Soul Rest

by Joey W. Hill

  Anything was possible tonight.

  "Max just pulled up," Cassandra said. "Ladies? Ready to go?"

  "Absolutely." Dana bounced up, pulling Rachel with her. "We'll get him to tell us everything that happened in the back of the limo."

  "Good luck with that." Savannah shook her head. "With SEALs, everything is classified."

  "I'll threaten to strip down and sit in his lap naked while he's driving," Dana said resolutely. "He'll talk."

  "He'll spank you, put you in time-out and turn you over to Peter for punishment," Rachel said.

  "So a win-win, then."

  SS

  Ben's loft was in New Orleans' business district. When they reached the warehouse, Max handed them out of the limo and took them to the lift. "Have a good night, ladies. If your dates do anything to upset you, just give me a call. You know I'll come back and get you in a heartbeat."

  Dana gave him a hug full of affection. "We figured you were going to come up and show them how it's done, Max."

  He shook his head at that, his lips twitching. "Not built that way."

  "Yeah, damn it. Our loss is Janet's gain." Dana stepped onto the lift, letting him hold her hand to ensure she didn't catch her heels in the threshold she couldn't see. "Tell her she was freaking fantastic today."

  Cassandra nodded emphatically and gave Max a warm hug as well. "Tell her no one could have done a better job. We love her dearly."

  "She's family," Savannah added, meeting Max's gaze. "As are you."

  His smile grew warmer at that, the look reflecting his own love for the woman in question, as well as his regard for all the K&A women. "I'll tell her."

  "Be sure and tell her several times," Dana added impishly. "Thoroughly."

  He chuckled and closed the mesh door before entering the security code that would send them to the third floor. As it ascended and he disappeared from view, Rachel leaned against Dana, squeezed her hand. "He's much more relaxed about teasing all of us," she said. "Have you noticed?"

  "He's still somewhat reserved around Matt, but I've noticed it, too," Cassandra agreed.

  "Well, Matt is his boss. In his world, that's his commanding officer," Dana pointed out. "There will always be a reserve there. Plus Matt is Matt. He gives off that vibe."

  "Yes, he surely does," Cassandra said with an exaggerated sigh like a swooning heroine. "He's a walking vibrator."

  Savannah elbowed her, but Celeste could tell this kind of teasing was normal for all of them. Though she had done things socially with the K&A circle, some of it a benefit of her past history with them but mostly as a result of her friendship with Marcie, this was the first time she'd been included in the banter and sexual energy they emitted as submissives, charged up about the impending evening with their Masters. It couldn't help but be contagious. Especially with the ball of heat expanding in her lower belly, imagining being with her own steady-eyed Dom tonight. She cleared her throat.

  "I hope Janet isn't too tired when Max gets home. It would be a crime to waste all that."

  "Oh, I'm sure she'll rally enough to take a morsel or two of that cake. And if not, he'll be there in the morning."

  "Breakfast is the best time to eat cake anyway," Rachel added, gray-green eyes twinkling.

  When the lift arrived on the third floor, Jon and Peter were there to unhook the lift door and greet them. As Dana and Rachel gravitated toward their men like magnets, Celeste looked for Leland. She didn't immediately see him, but the impact of what she did see caught her attention like a shifting magnetic force, drawing her gaze from one tantalizing possibility to another, and another...

  From tidbits of conversation on the way over, she'd learned that Ben had once used this loft as a living space because of its close proximity to the office. Since he and Marcie had made the permanent transition to his Garden District home, he'd converted the whole floor to accommodate BDSM parties with close friends, as well as his and Marcie's own private adventures here. She found herself looking at a well-equipped adult playground, better even than Club Surreal, if on a smaller scale. Slightly.

  The theme of the room was monochromatic, the walls white and splattered with black paint in an edgy, artistic effect. The bar was black marble. Oil renderings of enlarged black-and-white erotic photographs were mounted in silver frames on the walls. The pictures depicted shadows and soft flesh, hints of sensual pleasures.

  The equipment placed throughout the spacious area and anchored to the hardwood floor was everything a man with Ben's financial resources could want, for restraint, punishment and pleasuring in myriad creative ways. There were several variations of St. Andrew's crosses, spanking benches and frames for restraint. Thanks to her Internet searches, she recognized a couple types of fucking machines and forced orgasm towers. Padded tables offered multiple ways to restrain a submissive, including one with rounded pegs all along the sides to lace thin rope over her. A horizontal frame stretched with latex she guessed was a cocoon bed, where the sub would be placed inside the cocoon and then all the air sucked out of it to mold the latex to the body like a second skin and hold her down.

  Paddles, whips, canes, restraints, gags, vibrators and other stimulating items were mounted on custom-designed racks on the walls in several convenient locations. An elaborate crisscrossing of beams and supports in the back corner was intended for rope suspension, if the adjacent board hung with a number of ropes and a variety of clips were any indication.

  Everything was positioned at appropriate distances to allow whatever pair or group using them a discreet cushion of space to craft their scenes and become absorbed in the energy they raised with one another. Looking around, Celeste understood why the men had needed to leave earlier. Some of the things she was seeing had to have been brought in specifically for this event, which would have required rearrangement of the other standing equipment to ensure that buffer of space.

  In the back shadows on either end of the room several double beds had been set up on frames. She also saw a king-sized mattress turned into a nest on the floor with the use of numerous pillows and a comforter. Between the equipment and the bed areas, groupings of occasional chairs, couches and a couple recliners were set up, along with scattered throw rugs that looked like they were made of one of those thick coverings that felt so lovely on bare flesh, like Sherpa or micro-mink fleece. If anyone wished to move from the equipment to a more comfortable spot for viewing the other players or to conduct a different type of play that didn't involve the equipment, those needs had been accommodated.

  Despite the women's teasing about the uncertainty of Ben and Marcie coming up for air anytime soon, it appeared the newlyweds' arrival was anticipated. More white rose petals like those at the wedding were scattered over the wood floor. The loft had a raised platform which a long time ago had likely been the floor of a foreman's office, raised about two feet to allow him to watch the shop floor. The walls of that office were long gone, but the raised floor was still there and a full perimeter of two shallow steps framed it. On that platform, a canopy bed was made up in white linen. Sheer panels were drawn around it, white roses wound over the metal frame. Four white cuffs attached to steel chains were pulled out from beneath the mattress, coiled against the snow-white bedding in artful display. If Ben wished to restrain Marcie to it as he took his pleasure, those would be easy options.

  Celeste was feeling flushed, her knees a little trembly. She had her hand on her stomach, a calming gesture that would have embarrassed her except she had a feeling such a reaction might please one particular person. If she could find him. Where was he? She'd seen Jon and Peter. Lucas had his arm around Cassandra, bending to press a kiss beneath her ear as she gripped the lapel of his jacket, her eyes closed. Her lips curved as he said something to her, and Celeste felt the desire to touch her own throat as his hand spread out over her sternum, fingers caressing her collarbones.

  Leland had said it would be an intimate gathering, less than fifteen people. Though she recognized all the faces here as pe
ople who'd been at the wedding, she was uncertain about being in this environment with the few she didn't know well. She didn't see Leland or Matt, so she made the educated guess that they might be together, handling something that shouldn't matter anywhere as much to Leland as being the fuck here to reassure her before she freaked the hell out.

  Stop it, Celeste. Jesus. It's not like some stranger's going to jump you. She needed some wine to calm her nerves. She headed for the black marble bar. It was spread with food and snacks that matched the quality of the reception offerings. There was also a bartender, though she expected he was here for more reasons than that. He was in his mid to late twenties, a beautiful man dressed in a white dress shirt and black jeans, a thin black tie. His long dark hair was tied back, highlighting sculpted, sensitive features that drew her eyes to his sensual lips and the dark, expressive eyes. He was slim but strong looking.

  It was then Celeste noticed that all the men were in black and white. Black slacks or jeans, white dress shirts or white T-shirts covered with black jackets. The monochromatic color scheme made her surroundings feel like a black-and-white movie, every detail precise.

  A basket of cards rested on either corner of the bar, with a sign to "Take One." A small vial of bubbles was attached to each card with a black or white ribbon. Ben and Marcie O'Callahan was printed on the vial, with their wedding date. Opening the card, Celeste read, When the music ends, full play may begin. At that time, please maintain silence or whisper to respect those in session. Bubbles may be used anytime.

  "Sorry, we didn't mean to leave you on your own like that." Rachel threaded her arm through Celeste's, nudged her. "I didn't realize Leland had stepped out with Matt. Jon said they'll be back shortly. Leland said not to hook up with anyone before he returned."

  "No promises on that." Celeste let out a breath, though, even while chiding herself for being ridiculous. She didn't have to do anything here she didn't want to do. She had a safe word, but Leland himself might be rethinking what he'd said he might do here. He had his own privacy to protect as well, and the extra people here beyond the K&A men might not be known to him.

  "So...um, who are the other people?"

  "It's a very exclusive group," Rachel said. "Committed couples and one trio, all of whom are close friends, not only in the 'public' world with us, but also this very private one. Ben wouldn't allow anyone here tonight that he didn't trust without reservation, Celeste."

  "Of course not. I didn't mean to give that impression."

  "You didn't." Rachel ran her hand soothingly down Celeste's forearm. "Your Master is a cop, and you want to protect him. And you want to protect yourself. Nothing wrong with that at all. But don't worry. In this world, Leland knows his way quite well. You can let go of the reins and trust him to take care of you, rather than the other way around."

  Rachel had a calming scent. Beneath the teasing hint of lotion and body oil, there was an inner balance that seemed to increase with close proximity, like now. Celeste was tempted to lean against her, which wasn't like her at all. She wasn't the touchy-feely, hug-all-the-time female type. Yet Rachel read her body language and slipped an arm around her waist, letting the two of them lean together in a posture of relaxed affection.

  "Nice change from the world out there, where it's all about juggling the balls and holding the reins, right?" Rachel's gaze swept the room. "Someone might look at this and see a circus, whereas to me, it's the outside world that's the circus. Work, groceries, bills. Expectations, worries, loss. Disappointments, fears. In here, it's like standing in a field beside a pond, listening to the stillness spread outward and inward. Close your eyes."

  At Celeste's curious glance, the faint lines around her eyes creased, her lips curving. "Trust me. It's a fun experiment."

  Celeste complied, and Rachel changed their positions so she was behind Celeste, one hand on her waist, the other linked with Celeste's. "Take three breaths. Slow. In and out. Think about the lack of color here. Everything black, white and silver. Clean lines. Simple. Yet think about the way the black paint is splattered over the white, a show of passion, a hint of volatility. The silver gleam of the equipment reminds you of the edge of a knife, trailing down your throat, around the curve of your breast, a sensual kiss."

  Her eyelids twitched, but Rachel spoke again, her voice like a sparkling spring.

  "Keep your eyes closed just a little longer," she urged. "Notice all the scents. Men and women. All the things they've put on their skin, their lips, the touches of fragrance at throat and wrists, the clean smell of their clothes. The rustle of the dresses we're wearing, dresses that will get peeled from our bodies as the night progresses. You'll notice new fragrances then. Perspiration, need and want. Release."

  Her grip on Celeste increased as she swayed. "Think about what lies in the shadows, hanging from the walls. Whips, floggers, paddles, restraints, gags. The possibilities are a million tiny tingles that spread from your stomach through every part of your body, making you feel alive, anxious, hungry...happy. You can almost feel him touching you already, hear him murmuring in your ear, telling you what he requires of you. You want him to touch you. He won't yet. But his eyes are on you, watching everything you do, your reaction to all of it. Open your eyes slowly and see."

  The white and black colors of the room were sharper, her hearing and sense of smell heightened. Which made the impact of seeing Leland all the more powerful.

  Standing a few feet away from them, he was wearing a white T-shirt and black jeans that made the most of his impressive physique, a casual black sports jacket over the T-shirt. His gaze was locked upon her, his golden-brown eyes sliding over her face, down her body, as if he owned every inch of her. At the wedding, she'd worn a sassy beaded jacket over the black dress, but she'd left it off tonight. He lingered over the swell of her breasts revealed by the neckline, the curve of her hip delineated by the cling of the fabric. She'd worn a short slip beneath the thin dress at the wedding as well, but here she'd left it off, so the slit in the back of the skirt made it easy for light to penetrate through the cloth, give him the hint of her thighs all the way up to the juncture between them.

  This wasn't the reception where physical desires had to be kept in check. He didn't smile, didn't gesture to her. She was acutely aware of the hold of his collar on her throat as she managed erratic breaths. She was held in place, waiting for him to tell her what he desired from her. She'd always run from that, hadn't she? Never waited around to see what a man wanted from her. Yet she actively sought it from him. She'd started calling him Master before he ever prompted her to do so. If he had prompted her to do it first, she probably would have told him to get over himself and fuck off, shut down the urge and never turned back to it.

  She could lie to herself, tell herself it was evidence he'd let her take the lead at key points in their relationship, yet in truth she hadn't felt in the lead once. Nor had she really wanted to step into that role. It was as Rachel had described. She didn't have to be in control. That was her choice, an amazing, empowering choice.

  She took a deeper breath at the thought. Now that Leland was here, connecting her to him with that penetrating look and full awareness of her, of who she was, what she was to him, those worries and insecurities felt even farther away.

  "I have someone I'd like her to meet, Leland," Rachel said. "Is that all right?"

  Leland's gaze shifted to the blonde, and he nodded. "In just a minute."

  He crooked a finger at Celeste to draw her closer and reached for a glass of wine that the bartender had placed on the corner of the bar near him. When Celeste reached Leland, he slid his arm around her waist, his palm spreading out over her buttock. The simplest contact had her quivering and his mouth tightened as he saw it. "Take a couple sips," he said, holding the glass to her lips. When she began to lift her hand to it, he shook his head.

  She put the hand down. He tilted the glass to give her a sip, then another. His gaze stayed trained on her, making sure he didn't give her too much
, too quickly. When he took it away, he leaned down and tasted the wine on her lips, a brief sample of his mouth that, along with the wine, spread a steadying warmth through her.

  "Go with Rachel now," he told her.

  Rachel laced fingers with her. Leland gave her a mild push and a look that made Celeste want nothing more than to stay right with him. She wasn't sure who this docile creature was whose gaze clung to him and whose feet dragged as she was taken away from him, but she couldn't seem to snap out of the enchantment.

  "He'll call you when he's ready for you," Rachel told her in a low voice. "They like us to move around, pretend to make small talk, when we all know the whole point is making the anticipation build until we're crazy with it. It's more fun that way."

  Fun was not the strongest priority driving her right now. She noticed Matt, Lucas, Jon and Peter seemed to be doing the same thing Leland was doing. Their wives were greeting friends, chatting, but it was as clear as if there was an electrified tether between each couple that both Masters and subs were thinking about all the things that were going to happen here tonight. It was unsettling, arousing. Ironically, the farther she moved from Leland, the more that feeling was amplified.

  When she brushed a lock of her hair off her brow, she had to stop herself from sliding her fingers over her mouth, down her throat, trailing her fingers over her breast. Her gaze slid over a divan and she thought of reclining there, letting her fingers descend further, her attention only on her Master as she touched herself.

  "I don't think it will be long before the music is turned off," Rachel said, jerking her out of the fantasy. Though there was humor in the woman's voice, Celeste heard a faint strain that reflected her own.

  Celeste cleared her throat. "You said there was a 'trio' here?"

  "Yes. It's one of that trio I wanted you to meet. A distraction right now would be good, right?"

  Celeste had to chuckle at that, and Rachel's eyes gleamed in response. "Here we go, then. Lyda, may I introduce someone to Gen?"