The Erotic Dark

by Nina Lane

  Trembling, Lydia obeyed, unable to take her eyes off the contrast of his darkly veined stalk nestled between the plump, white globes of her breasts.

  Of all three men, Kruin was the most overwhelming with his unyielding personality and sheer size. Lydia had thought she could not possibly feel more dominated by him, but when he began thrusting between her breasts, she realized her helplessness knew no depths.

  Kruin’s inner thighs stretched wide over her torso, his testicles slamming hard against the soft undersides of her breasts as he repeatedly thrust himself into her cleavage.

  Lydia’s blood burned, streaming heat through her veins so rapidly that her arousal spiked once again. She tightened her grip on her sweat-dampened breasts, entranced by the sight of Kruin’s plunges, the thick head appearing and disappearing into the fleshy cavern.

  So fascinated was Lydia by the erotic display that she didn’t initially notice when one of the other men pressed his hands underneath her thighs to lift them farther apart. Only when he lifted her legs fully from the table did she start with surprise. Her eyes searched the room and found Gabriel standing alongside the table. Lydia looked at him in shock. Surely Preston couldn’t mean now to…

  Lydia cried out when she felt Preston’s cock pressing against her vulva. She had begun to think the men would soon do things to her simultaneously, but she hadn’t imagined the absolute embarrassment that would submerge her like a wave.

  She couldn’t move for Kruin’s large body straddling her, and now Preston’s hands were digging hard into her thighs, spreading them so wide that tears filled her eyes at the utter indignity of her position.

  She closed her eyes with humiliation as she felt Preston wipe her plentiful juices with a linen napkin, making some coarse remark about the extent of her arousal. Then he shoved into her with a deep groan of pleasure and began thrusting. Lydia experienced a sense of overwhelming submission, knowing both men would take their pleasure from her while denying her satisfaction.

  She struggled to retain control over her unbearable excitement, feeling Preston’s slender penis jarring her lower body with repeated thrusts, while Kruin continued to stimulate himself within the confines of her breasts.

  Her mind became subsumed only with sensation; the thick root causing such raw, delicious friction against her cleavage, the weight of Kruin’s body above her, the harsh grip of Preston’s fingers on her soft thighs, the persistent plunge of his cock into her.

  Before Lydia realized what was happening, before she could do anything to prevent it, an orgasm began spiraling through her body like an exploding star.

  She cried out with both ecstasy and dismay, unable to stop herself from succumbing to the rapturous vibrations even as she knew she was breaking the rules yet again. Her inner walls clenched around Preston’s shaft so violently that he pulled out of her with a shout and spurted all over her moist belly. Seconds later, Kruin grunted low in his chest and emitted profuse jets of semen onto Lydia’s breasts and throat.

  Breathing heavily, Preston dropped Lydia’s legs back onto the table while he pulled away from her. Kruin eased himself off her body, control collecting around him once again like a perfectly tailored suit.

  Lydia closed her eyes with a growing sense of dread, even as lingering pulses of pleasure continued to throb in her blood. She longed to get up and clean herself, to cover her traitorous body, but knew she had to lie there until one of them told her otherwise.

  Cautiously, her eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze met Kruin’s frosty eyes first, which caused the dread to deepen. Lydia swallowed hard past a sudden lump in her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, hating the involuntary plea in her voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Kruin shook his head in a short movement, his mouth compressing. “You’re far too undisciplined, Lydia. You have continually disobeyed a simple mandate. If you cannot even control yourself, then we will have to take further measures to control you.”

  Lydia turned away, unable to bear the deep censure in his expression. The door clicked as he and Preston left the room, and then Lydia felt Gabriel’s hand brushing her disheveled hair away from her forehead.

  Her eyes filled with tears at the gentleness of his touch.

  “I couldn’t help it,” she choked.

  “I know. You did quite well, Lydia.”

  She blinked with surprise. “I did?”

  Gabriel nodded. “You’ll be punished, of course, and you still resisted a bit too much, but overall, you did well. I’m proud of you.”

  Lydia stared at him, astounded by how his words made her want to fall sobbing with gratitude into his arms. Never before had such simple words caused such a radiation of joy, banishing her earlier dismay.

  “Oh,” she whispered, her throat clogged with tears. “Thank you.”

  Gabriel smiled and pressed his lips against her forehead. “You’re learning. We all know that.”

  After he left the room, Lydia lay on the table for a long while, trying to process the myriad sensations and emotions that had swirled through her mind and body.

  Then from deep inside her soul, she unearthed the surprising vow that someday, somehow, she would earn Kruin’s approval.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lydia raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she saw Gabriel come out onto the veranda. Dropping the trowel she had been using to plant a tray of fresh pansies, she approached him. He had been away from the plantation a great deal in the past few days, which had created a perpetual knot of anxiety within her soul.

  Although he was equally capable of issuing commands, not to mention being aroused by her humiliations, Gabriel’s presence continued to serve as a strong counterbalance to Preston’s cruel amusement and Kruin’s contempt.

  Lydia dusted dirt from her hands as she climbed the veranda steps. Something inside her calmed as she met his warm, green eyes. He poured a glass of lemonade from a pitcher that rested on the veranda table and held it out to her.

  Lydia accepted the glass gratefully and took a long swallow, closing her eyes as the sweet, tangy liquid flowed down her throat.

  “You’ve all been gone quite a bit lately,” she remarked, drawing her fingers across her lips to wipe away lingering drops of lemonade.

  His eyebrows rose. “You’ve noticed.”

  “How could I not?” Lydia sank into a chair and leaned her head against the back. “May I ask why?”

  “Preston and Kruin have mainly been taking care of retaining our anonymity.”

  Lydia stiffened with a rush of shock. “Is it in danger of being discovered?”

  Gabriel poured a glass of lemonade and sat beside her. “No, not at all. And it won’t be, but keeping our anonymity requires maintenance. Preston and Kruin are vigilant about that. I attend to most of the things with regard to the plantation.”

  Lydia turned her head to look at him, admiring the masculine planes of his profile. “Gabriel?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Will there ever be a time when I’ll do any of that?”

  He reached over and patted her hand. “Maybe someday, Lydia. Not any time soon, but someday.”

  His words eased away some of her trepidation. Although she knew she couldn’t be allowed any autonomy right now, it was comforting to discover that Gabriel, at least, thought she eventually might have some measure of independence.

  She looked down at Gabriel’s hand, which still rested upon hers. The back of his hand was strong and tanned, dusted with dark hairs. With the tip of her forefinger, she traced his long fingers that had provided her with such pleasure. It occurred to her then that although she had been extraordinarily intimate with him—with all three men—they had never performed an act as simple and beautiful as holding hands.

  Almost cautiously, Lydia turned her hand so her palm rested upward. A hint of relief rose in her when Gabriel laced his fingers through hers, his hand closing warmly over her palm.

  They sat that way for a long time as a hot bre
eze drifted through the screens surrounding the veranda. Then Gabriel’s hand tightened on hers.

  “Lydia, you should know Preston is planning a social event.”

  She gave him a startled look. “Here?”

  He nodded. “A party, actually. He’s been very occupied with plans. It’ll take place in two weeks.”

  Lydia stared at him, her heart suddenly pounding. “Gabriel, you can’t be serious. How can there possibly be a party here?”

  “Between the three of us, we have a very wide social circle, as you can imagine. But within that circle, there’s one that’s much smaller and far more…clandestine.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means they’re aware of certain things that go on at La Nouvelle Vie,” Gabriel explained. “It’s perhaps forty or fifty people—”

  “I don’t care how many people there are!” Lydia was becoming more agitated with every passing second. “You can’t invite anyone here. If keeping anonymity requires so much work, how can you just let people in?”

  “Lydia, listen to me. There is no danger of anyone discovering who you are. If there was, do you think Preston would plan an event? For that matter, do you think Kruin would ever allow it?”

  Lydia was somewhat mollified at his mention of Kruin. For all her fear of the enigmatic man, she possessed a strange and absolute trust in his ability to protect her.

  “Do you?” Gabriel insisted, his hand tightening more strongly around hers.

  She shook her head. “No, I suppose not.”

  “It’s to be a masquerade ball,” Gabriel said. “Full costumes and masks are required, so no one will recognize you. In fact, none of the guests have ever known you. And believe me when I tell you they don’t want to be recognized either. They’re all very easy candidates for blackmail should any questions arise.”

  He rose, stroking a hand reassuringly over her hair. “Don’t worry, Lydia. It’ll be entertaining and enjoyable, but nothing to fear. You might even try to look forward to it.”

  He smiled and headed back into the house.

  Lydia tried to imagine what it would be like to actually have contact with people beyond her dark triad. In such a short time, the sheer intensity of emotions that drenched the plantation had conspired to bind her irrevocably to this place and the men who inhabited it. She couldn’t even conceive of interacting with anyone else, let alone a group of strangers.

  With a shudder, she rose and went back into the garden. She spent the rest of the afternoon planting pansies and pulling weeds from the flower beds.

  Before arriving at the plantation, Lydia had never been interested in nature or gardening. Her family always hired people to take care of their vast grounds, and Lydia hadn’t understood what pleasure there could possibly be in digging, planting, and mucking around in the dirt.

  Of course, she had been a different person then. In just a few weeks, La Nouvelle Vie had presented her with a myriad of things she would never have otherwise known. She had not only been introduced to the dark, blurred borders of her own sexuality, but also to the manifold pleasures of food, to the joy elicited by words of praise, to reading again, and to the sheer enjoyment of gardening.

  Lydia now found intense satisfaction in clearing out weeds from the flagstone paths, organizing flower arrangements for the beds, sprinkling vegetable seeds into holes she had dug with her bare hands.

  With her newfound enjoyment of gardening, Lydia could not help but wonder what other hidden pleasures lay in store for her.

  “Dinner, Lydia.”

  Lydia glanced up with surprise at Gabriel, who had emerged onto the veranda again. Dusk had already settled over the sky, and crickets were beginning their merry evening song.

  “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.” Lydia gathered her gardening tools into a box and went to join him. “Do I have time to wash?”

  “Yes, but don’t tarry.”

  Lydia hurried into one of the downstairs bathrooms to wash streaks of dirt from her hands and face. She glanced at herself in the mirror, then stopped for a moment, surprised by how her face seemed to have changed.

  She looked younger, of all things; the faint lines of stress generated by years in the corporate world had eased into more rounded and delicate features.

  The hard, cultivated look in her eyes, the crease between her eyebrows, the firm set of her mouth—all had been replaced by a smooth, yielding countenance. The persistent, violet shadows of fatigue beneath her eyes were gone. Her sharp cheekbones and jawline had filled out slightly, lending her a far softer expression that seemed to suit her growing subservience.

  Lydia pressed her hands against her hips and belly. There had been a time when she was a slave to the treadmill and a weight-training regime, but here she had succumbed to the tantalizing temptations of food. She had gained a bit of weight, which partly accounted for the fuller look of her face, but obviously it suited her well.

  Lydia couldn’t remember a time when she had ever looked at herself in a mirror and been entirely uncritical of what she saw. Not until now.

  She left the bathroom and went into the front hall toward the dining room. Kruin was descending the staircase, a leather briefcase in his large hand.

  Lydia stopped and watched him, her heart thudding over the sheer magnetism of his demeanor.

  Kruin paused at the foot of the stairs. “I believe you’re late for dinner.”

  “Yes, I was just going in.” Lydia brushed her hands nervously over her skirt. “I wanted to ask you…Gabriel told me earlier about a gathering Preston is planning.”

  Kruin nodded. “You have no cause for concern, Lydia.”

  Hearing the words directly from him eased away more of her apprehension. “But what if they discover something about us?”

  “The people involved know nothing about who we, or you, really are. Nor will they ever find out. And they are far more worried about their own reputations than they are interested in us.”

  “So why do they come here?”

  For the first time, a slight smile curved Kruin’s mouth. “For the same reason you did. They know they will be safe. You will not be jeopardized in any way, Lydia. Your anonymity will not be compromised. I promise you that.”

  His vow spilled over her like a warm, soothing ray of sunshine. Lydia let out her breath in a long sigh of relief, feeling her entire body ease.

  “All right, then. Thank you.”

  He nodded and continued on his way to the front door, pausing to put his broad hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze of reassurance. The simple gesture both surprised and delighted Lydia, for Kruin had never touched her unless he was either punishing her or enjoying her body. She watched him leave, feeling pleasure spread through her.

  Entirely reassured, she hurried into the dining room where Gabriel and Preston were already seated. They both rose at her entrance.

  “Good evening, my dear.” Preston held out Lydia’s chair. “Kruin won’t be joining us this evening. He had other things to attend to in town.”

  “Yes, I just saw him leave.”

  Preston took his place again and reached for his wine. “So Gabriel tells me you’ve been amusing yourself with the garden.”

  “Yes.” Lydia smoothed her napkin over her lap. “I hope that’s all right.”

  “Of course. We want you to satisfy all your urges here.” Preston smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Lydia broke her gaze from his as Gabriel began filling her plate with food. She hungrily devoured her spinach-and-feta-cheese salad, followed by grilled, marinated shrimp; fresh vegetable couscous, and eggplant pureed with garlic and sesame tahini sauce.

  Preston, who chose all the wines that accompanied their meals, refilled Lydia’s glass with an expensive Lebanese red wine that bore hints of blackberries and oak.

  Lydia thanked him quietly before returning her attention to her food. She had learned the less she said during meals, the better the chance the men would allow her to eat i
n peace. She had just finished her last spoonful of a sinfully delicious chocolate-mint flan when Preston pushed his chair away from the table with a decisive movement.

  Lydia’s heart plummeted, knowing instinctively what was about to transpire. She met Preston’s blue eyes steadily, trying to remind herself of Gabriel’s praise the other day despite her loss of sensual control.

  “Lydia, darling, won’t you accompany me upstairs?” Preston requested, his lips twisting.

  Lydia glanced at Gabriel, whose expression revealed nothing until he gave her a nod of encouragement. Nerves twined around Lydia’s insides as she laid down her napkin and stood.

  Preston stepped aside to allow her to leave the dining room before him, then he directed her up the stairs. Lydia thought he would guide her into her bedroom, but instead he instructed her to ascend the second flight of stairs. With a growing sense of dread, Lydia realized he was conducting her to his own bedroom.

  Having no idea what to expect, she breathed a slight sigh of relief when she stepped into Preston’s bedroom and found that it looked the same as it had when she had been peeping about the house.

  She almost smiled, wondering if she had subconsciously expected Preston to have turned his room into a torture chamber.

  She stopped near the doorway as Preston entered the room. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the foot of the bed.

  “Go and stand there.”

  Hating the fact that she was beholden to his orders, Lydia crossed the room slowly and stopped at the foot of the bed. She waited uncertainly, hearing the click of the door as Preston closed it.

  She realized then that they were alone for the first time in weeks, without either Kruin or Gabriel to counterbalance Preston’s malicious streak. A fiery apprehension rose in her as she recalled that she was due for several punishments.

  Lydia’s breathing shortened. She grasped one of the bedposts to steady herself, then remembered to spread her legs apart. She had once dreaded the idea of receiving one of Preston’s punishments with Kruin and Gabriel in the room, but now she longed for their presence.