Fortunes Fool

by Gale, Eva; D'Arc, Bianca; Kent, Cassidy; March, Selah

  He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Tried to conjure up the recollection of her touch on him in the dark, early hours of morning. He listened for the memory of her voice in his head, telling him a tale of a far-off land where women dressed in veils that ran and rippled like watercolors in the rain. He took a breath and smelled...patchouli. Incense. Felt a hot, dry wind on his face. Heard the beat of the drums, and over it...

  " When I see you bound and helpless, my mouth waters. I am powerless over any man, save you. With you, I can do anything I choose...You can't get away. Surrender is your only option." He opened his eyes, stepped forward, and laid his hand gently on Leah's hip. Her skin glowed with the welts he'd raised with the crop. He traced one with his finger, then another. Leah shuddered and pressed herself into the padded leather of the bench. Trying to avoid his touch? Maybe, maybe not. He traced a third red line, where it ran diagonally from the top of her right hip over her ass to her left thigh. She groaned and rocked hard into the bench.

  He reached lower and pressed the tip of his thumb into her slit. She jerked with enough force to make the bench wobble. He let his thumb glide along her slick crevice, then slipped it inside and made his other thumb join it. Then he spread her open, and she whined into the gag.

  Hot. Wet. Deep pink, verging on purple. He could see her clit, looking swollen and almost bruised. She wanted this...some part of her, anyway. Didn't she? Or was he telling himself that so he could live with himself later? He couldn't see her face in the mirror. Couldn't check her expression, or look for that quick, subtle nod. His position was wrong, the angle of reflection too far off.

  He closed his eyes and pictured the words he couldn't say. The questions she couldn't answer—not out loud. Not expecting any reply. Not even bothering to hope. Do you want this? Tell me, Leah. She popped her hips up, tilting her pelvis, making herself available. Offering herself to him, as definite as any nod. And he was hard again— ready, willing and able. Good enough. "Going to fuck you now, Leah. You ready?" The height of the bench was perfect—Shannon was good for something after all. He slipped his cock along her blood-hot crease, all the way up to the place where her spine ended, and back down to kiss her clit. She whimpered, her whole body stiffening. He aligned himself and pushed, slow and steady. Her pussy opened around the head and seemed to suck him inside. Hungry. Greedy. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grunting and palmed the ripe curve of her abused ass. Smooth constriction, and so damned hot he had to grit his teeth and count backwards by sevens to maintain control. He sure as hell wasn't lasting long like this. He would've liked to think it was the leftover effects of Donnatella's drug. He knew better.

  He ground himself against her, his flesh hissing against hers with the sound of a burning match dropped into water. There was just enough room between the edge of the bench and her belly to slip a hand between and find her clit. He made circles with his fingertips, quick and light, and felt her shiver in response. It was all he could give her. Pretending this was a shared experience. Pretending this was about her pleasure and not her humiliation.

  When he began to pump, the deep pull and slip-slide were like hits of pure sugar dumped straight into his bloodstream. He worked it, sliding all the way out and gliding back in slow. Deep. Eyes closed and telling himself it was just the two of them, no crazy murdering lunatics in the peanut gallery. Just them, and he was making love to her, not taking her over a bench while she tried not to choke on a rubber ball.

  It was easier than he would've guessed because she was in his mind, whispering tales of harem chicks and fearsome warriors. Showing him pictures of what she'd do to him if she could. What she'd offer, what she'd allow him to take. What she'd take from him when he was too spent to move. It felt like sin and virtue, all tangled in hot, spitting wires. Like an addiction. Like fucking a dream. He didn't care if it was real. It was enough that he could believe for the three minutes it might take him to come.

  She made a sound, high and helpless, and closed around him like she meant to keep him there forever. His whole body went tight. He grabbed her hips and arched, throwing his back into it, wanting every millimeter, every nanosecond he could get. Felt the sweet, hot zing spiral down his spine and burst, big and too bright behind his eyes and through his cock, and maybe he said Leah's name. Maybe he shouted it. Maybe it was just in his head.

  He slumped against her, sliding his fingers away from beneath her. She shook under him. He could hear her breathing hard through her nose, and hoped she wouldn't choke on the gag. "He's finished, Madre." "So soon? How disappointing." He ignored them in favor of rubbing his hand down Leah's back,

  over and over. Her skin was hot and dry. "That's enough, big guy. Get off her." Shannon pulled at his arm and he stepped away. Leah yelped when his still half-hard cock slid out of her and slapped against the back of her thigh.

  "Tell me, cara," Donnatella said, her face a study in sick fascination, "is our sparrow crying?"

  Shannon left him in the center of the room to circle the bench and look. "Her face is very red, Madre, and yes. There are tears." "Bellissimo. Unbind her and let her recover." Shannon unbuckled the restraints at Leah's wrists and helped her to stand by yanking hard on her hair. When she was upright, the barmaid unbuckled the gag as well. Marcus watched as Leah brushed her hair from her eyes, worked her jaw, fought to regain her equilibrium. She didn't look at him. Shannon stood only three feet away, glaring. Yugiya kept to his right, katana at the ready. Leah took a few rasping breaths. Then she licked her lips, cleared

  her throat, and said, "Madre, I request permission to thank you properly." "Of course, my sparrow. Approach." He watched as Leah wobbled in the Donnatella's direction, not altogether steady in her heels. The welts on her ass and the backs of her thighs seemed to accuse him out loud, as did the slow and painful way she lowered herself to kneel at the older woman's feet. He'd hurt her. With the crop and with his cock, he'd hurt her. He hadn't been given a choice, but he'd live with that a long time.

  "Your pleasure is mine in all things, Madre." She said the words as if they were a catechism she'd learned by heart. Marcus couldn't help the disgust that twisted his gut. This shit was seriously fucked up.

  And he'd begun to wonder...was he right in assuming Leah was here to help him? If so, this was an Academy Award-worthy performance.

  " Molto bene, cara. But you know your test is not yet complete. There is yet one more trial to prove your loyalty."

  "Whatever you wish, Madre." Leah pulled herself off her knees with obvious difficulty and stood. "May I please use the ladies' room first?" "Sí, cara." Shannon started forward. "But Madre—" "You will accompany her, of course." Donnatella's voice was smug and careless at the same time, so certain she had nothing to fear. "Hurry back, my sparrow. Our games are just beginning." Leah moved to the pile of her clothing and reached for her skirt. "Wait," Shannon said, "you can't get dressed. Do you think we're

  idiots?" "Shannon." Donnatella's tone held a warning. Leah ignored the blonde and directed her words to the Madre. "May

  I please take my bag? I want to freshen my makeup." The barmaid grabbed the bag from the top of the pile, unclasped it, and stuck her hand inside to search it. When she pulled out her hand, she held a cell phone—not Marcus's, and thank God Leah was at least that smart—and a wallet. She thrust the bag at Leah. "Wear those fancy shoes of yours, and try not to fall on your ass," she hissed, low and vicious.

  They left the room together, Leah limping and Shannon trailing her. Before the door closed behind them, he heard Leah ask Shannon the time. He missed the barmaid's answer, but what difference did it make? Time was meaningless. All that mattered now was escape, and now he had his chance. He turned, poised to make a move. If he could disable Yugiya— "Tell me you would not be so foolish, Detective Colton. To die now? After only thirty minutes of freedom? Surely you'd rather wait and know the end-game, sí?"

  As Donnatella spoke, Yugiya moved nearer, her stance threatening. She lifted the katana over
her head. The moment stretched between the two of them, taut and endless. He watched the young woman's face, taking her measure. Would she really kill him? There was something there in her face...some uncertainty... "Stand down, Detective, or I will tell her to take your right arm." He saw Yugiya's grip tighten on the katana. Saw her arms tremble with tension. With a grunt of frustration, he stepped back and let his arms fall loose at his sides. Yugiya nodded in acknowledgment, and moved away.

  He'd lost. Again. All he could do now was wait and see if Leah came through with whatever she was planning.

  Donnatella's voice cut through his thoughts. "Do you wonder how I know what you are thinking, Marcus? When one has been without sight as long as I, one learns to know the scent of changing emotions. I smell your anger. Your fury. Your helpless rage." She let her head drop backward and made a great show of sniffing the air. "The perfume of your fear...best of all. Magnifico. But not so fine as the fragrance of your pain, I think."

  The door opened, admitting Leah, all alone. She didn't give Marcus so much as a glance as she crossed the room to Donnatella's side. "Madre? Something's wrong with Shannon. I think she's ill." Donnatella frowned. "Shannon is never ill." Leah looked at him then. Two bright red spots of color had formed high on her cheekbones. Her eyes sparked at him from across the room. He could practically taste the adrenaline coursing through her, and it sparked a rush of his own. Something was definitely up. She turned back to the Madre and said, "I think it's her stomach. She said she thought she'd eaten something bad."

  Donnatella's frown deepened. "This is most inconvenient. I'll need to summon another acolyte."

  "No need to bother, Madre." Leah leaned in close to the other woman, and softened her voice 'til Marcus could barely make out her words. "What do you require? I'm ready to serve."

  He watched Donnatella's face for signs of suspicion. She appeared to consider Leah's suggestion. Finally, she smiled. "Sí, cara. I will choose to trust you."

  Donnatella stretched up to whisper in Leah's ear. Marcus watched Leah's face as she listened. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. Then she nodded and turned away toward the cabinet. He glanced at Yugiya, who was also watching the action on the other side of the room. If he could just pivot quickly enough, he might be able to disarm her—or maybe grab the debris from the table and use it as a weapon— "Detective?" It was the first time Leah had addressed him since leaving him the previous morning. He turned to look at her. She was moving toward him, and he noticed her feet were bare. What'd happened to those stupid shoes? Then he saw what she had in her hands, and tried not to lose his shit entirely.

  She held a tray. Arrayed upon it were several articles that shone and twinkled in the flickering candlelight, including a chrome-and-leather ball-gag—several sizes larger than the one Shannon had forced into Leah's mouth—two ivory-handled filleting knives of differing lengths, and the largest dildo he'd ever seen. The fact that this fake cock appeared to be made of stainless steel was only secondary to its massive girth. His entire body clenched as he stared at the tray, and then up into Leah's face, which wore a perfectly blank expression.

  "Please arrange yourself on the bench so that I can fasten the restraints." She didn't quite meet his eyes as she said it. "You're kidding, right?" She looked straight into his face then. "What makes you think any of this is a joke, Detective?" A muscle in her jaw twitched. The tension radiating from her body was like a tangible force, pushing at him. "Do it, please."

  "Hear how gracious is our little sparrow, Detective? How politely she speaks? She is preparing to conclude her test of loyalty. Her mission is to make you suffer for three hours, without respite. To free your soul from its prison within your flesh and bone." Donnatella's voice dropped, and she spoke as if she were savoring the words. "And then she will help you make the ultimate sacrifice, sí? And you will be ready. You will be grateful, as your friend was grateful. In the end, he could not even scream, so great was his gratitude, sí? It will be the same with you, I promise."

  He glanced at Yugiya, who'd moved nearer again and stood at the ready.

  Fuck. This was really going to happen. They were going to torture him to death.

  "Please, Detective," Leah said. "Don't make me ask Yugiya to force you." Her eyes had filled with tears. He watched her blink them back, but she couldn't seem to do the same with her expression of pleading and desperation. She stared at him so hard he felt her gaze drill into his brain. Trust me, Marcus. Just a little longer. He almost nodded, then caught himself and glanced over his shoulder at Yugiya. She was watching them closely. He moved to the bench and bent over it, placing himself in exactly the same position Leah had occupied only half an hour earlier. He caught a whiff of her scent, musky and sharp, as he stretched himself over the leather.

  "Do not forget to inject him, my sweet little Leah. We wish to let the good Detective have the...how do you say it? The full experience, sí?"

  He started, every nerve in his body on red alert. No...not that fucking drug again.

  Leah's voice came from somewhere behind him. "But, Madre, I thought Shannon said—"

  "Shannon is overly cautious in her zeal to serve." Donnatella's voice had grown cold and hard in the space of a second. "Inject him."

  He stood, pushing away from the leather. Yugiya was at his side, instantly, but she made no move to threaten him with her blade. He watched as Leah chose a syringe from the scattered group on the floor, and then an unbroken bottle of the drug. It glowed green and viciouslooking in the soft light.

  He could see her fingers shake and fumble the job of filling the syringe. Could see how red her face had grown. She kept glancing at the door. As if she were expecting something...someone, maybe?

  As if on cue, the door slammed open and Shannon charged in. There was blood on her face, running from a gash over her right eye. It looked deep, that gash. Deep and painful. Marcus loved that gash.

  But his attention was instantly diverted by the rolling gray cloud that followed the bleeding barmaid into the room. Smoke. And a lot of it.

  Shannon slammed the door behind her. "What did you do, you bitch?" She threw herself at Leah and wrapped her hands around her throat, forcing her to her knees. Marcus moved instinctively, and had nearly reached them when he felt Yugiya's blade at the back of his neck. He ducked and dida quick spin. She wasn't the only one who had studied the more violent arts.

  He came up facing her. She held the katana before her defensively. In the girl's black eyes raged a battle between fear and resolve.

  "You're not going to kill me," he told her. "Back off, run away, while you've got the chance."

  Her eyelid flickered, just the twitch of a muscle. She didn't move. But behind her, on the other side of the room, Donnatella had finally caught a clue.

  "What is happening? Shannon? I smell..." The Madre's mouth contorted, and her hands came up to curl into fists on either side of her face. "Is it smoke? Is it, Shannon?" The terror in her voice was almost as satisfying as seeing the barmaid bleed. A weakness. Finally. And a fatal one, if the amount of smoke flowing in from beneath the door was any indication.

  "Shannon! Help me!" She took a step forward and stumbled over nothing, plainly caught out helpless by her own fear. Marcus watched as her perfectly smug and controlled manner crumbled into confusion and fear. He almost wished he could feel a little sympathy. It must've been horrifying to think of flames coming near when you couldn't see to run away.

  He glanced at the pair to his right. The blonde's hands were still around Leah's throat, but she was looking at Donnatella, indecision plain on her face. Finally, she let go and allowed Leah to fall forward, facefirst onto the cement. Shannon darted to the Madre and took her arm, steadying her. Then she turned to Yugiya.

  "You stay here with them." She led Donnatella to the door and stopped to look at Marcus. "Don't get any fancy ideas, cop. I'll be back to finish the two of you."

  Donnatella had begun to sob. She clung to Shannon's arm like a frightened child. "Pleas
e, cara. Take me out. Take me away from the fire."

  The door slammed behind them. He turned to face Yugiya through the haze of smoke. "Don't listen to her. You can still run. You can get away. If you stay here—" The sound of sirens cut him off. "You hear that? They must be close—must be right outside if we can hear them down here." He took a step toward her, and she lifted the katana. But her face was unsure. Frightened. And very, very young. He stared at her, realizing for the first time that she couldn't be more than sixteen.

  The Madre had much to answer for, including murder, but this? This was the worst.

  Still Yugiya held fast, her blade aloft and ready. Marcus turned his head slightly, just enough to see Leah from the corner of his eye. She lay motionless on the floor, but he could hear her breathing quicken. He saw her hand twitch and curl into a fist.

  And then she rolled, catching Yugiya by surprise. She took the girl out at her knees. Knocked her down. Kicked away the katana, all in one rapid movement. Even in the chaos of the moment, he had to be impressed.

  He watched her crouch over the now-cringing girl, grab her by the hair, and look straight into her terrified face. "Run," she said, clean and sure and not even very loud.

  She gave Yugiya a shove and the girl was on her feet, sprinting for the door. She opened it, and smoke billowed in. More of it than he'd expected. The room had begun to grow warm. He took Leah's arm and pulled her to her feet. "Where's the fire?" "First floor bathroom. I decorated it with paper towels and toilet paper, then set it on fire with this." She coughed into her fist and held up a lighter—tiny, pink and plastic. The kind you could buy at the grocery checkout. "When Shannon came in to see what was taking me long, I clocked her with the heel of my shoe."