There was a crash and Addie started to rise from the chair.
“No, remain in position,” Emory barked, eyes narrowed. He twisted his hand in the strap of her bra and used it to force her down.
SJ was speaking into her collar. “There was a crash on set, please check it out.”
The constriction around her ribs from Emory’s grip on her bra was making it hard to breathe, and when he slid his thumb into her Addie stopped breathing altogether. That single digit felt thick and filling she was so hungry for sensation, for something in her.
His thumb withdrew and another finger, longer this time, pressed in. He curled it, rubbing her G-spot as he slowly finger-fucked her. When she was thrusting her hips back, another finger pressed in, stretching her to the point of sweet pleasure-pain.
“You’re very tight, the insertion of my feathered dildo might be uncomfortable.” Emory twisted the two fingers he had in her as he spoke. He bumped against her G-spot and Addie gasped in pleasure.
“Yes Sir,” was all she could answer.
His fingers withdrew and there was something thick and cold against her. Feeling its breadth, Addie’s thrumming arousal cooled. It was
big
. Emory rubbed the dildo between the lips of her sex, coating it in her body’s fluid before once more positioning it at her entrance.
“Arch your back, relax your sex.”
He held her hips, applying pressure to the dildo. Addie bit her lip as it started to slide in, stretching her, opening each inch of her channel. When it stopped moving she held her breath, waiting for him to pull it out and thrust it in again. She wanted him to fuck her with it. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, heart racing in anticipation.
Instead, Emory thumbed her clit. Her pussy contracted.
“Perfect, the feather clearly moved.” With that he was gone.
Hijo de mil putas. Yo cago en la leche de tu puta madre.
Addie cursed him with every vile phrase her father had let slip when working on cars in the family’s makeshift garage.
Emory drew another plain chair from beneath the black drop cloth and brought it to the center of the room. He placed it to her right and took a seat.
“Let’s begin. I’ll list a few potential scenes. For this conversation, you may speak freely.”
Addie turned her head so she could see him, resting her cheek on the back of the chair. He’d loosened his tie, thought his vest was still buttoned. There was no denying that Emory was handsome, with an air of almost danger, as if he were a tamed exotic beast.
“The first option is a naughty boarding school student.”
Addie raised an eyebrow. What was it with guys and Catholic schoolgirl outfits? Emory was watching her ass, though his gaze flicked briefly to her face before he nodded.
“Moving on. Interrogation. You’re a captured enemy spy or soldier, whom I will interrogate—creatively, sexually—for information.”
Addie licked her lips and swallowed. She could see it—herself strapped to a chair, no a table, as Emory cut off her clothes. She spit in his face when he traced a hand over her breasts, pinching her nipple. He’d laugh at her defiance, force her legs apart and lower his mouth to her pussy…
“A winner, I see.” Emory’s words brought her back to the present with a crash. He was looking at her ass.
A flush crept up Addie’s face as she realized how hard she was gripping the dildo with her pussy.
“Please,” he said, “don’t be embarrassed. An inability to enjoy our sexuality is the greatest failing of our culture.”
“There are worse failings,” Addie said on a shaky breath, but she looked back to Emory. He was right. She had nothing to be ashamed of, except maybe the silliness of a fantasy in which torture included receiving oral sex.
“Another popular one is the slave girl at auction. You’d be inspected, your capacities for pleasure and pain tested, the quality of your sex and ass tested, before being sold to the highest bidder.”
A shiver rippled down Addie’s back as she imagined the calm, collected Emory inspecting every inch of her, his fingers delving into her pussy and ass. Then he’d tell the others what a perfect specimen she was, what an obedient and pleasurable sex slave she’d be. The bidding would be fierce but when it was done, a blond, blue-eyed Viking named Lane would emerge the winner. He’d haul her back to his ship and demand that she prove she was worth the price he’d paid.
My
god
. The Feminist Majority was going to revoke her membership. What was wrong with her?
“Another strong possibility.” Emory stood and circled her twice, running his hands along her.
Addie wanted to scream at him to do something, anything. She couldn’t hold this position any longer, couldn’t stand the fullness without motion in her pussy.
As if he’d heard her, Emory withdrew the dildo. The sudden loss left her feeling empty. Addie thrust her hips back, hoping he’d slide it home again, fuck her with it, give her something to feed the beast of arousal he’d woken within her.
“I’ve decided.”
Emory left without touching her again and Addie growled, actually growled, though she kept the noise quiet so he wouldn’t hear. Out of the trunk came a towel, which he spread out on the floor and placed the dildo on, a blindfold and some handcuffs.
Emory pulled her panties back into place before helping her stand. He looped her arm through his and walked her in a circle. “This will ease the stiffness in your legs.”
Addie nodded, as if she walked arm in arm with fully dressed men while wearing nothing more than her underwear and throbbing with arousal every day.
When they stopped, he pulled her arms behind her back and attached the handcuffs to her wrists. He slid a simple sleeping mask over her eyes. “I’m going to lead you off the stage. You’ll hear some noises, that’s simply me preparing for our scene. When I bring you back you’ll be an American spy who’s been kidnapped. You’ve hidden a map that I want in Paris. France is your yellow-level safe word, Paris is red. Otherwise it is your job to resist me and not give me any information.”
Emory started leading her off the stage. “You’re…you’re not really going to torture me, are you?” The handcuffs around her wrists were all too real and, unlike with Lane, Addie felt no assurance that Emory wouldn’t hurt her because he liked her. Of course, that had turned out to be false with Lane—he did like her, but he’d still spanked her until her ass was black and blue, but she’d felt safe. With Emory, she didn’t.
“There will be some pain, but it will be bound up in pleasure. There will be nothing worse than the spanking I gave you, and probably much less than what Lane did, considering the state of your ass. Step down.”
Addie took a step, the sound of her footsteps changing as she went from wood flooring to concrete.
“Wait here, I will be back for you in ten minutes.”
Lane waited for Emory to return to the sound stage to step out of the shadows. Addie looked nervous. She was twisting her blind face from side to side, shifting her weight in the simple heels.
He snuck up behind her, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her back against him. She gasped, whispered, “Lane?”
“Enjoying yourself?”
She cocked her hip, lifted her chin. “I am.”
Her posture said “I don’t care what you think” but her shoulders were tense. He rubbed them until they relaxed. “Did you think I’d be upset that you like what Emory’s doing to you?”
“You’re okay with him touching me? I thought you…”
She leaned away from him, shaking her head. Lane pulled her back, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her back pressed against his front from shoulder to hips. He rubbed his erection against her hands so she’d know how hot he was for her.
“You thought I wanted you, so I shouldn’t want anyone else to touch you, right?”
She nodded.
“That’s true, I want to rip Emory’s fucking face off for putting his hands on you, because as far as I’m concerned you’re still mine.”
“Your turn with me is over,” she taunted. Her fingers closed around his cock through his pants. Lane wanted to fuck this woman with an intensity that was starting to feel like insanity.
“You and I are far from done, gorgeous.”
“So, after this?” Her hand stopped moving, her whole body stilling.
“But,” he said, ignoring her half-asked question to rub his free hand over her lace-covered tits, “I also know that Emory’s good, really good, and what he’s doing to you is hot. You’re full of sexual power, and Emory will draw that out of you in a different way than I could. He can make you feel different things, and I can’t take that experience away from you.”
“I wish I could see you, because that’s either total bullshit, or the most empowering thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Addie’s voice trembled with what Lane could only assume was awe.
“It’s not bullshit. Though if he were going to fuck you it would be all over. I’d kill him.”
“You’re not allowed to fuck me either.” Her fingers traced the length of his cock to the head and scraped lightly.
Lane shuddered, his hand squeezing her breast. “I want my cock inside you so much.”
“I want you too—”
The sound of footsteps interrupted their whispered conversation. Lane considered killing Emory, then realized the bloodshed and subsequent arrest might interrupt his long-term plans for Addie. Instead, he unwound his arms, grabbed her chin and kissed her quick and hard.
“I’ll be watching.”
He melted back into the shadows of the vast warehouse.
Emory stepped out of his three-walled play space. The other Dom had his sleeves rolled up, his tie off and collar unbuttoned. Lane watched as he admired Addie—the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips and ass. There was no doubt in his mind that Addie had real submissive tendencies. He hadn’t been surprised that Emory, who was much more methodical that he was, had picked up on them in mere minutes.
He’d wanted to rip the other man apart when he offered to train her.
Emory circled his head, rolled his shoulders, and then grabbed Addie by the hair. The movement was vicious, sharp. She gasped and stumbled, the cuffs clanking as she tried to raise her hands to defend herself.
“Make this easy on yourself, tell me what I want to know.” Emory whispered in Addie’s ear. His gaze roamed over her body, no doubt cataloguing what he’d do to her.
Addie licked her lip and then thrust her ass back, shoving Emory away. Emory lost his hold on her and fell back a step. Whirling to face her “captor”, though she couldn’t see him, Addie raised her chin, thrust out her breasts, and said, “I’ll never tell you, pig.”
Lane blinked in surprise.
Whoa.
Emory grinned in real delight, but when he spoke, anger laced his tone. “I’ll enjoy breaking you.” He grabbed Addie, throwing her over his shoulder, and carried her into the scene.
Lane positioned himself in a pool of shadow near the corner where he could see the tableau before him.
Addie blinked to adjust her vision as Emory plucked the blindfold from her face. When she saw the transformation in the formerly empty black room she almost wished the blindfold had stayed on. A metal box frame dripping in chains was in the spot of honor. Beside it was a table, also metal, like something you’d expect to find in the basement of a serial killer’s house. This was hard core—Addie respected that.
Emory danced his fingers up her spine, toyed with the clasp of her bra. “Tell me now and I’ll leave you unmolested.”
Biting her lip, Addie shook her head.
There was a click and the cuffs fell from her wrists and clattered to the floor. Addie thought about fighting, or running. It would fit the part she was supposed to be playing, but she was too anxious to start, anxious to know what Emory would do to her. The fear of the unknown, of the pain, was twining snakelike around her belly, and she liked the feeling.
“Is it wrong that I like that I’m afraid?” she whispered.
“No.” Emory traced the path of her bra strap over her shoulder. “That’s perfect, and it’s why you’ll enjoy this.”
He pushed her into the heart of the metal framework. Chains bumped over her shoulder as if they were heavy cobwebs. She shied away from them, backing up with a little hiccup of breath. Emory caught her right wrist, lifting it into the web of chain and clicking it into a handcuff camouflaged there. Addie spun, left hand lifted and curled into a claw. He caught her wrist, his head pulled back to avoid her scratching.
Dragging her by the wrist, he secured her other hand. Her arms were lifted and spread. His hips pressed against her ass, nudging her lower body into place. The wool of his suit pants was rough against her skin as he nudged her legs apart, then used his wing tip to push her left foot across the floor. He traced his hands over her torso, massaging his way down her leg before selecting a length of chain that lay coiled on the floor, wrapping it twice around her ankle and slipping a padlock between the links. Addie tried to balance on her left leg and kick him with her right, but her center of gravity was off, and she fell, her body weight catching on her wrists.
“Fuck, that hurts,” she hissed.