Guilty Pleasures

by Kitty Thomas

  “Relax.” He pulled back the covers and nudged her toward the bed again. She curled up on the mattress, and he covered her with the duvet. “Sleep now. You’ve got lots of new experiences tomorrow.”

  The two men left her with a painfully sore ass and only silence to comfort her.

  TEN

  Vivian had lain in bed for thirty minutes before she threw off the covers in frustration. The chain barely reached the door. To her surprise, the knob turned easily in her hand. But with the restraining metal cuff, an unlocked door was pointless. A tease.

  She flicked the light switch and pushed a button to turn on the flat screen television. Nothing happened. Was it just for show? Her gaze shifted to the security camera overhead, aimed at the bed, red light flashing. Recording her every move. She wondered if she’d be punished for this.

  She opened the trunk next and wished she hadn’t. Riding crops, whips, canes, floggers, paddles, nipple clamps, gags, blindfolds, ropes . . .

  On one end of the room stood a chest of drawers. The drawers on one side contained lingerie, mostly corsets. The other had swimsuits, white T-shirts, and brightly-colored sporty gym shorts. The top drawer was socks and tennis shoes. Everything was in her size.

  She glanced at the cracked bathroom door. She’d kill for a shower about now, if for nothing more than psychological reasons. She knew she couldn’t really clean off anything that happened, but she could pretend.

  No matter what Anton had made her say under duress, or how much her body agreed with him, once she’d been left alone, she had some serious fucking doubts. But that was good. Doubts made her sane.

  Anton and even Gabe, were hot and took care of themselves. She could see where she might want them in some visceral, primal way. She could even understand where some part of her might want them to bend her over a counter and take her from behind.

  But everything else? She shuddered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself, becoming more aware of the physical chain binding her to this location.

  She let the shower run for a few seconds to get warm, then stepped into the first private and safe space she’d had since stupidly walking back into Dome.

  Once under the spray, the dam burst. She cried over what she’d lost and the unknowns about her future. Would Anton keep his word and sell her to someone who would own her but not abuse her? Or not abuse her beyond the simple act of ownership? Could she be content under someone else’s full command?

  She thought about the way Michael had treated her like his maid and how infuriated it made her. Would she have felt differently if there had been a more sexually-dominant edge? If she hadn’t felt caught in limbo between her darkest sexual fantasies and her tame and unfulfilling reality?

  Vivian hissed when she turned and the water hit the still-painful globes of her ass. Her hand froze momentarily when she realized both the shampoo and soap were lavender.

  When she was clean and had stopped crying, she turned off the water and dried herself. The reflective surface of the mirror over the sink beckoned to her to inspect the angry, red welts. She ran her fingertips over the marks and stared at them for a long time until she saw movement behind her and spun around.

  Annette stood in the bathroom doorway, still in the black robe with the leather collar around her neck.

  “What are you doing here?” Vivian wasn’t feeling particularly generous toward the woman at the moment.

  The blonde’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Vivian fought to bite back a nasty remark. The other woman might push the tattletale button again.

  “Vivian, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry with me. I had to push the button. He was watching the surveillance footage, and he would have known I was upset. That was what he told me to do. I can’t disobey him.”

  She looked like a lost little girl, her pose defensive, genuinely upset she’d done something that had led to distress for another.

  Vivian sighed, the anger leaking out of her. “Don’t cry. It’s not like he made me bleed.” She enfolded the other woman in her arms, forgetting about her nudity until the soft silk of the robe pressed against her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, her mons. The curves of her body molded against the curves of Annette, with only a thin scrap of fabric separating them.

  A moment later, Annette’s mouth had found and was sucking on Vivian’s pulse point as her hands gently soothed the marks left by Anton’s paddle.

  Vivian had always noticed beautiful women and had never been repelled by a hot girl-on-girl kiss. At the same time, she’d never felt the need to explore or experiment, always assuming her heterosexuality was a settled thing.

  As Annette’s soft lips kissed a line from Vivian’s throat to her mouth, it seemed perhaps the issue of her orientation was more flexible than she’d wanted to admit. She opened her mouth under the warm, insistent tongue, and felt the first flames of arousal as the other woman let out a strangled whimper against her.

  She could taste Annette’s strawberry lip gloss and wanted to eat it right off her mouth. Instead, she gently gripped the woman’s arms and led her back to the bedroom. She fumbled with the tie of Annette’s robe, and soon the blonde’s ample breasts were tumbling out, thrusting into Vivian’s waiting hands.

  “Wait,” Vivian said.

  “What’s wrong?” Annette looked self-conscious, having come back to herself. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted . . . ”

  Vivian shook her head and pointed at the camera. “It’s not that. What about Anton? Will we get in trouble?” She couldn’t believe those words had just come out of her mouth, as if she were a child waiting for a scolding for taking a cookie from the jar before dinner.

  Annette grinned. “He lets me play with any of the girls I want to, as long as they want to.” She glanced back at the camera. “He likes to watch. And it gives him something hot to show prospective buyers.”

  A bolt of lust shot through Vivian at the idea of Anton sitting in his bedroom or a private office somewhere else in the mansion, watching the security cameras and jerking himself to the sight of her and Annette in bed together. A mewling sound slipped past her lips at the thought of Gabe, and perhaps even Lindsay watching the performance as well.

  Her face burned at the memory of the doctor in the coat room at Sakura. She’d masturbated to the fantasy of letting him finish bringing her off more times than she cared to admit.

  She jumped as feminine fingers explored between her legs.

  “You do want to play with me, don’t you, Vivian? I can make you feel good.”

  She looked into Annette’s eyes and threaded her fingers through her hair. The blonde was so sweet and soft. So pliant and submissive, even with Vivian. It was hard to imagine such a woman would have the nerve to approach Anton at Dome, knowing what he was and what he did, and just offering herself to him to do with as he wished. She was a hell of a lot braver than Vivian.

  In answer to the question, she led Annette to the bed.

  “I’ve never really . . . with a woman . . . I don’t know what to do.”

  A giggle escaped Annette’s mouth. It was the best sound Vivian had heard all day, and she found herself utterly charmed by the woman, no longer upset over the red button.

  Annette pushed her gently back on the bed and urged her legs apart. “I’ll do to you what I like done to me, and then you can do it. Okay?”

  Vivian nodded and allowed herself to relax against the pillows. Annette bent over her, her long hair falling forward, teasing the already hardened peaks of Vivian’s breasts. Her mouth followed, taking hold of one nipple and sucking it into her mouth. With her other hand, she fondled Vivian between her legs.

  Vivian let out a gasp. She’d never experienced a sexual encounter so gentle that was still so satisfying. The constant red blinking on the camera seemed to match the rhythm of the throbbing in her pussy. Her eyes remained trained on the lens, staring out at Anton and whoever else was watching the show as she arched her back in response to Annette’s teasing.
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br />   Then the woman buried her head between Vivian’s legs. She jerked at the first experimental flick of tongue against flesh and found her hands reaching down to pet Annette’s golden hair, urging her on. The blonde whimpered at the stroking and lapped at the bundle of nerves, occasionally plunging her tongue inside, probing and fucking her with it.

  Vivian clenched at the sheets, the chain on her wrist making a light tinkling sound each time she jerked against the other woman’s mouth. She felt herself coming undone and screamed her release, uncaring of who might come through the door at the sound.

  Annette lapped even more diligently, wringing every ripple of orgasmic pleasure she could from her, and at the same time, thoroughly cleaning the wet mess Vivian’s body had created in response to such a talented tongue.

  “Stop, I can’t take anymore. Stop.”

  The blonde laughed and got off her. “The men will make you come until they’re tired of manipulating your body. Fair warning.”

  Vivian felt a faint tremor at that, unsure if the shudder was from fear or excitement. And unsure she wanted to know.

  Annette stretched out on the bed beside her, a question in her eyes. She didn’t have to hear the words to know the blonde wondered if Vivian––now sexually sated––was still interested in further exploration.

  In response, Vivian straddled her, starkly aware of how her ass was on display for the camera. Not sure what got into her, she spread her legs a bit more to give the men a better view of what was between her thighs.

  Annette’s pussy glistened wet, already slick and ready. Vivian slid a finger inside and withdrew it to experimentally lick the digit, moaning softly at the taste of her. Annette bucked against the air, impatient for her to continue.

  “More?” Vivian said, teasing and gaining more confidence.

  “Yes, please.”

  Vivian moved lower, inhaling the musky aroma of arousal. Then she went down on another woman for the first time.

  Vivian woke the next morning to moaning and heavy breathing. She thought at first other people were there, but when she sat up and rubbed her eyes, she found the room empty. The sounds were coming from the TV.

  On the screen with a perfect color picture, was an image of her and Annette. Watching herself with the other woman, shamelessly thrusting her ass at the camera, performing, made her wet again.

  The idea that Anton was going to show this video to prospective buyers only served to make her hotter. She spread her legs and slid her hand under the covers. The door slammed open, making her jump guiltily.

  Gabe stepped into the room, six feet of tanned blond Adonis, and looked at her with a knowing smirk. His green eyes sparkled with more than a hint of amusement. “You dirty little slut. Are we going to have to make you sleep in a chastity belt? It’ll mean you have to wait for one of us to take you to the bathroom. A chore we all find tedious, I assure you.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Get up.”

  She was naked under the covers and though he’d seen it all, and probably her first foray into lesbian porn the night before, she found herself still shy and unable to obey him.

  “I will flog you if necessary. You can start the morning with pain or pleasure. Your call. Your only choices in this house are to obey the first time, every time, or to be punished and then obey.”

  Her hand shook a little as she pulled back the duvet and climbed out of bed. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the ground.

  He’d closed the door, but hadn’t moved closer to her yet. She was reminded of when Anton had asked her to strip, how uncomfortable she was being exposed in such vulnerability without the other person’s physical closeness. Without the intimacy.

  She remained silent, unable to look at him as he continued.

  “From this point on, when I or any other male walks into this room, you will immediately leave the bed or stop whatever you’re doing, crawl to him, and kiss his boots. Then you will kneel at his feet and wait for further instruction.”

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and she wanted to find a hole to bury herself in, some small space to shield her from the scrutiny she knew was on her. Something that would tamp down the desire welling from within. Was this really happening? Perhaps she was only having a long and vivid erotic dream.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  There was a long beat of silence. A silence so loud, it hummed and almost turned into its own sound.

  “Well?” he demanded, as if she really were the stupidest female he’d ever encountered.

  She looked up to see the impatience behind his eyes.

  “Now,” he said, his tone turning harsher.

  She dropped to the floor feeling as graceful as a T-Rex and crawled awkwardly over to him. The smell of freshly cleaned leather reached her nostrils as she arrived at his feet. She bent and brushed her lips over the supple leather of each boot, then waited as commanded for further instruction.

  “I’m going to ask you a question and the only thing I care about is honesty. There is no correct or incorrect answer.” He paused for a moment as if letting her prepare herself for his next words. “Are you wet right now?”

  Dripping. “Yes, Sir,” she said so softly she wasn’t sure he could hear her.

  “Are you ashamed of that?”

  Slow tears slid down her cheeks at the soft words. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Don’t be. That’s just how you react to this kind of stimuli. Stop worrying about what it says about you or how weird you are, or anything else. Just be. Not a single person here is going to judge you for it. We are molding you into what we want you to be. Obeying us pleases us. Forget everything from before. It won’t serve you here.”

  She’d had her hands in her lap, staring at his boots, listening as the words fell over her. One half of her wanted to rebel, scream, fight, because she hadn’t said any of this was okay. The other half felt peace for maybe the first time ever, no longer drifting in some listless sea unsure of her purpose and unable to find one.

  Vivian wanted to grab the peace and never let go, but she was afraid if she did, she would lose herself completely. She was scared to look in the mirror and see a shell instead of a person, a set of conditioned responses instead of a personality. She wanted to pour all of this out on Gabe, in hopes that he would understand or comfort her, but she couldn’t.

  Not only because she might be punished for speaking out of turn, but because entrusting him with her deepest feelings and fears only moved her in the direction of that fear. The only self-protection left was keeping her feelings and thoughts to herself, even as she knew they would be changed by these powerful men holding her prisoner.

  She flinched when she felt his hand unexpectedly petting her hair.

  “There’s a lot going on in there, isn’t there?” he said.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Everybody feels these things in the beginning. You’ll be just fine. I promise.”

  Promises from a criminal––from one of a gang of criminals––weren’t as reassuring as promises from someone sane and upstanding would have been. But criminals and victims were all she was surrounded with anymore.

  She felt him tugging gently at her and pulling her to her feet. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuff. She stared at his big hands as they encircled her wrists. To an untrained eye, her gaze averted from his might have been seen as submission, but it was embarrassment, shame. She knew Gabe must know it. He’d seen this too many times. But he didn’t taunt her; he just inspected her wrist.

  “You’re a little chafed. You must toss and turn like a madwoman in your sleep.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll have someone come by to switch this out for a cuff made out of something softer with a lining, so it won’t hurt you.”

  She looked up, shocked. “Thank you.” She hadn’t expected the small kindness or the concern.

  He held her gaze trapped in his. “I told you,
we aren’t complete monsters here. We are selling healthy, well-trained slaves to men who can afford the very best. We are not selling broken dolls no one wants to play with.” He took her hand and led her to the bathroom.

  She felt herself once again falling under this bizarre seduction. The way she’d let herself go with Anton on the massage table until forced orgasms seemed like an idea she’d thought up.

  And now, she felt herself being seduced once again, first by the gentle lovemaking of Annette the night before, and now by Gabe. The house must be run like a well-oiled machine. Everything so calculated. How many different trainers would she have? And would each of them possess this much self-control?

  Even when Anton was angry, he’d used enough restraint to keep himself from harming her. He’d seemed upset to be causing her distress, which felt at odds with the situation. If one didn’t want to cause women distress, a great first step would be not running a training camp for sex slaves out of your mansion.

  Vivian wondered if Anton could truly care for Annette. Had they forged a bond stronger than the kind of puppies and kittens love she’d had beaten into her brain by fairy tales and Disney movies? Could she have the same? Did she want the same?

  She watched as Gabe stripped off his clothes and started the water in the shower. His tan highlighted muscles he’d obviously worked hard for. She wanted so badly to ask why he, Lindsay, Anton . . . why any of them would take a job like this or start a business like this. They could have anyone they wanted.

  Vivian took his offered hand and let him guide her into the shower, let him position her, and place her hands flat against the tile. She listened to the click of the shower gel lid popping open and then the squirt as he squeezed some onto a loofah.

  He lathered her body while his back took the hot, pounding of the spray, then he put the loofah aside and used his hands to massage each inch of her, kneading her flesh and turning bathing into foreplay. His hands played over her breasts, tweaking her nipples, then plunged between her legs and the cleft between her cheeks. He was more gentle as his hands moved over the bruises Anton had given her.