She let out a startled breath as the table was elevated, her hips at a higher angle than her head. The reason for the supportive, wider straps was now apparent. Once she was in position, he began to work a plug into her anus. This one was as thick as the one in her pussy, though perhaps it wasn't, because she couldn't imagine taking two of that size without splitting in two.
"Master . . . I'm not sure . . ."
"Are you afraid your Master will let someone hurt you in a way you won't like?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have I ever done that before?"
"No, sir." She swallowed. "Please . . . I'm sorry. Please, keep going?"
He did, working the other one into her until it was seated and cinched in place. Moving upward, he stroked her temple, then adjusted another hinged piece to tilt her head back, toward the floor. A ring gag was lodged in her mouth to hold it open wide. As he buckled the strap for it around the back of her neck, the ring made her jaw ache, but the idea of a thick cock being thrust between her immobilized lips made her tremble more.
"My friend wants you to suck him off while the other two fuck you. You're being such a good slave. I'm very proud of you."
Her pussy got even wetter, just from her hearing his approval. She adjusted her jaw so she could take the ring gag deeper, make her mouth wider. He growled in response. "Are you pleasing them or your Master?"
"You," she said, despite the ring holding down her tongue. "Only . . . you."
He fit another dildo into that, a firm, flesh-like one with testicles that were so lifelike, it just took her further into the fantasy, the way they squashed against her forehead, the bridge of her nose. She was twitching, so aroused, her nerves so wound up, her emotions started to spiral everywhere, a perverse reaction to being so restrained.
He trailed a hand down her body as he moved back between her legs, a firm caress that reassured. When he moved the two dildos slightly, working them in and out, greasing her up further, she moaned against the gag. There was no direct contact with her clit, but every other erogenous nerve ending was on high alert, including her mind. She could envision the way she looked, spread out and impaled for his pleasure. Because of the pictures he'd painted, she could imagine his three friends there, all military men like himself, with muscles, tattoos and short, shaved hair, eyes intent and serious, filled with lust and need. Wanting to take pleasure from her bound, helpless body. It was her fantasy and more . . . by making it only him, he'd made it the reality she craved as well.
A hum and she let out a cry as the dildos in her anus and pussy started moving in a synchronized way. The rolling and snapping sounds made sense now. The dildos were attached to one of those machines she'd seen in the clubs she and Alice had visited. A fucking machine, one with a dual attachment, adjusted to the right angles. Slow push inward, then withdraw, then repeat. It made the idea of two males fucking her all the more real in her mind. One beneath her, thrusting up as she lay upon him, the other pushing into her pussy, standing between her spread knees and straddling the other man's legs.
The next change nearly shattered her. The dildo in her mouth was removed, as was the ring gag holding it, and instead she got the real thing. Her Master's flesh and blood cock between her lips. She sucked him in with all the eagerness and desire she could convey, to the point she was almost a little too enthusiastic. He tightened a hand in her hair, a gentle reproof to tone it down. Oh, but it was so difficult to do so, especially with those other two pushing in, pulling out. His testicles pressed against the bridge of her nose, his scent filling her like his cock.
"There you are. You serve me with your mouth as your ass and cunt are taking care of my friends. My sweet, sweet slave. Worth every dollar I paid for you. I'm going to keep you naked in a pretty gilded cage when I'm not fucking you, let everyone see my gorgeous pet, walk you around the grounds with a leash, remind you who you belong to every day . . ."
God, he was driving her even crazier. She heard the mutter of other male voices now, while the scent of his cock and seed absorbed her, along with the heat and aroma of the candles, making it all come to overwhelming life.
"Damn, Sarge, she's a beauty. She's so bloody tight and wet . . . I could bugger her ass all day long. We'll switch after this and have another go at her. I want to fuck her to death . . ."
A husky Aussie accent, coming from the direction of those fucking machines. Yeah, it was probably a recording, but in her current state it sounded real. Jesus, the man didn't miss a trick. She moaned, kept working him in her mouth, lost in the bliss of it. Her pussy spasmed hard, wanting the climax so much, but the stimulation was so crazy, so intense, it was as if she were paralyzed on a point of arousal that was mindless and infinite, no going forward or back.
Infinite . . . a figure eight symbol . . .
The significance of eight had hit her earlier. Now it flashed in her mind again, lingering at the edges of her consciousness. In this state, she couldn't recite her ABCs, let alone reach out for a nebulous thought. But she wanted to. It was important. Something about that symbol was important, especially now.
A moment later, she was sure of it, because seeing the flash of that symbol in her mind changed something. Though this was all perfect, so perfect, tears were sliding out from beneath the blindfold. She was breaking apart, and making pleading noises. She knew when the tears hit his thumbs, from his rough words, his rough demands.
"You don't like my friends? You won't serve them if I demand it?"
She shook her head, not really clear on what she was conveying until she realized she was indicating a negative response. His voice got harsher.
"You're my slave to loan out as I see fit. If I order you to fuck my friends, you'll refuse me?"
She'd refuse him nothing, but perversely she was nodding, even as she sucked harder on him. I'm sorry . . . I only want to belong to you. Only you. "Only you," she pleaded against his flesh. "Only you . . ."
A fantasy couldn't work; not if the reality was so precious that any illusion paled in comparison. Denying herself what she'd always wanted, because of something as pointless as fear--fear of failure, rejection or loneliness--God, that was the bigger mistake, the bigger terror.
Logan paused, his hands resting on her throat. She had her head tilted up toward him. In that charged second, both of them so still, the importance of that infinity symbol came to her. The figure eight, the sign of infinity, of eternity.
Alice had it tattooed on her wrist. She'd explained it to Madison, words that had fallen on mostly deaf ears, but apparently the words had bypassed her consciousness and planted themselves in Madison's soul, coming forth to show her the way now, to make everything else make sense.
It was as if her sister were speaking to her directly from Heaven itself.
*