Chapter 14
LILA
They don’t carry me so much as they guide me, a silent, stumbling procession through a hidden door in the maze’s base that I never would have seen.
Rough hands steer me down a narrow, earthen stairwell, the air cooling and thickening with the scent of damp soil and cold stone. A single, bare bulb hanging from a wire casts a sickly yellow light over a small, rectangular chamber.
In the center is a stone table. It’s ancient-looking, cold, and unyielding.
“On your back,” Black Mask commands, his voice echoing softly against the packed dirt walls.
My legs are weak, my body still humming from the brutal claiming against the shed, but I don’t resist.
The cold of the stone seeps into my skin the moment my back touches it, a shocking contrast to the heat blooming inside me. It’s a slab for a sacrifice.
Burlap Sack produces thick leather cuffs from a shadowy corner. He doesn’t speak, just straps my right wrist down, the leather biting into my skin.
White Mask takes my left, his touch almost clinical, buckling me in. The cold metal of the buckles is a promise I can’t break. They move to my ankles, spread my legs, and secure them to the table legs.
I am stretched out, utterly exposed, completely theirs.
The fear is a thin, sharp wire in my chest, but the arousal is a roaring fire beneath it, fed by the sheer obscenity of my position.
I am a specimen.
Theirs to study.
Theirs to play with.
White Mask is the first to approach, a wicked-looking black vibrator in his hand. It’s long, thick, and curves slightly at the tip. He flicks it on, and a low, intense buzz fills the small room. He holds it just above my stomach, and I can feel the vibrations humming through the air.
“This is a wicked wand, Lila,” he says, his voice a husky whisper. “It doesn’t fuck around. It’s going to make you scream in a whole new way.”
He trails it down my body, the vibrations a teasing preview. Over my hip bones, down the inside of my thigh, making my muscles jump. He avoids my core, circling my slick, sensitive folds without touching them.
The anticipation is a physical ache.
Please. Just fucking touch me.
“Look at her,” Burlap Sack chuckles from the foot of the table. “Her hips are trying to chase it. Her little cunt is fucking pulsing. She’s begging for it without saying a word.”
“Patience,” Black Mask chides softly, standing by my head, watching everything with his dark, calculated gaze. “The best pleasures are earned.”
White Mask finally brings the head of the vibrator to my clit.
The effect is instantaneous, electric.
A sharp, shocking jolt of sensation that arches my back off the table, a strangled cry tearing from my throat. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. He holds it there, the relentless buzzing drilling into my most sensitive nerve.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” I writhe against my restraints, the leather cuffs cutting into my skin as I try to buck away from the intensity, but my body is also desperately trying to press closer.
My orgasm builds at a terrifying speed, a supernova gathering in my core.
Just as I’m about to break, he pulls it away.
The sudden absence is a different kind of torture. I whimper, my body trembling with unsatisfied need, my clit throbbing angrily.
“Not yet,” White Mask murmurs, a cruel smile in his voice. He drags the vibrator down, through my soaking wetness, and without any preamble, he pushes the thick head inside my cunt.
I gasp. The vibration is deeper here, a thick, internal hum that vibrates my entire core. He fucks me with it, a slow, steady pace that has the device buzzing against my inner walls, lighting up every single nerve ending. It’s a full, stretching, electric fuck that has me moaning nonsensically.
“Yes… right there… oh god, don’t stop…”
“I’ll stop whenever the fuck I want to,” he corrects me, twisting the toy inside me, angling it so it grinds against that perfect spot.
My vision blurs.
He’s playing my body like an instrument, and he knows exactly which strings to pluck.
Burlap Sack moves in then, a small, cruel-looking flogger in his hand. The falls are thin strips of black leather. He runs them over my breasts, my stomach, a soft, teasing caress that makes my skin prickle.
Then he brings his arm back and delivers a sharp snap across my thighs.
I jump, a sharp sting blooming on my skin. It’s not hard enough to truly hurt, just enough to light up my nerves, to mix pain with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me from the vibrator.
“She likes that,” he rasps, doing it again, this time on the other thigh. “See how her pussy just clenched around that toy? She’s a pain slut, deep down. She wants to feel everything we can give her.”
He flicks the flogger against my nipples, and I cry out, the sensation a bolt that goes straight to my clit. White Mask sees it, feels it, and increases the speed of the vibrator, fucking me harder with the buzzing toy.
The two sensations merge, the sharp bites of the flogger and the deep, vibrating fuck, until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
Black Mask leans over me, his masked face hovering inches from mine. “You’re ours, Lila. This is your purpose now. To feel. To take. To come for us, over and over, until you forget your own name.”
The orgasm that I’d been riding the edge of crashes into me with obliterating force.
I scream, a raw, continuous sound as my body convulses against the restraints, my cunt milking the vibrating toy, my back arched off the cold stone. The pleasure is so intense it borders on agony, waves and waves of it ripping through me.
White Mask keeps the vibrator pressed deep, drawing out every last shuddering spasm until I collapse, spent and shaking, onto the table.
He pulls the toy out with a wet sound, turning it off. The sudden silence is deafening. I can only lie there, panting, tears of overwhelm leaking from the corners of my eyes.
Burlap Sack drops the flogger on the floor with a soft thud. I hear the rasp of his zipper. “My turn. That pretty little mouth has been empty for too long.”
He doesn’t ask. He shuffles forward, his thick cock sliding over my lips. I open my mouth instinctively, and he pushes inside, filling it, his familiar taste flooding my senses. I suck him weakly, my body still trembling from the aftershocks.
White Mask moves between my splayed legs, his own cock hard again. He guides himself to my well-fucked, oversensitive entrance. “I’m filling this cunt up again, Lila. You’re gonna take every fucking drop.”
He thrusts in, and I moan around Burlap’s cock, the feeling of being filled at both ends a familiar, welcome fullness. They set a rhythm, fucking my face and my pussy in tandem, their grunts and the wet sounds of our bodies filling the small room.
Black Mask watches for a moment before moving to the side of the table. He produces a small, glass bottle of clear oil. He pours a slick stream onto his fingers, then begins to stroke himself.
“This tight little hole is going to learn to love my cock, Lila,” he murmurs. “I’m going to prepare it properly. I’m going to open you up so slowly, so carefully, that by the time I’m buried inside you, you’ll be begging for it.”
I am completely, utterly surrounded. Used. Owned. Burlap Sack is fucking my throat, White Mask is pounding my weeping cunt, and Black Mask is watching… waiting to take me and make sure I know I belong to him.
The pleasure is a tidal wave, pulling me under, and I let it, my muffled moans the only sound I can make.