by Cara Adams
Damask wandered around again, entranced by the ancient implements of torture and wondering if the old werewolf leaders really did persecute people. She supposed they probably had. Back then a person’s life had little value. People died of hunger every winter and even telling the leader bad news was grounds for execution. Refusing to obey an order was usually solved immediately by the leader chopping off the head of a rude person. After all, every ruler carried a sword all the time back then, and even peasants always carried a dagger.
She was much happier living in these days. Life could still be harsh and brutal but by and large people were able to live a long and happy life. The sound of the key being turned in the door made her look up, startled out of her reverie.
Grigori and Jairus came and stood right in front of her.
“How much would you like to play a few dungeon games?”
“We could do as much or as little as you felt comfortable with.”
“Stretch yourself a little. Take a step out of your comfort zone.”
“Learn the pleasure that pain can bring. Just a taste to awaken your senses.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You’ve got quite the team thing going on there. Right, left, right, left.”
Jairus leaned into her personal space. “We could spank your ass like that, too.”
“Right, left, right, left, until your pussy was dripping with cream and you were begging for an orgasm,” added Grigori.
“Why don’t you get undressed and you’ll see.”
“Why don’t you get undressed as well?” she retaliated to Jairus.
Jairus dropped his backpack to the ground and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, then the shirt itself. Damask stood and watched as the shirt dropped from his arms and puddled on the stone floor. She turned her gaze on Grigori. He only unbuttoned the top two buttons then pulled his shirt off over his head, throwing it down on top of Jairus’s. Then they both stared at her.
Okay, her turn. She had a secret weapon though, in that under her T-shirt was a bra. She walked across to stand beside the iron maiden, pulling her T-shirt off and draping it over the head of the maiden. Then she turned to face them again, staring at their cocks. Cocks which were long, thick ridges under their pants. She wondered if they’d play or if this was as far as the game would go. She had a delightful feeling of anticipation and excitement deep inside her. She rather thought she might end up naked before the evening finished.
Jairus bent and unlaced his boots, then pulled them off. Grigori was wearing dress shoes which he toed off. She kicked off her tennis shoes and was surprised at how cold the stone floor felt through her thin socks. She bent and pulled her socks off, rolling them up and placing them inside her shoes.
Grigori was already pulling his dress pants off. Jairus stared at her and she waited him out. Finally he unzipped his jeans and tugged them down his legs so she copied him. Grigori had on a pair of bright yellow boxers and Jairus was wearing black briefs. Her own underwear was pale blue, one of three matching sets she’d bought before coming here to work. She was glad she was wearing that set today instead of mismatched lingerie.
“What would you like to try first? Spanking on the bench? Being stretched on the rack? Some torture with the lead sprinkler?” asked Grigori.
It’d never occurred to her they’d ask her or that she would actually try things out. But she knew people did get stretched to soothe the kinks in their spine. Surely that would be far more pleasure than pain and therefore a good piece of equipment to try first. “The rack.”
“Good choice,” said Grigori. She walked across to the rack looking at it more carefully this time, then lay on the table, raising her hands above her head. Before she had time to think Jairus was tying her ankles to the bottom of the rack and Grigori had her wrists roped to the wooden frame. He turned the wheel at the side of the table and she didn’t notice any change at all. Nor did she on his second and third turns. By the fourth turn of the wheel she was beginning to wonder if the whole thing was just for looks, not action, but then she felt the first pull on her legs.
Then her spine was pulled tighter and the strain started to act on her shoulder muscles. One more turn and he stopped but she could feel her body being tested. Suddenly she understood how a person could be deeply scared yet not actually hurt. The mind envisioned what had not yet happened. It amplified the steady pull on the shoulder, hip, and knee joints into a more definite pain. The change in one turn of the wheel had been quite dramatic. It was very easy to picture how two or three more turns could really damage muscles and cartilage, dislocating body parts. These days a doctor would pop a dislocated shoulder joint back into place in a matter of minutes, and perhaps that could have happened back in the old days, too. But she understood now how the fear of potential pain could encourage someone to tell every secret the Alpha of the werewolves might have wanted to know.
Then Jairus was shaking the scepter—no, the lead sprinkler—over her body. Drops of very hot water landed on her belly, her thighs, and her neck. “That’s hot. How did you do that?”
“It’s just water I had in an insulated cup. They used to prefer hot shards of metal, often lead, hence the name of this implement, or tar or pitch. Things that would burn the person quite badly. This won’t blister your skin.” Jairus shook it again across her torso and once again the tiny hot drops hit her skin. They did feel too hot and burn her, but it was over very fast.
Grigori placed his hand on the wheel of the rack. “Shall I tighten this one more turn?”
Damask thought. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. Would one more turn make it hurt too much? What if she dislocated a shoulder or a knee and needed to go to the doctor? How would she explain that? Yet was she giving up too soon? The hot water had been very hot, but not long lasting. Perhaps she should try one more turn to see if it was more pleasure than pain.
“Just one turn.”
Grigori turned the handle very slowly. Much slower than he’d done previously. And she knew then he never would have asked her if it would have been too painful for her. He would never deliberately hurt her more than in a manner she would find exciting and sexy. She could trust both these men completely.
Her body was definitely pulled more tightly, stretched harder. The pressure was on her more and it was a slight, aching feeling. One she knew might not be fun if she was left like this for a long time. But right now it was pain but not bad. More intriguing, interesting than anything else. And she’d learned a valuable lesson to know she should trust Grigori and Jairus.
Icy cold drops of water spattered her face and chest, then dripped down on her belly, her legs, all the way to her toes and back up to her face again. Damask gasped at the extreme cold then laughed. “Don’t tell me. You had another insulated mug in your backpack only this one held ice water.”
“Exactly so, my sweet.” Jairus bent and touched his lips to hers. “In the BDSM dungeon contrasts are a way of inducing pleasure. The sub comes to accept and expect the heat, and then suddenly it’s cold instead.”
Damask nodded. She could see that. A person would be expecting the heat and be ready for it. Cold would catch them unprepared and be doubly effective.
Grigori started to turn the wheel loosening the tension on her body, and Jairus untied the ropes holding her. Both men sat her up and while Grigori massaged her shoulders, Jairus kneeled and exercised her knees. She hadn’t been spanked but it had been a very interesting lesson nonetheless.
Jairus spread her legs wide apart and stood between them. Gently he pulled her close to him, tipped her head back and kissed her. This wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss like the night before, but one of passion, lust and longing. His tongue flicked along the seam of her mouth demanding entry and she opened and let him inside. Jairus licked the insides of her cheek, behind her teeth, along the roof of her mouth. His tongue was everywhere, possessing her, demanding more and more from her.
Breathlessly, she pressed her aching nipples against his chest, rubbin
g her breasts over his warm skin as she kissed him back with everything within her. His hands massaged her back and unhooked her bra. Obediently, she moved one arm so the strap slid off her and then Jairus bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Then he pressed it against the roof of his mouth and she almost orgasmed on the spot. Holy shit that’s erotic.
Grigori sat beside her on the solid wooden edge of the rack and Jairus lifted her, turning her, shifting her onto Grigori’s knee. She put a leg on either side of the muscular man and snuggled into his arms, lifting her face for his kiss. Her body was so aroused from Jairus’s kisses she had to concentrate to remember that now it was Grigori’s turn.
He pressed kisses to her forehead, her nose, her eyelids. Tiny, light touches of his lips to her skin. She was enjoying it so much, she almost didn’t realize his hands were busy inside her panties until one finger teased her anus and another stroked her slit. Damask’s eyes widened. She was so aroused already from the kissing, she wasn’t sure this was a good idea.
Then his finger slid deep inside her and she knew it was a good thing. A very good thing. Her inner pussy muscles gripped his finger and she moaned.
Grigori’s lips descended over hers and his tongue began fucking her in a determined, measured way. The finger inside her kept pace with his tongue. At her back, gentle hands were stroking her skin, hands that moved around her body and were teasing her nipples.
Damask had to break the kiss to breathe, and when she did she leaned her head back on Jairus giving him more room to tease her aching breasts.
Grigori had two fingers in her cunt now, finger fucking her deep and fast as his other hand lightly teased around her ass, and his thumb stroked her clit.
“Oh! I—”
“Come now, Damask,” ordered Jairus.
“Obey your two Doms,” added Grigori, thrusting a finger deep in her ass.
Damask’s body crashed into an orgasm, her pussy coating Grigori’s hands with her cream as she shook and quivered between the two men. Jairus’s hands cupped her breasts, still gently stroking her skin, his mouth pressing a row of kisses along her shoulder.
“Tomorrow we’ll find a bed and fuck you properly. You’re ours, Damask. You belong to both of us, now,” said Jairus.
Damask knew there was something she needed to say, or do, or— but she couldn’t think now. Her body was totally limp and satiated. Tomorrow. She’d remember whatever it was tomorrow.
Chapter Three
Jairus was damn glad he’d decided to get up at his usual time this morning, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep for another hour or so as he’d been tempted to do. Although he was technically on vacation for a week after he returned from a job, in fact that week was peppered with smaller tasks that needed to be done. Boring stuff like writing reports and adding photographs of people he’d been watching to their information files. Not to mention chores like cleaning his car, which had taken almost an entire day by the time the inside was as shiny and clean as he’d finally gotten the outside.
He and Grigori had asked for an appointment to see the Alpha to talk about their—well, Damask’s really—idea about starting to hold medieval dinners for tourists. Since it was more a long-term plan and not likely to begin until next summer, he hadn’t expected to hear back from the Alpha on it anytime soon. But there it was, flashing as important on his email. A meeting with the Alpha at eight thirty. And it was after seven now. He texted Grigori to find out if he had a similar message and got no answer, so went to have a shower. Grigori would be awake. It was just a regular work day for him. By the time he was toweled dry and ready to get dressed his phone was showing a message waiting for him. It said simply, C U there.
Jairus grabbed a button-down shirt from his closet, glad he’d done his laundry. He should have been wearing T-shirts on his vacation time, but between eating out with Damask and meetings with the Alpha he’d been wearing business shirts every day.
Promptly at eight twenty-five he was standing outside the Alpha’s office. The Alpha’s mate, Odette, looked up from her computer at him, tilting her glasses down on her nose so she could focus on his face. “Ah, Jairus. Good to see you again. The others will no doubt be here shortly.”
Others, so not just Grigori. The Alpha hasn’t summoned Damask as well, has he?
But no, the chef arrived next, running up the stairs, followed more slowly by Grigori walking along the hallway from his own office. This entire floor of the east wing was offices where the business of the pack was managed. The wolves’ shared entertaining areas and recreation rooms were one floor up, and their apartments were on the two levels above that.
Jairus watched as Odette clicked through a few screens on her computer, then nodded as the chef and Grigori arrived. She settled a headset over her iron-gray bob-cut hair and said softly, “Evan, Jairus, and Grigori are here now, Yerik.”
She nodded a few more times, typed something very quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard, then looked up at them. “You may go in.”
Since he was the closest to the Alpha’s office door, Jairus took the few steps necessary to reach it, knocked, and opened it, holding it for the chef and Grigori. He followed them inside and closed the door softly behind him.
Jairus respected his Alpha. The man had seamlessly moved his pack out of the Middle Ages and into the twenty-first century with a minimum of angst from the pack members. That wasn’t to say all the older men were thrilled with the changes. But even the grumpiest of the old men admitted that electricity and the advances that came with it such as cable television, modern medicines, and the cash to buy the items they needed, were worth the loss of their privacy. The more honest ones admitted that their privacy had never been all that secure anyway, as stories of werewolves being in the castle dated back to the earliest days of the castle itself and had never completely died away.
Personally Jairus thought turning the werewolf rumors into a marketing ploy was the best way of hiding their existence. The more the tour guides spoke of a werewolf living in the castle in the distant past, the less people thought it was true. Even many of the locals now viewed it more as a local myth which helped them to sell a few trinkets, than fact.
Yerik Vulf, Alpha of the Werewolf Castle Pack and CEO of Werewolf Castle Inc. stood, stretched his back, then waved the three men to chairs. “I asked Evan to join us as, if this plan of yours is to come to fruition, he will be an integral part of it. Now tell me all the details.” The Alpha sat and stared at Jairus.
The Alpha tended to keep his black eyes hooded as they spoke loudly of his intelligence, but at the moment they were burning deep into Jairus. He was damn glad he didn’t have any secrets from the man or he’d likely pee his pants right now at that look.
He looked across at Grigori who gave him the tiniest of blinks. So he began. “We, Grigori and I, invited Damask out to dinner and were asking her about music. Especially medieval music. We thought perhaps she might be able to use her musical skills for work when she’s no longer needed in the candy store.”
He looked over at Evan who was sitting back in his chair, his face bland. Then he looked back to the Alpha who was staring down at his desk. Okay, I’d better get moving.
“The conversation moved from the idea of a singer with a lute or something similar, maybe drums or even a flute, to a broader event to entertain the guests. Damask pointed out that in the Middle Ages the main meal of the day was eaten in the middle of the day. We all know that the chef has a lot of recipes of Middle Ages food. As we talked more we thought it might be possible to clean out those two small rooms between the kitchens and the great hall, and set them up with a single long table in the middle and serve tour groups who’d prebooked a medieval style banquet with jugglers and music as an optional extra to their tour. If there were enough space other tourists could book in as well.”
Evan sat up straighter. “On a tour coach there are what, forty-two, forty-four people? The tour company would not pay for the driver, the gu
ide, or the translator to eat, so call it a maximum of forty people. One long table down the center of those rooms, with the people sitting on benches, not chairs, so ten on each side, twenty per room and two rooms, yes that many would fit. And since they would be different people every day the menu need not change much and I could focus on foods that are readily available, yet ancient. Chicken, fish, pottage, bread. Some pies. Baked apples and pears, and a custard. Yes.”
Jairus smiled as Evan sat there nodding, obviously planning his menu as he mentioned each dish.
“You say Damask would play music for them?” asked the Alpha.
“She doesn’t own medieval instruments, but what she said was that a drum was pretty much a drum and she was sure she could learn to play a lute as it’s similar to the guitar. She also sings. And she said there might be other people who could play a medieval flute or horn,” answered Grigori.
“We already have some young wolves learning to juggle and fight with rapiers, so they could entertain the guests as well. I don’t think it would be too hard to put on a very good banquet at an affordable price, but one that would be memorable for the guests,” said Jairus.
“How long will it take you to plan a menu and learn to make the dishes, Evan?” asked the Alpha.
“A week. But whenever we are cooking a banquet for forty I will need two extra helpers in the kitchen beforehand, one extra afterward to clean up, and two servers for the meal. Some of the older men and women might enjoy serving. It is an easy enough job and shouldn’t overtire them.”
“Very well. We’ll start as soon as we can. Grigori, announce on all our social media that it’s going to start soon. Tell Damask to order a drum and a lute and whatever else she needs to play music and sing with them. Jairus, make sure the jugglers can actually juggle in a medieval style way and that costuming is prepared to dress them, Damask, and the servers. Find the staff Evan needs and get them to him for training and also find out if we do have a horn or flute player and if so buy their instrument and music when Damask orders hers. I want to know how soon the musicians will be ready so we can start taking firm bookings.”