The chains rattle against the hook. Bright pink fuzz circles Emily's bruised wrists. The handcuffs are padded this time, a request after last week's romp under the sheets ended up with split skin and awful bruises.
A ball gag has been wedged into her mouth. Teeth press against the red rubber ball, just large enough to keep her jaws pinned open and her mouth from closing. Her lips are split. Drool runs out of the sides of her mouth, leaving her chin damp. It drips onto the pillows that are beneath her head.
She's on display more than anything. Pinned to the bed spread eagle, stretched out for everyone to see. Black silk ropes are wrapped around her ankles, keeping them pinned to her calves. The floor bites into her bare legs.
Her wrists are cuffed together. A hook has been slipped into the connecting chain. It's attached to the ceiling, dangling from the top of the room. Emily isn't wearing anything, showing off her body for everyone in this bar to look at. Her breasts shake and tremble with every deep breath.
Short brown hair hangs around her face. Emily blinks, lashes brushing against the black silk over her face. She can't see anything. It's unnerving, but it's exciting, too. This is what she loves, what she could never get with Matt.
He was too selfish, too careful. Emily's ex had never wanted to share her. He'd never wanted to take that extra step, go the extra mile.
But Killian?
Killian will do anything for her.
He's said it before, and Emily is certain that the second-in-command of the Horsemen means it. He would never lie, least of all to her.
Killian's a good man.
Emily's thoughts are ripped back into the present when someone cuts off the jukebox. It makes her stomach churn with anticipation and a touch of unease. She tries to speak, but it comes out as a muffled, unintelligible grunt.
Bar isn't the right word. The Lair is more than that. It's a private club that pays their annual taxes in advance, one of the larger tax bills in the county. They pay out countless checks to local charities, enough so all the important groups in town have a positive impression of them. But they show no interest in participating in local affairs, and no one knows much about them.
It's not a place where the Horsemen often come. It's one of Killian's personal haunts. These people here, they are his personal acquaintances, friends, and business partners.
It's an honor to be here with them. Emily would smile if she could. That honor is put into effect when a cock is pressed against Emily's lips. She's resting on the ground with her arms pulled up above her, shoulders twisted.
The gag is unhooked. Emily opens her mouth without hesitation. The cock is thick but short. Even when her nose is pressed into the man's groin, it doesn't slip into her throat. All the same, the man seems content. His grunts and groans fill the air as he fucks her mouth. A hand presses against the back of Emily's face, fingers tangling in her hair, keeping her still.
In this situation, the control is completely stripped from Emily. It's the liberation that she needs, the freedom she can't get in her everyday life.
Hands are on her elsewhere. Fingers play at her nipples, causing her to gasp. More digits slide under her legs and began to play with her wet cunt, and she moans. Lips kiss down her bare back to her bottom, and she groans in excitement as the unknown lover presses his face into her cunt from behind, lapping at her pussy.
Hands behind her want more; she feels someone scrabbling at her back, at her hips. The position keeps her from moving at all, but it also makes her more difficult to access.
“Fuck her, guys. Make her feel it.”
“Great tits, crazy swinging.”
“Gag her throat!”
“Stretch her pussy!”
Emily isn't the only woman in here like this. That's the pride of this club, in a way. It's the reason why so many people come here. She is, however, the only one that doesn't charge.
Killian doesn't want to slander her body by charging a renter's fee.
He loves her too much for that. And maybe it's a warped way to think, but it's a mindset that works well for Emily.
The man in front of her groans, his cock shooting hot cum down Emily's mouth. He might not be particularly well-endowed as far as length is concerned, but his balls must be massive. It seems endless—spurt after spurt of semen flooding into Emily's mouth until she can't swallow any more, until she's gagging and sputtering about the weight laying over her tongue.
“We're moving her,” grunts someone. “I can't reach shit like this.”
Emily doesn't want to be moved, but the gag is shoved back in her mouth. It's hooked tighter than it had been before, tight enough that it's not horribly comfortable. But then she's being lifted up by the waist and the black silk strips around her ankles are being pulled away.
A cock lines up with her pussy. Hands keep her supported. The man plunges in with a low moan. He buries himself into her forcefully, fully. Her channel is slick—wet with lube applied earlier in the night—and offers little resistance, but the suddenness of his invasion takes her breath away.
Two other men hold her legs apart, each with a grip under her knees. Hands hold onto her waist. The man waits, just for a moment, and then starts fucking Emily in earnest. It's a powerful, artless rhythm which makes her gasp and sigh.
On the other side of the bar, Killian sips at his whiskey and pays the woman no mind. No matter what Emily thinks, there's no real love between them. Killian is the second-in-command of the Horsemen, a motorcycle club that is struggling to keep its head above water.
He also happens to be the former best friend of Matthew; a man currently on the front page of the Enquirer.
The image is grainy, but it's in full color. The Princess of Vertsea is standing nude before her dresser, with the Queen grabbing hold of her wrist. Matt sits on the bed, naked save a blanket draped about his waist.
Both Matt and the Princess look thoroughly fucked.
It makes Killian's stomach churn. He is so pissed off, the very thought of Matt getting with someone so high class making his head spin.
This isn't the first time Killian has seen them together, of course. He's tried already to disrupt their little romp, but the princess had been surprisingly unwilling to sleep with him.
I already have a boyfriend, she had said. At the time, Killian had thought it was just the ramblings of a nervous woman.
Now, though, Killian knows otherwise. Now, he can tell the young Princess of Vertsea is coming to mean much more to Matt.
It's clear from the pictures. There's love in her eyes, confusion and fear in Matt's.
“Well,” says Killian, “this is proving to be very interesting.”
A man laughs. Emily moans, loud even with the gag in place.
Killian ignores her and the men enjoying her body. Instead, he pulls a phone from his pocket and dials a number. “Kenny? I have a favor to ask you. No, it's not something anyone else can do. Yes. Yes, that's exactly it. You always know what I'm thinking, Kenny. A pal, surely.”