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13

RYLEE

I ’m alone in my room, sitting on the edge of the bed with the lights off. The silence is tranquil while I reflect on the last couple of days.

Greta’s never spoken about my birth father before. I had no idea... which makes me wonder, does Dalton? Things are too uneasy now to risk fleeing and going back to the comfort of my own room. Cecilia is still in the hospital, and I could end up in a casket, like my mom.

Tears well in my eyes. I blink once to give them the opportunity to escape down my cheeks. At first, this arrangement was an unexpected gift. I latched on to it so I could avenge my mother and kill The Exiled in their sleep under their own roofs.

Now what?

What is my purpose?

Someone knocks on my door, but I don’t move or speak. It doesn’t matter because the door gingerly opens, a sliver of light peeks through the crack, and a tall shadow appears. Nathaniel.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “May I?”.

“It’s your house,” I answer curtly. It’s rude. He hasn’t done anything, but I don’t know how else to act. I’m mad and frustrated, and... I don’t know how to process this.

Then a thought occurs to me, I’ve been here for days and missed sessions. “What do my clients think?”

He is somber in response, likely as exhausted as I am, but his game face is better than mine. This is the life Nathaniel grew up in. “Greta told them you had a family emergency out of town.”

Nodding, my gaze focuses before me.

“Did you know?” I know the answer but need to hear it from his mouth to my ears.

“Yes.”

“When?”

He takes a single step forward. I can hear his fingers brushing through his hair, something I’ve noticed he does when he doesn’t want to respond but has to. “I had Rogers do a workup on you after the first night you came here. Only you, me, D, and Greta know. And I’ll make damn sure it stays that way, I swear it, Rylee.” His voice is revealing. Pain and fear. He’s being vulnerable in front of me again. A tactic or genuine, I’m not sure yet.

“I will keep you safe. He won’t get to you,” he promises.

My bloodline technically makes me Queen of The Exiled. I’m older than Dalton, barely, but it still puts me at risk. If he finds out, or already knows about our connection, I’m dead.

It’s why Greta was so adamant about keeping me here.

“I know this isn’t ideal, but nothing happens by accident. We are always where we should be.” Nathaniel pauses before continuing. “I also know what I am about to ask is rather inappropriate, but could you please remove the spikes from around my cock? Walking bow-legged in front of the chief of police was rather uncomfortable.”

I erupt with laughter—hysterical laughter. This situation is so incredibly fucked up that it’s all I can do or feel right now.

“No. It’s staying on,” I respond between losing my mind. Nathaniel blows out a heavy breath of frustration.

“It’s nipping. Please, Ms. Vandenberg?” My brow arches, and my laughter subsides.

“Doing as you please would be too easy. That’s not how this works, Mr. Sinclair.” I’m smug, but when we play, it’s by my rules.

Standing, my chest is puffed out as confidence cascades over me. Still in my lounge clothes with my hair down, I reach for my hair tie sitting on my nightstand. Gathering my long locks, I pull it up into my signature high pony.

After returning to my room from meeting with Greta, I noticed a few more of my belongings had arrived. Tiptoeing to the leather duffle bag on the royal purple velvet sitting chair, I take the zipper between my fingers and deliberately, I open it slowly. It feels like the air is slowly being sucked out of the room as the teeth of the zipper unlatch and tension builds.

The bag opens and the items inside are revealed. My mouth smirks with excitement.

Shiny silver chains make my eyes glimmer—nipple clamps. Biting my lip, my hands reach in to see what else this mystery bag contains. And to my surprise, whoever packed this did me a great favor; lubricant and a few different-sized silver metal butt plugs with bejeweled rubber ducks on the ends follow, gifted from Greta. Some clothes are at the bottom, and a pair of black metal handcuffs are the last of it.

“You have thirty seconds to get on the bed. No clothes,” I demand.

Expletives are mumbled under his breath that he will be disciplined for. As I keep my back facing him, I can hear his belt buckle jingling as he rushes to disrobe.

The bed squeaks, indicating that he is nearly how I want him. The cuffs are the first item I take. “Safe word?”

Breathlessly he answers, “Devil.”

“Good boy, Mr. Sinclair,” I praise while standing in place a few moments more because I can play mind games too, Nathaniel.

Without hesitation, my body turns and my eyes trace down his exposed, fit body. Black ink decorates every inch of his skin, with the exception of his cock. White hair lightly covers his chest, his nipples are erect, and his breathing is becoming more heavy. The spiked cock ring is still in place, adding to the allure of his dick alongside those piercings.

My pussy throbs and my mouth waters. Soon, girl, soon.

“Let’s both not feel together, if only for a little while.” My voice is husky, lust and desire dripping off each word, and I hate myself for it.

“Arms up, above your head,” I instruct. His eyes close, debating if he will do it, perhaps? This is his last chance to flee before we begin. But he doesn't. Nathaniel’s strong arms move up my bedsheets and as they do, I take another step forward. I am holding the cool metal cuffs with my index finger, mindlessly twirling them while I wait for him to get into position.

His piercing blue eyes stay on me; trust is important and he has given me his wholly. Laying vulnerable with many unknowns still to come isn’t for everyone. You either get it or you don’t, and I can feel his energy bouncing off mine; his yearning to let go, to be free, and to have me lead is admirable. Many men in his stature would never, but he trusts me to lead him, and I will never take this responsibility lightly.

My knee lifts to rest on the edge of the bed as I lean over his face. I take his wrist in my grip, leaving my thumb resting over his pulse that is racing as I cuff him. My fingers move up his hand once the cuff is locked into place. I brush the beds of my fingers over the gold rings adorning his fingers. I am nearly too captivated to notice the goosebumps rising on his skin from the brief but intimate moment.

Nathaniel only wears gold accessories; they complement his beauty and bring out his features. This man is majestic. On his other wrist is his gold watch. Reaching farther, I gently remove it and place it on the bedside table before locking his other wrist in.

“Keep your hands above your head. Don’t move them unless I tell you to.” I don’t have any rope or other chains to connect to the bed frame and the cuffs to make it nearly impossible for movement.

“Understood, Ms. Vandenberg.” I reward him with a smile, he is learning.

Kneeling next to him, my fingers curl around the hem of my shirt and I take it off in one quick movement, exposing myself to him. Time stills; a man has never looked at me the way he gazes at me. Nathaniel’s eyes penetrate my soul. Lust and devotion radiate from him. And not because I am dominating him but because he genuinely feels that way. Energy never lies.

This is not the place nor time for me to even try to comprehend this.

“Many men are fixated on owning a woman. Many men think ownership includes penetrating all our holes. And I have always been an advocate for equal rights, Mr. Sinclair.”

My silver fox freezes. Our moment is over as realization washes over him. “Unless this is a hard limit.”

Swallowing, his Adam's apple bobs. From the corner of my eye, I see his toes flex as he contemplates his next words. “No, it’s not, Ms. Vandenberg.”

Turning around, I reach for the lube and smallest plug. This is likely his first time being anally penetrated, he needs to be trained to handle more before I even attempt to fit him with a larger size.

I lather the plug with lube and pour extra into my own hand. I walk to the end of the bed. “Knees up, cradle them toward your chest, and push your butt forward.”

No words follow, he just obeys.

Sitting on the bed, I position myself between his raised legs. Nathaniel’s cock bobs, still leaking precum, and my eyes attempt to hood at the sight, but I stop myself. Placing my hand to his hole, I begin coating his opening in the extra lube. I then take one finger and push it inside of him, rimming his entrance. He isn’t used to the intrusion, immediately tensing up. “I need you to relax, it’s just the tip of my index finger. I won’t go any farther with it.”

Nathaniel blows out a deep sigh as his muscles relax, allowing me to finish. Sliding my finger out, I look at his face. Beads of sweat are already forming along his hairline and his forehead, he is nervous.

Holding the plug up, he doesn’t look at it, instead maintaining eye contact with me as I speak. “Stay just like this. I will gradually insert the plug only as your body adjusts to the size. I will never force it in, I will never intentionally make something painful unless it's for pleasure. Remember the safe word if you need.”

Nathaniel doesn’t object, therefore I proceed. My eyes admire the incredible man laying here before me, the dimples on his cheeks as his ass flexes with his abdomen.

I position my body on all fours, my mouth dangerously close to his cock, but I keep my eyes on where my occupied hand is. I place the tip of the silver plug at the entrance. “Relax,” I coax softly. He does while blowing out a couple more breaths.

Millimeter by millimeter, I ease the cool silver plug inside of him. Anytime I see his face or body tense, I pause, allowing him time to adjust before proceeding. My hand is gripping the gem- encrusted rubber duck. My fingers wrap around it, and I know it is all the way in once I feel his soft skin against mine.

“You’re doing so good,” I praise.

His breathing is now audible, like he just ran a marathon, and his words are shaky as he speaks. “Thank you, Ms. Vandenberg.”

“Now, slowly lower your legs. You are going to feel full, uncomfortable, but your body will adjust.”

Obeying, my silver fox does what I ask.

Next, I reach for the nipple clamps, my breasts are above his face, his breath warm against my skin while showing excellent restraint.

Sitting back on my legs, kneeling, I lean forward and blow my breath on his. My free hand plays with his chest hairs, and my nails scratch his skin, causing him to hiss. I attach the clamps, one to each nipple, the chain resting loosely on him as his back arches. As I lean back, resting my bottom on my legs, I notice Nathaniel is overwhelmed with sensations. His nerves are unfamiliar with them, causing his brain confusion on how to respond. Soon, it will tell him this is pleasure, not pain. Delicious and addictive pleasure.

Before I move to the next part, I remove my bottoms, leaving me completely exposed. He will see it as a level playing field, but I don’t. I find it freeing.

Next, I add another level to our session, gripping his length just below where I placed the spiked cock ring and tug at it ever so slightly. Another hiss follows, and I smile in satisfaction.

My thumb finds the release, and I apply enough pressure that it unlatches, falling off him.

Nathaniel is flabbergasted as his arms move from above his head. “Wait, I could have just removed it myself?”

I am quick to respond, slapping his face—not hard, but with enough force that he feels the same sting that I do against my palm. Then, in rapid succession, I grip his chin and make eye contact. “Arms up and no speaking unless you are spoken to!” I remind him firmly as we remain in an intense stare-off. He is still very new to this, so I take it easy on him, but my pussy is dripping from his defiance. This shit gets me so horny. I smirk sadistically, knowing I get to put him right back in his place.

Time slows as I wait. He is testing me, seeing how serious I am or if I will back down. I won’t. I've been living my best life for years.

He is the first to move; his cuffed wrists that are hanging in midair proceed to move back onto the bed over his head.

Such a good boy for me.

Keeping his cock in my hand, I sit up and position myself over him, taking his tip and circling my pussy with it. Nathaniel grunts, and it’s music to my ears.

Teasing him more, I can hear our juices mixing. My mouth waters as I position him at my opening and slowly slide down his length. The ridges of his piercings feel insatiable against the walls of my cunt. I grip myself around him, wanting to keep them close.

“You move, I stop. Do you understand?”

Nathaniel nods once. “Yes, Ms. Vandenberg.”

And this time, I praise him out loud. “Good boy.” Followed by a cheeky wink.

My pelvis moves and my back arches. Reaching behind me, I place my hands on the mattress, allowing his cock to rub me right where I need it.

“You feel so fucking good,” I whimper. The buildup to this moment sends me spiraling. I have craved his cock since I first had it in my mouth, and I needed to feel it inside of me. And now that I have it, I will never let it go. Each barbell is massaging my pussy; his tip feels like it’s halfway up my body. Nathaniel is the biggest I’ve ever had.

My movements quicken, my body is begging for release. Tonight, if he doesn’t come by the time I do, he will be walking around with blue balls until I give him permission to unload.

The tingling starts at my toes. Repositioning myself, I reach in front of me, pulling at the chain hanging from each of the nipple clamps. Breathlessly, I ask, “Does it hurt?”

His head shakes. “No, it all feels so fucking good.”

My lips quiver as my orgasm builds. “Open your mouth,” I demand, and with no time wasted, he does. Leaning forward, I spit the excess saliva accumulating in my mouth into his. At the same time, I tug the chain and the clamps follow, snapping his sensitive, hard nipples.

His body jolts while a sweet moan escapes.

My entire body is trembling; I have resisted my release for as long as I can.

“Come,” I hiss out. Dropping the clamps next to me, I reach for the plug and rapidly dislodge it from him, making his orgasm even more intense.

I can feel his cum filling me as mine coats him.

Letting go of the plug, I reach up and pinch my nipples. The sweet sting feels so fucking good. My movements slow. Nathaniel’s eyes are barely open and his breathing is heavy. I can feel sweat beading down my face with each aftershock that hits me, leaving me quivering on top of him. With shaking arms, I reach over him and unhook the cuffs. I nearly fall into him, resting on his chest, but I stop myself.

I gave in to this, sex, but this is as far as I’ll go.

Then it occurs to me what we just did—we had sex. I gave in and also made it about my own desire and pleasure beyond what I normally do. There is no afterglow. I go into shock because of my own actions with a man who I should hate, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I shouldn’t?

Shaking my head, I ask, “Would you like water? A bath with salts?”

Aftercare is as important as our sessions.

Nathaniel’s voice is hoarse. “No. Just sleep.” I nod and slide off of him. His cum drips out of me and down my thighs. I leave it there, because I like it.

Our cum coats his glistening cock.

Sleep sounds incredible, and I am suddenly incredibly tired. Exhaustion sweeps over me; it’s been building, but I’ve ignored all signs of it until now as I let a yawn escape me.

I don’t bother cleaning myself up. Sliding under the soft blankets next to him, my eyes are heavy as my head hits the pillow. Nathaniel doesn’t move. Giving in to the day, I close my eyes, leaving the world behind, if only for a few hours.

NATHANIEL

A loud shriek of terror wakes me. Throwing the blankets off me, I am already on high alert looking for the source.

It doesn't take me long. Rylee.

She is standing, wrapped in a throw blanket from the end of the bed, looking out the glass doors that open to the balcony overlooking the backyard. Racing up behind her, I look in the same direction she is and my face goes red as anger fills me.

My fist clenches and pounds on the glass, causing her to jump. Before I can comfort her, my brain needs to comprehend what exactly I am looking at. My eyes shift around my backyard in absolute disbelief.

Brad’s head is at the center of it, on a wooden stake in the yard. His eyes have dried blood staining down his cheeks, his mouth sewn shut. Around him, various states of death are on display, from flesh to bones. Some are encased in wooden coffins with the lids open to hang out of an old car’s trunk. A few are hanging from large tree branches, either from the throat or wrists.

Then a few truly throw me off. They are in sleeping bags, only their heads sticking out.

“ELIJAH!”