In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part Two (Gods & Monsters Book 2)

by Carmen Jenner

  There isn’t a dry pair of panties or boxers in this room, mine included. I don’t know if I’ve ever been attracted to another woman before, but Violet isn’t a mere mortal. She’s a goddess, and everyone in this club knows it.

  “How are you enjoying the show, little ballerina?” a familiar voice whispers in my ear. His arm snakes around my waist and pulls me tight against him. His erection digs into my back, and in the press of strangers all around us, Atticus’ touch puts me at ease.

  “I didn’t know she could do that. She’s incredible.”

  “Yes, she is.” He trails his hand over my hip and down my abdomen, hiking up one side of my dress with nimble fingers. He nuzzles my neck, and I watch his wife rock her hips into the chaise in time with the music, pretending to hump the furniture with a cheeky wink. “We didn’t think you’d come back.”

  “It took a little time to figure out what I want.”

  “And what is that, Camille?”

  “You and Violet. Fucking me, punishing me, pleasuring me together.”

  “I am so glad you said that.” He slides his hands into my panties and thrusts long, thick fingers inside me. I gasp, but if anyone around us notices, they pay me no mind. Too soon, Atticus removes his fingers from my body and shoves them roughly into my mouth. I suck them clean, like a good girl would. “Taste yourself, little ballerina. All that fucking hot cream all over my fingers that you’re licking up? All of that is because of that woman up there.”

  He removes his fingers from my mouth.

  “Not all, Sir,” I whisper. I don’t expect him to hear me, but he chuckles.

  The music dies down. The lights dim, and I can just make out the outline of Violet sneaking off the stage.

  “Come. My wife will be very happy to see you.” Atticus takes my hand and leads me through the throng of people. He stops in front of a different door than his office and enters without knocking. “You were incredible, darling. As always.”

  I peer around Atticus’ broad shoulders and find Violet in her pasties and panties. Her heels are back on, and she sits at a vanity with a Hollywood-style mirror.

  Her gaze finds mine in the reflection and she squeals, turns and stands, making grabby hands like a child. “Baby girl.”

  I step around Atticus and into the room. He closes the door behind us. The lock clicks as it slides shut. A shiver runs the length of my spine. I don’t relish being locked in, but I suppose I prefer it to the possibility of someone barging in and finding us in a compromising position.

  Violet crosses the space between us and pulls me closer. Her hands cup my face, and she presses a chaste kiss to my lips. I’m suddenly self-conscious. “What’s wrong, baby girl?”

  “N-nothing. You . . . um . . . you were incredible out there.”

  “You liked it, huh?”

  I nod, and she grabs my hand and pulls me past Atticus, blowing him a kiss as she hurries toward the plush bed in the center of the room. Everything about this space screams burlesque, from the gilt furniture to the brocade wallpaper and the lush red curtains surrounding the canopy bed. It’s too much, and yet it’s so perfectly Violet.

  She yanks my hand, and we tumble onto the mattress. Violet pounces, straddling my hips and pinning my arms above my head. “You look ravishing, baby girl. Doesn’t she look edible in this dress, Boss?”

  Atticus falls heavily into a velvet-covered armchair near the bed. “Indeed she does, darling.”

  “Aren’t you going to join us?” I say breathlessly, because Violet is rocking her hips back and forth over my pubic bone, and it’s incredibly distracting.

  “You came on a Friday.” He shrugs. “Violet is in charge. Or at least, Fridays are the one day of the week where I let her believe she’s in charge.”

  “That means I get to make the rules tonight, little ballerina, and right now, I want our Sir to watch while I have you.” She grabs the fabric of my gown, fisting and bunching it up as she goes, exposing my calves and then thighs to the room before she slips it over my head. She pushes her naked chest against mine. The crystal beads on her tasseled pasties scratch my skin, and the tiny hairs on my arms prickle with awareness.

  “She’s never been very good at sharing,” Atticus grumbles, but his smile is full of mischief.

  “It’s true. I haven’t.” She leans down and peppers my face with kisses. A strange and delighted little squeal escapes me. “I’m going to make you come first, and when you’re relaxed and pliant, I’m going to hurt you. A lot.”

  I shiver beneath her. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Are you aching to be fucked in your sweet pussy, baby girl?”

  My breath catches, and heat claws up my neck and cheeks. “Yes, please?”

  “Are you hungry for me, my little ballerina slut?” She sits back on her heels and runs her hands across my breasts and down my abdomen, where they hover over my panties. She pushes the fabric aside, and shoves two fingers in deep. I gasp and clench around her, contracting my inner muscles hard, milking her fingers the way I would Ares’ cock. Violet looks down on me with amused adoration, and then her expression changes, becomes cunning. She’s all Dominance and elegant manipulation. “Are you trying to fuck yourself with my hands, baby girl?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  She leans forward and presses her lips to the flesh over my pubic mound. Then she sinks her teeth in. I scream, writhing beneath her, forcing her fingers deeper. The pain is blinding, and I can’t breathe.

  “Don’t,” she says coolly, removing her hands from my body. “I’m in charge here, and if I wanted you to fuck my hand, I’d order you to. Are we clear, you filthy little fucking whore?”

  Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away and swallow hard. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good.” She rubs the marks she made in my skin. I’m not bleeding, but the sting doesn’t abate with her touch either. In fact, it seems to make it worse. Violet’s stroking becomes softer, and she traces my panty-line with her fingertips. “Sir, will you hand me your tie?”

  “Whatever you wish, my little Dominatrix.”

  I tilt my head back to see Atticus better. He loosens the knot on his tie and pulls it free, holding it out to Violet.

  “Thank you, Sir.” She takes the garment from him and straddles my waist again.

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  Violet smiles smugly and yanks my hands above my head. She slides the silk beneath my wrists and cinches them tightly together. I exhale my satisfaction. She laughs.

  “Oh, my sweet little sub.” She rakes her nails down my forearms and biceps, all the way to my breasts where she pinches my nipples and twists the sensitive flesh with startling brutality. “You like to be tied, don’t you? To have all of your choices taken from you? Is that what he did, your former Master? Did he tie you and fuck you senseless?”

  I swallow hard and close my eyes. I don’t want to talk about Ares. Not here. Not while I’m naked beneath a woman, begging her and her husband to fuck me in his place. I do answer though, because I’m afraid of the alternative. “Yes, often.”

  “At what point did you realize you loved it?”

  I stop breathing. My lids fly open. I glare at Violet. “I don’t know.”

  She turns her hands just a fraction of an inch, and fresh pain arcs through my breasts. I cry out. “Don’t lie to me, Camille. At what point did you realize you loved submitting to him?”

  I draw my bound hands to my chest, wanting to be done with this, but she blocks me. I came here tonight to be free of Ares, not answer questions about him.

  “Violet,” Atticus warns. I meet his gaze and silently plead with him to rein in his wife.

  “Sir, be a dear and hold her arms for me.”

  “No,” I say. I attempt to sit up, a difficult feat with my arms bound, and a woman straddling my waist and pinching my nipples so hard I see stars. I gasp. Both pain and fear take me over, and I begin shaking.

  Atticus takes my bound hands and pulls them up the bed, not hard.
In fact, it’s the exact opposite. He smooths his thumbs over my skin, calming my frayed nerves.

  “Please, please?” I don’t know what I’m asking him. To let me go? To fuck me? To make his wife stop?

  “You know what you need to say to make it all stop, little ballerina.”

  Fuck. My safe word.

  Swan.

  I never had one with Ares; he never gave me that choice. Can I use it? Does it actually hold the power they tell me it does, and do I really want to? They’re just a few harmless questions. Violet and Atticus promise something very real, and Ares is just a dream, a nightmare really.

  Swan. Say it, and you could be back in your apartment. Alone. Unsatisfied, but safe.

  Say it.

  I shake my head. “No. Please?”

  “Answer the fucking question, baby girl. When did you realize you liked what your Sir did to you?”

  “The first time,” I shout, my voice cracking with humiliation as tears run down my face. “He put me over his knee and spanked me raw, and I came all over his fingers.”

  Her short peal of laughter rings out through the room. “Yes! And do you know why you came?”

  “Because he forced me.”

  She shakes her head. “No, beautiful girl. You came because you were born for this. Submissive is what you are, and I would bet my freedom that submissive is what you’ve always been. You just needed someone to show you.”

  A sob tears free of my throat and Violet lies over me, kissing the tears on my cheeks.

  “Shh, baby girl. We never have to speak of him again, but I needed you to know, he didn’t make you this way. You were born to it, just like the rest of us, and there is nothing wrong with that.”

  She kisses my lips, softly at first, tenderly, but as I open to her and she slips her tongue inside my mouth, I feel her shift gears from a gentle, compassionate lover to Mistress Violet who wants my pain, who will seek it out the way Ares and Atticus have. She rocks her hips, her pubic bone rubbing against my own and causing heat and lust to spark in my center.

  Too soon, she lifts her body off me and climbs from the bed. Violet walks over to a tall armoire and opens the doors. Around her small frame, I see so many beautiful implements of torture, all red, all leather, and all very much Violet.

  She chooses a fine cane that has ice spreading through my veins at the sight of it, a strap-on, lube, and what I assume are nipple clamps but none like I’ve ever seen. They’re affixed with a chain, and the silver clamp looks like a leaf’s skeleton.

  Violet smiles at my apprehension and sets her toys down on the bed at my feet. All except the clamps. “Have you ever used clover clamps before?”

  I glance at the apparatus in her hands and swallow hard. “No, Mistress.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat.”

  “What she means is you’re in for a lot of pain.” Atticus’ grin is smug. Sadist. “They’re fucking brutal.”

  “Is that what you want, baby girl? A lot of pain?”

  “Yes,” I say breathlessly. “Please, Mistress.”

  Violet raises her brows in an “I told you so” expression and pokes her tongue out at her Sir.

  Atticus chuckles. “Careful what you wish for, little ballerina. And you, my little whore,” he says to Violet, with a firm slap on her ass. “You should be careful you don’t wind up over my knee.”

  “Maybe over your knee is what I was going for.” She winks and shimmies closer to the bed, bending over me and no doubt giving Atticus the perfect view. Her tits are in my face, and my hands are tied, but my mouth is not gagged. I reach up and grab the tassels on one of her pasties and tug. It comes free, and Violet lets out a little squeak of surprise. “Naughty, naughty little sub.”

  She shoves her nipple in my mouth, and I don’t have to be told to suck. I roll my tongue around her areola, drawing a deep moan from her. I wish my hands were unbound and I was free to touch. Would I have the courage to be so bold? I don’t know. Either way, I’m not finding out because Atticus holds my wrists firmly with just one of his hands. Violet pinches my nipple hard and attaches one of the clamps. The pain is blinding. I scream, unprepared for the torture. These are so much worse than any clamp Ares ever used.

  “I told you they hurt.”

  “It’s too much. It’s too fucking much,” I scream, my whole body contorting with the pain.

  “Don’t be a baby, baby,” Violet says, and rubs my other nipple, kneading my breast. “Just breathe. Soon you’ll be fucked so hard you’ll be drowning in both pain and pleasure, and you’ll forget all about something as insignificant as a couple of little nipple clamps.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” she says in a tone so dominant and so different from her usual voice that I immediately stop whining and lie still. “You can, and you will.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good girl.” She brutally pinches my other nipple and affixes the clamp. This time I writhe in pain, but I don’t cry out. “You’re so fucking good. Keep breathing, little ballerina.”

  I nod, inhaling several deep breaths as Violet moves around the bed. She pushes my legs forward, and I draw my knees into my chest, then she bends and grabs a cuff from beneath the bed. Attached is a length of rope. She slips the cuff around my knees and pulls it tight, forcing my legs apart, my knees still bent and held in place at an uncomfortable angle. She moves to my calf and repeats the steps, tethering my foot and ankle to the bed with another cuff. My other leg is pinned in the same position, so I’m spread wide and held in place for her. She tugs on the rope. My legs aren’t going anywhere. Atticus leans forward in his seat and tightens his grip, pinning my arms beneath his steady hands. I wriggle, but I have no intention of trying to escape. Instead, a sigh escapes me.

  Violet stands back to assess her handwork. “Mmm, so fucking pretty.”

  She peels off her underwear, tossing the lacy fabric at Atticus who catches them mid-air, bunches them up, and brings them to his nose, inhaling deeply. Violet picks up the red leather strap-on. Looking at it now, I see it has four phallic attachments, two jutting out from the front, and two on the inside panel. She coats the inner two dildos in lubricant and steps into the apparatus. Spreading her legs wide, she works the silicone appendages inside her with a breathy moan.

  “Does it feel good, darling?” Atticus says. His voice is closer now, and I shift my head to see him better. He stares at his wife with obvious lust as she undulates her hips, fucking herself with the strap-on.

  “So good.” She crawls up the bed and settles on her knees between my legs. Her fingertips trace my labia, and then delve in deep. “I can’t wait to get inside her.”

  “I’m a little jealous you get to fuck her while fucking yourself.”

  A wry smile twists her lips. “Too bad, so sad. She’s all mine tonight, and you, Sir, can have her if and when I’m done.”

  “Fucking little cock-tease.”

  “You know it.”

  “Please, Mistress,” I moan. “Please fuck me. I need so badly to be fucked.”

  “You need what I say you need, slut. And right now, that’s to keep your mouth shut.” Violet levels me with her gaze, and pulls her fingers from my body. “In fact, Atticus, darling, will you hand me my panties?”

  His wife’s panties are wadded up in his fist. He draws them away from his nose and hands them to Violet. She turns her mischievous grin on me. “Open wide, little ballerina. If you can’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll do it for you.”

  I shake my head, but I can’t move anywhere.

  “Open your fucking mouth for me, slut.”

  My breathing comes in quick successions, not just because of my nervousness, but because as she’s leaning over me, the dildo rubs against my clit, driving me wild, something I’m sure she’s well aware of. With trembling lips, I open my mouth a fraction. Violet grabs my jaw, holding me still as she shoves her panties inside. Her taste is all over them, sweet, musky, and innately feminine
.

  “You like that, don’t you, my little pervert?”

  I nod, savoring her flavor, the humiliation, and the overwhelming sense of calm I feel. I don’t know why I fought this. I want more of her. I want to bury my face in her pussy and make her come as she screams my name, but Violet has other ideas.

  “Of course you do. You’re going to like this next part even more.” She grabs the lubricant and rubs the cock and anal probe attached to her strap-on. The hard silicone butts up against both of my entrances. I wiggle my hips, wishing she’d just fuck me already, but like any good Dom, Violet is making an effort to show me she’s in charge, and it’s up to her whether I get fucked.

  She takes hold of the bottom appendage and pushes it against my ass. I know from my training that bearing down allows her an easier entry, so I do just that.

  “Good. Your ass was made for fucking, baby girl.”

  She slides deeper, the other dildo easily slipping into my slick pussy. I love this feeling, the fullness, the pleasure and pain of her thrusts as my body adjusts. I guess Violet loves it too because she groans and furiously pumps her hips, driving into me and into herself simultaneously.

  Atticus lets go of my wrist and stands, edging close to the bed. He unfastens his fly and frees his cock. It’s hard, thick, and a dusky pink at the tip. He pulls the panties from my mouth, tucking them in his pocket. Then he slaps me with his dick, and tells me to open. I’m a good girl. I do as I’m ordered, and as he thrusts into my mouth, his wife drives into me with her strap-on. I moan around Atticus’ cock and arch my neck back to reach more of him.

  Without warning, Violet pulls all the way out, and I gasp, a needy, pathetic sound. “You should see her from this angle. She’s wide open and gaping, hungry for more.”

  “Well, I happen to like her from this angle very much,” he says, his voice thick with lust. He thrusts deeper, and I have no choice but to arch my neck farther to take more of him or risk choking. Violet enters me again, thrusting inside in time with her Sir.

  Heat builds within me. Pleasure threatens to wash over me, but it’s just out of reach. Atticus reaches forward, his cock surging deeper, and grabs the chain connecting the cruel nipple clamps. Violet shifts, altering her pace as she fucks me. Her body is now flush with mine. The pressure on the clamps becomes too much. Her cries spur me on. I’m almost there. Atticus releases one clamp and then the other. Blood surges back to the sensitive flesh, and I scream around his dick as I explode into a million little pieces of light and pain, loss and desire. Violet’s body jerks on top of mine. Her cries are unmistakable. A beat later, Atticus spills thick jets of semen down my throat, and I swallow.