Breakers - Part II
I know, in just a few short hours, he will mark her as his. I have promised him this, but I am not sure I can let her go.
MFF || Branding || High Protocol D/s || Orgy || 18+
Part I of Breakers is here
Breakers Part II
Marie
I wonder what Katie’s safe word is.
I wonder if she has used it? Has she found the strength to pull it from the back of her throat? At that moment?
Here she is, pretty and perfect in my bed. Her skin lightly bruised with pleasure. She dabbles where I dived, and found monsters of my own making. I want to take her there, and hide her too. The push and pull of it is almost too much. To watch her come undone, what bliss, beneath my fingers, my tongue. The scent of her unfurling. I want to be the one that pushes her to that point. Right to her very edge, the need to hold her there, to pull her back only mine, and not his, a rush of pure heat makes my skin itch.
Her voice interrupts my rumination, while I consider my answer
‘Will you come then? Tonight?’
I know it will be her debut, even though she won’t know it yet. The green dress will be picked by now. He will have it in his closet, next to his carefully chosen suit. I remember what it felt like putting it on. The silk, so soft against my skin. The excitement of being asked. The look on his face as I turned in the hallway to show him. My ballet dancer training in full effect.
Back then, I had primped and polished and creamed and spritzed, my skin tenderized and ready. My cunt already puffy and swollen as we walked in, Oliver having toyed with me mercilessly in the cab on the way over. Making me hold eye contact with our driver while I came, the leather seat slippery, my dress hiked up to my waist as I squirmed and whined.
That was the night I met Sophie too. The night Alicia held me down for Oliver to sear my skin. How I had begged for it, my skin still wet with the night’s initiations. Alicia’s soft voice, easy baby, breathe… and the look on her face as the mark was made. Something shifted, something I know now to be a kind of grief.
‘Hello Sophie’
‘Oliver’
Sophie’s voice, a low growl almost, affectionate but a warning to it.
‘Is this your offering?’
‘Yes’
‘And what is your safe word, little rabbit?’
‘January’
I have to blink back the memory as she looks at me, still flush with sleep and wrapped in my sheets waiting for my answer.
‘Of course I’ll come. We better start getting ready… but first…’
I slip under the covers with her and inhale her scent. Kiss her lips, let my fingers trace a path along the inside of her thigh where I know, in just a few short hours, he will mark her as his. I have promised him this, but I am not sure I can let her go.
Katie
‘Katie? What’s your safe word little bird?’
‘July…’
I blush bright red. We had practiced it of course, part of the many lessons, verbally when bound, using hand signals when gagged. The scenes rushing through my head as I said it out loud.
Such an intimate thing. And yet here I was handing it over to a woman I have never met. I suddenly miss Marie with such a sharp intensity I feel my eyes prick with tears. She is here, somewhere but I can’t see her, and the absence is a chasm between us.
Oliver took my hand before I could see where she had gone. I feel unsteady, Oliver standing a touch too far away from me, and not a single familiar face in the room. The energy of the night shifts, it’s only as we walk further into the centre. I realize everyone is looking at us. Or more specifically, at me
‘Katie?’
Oliver’s voice grounds me immediately in my body. I blink away the sensation of being stared at. He takes my hand, and we walk around the lilies and the candle-strewn table and up to the bar. He orders a drink for me and watches me take a sip. We have barely spoken since we have arrived, and the tension is building. He is hiding something. What was the offering?
‘Sir? What did Sophie mean?’
He runs his thumb over my lower lip and down my chin, lifting it to kiss me, his other hand pulling me closer, tight around my waist. I can feel how hard he is already, the energy of the room beginning to take effect. There is little warm up here, dresses are discarded over chairs, the sounds of pleasure rising above the music already.
‘Watch little bird.’
He turns me towards the middle of the room; the table lilies and candles have been cleared. A woman a little younger than me is being led towards the center. She stops in the middle of the room as her partner lifts her dress over her head, a pale mint green flutters to the floor, she is naked and almost glowing in the low light now.
I realize it is the same dress I am wearing. The tone, the sheen, the beadwork on the thin shoulder straps. Identical.
People have begun to drift towards the scene now where her partner is binding her with rope, the ritual is mesmerizing, the sounds of the jute pulling through each knot and back. Her head lolls back, mouth open, I smile recognizing the feeling, the wave of submission washing over her. She is on her knees. Arms bound behind her in prayer position.
He steps back. A hush descends.
Marie
I have lost her. Almost as soon as we walked in she was gone. Oliver of course, slipping between the shadows and claiming her without acknowledging me at all. I have yet to lay eyes on him. My chest tightens at the thought of it. Being ignored. Being replaced. Even though I know that is not quite true. We all have our roles to play here, and mine is only just beginning to reveal itself.
And the debut is about to begin. I steady myself against the railing on the mezzanine level, the circular stage just below and watch as man begins to tie his offering. Her debut is unfolding. Just the first of tonight’ s initiates, her green dress already tossed aside.
Then it begins.
At first, it’s only one man. He approaches the young woman slowly, toying with her bound breasts and red nipples, she groans as he takes one in his mouth, while his hand finds her cunt. I feel that familiar ache building in my core, tight and hot and dangerous. Her hips buck as his fingers find a rhythm inside her, and I find mine answering too, my skin flushed. Another man enters the stage from behind her. He pulls her hair back to kiss her, tongue on her neck, his hands on her waist. I let out a stifled groan, as I watched, my cunt aching in turn.
The first man has stepped out of his trousers, cock hard and dripping, he takes his length, heavy in his hand and strokes it, the precum dripping into her open mouth. He adjusts her head to feed it to her inch by inch
Then a third joins. And a fourth. There’s a glint of knife, the shearing of rope to free her up to take more. I feel the heat of the bodies next to me, pulsing.
I scan the room looking for Katie and find Oliver looking directly at me, like a dare. Cool. Calm. His hands on the dips of her hips. The scar on my thigh twinges, and my cunt tightens.
I remember what it felt like to be there. In the middle. Waiting.
Katie
Oliver pulls me closer, his hands on my hips, his breath in my ear behind me. We are both silent, but I can hear the change in his breathing, his hardness pressing into me, his hands gathering up my dress to reach my cunt, I am aching for it now.
The girl in the center stage is on all fours, her arms free from being bound, the rope kisses visible on her skin. There are four men circling her, stepping out of their clothing. Their restraint dissolves as she arches her back, her mouth stretched wide with cock, her cunt too. The wet sound of sweat, and skin, and the gentle murmur of appreciative voices which seems a world away. All I can hear is my own heart beat in my ears, while I watch her being used, splitting wide, taking more. I concentrate on the sweat dripping from her tits as they swing with each thrust from behind.
One of the men grunts and comes, an arc of pearl white across her back. Without missing a beat the next man takes his place, unzipped and ready, cock thrusting forward, hands firmly on her hips as he slides into her. The fourth uses her mouth, his hands holding her neck and head still, the spit from her mouth making the floor slick under her hands. She slips, but is held, hands supporting while they take their pleasure, and use hers.
The scene playing out in front of us sending ripples through us all, I can see a man on his knees in front of his partner, his head bobbing and the sound of stifled moans. The woman next to me is topless, and touching herself unashamedly, Oliver’s hands have found my hot wet cunt now, teasing the slit wider, and my swollen clit I lean back into and whine in his ear.
‘I need it. I need you. please Sir’
The words he says next set my skin on fire
‘I’m going to share you tonight little bird, you are my offering.’
Marie
I didn’t want to tell her.
Her wide-eyed naivety across the room, her thighs slick with want. Oliver’s hand teasing submission out of her, readying her for what is about to come.
How could I tell her that I was once his? Or worse. That I remain his. I am forever branded his, how I had begged for it too. That mark. The searing pain that made me scream. Not the pretty kind either. The sound I made was a primal, it rose from somewhere so deep within me I thought I may have cracked open. The sound of being claimed and surrendered. The pain, blinding and clarifying and true. The only true thing I knew then
The reminder, permanent
Will she scream like that too?
There is a completely different feel to this one, a lot of lead up and a sense of dread. Its all very organized now with the rituals and the history. It blurred the lines of who she's actually jealous over in a really intriguing way. I feel like I'm on the edge of a knife point by the end, just a breath from tipping over.
Oh my god, I love this. Part 3 when?