KNEEL (Sins of Seven Book 1) Read online

  But can she handle degradation?

  Can she handle me?

  “No, Sir. I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.”

  “You will be,” I inform her in a gruff tone. “Now, take your fucking dress off, slut. I want to see what I’m playing with tonight.” I release her hair, stepping back to watch her slink out of the thin red material. As soon as it pools at her feet, I allow my gaze to trail from her plump lips down over her luscious tits, noticing how hard her nipples are, peaked behind the deep crimson sheer material that cups them. Her stomach is flat, with a small diamond adorning her navel.

  The panties—which match her bra, sheer and see-through—show me the small landing strip of dark hair that sits on her otherwise smooth mound. Fuck. Her long legs are toned, her skin glowing a delicate bronze that looks like she’s been on the beach.

  Her heels are the color of a fine Cabernet, matching her underwear. Perfect.

  “I want you on that chair.” I point to the velvet armchair that’s perfectly situated facing the mirror. “Drape each of your legs on either arm of the chair. I want you open. I need to see your cunt,” I order with a no nonsense tone that will tell her exactly what I am—an asshole.

  I’m brutal.

  I’m rude.

  And I don’t give a fuck.

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmurs. I watch her stroll over to the seat in question. Rolling the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows, I admire the way she moves. Graceful and elegant. She’s simply exquisite. No other toy I’ve been with has captured my attention like she has in the first few moments like this.

  Once she’s in position, I make my way to the curtain, tugging the rope which allows anyone who’s watching to see what’s going on inside the room. The blinking light in the corner of the window tells me there’s already an audience and I know who’s sitting there. One small nod to tell the woman on the other side the show is about to start and I’m turning back to my toy.

  I plan on edging her until she’s crying, until her tears streak her pretty face. Then she’ll make herself come while I’m watching. When I’m done with her, she’ll be utterly fucked. I don’t normally spend much more time with the girls from my list, but somehow, I know I’ll be taking extra time with Eva.

  Feeling her eyes on me as I move around the room, I head to the wall and pick up the candle. Lighting it, I carry it over to her. “Do you like wax?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She smiles, not looking at me. Instead her eyes are trained on my shiny black work shoes. Setting the candle on the small table, I crouch down beside her.

  “Look at me.” Her eyes flit over to me, meeting mine with hunger burning in them. “Do you like sitting there with your cunt on display for those men?” I question, pointing at the mirror. Her cheeks darken with embarrassment and I find my cock hardening painfully.

  “Yes, Sir.” Her words are gasoline to my already blazing need. I’m the fire that’s about to scorch her, leaving her in the rubble of my destruction.

  “Rub yourself, one finger, tease those lips through your panties. I want you to make sure that scrap of material is wet with those delicious juices.” Like the perfect slave, she moves her one hand down between her spread thighs. I watch in awe as her index finger glides over the material covering her slit.

  Her eyes flutter. Her long lashes whisper over her cheeks as the pleasure of her finger heightens her senses. Her hips move, bucking against her hand as she strokes herself into a heated frenzy. The scent of her arousal hits my nostrils, taunting me and I know there’s no way I’m going to let her get away without tasting every inch of her.

  “Stop. Now shift the material out of the way, I want to see your pink hole.” I gesture with my chin. Her fingers grip the now sodden material, moving it out of the way until I’m met with an incredible view of her tight pussy.

  I can’t help palming my cock through the material of my slacks, imagining sliding into that perfect little body. She’s incredibly sexy, stunning, and even in this depraved scene we’re playing out, there’s an elegance to her that I’ve never come across. As much as I know I shouldn’t want her, I can’t help it. This is an agreement and I need to remember that.

  “Such a pretty slut for me. Aren’t you, Eva?” I ask, using her name for the first time since she’s walked in here. Her deep blue gaze meets my dark one; desire dances in her eyes like a flame in the darkness. In our darkness. I want to give her everything she’s pleading for with that one look.

  “Please, Sir,” she begs then. Her words set me off like a stick of dynamite lit to detonate everything in its path, and I know this woman is going to be my end.

  “Put your fingers in your cunt, I want to taste them,” I order while leaning in, waiting for her to get two of her long, delicate fingers wet. She slowly sinks them in, deep to the knuckle. As she pulls them from her body, she lifts them to my mouth, offering me the glistening digits. I immediately suck on them. The flavor of her races through my veins like a drug. Musky, sweet, and tangy.

  “Do I please you, Sir?” Her question hits me then, slamming into my chest, gripping my throat. When I open my eyes to regard her, I find the yearning in her stare. She needs this as much as I do.

  “You do, sweet slut. Kneel on the chair, I’m going to fuck you in front of all those men jerking their dicks while they watch,” I inform her, knowing that I’m leaving out one important fact. There’s more than just a few men out there. And if Eva ever found that out, knew who was there, she’d hate me forever for doing this.

  Eva

  His order turns me molten. I shift off the chair, kneeling as he requested. Since I walked into the room there’s been an electric current racing through me. My blood is hot, my core is wet, and my mind is in a place of safety. How he knew I was a slave, I don’t know. Carrick just told me an old friend of his would like to see me. He didn’t mention what I was in for before I entered the room.

  Memories of Carrick and I together taunt me. What we did. Even though he wasn’t open about what this man wanted, I know Rick. I trust him with my life. I know he’d never send me to a man who would hurt me. He’s been my savior for far too long.

  My mind erases all thoughts of my past when I feel Sir’s fingertips on the waistband of my panties as he slides them over my hips and down my thighs. His touch is gentle, but his filthy words incite desire straight to my core in the most deliciously dirty way. I learned early on that sex is something to be enjoyed rather than feared. I’d felt that familiar ache for the first time when I was thirteen. I remember touching myself, feeling that tingle, that jolt of need. Over the years, I kept it to myself, shy to talk to boys, that is until I turned sixteen. Until Carrick.

  “Put your head down, rest it on the cushion, spread your legs wide. I want to see you. Both those pretty holes I’m about to use and fuck.” The filthy way he speaks to me sets my body and soul on fire. I’m hungry, needy for this man who talks to me like I’m nothing more than a slut. Even though he’s a stranger, it feels as if he knows me. As if when he looks at me he sees me. The real me. I’ve never loved someone. Never wanted it. All I want is for someone to know who I am deep down. To fulfill this need, this ache that I’ll never be good enough for men like this. That’s why I asked Carrick to allow me to come here, to work as his hostess until I find my feet in this dark and forbidden world I’ve fallen into. To perhaps find a Dominant worthy of giving me what I crave.

  I know I’m submissive. I have always been. It was only when Carrick taught me the right way, did I find out where my missing pieces were. Those small shards of the girl I was laid at my feet, and slowly with his help and guidance, I picked them up. Now, I hold them in my hand, waiting for the man who will finally show me how to put them together. The gaping hole in my chest that many have left barren is still waiting to be filled.

  When the man behind me rains down a harsh swat on my ass, I can’t stop the yelp that falls from my lips. “When I speak to you, answer me,” he grunts, but it’s not anger that laces his tone and w
eaves its way around my core, it’s desire.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” I answer, realizing I’m being stupid allowing my thoughts to drift to more than what this is. Men like him don’t give girls like me love. They give us the pleasure we desire. They fill a need for us—the craving to be used—and then they walk away. I don’t expect love from him, but it doesn’t hurt to dream. To fantasize. Now as he swats my ass again, I revel in it. I make believe that it’s just him and me. And with each blissful spank, I smile.

  “Is my sweet slut getting wet? You’re mine for tonight. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good slut,” he murmurs with reverence. “Actually, I prefer calling you sweet slut, because your cunt tastes like cherries. Delicious.”

  People may wonder how I can enjoy this degradation. How humiliation can be a turn on, but it is so much more. Deep in my soul, I find freedom and a sense of self in this punishment. He needs me to obey him by degrading me to nothing, and I ache for him to use me and make me whole with the pleasure I know he’ll bestow on me if I’m a good girl.

  I know that once this scene ends, he’ll care for me. A harsh swat with his large rough hand lands on the fleshy globe, left, right, again and again until I’m a whimpering mess. “Open that pert ass for me,” he murmurs, low and gravelly, his tone rich and smoky like the finest brandy. I reach back, and obeying his command, I spread the cheeks of my ass for him. I can feel my arousal trickling down my inner thigh. “You’re wet, slut,” he remarks with pride.

  “Yes, I am, Sir.”

  “Good girl,” he coos.

  Those two words are what every slave wants to hear. It means I’ve pleased my Sir or Dominant. I’ve given him what he needs, and now he’ll give me what I hunger for.

  “Thank you, Sir. I am here to please you,” I whisper. I know there are people watching me right now. They’re probably stroking their cocks wishing it was them in here using me like a toy for their pleasure, but I’d rather have him above me than any other man.

  My mind is blank for a moment, my eyes closed in anticipation. That is until I feel him nudge my entrance with the crown of his cock. The warmth of him threatens to engulf me in its heat. He’s not even an inch inside me and I’m already whimpering.

  “I’m going to fuck you. This tiny cunt will take every inch of my cock. Do you understand me?” he says quietly for only me to hear. Before I have time to respond, he plunges inside me in one long stroke. His cock stretches me brutally. He’s big, thick and hard. I cry out in pained pleasure as I release myself and grip the leather of the chair I’m kneeling on. His hand swats at my ass, hard and unrelenting. He’s trying to punish me, but all I feel is pleasure.

  His hips slam into me, pounding me like I’m a toy for his pleasure only. And I wish in this moment that it didn’t have to end. I realize as the bliss of him fucking me sends jolts through my veins, I want to be anything for him. With a tight grip on my hips, he continues his assault. My clit throbs with pleasure, my moans and cries are a symphony of erotic gratification.

  Our world is dark. It always will be. But in that darkness, I’ve found myself. Once you let go of all the fear, the control, the stress and let someone else care for you, it’s addictive. Being a submissive, a slave, isn’t about losing yourself. It’s about finding the control you possess by relenting to someone else.

  And as Sir’s thick hardness penetrates my body, he takes over my mind. I’ve been with men before, but this is something else. His vile words, the way he commands my attention is something more. His hand reaches for my clit, pinching it brutally, sending shockwaves through every inch of my body. His other hand fists my hair, tugging the long chestnut strands, and my back arches, causing him to hit that spot inside me that detonates me into a million tiny fragments of pleasure.

  “Come for me, sweet slut. Drench my cock in your honeyed juices,” he commands, and my body obeys. My pussy clamps down on his shaft, pushing, pulling, needing more, and needing less. My thighs tremble as he uses me. He takes. And I allow him to.

  Slowly, my body comes down from the euphoric high, and I find myself staring into those dark eyes that seem endless. An abyss of desire and hunger pin me with his gaze. I can’t help blushing, and murmur the words he needs to hear. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He nods with a smile at my response. I’ve pleased him, but he’s still hard holding onto what I can only imagine means an orgasm he wants to give me another way. “Lie back, I’m going to have some fun,” he rumbles in a deep seductive tone. The man is an animal, but there’s something in his eyes that make me want to know more. Who’s behind the dominating force that is this stranger.

  Once I’m settled on my back, he reaches into the pocket of his slacks, pulling out a vibrator. Small, pink, and curved.

  “Open your legs wide, I want to see those slutty holes.” I obey because the fog of desire he emanates has my body trembling for more. He places the small device on my clit and drives back into my pussy. His cock thick and hard, spreading me open, hitting that tiny spot inside my body which has my toes curling. When he turns on the vibrator, it comes to life on my clit, sending me spiraling. The force of his thrusts and the tingling of the battery-operated tease is too much.

  “Please, please, please,” I plead, and my begging is more of a chant. A prayer to the devil himself to let me find heaven in the hell of our dimly lit room. But he merely smirks. He thrusts, plunging deeply into me. I feel him in my soul as he owns me in that moment, and when I open my eyes to meet his, I beg him to claim me.

  “Do you want to come, sweet slut?” he taunts.

  I nod, biting my lip to keep from coming too soon. I know men like this; if I do, he’ll punish me. And right now, this is all that I can take from him. He turns the dial up higher, sending me into orbit. Hanging on by a thread of sanity, my nails dig into the leather of the armrests of the chair, clawing my way from the dark hole of euphoria. I’m about to snap and I’m about to lose my fucking mind.

  He spits on his index and middle fingers and I know what he’s about to do. Use me fully. His free hand moves to my ass, finding the tight ring of muscle there. I tense, but he lifts a brow in question. Do you not want me? I nod. We’re speaking to each other without words.

  My legs are shaking as he teases the tight hole open, dipping into me, teasing me open. “I want this hole, too.” His smile is feral as he tells me this in a voice that isn’t his own. It’s the beast inside he’s unleashed on me. Two fingers fuck my ass deeper as his cock taunts my pussy. “Come. Come hard for me.” He finally gives me the words I’ve been praying for, and I do. My body convulses as I feel liquid squirt from my pussy. “Mm, a pretty squirting cunt.” He smiles in satisfaction as I drench him in my juices. That’s when his body locks and he fills me with his hot release. I can’t stop watching as pleasure paints his features. He’s handsome beyond reason. A beautiful dark angel. And I know that he’s taking more than my pleasure, he’s taking my body and mind, and if he really wants it, I’ll give him my heart.

  “This is why you were meant to leave when your daddy died.”

  His vile smirk is the only thing I can see. His face is so close to mine, I can smell the beer on his breath. The bitter malt he drinks reeks, his body swaying as he grips me harshly. He’s never done more than bat me around, and I know soon, he’ll lose control and really hurt me.

  I’m fifteen. My dad died only six months ago and my mother returned to the home I shared with him, along with her filth of a boyfriend. They’ve taken over the house, left me to hide in the corners just to get away from them.

  “You know,” he sneers. The piece of trash my mother’s been fucking regards me with hunger in his feral glare. “I wonder if you’re as filthy as your mother is. Do you watch me fuck her at night?” He chuckles, his spittle flying from cracked lips. How my mother even thought this man was better than my father in any way is beyond me.

  “Just let me go, if I don’t get to school, they’ll call her and tell her.” I
notice his eyes clearing as I say that. Thankfully, he releases me. When he steps back, I can finally breathe.

  “When you get home this afternoon, you’re going to show me what’s under that little skirt. And don’t be late.” His mouth curls into a sadistic smirk and his hand grips his crotch lewdly. I have to race out the house just in time to retch my cereal all over the flowerbeds that sit outside the front door. I know he’s not lying when he says that’s what he wants. He’ll make me do it. And that’s what scares me.

  My eyes crack open and I shake off the nightmare. That wasn’t the first or last time I was forced into a corner with the sick monster my mother brought home. I shove away the rest of the images that have haunted me for far too long and bring my mind back to the present.

  My body is aching when I finally get up. Memories of last night taunt me and I find myself wet and needy. He left without telling me his name. After he’d come inside me, he closed the curtains to the viewing audience, lifted me in his arms and set me on the bed. Gently, he cared for me, stroking my hair, murmured how beautiful I was and then when I finally fell asleep in his arms, he left.

  Carrick walked into the room, woke me up and told me that the man said I was exceptional. When I asked more about him, my best friend only glared at me. I want to find him, to know him, but if he doesn’t come into Seven Sins again, I have no idea how I’ll accomplish that. Since Rick doesn’t want to tell me who he is or even how I can contact him.

  Pushing off the bed, I take in my apartment. The large penthouse is too big for me alone, but Carrick told me he’s not happy with me living in a pokey little one bedroom shoebox, so he put down enough rent for me for the year. Twelve months of freedom until I decide if I want to move on, or stay in Chicago.

  As I head into the modern kitchen, the silver appliances, and white tiles blink at me in the soft light of sunshine that’s streaming through the windows. Once the coffee machine is turned on, I head to the living room to find my phone. No messages. No emails.