Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (57 page)

I’ve learned a lot by watching the dance between our Master and Cortez, release is a loss of control and we don’t like to be out of control even if it’s for fifteen seconds. It’s the dance between a submissive and a Dominant. This isn’t about anything other than dominance- if Dexter comes, I win.

His eyes snap to mine and I arrogantly look at him in challenge. His eyes widen as he recognizes that I get it. His knuckles turn white as he tries to stay his release. I inhale deeply and push the air from my nostrils as I abruptly sink his cock down my throat. I only need a second. It hurts like a bitch, but he slides until my mo
uth meets my grip on his base.

He screams and fires down my throat. I pull back enough so that I can breathe as wave after wave of semen floods my mouth. I can’t swallow it fast enough. It drips down my hand, my chin, and slides down
my body speckling my breasts. 

Dexter abruptly yanks from my mo
uth with a grimace and a hiss.

“Ah… ya couldn’t take anymore,” I wickedly smirk. “I win!”

I give him a very serious face- the face I wear constantly and then I start to laugh at the ridiculous nature of my initiation. My lover- no, the man I’m in love with- just watched me suck his cousin off and he looks proud. The boy I thought I’d raised, not realizing that even at six he was an adult posing as a child, just watched me suck off a man.

Eighteen-year-old Regina, the one who had yet to graduate Hillbrook, the one who was taking care of her dying mother, would be shocked at the level of depravity. I may be jaded, but I feel fucking alive! My heart races my blood through my veins. My nerves are rapidly firing power throughout my body. This is empowerment- finding power and pride even as you kneel with cum covering your body. If you can feel empowered while you’re on your knees, no one can tear you down when you’re standing.

I swipe my hand down my breasts that are covered in Dexter’s spendings. I smear it around and then show him my hand and smirk.

“Do you want this back?” I ask innocently.

The tension in the dungeon collapses and is replaced with camaraderie. We are a pack. We may not like each other, but we’re in sync.

“Well,” Marc clears his throat.

I worry that he’ll be upset, but he looks thrilled. My attitude is affecting him. He also keeps stepping from foot-to-foot in discomfort. I arch an eyebrow at him in question. He chuckles at me and turns his back to all of us. He adjusts himself in relative privacy and turns back to us.

“Well,” he tries again. “That was impressive. Let me see a show of hands…
who’s next?” He flashes big, white teeth and smiles devastatingly.

I watch as Syn shrinks into the background. I already know she doesn’t like sex, especially with me. I think I’m one step above Cort for her.

Whitt looks bored, but I know it’s feigned. He’s just biding his time. I don’t want to notice that no matter what expression he’s faking his body’s showing a different reaction. My mind screams that I mustn’t look at Whitt like that, but my body refuses to release my eyes from his erect cock. Is there anything on him that isn’t pale, rosy perfection?

Cort and Ezra are staring at each other doing the silent communication thing that I finally understand. Cort leans over and whispers in his ear. He tries to reassure his partner while he looks like he’s ready to jackhammer concrete. They negotiate.

I patiently wait for what’s next. I kneel on the cold, slate tiles that line the dungeon. I can’t see much around me. I’m in the center of the room with only a single bare bulb glowing above my head. The other Masters flank me, blocking all view of the dungeon.

I decide to silently speak to my Master. I miss him already even though he’s in front of me, maybe five feet away, but an insurmountable chasm lies between us. He knows it, I know it, but we can’t do anything about it- yet.

“Regina,” Cort’s voice snaps my eyes from Marc’s gaze. He looks uncertain and it gives me confidence. “Do you trust me,” he whispers.

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Yeah,” he says bashfully. I crick a finger and beckon him to me. I whisper in his ear, “Our Master trusts you infallibly, so who am I to discount his judgment?” 

“I wasn’t sure. Most people just think I’m an asshole,” he gives me a self-deprecating smile that is genuine.
“Yeah… but you’re our Asshole,” I tease him. 

“Good, I like that.” He snickers. “I think it’s time we fuck, don’t you?”
“Please,” I nearly beg. I didn’t mean for it to come out so achingly. I sound starved.

“I’ll even let you be on top,” he says happily as he sits on the cold tile. “I know how much you miss that.” He says in challenge. He knows that Marc only allowed that once in a while no matter how much I pleaded. Cort would walk around mocking me.

“HA! I’m not the one who would spontaneously cum whenever the
Violet Wand
popped out of the toybox. You helped train me. I know you too well, Cort. Don’t temp me to spill the details,” I taunt him. 

“I have one in my room… do you want me to run and get it,” he says eagerly. He rem
inds me of a kid on Christmas.

“No,” I laugh. “I want this to be about sex. You’d blast off in a second if I started electrocuting you. You’re a twisted fucker, ya know that.”

I push my palm against his chest to make room on his lap for me. I straddle his hips and look at him. Our eyes connect and it changes it from fun banter that was meant to make us feel comfortable into an uncomfortable situation. It changes it to something intense. It’s time to feed the beast.

“I’ve wanted this since we were in the
Vanquish
,” I admit. “I’ll never repeat that, so enjoy the revelation.”

“I’ve wanted this since we met. You were the only woman to look at me like I wasn’t suave enough,” he says bashfully. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt that massive ego of yours. My body didn’t wake up until later that night,” I banter. 

“What changed?”

“Not what- who,” I draw out. 

“Who?”

My eyes seek Whitt. He’s looking at me knowingly. Whitt and Marcus stand side-by-side in a strange state of aroused misery. They both hold the same facial expression- patience. It’s odd how much they look alike- Marc, who’s mid-thirties and dark to Whitt’s light and a few months from twenty.

“Grant woke me up,” I whisper as my body engulfs Cort’s.

I cry out in pain- emotional and physical. Tears flood my eyes, but I fight them back. This is different than having sex with Marcus. Marc and I felt right, as it had felt with Grant. The night I spent with Jamie felt right. The blowjob with Dexter was a test that I had to pass. Cort is different. I’m not in love with him, but I do love him as a friend and ally. The emotions that are involved make me feel as if I’m betraying someone, but who? The hell if I know who, but my soul doesn’t like it.

“It’s okay,” Cort murmurs as I hide my face against his neck and he rocks me against his hips. “Just pretend it’s not me.” The tone in
his voice makes me cry harder.

“It’s not that it’s you- it’s that it is you. I can’t explain
it,” I mumble in frustration. 

“I understand. I know everyone sees me as arrogant and cocky. But I do know how you feel right now. I’ve felt it every time I’ve had sex- Every.
Fucking. Time.”

“Because it’s not Ezra?”

“Because it’s not Ezra,” he whisp
ers. “Who do you wish it was?”

“I don’t know. That’s what makes it worse. I just don’t know,” I say miserably. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my ear.

I hold him tightly and peek out over the Masters that watch. Marcus and Whitt look at the floor out of respect or sorrow, I can’t tell. I catch the eyes of the one I was searching for. I don’t know who I need, but I know who Cortez needs. I try to communicate with Ezra. And it is Ezra- Master Ez fled when he heard the words Cortez was whispering to me. I will break my promise to Ade for Cort. Ezra isn’t Ade’s, he’s Cort’s and Cort is his- they always have been and they always will be.  Ade isn’t in this equation. If sex can heal, it’s worth a shot.

Ezra’s eyes drift over us and a smile flirts with his lips. I’ve never seen him smile. I instantly understand why Cortez loves him so much.

I close my eyes when he walks over and kneels behind me. He kisses my shoulder and then Cort’s cheek. Cort’s eyes open, the fringe of his lashes clump with unshed tears. The gunmetal gray eyes look slivery as they glisten in anguish. I know right then that even though Cortez moved back home to
Ezra, they haven’t touched, not even in affection.

“May I join you,” He asks his partner, his voice shivers over my skin.

Cort sobs in a breath and nods yes emphatically. Long finger grip his chin and they steady him. Cortez’s pupils enlarge to the point that the black eclipses his irises. I watch them shirk back to pinpoints. His breathing accelerates even though the second Ezra kissed his cheek we stopped having sex. All that reaction is just because Ezra looked him in the eye and touched his chin. I learn something else in that second, Ezra is Cort’s true Master. Cort runs around misbehaving, begging Ezra to put him in his place.

Marcus interrupts by pressing something into Ezra’s palm. Cort snorts and smirks at me. Ezra rips the package open with the corner of his front tooth. Huh? I didn’t want him to go bare either, but why didn’t he give one to Cort, too?

I give Marcus a quizzical look and he just shakes his head at me and darts his eyes at a blushing Whitt. Marc doesn’t look down at the floor as he had before; instead he stares right into my eyes. It’s like when I met him outside of the Brownstone for the very first time- he sees right into me, into my soul. It’s the same sensation as when he stared at me through the crack in the panel of the servant passages at Whittenhower Estates. He completely captivates me. I can’t break away, not even as Ezra pushes into my ass. I gasp, but I can’t break his capture.

The partners have sex through me. I’m just a conduit for their connection. I maintain my connection to my Master as they embrace each other through me. They kiss each other over my shoulder. They grip my hips- Ezra’s hands over Cort’s. Master Ez roars back to life as Cort starts to chant a list of why he loves him.

It’s reminiscent of Marcus at the lake as he said the strangest things just because he could. I know I’m being used, but I can’t help but smirk as Cort growls about how incredible it feels to touch him again. How much he’s missed him. He rambles on, never shutting up. I bite my lip so that I won’t start laughing and interrupt them.

Dexter sits on the floor drawing a pattern on the tile with his fingertip, a smirk plays along his lips. Syn sits next to him wrapping one of his tight ringlets around her pinky. The Sadist mentor and his protégée are both uncomfortable with the adoration pouring from the love-starved men. They’re uncomfortable? I’m the cream in this fucked up
Oreo
sandwich.

I listen to the hum Whitt is emitting instead of the grunts and growls of Ez and Cort’s profession of a love I’ll never feel. Whitt finally gives up and joins Syn and Dexter. A flash of something streaks through me when he touches Syn until I realize he’s studying a tattoo on her upper-arm. He continues to hum as his fingers outline the art on her flesh. She’s covered in ink and I bet some of
it’s Whitt’s doing. She seems comfortable with his examination.

I look up and nearly gasp. Marc’s standing at Cort’s back hovering over the three of us. He wants my eyes back on his. I look up to him naively, completely out of my capacity. I fall into the snare of his whiskey eyes as Ezra and Cortez seek their mutual release. He holds my sanity in his eyes. Cort floods me with his warmth as Ez pulses in my rear. I feel no pleasure other than the knowledge that I was the conduit for their affections.

Marcus pulls me from between the two. Cort immediately curls around Ezra’s legs and rests his head on Ez’s thigh, sighing in contentment.

I close my eyes hoping that that was all. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. The look Marc gives me spea
ks volumes. I sag in his grip.

“No!” I shake my head no. “No, Master, no,” I plead in denial.

“Syn,” Master commands. Her head snaps up and she instantly grimaces.

“NO!” We both shout.

Whitt continues to hum and trace her shoulder, but the sound gets interrupted when a set of dimples dent his cheeks. He looks up at me tauntingly. It’s the same look he would give me when we disagreed. The
I always get what I want
look. It’s devastating on his manly face. His eyebrow lifts and he continues to hum, but it takes on a taunting quality. This is his trump card. This was his demand.

“NO!” I hiss obstinately. I sound more like a child than the grown idiot that came up with this diabolical plan. He’s a genius and he knows it.

“Syn,” Marcus sighs in defeat. “I command you to perform oral sex on Queen.” He commands, but he doesn’t mean it. He knows it’s never going to happen.

“My God, you’re a Whittenhower alright.”
I shake my head in disbelief.

“Hey, don’t put the name down. Your children are Whittenhowers,” he retorts and flashes me a shit-eating grin.