Spurred into action, she lunged at the door and threw it open, armed with absolutely nothing.
"Stop! Stop it now!"
Gemma's cries merged with Willow’s. Willow was screaming and throwing herself around. She might have escaped, but for her long, lithe limbs being chained in place. Her thighs were spread, a deviant toy humming between them, a thick shaft topped by an ample rubber ball humming like a construction worker's tool. Her nipples had been clamped with two little purpose-constructed pieces of rubber.
She was spread, writhing and wailing, and looking entirely strange. Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy, her body entirely naked. Gemma had seen Willow in a state of undress before, but not like this. She was being transformed by what was done to her. She was flushed and arched, and she was beautiful in a way she'd never been before.
Willow was always stunning. There was no doubt about that. But now, with her raven hair flowing and every muscle in her body involved in what appeared to be one long, rolling climax, she was more beautiful than ever.
Angelo Vitali stood over her with an expression that could only be described as entranced. His gaze ran up and down the length of the bound aristocrat's body, watching as orgasm after orgasm flooded her senses.
This was even better than Bobby had imagined it would be. Gemma seeing Willow's undoing was more satisfying than Willow's erotic undoing on its own. Bobby had not had any doubt that Angelo would do this to the ice maiden. The harder they were, the easier they cracked. Willow had a hard facade, but that's all it was. A facade. This was the real Willow, the woman grinding out her pleasure to the universe, not even noticing that she had new observers.
Willow's gaze was locked on Angelo. She was connected to him now, a thread forming between them that would become an unbreakable bond. Bobby had seen this happen before, with Mark and then Tilly. Angelo was capable of deep sexual magic. With orgasm, all things were possible.
Gemma's hands were clasped over her mouth, her eyes so wide she almost looked like a cartoon. Bobby leaned against the door casually and simply watched both Willow's orgasmic ecstasies and Gemma's horrified reaction.
She looked at him, and he raised a brow. "Your turn next?"
"Oh my god, no!" Gemma gasped. "No! Fucking! My god!"
She ran, tripped over her skirt, and would have fallen down the stairs if not for him catching her by the waistband.
She shrieked like a panicked cat as he hauled her back up to safety.
"You need a lot of babysitting," he smirked.
Gemma was pale and terribly afraid. "If you even try to do any of that to me, I'll…."
"What?"
"I'll… I don't know, but it'll be bad."
"You've never been with a man, have you?"
"I've never been with anybody."
"Because you've been wasting your time being uselessly in love with Willow."
"Says who?"
"Says everything, just traipsing around in her shadow, hoping she'll notice you, hoping she gives a fuck about you. She doesn't. She's like her brother. They only care about themselves."
"And you care about me?"
"I didn't say that. It's better to deal with people who are upfront about not giving a shit than people who pretend to be your friend so they can feed you to the wolves."
"That's not what she did."
"Sure it isn't."
"We're friends."
"Sure you are. Your friend is coming so hard she can't scream anymore, and you're running away from me shit scared. What a good friend."
"She's tied down. She doesn't have a choice! He's doing that to her! She's the captive!"
"Uh-huh."
"You're sick. You're both fucking sick!"
"Yes. And you came to us. You followed your mistress here, without a thought for your own safety, because you're stupid in love."
She fell silent, furious and afraid.
He understood her in some way. The lure of a charismatic, dominant, extroverted personality was difficult to resist when you felt small and helpless and pointless. But Angelo had never let him feel this worthless. In all the cruelties, beatings, even torturous interludes over the years, Bobby had rarely if ever felt anything less than wanted.
It was far more fucked up what Willow was doing to Gemma than what Angelo was doing to Willow. That was the thing about normal people. They thought they were nice. They thought that their neglect and their emotional shallowness, the simple and unappealing way they lived their normal little lives, made them nice. But it didn't make them nice. It just made them a banal kind of cruel.
Gemma sat down at the top of the stairs she had almost just fallen down and covered her ears with her hands. It was such a juvenile response. It didn't surprise him. This girl was not equipped for the world she had been drawn into. She was going to be ruined.
Ordinarily, he'd enjoy that, but breaking Gemma was pointless. She knew nothing, she was useless in every way, and there was no sense in hurting her. If not for the fact she knew where they were, and who they were, and what they were, she would have been entirely irrelevant.