Sexy as Hell Box Set (76 page)

He’d remembered what I’d told him so well…

“And for starters, we’re going to play a little game,” he said. “See, I’ve always wanted a puppy, but my old dear, well, the bitch won’t let me have one, will she, so you’re going to be it.”

My stomach muscles clenched, and I swallowed down a pinch of fear. Yes, I knew I was safe, yes, this was just a re-run, but my God, it felt so real, as though I were back there again.

“You want me to be a dog?” I asked, my voice small.

“Yeah, and you know what dogs do, don’t you?”

“Catch sticks?”

“No, you dumb tart. They lick arses.”

“Lick arses?” I said quietly and in disbelief. I hadn’t had to put the incredulous in my voice, because I could recall my shock when they’d asked me, or rather Conner had told me what I had to do.

Conner. I’d told myself I’d never say his name, never think it, but things had changed.
He was the one who’d liked the doggy game the best, the others had just watched with folded arms and amused sneers on their faces.

Cunts.

Not that they hadn’t all had their thing, their particular scene of humiliation and degradation they’d liked to inflict on me, they had, but Conner had particularly enjoyed the canine torment.

“Yes, lick arses. What are you, deaf?” Victor cupped my chin, yanked me so I was looking up at him.

I gasped at the harsh treatment of my neck and the grip he had on my jawline.

An orangey
twilight glow hazed over the shadows of his face. His eyes, dark now instead of blue, flashed at me, and his mussed-up hair hung like a black halo.

“Answer me,” he said, reaching for my tit and squeezing.

I clenched my teeth, hurt and desire whipping through me. I loved Victor touching me. His hand on my breast set off a whole chain reaction of lust in my body. But I hated the fact that it was exactly what Conner had done to me after he’d told me I was going to lick arses.

“Well, if you’re not going to speak, I may as well use your mouth.” Victor let go of my face and shoved at his jeans and boxers, releasing his cock.

He was semi-hard, not the usual full-on erection I was used to whenever he got his dick out.

A tremble attacked my stomach, rattling to my shoulders and up through my jaw.
What was I doing to him? He was hating this, wasn’t he? Would I traumatise him forever, shift my fuckedupness onto him?

“Suck it,” he said, giving his length a few push-pulls, trying to harden it but not with much success.

I’d given all three of those boys blowjobs, several times—not because I’d wanted to but because they’d tricked me, said they’d let me go if I did. I should have learnt that they lied and broke their word and fibbed and talked a whole pile of crap. It was what they’d done the entire three weeks they’d had me.

Bastards.

I reached forward, took Victor’s cock in my hands, cradled him and swept my tongue over the slit. He tasted of our scented bathwater.

“Good dog,” he said, gripping my hair in his fists. “Good dog, suck my bone. That’s it. Suck my bone, bitch.”

I felt him thicken. Leant forward and took him into my mouth, filling up on him, adoring the texture of his not quite fully erect cock. He wasn’t far off, though, and a few slurps and caresses with my tongue and I had him hard.

He groaned, the sound echoing around the small space.

I shut my eyes, put myself back in that shed, and when I had hold of those memories—me sucking off Conner before I had to lick his bumhole—I flushed them away, gone. In their place now was this one, me still
sucking the bone
, but Victor’s bone, his sweet, adorable, would-never-hurt-me-in-a-bad-way bone.

“Ah, yeah,” he said, clenching his hands, dragging on my hair roots and tugging my scalp. “That’s it, suck me, like you’re hungry for me. You love my bone, dirty fucking dog, you love it. You want to taste me all over, don’t you? See how I smell, how every inch of my
skin feels on your tongue.”

I didn’t answer; instead, I let another image flood my mind, one of
Conner shoving down his trousers and bending over, offering his arse to me in a rude and shocking way. He’d yanked at his left buttock, exposing his puckered hole and twisted to glare at me over his shoulder.

“Do it, bitch,” he’d said, “or you’ll really fucking regret it. Go on, now, like a dog would, big licks and lots of sniffing.”

I gagged a little; my abdomen tightened. It was an image I’d long since buried, kept a lid on. But now, if this was going to work, I had to let it appear, become close enough, real enough to destroy.

Victor loosened his grip, letting me catch my breath by
swaying his hips gently. I swiped at a long dribble of saliva running off my chin. My mouth was wet and soft, pliant around Victor. I adored sucking on his cock, it was one of my favourite things to do. And now I’d done it here, in a shed like that one, it was a new memory to overlay the last one. No, not overlay, blast it away. That was what I needed to do, demolish those images, not give them credence or credit within my own supressed thoughts—those memories didn’t deserve the time or space.

Victor pulled out. I glanced up at him. His face was contorted, as though he was at war with himself. He wanted to drag me into his arms, kiss me, take me
back to the hotel, say I didn’t have to do this. That was what Victor would be battling with in his head, I knew that as well as I knew those boys deserved to be castrated for what they’d done.

Please don’t stop,
I silently pleaded. This was better than I’d thought it would be. I had a handle on that image of Conner, really I did, it was under control and soon it would be confined to the dealt-with-and-forgotten file.
Just a few more minutes, just one more thing, please.

Victor stroked his cock, frowned then turned around.

I silently thanked him and whipped off my sweater, tossed it to the floor. I wasn’t wearing a bra—I hadn’t worn a bra for the whole three weeks they’d had me. I didn’t want one on now.

Victor pushed his trousers
down, bunched them around his ankles and was forced to remove his shoes in order to discard them completely. His socks came off, too, and then his boxers. All were tossed into a dark, dirty corner.

He got down on all fours in front of me, the way I’d told him to. His movements were slow and deliberate, his skin pale in the dusky light. I admired the roundness of his arse, the length of his folded legs, and, when he turned, the handsome, angled profile of his face and the cute little dink in his chin that was catching a slice of shadow.

I swallowed, and my heart rate rattled up a notch. He looked determined, as though facing away from me had steeled his conviction.

“Lick my arse, bitch.” He reached back, tugged at his buttock and exposed his hole. “Like a dog would. Go on, tart, now.”

I waited for revulsion, for horror, for the instinct to run, to fight, to vomit or something. Anything.

But there was nothing. Two, three, four breaths later, and still all I could see was Victor, all of Victor, and I just wanted to show him that I loved every bit of him. That there was no part of his body that I didn’t want to adore, kiss, worship, become orally acquainted with.

I tipped forward and smoothed my hands over his arse cheeks. Kissed the top of his crack and inhaled his clean scent in several quick, doggy-like sniffs.

I trailed my tongue down the
valley between his buttocks, and he sucked in a breath, through gritted teeth judging by the hiss, and his body tensed beneath my touch.

I reached between his legs, shuffling my knuckles a little to part his thighs
, and took hold of his cock. He was rock hard and butting up against his stomach, the tip catching in his black, long-sleeved top.

Irritated, I shoved his sweater upwards, to his shoulders, exposing his back, which allowed me full access to his dick.

I spread an arc of kisses over his buttock, the one he was still holding, then, as I started to wank him off, I teased my tongue back into the warm gulley that led to his anus.

“Ah, Jesus,” he said in a low, moaning voice, and then harsher, “That’s it, dog, lick my arse, lick it, bitch.”

I licked his perineum, the thin, super-soft patch of skin between his balls and arsehole, loving the sexy, soapy smell and taste of him. Musky and turned on, he had me buzzing with a need to make him feel good, have him make me feel good too. To get as close to each other as we possibly could. This was meant to be,
we
were meant to be.

I swiped my tongue over his darkest place. The small undulations in his skin trembled beneath my caress. He groaned and his cock twitched, a powerful jerk that disrupted my rhythm. But only for a second, because then I laved over his anus again, kissing, exploring, touching and probing at the very centre, not enough to
enter but enough for him to know exactly where I was and what I could do.

He gasped, then
said in a forceful voice, “That’s it, lick me or you’ll regret it.”

I did as he’d asked, searching with the tip of my tongue and stroking in gentle sweeps. I settled on his tight pucker again, prodding at the hole, a little
more insistent this time.

“Ah, fuck,” he gasped as a powerful pulse of semen spurted from his cock. “Fucking hell, Zara.” He jerked away then pushed back into me. He was shivering, shaking. Another spurt of release shot from his cock, coating my hand.

I used it as lube, fisted his dick harder, tugged him faster. He’d come, with me rimming him. He’d loved it. Victor hadn’t hated having to do this at all.

And neither had I.

He was panting, his head bowed to the floor and both hands supporting his upper torso now.

I slowed my movements, kissed up and over his arse, to the dip of his back and the dents of his spine. He was laced with sweat despite the cool, damp air, and his familiar, post-sex smell filtered up my nose.

A smile caught my mouth but still I kissed his skin. I wanted to leave no patch of his flesh unadored. It couldn’t be forever, but for this weekend he was mine, and I wanted to show him just how happy I was with that fact.

Suddenly he reared up and then turned.

I started to topple, but he grabbed and righted me, pulled me up against him.

“Zara?”

“I’m okay,” I said, clawing at his top, scrunching it into my hands and hanging on. “I’m okay.” That smile attacked me again.

He studied my face, his gaze boring right into me. “Fuck, that was…” He kissed me, a passion-infused, wet kiss that conveyed so many emotions—love, lust, gratitude, urgency, a need to heal and be healed.

I melted into him. My knees were sore on the gritty floor, and I was cold, but I was all right. For the first time in a long time, I really was all right.

Eventually, he broke the kiss. “We have to get out of here.”

“Yes, we do.” I glanced at the door. There really was very little light left, just greyness blending to blackness in the corners of the tatty little courtyard. “But?”

“But what?” He stroked his hands through my hair and kissed my cheek, sending a little prickle of sensation over my
cool skin and into my scalp.

“Will you remember where it is? The shed. We might need to come back.”

He tightened his arms around me, just a little. “If that’s what you want?”

“It might be.”

“But that’s enough for now, Zara.” There had been a note of no nonsense in his tone. “We’ve done what you wanted.”

I glanced away. I couldn’t look him in the eye, not while I was recalling the second half of that arse-licking scene with
Conner. It, too, was humiliating, embarrassing, and a memory best forgotten.

“What? What is it?” he asked.

He knew me too well. Damn. I couldn’t hide from Victor, he even heard the secrets in my silence these days.

“Tell me. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He’d softened his voice, and as he’d spoken, he’d rubbed the palm of his hand up my naked back. “You have to tell me so I can help you.”

Nausea welled within me. I didn’t want to be sick, really I didn’t, but I did want to fight this battle. I did want to overcome the demons that haunted my dreams and twisted my senses in the cold isolation of the night.

“Something else happened that day, didn’t it?” Victor said. “Straight after you’d licked that bastard.”

I nodded.

“So tell me, we’ll do it.”

I shook my head.

“Zara, please, I’m trying so hard to help here. You have to give me something. Let’s fight this together, right here, right now.”

“No, we should go.” Again I glanced at the half-open door.

“There’s no one around, and if anything, we’re even more private now—it’s getting so late and dark.”

“But—”

“I’ve got one fucking weekend, one lousy weekend to try and fix you. Don’t make me beg for clues.” He tightened his lips into a straight line. “Please.”