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Hands stroked her spread thighs, pushing between her legs, massaging and caressing her breasts, stroking the side of her face.
“Give yourself over to it,” Quill whispered from just behind her, his voice the only one she could piece together with clarity.
A hand slid into hers, and she knew it was her master’s.
Saskia began to move her hips, grinding against the strange hands. Multiple hands stroked her thighs now, as two—possibly from two different men—rubbed between her legs. From behind, hands moved on her ass, one teasing her rear entrance. The hands on her breasts became more insistent and demanding. And one hand demanded she suck its fingers into her mouth. She obliged with a whimper as she writhed against the strangers.
“Come for us”, the voices whispered. For one crazy moment, Saskia thought she’d wake up in her own cage in the gallery with her own fingers between her legs, but she didn’t wake up. Instead, she let the hands and voices pull her under their wave of pleasure as she came moaning for them.
One by one, the hands pulled away, and she was left kneeling in the bird cage with the evidence of the events of moments before sliding quietly down her legs.
Several minutes of silence passed. Then there was the talking again. The muffled male voices overlapping, lowering discreetly when they didn’t want her to hear. Saskia felt her whole body blush inside the cage.
She picked up bits and pieces and little phrases here and there, enough to piece together a narrative inside her head. It was a financial negotiation of some sort. What had just happened inside the cage had been... an audition of sorts? A try out for the men who were now talking about money.
Saskia’s anxiety ratcheted higher. She couldn’t pick out Quill’s voice. His hand was no longer in hers. What the hell was happening?
The cage lowered back to the ground, the door opened, she was helped out, and her hands were uncuffed and recuffed once again in front of her. She was led out of the warehouse on the leash the same way she was led in, never once seeing anyone in the club, not even the bouncer outside.
When they reached the car, the passenger side door was opened for her, and she was buckled into her seat belt. The driver’s side door seemed louder closing than hers had been. The car started and backed smoothly out of the parking lot and onto the road.
She was still blindfolded and leashed and cuffed, but now inside the silence of the car, everything felt sharper and the odd fog she’d been in began to fall away. The seat she sat on felt different than she remembered, the leather softer against the backs of her thighs. The car handled differently. Sounded different. Smelled different. She reached blindly in front of her to feel the dash and glove box—very different contours than the Bentley. Her breath sped perilously down the ramp to hyperventilation, but a voice stopped her.
“Relax, Saskia. I’m here,” Quill said from the back seat. But who was driving?
She didn’t care. As long as he was there. He hadn’t abandoned her to a stranger going to God only knew where in the dark of night. For a crazy moment she’d thought he’d sold her off to someone else. Forever.
The trip was much shorter than the time it took to drive from the warehouse to Quill’s house. Saskia didn’t ask to remove the blindfold, nor did she attempt to take it off herself. As long as Quill was there, she could handle whatever this was.
The car stopped, and again the doors opened. This time, she realized the magnification of the sound of the door shutting had been the back seat and the driver’s side closing in concert. Her door was opened next, and she was helped out, led on the leash as she’d been before. She wasn’t sure if it was Quill or the stranger leading her.
Water burbled in a fountain a little way from the car. Suddenly she was scooped up and someone started to carry her.
“Is that really necessary?” Quill asked.
“These cobblestones are too easy to trip over in her boots.”
Saskia recognized that voice. The Viking. Ari. She relaxed a fraction.
He climbed a set of stairs with her, and then set her down just inside the front door. Her heels clicked against a hard, echoing floor. Then Ari led her through the house on the leash. She heard Quill’s footsteps just behind them.
Another door opened, and Saskia was guided through it. She heard flowing water and the crackling, spitting sound of fire in a grate. Ari unhooked the leash and removed the cuffs from her wrists. He raised each wrist and gently rubbed the irritated skin.
“You can take the blindfold off,” he said.
Saskia removed Quill’s silk tie from around her eyes and handed it back to her master. The room was large and solid white with vaulted ceilings that made her feel as if she were in a cathedral. There was a waterfall at one end of the room that emptied into a giant hot tub. The jets were unbelievably silent, giving the illusion that all the bubbling came from nothing more than the waterfall.
Several feet up—where the flow of water started—was a nook one might curl up in to read a book. She couldn’t see any detail in the space itself. She only knew that a person could fit in there and sit and look out over the rest of the room.
“That’s where my pet sleeps,” Ari said. Saskia knew he didn’t mean a dog or a cat. He meant the girl she’d met the first time in the club who’d been wearing the school girl uniform. On closer inspection, Saskia could see light glimmer off the link of a metal chain. She imagined there was a cuff on the end that might be locked around the girl’s ankle at night.
“Where is she?” Saskia asked.
“She’s spending the night in one of the guest rooms.”
Not a cage isolated in a gallery?
The fireplace against the wall crackled and spit some more, and Ari put another log on the fire.
