by Trisha Wolfe
The woman before me drops to her knees and kisses along my belly. I jerk at the intimate contact, and as she slides her hands up my thighs, I seek Chase’s gaze.
He’s more than condoning these women fondling me; he’s enjoying it.
And as one of the brunettes runs her tongue over my nipple, his arctic eyes blaze with yearning. I can only look into his gaze; my new focal point. He approves of this, desires it, because his eyes alone beckon my devotion.
Chase lifts his chin. “And you’re not to remove her anal jewel.”
Humiliation sweeps through me so fiercely, I drop my gaze, unable to continue seeking a connection with the man who declares such things with no preamble.
The air doesn’t even stir at his mention of the jeweled plug adorning my posterior; it’s only out of the norm for me—the newbie. The shy, awkward introvert. But he knows this. Whereas I believed he never noticed me for more than a passing glance, Chase has watched me. Studied me. He knows exactly what will shame me.
And this is what he ultimately desires.
The sensation of the chains biting into my wrists, their soft hands roaming, caressing, invading—I’m the perfect spectacle as I’m subjected to arousing stimulation which I’m unable to ignore—to pretend doesn’t excite me.
Then as the blonde takes me into her mouth—so different than the feel of Chase; his firm tongue, his commanding caress—I gasp. While I’m trying to ignore the brunette working her hands and mouth over my breasts, it’s impossible not to buck against the other woman kneeling behind as her slender fingers ease inside me.
“Oh, god,” I whisper, whether in need of answer or just helpless reaction, I don’t know. But I can’t stop the flood of stimuli. I can’t control my body’s response, becoming wet. Throbbing. The deep pulse building into a hot ache.
At once, all men stand and approach. I flinch at their abrupt movement, attempting to shy away, but the women hold me in place. Their nails dig into my thighs, my waist. Their groping becomes frenzied—and against my will, my body likes the chase. Being bound and forced to accept the impending orgasm.
Chase remains seated, his heated gaze intent on watching. I lock on to him, trying to envision it’s his hands on me. Only when the three men take their stance around me, directly behind their subs, my trembling becomes unbearable.
The two—Gannet and Mason—are at my right and left. It’s Wells behind me, and not being able to see him, to know what he’s about to do, is terrifying.
As their hungry gazes rake over my flesh, they begin to unbuckle their belts. Their zippers lower. Their pants drop around their ankles.
Oh, god…
I almost speak out—Red right on the tip of my tongue, but I bite down. Chase widens his eyes, encouraging me to still my racing heart.
Gannet grabs ahold of the woman kneeling in front of me, raising her ass up to him as he drives into her without warning. Her moan vibrates against me, through me, and I flinch at the intense spasm that ripples along my flesh.
The rest of them follow suit, taking their subs from behind, fucking them mercilessly.
This is not happening. This is not happening.
But it is—and I’m powerless against the rush.
I seal my eyes shut, no longer able to seek Chase. He’s here. He won’t allow anyone to hurt me. The swell of overstimulation pulls at all corners of my mind. Dragging me to some clandestine level of arousal that doesn’t care if I’m being fucked, sucked, or put on display.
All that matters is Chase—that he approves. I’m pleasing him. In knowing that, I release the threads, my body unwinding and becoming loose as pleasure sweeps through me, vicious and devastating.
I’m lost on that current, adrift, floating in the deep blue of Chase’s storm, when a rough touch cracks the safety of my bubble. My vision swims as I pry my eyes open, the room and sounds and flickering lights bleeding in. Alarm steals over me.
A callused hand clutches my throat, fingers digging into my jaw and forcing my head to turn. My wide eyes meet Mason’s—his dark irises lit with need as he thrusts into his submissive hard. Then his fingers move to my lips before he shoves them inside my mouth.
“Your mouth wants me, whore,” he seethes close to my ear. “You’re going to take what I give you.”
I try to jerk away, but in the moment his gaze drills into me, issuing a silent threat, Chase has him in a similar hold around his neck and yanks him off, Mason’s hand gone from me. His sub is only momentarily fazed before she resumes her task of nipping at my breast.
But soon, all sensation stops as Chase hauls Mason against the brick wall. “You fucking test my authority?” His voice is a harsh boom, silencing all other sound.
I yank at my restraints, panic alive and coursing. The abrupt cutoff clips my orgasm short, sending a shockwave of pain between my legs. So piercing and demanding, I barely hear Chase order everyone out.
“Now,” he says, the deep timber of his voice traveling around the small nook.
My pulse pounds loud in my ears, my arms straining as I reel back. Gannet obeys, pulling out of the woman, but his eyes stay on my trembling body as he wraps his hand around his cock and spurts over her ass.
He gives me a wink, sending a chill along my skin. He then puts himself away and yanks the girl up to stand by her arm. “This is out of order,” he says to Chase as he buckles his belt. “Go,” he orders his sub, and she obeys quickly, leaving the room without cleaning herself off.
Chase appears in my vision, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Jaw set, eyes steely, he says, “I make the orders. This? All this? Is my law.”
Gannet shrugs a shoulder, his demeanor too nonchalant for the tension strangling this room. “Mason is a beast. You know this. But is a cunt really worth the discord that will follow?”
For a brief second, Chase’s eyes land on me and his mouth hardens. When he returns his gaze to his named partner, he says, “Get out.”
The stare off between them lasts only a few seconds, but it feels as if time stretches out endlessly before Gannet takes his leave. I’ve forgotten all about Wells and the other woman until I feel the brush of fingers along my spine. Unsure if it’s his hand or hers, I remain silent, not wanting to alert Chase.
Wells slinks past Chase, nodding his head as he departs between the black curtains, the brunette’s head bowed as she trails behind him.
Within the same beat, Chase releases a low growl and storms toward me. Rage simmers in the depths of his eyes, stealing the breath from my lungs. “On your knees,” he demands as he unhooks the main chain, freeing my arms.
My still-bound wrists drop, my muscles aching and nearly causing me to cry out. I swallow it back. Only I don’t move fast enough for his liking, and he snaps the link of chain taut, hauling me forward.
He tugs the chain down, forcing my body to conform. I get to my knees before the fire seething in his eyes can scorch me.
“I understand why they’re testing me,” he says, his hands making quick work of his buckle. The sharp ring of his belt sliding through the loops caresses my skin with a ruthless promise as he rips it free. “But you? I think you’re trying to fuck with my head.”
I attempt to shake my head, but it’s useless. He’s already lowering his pants, not even taking them all the way down before he grabs the chain again and pulls, forcing my arms and head against the platform.
It’s in this position that the ache between my thighs becomes intolerable. I whimper as he presses his palm against my back, pushing me farther down. “I have no choice but to finish you off. But that’s what you want—that’s why you torment me.”
“Chase…”
Edging up behind me, he digs his fingers into the soft skin of my behind, aggressively lifting my ass up toward him. “You better call me Master, Alexis. Or I’ll take no mercy. I’ll brutalize your wanting ass the way it needs to be fucked.”
There’s no humor in his tone, no hint that this is in any way a game. He’s bent on m
aking me feel every bit of scorn he just suffered. Which is somehow my doing.
My breath saws in and out of my lungs, the short span of space between my face and the floor too hot, too stifling. Then I do cry out as Chase spears into me without warning. He fills me completely, not stopping until his pelvis slaps my ass.
“Fucking hell,” he grates. “Your cunt is so fucking wet.” He slaps a cheek, making me buck. “Did you rain for those bastards?”
My lips move, but no words leave my mouth.
His pelvis connects with my ass again, triggering a reflex that nearly pushes the anal plug out. But just as quickly, his palm covers the jewel. “Answer,” he snaps.
“No,” I say. “I didn’t.”
“Damn right you didn’t.” He pulls out, then slams back inside, deeper. “You only rain for me. Did you get off on him touching you?” He follows his invasive question with a long, hard thrust.
“No,” I say, my voice breathy as I accept the fucking. “I only want you.”
He grunts as he delivers another savage thrust. “I should’ve broken his fucking hand.”
It goes on like this. Him demanding answers. Me reassuring that I belong to him. He fucks me until I’m shaking, my arms barely supporting my weight, the chains cutting into my wrists.
I suffer a violent orgasm that levels me, his ruthless thrusts never letting up as my body seizes, then he rips out of me and slaps my pussy, sending a tremor ricocheting through me. As he removes the plug, I bite down on my lip. The loss of pressure feels so good I almost cry from the sensation.
I don’t get to enjoy it long; the tip of his cock is there, seated at my entrance.
“I don’t think I’m ready…” The words are out before I realize I’ve uttered them.
Chase is so still, I can hear my ragged breaths. Then, fisting a hand in my hair, he pulls my head back as he leans over me. “Remember what we discussed this morning? I don’t have the patience for indecisiveness, temptress. Are you ready for me?”
My chest tight, I leap forward. “Yes, Master.”
His low groan of approval slips over me. “You’re more than ready, temptress. Your ass has been begging for this since you first bent over to change that slide, you fucking tease.”
My eyes squeeze shut, but my body reacts to his accusation. I’m hot and achy, and before I’m able to refute any such claim that I purposely provoked him, he releases my hair and pushes inside my channel.
White-hot pain sparks behind my lids. The music from beyond the room heightens, the beat hitting my ears in sync with the sharp throb. That pain pulses and increases the farther he drives inside, opening me up to take him.
My fingers curl around the link of chain, my arms shaking as I find a grip. And when he backs out only to slam inside once again, I grit my teeth, my voice lost as air vacates my lungs.
His groan fuels the fire rising between us. “You want me to tell you how tight you are?” he asks as he plunges deeper, his voice as strained as my muscles. “You’d love that. Hearing how much I love your tight ass. How I can think of nothing else but fucking your little hole over and over, filling you, releasing inside you, but you know this. You know how badly you effect me – and how much I crave you.”
Those impassioned words coil around my pain, transforming the piercing ache into a pleasurable friction that demands his rough thrusts. “God – yes. Crave me. Fuck me…harder.”
I can’t believe my own loss of control—but there’s a visceral desire surging within me to own this man right back. I want to feel his loss of control. I want to make this powerful man powerless in wanting me. I want him to need me…until it breaks him.
It’s as if a switch is flipped. And I feel the moment it happens—the breathy curse that falls from his mouth as his body quakes. The need thrumming through him so violently, he wraps his hand around my throat and drives inside me with an abandon that’s frightening…until I push back, accepting him fully.
Heat travels the length of my body, igniting my tender skin, curling and arcing as he takes every last inch for himself. As he tightens his hold, nearly sealing off my breathing, the light in the room dims further. The pressure builds until I’m gasping, frantic.
His growl tears through me as he rips his hand away, and the wave that crashes over me as I take a full breath is shattering. So much pleasure my body feels physically unable to handle the swell. He reaches down and strokes my clit right as I tighten around him. He knows my body, anticipates my signals. And the orgasm grabs hold. Fierce. All-consuming.
Fall. Fall. Fall.
I’m twisted, and warped, and distorted beneath his ravenous taking—and I’m willing. Willing to be shaped and altered into what he most desires. I’m his perfect, willing toy. Only I’m so much more, and the yearning to be his everything is almost unbearable as my climax spirals around us.
He falls against my back, his heavy breaths singeing my sensitized skin, his cock pulsing inside me. The beat of his heart hammers in sync to the racing of mine, and as he clutches his arms around me, branding me with his fingers as they dig into my flesh, I pray they leave behind a mark. Some physical sign that this moment is real.
“You’re going to be my ruin,” he whispers before he pulls out. “And I’m going to punish you for it.”
His vow should elicit fear, but I’m not afraid of him. I’m frightened that when he does, as I’m begging him to discipline me within my overturned world, I’ll be powerless against falling maddeningly in love with him.
10
Disparagement
Chase
There’s a baring of the soul that no one should witness.
It’s painful and destructive, and when exposed, decimates everything in its path.
The smiles we hide behind, the fake nuances, the cordial, polite, boring exchanges. The pleasantries we force ourselves to spew day after day… they are necessary, despite being exhausting. We do them because it’s what keeps others and ourselves protected.
So when those walls come crashing down, and you let someone see the truth of you, there’s a certain damage control which must follow. We do not want to be looked upon as if we are that thing in our worst moment.
Because that’s what we say, right? I wasn’t myself… I was so angry, I didn’t mean those words. But the sick truth is, we always mean them. They are the undisguised actuality of our thoughts, spit out in a moment of panic, fear, heightened emotion.
We do not want to be this vile thing…yet we are.
The absolute, unvarnished truth of a person is gruesome.
Like salt in the wound, that is the sting of our true nature.
I’ve always lived my life with a sort of honesty that made others uncomfortable. I believed that I was above cloaking my bad habits in order to provide those little shades of disguise that people crave so badly. But being with Alexis tonight showed me my own pitiful truth.
There’s a monster lurking within me that even I hide from myself.
That’s the most terrifying realization, isn’t it? When you discover an inherent darkness, an innate violence that you didn’t fathom you were capable of.
I didn’t want to stop.
I wanted to brand her body. Carve my nails in her skin and mark her. Fuck her until she bled…to let all others know she’s mine. An animal marking his territory. Spreading my scent all over her and debasing her in the worst way.
Even now, the chill sweeps over me, the moment long gone but not fully abandoned. I latch on to the small comfort that I did not abuse her—that I stopped. I did leash the monster. But the pressing fear still lurks. The question of next time…
The Arlington skyline is dark, rolling with ink-swollen clouds as the night is lit with a dusting of hazy lights. I stand before the long window, hands curled into fists by my sides, waiting to hear the shower cut off so I can take my next breath.
Instead of bringing Alexis back to my place, I’ve secured my private room in the hotel for the night. This way, I won’t be tempte
d to chastise her further. Right now, it would result in releasing my frustrations, and the thought of other guests hearing her screams curbs some of the temptation.
Some.
With any other woman, I doubt I would’ve cared to see Mason’s hands all over the whore. In fact, I probably would’ve enjoyed watching her squirm, wishing I’d touch her with such rapt interest.
I’ve never cared before. Not for any of them. And I’m not sure now if what I feel for Alexis is concern or just my greedy nature. The events of this week—Malcolm Bates’ trial and the partners trying to establish their dominance—has left me edgy and conflicted by my own thoughts.
I’m not easily confused. I’ve always known what I want, and known how to get it. I’ve never questioned myself. I was born who I am; I was not nurtured into this beast. I didn’t have uncaring, abusive parents. Just the opposite. My home life was normal, with an average, happy childhood.
My parents live in a grand home in the Hamptons where I visit them on holidays.
So when the question comes…as I know it will eventually…when Alexis desires to know why my interests and appetites are so extreme, there will be no answer good enough for her.
That bothers me more than it should.
I hear the water shut off, and finally, my lungs expel a tense breath.
Sinking my hands into my pockets, I turn to face her as she opens the bathroom door. Dressed in the black silk nighty I selected from the clothes Jefferson delivered, she’s wringing out her long hair out a towel. Her steps falter as she meets my eyes.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, which tastes awkward on my tongue. I never ask, and I never care. But I need to know that she can handle my desires.
She blinks a few times, as if stunned by my question, then tosses the towel over a chair. “I’m all right. Thank you.”