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Her hands clench and unclench behind her back as her body wiggles the little amount it’s allowed. He turns to face the crowd and begins to speak. “There are many different kinks that go along with this scene,” he begins. “One is breeding.” Walking to the end of the box, he reaches out and runs his hand over her pussy that is on full display for all to see. “Women are strapped in, and men line up to wait their turn. The point is to fill them with their cum. To force pregnancy. Another is for humiliation or degradation. It can also be for punishment …”
I tune him out as I watch him finger her pussy as if he’s not talking to the crowd. Again, he’s rough as he thrusts two fingers. But even I can see from here that she’s wet. He removes them and slaps her pussy a couple of times, and it makes mine pulse. Then he’s shoving three into her this time. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, mumbled moans and whimpers come from her gagged mouth, and a line of drool has started to drop from the ball. Her red heels shake as she tries to move the best she can.
When he removes them this time, her body sags in the box.
He walks over to a table and picks up a syringe that is already full of clear liquid. Then something that resembles a butt plug. When he’s standing behind her once more, he presses the tip of the syringe into her ass and her body jerks, forcing the box to move just a tad. He slaps her ass cheek, making a popping sound and leaving his handprint on her porcelain skin. He plunges it into her and then places the now empty syringe on top of the box before pushing the butt plug into her now lubed ass.
A black tube hangs out with a ball on the end. He reaches down and squeezes it a few times. “This is an inflatable butt plug,” he informs the audience. “I’m going to leave it in fifteen minutes. Pumping it every five.”
I don’t know which is worse. The fifteen minutes she has to stay locked in the box or the fact he’s stretching her ass in front of an audience. I remember when we were at the house of Lords a few weeks after the vow ceremony, and Saint punished me by giving me an enema in front of the guys in his room. He then took me to the bathroom. Afterward, he tied me to his bed, and he let Haidyn and Kashton fuck my ass. It was humiliating and the most amazing night of my life. I wasn’t allowed to come unless it was with Saint’s tongue, dick, or fingers. Haidyn and Kashton were allowed to fuck me, but it was always for their pleasure, not mine. Once they finished with me, Saint would reward me for being a good girl.
But right here, right now? In front of strangers? I’m not so sure. I knew all the guys at the house of Lords. As stupid as that sounds, they had their chosens naked all the time. People were always fucking on any surface they could find. It wasn’t uncommon.
I wouldn’t mind if I was blindfolded from the beginning and hadn’t seen all the people sitting in the crowd. I’m breathing heavily, and my heart races just thinking about it, so I can only imagine what she feels like. The butt plug, the nipple clamps that rock back and forth, pulling on them painfully, the fingering…fuck, my clit pulses, and I shift in my seat. The room grows hot at the thought of being restricted so tight in a box. But the way he has her on display in front of everyone as he brings her to orgasm with his fingers makes me jealous. I want Saint to show me off. Be proud and show everyone what a whore I am for him.
Isn’t that what he said you do with a whore?
Why does his wanting to be proud of me make me the whore? He’s the one fucking me. He’s the one getting off on parading me around.
“Ash…”
Saint’s voice in my ear makes me jump to my feet and rush up the aisle and out of the double doors. I breathe in deeply, and it’s like the air is polluted. My lungs burn, and my legs shake. I’m all worked up now, and I’m not sure what to do. Goose bumps cover my heated flesh, and my mind races to what it would feel like to be her right now. Locked up tight and waiting for Saint to fuck my ass.
I rush over to a door that reads women on it and practically run into the bathroom. A cry of surprise leaves my lips when I run into a woman. “I’m so, so—”
“Brittany?” she squeals. “Oh my God, girl. It’s been too long.”
“Hey,” I say, trying to calm my racing heart. “What are you doing here?” I ask the woman. She worked with me at Kink back in Vegas. She was only there for a few weeks before I heard she quit.
“I got a job here at Kink in New York,” she answers, and I frown.
“There’s one here too?” I didn’t know that.
She nods. “Oh yeah, Hooke started it.”
Hooke?Can’t be…
“He’s in the performance room right now.” She rolls her eyes. “With his protégé.” Scoffing, she adds, “She was a ballerina for like fifteen years. Flexible and gorgeous.” Turning to face the mirror, she replaces her lipstick, and the puzzle pieces start to fall together. “Anyway, I’ve missed you. You should come visit sometime.”
“Yeah,” I say, knowing that’ll never happen. I have a tracker inside me. I won’t be going anywhere without supervision for the rest of my life.
“Here.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out two pills. “Just like old times.” Winking, she hands them to me and then zips her purse. “I have to go. I’m on stage in ten minutes and have to stretch.”
SAINT
I exitthe room and see her standing by herself in the hallway. Rushing over to her, I grab her upper arm, and it makes her jump. “Saint,” she gasps.
I push her back into the wall and grip her chin, forcing her to look up at me. I can feel her pulse racing under my fingers. Her lips are parted as she pants. My eyes drop to watch the rise and fall of her breasts, and I smile at the thought of the spikes digging into them.
“Did you enjoy the show?” I ask.
Her eyes narrow at mine, and she takes a deep breath but doesn’t answer.
“Let’s see.” I drop my hand to her shorts, and I unbutton them.
“Saint,” she squeals, trying to pull away, but I have her back pinned between me and the wall. “Stop.” Her hands slap at mine.
I grab hers and pin them above her head, crossing her wrists with one of my hands. She softly whimpers, and I use my free hand to cup her chin. “Look at me, Ashtyn.”
