My fingers twitch.
Legs bounce.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins and endorphins begin to cloud my judgement.
In hindsight, I should be afraid. Deathly afraid for Jamie, Noah, and myself.
But I’m not.
Instead, I’m inching just a bit closer to the object of my desire. Time stands still and all around me I feel his dominating presence. That animalistic pheromone he oozes from every toned limb.
“I didn’t say you could move, Ivy. Sit still or Jamie will receive another cut. Use that pea-sized brain of yours for once and behave.” At her insult, Noah let’s out a string of curses almost too low for me to hear. But I pick up on the fucking cunt quite clear and I’m afraid she will too. That they’ll punish Jamie.
“Something to say, Noah? Speak up. Don’t be a pussy.” She’s taunting him, but I clap my hands once to garner his attention.
Heavy-lidded eyes meet mine, filled with hunger and fury. “What, love?” His tone is angry. The thin thread of patience has run out and his barely controlled emotions are mounting.
And fuck me if a rush of wetness doesn’t coat my inner thighs at this.
I can’t talk. A desperate moan sits heavy on my tongue, so I shake my head instead and pray he picks up on my silent demand.
He blinks twice and I reciprocate. We’re okay. In this together.
“Answer me when I speak to you, Noah.”
“I’m fine.” His chest expands with a deep inhale and I bite my lip. Right now isn’t the right time to want him like this.
But I do, and I’m not foolish enough to believe that this manic desire stems from the drugs alone. They only serve to heighten the fervor.
“Just bloody high as fuck,” he adds.
Heat curls inside me.
My pussy clenches almost violently at his use of the word fuck. The deep timbre of his voice violates my senses—desecrates my rational thought.
“Oh, God,” I whimper out and my limbs contract. This is worse than before. The dosage more potent and I breathe in deep—try to focus on anything other than this urge to have Noah take me.
Claim me.
Break me into a million and one pieces only to put me back together again.
“Don’t move. Don’t breath. Don’t force my hand.” Her obnoxious giggles flow through the speakers and I fidget in place. The sound might be a bit doctored—synthesized to throw me off—but I recall the braying laugh of this donkey.
“Please stop, Ivy. Baby, just sit still,” Noah spits from between clenched teeth and I stop the subtle shifts of my hips, but it’s not quick enough and the pained groan that comes next pulls me from my train of thought.
“So entertaining to watch, pets.”
“Could care less at the moment.” His filter is gone, she knows this, and yet the shrill cry of pain that follows doesn’t surprise me.
No matter what we do, we can’t win with this bitch.
I force my eyes toward Jamie and see another cut, this one at the top of her foot. From ankle to her middle toe.
“. . . the audience won’t like the outcome.” I miss what she says before that, my brain still trying to process what’s in front of me. My options. That satanic lullaby our captor likes to play on and off is turned up. The heavy guitar riffs flow through me and the bass caresses my senses. It’s louder than it’s ever been. “Is it hard for you, Ivy? Having something you want so close and yet out of reach. No one here to hand over your every whim?”
Movement beside me catches my attention and I stupidly look over. Big mistake. Monu-fucking-mental mistake.
Fist clenching on his thighs, Noah’s cock stands hard and painful. A beautiful drop of pre-cum pools at the tip. Glistens over his pierced head.
My mouth waters and I swallow hard.
“Stop looking, love.” Agony colors his groan and I scoot away. It’s the sole way to prevent Clarice from placing another cut on Jamie’s skin.
“Stay in your place, whore. I’ll let you two play soon enough.”
All I can do is nod.
My eyes stray toward Noah again and land on his hooded ones. Same ones that are fucking me without touch.
It’s sensorial.
Emotional.
All-consuming and my thighs flex tight, trying like hell to find an inch of relief.
“To hell with this,” he all but snarls, but before he can touch me, the ceiling parts and something I quite can’t make out lowers.
At first, all I see is a contraption of some sort come down. Then straps. It’s made of leather and some other type of material I can’t make out quite yet.
Reminds me of the hanging chairs I had in my room as a child.
The kind you sit and . . . oh fuck, it’s a swing. Not just any kind.
A sex swing.
“Baby,” Noah’s voice breaks through my mini freak out. His hands cup my face and turn me away from the contraption. “Keep your attention on me. Focus on me.”
My shaking hands cover his. “Promise, I’m okay.”
Part of me is embarrassed to admit that my nerves come from perverse curiosity. That while a large part of my brain is shooting off code red sensors throughout my body, that small section that controls pleasure is choking me into submission.
“Stand and face the wall. You should know by now which one holds the key to our little games.”
Noah drops his hands from my face and extends one out to help me stand. I take it and rise, all the while fighting like hell to not look over.
Side by side we wait, his hand in mine. Together.
Neither says or asks questions.
“Clarice?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“Remove Jamie’s gag. I’d like to hear her if needed.” The devilish doll follows her master’s orders and cuts the cover from my friend’s mouth. She nips her lips with the knife in the process and this time Jamie doesn’t hold back.
“You fucking bitch!” She thrashes, body almost convulsing in her binds. “The moment I escape, I’m killing you. Cut you up and feed you to my dog.”
“Feisty. Isn’t she, Raoul?”
His reply is an unintelligible grunt that makes his companion in the room giggle. Clarice tosses her rusty knife at him and he catches the blade and closes his fist around it. Cuts his wrist, right where his glove ends, and they both watch the blood drip.
It splatters at his feet.
And then on the next breath, he is moving. Two steps forward and he is beside Jamie, knife and hand extended out. With care, Raoul lays the dagger at the juncture of her neck and then caresses her face with his bleeding hand.
Smears his blood across her cheek.
Tilting his head to the side, he admires his work. “Pretty.”
Jamie’s expression is of horror struck fear. Her chest heaves. Her mouth parts on a silent scream.
The room explodes in applause and my euphoric high threatens to make me sick.
“Breath, love. I need you here with me.” Noah’s warm breath fans the side of my neck and whiplash settles in. From fear to want. I’m confused, horny . . . scared all in one breath. “At the very least he didn’t cut her.”
Which is true. Raoul marked her, but not with the knife.
“Seems someone has taken a liking to your old friend, Ivy. How interesting.” As she says this, the wall slides open and I close my eyes.
I know what is behind it.
Jamie bound and bleeding.
“You’ve got to be kidding me with this shite.”
At the surprise in his tone, I peek and wish I hadn’t. “No. No . . . fuck and no.”
“You should not be hostile toward those that are responsible for your precious Ivy being alive. Thank them.”
It’s a theater. Opulent with deep red curtains, velvet couches and a few arm chairs strategically placed to watch the show. People—about fifty of them make up the audience.
And they’re naked.
Bare, except for the black masks that adorn the upper portion of their faces.
Drinks in hand, they watch us. Touch each other. Silently ask for more of us.
“Thank you,” I whisper past the lump in my throat and she laughs again. Those seated inside the room hold up their glasses in acknowledgement.
“Very good, pet.” Each time she praises me, it’s like a slap in the face. “Now, Noah, don’t be difficult and situate our girl here in those straps. I want her in that swing and legs spread within the next few minutes.”
“Do it. It’s okay.” There’s apprehension in his eyes, but a touch of excitement buried beneath. Maybe we’re as sick as them for wanting these small moments of respite. Find solace in each other and drown out the room around us.
“Trust me?” Noah asks.
“Always,” I breathe out and raise up onto the tips of my toes to kiss his chin. My arms find purchase around his neck, fingers playing with the strands of hair at the nape. “Love you.”
“Always,” Noah repeats my earlier answer and lifts me up. With his hands on my hips, he walks toward the swing and places me on the seat, the leather cold against my flushed skin. “Lay back.”
Immediately, a flare of want rushes up my spine. The yo-yoing emotions have kept me alert, but right now all I feel is him. He bucks his hip and the thick ridge of his dick grazes my inner thigh.
The cool material feels amazing and I sigh. “I feel so out of control, Noah. One minute scared, and the next, you’re all I can think about. I’m owned by you.”
“Love—”
“Make no mistake, my pets. I own you. Your last breath is mine.”
“Focus on me,” Noah continues to speak as if her threat didn’t just happen. With one hand, he pushes me further back and my head now rests on a padded pillow attached to the swing’s body.
I’m suspended. Bare. At his mercy.
Warm fingers trail up my calves and I close my eyes. Give into his touch.
Slow, he raises my right leg and places it in the stirrup attached. Then the other.
My thighs part of their own accord and the cold air meets my sensitive lips. The small hairs on my body stand on end; I arch my back, nipples hard and seeking relief.
“Jesus, babe . . .” Heat licks up my limbs, from the bottom of my feet to the center of my core. It hits me out of nowhere, full force. The mild throb from a mere few minutes ago is now a raging inferno and I buck my hips in offering. “What’s happening to me?”
“You want me, doll. This sweet, little pussy is seeking my cock,” he growls out and presses forward once more. Noah’s right there. As desperate as I am.
The blunt head parts my labia and I hiss out a low curse.
A tiny flex and the head enters me, his piercing rubbing along my opening.
“Stop.” We freeze and the audience murmurs its disapproval. Along the wall, a square slides open and a tray appears. From my vantage point all I see is the silver of the tray, but not what’s in it.
Jesus, I hope it’s not another dose.
I’m still at the height of this one and losing control of my focus. One second lucid, and the other, morbid in my enjoyment of Noah.
“Walk over to it, Noah. You have a choice of two items that must be used.” My man doesn’t move and she tsks. “Do it, or I’ll choose for you.”
With a slow caress across my chest that leaves me whimpering, he walks away and toward the items. Back to me, he shivers and fear runs through my veins. How bad can it be?
“Are you serious?” he asks; there’s a tinge of anger mixed with longing there.
“Dead serious. Pick.”
Noah picks and turns to face me once more, items in his hand.
I look and then gulp. A butt plug and some kind of small pinwheel.
Oh God.