Mistress of Redemption (16 page)

pressure of her pussy on top of him,

the squeeze of her thighs. “I could

make you come just from this.

Because you’ve always wanted your

true Mistress, the one who will care

for your soul, the part that needs her

so desperately. A Mistress you could

love and cherish fully with no fear of

her betrayal.

Jonathan is keeping you from that.”

“Maybe he protects me from the

empty fantasy. The lie of it. Aren’t

you
here because you don’t believe

in it?”

He’d lashed out defensively, but he

saw he’d landed an arrow with that

one. He felt satisfaction along with a

moment of regret at the flash of pain

through her expression.

He shoved it away. “Fuck you.

You’re just playing with my head,

like all of them.”

Her lips tightened, her eyes going

cool. “I’m trying to get you to stop

listening to your fucked-up head and

listen to your heart. If you want to do

it rough, we can do it rough.” She

stepped back, taking her body beyond

his reach, her attention shifting to his

shoulder.

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Mistress of Redemption

What he’d thought were Aliyah’s

hands moving to his shoulders was

something else. Two snakes, one

coming up over either side. He

twisted, crying out in fear, but Dona

had the chain to his cock still

wrapped around her fist. At some

point during her fondling, Aliyah

apparently had snapped one to the

back of the collar and tethered it to

the arms, so all she had to do was

keep her hand in that taut vertical line

of chain to hold him fast. He

struggled as more snakes came out of

the mosaic floor at his feet and

wound around his ankles, spiraling

up his calves to his thighs, holding

him the same way the pond weed and

ropes of grass had done. Only these

restraints moved, rasping their live,

damp bodies against his skin. The

snake at his right shoulder wound

around his throat once and then

continued down his body, the slender

body perfectly suited to winding

herself in a tight coil along the length

of his cock, giving him a momentary

terror as to whether boa constrictors

came in pencil-width size. However,

the snake seemed content to hover

just above his genitals, the threat

somehow worse than the reality.

He’d immediately assumed the

creature was a she, as if a threat to

his manhood could only come in

female form. Wouldn’t Dona have a

field day with that one? He wished

he was flaccid and limp so he could

dissuade the creature from using his

cock as a tree limb. However,

whether it was the piercings, the

curse of the place or Dona’s

presence commanding him, his

traitorous body was more attuned to

her Will than his sense of self-

preservation. He remained hard as a

steel rod.

“Now, my arrogant slave.” Dona

reached out, her fingernails raking

down his chest, caressing him and the

snakes together. “Stay very still for

me. Not a muscle, except those I want

you to move.”

The crowd was a shifting, blurred

movement of shadows outside their

circle now.

Even the music had died to a

mumbling roar of sound, like a

distant ocean. Olivia stepped to her

side holding a box. Nathan watched,

fear turning his vital organs to ice.

He had fucking snakes on him. All

over him.

When Olivia opened the box for

Dona, his Mistress withdrew the

contents carefully.

He knew he didn’t want to look, but

of course he did.

For a moment, he thought it was a

three-headed snake, a creature of the

surrealism of this world. It didn’t

help that the snake on his left

shoulder suddenly dropped down his

pectoral, latching on to his nipple

ring. He cried out, expecting to be

bitten, but the creature remained

where she was. The snake at his

midriff looped back up to take the

opposite nipple ring so he had her

weight pulling downward on the right

ring as the other snake pulled upward

on the left, a tugging sensation on

each piercing.

When he was able to focus through

his terror, he saw the object from the

box was in fact an object. It wasn’t a

snake. It did move like one, like

liquid silver in the
Terminator
films in serpentine form. A phallus come to

life, as if Dona charmed men’s cocks

or the simile of one the way a snake

charmer made a snake rise out of a

basket and dance. She certainly had

no difficulty getting his cock to rise,

no matter the circumstance.

63

Joey W. Hill

Dona stroked the three-headed

thing’s glittering liquid skin. “This

lovely device has one purpose. It’s

going to give me great pleasure to

watch it fulfill it with you. Stay very,

very still.”

Dona held up her arm, the chain to

his cock still wrapped around her

knuckles. The object started to

elongate, ratcheting up his terror. He

started back, an instinctive reaction,

but Aliyah, her snakes and Dona had

too firm a grip upon him. It wrapped

around her arm like the coiled

bracelet of an Egyptian queen. The

largest “head” of the thing led the

way, the other two gliding along like

a bent fork’s tines at the back.

“Wh-What does it do?”

“The two smaller heads will lengthen

about six inches and wrap around

your balls.

Stretch them, milk them. The main

head will drive deep inside you and

fuck your ass.”

He wasn’t certain what happened

next, but several moments later,

rational thought returned to find him

coughing, panting, hoarse from

screaming out and struggling against

his live bonds, a panic attack so bad

he had no grip on his emotions, no

sense of the passage of time.

“No… No… Don’t touch me with

that.” He was raging, pleading. His

mind told him it wasn’t a snake, that

it was an inanimate object that was

no different from a sex toy run on

batteries, but the way they’d covered

him with the real things took common

sense away. It was just too much.

The snake bindings on his legs

vanished, a momentary reprieve only

as Dona and Aliyah shoved him up to

the nightclub’s bar. His upper body

slammed down on the countertop.

Dona held the back of his neck in one

hand, the tether between his collar

and arms drawn taut in the other,

putting pressure on his windpipe.

Now Aliyah had his cock leash as

she kicked his legs more widely

apart. The snakes from the floor

returned, restraining him from ankle

to thigh. He thought he could feel the

flicker of the damn things’ tongues at

the base of his testicles.

“Hush. Tell me a slave’s first

responsibility.” Dona’s grip was

merciless, her nails biting into his

skin. “Tell me the answer, or it will

get much worse.”

He wanted to scream at her to let him

go, but something penetrated his

panic.

Under her merciless hold, one of her

fingertips was playing with the curve

of his ear.

Stroking it in a way that suggested if

he’d had hair, she’d be curling it

around her finger in a soothing,

almost maternal way. When he

managed to glance up at her face, his

own pressed to the bar, he saw it in

her eyes. She would take care of him,

get him through this. He just had to

trust her. He, who hadn’t trusted a

woman since he could barely walk

away from one. Nothing about this

situation suggested that should

change. But as her finger stroked him,

a liquid warmth like baby’s milk

spilled into his chest, down into his

stomach, coating the panic with an

odd reassurance.

Surrender.

“To submit to the Will of his

Mistress.” His body strained

helplessly, his mind resisting the idea

even as his heart fought to take hold

of it. “Because it’s your right to use

me as you wish.”

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Mistress of Redemption

“Yes.”

Why not surrender to her? After all,

she seemed to know everything,

anticipated every potential strategy to

take control before he attempted to

execute it. No, not entirely. She

hadn’t anticipated the words he’d

lashed at her a few moments ago. He

had the power to hurt her. Normally,

that would have made him feel

exultation, knowing he had a

vulnerability to exploit. He wanted to

know her vulnerabilities, didn’t he?

Of course he did. But did he want to

know the pathway to her soul to tear

it apart or to dwell there, instead of

inside himself? Would he find the

sense of security there only hinted at

by that tiny reassuring caress at his

ear?

The left snake that held his nipple

ring released it briefly to rethread

herself through an eyebolt screwed

into the surface of the bar and then

reclamped on his D-ring. He felt the

snake on the right do the same thing,

which allowed Dona to ease her grip

on his neck. He was firmly fastened

to the wood now by his nipple rings.

“I’m afraid, Mistress.” His anger

was accomplishing nothing.

“I know that.” Her lips touched his

spine as he felt the two small tails of

the thing wrap themselves around his

testicles as she’d indicated. Shadows

reflected back at him in the bar

mirror. A large woman with a cruel

face, piglike eyes that narrowed,

calculated, deceived. He

remembered the suffocating smell of

her crotch as she’d pushed his face

into it and crooned.
Such a pretty

boy…

He squeezed his eyes shut, ducked

his head.

“I’m with you.” Dona’s voice.

Even though I walk through the

valley of the shadow of death, I will

fear no evil…
Words he remembered

from a brief time when he thought

religion could provide him a safe

haven. “You’re not real. I can’t

believe in you.”

He made it a statement, but it was a

question, made flat by terror.

“I’m the only thing you have to

believe in,” his Mistress said.

The thick body of the main phallus

slid away from his testicles, moving

between his thighs and up toward its

goal. Its skin felt oily, slick, as if it

secreted lubrication in its fluid skin.

He wondered what department of

Hell was in charge of creating such

fantastical animated instruments of

torture. Shaking under Dona’s touch,

he felt her hands slide down to his

buttocks, caress him.

“Relax for your Mistress.”

As if that would happen with the

vision of what was about to happen

exploding in his head. Dona kissed

the small of his back, near where the

device was. As she had said, those

moist, soft lips, her warm breath and

gentle touch, were his only anchors

amid terror.

I’m the only thing you have to

believe in.

65

Joey W. Hill

Somehow, he had to make himself

unclench. It was going to happen

whether he wanted it to or not. It was

her Will and he didn’t want to fight

it. He wanted to please her.

Closing his eyes, he visualized her

sitting on the bar. Twining her arms

and legs around him, she put her

hands on his hips, catching the belt

loops of his jeans to playfully tug him

closer, rub against his crotch. He’d

kiss her, long and deep, burying his

fingers into her hair as her mouth

opened to him and she took him

inside her in every way he’d ever

wanted to be inside a woman. Ways

he hadn’t remembered wanting until a

red Mercedes came over a hill.

Dona could plant thoughts in the

minds of her assignments, but she

typically wasn’t given the ability to

read their minds in full, vivid detail.

So she knew it was Lucifer’s

diabolical decision that she could

suddenly see these images in

Nathan’s head, feel them. His hands

were on her, cradling her face as they

kissed, his thumbs sweeping up her

throat, his body pushing against her.

Her lower body heated and strained

for his, wanting him to thrust deep

inside her, his breath whispering on

her face, those blue eyes closer than

the promise of Heaven’s tranquil

touch.

He was using a fantasy about her to

obey her commands. It was

impossible not to be aroused by that,