AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"To share," Tamara added, a gleam in her eye.
With Herculean effort, Violet suppressed the urge to pump a victory fist. Her emotions surged through her, making her want to spin like a top.
"Maybe."
Kiera ran a caressing nail with a lethal metal tip down Violet's forearm. "Well if you do, we hope you'll consider letting us play with him a bit. It would be fun, and you could test how he obeys you when you're in a generous mood."
"Ease up, girls." Marguerite joined them. She had her sub on a leash and he was following her on all fours, naked of course, the leash attached to a collar with metal spikes that turned inward, pricking his skin. When he sat back on his heels at her command, to display himself for the pleasure of the other Mistresses, Violet saw a strap ran from the collar ran down to a restraint of a similar make at the base of his cock, the spikes pressing into his scrotum, a state that could get much worse if Marguerite chose to yank.
However, Violet knew Marguerite was rarely cruel, though she made her slaves submit to many things, like this, that made them vulnerable to the possibility of much greater pain. She could establish a level of trust with her one-night subs that many Mistresses could not achieve in months with a regular partner. Violet suspected it had to do with the absolute command that poured off of her, like the aura of an all-powerful Goddess. The long blond hair was almost pure white and tied back on her shoulders, the clear blue eyes as direct and penetrating as that of a Saxon deity.
Marguerite, while friendly with all of them, did not welcome camaraderie. She was soft-spoken and helpful, would welcome observers to her sessions with a sub, but there was much about her clearly posted with "do not trespass" signs. She came every Tuesday night. No more, no less, staying exactly two hours. Picked out a sub, a different one every time, and for those two hours used him in a way that apparently helped her deal with whatever darkness lay within her. Whoever or whatever she was outside The Zone walls, Violet expected it was a very different person than who she was within them.
"It would be fun for you to watch as well." Kiera was still making sly suggestions.
Violet pulled her attention away from the attractive slave on the floor, with his stiff cock in its cruel restraint and his eyes directed toward the floor. Marguerite caressed his hair with tenderness, her expression quiet, tranquil.
In contrast, Violet wasn't sure if 'fun' or 'tranquil' would describe the way the twins operated. While watching the two of them work was undeniably a visual orgasm, Violet preferred her mastery in the area of emotions, not the realm of pain. She had seen T & K take a sub to the limit of both and beyond. It was disturbing, and yet so potent it felt like witnessing a sacred ceremony. Or a session in a Baghdad torture chamber.
She realized suddenly that, if they knew he was in the room, then he had left the ceiling screen open. He had not done anything to protect himself, a message that he was leaving himself open to her desires. She nodded to the others, closed her hand on the doorknob, took another steadying breath. She'd kept him, and herself, waiting long enough.
"Enjoy, flower girl," Tamara's chuckle caressed her spine as Violet turned the latch, stepped into the room.
*
Mac kept his head lowered as the door opened, but it was difficult, particularly when that lavender and vanilla scent wafted into the room, tightening his cock in the harness instantly, painfully, increasing it with every step she made across the wood floor. She was wearing a dress again, he could hear the rustle of the soft fabric, and he saw the shadow cast by the light, but she wasn't close enough to show him what shoes were making that crisp tap against the slick finished wood.
His back and legs ached from maintaining the straight-up kneeling position; her punishment, he was sure, for his behavior last night. He hadn't moved an inch, had left the ceiling clear so anyone she asked could tell her, so she'd see he could take anything she'd dish out. His shoulders throbbed from keeping his hands laced behind his head for the entire time.
The whir of gears and a flicker of shadows told him she was closing the screen, making it just the two of them again, and he stifled the sense of relief.
"You've done well. I'm pleased. You may lower your hands to the floor, knuckles flat on the wood, please."
Her voice, soft velvet, told him she was indeed pleased with him, and his heart tipped in his chest, ridiculously. She was coming back toward him. Tap. Tap. Pause.
"Keep your head down."
He obeyed, but his muscles trembled with the effort as her small hand reached down, came into the field of his view and grasped his cock in firm, gentle fingers. Through the openings of the harness, her skin touched his, and his cock jerked, responded, leaked a drop of semen onto the delicate pulse point of her wrist.
"My apologies, Mistress," he said.
"For what?" Her hand released him, rose, lifted his chin.
He had seen many beautiful women. After thinking about her for nearly twenty-four hours, waiting for her on his knees over two hours, and then, the longest time of all, these few moments she had been in the room, letting him hear her body move but not permitting him sight of it, he expected he had exaggerated the appealing quality of her features and form.
If anything, he decided he had not done her justice.
He supposed there was some standard for beauty that model agencies used, somewhat the same way dog breeders did it. Legs must be this length, proportion of torso to arms must be this, nose this shape, eyes this color. He was sure she might not meet all those standards. But her lips were a deep, wet burgundy, and those violet eyes beneath slim brows and the mass of upswept raven curls held him, affected him so that he knew he would have waited on his knees for her until he lost all feeling in his limbs.
"For dripping on you, Mistress."
She was bending forward, for if she had squatted, he would have been taller than she was. The bodice was snug enough that it did not gap, but the low neckline showed him she was wearing jewelry to stimulate her breasts. He saw the shape of her nipples pressed against the tight fabric and wished he could see how lovely they looked, enclosed in the silver rings which he was sure would match the beaded chain strung between them.
Her face came closer. Just as his lips anticipated the brush of hers, she turned her head away and licked delicately at her wrist, tasting the drop he had left there. He could see the pulse in her neck beating in time with the rapid pulse in her wrist, felt his blood heat further, knowing she was aroused.
"You exercise control when I tell you to do so. If you hold back when I haven't commanded you to hold back, it's as much an insult to me as ignoring a direct order. Now, where was I?"
Her touch slid away from his face, caressing it before she curled those clever fingers around the full length of his erect cock again.
