5: Dares & Daddies (5)

The "special vodka" hummed through Willow's veins like liquid electricity, melting her bones and painting the world in soft, forgiving strokes. The fear that had been a cold knot in her stomach was gone, replaced by a warm, heavy languor. She giggled again, the sound airy and disconnected, as she watched the room tilt on a gentle axis. The men were no longer predators; they were beautiful, powerful sculptures. The women were shimmering mirages. Everything was perfectly, beautifully alright.

Henry watched her for a moment, a scientist observing a successful experiment. "The forfeit stands," he repeated, his voice cutting through Willow's haze with a pleasant, commanding rumble. "But a forfeit in this game doesn't mean you get to leave the table, little one. It means you lose the right to choose what happens next."

He snapped his fingers, a crisp sound that made several of the women jump. On cue, Frederick and William rose. They moved with a coordinated, calculated silence that was more terrifying than any shouted order.

"Up," William said, his gravelly voice directed at Lola. She was still lying exposed on the cushion. She blinked, the post-orgasmic daze fighting with a new wave of anxiety. William didn't wait. He hooked his hands under her arms and hauled her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. Her bare breasts swayed with the motion.

Frederick approached Nancy, who had finally crawled back from the corner, her dignity in tatters. He didn't speak, just pointed a finger towards the center of the room. Nancy, her eyes hollow, obeyed, moving to stand unsteadily beside Lola.

One by one, they were marshaled. George, with his dimpled smile now devoid of all warmth, guided a trembling Nora to her feet. Henry himself extended a hand to Erin, who stared at it with pure hatred before allowing herself to be pulled up. Ruby was coaxed by William’s sheer presence alone, rising like a sleepwalker. Only Amelia was left, the cold iron poker still buried inside her. With a final, shaking gasp, she pulled it out with a wet, slick sound and let it clatter to the floor. She stood, smoothing her dress down, a defiant flush on her cheeks, and joined the ragged line.

The seven women stood facing the four men, a trembling semi-circle of silk, fear, and illicit arousal. Willow, slumped and giggling on her cushion, was apart from them, a spectator in her own body.

"The rules of the main event are simpler," Henry began, pacing slowly before them like a general inspecting troops. "There are no spins. No choices. There is only obedience." He stopped in front of Nora, reaching out to tilt her chin up. "You confessed a fantasy. A beautiful, dirty fantasy about being used by multiple men." His thumb stroked her jaw. "We are here to make fantasies come true."

He moved on to Erin. "You have a mouth full of spite and a body full of tension. We will empty both."

To Ruby, "You admitted your wetness. We will see just how soaked you can get."

His eyes swept over them all. "You are here for our pleasure. For our nostalgia. To be the living, breathing toys that bring back the feeling of absolute conquest we enjoyed in our youth. You will not speak unless given permission. You will not come unless given permission. You will take what is given to you, and you will thank us for it."

The absolute authority in his voice brooked no argument. It was a contract being stated aloud, the fine print of the obscene payment they had already accepted.

"William," Henry said, without turning. "The one who forfeited. She needs to understand her new role."

William strode over to Willow’s cushion. He looked down at her dreamy, smiling face. "Stand up, forfeit."

Willow blinked up at him, her smile widening. "Everything's so spinny," she slurred.

In one swift motion, William bent, grabbed the front of her delicate lace top, and ripped it clean open. Buttons pinged across the floor. The cool air on her breasts finally cut through the vodka haze a fraction. She gasped, her hands flying up to cover herself.

"Ah-ah," William chided, catching her wrists in one massive hand. He forced her to her feet, holding her arms pinned at her sides, her torn top hanging open, small breasts exposed. "Forfeits don't get to hide." He dragged her, stumbling, to the large, heavy leather sofa that dominated one side of the room. He threw her down onto it face-first, her cheek pressed into the cool, smoky-smelling leather.

"Keep her there," William ordered, glancing at George.

George sauntered over, placing a hand firmly on the center of Willow's back, holding her prone. She whimpered, the pleasant fog now shot through with spikes of real fear.

"Watch," Henry commanded the other six women. "This is the price of opting out."

William unfastened his belt with a sharp zip, the sound grotesquely loud. He didn't bother removing his trousers, just pushed them and his boxers down enough to free his erection. It was thick, veined, and brutally hard. He spat into his palm, slicked himself roughly, and without any further preamble, positioned himself behind Willow.

He didn't enter her slowly. He used his weight to pry her thighs apart with his knees, then drove himself into her dry, unprepared tightness in one brutal, deep thrust.

Willow screamed into the leather, a raw sound of shock and pain that was abruptly muffled. Her body went rigid, then bucked wildly against George's immovable hold.

"Hold still, forfeit," George murmured, his hand pressing down harder.

William set a punishing rhythm, each thrust a savage piston that hammered her body into the sofa. The wet, slapping sound of flesh on flesh, mixed with Willow's choked sobs and guttural grunts from William, filled the room. It was a violent, merciless taking, a demonstration of power pure and simple.

The six standing women were forced witnesses, their faces pale, some with tears silently tracking through their makeup. But alongside the horror in their eyes was something else, a dark, hypnotic fascination. Nora’s breath was coming in quick, shallow pants, her confessed fantasy playing out in the most brutal form before her. Ruby’s thighs were pressed together so tightly she was trembling. Amelia watched with a clenched jaw, her own core throbbing with a confused, shameful echo of the violence.

After what felt like an eternity of relentless pounding, William’s movements grew even more frantic. With a final, deep snarl, he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside her. He held there for a long moment, grinding against her ravaged flesh, before pulling out with a wet, obscene sound.

Willow lay limp, crying softly into the sofa, a trickle of blood and semen slick on her inner thighs.

William tucked himself away, fastening his belt as if he’d just completed a mundane task. "The forfeit is paid," he stated. He looked at Henry. "Shall we begin the distribution?"