Oh, God…not this dress…please. My thought assures one thing—I know they won’t hurt me. I am in safe…sovery...capable hands.
I’m the entertainment for The Merrymen, and though I want to scream for Twig’s presence, I can’t. These muscle-bound Gods with wicked grins and naughty bedroom eyes will take care of me. Sinking into the sensual eroticism of their will, I embrace their reverence. One after another, they will use my body for release.
The razor-sharp blade slices through the blue silk, and it falls open, revealing my breasts. Jig and Zig each take a nipple in their mouth as Big painstakingly rocks his cock into me. And when I don’t think I can take anymore, Dig, still holding my wrists, lowers to kiss my lips passionately.
Running the tip of his cane along my leg, Zag querie
s, “Are you ready?”
I brace against the flood of Big’s release and whisper, “… For?”
“Me.”
Oh, hell, no.
Big offers a hand to help me up when I note the cocked brow of Zag. He’s got probably fifteen years on Twig, but it’s okay—my arousal doesn’t do math. The attraction leisurely bubbles as he deliberately intimidates.
“I…I…I don’t know if I can do this.”
“We’ll go slow, Little Ballerina,” he eases with a soft smile. My mind skids back to the forest when I gyrated to an unknown rhythm to lure out another. I must have gotten someone else’s attention then too. “And you may call me Master.”
Shying away, I skitter back onto the table as the four others step away. They line up in a row and lower their heads. Their shimmering chests and fully stuffed packages send a rush of burning desire between my thighs.
But now…the oddest of the group wants my attention.
His lip curls up at the corner in a smirk as he extends his hand. “Come.”
Held by his steely gaze, I flick my lashes down and bite my lip. I slide across the table and glance up using my tempting doe eyes as I slip my fingers into his.
I can play his game.
If he wants to seduce me, I’ll serve it back ten-fold. I do not buckle; I swerve, flex, and bow. Just because I’m crazy doesn’t mean I don’t possess a full deck of cards to deal on a whim.
In the dank cell, the Master sways my pliable body in his arms as the cane never leaves his side. I conform to his cadenced steps, understanding his tempo isn’t like any other, but every move is his own.
Swathed in his one arm, I observe, “You need the cane.”
“To whip your ass.” I meet his stare and gasp as he breaks into a smile and winks. Teasing, he earns a giggle. “From an injury, a rabid bear attacked me during the sundering.”
“I didn’t know there were bears here!”
“Not that kind of bear,” he replies, raising a brow. I feel safe with him, as his years of experience on the battlefront would serve all my needs much better. “I want to wallop you, Little Ballerina.”
“And I will love every strike.” I breathe warm air against his chest and glide down his rippled abdomen and firm thighs to my knees. “May I suck your cock, Sir?”
“Oh! Yes, Ellison, you may.”
My fingers quickly work his belt and trousers as I feel the heated stares on my back from the others. They’re watching with jealousy. And they’re rock hard.
I skim the tip of my tongue over the head before engulfing him. With taut lips, I spare nothing of my performance, grinding my hips in a swiveling roll like I’m riding Twig. I close my eyes and welcome the fall.
… the fall.
… the fall.
… the fall.
If I hadn’t been so lost and if I hadn’t fallen into the hole, I wouldn’t want to dance on my tippy-toes in the strong arms of Twig. I wouldn’t know the love of this man or the protective balance of his brothers. With the way this worked out, I am more grounded than ever before.
And the shifting sand beneath my feet—cleansed by the flood of the sea and melted in the flames of raging incineration—is pure glass etched with my story and the words that brought me here.
Ain’t.
I collected the fragmented pieces and compounded the extended into a dreamy lyrical haze so I could stand on the pedestal. The volcanic eruptions and tumultuous seas no longer scare me because I bring tremors in my wake. I run the crusade against the demons. My war zone lives at the bottom of a teacup—something so sublime to set me off and trigger a landslide.
Stability does not reside in the elemental.
My hand curls under his tightening sack as my tongue savors his flesh. His stoic gaze doesn’t reflect the real emotion; he’s hard, calloused, and worn down by the years. But his lack of input is so damned intriguing as I try and try to get a reaction—any reaction. Grip my hair. Moan with pleasure. Call me names.
Still, Zag does nothing.
“Jig,” he thoughtfully commands. “Check her.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I anxiously blink as he steps out of the line. He lowers to his knees behind me and urges my hips up before sinking his fingers deep inside.
“Is she...”
“Tight and wet,” Jig responds, removing his fingers. “Anything else?”
With Zag’s hard cock between my lips, he briefly raises a single brow. “Smack her ass for being a dirty bad girl.”
I tense up in his hands as I expected his cane, not the palm of another. The rejection hurts. Tears drip from the corners of my eyes, and I gag on his dick, trying to prove myself worthy of being their new mistress.
I want them so bad.
Jig’s hand pounds my ass hard as the rapid strokes of his hand bump into my thighs. He’s jerking off while I give Zag head, and I’m so turned on I may come. An effervescence boosts the enigma of the dynamic nirvana.
I moan and roll my body to satisfy one while performing for the other. I spin the plates of two men like a seasoned pro. And the amusing quizzical glimmer in my eyes challenges with two words—try me.
“Baby Dig,” the Master says. “Slide underneath. And you best hold your fucking jiz, boy.”
“Yes,” he nervously says. His hands brace on my hips as he lowers my wetness onto his shaft. Jig is still behind my bottom, working his rod, and smacking my bottom. “Is that okay, Mistress?”
I sweep my pelvis against him in an affirmative, and again, I beg the Master to push me. Dig fumbles gently with my nipples. With my hand around the base of Zag, I spit his shaft from my mouth.
“If that’s the best you got, boy, give me someone else.”
With a wide grin, Zag cackles. “You’re a feisty one.”
“I’m not a fucking doll,” I rebuke, having enjoyed the older men. Dig looks to have only a few years on me. “Stop touching me like I’m fragile, bitch!”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
The four—Big, Jig, Zig, and Zag—all laugh. “Work those nips between your fingers and make me feel something.” Poor thing must be terrified. His dick isn’t terrible, but his moves need tutelage. He’s young, though, and can easily be molded into a hell of a lover because heaven knows, God didn’t spare anything on his looks. “Harder. Squeeze. Pinch. Bite.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t fucking apologize to me,” I reply, matching my strokes of Zag’s cock to the timing of Jig’s jerk off rap beat. “Don’t touch me like fine china because I won’t break. Use me like your darkest fantasy.”
I realize I should not say those words to a particular person in the dungeon, namely, Zig.
Dig rivals Sig easily, and what he loses in experience, he makes up for in boyish innocence. It’s quite charming.
I resume sucking Zag’s cock, and we find the melody as Big and Zig wait in the wings. I peer up, hoping Zag will offer another task. I loudly mewl, praying for his cane, but he never concedes.
“Do it, Jig.”
His finger runs over the puckered hole as the shift in gears causes a stumble in my balance.
Don’t drop the fucking sticks, Ellison. Just hold on. Don’t stop spinning the plates.
Sticks and twigs… sticks and twigs… the new mantra begins…
For all the green beneath me, the man thrusting into my rear knows a thing or two about sensual lovemaking. He doesn’t slam his dick in with hard force but slowly creeps in until he’s fully seated. And then he stills.
The three fill every orifice. There is no vacancy here. And with three cocks in my body, I don’t have time to think about what my stupid sister is doing. Because I know exactly what I’m doing—becoming The Mistress of The Merrymen.
The machinations of Zag earn my respect. He isn’t less of a man with his quiet position, but the very pendulum on which these men swing. He is the Master of Ceremonies and the Master of my flesh. And he upheld my subservient skill set well.
“I’m
going to come soon,” Dig informs, rubbing my nipples between his thumb and forefinger like he’s tuning an old radio. He’s not the one that I’ll be coming for, and neither is the one drilling into my sphincter.
I twirl my tongue around the one Dominant I want to take me to the boudoir. He could unravel the scars of missed steps and rebuild my structure to support the most demanding pas de deux.
I run my bite along the ridge, and he grins, understanding my quiescent message of gratitude. I could cut my submissive teeth surrendering to a man like Master Zag.
Empty all the hate and fill me with love.
With a smooth hand, he caresses my cheek and whispers the only command I yearn to hear. “Come to me, Little Ballerina.”
The clinking of rings running along the bars draws our attention as The Queen and Twig appear alone. His head sinks low to his chest, and he seems solemn. She hurt him, but he is alive, and that is all that matters.
I am on the precipice of coming...one breath away...shit!
“What is going on here?” Her eyes open wide at the horror of our misbehaving, and the men hastily vacate my orifices.
I have a sound mind to kill her for interrupting.
Fuming, she charges open the gate and steps inside as Zig cunningly kicks it shut. “What are you doing? This will not occur in my house.”
“Wrong,” I hiss, rising off the floor. Twig’s ocean blues seize my heart as he blinks with disgust. He forgave my indiscretions once. He won’t again. I may have found myself, but I’ve lost him. “This is my house now, whore.”
As Zig salivates over her sexy black platforms with thick straps, I assess everyone’s position and the keys dangling from her fingers. “I don’t know what kind of joke this is, but I won’t be toyed with by this group of rogue vigilantes!”
Sticking her arm through the bars, she tries to stick the key in the lock as Zig quietly skirts up behind. The keys fall…on the other side of the door. He pulls her body to him amidst a flurry of screams.
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