by Wolfe, Layla
Tears stung my eyes as he fastened my collar. “Zane,” I breathed. “I’m so honored to be given this gift. I know it’s costing you a great deal.”
He shrugged, standing back to look at his handiwork. “It seems like no effort at all with you. Beatrix. I’m crazy about you, little sister. Will you kneel at my feet and take this symbol of my ownership to wear as a sign to us and those we meet on our journey?”
Like a dog going down for a bone, I practically flung myself to my knees, right there on his deck. You’d think in such a position I would feel more subservient, weaker than ever. But I’d never felt as powerful as when I looked up at my Dom. I completely made up my words, maybe based upon my scant experience with Roscoe Flantz. What mattered was my passion. It didn’t need to be poetry. “I kneel before you, Master, and I offer myself to you, bound by the chains that contain my soul. Today my life begins.” Unzipping my dress at the back, I peeled it off, over my sexy bra, down to my waist. “I kneel before you stripped bare, giving you everything. My heart belongs to you. I give you my mind, so I can always sense you with me.”
As I spoke so fervently, Sax’s smile grew, as did his penis. It was wondrous to see the juicy cock expand inside his jeans, grow long down his thigh, stiffen until it must have been painfully uncomfortable. As I spoke, I couldn’t resist reaching up and cupping the hard-on. In the corner of my eye I saw three or four people, hikers I guessed, pop into the fringes of Sax’s meadow. That didn’t stop me. If anything, I’d always been something of an exhibitionist. And I sure as fuck wanted these people to admire Sax. I wanted them to be jealous of me.
So I fondled the dick lustfully, squeezing the base so it jutted out underneath the fabric. His glance flickered over to the hikers. I pretended not to notice them, although they seemed to be tiptoeing closer. I was dying to show Sax off, to display his studly machismo to strangers’ eyes.
“Now you belong to me,” said Sax, urging my head to his crotch.
I fell upon it open-mouthed. I gummed it hungrily, even licking the hot fabric of the jeans, blowing out to warm it. It quivered under my lips, jumping and twitching. Emboldened by the curious hikers who continued to creep closer, I cried out as I detached my mouth, my fingers flying over his miner’s belt buckle. I spoke loud enough for the hikers to hear me. “I give you my body! It is yours to take. Use me at your will. To serve you is my only need.”
There was no better time than now to reveal the cock ring I’d hidden in my dress pocket. I brandished it dramatically, looking innocently up at Sax. He helped me withdraw his enormous tool, hitting me with a hot wave of testosterone.
“I accept your desire to serve me.”
His words told me it was all right to encircle the root of his cock with the studded leather. It was a simple cock ring, the first thing I could grab in the short amount of time I had—I actually grabbed it from Madison, who promised me it had never been used. “When the hell would I find time to use it,” she had lamented bitterly.
I stroked the long, thick, beautiful cock as I snapped the ring tightly at the base. There were a few options for the snap depending on the girth of the penis, and pride swelled in my chest that Sax’s tool filled up the largest ring. By now I could see the hikers’ faces. Two women and two men in their twenties. The long-haired men wore plaid Deadhead shirts, the women long skirts and tall moccasins. Their avid faces seemed to barely be breathing, and if they thought they’d be invited to join in, they had another thing coming. Group bangs just weren’t my thing. I was too jealous for that.
I stroked the hot, dry cock with an overhand motion, worshiping at the shrine of his sex. The beautiful mushroom head was glossy with heat, and just like he had, I used the droplet of pre-come at the slit to massage and caress the glans. “Please keep me safe, my big, omnipotent Zane.” And before he could say a word, I plunged his dick down my throat.
I had never been hungrier for cock. I took him so by surprise I wound up shoving him back against the deck rail. As I suckled at the giant, throbbing limb, the glans nearly choking me when it banged up against my tonsils, I whipped out another of Maddy’s little tricks. The simple pair of cuffs wound easily with Velcro closures around one of his wrists. I didn’t even need to see behind him to bind him to the vertical rails, just threaded the tough black fabric through the wooden posts until I was sure he couldn’t escape. Then I cuffed his other wrist.
He allowed me to do this willingly, maybe overwhelmed with my deep-throating technique. My throat had been stretched by constant blowjobs for Roscoe, although his wang wasn’t nearly as long or thick as Sax’s. I remembered the hypnotic technique Roscoe had taught me, the blind concentration required to loosen your throat muscles. Inch by inch I took that monster down my throat, and now I could hear the hikers mumbling to themselves.
“What a stud,” said one of the girls.
“I’d ball him in a heartbeat,” said the other.
“I would too,” said a guy. “Wish I had a muscular ass like that.”
“You’re so bi,” said the other guy.
The original guy with the blue plaid shirt said, “Like you wouldn’t take it up the ass from him?”
Red shirt said, “As if I could. He’s too hung.”
Girl said, “Hung like a racehorse.”
In your fucking dreams, I felt like saying. But the idea we were being avidly watched was bringing out the best in me. Sax’s prick strained against the roof of my mouth, the flat of my tongue as I caressed his bare ass for the benefit of the voyeurs. I squeezed the muscular globes in the palms of my hands, showing them that even my big man hands couldn’t contain such juicy flesh. I pistoned my head up and down on the large dick, allowing the horny potheads to see the length of his dong as it plunged once again down my throat. I wanted to leave them panting, crazy with desire and jealousy, ready to go at it like wild animals—somewhere other than here.
I don’t know what came over me. Maybe the illicit thrill of having the horny quartet for an audience came over me, pushed me to my greatest heights of boldness yet. But I started slapping Sax’s ass.
Yes, slapping him, just as he’d done to me. The fucking nerve!
Where did I get such nerve? But every time I spanked the bare ass his entire body would twitch. When he protested against his bonds, when he strained his arms to test the strength of the polyester ribbons, I looked up at his bulging pecs. He only wore a wifebeater under his cut, and his nipples poked out like stones. He tossed his head back like a caged lion, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed his moans. Such a giant wave of oxytocin rolled through my system, I could have easily mounted him on the deck railing, assaulting him with my overflow of female hormones. The hikers would have liked that, living vicariously through me, but I wanted to gulp his seed. I wanted the chance to watch him squirming, bound, helpless under my mouth and hands. I wanted him to go off like a cannon in my mouth because he enjoyed being helpless and it was turning him on being viewed this way.
“Oh, man, look at her suck. She’s done this a thousand times before,” said Red Shirt.
Blue Shirt said, “Sure wish that was my dick going down that pretty throat.”
“I’d like to bite that ass,” said Blue Girl. “Hell, I’d like to lick it. Who is this giant stud who lives here?”
Red Girl read the back of Sax’s cut. “The Bare Bones motorcycle club. Flagstaff.”
Blue Girl sighed. “How macho can you get? A biker with a dick like my fist. I wonder if he’s an outlaw.”
Now Sax’s entire body was shuddering so mightily, like a pressure cooker about to blow. I was proud I was able to get him off using just the power of my throat muscles, the lapping steadiness of my tongue. The sharp sting of my spankings might have added to his arousal, too. But I could feel it against the tip of my tongue, the pulsating of the channel that ran the underside of the cock. The urgency of the pulsing and the tremor running up the front of his powerful thighs urged me on, and before I knew it he was blasting my soft pala
te with his hot, sweet seed.
“Ah! God!” he groaned, as he let loose jet after jet into my greedy throat. Even his hand gripping the back of my skull trembled as I drained him. I was so damned proud of myself, I was just fit to burst as I struggled to gulp each mouthful of delicious jism. If a woman can make a man come with her mouth, she’s absolutely got him in the palm of her hand.
“Ah! Enough!” Now he pressed my forehead with his palm. I knew the feeling. One can only come so much before the intensity of flesh against flesh is like nails on a chalkboard.
I sat on my feet and looked up at the bound he-man. Now we were nearly back in our proper roles, me subservient, literally at his feet, him looming above me with a beautifully half-erect cock jutting from his bush.
“Bare Bones, eh?” called out Blue Shirt. “I wonder if they’ll let me join.”
Sax craned his neck to call out over his shoulder. “In your dreams, pal.” To me, he muttered, “Get the hell up here, sister.”
I stood, but on my way up I took a side detour to nibble at his nipples through the flimsy cotton. I grinned to myself when he responded.
“Ah! Get the fuck up here, woman! Now!”
I obeyed, but the temptation to nuzzle him with my mouth was too great. I might not get the chance to bind him like this again, if he turned out to be a by-the-book Dom. But now his phone clipped to his belt was chiming, and he was casting me the darkest look yet.
“Untie my hands, or I’ll make you answer that like a secretary.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAX
The sun wasn’t yet peeking over the edge of the Mogollon Rim as Sax rode his scoot up the dirt fire control road. He had managed to get some sleep before starting this job. Tobiah had not. He and his man from Leaves of Grass had been hauling his latest toy up the ridge from Geronimo Estates, the last stop on the paved road. Sax thought Tobiah just wanted an excuse to use his newest device, but Tobiah swore up and down that it would be vital in locating Tormenta. Especially now that it seemed he’d literally gone underground.
The tracker Sax had put on the Corvette and the credit card being used at the last gas station in Geronimo Estates had led them back to the Mogollon Rim. One of Sax’s old mining buddies had told him Tormenta had been rumored to have an underground bunker up there. He couldn’t be precise about the location, just somewhere above the hunting camps of the “estates.” The associate had heard he had a whole hideout underground, with water pumped from a creek, diesel-generated electricity, and an End of Days food cache.
Sax mostly thought about Beatrix as he rode. He’d intended on promising to 86 his subs if she told him the mystery of the abbey. It was a strange feeling, knowing he’d never see Sasha, Miss Manners, or Princess Ivanovna ever again. He’d been banging those women since Anna had gone off the rails eight years ago. Some were newer than others, but once Sax found a woman who was a fit for him, there was no reason to give her up for the sparse comforts of a Days Inn.
So he was in a monogamous, committed relationship now. His first since Anna. He had an old lady. I have an old lady. It all felt so new, mysterious, and challenging. She’d mentioned wanting another baby. Was he up to that after what had happened with Anna? His first son had been raised as his brother’s. The second one had spontaneously aborted much too soon. Was it just not in the fucking cards for him? And, contrary to Beatrix’s belief, Sax thought with a bitter grin, he was not too old to raise a new one.
The staging area for the gyrocopter came up way sooner than Sax expected, even though it was only about three hundred yards from the crest of the rim. Up there, the Ponderosa pines thinned out, and boulders were strewn across the rocky mesa. The flatbed had been forced to leave the vehicle in an area cleared of pines, leaving them vulnerable to the eyes of any passing cartel clown. And, since the flatbed had a Leaves of Grass logo on the door, the weed cultivator, Crybaby, had driven it farther into the forest. True to his name, he sat cringing in the driver’s seat, waiting for something dangerous to happen. Sax parked his ride back there away from the road. Tobiah, to his credit, was crawling all over his tiny helicopter making sure things were up to par. For a bowl-headed nerd who had likely been the ultimate recipient of Indian burns and noogies in school, he’d turned out to be pretty brave. Maybe being tormented had an upside to it.
Wolf saluted Sax. “Boss. I accompanied the vehicle up the mountain a few hours ago. No one has driven by since, but I suggest we get this thing in the air pronto, the better to catch the perps. I’d like to be home by lunch. I’ve got an important Costco run to make.”
Sax knew that Wolf was shitting him. But he’d like to be home by lunch too. He’d left Bee strict instructions not to leave his house, to stay put until he returned. Until they actually took out Tormenta—and even after that if he had enough loyal, vengeful goons—he didn’t want Bee going anywhere unaccompanied.
Sax told his Prospect, “Lytton’s inspector got back to us. He went through that nail salon’s payroll. Nearly half the women weren’t being paid at all. The other half didn’t even begin to approach minimum wage. Major fucking scam.”
“Total sweatshop,” agreed Wolf. “He’s got a hundred of those salons across the state in his back pocket. Who knows how many impoverished Mexicans he’s taken advantage of? How many more vics have to fall prey to his endless quest for Benjamins?”
Sax snorted. He knew Wolf hadn’t suddenly developed a charitable side, all concerned about undocumented migrant workers. He just wanted to find an excuse for why he was so gung-ho about getting this guy. That was all right. Guys could fool themselves as to what their motives were as long as the end results paid off. The end justified the means.
Tobiah’s gyro was built for one and had no enclosed cockpit. Sax was glad it wasn’t painted bright red or yellow like most he’d seen. In fact, it looked homemade.
“I can land in a very small space.” Tobiah explained the size of the clearing. “I’ve landed before between two Quonset huts up at Leaves of Grass, maybe the size of a putting green. I can take off from this dirt road. This baby can fly slower and lower than anything else, so I can scope out any potential hatches or anything suspicious in the ground.”
Sax nodded. “Good man. You know the terrain, the general area we’re trying to scope out.”
Tobiah pointed to a notebook mounted inside the gyro’s windscreen. “Google Maps is loaded. Looks straightforward to me. I saw a few suspicious areas I intend to check out, one where there’s a weird patch of green grass when the image was taken in September. I’m going to glide past that area with the engine off.”
Sax said, “I’ll start walking uphill when you take off. No sense hanging around here waiting for you. Wolf, you got your smoke canisters?”
Wolf slapped his utility belt. “Ten four. I’ve got some spares in my saddlebags if you want to carry some, too.”
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Sax figured he might as well look like he had Utility Belt Syndrome too by clipping some smoke bombs to his belt. “Sure. What sort of radio you going to use when you’re up there?”
Tobiah lifted a helmet off the gyro’s only seat. Like the brain bucket of Leo’s ATF contact, it had a built-in headset. Tobiah slapped it onto his head and put the visor down like he was about to weld something. It was good to have technical people on your side. From a box behind the driver’s seat he withdrew a hand-held radio, which he gave to Sax. “There’s a clip for your belt.”
Sax sighed. “Okay, Red Baron. I agree with Wolf here. Let’s get this thing in the air before those morons wake up from their stupor.”
“Ten four,” said Tobiah, echoing his nemesis, Wolf Glaser.
Tobiah buckled himself into his seat. Sax glanced at the simple setup—looked like Tobiah had a control joystick, a throttle, and rudder pedals.
Tobiah looked at his two companions meaningfully. Sax and Wolf glanced at each other. Was there something he’d failed to tell them? Tobiah had a sappy, overwrought look that made Sax uncomforta
ble.
“The sun never sets on a Bare Bones patch,” he intoned.
Wolf made a face as though he smelled a dead animal. “What’s that?”
“It’s a Bare Bones saying!” cried Tobiah. He looked to Sax. “Haven’t you ever heard of it?”
Sax shrugged. “No. But you know, I’ve been out of the loop for a while.”
“What a doofus saying,” scoffed Wolf.
“I sort of like it,” said Sax. “It’s like those Air Force slogans. ‘We do the impossible every day.’”
Tobiah pointed at him. “Exactly! And no, I didn’t just make it up. It’s like an armed forces motto. ‘Be all you can be.’”
Wolf rolled his eyes. He could barely cross his arms over his chest with all the paraphernalia he had strapped on over his bulletproof vest. “Oh, brother. Next thing you know, we’ll have secret passwords.”
Sax clapped Wolf on the shoulder. “Lighten up, Prospect. You want help with that rotor?”
“No, it’s got an automatic start,” said Tobiah. He couldn’t resist one last corny saying before he took off. “Into the wild blue yonder!”
The other two men stepped back as Tobiah started his rotor blades. He gained lift almost immediately, although he nearly collided with some Ponderosa branches on lift-off. The ultralight managed to clear the trees around them with amazing precision, pitching and rolling into steep turns until he was out of sight heading toward the ridge.
The men headed up there, too. Sax tried to talk about light subjects, such as the green patch of grass Tobiah had seen, or an area on the satellite map that looked distinctly like a metal hatch door. But Wolf expertly steered the conversation back to things he wanted to discuss, like sex.
