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Mather was going to make them watch.

Well, fuck all that.

She closed her eyes. Leaned her head back along the metal tubing. Out of sight …

But ‘out of mind’ was a joke. She couldn’t see? Too bad. There was no way to block out the sounds.

The damp noises of flesh applying and separating. Restrained grunts. Breath hissing through teeth. Meaty slapping. The images in her head were more graphic than reality.

Her eyes snapped open, refusing the sensory lure. Buckeye wrenched her head to the side, putting her focus on the line of bound Vicers. Most of their priests remained s

tanding behind their respective scaffolding units, but a few had moved alongside their charges to murmur inaudible words at their ears. Some of the lustworker backs started to arch, hips to tilt at the flood of stimuli.

One of these began to nod, the motion increasing in vigor, as their attendant priest spoke low and quick. With his next move, the Covvie freed Vicer wrists and ankles. Drew her by the hand to the opposite side of the room where an empty mat lay waiting.

The first hint of a dull hum came from between Buckeye’s legs.

Goddammit.

She flexed the cheeks of her ass, some primitive effort to pinch off the drug’s effects.

Mather had left the center of the room and was moving among the holdouts. Leaning in here and there to offer additional quiet words. Another of the captives buckled, their eyes wide on the tableau across the room. A priest made fast work of their release, and now six of the twelve Vicers lay under rutting clergy.

Buckeye squeezed her eyelids shut again. It would have been better if she could’ve done the same with her legs. The first leak of her arousal pearled, and she bit back a round of profanity.

Fuck me! How fast does this shit work?

She heard the clank of metal and turned her face to the sound. Opened her eyes as her chest began a more labored rise. Two more Vicers fell to The Song. One even reached for the priest’s hand as he guided her forward to what was becoming the most disturbing sex show Buckeye had ever seen. And living in The Vice, most people had seen their share.

With a controlled grunt, the first of the Covvie men finished—one of the four from the original group of un-drugged Vicers. After a series of parting thrusts, he pivoted away on a knee. Before he had his spent cock tucked away, though, he was already urging the lustworker up from her back, to attend the next priest to his right.

The second priest stood, pinching his prick by the base to steady it into the mouth of a kneeling male Vicer. The woman looked from one priest to the other, the switching of gears a struggle that showed in her eyes. But she understood, oh yes she did. She made her way to her knees and the next mat. Joined her peer in ‘service’, mouthing a pair of Covvie balls while her counterpart worked the shaft. The priest closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

The red mats pillowed nicely under knees and feet and asses. They might not be that uncomfortable. Just to lie down. Get filled. A body pinning hers, warm. Giving.

Fuck! Stop it!

Her hips tilted. Buckeye ground at nothing.

Mather was closing in her direction, knocking away Vicer resistance as he came like a series of vases on a shelf. Another pair moved to the mats. One of the priests was urging his partner to roll to her belly. A noise came from Buckeye’s throat when she thought about her breasts flattening to the lurid vinyl that way. Her nipples were tight, angry points.

No! You’re stronger than this, Wheeler!

The priest who’d bound her had made no sound at all, but when the man in the white cassock stepped near at last, he slid into Buckeye’s view from her right. An erection tented his trousers. Mather’s face was a picture of infinite patience, hands still folded behind his back.

She looked from cold blue-grey eyes to a darker brown set, the one unaffected, the other burning with need. Her spine curled. She had to breathe through her mouth. The metal tubing bruised between her cheeks.

Mather leaned in and spoke near her ear. “Are you ready to serve Brother Raymond?”

Buckeye whipped her head back and forth, a vehement ‘no’, her eyes wide. The priest in black, Brother Raymond, tugged at the length in his pants through fabric. It was not small.

“Brother Raymond is here to help you learn, Sinner.” Mather’s voice was insidious. “Will you not serve him in this?”

She whimpered, body contorting to try to drag her humming cunt along the metal. Anything. There was no reaching it. There was no scratching the itch.

He’ll scratch it.

She ran her tongue over her lips.