Page 88 of The Doll and The Domination

“Go on, Ruth. You have our permission to taste him.”

A servant unlatches my collar, guiding me to Warrose’s side of the table. My legs are wobbly, my mind covered in thick fog. But I’m burning all over, tingling with the feverish need to do exactly as they say. Touch him. Taste him. Look at his length. Hold it in my hands.

“Where would you like her, Warrose?” Maxwell’s voice is eager, menacing.

I look up at Warrose’s lofty height, his shadow enveloping me. His tattooed chest is moving like a wild animal out of breath. And that only makes my hardened nipples chafe against my uniform.

“On her knees,” Warrose says in a deep, rusted tone.

I’m guided by primal need and instinct. There’s a pounding ache between my thighs, meandering through my insides. I drop to my knees, looking up at his dilated pupils and clenching fists. And my entire body jerks with a downpour of rigorous arousal.

Touch me, oh god, Warrose. Please touch me.

I’m squirming below him, worried I might start drooling at the sight of his growing crotch.

“Are you attracted to him, dear?”

I nod like a pet waiting for a treat. Heart thrumming as Warrose has to adjust his pants. He’s so handsome, so beautiful. That dusting of dark hair running in a trail under his navel. How would it feel against my tongue? Would he moan at my touch?

Taut lines form across his brow, and I almost weep with pure joy as he runs his fingers through my hair. That calloused skin grazes my scalp, and I pinch my thighs together to ease the throbbing agony.

“Are you hard for Ruth? Should she touch you to find out?” These voices are demented, filled with the wrong kind of lust. But I can’t find room in my brain to care.

Warrose nods like he doesn’t remember how to shape words.

Nervous flutters fill my stomach as my hand reaches out to him. I press my palm against his thick, pulsating cock covered by his breeches. We both groan in a symphony of bottled pleasure. He’s hard for me, ready to have my mouth, my tongue.

His large hand covers mine, adding pressure to his stiff length. I hiss at the contact, my hand lighting on fire. He pilots me, using our hands to stroke him.

“Pull it out for her. Let’s see how much of you she can take.” It’s Kaspias’s voice that pierces the layer of lust. I almost forgot he was here.

I’m practically bouncing up and down as Warrose fists himself under his waistband

Chains rattle behind me. Gasps. Brisk movement. And a tan hand lands over Warrose’s heart. I follow the arm to see Dessin standing next to me.

“Not today, kids.” He nods over his shoulder, and Skylenna grins, wide and disturbing. She kicks the table over, sending the feast crashing to the ground. Metal clanking against the floor. Niles curses as he tries to get in a last bite, falling over with it.

Skylenna leaps over the mess, bare feet landing on the arms of Malcolm’s chair. She’s crouched in front of him, knife to his wrinkled throat.

Kaspias is on his feet, ready to pounce.

“Go ahead,” she taunts. “See if you or this earpiece can move faster than a flick of my wrist.”

Through the heavy daze and insatiable hunger, I’ve never been prouder of my soul sister.

Dessin helps me to my feet, signaling for Warrose to check on Marilynn, who is still unconscious.

“We’ll be going back to our cages now. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” Skylenna hops off Malcolm’s chair, tossing the knife at the hoard of wasted food.

Niles and Warrose lift Marilynn from the messy floor, but Niles waves him off, insisting he can carry her himself.

“Fine,” Maxwell says as he waves Kaspias to stand down. “We learned enough for one night. Sleep well, children.”

Dessin slings my arm over his shoulder as he helps me walk back to where we came from. I want to beg to stay with the food, with Warrose. Why did they interrupt? I’m so confused I can hardly make sense of anything right now.

“Whatever’s going on in your head will pass shortly,” Dessin tells me in a hushed tone.

“I’m hungry.”

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