Authors: Trisha Wolfe
F
all
.
Fall
.
Fall
.
The mantra inside my head is more than willing myself to let go—it’s a battle of trust.
Wearing a satin mask, I stand upon a platform in the middle of a secluded nook, eyes raking over me. Peeling back my layers as Chase pushes the straps of my dress down my shoulders.
I’m staring at a place across the room. My focal point. So I don’t look any of them in the eyes. The marred scratch on the wall draws me in, keeps me from panicking, if only just. And I’m reminded of the time my brother kept telling me to fall… Just let go and trust him. He’d catch me.
It was a game.
All I had to do was let myself fall and be caught.
The coarse friction of Chase’s hands graze my arms, my waist, along their descent to remove my dress. The chill in the air soothes the fire simmering along my skin, blanketing my naked body in false comfort.
I’m being bared to these men. Chase is asking too much…and yet he requires my trust.
Fall
.
It’s not a question of whether he’ll catch me; I’ve already been caught. I can’t escape him. And I don’t want to escape him. But the game he’s initiating before these men will test more than a tenuous thread of trust between us.
I understand now that it’s not simply a matter of being broken. There are many levels of brokenness. To which my Master, my owner, means to inflict all.
“Raise your arms,” he says, his breath grazing my ear.
I lift them, and he snaps my wrists above my head. Then methodically circles a thin chain around them, banding my wrists together. I focus harder on the flawed spot of the wall as he secures my arms to a chain dangling from above.
I wish the blindfold prevented me from seeing. It’s a cruel joke; meant only to arouse others; a theatric, like Chase claimed. I’d rather not know…not see what’s coming.
The image of being flogged like the woman in the main room invades my mind. Or strapped to the giant X, nipple clamps fastened to the point of pain…but somehow, I realize that’s too simple, too mundane, for his tastes.
I’m proven right when I glimpse the entrance of three women. To say they’re beautiful would be an injustice. They’re stunning, breathtaking, torn right from the ethereal pages of a fantasy.
All have long waves draping their slim shoulders; two brunettes, one blonde. But all three wear only a thin, silver chain around their necks with a pendant. Otherwise, they’re as naked as I am. Heads bowed, they saunter toward the seated partners and take their places, kneeling before each one.
Is this the length of my humility? To be shown what is expected of me from these perfect women—from these submissives? I almost burst from the flood of relief, a nervous laugh held at the base of my throat as Chase’s hand surrounds my neck.
The cool brush of metal tickles my skin as he strings a delicate choker around my neck. “You’re to wear this at all times. It’s never to be removed. I’m the only one who can, and if I choose to, then you’re of no more service to me. I will release ownership over you.”
For some reason, the weight of the silver chain is more binding than the agreement where I literally signed away my life. Before I was brought here, before this…
relationship
between us became official, proof of my submission was required.
Understanding the law as I do, that printed agreement was more demeaning than anything I’ve experienced so far. Even now, standing before these lustful men, their beautiful women filling me with intimidation, having inked my name to prove my commitment to Chase felt more belittling.
I’ve secretly craved his attention for months. I desired his touch. I made a choice, sane and rational, to be with him—but my word is not enough. Seeing my life—the research done into my background—splashed across the binder was a cruel reminder, proof that my word is questionable. That I still harbor some deep-seated doubt that I’m inadequate.
And maybe I should thank him for that. Maybe I should’ve penned my signature in blood rather than ink. Giving him absolute control over everything. Because two days ago, I could never fathom myself here, now, being stripped bare before others in a secret penthouse.
In having my life scoured and my secrets revealed, Chase prepared me for this very moment. Once all your sins are categorically ordered and printed on letterhead for strangers to read, then standing before them chained and exposed becomes of little consequence.
Mercifully, I still retain privacy over my darkest secret. A background check doesn’t reveal all—and that’s my one consolation.
My breath catches as Chase drops a kiss to the nape of my neck, the press of the clasp into my skin cementing his ownership. “Do you wish to please me?”
I squeeze my eyes closed. I utter the words silently before speaking them aloud. “Yes, Master.”
The feel of his secure grip, his body pressing against mine briefly, reveals his satisfaction at my response. “Begin.” His curt order prickles my skin. He promptly steps away, leaving me reeling.
My eyes blink open. I turn my head, my gaze following Chase as he moves toward the empty seat in the middle of the partners. The chain above rattles with my movements, my fear of the unknown quaking through my body.
As soon as he’s seated, all eyes on me, the three women advance.
There is no reluctance as they approach, no falter in their sexy gait. The blonde progresses onto the platform, her sure and sultry walk bringing her right before me. Our eyes meet, but there’s an absence of emotion in hers. No fear. No vacillation. Only the robotic duty of obedience.
How removed I am from that state? Does Chase already see me this way?
I glance at the pendant around her neck. A diamond encrusted bird, though I’m not sure what kind. It’s beautiful and elegant on her.
She brushes the back of her hand over my cheek, her soft fingers caressing and roving toward my lips.
“You’re not to touch her mouth.”
My gaze lands on Chase as he issues the order. Immediately, she removes her hand, dropping it instead to my hip.
“Her mouth belongs to me,” Chase clarifies, directing his attention to the other men, as if delivering a threat. Which in turn makes my stomach churn with nerves. I suddenly realize for the first time that I’m in danger of being touched—being
fucked
—by them.
My safe word is right at the front of my thoughts. If I use it against them, would it count? Would Chase stop them?
I take note of the tension brewing among them before his order is accepted, then they return their gazes to their submissives and nod. I don’t understand the dynamic—I can’t process if Chase has ultimate say over the partners, their subs…or if there’s some battle of wills at stake. I can’t reason this internally as I typically do, because the feel of hands caressing and roaming steals all thoughts away.
The woman before me drops to her knees and kisses along my belly. I jerk at the intimate contact, and as she slides her hands up my thighs, I seek Chase’s gaze.
He’s more than condoning these women fondling me; he’s enjoying it.
And as one of the brunettes runs her tongue over my nipple, his arctic eyes blaze with yearning. I can only look into his gaze; my new focal point. He approves of this, desires it, because his eyes alone beckon my devotion.
Chase lifts his chin. “And you’re not to remove her anal jewel.”
Humiliation sweeps through me so fiercely, I drop my gaze, unable to continue seeking a connection with the man who declares such things with no preamble.
The air doesn’t even stir at his mention of the jeweled plug adorning my posterior; it’s only out of the norm for me—the newbie. The shy, awkward introvert. But he knows this. Whereas I believed he never noticed me for more than a passing glance, Chase has watched me. Studied me. He knows exactly what will shame me.
And this is what he ultimately desires.
The sensation of the chains biting into my wrists, their soft hands roaming, caressing, invading—I’m the perfect spectacle as I’m subjected to arousing stimulation which I’m unable to ignore—to pretend doesn’t excite me.
Then as the blonde takes me into her mouth—so different than the feel of Chase; his firm tongue, his commanding caress—I gasp. While I’m trying to ignore the brunette working her hands and mouth over my breasts, it’s impossible not to buck against the other woman kneeling behind as her slender fingers ease inside me.
“Oh, god,” I whisper, whether in need of answer or just helpless reaction, I don’t know. But I can’t stop the flood of stimuli. I can’t control my body’s response, becoming wet. Throbbing. The deep pulse building into a hot ache.
At once, all men stand and approach. I flinch at their abrupt movement, attempting to shy away, but the women hold me in place. Their nails dig into my thighs, my waist. Their groping becomes frenzied—and against my will, my body likes the chase. Being bound and forced to accept the impending orgasm.
Chase remains seated, his heated gaze intent on watching. I lock on to him, trying to envision it’s his hands on me. Only when the three men take their stance around me, directly behind their subs, my trembling becomes unbearable.
The two—Gannet and Mason—are at my right and left. It’s Wells behind me, and not being able to see him, to know what he’s about to do, is terrifying.
As their hungry gazes rake over my flesh, they begin to unbuckle their belts. Their zippers lower. Their pants drop around their ankles.
Oh, god
…
I almost speak out—
Red
right on the tip of my tongue, but I bite down. Chase widens his eyes, encouraging me to still my racing heart.
Gannet grabs ahold of the woman kneeling in front of me, raising her ass up to him as he drives into her without warning. Her moan vibrates against me, through me, and I flinch at the intense spasm that ripples along my flesh.
The rest of them follow suit, taking their subs from behind, fucking them mercilessly.
This is not happening.
This is not happening
.
But it is—and I’m powerless against the rush.
I seal my eyes shut, no longer able to seek Chase. He’s here. He won’t allow anyone to hurt me. The swell of overstimulation pulls at all corners of my mind. Dragging me to some clandestine level of arousal that doesn’t care if I’m being fucked, sucked, or put on display.
All that matters is Chase—that he approves. I’m pleasing him. In knowing that, I release the threads, my body unwinding and becoming loose as pleasure sweeps through me, vicious and devastating.
I’m lost on that current, adrift, floating in the deep blue of Chase’s storm, when a rough touch cracks the safety of my bubble. My vision swims as I pry my eyes open, the room and sounds and flickering lights bleeding in. Alarm steals over me.
A callused hand clutches my throat, fingers digging into my jaw and forcing my head to turn. My wide eyes meet Mason’s—his dark irises lit with need as he thrusts into his submissive hard. Then his fingers move to my lips before he shoves them inside my mouth.
“Your mouth wants me, whore,” he seethes close to my ear. “You’re going to take what I give you.”
I try to jerk away, but in the moment his gaze drills into me, issuing a silent threat, Chase has him in a similar hold around his neck and yanks him off, Mason’s hand gone from me. His sub is only momentarily fazed before she resumes her task of nipping at my breast.
But soon, all sensation stops as Chase hauls Mason against the brick wall. “You fucking test my authority?” His voice is a harsh boom, silencing all other sound.
I yank at my restraints, panic alive and coursing. The abrupt cutoff clips my orgasm short, sending a shockwave of pain between my legs. So piercing and demanding, I barely hear Chase order everyone out.
“Now,” he says, the deep timber of his voice traveling around the small nook.
My pulse pounds loud in my ears, my arms straining as I reel back. Gannet obeys, pulling out of the woman, but his eyes stay on my trembling body as he wraps his hand around his cock and spurts over her ass.
He gives me a wink, sending a chill along my skin. He then puts himself away and yanks the girl up to stand by her arm. “This is out of order,” he says to Chase as he buckles his belt. “Go,” he orders his sub, and she obeys quickly, leaving the room without cleaning herself off.
Chase appears in my vision, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Jaw set, eyes steely, he says, “I make the orders. This? All this? Is my law.”
Gannet shrugs a shoulder, his demeanor too nonchalant for the tension strangling this room. “Mason is a beast. You know this. But is a cunt really worth the discord that will follow?”
For a brief second, Chase’s eyes land on me and his mouth hardens. When he returns his gaze to his named partner, he says, “Get out.”
The stare off between them lasts only a few seconds, but it feels as if time stretches out endlessly before Gannet takes his leave. I’ve forgotten all about Wells and the other woman until I feel the brush of fingers along my spine. Unsure if it’s his hand or hers, I remain silent, not wanting to alert Chase.
Wells slinks past Chase, nodding his head as he departs between the black curtains, the brunette’s head bowed as she trails behind him.
Within the same beat, Chase releases a low growl and storms toward me. Rage simmers in the depths of his eyes, stealing the breath from my lungs. “On your knees,” he demands as he unhooks the main chain, freeing my arms.
My still-bound wrists drop, my muscles aching and nearly causing me to cry out. I swallow it back. Only I don’t move fast enough for his liking, and he snaps the link of chain taut, hauling me forward.
He tugs the chain down, forcing my body to conform. I get to my knees before the fire seething in his eyes can scorch me.
“I understand why they’re testing me,” he says, his hands making quick work of his buckle. The sharp ring of his belt sliding through the loops caresses my skin with a ruthless promise as he rips it free. “But you? I think you’re trying to fuck with my head.”