Cataphilia (2 page)

"And there will be nothing we can do but watch.” Mark palmed her breast. Her nipple thrust into it, her blouse and bra nothing to its hardness. “We'll be bound and naked ... hard and wanting, while he has his way with you over and over and over again."

"Oh, God,” she gasped out.

"Trust us.” Brent's voice rumbled over her. He pushed his hand under her skirt and over her cotton panties. Fingers toyed with the elastic around her legs, traced the divide in her buttocks, and tickled her pubic hair, beckoning her juices to flow. “You'll be bared and pleasured the second we reach our destination."

"Then pleasured some more,” Mark added. “Focus on that. Imagine the possibilities to ... come."

Brent breached her panty crotch and wedged something hard between her thighs; gentle vibrations wiggled through her. Again, promising but not allowing release. It frustrated Lydia beyond belief. Then she was over his shoulder once more and their descent began. Every bounce down the staircase put her clit in reach of the device, but each time she squirmed for a better position, Brent pinched her ass and ordered her to be still. She squirmed a lot.

Suddenly, she was on her feet. They'd reached one level of the catacombs and she'd been too focused on coming to realize they'd descended. Brent eased the toy from her pussy, rolling it over her clitoris. She rocked into it, wanting release so badly she could taste it ... feel it ... see it.

"You want to come, don't you?” Brent squeezed her breast with one hand and raked the vibrator between her labia with the other.

Lydia arched into the touch. “God, yes."

Mark caught her from behind, bracing her body, and locked her wrists in his hands. “Then come,” he whispered and nipped her earlobe.

Lydia gasped. Brent made quick work of peeling her panties down her legs. One thrust stabbed the dildo into her. He flicked it on and fucked her with it in long, slow strokes. Mark wadded her skirt in his fist and brushed his hand over her ass, harder and harder and...

A sharp whack took her breath away. Another tore a groan from her throat. Another made her thrash into Brent's hand and the thumb he beat over her clitoris.

Voices echoed her way. They could be seen at any time. Police? Other visitors?

Mark's scenario ran in her head—the fantasy of being taken, of watching Mark and Brent helplessly and hopelessly hard. Had they arranged that as well?

Brent flicked his thumb over her clit, pressed one long finger against her anus, and still Mark's hand smacks continued, faster now, harder. Fantasy faded under the glory of reality. Lydia groaned and arched into Brent. Orgasm rattled through her bones. If it weren't for Mark's arm now wrapped around her waist, she would have melted in a heap at their feet.

They gave her no time to recover. Brent reseated the vibrator. It shuddered relentlessly through her, building her back to the edge of wonder. Mark scooped her into his arms and the trek into the bowels of underground Paris continued.

She burrowed her face into Mark's shoulder, inhaling his scent and letting it and the night imprint her memories. Nothing but pure male, the best aphrodisiac a woman could have. Combined with the musky catacombs, every time she smelled earth she'd think of him, of them ... of this.

The other voices drifted away, only to be replaced by more, coupled with the sound of laughter and a guitar strumming. The crack of a whip?
Oh God!

The catacombs were alive with people, entombed with others as she recalled. Some places down here housed the bones of the dead. Lydia prayed she wouldn't see that. It would be too much. She'd have to spit her safe word out in a heartbeat if that happened.

Silence fell upon them. Only their breathing and the cool, dark scent of age-old mystery surrounded her.

"We're here.” Mark put her down and plucked the blindfold from her eyes.

She blinked the fuzziness from her vision and saw a room of stone spread before her—white limestone chairs, tables, slabs, and stools. Bright lanterns chased the shadows away. Wires snaked away from them to a single switch. A mink blanket draped one stone table. Leather restraints, a strap, and three-tailed hand whip lay atop it, awaiting her pleasure. She tightened her vaginal muscles around the dildo vibrating inside her.

"It's time for pleasure. Undress yourself.” Brent's low, deep voice rumbled through her like distant thunder.

Lydia was ready and willing to be dominated tonight and to step into a world she'd only dreamed of, but there were limits. “I demand the same of you."

Mark smirked and gave her a nod. “As you wish, Mistress."

A thrill shuddered through her. She looked to Brent and saw respect, admiration, and the words
well played
written in his expression. It empowered her. This time, fear had no chance of extinguishing that flame.

Gaze shifting between the men as they undressed, Lydia drank her fill of perfection. They were tanned from head to toe, cut with muscles made to explore, dusted with dark hair that thickened as it arrowed downward to erections a porn star would kill to possess. Anticipation quivered through her as she peeled her clothes away, and it was that, rather than the chill, that hardened her nipples.

Mark swept his hand over the mink blanket. The hairs on her arms rippled in response, lifting on goose bumps. Brent caught her fingers and tugged her forward.

"You're cold.” He flicked his fingers over her nipple, then gave it a tweak. “I know exactly how to warm you up."

Before she took a single step, Lydia reached between her legs and removed the dildo. “I'm going to need something bigger than this to fill the ache inside."

Brent grinned and took the toy. “I think we might have just the thing.” He licked the vibrator from base to tip, lapping at the juices she'd left like he would an ice cream cone. Mesmerized by the slow dance of his tongue, Lydia stared open-mouthed until he finally set the toy aside and slipped his lips over hers. He clamped his hand over her ass, lifting her to her toes, and welded a kiss into her mouth that left her dizzy and gasping when he finally eased her back on her feet.

"Come.” He ushered her toward the table, big hand steadying her elbow.

Lydia slithered into place facedown, sighing at the feel of mink caressing her body. She lifted her ass high as she parted her lips for a taste of Mark's big cock mere inches away. He leaned toward her, girdling her ribs with his hands, and putting his erection within striking distance. Lydia flashed her tongue over the tip, catching the salty pre-cum. Mark's groan filled the room. She went in for more, catching the head between her lips.

Lydia expected a reprimand of some kind from Brent. Instead, he parted her thighs and stabbed his veiny dick toward her entrance. Power filled her soul. She'd taken control. She was in command. Then the lights went out.

She froze, rigid with fear. Brent seated himself to the hilt. Mark plowed his fingers through her hair and teased his cock over her mouth.

Dark. Fear. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe.

"In ... and out.” Brent mimicked the command with a slow thrust. “In. Out."

Mark gently thrust against her mouth, silently asking for the same.

"In. Out.” Brent sucked in a breath with his thrust, then released it when he pulled back. Mark caressed her head, calming her, telling her it was all right, offering that delicious erection for her lips.

Lydia licked the tip, drinking in more pre-cum. Strong hands kneaded the fear-gripped muscles in her shoulders and back. Gentle thrusts, soft caresses eased her tension by slow measures. She fell into the rhythm, giving back what she received. She swallowed what she could of Mark's erection and sucked in time to Brent's rapidly increasing pivots.

Those damnable voices headed their way. It spurred the men on. Brent shoved his hand beneath her pelvis and fingered her clit. Pain spasmed muscles in her neck and lower back.

She jerked her mouth from Mark. “Red,” she said on a gasp.

Without question, they pulled free, and the lights flicked on.

"Neck and back.” She rubbed at the pain and rolled to her side.

Mark kneaded her shoulders, digging talented fingers into the cramped muscles, while Brent brushed his hands over her hips and thighs.

Relief eased in. “Good,” she said on a sigh. “Very good."

Lydia rolled to her back and reached for Mark with her arms and Brent with her legs. Their simultaneous groans rippled through her. Brent cradled her hips and eased his cock into her. Mark knelt astride her head and slid forward as he sank his erection between her lips and aimed for her clit. His cock muffed her groan when Mark rolled her clit between his lips.

Brent's hands cushioned her hips against his pounding thrusts. They writhed into each other as the voices came closer. The lights made it impossible to hide. But then, their muffled sounds of sex would have already given them away. Though Mark's smooth scrotum made a lovely target bouncing over her face, Lydia clutched his thighs, closed her eyes, and gave in to the pleasure. They'd have time for leisurely play later. She'd make sure of it.

"This wasn't how we planned it.” Brent grunted with each thrust. “I still want to paddle your ass."

God, she wanted it, too. She groaned in response, the sound muffled around Mark's cock. Mark locked his lips around her clit and sucked her orgasm to its peak.

There was a millisecond they were all suspended. Then the climax rushed in and their shudders threatened to create the cave-in Lydia feared.

They sagged into the aftermath, each dragging in pants for breath. There was little time to enjoy the after-bliss. In seconds, they'd have company.

Mark scrambled for his clothing; Brent to dispose of the spent condom in a zipped plastic bag before he, too, grabbed his clothes. Lydia could barely get her arms and legs moving. Her mind was more focused on the toys lying on the table. Naked as the day she was born, she raked them into the blanket and started to fold it. Brent yanked it from her hands, scattering the objects, and tossed the blanket around her body at the same time two couples walked into their niche.

"This is a private gathering.” Mark blocked their view of the toys. His French was flawless. “We've paid for the space."

The couples passed a gaze over them. One of the males grinned. “We don't mind sharing."

"We do.” Brent's French was not so flawless, but his voice threatened thunderstorms and it was enough to make up for any inadequacies.

Lydia wasn't sure how she felt about the hint of possession in his words. She nearly laughed aloud for thinking it was more than it was. Brent would be referring to the room, not her. Still, there was a measure of satisfaction in seeing the interlopers flash a respectful glance her way before they walked off in search of another rendezvous point.

Fantasy of being taken sexually by strangers was one thing; not having control over it quite another. It would be a scene for another day. And there would definitely be other days. Now that she'd gotten a taste of the lifestyle she'd longed for, Lydia wasn't about to let it go. She wanted more. And she wanted it now.

Brent and Mark breathed a collective sigh when the couples left and their voices faded into nothingness. Lydia still buzzed from the orgasm and could barely think straight.

"I'm ready to take this elsewhere,” she managed to say.

"I agree.” Brent parted the blanket, using it as a shield against anyone else who might slink by. “Get dressed."

She did so quickly, mindful of Mark gathering the tools of play into a brown leather pouch and stuffing everything into the duffel. There was still the trip out to worry about—the dark and her mild claustrophobia. It didn't seem so bad now, with them. Hand gripped first in Brent's and then Mark's, Lydia kept thinking
in ... out
and remembering the feel of them doing just that to her—thrusting, possessing. The memory got her to the surface and fresh air.

She hauled in a breath and then another. Her knees shook. Hell, her whole body shook. Mark's arm around her waist kept her upright. She nodded, indicating she was all right.

"My place or yours?” she asked with a smile.

"Neither for the time being.” Brent looped an arm around her shoulders. “There's still more for you."

He turned her toward an alley. Mark stood at the entrance, broad smile gleaming in the streetlights. A beacon to what lay beyond. The mink blanket was draped over one arm, the duffel strap slung over his shoulder. A promise reflected in his eyes.

She loved him! Why hadn't she said something? Why hadn't she realized it? She might lust after Brent, but it was Mark she turned to in good times and bad. Mark with whom she shared her every thought. Mark she called day and night. Mark who'd done all this for her. For them?

Lydia took a step in his direction, hand outstretched for his. He caught her fingers and drew them to his lips for a kiss that burned deep in her soul. Then he threaded her arm through his and led her down the dark alley. Brent's arm draped her other side, hand toying with her ass. A dim light ahead showed her their destination. They were going down again.

She smirked at the phrase and stepped through the narrow doorway.

As before, a short spiral staircase led the way down. Small battery operated candles guided their way. Confidence built with every step. When they reached the bottom and the vault-like room dead-ended before her, Lydia froze. Limestone pillars held the low ceiling at bay.
Crumbling
limestone pillars. She heard a steady
drip, drip, drip
from somewhere in the back. So much for being fearless.

Mark and Brent unfurled the blanket and spread it on the floor beneath two evenly-spaced pillars. Mark's bag of tricks came next. Lydia hugged herself against the chill. It did little to quell the fear.

"Come here,” Brent commanded, hand extended.

Lydia didn't move. They waited for a word from her, warning them off. She couldn't utter that either. Want and fear battled inside her.

"Come here ... or else,” Brent said.

Her knees trembled. Pussy creamed. Yet fear still gnawed at her. All she had to do was turn around and go back up those lighted steps. All she had to do was say “red” and they'd be done. Suddenly, she found herself looking at the limestone floor. Her ass was in the air, waist locked in Brent's grip.