by Joey W. Hill
The strikes were pretty, the whip becoming a sinuous snake in his hand. Celeste wondered how a submissive had learned to handle a whip with such mastery. Noah must step into the role of a service top quite frequently. The one thing consistent about the BDSM world was how it resisted definitions. She only had to look at every different dynamic here to prove that.
His last throw was a short, hard pop on Gen's ass that bloomed into a precise red circle the size of a penny. Gen let out a short shriek, but Lyda caught it, kissing her mouth.
"Pretty damn impressive." Leland pursed his lips.
"What? Making a woman scream?" Celeste muttered. He caressed her arms, reassuring her once again.
"The whip play. Often when a more forceful stroke is applied, it's a length of the popper that hits, leaving a slash mark. To do it off the tip end, that drawback point when it cracks, is when you get that small circle mark instead. Takes practice and precision. Boy has both. And see? Your friend is being rewarded for taking the pain."
Lyda was running her hand down Gen's back to cup her buttock, soothe the offended skin. The succor was balanced by a pinch that made Gen jump, though Noah knelt behind her and followed that rough treatment with soothing licks of his tongue. He moved to her buttocks, cupping them in both hands and parting the curves to give Gen's rim a tongue fucking that had her crying out for different reasons
"Look there," Leland said, drawing her attention to yet another scene unfolding. Since Marcie and Cassandra were sisters, Celeste hadn't been sure how this group dynamic would work for them. She saw Lucas's interest had been caught by a hammock frame on the other side of the loft from Ben and Marcie. Celeste wondered if the extra cushion of space wasn't merely because of the sexual component, but maybe because Cassandra also had difficulty watching her sister take those incredible punishments Ben could dish out.
Either way, Lucas was keeping her well distracted. He had Cassandra lashed on the hammock frame and blindfolded. He'd tilted her back on the web so her knees were higher than her head. As a result, he didn't have to bend more than a few inches to thread his hands through the ropes, grip her thighs and put his mouth between her legs. She was making harsh noises of pleasure, and when Lucas lifted his head, she saw how glistening wet Cass's cunt was, her thighs marked as if he'd already brought her to climax this way and intended to keep doing it.
They had company on that side of the loft. Peter had Dana strapped to one of the fucking machines, and was squatting on his heels, studying his petite submissive as she fought her orgasm on hands and knees. Peter's military-short hair just emphasized the corded neck and broad shoulders. His black T-shirt drew Celeste's gaze to the Don't Tread on Me tattoo on his biceps. Despite his intimidating appearance and the stern Master's expression, his touch on Dana's nape was as gentle as if he was touching a baby bird.
Celeste hadn't had a chance to meet the other couples before the lights dimmed, but Dana was going down on one of the women, a Hispanic brunette with large breasts, dark, long-lashed eyes and scarlet-painted lips stretched back from her teeth in a captivating expression of arousal. Peter held a pair of clover nipple clamps. Based on Dana's urgency, Celeste guessed he was threatening her with the painful things if she didn't bring the woman to climax before her own overtook her. Yet he had every intention of making her fail. As Celeste watched, he put his hand beneath his wife and began to play with her small nipples as the fucking machine kept doing his work. Celeste had to bite back a strained smile as she detected Dana's creative curse.
These were just the opening acts. They'd probably go on well until the dawn. Every coupling, every surrender, every command, would honor Ben and Marcie's union and what such a union could and should mean.
The air was saturated with sex and need, every desire made manifest. Celeste's nape was damp with perspiration when Leland kissed it and pushed her dress to her waist, cupped her breasts in their lace cups, squeezed and fondled. "Rub your ass against me, sweet darlin'. Tell me how much you need me. How much you want your Master to take all your choices away and fuck you until you can't walk without his help."
She was already rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat, and when he reached into the cups, finding her nipples to give them a rolling pinch, she jerked hard against him, crying out. "Please..." It was the only word she knew with him right now.
"So should I do all of it to you, darlin'? Every single thing? Or is there something in particular you just have to have, right this minute? Ask me nicely, and you might get your wish."
She could barely breathe. She knew what she wanted, but that didn't matter. He would make the decision. She understood that, but she also understood why he wanted her to say it. By saying it, she was acknowledging his right to make that decision, and trusting him enough to follow whatever he decided. Wanting what he wanted as much as what she wanted herself, because it was somehow all the same.
"I want...what my Master said he wanted. To take me here, in front of all of them. To show them...I'm his."
"Yeah, you are. Every beautiful, difficult inch of you." He kissed the top of her head. "I want you out of this dress."
He pushed it off, holding her arm to steady her as she stepped free of it, leaving her in her black low cut bra, lace thong panties, a pair of thigh highs and her heels. He took the dress, folded it over a chair. He also stripped out of his jacket, revealing more of his powerful upper torso clad in the snug white T-shirt. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down to speak in her ear. "Walk to the bed to the right of Ben and Marcie. The one that's under the spotlight, that everyone can see. I'm going to be behind you, watching the way your hips move, the tilt of your ass in your heels, and thinking about how those pretty tits of yours quiver as you move."
His hands slid beneath them again, teasing the lace edges of the bra, the areola that peeked out of them. Her nipples were taut, pushing into his palms, and he noticed, caressing and fondling her as she let out a thready sigh, rubbed her ass against him again. He nudged her away from him, gave her nearly bare ass a firm pat. "Still showing the marks of my belt, darlin'. Do as your Master tells you."
She felt a pounding up in her throat, a rush of blood that made her light-headed. She tried to take a step, but the world tilted in a funny way. Before she had to grab onto anything, he was there, holding her from behind. "Okay?" he said in her ear. "Can you do this?"
"I'm not sure. I want to. I really want to." She wasn't sure what was going on, but everything was so bright. It was as if she was about to step into a whole different world, as if this act was so definitive, there'd be no going back. Oh Christ, she was doing it again. Stop thinking.
When he stripped his belt from his jeans, she wondered, heart skipping a beat, if he was going to bend her over the bar and punish her. Instead he looped it around her throat, drew it taut over the necklace. Pulling the slack back toward him, he wrapped it over his fist and rested it on her shoulder. He put his hand on the small of her back. "I've got you, darlin'. Walk."
It made all the difference in the world, that reinforcement. His contact. She couldn't explain it, but rational thought had no place in this. They walked through the different scenes, past submissives in various stages of what she herself was experiencing. Past the Doms like Matt, Lyda or Peter, all of whom registered her submission with a quick flick of intent eyes, acknowledging she was fully under the care and control of her Master. It made her legs tremble even more. When they skirted past Ben and Marcie, her gaze slid over Marcie's backside, angry red and marked with circles from that paddle.
Ben was now snapping a dragon tail over it. He'd removed the bed cuffs, but had her collar and wrist cuffs attached to those delicate chains, which were clipped to the end of the bed, his new bride on her hands and elbows. Marcie was doing her best not to break those delicate chains, and lift her ass as Ben commanded. But as she squealed at each sting, Celeste faltered under another wave of that light-headedness. She couldn't help but notice how wet Marcie was, the slick flush of her c
unt. Ben paused just then to press a thumb into that opening as he bent to slide his tongue along her rim, making her writhe and beg all the more. "Yeah, I'll be putting every inch of my cock in that tight ass soon, brat. What do you think of that?"
"Pleeeassse..." Marcie gasped. "Master."
"Leland." Celeste couldn't find him in the shower of stars closing around her vision.
"Hang in there, darlin'." His arm steadied her.
"I need you inside me. Now. Please."
She didn't want to sound pushy, but she couldn't help sounding urgent. Though he might not prefer Ben's extreme physical methods, Leland could be just as much of a sadist, making her wait, making her lose her grip on reality and fly at his command. She thought that was what she was doing now, because she was sure she was walking on clouds.
Leland didn't take her to the bed under the spotlight after all, but to one in a back corner. Though it could still be seen by the others, it was deeper in the shadows, a space cocooned for the two of them. Leland turned her toward him, loosened the belt, set it aside. Her hands lifted, fluttered, caught his shirt. She shouldn't touch him without permission, but she found herself pressed against him, her lips to his throat, her body rubbing against his. "God, I can't..."
"I know. That's why you have me to set the limits." He turned her around, pushed her down on the bed and braced his knee between her legs, holding her pinned there with a hand on her nape as he ran his palm over her ass, gave her another smart slap. When she tried to push back up, a spike of rebellion, he showed her he was tolerating none of that now. His grip immediately shifted to that muscle between neck and shoulder and clamped down until she was begging for mercy, that she would be good.
"Not likely," he muttered. He released the hold but only to put his hand under her hips, yank her up onto knees. He brought her ass up but kept her cheek to the bed. Then he spanked her more fiercely. After that, he began to use the belt.
"God..." She was biting the bed linens. All that overwhelming arousal, all the stimulation here, she wouldn't have thought punishment was what she needed. She needed to be fucked. Yet here she was, getting even more intensely worked up as he reminded her who she belonged to.
A few times, she tried to fight him, but he put her back down without any trouble. He was past playing. He didn't stop until he had everything good and throbbing, until she had tears on her face like Marcie, and for some crazy reason she wanted more. Just more of everything, as long as it came from him.
Then, in that insane way only he knew how to do, he turned her world topsy-turvy by changing tactics midstream. He lifted her off the bed, cradling her in his arms. He stood at the end of the bed, just holding her off the ground like that. He swayed back and forth, as if soothing a babe in his arms, her head tucked under his chin while she cried. He brushed his lips over her eyes, her nose, catching her mouth in a hot promise before he bent, laid her down on the bed again.
"Take off your panties," he commanded. "Get on your hands and knees."
She obeyed, her fingers fumbling. This way she was facing the wall, but there were mirrors here. She could see behind her, see the others, see who was looking at her. But suddenly that wasn't all that important. What mattered was her Master, who was opening his jeans. She curled her hands into balls, bit into the covers. Yes, please.
"I'm not hearing my sub begging. She must not really want this."
"No, Master, I do. Please."
He fitted the head of his cock against her cunt, so wet, so slippery. "Is all that for me? Or you've just been getting off watching all this?"
"No. Yes. But it wouldn't be the same if you weren't watching with me."
"Hmm." He played with her opening, pressing the broad head against it, but when she tried to push back onto him, force the issue, he withdrew, picked up the belt again. "Haven't learned our lesson, have we, darlin'? Who's in charge?"
"You. You." She didn't think she could take more punishment, but her Master wanted to try her in a different way. He ran the belt beneath her arms, brought her up on her knees, the band just above her nipples as he stood just behind her, his breath on her neck.
"Play with your nipples, Celeste. Feel how sensitive they are when I hold the belt over them like this."
She obeyed, but she couldn't stop herself from pleading. "Please, Master. I really need you inside me. Please."
Everything she'd ever been afraid of, needed, lost or found, had to do with that. She was afraid she'd lose it if it didn't happen this minute, because such a moment always slipped away.
"I am inside you, Celeste. That's what you need to learn, darlin'. What we'll learn together, however long it takes. I'm already inside you. Inside, outside, all around you. I'm here." He let the belt slide away, crossed his arms over her, curving his large hands over both breasts. As he did, he molded their bodies together, moved them in that sway of motion like he had when he'd done the Ichinawa. She molded herself back into him as she had then, trusting his movements, trusting his hold on her. She let out a long moan as one of those movements pushed him into her, full length, his testicles against the back of her thighs as he brought her forward onto the bed, covered her with his body. "There we are. What do you say?"
"Thank you, Master. Thank you..." She gasped it out as he thrust a little deeper, then slowly started to draw out.
"Don't think I heard you."
"Thank you, Master. Thank you."
"Better. Stay still. Don't move unless I tell you to move." He pushed into her slow, wresting a yearning sound from her as she tried to obey. In the reflection of the mirror in front of her, she saw Rachel's head tipped back over the edge of a spanking bench where Jon had her stretched out and was doing something between her legs that had her flushed and near orgasm. He kept drawing back the phallic-looking device in his hand, teasing her, making her beg as well. Her breasts glistened with something that looked like glitter paste. It was having some kind of erotic effect on her, because the nipples were swollen to twice the expected size. She appeared to be begging for Jon to touch them. When he did, Rachel screamed at the pleasure of it, her body bucking on the bench, her climax held just out of reach.
The look in Jon's midnight blue eyes was pure Master, getting off on her helplessness, her throaty supplications. That look affected Celeste as well, particularly when Leland spoke to her sternly because her hips started to lift.
"Stay still. Don't make me tell you again."
Which made her want to incur the punishment. But she wanted to please him as well, and for once the latter won. She stayed still, every cell screaming to move as he pushed deep inside her, rotated. God, he felt so incredible. She couldn't possibly stay still, but she did, because he'd ordered her to do so.
"Look at them in the mirror, Celeste. I want you to keep looking at all of them."
She did, but eventually she had to close her eyes, overwhelmed enough to grasp the one thing she felt over and above all of it. Love. The way she'd never expected it to feel. Visceral, all-consuming, angry, tear-swollen, needy, unquestionable, unconditional and overwhelming.
He bent over her, pressing his full weight against her, driving his hips so he moved her forward on the bed and wrested a cry from her throat. "Yeah, you understand now, don't you, darlin'? Gonna use you hard tonight, Celeste. Leave no doubt in your mind. Got it?"
Oh God. "Oh God..." How had he... It didn't matter how, but the words alone were enough. The ripple started in her abdomen and started to spread, a tide that was no turning back. "Leland...Master..."
"Come all you want, baby. Won't be the last time you come for your Master. Your night is far from over."
She had no choice. She came, screaming without any thought of who might be around them. Someone else, maybe a couple someones, got tipped over by her orgasm, because she heard several thin cries that matched her own, like doves or swans. Those poignant long notes resonated in the heart and mind, driving the pulsing of her body to greater heights than she imagined possible. He was right. She wa
s going to give him her soul before the night was over.
SS
Leland hadn't been kidding her about her night being far from over. After that incredible orgasm, he'd brought her back up to peak at least twice more. The first time was fast and brutal. He'd bound her on the St. Andrew's Cross that Rachel and Jon were no longer using, blindfolded her with an eye mask that deprived her of any light. Through the use of a high-powered Hitachi Wand, he forced an orgasm on her. Coming so soon on the heels of the other climax, she thought she might have shorted out some brain circuits. She struggled against the overwhelming flood of sensation, but he didn't let up until her body was bucking helplessly again and crying for mercy.
But his follow-up was even more devastating. He kept her on the cross, panting and shuddering, and began to press kisses on her body. A kiss high on her thigh first. Then a significant pause, where the sounds of other sessions, gasps, sighs, cries, sharp slaps, the zap of an electric stick, filled her with anticipation and a swirling anxiety. She jumped as his mouth pressed against her navel next, tongue playing there a leisurely amount of time before he drew back again.
He didn't fix the amount of time or establish any rhythm, so she didn't know where his mouth would explore next, but over an endless amount of time she felt like he gained an intimate knowledge of her flesh through taste alone. He stayed away from her nipples, her cunt, as she once again began to get slick for him, needing his mouth, his cock, his fingers, anything. She was shuddering, jerking from every touch of his lips. When he kissed her neck, his body leaning into hers, she wanted to twist her head around, seek the intimacy of his mouth on hers. She needed that contact, because she was starting to feel brittle, the roller coaster of arousal hollowing her out. She didn't think to ask, too busy struggling with it, but when the first tear rolled down her face, his lips were on her cheekbone.