by Roxy Harte
I try to envision putting a bullet through the center of his left eye. Quick kill, little mess. No, I can’t put a bullet into Lord Fyre’s brain. A knife then, I decide, or a razor blade, small, intimate, it would require up close and personal, messy, but unavoidable. I can’t let him see it coming. Dear God, I can’t let me see it coming.
I have to let it go. No emotion. Forget the who or the why I shouldn’t, I’m a trained professional.
Up close, personal…no, intimate. Naked, straddling him, distracting him with kisses, my tongue in his mouth, his dick slammed hard into my pussy, and a fast swipe…two main arteries…quick…three main arteries…quicker. Oh dear God. I look at my hand and realize how badly I am shaking.
I cannot kill this man. I look up to find him staring back at me. Does he know what I was just thinking?
My skin is pink, partly leftover from the bondage demonstration, mostly from extreme embarrassment. I’m also chafed in places I would rather not be chafed, however, Garrett promised that there is a cream for that. I would rather not think about how he knows that I probably need that particular hygiene product.
Is it day? Is it night? My body, mind and maybe even spirit are definitely falling victim to jet lag. I want sleep, more specifically, I want to lie in bed with Master, wrapped in his arms, and just know that this day is over. Not that it was a nightmare. My life before, WODC and Liam and almost dying during my snuff film debut were the nightmare, I see that clearly now.
Lord Fyre ruffles my hair and, when I look up, I see that he is ready to leave. I start to stand but he bends down and commands, “Crawl behind me.”
Turning, he walks away.
I am naked and dozens of people have suddenly turned eyes on me. After all that I’ve been through, crawling through a crowded room should be nothing but it is something.
I close my eyes, mortified that I am being asked to do this, realizing it is such a double standard. How many slaves have I admired tonight as they’ve crawled by? Men, men and more men, crawling, scratching, hissing, howling, barking men, chests bare, chests furry, gorgeous eye-candy abs and flabby abs. And the women, beautiful women, small breasts barely swaying, large breasts swaying greatly, curvy hips, narrow hips, and yes, I admit, I looked to see if their cunts were waxed bare or left au naturel.
I do not want the crowd to possess such intimate information about me, although honestly, most of them have already seen it all anyway. They just haven’t seen me like this, padding across the room on hands and knees, chin lifted, curved back, hips lifted…crawling. I keep my eyes locked on Fyre’s. He waits by the elevator. He waits for me. I pray for a moment that, if it comes down to it, he’ll stop me. That if it comes down to it and I am ordered to kill him, he will know and he will be strong enough to kill me.
* * * * *
I have never before been so happy to see a bed. I crawl through the threshold of our all-black room and clamber onto the mattress exhausted. We took the long way. After the elevator dropped us at the fourth floor, he took three unnecessary corridors to get to our room. Did he think I wouldn’t notice?
Sitting in the middle of the bed, I rub what’s left of my knees. Carpet burn.
I’m not impressed.
Fyre disappears into the bathroom, returning with a basin, washcloth and towels. Kneeling before me, he lifts my right knee and presses a kiss to the rough, reddened flesh. “Thank you,” he whispers.
I am stunned.
Taking the washcloth, he dips it into the steaming water basin and soaks it, wringing it out before gently wiping away all trace of dirt, exposing a slight abrasion. He kisses my knee again. “You were so beautiful, following behind me. I am so proud of you.”
He straightens my leg against the cool satin sheet covering the bed. I rub my foot against the silkiness of black satin. The sheets are a new addition. I had almost grown accustomed to sleeping on the cold, bare rubber. Almost. I suppress the smile tugging at the corner of my lips, knowing he arranged to have the satin sheets brought to the room for me.
Fyre lifts my right knee, bending it as he washes away the evidence of my marathon crawl. I wince.
“Sh-h,” he gentles, wiping tenderly. “In time, you will learn to crawl with less weight, so you won’t drag your knee against the carpet so much. Soon, it won’t hurt to crawl around on all fours for hours.”
He bends, kissing my knee.
“I want you, Eva.” Emotion cracks his voice and I realize just how much restraint he’s showing.
Leaning back, I hold out my arms to him and he follows me down. The leather of his vest is cool against my chest but the man is warm, his bare skin flaming against mine. I push at the fabric, wanting to feel only his heat against me. He helps and soon I am naked, but I want more, and it is only then that I realize my passion has flared to match his. I wouldn’t have admitted it a moment ago, would have argued just the opposite, but crawling across the dining room floor, following him on hands and knees, was the most erotic, the most sexy I’ve ever felt in my life. For a moment I forgot the real reason I am here.
I am not an agent in this room.
If only that were true.
I pretend that it is truth, pushing all other thought from my brain. I need him desperately. I am on fire to possess his flesh inside me.
“Now?” I whimper, reaching for his hard penis.
“Not yet,” he whispers, taking my nipple in his mouth and pushing his hips to the side, both trapping my searching hand and keeping me from my target. “You are always in such a hurry to get to the main event.”
He licks around my nipple, sparking lust deep in my womb. Soft tugs on my flesh cause me to arch against him. “Oh God, please.”
His answer is to suckle softly, alternating long tugs on my breast, causing an amazing pulling sensation deep in the core of my breast. I am writhing beneath him and begging in earnest before he switches to the opposite breast. He pauses only to say, “I want you to experience this pleasure to its fullest, Eva.”
How many minutes pass in pleasurable agony? I do not know; however, when he moves to straddle me, I think, Thank God, not realizing I voice the sentiment aloud until he chuckles. “Not yet, Eva, patience.”
Pressing his heavy balls against my clit and trapping his long, hard length between us, he rubs erotically against me, watching my face. I seek his eyes, finding them so dark, so filled with passion, a blaze of emotion burning deep within. Lowering his head, he cups my breasts, pushing them together, lifting both nipples to his mouth to suck simultaneously. Lightning crashes through my being with the first long draw. Wetness pools around the opening of my vagina and I am no longer able to restrain myself from humping against him.
Sucking, sucking, sucking…pulling, biting, sucking calls me to respond to him as he watches my face from behind the mound of my bunched breasts.
Humping, rubbing, agony of frustration, wanting more than the friction his balls offer against my clit, wanting, needing him inside me. My hips in motion, I cannot stop. He sucks, I rub, and finally, the climax he has been building explodes through my body.
* * * * *
I awaken to a very naked woman straddling my chest and purring in my face. I react out of instinct, rolling, pinning, crouching. When I hear Fyre’s command to halt, I do; however, it is after Kitten and I are both off the bed and she is pinned with my knee in her gut and my elbow across her larynx.
“Eva? Is that any way to treat my pet?”
I glance around the room, seeing that no, I haven’t fallen into some new rabbit hole. We are still in the all-black bedroom of Lewd Larry’s Attic. I remove myself from Kitten’s person slowly, as if she is a bomb about ready to explode, and back into a corner. She rubs her neck and crawls onto the middle of the bed.
I feel suddenly very naked, realizing that we are all naked, and Fyre acts as if this is very normal and that we’re preparing to serve high tea to a visiting diplomat.
“Kitten belongs to me,” Fyre says, as if that is explanation eno
ugh. He leans against a far wall, shoulders and buttocks snug against the cool black surface, legs crossed at the ankles, semi-hard. He’s posing!
My face wrinkles with concentration and I am sure that next to Kitten’s youthful beauty and freshly applied makeup, my frown wrinkles are far from attractive.
“I’d like for you to get to know one another.”
“What?” I shake my head, trying to remember what came after the rabbit hole. It wasn’t good, I do remember that.
“Climb onto the bed. Talk to Kitten. She’d like to get to know you, and since she is a very big part of my life, I agree, you should get to know one another.”
I’m still struggling with climbing onto the bed to talk with the naked beauty when I realize exactly what he is saying. She is his.
“Oh!” My mouth drops and I feel betrayed suddenly. When he summoned me, I thought… Oh fuck. Can this really be happening? I respond with anger and sarcasm, so much safer than jealousy and doubt. “How many pets do you own?”
“One pet,” he answers. “Two now, if I include you. I’m in a committed ménage with this woman and Garrett.”
“And you just now decided this was information I needed to know.”
“Yes, now it became pertinent.” He walks forward. “Will you disobey me? I asked you to join Kitten on the bed.”
“You want me to make small talk with your slut?” I stand, searching the room for something I can wear out of here. Killing Thomas no longer seems a problem. I do not know this man.
He is on me before I can respond, throwing me down, straddling me. I start to roll out but I am already restrained, at least my hands are, with plastic quick ties. “Get the fuck off me!”
He slides down my body, quick-looping my ankles in inescapable plastic ties. “Damn you!”
“Was there any doubt before?” He smiles, picking me up and tossing me onto the bed beside the woman. “The first rule here is that I am always obeyed, without question. I will be back to punish you. Have a nice chat.”
“Where are you going?”
He keeps walking. He opens the door and leaves me. With her. I struggle to escape, wriggling on the bed. “I have to get out of here. Let me go.”
Kitten straddles me and I try to buck her off, but she manages to pin me with her knees, holding my shoulders down tight. My sternum, not yet healed completely, screams from her weight and my struggles.
“Just let me go and I won’t kill you,” I tell her.
She sits there, looking at me, and smiles.
“I’m not kidding.”
She reaches out to stroke my face, pushing back my hair. She gazes into my eyes and my discomfort level increases tenfold. “He loves you.”
I close my eyes against hers, feeling invaded. Her thumb traces a small scar that crosses through my eyebrow. “You almost died.”
I struggle under her weight, determined to buck her, but the sharp pain in my chest makes it impossible.
“He loves me too, and Garrett. I wonder if you can accept that? He’ll need you to. We all will.”
Her voice creeps me out and I wonder if she is the psychotic queen. Does she have the power in this world to scream, “Off with her head!” and have that order followed?
“I’m glad you decided to cooperate.” She bends over and plants a kiss in the middle of my forehead. “But then, if you love him even half as much as I do, you would do anything for him. That’s why I’ve decided to fall in love with you too.”
Okay, someone get the weird, crazy woman off me now. “You are insane!”
“Tell me that you love him,” she demands, pinching my nipple so hard that I scream out.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
“You don’t, do you?” She smiles but it is a sad, scary smile.
Her smile matches her voice and I am terrified. This woman is the most dangerous person in this place. Can no one see that? I really wish I had my gun.
“I knew you didn’t. Your eyes tell the truth and the truth is, you don’t. So why are you here? Why did you answer his summons?”
I look at her, deciding I will not answer her questions. What’s she going to do? Torture me? I start laughing. I can’t help it. This is just too weird for words. I have been in some tight situations. I thought I would die more than once, and honestly believed when I boarded the plane in Paris that this too was a suicide mission, because that’s what makes me so valuable as an agent. I get sent into situations no one can survive and I always come back from them, sometimes a little more black and blue and broken, but always alive.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asks, and something inside of me breaks. I hope she can’t feel the quaking. I ignore her.
“Falling in love is treacherous,” she continues. “I should know. I’ve been in love three times. The first almost killed me, but I guess I’m a survivor. Then I fell in love with Master. You met him, Garrett Lawrence, and honestly, I thought that his love, or at the time, the absence of it, would kill me too.”
I shiver, remembering meeting her Master, remembering submitting to him without even a fight. It is embarrassing how easily I fell to him. I look away, trying to figure out how to escape, realizing that she is still talking.
“I hated Lord Fyre. He terrified me, but there was something about him, something I needed…” She leans down to kiss my cheek and I bite her face. Hard. Not letting go. Her hand slides between our bodies and her bony knuckles dig hard into my barely healed breastbone. I scream.
She sits back, her cheek not even bleeding.
“Do you need what only he can give?”
“Fuck!” I buck, trying to get away. She pushes harder. “God damn! Oh fuck!” I convulse under her, wishing I would pass out from the pain but I don’t, and she doesn’t quit. “Please, please, please!”
“Please what?”
“Don’t fuck with me!” I growl.
She digs deeper and I honestly believe that bones are separating under the pressure. “What do you fucking want from me?”
She stops pushing and looks at me. I make eye contact with her and our gazes lock. “I want you to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“He has waited his lifetime for one such as me, though he has yet to understand how much I love him.” Her face moves closer and my vision readjusts to stay focused on her eyes. “I will be the one who heals him after you break his heart.”
I swallow hard, knowing that this woman could and would kill me if given a chance. I’ve had a lot of practice reading people and if my eyes tell her that I do not love Thomas, her eyes tell me that she would not give killing me a second thought. I respect that and, without thinking about it, insist, “I do love him.”
She sits back, assessing me, measuring the weight of my words against what she originally read in my eyes, nodding. “I think that once…you did.”
I blink, swallowing several times, dredging up well-practiced emotion until finally I am blinking back tears. I insist, “I still do.”
She laughs at me, bouncing up and down on my chest, clapping her hands.
“Stop!” I cry out, hating my weakness, hating the pain.
She stills, looking down at me. She blinks, her face changing to one of immense grief, and suddenly tears are falling down her cheeks, big, wet drops, and her bottom lip sticks out as she mocks me, “I do love him.” Her tears end as quickly as they started and she claps her hands, smiling triumphantly. “I know that trick too!” Then she leans in and growls in my ear, really growls, sniffing me like a dog would. “You really don’t want to mess with me.”
Climbing off my body, she slides next to me, lying down on her side so that she faces me.
“I’m usually the one who says that line,” I tell her, turning my head slightly to look at her, putting my lips so close to hers that, if we weren’t threatening each other, we could be kissing. I can see in her the strength of will that probably made Thomas love her and I don’t doubt that he does. My curiosity about them compels
me to ask, “How long have you been together?”
“Not quite a year.”
“Really?” I’m shocked and don’t try to hide the fact. I roll onto my side, facing her. “It seems you’ve been together much longer.”
She smiles and our noses bump, making her giggle as she answers, “We make a good fit.” Our breasts rub together and I fight hard not to find it erotic.
I assume she means her and Thomas. I twist my hands, testing the plastic zip ties, knowing freedom is impossible. My fingers tingle. I try to put it from my mind that this woman may become a casualty, the undercurrent constantly being my true purpose for being here. Looking into her blue-green eyes, I decide I won’t be responsible for her death. I rub my forehead against hers. “What are we doing?”
“Getting to know one another,” she replies. Our lips touch but I don’t think either of us meant for it to happen. Not a kiss, just a touch. I pull my face back slowly, so hoping that her idea of getting to know each other doesn’t include kissing.
She strokes the side of my face and her touch feels to me more erotic than she intended as I realize she is only brushing my hair out of my face. “Tell me one truth about yourself, something that you think is important for me to know, a secret that has nothing to do with Lord Fyre.”
I almost laugh out loud. We are both naked, lying as close as two lovers, she has threatened me and I have threatened her and…she wants to share secrets? I wonder what game we are playing now, but decide that since I am in no position to escape, I might as well play along. “A secret?”