Marked for Surrender (16 page)

Regardless of what would happen, she would have this moment. No one had made her feel as accepted as these two men had. Dominant or submissive, Mistress Ball Breaker or Mistress Andia, they accepted her.

When she stepped into the room, the sight of them almost made her cry.

Zevon and Christophe had stripped as she'd instructed, but they'd gone a step further. Both were in the center of the sunken section of the main room on their knees, hands clasped behind their backs.

Christophe's head was bent, and his gaze was riveted to the floor, though she noted he peeked when she came in. His increased breathing revealed he liked what he saw. That, and his cock standing at attention.

Zevon's head was raised, and he stared steadily at the wall in front of him, his dark eyes stormy, almost angry. He did not look at her when she came into the room. Interesting.

She stepped down the two small steps that took her into the sunken section. Power pulsed through her. No matter what Pavlik tried, no matter what the Primarians tried, no one could rob her of this. It wasn't the raw control that her prisoners had sought and ultimately lost. It was a subtle flow of electricity that had no beginning and no end.

Control was part of it. She took a deep, cleansing breath before she planted herself in front of Zevon. He couldn't help lifting his eyes to meet hers, and the turmoil there only spurred her on.

Andia didn't need to read his mind. He was no submissive, he thought. His very nerves were jangled by the position he was in. Probably he believed Christophe was better suited as a sub, his head perfectly bowed and his muscles taut and ready.

The Mistress in her adored Christophe's energy, his ability to submit to her before she entered the room. The woman in her adored Zevon's defiance and strength, his willingness to bend to please her. Didn't he realize she wanted it all? She wanted Zevon's reluctance and Christophe's surrender. It was a powerful mixture of give-and-take she had tasted in Muan and wanted more.

"You belong to me.” She let her scrutiny flow over Zevon, studying the shadow and light that danced over his skin. His mate mark glowed a fiery red, a beacon of their connection and mirrored by the identical mark on Christophe.

Zevon made no comment, but he stared at her defiantly. She nodded. It was expected. A dom who could access the kind of dominance she'd seen on the Primarian ship would have to be coaxed into submission every time.

And that made her hot.

She knew the key to his surrender. One of her treasured “tools” was a flogger with long, leather strands that were knotted at the end. It was perfect for what she had in mind.

Once she had it in her hand, she had to force her own desire, her intensity down. She ran the handle across Christophe's chest. “And you're mine.” He shuddered but remained still. “You don't like pain that much, but you'll take it for me, for Zevon.” Her glance flicked to Zevon, who had turned his head to stare at her. “He'll like it, but he'll fight it, because he doesn't let go easily, though it's the only thing he wants."

Confusion swirled in Zevon's brown eyes, a hesitant expression that made Andia's heart clench. She stepped back and readied the whip.

"Is pain the only weapon in your arsenal?” Zevon quipped.

Ah, he was going to let her truly dominate him. To speak broke the rules he knew very well. Without comment, she turned back to her bag and produced a ball gag.

His eyes narrowed. “I'm not—"

"You are,” she snapped. He swallowed, an anxious movement of his throat that made her want to purr. To keep him on edge, to drive him inward—those were her real weapons. When he showed signs that he'd lost his iron control, the heat within her spiked.

She stepped in front of him, his glare focused on her face. When she gripped his hair and jerked his head back, his eyes widened slightly and his lips parted. She pressed her body against his and bent down to slide her tongue over his mouth. He strained to increase the pressure, to control the kiss.

Her fingers slipped between their mouths and stretched him. Before he could do anything, she slipped the ball gag in his mouth and clicked it closed at the back of his head.

He shook his head like a horse in the bridle for the first time, the whites of his eyes bright and visible. When he gasped for breath, she rubbed her lips over his cheeks, down his neck, then lower to his nipples. She bit the sensitive flesh, and he moaned. His cock strained toward her.

His animalistic snarl when she backed away only made her wetter, hotter. “Stay still,” she ordered. “Or I will truss you up like a pig."

Christophe's arousal was clear, his cock leaking fluid. She had them both where she wanted them.

This time, when she retrieved the flogger from the armrest of the couch, there was no hesitation. She swung it hard, wanting the full strength of her arm to get their attention immediately.

Christophe hissed but remained rooted in place. Zevon made no sound, but his body froze and Andia knew she had him. Her second swing made Christophe jerk. Zevon heaved a deep breath. The third and fourth snapped loudly, even louder than the men's labored breathing. Five. Six. They would wear her bruises just as she wore the blazing comet on her arm, the mark that throbbed from her desperate need.

She stopped but only to torment them, to rub her nipples over Christophe's chest and her fingernails across Zevon's cheek. When Zevon's dark eyes narrowed, glaring at her, she produced a set of nipple clamps and met his gaze calmly.

His jaw flexed. Nipple clamps. Submissive toys. He didn't like it—she could read it as if he'd said the words—but he'd like the sensation, the bite of their teeth on his skin. “Haven't you used these on Christophe?” she said in a purring tone. “Oh that's right,” she whispered in his ear. “You can't talk."

He growled, muffled from the ball gag but clear to her. She smiled and opened the first clamp. His muscles tensed, and she sensed his desire to run, to stand up, to push her down. But he didn't.

When the clamp pinched his flesh, he hissed and squirmed. She reached down and pumped his cock. “Mine. All of it is mine. What did you say to me? You told me I could pound your ass with a strap-on.” She slid her tongue up his neck to his chin, tasting salt, reveling in the flavor of him. “I plan to do that and much, much more."

The pain sizzled, and Zevon thought his head was going to explode. She rubbed his cock, driving him crazy with desire. His nipples ached, throbbed, hurt like a motherfucker. His breaths came in gasps, the ball gag blocking his mouth, forcing him to flare his nose.

His back was fucking on fire, bruised, he knew. Christophe had dropped into subspace after the fourth blow, but Zevon let the pain wash over him. He didn't let go, didn't allow it.

When the second clamp bit his flesh, he grunted involuntarily, the pain ripping along his nerves. And she wasn't done. She held up a heavy slapper similar to the one he'd used on the Primarian vessel. “Don't you dare come,” she ordered, her voice hard, all Mistress.

The rush of pain, arousal, and need swept over him when she applied that slapper with deadly skill. She tapped his balls, the base of his cock, the hard length. While the dull thudding created pain in his crotch, she pressed her mouth against his neck, her tongue tickling his skin.

He moaned and shuddered, trying to hold back, his dick a raging bull. Even heavy blows from Andia's hand couldn't stop the blood pulsing in his cock. When she stopped, he almost whimpered.

"Christophe,” Andia snapped. “Come here."

Zevon's lover rose, his dick engorged, needy. Stars, Zevon wanted him, almost as much as he wanted her. Needed her.

Andia unlocked the cuffs and pressed on Christophe's shoulder. “On all fours,” she demanded, and Christophe knelt in front of Zevon, his fantastic ass presented to him.

She unlocked Zevon's cuffs and tipped his head up, demanding his attention. “You keep those hands respectful or I'll make you pay."

It was a test, but he wasn't sure he wanted to pass. He reached out and stroked Christophe's ass, his fingers probing the sensitive flesh around his tight hole.

When her hand slapped his, it stung. But not as much as his nipples when she jerked on the chains that hung from them. He snarled at her, and she tightened the slack on the chain until he knew his chest or his cock was going to explode.

Her breath was hot on his face, and he wanted to lunge toward her, devour her. The way she insinuated herself between Christophe and him, the way she pressed against them both as she tortured him drove him insane.

She tugged on the chain, and pain splintered along his nerves. “I'll tell you when to touch. I'll tell you when to slide that impressive cock deep inside him.” She nipped his chin. “You'll do it all when I say and not before."

The ball gag muffled his defiance, embarrassing drool slipping around the damn thing. She smiled and lifted a towel to his mouth. “Keep that up and I'll put a cage on that cock of yours too.” She reached down and held his gaze as her hand stroked his hard flesh. He wanted to spurt in her hand so badly but held back to the point of pain. Her voice was seductive and low. “But I don't want to cage this. I want to fuck you so hard that you drive it deep inside Christophe's ass and blow your wad."

Her crass language only made him hotter. Stars, he loved a woman with a filthy mouth. Sometimes submissive women could be driven to that state, but to be dominated with it was almost more than his already leaking dick could take.

She released him and retrieved something from her bag. In front of both of them, she strapped on her dildo. Zevon stared at this thing that would plunge inside him. It was larger than Christophe, larger than anyone Zevon had ever had in his ass. He swallowed, the fear and anticipation warring within him. Fuck, he didn't know whether to cry or demand more.

It didn't matter what he did. She was going to fuck him.

The lube shone in the glowlight, and she licked her lips. Zevon's cock was a breath away from Christophe's ass, but he knew better than to move. That tempting cave, so familiar, so arousing, was close, but Zevon couldn't have it until she said he could have it.

She stepped around him and pressed down on his back. “Bend over, Zevon. And when I ease inside you, take Christophe."

Her nails dug into his hips, and she dipped the end of her dildo inside his ass. He tried to relax, to accept it, but fuck, it hurt. Deeper, harder, she drove inside him. Her hands crept over his chest and pulled on the chains dangling from his nipples.

The pain in his chest diminished the pain in his ass. She stroked her way down until she reached his cock and gripped it hard. “Get inside him. I want you to fuck him. I want you to make him come, Zevon."

Zevon didn't recognize his own voice when he snarled, lunging forward. He thrust inside Christophe, the lack of lube making the man tight. Friction sent a shower of sparks along Zevon's nerves.

He reached his hand around Christophe's waist and grabbed the other man's cock. Hard and fast, Zevon stroked him in time to the thrusts of his dick. Soon all three of them rocked in rhythm.

"Come for me, Christophe. Spew for me. I want to see it,” Andia demanded.

Christophe cried out a long, guttural sound, and his release exploded. Zevon's hand was bathed in Christophe's cum. The smell made Zevon's dick throb. Stars, how could he hang on to his own release?

Andia answered his silent need by driving into his ass harder and yanking the chain on his nipples. The feel of her, the smell of Christophe, the pain of the clamps seemed to combine, to swirl around him.

Then it was quiet. Everything stopped. The intense arousal was still there, the pain still throbbed, but his mind drifted, content. He wanted to stay in that moment. His soul seemed to open, and he understood his own damage.

For so long, he'd been lost, unable to touch those around him, unable to accept their comfort. His need to feel had been driven under, buried beneath a shitload of pain and grief.

But here in this peaceful moment, he could accept Andia's touch, feel Christophe's flesh under his hands, belong to them. There was still pain and grief and loss. But it didn't consume him. Tears squeezed from his eyes.

"Mistress,” he choked out around the gag.

She froze, her strap-on buried deep inside him, her hands splayed over his belly. “What?"

He lifted his head and looked at her over his shoulder. The title had been ripped from him, torn out of his throat. This woman, Mistress of his soul, had brought him something elusive, something he'd thought unattainable.

Peace.

She lifted her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. “Bring Christophe to me, Zevon. I want him."

With his cock still buried inside Christophe's ass, Zevon yanked him back against his chest. He straightened, the dildo pressed deeper since Andia had stepped up on the low table in front of the couch. How the hell had she done that? Even Zevon, who prided himself on his effortless movements in the bedroom, had to marvel at her talent. Christophe's muscles clenched around Zevon's dick, and he groaned.

He pressed Christophe's head back against his shoulder and tipped his chin, offering the man to the woman who owned them both.

"Perfect,” she breathed and pressed her mouth to Christophe's. Caught by the two dominants, Christophe twisted but couldn't escape.

Andia broke the kiss with Christophe and put her lips next to Zevon's ear. “I want you to come now. Hard.” She increased the speed of her thrusts, and he rode Christophe hard, bending the man over and pounding him.

His release exploded, his nipples burning, his mate mark glowing, everything whirling and spinning. Deeper and deeper, becoming a part of them both, he slid inside Christophe, and she owned him.

When his orgasm finally stopped, his knees were weak and Andia had to catch him. Christophe was still on all fours, tears dripping down his face.

Andia's hands and lips soothed Zevon, and she removed the ball gag. Her mouth met his; he let her kiss him. When she lifted her head, her gaze glittered.

He studied her. “You haven't been taken care of."