My Lady Series Bundle (61 page)

The altar was stone, and it appeared oiled, shining in the torch light. The top was flat with rounded edges. But more ominous was the length of chain with manacles attached on the ends. These were set in the four corners. The two forbidding guards remained mute but forceful as they wrestled her to a place behind the altar. She wished they would say something so she could scream at them, instead of the mewls of terror issuing from her throat. Her courage was completely daunted and tenfold without Saxon's presence. The words, "I want her wild," and, "Have your way with her," kept pounding through her mind as her naked body thrashed powerlessly trapped between the two hulking guards.

There was some small portion of her mind scratching for logic, and she thought that maybe if she remained wild enough, they would not touch her. She had finally fallen into the abyss with the immensity of what she knew was going to happen and now she knew the only way she could survive it was with Saxon and no one else.

The guards stopped. The area was on the left side behind the stone platform and altar. One could see out into the arena, without being seen. Joelle saw phantomlike outlines of hooded and robed people entering the arena and beginning to gather around the altar. Just then, a wide scraping hand began groping the slick flesh of her bare buttocks, while another broad and forceful hand pawed her right breast. She screamed, tugging frantically on the two unyielding hands holding her upper arms. She intended to keep screaming at the top of her lungs, but the hand pawing her breast quickly lifted to clamp over her mouth. Only one hand free, she thought senselessly. Nevertheless, the two beefy guards turned her between them, until one was smashed into her front and the other into her back.

Oh God.
She whimpered, uncontrollably. She could feel their large rigid cocks sickeningly branding her skin, in the front and in the back. She writhed wildly between them trying to escape, but it only rubbed her body more indecently against their hot and invasive flesh. Her screams were muted beneath one guard's palm as they both used whatever free hands they had to crudely grope the parts of her body they could reach. Her mind wrenched from cocks like stiff sausages grinding her shaved mound in the front and the cleft of her buttocks in the rear, to one hand roughly milking her breast, while coarse fingers tried to touch the lips of her sex. She felt her eyes roll back in her head as the heavier panting of the guards filled her ears. She was caught sliding and rolling against their hot and aroused bodies as they pinched her nipples and prodded lewd fingers through the cringing lips of her sex.

"Oh, how deliciously smutty." A woman's accented voice slithered through the thundering in Joelle's ears.

"Dame Baset," one of the guards grunted.

There was a smacking sound as Dame Baset spanked one of the attendant's hard buttocks. "Keep at it, slave! Baco and Cernno are bringing the stallion in now for this slutty mare."

***

S
axon walked naked with a hard prick between his thighs, and with Baco and Cernno holding his upper arms on either side. The Germans both wore black hooded robes, while Hellion, in flowing white, was walking in front of them, carrying a long silver chain that was hooked to the collar around Saxon's neck.

Saxon's chest heaved and he stumbled on his bare feet as Cernno's hand lewdly groped his ass. Stubby fingers feeling deep into the cleft, while Baco kept shooting warning glances at Cernno. Saxon tried not to gag. He tried to keep moving forward. Toward Joelle.
He had to get to Joelle.
He had to see her. He latched his mind onto those thoughts and those thoughts only, while Cernno furtively played humiliating bugger with his oil-slicked ass.

He had to imagine how he appeared nude. Thick wavy brown hair, falling nearly to his waist. His tan skin oiled, his brown-shaded eyes dead, and a wide black leather collar around his lean muscular neck. His pubic hair shaved with his prick swaying heavily and rigid between his thighs in a bluish and pink-tinged red. Men purported they were never singularly embarrassed by their nudity. God, he wished that was the case. It crawled at him, snaking with reluctance over his naked flesh. It angered him also. It was a seething cauldron in his belly, and when he finally, after what seemed like years of disgusting supplicant waiting, saw his chance, he grasped it with everything he had left inside him, after playing the ultimate acting of his ever before played chameleon parts.

It was simply a candle. A candle as wide as his hand perched on a three-foot freestanding iron candle holder, which was set in front of flowing black taffeta that was covering a wall. It was in an area behind and to the side of the main chamber where he assumed, "the event," was about to take place. They had ascended a small flight of stairs and turned into a narrow short corridor, then into a smaller area.

Just as they left the entrance from the corridor into the small area, Saxon staggered to the left toward the candle. "Ah hh, do it harder, Cernno, it makes my cock throb," Saxon mumbled.

He judged he had enough length on the leash to reach the candle without Hellion, whose back was turned to them, being aware. Cernno's hand on his upper arm let go with a spasm as Cernno's other hand groped his ass more lushly, nearly prodding a blunt finger into the entrance of his asshole. Saxon moaned as though he were receiving pleasure as he leaned more into Cernno like he might be trying to embrace him. The motion dragged Baco along on the other side and propelled Cernno back toward the standing candle holder and the burning fat candle.

But he was on the wrong side and he had to use his handless wrist to swipe at the candle holder. Nevertheless, Cernno's back tapping the holder aided his swipe. The candle and flame fell backwards toward the material. Saxon had to imagine the material had been hanging for ages, dry and full of cobwebs. Instantly, the thin spider fortresses began to flame, the first willing fodder for the beginning blaze of the material.

"Stop dallying," Hellion ordered. His exclamation came when the leash stopped him, instead of following easily behind his turned back.

Saxon was jostled between Cernno and Baco, who were quick to gather him upright between them, before Hellion was able to turn fully around and see. The two Germans did not notice the fire starting behind them right away, but Hellion would as soon as his gaze turned. It could not matter, Saxon thought, with satisfaction finally lifting his chest. He could not imagine where they could discover water quickly enough to put the flames out. He kept his gaze riveted to where Hellion's would be. He wanted to see Hellion, when Hellion understood the portent of the fire.

Hellion's gaze swept past him, then returned with a jerking motion, to his dark-eyed stare. Something like the flash of a question, then perhaps dawning understanding worked over Hellion's skeletal white face. Hellion seemed to just barely grasp what it was that he wanted him to grasp in that moment. The possibility that Saxon was not hypnotized after all.

Abruptly, Hellion's gaze jerked upward, then back and forth on either side of where Saxon and the two Germans stood. "Imbeciles! Fire!
Fire,
you idiots! Behind you!"

Cernno and Baco released Saxon with a rush of exclamations as they turned. "The consecrating water, you fools! Get the urn quickly!" Hellion shouted.

Saxon did not really comprehend the meaning of Hellion's shouted words, because he had a more urgent demand driving him as he balled his fingers into a fist. He staggered toward Hellion, whose white robes billowed in agitation. At first Hellion seemed unaware of his approach as Saxon drew his arm and fist backward. Nevertheless, at the exact moment Saxon swung his fist forward, Hellion's face turned toward him and his fist connected with Hellion's jaw with an audible cracking sound. Saxon felt the pain explode into his hand as Hellion's pink eyes bulged, and then Hellion staggered and began to go down.

Saxon followed, crouching with his lips hissing and his arm swinging back for another strike. But then, out of the blue, it seemed to Saxon's centered mind, a strong hand caught his swinging arm. And then, more forceful hands than he could overpower, tugged him backwards.

It was both of the black attendants, Saxon realized, as they wrestled him, bowed forward to his knees. Their strong hands crushed the back of his neck and shoulders, barely allowing him to look upward. Nonetheless, he could see Joelle also forced to her knees beyond where Hellion was rising to his feet.

"Da fire is out!" Baco's exclaimed. "Da water in the urn was enough. Good thing it was there!"

"
Damnation,
" Saxon cursed with a suppressed bellow. His body jerked hopelessly against the hands holding him down.

"What is it? What has happened?" Incubus exclaimed, with his voice suddenly entering the fray.

"Nearly a fire, but only some smoke to put up with," Dame Baset said. "The stallion appears more untamed than we envisioned," she added.

"I thought he was well controlled. Totally hypnotized," Incubus started to say.

"Quiet!" Hellion's voice snapped, and then Saxon felt Hellion's robes slap against him, before Hellion grasped his jaw roughly, tugging his chin upward and holding it at a painful angle, straining his neck. Hellion's pink eyes and ashen face twisted with murderous rage as he stared into his irises.

"
You
think you fooled me?" Hellion spat.

"Yes!" Saxon defiantly twisted his jaw beneath the crushing press of Hellion's fingers.

The rumbled sound Hellion made was that of a demon's outrage.

"We cannot have this now, it is nearly midnight," Incubus interjected.

Hellion swept his body around still holding Saxon in his claw-like grip. "Bring the mare here and the Satyr knife." Hellion's voice resounded, carrying more of its commanding bass tones than moments before.

J
oelle had never been more proud of another person before as she was of Saxon. It was as though something she'd known was there sprang to life before her eyes. And the wretched terror and revulsion that had been jerking through her body began to recede. Saxon's courage alone, simply to try, helped to sustain her. Nevertheless, she barely had time to realize it, or what Saxon had tried to do. Or the fact that all this time Saxon truly had the hidden inner strength to thwart Hellion's mind-bending voice, before she was dragged forward on her knees before Hellion and beside Saxon.

She saw the flash of a long curved knife, but more, she felt it as her head was tugged backward, arching her throat to the blade. Her naked breasts heaved as she saw the deathly twist Hellion's hand held on Saxon's jaw.

"Marquess, if you do not
fuck
her like a beast in heat, if you do not follow my
exact
commands, I will skin her alive!" Hellion hissed.

The knife slid on her flesh and she felt the bite of the blade, as an uncontrolled whimper escaped her throat.

"I will!" Saxon heaved through the clamp of Hellion's fingers. "I will!"

The blade left Joelle's throat, and then the hands tugging her hair roughly pushed her head forward as Hellion swept away, saying, "Get the slut to suck him. I need him hard shortly."

The next thing Joelle heard as she tried to look up at Saxon was Hellion thundering with his resonate tenor voice. "The Order of the Satyr will convene fellow hedonistic worshipers!"

"Suck
him or I will slice his balls," a harsh voice rasped above and behind Joelle, just as he shoved her over onto her hands and knees between Saxon's thighs.

Joelle tried to tell herself that a lesser woman would crumble, as she heard Saxon above her, make a strangled and desperate sound in his chest. "Gladly, I w-will," Joelle managed to say, wondering where the brave words came from.
To save yourself and Saxon of course,
her mind exclaimed. To save your souls together.

Joelle grasped Saxon's flaccid cock with courage and intention. The natural heat of it flushed against her palms as the exposure of her nude buttocks bent over from behind crawled up her spine. She did not really have a clear idea of what to do, but Saxon's cock was already beginning to fill her palms, since she first touched it.

"My own hands gliding over your soft breasts," Saxon whispered in an intense seesaw voice above her. "The feel of your lips moving heat against mine. Your tongue sliding against my tongue."

Joelle realized with each intensely whispered word that Saxon spoke, his cock got harder. He was doing it to arouse himself! He was concentrating to make his cock rigid so that she would not have to...

Joelle opened her mouth, and then she lapped her tongue outward toward the bulging head. When, her tongue touched the searing flesh, Saxon hissed lowly, ending in a groan. His cock twitched in the circle of her fingers, stretching them wider.

"That's it, slut, suck it. Suck it!"

A hand tangled into her hair, pushing the back of her head downward. There was no other choice; the head of Saxon's cock forced her lips open. A moment of supreme choice flashed in her mind. It was only seconds to react. Horror, or compassion, disgusted refusal or open-minded acceptance.
Damn them all to hell,
Joelle thought, and she took what she could of the hot and expanding male meat thrusting her mouth widely open.

She sucked.

Joelle curled the sides of her tongue and she drew the bulky head to her palate and she suctioned deeply. The taste . . . the essence of Saxon that sprang into her mouth was hot, musky, and male. Out of nowhere her own body responded with a moan churning from her belly. Her breasts strained suddenly with the nipple tips feeling like little sparks snapping on the ends, while her loins flushed with an ache echoing in her vagina that connected to her clitoris with erratic throbs.

The hand tearing into her hair was harshly pulling and pushing, making her mouth suction up and down the first quarter of Saxon's hot-fleshed cock. That was as much as she could seem to fit into her mouth. Nevertheless, the hand pumping her head seemed to think she ought to take more and on each downward plunge, the head of Saxon's cock battered the back of her throat. Grazing her lips roughly.