Page 65 of Under His Heel

Tracht, Fontaine, and Singh all laughed.

“Turn her around,” Tracht said. “Let Alex get a good look at her cunt.”

Fontaine tapped Nadia with his foot, and she started moving, once again crawling awkwardly with her wrists and ankles strapped to each other. She did a 180 and spread her legs a bit wider.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Alex recoiled and shook his head.

Her pussy was pierced too, three rings on each side, and a ribbon threaded through, tying everything closed. Fuck, he’d thought the cock cage was bad. He didn’t even want to imagine what it must have felt like for her to get pierced six times down there. Alex rolled his tongue and rubbed the barbell over the palate of his mouth. He was supremely grateful that Tracht had opted for a tongue piercing instead of some elaborate shit like that.

Of course Tracht and Singh laughed again.

“He doesn’t seem to like the idea after all. Poor Nadia will get a complex.” Another tap on Nadia’s shoulder, and she went back to her original position, sitting on the cushion between Singh and Fontaine’s legs.

Tracht pulled sharply on Alex’s hair. “Hmm. There might be better uses for his cock tonight anyway.” He let go and Alex slumped against his knee. “Do you have any idea what Fotiou is up to?”

Fontaine grinned. “Oh, you two are in for a treat. I have a hunch...”

Singh made an exasperated face. “I tried to get him to tell me, but he said it would be better as a surprise.”

“If you didn’t go into deep space...”

“And who is going to pay off your expensive habits, hmm?” Singh countered, but there was no malice in her voice. Fontaine smiled and kissed her cheek.

“You are a better man than I, Tracht, for putting up with her almost full time.”

“Oh, Dr. Singh is an invaluable member of my crew,” Tracht answered. “She has been a boon to have with me, both in a professional and personal capacity.” He traced a finger along Alex’s jaw. “Why don’t you show Dr. Fontaine the lovely work Dr. Singh did?”

It wasn’t a suggestion, of course. Alex opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out and wasn’t surprised when Tracht hooked a finger in there and forced him to open even wider.

“Mm, that’s lovely. Nadia has one too. You know, I almost thought it was a mistake because of how terrible she was at using it at first.”

“She just needed a bit of practice,” Singh said. “How has Alex’s piercing worked out for you so far?”

The three of them chatted on, sometimes about their disgusting habits, other times about work. Fontaine was a doctor on Atalanta and apparently treated a lot of bondservants. And he “took care” of Nadia while Singh was off-station

Some time later, after more guests had trickled in, Tracht scratched Alex’s scalp and said, “Alex, go get me a drink. Gin and tonic.”

Go... by himself. All the way across the room to the bar. While wearing practically nothing. There was a protest on the tip of his tongue, but Alex remembered Tracht’s warnings from earlier, and his stomach was pinching in hunger. Reluctantly, he stood up, careful not to expose himself.

Whatever semblance of calm he had disappeared when Tracht fondled his balls as he stood, just a completely casual touch, like a pat on the butt or something.

“And don’t dawdle.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex grit out, anger and shame making his face heat.

He avoided looking at anybody until he got to the bar. The bartender took his drink order and had it ready just a few moments later. From the look of it, the gin was some high-quality stuff. Alex licked his lips and wondered if Tracht would notice if a sip was missing.

“Who do you belong to?” a male voice whispered directly into Alex’s ear.

Alex startled and yelped, and he instinctively shoved away from whoever it was. There wasn’t much place to move, and it was sheer luck that he didn’t end up hitting the guy.

The guy was an older dude—older than Tracht for sure—with hair and beard almost completely gray and thin lines around his eyes and mouth. He wore fancy clothes that somehow managed to look nicer than the suit Tracht had bought for Alex, despite being more casual. And his gray eyes demanded eye contact from Alex, which made him intensely uncomfortable.

“Your drink,” the bartender said, pointing to the glass. She looked a bit annoyed, though she must have seen a lot of this kind of BS if she was working at a party like this.

Alex took it and tried to leave, but the old dude was sort of boxing him in.

“Who do you belong to?” the man asked again.

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