by Livia Grant
Voice thick, Klara hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“What did I tell you about the dominant’s role?”
She had to think about it, but quickly recalled, “To give the submissive what she needs.”
Will cocked a brow, offering a chance for Klara to amend her statement.
She was never going to get her part in this right. Frustrated with herself for forgetting again, she quickly amended, “To give a submissive what she needs, Sir.”
“Mr. Cook was right to warn you the moment I spun your name. Obedience is not what I’m looking for, Princess.”
When he honeyed his words and manipulated the deep velvet of his voice, Klara could not help but like it, warning or no. “What do you want, Sir?”
Will Coleman gave her a roguish grin.
It was the first time she’d seen him more than mildly smirk. Teeth white against such dark skin, he was devilishly handsome even if the smile was hard and there was something unsavory underneath it. “Lay back on the table. I am going to put a red foam ball in your hand. When our play reaches its pinnacle, you won’t be able to speak. That red ball is your safeword. Drop it and the scene will end immediately. Now, repeat everything I said back to me.”
Klara did as she was told, stretching out on the padded table. Laying prone, pretending that those who’d gathered to watch were not inching forward and crowding her.
“Close your eyes, Princess. Do not open them. You are to breathe in and out on counts of four. No matter what, you may not come unless I give you permission.” Gone was the soft-spoken gentleman. In his place was a commanding authoritarian who grabbed her by the hips, dragging her body down the table until her legs dangled precariously from the edge.
Surprised by the sudden movement and how it made the welts on her ass sting, she’d gasped, eyes flying open.
“Close your eyes!” Will was not messing around. He was not smirking or playful. “Do not open them again.”
Klara obeyed, nervous when his hand came to her chest and he pushed her back down.
“Breathe in, deep.” The musical croon was edged with darkness. “Breathe out.”
He had taken her left foot. Kneading her arch with both hands, he pushed her knee back, and opened her leg at an angle. Unsure what he was up to, Klara exhaled on his count then yipped at the feeling of another pair of hands on her right ankle.
Someone else was mirroring Will’s actions until she was obnoxiously spread—the new player taking it a step further by drawing her big toe into a wet mouth and sucking.
Already she’d broken the pattern of breath, and Will was ready to correct her. But, there was one major problem. His voice was coming from a distance. Neither person handling her feet, neither stranger bracing her legs so her pussy was on display, was her dom. “For every time you fail to breathe on command, I will make you wait another full minute until you can come.”
This was getting out of hand and Klara was much less keen to continue. She’d opened her mouth to complain when another pair of hands fell on her body. Wrists taken in a gentle hold, her stiff arms were hinged at the shoulder until stretched back, spanning the table above her head. This was not a hold partnered with soothing massage or a dirty mouth. It was pinioning, a strong grip much more intimidating than cold shackles.
Was it Will?
Klara didn’t know, and before she could decide the game abruptly progressed.
A pair of ravenous strangers fell upon her breasts. Nips and gnaws pinched the hardened tip of her left nipple. The man, woman, Klara wasn’t sure, on her right far more interested in suckling and circling the flesh with their tongue.
There were five—five people holding, rubbing, touching, licking, spreading her body as if it was theirs to do with as they pleased.
This was not what she’d intended. Klara broke rank, wriggling under the onslaught of too many hands and tongues. “Stop.”
Will’s baritone breath was right against her ear. “Saying stop will do nothing, screaming won’t make this end. Yellow, safeword, or drop the ball, Princess. Otherwise get back to breathing on four counts as I ordered.”
She’d said stop and he’d refused, and she’d never been more turned on, or mortified, in her life. Klara was growing embarrassingly wet, certain anyone standing with a view of her spread legs could see her pussy was pink, swollen, internal muscles twitching over and over.
Five unknown strangers had their hands all over her body. Two of them were licking her tits as if they were covered in ice cream. So much was going on at once, Klara writhing both against and away from fingers and lips, that when the next participant joined the fray, she began to struggle manically against the hold on her arms.
Will had told her not to come, but it was too late. When out of the blue, a tongue slithered between her labia, delving upward to strum her clit, she spasmed, shuddering, fighting against the hold of so many as waves of unwelcome orgasm twisted every muscle and stole her breath.
“Bad, bad, girl.”
Panting, mouth wide open, Klara tried to focus less on what others were doing to her, how someone was eating her out like no one’s business, and pinpoint where Will’s voice was coming from now. “Oral is one of your hard limits, Sir...”
Chuckling, Will agreed. He was twisting the rules, and not the slightest bit sorry. “But not one of yours. Someone else is licking your pretty little cunt, someone who is enjoying your squirming very much.”
It wasn’t fair!
Under her back the sting of her welts against the table was inspiring an overwhelming tingle to creep around and edge ever closer to where her pussy clenched to deny a probing tongue.
Who was doing this to her while two others held her legs splayed open? Klara could not bring herself to open her eyes, not when her first thought was that it might be Spencer. The shame of envisioning him, his silver-haired head tucked between her thighs, made her whimper and nearly come again.
Will pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Deep breath, Princess. Hold it until I say let go.”
She obeyed, and the second her chest had expanded fully, fingers pushed inside her pussy.
Klara was going to burst.
Warmth encircled her throat, the lightest of pressure distracted, and the edge of orgasm ebbed away.
“Exhale.”
Every nerve on her skin sang with the release of that breath.
Unknown partners working in unison seemed to know exactly what kind of pressure, suction, massage, or bites to apply to steal her momentary control. It was a perversion of the worst sort, made all the worse when Klara’s mental reluctance seemed to enhance every tingle.
Despite her protests, her flesh came alive.
Shameless in her wriggling, unwilling to come to terms with how much she loved the feeling of Will’s hands around her throat. Klara fought all the harder. His light pulsating grip was her only lifeline in the chaos. His deep voiced commands to inhale, hold her breath until her lungs burned and her head swam, the worst kind of decadence.
She had crossed into a world that was so wrong it was right.
Sensation began to meld together, the growing crescendo out of her control no matter Will’s edicts. It was as he’d claimed; her mind was shut off, muted in favor of automatic response.
Adrenaline spiked when whomever gnawed her clit pulled away. Nipples burning from even the lightest brush of slathering tongues, joints aching from the resistance of strong bodies bending them at will, Klara’s sudden urge to break free was exploited as the perfect distraction.
Will had said he would use her, and before she could throw off a single pair of slithering hands, a new pressure grew between her spread legs. A condom covered cock drove in.
An oomph, and some of her held breath escaped, Klara’s body jolted by the suddenness of unyielding entry.
Immediately she went still, practically panting as if she’d climbed a mountain.
Hands back at her throat, Will growled. “Hold your breath. Behave and I might let y
ou enjoy it.”
Had a man talked to her in that tone in any other situation, Klara would have verbally ripped off his dick. Being growled at now, every part of her body under the maestro’s control, set her clit throbbing and her eyes rolling back behind closed lids.
Every commanded breath in, he pulled out. Each exhale and Will fucked deep into her belly. Caught up in the cadence, following the Master as he did his work, Klara grew light headed from over oxygenated cells.
He was having her breathe too deep, too fast, and it was glorious.
The noises he made were music to her ears, each grunt, each growl, heady. Closer and closer she came to exploding all over his cock, and knew without a doubt she was powerless to stop it.
Where he held her throat, his hands began to squeeze. Unlike the first times he’d playfully strangled her neck, it no longer distracted from her need for release. It enhanced it to a point she was bowed on the table and spasming in the grip of her captors.
Will never held longer than she could tolerate, no matter how red-faced she grew or the choking sounds forced from parted lips. In fact, had she been able to speak, she would have been begging for more.
It was debauchery at its finest.
Pleased with her enthusiasm, Will began pounding her pussy, squeezing harder until her attention went down to a pinpoint—his cock, how much it stretched her, how greedy it was, how she was certain her pussy was choking down on it as if it might breathe the air her lungs were denied.
She could feel the rush of blood in her head, her face as red as the ball she squeezed in her hand.
If Will stopped fucking her she was going to die.
Klara was so close, so close to something she hardly understood, and then it was taken away.
She was still being fucked, the smooth jerk of Will’s hips delicious, but the tension around her throat disappeared. Lungs aching, that first breath was sucked in by a body out of her control. With the shock of feeling a body where moments ago she’d been pure energy, Klara unwittingly opened her eyes.
It was not the man pounding away between her hitched thighs that waited to be seen.
It was Spencer.
All along, he had been the one pinioning her arms, his mass leaning over her so he might watch each subtle reaction cross her face.
It had never been him sucking her clit, and unlike the others, he had not sought to bring her torturous pleasure, but he had been the most intimate observer of them all.
Crystal clear baby-blues made all the brighter by the silver of his hair, stared down, they beckoned.
As oxygen flooded her system, a sense of relief inspired the strangest fulfillment. It didn’t matter who was sucking her toes or massaging her feet. The pair of dark haired strangers fondling her breasts and twisting her nipples were unimportant. Even Will, with his glorious cock and expertise in wielding it had all become background noise.
But Spencer was not her dom, he was her adversary.
The dark hands around her throat tightened again, beautiful euphoria riding hard on the noises of her choking gasps.
If it was possible, Klara felt the thing shoved deep inside her expand, opening up her cunt in ways unknown. Fight or flight returned, the struggle to angle her hips into that freight train of cock as confusing as her need to wrap her free fingers around Spencer’s forearm and hold on for dear life.
One command blew her world apart. “Come.”
Klara, mouth agape, saw white, and in it, in the maddening jerks of a body orgasming beyond belief, found the world empty of all things but the silent encouragement of gloriously blue eyes.
Her throat was set free. Blood rushed through her jerking body, Klara croaking when a scream was unmanageable.
Fear twisted in her pleasure, enhanced it, burned away reason and just when she thought she’d drop the red ball, the cock tucked deep in her belly kicked.
Will had used her exactly as he had promised.
And he was not the only one.
A first splash of warm semen landed on her belly, dazed honey eyes traveled to where warm goo pooled near her navel. She noticed the others then. The men who’d sucked, stroked, touched... were still hovering near, standing around the table jerking their cocks.
They were looking at her like she was meat, watching her splayed and spent as their fists moved up and down swollen, purple shafts.
Limp, her body felt like an alien thing. She didn’t feel as if she was completely inside it, but someone still was. A dark skinned man was reaching between them to pinch a condom in place as he pulled out of flesh still twitching in the aftershocks of a dangerous orgasm.
“Will...” That was his name. His name was Will.
More spunk landed on her tits, shot from the man fondling her nipple.
Klara didn’t like it. In fact, it was disgusting. Muttering, she pushed to sit up. “Yellow.”
It was one thing having the hands of strangers entice her nerves into Will’s mind-bending game; it was another having their body fluids shot upon skin that was so sensitive even the slightest droplet stung.
“Back off, gentlemen.” Helping her scoot back and sit up, Will offered reassurance. “Princess, the scene is over.”
She didn’t care if half the participants groaned in complaint. She wanted them away from her. “I need a towel.”
One was under her nose immediately, and only then did Klara realized she was sitting hunched forward, her eyes on the carpet, the sounds of wet fucking, raw moans, and harsh grunts all but tuned out over the rushing of blood in her ears.
The hand that presented the fluffy cloth did not have black skin. Instead it was tan, rough, tattoos starting at the wrist and moving up a muscular forearm.
It was Spencer’s arm. He’d rolled up his white shirt sleeves. “Are you okay?”
He was still clutching the white cotton, using it to wipe her stomach and breasts when she was having a hard time reaching for it herself.
Every pass of the terry cloth sparked nerves that had been overused. Fumbling, she pushed him off before dropping her head in her hands. Her throat was sore, it felt slightly swollen, and a headache was beginning to pound away behind her eyes.
“Put your head between your knees, Klara. William will brace you. You won’t fall forward.”
Calm reassurance saturated every word, and automatically Klara obeyed. The crown of her head rested on Will’s hard stomach. Even with his dick hanging right before her eyes, smelling of sperm and latex, it was immensely comforting having a wall of muscle to lean onto. Her arms found their way around his waist and she was clinging to him as if he was the only thing to hold onto in the vortex blazing through mind and body.
Will’s fingers were in her hair, stroking gently. “The dizziness will pass. There is nothing for you to be afraid of.”
That was exactly the word for it. Klara was afraid... after something so beyond an orgasm had ended, it finally sank in that she should be. The marks on her back stung, her nipples had been sucked raw, every inch of her skin was buzzing, and someone she’d only just met had literally held her life in their hands.
Spencer crouched down, low enough to meet Klara’s eyes. “You’re overstimulated. Your nervous system needs a moment to recalibrate. No one is going to let anything bad happen to you.”
She wanted to giggle considering Will’s huge schlong was right next to Spencer’s face but something else came out of her mouth. “When did you take off your tie? I like that tie. Don’t lose it.”
Ignoring her bizarre sass, he took her wrist, put his fingers to her pulse point, and stared down at his watch. “You need to rest and drink water. You’re not allowed to spin until I give you clearance to do so.”
But she’d come so far, Klara was not going to give up now. “I’m fine.”
Spencer grew gruff. “If you argue with me, Klara, I’ll disqualify you now. I thought you wanted to win.”
“And I thought you wanted me to fail.” The retort couldn’t be bitten back, not with how st
range she was feeling.
For a moment it looked as if Spencer was ready to bark at her, but he shut his mouth and considered for a moment. His sharpish concession did not come easy. “I underestimated you.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, boss.”
He was at a loss, pushing to his feet to leave her in the care of someone who might comfort her where he could not.
Chapter 10
The glass in her hands was frosted with a crust of ice, the vodka within chilled to the point it was almost tasteless. Will had been gracious in offering her a drink, in sitting with her in a quiet corner. He’d even ordered a snack, feeding Klara toast points smeared with camembert topped with glazed figs.
Around them new alluring scenes progressed, a show for every appetite on display. Participants, party goers, everyone possessed the glazed look of euphoric delight. The room was high on sex, pain, lust, pleasure, decadence, even humiliation.
Klara was high on... a sick sense of disordered fulfilment. Part of her felt very bad; her body ached in strange ways, the enduring cottony feeling of a passing headache lingered. But beyond that nagging ick, she was incredibly satisfied and equally confused.
Will sat on the couch, having placed her on the floor between his spread legs. The degrading position didn’t bother her as she thought it should. Klara felt safe there, shielded with his strong thighs supporting her head, where she could press close and see only his torso if she wanted. It was like her own warm little haven.
He toyed with her hair, petting her like a dog, but cautious of touching her skin. He knew she wasn’t ready yet, though Klara had not said a word. He just knew.
Will knew many things she didn’t know.
Klara was certain he even knew exactly how she felt inside.
Was it like this with all experienced doms? Would Spencer have spoiled her with quiet, safety, and soft touches?
No. She’d never seen him lavish any of his play partners with this kind of attention. At least he’d never done it in front of her. Almost six weeks working at Black Light, and Klara had noticed even his brand of aftercare appeared monotonous and cold. Subs who played with him knew not to expect an emotional connection—water, a blanket, a quick cuddle, a place to cry—that’s all he would provide.
