Cataphilia Read Free Page B

turned her toward an alley. Mark stood at the entrance, broad smile gleaming in the streetlights. A beacon to what lay beyond. The mink blanket was draped over one arm, the duffel strap slung over his shoulder. A promise reflected in his eyes.
    She loved him! Why hadn't she said something? Why hadn't she realized it? She might lust after Brent, but it was Mark she turned to in good times and bad. Mark with whom she shared her every thought. Mark she called day and night. Mark who'd done all this for her. For them?
    Lydia took a step in his direction, hand outstretched for his. He caught her fingers and drew them to his lips for a kiss that burned deep in her soul. Then he threaded her arm through his and led her down the dark alley. Brent's arm draped her other side, hand toying with her ass. A dim light ahead showed her their destination. They were going down again.
    She smirked at the phrase and stepped through the narrow doorway.
    As before, a short spiral staircase led the way down. Small battery operated candles guided their way. Confidence built with every step. When they reached the bottom and the vault-like room dead-ended before her, Lydia froze. Limestone pillars held the low ceiling at bay. Crumbling limestone pillars. She heard a steady drip, drip, drip from somewhere in the back. So much for being fearless.
    Mark and Brent unfurled the blanket and spread it on the floor beneath two evenly-spaced pillars. Mark's bag of tricks came next. Lydia hugged herself against the chill. It did little to quell the fear.
    "Come here,” Brent commanded, hand extended.
    Lydia didn't move. They waited for a word from her, warning them off. She couldn't utter that either. Want and fear battled inside her.
    "Come here ... or else,” Brent said.
    Her knees trembled. Pussy creamed. Yet fear still gnawed at her. All she had to do was turn around and go back up those lighted steps. All she had to do was say “red” and they'd be done. Suddenly, she found herself looking at the limestone floor. Her ass was in the air, waist locked in Brent's grip.
    "I don't like being disobeyed, Lydia.” He danced the leather strap over her backside. Eyes closed, she wriggled into the touch, the feel of the leather warming her for...
    "Oh!” She groaned as the first stroke hit. Another followed quickly, then another, too fast to catch her breath. Her body pulsed as the heat spread. She squirmed to find some part of Brent to writhe against, but he had her too tight.
    He set her on her feet after ten strokes. She teetered against the rush and found Mark's arm around her, his other hand shoving up her skirt. He dived his fingers into her panties and fingered her slick clit to a body-quaking orgasm that left her slack in his arms. He caught her before she could fall.
    Lydia expected to be draped in mink. Instead, Mark set her between the pillars and stripped her down to skin. The urge to cover herself overwhelmed her. Mark peeled her arms from around her midriff. Brent snapped leather cuffs around her wrists and pulled them to straps attached to eyehooks in the limestone. Mark did the same to her ankles, then raked her long brown hair atop her head and secured it with a clip.
    Fear again chased away the sweet lassitude orgasm had given her. She was trapped beneath the earth, spread-eagle and defenseless. Her heart raced. Blood roared in her ears. Nerves ignited her skin.
    The snap of the three-tailed whip jerked her attention to the men. They stood naked and erect before her—Mark flicking the whip; Brent doubling the strap over. They stalked around her, finding their targets, making her wait, pulling all her focus on the moment and little else. Her heart still pounded, but it was with a different anticipation now.
    There was a whoosh to her side, then the thud of the falls over her back, followed by the strap against her bare ass. Her nipples hardened. Cream flooded her thighs. And she was rewarded with more—over her ass, across her breasts.
    They