AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Masque moved to Cat’s front and I knew what was next.
“Your tits are so beautiful, Cat. They’ll mark so fucking pretty.”
Pink slashes across her skin turned red. Dark red. He was a picture of composure as she cried before him, choosing the perfect moments to unleash the torture. Her eyes never left his, never faltered. The room had disappeared for her, lost in subspace with only that beautiful fucking beast in her thoughts.
The last stroke made her scream, an animal howl as the tails caught her nipples. She croaked for breath as her legs went from under her, body racked with sobs as she cried out in torment. And he was there, at her side. His arms around her, whispers in her ear. I could only imagine what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. The adoration in his expression said it all.
He lifted her to standing, peppering her skin with gentle kisses, and she twisted towards him in her bonds, craving his skin on hers. I knew that feeling, too.
“You may speak,” he said. “Tell me.”
“Love me...” she hissed. “Please, Masque, please love me.”
“Always, Cat. Always.”
My heart fucking keeled over, stopping in my chest as I fell over the precipice of hot fucking need. I could barely fucking swallow, lost to everything but the tingles between my legs, begging for fucking deliverance.
I took Callum’s fingers in mine, shifting in my seat to convey just how fucking desperate I was for contact. How much I fucking needed him to touch me. I lifted my leg, hooking my knee over one of his to spread myself in invitation. I could feel his eyes boring into me, his breath like fucking flames on my cheek. He took the bait, pulled me further into his lap, my throbbing pussy aching as it pressed into his thigh.
And that’s when I felt it. The ridge between his legs. The strain of his excitement.
I flushed with sheer fucking delight.
The savage had a hard on.
Maybe, just maybe, we weren’t so different after all.
***
Callum
My dick was fucking aching, twitching like a motherfucker. My thoughts were fucking smashed too, torn to pieces, unable to work out what the fuck was going on. Or why I found this so fucking exciting.
The man on stage, Masque, was an even more brutal motherfucker than I’d expected. The way he hit the girl in chains, so fucking hardcore I could barely fucking watch. But she loved it. She really fucking loved it.
I’d never seen someone want something as bad as she wanted him. The way she looked at him, like he was God, no... fuckingbiggerthan God. Like the sonofabitch would pummel God’s puny ass into oblivion and not even break a sweat. He was mean, twisted, fucking violent as shit, but she wanted it. And he wanted her. He fucking loved her right back.
I didn’t fucking get any of it. But my dick did.
My dick got it loud and fucking clear.
So, this was the shit that Sophie craved. I could feel it too, she was beside her fucking self. Breath ragged, and desperate, legs twitchy. Fluttery fingers coaxing me without words, aching for me to light the fuse. God, I fucking wanted to. I pressed my face against her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her, her soft hair so fucking nice against my cheek.
My fingers gave in to her demands, teasing a path up her clammy thighs to the heat of her. She bucked against my chest, hissing as I brushed her clit through her thong.
“Please...” she breathed. “I can’t stand it.”
I yanked the scrap of fabric to the side, no longer caring who the fuck saw us. She jerked in my grip as I teased her, fingering her swollen cunt so fucking softly that she squirmed for more. Then I stopped. Stopped fucking dead.
She inhaled and made to grab my hand but I pushed her away. “No,” I growled. “I fucking say when.Me.”
She responded to my words, body turning limp like the woman on stage, flopping back against my chest like a ragdoll. I kept my fingers pressed against her clit, but kept them still, barring her from release.
I was in charge. For real.
It felt fucking good.
The scene on stage was shifting gear. Masque’s hands were softer on his woman’s body, tracing where he’d hurt her like she was a piece of art. She was his canvas, a living, breathing, horny fucking canvas. The tools were his paint, pink, and red and sweet dark purple in living colour. My cock responded to the parallel, pulsing so hard it set stars off behind my eyes.
