Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Laurel
Below us, in the very center of the main room, is a raised circular platform ringed in low crimson light. Over two dozen people, maybe thirty, are locked in a living, writhing orgy.
All masked. Bodies move in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, skin on skin, mouths open, moans rising like smoke.
A woman is suspended from the ceiling in black silk ropes, arms bound behind her back, legs spread wide in a harness. A man kneels between her thighs, eating her out with long, slow licks while another stands in front of her, feeding his cock into her mouth in fast, deep strokes.
Nearby, a man is locked in a pillory, head and wrists trapped, while a woman in a leather corset circles him with a flogger, trailing the tails over his back, his ass, his balls. Every strike makes him jerk, his cock hard and leaking.
Another woman is bent over a padded bench, wrists and ankles cuffed, while two men take turns, one in her mouth, one pounding into her from behind. A third woman straddles her back, riding a strap-on buried in the bound woman’s ass, fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back.
It’s beautiful, terrifying, and at the same time, overwhelming.
I recover enough to turn, and find Leonid watching me, not the scene. His eyes are dark, hungry, fixed on my face like he’s trying to read every thought flashing through my mind.
My gaze darts back to the glass just in time to see a woman on her knees, breasts bound tight with red rope, nipples clamped. One man eats her out from behind while another woman stands over her, trailing a feathered whip across her clamped nipples.
I’ve never considered myself a voyeur, but the sounds, the wet slap of skin, the raw, desperate moans, the low growls of pleasure, they all sink into my skin like heat. My thighs press together. I’m soaked. The ache between my legs is almost painful. I didn’t realize this part of myself existed.
“So none of those men or women can come up here?”
Leonid’s voice is velvet against my ear. “They wouldn’t dare. This is a private room.”
I swallow. “Yeah?”
“I thought I made it clear that I never shared what’s mine?”
The possessive edge in his voice makes my pulse spike.
“So I’m yours?” I whisper.
His thumb brushes my jaw, trails down my neck. “I thought I made that abundantly clear.”
I want to ask him does that mean I’m his girlfriend now? But I bite my lip instead.
He leans in, voice dropping to a growl. “We can leave anytime.”
“No,” I breathe. “I don’t want to.”
His gaze drops to my thigh, then lower. “You’re wet, aren’t you?”
I nod, cheeks burning.
He inhales, and his eyes flutter half-closed. “I can smell you.”
Heat floods my entire body. I’m trembling.
He reaches for his champagne flute, takes a sip, then grabs the back of my neck and pulls me into a fierce kiss. Cold, crisp bubbles flood my mouth as he pours the drink from his lips to mine. I swallow greedily, tasting champagne and him.
He sets the glass down with a soft clink, then slides his hand up the high slit of my dress. My legs part for him without conscious thought, needy, and desperate for his skin on mine.
His fingers find me bare. “No panties,” he growls against my mouth.
“The dress didn’t allow them,” I gasped.
“Hmm.” He slowly circles my clit, then slips two fingers inside me. I’m so wet they slide in easily. My hips rock forward, chasing more, a moan escaping my lips.
My eyes flick back to the glass wall, just in time to see a woman on all fours, back arched, getting pounded from behind by two men. How they are able to manage that position is beyond me.
Leonid’s fingers curl inside me, thumb pressing my clit.
I turn to him, panting. “You’re not even watching.”
He doesn’t even glance at the scene below. His eyes are on me, dark, possessive, burning.
“I don’t care about them,” he says, voice rough. “I only care about this.” His other hand finds my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, pulling me flush against him so I feel exactly how much he means it.
“About the way your pulse is hammering right here—” he drags his thumb down the column of my throat “—about how wet you are just from sitting here, watching them fuck.”
He curls his fingers inside me and I buck my hips, my mouth opening wide.
“You think I care about the show down there?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear, voice dropping to a velvet growl that sends heat pooling straight between my thighs.
“Baby, you’re the only thing I’ve wanted to devour since the second we walked through that door.
And I’m going to make sure you feel every second of it. ”
“Oh…” is all I can manage.
Leonid slips his fingers out of me and my body immediately mourns the loss. He gets to his feet, eyes locked on mine. “Stand.”
I rise on shaky legs, the red silk of the dress clinging to my sweat-damp skin. He steps closer. “Take off your clothes.”
My fingers tremble as I reach for the thin straps at my shoulders. He’s already moving, unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off to reveal the hard planes of his chest.
I let the dress slide down my body, pooling at my feet in a crimson pool. No bra, no panties. Naked. His gaze devours every inch.
He kicks off his shoes, shoves his trousers and briefs down in one impatient motion. His cock springs free, and my mouth waters even as my core clenches with a fresh rush of need.
He opens a drawer beside the bed. My breath catches when he takes out a black plug, a small bullet-like stuff, a bottle of lube, thin leather cuffs. Have these been used by other people who occupied this room before?
He must read the flicker of worry on my face because he pauses. “They’re brand new, solnyshko. I made sure of that.”
I let out a sigh of relief, nodding. “Okay.”
He spreads a thick black blanket on the floor, then looks at me. “Hands and knees.”
My whole body lights up, nerves, anticipation, a tiny thread of fear. I’ve never seen this look in his eyes before: raw, feral, barely leashed. I drop to the blanket, palms pressing into the fabric, knees spreading, ass up, back arched.
He moves behind me. I feel the heat of him first, then the blunt pressure of something cool and smooth against my pussy. A plug. Similar to the one he had me put in the other time. A little smaller, but thick enough to stretch. He pushes it in slowly, inch by inch, until it seats deep.
Then it starts buzzing. Low at first, then stronger, vibrating right against my clit. A moan rips out of me before I can stop it.
He reaches around, and presses the bullet-like plug to my lips. “Lick.”
I do, instinctively, tongue swirling over the smooth metal ball. He pulls it away, trails it down my spine, between my cheeks. I hear the wet squirt of lube, and then he presses it firmly against my asshole.
I tense. I’d never had anything in my asshole before.
“Relax,” he murmurs, voice dark velvet against my ear. “You can take it, can’t you? Like a good girl. My good girl.”
His voice, the moans from downstairs, overlapping with the buzz inside me. My body softens, opens. He pushes the anal plug all the way in, until it pops past the tight ring and settles deep.
A full-body shudder rolls through me. I feel so full. The dual vibrations, pussy and ass, set every nerve on fire.
“Such a filthy little good girl,” he growls. “Look at you, shaking, dripping around both those toys stretching you wide. I can see your pussy clenching on that plug every time you breathe.”
He cracks his palm hard across my ass, the impact jolting both plugs deeper. I cry out, hips jerking forward then back, chasing the double fullness that’s already driving me insane.
“Fuck, listen to how wet you are,” he rasps, sliding two thick fingers along the seam where the pussy plug sits buried, circling the base without pulling it out. “Soaking my hand, leaking down your thighs. So fucking hot.”
He withdraws his hand and moves around to my front. His cock is right there, thick, leaking, inches from my mouth.
“Open.”
I do. He slides in, slow at first, letting me adjust, then deeper, until he hits the back of my throat. My eyes water. I moan around him, the sound vibrating down his length.
He starts to fuck my mouth in controlled thrusts, hand fisted in my hair, guiding me exactly how he wants. “Look at you,” he rasps. “Taking my cock so well. Such a perfect little slut for me.”
He spanks my ass again, and then harder, each slap sending jolts straight to my clit. The plugs keep buzzing.
I’m shaking all over. The moans from below, the vibrations in both holes, his cock filling my mouth, his hand in my hair, the sting on my ass, it’s all too much.
I come so hard, my whole body jerking like it’s being electrocuted, squirting around the plug in my pussy. The force pushes it out; it clatters to the floor. I scream around his dick, body convulsing, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Leonid lets out a deep groan, and then pulls out. Hot spurts hit my tongue, my lips, my chin. I swallow greedily, milking every drop, some spilling past my lips anyway.
He’s breathing hard above me, chest heaving, eyes wild. I collapse forward onto my forearms, trembling, wrecked, still pulsing with aftershocks.
He drops to his knees in front of me, gently stroking my cheek. “Fuck,” he breathes, voice raw. His eyes move to the pussy plug that’s still vibrating on the floor. “That was incredible.”
“Amazing,” I manage, voice raw.
Leonid gets on his feet and raises me off the floor, his hands firm under my thighs, my legs still trembling from the orgasm that just ripped through me. He looks down at the mess we’ve made, my thighs slick, his cock glistening, and his voice comes out rough, reverent.
“You’re my beautiful mess, solnyshko.”
He carries me the few steps to the wide leather chair beside the glass wall and sets me down, on my back.
“Grab your legs. Pull them back beside your ears,” he orders,
I obey, scooting back, lying down so my head rests against the padded backrest, then hooking my hands behind my knees and pulling my legs up and wide.
The position exposes everything, my dripping pussy, the plug still buzzing in my ass, my breasts heaving with every ragged breath.
I’m folded open for him, completely at his mercy.
I guess those yoga classes are finally paying off.
He steps between my thighs, eyes blazing. Then he slams into me in one brutal thrust.
I cry out, and my hands slip from my knees. My legs start to fall.
His palm cracks across my left breast, stinging. “Hold your fucking legs up.”
I gasp, the pain blooming into heat, and grab my knees again, pulling them back tight. I’ve never seen him like this, feral, unrestrained, eyes black with hunger. And God help me, I love it.
The butt plug vibrates relentlessly inside me, every thrust pushing it deeper, rubbing against that sensitive spot until I’m whimpering, shaking, right on the edge again.
“Don’t come,” he growls, hips snapping forward. “Not until I say.”
“Please—” My voice cracks. “Leonid, please I need—”
“No.” He fucks me harder, deeper, the chair creaking under us. “You come when I tell you.”
I’m begging now, panting, incoherent, tears pricking my eyes from the overwhelming pressure. “Please… I can’t… I need—”
“Look at me.”
I force my eyes open. He’s staring down at me like I’m his entire world and his worst addiction all at once.
“How badly do you want to come?”
“So badly. Please…” I can’t even recognize my own voice. What’s happening to me?
“Come,” he commands.
I shatter.
The orgasm hits like a freight train, white-hot, blinding. I gush around him, hot fluid soaking us both, my whole body jerking in violent spasms. I scream his name, vision blurring, legs shaking so hard I almost lose my grip.
He doesn’t stop.
He pulls out, flips me onto my knees on the settee so I’m facing the glass wall.
My palms slap against the cool surface. My breasts press flat to the glass.
The orgy sprawls below us, bodies writhing, mouths open, hands everywhere, and now I have a front-row view as Leonid drives back into me from behind.
He fucks me like he’s trying to imprint himself inside me, hard, fast. One hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back so I’m arched, watching the scene below while he pounds into me.
The plug buzzes. His cock hits every perfect spot. The sight of strangers fucking below us, raw, shameless, tips me over again.
I come a third time, screaming, sobbing his name, body convulsing, walls milking him so hard he curses in Russian. His rhythm stutters, hips slamming deep one last time, and he comes with a guttural groan, filling me, grinding against me like he wants to crawl inside my skin.
We collapse onto the settee, sweaty, shaking, tangled. He’s still inside me, softening slowly, arms wrapped around my waist, face buried in my neck.
I realize then that tears are streaming down my cheeks, not sad, but happy. My whole body feels raw, exposed, alive in a way I’ve never known.
He notices and thumbs the tears away. “Alright?”
I nod. “Hmm.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, before gently pulling the plug free, and then turns me so I’m lying on his chest.
“How are you?” he murmurs, voice hoarse.
I press my face into his throat, breathing him in. “Fantastic.”
He kisses my temple. “Did I scare you off yet?”
I laugh—shaky, breathless. “Hell no. I enjoyed every second of it.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he says softly, fingers tracing lazy patterns down my spine.
I smile against his skin, because I know, without question, that I’m ruined for anyone else.