Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
The crack of leather on flesh continued its steady rhythm, and Katya’s increasingly desperate cries seemed to extend my orgasm impossibly. Each sob from the poor girl sent another pulse through me, keeping me suspended in that space between worlds where the vision remained crystal clear.
“She’s making me hard as steel,” Horakovsky said with a dark chuckle. “Mila, I think you’ve given Fru Norquist enough pleasure. Come prepare Katya’s ass for me. Don’t use too much lube—I want her to feel it properly.”
“Since we’re all enjoying ourselves,” Brenteuil said, and I heard the distinctive sound of a zipper, “Mila, after you’ve lubed that asshole, come service me.”
“Yes, Monsieur,” Mila said, pulling back from me and making my hips, desperate for more, thrust shamefully forward as if in search of her magic tongue.
I kept my eyes closed, trying to hold onto the world tree in my imagination though it had already begun to fade. I heard Mila’s soft footsteps as she moved away from me, my thighs still trembling from what she’d done with her mouth. I heard a sob from Katya, and I couldn’t stop myself from opening my eyes to see through my haze that Mila had two fingers inside her fellow sexual servant’s anus, preparing her.
I let out a whimper at the terrible sight. I closed my eyes again, and I must have lost track of time because when I opened them Mila had already knelt before Brenteuil, who had freed his hardness from his expensive trousers.
“And,” Horakovsky said, a cruel smile breaking out on his face, “I have an idea of how to make our little scene more entertaining. Norquist, because I’m guessing you’re not interested in fucking your wife in front of us like a ‘barbarian,’ why don’t you release her and let her entertain herself while we conduct our business?”
I felt Takken’s grip tighten reflexively on my wrists before he let go. His breath was hot against my ear as he leaned close, his voice a venomous whisper. “You’d better put on a good show, or I’ll make you regret it later.”
The threat should have frightened me, but after everything Aksel had done to me, Takken’s words felt hollow. Still, I moved on unsteady legs as he guided me roughly to another of those modern leather chairs, pushing me down into it.
“Leg up,” he commanded coldly, lifting my right leg and draping it over the chair’s arm. The position splayed me wide open, my bare pussy completely exposed to everyone in the room. The shame of it burned through me like acid.
“Touch yourself,” Takken ordered, his gray eyes flat and merciless. “Show our partners what a whore you are.”
My hand moved between my legs almost without my volition, my fingers finding my still-sensitive clit. I was soaked from Mila’s attention and my shameful orgasm, and the first touch made me gasp. I tried to close my eyes, to retreat into that vision space where I might glimpse more of the Arctic installation, but Horakovsky’s voice cut through immediately.
“Norquist, tell your wife to keep her eyes open. She should watch how real men handle women.”
“Eyes open, Lorna,” Takken snapped. “Watch and learn.”
I forced my eyes to focus on the scene before me. Horakovsky had positioned himself behind Katya, his massive frame dwarfing her bent form. I watched in horrified fascination as he pressed himself against her bottom, not her pussy but that other place, that forbidden hole that Aksel had promised to claim only when I’d earned it.
Katya whimpered as he pushed inside, her knuckles white as she gripped the chair. The sight of it—the complete domination, the way she submitted despite the obvious discomfort—made my fingers move faster against my clit. I hated myself for responding, but my body had been trained too well by my Herra. I recognized submission when I saw it, and it called to something deep inside me.
Meanwhile, Brenteuil had tangled his fingers in Mila’s dark hair, using her mouth with casual ownership. The wet sounds of her servicing him mixed with Katya’s gasps as Horakovsky established a brutal rhythm, and I watched through tear-blurred vision as he drove deep into Katya’s bottom with punishing force.
“You know,” Brenteuil said conversationally between thrusts into Mila’s mouth, “your wife seems to be enjoying the show, Norquist. But she’s not giving us everything, is she?” He held Mila on his cock, her nose on his belt buckle, as he continued, “Why don’t you have her play with that tight little bottom of hers? I’d love to see her finger her own ass while she watches.”
My stomach dropped even as fresh heat flooded through me. Takken’s face darkened, but I could see him calculating again—always calculating what these men could offer him versus what dignity he had to sacrifice.
“Do it,” he said flatly. “Put a finger in your ass, Lorna.”