Chapter 19
Izzy
Judging by the roar and the whipping of dust on my back, the helicopter must have taken off behind us,. I’m wearing a blindfold, and Adelmo has guided me this far with a hand on my shoulder.
“Stay there,” he murmurs. “Don’t forget I’m Diablo if you speak of me. You are Cinders. We don’t use our names here.” His fingers are at the knot then the blindfold is removed. “Come.”
We’re on a white-walled pathway that takes a slight bend to the left before opening onto a wide driveway. Opposite is a white, two-story castle affair with towers at either end. Though the tops of them are reimagined turrets with stepped terraces like Lego bricks, this makes me wonder if we are somewhere with real castles, such as Spain. The journey from London by private jet then chopper has been long and tedious, and I was blindfolded in the helicopter.
I have no real idea where we are, which Adelmo says is deliberate.
Some of these CNC Fraternity members are paranoid about being unmasked.
“Spain?” I venture out loud.
“You know I can’t say. If I did, I’d have to leave you here in their private dungeon, to be eaten by griffins.” With hand at mouth, he mimes some monster chomping on me.
I eyeroll and shake my head. My long hair is tied into a thick plait, and it slips over my corset at the front.
“Follow.” He guides me to the edge of the driveway, where we wait for a black limousine to cruise past. He sighs sadly. “Your one job was to laugh at my jokes and suck my cock when asked.”
Is this about the griffin? It has taken me a while to realize this man has a weird sense of humor.
“That’s two jobs.”
“Your two jobs then. Walk.”
After crossing the driveway, we climb a grand stairway where overhead spotlights flicker across the steps and glaze everyone’s hair with gold. Other guests throng about or climb with us. Some are in classic BDSM gear, black latex, leather, buckles and straps, gags, and leashes. Others are like Adelmo and me, roleplaying warriors or animals, anime characters, or maybe gods. I am sure I saw a Thor and a Medusa.
Adelmo wears a long brown leather coat over post-apocalyptic knight armor—replica shredded chainmail, black vest, and breeches, all in lighter materials than real armor. His scorched-earth short hair with shaven symbols, the black kohl around his eyes, and his plentiful scars make him look fearsome.
He is fearsome. I know this and have my own scars to prove it.
I chose a purple warrior’s garb—a low-cut, satin-and-metal corset, a swishy, ultra-short skirt, and buckle-adorned purple leggings. The chainsaw katana sheathed at my back had to be checked by the guards but, like Adelmo’s, it’s merely plastic. Purple-and-‘steel’ arm bracers and some gemstone trinkets complete my costume.
Though cosplay warriors, we are too ordinary and non-kinky for this party.
Once past the metal detector and the door guards, in their Victorian-era suits, we stand with a wide corridor running away ahead of us. Thick white columns form a colonnade that also separates the corridor into semi-private spaces.
We pass a girl in a white tutu and ballerina costume sitting on a platform atop a square column. A chain leash attached to her leather collar prevents her from escaping. It’s bizarre, but her leashed capture, and the day-of-the-dead skull mask she wears, are in keeping with the sado-masochistic theme of this party.
“That reminds me.” Adelmo draws us into a different alcove, pulls a purple satin bag from his coat. “Happy birthday, Izzy. The rest of my present comes afterward, if you behave. Kneel for me.”
When I kneel, he draws a black collar from the bag.
Rotating it slowly, he lets me read the writing. A thread of diamonds spells out words in script: IZZY is written near the dog tag—a gold heart that swings with the movement. Turning the collar further reveals My Kink Kitten, etched in red.
I guess no one else can see my name? Maybe showing it doesn’t count because I’m not one of the members.
I wait, willingly. Kneeling has become a routine for us since the day of the bloodbath—kneeling while he advises me of upcoming activities or rewards me. If it were not for our mutual respect and love of this kinky relationship, this would never have settled as it has into such a natural rhythm.
“Will you be behaving?” He inclines an eyebrow.
“I will, sir. Mostly.” Mostly because the key in this is how much I enjoy the resistance, the ability to say no and struggle against him. The feel of the collar going on my neck and his warm hands and blunt fingers buckling it is a thrill I will never tire of. His calluses scrape my skin.
He kisses my temple. “This is to be your collar from now on.”
I put my hand up and feel his forearm slide past, the hairs, his size, his taut muscles emphasize his masculinity. I want to wake next to him forever. The difference between how he treats me now and that fisting on the boat is remarkable.
We both know I’d not be able to take that much barely restrained aggression without breaking. We’ve discussed this more than once.
The man can be caring and tender. I saw that on Bloodbath Day.
He can also be scary.
“You’re okay with whatever I choose to do to you, tonight?”
This sounds ill-omened but I nod. “Yes. I’m happy.” Why is my heart racing?
I do have a safeword to use if I have to, but the fun in this is just to let him do to me whatever he wants to. He knows what kinks I detest, and we have set up boundaries. On the boat, in the middle of that chaotic tragedy, I would never have thought we would be here, doing this.
However, these guests are uber-rich and probably arrogant as fuck, and I do fleetingly wonder if he’s going to go OTT to impress someone.
“Good. I’m going to ignore you if you scream no or kick me. Make that, I will punish kicking severely, but please do try.”
Oh my. Do I dare to kick him? Adding it to my maybes. He stares from under his brow. I nod.
“Happiness is good, because the present is special.”
“My list?” I ask hopefully.
“No. I looked at that but chose something off-list. You’ll adore it. Stand up.”
A woman sweeps by with another woman crawling after her…and she’s naked apart from a red lace micro-bra, crotchless panties, and a few tattoos. Or are those brands?
Fuck. They are. That’s a freshly scorched brand on her ass and a smaller one at her shoulder. A horse-style bit gag is in her mouth, and as she sways by, I see her pussy lips have been sewn together.
Ohhh crap. What have I volunteered for?
Adelmo has seen her too.
“Well now. Something to aspire to?”
“No?” I squeak.
He laughs in that wicked manner I’ve come to tremble at…while excitement secretly threads my veins.
He can be tender. He can be cruel. His sadism matches my masochism like a hand in a glove.
But…his kinky-fuckery imagination hits the extremes some days.
“Let’s see what I can do to you that’s new and still make you come.”
He clicks a black leash to my collar.
“Crawl for me.”
I lower myself to the ornate tiles then crawl after him as he strolls deeper into the house.
We pass room after room before he pauses outside a pair of latched-open doors. Inside is a small dining area, half-filled with patrons. The lighting is dim. Knives and forks clink against plates, and the murmur of voices seems normal until a scream cuts the air. No one stills. No one pauses in their eating. On the stage at the rear, people are doing something I cannot quite see.
When we step inside, Adelmo unslings his fake sword, takes mine, and props them inside the door. He unclips my leash. It is only then that I see the gorgeous woman parked in the shadows near the left-hand door. She is utterly naked, gagged. And, somehow, she is hanging on the wall with her legs folded and her knees strapped to her stomach.
Her hands are bound in leather cuffs and hooked on the wall above her head.
Her position is in line with a row of seven or eight coat hooks that run from beside the door frame.
My mouth drops open in horror as I realize what she must be hanging from and how it must be caught on her…in her.
A sign above catches my eye: COAT AND HUMAN STORAGE SPACE.
“No,” I whisper.
A quiet background buzz rises in volume, and she wriggles, her mouth moves as if in distress. She shudders, her belly taut, and she gasps past the gag. A drizzle of shiny moisture hangs from between her legs. Someone is making her come.
A man laughs and a chair creaks. “Want to try yours up there?” His drawl is expectant, as if he thinks Adelmo will do this—put me up there. “It’s safe, kind of. There’s a big, fat vibrating dildo in her ass and cunt. And a strap around her tummy and under her breasts. Hard to see but it’s there.”
“Fuck me.” Adelmo is staring at her.
I’m checking out the author of this madness, the man dressed as the Mad Hatter sitting with his back to a square table.
“Or her?” He nods at me, winks, and raises what must be the vibe controls. “Anya is coming along nicely. Another one and you can have the space?”
Still aghast I shake my head at Adelmo.
“Hmmm?” Again with that cocked eyebrow of his. “Maybe?”
“Nooo!” I’d kick his shin but that would lead to disaster, to him doing this.
“Behaving, you are? It seems not.” He bends his knees to come to my eye level, leans in. “Perhaps we should test you on it?”
I assume my best contrite expression. “Sorry. I just don’t think it would take my weight. Like, it would be unsafe?”
“Does it have a load-bearing weight listed?” he asks, strolling closer to this guy.
They enter into a quiet discussion while I’m purely horrified. Anya’s predicament might be happening in a discreet, shadowed corner of this room, but when I look about I find quite a few of the people watching her.
While they sip champagne, chew steak…and, yes, fuck their partners, some of them.
“Here it is. The specs.”
Adelmo peers at the paper the man is unfolding. Is that real?
My toes curl. He wouldn’t. This is ridiculous. And yet he joyfully fucked me in front of Montez. I know he did it with a great degree of pleasure because he’s said so since then, the pervert. He’d do it to me on top of the Eiffel Tower if he thought it legal.
“Uhhh. It’s two hundred kilograms? What’s that in?—”
“It’s enough,” Adelmo assures him. “Cinders is not two hundred kilos. Get yours down and help me, and you can control the vibe, half and half?”
I advance quickly, my hand up, even though I just know protesting is likely to trigger Adelmo into something worse. “No. Please, no. You can’t mean it?”
He smiles. “Don’t I?” I’m backing away when he grabs my plait. “No running.”
“Deal. Anya is worn out anyway. Call me Hatter by the way.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Hatter bringing his square table over. He places it beneath the girl.
Adelmo turns me, smacks my butt says, “Behave or no present.” Then he picks me up, slings me over his shoulder and strips off my flimsy panties, leaving only the small skirt to shield me below. My wriggling and squeaking achieve nothing. His hand poking about at the crotch of my underwear does something though.
I push against his thick belt to gain some leverage, and he smacks my ass again.
The smacking is only making me horny. Hornier.
Hatter has released the girl and pulled the dildos from her. He puts the exhausted Anya and them on the floor, replaces the used dildos with new ones from a box.
His arms open wide. “Yours.”
I toy with that extreme circumstances safeword as Adelmo goes to the table and deposits me there. My legs hang off the edge. My costume is made for adjustments, and he unclips the fake armored bodice to bare me. While I watch, he cups my breasts, bites them all over. The scattered pain burns in, enough to make me curse him then push my chest at his nasty mouth.
He ends this by sucking on each nipple, licking them again, around and around. I am spellbound.
“Better?” he asks, his tongue curling and flicking, thoroughly wetting my erect nipple until it shines.
“Uh. Fuuuuck yess. More. Please?” Breath hitching, I try to keep him there with one hand, to make him suck on me for longer, and he shakes me off. He rises, with a hand conveniently resting on the table between my legs.
He kisses my nose, with his voice a perfectly intimate rumble. “I thought you were going to be a naughty Cinders for me?”
“Mmm.” I wriggle. Sometimes giving in works best. This is a very public display…I’ve suspected it was my thing, but haven’t tested this since…the bad day. Now I know it’s a huge, ginormous, please fuck me here kind of a kink.
Is my heart hammering? Yes. Especially with him leaning in, hand planted near my pussy, with a twisted grin and that disgusting leer on his face. I’ve always hated men who leer, but Adelmo’s is special. God knows why.
“Scared, little miss fucktoy?”
I play my tongue over the seam of my lips, thinking. I could do this—mounted on the wall, force-pleasured, strapped in place. The thought of him making me sit up there with those humongous toys stuck in me, while he makes me come… Ohmigod.
“Yes,” I blurt. “And no?”
“Confused. Good. Next time we come then, I will do it.” What the? “Advance warning.” He kisses me on the mouth, places me over his shoulder again. I hang off him, legs to the front, the rest of me dangled over his back. “Thanks for playing, Hatter.”
I’m hanging upside down and a little bewildered, but I get it. The bastard was messing with me.
“You’re welcome.”
Hatter helps his woman to her feet as Adelmo heads to a table.
Even upside down, I swiftly count. Six men are on the opposite side of a table. The central section has been kept clear and only bears a cake. My cake? Must be.
I recognize one of the men as a sniper employed on that terrible day. He is ex-military. In fact…they all look ex-mil. Hard men, tattoos rambling up their necks and down those bulging biceps. Buzz-cut hair.
The cake is quadruple layered and exquisite, with a bunch of unlit candles, and it’s possibly tiramisu—my favorite. A black dildo sits, upright, spear-like, in the middle.
“Adel…Diablo?” I whisper. “Put me down, please.”
“Soon. When we’re ready. Shirts!” he barks.
And…they all strip off their shirts and unzip their pants.
“I may be blinded,” I whisper, swiping my hair from my face and twisting my body so I can see better. The tattoos, the rippling muscles, the hard cocks they are handling, and then there are those filthy expectant smiles that bloom when they see me staring.
I gulp, apprehension rising as I finally understand what has been arranged.
“You go up here, on the table.” Adelmo hoists me onto it. “On hands and knees and stay where I put you.”
Watching all of them stroke their cocks, I can’t help but lift my hands from the table, retreating onto my knees.
My rear is to Adelmo, and the table is just wide enough that if I put my hands down, they’ll land close to the opposite edge. Mr. Sniper…Jacob, yes? He is there, cock out, before me.
His name tag says Jedd, a fake name.
How was this not on my wish list?
“Bad girl. Jedd, hold her.”
Jedd smirks and threads his fingers into my hair, drags me forward until I’m on my hands and knees again with my head brought high. My breast is being squashed in his other hand. Startled, I jerk away, testing his grip. Then he twists my breast enough that I squeak.
And my wrists are being lashed to the table with what feels like leather.
I look down at where Adelmo is tying me, wondering how, then I register that this entire table is furnished with small iron-look anchor points—what every medieval BDSM party needs.
Unsurprising, considering where this CNC party is being held—in the house of someone who sneezes dollars and probably crypto. A glance about the room tells me I am not the only piece of lewd scenery. Fucking is the raison d’être of this night.
“Keep that ass high,” he tells me, biting my ass cheek, lower and lower, traveling the nibbles and sharper nips all the way to my thigh. When I hiss and move to the side, he wraps an arm around one leg. Then he slides two fingers into my cunt and slowly starts to fuck me.
Soon my thighs are quivering, and I’m making ‘those noises’, as he calls them. My pussy is clenching onto his fingers, then he thrusts his fingers in harder. I let out a grunt. He is knuckle-deep and pumping roughly.
“That’s it.” He bites me again, teeth anchoring in my flesh. His fingers speed up, plunging, in and out. “Listen to that sloppy wet cunt!”
My mouth falls open, and I’m staring at nothing, tensing, toes curling.
Jedd…I see him watching me, as if fascinated.
Nasty chaotic fantasies burst into my mind. I’m merely a female toy-thing to be displayed and made to come before these men. They’ll take me brutally, chain me in a cage, pull me out when they need to fill me with their come.
It’s a filthy imagining but it makes my clit throb with need. Fuck me. Take me. Use me.
Adelmo has heard it, seen it, read it all in my stories.
The only thing keeping me from slumping onto my hands and arching high to offer myself, is Jedd’s torture-hold on my hair. Whenever I try to collapse, he wrenches me high again. My hair tries to depart my scalp, and I sob as those fingers in my pussy become three then four.
He wouldn’t, not again? Not fisted like this?
The fullness is past sanity, stretching my entrance.
Then Adelmo stops, removes those four fingers. I hear him suck on them.
“Your mouth is for them. Your ass is mine.” Then he places his face between my legs, and tongues me while Jedd hauls my head down to his cock and prods my shut mouth.
When I don’t open, and keep my teeth clamped, deliberately refusing, he chuckles.
“Permission to mess with her, Diablo?”
“You know it. Granted! Miss Cinders likes her CNC with a side of fuck no.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” he drawls as he somehow produces a knife from god knows where. He brandishes it below my eye. It looks real.
I flinch and get exactly one millimeter before his fingers twist and pain sets my scalp on fire.
I’m panting, whining, pinned.
Jedd scratches out a whispered, “Open the fuck up, or else.”
The fear is scintillating. I know he won’t, but what if he does, or if he slips and cuts me? What if…
I pop open my mouth, and he pushes inside, slides past my lips and deep. I choke, splutter around him, feel his cock swell. He makes me stay there with it threatening to probe beyond my tonsils.
“Down, down, down it goes. Can’t breathe? Poor girl. Fuck, that’s a nice mouth on her, Diablo. Also happy fucking birthday, girl.”
I swivel my eyes to meet Jedd’s, grunt-snort, as he withdraws then re-enters. My scowl seems to amuse him, but he’s already face-fucking me fast. My teeth scraping on his head and shaft seems to mean nothing or, maybe, he likes it?
The curl of Adelmo’s tongue over my clit had been conjuring a happy tingle, a tightness low in my body but…
He stops.
I whine and wriggle my ass, begging silently. My head is barely off the table, and I’m still being face-fucked, my ass is in the air, when a hard object pushes onto my swollen clit, and it’s switched on. It buzzes.
I gasp and close my eyes as it jiggles against my clit.
A vibe.
God, I love vibes. My eyes roll up as the room revolves, closes in. My thighs twitch inward, my cunt clamps down. I groan, stutter-gasping around cock, and the others are watching me being degraded.
The vibe shakes some more, my clit centers, locks into my world, becomes everything, everything that matters. I’m tossed into nigh-on orgasmic bliss.
Fuck.
Spoken words jolt me away from the vibrator high. “I wanted to take your ass, tonight.” Adelmo thumbs me there, pushes it into my ass—the thumb small enough that the circle of muscle barely resists him. “And forgot to bring something to start you off.”
“Here. Catch.” Jedd pulls the huge black dildo from the cake.
“Perfect.”
Oh. Oh no. I squeak.
I realize how huge that dildo is as Adelmo begins to drill and worm it into my asshole. Whatever lube he’s using—cake, cream, or spit, or something else, it’s not doing much.
The vibe is switched up to nuclear level. I’m groaning again, near mindless with the distress of almost coming. The dildo is remorselessly revolved, squeezed in, drilled in, all the way to the base. I’m shaking.
Fuck vibes. Then Jedd comes in my mouth. Drenched, spewing come, I’m taken hold of by the next man who starts face-fucking me anew.
“Incoming. Open that cunt for me, Cinders,” Adelmo mutters. He inserts his cock in my pussy this time, squeezing in, then pulling out and slamming back in. Miraculously, the dildo stays where it is, occupying way too much of me down there.
But…the vibe, the swell of bliss as he fucks me, the way I’m being passed from man to man as merely a convenient sexy hole…
It’s overwhelming.
It’s perfect.
The table clatters as Adelmo rams into me harder.
And my clit is being gobbled up and buzzed to death by the monster vibe that never ceases to captivate me, this rattling, humming magic.
Another man grabs me, pokes open my mouth. And Adelmo extracts the black dildo and then forces his way into my ass, slow but sure.
“Sing happy birthday to her, guys,” he says, grunting, starting his true rhythm, the noises and his strained words telling me he’s going to come in my ass, soon.
There is pain from that, but so much is happening.
The vibe is switched higher, and I writhe. I slip past the agony of over stimulation. I hit a strange high that throws me into an orgasm.
I’m squirming as much as I can in their grasp as I choke around the latest cock. Mouth and cunt filled, violated, I ascend, pleasure dominates, compels, fucks with my mind, and another climax convulses me.
The wet noises of cocks plowing me. The slap of Adelmo on my ass. The vibe going about its relentless destruction of my clit. There’s a madness and an oblivion waiting in a starless sky. Keening, I orgasm again, shuddering into the pleasure, my body spasming. My heart thuds fast, an undernote to the timing of men taking me at both ends.
And so it goes. I come again as they trade me, use me.
There are aches and small pains, but I’m lost in the middle of an endless ride of remorseless fucking.
Until, at last, they are done. They pull out and leave me, loosen the bindings, roll me, near lifeless, onto my back.
I’m blinking and panting, and my mouth is finally empty. When my head flops to the side, I can barely see the table. It’s wet and slippery under my face, under my ass.
I’m a limp thing, lying on my back, legs spread, and dragging in more air than this room possesses, with the ceiling swaying and blurred.
“Happy birthday, again.” Adelmo arrives beside me, slides over. He’s more naked than I am, and he’s smiling. “Here is your last present. The secret one I made up.”
I gulp, searching for more air and swallowing down what must be the last shreds of the jizz from six men.
“What?” My stomach will be pregnant, if not my womb. “I thought they”—I swallow then breathe—“were the present?”
“No.” He kisses my hand and brings it to his chest. “This. Remember her?”
His phone screen displays an image I finally track down in my memory. The partner of Montez. The woman who found my rape a ho-hum boring thing, found the killings of Alice, and that man, yawn-worthy.
The room comes into sharp focus, as does everything else. The scent of sex, the firmness of Adelmo’s chest as I snuggle in. “And?”
“I had her exterminated for you. That is my last present.”
Exterminated. It’s a harsh word. I decide I like it.
This is a sprinkle of horror on my birthday. But apt. The world needed one less of her, and I don’t even remember her name. Wait. I do. It was Carmilla.
“A nice present.” I mean it. “Thank you for that, and for the gangbang.”
“Gangbang? That wasn’t a proper one of those. Now if you want to try that…”
“Oh crap,” I whisper.
He laughs. “Anything for you, my love.”
I rise onto my knees and kiss him on his mouth, uncaring of the residue of our sex, or the other men’s come on me. Whatever. He loves it and tongues me, grabs my hair and bites my neck, before patting my back and pulling me down.
“Thank you, for everything. It was amazing.” I lie on him, sprawled across, with my arms embracing his chest, and I dream of what our future might be.
The men are dragging on their shirts and exiting the room. “How did you get them in here? They’re not millionaires or billionaires.”
“Neither am I. Well, not by much. I pulled in some favors Kasimir owes me.”
“Huh.”
“You made their night, but the fraternity values privacy and exclusiveness, so they have to leave.”
Idly, I trace the raised edge of a scar then draw an invisible love heart on Adelmo, beside his nipple, thinking as I do so. I give the spot a kiss, and he ruffles my hair. Around us, the room is still rocking with immorality, cruel lovemaking, and people dining and watching a show.
And our future?
Bloody, world-shaking, and filled with love-making and kisses, I hope.