Chapter Alec
Alec
She stared at the glass of come while I slid her pill across the table. I had the entire day with her, and I wouldn’t hide anything from her. She’d see who I was. I added some water to Rowan and Nick’s come and swirled it around the glass before handing it to her.
There was no flinch.
No emotion.
She put the pill in her mouth and swallowed it all down.
“Finish your omelette,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket.
Me: You owe me ￡50.
Nick: Send proof.
I snapped a picture of the empty glass and sent it to the group chat.
Rowan: This is why I didn’t bet against you.
Nick: Fine. I’ll send you a transfer.
I grinned and slipped my phone back.
?
?
?
She took a walk outside after lunch, stopping by the blooming apple tree and exploring the far side of the garden. The tension was gone.
After breakfast, she’d waited for instructions, but I wasn’t in a rush like Nick or Rowan. The element of surprise would change things for her, so I urged her to relax.
She wandered through the house, tried to watch some TV, flipped through a magazine, and eventually went outside.
I rubbed the leather mask between my fingers, already anticipating the sensory deprivation it would cause her. The rest of the arsenal lay arranged on the bed.
The duration was set, and it was time for Ella to join me.
?
?
?
When the front door closed, I stood at the balcony, watching her. There was colour in her cheeks, and the dullness in her eyes had lifted.
“Ella,” I said softly.
She tilted her head to meet my gaze.
I smiled as she changed course and began to climb the stairs.
She stepped into the room and walked toward me.
“Did you have a nice walk?” I asked, brushing a curl over her shoulder.
“Yes,” she replied, her lips curling upward.
“That’s nice,” I murmured, unbuttoning her shirt. “We’re going to do something a little different this afternoon.”
“Okay,” she said brightly.
Poor, gullible Ella.
She reminded me of a caged bird trained to perfection—the kind that wouldn’t leave unless commanded to.
I slid the shirt down her arms, homing in on her breasts. When I leaned around her to unfasten her bra, she rested her forehead against my chest.
The bra joined the shirt on the floor. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and underwear, peeling them down her body. Crouching, I was met not only with her pussy, but the delicious scent of her arousal.
A fissure of excitement split through me as I helped her step out of her leggings.
Conditioned.
Perfect.
Ripe for plucking.
I stood and reached for the mask, holding it up so she could see it.
“Pull your hair back,” I said, loosening the ties of the black leather.
She lifted her hair, but her eyes stayed fixed on the mask. I didn’t comment. I simply slid it over her face. The smooth leather fitted perfectly. Eyelets framed her nose. Her lips were left bare; everything else was sealed.
No sight.
Sound muffled.
I moved behind her and tightened the laces, finishing with a neat bow. I stepped back, circling her once. She licked her lips nervously but stayed silent.
I picked up the nipple clamps, pinching one open to check the silicone coating—then attached it without warning.
She hissed and stumbled.
I followed immediately.
“Don’t move, Ella,” I said, my voice sharper now.
She drew in a deep breath and nodded.
The second clamp dangled from the chain. I cupped her breast and fastened it to her other nipple. She reacted again—but this time she stayed upright.
“That’s better,” I said, giving the chain a gentle tug and watching her nipples stretch. “We’ve played before. This is different.”
“Beautiful,” I murmured.
I guided her to the end of the bed and placed her hands on the padded grey frame.
“Hold on,” I said. “Don’t let go.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
I pulled her hips back until her breasts hung low and her arse tilted up.
“Spread your legs.”
She did, stance wide—leaving herself open, exposed.
Everything was in place now.
The cameras.
Her.
All that remained was preparation.
I took my time. One finger first. Lubricant added before easing it in. When she tried to tilt back against me, I chuckled softly.
“Patience.”
I increased the pace gradually.
More lubricant.
More fingers.
Slow.
Hard.
Fast.
Slow.
I worked her until her pussy shone and her inner thighs were slick. Her knuckles had gone white from gripping the frame.
“Alec, please,” she whimpered.
“What would you like, Ella?” I asked, twisting my fingers inside her.
“Oooh,” she moaned, pushing back until she stretched wider.
I withdrew and studied her.
Nick hadn’t used lube. Rowan had been controlled—vicious, but precise. They’d done a thorough job preparing her.
“Please,” she whispered. “Can you fuck me, Alec?”
“Where?”
“I–in my ass,” she stammered.
“In your slutty little arsehole?” I asked, brushing the rim with deliberate slowness.
“Yes,” she said quickly. “Please.”
“How are your nipples?” I asked as I unzipped my trousers.
“Sore.”
“Bearable?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” I crooned, kicking my trousers aside and working faster on my shirt.
Once I was naked, I leaned over the bed frame to grab the lube.
I was generous enough that some of it dripped onto the wooden floor.
I didn’t care.
It mattered more that I didn’t tear her when I used her the way I needed to.