Bite Mark

by Lily Harlem

  Another whack. I felt the air shift just before Ryle’s palm hit down. “Argh.” I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Don’t fight the pain, let it exist, let it make you fly,” Aimery murmured. “Trust us.”

  I bit down on my lip and tried not to cry out as another stinging slap landed squarely on my buttock. Searing heat flared across my arse to my pussy. My blood was rushing to the pained area then heading downward, swelling me more, arousing me further.

  Suddenly I got what Aimery meant when he’d said harness the pain. It was there, settling in my sopping channel, making every nerve feel even more alive.

  “That’s it, Bea,” Ryle said, “You’ve got the idea now.” He shoved his fingers into my wet pussy—two or maybe three, knuckle-deep.

  The action was like a thunderbolt to my senses and I cried out in relief that I had something to clench.

  “Good, that’s better now, isn’t it?” Aimery’s voice was velvet-dark and overflowing with approval.

  I peeled open my eyes and watched as he drew up a high-backed chair, sat and crossed his legs. His entire concentration was on me getting slapped and hand-fucked by Ryle. Somehow that was as much a turn-on as what Ryle was doing, seeing Aimery like that, a slight smile on his face, his eyes wide and excited and his hands clasped in his lap. In his fine suit he looked the perfect gentleman, yet here he was watching his friend going for it with his woman.

  Ryle spanked me again and then again, fire spiked where his palm landed. But now instead of jolting away, I arched my back and bucked for more. Each connection was sending me higher and higher. I wanted it, no, I needed it. I’d never experienced a spanking. Damn, I’d been missing out.

  “Oh yeah, you’re ready for it, my beauty,” Ryle said. “So hot and full and ready.”

  He pulled his fingers out of my pussy and I whimpered at the loss. I was more turned on than I ever thought possible—I had to be fucked, properly, now.

  Ryle was over me, talking into my ear, his hairless, cool chest pressing against my shoulders. “This is such a momentous occasion, my first time entering you. There will be so many more times, after this. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

  His words rattled happily around my mind. I was completely intoxicated by him, by the heat in my pussy and on my rump. It was like being drunk, craving more alcohol and being prepared to go to any length to get it. I writhed and wriggled, searched desperately for sensation, for penetration.

  He eased just the tip of his cock into me. I kept my attention on Aimery as Ryle steadied me and grasped my hips.

  Aimery was unblinking. He sported a thick mound in his pants. The material strained and the zipper looked ready to burst.

  Ryle plunged balls-deep. “Ah, yeah, fucking hell, yeah,” he shouted, his booming voice echoing around the room. “You’re so hot in here.”

  I grunted as I was thoroughly filled, the simmering tightness in my pussy struggling to accept the invasion.

  Whack. Slap.

  Just when I thought the pain was over he gave me more. I groaned, opening my mind to whatever he wanted to do to me. Ryle was in control of my body and it seemed he knew more than I did what I wanted. I was happy to let him have his way; it was a journey soaked in ecstasy.

  “That’s it, Beatrice. You are doing so well,” Aimery said. “You should be quick, Ryle, she is on the edge.”

  He was right. I was on the edge. Pure delight was pouring through me, thick and viscous. A fountain of ecstasy was welling up, preparing to spill over. It was so powerful, so beautiful, I wasn’t sure if I would survive it when it came.

  Ryle was kissing my nape, his breaths cold and hard on the back of my neck. A sudden sharp pain had me calling out. He was drawing my skin into his mouth and there were two points of boiling sharpness, like scalding needles pressing into me.

  That red-hot pain, combined with the blistering heat in my pussy, released my orgasm. It was effortless but at the same time hard, fast and furious. I battled to keep my eyes open, succeeded and stared at Aimery—watching him watching me. Ryle had filled me so exquisitely and bombarded me with new sensations. My body had been flung into a hundred different directions and I adored them all. The pain in my neck, his bite, suddenly lifted and the heat abated.

  “Ah, ah, yeah…” Ryle yelled.

  He swelled inside me. His cock tensed against the walls of my pussy and then he came with a wild cry of pleasure.

  I was convulsing, shaking through exquisite pleasure as he poured his seed into me. The bursts of semen were cold and I pulsed and pumped around him, squeezing out every sensation I could from the most wondrous bliss to the most tortured pain.

  “Beautiful,” Aimery said, naked awe in his voice as he flattened his palm over his cock and pressed. “Beatrice, you really are so giving, you’re something else.” He shook his head as though in disbelief.

  I let my eyes flutter shut, feeling glad that Aimery had enjoyed his voyeurism because I’d loved every minute of him watching me getting mercilessly spanked, fucked and bitten by Ryle.

  Life was fantastic, though it had to be said, utterly exhausting and more than a little unusual.

  I collapsed onto the covers, drained of energy and unable to keep my eyes open.

  Chapter Ten

  The sensation of feeling floaty and light stayed with me. Everything seemed surreal, slow motion. Even after I’d slept for two hours, showered and called my father, I was still languid in thoughts and physical actions.

  When I spoke to my father he was fine. We had just one rule—I called if I wasn’t coming home overnight. Other than that he accepted I was a grown woman, and although not able to afford an apartment in London, I certainly had the right to a life of my own. Besides, now that he had the widow Bridget in his life, he seemed happy enough to forgo my company and spend time with her.

  It was just as well because I had other plans. Sexy, hot, threesome plans. The fact that I would be spending the night with two vampires who craved my blood wasn’t something I filled my father in on; that would understandably send him into a spiral of panic. Hell, it should be sending me running for the hills too, but it wasn’t. Life was good. I’d never felt so adored nor been so thoroughly fucked. I intended to hang around for more, much more.

  I sipped the fragrant tea, unable to rid my mind of steamy images that dampened my knickers and spiked my nipples.

  “Here,” Aimery said.

  I set down the drink and slipped my arms into the pale blue blouse he was holding up for me; the material was as delicate and soft as kitten fur. I’d had more sex this afternoon than in the last three months—wild, hot, spanking sex—but it was as though I’d suddenly become insatiable, except I wasn’t, I was more than satisfied. I just had a renewed appetite for getting carnal and the two hot guys whose gazes were following me around the room like I was dinner.

  Well, if they want me for dinner then I want them for starters and dessert.

  “You look stunning,” Aimery said, touching his lips to the top of my head. “This color really suits you.”

  “I’m not usually a blouse kind of girl.”

  “I think you look best naked,” Ryle said. He was lounging on the bed, arms behind his head, legs crossed. He’d put on a black shirt and trousers, and his polished shoes sat on the floor. Despite the smart clothes, he still managed to project an air of the rebel about him. Tamed but not quite. Civilized but with an undercurrent of primitive.

  “Everyone dresses up for chambers,” Aimery said. “It’s tradition, and respectful to the Masters.”

  “Oh okay.” I pulled on the navy pencil skirt Aimery handed me. It fit perfectly, was lined with silk and hit just below my knees. The feel of it hugging my hips and thighs was wonderfully feminine, and looking in the mirror I realized that it gave me curves I didn’t know I had.

  “Shoes,” Aimery said, stooping and holding out a pale blue peep-toe sandal.

  I slid my foot into first one and then the other. They raised me a good two
inches off the ground. I was now level with Aimery’s chin.

  “How did you know my size?” I asked, smoothing the skirt and taking a few steps in the new shoes toward the mirror. I wasn’t used to heels.

  “You left your sneakers on the floor,” he said. “I just checked the size.”

  “And you did that with the clothes too?”

  “Yes.”

  “But—?”

  “A friend of mine owns a boutique just around the corner. One phone call and a wardrobe arrived for you. Simple.”

  “But I can’t afford these clothes.” The quality was exquisite, nicer than anything I owned. I didn’t have much because my cash usually had to be spent on necessities rather than fashion.

  “I hardly think that is an issue,” Aimery said sternly.

  I frowned. I wasn’t used to people buying me stuff.

  “You are our woman,” he said. “We want you to feel nice every moment of every day, and part of that for females is wearing pretty clothes, or so I’m told.” He touched my cheek. “Though no attire will ever detract from your radiant beauty.”

  My heart skittered. I was their woman.

  He delved into his suit pocket, pulled out a gold watch on a chain and glanced at the round face. “We should go. There is much to be done.” He reached for his cane and tapped it on the bed, just next to Ryle’s feet.

  Ryle jumped up with a grin. “Yep, let’s make this official,” he said, rubbing his hands.

  I watched in the mirror as Ryle came up behind me. He lifted my hair, sweeping it from my neck and pressed a kiss over the sensitive two spots on my nape. “Do you feel okay?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  “Did you finish your tea?”

  “Yes. Though I’ll turn into a teabag at this rate, the amount of the stuff you keep giving me.”

  “It is essential to replace your fluid and your nutrients,” he whispered by my ear. “The last thing we want is you drained and weak now, isn’t it.”

  I gulped. Replace my fluid. The fluid they had drunk from my veins.

  A tremor unleashed itself in my belly. I had to admit them drinking my blood was still not sitting completely easy with me. Apart from anything else it was in limited supply.

  “Do not look so worried,” Aimery said, also looking into the mirror to speak to me. “Your health is a top priority to us.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  He smiled. “We want you happy and healthy so we can enjoy each other and explore all the delights the future holds.”

  “The future?” I seemed to remember Ryle talking in the long term just before he entered me, but my mind had been foggy with lust.

  “Yes, of course,” Ryle said, “this is just the beginning.”

  “But before we start our journey there is one more thing we must do,” Aimery said, retrieving a crystal perfume bottle from the dresser. It was an atomizer with a scarlet squeezing button to blow out the scent. “You need some of this on.”

  I held out my wrists.

  “No.” He pressed his palm against my cheek and gently angled my face so my neck extended. “Here,” he said as the mist dampened my pulse point. “Parfum voilée au trésor. Perfect.”

  He was liberal with the spray and I held my breath, but not before lily of the valley and jasmine settled in my nostrils and laced my tongue.

  “Hey, that’s enough,” I said, stepping away. “Do you think I smell or something?”

  Aimery raised his eyebrows. “You smell delectable without any perfume, Beatrice. But now you also smell like flowers and warm summer evenings. It is always sensible to mask one’s many layers when going into the lion’s den.”

  The Grand Chamber was an enormous hall with giant arched windows at the far end. The glass panes were stained in reds and blues and depicted battles, courtroom scenes and trophies. Several wolf-like shapes and a crescent moon held a prominent place in the center.

  In silence I took my seat on a long wooden bench between Aimery and Ryle. There was a hushed air of respect broken only by the sound of footsteps on stone as members of the Ancient Order filed into the rows of seats in front of and behind me.

  On a platform, beneath the colossal window were five golden chairs, almost like thrones. Each one had ornately carved legs and scrolled backs. The middle one was larger and set higher than the rest. On them were seated four men and a woman. Each, including the woman, wore a black trouser suit and a cape of battered leather, lined with fur and tied with rope over their chests. The capes reminded me of the one the Benedict statue in the main lobby wore, medieval and war scarred.

  I studied the people sitting opposite me. They had expectant looks on their faces. Each wore smart clothes and everyone, without exception, was beautiful. The men, the women, they were all beyond attractive, more than good-looking, the word perfect described them best.

  I glanced at Aimery. He too was perfect, not a mark on his skin, not a squint tooth or a wrinkle around his eyes. Simply stunning. Too damn hot for little old me.

  He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. He was still cold. Perhaps he should have had some of the tea he’d kept making me drink as I was bathing. It would have warmed him.

  “Let us do the talking,” Ryle whispered into my ear.

  “Talking?”

  “Yes, we will have to present you at the beginning of session as our guest.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The thought of everyone’s attention on me set butterflies swarming in my belly. Letting Ryle and Aimery do the talking would be just fine.

  The man on the largest chair stood. He held up a golden torch with a live flame on the end. Shadows danced around his face and licked over his dense black beard.

  Absolute silence descended.

  “All rise in respect of the ancient flame,” he boomed in a thick, guttural voice.

  The hum of movement accompanied everyone standing. I followed suit and felt tiny between Ryle and Aimery, despite the added inches my new heels gave me.

  “Do you swear in the name of our revered Master Benedict to be good and true to the city of London?”

  “We do,” everyone chanted in a low rumble.

  “Do you promise to uphold the customs of our order and maintain the peace between us and Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the Second?”

  “We do.”

  “Please sit.”

  There was a rustle as everyone sat, though he remained standing. “We have a guest.” He lifted his head and stared straight at me.

  Aimery stood. “Yes, Master Concorde. She is a guest of both mine and Ryle’s.”

  “Present her.”

  The entire room, perhaps fifty, sixty or more people, all turned my way.

  I shrank down in the seat, squeezed my hands together and prayed the nausea rising in my gullet wouldn’t come to anything. I hated being the center of attention.

  “Stand up, Bea,” Ryle said.

  My bum felt stuck to the seat. I bit my bottom lip.

  “Up,” he said again.

  When I still didn’t move he wrapped his hand around my upper arm and tugged me to my feet.

  My knees were wobbly but luckily Ryle placed his arm around my waist and held me steady.

  “Name?” the fierce-looking Master said to Aimery, not me.

  “Beatrice Benton of Hammersmith.”

  How does he know that?

  “Situation?”

  “A father.”

  There were a few sharp intakes of breath.

  The Master walked over to a tall iron stand, set the torch in it, then turned, hands on hips, and faced Aimery. “You of all members know the rules.”

  “Of course,” Aimery said. “But Miss Benton is here to look for a friend as well as be presented as our woman.”

  The lady on the end throne stood sharply and took several paces forward. “Our woman.”

  “Yes, Mistress Elfrida,” Ryle said. “We have both claimed her.”

  The woman, Elfrida, straightened out her cape and flicked f
ire-red curls over her shoulder. “Is this true, Aimery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “We both felt our souls connect with her. It was the only option.”

  “Oh really,” she said with a suspicious tone in her voice.

  “Why are you so objectionable, Elfrida?” the bearded Master asked, folding his arms over his wide chest. “It is hardly unheard of for two to share a mate.”

  “Because…” Elfrida folded her arms. “The last time Aimery and Ryle shared a woman was in Asia.”

  Ryle shifted against me, shuffled from one foot to the other.

  Aimery drew in a sharp breath.

  “What difference does that make?” the Master asked, a definite note of impatience in his voice. “Please get to the point.”

  “It means nothing,” Aimery said sharply.

  “You protest too much.” Elfrida pointed her finger at Aimery and narrowed her eyes even further. “I wasn’t there but I heard the rumors about Natifa.”

  “Those rumors were completely unfounded and if you look in the official records you will see that I’m telling the truth,” Aimery said, his tone softer. “Ryle and I are simply keen to officially register Miss Benton as our woman so that there is no confusion who is responsible for her while she is here looking for her friend.”

  “How can you claim her when she has a father?” the Master asked.

  “I have met him already. He won’t be a problem.”

  Why do they keep thinking Dad is a problem?

  Elfrida tutted and placed her hands on her hips. “You are such a rule breaker, Aimery, despite being a stickler for everyone else to follow the regulations. Master Concorde…” She turned to the bearded man. “Are you really going to let him get away with this?”

  “Mistress Elfrida, please sit down.” The Master tugged at his beard and looked up at me.

  Elfrida threw me a venomous stare then stomped back to her place, her cape swishing behind her.

  I sank a little closer to Ryle, his solid body comforting but offering no protection from the intense scrutiny I was under. Aimery touched my shoulder and squeezed it gently.