Mistress's Master: Men in Blue, Book 3 (9 page)

When she opened her eyes, she caught Ryan gesturing frantically to Ben. The bloodshot tinge to his stare hadn’t been there minutes ago. He shook his head and waved his hands before stepping between her and his fellow slave. His shoulders heaved as he planted his feet shoulder-width apart.

“Ryan. Look at me.”

His hands shook as he turned to face her. Slowly.

“What’s the matter?” She reached for his arm, but he retreated.

“It’s not right.” Ryan snarled when the other men ringed her tighter. “This is bullshit! How much will we let him take? When will it stop? He’s not going to release your family, Ben. They’re probably already dead.”

Lily sat bolt upright. Her gaze whipped between the two men.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Ben bowed his head, his explanation rushing from him in one breath that sounded as though it wheezed from the pit of hell instead of his magnificent chest. “They have Julie. And April. If I don’t do it, Morselli will hurt them. Jesus. Julie’s so little. I can’t think about what they’d do to her.”

“Calm down, tell me the whole story.”

“I can’t, Mistress.”

Ryan shook his head and held his ground as Ben approached. “You will not touch her.”

“I don’t have a choice. None of us do. Move, Ry. Please. Don’t make me hurt you. We’ve suffered enough already.” The two slaves who’d kissed each other as if they couldn’t stand to stop for a breath balled their fists and prepared to settle their differences.

“Stop. Right now.” Lily didn’t have to raise her voice. They obeyed instantly, the reaction hardwired into their systems. She rose, yearning for her boots when her stare landed well below their defined pecs. Before she could command them to reveal the source of their friction, the hair on the back of her nape lifted.

“Morselli has us all by the balls, Ben.” The gentle southerner spoke up. He looked her straight in the eye and whispered, “I’m sorry. This is a tragedy. Another time where I violate all I believe in. Someday I’ll beg you to punish me for this.”

His hand latched on to her ankle.

Lily tried to kick off his hold. He pinned her tighter. Three other slaves, including Ben, snagged her remaining limbs. They constricted their grips around her wrists and ankles in synch. She thrashed in their unbreakable grasp—teeth snapping at anything within reach—for a split second, unable to squash the instinct until she saw the sick horror and dread on Ryan’s face.

She went slack instantly, refusing to amplify his torment. It wasn’t like she had any hope of escape against their hefty muscles. As strong as her willpower was, she stood no chance in a physical matchup.

Tony’s staff worked as a single unit, carting her toward a covered object in the opposite corner of the room. Ben whipped a sheet off the fixture as Ryan scrambled to hold it in place.

“Ryan.” She commanded his attention. “Stop fighting them. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Do what you have to.”

“But—”

“Argue with me and I
will
be offended.” She smiled. “Help them.”

He stood to the side and allowed the others to deposit her on the stand they’d revealed.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” one of the slaves whispered as he manipulated the angle of her leg, bending her knee. When she realized what they intended, she assumed the position required, kneeling with her thighs spread wide and her arms outstretched. Her pride remained whole as heavy chains lashed her ankles and knees to a gleaming, polished granite pedestal with thick links of freezing, inescapable steel.

Lily’s arms reached wide, as though prepared to welcome an old friend into a grotesque embrace. Ryan wept as he locked first one wrist than the other into unforgiving shackles. They adorned a metal framework that resembled a T, the base of which was bolted behind her back, between her legs. A lightly padded bump protruded from the trunk of the macabre tree, inflicting a severe arch to her spine.

Mirrors on the ceiling and walls reflected her predicament. She noted how the position highlighted the ridges of her ribs and her svelte abdominal muscles, earned through endless hours riding her slaves. Fucking toned better than any gym workout. Bowed, she seemed to present her firm breasts like a pair of gifts on top of her chest. Her ultra-petite stature made the mounds appear larger than they were.

The men cared for her like a carefully synchronized watch, all the moving parts of their assemblage keeping impeccable time. They apologized, seeking absolution she granted freely as they held her immobile and called for a stylist over the room’s intercom.

Her time was running short.

“Gather around me. All of you.” She infused her request with kindness.

They flocked to her side in an instant.

“Closer. Huddle up.”

The men draped their arms over the slaves to either side until they resembled a football team more than a collection of high-quality submissives. Lily checked the gaps between them, finding none. She pitched her voice low enough not to carry. “Good boys. I’m certain this room is filled with cameras and microphones. So, I’m only going to say this once. Believe me.”

She met each of their eyes, assuring them of her honesty.

“None of this is your fault. You’re not responsible for what you’ve been forced to do here today or what might occur this evening. I came here fully aware of the risks. If you think this erases one shred of my dignity or authority then you’ve underestimated my strength. Promise me, no matter what you see tonight, you will
not
intervene. I’m fully capable of surviving—thriving even—despite Tony Morselli’s petty display of phony sovereignty. I’ve endured far worse. This will be nothing.”

Maybe not
nothing
. Still, she would brazen through. Just like old times.

“But—”

“No, Ryan.” She cut him off. “In this I won’t accept disobedience. If you violate my wishes then I’ll consider you to have disgraced your station and the lifestyle you value as much as I do.”

“Yes, Mistress.” The corded tendons in his neck relaxed.

“Very good.” She smiled then stretched to the limits of her confinement in order to sip the lingering moisture from his cheek. “Be careful. All of you. When this storm has passed, I’ll search you out. You have an open invitation to join me.”

The click of the door unlatching terminated their conversation. The men nodded as a pair of beautiful women dressed only in slender silver chains and tiny leather panels entered the space.

Despite Lily’s command otherwise, one beautician slathered her face with drastic yet flattering makeup, including blood-red lipstick. The other blow-dried her hair, glamming it up with unnecessary product and enhancing the gentle waves Lily usually forced into absolutely straight, austere lines. To make it worse, the attendant left the fall of her mane loose. The sultry curtain brushed the upper curve of her ass with softness as foreign to her as the bite of the metal trapping her ankles and calves to the hard block, which gouged her knees.

When Lily had resigned herself to the bondage and her frou-frou appearance, they imposed one final restraint. The women braided a thin section of her hair, originating at the crown of her skull. They worked a long black ribbon into the tresses. Once interwoven, it held as tightly as if they’d super glued it to her skull. They tugged experimentally, yanking her head back until Ben growled from his place by her side.

The women chuckled as they secured the end of the tie to a formidable steel ring affixed to the pedestal between Lily’s pointed feet. The too-short cord guaranteed she continued the elegant curve of her body through her neck, which ached instantly in the awkward position. Even worse, she couldn’t watch her surroundings directly. Instead she relied on the mirrored ceiling to track the movement of the players in the space.

“Mr. Morselli instructed us to place her in the center of the room, facing the north entrance,” one of the women barked at Ryan. He ignored her shrill command, looking instead to Lily. She smiled, about all she could do.

Four of the men surrounded her, each gripping a chrome handle on his side of the cube she knelt upon. They carefully lifted her, their muscles straining beneath the weight of the stone, while Ben slid a dolly beneath the structure. They wheeled her into position.

“It’s time to arrange the main hall. We can’t keep our guests waiting. They’ll begin arriving soon.” The women marched toward the exit. The five men moved slower, sharing glances with each other.

“Thank you for your service.” Lily tried again to alleviate their concern.

“Enough,” one of the women tossed over her shoulder. “Don’t forget the gag.”

“Go ahead,” Lily whispered to Ryan, who approached her with minced steps so unfitting to his size and strength she almost laughed. “I’ll be fine. Do it.”

She watched in the mirror as he lifted the black ball gag and opened her mouth before he touched it to her lips. He fed her the soft foam then buckled it on the loosest setting, though even that left no wiggle room.

“The pleasure was ours, Mistress.” Ryan inclined his shoulders in a tiny bow the rest of the men mimicked before trundling through the door, which seemed smaller when their bulk passed through the opening.

As soon as they were gone, the pleasant harmony she’d enjoyed during her massage disappeared. Even the trickle of water in the fountain ceased. Absolute silence in the insulated chamber left her ears ringing with a high-pitched buzz. A moment later, the lights flicked off. Either the controls were located on a panel outside the room, or her suspicions had been confirmed.

Someone was watching.

They knew she’d been abandoned.

Lily closed her eyes and imagined she’d caused the darkness—controlled her surroundings. She consciously relaxed each muscle in her body, starting with her toes. The awkwardness of her pose melted into insignificance as she focused on generating an accurate accounting of the slow, steady beats of her heart.

Her mind freed itself from her environment, relying on the techniques she’d honed as a child to ignore Buchanan abusing her mother all through the night just so her only true parent could drink away the pocket change he tossed her afterward.

Lily’s control slipped as memories haunted her. Until she reminded herself they were gone. Both of her lousy excuses for parents. Forever.

She smiled into the pitch black, hoping Morselli had infrared cameras. Instead of the castle haven she’d imagined her sister-princess inviting her to live in as a child, she drew the happiest moments of her life around her like the most effective security blanket in the universe.

Topping the list was Lily’s recollection of Isabella’s welcoming grace at the discovery of her bastard half-sister. The generosity and instant affection her sister had lavished brought tears of joy to her eyes. Not far behind, the brilliant flames of true love she’d witnessed sparking between her sister and Razor, the young cop Izzy had fallen for, had rekindled dreams Lily thought long dead. Heat infused her chilled body as she recalled the peace she’d found in the strong arms of Jeremy Radisson. Her sister’s friend had singed her with his intense stare. He’d comforted her at the funeral of a prized submissive.

God, Malcolm. Even months later it hurt to think of that tragedy.

Jeremy had understood something she could never have explained. A level of grief you had to feel to know. How could they be so much the same? How could he make her wish she could be someone different, someone he needed, for the first time in her life?

After more than three thousand beats of Lily’s heart, a cramp threatened to wring a groan from her stuffed lips. She drove it off with a vision of Jeremy. No matter how hard she tried to force the illusion of him, she couldn’t imagine him kneeling when he offered to relax her. The icy heat in his eyes alone would melt the tension from every molecule of her body, if she let it.

Damn that look and the natural dominance oozing from him whether he wore leathers, as he had the night in her office, or the casual jeans and T-shirt she’d spotted him in most often. He didn’t need the trappings to scream his intent loud and clear. It was simply a part of him. A part that had her gulping for air. His wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing act may have fooled his friends, but she saw straight through the disguise.

Her mind wandered to a recurring fantasy. A dream she hadn’t been able to laugh off on waking. So many nights in a row. At first, she’d thought their accidental inhalation of Sex Offender had caused the irrational riot of her hormones. Months of recurrence had taught her better. His effect on her hadn’t faded over the months since the last time she’d allowed herself to share space with him.

The time he’d kissed her, promising to do so again soon, then disappeared for months.

A stab of pain raced through her overextended shoulder when she tensed. Deep breaths in and out returned her calm. Maybe he had a reason for walking away. If she hadn’t been so damn stubborn, she might have discussed it with him the other night. When he’d finally called—more like unleashed a torrent of texts, emails and voicemails really.

Stubborn and annoyed, she’d refused to answer him after months of silence.

Lily sighed as she remembered the extravaganza at Black Lily and the scene they’d shared despite the distance between them. They’d lived every moment together. If he were here now, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn his heart beat three thousand four hundred and twenty-seven times. Exactly in tune with hers.

Just the thought of him illuminated her world of darkness.

She rolled her eyes at such foolish thoughts. But the tiny sliver of brightness grew. It became impossible to deny the blackness-birthed fuzzy shadows.

A familiar voice rang in her ears.

“What use would I have for a Domme?” Jeremy Radisson crushed the bubble of bliss that had sustained her spirit for nearly an hour in her contortionist prison.

Chapter Six

“Ah, Lily. Don’t mind my guest. You remember Master Jeremy from the other night, yes? You look gorgeous.” Tony dragged one fingertip from Lily’s chin down her neck along the dip of her collarbone between her breasts over her taut belly to her pussy.