Page 12 of Trapped

“Good. Get him some real water for later. I want him clear enough to understand his own official ritual once we get inside the castle.”

Robin Pinault will become my brother. My lover. My own, personal artist. More blood travels south. I’ve played this game before during the first round of the Wicked Games, but since Maël brought in the fattest check, I was wise enough to use that round as a rehearsal. A satisfying one, I must say, that involved a terrified, sweet boy with a tight ass.

Will Robin tremble for me? Or will he hiss and riot, tear and beg when my silk lures him in and melds itself with his searing flesh?

Fuck, I guess we’re going to find out.

Leaving the trail, I get up and take on a leisurely pace and start whistling some tune I heard Dominique play the other day in the Atrium when Thurel officially became a brother, and Maël’s lover.

I approach Enzo, my other bodyguard, who pulls the shrubs aside, pointing his finger to where my trap is waiting. “I sent him the right way, sir,” he says. “I believe he has started fighting it.”

My heart rate picks up, and I can barely manage a ‘thank you’ before my feet start walking faster. Sure enough, a little further into the woods, I catch a glimpse of a staggering Robin. His troubled vision has picked up on the shimmer of the copper-colored silk threads, just like I knew it would.

Prey.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est ça?” He murmurs to himself, the question making me smile. Oh, my little butterfly, you’re about to find out. I touch the bottle of lube in the pocket of my cloak, needing to make sure that it’s there. Nothing will spoil our moment.

Carefully approaching from behind, I eagerly watch him taking those fatal, last steps until he’s fully facing my silk web.

“What’s that?” He asks himself again, before he reaches out his hand, and…I swallow my growl before it can escape from between my lips. His fingers stick to the thread and he hisses in surprise, before trying to pull back. “What the…” He tugs and complains, his movements jerky and uncontrolled, and fuck me, if it isn’t the most delicious thing I’ve ever seen. So very different from my first prey, Robin is still prickly, still defying every single obstacle he’s facing. I can’t wait for him to tell me all about his mind. Though we might have to wait for the drugs to wear off before that.

I chuckle at the thought, the sound making Robin look up and over his shoulder. “You!” He roars when he sees me. “What the hell is this?”

I smirk. “My web.”

“Your what?” His eyes widen, and then he gazes back in front of him again, and starts trying to jerk free his hand with renewed energy.

Taking a step in his direction, I add, “I’m sure you’ve noticed some of the other brothers. Four different colors, four different arms. There’s Golden Mask, who carries a knife.” Robin lets out a pained grunt, then turns back over his shoulder. When he sees me approaching, he lifts his free arm, jabbing his finger my way.

“Stay away from me.”

I take another step forward. “Then there’s Silver Mask with his rope and collar.”

“I told you before, I can’t be chosen. And I won’t—” He sputters, head lolling to one side, and I watch him clenching a fist, trying to fight the drugs. It’s a lost battle without any real water.

“Then there’s Bronze Mask, who rides a horse,” I continue.

“I’ve seen him.” Robin sighs, facing the web once more. His hand is still plastered tight against the soft and glittery thread, the superglue visibly doing an outstanding job. I take another step, then drop to my knees behind him like I did before. This is what a spider must feel…

The gesture catches him off guard, and his flight instinct kicks in. Only…that makes him tumble forward and into the web.

For the sweetest of seconds, time passes at the slowest possible pace, and with mouth agape I watch as Robin’s hands and feet get stuck to the thread as he topples right into my trap. I watch him fight, his delirious state causing his visions to play tricks on him as he swears and yanks in an attempt to free himself. The more he jerks, the tighter the material will stick against his clothes and bare flesh.

“What the… you’re crazy!” He wheezes. But he’s already too late. Robin’s entire body is glued to the silk web that I carefully spread out for him between two large evergreens. If only he knew how long it took me to stretch the delicate, lustrous material that matches the color of my mask, all the while respecting the fractal shape—the never-ending pattern that spiders use. All that hard work has paid off, judging the eye candy my vision is filled with.

It’s perfect. Just fucking perfect. During the previous Wicked Chase, I had to practically throw my prey into the net since his mind was clear enough to see the bronze finery for what it is—danger. But tonight, with the right dose of tranquillizers, with the right guidance by my men, with the right guy, everything falls into place.

Literally.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty,” I mumble in awe, looking at his back and round ass. At those long, trembling legs. Robin mutters something in reply, but his voice sounds out of breath. He’s getting tired of fighting, the earlier, forceful yanking of his limbs turning once more into sluggish movements. Dropping once more onto my knees, I crawl up behind him, reveling in the way his body tenses when I lay my hands on his calves, before slowly sliding them up to his thighs. Not giving three fucks that he’s still dressed, I press my lips on the rough material of his pants, enjoying this first connection with my little butterfly. Skidding my face over his hips and toward the center of his body, his firm and plump ass, Robin winces. He yanks at the thread once more, but the movement has become desperate.

With my nose between his crack, I inhale deeply, making sure to squeeze his meaty, clothed ass cheeks.

“You can’t…I’m not…” Robin whimpers.

“I can and I will, papillon,” I murmur, enjoying the way his pleas cause shivers of desire. “You know what spiders do when prey gets caught into their web?” Robin lets out a wheezing sound. “They watch them getting trapped, reveling in the sensation of them getting stuck.” I leave one final caress on his back, then retreat, only to slowly make my way to the front, suddenly impatient to devour his panic with my greedy tongue and hungry eyes.

Fuck, the sight doesn’t disappoint.

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