Bang (Hard Rock Harlots Book 5) Page 6

  “Red’s taking out the flogger now,” she says. “He’s going to use it on Gray. I want you to kneel beside the bed with your hands clasped behind your back and watch. Don’t move or talk. Just observe. Got it?”

  “Yes.” Am I supposed to say “Mistress” or some other epithet similar here? Queen? Lady? Shag-a-muffin?

  She doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of follow-up, so maybe not. Siren drags one of the Louis XIV-styled chairs from against the wall over to the bed and lowers herself into it next to me. I kneel as she instructed and wait.

  Miles is gagged and splayed across the bed with all of his juicy bits hanging out through cuts and gaping orifices in the fabric. His face is flushed. He breathes slowly through his nose. A thin line of water runs from his left eye as he focuses intently on the ceiling. Sweat dews every inch of exposed skin.

  Red lifts a black leather flogger, and brings it down lightly at the center of Miles’s chest. He repeats the motion three, four, five times. So gentle. But not for long. The skin slowly reddens but refuses to break. Red dangles the leather strips over Miles’s dick and drags them across, teasing the head with a few swirls. Then the instrument snaps to his chest, eliciting a jolt from Miles. The clenching in his jaw must help stave off the pain, or give him something else to focus on besides the lashes he’s enduring.

  It’s hard to watch Red whack Miles more and more forcefully without any emotion, but Miles’s cock isn’t complaining. It’s as rigid as I’ve ever seen it. He hasn’t uttered a sound, so he must be okay.

  Warm flesh slides up the back of my calf. Toes? I cock my head. Siren smacks my ass hard. The shock knocks me forward into the side of the mattress. What the—

  “Eyes on the boys,” she says.

  Holy shit, the rush from that slap …

  I straighten and refocus. It takes a couple swallows to recover. And I’m not ashamed to say I’m tempted to look at her again, just to see what she’ll do next. But I don’t.

  Red shifts off the bed and moves to Miles’s head. Red slips the gag off. “Suck my cock.” He presents the beast and shoves it into Miles’s open mouth. Then he fucks.

  Miles’s tongue darts out eagerly. He looks like a starving man, and his dick somehow thickens as he sucks his partner off. Red isn’t gentle. He slams his hips hard against Miles’s face, ramming his shaft down his throat. Miles strains against his bindings, twisting, grasping with nothing to touch. It must be delicious torture, which is exactly what Red’s going for.

  Miles gags under the face reaming, but Red keeps pounding, harder and harder with every thrust. A line of spit escapes the corners of Miles’s lips. I tense at the thought of what must be going through his body and mind. Every brush across the hopped-up hairs on his skin. The sensation of not being able to breathe. I graze a hand across my neck. Another crack greets my ass, and this time, I lean into it to dissipate some of the shock. It works.

  The lower half of my dress rolls up. It’s tight against my thighs. I’m sweating.

  I want her to fuck me. To shove me to the bed beside Miles and Red and just fuck the fucking fuck out of me.

  Red pulls out, and Miles gasps for breath. More spit runs out of his mouth, down his cheeks. Red clasps his fingers around Miles’s throat and squeezes, releases, squeezes. He repeats the pattern. When Red drops his hand, the other one regains the flogger and flicks it over Miles’s stomach, leaving an angry lash. Miles huffs great gasps of air. Another strike. And another.

  I reach for Miles. I can’t help it.

  An arm flies around my shoulders, clasping me to Siren’s chest. My breaths rush almost as fast as Miles’s.

  “Leave them be. He’s fine.” She lowers her arm, brings the other one around, and cups my breasts through the pleather dress. I can’t think with her so close, touching me. Her perfume makes my head spin.

  She stands and wrestles me to my feet. My pulse beats a wild rhythm, banging against my eardrums, forcing the blood faster through my veins. She caresses my sternum through the open V of the dress’s neckline and dips inside to cup my tit. The nipple hardens to a painful peak.

  “Ask Red if he’ll let Gray fuck you.” The air from her lungs hits my ear long before the words register. The impact jars me out of my daze.

  I can’t do that to Miles. It would be humiliating. For both of us.

  And I doubt I could perform for a crowd, regardless of how interested they might be.

  Siren’s other hand slithers the length of my torso and rests atop my mound. The dress’s hem rises under her firm grip. My legs part against my will, begging her to come inside. Any way she wants to will be fine.

  “Do it,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

  I startle. “I can’t.”

  She squeezes my pussy through the fabric. “Don’t you dare say those words to me. Tell him you want Miles to fuck you. If he says no, you’re off the hook.”

  I swallow. “And if he says yes?”

  A finger slips under the black lace underwear I donned earlier this evening when I joked to myself that I might get laid. I didn’t believe it then, but I sure as hell do now.

  “If he says yes, you know what to do, kinder-sub.” The finger dips between my wet lips, and I ain’t talking about the ones on my face. Though, I wouldn’t mind a little mouth-to-mouth action out of this girl. I’ll bet she tastes like apples once you get a good bite.

  The penetration is fleeting. Guess I’m not making the moves as quickly as she’d like.

  I bow my head. “Red, would you allow Gray to fuck me?”

  Red’s eyes light up behind the mask, and his hair glows like a horned god surrounded by woodland nymphs from a long-forgotten forest. He rises to his full height, which is fairly impressive, dick hanging out like a knuckle-dragging ape’s. Fine beads of sweat dot his chest. I have to admit, it’s hard not to be awed. I can see why Miles loves him.

  “I’ll let him take you,” he says. Shit! “But on my terms.”

  “And what would those be?” I feed my voice box with an empowering shot of verbal tequila, but my knees knock.

  “Bend over and find out.”

  Siren’s body loosens behind me. “Yes.” I’m not even sure she spoke the word, but it sure sounded like some form of agreement.

  In the space between my ears, a bell rings. Not the sweet, church-like sound of a bell, but the clamoring clang that must ensue when one sticks her head inside the mouth of the Liberty Bell and receives a surprise taste of the clapper at full … clap.

  This scene has slipped my brain a mickey of Disney proportions.

  “You have condoms?” I ask.

  “We always play safely.” Red flips open the bedside drawer—that thing must be stocked to the nines with sex gear and bondage shit—and retrieves a handful of packets. He scatters them over Miles and the bed.

  Miles won’t look at me.

  “And what does Gray have to say about all of this?” I ask.

  “Gray doesn’t say a damn thing other than what I tell him to.”

  I was afraid of that.

  Rock and a hard place. And me, a lesbian, in search of something much softer.

  Siren springs like a coil, grasping my hair and yanking my head back. Okay, maybe not that soft.

  Fuck it.

  “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  The Man in the Purple Mask

  Miles lifts his head and makes extended, concerted eye contact. We negotiate a secret contract through our seal in which I agree to give myself over as he’s been nagging me to do, and he makes his “Master” happy. I’m not sure which of us gets the better end of the deal.

  Thank you, he mouths when Red’s not looking, though I’ll bet Siren caught it. I purse my lips and cover my nod with a head bow.

  Siren slips around me and joins Red beside the bed. They look at each other, then she turns to me. “Take your clothes off. Do it slowly. The dress needs to slide down your curves to your feet. Leave it there.”

  I blow out my breath and rea
ch for the open V at my breasts.

  “I said slowly,” she snaps.

  Okayyy … I slowly push the thin faux leather down my shoulders. Siren takes the discarded riding crop and runs the tip over my exposed flesh, drawing a legion of goosebumps to the surface. I resist the urge to shiver. Clenching my thighs together, I roll the dress over my belly.

  Now, I’m a thirty-five-year-old, fairly inexperienced woman (aside from those few years of marriage to a closeted gay man and a couple flings with fellow hockey dykes) who isn’t used to showing off her calves, let alone her secret bits in front of strangers. It’s not as if my body is worn or stretched out from childbearing or even age, but it’s not as pretty I want it to be for Siren, who’s the total opposite of me at twenty-something and full of tightness. Even with Miles watching, I’m a little uncomfortable.

  My nerve endings flash hyperalert signals like a million little live wires under my flesh. Every shift in the air, touch of the crop, and look from Siren sets those nerves on fire.

  Licking my lips, I get over the self-consciousness and wriggle the dress the rest of the way down, leaving it around my ankles as instructed.

  “Bra next,” she says, rubbing herself with the crop.

  Fucking fuck. It’s all I can do not to drool at the sight of her plump lips pursing with pleasure, her eyes gleaming with promise.

  Dipping a shoulder, I let the left strap tumble down my upper arm and watch for her reaction.

  Mona Lisa smile.

  Perfect.

  I run my left hand across my chest, coyly keeping the exposed boob covered. I finger the right strap playfully. The riding crop’s tip grinds against her pussy through the wet black panties. She’s playing herself like a goddamn violin. I give her a couple seconds to finish this phrase, and then I shove the strap and cup down. The right nipple pops to attention. She drops the crop and yanks open the front clasp of the bra, freeing me.

  My lungs work hard to keep up with her pace. She spins me to face Miles and Red, drops to her knees, fucking bites the lacy waistband of my underwear above my crack, and drags it down. The lingerie falls on top of the pooled dress. I’m shoved face first onto the mattress, and the snap of the crop on my ass cheek startles me.

  “Son of a bitch!” I cry out. Pleasure races pain toward the finish line of my reptilian brain. I’ll call it a tie.

  Siren positions my feet shoulder-width apart, my ass up in the air. My face is next to Miles’s leg. I can’t tell what he and Red are doing, but my money’s on watching the lesbian getting whipped.

  Another crash ignites my ass.

  I bite the gold covers.

  Zing!

  My head jerks.

  Pop!

  God, it hurts. Why am I enjoying it so much? This ride into the unknown without a seatbelt is horrifying and addictive at the same time.

  Red skirts around the bed and unties Miles. All I want is to feel more of this—of her—through the lens of pain.

  “Do you know why I’m punishing you, Vanilla?” Siren whispers beside my hot ear, her sweat pressed against my tingling spine.

  I shake my head. I can’t speak.

  “Because I’ve seen your look before. You need this. And I’m a generous Mistress.” She glances to Miles, who’s sitting up, rubbing his wrists.

  I close my eyes. I do need this.

  “I’m giving you a gift you’ll never forget.” She lifts up from me and I immediately miss the weight of her. I’m empty.

  The door opens. Air moves. Someone else has come in.

  “Who is that?” I ask.

  CRACK!

  “You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, Siren,” she corrects.

  “Yes, Siren.”

  The mattress dips and jostles. Siren blocks my view to the room beyond the bed. What the fuck is going on in here? Panic crawls up my throat.

  “On your hands and knees.”

  When I raise my head, the two men stand nearby, Red the picture of calm cunning and Miles the beaten slave, chest heaving. No sign of the other person, but a wall of naked skin blocks my line of sight. I swallow the bile climbing my throat. Miles gives me a reassuring nod between pants. You’ll be okay, he’s telling me. I lower my gaze to his throbbing erection. I’m not so sure.

  I tentatively climb on the mattress and maneuver into position.

  The crinkles of a tearing condom wrapper behind me shatter the silence.

  “Do you want to stop?” Red asks.

  Million-dollar question. Hell yes, I want to stop. This is fucked up beyond the kind of fucked up I’m used to on the tour bus. I’ve witnessed a lot of crazy shit with those kids, but nothing like this.

  But when will I ever have another chance to?

  You only live once, Frost.

  I sigh and brace myself. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do it.” Whatever it is.

  Someone joins me on the mattress. The scent tells me it’s Miles. He corners me, leaning across my back, grazing my spine like he did when we fucked doggie-style in the good ol’ days of queer-as-fuck latency glazed over with a fine sheen of heterosexuality.

  He caresses my hips. I lean into his touch. He’s the only familiar thing in this trap I’ve stumbled into. He’s my sole source of grounding. Not even Siren can be fully trusted to keep me settled. Yet.

  “Ready?” Miles whispers. There’s a definite nervousness to his tone.

  “Hurry it up,” I murmur.

  He does.

  I’ve been playing with dildos for months, but nothing could prepare me for the flesh and blood of a real-live dick lunging into me without much warning. Haven’t had one of those since Miles and I split, and I must admit, it’s some pretty tasty filling to wrap my nether lips around.

  Miles is so turned on. The quivers in his arms channel through his hands into my hips. He’s holding back. I can tell by the tenseness in the air compacted between us. All worked up from the shit Red did to him, he’s about to lose his wad.

  It takes a couple thrusts for me to recalibrate to having a man-dick inside me, but lubrication is not a problem. Thank Christ. Within seconds, I’m moving with him, reliving countless nights together (minus the dude, the hot lesbian, and Person X—wherever he or she is). But then he slows to a stop. The bed shifts under the added weight of a new body. Miles tenses and breathes several hisses in and out. I look over my shoulder to see what’s wrong.

  Oh, fuck.

  Red has entered the building.

  Miles’s strained face bears the burden of spearing me on the front end, and being ramrodded by Red on the back end. Miles’s eyes fuzz out of focus as he grits his teeth.

  Seriously, what the fuck?

  I search for Siren, who shouldn’t be a source of reason, but given the circumstances, she totally is. She sits on the chair she dragged over earlier with one leg thrown carelessly over an arm, the other foot on the floor. Underwear shoved aside, her middle finger plunges in and out of her glistening pussy, triggering a flood of juice to my own cunt. I wiggle against Miles’s frozen cock. He’ll hit the jackpot shortly if the swirling sexual energy is any indicator.

  “Fuck yeah,” Red groans.

  I feel his thrust into Miles, which in turn thrusts into me. Miles slows his rhythm for a few seconds. When he matches Red’s pumps, a new beat arises among the three of us, and Miles is the bass drum keeping everything else in order. He’s the force driving this band. I hop a ride on his rhythm, and the pleasure builds to a slow, aching crescendo.

  Soon, our three voices mix into a symphony of grunts, sighs, and moans as our bodies fall prey to one another.

  “That’s right, fuck my cock,” Red tells Miles. “Grind your ass on this rod. Make me come.”

  Not exactly the kind of pillow talk I expected from him, but crass works in this situation.

  “Squeeze your tits,” Siren barks at me. “Pinch your nipples.”

  I stare at her, defying her with my swinging br
easts and lack of compliance. If I refuse to behave, she might give me another taste of that crop.

  God, I am so fucked up right now. I heave my pussy up and hard against Miles, spearing myself to the root of him.

  Then I laugh.

  I fucking laugh.

  Siren bounds off the chair, swiping the leather instrument from the floor where she left it. Using the tip, she lifts my tit, stops it from swaying, and thwacks it once.

  “Ah!” I cry. I fuck Miles harder. Red fucks him harder. We all fuck harder.

  Pop!

  “Fuck you,” I mumble.

  SLAP! That one hurt so bad, I stop moving.

  “Fuck you!” I scream.

  Siren leaps on the bed in front of me. She throws the crop against the wall, finger-fucks herself, and squeezes my chin, forcing me to stare into her stunning sapphire eyes. I smell her sweet pussy. Drool leaks from the corner of my mouth. Miles’s dick slams me, catching my puffy clit just right. A low growl builds in Red’s throat, rising in volume till it hits a roar. His orgasm triggers Miles to buck up and fuck me right and proper, and the two of them tumble into a climax while I kill Siren with my stare.

  Through our mutual eye-lock, I commit to seeing her through to completion. I hold tight to her with nothing more than a look, willing her to come, even though I can’t.

  Miles is still fucking me as he pours his lust into the condom. Riding out the last of his thrusts, I lift to my knees and give Siren the nipple pinching she asked for. I gotta get this girl off. Prove to her I’m worth her time. Her fingers dig faster into her gaping, pretty pink cunt, and she works herself into a silent frenzy.

  It’s the most beautiful orgasm I’ve ever witnessed. Her gaze never wavers. She sees only me. Her lips part as the riptide drags her under, but still, she watches me through heavy lids. I’m her lifeline. She needs me.

  Yes! Mission accomplished. For her, at least.

  When she comes up for air, I collapse on the bed into a pile with Red and Miles. Our heavy breaths combine. Siren stands up, bracing on the arm of the chair before grabbing her things. She reassembles her clothing, picks up her bag, and walks out of the room without a word.