What She Needs (21 page)

And all the blood drained from Jenna’s face.

The second Zack knelt before her, she instinctively snapped her thighs shut. Because that
couldn’t
go inside her. It was too strange. Invasive in a whole new way. Brent was pushing her too far.

But the defensive closing of her legs brought him instantly to his feet—he looked like an angry god, fury blazing in his gray eyes.
“Do you want to be flogged, slave? The hard way? If not, spread your legs—now!”

The threat silenced the room—the couples having sex went still as Jenna’s whole body tensed.

Could she? Do this?

Despite herself, her pussy ached for more attention.

But . . . this kind?

“Do it!” Brent demanded, and their eyes met.

And she knew she had two choices. Say her safeword—or part her legs.

Slowly, she spread her thighs, again making her pussy available for viewing—and fucking.

Still kneeling before her, Zack moved closer and lifted the glass tool, gently sliding the shockingly unyielding tip up and down against her folds—letting her get used to it, she realized. It was so amazingly hard, with no give or flexibility, that it scared her. So she held very still, focusing on the Z on his arm as he inserted the head—making her let out a small noise—then slid it deeper.

But the
truly
horrifying part, it turned out, was how her excitement escalated with the glass toy inside her. Watching it move in and out was . . . amazing. Inside the walls of her cunt, the head was so unforgiv ingly rigid, rubbing against her with each gentle stroke, that she almost thought she could come without clitoral stimulation. She heard her own breath as she drew it in, let it back out, awash in astonishing pleasure.

Zack began to whisper to her, too low for Brent to hear. “What a hot, wet pussy,” he breathed, peering up at her with dark, seductive eyes. “I love watching the glass glide in and out of your pretty pink flesh. Mmm, I bet it’s warm in there. I bet it’s fucking
hot
. I wish I could slide my cock in and find out.” And like everything else happening in the dungeon, Jenna wanted to be appalled, but instead she was involuntarily aroused. God, maybe Brent was right. Maybe dirty talk
did
turn her on.

Without quite meaning to, she began to lift her pelvis ever so slightly toward the inward thrusts Zack delivered.

“That’s much better, slave,” Brent said from his throne.

Then, casting a mischievous smile Brent still couldn’t see, Zack leaned forward, bit down on the chain dangling between her nipples, and gave a slight pull.

And, oh God—what a hot burst of pleasure/pain! She moaned. Met his gaze. Felt they shared some sort of obscene secret now.

“Jason, Decker, go watch the new slave take the glass cock,” Brent said.

So Jenna lifted her gaze to see two more men exit the shadows and head her way, both sporting dark hair and muscles. The one who’d responded to the name Jason wore his hair short and looked like a tough guy, and Decker was . . . a more devilish version of Brent himself—midthirties, but with slightly longer hair, curling at the ends, and a goatee. Both dripped with an undeniable sexual energy she felt. Or—who knew—maybe it was just the glass dildo in her cunt skewing her thoughts, turning every sight, every person, into something lust-worthy.

“Jason, kneel on one side of her—Decker on the other,” Brent instructed. “Then suck her tits. But don’t suck the rings off—I want those left on.”

Oh shit. Three guys at once? Doing unthinkably intimate things to her?

Maybe, all things considered, it was no more shocking than anything else she’d done, but it felt that way. Three. All strangers. She suffered the urge to cover her breasts, but of course, her arms were chained to the wall. She drew in her breath, suddenly feeling vulnerable again, more than at any point so far.

Damn it. Should she do this? Or should she end the madness and say Susan B. Anthony, once and for all?

But she couldn’t think straight because Brent had sensed her reaction and was back on his feet, pinning her in place with his gaze from across the room. “Remember the flogger, slave. What I give you, you take. Now take it!”

But her pussy throbbed with pleasure, even amid her fear and indecision. Her breasts ached. And when she envisioned what Brent wanted to see—three guys pleasuring her at once . . . oh God—was she crazy? Wicked? More sinful than she could have imagined? Because despite her trepidation, a part of her wanted it. Wanted to see it. Wanted to feel it. Wanted to be that dirty, that brazen.

So she said nothing. Just took a deep breath, looked briefly from Jason to Decker, then faced forward, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back. With her arms still outstretched, she surrendered—crucifying herself in a whole new way.

Her breath caught at the first new sensation—a light chafing of whiskers against the flesh of her breast, then a wet tongue flicking over her nipple. Her pussy spasmed, and she let out a moan when Zack chose that exact second to begin moving the glass toy again.

Next came a warm breath on her other breast, then a light nibble on the peak that made her sob.
Jesus God, the pleasure.
Already, it was nearly unbearable.

And then they did what Brent had told them to—each man began to suckle her in earnest. Gently, she noticed, so as not to dislodge the rings and chain, but the sensations still stretched through her like taut rubber-bands connected directly to her clit.

She opened her eyes to watch then. And, mmm, the sight was positively obscene. She
was
the porn movie now. The porn
queen
.

It was unbelievable to realize she was being so deeply pleasured by three total strangers. Yet she had no choice but to finally let herself sink into it—the sensations were too powerful not to. She had to do what Serena had advised: Enjoy this. She had to take the pleasure Brent always promised—and always delivered. Would she prefer it come from him? Yes. But he was watching, just like last night, and moving closer to her now, and somehow that was the next best thing. She wanted to be hot for him, nasty for him, wanted to be what he wanted to make of her—a submissive slave.

She no longer made any effort to squelch her moans, letting them flow forth at will. It was like exhaling after holding her breath—the whole new level of freedom she’d just given herself increased her pleasure still more. “God—oh God!” she heard herself cry.

Her only frustration was that her clit got no attention. And it
needed
some—badly.

And then, Brent—only a few feet away now—said, “Zack—remove the dildo and fuck the slave.”

Oh Lord. Oh no.

Just like a few minutes ago—despite all her pleasure, the command froze something inside her. Maybe it made no difference at this point—a guy’s real cock versus a fake one—but to Jenna, it was an enormous leap. Zack remained a stranger, and it was one thing to do all this other stuff, but to be
penetrated by another guy, someone other than Brent—
the very idea made her panic. Brent kept pushing her tonight, further and further, too far too fast, and she’d just reached her breaking point.

When Zack smoothly extracted the glass toy, time seemed short, so without a plan, Jenna cried, “No! I can’t!”

Like before, everyone in the room went still and she could have sworn she heard her own heartbeat.

Clearly enraged, Brent took a step closer. “You dare defy me, slave?”

Lips trembling now, Jenna peered up at him, trying to figure out her next move.

Brent had always brought her pleasure and maybe this would be the same; maybe she should apologize and let this happen. Based on everything that had taken place in this room so far, she’d probably be screaming in ecstasy soon if she went along with his demands.

But he
had
pushed her
so
very far tonight. And as she met his gaze, her disobedience became about more than protesting sex with Zack. There was a part of her—a dark part, perhaps brought to life just tonight, since arriving in the dungeon—that wondered what would happen if she
did
defy him.

“Yes, I dare defy you,” she said recklessly, then added sarcastically, “
master
.”

He narrowed his gaze on her, his silence forcing her to recognize the obvious fact that hung between them—she was openly defying him, but she wasn’t saying the safeword. She wasn’t . . . ending this. Even
she
knew it was a challenge. To see what he’d do. Would he dish out
real
punishment? He wouldn’t
really
hurt her, would he? Serena had said no one would. Yet her heart pounded violently as that new, darker part of her waited to see what happened next.

Finally, Brent’s expression hardened even further and he sounded angrier than ever.
“You refuse to be fucked? Fine then—that wet, hungry pussy will not be fucked.”

It wasn’t what he’d said so much as his tone that made Jenna’s blood run cold. He’d sounded so heartless—as if her insolence had crushed any bit of kindness he’d held for her tonight.

“But you
will
be punished.
Ruthlessly
,” he said with just as much ran-cor. “Zack—attach the clit chain to her.”

She sucked in her breath. Oh God—what the hell was a clit chain? How much would it hurt? Was it too late for the safeword? But when Zack left and returned quickly, she saw that what he carried didn’t appear as frightening as it sounded. Thank God.

Her legs remained parted—they’d been that way so long they’d simply stayed in the position without thought—and now no one touched her, but the other guys in Brent’s command knelt around her, watching as Zack closed a small clip over her swollen clitoris, from which hung a short, thin chain, black beads dangling from the end. It was like the nipple rings and chain: sexual jewelry.

The pinch of the clip was so light that it inflicted no pain . . . just a certain pressure. Which increased her need for release almost immediately. She felt her features scrunching slightly as she tried to get used to it. And she quickly figured out that—damn it—it was more than mere jewelry. It was a torture device. It was like a horrible itch that couldn’t be scratched—inflicting a constant, gnawing need.

“Decker, Jason—release the slave’s arms, but don’t let her have use of them. Zack, grab a strip of leather and tie them behind her back.”

Being a sex slave had already felt surreal, but it was now that the term took on a whole new meaning. Feeling completely at Brent’s mercy, she was so caught up in everything happening to her that she forgot the safeword existed altogether. It was as if challenging him had stripped away her last bits of courage and independence and now she was lost to the situation she’d created, left to suffer the consequences.

“Now tie her to the kneeling rail,” Brent said.

W
hen Jason and Decker pulled her to her heels, she almost thought she’d faint. She could barely walk, fearing whatever apparatus they’d chosen to call by a religious name, having no idea what would happen next. A minute ago, she’d wanted to know. But now she wasn’t so sure—she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t reason.

A slight bit of relief echoed through her when they approached a simple piece of furniture, the main surfaces padded in black leather. She was put on her knees on a small steplike platform approximately a foot off the floor and her torso bent forward over a larger slanted surface. Her bared breasts, complete with chain, protruded over the top.

Brent had said she was to be tied, so it didn’t surprise her when Zack and Decker pulled connected leather straps from beneath the padding where her stomach rested. One was stretched across the backs of her upper arms where they’d been pulled behind her, and another was drawn tight across her waist, under her tethered wrists but over her corset. Bondage, she thought. Maybe if she’d been a good slave, the only bondage she’d have suffered would have been the chains on the wall, but now she was learning about being restrained in a whole new, utterly subduing way.

Gathering the courage to look around her, she realized Serena and Gabe no longer occupied the nearby horse, and judging from the lack of moans and groans in the dungeon, she was back to being the main event.

As a large, warm body leaned over her from behind, Brent’s voice came low near her ear. “Unfortunately for you, now you must endure the rougher use of the flogger.” His erection nestled at her ass, and despite herself, she longed for it, inside her. Her clit ached maddeningly.

Then his warmth was gone—and the next sensation was a stinging blow on her bare ass that made her cry out. But it also vibrated through her breasts and cunt, like a harsh echo.

A second lash from the leather flogger delivered yet another stinging sensation—even while, oh God, somehow heightening the arousal in other parts of her body. It was like when Serena had pulled on the nipple chain, delivering pleasure and pain at once—but now it came on a much more consuming level.

She clenched her teeth, preparing for the next blow—which hurt but simultaneously dispensed that strange, permeating pleasure, a heat that moved all through her, stretching down through her fishnet-covered thighs and up through the small of her back. As she flinched against the bands strapping her to the kneeling rail, somehow even
that
brought a hint of unexpected excitement.

Again and again, Brent brought the leather flogger down on her flesh, allocating the snapping lashes to one side of her bottom for several blows, then switching to the other. As she suffered the nearly paralyzing sensations spreading through her being, she wondered if her skin there was turning red. She sobbed, as much from pleasure as from pain—all of it soon drowning out thoughts and leaving only reactions. “Oh!” she cried out. “Oh God! God!” And once she even heard herself yell, “Please!” but she didn’t even know what she was begging for: more, or less; to be fucked, or freed.