Wrecked (The Blackened Window) (26 page)

“What the fuck?” Leda barked her surprise at me. Seraphim laughed, loudly, knowing where I was going.

I didn’t look at Leda, only guided her hips back down to the floor, as I murmured a condescending, “Shhhh,” and shook my head. “You’re going to help, little girl.”

She settled back to the floor, watching me. I breathed deeply and looked back at her, feeling the moisture in her panties against my palm. “You’re getting wet watching this, aren’t you? Still green?”

Her brow furrowed a little. “Yes, green. But, is she okay? She seems like maybe she wants to stop.”

The slave-girl was lost in a sensation haze…maybe to subspace. “She knows her safeword. She has yet to use it.” I said it dismissively, then added, “I don’t even think I’m pushing her that hard. She seems like a pain slut.” I stood up and walked back to the table, without looking back.

I crouched back at A’s head and said, “How are you doing? Do you need a break?” She just shook her head, and I added, growling the menace in my chest, “I’m gonna fucking hurt you now. I’m not interested in your whining. You want that gag?”

She nodded, eyes locked with mine, begging me for more. I jammed Leda’s panties in her mouth and a little shock then amusement ran through her eyes.

Seraphim joined us, smiling. “Lovely.”

“What is her safe sign?” I asked.

“I brought it.” She wrapped a small elastic with a bell around her wrist. “She’ll ring it if she needs to you stop.”

I stepped back and picked up the candle, that now had a nice pool of melted wax. Without preamble, I poured the wax on her, across her body, to her mound. She threw her head back and arced off the table, scream muffled by the gag.
Goddamn, that’s nice.

I was peripherally aware of Christy, mostly naked, sinking to the ground next to Leda. They leaned together, talking. Seraphim reached for her slave’s pussy and her moans changed to something tortured and lusty, deep and nearly feline. I switched back to the cane and started pelting her body. She writhed in her restraints, crying and moaning. My focus narrowed to her body moving under my ministrations. Seraphim’s laughter, the few people watching us, even Leda—they were all peripheral. It was only this girl and me and her acceptance of my pain.

It was just a moment, but those were the moments that cleansed me. Seraphim’s voice brought me back, brought the world back.

“Xander, where have you been?” She said it conversationally, as she pumped her fingers in the slave’s pussy.

“You know,” I answered, equally nonchalant. “Been busy.” I continued caning her body, thinking about Leda so close to me. A moved and moaned, alternately pushing into us and recoiling from us.

Even though Seraphim and I may have looked bored, neither of us was anything other than one hundred percent focused, constantly gauging our shared sub’s response to our treatment. I took my lead from Seraphim, but the girl seemed to be on the edge of coming. My mind flashed to Leda’s face when she came, eyes closed and head thrown back.

Seraphim’s slave snapped her hips, bucking off the table and Seraphim and I both laughed. I asked, waving in the direction of A’s pussy, “Want me to take care of that?”

The wicked gleam in Seraphim’s eyes made me smile and she stepped away from the table. I caned her pussy three or four times and she screamed.

I shifted around the table so I was at her head, and muttered, “Shut up,” as I pressed my dick into her face, while I kept caning her pussy.

Seraphim stood at her knee, laughing, almost bouncing on her toes with pleasure. While I struck, the girl kept screaming, but also pushed her face against me, like a cat looking for a snuggle. In a different situation, I might have thought about unzipping my pants and fucking her face, but I didn’t want her. I wanted Leda. I flashed to Leda stretched out in front of me, and it was a jolt. I stopped caning A’s pussy.

The moment I stepped back a bit, Seraphim slammed her fingers into her, nearly fisting her. Her cunt left a pool on the leather under her ass. She was getting tighter in her restraints, her neck muscles cording against the binding. She shifted her hips up, moaning hard. Her eyes squeezed tight and she bit down on Leda’s panties. Her sounds got less and less human and she moved in rhythm with Seraphim.

Seraphim was focused on her girl, watching for a signal of some sort. When it happened, Seraphim face shifted in malice and she stopped fucking her. She stretched her own body across the girl-thing’s tortured form and slapped the fuck out of her face. A’s eyes flew open, with a low moan, as if she hadn’t expected anything less than that.

Seraphim sneered. “You stupid cunt. You haven’t earned it yet. Flip over. We’ve only gotten the front half of you.” She reached under the table and pulled the quick release knot, yanking back so the rope slithered off her body, but she didn’t move.

I crouched back at her head. She panted, gaze hazy. I spoke in her ear, “Time to move. I’m not done with you.” She didn’t move, and I felt the dark surge in me. “Move your ass, cunt.” She still hadn’t even flinched. “Or not—I don’t give a shit how much you make me hurt you.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Leda

The Piano Guys,
Moonlight

Everything rushed at me, slow and fast at once. Christy sucked a breath in and grabbed my hand. The degree of change in Xander was shocking. This was so far beyond the little slap-and-tickle games he had been teaching me, and that realization hit me hard, square in the chest. What had been so earth-quaking for me had barely registered on his personal kink Richter scale.

Everything up till now had been his slow way of indoctrinating me into this—to his darkness, the depths of his depravity. Even the first sensual space Christy had taken me to—a room with couches and pillows strewn about, people in varying states of undress mingled together. That had been almost peaceful.

This was not peaceful. This was my
boyfriend
torturing someone in a room full of people torturing other people.

Mistress Seraphim’s slave flipped, draping her body on the table, flat on her stomach, face turned so she was looking to the side and her hips bent over edge. She was tear-stained, but not suffering, only acceptant. After a moment of staring directly at me, she registered that she was looking at me, and she took a deep breath, smiling. Her gratitude crossed the space between us.

I contemplated that. Despite what this looked like, she was at peace, grateful even.
What was it like to be so surrendered, to be at peace?

Jason found us, breaking me out of my contemplation. He squatted and said, with a laugh, “Why the fuck are my peeps sitting on the floor in my club?”

“This is where Xander put me so I’m not moving.” I said it with a smile, but I think my unease was palpable. Christy laughed and stood to kiss her boyfriend. She whispered in his ear, likely recounting the recent exchange and they sat back down with me.

“It’s been a really long time since he’s let himself go like this. I think he thought he could just shut it off in med school or something.”

Jason said it as a sort of apology. I was about to respond, but my words were cut off by a loud smack.

Xander was using Mistress Seraphim’s paddle on the girl—her ass and the back of her thighs. A single smack echoed through the room and she moaned, the sound half agony, half rapture. But then she wiggled her ass at him and giggled, her body jiggling some with her laugh.
Jesus
Christ
, this girl is taunting him
.

She twisted her neck to look over her shoulder at him. He looked back at her with the same disbelief I felt, but then he laughed. Mistress Seraphim stalked up to the head of the table and yelled at her, while Xander pulled his shirt off. His torso glistened with sweat and his laugh still crinkled around his eyes. Christy and Jason both looked at me to see my reaction, then back to the small show. I knew my face was agape, just shocked. I wondered if it was getting out of control, but…
Xander needs this, right? Does he really need this?

I took a deep steadying breath and tilted my head back against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment. When I opened my eyes and looked around, a small crowd of people had gathered, a surreal assortment of leather and status.

Xander took a homerun swing at her ass with the paddle and she screamed, loud enough that most of the other noise in the play-space silenced for a moment as people looked to see what was happening. He started fucking with her, varying the speed and intensity of the paddling. He’d start with a medium intensity and pace then occasionally hit her so hard her whole body jerked on the table. After a few moments, he paused and she braced for another, but he just tapped her lightly and laughed.

He rubbed his hand over her ass, squeezing the bruised and welted skin. Her body was completely slack, completely conquered, completely accepting. Mistress Seraphim squatted at her head, speaking to her in a steady stream. I couldn’t tell if it was encouragement or invectives at this point. A tried to lift her head and chest off the table and Xander pushed her back down on the table with a hand between her shoulder blades. He leaned over her quaking body, and said something in her ear. She raised her arms up to the top of the table, over her head as he stood and walked away for a moment. Seraphim grabbed them, pulling her tight.

He came back with a flogger and whipped it along her sides, getting the tender skin of her underarm, the sides of her breasts and her waist. She panted and shook. A heavy feeling settled in my stomach.

This may be too much. I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t do this.

Mistress Seraphim held a hand up to stop Xander, telling her slave to flip. Interestingly, she moved with speed to follow her Mistress’s commands now. Seraphim’s face melted into a beautiful smile and she murmured something as she yanked my panties out of A’s mouth, tossing them aside. She unzipped a hidden zipper in her BDSM-fanstasy get-up. It went from the front to her ass, effectively granting access to her pussy. She climbed on the table and lowered herself onto her slave’s face. The girl’s jaw and neck flexed as she licked against Seraphim’s grinding. The Mistress grabbed the flogger out of Xander’s hand and started fucking her girl with the handle. He stepped back, hands in the air, but smiling.

But he didn’t move away. He just stood right there, watching them. When the slave started arching her hips up, he pressed his hands on her hips, holding her down so Mistress Seraphim could continue fucking her. The Mistress’ breath started coming in pants.

Seraphim came almost silently and slipped her legs back off the table. She stepped to the side of the table, so she could continue fucking her slave and whisper in her ear at the same time. I could see her lips moving in a rushed murmur, telling her to wait, to hold it in, wait, not yet. A’s body was shaking and her eyes were closed tight. She panted and murmured back to her Mistress, begging to come. Seraphim smiled and told her slave to come. She immediately obeyed, pussy spasming as Seraphim slapped at her clit a few times for good measure.

Xander stepped back, brushing his damp hair back off his forehead. A took several deep breaths and sat up, waves of pleasure still quaking through her. She was tear-stained, wax cracking over her hatch-marked skin, but still had a dreamy smile on her face.

Seraphim stepped to the table and gently ran her hand up her sub’s back to her hair and whispered something in her ear. A gracefully slipped off the edge of the table and crawled to Xander. At his feet, she sat back on her knees and looked up at him, offering herself, the spreader bar still holding her knees apart, her pussy completely visible. The muscles of his torso bulged and tightened, but he only reached out to pet her hair a few times, shaking his head, with a somewhat regretful smile on his face.

Her eyes now downcast, I read her lips as she said, “Thank you, Sir.”

As he stepped back, a few of the on-lookers clapped, which sort of took me by surprise. He looked up, smiled and acknowledged the audience for a small moment. Then, he turned his heated gaze on me and crossed the distance between us. He yanked me up, kissing me, flattening me against the wall. He reached under my ass and hitched me up and I wrapped my legs around him. His Dom-adrenaline rippled off him and he seemed almost mindless.

I pushed him back just the slightest amount. “Hey, Boss.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Xander

Maroon 5,
Animals

Her voice was soft, sweet, sounded like heaven, and made me need her more. My brain was in overdrive, but the term of endearment she had assigned me was the clearest sign that she still wanted me.

“I need to be in you.” My voice was harsh, hoarse and gravelly. I opened my attention to my peripheral vision, focusing on Jason. “Jason. Office keys?” I held my hand out, knowing that Jason knew what I wanted and why. He dropped them in my hand, wordlessly, his face was solemn and I pushed aside the thought that he might not have been pleased with me. Didn’t care in that moment.

I dropped Leda’s legs to the ground and turned, yanking her with me by her wrist. I didn’t care if it hurt a little, didn’t care how it looked to anyone else. We crossed the dungeon, through the foyer, up the back steps. She didn’t speak, but her breath came fast. In the loft, I pulled her with me, along the back wall until the office door knob was in my hand.

I opened the door, pulling her in behind me, turning and shoving her down on the couch. The latch of the door clicked and I felt victorious, like I had trapped her. I wanted to be balls deep in her immediately, but loved the anticipation too much to just dive in.

“Come here, little girl.” It was a command, only meaning make yourself available and open to me. She was under me on the couch and I couldn’t get enough of touching her. I dropped my mouth on her legs, pushing her knees up, bending her in half so I could lick the back of her thighs. I held her in place with my shoulders, stretching back up to kiss her face, bite her neck, as I unzipped my leathers. I pulled my cock out and found her pussy like it was my home. I shifted her legs around me as I entered her. Her gasp was a reward, sending neurotransmitters singing through my brain.