by Jayne Rylon
She clutched his chest as it bellowed with his pants.
“Maybe me. Close. So close. Please, Mistress. Please, Ben.”
Lily smiled at the man stroking Ryan’s cock when he looked to her for guidance.
“Whenever you’re ready. All of you.” She struggled to appear calm when their surrender to her wishes set her ablaze. “Make sure you come on Ryan. I want to see your pleasure spilling over him.”
As though they found the idea as appealing as she did, the men lost all reserve. One by one they tipped their heads back and roared. The first man to surrender to orgasm shuffled closer, as tight as he could get to the table. His partner aimed the purple head of his cock at Ryan, who looked like a very unvirginal human sacrifice.
Come dribbled from the tip of his cock. The meager display disappointed her insatiable libido a tiny bit. Until she realized it was just the warm up. Blast after blast of thick white come shot from his cock, coating Ryan’s defined abs and Ben’s pumping fist.
His pleasure unlocked the rest. All of the men erupted in near unison. Ben’s motion turned jerky as he emptied his load across Ryan’s chest. The pearly white fluid meandered down the man’s abdomen. When it pooled near his belly button, mingling with the fluid from the other slaves, Ryan froze in her hold, locked in an endless orgasm.
She came with him, grinding her pussy against his taut muscles as the final spurt of his come launched from his cock. He came so hard and so long she feared he might have a heart attack. At least she would have worried if he hadn’t been the picture of physical fitness.
Possessing the power to do this to such strong, vibrant creatures filled her with satisfaction. Nothing could please her more than bestowing ecstasy.
Lily allowed them all to soak in the positive energy zinging around the room for a minute or two. Then she nodded to one of the men leaning heavily on locked arms against the massage table. “When you’re steady, grab one of the towels from the pile by the sink and clean Ryan off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ryan groaned as his buddy swiped come from the ridges of his abdomen with hasty strokes.
“In a hurry?” Lily raised an eyebrow at the man, noting the sweat beading on his forehead.
“There’s a lot to do and not much time, Mistress.” He forced himself to slow, but she noted the tension creeping into the slaves she’d managed to relax so recently. All of them averted their gazes.
Morselli had a lot to answer to. Their nervousness outraged her.
“Let me worry about our punctuality. I’m the one responsible for any delays caused by our impromptu session, not you. It will be no reflection on your service—unless it is an exceptionally positive one—that you pleased me enough to linger. I assure you, I’ll see to that.”
The halfhearted acknowledgement of her statement burned in her stomach as though she’d eaten pepperoni pizza too close to bedtime. It would take more than a single assurance to rewire beliefs honed by mistreatment.
She sighed. “We’ll keep moving. I need to wash the massage oil out of my hair before I can put on makeup and get dressed. I’m a simple woman when it comes to those things so we should have plenty of time.”
Ryan carried her as though she were a priceless vase when she waved her hand toward the sink in the corner of the room. He situated her in the reclining chair before moving aside so one of the other men could fulfill his duties.
“Can any of you paint my nails without making me look like a serial killer who works with her bare hands?” She didn’t expect them to own up to such a skill.
“I can.” Ben blushed when the rest of the slaves turned to stare. “I practically raised my little sister. And my niece. Julie’s seven. She gets a kick out of the glittery kind.”
Lily wished they were alone, somewhere private, so she could dig into the root cause of the lines etching his face and release some of his stress. She admired the strength it must have taken him to step into a leadership role so young. Hell, he couldn’t be more than twenty-five now.
What would it have been like to have a protector? Someone who would have indulged her girlish whims and shouldered the burdens of reality when she was a child? Suddenly, his need to submit, to turn over the reins and be cared for, made perfect sense. Every once in a while she wished…
But hoping was a waste of time.
“I’d like something a bit more serious. How about the dark burgundy on the top left of that rack.” She tilted her chin toward the shade she desired.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Lily closed her eyes and allowed the men to showcase their expertise. The slave at her head completed the massage of her scalp as he shampooed and conditioned her thick mane. One of Ben’s broad hands cupped her fingers as the other began applying polish. She imagined the tiny brush dwarfed by his digits. He’d learned a delicate touch for the sake of his family.
Why hadn’t her relatives ever been compelled to do the same? She considered her mother’s addictions and her father’s cruelty. Evaporating shellac tipped her hands and feet with coolness. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
She had barely registered the chill when soft sponges, damp with steamy, soapy water, swiped over her torso and between her legs. Warmth pumped through her as she admitted she’d created her own family from the men who’d sought her care and attention, giving it a hundred times in return.
The pampering of her attendants befitted the respect due to a visiting Mistress, especially the guest of honor. No one could blame her for letting her guard down, relaxing in the company of the well-trained submissives. True, they didn’t owe their allegiance to her. No one in this hellhole did except the men she’d arranged to house in the private wing of the mansion and a few members of her covert coalition, who wouldn’t arrive until later in the evening.
Still, they had bonded. Shared ecstasy. The bliss they’d generated had derailed her from the laser-like focus she’d maintained since accepting Morselli’s offer of employment. She hadn’t had much choice other than taking him up on it. He reigned over the heart of the trouble resurfacing after several months lurking beneath deceptively calm waters. Though she hadn’t yet discovered his link to The Scientist, she’d pinpointed his estate as the primary distribution channel flooding the market with the latest batch of Sex Offender after a half dozen Black Lily patrons had developed the telltale gleam in their eyes and an obsession for visiting the previously unknown fetish house.
Turning the tide meant breaching his defenses, worming inside to eat out the core.
As the slaves groomed her body, Lily cemented her resolve. Morselli would test her. Tonight. Somehow. Anticipating all the trials she might have to endure to prove her loyalty, she devised countermeasures for preserving her values. Most likely, she’d be made to top one of his victims. She grinned as she considered how she’d managed to plant one of her ally’s pets in the lineup of slaves supposedly here involuntarily.
Just in case.
Having met Ben, Ryan and the other submissives tending her, she would be comfortable drawing on them to satisfy any required demonstrations. If Morselli offered the drug, she’d cite her father’s very public untimely demise as reason to abstain.
If—no, when—he tried to sell victims, she’d trust her instructions to her alliance would hold. They’d outbid the crowd. She’d repay them out of the enormous account Isabella had insisted she accept from their father’s estate. Thank God. She’d drained her own hefty savings over the past year, bailing out as many unwilling captives as she could. The ones she hadn’t been able to save ate at her soul. Their faces flashed through her nightmares like a parade of ghosts.
Lily had run through about a thousand scenarios by the time the man at her head began to squeegee excess moisture from her waist-length tresses. He wrapped the damp mass in a towel. She quieted her mind using some of the techniques she’d developed as a child during the long, terrifying nights.
When she opened her eyes, she caught Ryan gesturing frantically to Ben. The bloodshot tinge to h
is stare hadn’t been there minutes ago. He shook his head and waved his hands before stepping between her and his fellow slave. His shoulders heaved as he planted his feet shoulder-width apart.
“Ryan. Look at me.”
His hands shook as he turned to face her. Slowly.
“What’s the matter?” She reached for his arm, but he retreated.
“It’s not right.” Ryan snarled when the other men ringed her tighter. “This is bullshit! How much will we let him take? When will it stop? He’s not going to release your family, Ben. They’re probably already dead.”
Lily sat bolt upright. Her gaze whipped between the two men.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Ben bowed his head, his explanation rushing from him in one breath that sounded as though it wheezed from the pit of hell instead of his magnificent chest. “They have Julie. And April. If I don’t do it, Morselli will hurt them. Jesus. Julie’s so little. I can’t think about what they’d do to her.”
“Calm down, tell me the whole story.”
“I can’t, Mistress.”
Ryan shook his head and held his ground as Ben approached. “You will not touch her.”
“I don’t have a choice. None of us do. Move, Ry. Please. Don’t make me hurt you. We’ve suffered enough already.” The two slaves who’d kissed each other as if they couldn’t stand to stop for a breath balled their fists and prepared to settle their differences.
“Stop. Right now.” Lily didn’t have to raise her voice. They obeyed instantly, the reaction hardwired into their systems. She rose, yearning for her boots when her stare landed well below their defined pecs. Before she could command them to reveal the source of their friction, the hair on the back of her nape lifted.
“Morselli has us all by the balls, Ben.” The gentle southerner spoke up. He looked her straight in the eye and whispered, “I’m sorry. This is a tragedy. Another time where I violate all I believe in. Someday I’ll beg you to punish me for this.”
His hand latched on to her ankle.
Lily tried to kick off his hold. He pinned her tighter. Three other slaves, including Ben, snagged her remaining limbs. They constricted their grips around her wrists and ankles in synch. She thrashed in their unbreakable grasp—teeth snapping at anything within reach—for a split second, unable to squash the instinct until she saw the sick horror and dread on Ryan’s face.
She went slack instantly, refusing to amplify his torment. It wasn’t like she had any hope of escape against their hefty muscles. As strong as her willpower was, she stood no chance in a physical matchup.
Tony’s staff worked as a single unit, carting her toward a covered object in the opposite corner of the room. Ben whipped a sheet off the fixture as Ryan scrambled to hold it in place.
“Ryan.” She commanded his attention. “Stop fighting them. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Do what you have to.”
“But—”
“Argue with me and I will be offended.” She smiled. “Help them.”
He stood to the side and allowed the others to deposit her on the stand they’d revealed.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” one of the slaves whispered as he manipulated the angle of her leg, bending her knee. When she realized what they intended, she assumed the position required, kneeling with her thighs spread wide and her arms outstretched. Her pride remained whole as heavy chains lashed her ankles and knees to a gleaming, polished granite pedestal with thick links of freezing, inescapable steel.
Lily’s arms reached wide, as though prepared to welcome an old friend into a grotesque embrace. Ryan wept as he locked first one wrist than the other into unforgiving shackles. They adorned a metal framework that resembled a T, the base of which was bolted behind her back, between her legs. A lightly padded bump protruded from the trunk of the macabre tree, inflicting a severe arch to her spine.
Mirrors on the ceiling and walls reflected her predicament. She noted how the position highlighted the ridges of her ribs and her svelte abdominal muscles, earned through endless hours riding her slaves. Fucking toned better than any gym workout. Bowed, she seemed to present her firm breasts like a pair of gifts on top of her chest. Her ultra-petite stature made the mounds appear larger than they were.
The men cared for her like a carefully synchronized watch, all the moving parts of their assemblage keeping impeccable time. They apologized, seeking absolution she granted freely as they held her immobile and called for a stylist over the room’s intercom.
Her time was running short.
“Gather around me. All of you.” She infused her request with kindness.
They flocked to her side in an instant.
“Closer. Huddle up.”
The men draped their arms over the slaves to either side until they resembled a football team more than a collection of high-quality submissives. Lily checked the gaps between them, finding none. She pitched her voice low enough not to carry. “Good boys. I’m certain this room is filled with cameras and microphones. So, I’m only going to say this once. Believe me.”
She met each of their eyes, assuring them of her honesty.
“None of this is your fault. You’re not responsible for what you’ve been forced to do here today or what might occur this evening. I came here fully aware of the risks. If you think this erases one shred of my dignity or authority then you’ve underestimated my strength. Promise me, no matter what you see tonight, you will not intervene. I’m fully capable of surviving—thriving even—despite Tony Morselli’s petty display of phony sovereignty. I’ve endured far worse. This will be nothing.”
Maybe not nothing. Still, she would brazen through. Just like old times.
“But—”
“No, Ryan.” She cut him off. “In this I won’t accept disobedience. If you violate my wishes then I’ll consider you to have disgraced your station and the lifestyle you value as much as I do.”
“Yes, Mistress.” The corded tendons in his neck relaxed.
“Very good.” She smiled then stretched to the limits of her confinement in order to sip the lingering moisture from his cheek. “Be careful. All of you. When this storm has passed, I’ll search you out. You have an open invitation to join me.”
The click of the door unlatching terminated their conversation. The men nodded as a pair of beautiful women dressed only in slender silver chains and tiny leather panels entered the space.
Despite Lily’s command otherwise, one beautician slathered her face with drastic yet flattering makeup, including blood-red lipstick. The other blow-dried her hair, glamming it up with unnecessary product and enhancing the gentle waves Lily usually forced into absolutely straight, austere lines. To make it worse, the attendant left the fall of her mane loose. The sultry curtain brushed the upper curve of her ass with softness as foreign to her as the bite of the metal trapping her ankles and calves to the hard block, which gouged her knees.
When Lily had resigned herself to the bondage and her frou-frou appearance, they imposed one final restraint. The women braided a thin section of her hair, originating at the crown of her skull. They worked a long black ribbon into the tresses. Once interwoven, it held as tightly as if they’d super glued it to her skull. They tugged experimentally, yanking her head back until Ben growled from his place by her side.
The women chuckled as they secured the end of the tie to a formidable steel ring affixed to the pedestal between Lily’s pointed feet. The too-short cord guaranteed she continued the elegant curve of her body through her neck, which ached instantly in the awkward position. Even worse, she couldn’t watch her surroundings directly. Instead she relied on the mirrored ceiling to track the movement of the players in the space.
“Mr. Morselli instructed us to place her in the center of the room, facing the north entrance,” one of the women barked at Ryan. He ignored her shrill command, looking instead to Lily. She smiled, about all she could do.
Four of the men surrounded her, each gripping a chrome handle on his side of the cube she knelt upon. They carefu
lly lifted her, their muscles straining beneath the weight of the stone, while Ben slid a dolly beneath the structure. They wheeled her into position.
“It’s time to arrange the main hall. We can’t keep our guests waiting. They’ll begin arriving soon.” The women marched toward the exit. The five men moved slower, sharing glances with each other.
“Thank you for your service.” Lily tried again to alleviate their concern.
“Enough,” one of the women tossed over her shoulder. “Don’t forget the gag.”
“Go ahead,” Lily whispered to Ryan, who approached her with minced steps so unfitting to his size and strength she almost laughed. “I’ll be fine. Do it.”
She watched in the mirror as he lifted the black ball gag and opened her mouth before he touched it to her lips. He fed her the soft foam then buckled it on the loosest setting, though even that left no wiggle room.
“The pleasure was ours, Mistress.” Ryan inclined his shoulders in a tiny bow the rest of the men mimicked before trundling through the door, which seemed smaller when their bulk passed through the opening.
As soon as they were gone, the pleasant harmony she’d enjoyed during her massage disappeared. Even the trickle of water in the fountain ceased. Absolute silence in the insulated chamber left her ears ringing with a high-pitched buzz. A moment later, the lights flicked off. Either the controls were located on a panel outside the room, or her suspicions had been confirmed.
Someone was watching.
They knew she’d been abandoned.
Lily closed her eyes and imagined she’d caused the darkness—controlled her surroundings. She consciously relaxed each muscle in her body, starting with her toes. The awkwardness of her pose melted into insignificance as she focused on generating an accurate accounting of the slow, steady beats of her heart.
Her mind freed itself from her environment, relying on the techniques she’d honed as a child to ignore Buchanan abusing her mother all through the night just so her only true parent could drink away the pocket change he tossed her afterward.
Lily’s control slipped as memories haunted her. Until she reminded herself they were gone. Both of her lousy excuses for parents. Forever.