Black Light: Roulette War

by Grant, Livia

  She’s always been someone’s baby, their little princess.

  She’d never want someone like you.

  Not without Roulette.

  The devil on his shoulder was prodding him again, spawning doubt in his stomach as he squeezed the red ball in his fist, pouring all the tension from his body into that tight, white-knuckled grip.

  Shifting to one knee beside her, Pierce slid the rope cuffs over her wrists, pulling the piece that let him tighten them before he tied it off. Be sure. “Did you hear what I said about the ball?”

  “Drop it if I need to call yellow. Someone is watching for you.” Tori twisted to look at him, surprising him with how calm she seemed after her panic. “Thank you, sir.”

  “For what?” he asked as he tested the cuffs, running his fingers along the inside of each so he knew they weren’t too tight.

  “For keeping me safe,” she whispered, and he felt the doubt burning in his belly.

  Shit.

  Catching the back of her neck, he held her firmly as he leaned in close to whisper against her ear, “Do you need me to back off?”

  “No, sir,” she said just as quietly, but it wasn’t enough. The goddamn doubt wasn’t going anywhere.

  Fuck. Fucking fuck.

  “Listen to me, Tori.” He paused, touching his head to hers as he tried to sound as sincere as he was. “I promise I would never let you get hurt. Not really. I know it’s impossible to trust someone you just met, but I need you to believe that at the very least.”

  Tori pulled away from him, and as he dropped his hand from her, for a split second, he felt true, raw, stomach-dropping fear that he really had pushed her too far. Crossed a line. Ruined whatever this was. But then he saw her. The look on her face wasn’t panicked or angry — well, she looked a little annoyed with the way her brows pulled together and her mouth thinned, but it was… cute. Then she shook her head a little, voice serious. “That’s not true.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “I do trust you, sir.” She shifted her shoulders back, straightening up again as she met his gaze without a single waver. “I want you to use me like a… filthy fuckdoll.” Her cheeks burned bright with the word, and he couldn’t deny the way his cock returned to an almost painful hardness as she braved on. “I do. I want you to fuck my face again. I want to take it like a good girl, or a slut, or whatever. I just want to taste you. I promise. I believe you, I trust you, and I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” A little smile quirked up one side of her mouth and she tilted her head a bit with her cheeks still perfectly pink. “Well, not like that anyway. Not in a bad way.”

  Pierce was stunned into silence again. Goddamn. The girl had a weird habit of doing that to him, and his brain fumbled to catch up, trying to process everything she’d just laid at his feet like a gift. After everything he’d already said, already done, he couldn’t see a single sign of deception in her. She meant every word. She trusted him.

  “Thank you.” That was all he could get past his lips before he reached up, pushing her hair behind her ear to catch her by the back of the neck and pull her into a fierce kiss.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her the first time, caught up in the heat of the moment, in the heady power of feeling her come in his arms even when she’d thought she couldn’t. It had felt amazing, she’d tasted as sweet and innocent as her outfit had pretended to be — but it had felt wrong the moment it was over. Kissing her like that just after he’d criticized her for pretending intimacy with her scene name. It was impulsive, hypocritical.

  This kiss, though… it tasted like fire.

  A blistering heat that poured down his throat with the first desperate little moan he stole from her, keeping it just for himself. This wasn’t for the audience, it wasn’t for Roulette, this was because of her. Tori. Her sweet submission, her strength, her bravery to continue playing with him… and most of all her trust. That was what stoked the fire inside him into an inferno, burned the doubt away, leaving behind the absolute rightness of this. The feel of her as he slid his arm across her back to pull her further into him. It was perfect, singeing his lips and tongue even though her chin was still wet with saliva. She was a beautiful mess, kissing him back just as fiercely, nipping him back as their tongues danced. Tori was bound and at his mercy, willingly handing herself over to him and trusting him to keep her safe, to make every twisted moment worth it in the end.

  And, oh, the things he wanted to do to her now that all the lights were green.

  Nipping her lip one last time he pulled back just enough to lean his forehead against hers, finding her brilliantly bright eyes focused on his, wide and hungry. “Tell me how bad you want it, little slut.”

  “I want it. Please, please use me,” she begged, breathy and panting and the sound went straight to his balls as he groaned.

  “What are you, Tori?”

  “I’m your filthy little fuckdoll, sir. Please fuck my throat. I promise I’ll be good.” Her wicked tongue danced across her bottom lip and he felt a growl in his chest as a hundred ideas whirled through his head. A thousand things he wanted to do to her, a million times he wanted to see those warm brown eyes looking up at him just like this.

  Pressing the red ball into her palm, he wrapped her fingers over it and squeezed them closed. “If you drop this, I stop, and we don’t continue again. We’ll spin something else, something—”

  “I can handle it,” she interrupted, a fierceness in her voice that made him grin as she tacked on, “Sir.”

  “Brave little slut, aren’t you?” he taunted, pushing himself up from the floor, and her eyes followed him up before dropping to the bulge of his hard-on. All she did was nod, opening her mouth as she moved back into position, and he chuckled. “Forget something?”

  “Sorry, sir. Yes, sir, I’m… I’m a brave little slut.”

  “That’s right,” he said, circling her to trace his fingers across the large, black letters that spelled out ‘SLUT’ across her back. A shiver went through her muscles, but it wasn’t fear or even humiliation anymore. Tori was squeezing her thighs together, her hips shifting slightly, and he knew she would be soaked if he checked, but he had a better idea. Snagging the marker off the chair, he quickly tilted her chin back with a light grip on her throat and wrote ‘FUCKDOLL’ across her chest. Tossing the marker back onto the chair, he squeezed his grip on her neck just enough to feel the heady beat of her pulse under his fingers and tapped the dark letters he’d drawn with his other hand. “What else are you, Tori?”

  “Your fuckdoll,” she answered, and he groaned.

  Mine.

  “That’s right. My fuckdoll.” Releasing her, he pulled out his cock again and tempted fate with a single stroke down his shaft, but it was worth it just to see the way her eyes followed his hand. “Open.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her lips parted, still red from how rough he’d been before, but he had no plans of being gentle now. She wanted to be a brave little slut, wanted to be used like a filthy little fuckdoll, and he was going to give it to her.

  Sliding into her mouth again was pure sin, her lips sealed around him, her tongue moving as she moved her head back and forth, sucking him. It was tempting to let her continue, but he took the control back, winding both hands into her hair to grip hard. “Don’t forget about the ball. Drop it if you have to, because otherwise I’m going to use you exactly how I want to.”

  There was a hum of sound around his shaft that made him growl as she strained to pull him deeper, and he gave it to her. Thrusting past the back of her throat, into the tight heat that felt like a stroke of lightning up his spine when she struggled to swallow.

  “Fuck,” he grunted, pulling back so he wouldn’t come already. Risking one glance at the audience, he made sure the dom was still there, watching for the ball in Tori’s hand to move, and when he met the man’s gaze, he nodded and looked down at Tori.

  Not smart.

  She was looking up at him, her lips stretched around his shaft, tongue teasing the undersid
e of his cock, and he knew he didn’t have long. He watched her take the next thrust, the way her eyes flickered shut as he forced it deep and held. It was pure willpower that kept him from coming as she choked, throat squeezing the head of his cock, but she lasted longer this time. Let him pulse his hips in shallow thrusts that kept her air sealed away, at his mercy, but he felt when her body jerked and he pulled back. A flood of drool followed the path of his shaft, air hissing desperately through her nose along with the sweetest little sounds, and then all that drool spilled over his balls when he drove deep again. Then he picked up the rhythm he needed, fucking her throat exactly how he wanted to — hard, fast, only pausing to feel her body plead for air for a moment or two.

  He wanted it to last forever, but it wasn’t possible, not when he saw her tear-streaked face and felt the buzz of her moan along his shaft. Letting her steal another breath, he pushed as deep as he could go, and felt his balls draw tight, electric bliss rushing through his bones as he came with a shout, spilling into her throat. The world blinked out of existence for a long, perfect flash of white where there was nothing but mind-numbing ecstasy, compounded by the continuous ripple of her muscles around his cock as she swallowed every drop. It was glorious, heady, overwhelming as the rush faded. Then, everything wobbled, his heart racing as he opened his eyes to watch her squirming at his feet. Hips wiggling, arms working at the rope, but he held on. Waited until he felt her try to jerk back, a low buzz running over his sensitive nerves as she likely pled for air. A glance at the man in the audience confirmed she hadn’t let go of the ball… because his fierce little fuckdoll was so much more than she appeared.

  When another desperate squeeze of her throat became too much, he finally pulled back and released her, simply staring as she immediately dropped forward. Gasping and coughing, drool spilling past her lips to the plastic in front of her knees as little whines turned the noises into music.

  She was beautiful. Better than he’d imagined as he stumbled a step back, tucking himself into his boxers before he dropped into the oversized chair to watch her. When she eventually looked up at him, still breathing hard, he actually felt his cock twitch even though there was no way he was fucking her yet — but he wanted to, God did he want to fuck her.

  Later.

  Shaking out his wrist, Pierce checked his watch and was shocked to see that it was already past nine-thirty. Holy shit. Three hours had seemed so long before. Before he knew who he had, before it was Tori. Now it didn’t seem like enough.

  Still, he wasn’t ready to go back to the stage to spin. Not quite. He wanted to memorize everything about this moment. The way her makeup was smudged around her eyes from the tears, the flush in her cheeks, the wet redness of her mouth. And she was so wet. Her chin was shiny, her breasts sparkling with trails of saliva, and he knew exactly how wet her pussy got. He’d written the word right above her sweet cunt as a reminder.

  As his eyes landed on the floor in front of her knees, he knew exactly how he wanted to round out their first spin.

  “Tsk, tsk. Look at the mess you made, fuckdoll,” he said, reading the word off her chest. A grin spread across his lips as her wide eyes dropped to the plastic under her knees.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “I think it’s only polite if you clean it up like a good little slut.” Pierce watched her shoulders shift, likely tugging at the rope still tied around her wrists, but Tori wasn’t stupid. It only took a second or two before she looked back up at him, understanding dawning on her face, and he snapped his fingers before pointing at the spots of drool. “Now.”

  The audience shifted to watch her as she shuffled back enough to bend forward, spreading her legs to improve her balance before she started lapping at the wet places on the plastic. It crinkled with every movement, and a few chuckles and appreciative sounds fluttered around the platform as a few of the couples clapped before drifting away toward the next scene.

  Only the older couple stayed behind long enough to smile at him, the dom nodding his head before he guided his sub away. It shouldn’t have felt like approval — shouldn’t have mattered at all — but for some reason Pierce felt a swell of pride from the acknowledgement.

  He’d kept her safe like he’d promised to, made sure she could stop it if she needed to, which had let him push her further than any other sub he’d tried to facefuck.

  And Tori had surprised him once again, although it was quickly becoming normal for the babygirl turned fuckdoll to stun him. He’d wanted someone interesting, and luck had clearly been on his side tonight.

  He just had to hope their luck would hold out for the next spin, because he wasn’t done with her yet.

  Chapter 8

  Tori

  Tori was relieved when the crowd had dissipated before she’d finished licking her drool off the plastic, but it hadn’t been as bad as she thought it would be. It was demeaning, humiliating, but when she looked at Pierce and saw the way he watched her, the hunger, the lust, she’d made sure there wasn’t a single drop left behind. Of course, humiliation was what they’d spun, and he had delivered on it — and then some.

  She could still feel the buzz between her thighs from the repeated orgasms, the hyper-awareness of her clit with every step they took toward the stage. He hadn’t let her dress, hadn’t even removed the rope from her wrists while he’d thrown their things in his bag. People stared at them as they walked through the bar area and back toward the theater, and she knew what they saw on her skin.

  FUCKDOLL. BABY. DIRTY GIRL. WET. SLUT.

  The burn in her cheeks was out of her control, a reaction to so many faces turning to follow her naked body across the room, but with Pierce’s hand on the back of her neck she kept her chin high. She wasn’t just anyone’s fuckdoll, she’d never been someone’s fuckdoll before at all, but she was his and that thought was rolling through her mind like a thunderstorm. Flashes of lightning illuminating parts of herself she’d never seen, never thought to seek out, but Pierce had seen them inside her. He’d seen past Baby, pulled all of the things away that made her feel like Baby, and shown her someone completely new.

  A version of herself she would have never imagined in a million years… but she liked it.

  She liked being his fuckdoll. His slut. His soaking wet dirty girl.

  Of all the things written on her skin, the only one she didn’t feel like right now was the name she’d walked in with. Those thoughts kept spinning, rearranging parts of herself as Pierce guided her up the stairs with a hand on her arm. When they got to the wheel, Madison’s eyes went a little wide as she looked her over.

  “You two seem like you’ve had fun,” she said, smiling like they shared an inside joke.

  “We’re not done yet,” Pierce replied, positioning himself behind her to shield her from the few people still sitting in the theater. “Baby needs to spin.”

  Tori’s nose wrinkled when she heard that name from his lips, and the instantaneous reaction only added more confusion to the hurricane in her head. Madison’s bright laugh pulled her back to reality. “Well, can you give her a hand?”

  A second later she felt the rope loosening around one wrist, but Pierce didn’t remove it completely.

  “She only needs one, right?” Pierce said, his voice a sinful purr over her shoulder.

  “Perfectly fine.” Madison shrugged in acknowledgement and handed Tori the ball as she spun the wheel.

  So many things.

  There were so many things the marble could land on. Taking a deep breath, Tori let go and watched it bounce and then spin, the wheel clicking as it began to slow. Pierce’s hand was on the back of her neck again, squeezing, and it made her feel a little better as the marble finally rocked into a slot.

  “The violet wand!” Madison called, and Tori felt a chill rush over her skin as Pierce chuckled, low and dark.

  “Come on, my little fuckdoll,” he whispered into her ear, leading her off the stage and back into the play area. On the way back, Tori didn’t pay atte
ntion to any of the stares, she was too distracted imagining the violet wand. She’d seen one before, and it looked like it fell out of a sci-fi movie and somehow found its way into a BDSM dungeon. The device crackled and popped, and the sounds the sub had made were anything but pleasure.

  Suddenly, she was jerked to a stop by Pierce’s fingers catching her hair. He stared down at her, eyes once more back to evaluating, judging, peeling away all her layers, but he only said one word. “Talk.”

  “What do you want me to say, sir?” she asked, and he lifted his brows, letting the silence stretch until it made her more uncomfortable than the subtle sting skittering over her scalp. “I’ve never played with the violet wand before.”

  “And?” he prompted, not giving her anything more, which left her once more with his silent, appraising stare. There was nowhere else to look as close as he was to her front, his shirt brushing her nipples.

  “I’m not a masochist,” she whispered, feeling guilty over it, her brain already reminding her of how disappointing that was to most doms… and someone like Pierce? He probably had a whip collection, or a wall of canes, and— “Fuck!”

  The spank had caught her completely off guard, and it had not been a mild warning. It fucking hurt, and her ass burned where she was sure his handprint glowed in a perfect transfer, but before she could even finish reacting to that his thumb brushed over her nipple. Circling the hard, little bud in teasing strokes that had her leaning into his hand. “Your reaction to the spanking calls you a liar, little whore, and you know I don’t like liars.”

  “But that— SIR!” Tori whined as his thumb and forefinger suddenly clamped down on her nipple, pain spiraling out like a wave from the singular point. When he pulled, she lifted onto her toes, trying desperately to ease the ache.

  “Just wait,” he commanded, his voice calm but serious. After another agonizing second, he let go, and she gasped as the pain receded. “Now, how do you feel?”