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I made to turn as Cassius came up behind me, but his hands locked onto my wrists and drew them together. He caught them both in one hand in a grip I couldn’t budge, then he leaned into me. “You’re my property now. Doctor’s orders. I can do what I want.” I closed my eyes as those words whispered in, warming my neck, stirring me to goosebumps.
A moment later he kicked the toy bag to beside my feet, then he dragged me onto my knees. One-handed, he opened the bag’s flap to rummage inside.
Even more people were watching us now, and I was blushing, an automatic response I would kill someone to lose.
Cassius swung me away from him before clamping metal to my wrists. Rapid clicks sounded as he locked down a pair of handcuffs.
“That’s to stop you fussing with the skirt. Stand up.”
I struggled to stand with my hands cuffed, but he boosted me higher with one hand on my arm and the other between my legs. A little breathless, I looked over the heads of the crowd nonchalantly—or as nonchalantly as possible, considering—until he slipped a finger inside me.
My gasp brought a smile to the tattooed man’s mouth and a chuckle from Cassius. Mister OTT Tattoos pulled the woman off his cock. It stood up, erect, glistening from him fucking the woman’s mouth. I couldn’t look away, fascinated, as he stuck out his tongue, which was also pierced, then pulled the woman higher and delivered a long lick to the side of her face.
Then he shoved her back on his cock. She choked as he pulled her head up and down.
I shuddered and tore my gaze from him.
Though he crouched on the floor, Cassius had noticed.
He hooked the crotch of my ballerina costume, stretching them downward. “You know, I think he likes you.”
Using a pair of scissors, he sliced across the crotch, then began to painstakingly shear away the rest of the fabric, leaving only an inch beneath the waistline of the skirt.
With my hands fastened at my back by metal, I was torn between tensing whenever those scissor blades touched me and being very aware of how close that man’s mouth was to my pussy. The magic his tongue could work…
“Much better.” He climbed to his feet and stood between me and the others. “I have something to say before I get started with the kinky fuckery.”
I raised my eyebrows.
He folded up the cloth mask, high enough to reveal my mouth. As if I were reluctant, I leaned away. His fingers dug into my ass where the doctor’s cane had left bruises, and he pulled me closer with both hands. When I tried to protest, he kissed me, brutally, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth, and he trailed a path of pain over my ass with well-placed pinches.
I writhed to escape the pain. His teeth bit my lower lip and held on, just hard enough that I was afraid to pull away. This was messing with my head. He let go of my lip, but the pinches kept coming. Gasping, I bowed backward, and only his hands stopped me from falling. It was such delicious cruelty. My heart was thudding and murdering my calm by the end.
When he released me, I almost fell, my knees buckling.
I was crushed to his body, the tulle skirt flattened between us, the hard shaft of his cock obvious and digging into my stomach.
“That…” I poked my hurt lip with my tongue, “was some speech.”
“What did the doctor say to you?”
“I…can’t. He has to tell you.” I frowned. Or did he. It was I who found the tunnel and the hollow in the ground. “I found something on my dive…a photo from WW2, and the man looked like the doctor. He even had the same tattoo. That’s it.” Even saying that much, or that little, seemed a step too far.
“That’s all you’ll tell me, even if I put you up there.” He jerked his chin at the stage. “And flog you”—he ground against me in small circles, leaning in to say to my ear—“and ass fuck you with every single person watching me ream you, and make you come, screaming?”
Oh, god.For that I would, strangely and probably, sell my first-born child. He made it sound so hot. I cleared my throat.
“Sorry? I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Then say this…” He leaned his forehead onto mine, rocking our bodies, one against the other, as if we were dancing. “Do you believe what he’s accused of? You trust him, yeah?”
“I trust the doctor, yes.”
“Fuck.” He gave a long sigh. “And Jacob is a snake. I know that. I just needed to hear you say it. Okay. Talk over.”
“Hold still.” The scissors appeared before my face, large and menacing in the eyeholes of the mask. With the scissors crunching terrifyingly close to my nose, he chopped off the lower part of the mask, to expose my mouth.
After he dropped the scissors into the bag, he rose to his feet with something else in hand…
