Chapter 11
Istand, the huge robe hanging from my shoulders, its hem folding across the floor. My hands are frozen at my sides.
I cannot move. I’m frozen. I’m totally, totally fucking caught.
Oh, fuck...
A shiver begins somewhere deep inside me. I swallow hard, and all my bravado disappears. I suddenly feel so small.
“Please...” My voice quivers.
“Do not speak until you are spoken to, Pet.”
My mouth opens, then closes as my heart races.
Does that count as disobeying? They control whether I am allowed to speak now, but was the rule already in effect, or did he have to give it first?
My hands rush to the robe. Any delay could give them an excuse to put me over one of their laps, and I do not know which of them would do it first. Arrek wants to punish me the most, but Mero is the leader of the triad.
I have the feeling he would pull me across his lap, press me against that huge, throbbing cock and take his time turning my ass red until my obedience became instant.
I let the heavy fabric slip from my shoulders. It gathers around my feet, leaving me naked except for the watch secured around my wrist.
My hands instantly rise. One arm covers my breasts while the other presses between my legs.
A cruel gleam enters Arrek’s eyes.
He can tell me to lower them. He is waiting for it, relishing my final attempt to cover myself before one of them takes even that choice away.
I bite my lip. Before they can give the command, I slowly lower my hands to my sides and look down.
My submission is not an act. These men are so much larger than me, and I have signed away the next one hundred days of my life.
I cannot see their faces, but I can feel their eyes moving over me. My nipples harden until they ache, suddenly, desperately sensitive. A trembling heat gathers between my legs, followed by a hot rush of shame.
All three men breathe in at once.
They can smell it on me. That shameful tendril of lust I cannot repress.
“Sit.”
Mero’s voice is a hard command. My legs instantly buckle, and I drop to my knees upon the furs. I do not know where to put my hands, so I leave them hovering uselessly beside me as I look up, waiting for his next command.
“Good girl.”
A little gasp escapes me.
I cannot help it. The sound comes from somewhere I do not recognize, and my cheeks burn because they can smell how my body reacts to his praise even while my hatred for them grows.
“Hands and knees.”
I obey instantly, placing my palms upon the furs and presenting myself to all three men. At least now I can lower my head and pretend that a fracture in the limestone beyond the open cage door is the most interesting thing in the universe.
“Come.”
My face burns as I crawl towards the open door. I pass beneath the little heartwood frame, and cool limestone replaces the furs beneath my hands and knees. My palms are protected by deep calluses, but my knees are tender against the stone.
I keep my eyes lowered as I approach Mero. Looking up would mean seeing his enormous cock straining against his wet robe from far too close.
How close does he expect me to come?
I continue until his toes and broad leather sandals fill my lowered vision.
His foot looks carved from marble and is nearly as large as my head, each toenail neatly trimmed.
I stop with my hands resting inches from it, too frightened to move closer and just as frightened that I have not come close enough.
Mero snaps his fingers.
My head jerks upwards before he even gives the command.
“Look up.”
My gaze travels unwillingly along the ordered white folds of his robe. At this distance, his cock looks heavy and cruel. The soaked fabric clings to the thick vein running along its length and moulds itself around the enormous head.
I can smell him. The salty warmth of his precum beneath a deep, musky sweat. There is nothing clean or oceanic about it. The scent is overwhelmingly male.
I want to tell him that he is not allowed. That I did not sign an agreement to suck his cock.
But Mero looks down at me, his expression carved from stone.
“Open your mouth.”
For one terrified heartbeat, I cannot breathe.
My fingers twitch towards the watch. One touch will open the feed to the Commissioner’s office. This cannot be allowed, and Mero knows it.
Perhaps that is the point.
Perhaps he is testing me.
I part my lips and open my mouth wide for him, feeling obscenely exposed.
His enormous pale hand descends towards my face. I fight the instinct to recoil as he places one finger beneath my chin and tilts my head farther back. His thumb draws down my lower lip.
Then his attention shifts from my obedience to my teeth.
“Wider.”
I obey.
“Tongue.”
I extend it. He examines my gums, the backs of my teeth and beneath my tongue before releasing my chin.
“When was the last time you saw a dentist?”
“A... a dentist?”
“When I ask you a question, you answer.”
My lips part, but nothing comes. My palms are clammy against the limestone, and my eyes are wet. My lip trembles. I feel foolish. Ridiculous. Weak and stupid.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m... I’m scared.”
Mero breathes in slowly. His nostrils flare as he tastes the fear in my scent.
Then one enormous finger brushes my cheek with impossible gentleness.
“When was the last time you saw a dentist, Nell?”
“I...” I swallow. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to one.”
His hand returns to my face. His thumb draws down my lower lip again, and one thick finger enters my mouth. He runs it slowly along my gums, following the line of my teeth.
A faint tenderness flares near the back. I manage not to pull away, but his eyes narrow. He traces the same place again, more gently this time, before checking the other side and peeling my upper lip away from my teeth.
“Stand.”
I hesitate, realizing that if I rise where I am, my face will brush against the monstrous erection straining beneath his robe.
I shuffle backwards on my knees before pushing myself upright. My hands clasp tightly together in front of me as I stand naked before them, frozen and uncertain.
“Turn around.”
I obey.
The cage fills my vision again. The dark heartwood bars. The open little door. For one terrified moment, I think he is going to order me back inside.
The fine hairs rise along the back of my neck.
Mero’s fingers touch my nape.
Black leather passes around my throat. He draws the collar closed with slow precision, leaving just enough space beneath it before fastening the buckle.
The little black bell settles against the hollow of my throat.
It gives one soft, humiliating tinkle.
“Talarin. Inspect her.”
Talarin steps forward.
“Come this way.”
He turns, and I follow him. The bell rings softly with my first step, then again with the next, announcing every movement I make.
Instead of taking the corridor towards the washroom and their bedrooms, Talarin leads me through another archway and deeper into the estate. There are no windows here. Pale limestone walls close around us, broken only by seamless heartwood doors leading into rooms I could never see from outside.
He stops before the last one and places his palm against the wood. The door slides aside with a soft whisper.
Cool, sterile air touches my naked skin.
The Med-Bay is longer than I expected. Three immense metal slabs stand in a row, each built for an Aurelian body and positioned beneath a dark circle recessed into the ceiling where the medical apparatus waits to descend.
One slab for each member of the triad.
Talarin enters and presses his hand against what appears to be an unbroken section of the wall. A hidden panel opens so softly that I barely hear it.
He reaches inside and removes a clear respirator. The transparent material seals over his nose and mouth.
“Give me a moment.”
His eyes close.
A quiet mechanism begins to whisper as he draws his first filtered breath. I stand naked and collared in the middle of the room, my hands still clasped together, while he breathes slowly and deeply.
With his eyes shut, I finally let myself stare.
There is no vanity in Talarin’s body. Every hard, lean line of him has been built for war, not display. Even standing perfectly still, there is a readiness within him. He looks completely at peace, but never relaxed.
He is not ashamed of the enormous erection straining beneath his robe. To him, it seems to be nothing more than another reaction of his body, one that is interfering with what he intends to do and must be brought under control.
Every movement he makes possesses that same measured precision. He opened the panel, removed the respirator and sealed it over his face without hesitation or a single wasted motion.
I have watched him for longer than I should have from the tree that gives me the clearest view of the estate.
Whenever he swam, he followed exactly the same line through the pool and took exactly the same number of strokes before turning.
I think he even swam for the same length of time each morning, although I had no way to measure it.
The thought draws my eyes towards the smartwatch secured around my wrist.
It does not even display the time. Its face holds nothing except the single control that opens the live feed.
The erection beneath Talarin’s robe does not disappear, but its violent throbbing gradually eases. The wet fabric stops twitching with every beat of his heart, and the terrible strain begins to leave his body.
The respirator is filtering out my scent.
Nearly a minute passes before Talarin opens his eyes. I can do nothing but stand there waiting for the next command. His control returns slowly as his grey gaze settles upon me again.
“Stand there.”
He points towards the far wall. A broad circle is set into the limestone floor before it, large enough for an Aurelian to stand within.
I cross the room and step into its centre. The little bell at my throat tinkles as I move, its humiliating sound echoing through the enclosed Med-Bay.
Talarin speaks several words in High Aurelian. The old, formal language is too different from the common dialect for me to understand more than fragments.