Page 37 of Pierced

“Let’s go, Christian. Let’s do this shit.”

And then the energy inside my little cage shifts. She no longer seems uncertain, like she just was, or playfully mistress-like, as she was before that. Her energy now is all business. Like she’s been challenged and she’s readying herself to respond to the challenge in front of her.

She grabs me by the hair and yanks my head backward. With her other hand, she picks up the previously set-aside ball gag and places it in her own mouth. Then she squeezes my cheeks, hard, forcing my mouth to open like a fish’s might.

And now she brings her mouth to mine and presses the ball into my open ‘O.’ Her lips touch mine. Our teeth grind against each other’s. And then, with her tongue, she forces the ball forward until it’s resting once again in my stretched maw, and she straddles me. Her skirt rises up her thighs and now she is pressing the warmth of her pussy into my hardening cock.

And it is hardening. It is hardening at an alarming rate.

The sticky warmth of her crotch against mine and the softness of her breasts against my chest as she fastens the gag tightly around the back of my head is making me throb.

It seems to take her a bit off guard, because she draws back, lifts herself off me, crawls back out of the cage, stands, and straightens her dress down her hips. She stares at me. I don’t move. Just sit there in my underwear, ball gag in mouth, legs stretched out in front, waiting for whatever is going to happen next.

I’m prepared. I’m prepared for anything. I am Pierce fuckin’ Chevalier and I can take whatever Myrtle goddamn Rothschild can dish out. She can spank me, whip me, burn me, choke me, I can take it all. And when she’s gotten whatever it is that she hopes to get from this experience, I will have my turn to show her who I really am. Because she thinks she knows me. But she doesn’t.

Hell, I’m learning more about myself right now than I even knew. I’ve just discovered that even when I’m not in control, I’m still in control. My aura is too strong. My chi is too powerful. Even stripped and gagged, I am the master of my domain. I am the king of my jungle, and there is no one and nothing that can—

OH MY HOLY FUCK, FUCK ME IN MY ASSHOLE, MYRTLE JUST LIT A CANDLE AND THERE IS, IN FACT, A TIGER IN THE CAGE NEXT TO ME WITH ITS FACE UP AGAINST THE BARS! AND IT’S DROOLING ON MY DICK!

Um... OK... This was not in the book...

CHAPTER ELEVEN - MYRTLE

The sound he makes comes out like, “Thewuhnaanunduhboot!!”

“Sorry? What was that? You thought we were… knocking boots?”

He shakes his head. Hard. “Thi. Wah. Nah. Ii. Da. Boot.”

“Oooooh.” I realize what he’s trying to say. “Yeah, no, you’re right. This was not in any book. Because you’re not in a fiction now, Anastasia. This is real life.”

Pierce stares at me, candlelight flickering off his wide eyes. And then he reaches around and pulls the gag off.

I smirk. I can’t help it. Because I called it, didn’t I? It’s probably been a little more than ten minutes since he stepped through the door, but not much. He’s going to run out of here and in two minutes I’ll be making my way down the hill to Katherine’s house to enjoy a bottle of wine through fits of laughter.

“This is crazy. This is weird! What are you doing? Where did you get this tiger? What the hell is going on and when the hell can I leave?”

“You can leave right now, Anastasia. You’re the one in control, remember?”

“Myrtle,” he says, teeth clenched, his voice low and angry.

“Pierce.”

“Are you going to explain?”

“I thought I did.”

“You didn’t.” And that’s when Sebastian roars. So loud even I jump a little. He’s a true kitty cat. And he’s almost twenty years old. True, he’s never been in a situation like this, but he’s been in some weird situations in his life, so that roar was really more of a yawn. His way of saying, Let’s get this show on the road.

Plus, he’s not even in the same cage as Pierce. I’m not worried about Sebastian. Pierce, on the other hand—let’s just say I hope he doesn’t have a heart condition. Because he scoots away to the farthest side of his cage, back pressed up against the bars, and yells, “Get me the fuck out of here!”

I feel obligated to put up a fight. Make a big deal about him quitting. So I do that. “Are you sure?” I say. “Just say the word. The word you chose. But be sure. Because once you say it, once you quit, you quit for good. And this wasn’t enough to erase your debt to me.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Submission,” I deadpan. “And don’t tell me I didn’t make that clear, because I did.”

“This is a wild animal,” he says, pointing to Sebastian. “You never said anything about being eaten by tigers!”