Laila's Lies

by Jennifer Kacey

  “I’m gonna use your slick lube on my cock to fuck your ass. I’m gonna stretch it, use it. Gonna come so fucking hard.”

  He tucked his condom-covered dick against the puckered hole that hadn’t allowed anyone to fuck it in more than ten years.

  She didn’t allow it, he just took it.

  He pushed in, angling his body, pumping with his hips, meeting resistance and plowing right through it.

  Laila cried out as he buried his shaft in her ass. Someone’s fingers worked her clit, shooting pleasure to mix with the painful domination of the man beneath her.

  Then Hector was there on the bed, kneeling beside her, yanking a ring on her collar over so he could work his cock past her lips. “Suck it, baby, suck me. Make me come.”

  She worked her head, bobbing on his shaft, straining to reach more of him and dipping on his cock as he guided her movements.

  “No teeth,” Hector prompted but she paused for a moment, confused because she didn’t think she had.

  Patrick released her legs, tugging them wide apart, exposing her, baring her to the man kneeling in front of her.

  Then she felt it. Douglas’ cock pushing into her core, fighting for space inside her when Patrick was already filling her rear.

  Hector’s comment had been a precursor, not a reprimand. Her jaw tightened automatically as she clenched against the pain. Against the pleasure.

  Hector forced her jaw open, jamming his thumbs into the joints on both sides. He fucked her mouth, bringing her focus back to him. Then Patrick shafted her ass, dragging her mind to him. Douglas shattered her wide open when he shoved his way inside.

  Douglas and Patrick both groaned, unable to stay still to give her time to adapt, to process, to keep any part of her hidden away from them.

  They broke her fear in that moment. Cut the bonds of doubt and insecurity as they took every hole she possessed.

  “Our girl,” one of the men growled out.

  “Our fuckhole,” another one said through a clenched jaw.

  “Ours…”

  An orgasm ignited in her pelvis, stripping her of the ability to think, to reason, to fight the attraction brewing between them.

  All of them.

  She grunted, spasmed, shuddered and jerked against her men. Douglas shoved in deep and bit her nipple, his breath hot against her skin. It burned her flesh and she couldn’t get enough of it.

  Ecstasy shot from her nipple straight down to her clit and it pulsed with pleasure as she latched onto the men buried inside her.

  Her orgasm pounded through her body and she sucked on Hector, wanting his cum in her mouth, wanting his taste to fill her senses as Douglas filled the condom he wore.

  Patrick picked up speed, shafting her ass, pistoning in and out. She rolled her hips, arching more than anything since she was trapped beneath the weight of Douglas’ hips.

  Inside her ass, Patrick pulsed. He came in the condom he wore but she could feel him and Douglas. As their cocks twitched and throbbed inside, her body squeezed them, prolonging their pleasure. Doubling it, tripling it, until their hips twitched each time she did.

  She looked up at Hector, wanting to say his name but his name wasn’t enough. None of their names would do. Not anymore.

  He tipped her head back just enough to give him a clear view into her eyes and that was all it took. His cum splashed onto her tongue and she had to swallow quickly, again and again. She wasn’t going to spill a drop.

  It was one of her prizes, her rewards for making them proud.

  His essence slid down her throat and she moaned when Douglas pulled free and his mouth latched onto her clit.

  She tried to shake her head, she was too sensitive, she couldn’t take any more, but Hector held her head steady.

  “Take it. We want another one. One more, just for us.”

  Douglas flicked his tongue across her swollen clit and stretched the top of her mound. The super-sensitive bundle of nerves flared to life.

  Another orgasm vibrated through her and Hector pulled free in time for her to scream.

  The sound pierced the night, the darkness. Not of the room but inside her. The dark, lonely place she’d been lost for so long.

  Patrick and Hector spoke to her, whispering sweet words, telling her they were proud of her. Telling her how honored they were to gain her submission.

  Joy and decadent pleasure sprinted out, touching every nerve along the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. Her legs strained against the leather straps and she was remotely aware of them digging into her shins.

  But none of it touched her. No pain could break into the cocoon of satisfaction that settled all around her, inside her.

  Her body went limp and she hummed in thanks.

  Douglas kissed her clit before finally pulling away and moving off the bed.

  Hector kissed her lips and muscle memory took care of her kissing him back.

  Patrick held her close, hugging her, maneuvering her on the bed to lie beside him before he could finally pull free.

  She opened her mouth and drew in a big breath, smiling. She’d be sore for days. She’d have marks. Both made her very happy and her mind floated free. Nothing so simple as gravity or physics could hold her inside her body.

  The men cleaned up one at a time, taking turns lying with her, cleaning her with a washrag one of the men had brought. They took the cuffs off her wrists and removed the straps binding her legs.

  She lay on her side, Patrick in front of her and Douglas behind, spooning her, comforting her. Hector lay across the end of the bed, his hand on her leg, touching her.

  “Ours,” Douglas mumbled against her back one more time as he licked her skin.

  Their actions were one thing. All-encompassing and perfect as they destroyed her.

  But their words… They lit something inside.

  No.

  As they controlled and dominated her, the small her inside, the one on her side, bound and gagged—her bondage fell away. It slowly just disappeared. The tension in her body bled away with it. Her arms relaxed, then her back and legs. She pulled her knees to her chest, safe, and she smiled for the first time.

  She smiled.

  Laila opened her eyes, panicked, not knowing how to process anything they made her feel.

  “Breathe, Laila. Breathe.” Patrick spoke to her, brushing his fingertips along her cheekbones, her jaw and her lips. “We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  Acceptance and happiness flooded her body as Douglas nuzzled her neck, whispering, “Good girl.”

  A sense of peace and calm that she’d unknowingly been searching for settled over her, inside her and all around her.

  Those two little words did something, flipping a switch inside her head she didn’t even know existed. She wanted to get out of bed, kneel on the floor with her legs spread wide, place her hands on her thighs palm up and just…be.

  The urge gained strength, cresting inside her until her breathing grew shallow, her eyes popped open and she longed to run far and fast away from these men who had freed her.

  How could they see her when no one else had?

  Why did they reach her when no one else wanted to?

  When would they do it again and how would she survive it when she had to walk away?

  The woman inside, the one she’d kept locked away, bound and gagged for decades because she wasn’t good enough or smart enough or pretty enough, she screamed inside Laila’s mind.

  I’m free.

  Laila didn’t know what to do, where to go or which one of the amazing men she should turn to.

  The four women who had brought her here thought she was someone else. They trusted the woman she portrayed herself to be to work her way into the walls that were now closing all around her.

  She’d never felt more herself, nor had she ever been so terrified of the next step—the next breath.

  She looked at the three men still touching her, whispering to her, telling her she had made them proud, and she did the on
ly thing that felt right…

  She cried.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh baby.” Patrick pulled her close as Douglas spooned behind her and Hector rubbed her legs.

  After hurting her, pushing her to some unknown limit she breached so easily with them, their charming snuggles broke her.

  Racking sobs tore through her, tearing all of the walls down she’d spent a life time erecting. They patted her, saying comforting words that just made her feel worse and worse.

  She wasn’t who they thought she was, yet they’d found the real her, the very core of who she was inside.

  “I need…the…girls,” she wheezed out between fits of more tears.

  She didn’t want the men to see her like that. They didn’t deserve it after they were so wonderful.

  And she needed to tell the girls everything.

  Who she was.

  Why she was really there.

  What she was supposed to spill as soon as she made it back to her car.

  They all deserved that much.

  They deserved her honesty, even if it was too late to salvage what they could have had.

  “Baby, it’s okay, we’ve got you.” Hector’s voice soothed her, which made the tears flow harder. She didn’t deserve their kind words or soft touches.

  She was a fake.

  A phony, and she had to make it right.

  She said the only thing she could think of to make them stop. Hurting them seemed the only option so they’d leave her alone in her misery. She closed her eyes, hiding as pain flooded her insides. What else could she do but push them away to find the women so she could bare her soul to them and slink away into the night.

  “Red.”

  They all froze and the calm of moments before bled into the large open space around them and disappeared. It left nothing but confusion and sadness, giving her one more thing to be sorry for.

  Douglas rolled her onto her back so he could stare down into her tear-stained face. “What is it, baby? Do you want us gone so badly you’d safe word now? Talk to us. Tell us what you need. We’re here to be your…everything, until you find your footing again.”

  “Please…” She closed her eyes, shutting them out entirely. “Just get the girls for me. Please.” Tears flowed from beneath her eyelids and she let them. If she wiped them away she’d brush up against one of the guys and if she touched them again, if she reached out for them at all, she’d latch on and never let go.

  That wasn’t fair to them, it wasn’t fair to the wonderful men she’d been with and loved, even if just for a brief moment in time.

  “Okay, baby, don’t cry. We’ll get them.” Douglas rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes.

  Hector did the same and threw jeans to Patrick.

  He put them on, zipped them up but left the button undone as he sat back down in bed with her. She looked up at him, and the look of hurt on his face made her cold to the bone.

  She opened her mouth to tell him to go, to leave, but he shook his head. “Until the girls get here I’m not leaving you. I just…can’t.”

  Instead of snuggling into his body like she craved she rolled away, into the space Douglas had vacated. She curled up on her side, pulling the cover up clear over her shoulder. She stared across the dark room, not seeing anything.

  She felt so small. The her inside shrunk down again, into the same frozen position she’d been in for years. On her side, her legs and arms bound together, hogtied, unable to move or grow.

  Nothing held her this time. No shackles, no cuffs, no blindfold or gag…but it didn’t matter. She froze. Unable to speak, completely and utterly gagged by nothing more than circumstance. The articles of bondage used made no difference, since fear was just as effective.

  * * * * *

  She must have fallen asleep because she woke with a start when the bed moved.

  The girls all wore worried expressions as they climbed into bed with her, two on each side, holding her in, keeping her safe.

  “Are they gone?” Laila whispered.

  Jenna looked toward the door. “We’ve got her, guys. Go keep our men comfy and we’ll get you in just a minute.”

  Laila shook her head, knowing she didn’t want to see them again. She wanted to be a coward. She didn’t want to fix what she’d done as panic took hold again.

  Skye called out after them one more time, “Maybe a bit more than a minute.”

  No sound traveled to her ears but she could imagine the hangdog expression each of her men wore as the door clicked into place.

  Her men.

  They weren’t hers.

  Never were.

  Never would be.

  Not after she told the girls what she needed to tell them.

  Tears fell from her eyes again and for whatever reason made sense in the girl handbook, all four of the girls cried with her.

  For several minutes they just let her get it all out and at some point Haleigh got up and brought back tissues from the adjoining bathroom. “This is not the ending of the night we hoped for, for you.” She settled back on the bed beside Cyn and stared worriedly across the bed.

  “Me neither,” she mumbled and wiped her eyes. “I just can’t seem to stop.”

  “It’s different for each of us,” Skye told her.

  “What is?”

  “Drop.”

  “I didn’t drop anything.”

  Jenna took her hand and squeezed it. “We keep forgetting that you’re brand new to all of this. Drop happens to most of us after a really intense scene. How far after is different for everybody. Sometimes a few hours, a few days or weeks. Just depends on the circumstances.”

  “But it hasn’t been a few anything for me. We were lying in bad after seriously the best sex and three orgasms I’ve ever had in my life and I turned into a blubbering mess.”

  Cyn brushed a piece of hair off her forehead, concern evident across her face. “Something normally triggers it. Something small or huge. Did they hurt you? Make you do anything you didn’t want to do? ’Cause I know I’m small but I’ll kick their asses.”

  Laila grinned at the thought of her going after the men but it turned into a grimace when she realized she couldn’t stall anymore.

  No more hiding behind her job or ambition or anything else.

  The time to come clean had arrived and she knew it.

  Guilt and nerves swirled inside so she moved farther against the headboard for support, since her spine was decidedly akin to gelatin at the moment.

  Unable to hold it in any longer she opened her mouth and for once the truth fell out.

  “I’m not who you think I am. My name isn’t Laila Martin, it’s Laila Harris. I’ve been lying to you all from the beginning.”

  “Lying about what? Other than your name, which a whole hell of a lot of people do in the lifestyle to protect their identity.”

  “Why I’m here. That’s a lie.”

  Skye snickered. “So you weren’t here to get fucked by gorgeous men? Coulda fooled me.”

  Laila frowned, knowing she was making a mess of things. “Tonight, yes, I was here to meet your dates for me but I meant here as in here in Arcadia. I’m actually a reporter for a magazine out of New York called Risqué. I’m on assignment, looking to unearth sex clubs around the U.S. The Library was rumored to exist and my boss caught wind of it. He decided I should go, since I was the only single female in the office. I was—am supposed to sniff around, dig up dirt on this place and then send the story back to be published as the lead story.”

  She looked around at the faces of the women who looked resigned and disappointed. “Other reporters were sent to several more areas and all of them have reported back a bust. I’m the last hope my boss has to sensationalize the story. If I do, I’m guaranteed a promotion he’s been promising me for a couple years.”

  A few more tears fell but she whisked them away, determined to take whatever ridicule or anger they wanted to throw at her. She’d earned all of it and then some.
>
  Instead, Cyn squeezed her hand, giving her support she hadn’t earned and surely didn’t deserve. “Would you mind if I bring a few of the guys in here? I think they need to hear this.”

  Her heart lay broken in her chest.

  Knowing she had to tell her story again was one thing but knowing the men would likely be disappointed in their women for trusting her—much less her for being so untrustworthy—crushed her.

  She nodded because she had no other choice and tears streamed unbidden down her cheeks again.

  Cyn crawled off the bed and left with no sound since she’d removed her shoes at some point. Skye closed ranks and snuggled close.

  Her being kicked out was imminent but she wondered if jail was a possibility. Sued definitely because she’d signed the NDA and she scrubbed her hand over her face. Mascara had been coming off ever since she’d started weeping, so she could add looking a fright to her list of achievements for the day.

  Great.

  One of the women handed her a T-shirt and her panties, which she put on gratefully and snuggled back into bed. The girls stayed with her, holding her hand, touching her and comforting her, which just made her cry harder.

  Her three men showed up quickly en masse. They got as close to the bed as they could without crawling onto the mattress and shoving the women off, though she knew that’s exactly what they wanted to do.

  They eyed her with trepidation and sympathy as if they just wanted to gather her up and cuddle her close. She wanted that more than anything, which gave her the strength to keep her distance because they deserved better than that.

  Better than her.

  Chris and Jared strode in with Cyn in tow, followed closely by Jenna’s men.

  “Will you tell them what you just told us?” Cyn asked as she approached the bed. “Exactly what you just told us. They need to hear it too.”

  Haltingly, between sobs, she confessed it all. Who she was and about the article she was supposed to write, all of the info she was tasked to air to the world for all to judge.

  When she was done, she dried her eyes one last time and finally looked at Douglas and then to Hector and Patrick. “I’m so sorry I lied to you, to all of you.” She glanced at each of the people in the room and knew it would never be enough. Her gaze found Douglas’ again. “I never meant to hurt you.”