Page 18 of Their Cruel Love

Act…casual, I mockingly tell myself. As if.

My hips seem to sway more than is normal. This costume makes it easier to walk flirtatiously.

My nipples are rigid and rub into the stretchy fabric. This walk of filthiness is turning me on—being watched by men and women, by anyone who wishes to inspect me. My slippery arousal may be visible if they look closely.

I zero in on Brutus and try to identify the gleam of I-don’t-know-what in his eyes. Menace? Possessiveness? Pure lust? The skull mask hides his identity. His hair is thick and black, and I think he’s mid to late twenties but there are specks of gray.

I know him. I think I know him—my subconscious seems to nudge me toward this realization. I will somehow unmask him before this night ends.

They might fuck with me. They may actually fuck me. I’m rather praying it will be so. But I will see his face.

Then Brutus utters a word. One word. “Jesus.” A rather religious word for in here, but the rampant admiration pleases me. Then I know. It clicked into place.

I stare at him, at the skull mask that made him seem inhuman in the low light, outside, when they removed my blindfold.

I know who he is. He used to swear and alternate hisfuckswith hisJesusand hisGod.

He has changed quite a lot, but this is him…isn’t it? This man is heavier built.

Now I’m doubting again.

The only way to be certain is to remove the mask.

His CNC Fraternity name of Brutus is Roman and ancient in origin, the same as Marcus. It is exactly what he’d choose. It’s also allied to that somewhat intimidating word—brutal.

9

Phoebe

“Here.” Razor crooks his finger, and I go to him, automatically. I’m still unsure why giving up control and obeying his commands appeals and even turns me on. This little thrill races through me as I get close. It’s anathema to feminism but fits right in with my erotic fantasies.

I think it’s because I trust him not to abuse this? I’m still rolling that around in my head, when he pats his knee and says, “Sit here, face outward.”

Startled, I jerk to a halt and eye that knee then his face. While I was away in the restroom, he applied the dark eye make-up I’d previously seen, carefully drawing trails that go down to his cheeks. It’s as if he has cried black tears. It suits him, somehow, with that tousled gray-white hair to one side of his scalp while the other half is shaved short.

He’s waiting, patiently. I go to him and turn and sit on his thigh, aware that everything is escalating faster than I expected. This had better not be an ‘activity’. I’m so not ready. Only one layer of cloth is between my bared pussy and his skin. I’ll leave a damp spot on him.

Nervously, I survey the crowd. Most have gone back to their own proclivities, thank god.

“Good girl,” he says softly then circles my neck with something. I glimpse a black leather collar with blunt spikes with a little silver angel swinging from the front. He buckles it, then attaches a silver leash.

“Up now.”

I’m fucking collared and leashed, and it’s hard to breathe as I rise and follow him as he walks away. The leash sways, connecting me to his hand, the metal links gleam, and my clit is as hard as, well, as a clit can be.

Brutus stalks at my side, now and then studying me. Is he Marcus? I’m unsure again. If it is, he’s playing this anonymous act like it’s vital.

If it is him, he knows me. Yet neither man has said so. The possible reasons swirl, and I’m almost dreading finding out the answer. I wasn’t kind to him, back then, toward the end.

We half circle the balcony and stop near a small stage where two naked women are bound with their hands stretched high to a tall post. A man is flogging them both, alternating from one to the other. Their gasps, yelps, and moans are like music interspersed with the smack of the leather. Their backs and asses are striped and splotched with red. They teeter on the balls of their feet—it’s either that or let their bodyweight pull at their arms.

Between their butt cheeks a small diamante circle reflectsthe spotlight aimed at the stage. Butt plugs, of course. He steps in and pulls those almost out then fucks the toys back into the women, slowly. The posts are close enough that he can use a hand on each plug at the same time. Again and again, he worms them partially out then reinserts them.

“Soon,” he states, “I’ll be putting my cock in there.”

“No,” one of them whimpers, bowing her head against the post. “Please, no.”

“And you’re first, for daring to deny me.” He smacks her ass then bites her shoulder. She shudders but when he yanks her backward onto him, she squirms her ass into the bulge at his groin, grinding on him. Her mouth falls open, her eyes shut, and he bites her neck then walks more bites down her back. When he reaches her ass, she’s groaning, and her legs are spread, on full tiptoe inviting more.

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