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“Don’t let her come,” Manson said, and Jason’s tongue left my clit to trace teasingly around my entrance. I groaned, nudging my hips toward him, as if that would convince him to go against Manson’s orders.
“Such a desperate girl,” Jason said. It was like his mouth was draining brain cells out of me. I could barely speak. I could hardly think. “You can wiggle around all you want, but I’m not letting you come until Manson says.”
There was no way to convince him otherwise. I knew there wasn’t. But I still debased myself even further by whining, “Manson, please! I’ll be good, I’ll be such a good girl, I promise —”
“Of course you will,” Manson said. The sound of ice clinking into a glass put me on high alert, memories of Lucas holding me down and pushing ice inside me making me shiver. But it was followed by the trickle of pouring liquid and a subtle spicy scent in the air. “You’ll be good whether I let you come or not, won’t you, angel?”
“Yes, sir.” I wanted it so badly I could have cried. But I grit my teeth. My suffering was worship, and I wanted to show my respect, my desire, my longing in the only way I could.
Jason continued to tease as I gave up struggling. It was like he had a roadmap to my body that was frighteningly correct, focusing in on the spots that made me squirm the most. Every time I gave a reaction, he’d slow down and repeat whatever motion had gotten a noise out of me.
“Let her go.”
The moment Manson issued the command, I was released. Shivering as I lay there on the cool wooden floor, I didn’t move a muscle until he ordered me to do so.
Something tapped repeatedly in front of me, something heavy. “Crawl, angel.”
I got onto my hands and knees, but a heavy foot pressed me back down.
“Crawl on your fucking belly like the pathetic little creature you are,” Lucas said, removing his foot only once I’d whimpered an obedient, “Yes, sir.”
I squirmed forward, my stomach against the floor as I crawled toward Manson’s voice. Vincent was somewhere beside me, his voice a sadistic whisper as he said, “I can’t wait to make her ride your cock while I pound your ass.”
He was talking to Jason, and imagining his cock sunk deep inside me while Vincent fucked him — oh, God, yes, I wanted to experience that.
My head was buzzing, my body felt electric. I reached out and encountered a smooth leather toe, a thick sole, tight laces.
Ice clinked as Manson sipped the drink he’d poured for himself and told me, “You know what to do.”
God, yes, I did. I traced my nose along his boot, inhaling the rich scent of leather and the subtle chemical smell of polish. I kissed the toe, and my belly pinched, humiliation and desire squeezed into one strange feeling. I ran my tongue along the edge of his sole, brushed my nose against the laces.
Curled up at his feet, I was at his mercy. But I felt secure, safe. My trust for them didn’t leave any room for fear in my mind.
I trusted them more than anyone I’d ever met.
Manson shifted when I gasped softly, his tone immediately dropping from careless authority to concern. “Are you okay, Jess?”
Not lifting my head from where it was pressed against his boot, I nodded. “I’m okay. I’m better than okay.” A rush of emotion choked up my throat. Someone gently massaged my back, and I knew from the long fingers and absence of rings, it had to be Vincent. “This makes me feel so good. It makes me feel like I’m safe. Like I can just...”
God, it was so hard to put this into words. It was embarrassing, yes, but also the concept was still so new. Why did being controlled and overcome make me feel like everything was okay?
Vincent said gently, “There’s our good girl, that’s it. You can talk to us.”
That openness was part of what made this so amazing. I didn’t feel vulnerable because I feared being injured or hurt. I was vulnerable because I’d allowed myself to be. I’d told them what I wanted and they had chosen to fulfill that for me.
“I want to obey you,” I whispered, my lips tracing over the leather. “I want to worship you and let you use me however you want, sir. Please. Please use me.”
There was a smile in Manson’s words as he said, “I’m proud of you for saying that, angel. I like to hear you being honest with me.” There was a clink of ice on glass and another spicy whiff of whiskey. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes, Master, I do. Please.”
Something brushed my back. Something soft but heavy, with multiple trailing tassels that felt like leather.
“Sit on my boot and ride it. Grind on it. Try to come.”
Tingles burst out all over my skin. Pushing myself up to my knees, I wrapped my arm around Manson’s leg and drew myself closer. I couldn’t see him, but I could imagine him standing over me. Fully clothed while I was naked. In perfect control over everyone in the room.
I sunk down, grinding on the leather. The toe was smooth but the laces were rough, and it was hard to get the perfect angle, but I wanted it so badly. I rested my cheek against his leg, groaning as I bucked and rolled my hips.
