Cantrips: Volume #2: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  “Look at the mermaid we’ve caught,” Peter murmured. “What do you think she’d be willing to do to get free?”

  “Not really relevant, since we’re not going to let her go.” Ben shifted her legs to his other shoulder. The fact she had to rely on him to move her suggested she had a mermaid’s tail in truth, her feet and ankles bound so she couldn’t flex them, her legs held together such that she didn’t have an inch of space between them. His fingers found their way into the netting over the seam of her tightly compressed buttocks. Her drawn-in breath became a shudder when those strong fingers flexed and she felt the netting rip. Just as she’d predicted, he’d created enough of a hole she could easily guess his intent.

  She’d envisioned him taking her rear entry while she was on all fours, sucking Peter’s cock, or while she straddled her Master, but this…she felt truly helpless. She hadn’t imagined having her ass fucked while on her back.

  “Not paying me enough attention, Sergeant.” Peter made her choke on the size of him in her throat. She renewed her efforts on him, suckling, licking. Her focus increased threefold, partly because it would help her manage the anxiety, and partly because of the fervent pleasure she felt when she inspired her captain to come like this.

  It will be all right. You want this. They’ll take care of you.

  As Peter’s hand flexed on her shoulder, his breath becoming a harsh rasp, she lost herself in the thought, the trust, even more. She usually swallowed his seed, but even before he spoke, she sensed he wanted to do it another way. Because he was sharing her with another.

  “Move back a minute, Ben,” Peter grunted, the strain in his voice. Though she’d only seen it once, she remembered what he looked like at that precipice point, all those fine, fine muscles taut on his chest and shoulders, biceps bunched and rippling the Don’t Tread on Me snake tattoo. There’d be a fine sheen across his firm tanned flesh. If her hands were free now, she’d reach up, slide her nails over that slickness. His hands would close over hers, holding her wrists pinioned against his thundering heart as he came.

  “Beg him for it, Dana,” Ben commanded.

  “Please, Master,” she gasped. “Please come… Mark me.”

  Peter gave her the first swallow as he started to come, but then he pulled out, pressed forward so her forehead was against his thighs as he jacked off on her breasts. She could feel the vibration of his severe, shuddering breaths, the masculine groans of repletion. Warm, salty come splashed against her nipples, making her cry out her own pleasure. It trickled down her sternum, against her throat. She licked her lips, craving any stray spatter. He must have seen it, for he caught her jaw, letting her suck down the last stream as he thrust back in rough, making her work to stay in rhythm with him.

  When he finally slowed, he gave her the reward of letting her clean him, which she did with desperate sucking noises. Her pussy was hot, wet and needy, such that she was undulating like a mermaid in water, seducing the fishermen who’d caught her in their net, begging them for what she wanted.

  As Peter stroked her throat, smoothing his slick come over the vital pathways there, she realized Ben had been busy during her distracted haze. A cool metal hook was slipped in the netting between her ankles. Her fingers tightened instinctively against her sides, though they were ineffectual at stopping anything as her hips were cranked a few inches off the bench, her legs now held in the air by some form of suspension system. Peter passed his hands over her shoulders, below her body, her back and hips, gauging the strain.

  “All right, Sergeant? Don’t you think of lying to me.”

  “Yes…” Becoming so sexually helpless apparently came with breathlessness, so it was practically a whisper.

  “Neck is comfortable?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ben slid down her legs, hooking his fingers in the net over her thighs, caressing her torturously close to her mound, her needy pussy. “Too bad I bound her hands. I could have had her lube me up real good with those clever fingers of hers. That’s where having another slave around is useful. She could lick all your come off of Dana’s nipples, then get down on her knees and work this oil over me.”

  “Well, don’t look at me to oblige.” Peter’s dry humor registered vaguely. She was far more focused on his hands, pausing over her breasts to give her a rough squeeze, then moving to her ribs, fingers sliding under her to caress her back, her hips. She could feel his heat leaning over her, wanted his mouth on hers, but she had a feeling he’d hold that gift away from her for now. Unless she proved she could be the best slave ever.

  “Please…” She licked her lips. “Master, I could make him slippery with my mouth.”

  “Appreciate that, baby girl,” Ben chuckled, a husky sound of male pleasure. “But as hot and wet as your tongue is, we’re going to need some really slick oil. You’ve got a tight little ass. I don’t mind dipping into the well for a mix, though.”

  She gasped as he popped another couple strings in the netting, so now his fingers could sink into her pussy. He dipped in to the last knuckle and swirled around. Without any clit stimulation, she groaned, unable to do anything more than take it since they had her so bound up.

  “Ben.” A pause, and a silent exchange between the men, the reason for it immediately obvious when Peter put an additional foam wedge beneath her lower back and lifted hips, Ben making an adjustment to the suspension so she now had full support below the waist. She hadn’t even noticed the building ache in her hips and back until now, but that was why Peter had been caressing her so thoroughly. In time—probably the worst possible time—it would have been a distraction.

  Was it possible to love the overprotective giant any more than she already did?

  “Don’t want our mermaid on the hook to get distracted by the wrong kind of pain,” Peter murmured, brushing his lips along her cheek, her ear. She wanted his lips desperately, and was rewarded when he brought them down to hers. However, he channeled her hunger by holding pressure on her forehead, her throat.

  “Unh-unh,” he muttered against her mouth. “You stay still and let me sample that mouth of yours, taste myself on you.”

  Peter was a master at restraint and deprivation. The kiss took it one notch below screaming need, the way he nibbled, plunged his tongue into her mouth, swirling it around as he covered her lips. His fingers locked on her throat, over the collar he’d given her. Ben’s fingers continued to work in and out of her cunt… Now there was a shuddering pause where she assumed he was adding her lubrication to whatever he was putting on his cock. She imagined him standing there, looking at her body in an almost meditative way, all helpless and bound for him and Peter as he fisted himself, got that big cock nice and glistening, to put it up her ass.

  “Master…” She breathed against Peter’s mouth. Not a request, just a need to say it…to be sure. “Master.”

  “Yes.” That one word acknowledged what she was trying to convey. There was a visceral satisfaction in his voice, her primal territorial male. “You belong to me first, but you also belong to him, because that’s the way we work. If I wanted all four of them to fuck you—Matt, Jon, Lucas, Ben—you’d do it, because you love being my slave. Our slave. I want to see Ben fuck you.”

  “Yes, Master. I want to please you more than anything. I want to please them, because I’m theirs, too.”

  The desire to brat or sass was being blasted away by something far stronger, this mindless desire. Peter knew how to get her there, and he and Ben had managed, with overwhelming sexual dominance, to push her into the depths of that ocean. Her body was amped up to a thousand revs, vibrating with the need to come, to give, to surrender. It was crazy, but she loved, craved and feared it, all at once. It was all out of her control.

  Before her injuries in Iraq, she’d been a hardcore sub, one who needed a firm hand to keep her from taking over the session. Peter had picked up on that right away. But as serious as that had seemed, Iraq had taught her what losing control truly was. It had terrified her to the bon
e, and she’d tried to hide, to stop living. Peter had collared her, made her his and brought her back to life, not taking no for an answer.

  Like tonight, he still took her places that terrified her, but only to give her gifts beyond her imagining. The night they’d met, he’d broken into her soul and compelled her to accept him there. The fully functioning, sighted person she’d been then hadn’t been brave enough to let anyone do that. But Peter had been her Master, able to override her will, even before she ever called him that.

  Over and over again, he’d proven he knew what she craved and needed before she did. Thinking back to the corner incident with the gangbangers, she knew it was the faith in herself he’d given her that overrode every weakness or perceived handicap. She would always defy him when necessary to remind him she wasn’t fragile, because he made her want to be strong.

  So in essence, the bratting was his fault. However, since she did have some sense of self-preservation, she’d save that observation for another time.

  Ben’s fingers were back in her ass, beginning to work the oil in there. The determined thrust of those digits, the way the movement sent anticipation and anxiety spiraling through her stomach, told her the point of no-return was fast approaching. But before she could tense up about it, an involuntary reaction, Peter’s rumbling voice cut into her apprehension.

  “Who do you see licking my come off my slave’s beautiful tits? Savannah? Cass?”

  “Oh, fuck. Savannah.” Ben’s primal noise was pure lust. “With Cass straddling Dana’s hips like her Harley. She could rub their gorgeous cunts together, tease their clits while Savannah licked your spunk off her throat and nipples.”

  “Damn, Ben, you’re doing it again.”

  “You’re going to have to perform again pretty damn soon, soldier-boy. Don’t want to tell Lucas you went all limp-dicked on me.”

  “Bite me.” When Dana made a similar noise of animal desire, caught up in their fantasizing, Peter nipped her ear, nuzzled. Ben worked another finger in, stretching her, making her burn and whimper. He had so much lube in her, she could feel the warm oil sliding down her spine from the crease between her buttocks.

  It drove her even crazier, the way they were talking over her, so deceptively indifferent, crude and male. The fact she knew they were hyperaware of every response they were pulling from her, only intensified it. Peter’s fingers tightened on her throat, teasing her under the collar.

  “So who would you want it to be, Dana, hmm? Savannah? Cass? Or someone else?”

  He knew, the cunning bastard, because his favorite bedtime stories were her girl-on-girl fantasies. Which usually pushed bedtime back by at least fifteen sweaty, quick-and-hard-fuck moments.

  “Rachel…my physical therapist. When she bends over me…she has beautiful lips…I want to kiss them. Touch her…breasts. They’re big and full. Just the way you like ‘em, Captain. I bet she has large, pink white girl nipples.”

  “Yours are my favorites.” She groaned, a noise of primitive pleasure, as he put those powerful hands over the netting and tore it just as he’d promised at the beginning, releasing the blood flow where the lines had pressed down. “They don’t need to be big. They just need to be yours.”

  “They’re yours,” she whispered. “Not mine.”

  “Damn right. It’s all mine. Your pussy, your tits, your ass, everything from head to toe. Heart, mind and soul.”

  “Yes, Master.” She cried out as he leaned over her, put his mouth on one nipple and began to suck, taking her in. She knew he had to be tasting himself as well, how he’d marked her. He was so good at gripping both breasts when he did this, kneading and squeezing just the right way, so it intensified the pull on her nipple, making her cunt ripple, her clit harden. It took her a moment to realize from the pressure against her rectum that Ben was stretching her out with at least four fingers, two from each hand, making her feel fuller.

  “There we are, nice and dripping, just the way I want her.” He removed the digits slow, teasing the sensitive ring of nerves. “Isn’t that PT the one Jon has a thing for?”

  “Mmm.” When Peter spoke against her flesh, he flicked her nipple with a deft tongue. While she gasped and made more whimpering appeals in the back of her throat, they conversed as if simply enjoying a shared meal. She was in danger of permanently losing her mind. “Cagey bastard won’t say, but you can tell he’s got his eye on her. She’s married, though. Fuck it all. Wears a ring.”

  “Damn. He won’t touch her then.”

  Dana wailed and strained her neck, pressing her face hard into Peter’s bare chest as Ben’s mouth invaded her rim, tongue darting out to lick her thoroughly. When he blew on her, it activated a tingling heat reaction in the oil. Her anus contracted like her cunt, eager, hungry for cock. He pulled his mouth back enough to slide a finger around the rim, teasing her with light touches, little strokes, short penetrations. She writhed, groaned. Her wide range of chirps and notes were like an alarmed, captured bird.

  “In the real world, she may be married, but in this room, Rachel can be whatever we want her to be,” Ben said softly, but not so softly she couldn’t hear him. “Tell me what she’d be doing to you, Dana, if we had her here.”

  “She’d…do what you and my Master commanded,” she said breathlessly. “Lick his come off of me. Get on her knees and suck your cock…put oil on it, the way I wanted to do it. Maybe…lick my pussy to make that wetter for Peter.”

  “And wetter for you, too. You like girls, Reverend Dana. We all know it.” He gave her ass a little smack through the netting that had her flexing against it, increasing the rough friction of it pressing on her flesh. “Who’s that controller from Weston Textiles, Peter? You can tell the way she looks at Savannah she likes the girls. And she goes to Surreal. Voyeur stuff, but I bet Jon could charm her into spreading her legs. You could order Dana to go down on her while we watch.”

  It was fantasy, she knew it was, but as fantasies went, it was a good one. It never failed to arouse her, scenarios where she was directed by their desires, their lusts, all their cocks getting hard watching her. While she expected the controller was sexy as hell, she liked Rachel better. It might not make sense, given the therapist’s marital status, but it felt like Rachel should be in their circle. The controller, whoever she was…wasn’t. It made a difference.

  In the beginning, it had surprised Dana, how intuitively she comprehended the code that bound the Knights, but given the amazing connection she’d felt instantly with Peter, she supposed it shouldn’t have. The first time she’d been shared by the Knights, the first time she’d felt the press of Cass’s hand on her fingers and Savannah’s cool lips brush her cheek in welcome, it had been there. No matter how much they talked up the fantasies to make this kind of moment more incredible, the Knights would never initiate another into the full circle who wasn’t destined to be a permanent part of it. Peter had let her touch another woman the first night he’d shared her with them, in a club environment, but it had been brief, more titillation than anything.

  These boys did not share their toys. Except with each other.

  Ben went to work on her rim again, teasing her with that tongue. Oh, God, that made her crazy. She was squealing, convulsing from head to toe as he held her fast, plunged his tongue into her, worked it there, traced the rim and then sank his teeth into the meat of her buttock, a hard bite that caused her to cry out again as he did it twice more, a hard, prolonged clamp that told her she’d have teethmarks in her ass for a couple days.

  While he did that, Peter kept suckling and nipping at her breasts, thumbs under her collar, pulling on it, reminding her of his claim on her. If she could see, she was pretty sure she’d have black spots in her vision. All other thoughts were disappearing, everything about the sensations now… She’d never been so aroused without coming, but they were making her utterly insane without pushing her over. They’d created heaven and hell together. She was begging, nearly wailing.

  “Please…please, God…fu
ck. Please…”

  “Ssshhh.” Peter nipped her breast, a sharp admonishment. She knew he didn’t mind hearing her cry out, so it had to be because he wanted her to turn that outburst inward, make the energy-build even more extreme. She shook like she had a fever, trying to obey.

  “You’re ready, baby girl.” Ben’s large hands were on her buttocks, pulling them open, the very air against the lubed opening enough to make her quiver. “You push out against me, the minute you feel pressure. Peter, keep working her.”

  She thought she heard that smooth zipper sound again, telling her Ben had remained fully clothed throughout this. It put a provocative picture in her mind. Peter had stripped off his shirt, so he’d be wearing just his jeans and boots. Her captain’s upper body would be flexing and curved over her as his clever mouth worked her nipples and breasts, his large hands cradling her face. A contrast to Ben, in his expensive suit and shiny shoes, his green eyes intent as he opened his slacks, pulled down the briefs to stretch that thick, monstrous cock out in his grip, guiding it toward her ass…

  She yelped as Peter bit her nipple, just as Ben set the head to her opening, started easing inward. She knew from the ring gag how thick he’d be, but holy God, feeling it was a different matter. And she did mean that as a religious plea, the Lord forgive her.

  “Flex against him, girl,” Peter said in a growl. “Open up for him. Let him in. Do it.”

  Her Master was ordering it, so she bore down, tried to will all her muscles to relax in a way they never had before. He was in maybe an inch or two, and it was stretching and burning like holy hell. She gasped, tears leaking out of her eyes.

  Ben came to a halt. When he put a hand on her thighs, she realized he intended to do more with that hand than just steady her. His fingers found her clit, started to stroke in small circles. It was already swollen to the size of a ripe fruit. As she squirmed and gasped, Peter went back to the suckling pull on her nipples, squeezing her breasts in his big, heated hands, the combination that could shoot her right into orgasm.