“You do not speak unless spoken to. You are here for
my
pleasure, to do
my
bidding—nothing more. Do you understand that?”
She swallowed nervously around the lump rising in her throat and forced a nod. She couldn’t speak at will? That made her uncomfortable.
“Serena,” he said, still sounding brusque, “you may tell the new slave the purposes of the nipple chain.”
Serena looked to Jenna and said, “Two purposes. It looks sexy. And this.” She reached up, curled the tip of her index finger under the dangling chain, and gave a light tug.
Which sent a burst of sensation that straddled the line between pleasure and pain shooting through Jenna’s breasts and outward. “Ooooh,” she sobbed lightly, noting the dark amusement on Serena’s face.
After this, Brent left his chair, moving in a leisurely manner, not meeting her gaze as he walked past to take something from the wall at her left. Then he came to stand in front of her—looking frighteningly handsome tonight, she realized—holding on to a tool which she recognized, sort of, from her studies of Medieval times. Designed to look like a cat-o’-nine-tails—a torture device—this was smaller and constructed of thin leather strips, both black and red. It resembled a limp leather pom-pom—but would clearly inflict pain. “Have you ever seen a flogger before, slave?”
Now he met her gaze, but it didn’t feel like she was looking at Brent—she was actually a little frightened of him right now, and so far, she didn’t like this fantasy very much. She shook her head, afraid to answer audibly.
“A flogger can be used in
soft
ways,” he said, his voice growing slightly more gentle as he dragged the leather strips across her breasts, making them tingle and ache, then down her arm in a caress that left her burning for his touch.
“Or,” he went on, “it can be used to
punish
.” She feared he might strike her, but instead he snapped the tool harshly against his own thigh. “Be a good, obedient little sex slave and you won’t have to suffer the latter.”
She wasn’t sure whether to nod, so she didn’t—simply suffered the unexpected ribbons of pleasure that fluttered through her in response to the flogger’s fingerlike strips.
“Now,” he said, turning back to Serena, “take that to the new slave.” He pointed to a small, round stool, the seat padded in black leather, like so much else in the room.
Serena situated the stool against the wall beside Jenna.
Brent then pointed at it again. “Sit, slave.”
Jenna sat, made aware of the chains that bound her, when she moved—and of her bare ass, when it encountered the leather.
“Now spread your legs wide.”
The demand caught her off guard and the very idea left her feeling horribly exposed. So much that she considered refusing. But that was fear talking, and Brent’s words echoed in her head once more.
Never use your safeword out of fear
.
So Jenna took a deep breath and slowly parted her legs—mostly covered with her boots and fishnets—as wide as she comfortably could, putting her surely glistening pussy on full display for everyone in the dungeon. The move made her swallow nervously—yet again, she oozed with unexpected, unbidden excitement. God, how strange.
Brent now passed his flogger to Serena. “Tease her cunt,” he instructed simply.
So Serena knelt between Jenna’s thighs and gently began brushing the flogger up and down through her pussy as if it were a feather duster and Jenna’s crotch needed tidying.
And—oh God—it was hard not to react. The fact that her cunt was shaved left the soft skin there ultrasensitive to such a light touch. Not to mention the effect the tender strokes had on her clit, which she suspected had been protruding from her slit long before she’d parted her legs at Brent’s command.
Again and again, Serena swept the flogger between her thighs, and it was impossible for Jenna to hold in her sighs, impossible not to thrust ever so gently against it.
She didn’t look at Brent—for some reason, she didn’t want to acknowledge to him how much pleasure this particularly kinky act was bringing her. At moments, she looked at Serena, but that felt odd, too, and at other moments, she simply looked down, at the flogger and her pussy—but again, weird. So finally, she just closed her eyes—and then, oh God, she
really
felt it, even letting a soft moan escape her lips.
“Gabe, Zack, secure the new slave’s arms tighter to the wall.”
Brent’s voice briefly interrupted Jenna’s pleasure to make her glance up, but her pussy felt so swollen and hot now that even this command didn’t frighten her the way it might have just minutes ago. Maybe she was starting to get accustomed to the game here.
In fact, rather than worry about what was happening, she found herself more interested to see exactly who was joining the festivities— and, oh my, her whole body warmed further at the sight of the two strapping, muscular guys heading her way through the dim lighting.
She decided the one with the large Z—like the mark of Zorro—tattooed on his arm was surely Zack. Sporting long, dark hair and a silver hoop earring, he looked like . . . a biker or someone equally as dangerous. Gabe, on the other hand, was—oh shit, how had she forgotten? Gabe was her greeter and co-pilot! He looked scruffy but sexy tonight, his dark blond locks messy, a light, stubbly beard shading his face.
She stayed utterly brave as the two men positioned themselves on both sides of her and pulled on the chains attaching her to the wall—simultaneously hoisting her arms from her sides to an outstretched position, as if she were being crucified. The move thrust her breasts forward, jiggling her nipple chain lightly, and though it was far less comfortable than before, the cuffs supporting her wrists were soft, and the flogger at her cunt continued to deliver delectable sensations. The position somehow left her feeling even more on display, but despite herself, that only upped her excitement.
When a large shadow moved over her, she looked up to see Brent—easily lifting one leg over the kneeling Serena to bring his bulging crotch eye level with Jenna. She leaned her head back to peer up at him—and oh God, he felt powerful and ominous looming over her, muscular and hot.
But she instantly drew her eyes downward when he began working at the front opening of his leather pants, and a few seconds later, his big cock came free, somehow appearing more enormous than usual just an inch from her face.
He took his hard shaft in hand, bending it toward her, and said, “Suck it, slave.” Then he smoothly fed it to her.
She accepted it willingly, at once stunned but not, at once embarrassed at performing such an intimate act in front of others . . . but not. Pure, hot, animal lust overrode every negative emotion and in that moment, she became—truly—his willing slave in a way she had not before now. Something about that strange pleasure, the heat of sucking his cock mixed with having no choice, no control, enslaved her to him. She suddenly didn’t mind that her arms were being stretched and that she had no use of them. She didn’t mind the harsh setting, her harsh master, the strangers surrounding her. Nothing else mattered in those moments but sensation, both physical and mental.
Brent moved his rigid length in and out of her accepting mouth like a piston, emitting low sounds of pleasure with each steady thrust. Soon, he held her head with both hands, threading his fingers through her hair. As Serena pleasured Jenna, Jenna pleasured Brent, and she found a primal joy in being a tool for his gratification. Part of her, her logical self, thought she should have felt devalued, degraded—and yet . . . there was something deeper at work here. Because she felt completely the opposite. She felt vital, giving, like a fully realized sexual being, as she’d yearned to feel in the harem room last night. She was surrendering to him everything he asked—demanded—of her, and with it came an undeniable freedom she’d never experienced.
She felt free to suck his hard cock with unbridled enthusiasm, even as Gabe and Zack watched closely. She felt free to accept the pleasure Serena’s flogger delivered so gently, along with the more brutal pleasure of having Brent drive his cock repeatedly toward her throat. She felt free to be sexy and dirty in front of everyone in the room. She felt free to give herself over to whatever Brent wanted.
“That’s good, baby, so fucking hot,” Brent murmured above her in the darkest voice she’d ever heard from him. He
sounded
like a master and she loved pleasing him. “Suck that big cock, my nasty little slave. Let me fuck your warm, sweet mouth.”
Something about it all, about being restrained yet confident, forced yet pleasured, left Jenna feeling shockingly empowered—so that she sucked Brent’s shaft still more vigorously, no matter how stretched and tired her lips became, so that she moved her pussy against the strokes of the flogger almost involuntarily now.
Until she came—
hard
, so very
hard
, sobbing her orgasm around Brent’s erection, letting it all flow through her, rocking her body, her very soul. She’d never been so entranced and freed by any sexual act in her life.
As the orgasm passed, Brent pulled back, extracting himself and using his hands to tilt her face upward. “You did
very
well, Jenna,” he told her, sounding somewhat like the Brent she knew but still in master mode. She didn’t care, simply glad to have satisfied him, her body still winding down from the intense climax.
And then it hit her—oh God, oh wow,
that
made her come. Being restrained. Forced. And she suddenly wasn’t very sure she liked it.
It’s the two-day arousal
, she assured herself. That’s all. She’d just needed to come so badly.
She took a deep breath and got hold of herself, still a little stunned by it all. Then she looked back up into Brent’s eyes. Yes, still in master mode. But despite herself, she
remained
aroused. On some level, it excited her even
more
just to know she
could
be pleasured by what had just taken place here.
“Nicholas, take Amira to the swing and fuck her,” Brent said then, surprising Jenna by focusing on someone other than her. She felt almost relieved, watching as a cute blond guy grabbed on to the hand of a dark-haired girl—whom Jenna recognized as the Middle Eastern girl from the harem—and led her to a contraption of black bands sewn together and hanging from the ceiling. As Amira reclined among the bands—which did indeed form a flexible sort of swing—she shimmied out of a pair of leather panties.
“Gabe,” Brent added, “tie Serena to the horse and fuck her, too.”
As Serena was escorted away, toward something that looked like a gymnast’s pommel horse minus the handles, Jenna’s pulse kicked up. Because of all the new, rough sex beginning to take place around her and because, oddly, she felt as if she’d lost her one comrade in the room with Serena’s departure. Brent
should
be that, but tonight, he wasn’t—even when he approved of her.
With her arms still stretched, she watched fair-haired Nicholas pull a string that brought his cock lurching forth from his pants. She noticed it was smaller than Brent’s and possessed a slight curve—right before he drove it between Amira’s thighs. She cried out and Jenna flinched, her breasts jiggling.
She was just getting accustomed to watching Nicholas and Amira when a female moan drew her attention across the room. She expected to see Serena being fucked, but instead she was simply being tied—and apparently taking great pleasure in it. Her body straddled the horse, as Brent had called it, her rear elevated at one end, peeking from beneath her tiny leather skirt—apparently, she hadn’t worn panties, either. Gabe wrapped a rope around her body, circling it and the horse repeatedly, and with each length that crossed her back, she emitted another sound of pleasure.
Within moments, Gabe revealed a sizable cock that looked red and formidable in the brief seconds Jenna glimpsed it before it plunged into Serena from behind. Then both girls were crying out at the rough thrusts being delivered, the guys grunting and groaning their pleasure, and Jenna barely knew where to look—but her pulse raced still more wildly, her pussy already swollen and sensitive again.
Oh Lord, how had she gotten excited again that quick? But she supposed it was like with the harem—if the stimulation kept coming, her body kept responding. Now the stimulation was all visual and audible, stunning her with how powerful that could be.
Only when she looked for Brent did she realize he’d returned to his thronelike chair, lounging there like a well-satisfied prince of darkness. His cock still jutted from his pants, magnificent as ever, and she wondered how he looked so satisfied without having come. He seemed so in control of his body that she was beginning to find it intimidating. Especially since she seemed so . . .
lacking
in control.
“Zack, go to the cabinet and get the newest glass dildo.”
Jenna sucked in her breath. A glass dildo? And they had so many that one was clearly the newest? Could this get any kinkier?
Another two girls and a guy still hung in the shadows of the room and Jenna waited with odd fascination to see what happened next. Who would this glass dildo be used on? And when she saw the other faces, would there be more she recognized?
Meanwhile, her eyes were drawn back to Amira and Nicholas and their naughty sex swing. Amira’s boobs bounced, her body jerking with each stroke from Nicholas, and Jenna’s cunt pulsed harder still. She felt caught in a porn movie. Not that she’d ever seen one—but she couldn’t imagine them being any wilder than
this
.
When she found herself switching her gaze toward Serena on the pommel horse, she instead spotted Zack with—oh my—a shocking, clear dildo that made her gasp. Probably ten inches long and considerably thick, it came with a ball-type knob on the tip, and the handle, as lengthy as the phallus-shaped part, consisted of a succession of smaller glass knobs. Brent looked to the bizarre tool in Zack’s fist and smoothly commanded, “Fuck our new slave with the glass cock.”