What She Needs

by Lacey Alexander

  It was unbelievable to realize she was being so deeply pleasured by three total strangers. Yet she had no choice but to finally let herself sink into it—the sensations were too powerful not to. She had to do what Serena had advised: Enjoy this. She had to take the pleasure Brent always promised—and always delivered. Would she prefer it come from him? Yes. But he was watching, just like last night, and moving closer to her now, and somehow that was the next best thing. She wanted to be hot for him, nasty for him, wanted to be what he wanted to make of her—a submissive slave.

  She no longer made any effort to squelch her moans, letting them flow forth at will. It was like exhaling after holding her breath—the whole new level of freedom she’d just given herself increased her pleasure still more. “God—oh God!” she heard herself cry.

  Her only frustration was that her clit got no attention. And it needed some—badly.

  And then, Brent—only a few feet away now—said, “Zack—remove the dildo and fuck the slave.”

  Oh Lord. Oh no.

  Just like a few minutes ago—despite all her pleasure, the command froze something inside her. Maybe it made no difference at this point—a guy’s real cock versus a fake one—but to Jenna, it was an enormous leap. Zack remained a stranger, and it was one thing to do all this other stuff, but to be penetrated by another guy, someone other than Brent—the very idea made her panic. Brent kept pushing her tonight, further and further, too far too fast, and she’d just reached her breaking point.

  When Zack smoothly extracted the glass toy, time seemed short, so without a plan, Jenna cried, “No! I can’t!”

  Like before, everyone in the room went still and she could have sworn she heard her own heartbeat.

  Clearly enraged, Brent took a step closer. “You dare defy me, slave?”

  Lips trembling now, Jenna peered up at him, trying to figure out her next move.

  Brent had always brought her pleasure and maybe this would be the same; maybe she should apologize and let this happen. Based on everything that had taken place in this room so far, she’d probably be screaming in ecstasy soon if she went along with his demands.

  But he had pushed her so very far tonight. And as she met his gaze, her disobedience became about more than protesting sex with Zack. There was a part of her—a dark part, perhaps brought to life just tonight, since arriving in the dungeon—that wondered what would happen if she did defy him.

  “Yes, I dare defy you,” she said recklessly, then added sarcastically, “master.”

  He narrowed his gaze on her, his silence forcing her to recognize the obvious fact that hung between them—she was openly defying him, but she wasn’t saying the safeword. She wasn’t . . . ending this. Even she knew it was a challenge. To see what he’d do. Would he dish out real punishment? He wouldn’t really hurt her, would he? Serena had said no one would. Yet her heart pounded violently as that new, darker part of her waited to see what happened next.

  Finally, Brent’s expression hardened even further and he sounded angrier than ever. “You refuse to be fucked? Fine then—that wet, hungry pussy will not be fucked.”

  It wasn’t what he’d said so much as his tone that made Jenna’s blood run cold. He’d sounded so heartless—as if her insolence had crushed any bit of kindness he’d held for her tonight.

  “But you will be punished. Ruthlessly,” he said with just as much ran-cor. “Zack—attach the clit chain to her.”

  She sucked in her breath. Oh God—what the hell was a clit chain? How much would it hurt? Was it too late for the safeword? But when Zack left and returned quickly, she saw that what he carried didn’t appear as frightening as it sounded. Thank God.

  Her legs remained parted—they’d been that way so long they’d simply stayed in the position without thought—and now no one touched her, but the other guys in Brent’s command knelt around her, watching as Zack closed a small clip over her swollen clitoris, from which hung a short, thin chain, black beads dangling from the end. It was like the nipple rings and chain: sexual jewelry.

  The pinch of the clip was so light that it inflicted no pain . . . just a certain pressure. Which increased her need for release almost immediately. She felt her features scrunching slightly as she tried to get used to it. And she quickly figured out that—damn it—it was more than mere jewelry. It was a torture device. It was like a horrible itch that couldn’t be scratched—inflicting a constant, gnawing need.

  “Decker, Jason—release the slave’s arms, but don’t let her have use of them. Zack, grab a strip of leather and tie them behind her back.”

  Being a sex slave had already felt surreal, but it was now that the term took on a whole new meaning. Feeling completely at Brent’s mercy, she was so caught up in everything happening to her that she forgot the safeword existed altogether. It was as if challenging him had stripped away her last bits of courage and independence and now she was lost to the situation she’d created, left to suffer the consequences.

  “Now tie her to the kneeling rail,” Brent said.

  Chapter 8

  When Jason and Decker pulled her to her heels, she almost thought she’d faint. She could barely walk, fearing whatever apparatus they’d chosen to call by a religious name, having no idea what would happen next. A minute ago, she’d wanted to know. But now she wasn’t so sure—she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t reason.

  A slight bit of relief echoed through her when they approached a simple piece of furniture, the main surfaces padded in black leather. She was put on her knees on a small steplike platform approximately a foot off the floor and her torso bent forward over a larger slanted surface. Her bared breasts, complete with chain, protruded over the top.

  Brent had said she was to be tied, so it didn’t surprise her when Zack and Decker pulled connected leather straps from beneath the padding where her stomach rested. One was stretched across the backs of her upper arms where they’d been pulled behind her, and another was drawn tight across her waist, under her tethered wrists but over her corset. Bondage, she thought. Maybe if she’d been a good slave, the only bondage she’d have suffered would have been the chains on the wall, but now she was learning about being restrained in a whole new, utterly subduing way.

  Gathering the courage to look around her, she realized Serena and Gabe no longer occupied the nearby horse, and judging from the lack of moans and groans in the dungeon, she was back to being the main event.

  As a large, warm body leaned over her from behind, Brent’s voice came low near her ear. “Unfortunately for you, now you must endure the rougher use of the flogger.” His erection nestled at her ass, and despite herself, she longed for it, inside her. Her clit ached maddeningly.

  Then his warmth was gone—and the next sensation was a stinging blow on her bare ass that made her cry out. But it also vibrated through her breasts and cunt, like a harsh echo.

  A second lash from the leather flogger delivered yet another stinging sensation—even while, oh God, somehow heightening the arousal in other parts of her body. It was like when Serena had pulled on the nipple chain, delivering pleasure and pain at once—but now it came on a much more consuming level.

  She clenched her teeth, preparing for the next blow—which hurt but simultaneously dispensed that strange, permeating pleasure, a heat that moved all through her, stretching down through her fishnet-covered thighs and up through the small of her back. As she flinched against the bands strapping her to the kneeling rail, somehow even that brought a hint of unexpected excitement.

  Again and again, Brent brought the leather flogger down on her flesh, allocating the snapping lashes to one side of her bottom for several blows, then switching to the other. As she suffered the nearly paralyzing sensations spreading through her being, she wondered if her skin there was turning red. She sobbed, as much from pleasure as from pain—all of it soon drowning out thoughts and leaving only reactions. “Oh!” she cried out. “Oh God! God!” And once she even heard herself yell, “Please!” but she didn’t
even know what she was begging for: more, or less; to be fucked, or freed.

  Just when she wondered how much more she could take—of any of the overwhelming sensations—they quit coming. And her body went limp within the ties that held her. Was it over? Her punishment done? And oh God, her clit still pulsed like mad, making her crazy inside.

  “Bring me the glass dildo,” Brent said, and she let out a slight moan. The weirdest part was—even she couldn’t tell if it was a moan of dread or needful anticipation. She’d never been so emotionally torn, so confused about her own responses.

  Then she remembered Brent saying her pussy wouldn’t be fucked—but maybe he thought the sex toy didn’t count. And just as she tried to puzzle through that in her depleted mind, she experienced the oddest sensation—then gasped. Oh Lord. He was pressing the glass knob at the fissure of her ass.

  She sucked in her breath in disbelief—and fear. It had felt surprisingly good when he’d inserted his fingers during the schoolgirl fantasy, but the glass dildo was much larger—and so incredibly hard.

  Yet . . . he didn’t push it in—he simply rested the round end against her and twisted it back and forth, almost as if teasing her. And—mmm, God—that felt good. Too good. She tried to be completely still within her bindings, lest she follow the urge to lift her ass against the toy and make him think she wanted it inserted.

  “Lubricant,” Brent said—and she sensed, in her peripheral vision, someone going to get it. She swallowed nervously.

  A moment later, something slippery was smeared at her anus, perhaps Vaseline. And then—again—came that same pressure from the round knob.

  Almost in disbelief that he was going to do this, she found the strength to crane her neck, to look over her shoulder. The angle was difficult—and impossible to hold—but she was even more stunned by what she’d caught a glimpse of. He wasn’t preparing to fuck her ass exactly the way she’d thought—instead, he held what she’d thought of as the handle of the glass dildo toward her, with its row of smaller glass knobs, and suddenly the penis-shaped part had become the piece he held.

  Part of her was relieved—the knobs were a lot smaller on this end, so getting them inside her ass didn’t seem as inconceivable. And yet—how would it feel? How deep would he go? It would surely be a much more extreme experience than when he’d used only his fingers.

  “Arch your ass toward me, slave,” he said deeply, “and brace yourself.”

  She could have ignored the command, but she didn’t. It was only smart to give him an easier angle.

  And then came the pressure—and the first knob entered the tiny opening. She sobbed lightly, but . . . it wasn’t from pain. God. Oh. It was . . . it was like before, with his fingers. It was a most odd but certain pleasure.

  He pushed again and another glass knob slipped inside. Her breath came heavier as her ass began to feel more filled.

  A few seconds later her asshole swallowed another of the knobs, and then another. She cried out, from pure amazement—and the consuming fullness. Her scalp tingled and began to pulse. Her nipples ached and her breasts heaved. Her clit felt huge—and abandoned, deeply in need.

  And just when Jenna thought maybe that was it, all that would happen, Brent began to slowly fuck her ass with the toy, pulling it part of the way out, then pushing it back in.

  She let out a long, low, “Ohhhhhhh.” that sprang from her gut as the smooth knobs moved through her. She could barely understand the overwhelming pleasure he delivered—she’d broken out into a sweat and, oh God, one touch to her poor clit and she knew she’d explode in orgasm, but there was still no way to stimulate it.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God—she trembled, teeth clenched, as Brent fucked her ass with the glass balls. So much profound pleasure, as if the toy stretched through her whole body—and yet still so much need, too. Oh damn it, she needed that chain off her clit! How much more could she take?

  Just then, the flogger came down on her ass again, making her flinch and yell—and then she sobbed more deeply as her own movement jarred the glass toy. She heard herself begin to whimper and couldn’t stop—she’d lost complete control of herself.

  “Take over with these,” she heard Brent softly instruct, and she hardly even cared who he was handing his torture devices over to at this point—she only wondered what the hell would happen next.

  Brent walked around in front of her, which brought his still stone-hard cock back to her eye level. Oh God, he was hot. Even now, amid everything else, she could comprehend that. He was hot and dirty and made her wild inside.

  She watched as he stepped closer and without touching himself or her, he raised his erection behind her nipple chain and used it to pull slightly outward. She cried out yet again—oh God, more pleasure/pain, more insanely intense sensation. With each second, she grew more crazed. So much pleasure but no release, just that teasing clit chain—how was she supposed to stand it? Perspiration still poured from her skin as heat echoed through her with every smooth glide of the glass knobs in her ass, with every hot sting of the flogger.

  In utter desperation, she leaned her head back, straining to look up at Brent. She had to find some way to relieve herself of the crushing frustration. “Can—can I ask you for something, tell you what I want?” She’d never heard herself sound so helpless, almost despairing.

  She wanted—needed—for him to fuck her, the normal way, and to rub her clit, to let her come. She needed it like she needed air to breathe. Nothing else mattered but sweet release.

  She peered up at him, not breaking eye contact even when the dildo plunged into that tiny opening and made her sob with hard pleasure.

  She couldn’t read his expression. Clearly lust drove him, yet his eyes appeared pained as he leaned down close—and when he spoke, he sounded partly like her master but also like Brent. “Not tonight,” he whispered. “Tonight you have to obey. It’s the only way.”

  She thought she would die. She found herself wriggling against her leather bindings, as if that would do any good. More whimpers left her throat.

  Brent gently touched her face. “Open your mouth now,” he said, still low but soft, almost as if ignoring her pleas were as hard on him as on her. “And suck my cock.”

  Jenna simply did as she was told. All choice had been taken from her. Brent was her master now. He pushed his erection slow and deep and she accepted it—even welcomed it, since at least it was another form of being fucked, and right now, she needed more, more, more, even if the “more” wasn’t what would make her come.

  He moved gradual and steady between her lips, fucking her mouth fully, unapologetically. And Jenna closed her eyes and simply felt. Every sensation. Even the clawing, nagging pressure on her clit. Her face flushed with warmth even as she attempted to calm herself and just be a good slave, just serve him.

  Finally, he placed his hands on her head and drew back, leaving her lips stretched and sore. “Have you had enough torture?” he asked, still sounding more like Brent than the angry, controlling master.

  “Yes,” she breathed, aware that the glass toy had gone still in her ass and the leather strips of the flogger now rested unmoving on her flesh.

  “Apologize,” Brent instructed her solemnly.

  “I’m sorry, master.”

  “More,” he insisted.

  She didn’t hesitate. “I should have taken what you wanted me to have, master. Please forgive me. I’ll be good from now on.”

  “Tell me that whatever I wish for you, you wish it, too.”

  She took a breath. “Whatever you wish for me, I wish it, too.”

  “Tell me you want to be fucked however I deem you should be fucked.”

  “I want to be fucked however you deem I should be fucked.”

  Now Brent crouched down before her, looking her very closely in the eye. “Jenna, tell me you mean it. Tell me you’re truly prepared to take what I decide you need. Tell me you want it. Tell me it’s real.”

  As she peered into his dark, beautiful eyes,
something caught in her throat. He was . . . himself now. Brent. Still all-powerful, but also Brent. Asking her to truly trust him, and to truly choose to please him in a deeper way than she’d experienced thus far. And unable to break her gaze from his—so persuasive, full of emotion—oh God, it became real and profound. The deep need to do as he bid. To please him unconditionally, no matter what it required. Her words came out barely audible, but heartfelt and sincere. “It’s real. I mean it. I want it. Whatever you want for me, from me. If you want it, I want it. I’ll take it. For you.”

  Their eyes stayed locked—and his softened. “That’s very good, baby,” he murmured, reaching to stroke his fingertips across her cheek. He raised his voice then, to be heard, but his gaze remained soft on her as he said, “Untie the slave. Strap her to the examination table.”

  Jenna didn’t know what to think. Things were changing, but she didn’t yet know how. Would he relieve her frustration or just deal out more?

  When the glass knobs exited her ass, it felt odd, uncomfortable, but she couldn’t concentrate on that for long since she realized she was being unbound—both the leather straps around her back and the tie around her wrists loosened. She didn’t even know who helped her up from her knees—she felt like a robot as two men escorted her to yet another apparatus, this one a simple table. Yet she could see more straps and chains attached to it.

  She was laid on her back—and went willingly. She’d meant every word she said to Brent, so even as her pussy ached maddeningly, she let herself be guided.

  From the bottom of the table, two extensions were drawn out—sort of like a doctor’s table, they supported her legs, yet left empty space between them. Thick leather buckles were fastened at her ankles, over her boots. Her arms were stretched over her head and she heard something—metal or steel—being fastened to the cuffs still on her wrists. She waited for more, but no further bindings came.

  “Zack, fuck her,” Brent said, and though she sucked in her breath, this time it was no longer in fear or repulsion or moral concern. That was all gone now. Now it was a strange combination of numb obedience and anticipation. More. She would get more. More pleasure. More sensation. And it would please Brent. And that would please her.