Tales from Arondell: Sodom - Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Isabella Darian

I'm woken by a loud banging on the door. Please, let me sleep. I groan feebly and crack open my eyes. Gray late morning light filters through the curtains, bathing the spacious bedroom. My eyes snap open fully, and I spring out of bed; nearly tripping over the blankets in the process. By the Goddess! What time is it? I haven't slept in too late, have I? The banging continues, jarring my nerves.

"Wake up, sleepy-head." Calls Lannie, her sing-song voice muffled by the door.

"Get out of bed!" Laughs Nadia. "It's past ten thirty."

Is is really that late already? I glance at the clock, and gulp. Shit, it is too. I fling on a dressing gown, shove my feet into the slippers beside the bed, and run to let my friends in. Goodness, had I been this tardy in the Darian household, Sinah... Sinah would've flayed me alive!

Forcing down my anxiety, I open the door. I don't want to think about why I've slept in so late. My cheeks burn at the sudden flash of memory. Dusk is the first to trot into the room, tail wagging and his tongue lolling from his maw. His grey fur is scruffy and covered in what looks like dirt or soot, and a few prickles. Where have you been? I raise an eyebrow as the Fairy Wolf jumps on the nearest lounge, and sprawls across the floral cushions.

I don't get much of a chance to ponder Dusk's activities as the girls, freshly bathed, rush through the door and fling their arms around me.

"Good morning Aunty Bella." Danu hugs me tight.

"Belly-belly." Brigit giggles, mimicking her older sister by clinging to my leg.

I beam down at them. Honestly, what's better than this? "Good morning to you too." I kneel to cuddle both girls, and let them go again. They hurry off – Danu taking her little sister's hand – and plonk themselves down in front of the fireplace. Dusk watches them from his perch, his fluffy head resting upon his paws, and yawns. You lazy old boy.

"So you slept well then?" Lannie winks as she and her sister-in-law open the windows, and the second set of heavy pastel curtains. Wide shafts of pale sunlight spill across the beige carpet.

Hardly. I blink against the glare, and make the bed. It's nothing I want to talk about, either...

While Nadia disappears into the bathroom, and the girls amuse themselves with wooden toys on the rug, Lannie rifles through the wardrobe; flinging various outfits across the bed. Some of the garments I recognise, but the rest are designer brands, both luxurious and expensive. Gifts from the Gaffer.

I pick up the rag bunny, and play with its ears for a moment. "Uh, Lannie..? What are you doing?" I can dress myself, you know.

"Choosing something for you to wear, silly."

I frown at her. "I can see that." I put the bunny down, and fold my arms. "But why?"

"Zaenack will be here shortly."

"Oh." I mumble, my heart sinking, because of last night's rude discovery. If only I knew sooner, I wouldn't have invested so much of my heart in him. Then again, even if I did know, I think I would've fallen for him anyway. I sigh.

"You don't sound too happy about that." Lannie drops to her knees, and starts digging around in the bottom of the closet.

I don't know what I am at the moment. I sigh again, but I'm careful to keep the thought to myself. If I didn't, Lannie would hound me with too many questions. If she doesn't know the truth about her brother-in-law...

"Well, even if you aren't, for whatever reason, he and Mister Scarlett want you to join them for lunch." She continues, still buried in the closet. "And the Gaffer won't take no for an... Ouch!" Lannie bangs her head as she backs out, dropping a pair of white leather kitten heels on the carpet.

Immediately, I leap to her aid, and kneel beside my grimacing friend. "Lannie, are you..."

"Never mind me." She rubs her head, and flaps me away. "Go have your shower. Zaenack will be here in half an hour."
 

By the time I'm finished in the bathroom, Nadia and the girls have cleared off, leaving Lannie alone to her task: Putting all of that clothing away. Even Dusk makes himself scarce, probably to chase a stray cat or other dogs, as he usually does in the morning. I shake my head as I step out of the steamy room and dry my hair.

A beautiful ivory blouse, with a cream camisole, high-waisted tweed pencil skirt, and a short, soft jacket, wait for me on the bed. Beside them lie the shoes that caused Lannie to bang her head.

These are gorgeous. I run my hands over the garments, marvelling at their cut and quality, the softness of the wool and cashmere, and the smoothness of the silk.

I've never worn silk before. I blush. To think that a complete stranger has given me these.

"Get dressed. You've got ten minutes," Lannie says, while hanging up a sheer white silk and lace night-gown.

What's with all the white anyway? I frown.

"Oh! I just remembered." Lannie backs up to the dressing table, and returns with a flat, brown cardboard box. A piece of jute string, tied in a neat bow, holds the lid in place. "This is for you."

"But it's not my birthday yet." Reluctantly, I take the box from her.

"Does it have to be?" Lannie smiles innocently. "Go on. Open it."

I hesitate, still clutching the light package. “I guess not.” Although I know my time is running out, I still check the package for a gift tag, or anything else that might tell me who it's from. Alas, I find nothing. Damn it.

"If you must know." Lannie hangs up an elegant royal blue fish-tail dress. "It's from Zaenack."

Oh. I bite my lip, taken aback after everything I've learned, and tear open the parcel with shaking fingers. I don't know what to expect, but surely this is a good thing. Right?

Inside, amidst the fine pink layers of tissue paper, I find a folded white bra with matching frilly knickers, suspender belt and lace topped stockings. A ribbon bow and plastic jewel adorns the waist-band of the panties, and nestles between the small cups of the new bra.

My mouth dries up and my heart starts to flutter, matching the agitated movements of my wings. Underwear? He's given me... Underwear? What on Arondell is he trying to tell me with this? Unable – or unwilling – to comprehend the implications, I lift the lingerie out of the box, and nervously finger the fine silk. It's so soft and delicate. They'll be a pleasure to wear – of that I have no doubt – especially the bra and the panties, once they start to rub my secret parts.

I blush again. These must've cost him a fortune... More than he could ever afford. "They're... Gorgeous," I whisper in a tight voice, and wet my lips. My fingers tremble again as I stroke the bra, afraid that it might fall apart in my hands. It's so thin and fragile. It looks like it's sheer!

Lannie sits down beside me, amidst the remaining clothing. She has a stupid grin on her face. "They're your size, too." She winks at me. "Now hurry up and put them on."

"What?" I gasp in disbelief, feeling my face turn red. But Lannie's serious. I see it in her twinkling hazel eyes. I have to put a stop to this. Now. "No! I'm not... I can't wear these!" I protest, shaking the bra for emphasis.

"Why not?" Lannie says simply, still smiling.

"Because they're... They're too seductive! They'll give him the wrong idea..." It's a stretch of course. The only way he'll know is if I show him, and that's not happening.

"Only if you show him." Lannie's pale pink lips curl into a mischievous grin.

"Lannie!" I gasp, my mouth popping open. "I can't believe you just said..."

A loud, singular knocking sounds from the bedroom door. Who is it now?

"Isabella? Are you ready yet?" Zaenack calls from the other side.

Shit. I freeze, naked except for my bathrobe, and the underwear on my lap. What if he opens that door and sees me like this..? My heart races, my wings beat the air behind me, and my cheeks burn.

"Just a few more minutes Zae." Lannie winks again. "She's trying everything on."

"Larenna Caine!" I gasp, mortified beyond words. My friend merely laughs and shoves me back into the bathroom, with the bundled clothes and sexy new underwear...
 

I fidget outside the dining room, and step back as the door swings open. I blink, half expecting to see Zaenack. But instead I face Mister Scarlett's immaculate silhouette. Oh my.

Like yesterday, he's dressed in red and black. But today he wears a spotless charcoal silk cravat wrapped around his tall carmine collar and tucked into his tailored ebony waistcoat. Pleated black trousers, and polished leather shoes complete his elegant ensemble. But most striking of all he's wearing make-up. It softens his deep scarring, and accentuates his high cheek-bones. A careful blend of silver and crimson covers his eyelids, and he's painted his manicured nails the same shade as his plump, pierced lips; a rich matte ebony.

The effect, although it alarms me, does strange things to my heart, making me catch my breath. He really is impressive.

"Good morning Miss Darian." Mister Scarlett flicks back his jagged red fringe, and smiles down at me. That grin, with his sharp white teeth, would be predatory but I've seen and heard of stranger things since my arrival in Sodom. The Phages and The Weep are just two of those things.

"I trust you slept well?" He leans close, resting his long-fingered hand upon the door frame and I catch a whiff of his cologne: Fresh, sweet, and heady, like jasmine. Only stronger...

Oh my. He smells divine. I find myself helplessly inching closer to him, drawn by his scent. I've always liked the richer blooms, the wild roses and orchids of Shadowstone Forest being my favourite. But they're so hard to come by, and few pretty things grow in the Crater City.

I could drink in his fragrance, and bathe in it for hours... I smile, biting my lip and sigh in pleasure.

Isabella Darian! That voice in my head sounds alarmingly like my mother, and it snaps me out of my daze. What are you doing? Step away from the man! It's unbecoming.

Goodness! I blush and jerk away from Mister Scarlett. What on Arondell is happening to me? I press my hand to my forehead. No. I'm not coming down with anything. I think it's just the smell getting to me. Reminds me too much of home.

"Uh, yes. Well enough... Thank you, Mister Scarlett," I mumble and stare at my shoes. It's not a total lie. When I did sleep, it was restful enough. But somehow, something about him warns I shouldn't tell him the truth. I wonder why?

"I'm glad to hear that." Mister Scarlett's deep, gravelly voice is warm and a little soothing. "But please, call me Nathanael."

Blushing again, I shake my head. I don't always show it, but my mother and father raised me with good manners. Addressing a stranger – especially one higher up on the social ladder – by their first name is just bad taste. "I'm sorry Mister Scarlett. But I don't-" I glance up at him.

"I insist.” He smiles at me. “Too few people address me by my first name. And I like to hear it." He takes my hands into his, and strokes them with his thumbs.

I gasp. The same delightful shock passes through me, from my scalp to my toes, and this time it does more than make my skin tingle. My wings quiver, my belly flutters, and my nipples tighten beneath my silky bra.

No! Alarmed, I pull away. But he holds fast and guides me to the table. There a sumptuous feast, fit for a family of seven, waits for us.

Everything, from the fine porcelain table wear, to the crystal glasses and jugs, polished candlesticks, silver cutlery, serving platters, and a striped blue teapot gleams in the firelight. It's too extravagant and intimate for a simple lunch for three, and it makes me wonder: who is he trying to impress?   

“Come. Sit and dine with me, my dear. Zaenack will join us shortly.”

I'm sure he will. Uncertain, my eyes flick about as I wobble on the kitten heels, nearly losing my footing on the thick carpet. If I keep this up, I'm going to twist my ankle and fall over.

But Mister Scarlett's hands are there to steady me; one on my wrist, and the other nestling in the small of my back. Warmth floods my body again, those parts beneath his fingers breaking out in goosebumps. My wings tremble, simply because the strange contact feels so good.

As soon as he sits me at the table, I sigh in relief. Yes, I know it's rude and I could be offending him, but... I can't let a stranger make me feel such things. Especially when, without his touch, I want it back. Gaia, why am I reacting this way? I touch my forehead again. I do feel warmer than usual, but that's probably because thee room's heated.

“Is something the matter, my dear?” Mister Scarlett asks pleasantly enough, taking his seat at the head of the table, and folds a napkin over his cravat. “You're not ill, are you?” He pours himself a glass of wine, and fills my tumbler with milk. He doesn't even offer me wine; which isn't entirely a bad thing, since I've never had any alcohol in my life.

I shake my head, and fiddle with the cutlery in front of me. There are more knives, forks and spoons than I've ever been taught to use: another stab at my lack of good manners?

Graciously, I accept the tumbler and take a sip. My fingers are shaking. Great. Just great. I put the glass down before I drop it, or slop its contents all over myself; and the outfit that probably costs more than Zaenack earns in a week. Don't think about Zaenack. I close my eyes and groan. Not after last night...

"Well, even if you're ill." Mister Scarlett takes my plate, and dishes up generous servings of roast beef, and winter vegetables, and drizzles the lot with gravy. I can't help but lick my lips. The food looks and smells so good. "Eat up. Zaenack's told me a lot about you, so I know your family never fed you well." He sets the steaming meal down in front of me.

No. They didn't. I hang my head. Delicious steam fills my nostrils, and I nearly salivate. I can't resist it for long, and soon I'm shovelling great forkfuls into my mouth, and slopping gravy on my chin. I'm such a pig. In my haste, I forgot to put on a napkin, but I'm lucky because I don't dribble all over myself, and ruin the expensive silk blouse.

Mister Scarlett sips his wine, and watches me with amusement in his eyes. "So, tell me, Miss Darian," He lowers his glass, and steeples his fingers. He hasn't even filled his own plate yet. Maybe he's not hungry? My belly growls, demanding more food, until I satiate it with a few more bites of roast potato.

"Before I give you a tour of my home," In the firelight his intense blue eyes flash and his smile widens, revealing his shark-like teeth again. "What do you want most in life?"

Uh... What? I gulp, nearly choking on a piece of pumpkin, and wash it down with half of my milk. Unless I'm mistaken, both his gaze and his tone suggests he already knows what I want most. But... But that isn't possible! Not without...

A door creaks open, interrupting us, and something on squeaky wheels rolls into the dining room.

I sigh and sag in my chair. Thank you sweet Mother Gaia! I really didn't want to answer that question.

Mister Scarlett scowls, lowering his hands, and snatches up his wineglass. "Well, Miss Darian." He huffs. "You'd be pleased to know your dear friend Zaenack has joined us." His tone is sharp and cutting, and he swills half of his wine.

I frown. Why is he so upset? Surely not knowing what I want can't be that bad? Honestly, why would he care? He doesn't know me, or owe me anything...

"Bring the dessert cart here, my Love.” He purses his lips. “And be sure to refill the Lady's glass."

My love...? My eyes widen in shock, as the memories from last night finally click into place. Zaenack..? My Gods... "He... He's... Yours?" I stammer, dropping my fork. It falls on my plate with a tinkling clatter. I can scarcely believe what I just heard, because it's just so... unexpected. I mean, sure, Zae's taken and he likes men, but...

“He is.” Mister Scarlett twists his plump lips into an ugly smirk. But it's only brief. His eyes turn cold, like blue rime ice. "I gave you an order, my Love." He signals to the patch of carpet before him. "Bring the cart here, and be quick about it." He snaps, and I flinch. Oh Zaenack... Why?

"Yes..." Comes the startling, humbled reply. “Master.”

Master... My heart and my gut sink. I can't move or think. It's just like last night, when I heard his pleas and his panting through the wall, only now it's much worse. Now I know who owns him. Now I can see him as he truly is, and there's no walls or shadows to hide behind. It's clear, undeniable, staring at me. No. I don't want to see this. I can't... But my head turns as the shuffling steps, and the squeaky wheels approach. The linen draped dessert cart rolls into view, and there he is.

Zaenack. The man I love. A slave who deceived me. Whom I still love with every fibre of my being, as hard as that is to believe. He hangs his head but he can't hide his red face, nor the black leather collar around his neck. And that's about all he's wearing.

Oh my... He's... Naked? My face flushes, and butterflies fill my stomach. But despite my rising horror, I'm drawn by an irresistible curiosity, and I look at him; truly look at him.

My heart stops beating. Words can't begin to describe how incredible he looks.

Oh my... Oh my... I moan. Unchecked, and unbidden, my lust for him sweeps through me. With trembling fingers I touch my breast, and the wild pounding of my heart. I lick my lips – my mouth is so dry – and my traitorous gaze drinks him in. From head to toe Zae's impeccably groomed. No surprises there. But he has pierced nipples, rouged and adorned with glittering silver rings. Curious red markings, like a coil of razor-wire, surround his left areola.

What an odd spot for a tattoo. I chew my lower lip, and resume my shameless appraisal of him. Trimmed mahogany fur covers his solid chest and soft stomach, dragging my gaze to his deep belly button, which is also pierced, and tattooed with the silver Chaos Eye.

For a moment my breath catches in my throat. Do I dare look lower?

My blush deepens, spreading from my face to my neck, and my heaving breasts. My nipples, already hard and tingling, rub the silky insides of my bra. Yes... Oh, yes, please. Do it. Look at him. My hot, shamed eyes brazenly dip from his belly to his strong sculpted thighs. So he isn't completely naked, but he might as well be.

He's wearing tight black leather chaps, attached to a broad belt around his waist... and a supple leather sheath covers his hard cock, leaving his balls and ass exposed.

Goodness! He's hairless down there! I cover my mouth with my hands, trying to stifle my little squeak. But that's not all. Near as I can tell, his organ is perfectly shaped; about the right size. Oh, he'll feel so good buried inside me.

My breath hitches, escaping my lips in short needy gasps, and I squirm on my chair. I'm like a bitch in heat; I'm so hot and wet already. I have to squeeze my thighs together, and tame my pulsing blossom.

Whatever you do, Zae. I silently plead. Don't take that thing off. I don't know what I'll do if he does. Assuming his Master doesn't stop me, that is...

Zaenack kneels before Mister Scarlett, legs spread, hands behind his head, and eyes down, like any well-trained and beloved pet. His face is redder than mine, his blushes spreading to his ears and neck.

Oh, Zae... I'll give anything to kiss you.

Appalled, I clap my hand over my mouth again. What am I thinking? I can't take advantage of him! This is Zae! I love him. He's not a piece of meat. Besides, he'll be the one who kisses me! Only the man – or whores – make the first move.

"Good boy." Mister Scarlett purrs, and pats him on the head.

I cringe. How can he do that? Zae's not a dog!

"Now refill the Lady's glass... And give her a kiss." He adds with a sly wink. "I think she likes you." His eyes crinkle at the corners, betraying his inner laughter.

“You cad!” I cry out in horror, although I'm not the only one who can't stay calm and in control. Zaenack also has trouble breathing, and he's shaking uncontrollably.

"Master, if it would please You," The excitement in his voice is unmistakeable, "where shall I kiss her?"

No! My mind cries out, even as my heart races, and my throat closes over. This is not happening... Yet I remain firmly rooted to my seat, anxious to see what will happen next.

Mister Scarlett trails a black nail over his lower lip. “Where do you think you should kiss her, my Love?” He smirks, his bold blue gaze holding mine. “Miss Darian is my guest. She deserves the proper respect, no?” His grin widens, flashing his shark-like teeth.

You bastard! I squeak. But it isn't over yet. After kissing his Master's shoes, Zaenack scoots to me on his knees and refills my glass. Then he ducks under the table.

Zae, please. You don't have to do this. My face flares up and my pulse quickens. I squeeze my thighs together, all too aware of the heat – the bitter-sweet ache – radiating from my dewy orchid.

Mister Scarlett doesn't even have the decency to hide his smile, nor the amusement in his eyes. Does he honestly think this is funny, watching me squirm and struggle to tug my skirt down? Of course, the stiff tweed can't be pulled down any further. Not without busting the zip. Then I'll be in deeper trouble, and judging by Mister Scarlett's perverted grin and torrid eyes this is what he wanted all along.  

To my growing alarm Zaenack's gentle hands cup my dainty foot, and slips off the leather shoe. Please, don't listen to him, Zae. I don't want you to do this.

I grip my seat with both hands and close my eyes, just to shut out Mister Scarlett's smug gaze, and the mortifying position of the man I love. Of course there's no way he can hear my silent plea. Even if he does, it seems he cares more for his Master than he does for me.

This isn't fair. I whimper. Why can't I have Zae? As though to mock me, his soft lips touch the white silk covering my toes and a strange current of pleasure ripples through me.

I bite my lip, drawing blood, denying my depraved reaction to him. All because his mouth brushes my skin with the same tender hesitation as our first kiss. Then he replaces my shoe and repeats the gesture with my other foot. But he doesn't stop there. His erotic caress – with a hint of his tongue – strokes my stocking from ankle to knee, making me open my legs for him against my will and better judgement.

"Zaenack Caine." I gasp, over the roar of blood and the pounding of my heart in my head. "What... What're you doing?" I snap my legs shut, although deep down I don't want to, and he wrenches them open again, making me whimper in excitement.

No sooner than his lips touch my inner thigh, searing the delicate skin through my stocking, all further thoughts to resist flee from my mind.

His mouth is so warm and wet. He works his way up at a delicious pace, moaning as he nips and kisses me; raising goosebumps and making me quiver. My thighs spread wider of their own accord, and this time I wiggle closer to him. My blossom throbs, and my nipples ache in anticipation, rubbing against my bra with every breath. Will he take my panties off, or should I do that?

Panting and biting my lip, I make a reckless decision: I lift my bottom off the chair, long enough to squirm out of my knickers, and let Zaenack slide them down all the way. My orchid becomes hotter, wetter with each passing second, and my heady scent tickles my nares. I hope he likes the smell and taste of me.

Zae's moist lips touch me, at the crease where my crotch meets my thigh, and finally brushes the wild red thatch crowning my labia. Ooooh yes. This is really happening. I arch my back and lift my leg, bracing my foot on the table. But as much as I want to, I can't look at him. Not as he kisses me in the most intimate place imaginable.

Zaenack presses his nose into my slippery folds, and I cry out as he breathes in my potent scent.

“Oh baby... You smell wonderful.” He growls. It's the most exciting thing I've ever heard, telling me in no uncertain terms he wants me, regardless of his Master's commands.

“Yes. Do it, Zae. Please,” I pant. I can't believe I'm begging for this, and in front of Mister Scarlett no less! I wonder: Is he's enjoying himself, stroking those pouty lips of his and smirking at me, as I so brazenly give myself to his lover, his slave?

No. Don't think of Zae that way. I groan and turn my head. But the seat at the head of the table is empty.

Where did he go? I perk up a little, my heart skipping a few beats, as I scan the room for him. Well, maybe it's not such a bad thing that he's vanished, giving us some privacy, but it's troubling at the same time. How is it that I didn't notice him leave? Surely I would've heard the chair squeak, or something?

Zaenack's mouth covers my closed lips then, and with the tip of his tongue he parts them.

"Ooooh," I cry out. My hands fly to his head, netting in his hair; guiding him, not that I have any real idea of what I want, or how to show him what to do. His tongue is slightly rough, and adorned with a polished stud. Now he flicks that pierced organ back and forth between my folds, and circles my aching clitoris, pausing to suck the little bud into his mouth.

"Oh... Ooooh Zaenack..." I melt and moan, and nearly slide off my seat. Pleasure sizzles through me from my scalp to my toes, making my wings beat the back of my chair. But he doesn't stop there. His thick fingers open my slippery flesh. Keeping me worked up with his tongue, he eases the middle digit deep inside me.

“Mhmm... Yes... Like that, Zae...” I moan again, feeling my flesh ripple and contract with the onset of my pleasure. Fuck that feels so good. I roll my hips in time with his strokes, his finger applying direct pressure to my tender inner walls.

"His fingers and tongue are a delight, aren't they?" Mister Scarlett purrs in my ear, his sultry breath tickling my neck. My Gods! He's standing right behind me!

I squeak and flinch, my heart leaping from my chest, as his hands settle upon my shoulders, working into me that curious languor. His heady cologne envelops me with every breath, making me relax when I know I shouldn't. I don't know why – I know it's foolish – but I lean into him. Something about him compels me to do so, and I'm helpless to resist. I think it's because I know: Even if I struggle, where will I go? I'm trapped and at the mercy of Zaenack's tongue. How can I deny myself that, when I've wanted him for so long?

"Please..." I gasp and blindly accept the hand Mister Scarlett offers to me, holding on tight. My fingers twist deeper into Zae's hair. "Why are you doing this to me..?"

"Because my dear." His gravelly timbre lowers to an erotic growl. I can't help my shiver. "I know how desperately you want him. Don't try to deny it. You've wanted him since the beginning. Now you have your chance... Don't hold back."

My eyes widen. I can't believe it. A Master, a stranger, wanting to share with me? Yes, polyamory is fairly wide-spread and accepted in most cultures, especially among the Elves, Orzan-kind and the Shee. Though Zae's people, as whole, tend to be more reserved about marriage and sexuality. But... It doesn't seem right. This whole scenario feels... I don't really know, but it's not what I expected either!

"No!" I pant, tossing my head from side to side, nearly daft with my pleasure. I'm close, so close... Zaenack crooks his finger as he works it up and down inside me, his tongue and lips alternating between rubbing and sucking upon my tiny clitoris. If he keeps that up, I'll explode in his mouth! Mister Scarlett's closeness, and the gentle stroke of his fingers on mine isn't helping either. "I-I can't... It's wrong..."

"You think so?" He growls in my other ear, so close I feel the soft scrape of his teeth, and I nearly leap out of my skin. He caresses my palm with his thumb, and laces our fingers together. "For someone who believes this is wrong, you're not trying hard to stop us." His soft laughter sends a shiver down my spine. "You could've said no. You still can... Isabella."

My breath hitches. Shit. He has me there. Tears gather in my eyes, and trickle down my hot cheeks.

"Now look at him Isabella. See how good he makes you feel. And enjoy him. I do so love to share my toys."

He's not a toy! I throw my head back against the chair, and Mister Scarlett's shoulder. He's a living... breathing... fucking... Oh my Gods!

"Yes!..." I buck and scream, and roughly shove my orchid into Zaenack's hungry mouth. “Don't stop, Zae.” Don't ever stop.

Greedily he laves my flesh, and splits me apart with a second finger. It hurts at first, as my tight sheath stretches around him. But when he moves his fingers back and forth inside me – combined with the tantalising pressure of his tongue – I'm lost again, convulsing and flooding with my rapture...

Continued in Chapter 8