Page 30 of Penny for Your Saints

“Because I’m still fucking horny after he dosed me with that supressant melter,” I whine with kittenish need as I arch my back,lifting my breasts up and out of the water. My wrist tests the limits of the handcuff chain as I inconspicuously allow my conditioner saturated locks to slide over my raw wrist and the stainless steel cuff. I try my best not to wince as the slippery hair product seeps into the broken flesh, my eyes still locked with Caz’s through the mirror’s reflection as he eyes me hungrily.

“Believe me, I’d like to do something about it… but we all know how that would be likely to end up.” He scoffs a laugh—dragging his extended thumb across his throat in the universal motion for cutting one’s throat.

“Then why don’t you help me out, Cazzy.” I try out the nickname I’ve heard the others use, forcing a feeling of familiarity—of comfort.

Even though he’s only just begun to creep into motion, I can tell by the look in those icy blues—I’ve got him right where I want him.

“Then why don’t you help me out, Cazzy,” Louise purrs, her flawless body beneath the rippling surface of the bathwater like the promise of a water-lily-adorned-nymph, her fiery eyes boring into me from the crack’d reflection of the mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

“Yeah, and how do you figure that’s going to work?” I laugh, shifting uneasily as I rinse the last of the conditioner from her vibrant red hair.

“It could work any number of ways.” She bats her lashes at me coquettishly, leaning her head far enough back that I have to adjust myself not to get soaked by her dripping mane. “Why don’t you ditch those clothes and come soak with me?”

I can’t help myself. My eyes flit to the closed bathroom door, then to her handcuffed wrist laying limply against the rim of the tub.

“I’m so fucking tight and slick,” she whines, one of her hands disappearing between her legs as her eyelids droop, half hooded over her amorous gaze. “You don’t have to uncuff me to fuckme,” she moans with increasing desperation, levering her hips up and out of the water, her neat triangle of fiery pubic hair drawing my eyes.

“Jesus, those suppressant-melters were way more serious than we thought.” I struggle to swallow, wiping my dripping bathwater hands on my thighs—using every ounce of my willpower not to strip down and belly flop into the water on top of her.

“Did you like watching me give Daddy head?” she whimpers coyly, her eyes never leaving mine as she begins to stroke her own clit in slow, gentle circles—her pussy pulsing in the mirror as I watch her play with herself.

I don’t even realize I’m nodding in the affirmative, hand gripping my cock through my sweatpants until she lets out a satisfied little laugh.

“I wasn’t even doing my best work.” She purses her lips, letting her hips drop beneath the water once more. “If you need some convincing to put that hard cock inside me, why don’t you let me show you some of my skills?” Louise drags her middle finger from the slick petals of her cunt up her flat stomach, through the valley of her perfect breasts, up the point of her chin, to dip into her pursed lips.

Again, my eyes dart from the bathroom door to Louise’s handcuffed wrist guiltily. She’s not in heat, not even fully off her suppressants—but she’s already almost impossible to resist. It reminds me of the first time Quentin went into heat after I joined the Saints. I had been with men, women, and everything in between in my furious youth—but always other thetas like myself, occasionally an alpha or beta looking to hook up on KNTTR, never an omega or sigma—especially not in heat.

When Quentin had entered his heat—Frank, Seb, and I became like men possessed; none of us could keep our hands off of him for nearly a week. Seb and I had to take turns bringingeveryone food and water—since Frank and his knot were needed overtime.

Since sigmas are somewhere between an alpha and an omega in terms of their reproductive physiology; I can only imagine that one or both of Louise and Q going into heat would trigger the most unhinged of ruts in Frank.

With my mind wandering into dirty places, I shake off my reverie—my theta perfume cranking out at a high enough intensity that I can see it affecting Louise.

Her pupils, much like the night before, are so dilated that they nearly touch the rim of her cinnamon irises, her tongue lolling gently from her mouth as her lips part.

Ah shit.

I lost track of my own fucking fantasies and boner and now I’ve accidentally begun secreting the psychotropic scent that thetas are known and often hated for; Louise’s very consciousness glazed over by mind-altering perfume. While the ability is linked to our designation’s role in enhancing sensation, pleasure, and deep emotional connection while the pack is in the height of breeding and bonding activity; my very theta perfume is the major key ingredient to the “night-night juice” formula that Seb has developed for our use in both tranquilizer darts and also aerosolized knockout gas.

Another guilty pang as I remember our first night with Louise as our captive; her body still, save for the gentle rise and fall of her breath as she lay stretched on the ratty couch in the New York City safe house. Something about her delicate beauty in dreamlike stillness; a peace and perfection that could never be attained in waking life that is simply irresistible to me—Theta Prince of Slumber; King of Dreams.

While the others slept, I stroked myself hard and fast until I filled my empty palm; my seed like a cabochon of opal in the moonlight as I knelt beside her sleeping form.

Greedily, I licked every last drop from my palm, escaping to my own room down the hall before I submitted to my even more base desires while I still had enough self-control to keep from touching her.

Now she lays before me, like a glistening mermaid broken from the seafoam to swallow my soul; eyes a bottomless black as her mouth opens wide.

My body moves of its own accord, shuffling on my hands and knees to the side of the tub, pressing up into the full height of my kneel. My thumbs hook through the waistband of my sweats and boxer briefs as I free my erection; hard cock studded along the underside with the four silver barbells of my Jacob’s ladder, the gold 10 gauge ring of my prince Albert winking in the light.

“What a fun surprise!” Louise drawls through the haze of my theta perfume as she props herself at the edge of the bath—greedily taking me into her mouth.

Her mouth is like molten velvet around me, her tongue running up and over each rung of my Jacob’s ladder as she sucks me.

“Fuck,” I hiss as I reach down, gathering her dripping wet hair, holding it away from her face. She pulls me free from the suction of her lips, flicking the gold ring of my prince Albert as she looks up at me—our eye contact, deep and intense.

“I’m so tight, Cazzy,” she whines, her coppery brows knitting together as if in pain. “Won’t you please help me?” Louise whimpers, closing her mouth around my cock head and sucking until my eyes flutter closed from the weight of my pleasure.

“Please, I wanna cum so bad,” she mewls, sitting back on her heels, spreading her knees.

---