Chapter 24 Lena #2
The thought of him here… in that chair… within reach.
So close.
Silas’s voice cut through the thoughts, drawing my focus back. “You can’t hesitate when he’s in front of you, Lena. You can’t show him any weakness. He’s taken enough from you already.”
I nodded.
“Naked,” I said finally.
Silas’s brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I would strip him of everything,” I continued, my voice gaining strength as the thought took shape. “The same way we’ve stripped everything else from him. His power, his control… all of it gone.”
I held his gaze, becoming surer with each word I spoke.
“Marco prides himself on what he owns. People. Wealth. Status symbols. I’d take all of that away.”
A slow breath left me as the image sharpened.
“I’d put him in that chair with nothing. Not even clothes."
My nails dug into my palms as my hands curled to fists.
“I’d make him sit there for a while. Feel his vulnerability.”
A pause.
“And I’d remind him,” I said with certainty, “that everything he thought made him powerful is gone because of me.”
I met Silas’s eyes without any doubt.
“That he’s nothing now.”
Silas looked at me. Really looked at me. Intensity burned in his eyes.
Pride.
Heat crept up my neck, and I felt myself blush under the weight of his stare.
Still crouching, he reached forward and gripped my chair, dragging it toward him. The metal legs screeched loudly against the floor.
“You’re a good student,” he murmured. “And good students get rewards, little mute.”
His tongue darted across his lower lip as his hands moved to the waistband of my pants, gripping them and my underwear at once. He pulled both down in one smooth motion.
I lifted my hips instinctively, but when I settled back, my skin met the cold metal chair, sending a shiver through me.
Silas stayed crouched in front of me, like a tiger ready to pounce, his gaze fixed hungrily on my exposed core.
He looked up for just a moment, a silent question in his eyes. I nodded.
"Open your legs, Lena. Let me give you your reward like a good teacher."
My thighs parted as he leaned forward, his hot tongue swiping through my center, sending lightning through me.
“Fuck, Lena… you taste like candied peaches. So fucking sweet.”
I moaned as his mouth found me again, the sensation pulling tight through my body as he pressed closer, then sucked hard on the most sensitive part of me. His tongue moved inside me, dipping in and out of my heat, drawing helpless groans from my throat.
Suddenly, he lifted me, looping his hands beneath my ass and hauling me against his chest. My hands remained restrained behind my back.
With one sweep of his arm across the workbench, tools clattered to the floor in a sharp chorus of metal.
He set me down on the surface, his hands immediately finding my knees and prying them apart as far as they would go.
Then he pressed against me, the heat of him a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath me.
“Lesson two,” he instructed, his voice raw. “Psychological pressure.”
I stilled, trying to focus on his words, recognizing the way he used proximity as a tool to distract me.
“Before you ever lay a hand on a subject,” he continued, “there are ways to loosen them. Ways to make them talk without ever touching them.”
He shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space between us. The absence of contact made me pout.
“To get into their head,” he added. “To shake their control. Spike their fear. Overwhelm them before you need to apply pain.”
He crouched between my legs again, pursed his lips and blew softly right against my hot, wet, needy center. I groaned, feeling my walls tighten and slick pour from me.
He blew again, chuckling when more slick dripped from me.
“You can taunt them,” he said, fixated on my most intimate place. “Dangle what they want right in front of them.”
Then he straightened, standing between my thighs.
“And take it away.”
His fingers caught the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion. My bra went next, unclipped and discarded just as quickly.
Suddenly I sat bare on the workbench, shivering under fluorescent lights.
The room smelled like metal and antiseptic, but Silas’s alpha scent cut through it, heavier now that it was threaded with his arousal.
I was so needy.
So empty.
So desperate for him.
And the smirk on his face told me he already knew.
“And if they start to beg,” he said evenly, “that’s when you know they’re close to breaking.”
“Please, Silas,” I whispered, looking up at him through damp lashes.
His head tilted slightly.
“Please what, little mute?”
“Please…” My breath hitched. “I need you. I need you to fill me.”
The words came out exactly the way he wanted them to.
As a plea.
It was obvious what he was demonstrating by teasing me. He wanted me to beg.
Silas reached forward, his hand hovering just above my breast, so close I could feel the heat of him without contact. Then he pulled it back again.
“Sometimes when they beg,” he continued, his voice calm, instructional. “It's only an act. They’re not ready yet. Not really.”
I groaned.
“You have to know the difference between discomfort… and desperation.”
Frustration surged through me as I threw my head back.
“I am desperate, Silas,” I whined.
“Convince me,” he replied, his stare stern and unyielding.
I tried to pull my hands forward, instinctively reaching for my core, trying to fill it, to quell the ache, but the restraints bit into my wrists, stopping me short.
Then something flipped low in my stomach.
A sharp contraction rolled through me. Not the slow, dull ache of arousal I had come to expect… but something sudden.
Urgent.
My breath caught.
I was going into heat.
A broken sound left me as I doubled over, my body reacting faster than my mind could keep up.
My hands, bound behind my back, dragged forward memories I didn’t want. Images of past heats, restrained at Marco's hands, helpless, desperate, with no control. I was suddenly back there, in Marco's basement. Wrists tied tightly, curled on the floor, writhing in pain.
“No… no, no, no…” I chanted, the words tumbling out unevenly. “Please—please, Silas, I can’t…”
My voice faltered, slipping apart as panic surged. My jaw tightened, locking the words inside me as my chest rose erratically, my heartbeat quickening, my vision narrowing.
I couldn’t explain it.
Couldn’t get the words out.
Only feel it—
The loss of control creeping in.
Silas noticed the frantic, panicked shift in me immediately. His expression changed, focusing urgently, as he reached for a pair of wire cutters and snapped the restraints from my wrists.
“Knox!” he shouted. “I need you—now!”
Footsteps thundered from upstairs, fast and heavy, followed by the basement door swinging open. He descended, worry already threading his scent.
“Hey—look at me, Lena,” Silas said, his voice dropping, trying to ground me with a low purr. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
But another contraction hit, stronger this time, pulling a broken sound from me as I folded in on myself. My hands gripped my knees, dragging them to my chest as I tried to focus on his voice, on anything that would anchor me.
Then Knox was there.
Both of them closed in, their presence immediate, overwhelming in a different way now, as two low, steady purrs filled the space, soothing and constant.
Tears slipped down my face, and before I could completely fall apart, Knox pulled me into his arms, pressing me firmly against his chest.
“You’re alright,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.”
“She’s going into heat,” Knox said, his tone turned accusatory as he looked at Silas. “What did you do?”
Silas ran a hand through his pale hair, tension lacing his posture.
“I was just teasing her a bit,” he said, an edge of defensiveness in his voice.
Knox shot him a look.
“Not the time.”
“Exactly the time,” Silas shot back. “She’s due, Knox! Her suppressants, which I didn't even want her taking in the first place, are long gone. She needs this. Dr. Hampton’s been preparing her, so she’s ready."
Then he added with conviction, "Lena's not fragile anymore. She never was.”
Knox didn’t respond right away.
Focus shifted back to me, his hand gently wiping the tears from my cheeks. Every touch was comforting, nothing like the chaos swirling inside me.
“Lena,” he said softly.
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“Are you ready for your heat?” he asked. “With us?”
His question cut through my panic just enough to reach me.
Choice. My choice.
Knox and Silas had bought every kind of heat assist on the market. Large silicone dildos, each designed with faux knots at their base. They both agreed that if I wasn’t ready when the time came, I had other options.
But the last thing I wanted was to endure another heat alone, even with tools meant to help. No. Heat wasn’t just arousal or pleasure. It was something deeper than that.
Connection.
And I had been disconnected for so long, starving for the kind of closeness heat was meant to bring.
So I nodded, even as my body trembled.
I was ready. I had to be.
And this heat would be different.
Because of them.
“I choose this,” I whispered, more to myself than to them.
I lifted my chin, confidence cementing as I met his gaze again.
“I choose you both.”
And they had chosen me.