Dirty Bad Wrong (17 page)

“It’s going to be rough, Cat, and real fucking dirty.” He placed a hand around my throat, surveying his vessel.

“I hope so.” I dared to smile, wishing I was as half as brave as I sounded. “That
is
why I’m here.”

He planted a solid kiss on my lips, cupping my chin in his hand. “That’s my girl.”

***

We passed Raven and Cara en route to playroom three, and Masque took hold of Raven’s wrist, pulling her in close to his mouth. Cara smiled at me, offering me a sweet little wave as they whispered out of earshot. I smiled back, blushing at the thought that she’d been watching earlier. I guessed it should have been the least of my worries, since I was about to do it all over again. The corridor was teeming with observers, pressed up against the interior windows of playrooms one and two. They turned to look as Masque opened room three for me, and my heart skipped a beat as faces moved over to our window. My eyes shot around the room, trying to distract myself. There were a couple of benches, with cuffs dangling all over the place, but Masque was stood instead upon a simple gym-style mat, waterproof and springy. He beckoned me to join him. I glanced over my shoulder to find more faces at the window.

“Ignore them,” he said. “Look at
me
.”

I looked at him gladly. His jeans were slung low on his hips, the hard lines of his torso towering above me, even in my heels. The chimera looked darker than I’d ever seen, moving as he moved, alive on his skin. I stared into the dark pools of his eyes, soaking up the shadowy strength of his features. He was beautiful, magnificent. He was perfect. I took a few paces forward, catching his musk in my nostrils. It made my mouth water.

I jumped as the door opened, breathing in relief to find it was only Raven. It soon became obvious she was staying.

“Raven’s going to be helping me,” Masque said. It was clearly not up for discussion. “On your knees.”

I positioned myself in front of him, dropping to the soft padding of the mat underneath. Raven moved to my rear, pulling my hair into a makeshift ponytail. I considered asking questions, but Masque’s hands were already on his belt. He dropped his jeans, kicking them off to the side and his cock rose free, huge in front of my face. He slapped it against my cheek, packing a hefty thump.

“Deep breaths,” Raven said. “In and out.”

I did as she said, taking in all the air I could like some kind of deep sea diver. Masque tilted my head up to him, and Rebecca held me firm in position. “Open your mouth,” he said. “Wide. Tongue out.” He smiled at my compliance. “Good girl.”

“Hands behind your back,” Raven added. “You will keep them there.”

I knotted my fingers behind me, determined to obey, managing just two more breaths before Masque slid himself between my lips. He aimed at an angle, and his cock bulged out from my cheek. He growled, straining until it popped free again. “So fucking pretty. Spit on me, Cat, make me wet.”

My first effort was pathetic, years of good manners counteracting the instruction. It was Raven who reacted, grabbing his length in her hand and leaning down next to me. “He
said
spit on his fucking cock,” she snapped. “
This
is spit.” She spat like a llama, and it landed right on target, dripping down the underside of his shaft. “Now you,” she ordered. “Do it properly.”

I did my best, hawking out as much as I could, even though some landed short. “Better,” she said. “Again.”

Attempt number three was the best of the lot, leaving a long slimy trail between his cock and my chin. “Quick learner,” Raven purred.

I pulled away, cheeks on fire, but Masque gripped my chin, guiding me back. “Do you have a problem with spitting, Cat?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. I shook my head even though I didn’t really know the answer. “Speak.”

“No,” I said, my chin still pinned in his grip.

“No
what
?” Raven hissed.

“No,
sir,
” I corrected, hoping it was the right etiquette. It seemed to appease her.

“You need to break, Cat, understand? All the reservations you’ve ever known will fall in this place.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You will learn to be dirty here, obedient without restraint. That’s what I offer. Do you want it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“PLEASE, sir,” Raven snapped.

“Please, sir, please!” My mind was unravelling, knees quivering underneath me, but I was strong, determined. I wanted this.

“Look at me,” Masque ordered. I raised my eyes to his, sucking in breath. “You’re mine in this place, Cat. Mine to command, mine to control, mine to protect. You will give yourself to me.”

“Yes, sir,” I rasped.

“Open wide.” I opened wide, ignoring the faces at the edge of my vision, the faces clamouring to witness my humiliation. “You will say thank you for this...”

He leant down, hooking his fingers behind my teeth and stretching my jaw as far as it would go. My lips splayed around his grip in a truly degrading manner, but I didn’t pull away, not even when he hacked up a healthy gob-full of spit straight into my mouth. I fought the urge to retch.

“Lucky girl,” Raven purred. “Say thank you.”

Good Lydia Marsh screamed from the sidelines, screamed that she didn’t want this, but as the horror subsided it left something else. Something uncoiled in the pit of me, and it wanted all of this, it wanted all of
him
.

I swallowed his filthy gift down and opened my mouth wide for more. He obliged, dribbling a thick strand of drool all the way from his mouth to mine. I took it all from him, and he stroked tender fingers down my cheek, his eyes full of pride. It made my heart swell, blooming through my chest in a wave of bliss. My mind twisted, wondering what the hell was happening to me, but the serpent in my gut uncoiled, demanding everything he had to give.

“You are so fucking beautiful, Cat,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “So fucking beautiful.”

He rammed his cock inside my mouth so hard I gagged on impact, cheeks billowing out in desperation for air. He didn’t let up, forcing his length right the way to the back of my throat while I retched and spluttered and strained against him. I felt my eyes watering, tears streaming as I fought for breath. He fucked my mouth like a man possessed, hissing and groaning in effort while Raven held me tight. My hands moved from their position just long enough for her to yell at me. I put them back.

“Relax your fucking throat,” he said. “Let me in.”

He shunted Raven from position to place his hands at the back of my skull, wriggling deeper into me. He groaned as he found the perfect angle, and my lips slammed into the hot flesh of his groin, his balls mashed tight against my chin. He held the position for long seconds while I blinked away tears, then pulled out with a low growl, leaving me free to cough and splutter and gasp for air. My chin was dripping, streaked with spit and tears and God knows what else.

“Beautiful girl,” Masque whispered, presenting his cock for round two. I gave him my mouth gladly, feeling the familiar warmth of Rebecca pressed into my back. Her hands snaked between my legs, teasing at my clit.

I gagged harder at his assault this time, every muscle clenching in a bid to expel him, but he didn’t retreat a single inch, solid as stone. I felt a fluid-rush churn up from my stomach, and choked it back in panic, coughing around his dick like a flailing fish.

Rebecca’s voice at my ear, soft, soothing. “It’s ok, baby, it’s ok... let it out.”

I swallowed it down, determined not to retch again, but he pushed in too damn hard. I paled in horror as fluid surged from my mouth, drenching Masque’s stomach and running down his thighs in a river of pure embarrassment. My vision blurred, dizzying in my mortification, but he smoothed my hair back unfazed. “It’s water, Cat. I made you drink it down, remember? Don’t worry, I like it this way.”

I stared up at him through streams of tears, eyes stinging with smudged make-up, and right there, underneath him, with Raven’s fingers in my pussy, I let it all go; every single scrap of reservation, every tiny sliver of self-control, and it felt like the road to Heaven. I let Masque support my head, surrendering myself absolutely. He moaned his approval, slamming himself into my throat over and over again. When I retched I let it go free, soaking him with stream after stream of gagged-up fluid; it only seemed to spur him on. Finally, I felt the ascent of orgasm, Raven’s fingers working my clit in perfect rhythm. I grunted with alien noises, squelching and groaning and snorting without restraint, a strange croaky quack gurgling from my throat. Masque shifted with the approach of his own climax. I could feel it in his cock, in his thighs, in the balls against my chin. His cock started to twitch in my throat, preparing to spurt.

“Now, Raven, now,” he hissed. She heeded his instruction, ramping up the efforts on my clit until my body exploded, shaking and twitching and jerking in her arms. Masque bellowed loud, pressing his cock to my tongue as he erupted, his salty cream filling my mouth.

His taste was all the reward I needed; the nectar of recognition for a job well done. Raven backed away as Masque dropped to his knees, gripping my shoulders in hot clammy hands. He didn’t even give me chance to swallow him down before his mouth was on mine.
Dirty bad wrong
, they called him, and they weren’t lying. Not one fucking bit. I smiled as he licked up my tears,
his
reward, no doubt, just like Rebecca had warned me. He flicked his tongue across my eyes, digging for every last trace, and then he held me tight, my head against his chest where I could feel his heartbeat booming loud.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Lydia,” he whispered. “So fucking proud. I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”

I sighed against him, floating on endorphins, smiling to myself as I realised he’d used my real name.

***

“So, what brings you around these parts?” I handed Steph her cappuccino, sliding into the seat opposite.

“I came to see
you
, of course,” she said. “I hardly hear a peep from you these days.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ve been really busy at work.”

“You look different. I guess this is
her
influence?” Steph rolled her eyes at me, unimpressed. I looked down at my outfit, not quite sure of what she was referring to. “The dark clothes, the eyeliner, the crazy choker... you look like some kind of goth, Lyddie.”

I couldn’t resist laughing. “Seriously? You think
this
is goth? You haven’t been out in Camden. It’s just a black blouse and some eyeliner, chill your beans.”

“You can come back to mine you know, if things are too weird there.”

“Things aren’t weird,” I smiled. “Things are good.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Good?”

“
Very
good,” I beamed.

“Good like, a
man
good?!”

I sipped my espresso, trying to rein it in. I’d been doing so bloody well, keeping a business-as-usual face at the office for days on end, acting like James Clarke was nobody in particular and it didn’t give me goose-pimples to stand within fifty yards of him. I deserved one little outburst, surely? “Maybe
man
good, yeah.”

“Bleeding hell, Lyddie, you kept that you to yourself.”

“It’s early days, totally casual,” I said. “No big deal.”

“Whatever, missy, you’re grinning like a lunatic. Is it suit man? Washisname? James, big CTO boss guy?”

I looked around, paranoid about colleagues since we were just a stone’s throw from the office. “He’s not my boss, not really.”

“So, it
is
him,” she grinned. “I’m assuming he doesn’t have heads in his fridge, then?”

“I haven’t seen his fridge, but the signs are good.” If only she knew.

“I’m happy for you, honest I am.” She stared into her coffee, an uncharacteristic quietness taking hold.

“But?” I added for her. “What did you really come here for?” I folded my arms, waiting.

“Well, your news kind of makes mine redundant, but I figure I’ll tell you anyway,” she said. “It’s about Stuart.”

My stomach knotted, his name an unwelcome sound. “What about Stuart?”

She sighed. “He’s been round, a lot, desperate to see you.”

“So? Shouldn’t he be at home with the mother-to-be? Tell him to get stuffed.”

“That’s the thing... she isn’t there. He isn’t even sure the baby is his, she admitted as much to him. Seems he isn’t the only contender for biological father status.”

My blood froze in my veins. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he misses you, Lyddie. Honest, he does. He was round every night until we finally let him in, now he hardly leaves, just spends his time moping over you.”

“He needs to move on, I have.”

“Have you, really? It’s only been weeks.”

“Months. It’s been months,” I snapped.

“Barely.”