Page 19 of Their Cruel Love

He laughs and backs away, picks up the flogger and flicks it out for another round. The second woman watches, fascinated.

I am equally enthralled. I wake to the realization that Razor is behind me. He slips his hand past my hip and flattens it over my belly, then pulls me back into his body.

“Like that?” he asks then adds, when I’m slow to answer, “You answer me promptly when I ask, or I will be forced to test you like this.” His hand leaves my navel, cruises lower over the body stocking. I know where he is headed, and yet I do nothing. I only watch, throat closing in, as he reaches the hole in the fabric then slides his hand between my legs.

I close my eyes, holding my breath. His fingers have partially separated my folds, then one slips further, deeper, and almost penetrates me. Only his fingertip enters…teasing me as he nudges it in tiny circles.

He removes his hand, raises it. I stay where I am, resting against him, fully aware of his erection nestling into my spine.

I hear him suck his fingers, and I shiver. Where has this man been all my life?

“Your cunt is nicely wet. Good. Miss Dawkes, I’ll record that as ayes. Moving on.”

The four-letter label for that part of me is ridiculously shocking when said out loud, here.

A tall man to one side of us smiles at me and winks.

I stagger as Razor walks away, because I was leaning into him, then I follow, again.

Fuck.I’m not just screwed. I’m ready to lie down and lick this man’s feet…make that his boots, then grind myself on them until I come.

We tour the balcony, going from one group to another, and I guess there is enough happening up here to make downstairs unnecessary for my education. The slipperiness below leaks from me and smears the tops of my inner thighs.

Whippings, bondage, knives. I’m not sure where to look next. A woman is spread wide on her back on a square, human-sized footstool and she’s having her pussy lips sutured together. She’s alternating between wincing and screaming, while also having her nipples sucked. I’m horror-struck until one of the men kisses her. With her free hand—the other is tied beneath her—she wraps her fingers in his hair and kisses him back. Another suture is inserted, and she jerks but keeps kissing.

“That’s a no,” I blurt. My mouth and eyes stay open. This evil, intimate, sadistic operation is just bizarre, but I can’t look away.

“Is that an absolute truth?” Razor asks. Again, he’s behind me.

“I…”Is it?“I don’t know? That’s barbaric!”

“She’s not being irreparably hurt. It is a kink some have.”

I’m unconvinced. “Really?” I watch her writhe a little. The kiss goes on until he returns to engulfing her breast with his mouth, and she arches. Without meaning to, I have put my fingertips in my mouth and touched them with my tongue.

“A maybe then. Good.”

“My…what? Hell no, I didn’t mean that!” That exclamation of dissent has probably been heard, but we’re moving on.

We stop at the woman I saw previously, strapped facedown to the round table. She is still being played with. A woman is feeding her sips of wine while a man applies a vibe to her other end. They’ve stuck something inside her ass that’s tied to her hair.

“Anal hook,” Razor informs me, without being asked.

“Oh,” I whisper. “Mmm.”

“A yes then.”

He’s saying that too often, but I don’t have the guts to contradict him.

Somewhere deep inside me, a thought has been cruising like a small hungry shark. Iwantto be made to try things. It’s a whole new type of excitement.

We move on and on, and I’m overwhelmed but the idea that some of this could be done to me, without on-the-spot permission? Razor is probably right.

Throw me into the fire. I want to see if I can burn.

It’s insane, except people are happily doing it to each other.

Pony play. Puppy play. Those get a no. Kitten play, a yes. The balcony is a bacchanalian Pan celebration of every kink I’ve ever seen, and many more I never dreamed of, even in nightmares.

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