by Joey W. Hill
They wanted to see that side of him, wanted to see him do it. They’d taken off his leash, somewhat literally, and wanted to see what their pit bull would do in a room with a sleek, lovely female trussed up and helpless to his animal nature. They wanted to feel it as it happened, a performance for them.
And fuck, what a stage. Thirty minutes earlier, two other staff subs had brought her here. They’d worn head masks that hid their faces from Shannon, and gags that prevented any conversation with her. While they made her stand on the bear skin rug, they massaged her with a vanilla warming oil from neck to toes. They’d slipped fingers inside of her, oiling her anus and pussy as well. The massage was intended to relax and arouse her, while the intimate handling of her body, and their inability to offer any spoken reassurances, would increase her anxiety, that interesting line between arousal and fear.
She’d been hooked and laced into a deep blue-grey corset-style waist cincher, one of his personal favorite types of women’s garb, given that it left all the good stuff bare and emphasized it tenfold. In the mirror’s reflection, he could see the solid round weight of her breasts, the taut nipples. Her ass’s tempting heart shape was enhanced to the point his palms itched, wanting to take a good handful. They’d added a matching tiny thong to it. He could hook a finger into it and tug, putting that pressure on the pussy women loved.
Given how she was tied up, she was a gift just waiting for a man. He wasn’t sure how her fiancé was restraining himself, but if there was one thing Gideon had learned from his Master and Mistress, anticipation just made it all the sweeter and edgier for them. And though the subs suffered from the wait, he knew it made it deeper and more intense for them as well. Wouldn’t catch him admitting that anytime soon, though. Not verbally, at least.
As he’d noted when he came in, they’d cuffed her hands to the frame, above her head and outward. They’d done the same to her legs, making her body form an X. They’d also placed a corset collar on her throat, lacing the front snugly so it made her hold her head up and kept her neck rigid. This particular steel frame had an additional set of restraints to it, a modification Anwyn had made. Two pairs of steel bars could be unfolded from the tracks in the vertical sides of the frame and locked into horizontal positions on either side of the bound slave. Those bars could be hooked to a waist strap or collar to enhance the sense of being utterly immobilized. That had been done to the corset collar, so Shannon could only see as far as her straining peripheral vision could take her.
The other set of bars were attached to a thick strap that had been buckled on her waist, over the waist cincher. Two chains ran down the front of the strap and between her legs. The subs had positioned those chains on the outside of her labia, increasing the psychological sense of her cunt being spread open.
She was trembling even harder now. She’d heard the snick of the door. Ten minutes ago, they’d left her alone, deliberately, and from direct experience in this situation, he knew ten minutes could seem like an eternity. She was straddling that line between terror and anticipation. But she was also violently aroused. That quivering wasn’t all fear, not by a long shot. Her pussy’s honey was a thick perfume to someone with his senses. His nostrils flared, taking it all the way into his gut, into his balls. And just like that, what he was, who he needed to be, kicked in. No more freaking out.
When he started to move, her head jerked, an involuntary reaction since she couldn’t turn to see him. As he drew closer, he picked up the more finite details. Her ears were pierced, but they’d taken any jewelry away, leaving her entirely vulnerable except for that collar.
He heard her audible swallow, her voice rasp. “Who’s there?”
In answer, he put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped, but then settled, taking a shaky breath as he made a reassuring noise. He wasn’t ready to talk yet. Instead, he slid his touch along the base of her neck, following the edge of the corset collar. Gathering up all that long, thick hair, he worked his fingers through it. It was thick as it looked, beautiful, spilling over his hands. He delved deeper into it, found her scalp and stroked. Then tugged. He didn’t want to pet her hair like a soothing girlfriend. He gave her a man’s touch, stroking deep, pulling, giving her sexual demand coupled with the strength of a male caress. Like the subs’ prep of her body, it would keep her worked up and wet. He savored that.
“Are you…the vampire, or the servant? Please talk to me. I’m getting a little freaked out here. I’ve never done this.”
She had a pretty voice, that New Zealand accent with a desperate touch of wry humor that told him she knew how to laugh and play. Though he’d lost that ability a long time ago, he liked a woman who had it. Anwyn had it, even with the challenges she faced as a vampire. It was a nice thing.
“Mmm.” Noting a ripple of gooseflesh over her skin, he closed the small space between them. It brought his body right up against her. Even nicer. Her ass and thighs against his thighs, the ache of his cock. Her bare shoulder blades against his chest. The smooth olive skin was as soft as it looked. When the silk of the waist cincher slid against his abdomen, he ran a finger over the edge of the cincher, just below her shoulder blades. “Are you cold, darling?”
“Some.” When he rubbed the hardness of his cock against her buttocks, nice and slow, there was an audible quiver in her tone. It felt good, so he did it again, even slower. Not being too aggressive about it, but letting her know it was going to happen, that she had to get used to having it around. And hell, it wasn’t just strategy. It felt damn good to rub a cock against a woman’s backside. The catch in her throat was suggestive as hell.
The heat of a third mark body would warm her up pretty fast, so he kept the rest of himself pretty close as well. He didn’t like it when a woman was cold. “I’m the servant.”
“Okay… Can I…can I talk?”
“For now. You’re going to be gagged soon, and then there’ll be no talking. We’ll blindfold you, so there’ll be no seeing. What…my Master does to you…it will make it more intense.”
Okay, if she kept gulping air like that, she was going to dehydrate. He noted a pitcher of water had been left on a table by the couch. He’d make use of that when needed. Idly, he wondered if there was any ice in it and what he could do with that.
“They put this collar on me. Seems…odd, if he’s a vampire. You know, wanting to bite my neck and all. Should we…ah, take it off?” A little chuckle wobbled on her lips.
She’s trying to top to gain a sense of control, Gideon. Direct the situation. It’s a common thing new submissives try to do. And some high-powered ones.
The ironic tone told him exactly who Daegan meant with that little dig, but Gideon decided to let that go. He’d already recognized what Shannon was doing, mainly because Gideon had tried things like that. Acknowledging that to Daegan would just make the fanged bastard smug.
Her brown hair was still spilling through his hands as he kept up his stroking and tugging. When she tried to tilt her head into his touch, it almost made him smile. But he leaned in to speak against her temple. “Your neck belongs to my Master. No one else. That’s why it’s collared that way. The rest of you, though…”
Bringing his lips down, he nuzzled the shell of her ear. “He’s given that to me to enjoy. Would you like that?”
Part Seven
Round Seven
Shannon didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Aaron had told her he was doing this for her birthday, that it was time to go beyond the tentative first steps they’d taken at home, the experiments and ideas, and try them out in a full-fledged D/s scene. He’d called it a test run. She’d imagined it like a rehearsal, with lots of laughter, missteps, do-overs and none of the expectations and anxiety that came with the real thing. This was way beyond expectations. She was scared, aroused…intrigued. With one breath along her ear, this male sent sensation straight down to her curling toes. While she couldn’t see him, he was all powerful muscle. The scent of heat and danger to him, along with that impressive
bar of steel that was teasing her ass, had alarmed her. But she hadn’t freaked out. Not quite, thank God. The servant seemed to have a knack for knowing just how hard to push. Literally and figuratively.
She had to quell a snort at the thought, but the rest of her wasn’t laughing. The hands curled in her hair suggested he could pretty much do anything he wanted with her. Break her neck, fuck her twelve different ways. But the way his stroking felt, and the slick slide of his body against her, confused her, made her want to see what he would do with her.
It was undeniably frightening, to be bound and at the mercy of strangers, but she had to remember she wasn’t, not really. Aaron was watching. He would keep her safe, no matter what. Beyond that, even though this man was unknown to her, the press of his body, the sound of his voice…they were reassuring. Oddly, she felt that while he might demand things from her that stretched her limits, he also wouldn’t let anything harm her.
Such an entirely unfounded, fanciful thought would normally amuse her, but this moment didn’t call for her usual brand of humor. Later she’d wax philosophical about all this, and Aaron would laugh at her, fully expecting her to dissect all of it that way—but in this second, a lot of other deeper, simpler and more primal things were happening. As well as a few smallish concerns.
She wanted to let loose, savor, but she hadn’t been expecting such a devastating assault on her senses. Did her fiancé really intend for her to completely let go, enjoy the fantasy to the nth degree? How far was too far?
Aaron had commanded her… Commanded, imagine that? It gave her a sexy shiver, just remembering it. He’d commanded her to just feel and react, not analyze. There are no wrong responses. I want to see you get lost in the fantasy. Wow. Could she trust that? The stranger had said “just feel” as well, so he must be keyed into the script.
She took a deep breath. She’d take the leap, and assume her fiancé was totally fine with her enjoying…well, everything, including this male. Worst case scenario, Aaron could punish her if she was too bad.
“That’s a devilish smile.” She heard amusement in the stranger’s voice. Butterflies returned to her stomach as his hands left her hair, skimmed along her shoulders, then up the length of her bound arms. He was testing the strain on her joints, and then the tightness of the cuffs, sliding his fingers beneath to caress her wrist pulse. “I expect you’re a handful and a half for your Master.”
“I bet you are, too.”
The servant’s dry chuckle sent a ripple of sensation over her skin again. “He just said, ‘you have no idea.’”
She closed her eyes, clutching the cuffs as he pressed his mouth to her shoulder. His touch dropped to her hips, fingers molding low to touch flesh, but only after he’d followed the line of the waist cincher, learning her shape.
“So he can talk in your head,” she said. It was all role playing, but she wanted to get into the fantasy, just as Aaron had said. Being a little afraid was part of it, but she didn’t want to be too scared to ask questions. This might be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, after all. “Would you…tell me more about being a servant?”
There was a long pause, and it was almost as if he was searching for an answer in himself that he might not have ever articulated, not to another person. It reminded her of her early struggles to tell Aaron what she felt, her desires to be a submissive. The vulnerability that came with those conversations…she sensed it in the male’s response. Maybe she was making things up in her head, but it made her feel closer to this stranger, a common, vital bond between them.
“You serve your Master,” he said at last, slowly. “Whatever he desires, whatever he needs. Sometimes you know what he needs before he does. Mine sometimes needs an ass kicking.”
She swallowed on a chuckle as he moved to trace her abdomen, up, up. “Ah…” She quivered as he cupped her breasts. Didn’t touch her nipples, merely held the weight. It was the most incredible feeling, to be handled this way, a body restrained to be used for the pleasure of two men she didn’t even know. Aaron was watching. Was he getting hard, imagining it was his hands on her breasts? Or was he imagining what he would do to her when they were done? Reasserting his claim on her, that deliciously male territorial nature. The savagery of it scorched her blood.
“What do you do for a living?” The servant followed the outside of her breasts with his knuckles. Her nipples were drawing up, hardening, begging for contact now. Though he kept away from them, he was looking over her shoulder, staring at them. In her peripheral vision, she had a vague impression of dark hair falling over the brow of a strong face, vivid blue eyes, a warrior’s serious expression. She knew from tactile, real time experience that he was wearing nothing but a pair of tight brief shorts that left nothing to the imagination. She swallowed against the incredibly arousing hold of the corset collar.
“Books. I do…books.” They weren’t going to need to gag her. She was losing the ability to talk.
Her sexy tormentor grew serious. “Shannon, my Master requires a clear answer to a question. Focus.”
The sexy rumble, the edge of command in the servant’s voice, did exactly that. Aaron knew this about her. A command could steady her, help her find her center. This was the most amazing experience ever. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted it to end. “I work in a bookshop. They call me…a book pimp, because I love books so much.”
“My Master likes books as well. You’ll have a lot to talk about. When he wants you to talk. First, he prefers to hear you scream.”
Okay, there went her focus, like a baby elephant slamming his arse onto a down pillow, a volcano eruption of feathers.
“What else do you like to do?”
She let out a whimper as he finally touched her nipples. A brush of sensation with his fingertips, then another. Back and forth, back and forth. “Oh…” She was writhing in her tight bonds, not able to move enough, and the stimulation was immediate and intense. “Oh, God…”
“We asked you a question, Shannon. Answer it.”
For a servant, he was pretty damned masterful. And relentless. “Music,” she gasped. “Oh, God, that feels good. I play…guitar. Love to dance.”
“You’re dancing now.” His touch slipped away from her nipples, then he gripped her breasts again, squeezed and kneaded. As she was undulating against that touch, it was rubbing her ass against him. Aaron and she had talked about this fantasy. She didn’t want any other male inside of her, and she still didn’t, but it was a titillating sensation, to have an aroused cock so near, knowing it was more than ready to fuck her. Knowing she was helpless, if this male wanted to break the rules. Something was taking her over; thinking of this as a fantasy was getting tremendously harder.
“Love the tongue stud,” the servant murmured, his mouth teasing the corner of hers. “Saw it when you were panting with lust there, wiggling that hot little ass of yours against me. Put that tongue out here, so I can play with it a minute.”
She did, and was amazed at how provocative his tongue could be, rolling over that metal stud, caressing the corners of her lips. “That would feel fucking good against my cock. I bet your Master loves the way you go down on him.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Her senses were being overwhelmed. A sexy stranger’s hands, her fiancé’s eyes on her, and the sense that they were waiting for one more to join the party.
Or maybe not. Maybe he was already here. The servant said his Master could read his mind, but of course that was role playing, right? He had to be within earshot.
When she shifted her gaze as far as she could in both directions, she didn’t see anything. It was so unnerving, to have her head immobilized and only a limited sight range. But then she glanced left, as far as she could, and started under the servant’s hands. A tall male stood there, though she was absolutely sure no one had been there a moment before. No one could move that fast. Maybe there was a hidden panel in the wall. It was an impressive effect, but even more impressive than that was the “vampire” himself.<
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He was all in black, leaning against the wall. And he wore an incredible mask, shaped like a raptor’s head, complete with a sharp curved beak. Sleek brown short feathers layered the upper part of his face, but left his jaw and sensual, cruel mouth visible. Where longer feathers folded into the sides of the mask, she could tell he had short dark hair. He had his arms crossed over his chest. The male behind her had more of a brawler’s build. This one had a lean physique that nevertheless emanated even more power.
She jumped as the fire started in the grate with a pop of noise and flame. “More heat,” the servant murmured at her ear.
“Magic,” she managed.
“Well, a gas log remote,” he offered, showing it clasped in his hand. She snuffled on a hysterical giggle. Then that creature against the wall moved, claiming her full attention again. When the flames caught the glint of dull metal, she realized the vampire wore two pewter talons, on his middle and fore fingers. One had the head of a dragon on the largest knuckle, the other the head of a wolf. The tips were wicked sharp points, and, even more disturbing, curved razor blades arched over the heads of the dragon and wolf.
“He’s your Master,” she said on a really dry throat.
“Mm-hmm. He has a different kind of magic for you now. Time for you to be quiet.”
“No.” Alarm surged in her chest, making her choke out the protest.
The servant caressed her hip, then he slid down, parting her labia. Shannon bucked up against the stimulation, not expecting it, not expecting that knowledgeable caress of her clit. “You know you serve your Master here,” he said. “Will you trust him?”
