Page 52 of His Talisman

The doctor smiled. “What’s Cassius doing?”

“He’s umm.” I cleared my throat. “Stroking himself.” The traitorous bastard. He was a weathercock, shifting in the wind, and the unintentional cock pun was so apt.

“Are you imagining being fastened down for our pleasure, to be fucked however we want to fuck you? I’m going to tie you now, unless you say no.” He tilted up my head, his hand splayed across my chin before he slipped it over my jaw to my throat.

He hauled me close and kissed me, tongue plunging in, exploring my mouth, and crudely fucking it. Then he inserted his thumb, pressing down onto my teeth and tongue, with his fingers gripping my chin. “Don’t bite or I’ll flay you alive.”

Ugh.The man was back to his extreme threats, and I was dripping, wet, and thoroughly mindfucked. He used that thumb hold to urge me to lie on my side, head to the lounge.

With my wrist released, he kept me there with that thumb-hold in my mouth, while he sat down.

Accidentally I closed my mouth on him, teeth touching his thumb. He flipped up the rear of the dress and delivered one abrupt spank.

“No biting.”

Then he plugged my pussy with a thrust-in finger.

My moan was impossible to stop.

“Now to the other. We will work on what flips the wrong switches in your head, later. We will work on…” he raised his voice. “On the power imbalance later. It’s not negotiable, Cassius. I can’t change it. She’s stuck with us, or me alone, having her holes reamed when we want to do so, or she returns to my other house. And…”

He studied me, and I, feverish with lust, lay there and merely watched, gagged with his thumb, and penetrated. I dared to suck on him. His smile was hot as fuck.

“And you can see she wants this.”

“I can.”

“We’ll need a good tree for this, Cassius. One she can hang from, one that’s strong enough.” He pulled out his thumb and hooked a hand in my collar, pushed me flat to the lounge, with my face past the edge and inches from the dirt. He casually restrained me while he delivered several smacks to my ass.

“Just to redden you nicely,” was his explanation. “Tie her hands.” The dress was pulled from me, over my head, then Cassius whisked the rope off the lounge.

I wriggled then, strove to buck upward to see if I could get free, because I knew myself. I knew. Struggles R Us. The chase,that chase, it had been too much, too horrifying, butthiswas not. Being manhandled, compelled, up close and personal, it was my catnip, my drug, my perfect fucking storm.

I couldn’t free myself, not once the doctor leaned over me, squashing me down, while Cassius tied my wrists above my head with that red, red rope. The rope ends trailed over the sand-covered cobblestones before my eyes, as the rope was tightened, locking my hands together.

“No…ummm,” I dragged in air, “no suturing.”

The doctor laughed and laid his head next to mine. He tugged the collar. “Not this time, sweet thing. Remember. Distress. When we gag you, if I make you hurt past your limits, drop the pine-cone.”

“A pine-cone? Wait. No.” Those things were sharp.

They pulled me to my feet with my hands bound before me. Desire had consumed any notions of care in Cassius. The man was one-track unless hijacked by something disastrous, like me crying.

The doctor forced my head backward then wormed a rope between my teeth and began to tie it at the back.

“Don’t!” I shook my head, jerking to and fro, only to be growled at and put to my knees. “Don’t! Please.”

The laugh that drew from both of them and the blindfold that shrouded half my upper face, those left me truly breathless, and awed. I shut my eyes behind the cloth as their rough grasp rocked my body this way and that. They checked my hands for circulation problems and led me away.

Couldn’t see, could only talk in a spit-laden gurgle, and these were intelligible words, but they’d reduced me to an object of their wicked lusts.

I was in heaven. Deviant, and yes, wicked, heaven.

They strung me up, standing on the flats of my feet but with my hands high, with my hair roped into a tail, then attached to something they pulled toward my ass—and what was that for, I wondered, until a plug of some sort was slipped and screwed into my ass and connected to my hair. The tension drove me to hold my head up and a little back, else any movement I made would tug on that evilly inserted plug. It forced me to arch and push my lower body forward.

One of them smacked me there, over my clit, though with an open hand, thank god. Sensations slammed in.

“Look. She offers her cunt to us, for sacrifice.”

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