Savage Satisfaction (13 page)

Mirela shivered, and it wasn’t with cold. The lips of her
sex were pale pink, and he could see hints of the darker pink interior. He
could smell her arousal and see it in the faint sheen inside her sex.

His cock was sandwiched between his belly and the floor.

When he’d clipped off most of the hair, Christoffer squirted
a bit of shaving cream on his fingers, working it into a fluffy white foam,
which he spread over her short hairs.

“You have to stay still,” he warned her.

“Yess…” She lifted her hips against his hand as he spread
the shaving cream.

“I mean it, I don’t want to cut you.”

“Oh.”

Her hips settled against the floor. Christoffer swiped the
razor against the plump top of her mound. The hair and foam came away,
revealing smooth white skin. When her mound was naked, Christoffer pushed her
legs wider apart. Pulling on the left lip of her sex with his right hand, he
applied cream and then carefully swiped the razor over flesh that was growing
increasingly slippery.

When one side was done, he smoothed his thumb up and down it.
The fingers holding the inside of the lip slid up, brushing her clit. Mirela
moaned. Christoffer watched her, suddenly understanding William’s desire to
keep her like this…bound and helpless.

Her helplessness alternately aroused a need to protect her
and a desire to abuse her.

“Just a bit more,” Christoffer told her, voice hoarse.

He pulled out the lip of her pussy, rubbing it between his
fingers, “accidentally” brushing her clit, bringing his face so close that he
could blow on her. Mirela was thrashing by the time he was ready to shave.

“Hold still, I have the razor.”

He went deliberately slow, enjoying it. Centimeter by
centimeter he revealed pale, naked flesh.

When he was done, he wiped away the excess foam and took his
first good look at her naked pussy. Her skin was pale, which made the pink lips
of her sex all the more startling.

“Are you going to beg now?”

“Oh yes. Oh please, Christoffer. I want to come. Please.”

He flicked a finger over her clit, forgetting that he should
be kind to her, gentle on her. He wanted to make her beg, make her suffer.

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“My clit.”

“Beg.”

“Touch my clit. Rub it, flick it, hurt it. Please make me
come, I cannot stand it anymore. Make me feel something.”

Christoffer pressed open her pussy lips and licked her.

Mirela’s hips came up off the floor. “Yes, oh yes.”

Christoffer closed his eyes, nose pressed against her naked
mound and his lips, teeth and tongue tormenting her clit. His cock throbbed
against the floor.

His tongue circled her clit, then flattened over it for
three hard strokes. Then his teeth raked up and over the bud, sending her into
spasms.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He pushed to his knees and
scrambled into position on top of her.

“No! Don’t stop, please!”

“I’m not. Open your mouth and suck me.” Christoffer knelt on
either side of her head, wiggling until his cock brushed her lips. Her head
arched up and she sucked him into her mouth, her hand wrapped around the shaft.

Christoffer bent his head and went back to work on her
pussy. She was rubbish at giving head, but he was so aroused he didn’t care.

He licked and sucked her clit, sliding one finger into her
pussy. She was sopping wet.

Suddenly, she went rigid against him. Christoffer lapped her
clit with quick, hard strokes, feeling her clench around his finger. When she
was coming down from the orgasm he lifted his head from her sex and pumped his
hips, fucking her mouth. Looking down between their bodies, Christoffer could
see his cock sliding between her lips.

He pulled out just before he came. The girl probably didn’t
have the experience to know what to do if he came in her mouth and he knew she
could choke on cum in that position.

Christoffer, muscles shaking, climbed off her to lie beside
her. Her hand crept to his and he took it. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Not right now.”

They curled around each other, each lost in their own way,
but momentarily safe in each other’s arms.

The next week passed in relative peace.

The relationship developing among the three of them was
complicated in the extreme, but as long as everyone remembered their place it
worked.

William’s place was that of dictatorial leader.
Christoffer’s was as William’s Beta and Mirela’s caretaker. Mirela’s was as
beautiful and engaging sex toy.

William spent the mornings with Mirela, training her. She
now moved effortlessly around her room. She responded immediately and with
grace to William’s every command. Each meal was taken from his hand while she
knelt at his feet. He brought the whistle he’d purchased, which was supposed to
be loud enough to be heard by birds, and blew it for her.

Most days he had sex with her, and if he didn’t have time
for sex she would drop to her knees at his command and suck his cock. Once,
when he’d left without pleasuring her, William returned, having forgotten his
riding gloves on the chair, to find her pleasuring herself.

Mirela was lost in a fantasy of making love to Christoffer
in the grass, her muscles lazy from the effort of flying. She didn’t hear the
door open and she screamed when William spoke from right beside her.

“What is this?”

“M-Master?”

She jerked her hand from her sex. He’d never told her not to
touch herself, and she’d only figured out she could give herself the same
pleasure he could two days ago—though she felt dumb for not having figured it
out earlier.

“Didn’t expect me to return, did you?”

“No.”

“And now I’ve caught you.”

Mirela felt sick with fear. She couldn’t tell from his voice
how angry he was. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wanted to scream at him that
it wasn’t fair, he hadn’t told her not to, and that it was his fault for
touching her only to leave her.

“I guess I’ll have to go back to tying you up whenever I’m
not here.”

Mirela went numb with horror. William drew her hands above
her head, latching the rings of her jesses into the chains attached to the bed.
He did the same to her feet.

The door closed.

Mirela pressed her face into the pillow and screamed.

William, still chuckling, passed Christoffer on his way
downstairs. Christoffer, who was sulking because William wasn’t taking him with
him, asked, “What’s made you happy?”

“I walked in on Mirela masturbating. Gorgeous. I told her
she was naughty and chained her up until I get back.”

William continued down the stairs. He didn’t see
Christoffer’s expression before the wolf took off toward the falcon’s room.

At the door William stopped and cursed. He’d forgotten his
gloves again. He retraced his steps to Mirela’s room. He smiled in savage
anticipation. She’d probably be wiggling around on the bed trying to get
herself off.

The door was open. William frowned until he heard
Christoffer’s murmured voice. He’d put Christoffer in charge of seeing to the
girl—bathing her, taking her to the toilet, and if he wasn’t here, feeding her.

A sob startled William. He stopped just outside the door so
they couldn’t see him and listened.

“I didn’t know!”

“Calm down, Mirela.”

“I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“I think he wants to be the one to make you come.”

“But he left. He touched me and made me want him but then he
just left. What was I supposed to do?”

“Take deep breaths, it won’t help if you panic.”

Mirela tried to do what Christoffer said, but a sob rattled
her chest. “Why does he hate me?”

“Shhh, shhh, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Look, look.” She rattled the chains, the hated bells
sounding. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to touch myself, but still he punishes
me. What must I do to make him like me?”

“Mirela, he does like you.”

“No.”

“He does. He really likes you.”

“He likes keeping a caged animal for a pet.” Another sob
welled up in her chest. “I’d rather be dead. Dead.”

Christoffer’s hands were on her cheeks. “Don’t cry.”

Mirela hated crying, the hood kept the tears tight against
her eyes until it felt as though she were drowning.

“If I cry enough and you get annoyed, would you kill me?”

“Mirela, knock it off, don’t say that.”

Mirela’s breath was choppy and uneven. She tried to relax
under Christoffer’s hands but panic beat inside her like wings.

“He bought a whistle and showed it to me,” she said, head
thrashing side to side. “I thought that meant he would take me flying, but it’s
been days. I was so happy, thinking finally I was obedient enough, but now
this.” She rattled her chains. “I’m trying to be obedient, but I would rather
be dead.”

“Don’t say that. It’s going to be okay. Now you know he
doesn’t want you masturbating so you won’t do it again.”

“He still hates me.”

“He doesn’t.”

She didn’t believe Christoffer. Nothing but hate or contempt
could allow William to treat her as he did.

“I used to look forward to him coming, because when he
touches me he does not seem so detached and cold, but now it is just another
command. It used to be sexy, but now I have to close my eyes and pretend to be
far away”—
pretend it’s you touching me
—“and he comes in my mouth and I
hate it, but he orders me to swallow it.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” Christoffer climbed on the
bed and curled beside her.

Mirela burrowed into his warmth. “Tell me how to make him
like me.”

“I don’t know, Mirela. I thought he might have taken you
flying before now.”

“Will you ask him? Ask him to let me fly?”

“Mirela, I told you before, I can’t do that.”

“Please!”

“No.” His voice was cold and Mirela regretted saying
anything. She didn’t want to make Christoffer angry. Sometimes when he bathed
her they lay on the bathroom floor like they had that first time and he licked
her until she came while she sucked his cock. Christoffer never came in her
mouth.

“Don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not, but I can’t interfere. I don’t know what would
happen if I did, and it won’t do either of us any good if I’m locked in here
with you.”

They were quiet, Christoffer stroking her side and back, the
touch not arousing but comforting. He grabbed a jar of lotion and slipped his
finger under the edges of the mask, soothing skin that was raw from the
constant contact.

“I’m obedient, aren’t I?” Mirela asked when he was done.

“Yes, you are now. You’re very obedient. You just need to
keep being obedient and soon he’ll take you out.”

“What if this is all I have, for the rest of my life? I
would rather die than live like this for years, always hoping to fly again.”

“I’m sure it won’t be like that.” Christoffer’s words were
hollow, as if he wasn’t sure they were true.

“I have not even seen the sky since coming here. Is it still
blue?”

It was a ridiculous question but he didn’t say that. Instead
he painted a picture with words of a blue sky and tall green trees.

Outside the room, William leaned against the wall, sick from
what he’d just heard. Hate her? He loved her. Punishment? He’d meant the chains
to keep her aroused until he returned.

William left, running down the stairs but not out to the
stables. He went to his study, sitting in his chair with his head in his hands.
My God, what had he done?

He was torturing that poor girl. His need to master her, his
own attraction to her in bondage had blinded him to the real hurt he was
causing. Jesus, had she really not seen the sun since the day she came? That
seemed lifetimes ago.

He’d been so wrapped up in the pageantry of training her
he’d lost sight of why he was doing it. He placed his hand on his cheek. The
bandage was off, the stitches dissolved and, thanks to faithful application of
scar reduction cream every night he had an ever fading red line down his cheek.

Much as he disliked having his face—one he’d become very
accustomed to over the past thirty-eight years—changed, the scar made him look
rather tough. She’d paid a very steep price for her actions. For him it had
long ago stopped being about punishment, it had been about pleasure—their
pleasure. But for her it was torture punctuated by intimacy that only made the
isolation the rest of the time more pronounced.

He’d tasked Christoffer with caring for her, assuming that
the wolf was simply seeing to her physical needs, but it seemed that
Christoffer was doing his best to control the emotional damage William was inflicting.

He likes keeping a caged animal as a pet.

What had he done?

* * * * *

Exhausted from sobbing, Mirela fell asleep in Christoffer’s
arms. When she awoke she was alone. She was still chained, but now she was numb
to it. She didn’t care anymore.

The door opened—the key in the lock must have been what woke
her. The footsteps were William’s.

Be obedient, make him happy. He will let you fly.

He’ll never let me fly. I will die in this room, my eyes
dead like those of a bat.

When his hand touched hers she chirped out, “Hello, Master,”
on reflex.

“Hello, Mirela.”

He hadn’t used her name in a long time.

When she was loose Mirela slid off the bed and stood, legs
wobbly. She waited for his command. Silence.

It was then she remembered she was in trouble. Fresh tears
filled her eyes and tightened her throat. Hoping to forestall whatever it was,
she dropped to her knees and started crawling toward his chair.

“Mirela, stand.”

His voice didn’t come from his chair and her belly clenched
in fear. Where was Christoffer? She didn’t want to be alone with William.

His hands were on her shoulders, rubbing her upper arms. “I
have something very important to say.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mirela cocked her head to the side. “Master?”

His hands moved to her neck, tracing the collar. “You may
not believe this, but I care for you, very deeply.” There was a tug at the
chains running down from the hood. “I was so wrapped up in how much I liked
having you here, like this,” his fingers brushed the hood, tracing the straps
back through her hair to the buckle, “I forgot everything else. I didn’t
realize, didn’t want to realize, how much you were suffering.”

His fingers worked the straps—stiff from water exposure—free
of the buckle.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated as the mask slipped from her face.

Mirela stumbled back, trembling hands pressing to eyes that
felt glued closed. She sank to her knees. What if her eyesight was gone, dead
from lack of use? She would kill herself—a blind falcon had no reason to live.

She rubbed her eyes, breaking off the dried tears that held
her lashes together. Cupping her hands over her eyes, she slowly opened them.

One finger at a time, she peeled her hands away.

And nearly wept with joy when she could see the carpet she
knelt on.

“Blue, green, pink,” she whispered, touching the colors as
she spoke them. The light came from a single lamp, but it was painfully bright.
Squinting, she looked up.

William stood in the center of the room, her hood dangling
from his hand. She was so used to him being nothing but hands and a voice it
was as though she were seeing a stranger.

“Master,” she said softly.

“Please, call me William.” There was sadness in his eyes
when he looked at her. Sadness and something else she could not name.

Mirela climbed to her feet, bells jangling. For the first
time she saw her jesses. They were beautiful, made of tan leather and sewn with
red beads. The chain, bells and rings dangling from them were all gold.

As Mirela examined her wrist, William caught her hand in
his. He spread her fingers then brought her hand to his lips, kissing the
center of her palm. Mirela remembered how that used to excite her, but now all
she could feel was sweet relief to be free of the hood.

He removed the jess from the arm he held. “I meant for this
to be a way of learning to trust one another,” he told her as he removed the
other jess. He dropped to his knees. “I thought this would be…arousing, for
both of us.” He shook his head as he freed the first ankle. “I was so wrapped
up in how aroused I was I didn’t see that I was hurting you.”

He undid the last buckle. “I would give everything I own to
take back the hurt I caused you. I never hated you, quite the opposite.”

A shiver ran down Mirela’s back. “Master—”

“William, please.”

“William.” His name felt strange on her tongue. It made her
nervous to use it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. Had
Christoffer finally given in to her pleas and talked to William about freeing
her? She hadn’t wanted him to tell William what she felt, only to point out to
the lord that she was obedient and had earned his trust.

“I heard you this afternoon.”

Mirela bent her head. Had he freed her to punish her for
speaking out? But he’d apologized…

“I thought you would find it arousing to be bound without a
way to pleasure yourself.”

“So you were not angry with me for…touching myself?”

“No, not at all. It was beautiful and sexy.” He lifted her
hands to his lips and kissed them. “I thought you would know that I meant to
tease you by tying you up, not to upset you.”

Mirela peered at him. “You thought I would enjoy not being
free to move?”

William took her face in his hands. His eyes searched her
face. “I have ruined something that should have been beautiful because I let
the past and my own arrogance destroy it.”

His gaze was piercing. She wished she could be herself with
him, not always have to worry about being obedient. She might like to kiss him
now, though she couldn’t say why, but she was afraid that kiss might lead to
sex, and sex to the chains he so loved to bind her with.