Chapter 7 Army
Army
As I approach, I can see that my siren—I’ve already claimed her as mine—is stiff and tense.
I study the man beside her, talking to her, touching her.
He’s wearing an expensive suit, his white shirt open to reveal his chest. I had told Riveria earlier that I can tell who most of our members are, even when they’re masked.
I suspect this guy is Rick Halloway, a crooked politician who votes against anything that supports women’s rights.
His wedding ring, which he wears even when coming to this club—without his wife—confirms my suspicions.
Rick leans closer, and my siren stiffens further, and I’ve had enough of him making her uncomfortable and trying to move in on my territory.
“Leave,” I growl, the voice modulator changing my voice enough that it can’t be recognized. But honestly, I don’t give a shit if this motherfucker knows who I am.
He turns to me, ready to argue, but his words die as he sees that I’m ready for war and bloodshed. He senses the menacing vibes rolling off me. I’d gladly cut his hands off for daring to touch her and shove them down his throat, choking him for his sin.
A smidgen of rationale tries to push in, questioning why I’m feeling the level of insane and intense insta-lust that I am for this beautiful creature, but I ignore it.
He stumbles back a step when I move toward him, then he scurries off.
Leaving me alone with my siren.
Being so close to her is potent. My cock is steel inside the confines of my pants, wanting her. Demanding her. Demanding her submission and for me to fuck her filthy and raw.
She turns to face me full-on, and I almost stagger back. Her mask hides her identity, but what’s revealed up close is next-level beautiful. As is her body that’s built for sin.
Her throat bobs as she swallows, looking up at me. The action of her throat pulls my eyes to its unblemished, creamy skin, and I want to sink my teeth into that perfect, unmarked flesh, leaving my mark on her.
My eyes trail over her tapered jawline to those full, pouty lips. She isn’t wearing any lipstick, but I want those lips covered with dark crimson lipstick, smeared, and wrapped around my cock. I want to hear her trying to take my cock, gagging with tears leaking from her eyes.
I want to come all over those lips, then smear and rub my cum into her skin on her face and neck so she’ll wear me all evening.
My eyes continue upward over the elegant mask with the flames dancing over it—almost like they’re flames of sin—and meet her eyes.
Pure. Carnal. Lust hits me.
My breathing turns harsh and ragged, as does hers, and we both take a step toward each other. Mine is involuntary; if I had to guess, I’d say hers was, too.
Never. Never have I ever felt anything like this before.
We don’t even need words. We have a conversation without speaking. Her nipples harden under the black silk of her decadent dress. My cock is already leaking pre-cum.
When I hold out my hand, she slips hers into mine, and it feels like a missing piece clicking into place.
Mine.
The filthy animal in me purrs in satisfaction.
Usually, I fuck in Hedon’s main room before going to one of the kink rooms.
However, the thought of ravishing this exquisite siren, exposing her to prying eyes like the ones that are currently devouring her with hungry stares, makes bile push into my throat and nearly chokes me.
No. I won’t be fucking her out here where others could see her perfection, hear her moans, or experience her ecstasy in any way.
That is all mine.
With her hand in mine, I lead us through the crowd as the music and moans of pleasure surround us.
Someone screams out as their orgasm hits when we walk by a sofa that’s filled with writhing bodies. I look back at my siren and see that the exposed skin of her face and neck is flushed.
Is that flush because of desire or embarrassment at having a front-row seat to watch someone find their pleasure in the basest, most carnal ways?
I want to know, so I stop us in front of the group who is openly fucking for everyone to see.
My siren stands in front of me, and I press my steel-hard cock into the top swell of her ass, making her gasp. Curling my hands around her waist, I caress her over the silk of her dress.
Leaning down to her ear, I say in a low tone, “Do you like watching them fuck?”
The flush on her skin deepens, and her graceful, unmarked throat bobs as she swallows.
“Answer me, siren,” I command, the dominance dripping from my words.
She shivers, goosebumps pepper her skin, and her nipples harden even more. “Yes,” she whispers.
I pull her closer, wanting to put my hand under her silk dress—the silk dress that will be the death of me—to touch her pussy to see how much she truly likes it.
If she were anyone else, I would. I’d remove her dress and expose her cunt to everyone as I checked how wet she was from watching people fuck.
But she isn’t anyone else.
“Tell me what you like that you’re seeing, siren.”
Her breath hitches, and her eyes remain riveted to the scene in front of us.
One of the women spreads her legs wide, offering her dripping pussy to anyone who wants it.
Two men move in—one focusing on her clit while the other spears her with three fingers.
In the tangle of bodies, another man kneels behind a woman who’s eating out another woman while fisting a man’s cock.
The man kneeling behind the woman lubes up his condom-covered dick, then spreads her ass cheeks wide and pushes in.
“Oh god,” my siren whispers and squirms. Her flush is now a deep crimson.
“Is this your first time at a sex club?” I suspected this was her first time at Hedon, but given her blushing, shy response, I’m guessing it’s her first time ever in a club like this.
“Yes.” She stares with rapt attention as the man plunders the woman’s ass and she squeals in delight into the other woman’s pussy.
“Have you ever participated in group sex, siren?” She shakes her head, and I press into her. “Ever been fucked in the ass?”
Her chest heaves. “No… I…I’ve only had basic vanilla sex.”
“But you want to explore more dirty…filthy sex?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. Fucking perfect,” I growl into her ear. I never speak this much during Masked Night, but with the voice modulator, I don’t worry.
Plus, I want to speak to this exquisite creature. And in order to help her explore what she desires, I’m going to have to speak to her.
“Come, siren.”
She clings to my hand as I pull her away from the scene on the sofa.
One of the bouncers by the door to the private rooms steps aside when I lift my mask just enough to reveal the tattoos on my throat, confirming who I am.
Once my siren and I slip into the dimly lit hallway, red-hued lighting washes over the walls, where flames seem to dance, simulating the descent into a hedonistic world of devilish pleasure.
I type in the code when we reach my private room, and we enter. I never use this room; I always fuck my partners in the main room and the kink rooms. However, the staff keeps it fresh and ready in case I ever do want to use it.
The door softly clicks behind us, and my siren, who had been slowly scanning the room, turns to face me.
The room is as dark as the hallway, with the same flickering flames. Music plays in here; its low beat almost like drums pounding out a sensual, erotic rhythm.
As she stares at me across the room, her nipples spear the silk of her dress as her breasts lift and fall with her ragged breaths.
“This is your first time in a club like this,” I reconfirm, and she nods. “What do you want, siren?”
She’s silent for a moment, almost like she’s too shy to speak. “I want you to teach me.” Her voice is a mere whisper. “Help me explore what I like.”
“Your safe word is lotus.”
Shock ripples through me that I chose that safe word for her.
She bites her lip, tilting her head. “I thought the safe word is apple.”
Her voice is only slightly louder than the whisper she’s used so far, and I catch the barest hint of a German accent.
“That’s the standard safe word for Hedon,” I say, my voice still disguised. “But for you, with me, it’s lotus.” She nods. “What are your hard limits?”
“I’m not really sure,” she says quietly. “But no sharing.”
Even though I briefly considered sharing her if I had to, just to be with her when I thought she was here with another man, I know there’s no way I’ll share her with anyone else.
“And your hard limits?” she asks me, her voice low and husky.
“No kissing.” I’ve never kissed anyone. However, it feels wrong to tell her she can’t kiss me.
“Um, yeah, mask and all.” She laughs softly.
I stagger back a step. Her voice and laugh suddenly sound so much like Leeva’s that sweat breaks out on my skin.
But Leeva is far away, god-knows where from here. She would never be in a place like this. Not my little dove.
Plus, this woman has curves for days. Beautiful, luscious curves. Nothing like Leeva’s too-thin stature.
But more than that, her neck is unmarked, unblemished. There’s no stamp of ownership that marks her as Guerilla’s, making her forbidden to me. There’s no tattoo on this woman’s neck.
But still, I need to be sure, so I walk to her and tilt her chin. She swallows but doesn’t move. I put my fingers into the mouth of my mask, wetting them, then rub at her skin where Leeva would have Guerilla’s tattoo on her neck. No make-up or anything that could be covering it comes away.
There is no tattoo.
This isn’t Leeva.
Only my siren.
The perfect creature, who wants to uncover her filthiest desires and needs. And I’m more than happy to be her guide.
Relaxing, I step back. “Explore the room, siren.”
If she’s wondering what the hell I was doing with her neck, she doesn’t ask. Instead, she slowly turns and begins to move around the room. Her movements are sultry and enticing, yet I know somehow, they aren’t intentional. She isn’t trying to seduce—this is simply how she moves.
She walks to the bed, set on a platform in the center of the room, with four posts to attach restraints or spreader bars.
Then she goes to the leather sex bench and runs a graceful hand over the top pad.
Next, she touches the sex swing in the corner that’s beside the St. Andrews Cross.
Finally, she goes to the shelves of toys and stares at them.
Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs. Nipple clamps, items for wax play, electrostimulation play, and more. All of them brand-new.
Underneath the shelves is a chest of drawers filled with BDSM-type implements if that’s what my partner is into—paddles, floggers, ball gags…you name it, it’s there.
I’ve tried most kinks, with the exception of any that fall into the illegal category. My partner’s kink might not be the one that gets me off, but if it’s what she wants and is into, I can give her pleasure however she needs and wants.
My siren turns and studies something that sits on the floor. “What’s that?” she asks in a breathy tone.
I can no longer stand the distance between us, so I go over to her and grip her waist, pulling her back flush against my front. My cock aches and throbs as it presses into her, already knowing that sinking into her wet heat is going to be next level.
She melts into me.
Her nipples are begging to be touched, so I lightly brush a thumb over one, and she gasps, arching into my touch.
So responsive. So fucking perfect.
I lightly pinch and roll the taut bud between my fingers, and her moan is low and guttural.
She’ll be magnificent to fuck.
“That,” I breathe into her ear, the leather of my mask rubbing against her flushed skin, “is a Sybian Saddle.”
“What…” She gasps as I taunt her nipple. “What does it do?”
“I’ll attach a vibrator—my preference is the largest one you can handle,” I speak as if this will happen, because I’ll sell my soul to make it happen. “And you ride it. But the goal isn’t just one orgasm…it’s as many as I can force out of you.”
She wets her lips and squirms under my hold.
“Ready, siren?” She nods without hesitation, and my smile grows filthy. “Then let’s begin.”