by Meghan March
As soon as my fingers bury in his hair, he yanks his face away, shaking his head.
“You just can’t follow orders.”
He rises to his feet and comes around the desk, then reaches for my hands.
“What—”
“You’ll see.”
He wraps my wrists in cushion-lined leather cuffs connected by an intricate chain. Mount pushes my spine back down to the surface of his desk and guides my bound hands over my head, clipping them to a hook somewhere below.
He surveys my body like it’s a feast spread out on his desk, waiting to be devoured.
The white dress now makes sense. I definitely feel like a sacrificial offering.
“Now I can eat that cunt in peace, and you can’t stop me.”
“If this is the part where you torture me with orgasms, I’m okay with that.”
As soon as the admission is out, part of me wants to snatch it back, but something about it also fills me with power. Like on some level, I’m allowing Mount this privilege. Maybe my mind is well and truly fucked, because the smile that crosses his face, smug yet secretive, only makes me want him to return to his interrupted task faster.
He shakes his head slowly from side to side like he doesn’t know what to make of me, and that reinforces the shreds of power I’m grappling to hold on to.
When he crouches between my legs again, circling my clit with one thick fingertip, I writhe, bucking my hips up to increase the pressure, determined to control the situation as much as I can from my position. I may be bound, but I don’t feel helpless anymore.
Mount sucks my clit between his teeth and bites down just hard enough to send a jolt of desire laced with a hint of pain through my body.
When he releases his teeth, a slight sting remains, but it’s not pain. It’s . . . more complicated than that. If he keeps doing it, I’m going to come in the next sixty seconds.
He tongues my entrance before licking up to my clit and nipping it again, and I moan, my head thrashing from side to side. Protests fall from my lips as his mouth recedes and he circles my clit with a fingertip again.
“You love that. The bite of pain with your pleasure. The pressure on your clit constantly taking you to the edge. What if I could keep you on that edge all the time? Ready to come at a moment’s notice?”
I swallow, wondering where his diabolical mind is going. “What are you talking about?”
“An experiment.” He reaches around the side of the desk and pulls out a package. I lift my head as much as I can with my arms in their bound position to see what he’s doing. I see a flash of silver.
“What is that?”
“You’ll see. Or feel, rather.”
Cold metal drags across my heated center, and I know exactly what he has—some kind of clamp.
“Let’s see how you like this.” He closes it lightly over my swollen clit, sending my spine arching off the desk again.
As quickly as the pressure came, it dissipates.
I want it back. Magnolia told me there’s no shame if we’re both willing, and as messed up as this is, I want more of what he’s giving me.
“I could make you wear a clamp twenty-four hours a day to remind you not to disobey, but that’s not safe or healthy.”
Those are the last words I expect to hear come out of his mouth, and I have no response. But when he stands and the pressure returns again, I’m edging toward an orgasm. He lets off once more.
“But there is another option, one I think you’d fucking love. And I know I will.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I’m so close to the edge, I’m mindless with need. “Please—”
“You want to come?”
“Yes!”
“Then tell me you’ll pierce that sweet little hood so the jewelry rubs your clit with your every movement, keeping you wet and ready for me.”
His words penetrate the lust-filled haze in my head, dragging me back to reality.
“What?”
“A hood piercing. It’ll heighten your every sensation. Some women even claim it causes spontaneous orgasms.”
My mouth falls open, but not because of shock like he probably assumes.
How does he infiltrate my thoughts?
I’ve thought about getting my hood pierced for years, and almost did before I met Brett. I brought it up once to him, but he dismissed it as a stupid idea.
That didn’t stop me from wanting it, though, and wondering what it would be like. My hips shift from side to side as Mount studies me like he’s reading my every reaction and expression.
“You’ve already had it done before?” This is actually a question, one of the few he’s truly asked me.
I shake my head. “No.”
“But you wanted to do it.”
I bite down on my lip, not wanting to actually admit it.
Mount doesn’t need to hear my confession. He reads it on my face.
“You’re getting it pierced tonight.”
This time, my mouth drops open in shock. “What?”
“I swore I’d keep this pussy to myself, but I want you pierced with the jewelry I choose. An emerald. Every time I spread your legs, I want to see it flash at me the same way your eyes do.”
His tongue circles my clit, teasing and testing before nipping and tugging. My hips press up against his mouth, increasing the pressure, but he backs off again.
“Tell me you want it.”
“I want to come,” I say instead.
“Not until you admit you want that piercing. That you want to feel it between your legs, and that every time you move, you’ll think of me, even without your ass or pussy filled.”
His finger lazily circles my entrance, pushing in and out to the first knuckle, teasing me until I want to scream. I manage to keep my silence for another ninety seconds. I count them in my head, and I can’t hold back any longer.
“Just let me come.”
His finger plunges inside me, fucking me now.
“Not until you tell me you want it. I can see it in your face, but I need to hear it from those fuckable lips.”
At this point, I’m ready to agree to nearly anything this manipulative son of a bitch demands, but the fact that it’s something I’ve secretly wanted for years? What do I have to lose?
“Fine! Yes! I want it. Now, let me come.”
True to his word, Mount devours me again, his lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers getting me off in record time. As soon as the orgasm shimmers through my body like some kind of voodoo magic, he stands and flips my skirt down.
“Don’t ever say I never gave you anything you asked for.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket and taps on the screen. He starts to speak as he walks away from where I’m still bound to the desk.
“I need a piercer. Tonight. Female.” Mount pauses. “Yeah, she’ll do. Make sure she knows what happens if she talks. Get her here in fifteen minutes with her equipment and gold-and-emerald jewelry.” Another pause. “Make it happen.” He ends the call.
The reality of what I’ve agreed to crashes into me. “We’re really doing this? Now? Tonight?”
Mount turns around to face me. “You think I’m going to give you a chance for second thoughts? You want it. I’m willing to bet you’ve wanted it for years.” He tilts his head to the side, as though trying to read my mind. “Are you capable of telling the truth, or are you going to lie to me again?”
His challenge forces my honesty. “I’ve thought about it.”
“Why didn’t you do it? You go after everything else you want.”
I don’t answer, but he makes an assumption that’s probably accurate.
“Ah. Well now, you don’t have that problem anymore. I think it’s hot as fuck, and I can’t wait to see you pierced.”
I tug at my bindings. “Are you . . . are you going to leave me like this when she comes?” I heard him request a female, and was actually thankful for that.
“Will you behave if I let you free
?”
“I hate that word,” I tell him. “You make me sound like a child.”
He lowers to a crouch and reaches for the buckle on one of my ankles before rephrasing his question. “Are you going to make me regret not gagging you and keeping you bound? Because the consequences of your actions over the next hour will affect not only you, but someone else’s life.”
I let several hammering heartbeats pass before I nod. “You have nothing to worry about.”
At that reply, he huffs out a laugh and unbuckles that ankle and then the other before moving to free my wrists.
“Why is that funny?”
“Someday, I might tell you.”
When my legs are free, I slide them shut, well aware I’m going to have to spread them again, but this time for a stranger with a needle. I’m finally going to get the naughty piercing I’ve wanted since college but was never brave enough to actually get.
Is that what Mount’s doing? Pushing me outside my comfort zone?
Undoubtedly.
And I like it.
Within fifteen minutes, there’s a knock at the door and Mount calls out, “Enter.”
The bookcase slides open, and Scar escorts in a woman who isn’t a stranger.
“Delilah?”
Her eyes widen beneath her bright blue bangs. “Holy shit. I didn’t see that coming.”
“And you’ll keep your mouth shut about it,” Mount says to her, his tone threatening.
Delilah looks from me to him, her posture stiffening. “I’m only doing this if she’s willing. If this is something you’re trying to force on her, you’ll have to find someone else.”
Mount’s expression hardens to granite like it did this morning, and I wonder if I’m the only person who sees the other side of him. What Magnolia told me this afternoon makes me think that’s the case, and I’m not sure what to do with that knowledge yet.
“Do you want to live until morning?” Mount asks Delilah, and she bites down on her lip.
There’s no way I’m going to let him hurt her. For the first time, I modulate my tone before I speak to him, in consideration of my recent discovery that he isn’t the same man when there’s someone else in the room.
“She’s a friend. It’s okay.” I reach out a hand and catch the arm of his suit jacket to give it the slightest tug.
Mount drops his gaze to where I’m touching him before dragging it up to my face with a new intensity.
“She won’t say anything,” I say quietly.
The weight of his silence nearly crushes us all. Finally, he speaks. “Then we have no issue.”
When I release my hold on his arm, he flexes his fingers before balling them into a fist. He uncurls them a second later and shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.
I look across the room to where Delilah stands. Her posture is tense, as if she’s poised to run for the exit, and I can’t say I blame her. The Mount she’s subjected to is the ruthless bastard everyone else knows.
“I want to do this,” I tell her.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Have you been drinking?” she asks.
“No more questions.” Mount snaps out his response.
Delilah glances up at him, only willing to meet his gaze for the barest moment before looking back to me. “It’s important to know for bleeding issues.”
I answer her. “I’m completely sober.”
She gives me a look that says, You might be sober but something is totally fucked up about this situation.
Delilah’s not wrong about that.
“Okay, then let’s do this,” she says with a nod, and Scar hands her the toolbox I didn’t notice he was holding until just now. As soon as he hands it off, he leaves the room.
Within a few moments, I’m again lying back on Mount’s desk, this time of my own volition. Either that or I’m losing my fucking mind. It could be either at this point, honestly.
Delilah has me sanitized, prepped, and ready a few minutes later, and Mount stands beside the desk, next to me.
When I catch sight of the long, thick needle that’s going to push through a very sensitive part of my anatomy, the jewelry threaded on one end, gold with an emerald crystal as requested, I start to second-guess my decision.
“Just take a few deep breaths in and out for me,” Delilah tells me, like we’re sitting in Voodoo Ink and this isn’t some crazy house call. “It’s not nearly as bad as what you’re imagining. I promise.”
I breathe as she instructed, but I’m still freaking out inside.
“Okay,” Delilah says. “I’m going to tell you to take a deep breath in through your nose and then blow it out through your mouth, and we’ll be done before you know it. Deep breath in,” she orders, and my hand snakes out beside me, clamping around Mount’s fingers as I comply. “Now, blow it out.”
I grip his hand as I do it, and he squeezes back.
The sting is there and gone in an instant.
“And you’re almost done.” Delilah’s tone is congratulatory. “Just let me unscrew this and get the end of the jewelry tightened down, and you’ll be good to go.”
I loosen my hold on Mount’s hand, but he doesn’t let go. I tell myself it’s because my lungs are still heaving at a rate likely to cause hyperventilation.
After a few more efficient movements, Delilah stands and snaps off her latex gloves. Mount drops my hand instantly.
“You’re all set. I can leave after-care instructions for you. But one thing . . .” Her gaze darts to Mount for a second before returning to me. “You’re going to want to be gentle with it for a few days. It’ll be healed within a week, but . . . take it easy for a couple days. You’ll know if you overdo it. And you also know where to find me if you have any issues or questions.”
I flip my skirt down and close my legs. “Thank you. You’re pretty good at that.”
Delilah shrugs. “Somehow, I always get stuck doing the piercings, but this is a pretty easy one. So much less painful than the nipples.”
My gaze shifts to Mount’s, and I hope he’s not getting any ideas. I’m a big fan of my nipples exactly the way they are.
“No, thank you,” I say with emphasis. “I’m not piercing those.”
“Good.” She looks at the panel that conceals the hidden door where she entered. “Now, how the hell do I get out of this place?”
Keira
After Delilah leaves, Mount escorts me back to my room, and it’s the first time I’m allowed to walk through the maze of hidden passageways and stairs with my sight intact. However, most of my attention is focused on the new sensitivity between my legs. With each step, my clit seems to swell and my body heats.
Spontaneous orgasms aren’t really possible, right?
I push the thought away and think of something else. Like the fact that something shifted in Mount’s office as Delilah pierced me.
For the first time ever, I touched him voluntarily, and I know Mount didn’t miss that fact. Maybe that’s why I’m being granted the privilege of being able to see where my room lies in relation to what I assume is Mount’s inner sanctum.
It doesn’t take me long before I realize this isn’t one building, it’s multiple buildings connected by corridors and stairs, built at least a hundred years before I was born. My best guess? We’re somewhere in the French Quarter, and when we walk through an open courtyard, I can hear the sound of revelry not far away.
Which means the building or buildings are most likely soundproof. Good to know. I also spy a wrought-iron gate at the back of the courtyard and catch a glimpse of taillights as a car drives by on either a street or alley.
“I won’t fuck you tonight, unless you think your ass is ready after spending the morning wearing that plug.”
The thought of the car and gate vanishes from my head as I jerk my gaze up to Mount’s.
“Uh, that would be a hard no, chief.”
A rough chuckle leaves his lips as he leads me into another
building, and I’m guessing this one is where my suite is housed. We climb two more sets of stairs before we reach the internal set of rooms.
Mount opens the door and gestures for me to enter before following me inside. “Then we better step up your training. Use the facilities if you need them, then I want you bent over the end of the bed, naked and waiting.”
“What?” I sound shocked because tonight has already been overwhelming enough.
“How else am I gonna stretch your ass to fit my cock if you don’t take a thicker plug?”
“It’s only been one day! This is a process. It should take weeks.”
He reaches down and grasps the thick shaft pressing against his suit pants. “You’ve got three days, and I’m being generous. Now, go.”
His tone, softer than what it was in the room with Delilah present, still invites no argument. And here I thought something had changed. Apparently, I was wrong.
I take care of my business in the bathroom, sucking in a breath as my new jewelry connects with my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
Oh, good God. Maybe that spontaneous orgasms thing is true? I could be okay with that.
I walk out of the bathroom to find Mount standing with another box in one hand and lube in the other.
“The longer you wait, the less you’re going to enjoy this.”
I bite my lip because I’m already turned on because of the new piercing, but also what came before. I bend over the end of the bed, for the first time realizing it’s the perfect height for him to fuck me like this.
I wonder if that’s intentional?
“Good girl. Lift your skirt and show me that ripe peach of an ass.”
His dirty words are my undoing every time.
I comply, because I can’t not. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s how I feel as I squirm on the bed, bumping the new jewelry, sending jolts of pleasure zinging out from my clit through the rest of me.