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I can’t ask him what he has in mind. It’s surely something fucking awful. But what can I suggest that will be any better?
I can feel Travis’s gaze on the side of my face. Probably Carter’s too. I glance at my watch, relief washing over me. We only have a few minutes to waste before Maison is due to arrive.
“He still has a gag reflex,” I lie, knowing damn well he doesn’t. Hopefully he’s a good actor. “DuGray enjoyed it. To each their own, but I don’t want to be worrying he’s going to fucking puke on my cock all the damn time.” I grip Casey’s chin between my thumb and forefinger. “We should really fix that, shouldn’t we, slave?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Open that pretty mouth for me.” His cheeks flush pink before he drops his jaw. “Tongue out.” He sticks his tongue out, looking fucking filthy and beautiful at the same time. My cock twitches, begging me to act on this. I’m going to hell.
Our eyes lock as I slide two fingers along his tongue and into his mouth, stopping before I’d trigger a reflex even if he did have one. “Do you know how to not gag, slave?”
He shakes his head since he can’t talk. Most guys would force him to, maybe fuck with him, humiliate him, punish him for not speaking coherently despite them being the reason he can’t, but I don’t have it in me to pretend to be sadistic like that. Especially not tonight. “Breathe deeply through your nose and keep everything relaxed.”
“You know, you could just shove them down there and make him figure it out,” Chris suggests.
“Are you forgetting the part where I don’t want to be covered in vomit?” I ask, trying to keep my voice airy and playful. I focus back on Casey. “Keep breathing, little one.”
He nods, taking a deep breath as I push the fingers slowly along his tongue. He peers at me through his lashes. My cock twitches, the needy fucker wanting to be the thing pushing toward Casey's throat. I want that too, but not like this. Not when the consent is so dubious it’s hanging by a fucking string. Not when Casey is struggling to keep himself together. Not when I’m the guy who holds his safety in my hands.
So, I just continue sliding my fingers, smirking when he fakes a gag. “Not too bad,” I tell him, pulling my fingers back just a little. “Try again. Remember to breathe.” We try again. He lets it go a little further before shuddering and rearing back.
“Sorry,” he gasps, his cheeks flushed. “Sorry, Master. I’ll try again.”
“I know you will,” I coo, not willing to look or sound angry in case the men around us decide they want to watch a punishment tonight. “You’re doing well, little one. Try again.”
“You’re too soft with him,” Jason says, the fucker suddenly standing between my chair and Chris’s. He’s standing facing forward so he’s looking at Casey’s face instead of ours. “He’s not your boyfriend, Benny. He’s your slut.”
I shrug, pulling my fingers back and starting to slowly fuck Casey’s mouth, not pressing far enough to trigger his pretend reflex. “I’m not like some of you. I don’t want to filter through a ton of slaves. I want this one to be perfect and all mine for a very long time. I want him to look at me like I’m his entire fucking world. I want him to be so gone for me that he would choose me if given the choice between me and freedom.” I arch an eyebrow at Jason before turning my attention back to Casey and pressing my fingers forward again. “Sometimes being soft gets the job done just fine.”
I push my fingers further, smiling gently when he twitches with what I hope is fake panic. “Breathe. Let yourself relax around that feeling. Keep breathing.”
He obeys the orders, his muscles slowly relaxing as he pretends to learn how to breathe around the intrusion.
God, he’s so fucking good for me.
One of the rookies - Dean - rushes into the entertainment room in a panic, nearly knocking over a slave as he yells, “Someone just tried breaking in!”
I feel Casey release a shuddering breath of relief around my fingers, his body relaxing despite the chaos erupting around us. I release a relieved breath of my own.
And then I remember what happens next.
It's a blur at first - the chaos that follows Dean's panicked announcement. I bark orders as Travis grabs Carter and Casey to bring them to his room. I follow Dean to the front door where two more of my men - Rogers and Matthews - each hold Maison by an arm. I twist my face in false shock before immediately pulling my gun and aiming it at him. "Are you sure he was alone?"
Dean nods. "He's probably just some idiot-"
“He’s not some fucking idiot, he’s Maison Beckett!” I growl, pissed that the men didn't recognize him. Thank god these idiots aren't actually mine. The men’s demeanors change immediately. Rogers and Matthews tighten their grips on Maison while everyone else draws their weapons. “I want 8 of you walking the perimeter. Gary, call tech and make sure the security system isn’t looping. We need 2 snipers on the roof. Lou, cover the back entrance.”
“Yes, sir,” they all say.
“Rogers, Matthews, strip this piece of shit and bring him into the dungeon. Let’s see what he has to say.”
As I watch my men violently strip Maison - taking breaks to punch and kick him as they go - I pull out my phone and call Travis to relay the information I pretend to have just learned. I hear the men around me making calls as well, their voices urgent. A few head outside, following my orders about the perimeter. To my left, I can hear Dean talking to tech about the security system.
Once Maison is naked and bleeding from half a dozen cuts, the men start to drag him to the dungeon. I follow, pasting a sick and twisted grin on my face.
A crowd greets us in the hallway, shouts starting the moment Maison comes into view.
“Fucker!”
