The Hot Brothers Ch. 10

I got all dark and brooding and then 360ed to cuddy with the heir...yeah, he's needing a bit of a rewrite ATM. Here's another of these silly chapters. I have no F-ing clue where exactly this is headed aside from bizarre adventure, feel free to rant if you so desire.

The dooming punishment device awaited me like a miniature pummel horse. Swiftly leaving it, John returned to the couch, raising the seat to reveal the underside could tilt upward and held an assortment of punishment devices. Floggers included.

I took the three steps to the bench, hopeful John wouldn't reach for the flogger, narrow black paddle or the short cane. If he chose nothing but decided to use his hand, I would be relieved.

He didn't even have to ask me to bend onto it. I already knew to. I also knew to spread my legs until my outer ankles were against the poles.

Caleb quickly responded to that and connected their fasteners into outward bulges of metal from small rings at the bottoms of the metal poles.

John waited, watching me in the position. It wasn't long enough for me to rest my head anywhere, but I wasn't going to complain since this became something very real to life. My new life, at least for now. And nothing like the dark reads where I could imagine myself in a similar position splayed before some sexy stranger in all black who planned to thoroughly ravish me. If only he'd been wearing a suit to make him one of those billionaires who purchased me to be his ruled over, well-behaved wife.

He still looked as delicious as sin as he arrogantly sauntered my way with a black paddle as his weapon of pain. Of course I didn't want this, but as that realization became certain, both my ankles were already cuffed and connected to the bottoms of the poles.

I struggled to say his name. "J--Joh"

His eyes narrowed, silencing my stutter.

Don't speak. Oh, the books did this so much better in the safety of my home or in the dark as my phone screen let me live these moments. But now...

He reached for my neck, pulling from the bench, which extended a small, cushioned length, which he twisted sideways and raised a few inches and clicked into place as a rest for my chin.

I submitted and looked downward to the floor with my chin pressed to it. Maybe if I said nothing else and behaved like a good bit of property, the pain wouldn't come.

Vampires. Think about vampires. Love the things they would do to me. The way they could run cool hands over my back--

John grabbed one of my cuffed wrists and ungently brought it to the bottom side of the chin rest, snapping it into place before doing the same with the other wrist.

Pressure teased at my slit all the while. My imagination or Caleb?

I sucked in a breath of relief. He easily made being owned feel like fantasy. And the warmth of him. The gentleness of the strokes that easily found more moisture than should have been possible.

"Oh, baby girl, you are so turned on right now." Caleb kissed the back of my thigh as the pads of his fingers teased my most pleasurous spot. Just me and him. A man who wanted to indulge my darkest desires--

"This is punishment!" John snapped.

"Mmmm-hmmm." Caleb's hum trailed up my inner leg; his tongue replacing the fingers that had felt so marvelous.

Just me and Caleb. Just Caleb here to sate my desire. Oh God, did his warm tongue feel amazing as it lapped against me, bringing my every muscle to relax. He was the viking who planned to make me his for the remainder of my life. To be forever at the mercy of his insatiable desire to worship my desire for him.

It must have been the paddle John held that landed on my shoulder and slowly dragged along my spine consistent with his slow steps at my left.

Just Caleb. Or maybe Caleb biding his time to please me before defeating the villain readying to break us apart. What was John but the antagonist who would block all joy just as he'd blocked my orgasm earlier. The one eager to take away the gratification Caleb most certainly promised.

Caleb didn't have concern in the least. His lips wrapped the bundle of nerves, maybe in response to my slight rocking that bid him to angle more as I felt the ache continue to rise. The need to find release slowly teasing its way to the surface.

As my need built, the weight of the paddle rested on my lower back. Thankfully this let me enjoy Caleb's efforts to please me all the more knowing that device was no longer a threat.

A fingertip twirled around my left nipple, warm and moist, creating the sort of tingle that rapidly fueled the building orgasm. Caleb's ability to satisfy a captive woman rivaled any creature or being I'd fantasized about--and the dark desires were shamefully more numerous than I cared to admit.

A mix between a moan and whimper escaped me as he slowed the teasing motions of his tongue.

"I want you to know something, slave." John knelt beside me, forcing my awareness to his finger that still twirled my areola.

My wide eyes stared downward, but I could also see much of his crouching form in my periphery. At least he continued the gentle touches that accompanied Caleb's dedication to my pleasure.

"My baby brother doesn't want to cause you pain, so he knows the importance of not bringing that sweet blissful release you are so desperate for." His voice raised as he continued, "Right, brother?"

Caleb's mouth lowered.

No, no. no. Let me be punished. Don't stop after bringing me so close. I needed this release after all I'd been through. I needed my brooding male willing to make me feel good even if it cost me dearly.

Fuck John. he could go be an asshole somewhere else. "Caleb," I whimpered.

"Hmmmmm baby girl?" Caleb's wet lips tickled my inner thigh, kissing and blowing warmth against me. "You know I want to keep you happy." He nipped my leg.

"Go help navigate out of this hell-hole." John's order was followed by the departure of Caleb's touch and, most certainly, him leaving. So, the Alpha John had his loyal beta. But Alphas could be challenged, especially when an omega suffered the tyrannical Alpha's abuses.

The throb between my legs didn't subside, not with the way this Alphahole continued to toy with my breast. Torment. The sort of wrongness against a damsel that Caleb wouldn't tolerate forever. Of course, right now, John happened to be the only hope for relieving me of this desperation for an orgasm.

I panted, desperate for more than simple teases to my nipple. "Please John."

Had I resorted to begging? Abso-fucking-lutely. Would it work? Every passing second made me a bit more fearful. Especially when he stole his massaging fingers from my sensitive breast.

He huffed. His timbre had a sadistic husk. "What sort of Master would I be if I didn't correct your misdeeds." The weight of the paddle lifted from my lower back. His voice hardened a bit. "Every single one of them." It felt as though the music I'd tuned out increased, though maybe this more sinister tempo began to resonate with me. "Including your disrespectful way of addressing me."

This was the part that could have any girl panting long past her normal waking hours. And John was the sort of dark and dominating man who could rile a needy woman's core to the point of no return. Ebbing with a most warning sound of whatever classical piece played. But not like this. I couldn't desire this to truly occur. Not when certain pain stalked with intent to add angst to this slowly unfolding horror.

I tilted my head up and looked over my shoulder to the towering Alpha who stroked a fingertip over the edge of the paddle he studied. He shifted his shoulders with a notable hitch. The same sort of hitch of a man about to beckon his cello into position before playing. A flash of him in his suit took hold in my mind. He'd looked amazing in that suit. And the only thing sexier than a man in a suit is a man whose fingers are caressing a cello.

"Do you...play?" I breathed. Was I biding time? Or did he drag out a sort of hunger I'd never gotten to feast upon in all my fantasies.

His eyes narrowed, and the tip of his forefinger outlined the rounded end of his paddle again.

"Sir." He'd claimed I showed disrespect, so, maybe, better address would pacify him.

No such luck. His expression didn't calm, and he reared back with the cruel device of punishment. How convenient the moment came at the brink of crescendo.

"Master." I began to squirm against the restraints holding me in place, futile though I knew it to be. I would call him whatever the fuck he wanted. "God!"

Doom. That was all I heard and saw and sensed. A black paddle lashing out at my sensitive rear. It seemed as though he timed it perfectly so the sound and fiery pain collided with the cruel beat that came from every direction.

"Sir will suffice." His blazing eyes met mine. In truth, he looked very much a demon in hell's destructive glow. But did the devil himself harness such love of melody? The sort of love that had him strumming the end of the paddle before the innately natural moment of melodic despair to raise the instrument of my suffering again.

I quivered through the radiating agony. "The cello...Sir."

A pause. The hesitation forced him to miss his moment. Only seconds left before he might strike.

"Play...do..." I struggled for a dreadful breath. Fearful of his next strike. "...do you play?"

His tongue roved side to side over his lower lip as thoughts played on his expression. Now it seemed as though even his breath held attunement to the strings that quaked the air.

Music calmed him. Canon in D, every cellist loved that one. The flow and adoration within it. The love and hope. The way it made flowers appear brighter and smell sweeter.

"Canon in D, Sir." It didn't take a book for me to fantasize about a groomsman as the piece began to play. Not that a florist could ever actively fraternize with the guests. We were to be invisible, making my capture all the more fun. Unnotable, shy, helpless to even hear the steps from behind as I hummed to the melody. A hand covering my mouth as I was dragged into a dark corner or closet. Ravished passionately to one of the most romantic songs in existence. Always to remember the event every time I heard the musical piece.

Embarrassed when I stumbled out disheveled after having attempted to gain my composure. My trembling legs would lead me out into a world of men in tuxes, and I may not even know which one had me. I might only know by the brooding and arrogant stance of a smug male across the room.

But for it to be a performing cellist himself to be the one to have his way with me--

Pain. Fiery-hot, popping loud as though a canon blast. My focus blurred. I couldn't see. I couldn't think. I only felt the torment of the paddle that landed. A second, and then a third, and then a fourth time.

My cries didn't even sound as though they were my own. They seemed distant, like the woman who'd been dragged away into a closet, coming from somewhere. Muffled.

"I looked forward to hearing you cry every moment I spent sound-proofing this dungeon."

Had he just spoken?

Happy place. Happy place. Where the fuck was my happy place.

Another powerful smack landed on my already cruelly victimized backside.

"And I warned you that you wouldn't be thinking of anyone but me." He lashed out at me with the paddle several more times until the ache radiated down the backs of my thighs.

Even if I could have come up with words, I couldn't speak through the rolling sobs. I couldn't see through the pinkish blur of my fat tears. So help me god, I would never read another dark romance for the rest of my life. If I escaped this asshole, I'd just suffer the miserable boredom of whatever clean crappy literature flashed before my eyes in the ads.

"Do I have your attention yet?"