Mistress of Redemption (5 page)

being owned, though you hate it in

yourself as well. Always trying to

pretend it’s something else,

something you can use to your

advantage.”

Dona bent forward, her breasts

pressing against the small of his

back, her abdomen in the stiff corset

brushing against the upper curve of

his spine between his shoulders.

He pushed against the ground when

she touched his buttock with the tip of

her tongue, tasted him with sharp

teeth, bit into the meat of his left

cheek. His cock, uncomfortably

mashed against the ground, hardened

further. All he could think about was

that tight 18

Mistress of Redemption

ass and those thighs on either side of

his head, wondering what it would be

like to turn over on his back and take

a taste between them.

Why not? He
was
stronger than three

women, though of course they’d now

stacked things in their favor by

restraining him. He flipped over,

using those muscles Dona had

admired and caressed. While he

jerked the other women loose with

the motion, he made the turn without

dislodging Dona. It seemed his

Mistress was experienced at riding

broncs. It put his face within access

of that pussy, encased in impervious

material though it was.
Let’s see if

she’s impervious to this.
He reared

up, only to snarl in frustration when

he found there was no slack in the

chain between the back of his collar

and folded arms. He couldn’t rise to

the proper angle without strangling

himself. For a moment it didn’t

matter. He was like a dog with the

scent of a bitch in his nose, his desire

desperate. He kept pulling until the

lack of oxygen penetrated the haze of

lust enough to make him notice that

by tightening her thighs incremental

amounts she was keeping just out of

reach, taunting him.

“Beg for it, Jonathan.” Her lips

moved on his upper thigh, her tongue

playing along the crease between it

and his hip. The women had moved

away as if Dona had waved them off,

so she controlled him with nothing

more than her seductive voice and the

brush of her cheek along his ball sac

and cock, a steel shuttle awaiting

launch.

He’d lose nothing by begging.

Mistresses got soft when you begged.

So why was he finding it hard to

obey, as if he was losing ground

where he hadn’t even gained any yet?

It tore out of him roughly, like a scab

pulled off an unhealed wound.

“Please, Mistress. Let me taste you.”

When she moved back into him, her

ass pressed against his face, the

curves of her buttocks against his

nose. The lips of her cunt were

frustratingly beyond his reach behind

her latex, but they were there. So he

closed his mouth over the stiff fabric,

tracing her with his tongue, using his

teeth for pressure, wishing she’d

worn something more flimsy so he

could rip it away, play his tongue

over her. Feel her body draw tight

along the length of his as he did it. He

knew he could make her thighs clamp

down harder on his head, her breath

pant hot and fast on his cock as she

came.

“Dona.” A sultry voice broke through

his wishful thinking and the rasp of

his breath. When Dona shifted, he

saw the leopard woman stood at his

ankles. Her pubic hair was a smooth

short pelt of gold, her breasts solid

and tempting as grapefruit.

Squatting, she ran a hand over

Dona’s hair, then reached down and

snapped a tether on his cock harness,

giving it a sharp yank so he jumped.

“Let us prepare him for you. He’s

still coated in the filth of that place. I

could smell his prison stench the

moment you drove up.” She wrinkled

her nose.

“She’s not complaining,” he growled

before he could stop himself. The

woman’s gaze rose to him and he

saw she had diamond-shaped pupils

in the bright light. Her lip curled up

to show her canines, the overall

impression so eerily like a cat it

made his blood run a few degrees

cooler, despite all the body

modifications he logically knew

were out there now. Sharpened teeth,

split tongues…

19

Joey W. Hill

Rising off him in one fluid movement,

Dona stood over him, looking down

the length of his body while he stared

up at her. His cock throbbed, his

mouth salivating for more, for

anything she was willing to give him.

His shoulders and arms ached from

the discomfort of lying on them. At

the moment all her expression was

giving him was indifference, making

him wonder if he’d imagined her

thighs quiver as he tongued her, the

wiggle of her ass against his face, the

clutch of her fingers on his thighs.

“Thank you, Fiona. Take him.”

Fiona nodded. Jerking her head at

Nathan, she underscored Dona’s

desire with another sharp tug. He had

a momentary thought to raise his foot

and boot her back on her ass. Except

the bitch likely would hang on to the

harness and tear his dick off.

Fiona’s lips curved as if she sensed

his dour thoughts. “On your feet,

slave. We’re taking you down to the

water.”

20

Mistress of Redemption

Chapter Three

As he struggled to his feet, Dona

pivoted and walked away without

another glance at him. When her arms

rose to loosen her hair, it tumbled

down her back in a way that made

him lose track of time. The ends

whispered along the sleek black

pants that defined the curves of her

ass.

Before he could linger on the image,

his upper arms were taken on either

side by the redhead and the blonde,

their nails biting into his biceps as

they got him to his feet.

Fiona led the way down to the water.

With trepidation, he saw the three

who had played with the cobra

headed their way. The snake was

wound around the arm and looped

low on the bare hips of a woman

with smooth chocolate skin and dark

eyes like Dona’s, only hers had

crimson lashes and the brown irises

reflected red in the sunlight.

Her large breasts were a convenient

platform for another of the cobra’s

coils, his head resting on her

shoulder almost like a baby’s, his

flickering tongue occasionally

brushing her earlobe.

“The snake isn’t coming into the

water with us, is it?” He balked,

despite himself.

Before Fiona could yank on him

again, the redhead’s cool fingers

slipped between his buttocks, teasing

his anus, making him lunge into

forward motion again.

“He’s jumpy and tight, Fiona. You’ll

like that.”

Fiona sent a wicked look over her

shoulder and Nathan curled his lip at

her in a snarl.
In your dreams, bitch.

Though even as he had the thought, he

knew it might be desperate bravado,

for he wasn’t able to prevent them

from doing much in his current

situation.

He could bide his time. In prison,

he’d sacrificed the necessary pound

of flesh to the men who wanted him.

While he’d toughened up his muscles

as Dona had noted, he quickly

learned that becoming stronger and

faster would not save him from being

outnumbered. He was too good-

looking. Too obviously polished and

condescending.

They thought they were giving him a

comeuppance. He was grimly amused

they couldn’t see through the façade

any more than the outside world had.

So he taught them the same lesson

he’d taught countless others who

thought they had the upper hand on

him.

Every person could be blindsided

with his or her weaknesses. With

guile, stealth and the tenacity of a

bulldog, he proved he was willing to

go to great lengths to stage revenge

on those who tortured him. No matter

how often he was beaten or raped, he

made sure the perpetrator suffered

more, whether he did it by planting

the right lies to ensure his tormentor

was knifed by another inmate, or was

sent to Solitary for an infraction he

didn’t commit. Or maybe the prisoner

in question was given the wrong 21

Joey W. Hill

information about his visiting

privileges so he missed his

opportunity to see a girlfriend or

visiting offspring for another long

week.

On top of all that, when Jonathan’s

muscles got tough enough, taking him

down had become much, much

harder. He’d grin through the blood

on his face when the guards caught

him and took him for
his
stint in

Solitary, never showing the clutch in

the pit of his gut at the thought of them

closing the door with its one small

window, leaving him with four close

walls and the sound of their feet

walking away.

Things like that didn’t matter. What

did matter was that he earned the gift

of hatred instead of contempt,

incurring a grudging respect that was

almost gratifying. The attacks had

ended after the first year.

When the women pulled him into the

water, he sucked in a breath. Despite

the fact the oasis had to be in the

center of a desert, the water was cold

as hell as it sloshed around his

calves. Giving him no time to

become accustomed to it, they

dragged him in to his waist. There’d

rarely been a hot shower in prison,

but a spray of cold water was not the

same as immersion in a vat of it. His

nipples beaded up tight, though he

noticed the women, all of them

naked, were not similarly affected.

They seemed as impervious to the

frigid temperature as Dona was to the

heat in her outfit. Fiona reached out

to pinch one of his nubs idly. When

he winced and pulled back, they all

laughed.

“Mariah, take him under and get his

hair wet.”

Mariah was apparently the redhead,

for she stretched up, wrapped her

arms around his neck and shoulders

and covered his lips with hers. He

yelled his surprise into her open

mouth when his feet were yanked out

from under him. Hooking one hand on

the back of his head, the other

pinching his nose, Mariah took him

down, his body weighted and held

fast by two of the other women.

He struggled despite himself, kicked.

His panic increased tenfold when

tendrils of something he couldn’t

immediately identify wound around

his ankles. They pulled his legs apart

firmly and held him. When his eyes

opened and he could see through the

wake he was creating, he saw ropes

of some kind of pond weed were

holding him, though it was hard to

make them out past Mariah’s flowing

hair. Her mouth was wet and hot, her

tongue playfully teasing his as his

breath rasped hard in and out, his

terror making him desperately need

oxygen. Thankfully, the women were

bringing him up to his feet again,

though the organic bindings held his

ankles fast, keeping him immobilized

for their intentions. As he came up,

Mariah let him go and he drew a

deep breath, the only one he got

before a hard rubber ball gag was

shoved in between his teeth and

buckled behind his skull, taking

another defense away from him. He

was starting to shake. The cold, fear

and something else were working

him, something he couldn’t bear to

think about. Where was Dona?

Where the hell—

He found her standing by the water’s

edge, watching. She hadn’t left him to

the mercy of her minions. While he

knew this was all being done at her

behest, for some reason he clung to

that thought as a comfort. The snake

woman was sitting on the bank just

behind her.

22

Mistress of Redemption

“You’re very lucky that Aliyah’s pet

doesn’t like water,” Mariah crooned.

“She can’t resist teasing, particularly

when she smells fear. None of us

can.”

“Olivia, you shave him, we’ll wash

him.” Fiona beckoned to the blonde

with a straight-edged razor and

Olivia took it. As she approached,

Nathan felt Mariah’s hands on his

dick, unbuckling the harness.

Olivia descended, the blade in her

teeth as the waters closed over her

head. “I wouldn’t move a muscle,”

Fiona advised. “Ladies, take him

back.”

“Shit. What the—” The gag muffled

the words, underscoring the futility of