The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle (New Adult BDSM Erotica) (8 page)

I
walked to the desk and leaned over it, my hands splayed across the cluttered surface. Damian closed the laptop and stood up. He came around the desk, grabbed the back of my hair, held me down, and jerked the skirt of the maid’s dress up to the level of my waist so I was completely bare to his touch. I gasped at his rough handling of me. I wanted to move, to not move.

His fingers, more callused than his brothers from playing bass for years in
Suicide Kings, traced my seam, circled my ass, then plunged boldly into my cunt. I grunted at the impact, at the rough invasion of his touch. I had never met two men who took such control as Damian and Dorian Michaels did.

My hips wanted to move against him and I desperately wanted him deeper
still, but I worked at remaining still and awaiting orders. Neither Damian nor Dorian liked me taking too much initiative.

“Go
d, you’re wonderfully tight and wet. What has my brother been doing to you, Belle?”

I didn’t answer. I sensed his was more of a rhetorical question.
Despite their attempts to share me, they inevitably wound up competing in some ways. If Dorian made me come once, Damian insisted on making me come twice. If Dorian bought me pearls, Damian bought me diamonds.

I gasped as he force
d three, then four, fingers inside me.

“I’m not hurting
you?”

“No, sir,” I answered honestly. “
I like the feel of you inside me.”

He unbelted his trousers and encircled my waist with his powerful forearm, forced his
hard, dripping cock against my opening, teased apart my labia. I groaned and arched my back, my cheek resting against the surface of the desk. He shuttled his cock back and forth along my slick folds, not entering me yet, but close, making me shiver as he played my body like a well-tuned instrument.

“Christ, Belle, I love the feel of you insi
de. You’re like heaven on earth.”

“Thank you, sir…oh god!”

He entered me a little ways before withdrawing. No matter how many times they took me, in whatever new way, it seemed I never got used to how big they were.

“
I’m working on a new song, Belle. I haven’t wanted to write in years, but with you, Belle…you make me want to do it again. You’re my muse in music the way you’re my brother’s muse in flesh.”

I sighed
at his admission. He kissed along the back of my neck, held me down, thrust into me fully, filled me.

Just a
s we had discussed at the beginning of our association, we’d shared our medical records some weeks ago and had agreed to be exclusive. At my last OB-GYN appointment, I’d gotten an IUD implanted, so we wouldn’t need to worry about unwanted pregnancies or the need for condoms. We were protected and could be all to each other. My hips moved automatically, thrusting back against him to welcome him deeper still. His free hand went to my clit, and he ground the callused tip into it even as he pounded my ass.

Since my sex was so sensitive from being
recently used by Dorian, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he brought me. Damian thumped my ass with everything he had. He was much more vocal than his brother. As he took us both over the edge into release—my second of the evening—he shouted his release, held himself deep inside me, and drove his seed in a series of hot pulses deep inside me that left my legs shaking like gelatin.

Damian
held me against the desk to keep me from toppling to the floor and kissed all along the back of my neck. “My good girl,” he said, pulling out and yanking my skirt down over my dripping wet sex. He gave my ass a loving squeeze and added, “I needed that, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure serving you.”

***

Myles finished
talking about his emotional progress, how he had come to accept what had happened to him and was beginning to move on. As had become the ritual for our little support group, we finished the meeting with a group hug, then retired to the coffee machine for a cup of joe and the donuts that Lacy, one of the girls in our group, had brought.

While I was munching on a chocolate-
cream-filled donut, my favorite, Myles came up to me and said, “Thanks for sharing your story earlier, Iz. It really helped me think things through, you know?”

“I’m glad,” I s
aid, licking chocolate cream off my fingers. “I’m finding it’s a lot easier to talk about things these days.”

“Me too.” His handsome face split in a
wide grin and he said, “Would you like to hang out sometime? Catch a movie, maybe a bucket of chicken? My treat.”

I
’d half expected this would happen. The last few meetings, Myles was always talking to me, and sometimes he insisted on walking me through the darkened student parking lot to my car. In the beginning, I’d thought he was just being nice, but now I knew something was up.

Before I’d met the Michaels brothers, I would have been flattered and elated to have landed a catch like Myles. But now I was sort of…taken.

By
two
amazing guys. God, even my grandma didn’t know!

He must have read my expression
wrong, because he said, “I know you said you don’t date. If I’m triggering you…”

“You’re not triggering me,” I told him honestly. “It’s not that. It’s…well…”

He waited expectantly.

I felt terrible for breaking his heart this way.

“I’m kind of…involved with someone.” It was only a small lie, I figured, since there were two someones.

“Oh.” He forced a smile, shrugged. “Forget I said anything. I just thought with you saying you don’t date and all…”

“It’s kind of a friends-with-benefits type of thing,” I admitted, shrugging to show it was okay. Myles was sweet, and I really didn’t want to accidently lead him on, so when he offered to walk me to my car, I graciously declined.

Unfortunately, I
soon learned to regret my decision.

The
student parking lot was dark, and the few lights around the perimeter didn’t throw much illumination. I held my purse close, almost like a shield, and started across it to my car as quickly as possible. I was only vaguely aware of a sound behind me. But when I stopped to listen, I realized there was indeed someone walking a few yards behind me in the lot. I turned and squinted into the dark. “Myles?” Maybe he’d come out to watch over me anyway.

No one answered.
My heart ticked in my throat, faster and faster.

But
now I heard no footsteps.

“You have to stop this, Iz,” I told myself. “You can’t jump at every shadow. We’re getting our shit together, remember?”

I nodded at my own internal monologue, turned and started toward my car once more.

The footsteps
—now unmistakable—resumed behind me. The sound of them—heavy, male—made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I thought of every slasher movie I’d ever seen. My heart quickly went from ticking to thudding thickly inside me.

Again I stopped. And the
footsteps stopped with me.

I definitely knew something was up.
Fear turned the air electric around me and made my mouth taste bitter. With a gasp of breath and a quick spurt of speed, I started racing toward the corner of the lot where I knew my car to be.

The man behind me started running as well, matching me step for step.
He was big and he overtook me easily.

I knew I wasn’t going to make it.

I reached into my purse for the pair of scissors I carried with me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find them. Shit. They were heavy; they’d fallen to the bottom.

I was still digging when I finally reached the driver’s side of the car. I gave up searching for the scissors and pulled the keys from my pocket instead. The footsteps were just behind me now, not more than two feet.
I felt hot breath on the back of my neck…

There was no time to unlock the door. I spun around, lashing out at the man behind me with the keys, but he easily knocked them from my grip. The keys—my only weapon—spun off into the dark, glinting as they fell
harmlessly to the asphalt. I opened my mouth to scream, to alert the others I was in trouble, wondering why I hadn’t done so already, but the man was suddenly standing there right in front of me, pinning me to the side of my car, and fear froze my voice inside me.

I immediately recognized him—his trim, Gucci suit, his smug expression, the flash of his Rolex
watch. “Clark…” I began, but he grabbed me around the neck and forced me back against the glass window of the car. The impact knocked the breath from me. My hair flew over my eyes, briefly obscuring my vision, but not enough that I couldn’t see the angry expression on his handsome face.

“You
fat, mouthy bitch! What have you been telling them?” he growled, drawing his face close to mine, then banging my head against the glass so my vision wavered.

“W…what…?” I gasped for breath, unable to answer him.

“What have you been telling them about me?” he repeated. “What have you and Christa been discussing?” His voice was ice cold, dead. He slammed my skull back against the glass again.

Oh god, I was like a rag doll in his grasp. I couldn’t move; I could barely breathe.
I gasped, his fingers painfully tight around my throat. I scratched at them, but it was like he felt no pain. “Nu…nothing!” I managed to gasp out.

“You better not say anything. I told you what I
do to bitches with big mouths! They get cut. They get hurt! You wanna get hurt, cow?”

He slammed my head against the glass
once more and I slumped down to a sitting position against the wheel well, my vision swimming, the parking lot teetering back and forth dangerously. I gasped and coughed, ripping at the collar of my university pullover so I could breathe better.

He stepped back but pulled out
a box cutter with an orange handle from his suit jacket, the kind you can buy from any home store. The sharp, triangular blade glinted in the sodium lights. “Keep your fucking mouth shut or I’ll mess up your face. Then I’ll mess up your grandma. You get me, bitch?”

“Y-yeah!” I coughed
out.

He was gone in seconds,
like a boogeyman, like he’d never been there at all.

Oh god
, I thought.
Oh god.
Like a mantra it rolled round and round my brain. I covered my face with my hands and cried myself out before climbing back to my feet and getting into my car.

***

“Earth to Belle, earth to Belle, come in, Belle.”

I stopped vacuuming the same patch of carpet over and over and looked over my shoulder to see
Damian standing in the doorway of the living room. He looked stunning in a tight blue T-shirt and snug jeans. There was a lopsided expression on his face and a B.C. Rich Warlock bass guitar around his middle. I’d never heard him stop playing in the other room. “Are you all right?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I said. I turned
off the vacuum and turned dutifully to face him. “Can I help you in some way?” I said. “Service you in some way, sir?”

He laughed. “No
t right now. Dorian’s in a consultation, and I’m writing your song…but I was wondering if you were free tonight for dinner?”

“Yes, of course.” I beamed a smile.
We didn’t go out every night, but when we did, the Michaels brothers always took me to some romantic little bistro or trattoria in an out-of-the-way place in the city that I’d never heard of before, and they’d insist I buy the most expensive thing on the menu. They often bought me ridiculously expensive gifts, completely spoiling me. Tonight would be no different. “What time should I be ready?”

“We’
ll pick you up in front of your dorm at seven. We have something to ask you tonight, something important.”

“Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to it.”

He looked me over with a frown and at the patch of carpeting I was killing with the Dyson. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“If you’re busy with schoolwork or have some other plans…?”

It was Friday night. I had no plans, and even though Stefan and I often went to a movie, he’d recently met some h
ot football guy on campus. He was on cloud nine—and in the honeymoon phase of his relationship. As a result, we hadn’t had many platonic dates of late. I admit a part of me mourned what I feared might be the passing of our close relationship, but another part of me was really happy for him. He needed to find someone and be happy. He hadn’t had much happiness in his life so far.

Besides,
I needed to stop spilling myself to my best friend all the time and ruining his fun. Admittedly, he’d be pissed with me if he knew I wasn’t telling anyone about Clark’s return, but, I’d reasoned, Clark wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t anyone’s problem. It was mine. Eventually, when I felt a little bit safer, I would go to the police and confess everything.

I’d get help. Soon.

Of course, I’d been telling myself that for the past two weeks, and I still hadn’t gone. It was hard to feel safe these days.