HostileTakeover

by Joey W. Hill

  She nodded. “Y-yes, Master.”

  “A stammer. Miracles can happen.” His voice was amused, but it was also tender. She sensed him moving around her, wanted desperately for him to touch her, but she waited, holding the posture. “Are you scared, brat?”

  “Yes, Master. A little.”

  “Good. That’s the way I want you. Ass in the air, forehead to the ground.”

  She used her stomach muscles to control her descent. His hands brushed her stomach and shoulder, making sure she got there safely. Then he put his hands on her buttocks, probed between them. Lube trickled into her rectum, and she moaned as his finger pushed in, stretching her. Her pussy wept, but he didn’t touch it. “You’ve been hot and wet a lot today, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Push out toward me. This is going to be thick, but you’ll like the lubricant.”

  She complied, pressing her cheek into the floor as he worked the thick phallus into her ass. She moved her hips in eager response, wishing it was his cock, hoping she’d get that sometime tonight. When it was all the way in, and she felt split in two, he held onto it, rocked it as she shuddered and her pussy trickled a free flow of arousal down her thighs once more. He made a tsking noise.

  “Sit up, slowly, reach in front of you. The vacuum bed is there. Lie down on it.”

  He helped, lifting her off her feet and positioning her on the frame, covered with thin fabric. He made sure the plug stayed in until she had her hips against the solid surface, which drove it deeper. Then he pulled a second layer of fabric over her. She heard the zipper being fitted, running up along the side, enclosing her. There were holes for her breasts. He was stretching them around those, and the restriction was tight, like rubber bands, so that the seal on the cocoon wouldn’t be broken, but it made her breasts tingle.

  “Legs spread as far as they can go, fingers flat on your thighs.” While she made that adjustment, he coaxed her mouth open. A hollow gag was fitted there, her tongue depressed by it, her breath sounding fast and shallow. Okay, she was scared. This was…she was trusting all of herself to him. This was the real deal. Of course, she was also hot and revved up. It was worse than not licking the chocolate off her fingers, or resisting the overwhelming desire to touch her pussy these past few nights.

  The zipper was now run behind her head, so she was enclosed fully in it, like a sleeping bag with the top closed. Way different from her childhood sleepovers though. “You’re going to hear the vacuum engine now. It will take all the air out, and you’ll be fully immobilized. You’ll be left this way, until I feel you’re in the proper state of mind. Nod if you understand.”

  She did.

  The vacuum switched on, a much quieter motor than she expected, but then he had said Jon was involved in the modifications. She’d never seen one with cut-outs for the breasts like this. The tightening began, her body gradually being locked into the position. At first, she had a slight amount of movement, but the vacuum continued to remove even that slack area. Oh God…she was being completely held down. It was like having a laced mask on from head to toe, and being restrained at the same time. She couldn’t see. She could hear though. He left the vacuum on to keep the restriction fully in force. Her fingers pressed hard on her thighs, so close to her pussy.

  “You are just a body. My body, to do with as I wish. You have no identity except as my slave.”

  Yes, yes, yes. I love you, I want you, I serve you, Master. This was the full surrender she wanted, and God help her, she knew it was just beginning. He’d removed the collar and tether, so it was just her, and the piercings. The cocoon had to be etching her body out as if she were naked.

  Silence settled in, and all that came with it. She wanted him talking again, to be sure he was here. The arousal was intense. Throughout her pursuit of him, so much had been about movement, thinking, doing. This was about stillness, waiting, submission. He not only required her obedience, he’d made it an irresistible demand, encasing her like this. She could let go and be whatever he wanted her to be in this moment, because that was all she’d ever wanted—to be what he needed and desired.

  She’d heard how time could pass in such a situation, five minutes seeming like fifteen, but experiencing it firsthand was a lot more effort. She had to bite down on that tube so she didn’t talk, call out to him. Her body shook in the cocoon. Her nipples stayed tight and hard, exposed to the air. The muscles in her ass and pussy kept contracting, a mute plea, and of course when she contracted over that dildo, it sent all sorts of reaction spiraling through her.

  He wanted her broken down, reduced to pure sensation. Whether she wanted that or not, it was going to happen. It made her recall something she’d read on one of the fetish forums, a stream of consciousness offered by a submissive, right after she’d undergone a deeply intense session.

  There’s this threshold of panic, where you realize he has all the control. I’m not talking the safe word thing or being able to call a halt. He’s plucked your free will right out of your hands, and you let him have it, and you don’t want it back. That’s what scares you shitless. You’re just all his, and that’s all you ever want to be. When you come out of the experience, you feel a bit like a kid coming out of a scary ride at Disneyland. Did that really happen? Will I have the courage to ride again? And you know you will.

  That threshold of panic rose, heralded by the increased rasp of her breath. But that told him she was still breathing, so it wouldn’t be cause for alarm. He wasn’t going to respond to anything that wasn’t physical distress. He wanted her to go through the emotional maelstrom. That was part of this.

  Her fingers curled, best as they were able, beneath the latex. Can’t do this…too much… She tried to focus on the breathing. Need him to talk to me… Need his touch…

  He was asking her to have faith in him the way God did. Sightless, without touch or visible evidence of his presence.

  But just like God, there was visible evidence of his presence. The cocoon was part of that presence. Him bringing her here, the instructions. He was present in her life and guiding her in a variety of ways.

  She suppressed a hysterical giggle. Yeah, she was sure the Sunday preachers would admire her analogy. At least Dana would understand. “Ben, Ben…” She’d uttered his name before she could stop herself, before she could bite it back. Though it was a bare whisper of sound echoing in that hollow gag, she knew she’d screwed up. Spoken without being spoken to.

  Then she did it again, louder, unable to help herself. “Ben. Ben. Please…” It came through like a disembodied humming, the syllables unintelligible except to the male who seemed to know so much about her.

  He waited another five hours, or so it seemed to her. That panic built hard and fast in her, taking over. When his hand touched her forehead, she let out a sob of relief. She recognized the shape and strength of his fingers. The touch was far too brief though.

  “Easy, brat. You have visitors. I want you on your best behavior.”

  “Look at those pretty tits, the nipples so hard.”

  Peter. Peter was in the room. She nearly choked.

  “If you take out the gag, the opening’s large enough she can get her tongue through the air hole. She can tease your cock with it.” Jon, helpfully highlighting the features of the vacuum bed.

  How long had they been here? She let out a strangled noise as a mouth touched her pussy, caressed her over the latex. Even with that thin barrier, the tongue and lips knew just how to work her up, get her wetter, make her whimper with the need to squirm against the erotic skill of that mouth.

  “Nice. Slick and smooth, probably juicy as a peach on the inside. We need to open this up, let me smell her.”

  Lucas.

  “Damn, I didn’t realize the latex showed so much detail. It’s molded right to her cunt. You can see how erect her clit is.”

  Unlike the others, he’d touched her intimately first, before speaking. His fingers trailed along her hip bone, over her pubic bon
e, a prominent mound. Her breath rasped through the tube. Pleasure, shock and thrilled amazement spiraled through her. He and Ben had chosen to address the elephant in the room head on. Lucas had just made it crystal clear he no longer saw her as a child. While Lucas would still be as protective as any of them, a guardian of her well-being, the shape of it had changed. She was Ben’s, and therefore belonged to them all, in a far more adult way. She might be the youngest of the group, but she was now one of the Knights’ women.

  She’d never been so aroused in her life, so emotionally stirred up as she imagined them circling her, studying what they might do to her under Ben’s direction.

  “Jon, can we open it up?” His authoritative voice cut into her spinning mind, riveting her on his deep timbre.

  “Not a problem. See the seam here?” She shivered as a finger, probably Jon’s, traced her pussy. “Use a cutting tool to pop that seam, and it will stretch and seal around her cunt, just like her breasts. There’s a second vacuum tube inserted in this area specifically to increase the seal there, compensate for it.”

  “Good. We’ll handle that in a minute. Peter, take care of her nipples first.”

  “My pleasure.” What she assumed were Peter’s fingers took a gentle hold of one nipple, fondling it before he began unscrewing the ball of one of the barbells. Nipple piercings were sensitive, and she was literally helpless, completely immobilized, so she couldn’t help some trepidation. Four men surrounding her, acting—as Ben said—as if she was just a body for their pleasure, no will or voice of her own.

  But Peter removed both her barbells with amazingly competent fingers, given how large his hands were. “You’ll feel a little discomfort here, nothing much.”

  She held her breath, that little quiver in her stomach a frantic butterfly in a jar. Someone’s hands cupped her breasts beneath, squeezing them to push the nipples up even higher. She thought it might be Lucas, because she caught the pleasing scent of the cologne he wore.

  A tiny whispering sigh caught in her throat as something was threaded through one nipple piercing, then the other. It was the same type of bar as her barbells, just a little thicker, and the slender steel bar went all the way across between them. Peter was adding fasteners to the sides to hold it in place, and then he pinched the bar between thumb and forefinger, tugging on both nipples at once. She let out a soft cry against the breathing tube.

  “These teardrop weights can be added to the bar.” She heard the click of metal objects, perhaps being rolled in Peter’s palm. “It will make her feel the pinch and burn a bit more. You can also attach a cable to the bar, connect it to a hook and raise or lower it to stretch out the nipples as much as she can stand.”

  “Nice.” Ben’s hands replaced Lucas’ on her breasts, squeezing, flicking that bar. “They’ve already gotten stiffer, bigger. She likes it. She’d take first prize in a wet T-shirt contest. Lucas, your turn. I want her dripping, close to coming, but not there.”

  A precise touch, some pressure between her legs, and the seam was released, probably by Jon. Myriad small noises vibrated in her throat as he stretched the latex around the outside of her labia, and that second vacuum tube engaged, giving her an increased sense of constriction around already swollen tissues. She imagined it looked like a peach cut open in truth, the juices squeezing forth from it, tempting the tongue…

  She cried out through the open gag as Ben caressed her pussy, pushed a finger inside to test her wetness. She wondered about what Jon had said, if she could service Ben’s cock through that breathing hole. She could suck on him while…

  “She’s more than ready. She’s all yours.”

  She couldn’t help it, she was so stimulated that she shrieked when Lucas’ mouth touched her pussy. He flicked his tongue over her clit, traced the labia with lazy thoroughness, learning her. “Different scent from her sister, but similar. They’re both screamers though. You’ve had bad, bad dreams about being in our bedroom, sucking my cock while I was going down on her, haven’t you?”

  “That’s a direct question, Marcie.”

  A few moments ago she’d begged for someone to be talking to her. Now she wanted to be silent and just feel, but she managed to speak, garbled as it was. “Yes sir.”

  Not Master. She had only one of those in the room, but she’d give all of these men sir, because not to do so seemed unwise.

  “A polite slave. I like that.” That tongue slid up her clit, around, teased under the hood, hot breath bathing her labia. She squirmed the tiny amount possible, and the nipple bar tingled. Especially when Peter came back and tapped something against it, something that…

  “Argh.” She arched up as much as possible, which wasn’t much. It made the sensation all the more excruciatingly intense. Some type of electrical wand, sparking shock along that bar.

  “Good response,” Peter murmured. “Very nice. Give me the other one, Jon.” Then he did it again, a different sensation.

  Lucas tugged her clit ring in his teeth. She was going to come, she was going to… “Master…I need to come…going to come.” She sounded like she had a mouth full of marbles, or in this case, tubing, but Ben understood.

  “Not yet.” His tone was sharp, stern. “You don’t have my permission to do that. You’re here to serve the Masters’ pleasure, not your own.”

  She bit back a groan, but bore down, trying her best to hold out against the diabolical workings of that tongue. When she was younger, Marcie had wondered about the jagged rips in her sister’s pillowcases, and why she’d had to replace them so often. Her sister had likely gnawed holes in them so the rest of the house wouldn’t hear her screaming.

  “You belong to me, Marcie.” Ben’s voice. “When it suits me, you belong to them. But to no one else. No other Master touches you, ever again.”

  She jolted from another mild shock through the nipple bar, the sensation arrowing down to where Lucas’ mouth was working her. Then Peter’s mouth got into the act, covering one of the nipples, licking above and under that bar.

  Another shriek reverberated in her ears. She couldn’t not come. She had to come. Had to…

  “Sorry…can’t…Master…help…”

  It swept over her so hard, there was no stopping it. She wailed, cried out, pleaded for all sorts of unlikely things. Lucas kept working her with his mouth, Peter and Jon a mixture of mouth, fingers and tiny touches of electric stimulus. Ben hadn’t touched her nearly enough.

  It was indescribable, coming under that level of restriction and restraint, so hard, deep, dirty, so intense it was almost uncomfortable, because she had no ability to move herself against Lucas’ mouth or Peter’s touch. When they finally withdrew, she was making tiny jerks as if Peter was hitting her with far harder voltage.

  She needed to see Ben. Needed Ben period, and then she heard his voice again.

  “Put her on the web.”

  When the vacuum noise stopped, the touch of the latex began to ease. She still had that blindfold though. The hollow gag was pulled from her mouth. Her breasts and cunt tingled from the return of blood flow to those areas.

  When she was freed from the cocoon, her legs had no ability to hold her, but she needn’t have worried. She was swung up in Ben’s arms. He was wearing his suit, his tailored shirt and silk tie pressing against her skin, his slacks and belt against her bare hip. Were they all dressed for the office, and her here, naked, stripped down to nothing but sticky arousal, mussed hair? It perversely turned her on even more.

  He put her on her knees. “Jon’s making a change to the web, so you have a minute. Get busy. And don’t you let that dildo come out of your pretty ass. Keep those muscles tight, like it’s my cock.” She heard the sound of his slacks being opened and made a noise of eager hunger. She would have surged forward on her knees, but he clamped his hand down on her hair to hold her steady as he fed her his cock, thick and enormous, pre-cum oozing from the slit, telling her how her helplessness had affected him. He thrust in hard, ruthless, working her mouth the way he’d
pound into her pussy when he wanted to sate his lust.

  She loved it, sucked on him as hard as she could, working him in her mouth, taking him deep, loving how he stretched her lips, the tears of stress that came to her eyes as she tried her best to take all of him. Rough and hard was the way she wanted it. When she gripped him, he didn’t stop her, so she made the most of the opportunity, working that thin layer of heated skin up and down his shaft, giving him that friction, tightening her fingers around his ridged head, using the lubrication from the slit to give him further pleasure.

  Too soon, though, he pulled back. Peter’s hands on her again, removing the nipple bar, then Ben lifted her beneath the arms effortlessly. She was placed face forward against a suspended rope net, like the rigging of a pirate ship. Her arms were threaded through two separate openings, wrists bound to the line above it. Her knees were guided into another pair of openings, so her weight wasn’t pulling against her shoulders. More rope passed around her waist, then knotted at her sternum before the two ends were guided between her breasts and to her shoulders to form a Y-shape. Two sets of hands were working on her. Because of those three weeks of casual caresses, she realized she could tell who was who. Apparently both Peter and Jon knew the art of Japanese bondage. She was being trussed to that web, as well as having her upper body harnessed inside a complicated weaving of knots. Helpless, total restraint.

  She made a quiet noise as her breasts were lifted in capable hands and worked through two openings in the web, reinforced by further weavings by Peter and Jon. In the end, her breasts were squeezed, constricted, the nipples becoming even more sensitive to the open air. They’d be jutting out, displayed and framed by the ropes, and with her bound this way, the men could do anything they liked to them. Peter replaced the nipple bar, which essentially locked her on the web with steel as well as rope. The lines that were taken over her shoulders had been reattached to the waist rope, leaving her pussy and ass unencumbered except for the wraps of rope that held her thighs firmly to the web. Since one of the horizontal lines was pressed against her clit, she squirmed against it, unable to help herself.