by Tawny Taylor
Why not allow herself a little taste of the pleasures their dark, hungry gazes and powerful bodies promised? After all, she’d spent the last umpteen years fantasizing about some of this stuff, even before she’d married Jack. He’d been disgusted the one time she’d confessed her darkest fantasies, claiming no normal man would want to do those things with her. If what he said was true, this might be her only chance to actually experience it for real.
Really uncomfortable, unsure of herself, she clenched her hands behind her back and stood before her Masters. Was there some sort of code word she needed to use? Or pose she should take? The reading she had done on the subject had been so limited, she had more questions than answers.
Bastien seemed to read her body language. He motioned to the floor then stepped up to gently guide her into position on her knees. Her upper legs were straight, keeping her bottom up off her ankles. Her arms remained pressed to her sides, her hands clasped together behind her butt. Her back arched, which made her breasts jut out.
“This is the proper posture you should take when greeting your Masters for a session.” Looking pleased, he stepped back. “A bride is not a slave. There is a difference.”
There was?
Xander, whose eyes were feasting upon her breasts, stepped closer, tracing the line of her jaw with an index finger. “A slave is the property of her Master. She has no rights, no voice, no will of her own. In contrast, a bride submits freely to her Masters. She is permitted to voice her opinions, speak her mind and make her needs known. She finds pleasure in the surrender of control, but only in sex. This is what we expect of you, our bride.”
“I understand.” She was relieved they weren’t asking her to kneel, beg for food or ask for permission to speak every word. That was so not her. Yet, surrendering in sex was most definitely appealing to her.
Bastien circled around her back. “During our sessions, you will do as we say, or you will be punished.” He patted her fanny, a gentle indicator that she’d let it drop a couple inches. She straightened up. “Punishment will always take the form of withdrawal. We will leave you, as I did earlier, and the session will be over. You will not receive release.”
An apt form of punishment, and one that could prove extremely frustrating, she imagined.
Xander worked himself out of his pants, a sight that made her tongue swell in her mouth and drool gather in a huge puddle beneath it. “As our bride, you will receive our devotion. We will provide for your every need -- food, shelter, protection and affection. You have no reason to fear us.” Unclothed, his cock thick and hard, he stood within arm’s reach. “Touch your nipples. I want to see them hard.”
While she complied with Xander’s command, Bastien -- still behind her -- ran teasing, tickling touches down her spine, over her buttocks and across the soles of her feet. Between the erotic tension buzzing through her body and the goose bumps pricking her skin, she found herself trembling within seconds. Waves of icy cold broke between flushes of heat, like the quivery heat of a fever.
Hungry to add another layer of sensation, she pinched her nipples hard then rolled them between her fingers.
His gaze fixed on her breasts, Xander fisted his cock and pumped, once, twice, three times. She couldn’t help staring. His body was so magnificent, so perfectly proportioned. Arms, shoulders, waist. Hips, legs, cock.
The skin of her back warmed as Bastien moved closer, the muscles running up her back clenching with anticipation. His touches became more intimate. He explored the cleft of her buttocks then wrapped his arms around her sides and whispered in her ear, “Remain completely still.” He cupped her breasts, supporting their weight while she gulped mouthfuls of thin, oxygen-depleted air.
Bastien teased and tormented her breasts while Xander teased and tormented the rest of her. He neared enough for her to get an up close and personal look at that glorious cock of his, yet shot her a warning glare when she started lifting her hands to touch him.
“Don’t move,” Bastien warned again, his breath hot in her ear, the silky heat of his skin brushing against her fanny. “Until the claiming, there are limits to what intimacies we can share.”
Now she understood Xander’s tightly drawn expression. She too was desperate for release, and they’d only begun what her Masters had called a “session.” If none of them were permitted an orgasm, how long would they be able to endure the torture? Didn’t it make sense to stop now, before they were all ready to trade their souls for what had been denied them?
She wanted to ask what the rules were, since it was hardly fair to require her to abide by them without a clear understanding of what was expected. Then again, she supposed it was simple. They would guide her, and as long as she submitted, they would go no further than permitted.
Her body, which had always been the kind to react more acutely to the forbidden, warmed up even more, just at the thought that she would be treading along a very fine line between the acceptable and the prohibited.
Danger. Surrender. Mystery. All of them influenced her libido as powerfully as the pheromones her Masters’ bodies were pumping into the air.
Oh, the agony.
Oh, the wicked pleasure.
Xander finally pressed the head of his cock against her lips.
At last! Inhaling deeply, dragging in the addictive odor of man, fresh air and feral hunger, she flicked her tongue over the tip, licking away the droplet of semen that had collected there. He tasted as delicious as he smelled. She glanced up, looking for an assurance that she could use her hands.
He responded with a nod. The glitter of hunger in his heavily-lidded eyes made her shudder.
Cupping his testicles with one hand, she closed her other fist around the base of his cock. A low groan encouraged her as she used hand and mouth, teeth and tongue, to please and torment her Master. Bastien was doing his best to drive her crazy. He nibbled and licked her neck and ear, nipped her shoulders, pinched and pulled her nipples and then, as if that wasn’t enough, resorted to fucking her with two fingers. They plunged in and out of her wet pussy in time to Xander’s thrusts in and out of her mouth.
Her spine had stiffened. Her mind clouded. Her muscles bunched into tight, trembling masses. Just as she was about to either fall over or cry out for mercy, both her Masters withdrew from her.
She whimpered. So close. She’d been on the brink of orgasm. The tingling had erupted in her belly. Such a cruel game they played.
She hated it.
“This is so unfair!”
“This way.” Xander helped her to her feet.
Unsteady and soft-kneed, she staggered to the sex swing. Her Masters positioned her in the swing, arms overhead, legs parted, secured at the knee and ankle. The position was both supremely comfortable and wildly unnerving. She was completely vulnerable and exposed. Even her most private parts. And her Masters weren’t even trying to disguise the fact that they were enjoying the sight of her like this.
Xander stood on her left, Bastien on her right.
“This session, we will focus on your body.” Xander turned to a nearby door and opened it, revealing a closet full of sex toys. She’d never seen so many gadgets and gizmos, some curious, some bizarre. And a few, scary. “What amplifies your pleasure. What diminishes it. Some brides find freedom in being bound, a peace and calm they can’t otherwise achieve. Some look to pain and the flood of endorphins it produces. It liberates them. Energizes them. It makes them high, and sometimes intensifies their body’s reaction to sexual stimulation, to fucking.” He came closer, a thick dildo in his fist. “What is it for you? What are you searching for when you submit, Maggie?”
She thought about it for a minute, really pondered it. And she realized she’d never taken the time to put her needs into words, to even try to understand what she was looking for. Why did she want to be dominated? Why did she feel a need to be in a position of powerlessness? Why was that erotic to her?
“I guess it excites me, that little hint of danger intensifies my react
ion. But not pain. Hurting distracts me.”
“Very well.” He reached for a tube of lubricant, meanwhile motioning to Bastien with a tip of his head. She swiveled her head, catching Bastien’s response. He turned, and opening a second door on the opposite wall, removed a leather blindfold from a second closet.
Her heart thumped fast and heavy in her chest, and her pussy clenched, wet and hungry, as he secured the mask over her eyes. Sight gone. Hands tied. Legs too. She could breathe. She could speak. But otherwise, she was at Xander and Bastien’s mercy. And what a wonderful place to be.
They ran soft tickly feathers over her body, giving her chills, then followed that with warm oil and hard hands. Breasts, stomach, legs, clit. They stroked and rubbed, until her stomach was rhythmically convulsing, tipping her hips forward and back in time to the waves of heat rippling through her body.
Sightless, she didn’t know where the next touch would come from. Didn’t know if it would be hard or soft, teasing and languorous or hard and sharp. With each surprise, her muscles tightened, a rush of warm heat washed down her torso, and the promise of a powerful orgasm drew nearer.
A lifetime later, the ultimate pleasure came when they fucked her with the dildo, slow at first, then faster, harder, just like her body demanded, until she was shaking and every nerve in her body had ignited into flame.
“Come. Now,” one of her Masters demanded.
Her orgasm blazed through her body like an atomic explosion. She cried out into the silence, tears streaming down her cheeks, hands balled into tight fists.
They knew how to draw out her orgasm, to keep it going and going. Thrusts and caresses prolonged the pleasure. Pulse after pulse of sheer bliss pounded through her until she was too tired to endure any more.
Bastien removed the mask.
Xander helped her from the sex swing.
Together, they led her to the bed and laid with her, holding her, soothing her with husky whispers and murmured promises until she drifted into a deep sleep. With a great big smile on her face.
Yep, deciding to put off going home for a few minutes sure had been a good move.
Chapter 6
Bastien studied the room, his trained eyes searching for something, anything, that might indicate why someone had reportedly broken into the building he now stood inside, the home of a guy he’d known for years, Slade Ruiz.
Strange. Despite a thorough search, he’d found no signs of forced entry, nothing that hinted there’d been a crime committed at all. He took another look at the floor by the front door, the door frame and jamb.
“You say nothing was stolen?” he asked for the third time, after reporting in to the precinct on his radio.
“Not that I could find,” Slade answered. “I’ve checked every room in the house.”
“What makes you think there’s been a break-in then?” More or less convinced there was nothing here to pursue, he turned to Slade, standing next to him.
“Some things were moved. Like this.” Slade walked to the opposite side of the room, indicating the door of an entertainment armoire. “I always keep these closed.”
“But nothing was taken?” He jotted a couple notes down then tucked his palm tablet computer into his shirt pocket. The armoire’s doors were clean, no visible damage. The audio and visual equipment looked like it hadn’t been touched. Even the slight coating of dust on top of the video disk player had remained undisturbed. He pulled a business card from his pocket. “Sorry, but without evidence of a crime, there’s nothing I can do.” He passed his card to Slade.
“Not a problem. I just wanted to report it, you know, in case something came up later.” Slade dropped the card on a nearby table and followed Bastien to the door.
Doorknob in his fist, and one foot outside, Bastien nodded. “Sure. Call me if you do find something missing.”
“Thanks.”
Bastien called a Code-4 and headed back to his car, parked in the street, in front of the house. What a weird case. Slade Ruiz wasn’t the kind to make a false report. Bastien believed there’d been someone in the house. But what could he do? Even though he was as convinced as Slade that someone had been in the house, he had nothing to go on.
Calls like that didn’t happen very often, the kind that made no sense and left him with a nagging weight in his gut. What the hell had the perp been up to?
* * *
Xander stared at the solid blue computer screen in disgust. A fucking virus! His computer had caught a virus from that damn human Internet.
Fuck and double fuck!
The human world was a toxic mess, but their Internet made even the most polluted parts look like paradise. Despite superior protection against online invasion, he’d still managed to get his computer infected. Obviously, that was the price he’d pay for accessing parts of the web he hadn’t been able to visit before.
But now, thanks to some viral code written by a punk who’d probably barely made it into puberty, he was going to lose precious time. Once he and Bastien had completed the claiming of their bride, another pair of knights was scheduled to access the portal. If they were fortunate, they could be entering the human’s world within the next forty-eight hours.
He had to be prepared to protect them, as well as Alyria and the portal -- their lifeline to the human world -- within that timeframe. Would he be ready? Did he dare let them go hunting if he wasn’t, knowing there might be someone on the other side, waiting for them? Someone besides their bride?
Only once before had Alyria faced an invasion by humans. It had taken several dozen human generations to erase all traces of the war between their worlds from the humans’ collective memory. And even longer to clean up the damage they’d done to Alyria’s economy and ecology. To think they’d be facing that danger again. With their need for human brides, Alyria would always be vulnerable. Ironically, to sever the connection to the human world would mean the end of theirs.
Then again, to delay the claiming might seem an easy solution. Until he and Bastien had sealed the claim to their bride, the portal remained locked to other knights. No problem. Right?
Wrong. A chemical change in the human bride’s body didn’t make that possible. Unfortunately, no Twelfth Knight bride had ever survived longer than thirty-six hours in Alyria without being claimed.
He couldn’t stomach risking his bride’s life, although his vow to protect the Brotherhood at all cost left him with no other choice. For this reason, he had vowed he wouldn’t set foot out of his office until his computer was restored and he had at least assured his fellow knights’ safety.
Duty had to come first, no matter the price.
* * *
“The claiming must take place within twenty-four hours,” a voice cut through the thick haze that had slowly seeped into Maggie’s head and carried her away to a restless sleep full of bizarre dreams. Sweat slicked her skin, yet she shivered with a tooth-chattering chill.
Fever? Was she sick?
She blinked open her eyes. The room was dark. She sensed someone was in the room with her but couldn’t see him.
“If your Masters don’t claim you, or you do not return to your world in the next twenty-four hours, you will die.”
“Say what?” That news woke her up all right. She hiked herself up to a sitting position with trembling arms and tucked the covers around her quaking form. “What’s wrong with me?”
She recognized the voice speaking to her. It was the masked man. He’d found her, as he’d promised.
“Our environment contains trace amounts of a gas that is not present in yours. It enters your system as you breathe and is spread by your bloodstream. But your body is unable to process the chemical, and slowly it gathers, a poison, until it eventually causes major organ failure. Your liver, kidneys, heart. Eventually, as larger concentrations collect in your brain, you start having seizures…”
She pressed her flattened hands to her temples to ease the odd twitches of pain that had just started. “I feel awful. I need to
go home.” Blinking, she scanned the room. Where had Bastien and Xander gone? Why had they left her alone? Did they know she’d be sick?
“I’m still working on a way to get you home. Ironically, the portal remains locked to anyone but your Masters until your claiming has been completed. But once your claiming is complete, you cannot return to your home. It’s a catch-22.”
“Wait, you said I couldn’t go home because of something about my memories…? Right?”
“That… and your leaving Alyria once you’ve been claimed would lead to certain death.”
“A minor problem,” she joked, although frankly, there was nothing to laugh about. She felt worse than the one time she’d had the flu, spent two days sleeping on her couch, too weak to walk the (seeming) miles from her living room to her bed.
She sighed. Oddly, she missed Xander and Bastien, even though normally when she was ill, all she wanted was to be left alone, to suffer in private misery. Being sick was oh so humiliating. “But when you came to me before, you promised to help me.”
“I said I wanted to help you. I never promised I could.”
“So, you don’t know how to help me escape?” Great. Just her luck. She’d scored herself a newbie-savior who didn’t know what the heck he was doing. The twinges in her temples amplified. “Do you have any good news to share with me? Because I could use some right now.”
“Ummm. The good news is I think I’ve found a way to activate the portal.”
“Yeah? So why are we sitting around here?” Moving slowly, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and lowered herself to her feet. Ohh, she felt woozy. And yikes, the room was as cold as a fricking meat locker. Blanket wrapped toga style, she gripped the edge of the bed and searched the dark room. “Where are you? I need a little help. How about switching on a light?”
“Sure.” There was a humming sound and then a soft glow illuminated the room.