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“Sounds promising. We can punish the fuck out of her for not revealing her religious leanings? God knows why but any excuse will do.”
“God knows?” He grinned and sat back on his heels. “We could. You’re an evil bastard.”
“We both are. What else do you have? We can eat then play with her. She hadn’t done anal until today.”
“Which means spit-roasting her over the table with a cross in her asshole has to be on the menu?”
Say what? I just shook my head at that suggestion.
“Or I could strangle her with a rosary…watch her tongue go purple while I fuck that cross and my cock into her deep.”
My insides lurched. Purple?
I turned as I opened the door and was parting my lips to scoff, when I caught the serious introspective look on his face. As if he were truly fantasizing. “Let’s not get too fucking carried away.”
“Though fucking her until we destroy her mind, body, and soul is the whole point. Yes?”
“Not in the way you’re suggesting.”
He brushed past me with his hand shoved into his pocket then emerging—from the sounds he’d grabbed some of the clamps from his bag.
“Why are you being such a pussy? By the way, I got us an invite to a special party tonight being held by some friends who are deep into CNC.” He strolled to where she sat on her heels, with the little skirt and top revealing the dark slim triangle of her sex, and her pert nipples.
As she eyed us both, her tongue tip scooted along her parted lips. That cute signal made me stare.
“No rosary strangling, no cross fucking, but the rest, maybe, after we eat.”
I found I was frowning and rubbed my hand across the stubble on my jaw.
This party had come out of the blue. I checked my watch. Five-thirty.
“How serious are you about this party. When is it? How far? And also…” I thought fast. “How do we stop her from talking?”
“Crawl, princess.” He picked up her leash and indicated the long dining table, then threw me some details. “An easy half hour’s drive. I’ll be chauffeur for the night. It’s starts in three hours and you can stay as long or as short as you want. You in?” Axl toed her ass. “We gag her with a bit gag. Blind her with slit goggles.” He crooked an eyebrow.
“And?” I knew he would have more ideas. As an afterthought, after checking the cushions, I fetched the nutcracker from the only other place she could have hidden it—under the sofa.
Axl’s party distracted me from threatening her with punishment.
We were following our little female, and when she reached the chairs, he hoisted her onto the table. The long dining table was made from golden-hued Huon pine imported from Australia. Once he had put her in the middle and arranged her on hands and knees with her butt in the air, he deposited the containers of Thai take-out around her periphery.
“Stay.” He pointed at Emme then placed knives and forks to show the seating arrangements. Next, he strewed a handful of clamps beside his fork, then gestured like some fancy British servant. “Be seated, my lordship.”
We had the same side of the table, but I was at the head end of her, while he was at her rear. The dirty bastard.
“You have a future career as an interior decorator, Axl. Or a butler.”
“Thanks, I think. Where was I? So I have kitten mittens for her, a butt-plug tail, a collar with spikes, and a name tag that says Fuck Me. Good enough?”
“A perfect pussy-cat slut.” I was about to purr. Or growl. “I’m getting a hard-on imagining her in the gear. You know I have that black cat suit with convenient access holes…it should fit.”
Madison was close to her size.
I pulled out a chair and sat. Then I eyed our prize as Axl reached beneath her, squeezed each nipple flat, and applied two clover clamps with tiny swinging weights. Her mouth pinched in, then she bit her lip and whined, but she stayed where she had been put.
It was dark, sadistic, and sexy, knowing she was here due to a lie, knowing this was a crime.
“Good girl.” I stroked my hand over her upper breast, then up her throat to her mouth where I ran my thumb over the plump softness of her lower lip. Teeth clenched, she huffed in small pants.
