Tightening his grip on my nape, Killian holds me in place as he reaches up under my dress. “Spread your legs,” he demands and brushes his knuckles over my slick opening. He lets out a hum that carries an edge of mockery. “You’re wet, but not dripping. We’ll have to do something about that.” He pulls his hand away and sticks it into the pocket of his slacks.
I yelp when the egg suddenly comes alive, buzzing against my sensitive walls. Heat shoots through my body in thick waves, and I tense my muscles, pressing my lips together to suppress a moan. When I glance up at Ian again, he’s still watching, arms crossed over his chest, expression impassive. It makes me wantto slide under the table and hide. Or maybe stay and soak up the stability of those eyes.
I go with the latter when Killian steps behind me and takes something from his pocket.
“Open your mouth,” he demands.
I try to plead with Ian through my eyes, but he only sharpens his gaze, quietly ordering me to obey.
With a defeated whimper, I part my lips. I close my eyes, not wanting to see what’s coming, not wanting Ian to see the shame that I’m sure will accompany whatever Killian does next.
Killian pushes something inside my mouth. At first, it doesn’t feel that bad. The thing is flat and round, covered in silicone, simply lying on my tongue. But when Killian flips it around, pressing it against the back of my teeth, I realize it’s a gag. A big ring that forces my mouth open and creates a hole that grants Killian unobstructed access to my mouth.
My hands shoot up to cover my mouth while Killian straps it tight behind my head. But I lose the coverage when he proceeds to attach leather cuffs to my wrists and locks them behind my back. All I can do is bow my head and close my eyes, but I’m painfully aware that Ian still sees the mortifying display of helplessness.
“Get up,” Killian orders once he’s done.
I keep my eyes down while I carefully push up and step away from the chair.
Gripping the back of my neck, he steers me back to the opposite end of the table, where the humiliation started, and bends me over the same way as before.
He leans down over me and snarls into my ear, “Do you like having all three holes filled?” When I don’t respond immediately, he gives me a shake. “Do you, Jenna.”
“Uuh.” I release a small, vague sound that can be interpreted as both a yes and a no. And the truth of my feelings is just asambiguous. Because Killian’s dominance is as devastating as it is intoxicating. I want to lean into it as much as I want to fight it. But there’s no use in fighting. The resistance when I move against the wrist cuffs tells me so—as does Killian’s inescapable grip on my neck.
“Oh yes, you do. The only problem is that your mouth isn’t really full now, is it?”
“Ugh.” This time, the sound is a protest, but it lands like an apathetic shake of my head. My will has become irrelevant in the storm of Killian’s desire. All I want is to sink into it and let him do whatever he pleases. Only a small part of my rational brain remains alert, pushing back against the unsettling instinct and preventing me from crashing into full capitulation.
He reaches under my skirt again, and I moan at the brush of his fingers against my sensitive folds. I want more—badly. The buzzing in my pussy has awakened the whole area, leaving every bared bit of skin sensitive to the slightest touch.
But Killian is not there to give me more. With a quick tug on the string hanging from my opening, he pulls the egg out.
I gasp, startled at the sudden loss. Before I can process, Killian is leaning over me again, dangling the egg right in front of my open mouth.
I start writhing, groaning my distressed protests. “Ooo,” I beg, trying to form ano.
“Jenna,” he demands, a sharp warning lacing the word, yet spoken with a steady calmness that paves the way into my submission. “Lie still and show me how much you want my dominance.”
My mind stills. It’s not because of his commanding tone; it’s the shocking truth of his words—hearing them spoken out loud with such certainty.
At that moment, I can’t deny that I want it—not to myself or the two men watching.
I go still, only managing shuddery breaths as I prepare for the intrusion.
Humming, Killian strokes my hair back and rests his hand on top of my head. Then slowly, almost reverently, he pushes the toy past the gag and into my mouth.
I don’t move a muscle. I just lie there. A trapped rabbit in the claws of the hungry predator. I accept my fate—his terrifying dominance and the subjugation it brings.
The egg lands on my tongue, the taste of my desire spreading into my senses. It brings me one step deeper into the surrender. My vision blurs, and I only vaguely notice Ian move into my line of sight, watching me cast myself into the dust before Killian.
The rational part of me doesn’t want him to see, but the resistance drowns in the thick fog that has settled over my brain.
Killian twists and turns the egg on my tongue, making me lap up every single drop of my desire. All I can do is swallow the accumulating spit and the taste of myself. When the egg is finally clean, Killian takes it out and places it on the table. “Such a shame you’re such a greedy slut; I would have liked a taste too.”
My brain fires off in different directions. The words are degrading, but his tone is gentle. Soothing. I can’t make sense of it. All I know is that I want more—more of that strange combination, more ofhim.
He sniffs, and the air changes. “Since you’re such a greedy girl, maybe I should feed you something else.”