Enamored: The Submissive Mistress (Special Double-Length Episode) (The Erotic Adventures of Jane in the Jungle) (15 page)

Then, just as suddenly, she was released—so abruptly that she staggered back a step.

“Over there,” Marcine said, gesturing to the bed as she wiped the smeared lip stain from around her mouth. For the first time, Jane noticed a set of manacles hanging from one of the canopy rods that stretched between the tops of the bedposts, and she felt a flutter of nerves as she made her way to the bed.

To her relief, Marcine ignored the manacles. Instead, she pushed Jane onto her back, shoving her roughly onto the bed. Then she climbed up over her like a feral cat, bracketing Jane’s body on the mattress with hands on either side of her shoulders and knees over her hips.

Her eyes were a glittering, intense blue as she bent to kiss Jane once more, rubbing her own hot cunt against her shivering belly. She ground down into Jane’s mound with her own, making hard little circles that shifted and stretched her own sex deliciously. By now, Jane was panting and unsure what to do, and when Marcine shifted so her breast was over her lips, Jane had no choice but to take that hard, thrusting nipple into her mouth.

She sucked and licked the warm, nubbly flesh as Marcine arched and ground against her. And when Marcine took her fingers and forced them inside that moist, wet quim, Jane nearly stopped breathing. The sensation was utterly unfamiliar and strange, and whilst revulsion teased at the corners of her mind, she couldn’t ignore the hot, slick fullness of the other woman’s cunt. It was deep and warm and wet, and as Marcine forced her to fuck her deep and fast, Jane realized her own body was responding in a similar fashion.

She was hot and throbbing, tight and ready, and the smell of female musk was strong in the air, filling her nostrils and adding a layer of eroticism to her world. Soft, smooth flesh slid against hers, so different from the hirsute, muscular body of a man, and Jane felt herself falling into the depths of blazing-red heat.

Marcine cried out, arching up and pulling away from Jane’s mouth as she contracted around her fingers, tight and undulating. She released Jane’s hand and settled on her belly, breathing hard and leaving a pool of musky wet over her navel.

“A wonderful beginning,” she said in a voice that had become even huskier. “Now let us see if you taste as good as you fuck, lovely Jane.”

She made a quick spin and switched so her dripping red quim was over Jane’s face and her own mouth hovered over Jane’s ready mound. She spread her legs wide, placing firm, red-gloved hands on each knee to position them as broadly as possible, and dove.

Jane shrieked and bucked as Marcine’s wicked mouth began to lick and suck and slurp in and around her swollen sex. She came almost immediately, arching up and exploding under the intense, strong ministrations of a woman’s tongue.

Before she could even catch her breath, even as the shivers continued to wrack her body, Marcine lowered herself onto Jane’s lips. Musk, heat, wet…that was the sensation, and when Marcine pressed herself down, hard, grinding and sliding over Jane’s swollen lips, she found herself licking and sucking in a manner she’d never expected.

As she was forced to devour and taste her, Jane felt Marcine swoop back down to her own sex and together they licked and swiped and thrust the other into another blossoming orgasm.

Marcine pulled away and turned around, coming back up to Jane’s face. “You are a very fast learner,” she said, her lips close to Jane’s. “I could become quite enamored myself.” And she kissed Jane again, this time mixing Marcine’s own juices and dark, musky scent with that of Jane’s.

She climbed off the bed then, leaving Jane breathless, panting, and still throbbing…and more than a little disbelieving over what had just occurred.

“Jane.”

Darkdale’s velvety voice drew her attention and she looked over to see that he and his cock were waiting for her attention. She didn’t remember ever seeing it so large and purple and ready for attention.

Despite her recent bout of pleasure, Jane still felt a rush of anticipation at taking him in her mouth. She scooted off the bed and made her way over to him, on her knees, as quickly as possible.

He was very warm, and very hard, and when she took him into her mouth, Jane almost immediately felt him gather up to spew his seed. She managed three deep strokes before he gave his cry of release and shot up hard into the back of her throat.

When she finished licking him clean and sat back on her haunches, she found Marcine standing behind her. She was holding that unusual object she’d earlier taken from the drawer.

Now that Jane could see it better, she realized it was formed in the shape of a phallus…with two ends. A hot shudder rushed through her as she watched Marcine unbuckle the straps. The other woman looked contemplatively at Jane, then at the bed, and finally at Darkdale.

Then her red lips curled into that satisfied smirk.

“This way, lovely Jane.” Then, over her shoulder, she said, “You might wish a front-row seat, Kellan.”

He chuckled and pulled up a chair nearer the edge of the bed on the side where the manacles hung. “Your wish is my command.”

Marcine manacled Jane so she was facing Darkdale, with her wrists bound and fastened above her. Her knees were on the very edge of the bed, and spread wide.

He’d taken a position in a chair directly in front of her, and he sat with a decanter of whiskey and a glass on the table next to him. His shirt was open, his neckcloth loose, his cock tucked away into his dark trousers. He looked rich and dark and very attractive, and Jane wanted nothing more than to sit her sleek, ready quim on his lap and ride him.

But she heard the soft clink of metal and the swish of leather and looked over to see Marcine. As Jane watched in horrified fascination, the other woman slipped one end of the double phallus inside her, then strapped it on so the other end stuck out proudly.

She walked over to Darkdale to show him, and he grabbed the end of the protruding cock and began to jimmy it roughly. Those movements soon turned into long, fast strokes. Marcine gave a soft laugh that turned into a husky sigh, and Jane saw heat light her eyes.

The next thing she knew, Marcine took off the phallus and flung it aside, then came to straddle Darkdale, right in front of Jane. She opened his shirt—something Jane had never dared to do—and made him lift so she could drag his trousers away from muscular, hirsute thighs.

The image seared in her mind: the blond Marcine, with her hair long and flowing over her bare back and shoulders, riding Darkdale—who, with his dark hair and strong hands, looked utterly masculine and powerful. Their sighs and gasps filled her ears, and the scent of musk and coitus hung in the air.

Though she didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to know what was happening, Jane couldn’t look away. It was a combination of fascination, arousal, and unwilling jealousy that kept her attention riveted on the couple. When Darkdale rose and roughly turned Marcine around so he could fuck her from behind, her hands clinging to the arm of his chair, Jane became even more aroused and frustrated.

The sight of his bare, muscular arse and broad shoulders had her mouth watering and her insides clenching with desire. If only she could be the one beneath him, the one crying out with pleasure and need…

Jane forced herself to close her eyes, ashamed and confused by her thoughts, desires—and most of all, the jealousy.
I must get away from him…from this. This isn’t how I truly feel; this is some sort of hypnosis or lessoning that’s caused me to want him so.

Then, instead of the image of Darkdale and Marcine, it was Zaren’s beautiful face and deep blue eyes that settled in her mind—like a talisman. It was his powerful shoulders and lean, muscular arms that filled her thoughts; the way he always looked at her in wonder and with reverence and respect—not as if she were his pet. The way he interacted with the animals and other wildlife in the jungle, with the same care and honor. Even the odd jokes he made, so utterly unexpected from a man who’d been living without human companionship for nearly two decades.

Zaren. I will return to you.

— XII—

Jane opened her eyes
as the bed shifted behind her.

She tensed when she felt Marcine moving onto the mattress, and looked over to see Darkdale back in his chair. He looked at her with eyes weighted by satisfaction; they gleamed beneath their heavy lids with the heat of anticipation.

She didn’t know how long the two had left her alone, how long they’d been fucking…but it seemed as if a significant bit of time had elapsed.

It didn’t matter anyway, for Jane had had her reprieve—and now, it seemed, she would be drawn back into their activities of hot, slick pleasure.

Something bumped her from behind. It was hard and yet pliable at the same time. Jane didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that Marcine had strapped on the phallus once again, and now it was prodding her sleek, swollen quim from below.

No sooner did the tool begin stroking Jane than she was submerged in that familiar world of heat and eroticism. A stab of lust shot down to her sex, for she was still frustratingly aroused. She needed the stroking and licking and thrusting.

“Open your eyes, lovely Jane,” said a voice in her ear. Marcine’s breasts pressed into her from behind, her nipples hard, warm little points just above Jane’s shoulder blades. “Kellan likes to watch the way you fight against the pleasure you know you desire.”

Her long blond hair fell over Jane’s shoulder as Marcine nuzzled her neck. The phallus slid between Jane’s thighs, rubbing gently along her wet folds…enough to tease, but not enough to take her where she suddenly needed to go.

Jane obeyed Marcine’s command and found her gaze trapped by Darkdale’s. He watched her steadily, heat and lust blazing in his eyes as Marcine’s hands came around from behind to play with her breasts. Their long red and blond hair mingled and tangled over her skin, and the phallus continued to slip and slide slowly and teasingly.

Jane realized she was breathing heavily already, that her hips were twitching and she wanted more. Marcine seemed to realize this, for she tweaked a nipple with one hard pinch, then slid her hand down to cover Jane’s mound.

She gasped, biting her lip when those clever fingers found her tiny, hard nub and began to play with it. She closed her eyes and shuddered, allowing the pleasure to wash over her as her arousal built and billowed.

“You do not have my permission to take pleasure, Jane.”

Darkdale’s voice was cold and soft, and cut sharply into the fog of her lust. Her eyes flew open to find his trained on her.

Jane shuddered, suddenly trying to fight the inevitable, the rush of orgasm that had begun to gather between her legs.

Marcine gave a soft laugh near her ear and slid her fingers around and over Jane’s taut, overripe pip, pinching it between them and sliding back and forth, up and down, as Jane trembled and shivered against her.

Please…
she thought, and wondered if it would make sense to beg. Would he allow it?

She was nearly there, nearly over the edge—where there would be ecstatic pleasure and punishment waiting for her—when Marcine slid her hand away, up over Jane’s belly. She slipped her wet fingers over her breast, painting it with her musky juices and using the lubricant to tease a nipple into a hard, painful point.

Then, without warning, she bucked her hips and used her other hand to shove the phallus deep inside Jane. Both women cried out in pleasure and relief, but Jane fought to stifle her lust and passion as the phallus began to move inside her.

“Open your eyes, lovely Jane,” said Marcine. “I won’t tell you again.”

She forced her eyes open, knowing Darkdale could read the fear and struggle—and the desperate need for pleasure—in them. He was focused on her, watching comfortably from his chair as Marcine fucked her from behind, her hands and fingers playing with her breasts and nipples as the phallus stroked both of them simultaneously.

Trapped by his gaze, stroked and probed and fingered from behind, Jane felt as if she had been stripped bare—down to her soul. She had no choice but to allow him to see her twisted desires, the struggle to control her body even as it was coaxed and teased into a frantic need for pleasure and release.

Marcine was moving faster now, her own sighs and gasps matching Jane’s as the phallus impaled each of them in turn. She’d ceased playing with Jane and now merely held on to her hips as she pumped and thrust, harder and faster, on and on and on…

Jane tried to fight it, but she couldn’t hold back. The hot red wave of lust had her, and she saw the challenge and triumph in Darkdale’s eyes as the orgasm came upon her.

It rocked her, and she screamed in frustration and release as she was bowed forward by Marcine’s own last thrust. Her arms stretched and her body arched awkwardly as the other woman shuddered against her.

Jane hung there, half sobbing as she panted, knowing she was about to be punished. She felt movement and opened her eyes to find Darkdale standing in front of her. Marcine was still impaled upon her from behind, and all at once, Jane was trapped between them.