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“Stay,” he said and struck a fireplace match.
Rebecca stayed, her normally independent nature caught in the spell the men were weaving. The flame Trey held revealed two gas sconces on the brick columns to either side of her. He lit them, after which Rebecca sucked in a breath. In the dancing light, she saw what the shadows hid. The recess was about six feet wide and deep. An elaborate rack stood within it, fashioned of dull black metal in a complex arrangement. Bars supported padded rests and rings, some of which were adjustable with gears. Buckled leather restraints provided still more security. A floor length black curtain, also velvet, lined the wall to the rear, concealing who knew what additional instruments.
Rebecca had to appreciate the imagination at work here.
“Kneel on the first set of rests,” Zane instructed behind her.
Trey helped her onto them. Their positioning spread her knees, and air tickled her wetness. Liking this a bit too much, she clenched her jaw.
Maybe Trey knew. “These lock,” he said. He slammed a curved metal piece around her calf and into an aperture. The noise jolted through her, sounding like a jail door closing. Cream welled from her, but at least she wasn’t alone in being affected. As she twisted around to watch him shut the second one, she noticed the tip of Trey’s erection was stretched and shiny with arousal. A pulse beat hard in his upright shaft.
It bounced as he came around to her front again. “Left hand,” he ordered.
Unable to speak, she gave him her hand. He pulled it gently along a padded rest until her wrist was stuck through a ring. Her right arm was treated to the same procedure.
“Tighten the cuffs,” Zane said.
Trey turned a crank and the rings clanked smaller. He didn’t stop until the segmented metal fit her wrists perfectly. She was certain there were easier means of securing her, but the noises the mechanism created were fabulously theatrical. A million shivers of excitement swept her skin. The rack was like some crazy steampunk device—custom made, she was sure. Once the cuffs were snug, Trey strapped her elbows to the padded rest with leather. Nothing pinched, but neither was she able to get away.
The arm bars were extendable. Trey pulled them toward him and locked them down with more clanking. The shift forced her to lean forward. The combination of being slightly off balance and restrained was weirdly arousing.
“Your torso needs supporting,” he said gruffly.
For this he supplied a leather harness. He wrapped it around her middle like a corset. Like the historical version of that garment, it lifted but didn’t cover her breasts. Unlike it, it attached by a system of straps and rings to hooks on the rack. The harness took the weight of her forward lean, holding her perfectly.
“Test it,” Trey said.
She assumed he meant to pull against it so she did. The leather creaked, but nothing broke or snapped. The rack itself didn’t budge, no matter how she swung her weight. Its structure must have been sunk into the floor. She guessed Trey liked the look of her moving. His right hand fisted at his sternum.
“Anything hurt?” he asked.
“No,” she answered huskily.
His eyes slid down her bound body, over her breasts, down the corset, locking on the now wet spikes of hair at her sex. He let out an aroused sound, one she’d heard from him before, one he was unable to hold in. His cock stood up like a horn, his erection thicker and more brutal than any she’d seen in person. At the thought of pleasuring it in some fashion, goose bumps broke out across her thighs.
“Are you cold?” he asked immediately.
She smiled, waiting for his gaze to rise to her face again. He seemed concerned, and not entirely for her wellbeing. She thought she understood his real question. “This may be the oddest foreplay I’ve ever had used on me, but I confess it’s working. You can stop worrying.”
“But if you’re cold—”
“If she’s cold, we’ll warm her,” Zane said. His tone was authoritative as he stepped closer behind her. He’d let Trey indulge his fetish—or maybe genius—for bondage. Now he was taking charge again.
Trey didn’t seem to mind.
“Draw the curtain,” Zane said softly.
Trey turning to obey gave her an unobstructed view of his hindquarters. That was a lovely show, what with his wedge-shaped back and his muscular rear. She took a moment to shake off her admiration and notice what he’d uncovered.
The curtain had concealed a mirror as tall as him, framed in ornately carved dark wood. With round and startled eyes, Rebecca stared at her trussed-up reflection. Her hair was mussed, her mouth stretched into an O. The redness of her nipples above the harness was pornographic, but this wasn’t all that was. In the blue-tinged gaslight, moisture glistened on her inner thighs. Her clit was so swollen it peeped out. Blood rushed into her cheeks with arousal and embarrassment.
“Good Lord,” was all she could say.
Zane moved in while she gaped. His reflection was nearly as flushed as hers. “See how beautiful you are?” he murmured in her ear. “How enticing?”
He stood between the shin rests that spread her thighs. He was close enough that filling his lungs with air caused his chest to brush her back, close enough that head of his erection bumped the top of her ass. He reached through the various bars and straps to stroke the pebbled skin around her right nipple. The feathery touch drew more hot fluid from her.
Trey’s intake of breath was harsh as he spotted this. Forcing his gaze upward, he looked at Zane instead of her. “Is the height all right?”
“Perfect,” Zane said. “I can slide my cock right into her from here.”
A shiver crossed Trey’s shoulders. Did he want Zane to slide his cock into him? “I’ll shift the mirror,” he said, his voice gone thick. “I don’t want to block Rebecca’s view when she’s going down on me.”
“Good,” Zane said. “I’ll want to watch that too.”
The mirror hung on a wheeled track. Trey pushed it to a new position, gauged the angles, and then returned to her. He was breathing harder, a thin sheen of sweat gleaming on his bronzed skin.
“Here are the rules,” he said, not quite evenly. “You make me come, and then Zane lets you. As long as I hold back, he doesn’t bring you off. Obviously, you can only use your mouth.”
Was it rude to point out this could be short game, given how wound up Trey was?
“My mouth can’t reach you from here,” she said instead.
Trey climbed onto the frame with her.
There were places to put his feet she hadn’t noticed before, and also a subway style strap for one hand to hang onto. Once he’d gripped it, Trey’s cock was level with her mouth. This close, his erection filled her field of vision, rock hard and juddering. All she saw of his tattoo was the dragon’s tail.
Trey cupped the side of her head with his free hand. “I can pull out if you push me too close to the edge. Because you’re bound, you won’t be able to stop me. As you might have guessed, I’ll need the advantage.”
His self-deprecating tone caused her to crane to see his face. Did he think she judged him for liking this? How could she, when her body had been creaming since her first sight of the contraption? She’d told him this bondage worked on her. Hadn’t her words gotten through?
Words didn’t always, of course. Sometimes convincing someone required action.
Behind her, Zane ran his hands across her shoulders and down her arms, across the leather that secured her elbows to the metal cuffs on her wrists. He caressed both her and what held her captive.
“I think we ought to start,” he said.
She trembled, knowing the men wouldn’t stop unless she told them to. Maybe she ought to tell them. Maybe this was too much for an uptight control freak like her . . .
She forgot every doubt the second Zane’s prick nudged into her pussy.
Her tension gave way like wax melting. His cock completed her bondage, its solid length going in the key that dissolved her fears. The reaction was primitive. Irrational. Some big male taking her didn’t make her safe from anything. At the moment, logic had no power over her. Zane was stretching her limits, clearly worked up like Trey. When he moaned his pleasure for the penetration, the sound rang through her soul.
Oh yes, she thought. This was what people meant by surrender.
“You like that?” Trey rasped.
Until Zane answered, she wasn’t certain whom Trey was talking to.
“She’s hot around me,” he said. “Tight. Wet. You should try her mouth and see if it’s as nice.”
“I will,” Trey said. “After I do this.”
With his hand still cupping her face, he swung his groin forward. His erection settled against her cheek, extending from her jaw to her temple in a hot line. His skin was velvet, the throbbing hardness within it reminding her how alive this part of him was. As if his cock were another hand, he caressed her face with it: one side, the other, sighing as she turned her head to rub it. Pulses shook within her lips as his hardness brushed them, but her mouth was relaxed. Trey liked the feel of it. He dragged his cock up and down its fullness, tugging at the seam with his flare. It was a tease that made her shiver and him impatient. His hold grew infinitesimally harder against her jaw.
