Wrecked (The Blackened Window)

by Corrine A. Silver

  “Don’t hold your breath or you’ll pass out. That would be disappointing.”

  I held her gaze as I dropped a few more swats across her thighs, delivering the last one high enough that it was at the crease of her legs meeting her hips. The cane just caught the bare mound of her pussy. She whined and moaned, starting to squirm.

  I stepped closer to her, steadying her, my hand on her tummy. She moaned again and pushed her body into my hand, a fine sheen of sweat already making her skin a little tacky. I bent across her body and picked her head up by her hair.

  “Are you going to hold still or do you need to be tied up?” I knew my face was blank and my voice was cold. I didn’t care about warm fuzzies right now. I didn’t care if she liked me, thought I was a ‘good guy’. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that she respected me, feared me.

  “Yeah, why don’t you tie me up? It’ll be fun.” Then she fucking winked at me and smiled.

  I laughed as I stepped away to grab the rope. I wound it around her body and the table, with a loop around her neck that would be pulled if she moved her limbs too much. I liked the predicament bondage, where moving one thing caused a different problem for a sub. As I stepped back, Seraphim was there, handing me a spreader, nodding toward A’s groin. I strapped it between her thighs, locking them open.

  “Is she being a brat?” Seraphim smiled. She obviously had expected that her sub would give me shit.

  “Just a bit.” I stepped to the end of the table.

  Seraphim smiled and gestured for me to take the lead.

  I leaned to the girl’s ear. “Ready to begin?”

  She nodded, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly.

  I stood and she was laid out in front of me, a complete offering. I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my neck. I took a moment to savor her anticipation, and checked Leda in my peripheral vision. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows up, biting her lip. Jesus.

  I snapped the cane down on the inside of A’s arm and she twitched. Then I moved to alternating between sides, consistently getting the delicate flesh on the inside of her upper arm, leaving cross-hatching welts. Each strike garnered a jolt, but she was starting to pant and a thicker sweat dampened her hairline.

  I grabbed the edge of the table and spun it one hundred and eighty degrees so I stood between her propped open knees, and her pussy looked so inviting, wet and just starting to gap a bit.

  I looked at Leda, thinking about being inside her. She was leaning forward, mouth parted, eyes bright. She shifted her hips a little, like she was thinking about sex too. Is she getting hot watching this? My cock ached and I felt a growl in my throat. She smiled at me, and the bestial part of me was quelled for a bit.

  Her eyes shifted to the slave in front of me and her expression was…envy. Not jealousy, envy. She wanted to be there. Maybe not the exact situation, but she wanted to be surrendered, vanquished, ravished. Fucking wrecked.

  A took the short break to take a few breaths, and I switched to a flogger, knowing I wanted to hit her more and I’d make her bleed eventually if I kept going with the cane. A small voice deep inside was appalled and disgusted, but this was what I was. I could not—and would not—try to change it. I had been through all that self-loathing, trying to do anything else with myself and my relationships. It didn’t work.

  The slave-girl had closed her eyes, but tears leaked out at the edges and I smiled at how peaceful her face was otherwise.

  “Starting again.” I said it as I snapped my wrist, not giving her a moment to prepare. I rolled my wrist around over and over, never pausing. The falls of the flogger snapped against her skin, and I stepped around the table, moving up the side of her body and around her head. I whipped her flanks and her breasts as she shuddered and moaned, shifting her hips. I found that I liked being at her side best, with access to all of her.

  After a series of strikes with varying intensity, I held for a moment, then struck her chest repeatedly. As she rode the pain and sensation, I grabbed a nipple, squeezing until she vocalized. The sound of a woman in pain, in the right pain, was perfection. She opened her eyes and looked at me, anger and warning there. She didn’t like that shit. But no safeword on her lips.

  Mistress Seraphim joined me at the table. Her eyes ate up the markings on her slave and her fingers followed them, lightly. The gentle sensation seemed to make her more miserable than the pain had. She whimpered, tears rushing from her eyes now. Seraphim trailed her fingers to her slave’s groin, touching and caressing.

  When A started to roll her hips, Seraphim stopped, smearing her own wetness on her face. Fucking degrading. I loved it. Being on the same team with Seraphim was fun. I pinched the girl’s inner thigh, while Seraphim stepped away. I watched the slave as her eyes found Seraphim coming back, with a lit candle.

  She made a soft mewling sound, almost a whine. I leaned down to speak directly in her ear, made my voice calm, my words distinct. “Shut the fuck up.” No mercy. “If you can’t shut the fuck up, I’ll gag you.” She moaned again and that was answer enough for me.

  I went to Leda, wanting to engage her, wanting her naked. She watched me, but only moved once I extended a hand to her. She stood, smoothing her dress, confusion in her features. I brushed a loose wisp of hair behind her ear, and knelt, so I could reach under her dress.

  I stroked my hands up the back of her thighs, found the edge of her panties, yanked the fuck out of them, and was rewarded with a loud rip as they came free.

  “What the fuck?” Leda barked her surprise at me. Seraphim laughed, loudly, knowing where I was going.

  I didn’t look at Leda, only guided her hips back down to the floor, as I murmured a condescending, “Shhhh,” and shook my head. “You’re going to help, little girl.”

  She settled back to the floor, watching me. I breathed deeply and looked back at her, feeling the moisture in her panties against my palm. “You’re getting wet watching this, aren’t you? Still green?”

  Her brow furrowed a little. “Yes, green. But, is she okay? She seems like maybe she wants to stop.”

  The slave-girl was lost in a sensation haze…maybe to subspace. “She knows her safeword. She has yet to use it.” I said it dismissively, then added, “I don’t even think I’m pushing her that hard. She seems like a pain slut.” I stood up and walked back to the table, without looking back.

  I crouched back at A’s head and said, “How are you doing? Do you need a break?” She just shook her head, and I added, growling the menace in my chest, “I’m gonna fucking hurt you now. I’m not interested in your whining. You want that gag?”

  She nodded, eyes locked with mine, begging me for more. I jammed Leda’s panties in her mouth and a little shock then amusement ran through her eyes.

  Seraphim joined us, smiling. “Lovely.”

  “What is her safe sign?” I asked.

  “I brought it.” She wrapped a small elastic with a bell around her wrist. “She’ll ring it if she needs to you stop.”

  I stepped back and picked up the candle, that now had a nice pool of melted wax. Without preamble, I poured the wax on her, across her body, to her mound. She threw her head back and arced off the table, scream muffled by the gag. Goddamn, that’s nice.

  I was peripherally aware of Christy, mostly naked, sinking to the ground next to Leda. They leaned together, talking. Seraphim reached for her slave’s pussy and her moans changed to something tortured and lusty, deep and nearly feline. I switched back to the cane and started pelting her body. She writhed in her restraints, crying and moaning. My focus narrowed to her body moving under my ministrations. Seraphim’s laughter, the few people watching us, even Leda—they were all peripheral. It was only this girl and me and her acceptance of my pain.

  It was just a moment, but those were the moments that cleansed me. Seraphim’s voice brought me back, brought the world back.

  “Xander, where have you been?” She said it conversationally, as she pumped her fingers in the slave’s pussy.


  “You know,” I answered, equally nonchalant. “Been busy.” I continued caning her body, thinking about Leda so close to me. A moved and moaned, alternately pushing into us and recoiling from us.

  Even though Seraphim and I may have looked bored, neither of us was anything other than one hundred percent focused, constantly gauging our shared sub’s response to our treatment. I took my lead from Seraphim, but the girl seemed to be on the edge of coming. My mind flashed to Leda’s face when she came, eyes closed and head thrown back.

  Seraphim’s slave snapped her hips, bucking off the table and Seraphim and I both laughed. I asked, waving in the direction of A’s pussy, “Want me to take care of that?”

  The wicked gleam in Seraphim’s eyes made me smile and she stepped away from the table. I caned her pussy three or four times and she screamed.

  I shifted around the table so I was at her head, and muttered, “Shut up,” as I pressed my dick into her face, while I kept caning her pussy.

  Seraphim stood at her knee, laughing, almost bouncing on her toes with pleasure. While I struck, the girl kept screaming, but also pushed her face against me, like a cat looking for a snuggle. In a different situation, I might have thought about unzipping my pants and fucking her face, but I didn’t want her. I wanted Leda. I flashed to Leda stretched out in front of me, and it was a jolt. I stopped caning A’s pussy.

  The moment I stepped back a bit, Seraphim slammed her fingers into her, nearly fisting her. Her cunt left a pool on the leather under her ass. She was getting tighter in her restraints, her neck muscles cording against the binding. She shifted her hips up, moaning hard. Her eyes squeezed tight and she bit down on Leda’s panties. Her sounds got less and less human and she moved in rhythm with Seraphim.

  Seraphim was focused on her girl, watching for a signal of some sort. When it happened, Seraphim face shifted in malice and she stopped fucking her. She stretched her own body across the girl-thing’s tortured form and slapped the fuck out of her face. A’s eyes flew open, with a low moan, as if she hadn’t expected anything less than that.

  Seraphim sneered. “You stupid cunt. You haven’t earned it yet. Flip over. We’ve only gotten the front half of you.” She reached under the table and pulled the quick release knot, yanking back so the rope slithered off her body, but she didn’t move.

  I crouched back at her head. She panted, gaze hazy. I spoke in her ear, “Time to move. I’m not done with you.” She didn’t move, and I felt the dark surge in me. “Move your ass, cunt.” She still hadn’t even flinched. “Or not—I don’t give a shit how much you make me hurt you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Leda

  The Piano Guys, Moonlight

  Everything rushed at me, slow and fast at once. Christy sucked a breath in and grabbed my hand. The degree of change in Xander was shocking. This was so far beyond the little slap-and-tickle games he had been teaching me, and that realization hit me hard, square in the chest. What had been so earth-quaking for me had barely registered on his personal kink Richter scale.

  Everything up till now had been his slow way of indoctrinating me into this—to his darkness, the depths of his depravity. Even the first sensual space Christy had taken me to—a room with couches and pillows strewn about, people in varying states of undress mingled together. That had been almost peaceful.

  This was not peaceful. This was my boyfriend torturing someone in a room full of people torturing other people.

  Mistress Seraphim’s slave flipped, draping her body on the table, flat on her stomach, face turned so she was looking to the side and her hips bent over edge. She was tear-stained, but not suffering, only acceptant. After a moment of staring directly at me, she registered that she was looking at me, and she took a deep breath, smiling. Her gratitude crossed the space between us.

  I contemplated that. Despite what this looked like, she was at peace, grateful even. What was it like to be so surrendered, to be at peace?

  Jason found us, breaking me out of my contemplation. He squatted and said, with a laugh, “Why the fuck are my peeps sitting on the floor in my club?”

  “This is where Xander put me so I’m not moving.” I said it with a smile, but I think my unease was palpable. Christy laughed and stood to kiss her boyfriend. She whispered in his ear, likely recounting the recent exchange and they sat back down with me.

  “It’s been a really long time since he’s let himself go like this. I think he thought he could just shut it off in med school or something.”

  Jason said it as a sort of apology. I was about to respond, but my words were cut off by a loud smack.

  Xander was using Mistress Seraphim’s paddle on the girl—her ass and the back of her thighs. A single smack echoed through the room and she moaned, the sound half agony, half rapture. But then she wiggled her ass at him and giggled, her body jiggling some with her laugh. Jesus Christ, this girl is taunting him.

  She twisted her neck to look over her shoulder at him. He looked back at her with the same disbelief I felt, but then he laughed. Mistress Seraphim stalked up to the head of the table and yelled at her, while Xander pulled his shirt off. His torso glistened with sweat and his laugh still crinkled around his eyes. Christy and Jason both looked at me to see my reaction, then back to the small show. I knew my face was agape, just shocked. I wondered if it was getting out of control, but… Xander needs this, right? Does he really need this?

  I took a deep steadying breath and tilted my head back against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment. When I opened my eyes and looked around, a small crowd of people had gathered, a surreal assortment of leather and status.

  Xander took a homerun swing at her ass with the paddle and she screamed, loud enough that most of the other noise in the play-space silenced for a moment as people looked to see what was happening. He started fucking with her, varying the speed and intensity of the paddling. He’d start with a medium intensity and pace then occasionally hit her so hard her whole body jerked on the table. After a few moments, he paused and she braced for another, but he just tapped her lightly and laughed.

  He rubbed his hand over her ass, squeezing the bruised and welted skin. Her body was completely slack, completely conquered, completely accepting. Mistress Seraphim squatted at her head, speaking to her in a steady stream. I couldn’t tell if it was encouragement or invectives at this point. A tried to lift her head and chest off the table and Xander pushed her back down on the table with a hand between her shoulder blades. He leaned over her quaking body, and said something in her ear. She raised her arms up to the top of the table, over her head as he stood and walked away for a moment. Seraphim grabbed them, pulling her tight.

  He came back with a flogger and whipped it along her sides, getting the tender skin of her underarm, the sides of her breasts and her waist. She panted and shook. A heavy feeling settled in my stomach.

  This may be too much. I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t do this.

  Mistress Seraphim held a hand up to stop Xander, telling her slave to flip. Interestingly, she moved with speed to follow her Mistress’s commands now. Seraphim’s face melted into a beautiful smile and she murmured something as she yanked my panties out of A’s mouth, tossing them aside. She unzipped a hidden zipper in her BDSM-fanstasy get-up. It went from the front to her ass, effectively granting access to her pussy. She climbed on the table and lowered herself onto her slave’s face. The girl’s jaw and neck flexed as she licked against Seraphim’s grinding. The Mistress grabbed the flogger out of Xander’s hand and started fucking her girl with the handle. He stepped back, hands in the air, but smiling.

  But he didn’t move away. He just stood right there, watching them. When the slave started arching her hips up, he pressed his hands on her hips, holding her down so Mistress Seraphim could continue fucking her. The Mistress’ breath started coming in pants.

  Seraphim came almost silently and slipped her legs back off the table. She stepped to the side of the table, so she could conti
nue fucking her slave and whisper in her ear at the same time. I could see her lips moving in a rushed murmur, telling her to wait, to hold it in, wait, not yet. A’s body was shaking and her eyes were closed tight. She panted and murmured back to her Mistress, begging to come. Seraphim smiled and told her slave to come. She immediately obeyed, pussy spasming as Seraphim slapped at her clit a few times for good measure.

  Xander stepped back, brushing his damp hair back off his forehead. A took several deep breaths and sat up, waves of pleasure still quaking through her. She was tear-stained, wax cracking over her hatch-marked skin, but still had a dreamy smile on her face.

  Seraphim stepped to the table and gently ran her hand up her sub’s back to her hair and whispered something in her ear. A gracefully slipped off the edge of the table and crawled to Xander. At his feet, she sat back on her knees and looked up at him, offering herself, the spreader bar still holding her knees apart, her pussy completely visible. The muscles of his torso bulged and tightened, but he only reached out to pet her hair a few times, shaking his head, with a somewhat regretful smile on his face.

  Her eyes now downcast, I read her lips as she said, “Thank you, Sir.”

  As he stepped back, a few of the on-lookers clapped, which sort of took me by surprise. He looked up, smiled and acknowledged the audience for a small moment. Then, he turned his heated gaze on me and crossed the distance between us. He yanked me up, kissing me, flattening me against the wall. He reached under my ass and hitched me up and I wrapped my legs around him. His Dom-adrenaline rippled off him and he seemed almost mindless.

  I pushed him back just the slightest amount. “Hey, Boss.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Xander

  Maroon 5, Animals

  Her voice was soft, sweet, sounded like heaven, and made me need her more. My brain was in overdrive, but the term of endearment she had assigned me was the clearest sign that she still wanted me.