by Joey W. Hill
It was their little ritual, though maybe this one had earned her a punishment more daunting than usual. Or more thrilling.
She knew the type of equipment that had a stabilizer bar on the floor, a chin rest. A fucking machine, though sometimes that part could be removed so it was simply a restraint system. She couldn’t tell if or how it had been modified, but she was sure she’d soon find out. He was tethering her service collar to the bar underneath the chin rest now, keeping her there. He took the chin rest up another couple inches, forcing her to lift her upper body, thrust out her naked chest.
It was impossible not to quiver about it. When he took her into uncharted waters, which he continuously, miraculously did, she would shake like a newbie sub, and it would only get worse—or better, depending on the perspective—as he continued. Now what felt like netting was being pressed against her breasts. He wrapped them twice, binding them tightly together, then crossed the tail ends between, rolling the excess netting to form a shoulder harness that attached to the wrap in back and held her upper body in an even more rigid upward angle.
He rubbed her nipples, the rough friction of the netting making her draw in a breath. Then he went to those torturous light brushes that sent spasms through her pussy. Back to harder rubbing, which caused her to pull involuntarily against the chin rest, only to discover the tether was so short it kept her in place.
“Be still for your Master.” He ran his hands over her compressed bosom. “That’s awfully pretty, girl, seeing your tits like that. Now…just to keep you focused.”
Focus? He was insane, right? Oh hell, the clover nipple clamps. He clipped them on her around the netting’s hold. They hurt, and of course his pull on the connecting chain only tightened them. When he tugged upward, apparently looping the chain over the frame holding the chin rest, she had to bite back a pitiful whimper. “To make sure you keep that upper body lifted.”
But though he was willing to torment her like this, there were other things he found unacceptable. Leaving her to breathe through the pain of those clamps, he attached a vertical bar beneath her that had a padded platform and foam wedge insert. The wedge followed her body from just beneath her breasts to the crease between hip and thigh, giving her support. Even with her upper body lifted, the wedge was doing the work. Peter had taken into account the limitations of her joints and spine, though it also suggested how long he intended for her to be in this position.
He could be a ruthless Master when he was a bit pissed with her, which she knew he was, but no matter how vulnerable and exposed he made her feel, he never forgot to take care of her.
“Coming off now.” A short cry tore from her lips as the clovers were removed, that brief but intense pinch. He massaged her with his fingers. “There we are. Stiff and big, like cherries. That’s the way they’ll stay or you’ll get these clamps again.”
She missed his touch immediately when he withdrew, but then he was stroking her thighs, cuffing them to the pole holding the padded platform. “I’m going to get you warmed up now, but if you come, you’re going to be in big trouble. Worse trouble than you’re already in, and you’re in deep shit.”
She bit her lip as the dildo slid into her pussy, confirming she was strapped to a fucking machine. As he explored with his fingers, making sure it was going in at the right angle, she tried to lift her hips further to press into that welcome contact. Then she made an incoherent noise as he shifted, probed her ass. The machine had dual attachments. The lubricated plug that he guided into her opening wasn’t as thick as the plug she’d been wearing up until dinner time. However, as it went in, what seemed narrow became far thicker at the base, stretching her rim.
Nothing was predictable about the toys Peter might use. With Jon, the engineering genius of the K&A men, helping with design, the only thing certain was it wouldn’t be the usual assembly line sex toy equipment.
The one in her pussy was thick and long, with a clit stimulator that would hit her each time the dildo thrust home. She knew the shape and feel of that phallus, because it was an exact model of Peter’s cock. Given that she was a little more hardcore and…well, graphic in her desires, than Cass or Savannah, Lucas and Matt’s wives, Jon had given her the phallus as a Christmas gift. She’d tried to extract the story of how he’d obtained the mold from her husband, but Peter had nixed that.
If you ever tell her, he’d advised Jon, I’ll use every bit of training I have to kill you and make your body disappear. I’ll miss you, but it will have to be done.
The motor engaged. Held rigid, she moaned as the two pieces began to do their job, sliding in, pulling out. A little breathy squeal emitted from her throat as she realized why the anal plug was different. The narrow end was like a tongue. A flexible tongue that lapped along her channel inside and licked around her rim, several rotations, as it came out. When it plunged back in, all the way to that thick base that stretched her anus to the point of burning, it paused a few seconds, then the tongue piece started up again, working its way back out once more. Both pieces were well lubed, and the heated tingling said one of Jon’s mysterious oils was at work on them.
Peter was in front of her again, cupping her breasts. “I should jack myself off over these lovely tits,” he growled. “Let you smell me dripping off your nipples. Mark you as mine before he gets here. Let him see you looking all used and bound up, ready for our pleasure, the way a good slave should be.”
He. Her fantasy was about to become a reality, she knew it. It set off an explosion of reaction that took her so perilously close to climax she had to lock every muscle against it, breath rasping desperately through her nose. Peter’s visual of jacking off over her breasts, something that never failed to excite her, wasn’t helping.
“Yeah, I thought that would turn you on. Your pussy’s dripping at the idea of serving your Master and his friend. But you’re going to have to do your penance first. Prove to me you can be good enough to deserve that.”
“I can be bad enough to deserve that,” she gasped, showing teeth. She cried out as he compressed her nipple in two fingers, held it in a patient, steady strong grip like the pincers of a crab. Even as the pain built, shooting out from the contact, her pussy spasmed further at the rough treatment, at his unspoken demand.
“I’ll be good…I…promise. Please.”
He let her go, gently massaging the nipple, working that netting over it.
“We’ll see. Right now, you’re going to hold one image in that stubborn rock head of yours. Me ripping a hole in that netting, working my lubed dick in between your breasts until I come. You keep that picture in the forefront of your mind, like I’m doing it, but you hold back that orgasm. You let go before I give you permission, your ass is going to be on fire, and those clover clamps you hate are going back on until you’re screaming for mercy. Understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“So docile now. Such a pain in my ass the rest of the time.”
“You like me that way.” Dana yelped as he pinched the other nipple, a quick twist that had a curse whistling out between her lips. “Fuck. I didn’t mean it, Master.”
“Yeah, you did. Insubordination is your thing, Sergeant. You’re a discipline junkie. What are you supposed to be thinking of?”
“Your cock…jacking off between my…tits.”
“That’s it. Feel those plugs fucking you, think about if you can be good enough to deserve the real thing. No coming.”
“Yes, Master. Please…” Oh fuck. He adjusted the machine, and it moved at a faster pace, hitting her clit more regularly. Oh God. He intended her to fail. He wanted to inflict maximum punishment tonight, and if “he” was who she thought it was, he’d brought the right man to help him.
“He’s pulling in now. I’m going out on the deck to join him for a drink. While we’re out there, we’re going to watch you through the glass doors. I want to give him time to enjoy the view and think about how he’s going to fuck that sweet ass of yours.”
He gave her on
e more stinging slap on the buttock. As the sliding door opened, then closed, it left her alone with her rasping breath and the whir of that machine turned up to a higher setting. Desperation closed in fast, because there was no way she couldn’t come.
Which meant she’d be entirely at his mercy, his and Ben O’Callahan’s, if she’d guessed right. She hoped—and feared—she had.
* * *
It was a good thing he and Ben had done sessions together before, because otherwise Peter might have experienced some good-natured self-consciousness as he closed the glass door behind him. Out of consideration for Ben, he’d untucked his T-shirt, but he was sure Ben could tell from his gait that he had a hard-on as substantial as a brick. The guy didn’t miss much.
The door had double glass and an air seal, which meant Dana couldn’t hear them through it. Her cochlear implants had improved her hearing considerably, but that was outside their range. He’d put the radio on his belt, however, so he could hear her. The gasps, every sexy little moan as that machine pumped into her pussy the way he was on fire to do himself. Listening to those sounds was going to give his dick a permanent zipper tattoo, but having the radio was a safety precaution, to make sure her breathing was doing okay, that she wasn’t in any distress that wouldn’t be immediately obvious from the incredible view.
As he gave her an appraising glance, watching her beautiful body twitching, fighting the climax, her lean muscles taut and brown skin still a little dewy from the bath, he thought of the windows in Amsterdam where women titillated through glass, encouraging a man to come inside and pay for their services. Unlike there, where he couldn’t be sure their services were willing or clean, he could work up a pretty good fantasy about it with Dana. She loved to role play. A glass box would be a nice weekend construction project. Jon would have a great design twist for it, he was sure.
Positioning himself on the deck so he could keep one eye on her, he watched Ben get out of the Roadster in the front drive. They’d planned this for a while, but events earlier in the week had told him it was time. It fit with an extreme punishment, but he also knew his girl would love it. He loved to see her surrender to pleasure, as much as she seemed to love giving him minor heart attacks.
The grim smile that twisted his lips helped ease the abrupt, exceptionally strong wave of possessiveness he felt, seeing Ben here, her fantasy about to become reality. The possessiveness was on the safe side of mild homicidal tendencies, but still…
Ben was looking as polished as always. He’d obviously come from the office. Though he often had paperwork to do on the weekends, today he must have had a meeting, because he was dressed to the nines in one of his custom-tailored Italian suits.
On the other hand, Ben could have incorporated it as part of tonight’s plan, because a submissive reacted differently to a man in a suit, particularly when she was completely naked and vulnerable. Dana was blind, but she could tell by smell or touch what Ben was wearing. A power suit, underscoring business dominance, was equally capable of emphasizing the titillating difference between Master—completely in command, and sub—completely at his mercy.
His hair was rakishly feathered over his forehead, and his afternoon shadow gave him a dangerous look Peter knew wasn’t contrived. He had a bottle of whiskey dangling loosely from his fingers, seal unbroken. A sub-warming gift, perhaps? It would be just like Ben to do such a thing. In the other hand he carried a case of Peter’s favorite beer.
“I was going to offer you one of those,” Peter said. “I also have some of your preferred Scotch.”
Ben shrugged. “Seems to me I’m the one getting the favor, so I wanted to bring a gift.”
As he reached the deck, he stopped a couple steps short of the top, propping his foot in that casually virile pose that inspired Captain Morgan commercials. Except on Ben it looked natural, not pretentious. Peter made himself shift to the right so Ben could see through the glass doors. Interestingly, Ben held his gaze another key moment. Though Ben was wearing dark sunglasses, it was clear to Peter that Ben was taking stock of his frame of mind. Fucking intuitive lawyer.
When his gaze did shift, it went to the radio on Peter’s belt, registering the soft moans and little gasps stimulating Peter’s cock like electrode stimulation.
Only then did Ben’s attention move to the glass doors. Pulling off the sunglasses, he hooked them in the open collar of his shirt. He’d apparently removed the tie in the car. His green eyes coursed over Dana, clearly visible at this angle. On all fours, body bound to the fucking machine, neck collared and tethered to the chin support, her body undulating with the stimulation, as much as her restraints allowed her.
Ben’s gaze flickered back to Peter. “Can she hear us?”
“No. Not yet.” Peter gestured to the radio. “I can make this two-way when we’re ready for it. She can’t hear through the glass.”
Ben nodded. “Damn, Peter. That’s the finest thing I’ve seen in a while. You are a fucking lucky bastard.”
“Yeah.” As Ben continued to study the tableau, Peter took a seat on the bench that ran the inside perimeter of this outside deck. He’d relieved Ben of the beer and wine, put both in the outdoor mini-fridge and cracked a cold one for himself. Though this was a hell of a lot different, he’d shared subs with Ben before, and knew his cues, same as Ben knew his. As such, he locked himself into the familiar mode of giving the other man time to study, evaluate.
“You put the clovers on her, worked up her nipples like that?”
“Yeah. She won’t need them again. I’ve got her trained so they pretty much get swollen up like that if I barely touch them. The clovers just added a bit of pain to the equation. They can calm her down if she gets too close to the edge, too fast. Or be used as a punishment.”
“Then we’ll need them again soon. She’s going to go over. You told her she couldn’t?”
“Absolutely. I expect she’s fighting it with everything she’s got at this point. If she doesn’t lose control before we go in there, I want you to push her over, do the honors.”
Ben flashed a smile, a baring of fangs. “To make it that much worse of an offense.”
Peter nodded, took a swallow of the beer. “She’s guessed what’s going to happen tonight, but I’ve refused to tell her outright. I told her I called in reinforcements, since my discipline hasn’t drilled the lesson into her head about her personal safety.”
“Yeah. You far enough away from it not to lead with temper?”
“I never use my temper on a sub. And never on my fiancée. Not on my life. You know that.”
“I know. You took it out on us. Matt almost put you in timeout. She scared the crap out of you, buddy.” Leaving the stairs, Ben took a relaxed seat next to him, stretching out his legs and putting an arm on the rail. “Thank God you’re mild-mannered Dr. Banner 99% of the time. Else we’d have to have Jon build a cage for your Hulk side. You wanted to single-handedly start a gang war.”
“Max tried to downplay it.” Peter shook his head, a muscle flexing in his jaw as he remembered. “But when he got there, five of those street shit losers were standing in front of her, flashing their 9mms like bling. If it hadn’t been for the grocer and the teenagers…” That smile twisted his lips again despite himself. “The whole neighborhood is scared of them, but when they started getting hostile toward Dana, the grocer came out with his broom and that knot of scrawny teenagers had formed a wall. Max said they looked like they were going to pile on top of her to take a bullet if needed. No one was going to hurt Reverend Dana. She doesn’t even have the certification yet and they already call her that. Fuck, she never knows her limitations.”
“Because she doesn’t have any.” Ben arched a brow. “When people stood up for her that never even stand up for themselves, those gang members knew they had to step back. That’s why it never went beyond threats and posturing. On the street, you know when something’s the real thing. There’s something about her. When she talks a certain way…” He shrugged. “She even ma
kes me believe God gives a shit. Sometimes.”
“Glad to hear you believe in Him.”
“Oh, I’ve never doubted God’s existence.” Ben glanced back toward the glass doors. “All I have to do is see a sweet ass like that. She was definitely one of His better days, as the song goes.”
“Cretin.” Peter took a swallow of the beer. Dana was moaning again, pleas that became more prominent to the men’s sharp ears. “Please…Master…”
“Damn, Peter. She’s struggling like hell in there.” Borrowing the beer, Ben took a swallow, handed it back. “You ready to do this? Cause I’m a go when you are.”
Though he said it in a steady, casual tone, not like a quarterback gung-ho to charge the field, Peter knew Ben was as much a Master as he was. He’d probably started getting hard the moment he’d seen her. Since Ben didn’t have the benefit of a shirt tail to pull out, Peter kept his gaze on Ben’s face. He didn’t really look at other guys’ equipment, but seeing it tonight would have a particular significance. One that had him momentarily stalled.
“Yeah. Fine. But first…I know we’ve talked game plan, but there are a few things I want to hit again before we get started. She’s hardcore, can take a pretty high level of pain, probably a seven or eight for a certain length of time, but she’s not a pain junkie, Ben. Her thing is extreme domination. She craves to be broken psychologically and overwhelmed with pleasure. She can’t…there are certain things her body can’t handle. The one side is weaker. Watch her left arm. It will start to shake…”
“Peter.” Ben turned fully away from Dana, showing Peter had his full attention. “You’re her Master. You’re going to be there every inch of the way, and I always watch your tells. Tonight especially, I’ll be following them. On everything. Dana belongs to you, and I won’t do a single thing to her you don’t want. Are you sure you want this?”