The door beside me opens, and comforting masculine hands unbuckle my belt and lift me from the seat. Shane smells amazing as he pulls me to his chest and crushes my face against the fine wool of his sweater. His feet crunch on the gravel as he carries me away from the car and toward what I can only assume is the mansion. I struggle against him, trying my hardest to get a look, but he doesn’t lighten up.
“Seraphina,” he grunts in an admonishing tone, and I stop struggling, but I see a flash of palatial gray stone.
My bound hands lay pressed between us, aching from the pressure and the chafing ropes, but I’m sick enough that the pain turns me on. I didn’t realize how messed up in the head I was until I met Shane. Sure, I needed therapy. I’ve always recognized myself as lightly traumatized, but the things I’d done and accepted since meeting him? I don’t think I know myself at all.
But I do know that, no matter what he’s guilty of, he’s not responsible for how much I like all these wicked things. He’s a criminal, and I have every right to hate him. He’s taken my virginity, bound, ravished, and abducted me, but the feelings I have for him are so far from hate. I’m terrified of the warmth blossoming in my chest.
I should be afraid of him. Instead, I am allowing him to give me everything I want and eliminate all my problems in the process. These bindings should feel horrifying and constrictive rather than comforting and committed. I am afraid of him. The man is crazy. God only knows what Shane plans to do with me, but I know I am as messed up as he is. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be wet and desperate to see what he does next.
Shane’s so gentle as we reach the stairs. I look up and see a hint of the pinkening sky. He carries me up the stairs, and a cold wind sweeps past us. I shiver against him, it’s colder here in the mountains, and my silk robe feels especially cruel. The murky twilight clears as we approach the front door, creaking open ahead of us. I try hard to turn my head and look at the person opening it, but Shane shoves me into his chest with force, obscuring my view.
“What’s the problem, Shane? Afraid I’ll see how pretty she is and want her for myself?” A deep, slightly accented voice teases from the doorway.
“I’m afraid she’ll see how pretty you are and tell the authorities about the mansion where she was held.” Shane’s voice mocks. He doesn’t believe I would go to the authorities and a sliver of fear spikes inside me. Is that because he intends to kill me before that’s possible?
“You don’t believe that,” the man says, echoing my thoughts.
“Let me in, Pax.” Shane’s annoyance leaks into the chilly night air, only seeming to amuse our host, who chuckles at his expense.
“Only because your girl has a marvelous ass and a wet spot on her crotch.”
I would gladly die.
I wish I could see this Pax as much as I’m relieved I can’t. He sounds like someone who considers himself handsome. Or maybe he’s so rich and powerful that his looks don’t matter. He has that “I own the world” vibe. Plus, he’s unbothered by Shane bringing a bound and barely dressed woman here.
More light pours over us, and Pax must have stepped aside because Shane carries me up a few steps and into the house. It’s colder than I hoped, but I still can’t see much. Shane takes a few more steps before finally releasing my face. I realize we’re in a tight wooden foyer, it’s odd, but my expression morphs from confusion to awe as we enter the main space.
The ceiling arches at least twenty feet into the air, maybe more. But everything is a pale gray stone like the outside. The damned place is a castle built into the mountain with modern, chic furnishings. The windows stretch from floor to the spot the ceiling begins to curve. With my own wide eyes reflected at us, this night feels especially sinister.
“The girl’s ass is mine, by the way,” Shane tells Pax as he sets me on my still-tied-up feet.
I can see Pax now; part of me wishes I hadn’t put a face to the name. His hair is dark like Shane’s, but the lengths curl on top of his head and the sides are buzzed short. He doesn’t have blue eyes but a startling green, and where Shane is pale, he’s tan. Their lips and chin are close to identical, and something in those jewel-toned sets of eyes is startlingly similar. They could be brothers.
The silk robe I wear leaves little to the imagination, and never in my life have I felt more like a whore on display than I do for the two of them. My latest orgasm still coats my thighs, and God only knows what Shane did to me when I asked him to play around in my head. Memories of his voice and his stroking fingers return to me, and I throw up a wall to block them. My mind obeys immediately, leaving me in the dark, exactly where I want to be.
He could have made me come a dozen more times. It’s possible with how sore I am, and the idea that he did despite me not remembering, has me frantic and desperately horny. I’m so damn ashamed of myself for everything I’ve allowed to happen, but I’m soaking wet. I can feel it gathering at my entrance like nothing would please me more than him taking me in front of this stranger who happens to scare me.
I have to force myself to think of Tim, my husband. I know he cheated and hurt me, but I can’t escape knowing that two wrongs don’t make a right. I’m a whore, and even the epithet turns me on. I don’t want to be with Tim. Our marriage is over; that much is obvious, but I hate myself for letting things happen this way. And I hate that I haven’t asked Shane to let me go or take me home, even when he pointed it out.
“Fine,” Pax agrees. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it far enough for his top teeth to run over the stubble. “I guess I’ll just have to steal my own pretty virgin, Cousin.”
“Are you only in the market for virgins now?” he asks with a disgusted note in his voice.
“I suppose I could say my interest is in virginity, but I’d be lying if I told you someone special hasn’t already struck my interest.”
On the spot, I become nervous for this girl. My stomach aches at the thought of what he might do to her. But I don’t dare ask, and neither does Shane. I should probably be more worried about myself.
“Is the place stocked?” he asks, bending to unbind my feet. His hand is soothing at my back as he guides us further into the space.
Pax shifts toward the door, and I’m grateful he’s not staying. Something about him terrifies me much more than the man who abducted me.
“Of course,” Pax answers as if it’s the ultimate given.
“And the staff?”
“Have been dismissed.”
There goes any touch of hope I had that someone would be here if things got too out of hand.
“Perfect,” Shane turns to me with a bone-chilling, panty-melting smile. “I have you all to myself.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” Pax says as he waves and strides out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.
I’d never heard quiet like this before. I feel like I’m in a museum, but this place is more than that. It’s a castle, and if Pax is to be believed, we’re the only ones here. This space is monumentally too large to be occupied by only two souls.
Shane looking me up and down brings me back to my predicament. My bare feet ache on the freezing marble as I shift from foot to foot. The intensity of his scrutiny unnerves me, and I’m once again ashamed of my body’s response to him: hard nipples, slick thighs, and desire beyond control—a ready whore.
“Kneel, Angel.”
I do as he commands without question. The action is reflexive rather than a conscious decision, and my face crumples in confusion as I look up at him. The chandelier behind him holds about a hundred bulbs, and they burn my eyes as I’m forced to give him my rapt attention. I take stock of my body, shocked at how I’ve lewdly spread my knees. My cunt is out, and that word pops out the same way I dropped to my knees, on compulsion. What other fun tricks did he leave inside me?
“Eyes down, Angel.”
My eyes immediately hit the floor, and I gasp in relief. They burn as I squeeze them shut, and tears slide down my cheeks. Bright spots stain my vision, and the different sensations overcome me. Lifting my hands, I rub my eyes, realizing that while I’ve obeyed Shane’s commands, I’m not ultimately under his control.
“Do you remember our session in the car?” his voice is smooth and coaxes the deepest, most fragile parts of me as if he’s personally touched them and taught them how to respond to him.
I don’t remember, and I don’t want to.
Not if he’s talking about what happened when he brought me to that new and profound place. The place where he teaches me to use words like cunt and drop to my knees at nothing more than a command.
His ocean-blue eyes are pulling me in. His lips are so damn plush I need to taste him. I’m unsure of a lot, but I know this feeling isn’t part of those dreamlike lessons. I don’t know why I’m on my knees, but I’m sure he’s proving a point.
“When you, you…” My thoughts get tangled up in the years of conditioning, and it’s impossible to continue.
“Speak freely, Angel. No one is judging you.”
I speak as if I’ve never known a moment of shame or hesitation. “I remember you played with my clit and fingered my cunt until I orgasmed for you.”
“Look at me.” My gaze flicks up to his. “I did do that, but I meant after.”
Certain the confusion shows on my face as I wade through those memories, I recall the feeling of weightlessness and freedom, light in ways I can’t explain, and then… So many orgasms. My cheeks flame.
“I asked you to take me through those breathing exercises?” I don’t know why I’m asking.
“Yes, Seraphina.” The wolf smiles at me like he’s wearing this grandma costume only for my comfort and the benefit of my denial. “Do you remember what happened next?”
“I remember it when I try.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Nothing.”
He smiles at me like that pleases him before he continues, “We worked on some of the things I want to teach you, such as words that I want you to use and ways that I want you to show off for me.”
My pulse races. The idea that Shane implanted commands into my brain to use me for his pleasure is the single most sickening and arousing thing I’ve ever contemplated. He smirks as if he knows what I’m thinking.
“Now, little Angel, relax and tell me about your body.”
Again I have that disconnected sensation where the response he wants comes out before I even consider it. Yet, I know what I’m doing and get great satisfaction from responding as his whore should. Where is that ever-present burning guilt in all of this? Because I feel free and alive.
“It’s all made for you, mouth, tits, cunt, and ass.” After the words are free, I’m shocked by what I’ve said, so much so I squeak and cover my mouth. I’ve never spoken like that, and the idea that I mindlessly let him teach me to refer to myself that way is…
Unsettling.
And it makes me so goddamn wet I need him right now.
“We also talked about asking for the things we want. Do you remember the next two orgasms you had on my fingers while we drove here?”
“I do now.”
He smiles, like this is as he expected and wanted. “Do you feel them in your needy cunt?”
I think about it, feeling for subtle differences. I was already so well used, but I do feel it. “Yes.”
“But you still want more? Even though you can feel you’ve come more times than you can count tonight.”
He gazes down at me with a haughty superiority, and I want to melt.
“Yes.”
“Use your words, Angel.”
“I want your cock in my cunt. I want to come on it, and I want to taste it.”
He groans and palms his cock through his pants. “In that order, Angel? You want to taste yourself on me?”
“I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking.”
I didn’t mean to say it in that order, but I know it’s too late. The excited gleam in Shane’s eyes tells me everything. In an instant, his hand is in my hair. He pushes my head down, forcing my ass into the air, and presses my face against the hard marble floor. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s demeaning, and I whine for him.
He’s positioned me so that I’m ass up and face down, perfectly presented to him. My bound hands are folded beneath me, and I wiggle as the ropes burn and cut. His smooth hand fondles each cheek and then pushes the robe over my back. He spends no more than a minute pinching and groping, the rough treatment making me whimper. With no further preamble, he enters me.
I shout, unable to adjust to how he’s stretched my cunt. I just lost my virginity, and he’s using me like it’s my damn job. Like I’m a whore, his whore. I’m so full, stretched to my limits. I should be embarrassed when only a minute or two later, I’m orgasming on him, but goddamn, is it intense, and I’m still in that half-real place. Liquid gushes out of me and drips down our thighs.
“Shane!” I wail, begging and thanking him all at once.
He fucks me through my orgasm and waits for my cunt to settle around him before he rips out of me. He grabs me by my hair once again, turns me around, and shoves his thick, long cock straight down my throat as he did with his fingers. And pretty much like that time, the feeling of him stretching me too far and pushing me past my limits makes me feel alive in ways I never have. I want to choke on his cock and have him revive me infinitely, and for right now, that’s what I plan to do.
