PRESENT DAY

***

Gemma

***

Miranda pulled open my refrigerator door, bending over to lean inside. “When is it going to be Fall again? I can’t handle much more of this heat.” She twisted the top off a water bottle, chugging half the contents before setting it on my counter.

“It’s August. We have four to six weeks longer to bake.” I lifted my hair off my shoulders, tying it into a ponytail.

“At least the stores are air conditioned.” She pushed the shopping bags to the side, leaning over the counter. “Have you spoken to Lexa?”

“This is another Madame Lexi manipulation and I’m not interested.”

“She isn’t going to put her reputation at risk just to manipulate you. She knows you’re the only one capable of taking Mistress Brianne’s place.”

“Morgan’s capable.”

“Morgan has Finn occupying her time–” The word froze on her lips when Cole stepped out from the hallway. The muscles defining his shirtless body were less distracting than his loose-fitting Nightmare Before Christmas boxers. The fabric moved obscenely as he walked, hinting at what was swaying beneath it. Miranda’s hand moved to her chest, a silent breath falling from her open mouth.

“What’s happening right now?” I asked, unable to look away.

He glanced down, confused. “What?”

“That.” I pointed, heat rising through my face when he took a step towards me.

He smiled, running his fingers underneath his waistband. “You know what it is.”

“You’re desecrating Jack and Zero! You’re not allowed to wear those anymore!”

“Yes, Mistress.” He shoved the boxers down his hips, wiggling until they fell to the floor, his manhood swaying with the movement.

Miranda smiled, shameless as she stared. “It’s still just as breathtaking as the first time I saw it.”

I rolled my eyes, the movement halting when the front door opened. Arlo stepped into the chaos, his black duffle bag swaying in his hand. His face was drawn, his skin pale in its stress, a half smile forced on his lips as he walked towards us.

“Got anything top secret in that bag?” Miranda teased.

“Always,” Arlo taunted back, pressing his lips to my cheek. “I’m going to go start my chores,” he mumbled, disappearing down the hallway.

Miranda’s fingers tapped against the countertop, her eyes narrowing. “You’re refusing Lexa’s offer because of him.”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to acknowledge her stare. “Arlo has nothing to do with my decision.”

“You put him above yourself every time! Every fucking time!”

“How can you stand there and defend Lexa and condemn him?”

“Because he will never put you above his Si–“

I slammed my water bottle down on the counter, cutting off the name I was tired of hearing. “Lexa wants me to submit! Kneel to her as proof to everyone she was right! That’s all this is!” I turned towards Cole, shaking my head at how he could all the time see right through me. “I won’t kneel. Not to Lexa. Not to anyone.” The truth pounded in my head, the one everyone but me could all the time see. “I wouldn’t even kneel to the Siren if she held her gun to my head!”

I stormed down the hallway, shoving open the bedroom door. My rage faded when I found him stripping the bed, doing his best to earn his reward. “What would you do if I accepted Lexa’s offer?”

He paused, bunching up the sheets in his hands. “That’s your decision to make.”

“I can’t be a head trainer with an uncollared slave.”

“If I’m your personal slave, you can do what you want.”

“That’s not how the community will see it!” I took a breath when I felt the rise in my voice. “They’ll see it as a weakness and failure to control my own slave.”

“You know I can’t wear a twenty-four/seven collar.”

“You already do.” My eyes narrowed, gesturing towards his bicep.

“Fine.” He grabbed the duffle bag from the closet, pulling out a knife and tossing it on the bed.

“Arlo–“

“Take it.” He grasped his shirt, pulling it off over his head, the jagged “S” scaring his skin mocking me. He sat on the edge of the bed, pointing to his right bicep. “Stay in the middle, on the muscle, don’t go too deep.”

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself when he held the knife out towards me.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? What you need? To mark your property so she knows it’s yours?”

“She’s already claimed it.”

“She hasn’t claimed anything! I love you. I worship you. I don’t know what more I can do to show you that. This is not a collar.” He grasped his bicep, squeezing into the scar. “This is the mark of a Warrior!”

**********

2 YEARS PRIOR

***

Cole

***

I paused when I heard her front door open, listening. Her footsteps moved farther away, disappearing down the hallway before the bedroom door shut. I continued wiping down the furniture, letting thoughts of her body pressing against the bars of the cage run rampant through my mind.

When her footsteps re-appeared there was no point trying to hide my erection. I pulled at the crotch of my pants, trying to situate it while I wiped down her coffee table. The air shifted as she sat down on the couch in front of me, an odd movement from between her legs catching my attention. I glanced up, my gaze locking beneath her waist. “I didn’t know they made those that big.”

Her hand ran down the hot pink strap-on. “I thought the same thing the first time I saw yours.”

The laugh fell from my lips, my eyes still focused on her stroke.

“I wanted to make it clear who was in charge.”

“I wasn’t aware that had ever been in question.”

She leaned back, propping her feet on the coffee table as she caressed her new appendage. “Strip.”

I pulled my shirt off over my head then shoved my pants to the ground, my cock greeting its rival in full salute.

She snapped her fingers, pointing to the floor at her feet. My pulse throbbed at the command, growing stronger as I knelt. I wrapped my hand around the pink shaft, my mouth sucking over the tip. Her gaze followed my movement, allowing me to worship her as I pleased. I closed my eyes, relaxing into the mindless motion. I didn’t know how much time had past when her hand locked into my hair, gently pulling my head back.

She stared at me, hunting my face as if confused. “I watched you fuck Mistress Paris. I watched you fuck Mistress Mia. I watched you fuck Mistress Camila. You were dripping all over the cage while you ate my pussy, but you’ve never asked for permission to orgasm.”

“I don’t beg and I don’t play games. If you tell me to come, I’ll finish and enjoy the climax. If you don’t tell me to come, I’ll assume I don’t get to and enjoy the ache of being denied. I just don’t want it to be a… thing.”

Her brow furrowed as she frowned. “What do you mean a… thing?”

I sucked in a breath, holding it in hopes I could find out how to explain the unexplainable. “Why did you drag me across the dungeon by my hair the first time we met?”

“I shouldn’t have done–“

I held up my hand, stopping her words. “Did it feel good to do it?”

“Yes, but–“

“Why did you pour wine over the floor I cleaned for you?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, either.”

“But did it feel good to do it?”

She pressed her lips together, unwilling to condemn herself.

“Why are you ashamed, Mistress? Ashamed of the only reasons I’m still here kneeling at your feet, sucking that monstrosity of a cock?”

Her lips curved, the darkness in her eyes softening.

“Trust yourself and trust me to use my safe word if I need to. Don’t make it a thing, Mistress.”

***

Gemma

***

I pushed my hair behind my shoulder, glancing up at the moon as I walked out of my house. The days were getting shorter, Arlo fading farther into my past as I found my steps speeding towards the limo that would bring me to Cole. I pulled open the door, taking a step back when Lexa’s stare greeted me. “Get in, Mistress Gemini. It’s cold outside.”

I slid into the seat across from her, crossing my legs to avoid flashing the lack of underwear underneath my dress.

“I heard about what happened with Mistress Camila.”

“There’s no rule against what I did.”

“If you want to play the game of topping other dommes, I respect that, but you need to learn the difference between topping a domme and topping a slave or you’ll run out of dommes willing to suck your cock.”

Her words hung in my silence, her stare refusing to leave my face as if searching for something I wouldn’t allow her to discover.

“Have you completed your assignment yet?”

“Assignment?”

“Why did the rich man with the horse cock hunt down a slave card?”

My lips rubbed together, the movement pausing when her gaze moved towards them. “He has his things, just like the rest of us.”

“Mistress Brianne called me yesterday. She’s returning earlier than expected.”

I froze, a familiar numbness creeping back into my chest. I wasn’t ready to give him up, his calm strength soothing my soul.

“I thought I knew what was best for you. I treated you like a slave, not a domme, and for that, I’m sorry.” She paused, glancing out the window of the limo at the Château as we pulled around the driveway. “She will finish Cole’s training. I’ll leave you to mourn your Arlo until you decide you’re ready to try again.”

***

Cole

***

I looked up from the floor when she walked into the dungeon, trying to decipher the darkness in her eyes. She shoved the door closed, locking it before leaning back against it, staring at me as she contemplated. My need pulsed when she moved towards me, tensing as I waited to feel her hand grasp my hair, disappointed when she stormed past me to a cabinet behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, her dark hair swaying in a braid down her back, a leash looped over her arm.

“Mistress Brianne returns next week,” she started, heading back towards me and attaching the leash to my collar. “She’ll be taking over your training.” She wrapped the leash around her wrist, gently pulling it.

I hesitated, her words sinking into my chest. I was too close to shattering the walls she had built, the darkness within her screaming to break free. I needed to witness her unleash it, see if I had finally found the one strong enough to meet my needs. “Will I still be allowed to come clean your house?”

“If you become a community slave, maybe.” I crawled next to her, positioning myself on the spanking bench she stopped beside. She pulled the leather straps over my back, arms and legs, securing me to the bench. “I don’t know what Madame Lexi will assign for you to do.”

“You need me. Your house is very messy.”

Her laugh was slow, the sound twisted as she made her way towards my head. She paused in front of me, holding up a bottle of lube and a strap-on. “Any more smart ass comments before I decide how much lube to use for our last session together?”

My body clenched, my erection pressing uncomfortably into the wood. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in that dress, Mistress? Red is definitely your color.”

She frowned as she tilted the bottle, squeezing some over the tip of the strap-on. “Can’t remember the last time I violated a man’s ass. Hope I remember how.” Her lips curved as she taunted. “Does that look like enough lube?”

“I’m not sure, Mistress. I’ve never had my ass violated before, but I imagine it’s one of those situations where too much is much better than too little.”

Her smile fell, her eyes widening. “You said you’ve been with other dommes.”

“None I trusted with my ass, Mistress.”

She stared at me, the thoughts scrambling behind her eyes. “How could you be topped by someone you didn’t trust?”

“A lot of people are trustworthy until they get a taste of control, then they forget why they were given it in the first place.”

The strap-on and lube fell to the floor as she circled me, unbuckling the restraints. “Get up.”

I remained still as the straps slipped from my body, freeing me. “Not until you violate my ass, Mistress.”

“Stop trying to top from the bottom.”

“It isn’t topping from the bottom if it’s what you want to do to me.” I grabbed the bench when she reached for my hair, refusing to allow her to pull me off. “Why are you making this a thing–“

“Because I don’t understand why you trust me!” The words fired from her lips, cutting through my chest when I realized she still didn’t trust herself.

I tightened my grip on the bench, bracing myself. “Violate my ass, Mistress! Claim me as yours because your house and your head are a fucking mess and I’m not going anywhere!”

She shook her head, tightening her fist in my hair as she pulled my head back. “You’re not ready for life as my slave.”

I held her stare, refusing to budge. “Violate my ass, Mistress.”

“I’m a domme in the community. If I want to torment another slave, I will. If I want another slave to please me with his cock, he will.”

I pushed up on my knees, wiggling my hips in the air. “Violate my ass, Mistress.”

She bit into her lip, the darkness in her eyes fading. “If I want another slave to service my pussy with his mouth, he will.”

“Claim. My. Ass. Mistress.”

She exhaled, her heel dragging over the floor as she circled me. The sound teased through my bones, tingling through my body. I tensed when she bent down, picking up the strap-on before positioning herself behind me.

“I won’t violate you. I won’t claim you.” Her voice rolled up my spine, taunting in its cadence. I tensed when cold lube drizzled over my ass, holding still while she rubbed the tip of her strap-on through it. She paused, positioning herself over me without pushing inside me. “If you think you can handle everything I am, show me.”

My lips curved, thankful the strap-on was significantly smaller than the one from her house. I pushed back, jumping when the tip slipped inside me, clenching at the unfamiliar burn. I inhaled before exhaling slowly, trying to relax my resistance. She remained silent as I struggled, her body still when I pushed back again. The discomfort rippled through me, my cock pulsing harshly at the sensation, angered by the lack of attention. I inhaled again, pushing back hard, the exhale rushing from my mouth when my muscles faltered, allowing the intrusion to break through, my body stopping its submission when it hit against her hips.

I froze when she moved inside me, the feeling strange. The tension faded when her hand wrapped around my cock, redirecting my attention to the stroke. I grunted when she pushed into me again, desperate to discover a focus, my mind scrambling to process the sensations. The heat in my ass twisted down my length, her stroke intensifying the sensation as it sent it spidering down my legs.

The unfamiliar blurred with the familiar, the discomfort entwining with my desperation, my denied need beginning to drip as I clenched. I pushed back harder, her thrust answering back, our hips colliding somewhere in-between. Her hand stroked over me, rough in its tease, a final pulse rocking through me before the heat erupted. It ripped through my body, trying to escape, the only relief the howl that cried from my lips.

***

Gemma

***

Music pounded through the Château, the party already packed, the dommes already staking their claims, the slaves already praying for stamina. I wrapped the leash around my wrist, leading him through the mass of dommes. He didn’t belong to the community. He wasn’t there for the taking. If they wanted any part of him, they would have to go through me. Their eyes followed us, glancing from below his waist to the rest of him before meeting my gaze. I met their smiles with my own, hinting I was eager to distribute.

I led him farther into the gigantic dungeon, searching for an empty space. Mistress Karmen, the goddess of pain, laughed as she taunted her captive with a cane. A cage full of slaves awaited their fate at her hands, jumping at her every move. Mistress Eli, a queen of bondage, spun a cocooned slave, explaining to the dommes watching how she accomplished the impressive feat. Mistress Morgaine, a brilliant huntress, circled her prey. His fingers nervously touched his trainee collar, his body shivering as she whispered in his ear. I glanced over my shoulder, catching the curve of Cole’s lips. No hesitation met my stare. No fear. No vanilla. Arlo would have never survived my world.

“The rumors didn’t do him justice,” Mistress Marjorie mused as I walked by, her hazel eyes scanning his skin. “Is he available for use?”

I paused, trying to remember her vanilla name as I assessed her, enjoying her discomfort when I circled her. Dark hair barely reached her shoulders, teasing over the thin straps of a sheer, red dress.

“Like what you see?” she taunted, raising her chin when I stopped in front of her.

I smiled at her effort to maintain on level ground. “Shaved?”

Her eyes narrowed at the question, glancing around before raising her chin again. “Bare.”

“Cock only. One orgasm only. No missionary. After you come, no lingering. I reserve the right to end your access to my cock at any time. Those are my terms.”

“He does the work and I want it from behind. Those are my terms.”

“Agreed.” I tightened the leash around my wrist, leading him to an empty bed. Mistress Marjorie climbed onto the mattress, pulling her dress up. “Get me wet, sla–“

“I said cock only,” I cut her off, wrapping my hand around Cole’s length.

“He can’t fuck me dry with that thing!”

I shrugged, staring down at her as I stroked my hand over him. “We can wait.”

“You can’t be ser–“

“You knew the terms.”

She sighed, laying back as she spread her legs, rubbing her fingers over her clit. They slid between her bare folds, slipping inside her before returning to her clit, sliding over the swelling skin. Cole’s need began to pulse against my palm, his eyes locked on her movement. I continued my caress, enjoying the rhythmic beat in my hand, the wondered of how it would feel inside me drifting through my head.

Mistress Marjorie rolled over, rising onto her hands and knees before searching over her shoulder. I held his leash while he positioned himself behind her, watching when he rubbed himself over her folds, her arousal soaking his tip before he steadied himself to push inside her. She shivered when he slipped into her, far from fully inside when he began to thrust. I’d never seen him in control of the movement, only watched as he was mounted and used. He took his time, going deeper as her body allowed, careful until her hips shifted, pushing back for more.

I was lost in his movement, hypnotized by every inch of him disappearing inside her, the way her body stretched to accept him, the tremors the movements were sending through her muscles, her arousal glistening over his skin each time he pulled out. Her moans grew louder the easier he slid, the noise drawing curious dommes to the bed. Their skin flushed as they watched, their lips curving, fingers pointing as Mistress Marjorie trembled.

Obscenities fell from her lips as Cole pushed inside her, falling into an easy rhythm. What did she know that I didn’t? What was bringing them all into this strange heat, surrounding the bed in hopes they’d get a turn? Longing laced with jealousy rippled through me. It was a knowledge I would never have. A closeness to him I wanted to feel but doubted I could ever obtain.

He grabbed her hips, steadying her when she sank to her elbows, her fingers clawing into the bed. I wanted to yell enough, my lips pressing together to prevent the word from screaming out of my mouth. He could be mine in all methods but this, our souls all the time seeming to entwine into one but this was a connection our bodies could never achieve. I wouldn’t demand his celibacy, show him another weakness when he’d already accepted all the rest. When my trance broke I found him watching me, sending a flash of heat through my skin.

Mistress Marjorie’s moans broke the air between us, her head buried in her hands as her body convulsed. She tightened over him, her muscles grasping and releasing him as the orgasm claimed her. He continued to thrust until she weakened, her body jerking as he slipped out of it.