by Tawny Taylor
She decided to stand up, to put them on a more semi-level playing field, decrease the vertical distance between his glowering face and hers. But the moment she was upright, she regretted that decision. For one reason.
Standing up meant she was closer to the man, and now that she was closer, she could smell the spicy manly scent of his skin, see every fleck of color in his amazing eyes -- a brown the shade of her fave dark chocolate -- feel his sweet breath caress her face.
Major swoon!
He was looking at her like he wanted her. And not like the normal horny guy wanting-to-be-fucked wanting either. But the kind of wanting she’d seen only once before. So long ago.
How could he have such profound feelings for her already? They had just met, and it wasn’t like this was the ideal situation for blossoming romance. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. Either that or she was just wanting to see things that weren’t really there.
Then again, she’d already determined that she wasn’t in the market for love or a husband… or two… so why would she want to see anything in this guy’s eyes?
“I’m confused,” she confessed. She tried to back away from him, to get a little space, air, whatever. But the back of her legs smacked into the cot and down she went again, on her butt.
“I’m not.” Cy bent over her, plucked a piece of her flyaway hair up, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “Your hair. It’s the most unusual shade.”
“It’s called dishpan blonde,” she responded dryly. “And you probably have never seen it because it’s so ugly and blah that most women with the color have their hair bleached or dyed.”
“I don’t think it’s blah at all. It’s beautiful. Just like the rest of you.”
God, was that the most freaking romantic thing she’d ever heard in her life, or what?
She felt herself going soft for a brief moment then reminded herself about the fact that she could not afford to get emotionally involved in this situation. She had a career to return to, a home, a life. None of this bride stuff had been in her master plan.
She shook away the lingering warmth gathering on her cheeks and shifted to the side. The lock of hair he’d been holding slipped from his fingers and landed on her shoulder.
It felt hot, like she’d just had it wrapped around a curling iron. Weird.
Before she could speak again, Cy was pointing at her chest, demanding, “Take off your clothes.”
“I don’t want to.”
Maks chuckled. “I told you she was going to be --”
“Do. It. Now.” Each word was a menacing threat, tempered only slightly by the glimmer of something softer in his eyes.
Push her luck? Or play it safe, and bide her time?
Oh ack! She shouldn’t have to make these kinds of choices!
If only she hadn’t fallen asleep, waiting for these guys to show up last night. If she’d been more alert and awake, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. They’d be lying unconscious on her bedroom floor, and she’d have her proof that the Twelfth Knight Brotherhood was for real, and she’d be on her way to a huge career in investigative reporting.
If, if, if.
Cy’s eyes narrowed, losing the touch of warmth they’d had earlier. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a softie as she’d thought.
A blink later, her shirt was falling off her body, shredded into long vertical strips. She screamed, gathering the torn pieces into one fist, and rolled onto the floor. Heart pumping so hard she could hear it, she scrambled toward Maks. But a blink later, Maks was gone and Cy stood in his place.
What the hell?
She whirled around and headed in the opposite direction, which led to nowhere good. A wall. But at least she’d be farther away from the bizarre man who seemed to be able to move faster than a blink.
Once again, he appeared before her. This time, she ran smack dab into his uber-quick manliness. Then, completely confused, she staggered backward. “What the hell? How do you do that?”
Cy pressed his index finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”
She whirled around, finding Maksim standing back where he’d been before, leaning a shoulder against the wall and looking like nothing as significant as her clothes being stripped off was going on.
Why couldn’t anyone be on her side? Two huge men against her one little self. This was just so unfair!
Finally, she just stopped spinning around like a dervish. She stopped shooting pleading glances at Maksim. And stopped trying to guess where that sneaky Cy would pop up next. He was either magical or… what else could it be?
The bottom line was a hard one to accept. She had lost this battle and like it or not, she wasn’t going to be ushered back to the portal tonight and sent back to her world.
She was a captive, in the truest sense of the word. A soon-to-be-naked captive, too. And then the shame of being nude would pretty much squash any thoughts of her trying to get out of her medieval prison cell and find her way back to the portal on her own.
This girl did not show her body in public, under any circumstance. She most definitely did not inherit her mother’s penchant for exhibitionism.
Throwing up the virtual white flag, she raised her arms, letting her torn clothes fall from her body. It wasn’t like they were covering anything anyway. Now, all that remained between her quivering body and Cy and Maksim’s feasting eyes were her jeans and a pair of fairly skimpy thong panties.
Which happened to be -- for some reason beyond her understanding -- very wet and warm. She didn’t want to try to understand that little mystery. Some things were just better left unexplored.
Now standing in the middle of the room, her arms hanging at her sides, she stood silent, trembling, half-terrified, half-frustrated and totally confused and mad at herself.
This was most definitely one of the moments in her life where she wished she could turn back the clock and relive a brief moment in time, get a re-do, a do-over, a chance to go back and fix a mistake.
What would they do to her now?
“The rest of your clothes. Take them off now. Or I’ll do it for you.”
She swallowed a sob of humiliation. That had to be what this was all about, humiliation. Shame. They were brainwashing her, stripping away everything so that she’d react to the situation the way they wanted. It was like she was a spy, caught by the enemy. Or maybe a contestant on a reality television show.
She kept her eyes on the floor as she unzipped her jeans, dragged them down her thick thighs and finally kicked them off. Next came the panties and then she was totally naked. Thoroughly mortified.
Eyes blurring -- she was so not the crying kind! -- she watched Cy’s feet come closer, until he was standing directly in front of her. Eager to soothe herself, ease the feeling of vulnerability, she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Look at this beautiful body,” he said, sounding awestruck.
He couldn’t be talking about her. Had some six-foot tall model babe entered the room? She wanted to turn around and look, but then she decided she really didn’t want to know if one had. Talk about shame. This cottage-cheesy, lumpy, bumpy body next to six feet of tall, lean perfection? Ack.
“You will remain unclothed at all times, just as you are now,” Cy said, his voice once again firm, his tone sharp.
She hated this place.
“You will do as you are told at all times, without question,” Maksim added, stepping next to Cy.
Great, now both of them were dumping demands on her.
And two male bodies were within groping distance -- her groping them, not necessarily the other way around. Oh, how she burned right now. Which was so not right, considering how ashamed and confused she was.
Why now? Why were her insides simmering and tingly? Little pleasant quivers zinging and zipping up and down her spine? And tickly heat pulsing between her legs?
She tightened her arms around herself, which only made her more aware of her hard nipples. So sensitive right now. Tight little peaks.
Ack. “Present? Like how?”
“We will teach you right now.” Two hands landed on her shoulders, pushed down, forcing her to her knees. She let herself fall harder than she should have. Her knees cracked as they struck the cold, hard floor, and she cried out in pain.
Her Masters’ bodies stiffened.
Cy squatted, pinched her chin between his finger and thumb and lifted it, forcing her to look at him. “If you remember nothing from today, remember this. You must never do anything to intentionally hurt yourself again.”
“That was an accident.”
“Was it? Or did you purposefully drop hard because you were angry and it was the only way you could get to us?” he challenged.
He might have a point there.
“Your body is no longer yours.” Cy released her chin. “It belongs to us. This hair.” He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled, tugging it completely free from the loose ponytail that had been hanging down her back.
“These tits.” Maksim bent over and flattened his hand over one of her breasts.
Her spine tightened and she found herself wanting to push into his touch. Insanity!
“This ass.” Cy’s hand slid down her back and cupped her rear end.
God, it was wicked, feeling a strange man touch her bottom like that. Wicked in a very good way.
“And this pussy.” Maksim’s hand -- the one that had been holding her breast -- slowly traveled down her torso until it rested against her pubic bone. So close to the burning flesh between her legs.
Cy said, “And we expect you to respect and cherish your body as much as we do. Your response should be ‘Yes, Master’.”
“Yes, Master,” she echoed, finding the whole idea of them telling her what to say not quite as repulsive as she might have thought. As a matter of fact, there was something kind of sexy and romantic about their claim to her body and their demand that she treat it with respect, like it was their possession, not hers anymore.
Not that she’d been a huge women’s libber or anything, but she’d been the product of her times. A hard life had knocked whatever sense she possessed into her. The world had never treated her gently. And, like most women of the twenty-first century, she had always believed that her body was hers to do with as she saw fit. Good or bad. Tattoo it. Pierce it. Whatever.
Maks walked around her back and pulled on her shoulders. “When we say present, we expect you to assume this position. No matter where we are or what you were doing. Shoulders back, spine arched. We want your breasts pushed out, looking pretty.”
He thought her breasts were pretty?
“Ass off your heels,” Maks added when she slowly started sinking.
The position they were forcing her into wasn’t exactly natural. Some muscles were being tested. She tightened her thighs, straightening up.
“Yes, like that. So sexy.” Cy’s voice was deep and rumbly, almost like a purr. She felt the vibration inside her body.
“Chin down, eyes to the floor. And hands palms up, resting against your thighs.”
She shifted positions, moving all parts into the proper places.
Cy stood, his feet braced apart. “Yes. That’s it. Now, you will say the following.”
She stared at his shoes. “Yes, Master?”
“Your bride presents your body to her Masters for their inspection and approval,” Maksim said, still standing behind her.
“Your bride presents your body to her Masters for their inspection and approval,” she echoed. The your body part kind of sounded funny, but she knew why they’d insisted on her saying that. It went with that whole your-body-belongs-to-us thing.
“Hold your tits,” Cy demanded.
She flattened her hands over her breasts, like Maks had done.
“No. Like this.” Cy lifted her hands, curling her fingers around the underside of her breasts, until she was supporting their weight in her cupped hands, their fullness lifted up high on her chest. Her nipples hardened into fiercely tight points as her fingertips grazed them. “Yes. Look at those gorgeous tits. Now say, ‘Your bride presents these tits to her Masters for their inspection and approval’.”
She kind of felt sexy doing this. Shocking! “Your bride presents these tits to her Masters for their inspection and approval.”
“Now run your hands down your stomach,” Maks said in her ear. His breath tickled her back, neck and shoulders. A quiver raced up her spine.
She closed her eyes and slowly dragged her hands down her body.
No, she didn’t feel a little sexy doing this. She felt totally sexy. Not at all self-conscious. That was a first for her.
“Reach between your legs,” Maks said, still hovering over her back. She could feel the heat radiating off him, he was so close. And yet, he didn’t touch her. It was a delicious sensation, a teasing temptation.
She slid her hands between her legs, placing one on top of the other, cupping her sex.
“No. Don’t cover up,” Maks corrected. “You’re going to present that pretty little pussy to us. You mustn’t cover it.”
She inched one hand to the left and the other to the right, leaving a gap where her inner labia dangled, wet and hot and pulsing.
“Yes. Now pull your pussy lips apart and say, ‘Your bride presents this pussy to her Masters for their inspection and approval’.”
Oh God. Her thighs were trembling. Her hands were trembling. She was shaking all over and it wasn’t from fear.
If this was a game to these guys, it was some nasty one. In a very good way. She’d never expected such sweet torment. She was a ball of pounding, aching need already. No man had ever affected her like this.
Shit, half the time they’d have their faces buried between her legs and she’d barely felt anything. A little tingle, maybe. Rarely more than that. And lately her orgasms had been a little on the disappointing side. Not like they’d once been.
These guys performed magic tricks of many kinds.
“Your bride presents this pussy to her Masters for their inspection and approval.”
“Good,” Cy said. “Now your ass. And part those cheeks with your hands as wide as you can.”
“Yes, Master.” Still flushed from head to toe, and on the verge of climax, she reached around her back, hooking her fingers and pulling her buttocks apart as much as she could. “Your bride presents this ass to her Masters for their inspection and approval.”
“Excellent.” Cy demanded, “Look at me.” When Cheryl raised her eyes he added, “When you present our body to us, you will wait for us to approve each part before moving on to the next one. We will indicate with a nod whether we approve or not. And we will instruct you on whatever preparation you have failed to perform to our satisfaction. Today, we do not approve of your pussy, because we expect it to be shaven completely.”
Shaven? Totally bald? How strange, and yet how sexy.
“Yes, Master.”
“We will take you now to be bathed and you will be tended to by a maid who will take care of that matter.”
Another woman would not touch her down there.
“I can do it myself,” she offered.
Cy shook his head, his expression firm, his tone sharp, telling her she had no say in this matter. “For your next session, you will be prepared by a maid. You will not refuse. Or you will be punished.”
How freaking humiliating.
The warmth that had suffused through her whole body trickled down her legs and seeped out of her feet. Once again, she was cold and tight and tense. Apprehensive and yet strangely aroused.
It would be no different than having a female doctor down there, performing a routine exam, she told herself. No big deal. Heck, she knew at least a couple girls who had their tender parts waxed at a salon. Again, no big deal.
So why was she so mortified?
Just imagining herself lying on a table, completely nude, legs spread, f
eet on stirrups, while some strange woman took a razor to her… eek!
But, as she was helped to her feet, it seemed her reluctant acquiescence had earned her a Get Out of Jail Free card. At least she wouldn’t spend another minute in this filthy prison cell.
“This way. We will take you home now.” Cy unlocked the door.
Chapter 4
Cy and Maks, flanking her, led her from the creepy, damp prison cell, down a bunch of dark and scary looking corridors, and eventually up a set of stairs into… a gorgeous house that looked like something out of a decorating magazine.
Now, she hadn’t expected this.
Regardless of the fact that her captors had been well-dressed, she supposed it was that whole barbaric kidnapping-women thing that had her assuming the world she’d been dragged into would be medieval-looking, as barbaric as the inhabitants’ practices. But this beautiful building was anything but medieval.
She exited the dark, narrow staircase -- which reminded her of basement stairs -- into a hallway lined with artwork. The floors were a polished stone of some kind. Black, with tiny flecks of gold and red and tan. At the end, the hallway opened to an enormous great room. The ceilings soared at least three stories above her head. The furnishings were lavish. Huge paintings hung on the walls. She’d never been in such a gorgeous place.
“This is where you live?”
“Yes,” Maks answered. “This is my home, and it will now be yours as well.”
“No way.” She swallowed a gleeful giggle as she did a quick three-sixty. This would be her home. If she didn’t go back.
Remember, just because it’s pretty doesn’t make it any less a prison.
“This way.” Maks led her across the great room, to the opposite end and then down another wide hallway. At the end stood a set of double doors, painted a glossy black. She was guessing that was the master bedroom.
In this case, the term master had several meanings.
Maks pulled open the doors, revealing the room’s interior.
Nope. Not a bedroom at all. At least, she didn’t think it was. She couldn’t say for sure what it was.
Was it some kind of gym, maybe? If so, the workout equipment looked a little odd. It was all constructed out of wood, not steel. And she saw no weights of any kind. Or resistance bands or springs.