Flame of the Alpha

by Lacey Savage

  She peered down at the alarming proportion of the cage. The entire purpose of the tool was to reinforce the slave’s loss of control. Trapped between slender metal bars, the slave had no room to move, no ability to free herself from the tight constraints.

  Dante’s palm at the small of her back brought some much-needed courage into her quivering limbs.

  “Do it, Sophia,” he whispered in her ear. “Let go.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to let go. She wanted to remain in full control, to be the one uttering orders and watching as men rushed to obey them. And yet, the idea of allowing herself to be at the mercy of two impossibly determined, arrogant men made her limbs grow weak.

  “This was your idea, Priestess,” Captain Jolen reminded her. “You’re welcome to leave at any time. I’m sure Dante can keep me entertained in your absence.”

  A fresh wave of panic flooded her body, tightening her throat. She couldn’t leave Dante alone with this man. She wouldn’t.

  Inwardly reciting a prayer to Saint Valentine, Sophia sank to her knees, then slid forward across the metal bars of the cage.

  The enclosure had been created for a woman of her approximate size: average height, with full breasts and a narrow waist. Her curves molded to the unyielding metal. The bars dug into her skin. Her nipples peeked through the slender bars of the curved shapes created to accommodate her breasts, while thicker bars closed around her thighs.

  The hinges of the cage squeaked as the captain lowered the lid. Sophia’s nails dug into her palms. More metal encased her back and torso, leaving only her head, her ass, and her pussy bare of restraints. The structure of the cage had her on her knees, bent at the waist, facing the door.

  Had the room begun to spin? Her vision wavered, the statues rippling and undulating before her eyes. And still, despite the hysteria lodged in her chest ‑‑ or perhaps, absurdly enough, because of it ‑‑ her pussy grew damp and sticky. A trickle of cream dripped down her inner thigh, her body betraying her with every breath.

  She’d wanted to participate because Dante needed her, but she hadn’t imagined the captain’s tastes would run to such extremes. The feeling of being encased from all sides, trapped to the rampant desires of two men, neither of whom cared much about obeying Saint Valentine’s wishes and treating his High Priestess with the respect she deserved…it was almost too much.

  Her gaze jerked up from the floor and she found herself staring at Dante’s thick shaft. His hand was closed around it, sliding from tip to base, pulling on the delicate skin with each smooth stroke.

  It was close enough that she could almost reach the head with the tip of her tongue if she tried. She could make out every nuance of the perfect rod, from the blue veins snaking up its length to the drop of precum dotting the tip.

  “She’s earned a taste.” The captain’s palm flattened across the curve of her ass. She stiffened, preparing for a blow that didn’t come. “Go ahead. Let her take you in her mouth.”

  Dante smoothed a strand of her hair behind her ear then cupped the back of her head. She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. They glimmered, turning into gold-speckled feline orbs for a fraction of a second before smoothing back to their pale green color.

  Sophia’s heart hammered so hard against her breastbone she was sure even the captain could hear it.

  Hold on, Dante.

  Saints, how she wished the Alpha mutation came with telepathic abilities. She desperately wanted to reassure him, but the only thing she could do from her spot in the cage was stretch her neck as far as the metal bars would allow and sweep her tongue around the fine skin of his scrotal sac.

  Dante sucked in a breath and tightened his fingers in her hair, drawing her closer. His shaft flattened upward, trapped between his belly and her face. She pressed her lips against the underside of his cock, then ran her tongue along the firm length from the bottom to the top, sliding back and forth just beneath the head.

  She didn’t want to take his entire length in her mouth. If she did, there was no way she could expect him to hold back his natural urge to release his seed and let it spill down her throat.

  “Pull her hair. Hard.”

  Sophia heard the order a moment before her head was yanked back. Her pussy clenched, an instant reaction to Dante’s aggressive behavior.

  Dante thrust his hips forward, sliding his cock up and down a fraction of an inch along the seam of her lips. She opened to him, slipping her tongue along his length, pausing to dip into the tiny slit and sweep a drop of salty precum into her mouth.

  She licked a path down the flat base of his stomach, dipping into the coarse curls and burrowing her nose in the blond thatch. As she inhaled, she allowed his scent to drift inside her, imprinting itself on her senses. Musky and slightly spicy, tinged with the unmistakable aroma of masculine sweat and arousal, it seemed to burrow deep into her core and pulse outward, drenching her already slick nether lips in more heat and sticky cream.

  His muscles tensed, corded. She could feel the amount of self-control he expended, knew what it cost him to hold back.

  Rubbing her cheek across his shaft, she felt her breasts grow heavy with need. Her nipples stiffened, sharp little points dipping through the metal bars. She wished she could squirm to alleviate some of the pressure building in her body, but that only dug the metal deeper into her skin, bringing another level of discomfort to the pleasurable sensations coursing through her.

  A hand brushed across the lips of her sex, drawing her up short. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Very good. Move back.”

  Dante did as he was told. Sophia strained forward, hunting for the lost warmth of his body pressed against her face.

  “Addictive, isn’t he?” It was the first time the captain had addressed her since putting her in the cage, and Sophia started, taken aback. She’d begun to believe he’d forgotten about her, choosing to treat her as nothing more than an instrument of pleasure just like the other tools in the chamber.

  “How much of this are you willing to endure, Priestess?” Captain Jolen asked, sliding the tip of his index finger along the length of her slit. She shuddered as stubborn desire made its way into her clit, pulsing there like a living beast.

  “I’ve endured worse,” she said between gritted teeth.

  The captain chuckled. “No doubt.” He paused for a moment and she heard him snap his fingers. “Come. Kneel. Right here beside me. I want you to watch this carefully. Consider it your first real lesson in female anatomy.”

  Sophia saw Dante’s lip curl before he walked past her cage and disappeared from view. “I know my way around a woman’s body.”

  “Again, no doubt. But this lesson is different.”

  Someone ‑‑ the captain again, most likely ‑‑ spread the lips of her sex apart. She squirmed and the tiny bars etched deeper into her skin. Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to relax while the men inspected the most intimate secrets of her body.

  She could imagine what she looked like, her cunt spread open for their thorough inspection, her folds pulled back, her opening gaping and pulsing with need. Another drop of cream trickled from her entrance and she swallowed back the shred of shame that tickled her throat and made her cheeks burn.

  “So wet,” the captain murmured, swiping the trickle of cream from her labia with his thumb. “Such a good little whore.”

  Sophia’s head jerked up so hard her neck strained under the pressure of the metal lid. She wasn’t used to being talked to as though she was beneath a common pleasure servant. She was a Priestess, damn it. The High Priestess. No one spoke to her in that way.

  Except the captain clearly wasn’t speaking to her. He was instructing his student ‑‑ his property.

  Desire and frustration warred within Sophia, making her tremble. How much longer would she have to subject herself to this humiliation? Why couldn’t the damned man just wait two short weeks?

  Saints, what if he came back the next day? And the next? How
was she supposed to keep up this charade? Worse yet, how could she expect Dante to hold back his release when inevitably the game would grow more heated with each day that passed?

  “Tell us, Priestess…when was the last time you had your pussy whipped?”

  Sophia drew her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. Hard. She wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  The low, throaty chuckle drifting through the room told her the captain didn’t care much whether or not she responded with words. Her labia fluttered, pulsing with barely contained arousal.

  Something soft flickered across her slit. She swallowed hard, recognizing the instrument as a supple suede whip. She knew it well. She’d picked it out herself, though she’d never had it used on her.

  The students had no reason to discipline their instructors, even if one of them would dare to attempt such a thing. She knew the way the whip felt in her hand, though. She’d flicked her wrist often enough while gripping the wooden handle and hearing a female servant’s strangled cries of pleasure as the slender edges bit into her outer lips and scraped across the pink flesh of her inner folds.

  She’d delivered those blows with careful consideration, always certain of the exact spot the one would land even before she lifted the whip. Now, flanked by two men on either side of her cunt, she knew she wouldn’t have the luxury of knowing where the next blow came from.

  “Gently at first. Lift your wrist and bring the whip down. Let the surface of the tails thud across her pussy. That’s it. Good.”

  Sophia’s cunt throbbed as the sensation of the first blow careened through her. Her mind reeled from the feeling of being spanked. It hadn’t been painful ‑‑ not yet ‑‑ but the blow had caused a renewed surge of adrenaline and lust to pour through her veins.

  Her clit ached, desperately needing to be touched. She’d have done it herself if her wrists hadn’t been bound behind her back. As it was, even writhing against the cage brought no relief. The nearest bar crossed the top of her mound, leaving the rest of her cunt completely devoid of stimulation, with the exception of any the men chose to apply.

  “Keep going. She’s practically trembling with need.”

  Sophia bit her lip to keep from protesting. She wasn’t trembling. She was…

  Trembling.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head and she focused her gaze on the serene face of Saint Valentine. Her thighs and ass muscles tensed as another blow landed across her labia, harder this time.

  On the third smack, she cried out at the exact moment that something hard and heavy clamped across both nipples. Her head whipped to her right as sharp, biting pain dug into both breasts. She could barely make out the edge of the captain’s shoulder, but the feel of the toothed nipple clamps he attached was unmistakable.

  A heavy chain rattled between them, and she realized she knew this instrument of pleasure/pain, too. A weight had been attached to the center of the chain, dragging it down, tugging on her nipples hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. The added sensation of being wrenched toward the floor while being supported by the metal cage caused another stab of pain to lance through her. Warmth chased the agony, seeping through her skin and settling low in her cunt.

  Another blow landed on the skin between her anus and her pussy opening, drawing a gasp from her throat. The tears that filled her eyes threatened to spill over her lower lash line. She sniffed them back and Dante froze, a breeze cooling her nether lips from the motion of the swaying whip.

  “She’s in pain. We’ll have to stop.”

  “That’s not pain, my pet. It’s pure ecstasy.” As though to prove his point, the Captain moved to stand behind her and thrust two fingers inside her pussy.

  Sophia cried out. No man had invaded her channel outside the confines of the Temple during a ceremony. It was forbidden. She was pure…meant for Saint Valentine’s chosen alone.

  The Flame.

  “Dante.” His name came out as a low whimper. “Let Dante touch me.”

  “You heard her. Fuck her with your fingers, but don’t stop the spanking. You see the way her labia’s turning a deep shade of red? Keep an eye on that and make sure the blows don’t land in the same spot. Flick the whip so the edges of the tails caress her clit, and your fingers.”

  His words swirled around Sophia, making little sense until Dante followed through with the man’s orders. She felt the Captain withdraw his fingers from her soaked depths and she sighed in relief, and then held her breath as Dante’s fingers took their rightful place inside her body.

  She shuddered, pleasure and relief streaming through her veins. His fingers moved in and out of her with a steady rhythm, while the blows continued to fall on her thighs, her ass, her open pussy. As instructed, Dante jerked his wrist at the last moment so the suede tips of the flogger bent around her pussy and caressed her swollen nub.

  In and out…In and out…

  She closed her eyes. Her breath came out in harsh, ragged pants, streaming between her lips with wild abandon. The captain said something else, gave some other instruction she could barely make out.

  It didn’t matter what he was telling Dante to do. The only thing she cared about was how good his fingers felt stretching her to capacity, her inner walls squeezing down on the intrusion, widening to accommodate the thick, delicious invasion.

  The strokes of the whip grew farther apart. For long minutes, she felt nothing but Dante’s fingers as he toyed with her soaked cunt, tracing a long swathe across her slit then plunging into her depths again. Each lengthy caress was punctuated by another sharp smack, bringing with it a new flash of pain, just sharp enough to awaken her nerve endings to the delectable bliss flowing across her skin.

  Stroke and soothe…stroke and soothe…

  She clung on to those words, drifting through her mind like a mantra. Her back arched as far as the lid of the cage would allow; she pushed her ass and pussy out farther toward him, begging him to give her more, to touch her clit, to send her over the edge.

  Just because he wasn’t allowed to come didn’t mean she couldn’t.

  A sharp yank on her hair had her eyes blinking open in a flurry.

  “What are you hiding, Priestess?” The captain’s mouth was close enough to hers to feel his warm breath flutter across her lips.

  She swept the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip instinctively as another blow landed, grazing her fevered nub. “Nothing.”

  A squeak echoed back at her. Saints, she wasn’t even sure she’d uttered a coherent word.

  “Not good enough.” He flicked his gaze up, over her head. “Harder.”

  The next blow landed perilously close to her anus, smacking the tender skin around the puckered nub.

  She inhaled deeply and blinked back more tears even as her pussy squeezed down on Dante’s fingers, begging him to fuck her, just like the Captain said.

  Harder. More…Saints.

  Her head swam in a cloud of euphoria. The clamps dug into her nipples, sending streams of painful convulsions through her breasts, making her aware of every single pain and pleasure receptor situated there.

  “Tell me. Tell me what I need to know, or I swear to your Saint, Priestess, I will have Dante fuck you.”

  The blows had stopped, she realized belatedly. She wasn’t sure what Dante was doing, but she knew he couldn’t have taken the threat well. Her climax continued to build around Dante’s thick fingers, calling to her with the flames of the need he’d been fanning.

  If she could just come, she could think…could reason out a way to keep the captain from continuing this line of questioning.

  “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Captain Jolen said, a mocking smile curving the corners of his mouth. “You’d like Dante’s cock embedded in that sweet, tight, unused pussy of yours.”

  She shook her head and her hair streamed into her eyes. “N-no.”

  Yes. Yes, oh, Saints! Yes.

  “Of course you would. Your patron trained such a good li
ttle whore.”

  He moved to stand and a fresh wave of hysteria jammed itself in her chest. “Wait, no. You can’t ‑‑ I can’t ‑‑”

  A low chuckle was her only reply. Tears clouded her vision, making Saint Valentine’s statue once again waver and ripple before her eyes. Lust and agony merged inside her, swirling low in her belly, thrumming through her cunt. She could barely think.

  Lifting her gaze skyward, she focused on her Patron’s calm visage, trying to draw strength from his beautiful face.

  Then, through the haze of tears, she saw the statue’s head move. She froze even as Dante began his ministrations anew, delving his fingers deep inside her core and curling them, touching a spot inside her that made pleasure swirl, hard and fast, into her clit.

  You’ve already chosen him, ma petite. Take him. Take your Flame and let it burn.

  She watched, unable to breathe, as the statue’s head swiveled back around to its proper position. And then, a perfect smack across her spread lips took her over the edge.

  For a moment, she hung there, suspended in confusion and pure bliss, hovering on the precipice of the kind of offering she’d never made to Saint Valentine in all her years of worship.

  Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as her body spasmed and her clit pulsed, finally free to pour all that pent-up need into every inch of her body. She sagged against the cage, her head drooping until her cheek hit the metal panel, her body shuddering with aftershocks of streaming ecstasy.

  Captain Jolen grasped her chin in his hand, lifting it until she was forced to look into his sapphire eyes. “Or maybe you’d prefer if I fucked you?”

  Terror plunged ice into her veins. “No. Him. It has to be him.”

  For a heart-stopping moment, she thought the captain might refuse, choosing to take her himself as a way to prove his dominance over her. Then he grinned, and her muscles loosened once more as relief made its way into her limbs.

  “Luckily for you, Priestess, I could care less who fucks you as long as you tell me what I need to know. And you will tell me what I need to know.”