Rough Exile

“Delilah.”

He smiled. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

I smiled awkwardly, never sure how to respond when men said things like that.

“I heard you met her on an island vacation,” Ty said to Ilya.

“We did.”

Ty’s gaze sharpened, as though he knew exactly what that meant. “Not Reverie.”

“What’s Reverie?”

Ty gave a nod and a mysterious smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“You ask a lot of fucking questions.” Ilya’s tone held a thinly veiled threat.

The man held Ilya’s gaze for a few moments, then inclined his head. “Information is a passion of mine.”

“I suggest you move along, friend,” Bron said. “He’s not a patient man.”

Ty got to his feet. “It was a pleasure to meet the two of you,” he said to Ilya.

Ilya ignored him, as though the man was of no consequence.

I gave him an apologetic smile, and he winked at me before wandering off.

“Why were you so rude?”

He put his lips to my ear. “The man buys and sells women.”

I swallowed. It had never crossed my mind that men like that would be here.

“How do you know he does that?”

“Bron told me when he spotted him earlier.”

Well, that explained why Bron was so pissed off when I’d disappeared earlier to go to the washroom. Just what kind of family did Ilya belong to where being seen here would be considered a good thing?

The server finally returned and handed Ilya a folded dark cloth. He negligently dropped a wad of cash on her tray. He missed her pleased grin, but I didn’t. The way she kept looking at him annoyed me, and I scowled when she turned her back.

He unfolded the cloth, running it through his hands.

“What’s that for?” I quietly asked.

“To keep my little wifey from getting bored.”

“I’m not bored.”

He shushed me and brought the length of fabric up to my face and fastened it around my eyes. The knot he made pulled my hair, and I fussed with it a moment before he pushed my hands away and attached my leash to my collar again. He said something to Bron in Russian, and I was plucked from his lap and carried what felt like partway across the club.

Whoever carried me put me down and attached the leash to something over my head.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut your fucking hole,” Bron growled.

He unhooked the dress’s closure between my breasts and pushed the fabric off my shoulders. Without any hesitation, he stripped me, leaving me in nothing but my heels. Shocked, I froze, scrambling to throw up the mental walls that had protected me on the Island. I’d almost expected one or both of them to fuck me here tonight, but putting me on display like this hadn’t crossed my mind.

“Put your hands behind your head and leave them there,” Ilya said.

I opened my mouth to object and could almost feel Bron’s glare right through the blindfold.

Right.

Tonight, I was being a good submissive and not arguing with my ‘owner’ or his…underling?

A nervous laugh tried to work its way out—it was funny thinking of Bron as the underling, considering how things were between the three of us in private.

Gingerly, I laced my fingers behind my neck, trying to stand as proudly as I could, even though everything inside me cringed. Being naked in public and not being able to see what was coming made me anxious and not in the fun way.

A rough male voice said something in Russian, and I realized we weren’t alone. Ilya’s new friends had followed us over.

Fucking great.

In my head, I tried to picture Lane rolling her eyes and grimacing at me from across the room. I missed her with a savage ache. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been leaning on her emotionally during my most recent tour on the Island. Here, there was Ilya, but when he put on his Bron mask, I was all alone.

How many people were near me? It was impossible to know.

Something stroked my breast—the back of a knuckle, maybe? It happened again. Who was it? Ilya or Bron?

Warm breath tickled the back of my neck, making my nipples harder.

I shivered, feeling as though I might lose my balance.

“Widen your stance before you fall over, woman,” Ilya ordered.

Reluctantly, I obeyed, knowing damned well it left me wide open to almost anything he wanted to do to me.

The island I’d worked on for tuition had felt so far away. I’d gotten used to Ilya and Bron, and their kinks. This was like starting back at zero, not knowing what would happen. Being around strangers again was strange enough, but being touched in front of them like this was humiliating.

Would it look bad for Ilya if I begged to go home?

My breasts got prodded, pinched at. Someone stroked and slapped me. Two hands became four, then there were hands everywhere. The murmurs and chuckles of men.

They’re letting other men touch me?

Worse, do I like it?

A woman giggled, and soft lips brushed mine—a woman’s perfume and warmth. It had been years since a girl had kissed me. I let her open my mouth under her own. If Ilya and Bron wanted this to stop, they would stop it.

I heard Ilya swear quietly under his breath.

Fuck. How were there so many hands?

It wasn’t just Bron, Ilya, and their new friends touching me—complete strangers had joined in. Fingers tickled me, stroking my skin, groping my breasts, touching my pussy, spreading my ass cheeks.

I held onto my disgust as long as I could, but it eroded under the onslaught, leaving arousal in its wake. Someone took off my shoes and touched my freshly pedicured feet, making me cringe.

Thick fingers worked their way into my pussy, and I was already embarrassingly slick. Soft mouths dragged over my skin, zeroing in on my nipples and sucking there in rhythms that didn’t match. Someone bearded kissed my nape, below my hands, then nibbled on my fingers with sharp teeth. Hands skated over my back, making me quiver almost as deliciously as the other small torments. Something—a tongue?—flicked my clit, and I cried out.

There was too much, too many, and they were everywhere. There wasn’t enough of me to have six, eight, ten people exploring my body. Someone’s tongue delved between my lower cheeks, investigating my asshole. The fingers inside me stroked in a distracted rhythm. A man kissed me, his beard scraping my face. Someone lifted my foot, then sucked a toe into their mouth. Someone folded one of my legs and pulled it wide, giving mouths and fingers greater access to my pussy. I almost lost my balance, but someone steadied me, chuckling. The collar choked me just enough to remember I was caught there, as though the hands and mouths weren’t enough to remind me.