Page 50 of Take Me

“Shh,” he soothes, crawling under the comforter to lie beside me.

The tears break free anew as he strokes my cheek, and I burrow my head against his chest as I weep, my hips grinding against the mattress as burning need flares at my core.

“Such a good girl. I’m so proud of you,” he tells me, stroking my stomach. “Are you ready to go to dinner soon?”

“No. I can’t. I—No!” The desperation inside me doubles as I consider going any longer like this. My every muscle is taut with the need to come, trembling from the strain of denial, and my skin is sleek with sweat. “I can’t,” I repeat. “Please don’t make me.”

“Shh.” He presses a soft kiss to my temple before lifting his head and calling out, “Daniil.”

The guard is in the doorway a few seconds later.

“Remove the panties,” Nikolai tells him.

I lean out from Nikolai to aim my begging eyes at him. “Can’t you do it? Please. I can’t take any more. It’s too much.”

Nikolai strokes my hair out of my damp face. “You’ll take more because I want you to,” he tells me with confidence as if it’s supposed to be a reassurance. “Daniil won’t be the last man to touch you tonight, but I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

His words send me crashing into hollow sobs, shuddering and jerking against him as Daniil removes the ankle cuffs, then pulls out the dildos and removes the panties.

“Such a good girl,” Nikolai soothes, stroking and rocking me all the while. “You want to please your Master, right?”

“Yes,” I say, clutching his shirt as the urge to do just that swells inside me. “I do.”

“Good. The guests will arrive in an hour, and the makeup artist is already here.” He gently helps me off the bed and tucks me into his side, supporting me as he leads me to the huge bathroom. “But first, we need to get you cleaned.” He helps me into the large shower stall and detaches the cuffs from the collar to attach them to a ring in the ceiling that seems to be conveniently in place in every hotel we visit.

“Do you want me to help ease the discomfort?” he asks, flicking a finger through my dripping wet folds.

Knowing how he’ll do it, I want to say no, but there’s no way I can resist the caring tone in his voice. And I do need something to calm the pounding energy at my core. Badly. So I nod and speak in a tiny voice. “Yes please, Master.”

He removes the collar and cuts off my clothes with a switchblade, then takes his time removing his own clothes in a more formal manner.

When he grabs the handheld shower and screws on the knob that controls the temperature, I close my eyes, bracing myself.

I scream the moment he screws the other knob and icy cold water hits me. He sprays the water all over my body, and I cry again as the cold bites deep into my bones. I writhe and jerk against the restraints, but it’s no use. I’m stuck in place. Forced to take the icy spray.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he soothes once he turns the temperature up and steps in with me, wrapping a supportive arm around my waist.

I sink into him, weeping like a child as he soaps us both up, then takes his time rinsing with warm water.

“Did that help?” he asks as he unbuckles the wrist cuffs and helps me out of the stall.

Sniffling and biting my lower lip, I nod. The pounding heat between my legs has died down. I feel it lurking in the shadows, ready to come alive at the slightest touch, but the tingling sensation that remains is bearable.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Taking my head between his hands, he kisses my forehead, then wraps a towel around me and calls out for Daniil to bring in the makeup artist.

***

Half an hour later, I’m all dressed up in my new gown, hair styled, and makeup brightening my face. Nikolai takes me by the hand and guides me to the set table in the dining room, where he helps me to my knees on a pillow.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” he says, crouching in front of me.

He unscrews the top ring on the tongue piercing and attaches a small plate on some new toy I don’t recognize. It’s some kind of face harness, but there’s no leather panel to cover my mouth as usual. I whimper as he pushes a large silicone-covered ring between my teeth.A ring gag.The feeling is obtrusive, and even more so as he fastens the straps around my head, locking my jaw in place around the ring. My mouth is stuck in a wide-open position, and with the small plate attachment depressing my tongue, I can barely swallow, let alone speak a single word.

“I really love this piercing,” he says, stroking the sides of my mouth as he studies the ring gag. “It really makes you so much more helpless.”

He’s right. I feel the helplessness deep in my bones whenever he restricts my tongue. It’s so subtle yet blaring to my senses, having movement that I’ve always taken for granted restricted. I never realized how much I moved my tongue until he used the muzzle on me the day he took me from the dungeon. It makes swallowing hard and speech all but impossible. Whenever he takes me out with the discreet tongue restrictor in my mouth, I go soft and pliant. No one can see the small plate surrounding my tongue, but I can feel it. It keeps me quiet at his side and tugs me deep into a heady trance of submission, constantly tethered to him and his command.

But this ring gag is new, and trepidation creeps along my spine as I consider the implications. I know he wasn’t making idle threats when he said that his guests would be spitting in my mouth, and with my tongue trapped, there’ll be no way for me to swallow until the spit slides to the very back of my throat.

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