Sanctum: Saving Setora (Book Two) (Dark Dystopian Reverse Harem MC Romance)

by Raven Dark

  “Doc, I’ll take it from here. Everyone but Steel, get out.”

  I heard Doc stand up from the chair and back away far enough for me to see him with his hands up, eyes amused. Sheriff went behind me and sat on the chair, moving it up so that it sat right between my legs.

  Except for Steel, everyone filed out, including Doc.

  I tried to turn to look at Sheriff, but the strap on my back held me in place. “Wait, you’re going to do it, Master?” My fear mounted until I felt dizzy.

  “I am. Come here.” He ran his hand over my back, as if allowing his palms to memorize every inch of my skin. “Look at this perfect, smooth skin. It’s just right for our mark.”

  His voice was different than I’d ever heard before; quiet, fascinated, and warm like a heated blanket on a cold night. “Relax, sweetheart. Breathe.”

  The soothing tone, firm with command, compelled me to do everything this man said and more. I inhaled and then let the breath out slowly.

  “Good girl.” His hand reached around me from behind, and while the other hand lifted my hips up, he opened the front of my cadris pants, then slowly pulled them down to my hips, exposing my backside. “I have the perfect way to relax you.”

  I swallowed again, every muscle in me coiled tight, the exact opposite of what he wanted. My blood raced high and hot, my exposed sex already going slick for him.

  “Don’t think about it. Say the poem, Petal.” Steel’s voice focused me.

  “My love, my stars, my moon and sun, I have loved you for eternity. On this day—”

  “Good girl,” Sheriff cooed. The needle started to buzz again, filling my ears. My breathing sawed in and out.

  “The poem, Petal. Talk to me.”

  I recited again.

  The needle stabbed and then started a burning searing line along my lower back. I hissed and held in a whimper, but the line kept burning, moving agonizingly slow over a small spot on my skin.

  “Say it again, Petal.”

  I did, panting the words out. This time, Steel said it with me, his voice a soft chant in my ear while his warm hands cupped my face.

  “My love, my stars, my moon and sun, I have loved you for eternity. On this day, your nectar is its sweetest, your love is my greatest treasure. Your heart is a sanctum to my body’s pleasure.”

  “Good girl. You’re taking this great.” Sheriff bent so close I felt his breath on my skin, his voice full of concentration. Then, after what seemed like forever, the needle stopped, shut off, and I felt a cloth dab at my skin.

  “See? That’s not so bad, is it?”

  I sniffed and gripped Steel’s shoulders.

  Sheriff slid his hand through my legs, stroking my clit. I jumped at the sudden contact. He strummed slowly, teasing, alternating the pressure. His breath fanned my upper back.

  “Here we go again. Stay relaxed.”

  I nodded and panted.

  The needle started. Pain blazed, a fiery line. Steel whispered to me, I recited the poem, Steel murmuring it with me. Sheriff stopped, stroked my wet clit until I wriggled into his touch, and then he started the needle again, only this time, the pain seemed to stimulate my stoked desire until it made my blood run like fire.

  “If I wasn’t doing your back, I’d be eating you out, sweetheart,” Sheriff said while he stroked me once more.

  I moaned, visions of his mouth on me flooding my mind. The needle burned, and I almost came.

  When Sheriff stopped the needle again, his breathing had quickened. “Do you know how fucking hot you look right now?” he growled. “You’re gonna look so perfect with our mark covering every inch of this gorgeous back. Makes me hard just thinking about it.”

  I heard his belt clink.

  Maker, was he…

  In my peripheral, I saw him stand up, then I felt his cock teasing my aching core.

  He was.

  “Relax and open for me. I can’t do this for hours without being inside you.” His voice was like a tongue licking at my clit. There was a click, and the bench began to raise up in the air a little at a time as if he was raising it with a pump or pedal, until it stood off the ground an extra foot or so.

  With my bottom exposed to the room, I knew he’d have perfect access to me. I spread my legs as much as I could while keeping them on the support and my back flattened. He secured my thighs with a soft leather strap to the table. Smoothing my back all the way to my thighs while avoiding the small section he’d worked on across my lower back, he slid into me, a single, slow, controlled stroke that filled me and set every nerve in me on fire.

  With him seated in me to the hilt, the needle began it’s buzzing.

  Oh, he wouldn’t.

  But he was. Sheriff bent over my back, needle working slowly, his cock sheathed inside me like it was all in a day’s work. He remained absolutely still inside me, without thrusting or rocking into me; only leaving himself there, in total control.

  The agony of the needle became an exquisite pain, stoking my need and making me feel every inch of him so much more intensely, and I swore his cock felt like it grew even bigger inside me. With the straps keeping me in place, the sensations became too much, with no choice but to submit to him. I whimpered and wailed.

  Minutes passed with Sheriff’s cock filling me, him working away as if it wasn’t even there, a painter with his living canvas. I sobbed, not with sadness, but with longing.

  Having stood and bent down to me, Steel smiled against my ear, suddenly reminding me he was there. “Man, you look sexy as fuck, strapped down with my General’s cock buried in your fucking pussy and him leaving our mark on you.”

  I panted, need tearing me in two.

  “Master, how can you be inside me like that while working on a tattoo at the same time?” His self-control had to be unreal. It made me think of Hawk, made me wish he was there for such an important event as this.

  “It’s easy, sweetheart. I once did a tattoo on a woman’s breast with her sucking me off the whole time. It was great.”

  The casual way he said that made my eyes widen as much as the words themselves. Jealousy cut at me, imagining some poor woman, with him working that wretched needle on her burning breast while she licked and sucked at him for hours. I wanted that woman to be me. I looked at Steel, whose eyes sparkled. My mouth watered for a taste of the cock filling me, and my clit hummed. Sheriff stopped the needle, gave my clit a few strokes like he could feel the need tearing me apart, and then thrust slowly in and out of me, hands on my hips.

  “Ahh…”

  “You like that, little spy?”

  I nodded, panting heavily. “Please, Master, I can’t stand it. I need...”

  “You can stand it just fine.” His voice was firm, a leader’s voice. He stopped, seated fully in me again. The needle buzzed. Pain burned, and white lights sliced across my vision. I came with a shudder and a cry.

  Sheriff didn’t stop.

  The cycle went on for what I figured was probably a couple of hours, but felt like an eternity. Sheriff worked on the tattoo, then stopped and teased my clit or fucked me slow and hard, desire always giving the pain a heady edge, the pain always keeping my desire high. Pain and pleasure fed off of each other like demons.

  “Who knew my Petal was such a pain whore.” Steel nibbled my ear.

  “I’ll have to remember this when you’re tied to my bed again,” Sheriff added, slipping in and out of me, going still, and then starting his needle again.

  The threat sent the memory of his belt on my ass, those straps on my wrists, careening through my mind, and I groaned.

  Just when I thought I’d die, the needle stopped one last time and Sheriff leaned over me, his breath on my cheek. “There. All done until tomorrow.”

  But he didn’t slide out of me. Instead, he finished up with my back, remaining hilt-deep in me the whole time.

  Steel reached for the strap across my upper back.

  “No, leave it,” Sheriff nodded toward the entrance to the cave. “Get ou
t, Steel.”

  Steel’s face split into a wide grin that made my sex throb every bit as much as the implications of Sheriff leaving me strapped down. He kissed the top of my head and stood up. “Later, Petal.”

  When he was gone, Sheriff’s strong hands slid slowly down my sides to my hips. He cupped them possessively. Every inch of me burned with need, but still...

  “Master, please…now?”

  Sheriff rumbled in affirmation. “You expect a man to look at you like this for over an hour and not fuck you?” He ground himself deep into me, making sure his solid rod of a cock stroked every nerve inside me. “The thought of your gorgeous little back covered in my men’s mark is gonna keep me hard for days.”

  The realization jumped out at me then; he wasn’t exactly being nice, but there was no threat in his voice, and he didn’t call me a spy the same way he had been. I didn’t think Sheriff had it in him to be anything but demanding, hard, and unyielding—always the most domineering of masters—and leaders.

  He took his time, fucking me slowly, grinding and then teasing, gliding wetly in and out of my sheath.

  “So good. I could fuck your sweet pussy all day and still be hard as a rock.” He reached around and strummed my sopping clit until I ground into him. The palm of his other hand cupped my ass hard, stilling me. “Don’t move.”

  But with his fingers circling and sliding over my clit, I couldn’t stop myself. I panted desperately, and he stroked a little faster, his other hand gripping me tighter.

  “Master, please. Please!” I clawed at the bench, and my legs quaked, my toes curling hard.

  I heard him laugh, a low, wicked sound. He raked his nails up the back of my thigh. The sting added to the now fading burn on my back, and I moaned helplessly. The merciless strokes of his fingers on my clit and the half-glides of his cock became a cruel torment.

  Then when I thrashed especially hard, desperate for the smallest ounce of control, he grunted, and his control snapped at last. Sheriff grabbed my hips and started pounding into me, fast and wild.

  “The next time I do this,” he growled, “that tattoo’ll be all healed and I’m gonna paint it with my come.”

  The pure possession in his words, the idea of him leaving that kind of mark on me, sent me over the edge. I cried out and clenched around him, letting out scream after scream while he hammered out his need. My orgasm exploded and so did his; he spilled into me with a curse and a roar.

  We remained where we were, both panting, Sheriff’s hands massaging my backside and legs, his half hard cock still inside me.

  “Master?” I licked my lips, unsure why it was so hard to say what I wanted to say.

  “Mm.” He slid out of me at least. He sprayed my back with some kind of antiseptic, then started to cover my tattoo with something that felt like gauze and adhesive. He took his time and still didn’t undo that strap on my upper back or my legs.

  “You’re different with me now, you know.”

  “Am I? How so?”

  What did I hear in his voice?

  “You’re not as…mean.”

  His chuckle sounded almost gentle. “What’s your point, sweetheart?”

  “Well, I mean, why? Does this mean you don’t think I’m a spy anymore, Master?”

  “Awe, hell. I knew you weren’t a spy the night we played Bluff.” Only when he was finished tidying up the equipment did he finally undo the straps and release me.

  I sat up slowly, looking at him as I took the clip out of my hair and set it on the table where the tattooing tools lay. “What? How, Master?”

  “Because, my little spy, espionage takes some serious skill. You’re smart as a fucking whip, but you lie like shit.” He took a towel and cleaned us both off, wiping off his cock and then my sex.

  A small smile pulled at my mouth. I suspected this was as close as a woman—or perhaps anyone—would ever get to a compliment from Sheriff.

  “I’ll tell you what, though.” He took my chin between his fingers firmly and locked his gaze on mine.

  “What?”

  “I know you were scared as hell to have my needle on you, but you handled it well.”

  I blinked up at him, taken aback.

  “You did good, little spy.” That name, once an insult, was now a caress. Then he dropped his arm, cleared his throat, and stepped back. “All right. Out. Doc’s got other people waiting.”

  Stunned, I stood up, and he swatted my ass with that towel before I could pull my pants up and close them. While I buttoned up and put on my top, I took a deep breath and said, “So, you don’t want to get rid of me anymore, Master?”

  “I think Pretty Boy would kill me if I did. But I’m getting used to you.” His smile was an arrogant twist of his mouth.

  Leaving the cave, my thoughts spun, a silly grin on my face. I didn’t know what I’d heard under in Sheriff’s voice, or what it meant, and perhaps he still didn’t exactly trust me. In fact, I had no idea what that man felt for me, but whatever it was, it was a start.

  Now, if I could just get Hawk to talk to me...

  Chapter 16

  Conflicted

  Three days passed, and I didn’t see any sign of Hawk after the meeting with Grizzle and his Violet.

  Pretty Boy and Steel told me they were guests, staying at the Grotto for a few days, and since they spent most of their time with Sheriff, I didn’t see the Violet again either, for which I was grateful. I still hadn’t told anyone about what I felt when I was around her, or about the first time it had happened in the bazaar. I should have, I knew, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone something so strange and frightening when I didn’t understand it myself.

  Why, I didn’t know, but every time I thought about it, my heart froze in my chest, the words lodged in my throat. What was I afraid of?

  For the three days following the day Sheriff had started my tattoo, he’d worked on it the way Doc talked about, in sections. It was always covered, no one letting me get a look at it, Pretty Boy maintaining he wanted it to be a surprise. I hated not knowing, not being able to see what was slowly being inked onto my back.

  And some deep-seeded part of me, the part that had been brought up to expect propriety and perfection to dominate my life, wondered what posh and rich Damien would think if he saw the tattoo. Thinking of that caused a smile to curl my lips.

  “What are you smiling at, Princess?” Pretty Boy leaned over to me on a couch at the back of the clubhouse over dinner, the day after the last section of my tattoo had been completed.

  I looked around me. The clubhouse was in high spirits, men arm wrestling, playing billiards, darts and cards, drinking and eating too much greasy food. My masters were all talking and laughing, joking with the others. Unwilling to kill the moment by mentioning my former master, I decided not to explain.

  “Just wishing I could see my tattoo, Master.”

  Sheriff sat back in his throne-like chair, surrounded by his men. “Stand up, sweetheart. Let’s see it.”

  I glanced at him. I still didn’t know what to make of the way he talked to me these days, in a tone without accusation or judgment. Commanding and firm. We hadn’t been intimate since that first tattooing. I didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.

  I stood, cheeks burning, looking around at Bear, Crash, Dozer, T-Man, a handful of the other lower-ranking men. Cherry sat in Crash’s lap, head under his chin. Cherry’s presence made it easier to expose my back in front of these men, making it feel less intrusive.

  I put my hair up in a lazy bun, then slowly, I took off the top of my cadris with Steel’s help. He slid it off my arms.

  “Yeah, it’s all good. It’s healed.” Pretty Boy gently pealed back the liquid bandage and stepped back. “Maker’s tits, it’s perfect. Turn, Princess. Show everyone our mark on you.”

  I licked my lips, arms instructively covering my breasts, and slowly turned, letting everyone in the room see the tattoo that covered every inch of my back, from the shoulders to just above the
slope of my ass

  Ooos and aahs rippled around the room. Cat calls rang out, making me grin.

  “It’s gorgeous, Violet!” Cherry said.

  “Nice,” Sheriff growled, his fingers tracing the newly healed flesh. “You’re official property now. You belong to the Dark Legion.”

  “Can I see?”

  One of the guys moved away from a mirror on one wall. I walked nervously over, turned my back and looked over my shoulder.

  My eyes widened, breathe catching in my throat. The artwork covering my back was a sight to behold.

  In the center, the emblem of the Dark Legion stared back at me, inherently menacing, the hood that surrounded the skull giving it an eerie look. But Sheriff had surrounded the skill with clusters of deep, royal purple violets, and between them forming a cross, four long blades—or were they swords?—laid across my back. Under all of this, the words were stenciled in fancy, flourished lettering.

  Property of The Four.

  I looked at my three masters, my eyes welling up. The four. I knew the words referred to them, the heads of the Dark Legion. I was theirs. The thought made my heart feel huge.

  Four. But only three were there.

  Hawk’s absence stabbed at me deep, and I blinked back tears. He hadn’t been there for my tattooing, and he wasn’t there now, to see it unveiled. The notion threatened to crush me, and suddenly this moment that should have been celebrated and enjoyed felt empty and hollow.

  Hiding my pain, I walked over to my Masters and hugged them all in turn, letting them kiss me everywhere, feeling their hands all over me. Soothing away the hole Hawk left in my heart.

  “What’s wrong, Princess?” Pretty Boy said quietly when we were seated again and I happened to end up in his lap. He seemed to realize I didn’t want anyone to see my mood.

  “It’s nothing. I just…Hawk.”

  He let out a slow sigh. “Sorry, Princess. He’s a being a butt.” We both turned as a shadow darkened the torches at the entrance. Hawk. “I’ll talk to him.” He moved to lift me off him, but I shook my head and got up.

  “No, I will, Master. Let me, please.”