8. Willow
8
WILLOW
W ithout the bells and whistles of the Anything But Clothes (ABC) party, and the intimidation of the bouncer, Vincent’s house is still a massive thing to behold.
The long driveway stretches out before me, the crushed gravel crunching beneath my feet as I walk closer to the massive estate. I would have had Jasmine drop me off closer to the front, but she’ll pick a fight with them— or worse, stick around to watch my humiliation— and if that happens, well I will never be able to look her in the eye again.
In the soft light of the sunset, the mansion screams wealth, power, and control, and yet there’s a coldness to it, like there is no love to be found within the Greek statues and pure white columns.
I can't imagine raising three children in such a perfect but sterile environment. And yet, Vincent lives here with all his vibrant energy and unpredictable behavior - he's not like the others who fit in perfectly with this luxurious lifestyle.
He's flawed and impulsive, unlike Cast, who carefully plans out every move like a calculated machine. Or Damien, who is always looking for the upper hand and never lets me see the emotions underneath.
With them I know that if I was to fall victim to Damon and Cast it was meticulously planned, but with Vincent I know if he hurts me it was by accident.
The fucked up thing is I don’t know which one is worse.
As I approach the massive, golden doors, I feel a pang in my chest, the guilt gnawing at me, even though I try to shove it down.
I have to.
I can't afford to be weak.
Not here, not now.
So I exposed my breast in front of the entire Senior and Junior class of Thornhaven, they are my breasts to expose, right?
I raise my hand to knock on the door just as it opens with a soft creak. Vincent stands in the doorway, his tall figure fills the entrance, his sharp, piercing blue eyes scanning me from head to toe with a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
“Hi, naughty girl,” he greets smoothly, his voice low and rich. He leans casually against the doorframe, his gaze never leaving me as he watches my reaction.
My breath catches in my throat, my heartbeat quickening. I force myself to meet his gaze, but it feels like he's peering straight into my soul. His smirk widens slightly, knowing the effect he has on me.
"Vincent," I whisper, struggling to regain my composure, but I know I’m failing. The more I’m around the Chessmen, the stronger their effect on me becomes.
I can admit that to myself, even if I can’t say it to them. Each of them carries a different weight. Damien is unsettling, Vincent is intoxicating, and Cast impossible to ignore.
“Is she here?” Someone asks, and despite me not being able to see him, I know it is Damien.
“She’s here!” Vincent calls back as he steps aside, his arm motioning for me to come inside. My boots squeak against the polished floor, as I look around at the house in daylight, without decorations or aerobatics doing tricks above my head.
The inside matches the outside perfectly, with a mix of old and new. The walls are mostly white, giving the place a clean, airy feel, but there’s a worn-in charm to everything, like it’s been here forever.
Small touches of gold and black pop up here and there—light fixtures and furniture that feel a bit more modern, but they still fit with the overall vibe of the place.
“Shoes off, Princess.” Vincent murmurs, his fingers snaking over my shoulder and removing my backpack for him to carry. I shift deeper into the foyer and he shuts the door behind me with a soft click, locking me inside his house that feels more like a cage with every passing second.
I bend down, pulling the zipper down from both of my boots, and kicking them off, revealing my pink unicorn socks. Vincent chuckles.
“What?” I question, narrowing my eyes on him.
Vincent slides my backpack on his shoulder and throws both of his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.” He smiles. “I just think you're adorable.”
“And I think you are the bane of my existence.” I murmur.
“It’s only right when you are the source of my suffering.” He muses, and my heart does a backflip in my chest.
He doesn’t mean that. I roll my eyes, “I cause you no stress, yet you cause all of mine.”
“Your little stunt today had me get into three fights, little devil.” Vincent’s eyes turn into that ocean blue that erupts all of my butterflies and when he calls me little devil, fuck; it almost makes me want to pant like a bitch in heat.
My eyes flicker down to his knuckles wrapped around the strap of my backpack, each one is marred with dried blood and the slow build of purple bruising. On instinct I reach out and pull his hand into mine, guilt rushes through me and my skin goes cold as I inspect the bruises.
“Oh my God. Vincent, what happened?” I gasp.
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Just some assholes.”
I look at a particularly nasty cut across two of his knuckles. My voice coming out in a squeak. “Nothing, my ass! You may need stitches!”
“You see what happens when our pawn doesn’t do as she is told?” Cast’s voice pierces through my panic, and I look up at him, leaning against the wall down the hallway staring at us. “Our King gets hurt.”
I scoff. “You cannot blame this on me.”
“They took pictures of your tits, Trouble.” Damien scowls as he enters the hallway, his jaw a deep shade of purple.
I gasp, walking over to him and without thinking, because for some reason when it comes to the Chessmen, I cannot think like a rational person who is being blackmailed by her tormentors.
My hands cup his face, pushing his head to the side as I get a closer look at the bruises. Damien’s grey eyes narrow on me but he doesn’t move, or breathe for the matter, standing almost statue-still while I touch him. I turn, narrowing my eyes on a perfectly unbruised Cast.
“Cast?” My voice comes out shaky, but he just smirks.
“I don’t fight fair, carina,” he teases, sliding a razor blade from between his teeth. “You should know that.”
A whimper leaves my lips, as I press my legs firmer together. Fuck is there anything hotter that Cast’s tongue must be the most skilled instrument on the planet since he holds a razor blade in his mouth and there doesn’t seem to to be a cut in sight.
My mouth waters, and my hands slide from Damien’s face, resting on his shoulders. His eyes, clear and dark, bore into mine, but I don’t move, watching his pupils expand the longer I touch him.
“Don’t worry about the scars, Princess. The problem is you exposed our breasts to school.” Vincent growls. The vibration of his voice snaps my eyes away from Damien and onto him.
Cast’s taunting laughter rolls down my spine just as his hand slides around my ass and settles on my hips. He pulls me away from Damien and flush against his chest, something hard pokes me in my back and I am 99.999% sure it’s his dick. I lick my lips and look up at a starving Vincent.
“I think it’s time for another lesson. Don’t you, boys?”
“Absolutely.” Vincent says, eyes glittering like a kid in a candy store.
Damien sighs. “You always have to learn the hard way, don’t you, Trouble?”
“Wait!” I snap. “I wouldn’t have done it if Isabel hadn’t-”
“Isabel has been punished.” Cast drones, peppering light kisses on the curve of my neck.
“What?” My chest tightens because the thought of Isabel being punished the way they punish me makes my blood boil, but I can’t be upset with them. They are not mine. I am just theirs to punish, torture and play with.
“Isabel and Damien are taking a little break.” Vincent shrugs and my eyes flicker to Damiens, but he shows no emotions on how he feels about breaking up with his girlfriend for me.
“Don’t worry, Princess. The ice bitch will be back with Damien next week. She’s just on time out.” My stomach plummets, and it takes every ounce of my energy not to show how sad that makes me, but I have no time to unpack that now, especially with Cast’s hands on me.
Cast’s hands roll up my curves and under Jasmine’s hoodie that I am still wearing from earlier. The heat of his hands causes my skin to prickle.
“Another lesson in me being yours. Didn’t you grow up out of the ‘mine’ phrase when you were two?” I taunt and the growl that comes out of Damien causes a suffocating rush of fear to invade my senses.
“You’re such a brat, carina.” Cast murmurs in my ear, just as his hand cups my left breast and I inhale a sharp gasp. “Maybe I should make you swallow all of our cum, wash out that mouth of yours.”
Cast rolls my nipple between his fingers and I arch against him as a forced huff escapes my lips. My skin feels like I am on fire, just as my core pulses with the need for him to touch me more, to touch me right there.
“Aww,” Vincent fakes a pout. “She’s so needy, brother.”
“Is that right, carina?” Cast rasps in my ear. “You’re needy?”
I groan, shaking my head no, because regardless of what my body says I can’t give them the satisfaction.
“No?” Cast mocks.
“She’s a liar.” Damien yawns. “I can smell her pussy from here.”
Shame washes over me and I tighten my thighs closed, which makes Vincent growl out his disapproval. Cast kicks my legs open, holding me firmly against him and his cock which I swear has only gotten larger.
“Strip for me, pawn.” Cast snarls in my ear. He releases his grip on me and I miss the heat of him immediately especially when my eyes land on the coldness of Damien who still hasn’t moved since I cupped his face moments ago.
“Strip?” I cough out.
“You had no problem doing it earlier.” Damien mocks and I narrow my eyes on him.
“That was to prove a point.” I counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “No.”
“No?” Damien snarls, taking a step closer to me, but Cast places a hand on his chest, stopping him from coming any closer.
“Pawn, you signed the contract.”
“And?”
“And you follow the instructions.” Cast barks, eyes narrowing on the defiant curve of my lips. “Strip out of your clothes, or I rip them off and make you walk home naked.”
I flinch at his tone, and the crazed excitement that Cast always has in his eyes dulls to calculated snarl as if he would slice my head off in one slick movement and hang my head above his mantle as a threat to his enemies, especially if I continue to talk back to him or the others.
I huff, and roll my eyes.
“Without the attitude, Princess.” Vincent warns and I flash him a smile so sickly sweet, I hope he gets a cavity in his perfect teeth.
Adjusting my attitude, I slide the hoodie over my head, leaving me in a denim skirt and my unicorn socks. Cast eyes gleam with approval. Vincent wolf calls, but when my eyes land on Damien there is nothing. It’s like he is watching the same episode of the Simpsons for the thirtieth time. With a smirk, I lean down and slide off both of my socks dropping them to the ground. Turning my ass to Damien, I bend over and slowly slide my skirt off, giving him a nice view of my ass and bare pussy.
“Damn, Princess.” Vincent whistles. “If this is the last sight I see, I will die a happy man.”
“Gorgeous.” Cast murmurs.
Damien grunts, and I turn just in time to see him adjust his pants. Take that asshole.
“Down, carina.” Cast commands. “On all fours.”
“Excuse me?” I snap, looking around at all three guys because I will not be led around like a dog. I mean I know some people like it and to each their own, but not me, or at least I don’t think me.
“Down, Princess.” Vincent’s stern voice makes me drop to my knees and I don’t know why he can always get me to do things I don’t want to, just by changing the tone of his voice.
I twist my thighs, aware of every spot on my body that is exposed to him, to all of them. I place my palms on the floor, arching my back, looking at Cast through my eyelashes.
“Good girl,” Cast smirks. “Now crawl to the room, first door on the right.”
I don’t argue this time, instead slowly place one hand in front of the other focusing on how my body snakes as I crawl to the room Cast directed me to. I can feel all three sets of their eyes on me, and while shame and humiliation makes my cheeks heat, I can’t deny the slick arousal growing between my thighs. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“We should make her crawl every day.” Vincent sighs. “I’m about to bust just looking at her pretty little pussy.”
I bite my lip and look down at my hands as I turn right into the room, more than happy they can’t see the smile of pride spread across my face. Holy shit, do I like the idea of turning the Chessmen on? Do I like the idea of submitting to the three guys that literally locked me in a contract so that they could control me? I want to be ashamed, but I can feel my own arousal drip down my thighs, and the sure breeze of a chill on my soaked pussy. In all honesty, I am too turned on to care what this means.
“Look at how fucking wet she is,” Cast groans just as I crawl to the center of the room. “Sit right there, butt on the heels of your feet.”
I do just as Cast directs and sit looking up at him, just as he stops behind me. Vincent stops in front of me, the tent of his jeans inches from my mouth, and just like before, Damien sits on the couch looking at us. I look over at him, but just as I open my mouth Vincent pinches my chin between his fingers and forces me to make eye contact with him.
“Look at me, Princess.” My heart flutters and I look up into his drunken gaze.
Cast kneels behind me and trials his hand lightly up my thigh. “This is the submissive position, Willow. When you come here, to my study or whenever I play with you, this is how I want you. Understand?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“Yes what?” He murmurs, his other hand cupping my right breast, his fingers immediately finding my nipple and yanking hard.
“Yes, Cast?” I whimper, because I don’t know what he wants me to say but as worked up as I am right now, I would call him anything he wants.
“Sir, Princess.” Vincent says.
“Yes, sir.” I moan, loving the way Cast rolls my nipple between his fingers, just as his other hand dips to my inner thigh.
I shiver, keeping my eyes on Vincent who is scaring me because I could swear he is looking at me like I mean something to him and I swear I don’t. I couldn’t, do I? Before I can ask, Cast moves his hand lower, mere inches from my core and I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Unbuckle my jeans, Princess.” Vincent whispers.
I stare up at him through my lashes, as I work the button of his jeans open. His cock pulses through his boxers as if it is fighting to be free, but before I can touch it, touch him, Cast’s finger dips into my pussy and I shutter, arching my back away from him.
“No running, carina.” He whispers, running his fingers over the sensitive nub. “You are mine.”
My body lights up like a firework, and I open my mouth wide to moan. Vincent’s hand slides into his boxers releasing his swollen cock and fisting himself in his hand. “Suck my cock, Princess.”
I nod, my mouth watering at the creamy liquid dripping from the crown of his cock. Curiosity of his taste overwhelms me and I stick out my tongue licking Vincent’s tip, just as Cast pushes harder on my clit. I buck my hips against him eliciting a chuckle from Cast’s throat.
“Mmm,” I moan, swiping my tongue across the head again and spreading Vincent’s precum across my tongue. He tastes salty and sweet like sea salt on top of a chocolate chip cookie, and I fucking love it. I can’t get enough of it.
“Do I taste good?” Vincent teases, but I don’t care.
I lean forward taking as much of him as I can into my mouth and sucking hard. “Fucking hell, Princess.” Vincent groans.
Cast kisses up the curve of my neck, sliding two fingers inside me, while the heel of his palm presses into my swollen clit. I slide Vincent deeper into my mouth, his cock is wider than Cast’s with a slight curve, but I don’t stop until he is all the way down my throat.
“Princess, you're taking me so well.” Vincent praises, a groan that isn’t his or Cast rolls over me.
Cast finger fucks me faster, whispering in my ear. “Carina, you are such a good slut for us, even Damien had to join.”
I slide Vincent a little out of my mouth and peak at Damien, who’s eyes are trained on me as he fucks his hand in long, deep strokes that makes me whimper around Vincent’s cock.
Vincent swells in my mouth, his hand roughly gripping the back of my hair. “I’m so close, baby.”
I moan, my own orgasm cresting.
“You're going to keep your eyes on Damien.” Cast directs. “And you are going to swallow Vincent whole, understand me?”
I nod my head, the flurry of need and pleasure and the almost blackened gaze of Damien drowns me as I rock on Cast’s hands. This is all too much. It feels so fucking good.
Vincent cums first: his cum shooting down my throat as his grip on my hair tightens almost painfully so, and I moan out my approval, swallowing him in three gulps. Cast doesn’t stop, holding my forearm as he forces me to bounce on his fingers, and Vincent wipes the corner of my lips, my eyes trained on Damien who looks at me like I am his life line.
“Fuck,” Damien groans, his cum spilling into his hand.
“Look at that carina,” Cast smiles against my ear. “ You made a mess of Damien. You like that he just came from watching you get finger fucked and swallowing his best friend.”
“Yes, sir!” I pant, throwing my head back, the sight of these two men coming undone for me has me racing to the edge.
“You’re going to come, little devil?” Vincent whispers, pulling my gaze to his. His mischievous smile makes me quiver, and a yearning to be all bad for him vibrates under my skin.
“Yes sir,” I moan, right when I am there. When I can see the horizon and feel the flickers of a flame beneath my skin, Cast slaps my pussy hard. I buck forward, groaning at the sting on my swollen, very sensitive clit.
Cast growls. “Naughty girls, who strip in the middle of the cafeteria don’t cum.”