Part Eight
Killian collapsed back onto the bed, thoroughly spent and utterly exhausted. The mattress shook from the way Emma's legs were quivering, her knees and upper body anchored to the bed with her ass in the air, still presented. The ass he'd just taken as a way of technically complying to Pan's most recent command without actually doing the thing he knew Pan had meant for him to do.
Pan Says… come inside her this time.
The command had only been issued to Killian; a new twist to this particular round of the game. Instructions were given to only one of them at a time, usually when the other was in the lavatory or still asleep, and no longer delivered audibly. They were not permitted to share what the exact instruction was with each other, and had to therefore trust that their compliance to the other's words was what Pan required.
The morning after their reunion was when it had all started. He'd come back from relieving himself to find Emma awake and looking slightly confused and distressed.
"Swan? What is it? What happened?"
"I… I can't tell you," she said. "He said I'm not supposed to tell you I just have to…"
Killian climbed back into bed and took her hand in his. "It's alright, love," he assured her. "Whatever it is he's told you, you won't have to go through it alone."
Her eyes flicked up to his, swirling with contrition and a sense of determination. "I know," she replied. Pushing against his chest, she forced him to lay back as she began to peel his pajama pants down his legs. "I need you to pay attention, because" she paused, swallowed hard, then wet her lips. "Swan says… everything I'm about to do to you, you will have to reciprocate in kind."
Those next two days they had licked and kissed and sucked and branded and tongued every inch of each other. Exploring one another's body with nothing more than their mouths.
The third day of Round Three had them experimenting with various toys and apparatus. He'd been told to edge her all day with the various wands and vibrators as she lay tied up from the four corners of the bed. It had been torture. Reducing her to a whimpering, begging, desperate collection of moans, tears, and sobs when all he wanted to do was alleviate the torment. But he'd dared not. Not after the last time they had disobeyed.
He was certain he would get his comeuppance on day four, especially when they woke to a basket of anal toys, in an assortment of styles and sizes. All Pan had required of them that day, however - delivered through a Swan Says… - was to shower and then fit each other with a plug, presumably to begin the process for more anal play later on.
Knowing they both had to be live wires of pent up sexual frustration by this point, day five had been mutual masturbation day.
"Your Captain says… touch yourself, love," Killian instructed, stroking his cock as he watched Emma pleasure herself.
They had shared a total of eleven orgasms that day, and had become further acquainted with the various toys and butt plugs Pan insisted not go to waste.
Now, day six, Killian was allowed to penetrate his Swan with something other than his tongue or his fingers or a bit of vibrating silicone, but only under one condition… that he finish inside her.
Pan never said anything about it having to be in her cunt, so he'd taken advantage of the ambiguity by taking her ass instead, since they'd both been stretching and preparing themselves for anal play.
And fuck him if it hadn't felt amazing - the defiance and the tight, forbidden depths in which he'd just spilled himself. Glancing over at Emma, her face shimmering from a sheen of sweat with an expression of sated and elated ecstasy, he knew she had enjoyed it too… but then of course, she did not know the full reason as to why he'd taken her ass and not her pussy.
She was no longer protected from the threat of an unwanted pregnancy.
"Wow," Emma exhaled. "That was…"
"Don't try and move too much," he told her as he reached over and helped ease her into a more comfortable position. "Just rest. I'll go get something to clean us up."
"And some water," she called out after him.
"Aye. And water," he responded, as though he needed reminding.
He didn't.
A week into Round Three and they had already settled into a routine. A week-long marathon of teasing, edging, training, and orgasms. A week of them taking orders from one another, of placing a new form of trust in the other's hands. A week of them not talking about what had happened in the weeks before, or more to the point… the moments before this round had begun.
Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, "I love you, Emma." Then captured her lips before she could reply.
"I think that's enough sharing for one day," Pan's curt tone crackled over the speakers, forcing them apart. "In fact, Pan says no more talking until Round Three begins… which shall be first thing tomorrow morning. Sleep well."
Killian's jaw tightened as he watched Emma open and then close her mouth with longing and uncertainty swirling in her gaze. Squeezing his hand, she rolled off the bed and padded her way to the lav. Afterward, they both got dressed and curled up next to one another in bed, the silence between them deafening.
In the past week, she had not reciprocated those words and he had not uttered them again. Not because he hadn't meant them, because he had. He did. He does. He regretted saying it, though. Regretted giving Pan more ammunition to use against them. Regretted having the memory of those words first said here, in this setting, under these circumstances. Regretted putting her on the spot when he knew, even if she felt the same, she couldn't possibly be ready to say it back to him. And that was okay. He never wanted to push or pressure her, they had enough to contend with from the outside demands of their 'host'. So, for now, all he wanted was to try and make things as easy for her as he could. To protect her and safeguard her to the best of his ability… even if that meant not talking about it and fucking her in the ass in order to keep her from getting pregnant.
"I have something special planned for you," Pan said, startling him as they finished their aftercare routine. "But it requires a bit of a field trip."
Confused, they both looked at one another then towards the door as it opened. Killian took her hand as they stood, placing himself in front of her as he always did when they were instructed to leave their cell.
"Pan says to follow the purple line until it ends, then wait for further instructions."
The purple line? That was a new one. They'd never been instructed to follow that one before. He knew blue led to the showers, green to the rooftop terrace, and yellow to the room where he'd been injected with supposed poison after disobeying Pan's rules. Emma had told him that she thought the Lost One had carried her along the red line when she'd been taken after their night of lovemaking, so Killian had deduced (and kept the knowledge to himself) that it had led to the medical procedure room.
Following the purple stripe to its unknown destination, Killian made a mental note of the route and cataloged it alongside the other colors. Of course, there was still an orange and black line. Their destination was also a mystery to him, which made making a mental map of the facility difficult, but he attempted to do so nonetheless.
The path ended in a narrow passageway in front of a pane of darkened glass. A hidden panel behind them slid closed, shutting them inside the dead end. Before either of them could question what was happening, the pane in front of them lit up. It wasn't just glass. It was a window, looking out onto a circular room with tiers of seats that were shielded by thin, see-through screens, their occupants only noticeable in silhouette.
Emma reached out and banged on the window, trying to get someone's attention, but her efforts were ignored. When someone did pass by - a woman donning an elaborate mask that hid her identity, but not her vanity - and paused to check her red hair, Killian realized…
"It's a mirror," he murmured. "A two-way mirror. They can't see us."
"Not yet, anyway." Pan's voice echoed through the small room. "Besides… their attention is focused elsewhere at the moment."
Emma gasped, pulling Killian's focus to where her wide eyes were trained. In the center, lowest level of the room was a rotating platform, and on that platform were two people engaging in various sex acts whilst the spectators behind the screens watched.
"What the fuck is this?"
"An intimate gathering I host one weekend of each month for like-minded friends. Three days of exhibitionist delights and debauched voyeuristic entertainment. This is the second night."
He paused as dread rolled through Killian's stomach. His next words made bile creep up his throat.
"You two will be night three's entertainment."
"Fuck that!"
"You can't be bloody serious!"
"I am serious enough that I'm willing to offer you your reward before you meet the terms of my… request."
Emma scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "There is nothing you could offer that would make either of us-"
"Not even a chance to reach out to your friends and family so you can inform them that you are not only alive, but also in need of their help?"
They both balked then stared at one another. He couldn't be serious.
"Why would you let us do that?" Killian inquired.
"Because I require your full compliance so that my guests get the experience they've paid for. I am, therefore, prepared to compensate you accordingly."
"In advance?" Emma clarified. "You'd risk us agreeing and notifying our loved ones of the truth only to back out later?"
Pan's tone sent a chill up Killian's spine and he knew Emma had been affected by the hushed warning as well.
"I would advise against such schemes. You do not wish to fathom how far I will go in punishing those who embarrass me in front of my guests."
"What if we simply refuse all together?" Killian asked, knowing there had to be a penalty of equal weight to the reward being offered.
"Then your association with one another is of no further use to me, and I shall reassign you to partners with whom you might be a bit more agreeable to my requests."
Emma pressed herself into Killian's side as he protectively wrapped his arms around her waist. They clung to one another, each of them eyeing the door with the fear that it might open and Lost Ones would be waiting to pry them apart.
"The choice is yours," Pan said. "I'll give you some time to consider your options." The panel slid open, revealing the corridor beyond. "Pan says to return to your room. Further information regarding tomorrow night's entertainment will be waiting for you."
~/~
Emma couldn't stop the tremors coursing through her body. She wasn't sure how she had made it back to their cell on such shaky legs, and the items awaiting them once they'd returned had done nothing to help alleviate her body's physical response to the dread and anxiety overwhelming her.
In the center of the room was a table that held an old fashioned, corded phone. It had only three buttons on the dial panel; one labeled Nolan, one labeled Liam, and one labeled Decline. Next to the phone was a binder, and within it were the rules, expectations, and procedures for the night of entertainment she and Killian were meant to supply to Pan and his perverted guests.
A note also accompanied the binder. It read, Pan says to discuss the instructions in full before making your choice. Should you choose to comply, make your calls accordingly. Should you choose to decline, press the appropriate button and my Lost Ones will see to your reassignment.
"Say something," Killian pleaded. Having read through the binder aloud, he'd tossed it over his shoulder then slumped forward with his head in his hands and his elbows braced against his knees.
"What is there to say?" she said, on the edge of panic. "We can't refuse him. I can't… I can't lose you. I can't let someone else… I can't-"
"Hey. Hey, it's alright," he soothed, gathering her in his arms and cradling her against his chest. "I know." His lips brushed the crown of her head and his chest rose and fell from a deep, fortifying breath. "But we have to discuss it. We have to talk it through. I won't give him any reason to separate us. No loopholes."
Emma nodded and pulled back so she could stare up into his face. "You're right. We have to follow his instructions to the letter if we want to avoid penalty or punishment, and as much as I really don't relish the idea of having to" -she gestured towards the binder- "do that. The idea of being forced apart makes me…"
"Aye. Me, too." Reaching back he picked up the binder and opened it across his lap. "The good news is… none of the spectators are allowed to touch us or participate physically in any of the acts we perform on one another."
"Yeah," Emma groused. "They just get to dictate what acts we perform."
Pan's guests essentially got to be him for a night. Each of them would be able to make suggestions and vote on what sort of acts they wanted to see their entertainment perform on one another. Those requests would then be relayed to them through an ear bud or in some other manner.
Requests involving excessive violence or anything that might leave a permanent mark would not be permitted. She and Killian would have their identity obscured through the use of a domino mask and could opt to have an alias used in lieu of their actual names as well. Of course, they both had distinguishing features that could give away their identities, but what were the odds of them ever encountering these people again?
"Do you want to fill out the form first?" Killian asked, referring to the questionnaire Pan had provided, allowing them each to select up to ten items they absolutely would not consent to. "Or we could go over it together, if you'd prefer?"
If she'd prefer? Did it even matter anymore as to what she would prefer?
Emma's chest tightened and her stomach dropped as the periphery of her vision darkened and blurred spots floated in her vision. A dull ringing began to develop in her ears, strengthening in its tone, pitch, and volume as the pressure in her lungs grew critical and she realized she'd been holding her breath. Rage bubbled up from her stomach and despair stung the corners of her eyes.
This was it, she realized. This was her breaking point. Emma had absolutely had enough.
Launching herself off the bed she stomped to the center of the room and rounded on Killian. "No! I don't want to go over the questionnaire! I don't want to discuss everything involved with tomorrow night's entertainment! I don't want to do any of this! I want to go home!"
Hysterics overtook her and she crumpled to the floor, but not before Killian wrapped her up in his arms to help break her fall. Clinging to him, she wept into his shoulder, her body practically convulsing from the release of pent up emotions and strain.
"I know, love," Killian murmured, his voice tight and gravely from his own held back emotions. He continued to comfort her with soft words of nonsense as his hand caressed soothing circles over her back. After several long minutes, she could feel dampness against her hairline and when she pulled back to glance up, she found it was because Killian had started shedding tears of his own.
A few hiccups escaped her as she tried to calm herself. Killian's hands cupped her face and he brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs before pressing his forehead to hers.
"Just you and me, love," he whispered. "We will face this new degradation as we have all the others. Together."
Pulling back, he brushed her hair away from her face, carding his fingers through the long strands and gently scratching her scalp in the way he knew she liked. "We will forget about Pan and those who have come to witness our debasement and focus only on one another. Aye?"
"Aye," she replied in a sorry attempt to mimic his accent, which pulled a small smile from him. Flicking her gaze up to meet his, she said, "I'm sorry. I-"
"You never have to apologize to me, love," he replied, wrapping her in his arms again and holding her tightly to his chest. "It's a wonder we've both gone this long since our last breaking point."
Emma laughed mirthlessly. He had a point. This certainly wasn't the first time one of them had fallen to pieces and thrown a well deserved tantrum, allowing the homesickness, injustice, and despair to spill over from their boiling points. Allowing him to pick her up off the floor, she tried to bury the worry about whether or not it would be the last.
"What would you say," Killian began, leading them back over to the bed and sitting them on the edge, "to us choosing our false names, our aliases as it were, and proceeding in those personas as a way of distancing ourselves from it?"
"You mean like… pretending this is all happening to someone else?"
"In a way." Killian took her hand and threaded his fingers between hers. "It might allow us to… dissociate from having to fully experience it ourselves if we think about it happening to… The Captain and… whatever pseudonym you might select for yourself, instead."
Emma rolled her bottom lips between her teeth and considered the suggestion. It would be like role play. The audience wouldn't be seeing them, wouldn't be controlling them, they'd be witnessing two characters crafted to play out a role that was separate from the actors themselves. The thought of that released a bit more of tension she was holding onto and an exhale passed over her lips, carrying her agreement.
"Yes. I like that idea." Cocking her head to one side, she looked up at him with a teasing smirk and taunted, "The Captain?"
A blush bloomed across his cheeks and tinted the tips of his ears as he reached up to paw at the patch of skin behind his jawline. "Aye. Uh… I thought it might serve as a fitting moniker."
"Hmmm," Emma hummed with a coy glint in her eye. "I like it." Wetting her lips, which almost always centered his focus on her mouth, Emma dipped her gaze then flicked it back up, peering at him from beneath her lashes as she sultrily inquired, "Would the Captain be agreeable to having a naughty Wench at his side for tomorrow's night entertainment?"
A wicked smile stretched across his lips, and she could see the gleam of relief and pride flicker in his eyes before they turned dark and heated. "Oh, aye," he replied in a deep timbre that damn near made her toes curl. "I think the Captain would enjoy a naughty Wench's companionship very much indeed." Plucking a paper from the binder, he held it out to her and with his Captain's voice ordered, "Be a good little Wench and fill this out so your Captain knows all the deplorable things he'll get to do to you."
"Aye, aye… Captain."