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When the doctor withdrew from my ass, my pussy ached because it wanted more, but I was content. I treasured this. Panting, I watched Cassius pull from my mouth and walk over to get a cloth then wet it at a faucet. His come dribbled down my neck when I sat up on my heels. I reminded myself not to trust them, much, even as he cleaned my face and held me.
For now, this kinky, sexual give-and-take was enough.
The question Cassius had asked had cemented my choice. I would find out more because I had to. He wanted to know what I had discovered. To choose who to tell what, I needed more facts.
But…the needles. The muted sting drew me to look at them. I wanted to touch, same as Cassius had seemed fascinated by the little damage they’d done and the distortion of my flesh. The pain was background, niggling, and nothing much. Except for my clit—that throbbed and warned…and made desire hang around and poke me into wanting more as every second passed by.
The doctor stood aside, studying my actions, and I sat on my heels and played with the needles, until he stepped in and trapped my hands.
“No more.” He kissed me then went lower, bending to tongue my needled nipple, with care.
It was the care that made my theories collapse. A killer would not do that. I was sure. I was very sure.
A revelation arrived. I dearly wanted him to be this, a normal dominant with scary cruel tastes, a man who was who he said he was, and nothing weirder.
Please be this—I begged to no one in particular, even as I craved the blessing of his lips, and tongue, and that warm breath upon my needled clit. I wriggled as he circled my nipple with a finger.
“Go lower,” I croaked.
He turned his head and looked up. Lines formed around his eyes.
“Please?”
“Hold her down, on her back, Cassius, while I play with her.”
Fuck, that hard smile made chills run up my body.
Cassius had sat down behind me, and he dragged me backward by my hair and an arm about my waist. I struggled and tried to gain my feet and run, but was rapidly overcome and arm-locked, until I begged for mercy…mercy from this guy who worked as a frickin’ hard-ass bodyguard who could maybe go toe-to-toe with Bruce Lee.
Sucking in much-needed air, I felt the bulge of muscles in his arm.
I loved this. God, I loved this.
I knew the unwritten, exciting rules now. The wrestling and the submission to male dominance, the small burns from the seizure of my wrists, the thud of my heart, these gifted me with flurries of excitement.
And, I had a safeword.
What might they do to me? Fucking anything. Correction: almost fucking anything.
Trembling, I lay with my head in Cassius’s lap, still naked and leaking the doctor’s come. Cassius gripped my hands, an iron-hard hold at the wrists, and my arms were trapped and held crossed over my breasts. The needle that pierced my nipple pressed into the underside of one arm.
“Going to run again, little girl? Hmmm?” Cassius leaned in above with a tease in his voice and with that adorable curl looping over his forehead that I’d only just noticed.
My heart fluttered, glowing maybe, with fucking mild adulation. I wanted to kiss him, all over. I shook my head. “No, you fucker.”
He chuckled. “Fucker, is that a rank up from bastard? Brave. Don’t forget the bruises I left on your ass and belly. The needle in your clit. Say sorry before I figure out what else I could do to you.”
The doctor straddled my hips, his cock half-erect. I was more worried abouthisdevious ideas, but… “Sorry.” I cast a glance at Cassius. “I am sorry, sir.” The sir was a late entry and yet…that had felt right on my tongue, especially when he kissed my hair and whispered, “Good girl.”
The doctor began to draw his fingers down me, spending time on the skin near each needle—those reminders of my mortality. I could bleed. I could be marred by something so small. Here and there, my blood painted me with spots and streaks.
“Beautiful. You’re all pierced and fucked up and horny. Such a cute little victim.” He flicked a needle fastened in the undercurve of my breast. I hissed at the jerk on my skin, anticipating pain that was worse than it actually turned out to be. Then he leaned down and kissed my breast, like a priest who’d found something to worship.
My eyes were likely wide as saucers.
Casually, he shifted backward to spread my legs and kneel between them, then place his hand over my pussy. I struggled against the arm-hold, a token struggle that lasted seconds. He slicked his fingers up my cleft, parting my lips, making me whimper as he swirled them at the entrance. It was as if he might, at any moment, put them inside…
He dipped them in, and then out.
