Joe kissed me and then stood, pulling me up with him and bringing me to the bed. Only once we'd both gotten comfortable did he speak again. "Lydia?"
I tilted my head up. "What?"
"Can you do me a favor?" He was staring at the ceiling, and, if I hadn't known better, I would have thought he was struggling not to cry.
Fighting against the lump that building in my throat, I snuggled against him.
"Sure."
His tone was gruff. "Can you sing me that song?" My breath caught. I remembered Mary making the same request and how I'd sung to her as she lay dying. I forced myself to hear Joe's next words and prayed it wouldn't be another last request.
"The one that was like a lullaby. I want to picture her, just once, as it would have been if
. . . ." I heard him swallow. "I know it's stupid, but I want to see it in my head, one last time, before I say 'goodbye.'"
"It's not stupid," I said. I started singing. I could picture it, too. A place, far away from here. A peaceful place without danger or pain. A place where life was simple.
In my mind, I saw Mary, a little blue bundle in her arms, a child with Joe's eyes and skin a lighter shade of Mary's lovely, gold-kissed brown. In a rocking chair, by a window, with moonlight glowing over her, she held him. And she sang. She sang in that beautiful voice we'd been privileged to hear, even if only for a short time. She sang him to sleep, the same song she'd sung to us, to herself, to make sleep come easier.
Pretty ponies. Hush-a-bye. Go to sleep my little baby.
I prayed somehow, someday, they would both wake in a place where the dream was a reality. That place was out of our reach, but for them, maybe, just maybe, it was close at hand.
Chapter Eleven
"It's good to see you two are doing so well."
I didn't look up from my food. I knew the look of utter disgust on my face would result in a whole lot of pain.
Joe stood, placing himself halfway between Cyrus and me.
"Let's get this over with, Cyrus." Joe sounded bored. Which was good. Or, at least, it used to be. I hoped the rules hadn't changed.
Cyrus didn't look fazed. "Fine," he said. "Come here, Lydia. I want you to suck my dick."
I stared at him. I knew I should get up and do what he said before Joe took exception, but I couldn't move. I was shocked. Cyrus wasn't usually this blunt.
Cyrus's abrupt laugh made me jump. "Oh, Lydia. That look on your face. I've got to come back when I have time. I hope to see that reaction again." He chuckled and shook his head. "As much as I'd love it, my dear, we are on a rather tight schedule. I need you both dressed and out the door in fifteen minutes. Any longer and the crowd will get restless."
Cold washed over my flesh. "The crowd?"
With a wicked grin, Cyrus nodded. "Why, yes. You both made quite an impression the last two times. You're celebrities now. Isn't that wonderful?"
Neither of us bothered responding. I was pretty sure Cyrus didn't expect us to.
He confirmed my thought with his shrug. "In any case—" He reached behind him and took something from someone just out of sight beyond the open door. Before I could see what it was, he tossed it to me. I caught it and held it up as I stood. A dress. A plain, white, cotton dress. Cyrus smiled at my questioning gaze. "You're pretty enough not to need the extra garnishing, Lydia." He turned to Joe. "The leather jacket, without restraints, and jeans." Joe gave a curt nod. Cyrus cut him off before he could go fetch his things. "Oh, and here." Cyrus pulled something from an inner pocket of his black doublet and slapped it against Joe's chest. "You can borrow my gloves."
Joe froze in place as Cyrus left with a last admonishment to hurry. Shaking my head, I changed into the dress, then stood at Joe's side.
"You can do this." I had a good idea what the gloves were for. I didn't want to discuss it, but I also didn't want Joe ripping himself to shreds.
Joe glared at the gloves, then made a sound of disgust and tossed them aside.
"Fuck that. I'm not doing it."
I grabbed the gloves and threw them at him. "Like hell you're not! If you don't do it, they'll kill you and hand me off to someone else. I haven't forgotten how long it took to heal after Cyrus tore up my back."
Joe kept his head down, eyes on the gloves that now lay at his feet. "They won't let me be gentle, Lydia."
"I get that. You're still less likely to maim me."
The lack of emotion in my tone, the sound reasoning, got through to him. He changed his clothes. I sat at the table to enjoy the show. Catching me watching him, Joe smiled, moving slowly so I could enjoy each and every sensuous movement of his hard muscles under his flesh. Rolling his shoulders forward, he slid down the loincloth, and I licked my lips when his dick, already partially erect, came into view. He let the cloth fall to the ground and stepped out of it, flipping his jeans over his shoulder before he strode over to me.
"You like what you see?"
I arched a brow at him. "You know I do." I reached up and cupped his balls, dipping forward to slide his dick in my mouth. It swelled as I got my lips to the end. I still managed to envelop him fully. Taking my time, I slid him out, wrapping my fingers around his stiff rod so I could turn my eyes up to him. "Do you think we have time?"
He groaned, made a throaty chuckle, and shook his head. "No, but you can finish me off when we get there."
I nodded and stood, molding my body against his as I curved my hands over his ass. I slid my belly against his dick and rose on my toes to give him a quick kiss. "Well, get dressed then. I don't think that's the greeting you wanna give Cyrus."
Joe made a grab for me when I skipped away from him, giggling.
He groaned again and shook his head as he donned his clothes. "You are so going to regret this."
With an impish grin on my lips, I tossed my hair over my shoulder and backed toward the door. "I certainly hope so."
Our faces both fell solemn when the door opened. Cyrus cast a suspicious look from me to Joe, then simply motioned for us to follow. Behind Cyrus's back, I shot Joe a little wink. Though we hid it well, the tension of the situation had been greatly alleviated by our play. I would still bleed, I would still hurt, but I would do it for Joe.
This time, we'd pretend this was our game, not theirs.
It would still be one hell of a show.
* * * * *
The room had changed. Other than the high, glass walls, nothing was the same.
The floors, once black tile, were now white marble. A massive wrought-iron framed bed, swathed in red silk, took over the center of the room. Shackles on chains dangled from the ornate head and footboard, matching the metal of the frame. The bed was bolted to the floor.
Two tables sat on either side of the bed. One held an array of whips and paddles.
The other displayed different kinds of chains, restraints, and toys.
Cyrus had given us brief instructions in the hallway. We each knew our roles.
Little did he know we were looking forward to this show.
It was Joe who closed the door. Part of the act. He was here willingly. I wasn't.
The premise was that Mary's death had caused a rift between us. I was refusing Joe sex.
Joe had appealed to Cyrus for a chance to put me in my place. Cyrus had generously agreed, on the condition that it be played out in the arena. The men had reached an agreement. I had no say.
Naturally, being an unwilling participant, I walked into the room and went to the far wall. Arms crossed, I glared at the floor.
Joe let out a very audible sigh. "Are you going to be difficult, Lydia?" I gave him a petulant scowl. His lips quirked. "Last warning. Take off your clothes. Get on the bed.
And if you ask, real nicely, I won't hurt you." His smile was positively wicked. "Much."
I curled my lip. "Eat shit."
The crowd murmured in approval. I could almost taste their anticipation as Joe strode across the room. I ducked under his arm and tried to run.
He caught
me by the hair and jerked my head back. "Listen, you little bitch. You are mine. Do you get that?"
I stepped on his foot, hard. "Like hell I am!"
Joe growled and threw me on the floor. He was on me before I could rise.
Reaching around me, he took hold of the sweetheart neckline of my dress and ripped it down. I got on my hands and knees and fought to wrench myself away from him. My efforts only served to rip the dress more.
Raking his fingers through my hair, he lifted me up and turned me to face the crowd. "Look at them, Lydia. They can see it." He grabbed one of my breasts. "They can see those hard nipples on those proud little breasts, so eager to be sucked." He turned me to face him now. "You want me to suck them, you little whore?" He laughed when I tried to shake my head. "Liar." He slid his hand down my stomach and curved two fingers into my pussy, which had been wet before we'd even gotten here. Shoving his fingers in deep, he swirled them around, then drew them out, holding his hand high so the glossy coating shined in the light. "You want me to suck you, to fuck you." He dragged me over to the bed and lifted me, dropping me down hard. "But I'm not going to. Not until you beg. Not until you get the fact that you are nothing but my slut."
I pushed myself back, clutching the remains of my dress around me. "Never. I'll never beg, not for that tiny piece you've got."
The crowd clamored at the insult. Joe's laughter cut them short. "Tiny piece? Are you that loose already, Lydia? God, I hope not, or you're gonna get a lot of ass fucking."
An evil glint in his eyes, he circled the bed in a slow prowl. "That won't bother you though, will it? They all saw how bad it made you cream last time."
"You're disgusting." I tried to slip off the other side of the bed.
He dived across the bed and held me still, his hand tight on the back of my neck.
"Am I? Funny, you didn't seem to think that last time I pumped you full of cum. Then again, you were so soaked you probably didn't notice." He pushed me to my knees.
"Now, since you won't stay put I think I'm going to have to tie you up." He leaned down, licking up the side of my face. "Then we can—or more likely, I can, have some fun."
I struggled, but Joe easily overpowered me. Keeping me on my knees, he grabbed the closest shackle, the one attached to the head of the bed, and snapped it over my wrist. Leaving me there, he went to the table full of whips and paddles.
Selecting a large, light wooden paddle, he returned to my side. Sitting on the bed, he lifted me with one arm around my waist and set me on his lap. One arm trapped above my head, my stomach on his knee, legs dangling over the other side, I flailed for a moment. Feeling silly, I tried to think of a reaction that felt a little more normal. I drove my elbow into his ribs.
Joe bent over me, clutching his side. He brought the paddle down hard on my ass. I clenched against the burn and let out an outraged shriek.
"How about we let these good people see how red that pert little ass gets," he said. The crowd roared, shouts of encouragement sounding out. He shifted the thin cotton skirt over my waist. Then he brought down the paddle again, harder this time.
The smack echoed through the room.
I clenched my teeth, making sure not to fully stifle the automatic cry. I tried to squirm away. Joe hit me again.
The paddling continued until I was numb from it. My ass stung, but given some of the torture I'd endured, I was able to distance myself from the sensation that amounted to little more than an irritation.
This worked out fine. The crowd wasn't expecting me to give in easily.
Joe pretended he didn't know. "Are you ready to submit to me, Lydia? Your butt looks nice that color, but, if this continues, you won't be able to sit for a week."
I let out a shaky laugh. "Is that the best you've got?" I rolled my eyes. My face was still down, and no one but Joe could see me turn and smirk at him. "Then my answer's the same as it's been the last twenty times you begged for a piece of me. Drop dead."
Joe roared and stood, dumping me onto the floor. "Begged? I begged?" His features eased with alarming speed, and he gave me a sinister smile. "I don't think you know what begging is. But you will." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small key, and undid the shackle on my wrist. Taking both my wrists in one hand, he dragged me over to the table on the other side of the bed. Sweeping half the contents to the floor, he leaned me over the table. Holding me there with his knee pressed against my back, cuffing me upside the head when I tried to stand, he grabbed a rope. Whipping me around, he took my wrist again. I wriggled out of his grasp. He slapped me, hard enough that it took me a moment to recover. And gave him enough time to tie my wrist.
I noticed the worried glance he was sending my way. Not wanting the crowd to notice it, I did the one thing I knew would make it a little easier for him to hurt me. I kneed him in the groin.
"You fucking cunt!" He hefted me up and dropped me face down on the table. I winced when my chin hit the edge of the table and my teeth knocked together. His rage sounded very real. I hoped I hadn't gone too far. "You wanna hurt me? That's fine, you haughty bitch. I'm gonna make that pussy so sore you'll never want anyone to fuck you again." He went off, describing all the things he'd do to me, and I felt a little better. A backward way of thinking, but I knew Joe well enough not to worry about the ranting.
I'd worry if he got quiet.
While he talked, Joe bound my wrist to a metal bar under the table, and then looped a rope around my knees, snarling when I tried to kick free. I twisted my neck to watch him kneel and felt the rope tighten until my feet were off the floor.
Joe stood and smacked my butt. "Let's see you move now."
I tugged at my wrist and wiggled. My skin stuck to the table as I tried to turn to my side. The ropes were secure. I wasn't going anywhere.
Taking hold of the back of the dress, Joe ripped it open, and cold air skittered up my spine. He stuffed his fingers in my dripping sheath again and groaned. His palm slapped against my ass as he fingered me. "You like it rough, don't you, my little whore.
Your body's begging for it, even if you're not yet."
"Fuck you, you dirty son of a bitch!"
Joe reached over the table, covering my mouth with his hand. "You got a filthy mouth, Lydia. I don't think I want to hear it again until you're ready to ask me, very nicely, to stick my nice, big dick in that wet pussy."
He forced a black cloth between my teeth and tied it behind my head. I almost sighed with relief. I was running out of nasty names to call him. Now, I could simply react with the right sounds and motions.
Joe moved away. I heard a clink of metal and the sound of sliding fabric. I tensed, trying to guess what he'd do next. Something lashed across my ass, and my spine bowed as the sting shot straight to my core. Not a whip. I could feel the welts forming, but it wasn't breaking my flesh. I had a feeling it was his belt.
Another lash, and I jumped. Then another and another until I could feel my clit pulsing in time with the burning sensation spreading over my bottom. Oh, it hurt, but everything inside me clenched when Joe rubbed my bottom, turning the pain into a fierce, unyielding pleasure. I whimpered, and his hand left me. Evil man.
He walked around the table and bent down to look into my eyes. "Are you ready to cooperate, Lydia? Just a little?"
I meant to shake my head. I nodded instead.
Concern flashed through Joe's eyes. Then he smiled. "That's better. You'll see I can be a kind master, when you're ready to acknowledge me as such." Looking at the toys, he'd scattered on the floor with consideration, his eyes locked on something just out of my line of sight. He grinned as he picked it up, letting it dangle in front of me.
"Shall we try this?"
I wasn't sure what it was. All I saw was straps, attached to a sleek metal shaft.
When I didn't respond, Joe looked disappointed. "Unless you'd rather I continue punishing you . . . ."
I shook my head. Joe gave a curt nod and went back behind me. The metal was cool as he slid it betwee
n my pussy lips, teasing my clit with it, then slipping it just past my moist hole, withdrawing it before I could tense around it. I groaned and shifted my hips, shamelessly trying to let him know I wanted it. He complied after a little more teasing, pushing it in all the way. I rotated my hips in an attempt to get it to move a little inside me.
Joe playfully smacked my ass. "Keep still; you're making it hard to work the straps. If you're not good, I'll take it away."
I held still, embarrassed that, in a way, his dominance act was actually working. I wanted it so bad I was ready to do just about anything.
Joe did up the straps. Several curved around the top of my ass and the bottom.
Two more wrapped around my upper thighs. The last clamped the whole thing in place at my pelvis. The straps served to keep the shaft firmly in place. Nice as it felt, I didn't get the point.
Until he turned it on.
I bucked against the table as the shaft began its steady vibration. Letting out a muffled scream, I arched my neck, watching Joe come back to observe my reaction. He stroked my hair away from my sweat-slicked face.
"You like that, Lydia?" I nodded. "If I take off the gag, will you behave?" I nodded again. At this point, the act was forgotten. I was a slave to the pleasure, and, since he was the master of it, a slave to him. I couldn't think beyond this moment, beyond what my body craved.
Joe took his time taking off the gag. When he did, he gently lifted my chin and bent low.
"I'm going to turn it off now."
I shook my head and gasped. "No!" I was so close.
He knew it. "Yes. And then I'm going to punish you again. If you're good, if you ask nicely, then I will allow you more pleasure."
"Please." I didn't stop to think how pathetic I sounded. I didn't care.
He covered my mouth with his hand. "Shh. Yes. Tell me you want me to punish you. Say, 'Whip me, Master,' and I will leave it in you."
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