Page 19 of The Darkest Gift

"No," Mason replies, his voice tinged with amusement. "In fact, he was almost docile. It seems all that sensory deprivation has... softened his edges somewhat."

I hum thoughtfully, turning back to study Elijah's bound form. Now that Mason's mentioned it, I can see the subtle signs of consciousness—the slight tension in his muscles, the way his breathing isn't quite as deep and even as true sleep would produce.

"Interesting," I murmur, trailing a finger down Elijah's chest. He flinches at the unexpected touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips. "And here I thought we might need to work harder to break that stubborn will of his. And did you give him any water?"

Mason nods. "Just enough to keep him hydrated. We wouldn't want him passing out on us, after all."

My mind races with possibilities for our next move. It's the third day of our little game, and I want it to be memorable. Something that will push Elijah further into the depths of desire and frustration.

"I have an idea for today," I murmur, turning to face Mason fully. His eyes darken with interest as I outline my plan, his grin growing wider with each detail.

"Oh, that's deliciously cruel," he purrs when I finish. "I love it.”

We spend the next hour preparing, moving furniture and setting up the scene. By the time we're done, the bedroom has been transformed. Three wide, full-length mirrors now surround the St. Andrew's cross, positioned at angles that will allow Elijah to see every detail of what's about to unfold.

I slip into a sheer black negligee, the material barely there and leaving little to the imagination. Mason opts for tight black boxer briefs that cling to every curve and bulge. We're a study in contrasts—my pale skin and auburn hair against his olive complexion and dark features.

Finally, we're ready. Mason moves to remove Elijah's blindfold and earplugs while I position myself directly in front of him.

The moment Elijah's eyes adjust to the light, his gaze locks onto me. I watch as his pupils dilate, drinking in the sight of my barely-covered body. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I have to suppress a shiver of anticipation.

"Good morning, Elijah," I purr, my voice low and seductive. "Did you sleep well?"

He swallows hard, his throat working visibly. When he speaks, his voice is rough from disuse. "Like a baby," he rasps sarcastically.

Mason's lips curl into a predatory smile as he steps closer to Elijah, his voice a low rumble. "Now, now, pretty boy. No need for that tone. We have such delightful plans for you today."

He approaches slowly, like a shark sizing up its prey. His fingers trail lightly over Elijah's skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

"You see," Mason continues, his breath hot against Elijah's ear, "we thought we'd try a little... experiment. A twist on an old classic, if you will."

I watch as Elijah's body tenses, anticipation and wariness warring in his expression. Mason's grin widens, clearly enjoying the effect he's having.

"Have you ever heard of cuckolding, Elijah?" Mason asks, his tone conversational as if discussing the weather. "It's quite fascinating, really. The psychological dynamics at play... the mix of jealousy, arousal, and humiliation."

Elijah's jaw clenches, but he remains silent, clearly unsure where this is going. Mason continues letting his fingers ghost over Elijah's skin.

"Traditionally, it involves a man watching his wife with another man," Mason explains, his voice dropping to a seductivepurr. "Watching her writhe in pleasure, cry out in ecstasy... all while he's forced to simply observe, unable to participate."

He moves away from Elijah, circling me now, dark eyes gleaming with wicked intent. "But we're going to put our own little spin on it. You see, you're going to watch as I pleasure my wife. You'll have a front-row seat to every moan, every gasp, every shudder of her body as she comes apart under my hands and my cock."

Mason's hand slides possessively around my waist, pulling me flush against him. "And the best part? You'll be able to see everything. These mirrors will give you a perfect view from every angle. You won't be able to miss a single detail."

His other hand traces the curve of my breast through the sheer fabric of my negligee. "You'll see how her nipples harden under my touch, how her back arches as I slide inside her. You'll watch as her face contorts in pleasure, as she screams my name when she comes."

Elijah's breathing has quickened, his pupils dilated with a mix of arousal and frustration. Mason's smile is positively feral as he continues.

"And all the while, you'll be right here. Bound. Unable to touch. Unable to stroke that pretty cock of yours no matter how desperately you want to. You'll feel every throb, every ache, with no way to relieve it. It's going to be exquisite torture. And I'm going to savor every second of it.”

Elijah's eyes darken, both defiance and arousal swirling in their icy depths. Despite his compromised position, a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"If you really wanted to do cuckolding properly," he drawls, "then we should trade places, Blackwood."

The statement hangs in the air for a moment, electric and charged. I feel Mason stiffen slightly behind me, his fingersdigging slightly into my hip. But then he chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down my spine.

"Oh? And why is that, pretty boy?" Mason purrs, his voice deceptively soft.

Elijah's smirk widens, his gaze flicking between Mason and me. "Well, for starters that’s how cuckolding works, but I've already had the pleasure of fucking your wife. And from what I recall, she seemed to enjoy it quite thoroughly."

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