‘Now stand up properly.’ Briskly, he withdrew his hand and nudged me upright. Someone had filleted me. My bones were gone. I could barely stand. With a couple of hard tugs, Den shoved my jeans and underwear down to my ankles where they rucked inelegantly around my boots. I swayed, dizzy, shackled by denim, my smeared arousal cooling on my inner thighs.
‘Get undressed,’ said Den, his tone now brusque and stern.
The instruction seemed too complicated, its execution requiring a stamina I feared I lacked. Undress? Where to begin? I wobbled on one leg then the other as I removed my boots. Slowly, I stripped. With a feeble throw, I aimed my clothes at the skanky mattress, removing everything except my socks, sporty-looking grey and blue knee-highs, because the floor was rough and cold. As I undressed, Den rummaged in the holdall I recognised from last time. Equipment clinked inside the bag. All those exciting possessions reminded me of his experience. He selected a bunch of black leather cuffs, again familiar to me, and heaped them on the pine table.
I edged closer to the fire, trembling and rubbing at my bare arms.
‘Cute socks.’ Den rested his butt on the table’s edge, folding his arms. ‘Now I want you in the stool, legs spread. Move it nearer the fire if you’re cold.’
I was cold, yes. It was November and I was naked in a derelict building. But the prospect of sitting in the birthing stool, presumably cuffed and powerless, sent a charge of heat through my limbs. With wry aloofness, Den observed as I repositioned the stool. My body was useless for anything except sex, making the stool heavy and unwieldy. A remnant of practical thinking told me the fire’s heat needed to catch me at the front rather than down one side. Flames shimmered in the antique’s varnished depths as I dragged the object into place. Obeying instructions, I perched on the narrow seat, glad to take the weight off my wobbly legs. The wood’s cracks and crevices imprinted hard ripples on my flesh while the slender strip of the back-rest pressed against my spine.
‘Good girl,’ said Den, his tender approval getting me right in the groin. ‘Now then, you can see how this functions.’ He took the bundle of black cuffs and strode towards me. ‘I fasten your ankles to the chair legs, your wrists to the handholds and I collar your neck to the head-rest. OK?’
I nodded, my arousal swelling as he began cuffing me with brisk efficiency, using chains and clips to link the leather manacles to the stool’s legs and hoops. The ornate balcony curving around the arena gleamed to my right, patches of orange firelight shimmering on the supporting columns. Dark shadows hid in distant corners, light sources I couldn’t identify glowing softly here and there. I felt submerged but the waters around me were rose, amber and gold.
‘You OK?’ asked Den. ‘Warm enough?’
‘I’m good, yes.’ My tongue was thick, my throat dry.
He walked away, out of sight, then returned, Liam’s bridle hanging from his fingers, a brown leather net tangled with brass. The pulse between my thighs beat harder. ‘Did you enjoy being the model for this?’
‘Yes.’ My voice was husky. ‘Till I found out I was doing it for you.’
He smiled. ‘But wearing it turned you on?’
‘Yes.’
‘I like that,’ he said. ‘Devising ways to turn you on, even when I’m not there.’
I said nothing. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss the past. Besides, I wasn’t sure I had the mental capacity to conduct a conversation.
‘Now, let’s check this out.’ Den lowered the strappy cage over my face, the dark, earthy scent of leather filling my nostrils. ‘The advantage is, we know it’s a perfect fit.’
I couldn’t argue with that. I stayed silent as Den fiddled with straps and buckles, adjusting the webbed half-hood. When he was done, leather bands lay against my forehead and framed my eyes, trammels running either side of my nose when I glanced down. The two straps of the claw gag dangled from the bridle’s bit-rings on each cheek. No need to alter their length.
Den stretched my mouth, deftly popping one brass claw around the corner of my lips. He did the same on the other side. My mouth was fixed wide, the metal hooks cold on my inner cheeks and my face, the gag’s rounded tips knocking against my teeth with every movement. Immediately, the harness felt right on me, all the necessary tensions aligning to encase my head while pulling my lips into an ugly, embarrassing rictus. The horribleness of the device made my blood rush and my senses swim. It was such a cunning, contradictory piece of kit, gagging me by forcing my mouth open – more of a non-gag than a gag.
Den stepped back to admire his design. ‘Delightful. Absolutely exquisite.’ His eyes ran up and down my body, taking in my leather-cocooned face, my bound limbs, spread thighs and faux hockey socks.
‘Look at her,’ he said as if to himself. ‘A sweet submissive and she’s all mine.’ He ran a hand down my neck, over the bump of the leather collar, then down between the valley of my breasts. He tapped the underswell of one breast then, with a sharp, sideways cuff, swiped my flesh. I groaned, pressing my head back against the ringed head-rest of the stool.
‘You can’t help loving it, can you?’ he murmured. His hand trailed further down my body and his fingers toyed with my pubes. I was so wet I was leaking onto the concrete floor. Den crouched in the vee of my thighs and peeled my puffy lips apart. He reached forward and lapped at my slit. Just that single stroke of his tongue had me moaning deeply, the sound rushing from my pinned-open mouth.
He looked up at me, grinning. My need was torture. I stared back, trying to beg for more with my eyes. He kept on smiling until, after an apparent eternity, he slid a couple of fingers inside me. I groaned, arousal sinking to my groin. Den’s eyes never left my face. ‘What I really want,’ he said, his elbow driving slowly back and forth, ‘is some help here. You have a lot of appetite, Ms Lovell. I’m not sure one man is enough to satisfy you.’
My heart raced, his words spiking the fog of my lust with alarm. Did he have someone in mind? Was Ty around? I wished now we’d had that conversation about the need for him to stop springing surprises on me. This was absolutely the last time I’d invest so much trust in him. His actions in our last two encounters had been seriously borderline. The abduction, the balcony fucking, the pain. And then summoning Ty without my agreement. But being on those limits thrilled me and he hadn’t breached them, not quite. He seemed to know how far he could push me. But nudging was a game of chance. Supposing this turned out to be third time unlucky?
Then I reminded myself I could kick or jerk three times if I wanted us to stop. He would respect that. Everything would be fine, no need to panic. Trust him, just surrender to it and trust him.
Den withdrew his fingers and stood. He moved behind my chair. Ahead of me, the fire roared and spat, the theatre beyond the flames hazy with heat. Then the balconies lurched and so did my stomach. Colours streaked past me. I fell back. I was half upside down. I gasped for breath, trying to work out what had happened. I glanced around, dizzied. Den had the circular head-rest in his hands, the stool angled back on its hind legs like some freaky wheelbarrow. I was left with my socks in the air, gazing up at the red and gold ceiling and at dulled pendants dripping from the tiers of the glass chandelier.
Den peered spookily over my face, shadows leaping across his low features. ‘What I need,’ he said, ‘is for someone to hold you like this, see? Then I can stand astride your shoulders and fuck that wide-open hole of a mouth. How’d you like that?’
He righted the chair and moved a couple of feet away. My heart pounded. What the Hell was he planning?
‘So you liked it with Ty?’ he asked.
I stared at him and a trickle of saliva spilled from my lips. I longed to wipe it away. Though I knew it was pointless, I jerked my hands against the cuffs. The reminder of the restriction troubled and aroused me. I turned my head aside, the leather collar gliding loosely against my neck.
Den knelt in front of me. ‘Don’t be shy.’ He turned me back to face him, his finger gentle on my cheek. ‘Did you?�
��
I nodded. Ty was here, I felt sure of it.
‘Meaning you’re not, in theory, averse to a third party?’ asked Den.
I was motionless, eyes fixed ahead. How many chances would I give him? Was this really the last?
‘I have a proposition,’ he continued. ‘I have someone I could call on who’d be here within minutes.’ My heart boomed and a rush of sweat rolled across my skin. I was right. Ty was here. Den paused, allowing me to digest his words. ‘It’s not someone you’ve met before. He would – ’
I thrashed in the chair, fighting against the cuffs, shaking my head in refusal.
‘Hush, hush,’ said Den. ‘Listen, let me explain.’ He waited until I’d calmed and I glared at him as he continued. ‘He would walk in here, the three of us would have some fun, then he’d walk right out. A complete stranger. You’ve never seen him before and you’ll never see him again. How does that sound?’
Again, I shook my head.
He smiled, waiting a while before he spoke. ‘Come on, Natalie. You know you’ll love it. Two horny men, and they’re all for you. We’re going to work in tandem to give you all the pleasure you can take.’ He lay a hand on each of my thighs, his thumbs massaging close to my wetness, driving me half-mad. He tipped forward to softly suck on one nipple, his tongue swirling. My thoughts grew woolly as my arousal brimmed. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Surrender to what you want. Trust me to choose a man whose style you’ll like. Someone who’ll team with me to dominate you in the ways you crave.’
He traced a finger over the lips of my swollen split, his touch light as a feather, his eyes locked on mine. I groaned heavily.
‘Well?’ he asked tenderly. ‘What do you think? Tempted?’
I stayed silent, my reply too complicated to be articulated through a claw gag. Internally, I was anything but silent. Den’s proposal sounded so hot and easy. Me, Den, and presumably some sex-party friend of his who did this all the time. A man whose style I’d like. Double domination. Oh God, how could I resist? Such a rare opportunity. And I’d loved our session with Ty. From my point of view, the main drawback to our threesome was that it had been too short – a snatched, spontaneous moment in a classroom during lunch break. Tonight, in the lost opulence of this lonely theatre, we would have much more time to indulge, not to mention lots of kit to play with. What had Den said earlier? You have to cherish a connection like ours. He was right. Grab it while you can, Nats.
Den touched me under the chin. ‘See how considerate I’m being,’ he murmured. ‘I’m not going to spring any more surprises on you. Small surprises, maybe. Nothing drastic. I think we’ve had enough of that, don’t you?’ He let a single finger roam over my body, swirling patterns over my tits and my belly. ‘What do you say? Do you want to meet my friend?’
I was stuck for a reply. The fire spluttered as my silence lengthened.
‘OK, let me rephrase that,’ said Den. ‘Do you most definitely not want to meet my friend?’
His finger drifted down to the trim thatch of my pubes. Again I made no noise, made no signal with my head. He stirred my body’s soft hairs, awaiting my answer. I wanted another man, oh God, did I ever. But I was loath to appear such a pushover.
Den laughed. ‘So is that a yes?’
I nodded, desire sliding through my veins like a narcotic. One chance, one meeting. What did I have to lose? And this wasn’t about our relationship, it was about sex.
‘Excellent.’ He stood, took his phone from his pocket, and thumbed in a contact.
‘You set?’ he said into the phone. ‘Cool. Because she’s good to go.’
I winced at his words, the lust flooding my body and the anxiety surrounding the choice I’d made at odds with his casual, confident manner. I told myself it didn’t matter who this other guy was or what impression he might gain of me. We were just three people playing together for mutual kicks. What I kinked for was as valid as what Den and his friend kinked for. No one was forcing me to do this. If anything, I was the lucky one, getting my needs catered for without having had to put much effort in.
Moments later, as if he’d been waiting in the wings, a figure emerged from the shadows. He strode towards our peculiar cluster of firelit furniture, a small, stocky man in a bulky jacket. He had the regulation shorn head and swagger of an average security guard in an average town. But even before I saw his face, I knew he wasn’t average. This was the bruiser who’d caught me sucking Liam’s cock in the grounds of the theatre.
I writhed against my bondage, protesting noisily through stretched lips. The straps on my ankles and wrists slammed at my flesh, the collar threatened my breath, the claw gag clattered against my teeth.
‘I thought you’d like him,’ said Den, grinning.
Blood roared in my ears. I tried to get a grip but couldn’t think of anything except the hateful way this man had humiliated me and Liam, making us perform for his warped pleasure. I thought of how I’d whacked him in the nuts with the crowbar, leaving him howling on the ground after Liam had decked him. Oh, holy fuck. He was going to be pleased to see me, wasn’t he?
The domed ceiling swooped before my eyes. My centre of gravity got knocked for six, feet in the air again, neck stretching from the weight of my head. Den had the chair tipped back. ‘I want you to hold her like this,’ he said.
‘No worries, boss,’ replied the thug.
Den set the chair upright again. I felt sea-sick. I glanced sideways at the thug who looked down at me, ostentatiously flexing his fingers. He hadn’t recognised me, oh thank God for that. Perhaps I could get away with this. But did I want to? For one night only? I was delirious with lust, filled with a craving to enter that dark place of self-abandonment. This man was nobody to me, just some grunt I’d never see again. He had a cock, presumably getting hard right now. And I could use him for that, much as he might appear to be using me.
The thug smiled down at me, his gaze dropping in quick assessment of my naked, open body. I squirmed under his inspection, hating and loving it, trying to clear the past from my mind and position him as some randy, anonymous brute.
Then he looked at my encased head for too long. A shadow crossed his face, a frown puckering. Slowly, his smile broadened, his eyes lighting up. He’d recognised me. He’d seen beyond the straps. My fear spiked, blood running cold. The man cast a sly glance towards Den who was kicking off his jeans, tugging his hoodie over his head. Returning his attention to me, the thug leaned in and quietly said, ‘Such a pretty cockhole.’ He inserted two fingers into my gaping mouth and stroked along my tongue. ‘A shame I never got to try it out.’
I squealed, thrashing against my bonds. The man jerked his hand away and clamped his fingers to my shoulder, his grip fierce. He leaned towards my ear again, his voice fast. ‘Does Dennis know you were creeping around here the other week?’
I quietened, heaving for breath. That Den might discover the lengths I’d gone to in my pursuit of him appalled and embarrassed me.
‘Our little secret, eh?’ said the man. Shielding me from Den with his body, he grazed one taut nipple, making it harden further. ‘So long as you behave and let me have a ride in your fuckholes, then mum’s the word. I’m told I’ve not to touch you unless you’re up for it.’ He squeezed my nipple. ‘But you’ll be up for it. Won’t you?’
He stood, stepped behind me and grabbed the chair’s head-rest. He tipped me back, dramatically fast. The domed ceiling flashed past, the chandelier a blur. I tried to scream, the fixed grimace of my mouth distorting my noise of terror.
‘That’s it. Lift her up a bit,’ said Den. The chair bobbed higher. I slotted my eyes sideways to see Den striding towards us, naked and erect, firelight dancing over his athletic contours and the black tattoo on his muscular upper arm. Den, yes please. The thug, no thanks. Because ultimately, his attempt at blackmail was weak. How much did it matter if Den knew I’d been stalking him? I’d turned up at his conference so he was aware I hadn’t exactly been home alone, pining and wishing he’d ca
ll.
I was about to kick the chair leg hard, one, two, three times. Would Den remember that was our signal to stop if I couldn’t safeword? He’d specified an agreed gesture the first time we were here. Did it still count?
I didn’t have time to find out because my eye caught a movement. High in the distance, rippling above the fire’s heat and its pluming blue-gray smoke, the royal box wavered in the air. And in the gaudy box, framed by scallops and swirls, stood Liam, gazing out like an apparition of a slender, copper-haired prince.
I was hallucinating. I had to be. He looked as if he ought to be surrounded by foliage, a unicorn nuzzling up to him. I blinked, and then Baxter was by his shoulder, a quick blur of a burly, dark-haired, furious king. Where was his crown and his ermine cape?
I blinked again and they were gone. The royal box quivered with ghostly imprints. Did I imagine it? Was I tripping? How much had I drunk? Two glasses of red, and not even large ones.
Den stood by my shoulder. I was so shocked my mind went blank, a total, idiotic blank. When I rolled my eyes backwards, I could see the thug, his bulky jacket a parody of body-builder muscle. At my side was Den, cock jutting up from his clipped black bush, fingers curled around his shaft, his hand moving with slow threat. I peered forward to the royal box. Empty. What had I seen? Was my sense that ghosts watched me manifesting itself as visions of my lovers? Or were they here as flesh and blood?
No, impossible. Baxter and Liam didn’t even know each other, had never met. And why would they be here? My thoughts ground to a halt, my ability to act now paralysed. I had a vague sense I’d been on the brink of safewording but I no longer knew what I was doing. Trying to enjoy this. Trying to escape. Trying to make sense of an evening steeped in impossibility.
Gently, Den touched me between my spread legs. Safeword. I had to safeword. That was it. Take control. He’d gone too far although I doubted he knew why. Or was he aware of what had gone on between me, Liam and the thug? What the Hell.
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