Chapter 18 #3
Then, fuck, he thuds in further, impossibly so, with his body smacking against my ass, and I open my mouth and let out a silent scream. My already aroused clit seems about to burst.
Another thud, another, and Lazlo is fucking me properly, taking liberties with the space in my pussy that I surely don’t have.
“Too…much,” I rasp.
“You think that’s all of me?” He grunts and spears in, pulls out then plunges back into me. I feel the squirt of wetness onto my legs as Rafe’s come and my own arousal has to vacate my pussy STAT.
“Oh.” I inhale raspily then whimper again, and for some ungodly reason my legs strive to spread even further apart as he increases the speed of his rhythmic thrusting.
For the first time, I notice the audience watching us.
I duck my head, moaning as our animal urges compel us both into this shameless rutting.
Lazlo’s drives seem about to topple the pillory forward, until Rafe grabs it.
My hair is a swishing, tangled mess across my face.
I eye him through it as he braces against the equipment.
The thumps and thuds rattle both me and the device.
I’m being used. I’m nothing but a hole for him to take, and yet and yet, dear god, I’m loving this. I need this.
When he impales me for the final time, his come pumping in, I’m sure I will have bruises on my hips.
Released from the pillory, they catch me and help me tumble to hands and knees.
I sway there as one of them takes off the piranha clamps, cleans me with a warm cloth.
The swimming pool shows itself when I manage to raise my head.
I’d forgotten it existed. Would love to fall in.
But maybe they’re keeping it clean of come-stuffed people.
Maybe.
While I’m still unsure if I can stand, Rafe picks me up and carries me to a red sofa in a far corner of the hall that’s flanked by tables with plants and sculptures standing on them.
An island of peace, considering we pass a woman branding a man on his ass, and an orgy of sorts where two women are being handed from man to man.
There, someone is having their…their pussy sutured together. I blink and decide not to look anymore.
Stretched out on the sofa, I lie with my head on Lazlo and my feet on Rafe, smiling up at the two of them.
Rafe pulls on my big toe. “I think she liked that.”
“Yeah. How about a tour of this place?” Lazlo suggests, nodding toward the entire space with all the crazy people doing crazy kink.
“Hmmm. You’re into tours.” I prop myself onto my elbows, looking down at my costume. The wings have vanished. It’s messy but really who cares?
What interests me more, right now, is the guy in the demon mask and the red-and-black suit with the tail curling up around his waist. Was he the one urging Lazlo to fuck me raw?
That’s the thing about where we are. Any of these people could be the ones who sent me to purgatory.
Or Hell. That’s a more apt name for the House.
Except, considering the CNC Fraternity has their own security service devoted to rooting out the bad actors, and they pledged to help find out who did what on that boat, surely they have to be innocent?
Surely?
“You okay there?” Lazlo lifts his hand from where it was draped over me below my breasts. “Want to talk instead? I can do the talking thing.”
“The talking thing?” I shake my head, amused by how he phrased that. “Sure. Maybe that then your tour.” I make air quotes because wtf is a tour in here. I may need a blindfold. “No chandeliers?” I idly ask Rafe.
He lifts an eyebrow. “I’d forgotten that. This place seems severely lacking any. Lucky you.”
“Phew.” I flop back onto Lazlo and he cuddles me again. “Missed a bullet there.”
The frown he bestows makes my heart flip-flop.
Bad analogy? Yeah, very bad. Too many people have died, and Lazlo is trying to find the perpetrators, same as I. Rafe? I guess he is our enabler as well as my guard cross warden cross…something?
I adjust my head on Lazlo, and watch Rafe count my toes while I wriggle them. Cross foot wrangler? Then I recall the folder locked away in the safe.
“So you really, really liked that, what we did to you?” Lazlo intones in that sexy-as-fuck deep voice of his. Genuine question. He’s waiting for my answer.
“Yes?” That came out a squeak. “I am, I guess, a bit like everyone here.” I wave my hand toward the kinky perverted fucks doing stuff in this hall. Stuff that would get them arrested almost anywhere else.
Voodoo—the word comes to me. I never even thought to use my safeword.
Have I found a home among this fraternity? They are rich and I am not. Billionaires and millionaires. And I’m planning to abscond, I remind myself, once I have my answers.
“I should’ve asked all of this, first?” he muses. “That’s how it normally works?”
Rafael runs a nail up the bare sole of my foot. I squeak again and try to withdraw if from his grasp. Which makes him grin and grab my foot, holding it on his thigh then dragging it back to his lap.
“No. Tickling.” I pout.
“I won’t. Nice to know another thing I can torture you with, though. To answer your question, Lazlo, yes, you normally would ask the girl if they want to be tied up and fucked like we did with Georgia. But in this case, I already knew she liked it. And she is mine.”
Such casual criminality. Mine. Meaning I’m his. Owned. It has a certain strange appeal, but that’s my kinky side being too ambitious.
“How could you know?” I blurt.
“The fraternity looked into your past before they gave you to me. I knew. Since I also knew you were recovering from trauma, I’m surprised you’re this happy about kink already.”
Me too, man, me too. Lazlo has smoothed his hand over my stomach. I tilt up my head to see him looking down, then look back at Rafe. I decide to say it. “You waited though.”
He nods. “I did.”
This is the most heartfelt conversation I have ever had with him. Is it because of Lazlo? He’s like a calming influence. Like oil poured on stormy waters. Except when he’s sticking his almighty dick in me.
I shift my butt and wince. Yep, it’s ouchie.
“I am sore down there, mister.” I say to Lazlo, meekly.
“Your pussy?” He dons a surprised face. “Next time, I could go slower?”
I clear my throat. “Let me think on that.”
He laughs. “Sure. Another thing, Rafe. You never tested me for anything. And is Georgia likely to get pregnant? I’m asking all this in the wrong order but this was so unscripted.”
“She was tested by doctors, and pregnancy isn’t possible. She’s got an implant.”
“You knew this?” he asks me.
“Yes.” They gave me that in Australia. He’s being meticulous, if a little late asking.
“And you have been checked out too, Lazlo. You’d be surprised how easy it is to hack a medical database.”
“Huh. So I passed your test? I did good? Made our girl come like a train?”
I shake my head in disbelief.
“Youuuu did okay. If you want to test her ass out next time, we can make a deal.”
Lazlo chuckles. “Fucking yes to that.”
I hold up a finger. “Time to change the subject!”
“You think?” He cups my breast and squeezes it gently.
“I’d like to look at the people in that folder.”
They both fall silent and I can hear the tension.
I guess asking to look at dead people is a bit of a conversation stopper.
“Why here?” Rafe asks. “We would need to be sure no one is watching us. I suppose it is okay. You’re not allowed phones in here so we can’t be filmed.
And see that waitress over there? Caviar, lobster kebabs, gourmet potato wedges, and wine that’s likely worth a thousand a bottle.
Best combination ever. I’ll get the food and drinks.
You get the folder. Stay there, Georgia. ”
Which is how we end up sitting on the sofa with a small table with plates all over it, feasting and drinking in the middle of this bacchanalia, while, yes, looking at dead people.
I am disappointed, sorely. “I remember faces, but I’m looking for someone who isn’t in here.”
I huff out a breath of exasperation, take another gulp of this delicious champagne, and feel the buzz move in.
Droplets of condensation splash onto my bare breast and I wipe it away.
I’d hate to be cleaning this place afterward.
The fluids, the discarded paraphernalia to do with sex, eating, and being weird would rock my brain if I was the cleaner.
Carefully, I place my glass on the table and decide I’m too full to eat more. It’s late and exhaustion is finally clocking in.
“How do you mean, not there?” Lazlo asks.
“A face I saw, a person I talked to…or whatever.” I purse my lips and check the last page again. They’re all dead, drowned. It’s an ugly thing to know, especially when someone is over there, writhing in ecstasy.
“You mean you want to remember someone who isn’t among these.” Rafe taps the sheet, munches on his cracker with crab on it.
“Yes. Exactly that.” There was something… I tap my forehead. Think.
“Hypnosis?” Lazlo suggests. “I heard that can dredge up memories.”