Page 217 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

SOPHIA

T he private room is small, with doors on two sides.

There are only four pieces of furniture: a futuristic-looking chair in the center of the room, a dresser and a long padded bench along one wall, and a bed pushed against the other.

The walls are covered with mirrors, except the wall directly opposite me.

That wall has, apart from the mirrors, a large flat-screen TV.

“Is there a show you want to watch?” I quip.

Julian slants me a look. “What do I want to hear from you, Sophia?” he asks, his voice stern.

A thrum of excitement winds through my core at that tone. “Yes, Sir,” I say meekly.

They’re both wearing suits tonight. Julian enters the room, takes off his jacket, and rolls up his shirt sleeves. Damien points to the chair. “Take off your clothes, all of them,” he says. “And sit down.”

I want to ask them if they’re planning to take off their clothes too, but since that would be against the rules, I bite my tongue. My body throbs with desire as I obey Damien’s instructions.

The seat is metal, and it’s cool against my skin. Goosebumps break out on my arms, and my nipples harden.

Julian retrieves a tablet from the dresser. For a long moment, he surveys me with hooded eyes. “Your checklist is. . . interesting.”

“Sir?” It’s not ‘Yes Sir,’ but it’s close. Right?

“There are so many things I want to do with you, Sophia,” he continues, as if I haven’t spoken. “And I’m trying to decide if I should keep you in suspense or tell you the details. Hmm.”

He looks at me as if he’s really trying to decide when I know he’s decided already. He’s just drawing this out to heighten my anticipation.

“I think I’ll tell you,” he says after a long moment. He picks up the tablet and holds it toward Damien. “Do you want to pick?”

“Hang on,” Damien replies. “Let me get Sophia settled first.” He picks up a remote control from the dresser and presses a button. The seat of my chair splits into two and spreads apart in a vee.

My legs spread with it.

I squeak in surprise; I can’t help it. My pussy gushes anew. Cool air caresses my folds. I can see my reflection in the mirror. Naked, wet, spread open. My arousal, which had cooled somewhat while Brooklyn was going over the checklist, flares back to life.

“I don’t want you going anywhere,” Damien says. “So. . .” He kneels and fastens thick leather straps around my ankles, my knees, and my thighs. “Perfect.”

He rummages through the dresser until he finds what he’s looking for.

It’s a mint-green rabbit vibrator. It looks harmless.

Until he turns it on. “Here you go,” he says, handing it to me.

“Play with yourself while we discuss your scene, Sophia.” He gives me a truly evil smile. “No coming, of course.”

“No coming?” I wail. “That’s not fair.”

Julian’s eyes narrow. “Do I have to punish you, Sophia?”

“No, Sir.” If I sound sulky, it’s because I am. I want to come, damn it. It’s not fair.

He bites back a smile. “Get going,” he says. “And if you’re thinking about disobeying, don’t. You won’t enjoy your punishment.”

“I won’t?”

Damien laughs. “He’ll edge you all night and won’t let you come,” he says. “You’ve been warned, Sophia.”

My nipples are hard. My pussy is soaked. I hate them for their deliciously wicked imagination, but I love everything they do to me.

Julian and Damien pour over the tablet. I turn the vibrator on and slide it into me.

I don’t dare touch my clit; I’m incredibly close and can’t risk it.

I do my best to hold back my orgasm. I think of the most boring things I can.

I make to-do lists in my head, but they don’t really help.

My body is poised on a knife’s edge. Waves of pleasure run through me.

In the background, I can hear snippets of Damien and Julian’s conversation, and to distract myself, I listen to what they’re saying.

“Yes, that sounds good,” Julian says. The TV in front of me powers on, and one by one, words appear on the screen, each line highlighted in red.

Blindfolds. Bondage (light). Gags (phallic). Spanking. Riding crops. Hair pulling. Fellatio/Cunnilingus. Anal sex. Anal plug (public, under clothes). Vibrator on genitals. Double penetration (anal and vaginal). Orgasm control. Nipple clamps.

These are all the things they’re going to do to me tonight. A powerful shiver rolls through my body as I read the list, and I snatch the vibrator away before I tip over.

It’s a close thing. For a few minutes, I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I clench my eyes shut and hang on the tip of the precipice, clinging for dear life.

“Such a good girl,” Julian says softly. He kneels in front of me. His hand closes around the vibrator, and he takes it from me. “Good girls should get rewarded, shouldn’t they?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. We’ve barely been in the room for ten minutes, and I feel different.

Don’t get me wrong. Most of the time, I enjoy being in charge of my pleasure.

I want to be an active participant. But letting go, surrendering to their desires—it feels heady.

My fathers used to take us to the circus when we were young, and I would watch the trapeze artists soar through the air, daring and weightless and free. That’s how I feel.

“Do you want to come, Sophia?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say again. I look into his eyes. Desire flares in those dark pools.

“Pick a number between one and ten,” Damien calls out.

He’s surveying the contents of the dresser. Is he going to spank me? I look up at my list on the screen. Riding crop, it says there, in forty-eight-point font, highlighted in red.

Is that what he’s looking for?

Is he going to crop me?

Will it hurt, or will I love it?

Or both?

“Four.”

“You want four orgasms tonight?” Damien moves behind me, his fingers tangling in my hair. “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” His lips kiss the side of my neck. “Then again, like Julian said, good girls should be rewarded.”

He tugs with his fingers, and a thousand spikes of pain prickle my scalp. “I was surprised by your list,” he says. “Hair pulling. A riding crop. A phallic gag.” I can see him smile in the mirror. “Does it count if I shove my cock in your mouth, or does it have to be a gag?”

Julian moves closer. His fingers trace my puffy, swollen lips. I catch my breath. If he tells me not to come, I’m going to burst into tears. I just know it.

He kisses the inside of my thigh, his lips soft. “Come any time you like, sweetness.”

Then his mouth collides with my pussy.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m already wound tight. The plug in my ass, Damien teasing me on the way over here, and the rabbit. . . they’ve all done their job. Julian barely has to put the tip of his tongue on my clit, and I’m there. I shudder and writhe, pant and gasp.

Damien’s grip on my hair tightens. The pain contrasts sharply with the pleasure. I moan out loud, and he gives me a disapproving look. “Now, now,” he says. “If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to gag you.”

I can’t say I didn’t ask for it.

Julian keeps his mouth on my pussy. Damien’s grip on my hair loosens, and I watch him walk away to the dresser. He returns with a black leather gag, a small red ball, and a riding crop. “Julian, let up for a minute,” he says.

Julian stops right before my orgasm hits. I groan in frustration, and Damien bites back his smile. “Sophia, pay attention,” he says. “And then, I promise, you can come.”

Heat ripples through my body. It’s a struggle to make myself focus, but I do. Damien hands me the ball. “You won’t be able to use your safewords when you’re gagged,” he says. “Hence the ball. Drop it, and we’ll ungag you and do a check-in. Okay?”

I nod.

“I need you to repeat it back to me, Sophia,” he says firmly.

His tone cuts through my fog of lust. His friends died in a BDSM session gone wrong. Damien won’t take any chances with safety.

“If I drop the red ball, you’ll ungag me and check-in,” I repeat, taking the ball from him. I look up at one of the cameras on the ceiling. It’s a small room, but I’ve counted five cameras, and there are probably more. “I understand.”

The gag is, as promised, a penis gag. On one side—the side that goes into my mouth—is a short, stubby rubber cock. It’s two inches long, tops. Easy-peasy.

A bulb dangles from the flat leather end. I don’t pay attention to it until Damien straps the gag in place and squeezes, and the penis inflates in my mouth.

Damien laughs at my expression. “Did you really think it would be that easy?” He brushes my hair away from my face and strokes my cheek. “Sweetheart, you’re going to earn your four orgasms tonight.”

Julian dives back into my pussy, his tongue caressing my clit. Damien walks around me thoughtfully, and every time I clench my eyes shut, he hits me with the crop. The pain is sharp but not unbearable. I moan into my gag.

Julian’s bringing me exquisite pleasure. Damien’s offering me glorious pain. The two sensations collide and mingle, and I can’t tell one from the other. I throw my head back. I struggle in my bindings as my long-denied orgasm nears.

And then ecstasy takes me. I throb around Julian’s fingers and the plug. My body is bathed in sweat, and I come hard.

Their hands quickly untie me and remove the gag. Only the plug is left. “You good?” Julian asks softly.

“I can’t speak,” I say pertly. “I can’t be expected to form coherent sentences after an orgasm like that.”

His lips quirk. “Do you want a break?”

“Just a little one.” I get to my feet and stretch lazily. “That was great.” I look at Damien with a wide smile. “The riding crop was wicked.”

He grins. “Water?”

“Yes, please.” I take the bottle he hands me and drink deeply, washing the taste of the rubber gag out of my mouth.

Julian picks up the tablet. “We can cross gags, bondage, riding crops, hair pulling, and cunnilingus off the list,” he says. Each of the entries turns green. “Oh, and anal plug under clothes. We’ve got that taken care of.”