by Lila Dubois
Marco added a second finger, stretching her open. He worked her clit with his tongue, first circling the outside with just enough stimulation to keep her on the edge but not enough to push her over. Then he would nip her lightly, a little dart of pain amid all the pleasure. But it was what she wanted, what she needed. The best part was the long, slow strokes of his tongue. Every nerve ending was stimulated, every bit of her felt his touch.
She was biting and sucking on Damon’s tongue. She unashamedly dug fingers into Marco’s hair, forcing his face tighter against her sex. She grabbed Damon’s hand and squeezed it against her breasts, trying to force his fingers under the top of her corset. He understood her need and tugged it down enough to expose her nipples, then plucked the tight buds through the holes in the fishnet. When she broke from the kiss and pressed her face into his neck, begging them both for more, whimpering in her need, Damon began to pinch, twist and roll her nipples while Marco focused on licking her up and down in a steady, incessant rhythm.
Tasha moaned and thrashed, ready to feel the pleasure that crawled inside her break, splintering apart into a million little shards of happy bright light. But just when she was there, Marco pulled back.
“No,” she growled, grabbing for him. Before she realized what was happening Marco had taken a seat and Damon was lifting her, settling her face down over Marco’s lap. She’d forgotten what had started this, forgotten what she’d asked them to do. Her ass was naked and exposed, completely at Marco’s mercy.
Damon knelt, brushing her hair gently back from her face. “Tell us what you need.”
“I’ve never done this before,” Marco said.
“Four or five hits should be enough,” she said, cheek against the seat. “They need to be hard enough that they’ll still be red when we get there and hopefully darken up over the next hour.”
Damon leaned in and kissed her. He nipped her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. The denied orgasm was still there, rolling and bubbling in her belly. Tasha wanted to come, needed to orgasm more than she could ever remember.
Damon kept kissing her and slid his hand between her body and the seat to find her nipple, to pinch and twist it. That sent little darts of pleasure down into her pussy.
Crack.
Tasha jerked in surprise when the first blow landed against her butt. It hurt where it overlapped with her earlier attempts, but she knew it wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark.
“Harder,” she begged when Damon broke the kiss. “It has to be harder.”
Crack. This one landed at the upper part of her thighs, the blow sending fissures of pain up and down her back. She jerked her mouth away from Damon so she wouldn’t bite him as she clenched her teeth.
“I hurt you.” Marco’s voice was rough, his distress evident.
“Yes, yes,” she whispered. “Do it again.”
In her heightened state of arousal, the pain was more than just pain—it was sensation, it was feeling. When the third blow fell, it jiggled her ass. For a moment she thought that would be it, that would be what made her come.
“Hold on a second.” Damon slid one of her legs off the seat and slipped his fingers into her pussy, sliding from the entrance of her body to her clit, stroking and rubbing her. The touch pushed her back toward that brink of orgasm, but before she could go over, Damon withdrew his hand and forced her leg back up onto the seat.
Crack.
This time Tasha screamed. It was as much in frustration as in pain.
“Do you want to come?” Damon squeezed her nipple.
“Yes, yes, please.” Tasha didn’t care she was begging, didn’t care that it was artless begging, or that everything she was doing was unplanned. In this moment, she didn’t care about them, didn’t care if when they looked at her they saw the ultimate object of their desires, which had always been her goal before. She was, for the first time, totally and completely selfish. It was glorious.
Crack. The blow landed at the ultra-soft skin where the top of her thighs met her ass. Tasha screamed and kicked, her legs sliding off the seat. Damon caught her, pulled her down and turned her so she lay flat on the floor of the limo.
He grabbed her cuffs and forced her hands above her head as his teeth closed over her nipple, holding it tight as he sucked. Marco tossed the belt aside and came down on his knees before her, forcing her legs open. Cupping her hips in his hands, he lifted her to his mouth and focused his lips and tongue on her clit.
The burning pain from her beaten ass and the little sharp darts of pain at her nipples were a stark contrast to the deep, rolling pleasure of Marco’s tongue on her clit. She wanted more. She wanted this to go on forever, and yet she wanted them to give her what she craved, what she desired, right now.
She realized she would never have enough of them. There would never be enough touches, enough kisses. Enough pain, enough pleasure.
Marco shifted, and with his tongue still on her clit, he thrust two fingers into her pussy. That was it. Tasha pressed her head back and screamed in pleasure as she came, her body tense and taut as a metal wire. It seemed to go on forever—great rolling swoops of pleasure cascading through her. Her toes curled, hands fisted. She was gasping their names, begging them to never stop.
And they didn’t stop. Hands, lips and teeth all continued to caress her, prolonging the orgasm to the point of sensory and nerve overload. Finally, her body shuddered to a stop, and she tugged free of Marco’s restraining hold and pushed their heads away. Lying on the floor half-naked and sprawled open before them, Tasha couldn’t think of anything to say. As if they realized that, Marco and Damon both helped her onto the seat and cradled her against their bodies the way they had on the couch in her home earlier that day.
There were things she wanted to say and things she didn’t want to ever have to say. But the limo glided to a halt and she looked out the window. The club. It was time to go.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Damon handed her panties, which she tugged on, hissing as the material slid over her ass.
“Did I hurt you?” Marco asked. “I got… Fuck. I got a little enthusiastic.”
“Yes, you did. Thank you.” Tasha smiled at him. “That was, by far, the best spanking I’ve ever had.”
“Next time we’ll do it without the belt, just you over my knee.” His eyes were dark and she realized the men were both seriously aroused. She liked that playing with her brought them to that point.
“I think next time I’ll spank you,” she teased. “Or maybe you can spank Damon?” She felt slightly giddy from the pleasure that still rippled through her. Now that the orgasm itself was fading, she was aware of each of the stripes Marco had laid on her. Even that pain was strangely pleasant, as if absence of the danger that had in the past accompanied something like this had stripped the physical pain of any emotional impact.
“Fat, fucking chance.” Damon grabbed his mask and one of the leashes. “Let’s do this. The sooner we get it over with the sooner we can go home and fuck.”
*****
Marco looked at Tasha. He wanted to throw his jacket over her to cover her so no one else could see what he most definitely was starting to think of as his. Guilt warred with a strange sort of pride as he looked at the marks on her thighs and butt. He hated he’d done that to her, and yet he felt a primal satisfaction. He’d marked his woman. He’d given her pleasure so intense it had masked pain. The only thing that could’ve made it better was if he’d been fucking her, his cock sliding in and out of her.
Part of him was aware of the reality that when he was no longer so painfully aroused he would probably be horrified. The atmosphere and intimacy of the limo had pushed him into doing something he would never do normally. He’d hit her with that belt—and he’d hit her hard.
Marco now understood the guilt that had racked Damon. This time, Marco had the benefit of being able to combine pleasure with pain, which Damon hadn’t been able to do.
Tasha was right.
When they arrived, the bouncer tried to stop them from entering, but after radioing in who was at the door, Demario showed up. The manager lectured them but still let them in. As they crossed the room, Marco heard people whispering about them, commenting on Tasha’s ass and the evidence of her punishment. They were ushered to a table near the center of the room and then told that there was no one using the main stage right now.
It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but when a bottle of top-shelf whiskey showed up at their table, compliments of the management, it was all too apparent that Demario hoped Damon would do something dangerous.
And Damon was more than happy to oblige. He ordered Tasha up onto the stage and strapped her to the St. Andrews Cross that was there. In the spotlight, the marks on her ass were all too apparent—angry red against the pale tones of her flesh.
Marco took another sip of whiskey. At least his arousal had died. Now that they were here, he was able to focus on their mission. He was tense and constantly looking around for the redhead they’d fucked that night at the party. He didn’t expect to see her, but it gave him something to do until they were supposed to meet her in the alley.
“Time,” Damon muttered. He was sitting, chair turned so he was looking at Tasha. “We need to hurry up.”
“You get up onstage. I’ll figure out who we’re going to invite into a private room.” Marco shifted, scanning the crowd that pressed in closer around them the instant Damon got up next to Tasha. She put on a good show, thrashing and whimpering when she saw him. For his part, Damon very deliberately removed his belt, which had been off more than it had been on. He folded it in his hand and slapped it against his leg, the snapping sound loud even with the annoying music. Each time he did it, Tasha whimpered and jerked, the chains that connected her cuffs to the cross clanking.
Her fear was arousing. It was a terrible thing to think, a terrible thing to feel—that a woman’s suffering would inspire arousal. But that was what Marco felt twinges of, and that’s what he saw on the faces of the men in the crowd. When Damon stroked her back and ass with the back of his hand, whimpers turned to moans. Maybe that was why it was arousing—because Tasha made the line between fear and desire, arousal and pain, seem like a very thin thing.
“Have you learned your lesson?” Damon said loud enough that the crowd could hear. His mask rendered him anonymous and his muscled arms seemed massive compared to her slender limbs.
Marco had very little doubt he could ask anyone in the crowd to join them and they would agree. But one little group caught his eye. It was three young people. They looked barely old enough to be in the club. The girl was dressed in a mix of Goth and latex with a ridiculous amount of black eyeliner on. Her male companions had slightly less black eyeliner and were both dressed in ways that Marco assumed were meant to be intimidating. One wore high boots with spikes. His chest was bare except for a crisscross of leather straps. The second man wore a long coat and sunglasses, which was completely ridiculous considering how dark and hot it was in the club. He looked vaguely like a movie vampire. He hadn’t filled out yet, and though he had height, he seemed gangly rather than intimidating.
Marco pointed at them and then curled his finger, beckoning them over. They looked startled, but after a minute they pushed through the crowd and came to where he was sitting. Without a word, he motioned to the chairs around their table.
“Hello, Sir,” the girl said a little too brightly. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “Hello, Sir.”
“Name?” Marco kept his voice low, and if he were completely honest he would admit that he was enjoying playing the mysterious man.
“My name is Dark Diamond.” She dropped her chin and tried to look seductive.
“And them?” Marco indicated the boys with a flick of his finger.
The one wearing the straps instead of a shirt cleared his throat and then attempted to growl out his name. “Master Blackwolf.”
“And you?” He pointed to the last man.
“Bane.”
Marco was intensely proud of himself for not laughing at their chosen monikers. “Do you enjoy what my friend is doing to his slave?”
Their attention jumped from Marco to the stage where Damon was running his hand over Tasha’s ass and legs. She was thrashing and crying out, promising him she’d be a good girl.
“She was punished.” The way the boy who called himself Master Blackwolf said it, with utter relish, raised Marco’s hackles.
He didn’t let that show. “Yes, she was disobedient. My friend dealt with her accordingly.”
“I think we read about you online,” Bane said.
“That’s what we wanted to come and see,” Dark Diamond added.
“Then perhaps you’ll join us to see the conclusion of the slave’s punishment.” Marco raised his hand and summoned over Demario. “We need privacy.”
After a whispered conversation with the club manager, Marco climbed to his feet, the three wannabes in tow. He met Damon’s eye and jerked his head, picking up the bottle of whiskey as they left the table. Damon quickly released Tasha from the St. Andrew’s cross. He hooked the leash to the ring in front of her collar and led her off stage. She dropped to her knees and crawled after them. Every eye was on her as Marco guided the little party into a back room and closed the door firmly behind them.
*****
Tasha started whimpering as she pressed her hands against her waist. “Please, Master, I’ll be a good girl.” She fished the vial of LSD out of its secret pocket and palmed it. She reached up and rested her hands against Damon’s belly, making sure he felt that she was holding something. “One drop,” she breathed.
He put his hands over hers, took the vial and then pushed her arms away. “Enough,” he barked, winking at her. “You deserve punishment for saying no.”
“Shall I pour drinks?” Marco asked.
“No, I’ll do it.”
Tasha watched as Damon carefully poured out five glasses, his body hiding what he was doing from their guests, but she saw him put a single drop from the vial into each of the first three glasses, which he gave to the people Marco had selected.
“So we gonna fuck her?” The boy wearing a trench coat and sunglasses asked Damon.
“No, I want to see her get punished.” The other boy was practically vibrating in his eagerness to see her abused. “Where are you going to beat her? Her tits? Her pussy?”
Tasha fought to hold back a disgusted sneer. From the way Damon and Marco tensed, she had a feeling they were also less than pleased. It was nice to know they were upset on her behalf. In another time, if she were on this op with other people, she might have had to let one of those boys beat her. Tonight she wouldn’t. That felt good.
“Drink.” Damon raised his glass and downed it in one swallow. After looking at each other, the two boys and the girl did the same. It would take anywhere from twenty minutes to a half hour for the drug to kick in. The vial held liquid LSD diluted in alcohol. It would be enough to have them seeing things, but not enough to have them jumping off a building.
Marco caught her eye and Tasha subtly flashed two fingers. He seemed to understand her signal.
“Tell us about yourselves,” Marco said, crossing his legs.
“What about her?” the one in sunglasses whined.
“You dare to criticize what I do with my property?” Damon crossed his arms, the muscles of his biceps swelling. “I don’t like them,” he growled at Marco.
“Now, now, my friend. They’re young.”
Damon snorted. “They presume to question my methods. They demand to see my slave punished. They make demands of me? As if I were their slave?”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean that.” Marco swirled the liquid in his glass. “Did you?”
Tasha bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Marco and Damon were enjoying this. She could see it in the way their lips would occasionally twitch, hear it in their voices and their ridiculous dialogue.
The newcomer
s were stammering, trying and failing to seem like they knew what was going on. When their babbling quieted for a moment, Tasha rose to her feet, keeping her head bowed.
“I’ll get your bag, Master,” she murmured.
There was a slight pause and then Damon answered. “Good, slave.”
Rather than going back into the club, Tasha slipped out into the back hall. She had a fairly good idea of the layout of the private areas of the club from her prior visit. Using the same exit door she had before, she let herself out and used a dumpster and a ledge to climb onto the roof. The address given for the rendezvous actually belonged to a shipping company whose front door was in the alley at the side of the club. She ran across the roof to get to that side and then lay down and examined the meeting location.
Unlike the dark, dumpster-filled alley she’d emerged into, this one was large, clean and well lit. It dead-ended into a shipping and receiving bay. There were at least three security cameras covering the entire space.
Tasha pulled back, closing her eyes so she could think. She was only going to get one chance to prevent whatever was going on—meaning that if she guessed wrong she may put Marco and Damon in very real danger. She had only a vague idea of the motivation for this attack on Marco and Damon, and by extension the Trinity Masters. She was being forced to guess not only what cards the other player held, but also what game they were playing. But Tasha was a very good guesser.
Checking the alley one last time, she made her way back across the roof. Her stomach was knotted with anxiety—the stakes were higher than they ever had been before. She wasn’t just protecting a member of the Trinity Masters, she was fighting for her future. If she was right about what was going on, they had only a matter of hours to make sure this whole thing didn’t go to hell.
~~~~
Chapter Twelve
“What did you give them?” Marco asked, pushing his mask up.
The three people they’d lured into the private room with promises of a show were now slumped in their chairs. Their eyes were open, and the boy in the trenchcoat was muttering to himself.
