Page 63 of Cruel Master
Christ, I’d almost forgotten. “Yes, Master.”
“That’s better. Now, let’s get you into this seat properly.”
I watch as he heads to the cabinet and retrieves a bottle of lube. It looks like a normal one, thank fuck. I should be grateful for small mercies. My face heats as he orders, “Lift up your ass, and I’ll get these inside you.”
Said as matter-of-fact as if we’re assembling kit furniture. I do as I’m told, and he wastes no time, inserting first one, then two lubed-up fingers into my ass before following up with the dildo. It must detach from the seat, giving him freedom to arrange it how he likes.
It’s not a butt plug shaped to give relief once it’s all the way in. This one is wider at the base than the tip, and I feel every inch of the fucking thing as he works it into me. Once my ass is screaming with the stretch, he moves on to the second dildo. He rubs his fingers over my entrance fist and looks up at me with a smirk on his face.
“I don’t need the lube there. You’re soaking wet.”
Am I? Fuck. He’s proved right when the large dildo slides in easily. I hover, adjusting to the two competing pressures, until he grips my hips in his hands and pushes me down onto the seat.
Holy. Fuck.
If I felt like I was being split in two before, it’s a million times more intense with my weight ramming both the dildos hard into me. He wraps a restraint tight around my hips, removing the option for me to lift my ass to relieve the pressure, then quickly secures my legs into the leg restraints.
I squeak as he spreads my legs wide apart.
The chair is covered in restraints, and by the time he’s done securing them all, I’m wrapped like a mummy. I can’t move an inch in any direction, and the pressure in my ass grows more intense by the second. I’m impaled. How long is he planning to keep me in this thing? It can’t be long. Surely.
That hope fades when he fetches a cup of cold water from the stream and presses it to my lips. “Drink. It’s your last chance for a while.”
A while? How long is a fucking while? I’m dying to ask him, but he told me not to speak, and breaking that rule feels like a very, very bad idea. It’s sinking in more with every heartbeat that this Hadrian isn’t to be messed with. He’s Saldar, and Saldar is him. I wouldn’t have acted like I just did to Saldar in a million years.
Shit.
I sip the water. Good thing I used the bathroom not long before Hadrian arrived. Did he know that? Was he waiting for it? Well, that’s a gross thought. But I bet it’s accurate. He sets the glass down, then fiddles with the headrest, lowering it so my head sits snugly into the divot. Is everything on this chair moveable?
When he picks up the face restraint, complete with its rubber addition, I start to shake. I don’t want that wrapped around my face, trapping me. Especially not with a cock down my throat. Will I be able to breathe? It doesn’t look huge, but I bet it’ll feel different when it’s strapped to my face.
“Open up, doll.”
I hesitate, then obey. Hadrian gives a tiny, satisfied nod at my obedience, then presses the rubber cock into my throat. It’s not big enough to make me gag, thank fuck, but it’s such a weird, intrusive pressure that I instinctively press my head against the headrest, trying to escape.
But there’s nowhere to go.
Hadrian secures the thick restraint around my head, and I’m trapped. I thought I understood what that word meant before, but I didn’t have a clue. I can’t move a fraction of an inch. Thepressure in my ass, pussy, and throat is already driving me mad, and I can’t do anything to lessen it.
I draw in ragged breaths through my nose as panic creeps over me, making me twitch against the restraints.
Trapped. Stuck. Immobile.
Hadrian’s eyes lock with mine, and I try to plead with him silently. I can’t stand this. It’s too much. Surely he’ll relent?
Instead, he gives me the sadistic smile that looks more at home on his face every time I see it. “Don’t look at me like that, doll. I’m just getting started.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hadrian
I can’t tell where Saldar finishes and I start. Since I took Juliet, I’ve been living a double life, and while it hasn’t felt as much like playing a role as I expected it to, I’ve certainly felt like two different people. Now, it’s all me, and it feels so, so good.
It’s all me.
She’s all mine.
That chair will get uncomfortable quickly, but I’m not finished yet. She needs to understand I’m as ruthless as Saldar was. I’m glad she rebelled a little; it gave me the excuse I needed to put my foot down.
