Touch: The Complete Series

by Cara Dee

  How friggin' big is this basement? It feels like it's as big as the house, with hallways and locked doors everywhere. Due to the faint light from sconces along the walls, I can't even see the end of some hallways.

  "Since your English isn't good, I suppose I can say whatever I want," Rio muses. "For instance, I told myself earlier not to bid on you today."

  What game is he playing?

  I narrow my eyes at his back.

  "But then you got here, and…" He sighs, slowing down. Then stops and unlocks a door. "Looking like a damn sin."

  Heat pools in my gut.

  Rather than opening the door, he abandons it and comes to a stop right in front of me. A few steps and he has me backed into the cold wall behind me. So close. Closer, still. Until his armored ribcage brushes against my breasts.

  "It would be so easy," he rumbles in a low voice as his hands trail up my arms, "to take you right here, right now." My knees nearly buckle. "I've thought about it many times." And there goes my breath. "I've wondered what that sweet cunt of yours would taste like, how it would feel to fuck it."

  "Oh my God," I whimper breathlessly. My mind swims with images of us together. Him owning me, using my body for his pleasure, controlling me…

  He lifts my chin. "I assume that reaction was to my close proximity and not my words, slave girl. Hmm?"

  I can't speak even if I wanted to. He's reduced me to a mess of need, and I'm beyond ready to beg. At this point, I'll take anything. Anything to ease the ache between my legs and snuff out my thoughts. Anything to please him, serve him, and make him want more of me.

  He stares at me so intently that my body starts shaking. My vision blurs, as if I'm about to burst.

  Maybe I am.

  "To hell with it," he mutters, and then his mouth is on mine. A thousand emotions unleash with a snap, pummeling through me as forcefully as he kisses me. For ten years, I've fantasized about this, and nothing comes close to reality. The taste of him, feeling his power, surrendering to it.

  Locking my arms around his neck, I kiss him back as hard and deep as I can. He groans and picks me up, allowing me to wrap my legs around him. Jesus Christ, yes. He's hard and big under the thin fabric of his costume, and if we continue this much longer, I'm gonna leave a damn spot.

  "I want you on me like a leech tonight," he says, breathing heavily. In between words, he kisses, nibbles, and sucks at my flesh. "Worship, obey, and serve me. The correct answer is 'Yes, Master.'"

  Not Master Rio? In the communities I've been involved in, it's what Doms usually make subs call them—title and name—unless there's ownership involved—Who cares! Answer him, fool!

  "Yes, Master." I moan as he presses his cock against my pussy. "Yesss."

  Rio curses and stills our movements. Forehead to forehead, the only sound our panting.

  "Fuck, you tempt me," he breathes out.

  I search his eyes, looking for things that are probably only there in my dreams.

  All I want is a chance.

  I swallow my nerves and exhale shakily. "Please don’t avoid me after this. Don't write me off."

  He's holding back, I can tell. Maybe it has to do with me, maybe it doesn’t, but there's certainly something.

  His gaze softens, and he kisses the spot between my eyebrows before releasing me. "It's not about me writing you off. But if you wish to talk after tonight, we'll arrange something. Okay?"

  "Yes…" What do I call him now? It's getting a bit confusing.

  Rio notices. He smirks faintly and taps my nose. "Dominus, my foreign slave."

  Pity. "Yes, Dominus."

  *

  That was only the beginning of what turns into one of the most erotic play parties I've attended. The tasks we perform turn it into a real competition with lots of fun and playfulness, but every act is laden with sex, dominance, and submission.

  After the first four tasks have been completed, I've lost count of the number of orgasms I've heard and seen.

  None for me and Dylan so far, though.

  "One more before I present my surprise," Rio declares.

  "I could use some rest." Mistress Judy laughs, having just won the last round in which the goal was to represent as many fetishes in one scene as possible. To everyone's amazement, she and her two sub boys managed to include sixteen fetishes in a single oral scene. Among them were kitten play, CBT, orgasm control, dollification, and edging.

  Rio, Dylan, and I finished in second place with twelve fetishes. And Dylan got a mouthful of Rio's cock. Lucky bastard. Hopefully I can be the one to please our Dominus next time.

  "Soon, dear Judy." Rio winks at her then turns to Dylan and me. The three of us huddle together, and Rio explains the next contest. "Time for you to prove your worth, Chelsea. I'm going to tie Dylan up, and I need you to assist me with the rope." As the last word leaves his mouth, the kitchen slaves exit the house with unmarked paper boxes.

  They place the boxes around the waterhole and remove the lids, revealing bundles of rope that are so tangled that it looks as if it's gonna take an eternity to sort them out.

  My faked confusion at the language delays us a few seconds, but my mind is already busy weeding out the serious competition from the easy. Dante is obviously going to be difficult to beat, as is Gretchen. A few others are also experienced in rope bondage, but, then again, I doubt anyone is used to untangling clusterfucks like this. If anything, riggers and rope enthusiasts take care of their rope.

  Still, eager to please Rio, I hurry over to the water and grab one of the boxes.

  I kneel down where Rio is positioning Dylan on one of the couches. Nearest to us, Elysia is only getting the three-ply jute more tangled, which happens when you don’t let the rope untwist itself. Though, it doesn’t take a bondage fan to figure that one out.

  Spotting four knotted ends, I conclude it's two pieces of rope, and I work as quickly as I can to untangle one before I tackle the other. Each Top has a sub positioned for a hogtie; they're on their stomachs, knees bent, ankles crossing in the air, and arms resting along their sides, waiting to be tied behind their backs.

  "Rio, one might wonder what beef you have with rope." Dante sends him a mock-glare that a few laugh at. "Talk about waste."

  "Collateral damage," Rio chuckles, "and well worth it." He gives me a smoldering glance before he smacks Dylan's butt. "Especially when I have these two slaves to play with."

  In the end, I manage to untangle the mess first, and I learn that Rio is skilled with rope, too. Which obviously leads to more fantasies about him. We win that round, though all I can think of is being restrained by him.

  Then it's time for Rio's surprise I'm so curious about. The cross we carried up from the basement earlier isn't X-shaped like a St. Andrew's cross. It's…well, it's of the Christian variety, and Rio did joke about crucifixion earlier.

  "Simon, I need your help," Rio tells Master Hill, and the two check the hooks the cross is fastened to on the wall of the house near the door. Next, Rio summons a scared-looking Miranda.

  "What the hell is going on?" Dylan whispers to me.

  I shake my head, at a loss. Fuck if I know.

  "Can anyone tell me the corporal punishment for slaves in Ancient Rome?" Rio asks casually as he and Master Hill suspend Miranda on the cross.

  Dante smirks. "Crucifixion."

  "Indeed." Rio's own smirk is sinister.

  They construct a quick harness drawn between Miranda's biceps, chest, and shoulders, and the same between her thighs and midsection. Lastly, they shackle her wrists and ankles.

  "Miranda's done something very wrong, and she's being punished for it." Rio faces his guests. "Nicholas and I are both in charge of her at the moment, and some of you know what she's done."

  I catch Dante's nod, to which Gretchen and I seek each other out and frown, confused.

  "For the rest of the night, she will serve as entertainment." Rio waves a hand at the note Master Hill is attaching to the cross. "Anyone who's up to torture a little
thief, please feel free to step up at any time during the evening. As you will see on this list, torture includes degradation, pain—do not break her skin—mild face-slapping, humiliation, needle play, forced orgasms, and electro-play."

  "Jesus," I mumble, horrified for Miranda. What the fuck could she have done to deserve a punishment so severe? They keep calling her thief, and I'm getting worried it's not a game at all.

  While Master Hill sets up a bunch of toys and implements on a small table next to the cross, Rio asks what color she is, and I'm stunned to hear her say "Green." I know we all have our kinks, but Miranda doesn't appear to be a pain slut or a fan of being called nasty things. For Christ's sake, she's shaking and tearing up already.

  Jealousy or not, subs stick together, dammit.

  "What a treat." Jeremy rubs his hands together, looking more sadistic than Kayla could ever accuse Dante of being. "This will be fun."

  Rio offers Miranda a disinterested glance. "By all means. I, personally, wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole if I had a choice. She should count herself lucky Nicholas and I bother with her at all."

  "This is killing my mood," Dylan mutters for only me to hear.

  "Mmhmm," I agree.

  *

  Dylan and I spoke too quickly.

  With a vibrator attached to Miranda's pussy, her cries of pleasure put us right back in party mode. Granted, that pleasure will be short-lived; after three or four orgasms, it's gonna be hell for her, but it's enough to relax every slave at the party for now.

  The Masters and Mistresses use this time to distract us thoroughly. More tasks, more sex, more laughter, more wine, more good-natured ribbing between the Tops.

  I return to worshiping Rio every chance I get.

  While he sits back and talks to a couple Doms and Dommes, I slide off the low sofa and make my way between his legs. I rub his calves and kiss his thighs, gaining approval when Rio shifts his costume higher and exposes himself more. God. He has the sexiest thighs, muscular and strong. I'm caged by him, and a shiver of pure bliss runs down my spine as I realize I want this spot so badly. I want my place to be at Rio's feet. Permanently.

  It might still be only a crush, but I want to try. Already, I'm certain it'd be too damn easy to fall head over heels for him.

  Pretty stupid even to try if you know he's into open relationships, huh?

  Shut up.

  Rio sighs contentedly as Dylan starts massaging his shoulders, Rio's armor having been taken off hours ago. And I want to elicit sounds like that from him too, so I lower my head again and kiss the inside of his thighs. His cock begins to tent the fabric of his Roman tunic, even more so when I inch close enough to smell his arousal.

  My mouth waters, and I look up at him with the question written all over my face.

  His jaw clenches at the same time as the corners of his mouth curve up. I feel his fingers brushing down my cheek, chin, and throat. His eyes follow every movement those long digits make. Then he reveals his cock and retrieves a condom, rolling it on with one hand.

  I knew this would happen; it's a play party, and safety comes first. Dylan got the same treatment, of course. Still, I can't help but feel a small pang of disappointment. I would've loved to taste him without the damn rubber.

  "I'm not so sure," I hear him murmur. He offers a subtle nod to me, and I lower my head to take him in. Finally. I close my eyes and lavish him with my tongue, gentle grazes with my teeth, and eager sucks. He groans quietly and caresses my cheek. "Chelsea?"

  I flick my gaze to his as I swipe my tongue along the underside of his hard cock.

  "Fuck." His lips part with a labored breath before he schools his features again. "Domina Judy thinks you're avoiding her question as part of your character's inability to understand the language."

  I frown and slow down, sliding Mistress Judy a glance. She asked me a question?

  Guess I've been too busy focusing on Rio.

  Oops?

  "That’s what I thought." He catches my attention again, and unless I've got my wires crossed, he's incredibly pleased. But I'm clueless as to why. "Keep sucking, my little slave."

  All my focus is on him, and I obey immediately. I lose myself in the moment, getting drunk on the pleasure I give him. Every time he tenses and curses and breathes faster and loses his composure, my insides turn liquid with warmth and satisfaction.

  After a while though, I can sense a change in his mood. I look up at him to see a pensive expression, and then he gently halts Dylan's hands on his shoulders. Right after, Rio stills my movements as well, and I ease away to see what's wrong.

  I think it's Dylan. He looks a little lost.

  Rio speaks to him, too quietly for me to hear, and a minute later, he gets up and talks privately to Master Hill. Moving up on the sofa again, I touch Dylan's arm to get his attention.

  "Are you okay?" I whisper.

  He shrugs. Almost dejectedly. "Guess so." He averts his eyes.

  Hmm. I know he's like Kayla; they both regress or whatever they call it. Not only do they act younger with their Daddy Doms, but they feel younger. Though, I think I remember Kayla telling me Dylan doesn’t revert as much as she does. He's a…Middle? And Kayla's a Little. Or something like that.

  Regardless, it makes me wary of how to approach Dylan. I don’t know what he needs—not if he's in that mind-set right now.

  "Do you miss your Daddy?" I decide to go with comfort and understanding; I can't go wrong with that, right? I weave my fingers through his hair and scoot closer.

  He closes his eyes and tilts his face so I palm his cheek. "I shouldn’t," he mumbles. "He's not mine."

  Damn Cade! I don’t even know the man, but whatever they're going through, they should fix things before Dylan's heart gets broken. Easier said than done. Ain't that the truth. With a wistful sigh, I hug Dylan close to me and peer over at Rio, who's walked over to Miranda with Master Hill.

  "I think I found out what happened to the Miranda girl, by the way." Dylan speaks under his breath and discreetly wipes his cheeks. Poor kid. Who…is most likely my own age. Whatevs. "I heard it from those two over there." He nods at two male subs across the patio. "Apparently Miranda stole money from the register at Switch last week. Like, a hundred bucks or something, and Liam caught her and handed her over to Mr. Ford and Master Kelly."

  Shit, double shit, triple shit.

  My spine stiffens. Given my past, Rio's reaction to Miranda's crime suddenly makes all the difference. I need to know his take on things and whether or not he's acting appalled by Miranda as part of her punishment or if it runs deeper.

  "I presume Miranda's sorry since she's still here," I murmur.

  "I don’t know." Dylan doesn’t appear to care about it. "Makes sense they're calling her a thief now, though."

  Yeah…

  "Isn't this where you should be all, 'Oh my God, she stole? What a bitch!'" He fails at sounding like a girl.

  I give him a wry look and point to my shoulder. "Isn't this where you cry on me and call out for your Daddy?"

  "Ouch." He both grins and winces. "You don’t play nice."

  Never said I did, although I'm a whole lot nicer now than when I was a teenager. We all have our pasts, and mine happens to be dirtier than most. I refuse to be ashamed of it, but that doesn’t mean I'm proud of it, either. It just is. And if Rio has issues with that…

  "We all make mistakes, and we don’t know Miranda's story," I settle for saying.

  Doesn’t mean I like that she's Rio's slave, but whatever.

  Dylan nods quickly, his eyes trained on something—someone—behind me, and I turn to see Rio heading our way again.

  "You know that Cade is working tonight, right?" Rio asks Dylan.

  "Yes, Dominus." Dylan stares at his lap. "I don’t wanna leave—it's just…"

  He doesn’t feel like playing, I suppose.

  "I get it." Rio shows a ghost of a smile and extends his hand. "Come on, then. I think I know what to do with you. Chelsea, you're comi
ng, too."

  Chapter 7

  We follow Rio into the house and up the stairs, down a hallway that doesn’t look anything like the basement. Dark wood doors, light green walls, carpeted floor, and countless pictures of family, friends, beautiful landscapes, and patients. I assume some of them are patients, anyway. One looks like it was taken in a jungle, and Rio is surrounded by children. Another photo is of a little boy who bumps his fist with Rio's. The boy is holding a lollipop and is positively beaming. Rio looks just as happy.

  He's not only a Dom. Or a doctor. He's changed lives. He has amazing friends. He's part of a loving family, which I should know considering how much I've stalked him on Facebook over the years.

  Groan. How can I ever admit that? It'll be so damn embarrassing.

  I smile to myself when I see a photo of Rio, Nicholas, Mark, and Cade, all wearing different sports jerseys but the same drunken grins.

  "Here we go." Rio opens a door that leads to a room I can only describe as a man cave.

  "Holy crap," Dylan whispers in awe.

  Rio chuckles and leans against the doorway as Dylan enters and eye-fucks the arcade games, the entertainment center, the gigantic, cushy chairs, the bar, the speakers set up here and there. Christ on a fucking cracker. On the table in front of the chairs there are no fewer than seven remote controls. On the walls, there are shelves upon shelves with DVDs, video games, and CDs. Cabinets filled with collectibles, comic books—friggin' comic books? Heh. Who knew Rio was a nerd.

  It kinda makes me like him even more. Combined with the photos in the hallway…girly sigh.

  Rio pulls me close, causing me to squeak then giggle, and I peer up at his face. God, his smile is gorgeous.

  "Do you think you can spend a few hours here, Dylan?" Rio murmurs, though he never looks away from me. He's warm, so I snuggle closer. Dylan's "Hell yes" makes Rio grin. "Good. Go nuts. Chelsea and I will be down the hall if you need anything. But…knock first."