by Cara Dee
Rio, Dylan, and I finished in second place with twelve fetishes. And Dylan got a mouthful of Rio's cock. Lucky bastard. Hopefully I can be the one to please our Dominus next time.
"Soon, dear Judy." Rio winks at her then turns to Dylan and me. The three of us huddle together, and Rio explains the next contest. "Time for you to prove your worth, Chelsea. I'm going to tie Dylan up, and I need you to assist me with the rope." As the last word leaves his mouth, the kitchen slaves exit the house with unmarked paper boxes.
They place the boxes around the waterhole and remove the lids, revealing bundles of rope that are so tangled that it looks as if it's gonna take an eternity to sort them out.
My faked confusion at the language delays us a few seconds, but my mind is already busy weeding out the serious competition from the easy. Dante is obviously going to be difficult to beat, as is Gretchen. A few others are also experienced in rope bondage, but, then again, I doubt anyone is used to untangling clusterfucks like this. If anything, riggers and rope enthusiasts take care of their rope.
Still, eager to please Rio, I hurry over to the water and grab one of the boxes.
I kneel down where Rio is positioning Dylan on one of the couches. Nearest to us, Elysia is only getting the three-ply jute more tangled, which happens when you don’t let the rope untwist itself. Though, it doesn’t take a bondage fan to figure that one out.
Spotting four knotted ends, I conclude it's two pieces of rope, and I work as quickly as I can to untangle one before I tackle the other. Each Top has a sub positioned for a hogtie; they're on their stomachs, knees bent, ankles crossing in the air, and arms resting along their sides, waiting to be tied behind their backs.
"Rio, one might wonder what beef you have with rope." Dante sends him a mock-glare that a few laugh at. "Talk about waste."
"Collateral damage," Rio chuckles, "and well worth it." He gives me a smoldering glance before he smacks Dylan's butt. "Especially when I have these two slaves to play with."
In the end, I manage to untangle the mess first, and I learn that Rio is skilled with rope, too. Which obviously leads to more fantasies about him. We win that round, though all I can think of is being restrained by him.
Then it's time for Rio's surprise I'm so curious about. The cross we carried up from the basement earlier isn't X-shaped like a St. Andrew's cross. It's…well, it's of the Christian variety, and Rio did joke about crucifixion earlier.
"Simon, I need your help," Rio tells Master Hill, and the two check the hooks the cross is fastened to on the wall of the house near the door. Next, Rio summons a scared-looking Miranda.
"What the hell is going on?" Dylan whispers to me.
I shake my head, at a loss. Fuck if I know.
"Can anyone tell me the corporal punishment for slaves in Ancient Rome?" Rio asks casually as he and Master Hill suspend Miranda on the cross.
Dante smirks. "Crucifixion."
"Indeed." Rio's own smirk is sinister.
They construct a quick harness drawn between Miranda's biceps, chest, and shoulders, and the same between her thighs and midsection. Lastly, they shackle her wrists and ankles.
"Miranda's done something very wrong, and she's being punished for it." Rio faces his guests. "Nicholas and I are both in charge of her at the moment, and some of you know what she's done."
I catch Dante's nod, to which Gretchen and I seek each other out and frown, confused.
"For the rest of the night, she will serve as entertainment." Rio waves a hand at the note Master Hill is attaching to the cross. "Anyone who's up to torture a little thief, please feel free to step up at any time during the evening. As you will see on this list, torture includes degradation, pain—do not break her skin—mild face-slapping, humiliation, needle play, forced orgasms, and electro-play."
"Jesus," I mumble, horrified for Miranda. What the fuck could she have done to deserve a punishment so severe? They keep calling her thief, and I'm getting worried it's not a game at all.
While Master Hill sets up a bunch of toys and implements on a small table next to the cross, Rio asks what color she is, and I'm stunned to hear her say "Green." I know we all have our kinks, but Miranda doesn't appear to be a pain slut or a fan of being called nasty things. For Christ's sake, she's shaking and tearing up already.
Jealousy or not, subs stick together, dammit.
"What a treat." Jeremy rubs his hands together, looking more sadistic than Kayla could ever accuse Dante of being. "This will be fun."
Rio offers Miranda a disinterested glance. "By all means. I, personally, wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole if I had a choice. She should count herself lucky Nicholas and I bother with her at all."
"This is killing my mood," Dylan mutters for only me to hear.
"Mmhmm," I agree.
*
Dylan and I spoke too quickly.
With a vibrator attached to Miranda's pussy, her cries of pleasure put us right back in party mode. Granted, that pleasure will be short-lived; after three or four orgasms, it's gonna be hell for her, but it's enough to relax every slave at the party for now.
The Masters and Mistresses use this time to distract us thoroughly. More tasks, more sex, more laughter, more wine, more good-natured ribbing between the Tops.
I return to worshipping Rio every chance I get.
While he sits back and talks to a couple Doms and Dommes, I slide off the low sofa and make my way between his legs. I rub his calves and kiss his thighs, gaining approval when Rio shifts his costume higher and exposes himself more. God. He has the sexiest thighs, muscular and strong. I'm caged by him, and a shiver of pure bliss runs down my spine as I realize I want this spot so badly. I want my place to be at Rio's feet. Permanently.
It might still be only a crush, but I want to try. Already, I'm certain it'd be too damn easy to fall head over heels for him.
Pretty stupid even to try if you know he's into open relationships, huh?
Shut up.
Rio sighs contentedly as Dylan starts massaging his shoulders, Rio's armor having been taken off hours ago. And I want to elicit sounds like that from him too, so I lower my head again and kiss the inside of his thighs. His cock begins to tent the fabric of his Roman tunic, even more so when I inch close enough to smell his arousal.
My mouth waters, and I look up at him with the question written all over my face.
His jaw clenches at the same time as the corners of his mouth curve up. I feel his fingers brushing down my cheek, chin, and throat. His eyes follow every movement those long digits make. Then he reveals his cock and retrieves a condom, rolling it on with one hand.
I knew this would happen; it's a play party, and safety comes first. Dylan got the same treatment, of course. Still, I can't help but feel a small pang of disappointment. I would've loved to taste him without the damn rubber.
"I'm not so sure," I hear him murmur. He offers a subtle nod to me, and I lower my head to take him in. Finally. I close my eyes and lavish him with my tongue, gentle grazes with my teeth, and eager sucks. He groans quietly and caresses my cheek. "Chelsea?"
I flick my gaze to his as I swipe my tongue along the underside of his hard cock.
"Fuck." His lips part with a labored breath before he schools his features again. "Domina Judy thinks you're avoiding her question as part of your character's inability to understand the language."
I frown and slow down, sliding Mistress Judy a glance. She asked me a question?
Guess I've been too busy focusing on Rio.
Oops?
"That’s what I thought." He catches my attention again, and unless I've got my wires crossed, he's incredibly pleased. But I'm clueless as to why. "Keep sucking, my little slave."
All my focus is on him, and I obey immediately. I lose myself in the moment, getting drunk on the pleasure I give him. Every time he tenses and curses and breathes faster and loses his composure, my insides turn liquid with warmth and satisfaction.
After a while though, I can sens
e a change in his mood. I look up at him to see a pensive expression, and then he gently halts Dylan's hands on his shoulders. Right after, Rio stills my movements as well, and I ease away to see what's wrong.
I think it's Dylan. He looks a little lost.
Rio speaks to him, too quietly for me to hear, and a minute later, he gets up and talks privately to Master Hill. Moving up on the sofa again, I touch Dylan's arm to get his attention.
"Are you okay?" I whisper.
He shrugs. Almost dejectedly. "Guess so." He averts his eyes.
Hmm. I know he's like Kayla; they both regress or whatever they call it. Not only do they act younger with their Daddy Doms, but they feel younger. Though, I think I remember Kayla telling me Dylan doesn’t revert as much as she does. He's a…Middle? And Kayla's a Little. Or something like that.
Regardless, it makes me wary of how to approach Dylan. I don’t know what he needs—not if he's in that mind-set right now.
"Do you miss your Daddy?" I decide to go with comfort and understanding; I can't go wrong with that, right? I weave my fingers through his hair and scoot closer.
He closes his eyes and tilts his face so I palm his cheek. "I shouldn’t," he mumbles. "He's not mine."
Damn Cade! I don’t even know the man, but whatever they're going through, they should fix things before Dylan's heart gets broken. Easier said than done. Ain't that the truth. With a wistful sigh, I hug Dylan close to me and peer over at Rio, who's walked over to Miranda with Master Hill.
"I think I found out what happened to the Miranda girl, by the way." Dylan speaks under his breath and discreetly wipes his cheeks. Poor kid. Who…is most likely my own age. Whatevs. "I heard it from those two over there." He nods at two male subs across the patio. "Apparently Miranda stole money from the register at Switch last week. Like, a hundred bucks or something, and Liam caught her and handed her over to Mr. Ford and Master Kelly."
Shit, double shit, triple shit.
My spine stiffens. Given my past, Rio's reaction to Miranda's crime suddenly makes all the difference. I need to know his take on things and whether or not he's acting appalled by Miranda as part of her punishment or if it runs deeper.
"I presume Miranda's sorry since she's still here," I murmur.
"I don’t know." Dylan doesn’t appear to care about it. "Makes sense they're calling her a thief now, though."
Yeah…
"Isn't this where you should be all, 'Oh my God, she stole? What a bitch!'" He fails at sounding like a girl.
I give him a wry look and point to my shoulder. "Isn't this where you cry on me and call out for your Daddy?"
"Ouch." He both grins and winces. "You don’t play nice."
Never said I did, although I'm a whole lot nicer now than when I was a teenager. We all have our pasts, and mine happens to be dirtier than most. I refuse to be ashamed of it, but that doesn’t mean I'm proud of it, either. It just is. And if Rio has issues with that…
"We all make mistakes, and we don’t know Miranda's story," I settle for saying.
Doesn’t mean I like that she's Rio's slave, but whatever.
Dylan nods quickly, his eyes trained on something—someone—behind me, and I turn to see Rio heading our way again.
"You know that Cade is working tonight, right?" Rio asks Dylan.
"Yes, Dominus." Dylan stares at his lap. "I don’t wanna leave—it's just…"
He doesn’t feel like playing, I suppose.
"I get it." Rio shows a ghost of a smile and extends his hand. "Come on, then. I think I know what to do with you. Chelsea, you're coming, too."
Chapter 7
We follow Rio into the house and up the stairs, down a hallway that doesn’t look anything like the basement. Dark wood doors, light green walls, carpeted floor, and countless pictures of family, friends, beautiful landscapes, and patients. I assume some of them are patients, anyway. One looks like it was taken in a jungle, and Rio is surrounded by children. Another photo is of a little boy who bumps his fist with Rio's. The boy is holding a lollipop and is positively beaming. Rio looks just as happy.
He's not only a Dom. Or a doctor. He's changed lives. He has amazing friends. He's part of a loving family, which I should know considering how much I've stalked him on Facebook over the years.
Groan. How can I ever admit that? It'll be so damn embarrassing.
I smile to myself when I see a photo of Rio, Nicholas, Mark, and Cade, all wearing different sports jerseys but the same drunken grins.
"Here we go." Rio opens a door that leads to a room I can only describe as a man cave.
"Holy crap," Dylan whispers in awe.
Rio chuckles and leans against the doorway as Dylan enters and eye-fucks the arcade games, the entertainment center, the gigantic, cushy chairs, the bar, the speakers set up here and there. Christ on a fucking cracker. On the table in front of the chairs there are no fewer than seven remote controls. On the walls, there are shelves upon shelves with DVDs, video games, and CDs. Cabinets filled with collectibles, comic books—friggin' comic books? Heh. Who knew Rio was a nerd.
It kinda makes me like him even more. Combined with the photos in the hallway…girly sigh.
Rio pulls me close, causing me to squeak then giggle, and I peer up at his face. God, his smile is gorgeous.
"Do you think you can spend a few hours here, Dylan?" Rio murmurs, though he never looks away from me. He's warm, so I snuggle closer. Dylan's "Hell yes" makes Rio grin. "Good. Go nuts. Chelsea and I will be down the hall if you need anything. But…knock first."
I swallow a needy noise that would no doubt sound like "Hnnngh." Not very flattering.
"Come on, little rebel." Rio gives my chin a sharp nip. Then he releases me and slaps my butt. "We're going to my bedroom."
Yes, please, and thank you.
I shoot Dylan a smirk over my shoulder, but he's preoccupied with the remote controls.
Two doors down is Rio's bedroom, and I shiver just walking inside. Like the hallway, it's decorated in warm colors, and there are more photographs of family members and friends. I recognize his brother in one of them; they look so much alike that it's scary. From Facebook, I know his name is Gabriel.
As my gaze lands on the large four-poster bed, butterflies kick in and I get nervous. This doesn’t feel like a part of the play party downstairs, but I'm probably wrong. I gotta be careful and not let my crush do the talking.
"So this is where the magic happens, huh?" I don’t know why I had to fill the silence. Firstly, I haven't gotten permission to open my mouth, and, secondly, I don’t want his reply to my question. I chuckle awkwardly and shake my head. "I'm sorry, Dominus."
"Master Rio," he corrects quietly from behind me. No more Roman games, then? I shudder, feeling a hand trail up my spine. His warm breath along my shoulder. Then a featherlight kiss. "I'm giving you one out, Chelsea. Otherwise you're mine for the next few hours, and we won't be leaving this room."
"No out." I bite my lip to keep a gasp bottled up inside. "I want this, Sir."
"Perfect. Undress me."
I turn and grasp the hem of his costume, swiftly getting it over his head. Well, sorta swiftly. I may not be all that short, but Rio's a skyscraper.
This is only fair, too. I've been naked the entire evening. It's about time I get to see every inch of Rio Kelly. And hot fucking damn, what a sight. The fabric falls to the floor, leaving him in absolutely nothing else, and I…gawk. I gawk at his imperfectly perfect body. Black hair mixing with a hint of silver, flawless skin marred by a few scars and birthmarks, strength from a healthy lifestyle mingling with the fact that his life's been filled with danger, too. The years he's spent in third-world countries whisper of stories on his body.
"You're not favoring your left leg," I note softly. I close in and touch him reverently, curious about the scar that runs along his upper thigh. When I reach his hip, I catch sight of his hand. Another scar. From a burn? Looks like it. "What did you do here?"
He opens his hand and s
hows the faint line across his palm. "Somalia. We were pulling crates of supplies up a cliff." He chuckles wryly under his breath. "Rope burns."
"No gloves?" Silly Dom.
"No time." His humor is gone now, and I see something haunting in his eyes. The green dims, perhaps an unpleasant memory taking over. "My one and only run-in with actual pirates."
"What the fuck?" My eyes grow wide.
He inclines his head. "Big money in medical supplies. We made it out of there alive, though." He taps my nose. "And we can save the rest for another time." Next, he points down. "Should my clothes be on the floor?"
Shit, double shit, triple shit. "I'm sorry, Master Rio." I'm an idiot. This isn't some romantic let's-get-to-know-each-other rendezvous. It's a scene. Playtime. Nothing lovey-dovey. "Where would you like them?" I pick up the clothes and keep my gaze lowered.
"On the chair over there, please." He lifts a hand in the direction of the corner nearest the large window wall overlooking the street. I hadn't even noticed it until now, and it makes me hesitate. Which Rio evidently sees. "We can see out, but nobody can see in."
Phew. I'm all for a little exhibitionism, but I like being prepared.
Once I've hung his costume over the chair, Rio tells me to clear the bed then lie down on my stomach and wait for his return.
"Oh—" He pauses in the doorway. "Arms and legs spread."
Then it's just me.
I release a shaky breath and get crackin', removing the bedspread. The dark blue blanket follows, revealing pristine, white sheets and fluffy pillows. I push them up against the headboard, then get on the bed and into position. Facedown, arms and legs spread.
I hope I don’t get fake henna on his sheets.
My temporary tattoo is still perfect, but who knows what Rio has planned. He could have me sweating buckets and ruining the ink in no time.
"Fuck, you're beautiful, Chelsea."
Just like that, the temperature goes up a hundred degrees. I hear his feet pad closer on the hardwood floor, and then feel the bed dip with his weight, and, finally, he covers my body with his.