Chapter 3
THREE
MOLLY
A fine sheen of sweat coats my body, my steps wobbly and unsure as I dart my gaze around, trying to find a route out of here.
I’ve never been to this club before so I have no idea where the hell I am going.
I don’t know where the other two are but one of them is right on my ass and the thrill of this chase has me breathless and panting—not from the exertion, it’s from the arousal flowing through me.
As a group of people shift up ahead, I see a staircase.
No one is on it and I know from scouting the place earlier that the second floor appeared empty, so I have a good chance of losing them up there.
I chance one more glance over my shoulder and squeak when I see he is now mere feet from me.
I take off without overthinking it and grip the rail, taking the stairs two at a time.
I may look like a lady, but I behave more like a tomboy.
I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that I shouldn’t look back to see how close the guy is. The urge is strong to do it, even though I know those precious seconds will cost me, but I manage to refrain. I dart left and begin trying the handles on the doors.
There are so many closed doors up here. What the hell is in all of these rooms?
The thought is shoved from my head when I see another one of them appear on the opposite side, caging me in and leaving me no choice but to find an open door and hide in there.
Do I want to hide?
What would be the harm in spending one night with them?
The thrill of the chase overwhelms me, and I throw caution to the wind as I take off and try every handle.
The two masked men don’t run, they walk toward me—no, stalk toward me slowly as I frantically try the fourth door.
When the handle turns, I let loose a small scream of delight.
I shove the door open, and a light comes on instantly.
I expect to see an office or a store room, but that’s not what this room is.
It’s a sex room.
How do I know? Because there is a fucking St. Andrew’s Cross in the middle of the fucking room!
There’s even a rack on the side wall that holds floggers, a variety of whips, and restraints.
I stand here with my jaw hanging open and the door handle gripped tightly in my hand.
My mind is screaming at me to run, but my body won’t move.
Desire pools at my core as a mental picture of me strapped to that cross with a blindfold and three masked strangers ravishing my body, with zero restraint or hesitation just pure unrestrained hunger for a climax, assaults me.
My breath hitches when I feel a warm body press against my back.
I remain still and unmoving, waiting to see what happens now that they have caught me.
Strong hands grip my waist, making me tremble in his hold.
A soft gasp escapes me when he leans down and I feel the gruff texture of his mask scrape against my cheek.
“You’re ours now, lollipop.” His use of my nickname from my best friend has my mind scrambling, but when he uses his body to push me further into the room, my mind goes blank.
I stumble but his grip keeps me upright.
I hear the others’ footfalls enter the room behind us before the door clicks shut.
The heat in the room suddenly turns up and I feel hot all over. “Back against the cross.”
For a split second, one split-fucking-second, I debate calling this whole thing off, but then he presses forward. I feel his hardness pressed against my back and all thoughts of fleeing go out the window.
You’re a bad bitch, Molly. You have nothing to be ashamed of.
With that mantra on repeat in my head, I take shaky steps toward the cross, feeling three sets of eyes on me the whole way.
When I stand before it, I take one last deep breath before slowly turning around to face them.
I inhale sharply at the sight of the three of them standing there shoulder to shoulder with their focus on me.
The raw sexual energy that pulses off them is charging the air with a lustful feel I am powerless to fight against. The lighting in here is dim, making it hard for me to decipher the color of their eyes.
The masks they wear are crazy creepy and in a different setting I would be running and screaming for help.
They are matte black with no other color except for the cross in the middle of their foreheads that is a piercing blue which draws your attention.
Even with the standard lace or LED lights like all the others downstairs, their masks stand out but it’s because their presence alone demands your full focus.
They ooze power and dominance without any effort.
“Lose the dress,” the one on the right says.
I can’t tell them apart and it's unnerving. The only difference I can spot is the one in the middle is slightly taller than the two flanking either side of him. I hesitate for a second, which has the one on the left growling. A small squeak escapes me as I reach up to try and grip the zipper at the back but I can’t reach it.
“Backing out of our deal, birdy?” the one in the middle taunts.
I narrow my eyes at the cocky asshole as I answer. “I can’t reach the zipper.”
“How’d you get it on?” the guy on the left throws out.
I scoff and shoot him a glare. “My boyfriend zipped me in it,” I snap.
In one fluid move the three of them close in on me and I start to panic when they surround me until my back is flush against the cross.
The one in the middle reaches out and wraps his hand around my throat.
His hand is so big I can feel the tips of his fingers on the back of my neck.
He applies enough pressure to make it hard to breathe.
My mind is screaming at me to end this but my body is burning with need, and if the wet patch on the front of my thong is anything to go by, then my pussy is loving this as well.
“We’ll destroy that little prick and take joy in the fact we’re about to fucking ruin you for him.
” His words have my mouth popping open and my breaths coming in fast pants.
Now that they are this close, I can see the one in the middle has blue eyes but there is no warmth in them.
“By the time we are finished with you, you’ll be begging for us to come back and fuck you like the whore we know you want to be for us.
” A heady moan escapes my lips without permission, making the two guys on either side of me grunt their agreement.
“Your safe word is birdy, say it once and this all stops,” the guy on the right says as I’m pulled forward by the one in the middle, who uses his grip on my throat like a leash.
I’m too focused on the one in front of me to realize who is slowly peeling my zipper down.
The dress drops to the ground and the two guys on either side of me groan in appreciation at the sight of my bare tits and thong-covered pussy.
“Fuck, you’re the best revenge,” the one on the left says just as my throat is released so the one in the middle can take a step back and drink in the sight of my bare skin.
I start to feel self-conscious when none of them utter a word, but the sounds that start emitting from them have my cheeks heating and my breathing turning choppy.
Without saying a single word, these three men have me feeling beautiful, the way their attention is captured by my body has me feeling emboldened.
I step backward until my back is flush against the cross. I run my gaze over each of them and allow my inner monster out to play for the first time ever.
If these boys think they are the only ones that are hiding something behind their masks, then they have another thing coming. I’m about to unleash years of pent up tension out on them and I just hope they are strong enough to take it.