Page 220 of Enthrall Shadows
Atticus ripped off her thong, leaving her completely naked, other than her collar.
Startled, and then subdued, she remained still as commanded.
He had her climb onto the bed and kneel facing away, showing off her butt with its puckered asshole revealing a sparkling gemstone butt plug and her shiny, glistening pussy. Arousal dampened her thighs.
Standing to the side, Sinclair raised a wooden paddle and began a hypnotic rhythm of slaps to Olivia’s ass cheeks. That slow steady flushing of flesh began until that brightness appeared sore, her body rocking with each hit, no doubt releasing endorphins. Olivia gripped the sheets to tolerate the incessant strikes.
I’d almost forgotten Henry stood close by.
His focus was on Atticus.
For those unfamiliar with this scene, there could be an instinctive urge to rescue the submissive. To be the hero. Guests were expected to respect the art. Stand back and let them be.
I hoped Henry didn’t have the urge to save her. She wouldn’t want that.
Olivia wantedthis.
Cycling through the usual components of enticing a sub into a trance, Atticus utilized the chains. Once Atticus restrained her, he set about marking her flesh with a whip, striking her in another dazzling display of control until she stood at the end of the bed naked and subdued in subspace, eyelids heavy, face flushed and trembling with adrenaline.
Atticus sat on the edge of the bed behind her and dragged her onto his lap.
He opened his zipper and pulled out his substantial erection. Olivia followed the order to sit on him, her thighs on either side of his, toes off the ground. She sank onto his cock, plunging herself down so he was buried deep inside her and she was locked onto him with gravity’s embrace—her jaw gaping as her sex adjusted to his significant size.
He pulled her thighs farther apart, allowing us to witness the way he stretched her pink pussy with his width, her sex taut and shiny. The pose was familiar to us.
Atticus gave the command for his ingénue to remain still, her obedience witnessed by all. She was only permitted to move upon his order.
Which was why scenes like this were played out respectfully. It was an art form within itself, the couple performing their masterful fuck in a welcome setting.
He pinched her pert nipples and reached between her thighs to part her delicate folds, teasing her clit with an expert circling. She glanced down to see his clever fingers touching her just so. His fingertips were drenched by her arousal.
He whispered in her ear, testing her ability to comply with his commands.
My own arousal spiked, my clit throbbing.
Atticus invited one of the lions to step forward.
The man chosen raised his masquerade mask up a little and knelt before their parted thighs. Leaning in, he began suckling Olivia’s cunt with a feverish vigor.
From here, I could see how well he lavished an affectionate tongue over her tautness, flicking her clit with the tip, circling, following the pace set by her master.
Olivia was forbidden to come.
She was merely permitted to rest her head back against her master’s chest and endure the intensity of this raw, aching pleasure, a cruel teasing from both men.
One buried deep inside her—Atticus—and the other dominating her pussy, her silky essence creating a shine on his chin.
Her soft moans echoed around us.
Henry took my wrist and pulled me in front of him. His right hand slid around my waist while his left hand moved down toward my pelvis.
“Yes?” he whispered huskily.
“Yes.” I would give him this.
Giveusthis.
His hardness behind me pressed into my spine, the succulent sensation of his fingertips sliding along sensitive tissue, mirroring that vision before us. He played me like an instrument of lust, his two fingers circling as he established a brilliant rhythm.
