by Joey W. Hill
“She wants it. She’s always fantasized about it.”
“Not what I asked.” Ben held his gaze. “No way I move another step in that room if I think you aren’t fully invested. You’re too important, bro. I know she feels exactly the same way. As much time as you spend protecting her, you sometimes miss that goes both ways. A fantasy can’t even hold a candle to the way she watches over you, wants you to be happy.”
“I know.” Something loosened in Peter’s chest. “Yeah, I want this and I don’t want it, if you get that. I know she’ll love this, that she’ll get off on it so hard, and I want to see that happen. I know it won’t change a thing between us, unless it’s for the better…”
“Yeah, she’ll be grateful to you forever for giving her a taste of a real cock.”
“Asshole.” But the smile felt real this time, not so forced. “I love her, Ben,” he said quietly. “I want this for her. I trust you to give her the fantasy in spades. I’m also worried something will go wrong and it won’t be everything she wants it to be. I don’t want to disappoint her. I want to protect her.”
“She’ll be as safe with me as she is with you. You know that. Her wellbeing comes before everything else.”
Peter inclined his head and sighed, giving Ben a wry smile. “And then there’s the caveman part.”
“Oh, that.” Ben snorted. “The part of you that wants to throw me out on my ass and then pee a ten-acre-wide circle around the house to scare off any male dumb enough to think he can cross that line.” He nodded toward the fridge. “That’s why I brought the beer. You’ll have enough piss to do that when this is all over.”
“Asshole,” Peter repeated, but his gaze went back to his slave. He studied her with Ben, both men registering every gasp, how her entreaties were becoming more insistent. Her body was a restrained sinuous line, rolling and rippling with the motion of the dildos, a light sheen of sweat on her. She was biting her lip in concentration, her eyes squeezed shut, not to block visuals she couldn’t see, but to add to her resistance as she tried her best to obey her Master. She would deliberately cross him on certain things, just to prove how strong she was, and yet, on things like this, she surrendered to him 100 percent. Peter loved her so much everything ached. His cock was the least of it, and it was throbbing.
“So we going to do this?” Ben asked at last.
“You bet your ass.”
“No, you bet hers. It’s prettier. I’d much rather fuck it than yours.”
“Thank God. It’s hell, trying to remember not to bend over around you.”
“You’re begging for it, you know you are.” Ben flashed that smile again. “Want to turn on that two-way function, see if we can work your girl up some more? She was Army, after all. I think she can be stretched further.”
“You got it.”
* * *
Every minute seemed like ten minutes. In, out. Swirl, lick, lap, tease from the plug. Then the clit stimulator hit when the vaginal dildo went into deep plunge mode. Slow, slow, rotating withdrawal. The lubrication was steady, constant, so they both apparently released a certain amount at intervals. For her pussy, it wasn’t as important, since arousal was trickling down her legs like a running brook. She’d followed orders, was still imagining Peter’s come dripping down her breasts, over that netting. She imagined it in detail, his hand fisting his cock, the seed spurting from it, hitting her heated flesh, because he’d ask for those particulars. He’d know if she made it up off the top of her head, last minute. He was way too smart like that.
The sweat rolling over her nipples and curves was too much like she imagined his come would be. She wanted his scent, though. She loved the smell of it on her skin, on her lips, her tongue.
“Oh, God…please…”
“I love hearing a slave beg. Bet her cunt is sopping wet by now. Like sticking your cock in a vat of warm pie filling. Nothing sweeter.”
Ben’s voice. She knew Peter would have the radio to listen to her outside, to make sure she was okay. As a result, it only took a second to realize he’d turned on the two-way so she could hear their conversation. Which meant they were sitting out there, probably drinking and listening to her moan, gasp, pant. Bastards. Bastards she wanted with her, touching her, fucking her…making her beg for everything.
“Nice. I’m partial to blackberry.”
“Course you are. We know how you are about black girls. Well, this black girl. Blackberry’s a tart fruit, got a little bite to it. Just like her. Warm it up in the microwave, stuff her cunt full of it and then have Lucas eat her out. That’s a dessert he’d never pass up.”
Was Lucas there as well? No, Peter had implied only one other man. They were just giving her more provocative images to drive her crazy, and of course it was working hellishly well. She bit down on her tongue and tried to stop her contracting pussy from losing it. Hard to do when that plug kept shoving in, licking at her, and the other dildo kept hitting her clit, over and over…
“Fuck…”
A clicking tongue. “Language, girl,” Peter admonished. “We have guests.”
“Verb. Not…expletive,” she gasped.
“Got to give her kudos for a three-syllable word at this point,” Ben observed. “But if that was a verb…there was no ‘please’ with it, baby girl.” His voice got deeper, sending chills to the base of her spine at the sudden sensual menace. “You were issuing a command to two Masters. A slave who does that deserves what she’s going to get.”
She swallowed a cry as the threat made her arousal impossibly higher. “Please…Master…going to…”
“You having trouble following a direct order, Sergeant?” Peter barked through the radio. The commanding admonishment made her stiffen, hold herself even more rigid. Her muscles were starting to cramp.
“Help…no, sir. Fuck…help…”
The solid thump of the sliding glass door vibrated through her knees. She nearly came right then, just from inhaling the wash of male heat. She knew the scent of every K&A man, as well as their unique way of touching a woman, though none of them except Peter had fucked her. At least until tonight. Ben had an intriguing blend of smells. A light aftershave, the clean scent his dry cleaner used, which told her he was wearing one of his suits with the perfect cut over his shoulders and his ass. She’d gotten that descriptive tidbit from Cassandra. He used a body wash that had a touch of aloe as well as a linen-like fragrance, suggesting he had skin that was sensitive to more abrasive soaps. An ironic factoid about a man who Peter had told her was truly the most dangerous of the group, for a variety of reasons.
Oh God…she couldn’t…
The machine stopped, the plugs withdrawing, but she was spasming, vibrating, on that near cusp of climax that was pretty much a climax all of its own, if they were measuring intensity. But then she yelped, that intensity stopped short as something ice cold pressed against her exposed pussy, her vibrating clit.
“Nice to know this swill Peter drinks is useful for something. Easy there. Easy.” Ben touched her face, fingers whispering over her cheekbone, along her throat. He had to be squatting right next to her, because coated the left side of her body. The touch familiarized her anew with him. They always did that, like wolves reintroducing their scent, a reminder of their bond as a pack, and that she belonged to them as much as to Peter, an idea that never failed to stimulate. “Going to be a long, hard night, baby girl. Want to be sure you aren’t worried about who’s making it long and hard…”
She managed to pull it together, nip at his fingers. “You’re the only one who gets away with calling me baby girl.”
“Because you know I can rock you on my cock all night and make you coo for more…”
“Or because I’m fully restrained.”
He chuckled. She wanted to smile, but even though she had zero percent vision and less than a hundred percent hearing, she was always able to detect something in Ben’s tone in moments like these. He could use the sensual teasing, the purring tone, so easily, but there w
as a knife edge beneath it. He not only knew how to intertwine cruelty and kindness, he was an expert at compelling a woman to crave it. As a lifetime sub, she’d figured that out the first time he’d taken her hand, even before Peter had given her that harrowing insight.
Ben could tease, be a charmer, but he reminded her of what Gran used to say about Gran-da, the kind of parent he was.
He loved his babies more than life itself, but he never left no doubt he would take one out of this world if they sassed him.
So though he was teasing her now, things were too full inside her, realizing the significance of him being here, of what Peter was giving her, of where they were going to take her tonight. Way past the point she thought she could go. “Ben…”
“That’s ‘sir’ for now.” His tone sharpened, bringing her attention back to pinpoint focus. Her body almost tried to snap into an attention stance. “Going to get harsh with you tonight, girl. You’ve been scaring my boy here, and I don’t tolerate that. Got to knock you back in line, and I won’t make it easy. You going to fight me, make it worth my while?”
She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
He rose then, still trailing his fingers along her body, seducing her with that mesmerizing touch. The touch of an intimate stranger, here by Peter’s decree. “You behave, or Peter’s going to let me shove this beer bottle up your cute ass. I won’t stop at the neck. Got to make sure you can take something at least half my size.”
She’d have made some sardonic comment except she knew he wasn’t kidding. She’d felt his substantial attributes against her ass in past encounters. Through his clothes only, but it was intimidating. And she didn’t intimidate. Not anymore.
“You’ve been mouthing off a lot lately. Forgetting your place when it comes to your Master.”
“I’m not breakable,” she retorted. “He needs to be reminded of that sometimes.”
“Oh, honey.” Ben let out that warm, scary chuckle again. “You’re breakable. When we’re done with you tonight, you’ll know it.” He rolled that bottle across her labia, sliding it up the channel between her buttocks so ice cold glass was pressed against her rim and her cunt. She couldn’t help it; she was wiggling, trying to move away from it.
Then Peter’s earthy scent, like marsh and live oak, things immutable and strong, was in front of her. He captured her breasts once again, thumbs and forefingers holding the nipples, bearing down in that slow, gradual build-up of excruciating pain that made things clench in her lower extremities.
“You keep still while our guest is examining you, Sergeant. Still as a statue.”
She gasped at the pressure of those fingers, then the slow roll as he eased up enough and twisted, such that spirals of sensation went through the curves, sending hard shudders through her. Then those incredibly gentle palms with their rough skin were kneading the tautly held curves through the netting. The lines dug into her flesh, he had her wrapped so tight. When he took the webbing off, she’d be marked with those crisscrosses, able to run her fingers over her breasts and feel the marks.
“Tell me how your Master prepared you for me,” Ben said conversationally, continuing to insinuate that bottle against her flesh. She wanted to squeal from the need to move. She was actually whimpering in her throat. Before she could answer, Ben’s fingers were probing her well-lubed ass, and the whimper escaped. “I’m waiting for an answer,” he ordered.
“Plugs of different…sizes.” She drew in a breath as two of his fingers eased into her, through the sphincter muscles. But he was moving them, doing something that felt like a butterfly teasing those sensitive tissues, making it hard for her to think.
“More details. When did he have you wear them? How long? What did they feel like going in? Did he put them in or make you do it while he watched?”
“The first time, while he watched. He had me bend over the bed, push it in from the back while he stood over me, watching. It was…it felt not so bad. And when it was strapped in, it made it hard to think. I was surprised how…arousing it was, with no clit stimulation.”
“Why? Honest and straight out, no thinking.”
“There were just nerves there…I didn’t expect. It also made me feel…used, subjugated. He’d made me stick something up my ass, made me walk around with it that way.”
“There’s the soldier. Did he fuck your pussy with the plugs inside you?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. Peter hadn’t said if she could answer these questions, but he was right here, so she assumed brutal honesty was required.
“Tell me how he fucked you. Where he did it.” A yearning noise caught in her throat as Ben pushed with those fingers, stretched.
“He…had me kneel outside on the docks, and took me from behind, his cock in my pussy. It was…so full. When he was down over me, he told me one day he’d share me. He wanted another man, one he trusted, to know how sweet it was to fuck his beautiful slave. And he would do it so I’d know I was all his, to do with as he pleased. Share me if that was what he wanted.”
The words had been the final straw, pushing her into a hard orgasm. Her cunt spasmed even now over the memory, the fantasy Peter was making come true. It was surreal and scary and… She was tough, she knew she was, but an odd emotion hit her. She wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
“Master? May I ask a question?”
“Now you’re all sweet and docile. Ben, you’re already a good influence. Yes, you can ask.”
“Am I…is it okay to tell him these things? I’m sorry, I should have asked first.”
“Yes, you should have.” Peter’s voice was stern, but the hands on her breasts gentled further, stroking. “How do you think I should punish you for that?”
Oh, she hated those clovers, but she knew that was the answer. “The clamps,” she whispered.
He idly toyed with one of the nipples, an easy tweak that still rocketed straight through her core like a much harder pinch, telling her how wound up they were making her. “No, I don’t think so. That last smartass remark probably deserves the switch. I’m going to let our guest decide degree and quantity.”
Oh, hell. She loved and hated that switch, he knew that. “Yes, Master.”
“I don’t want him to feel neglected while you’re taking your punishment. Ask him nicely for his cock.”
She couldn’t breathe. “I…sir, please. May I suck your cock for you?”
“In a moment.” She let out a strangled cry as Ben pushed those fingers in deep, so deep she could feel the pressure of his knuckles digging against her rim. It burned, but his thumb dipped into her cunt, playing in that slick area. “You’ve stretched her out good, but not too much. It’s no fun unless I get a few tears out of it, a little begging for mercy.” He paused. “I’m thinking ten strikes. Start at a medium degree, but work her up to screaming by the end of it.”
As his fingers withdrew, she shuddered. It had been a while since she’d shook this hard during a session. It was overwhelming. With Peter, there was always that…connection. It was still there, but with this element involved, with Ben, someone she knew, someone who was part of their intimate family, and yet not so familiar when it came to this, it took it to an entirely different level. It made her less Peter’s submissive, and even more truly a slave, here to be used for the pleasure of the males in the room, regardless of her own desires.
Which Peter of course knew terrified her and yet turned her on big time, the fantasy dipping its toe in reality in a way that was too mesmerizing to refuse. While a part of her was shrieking no, no, no, no, an even bigger part wanted to make her Master proud. Which meant she had to say something. Peter liked her sassy side, to a point.
“I’m not a girl,” she said. “I don’t scream from a little bitty stick.”
The breath from Peter’s amused snort caressed her face. “Sounds like a challenge to me, Ben.”
Ben grunted, then pinched her ass, hard. “You’re going to be so hoarse, Reverend Dana, your congregation will think you have laryngitis. I migh
t have to attend Sunday school that day, just to listen to you and think about you strapped down and naked like this.”
“If you’re going to grace the inside of a church,” she gasped, “I’ll have to make sure the lightning rod on the steeple is in good working order.”
He gave her another pinch, one that made her squeak. She was pretty sure he’d just bruised the muscle with his powerful fingers. “Your concerned parishioners will be asking how you lost your voice,” he continued mildly, “and you’ll be lying, sinning with those fuckable lips, telling them you have some kind of bug. Because I don’t think those good church ladies will appreciate hearing about having your ass whipped and fucked so hard, you came a dozen times and wore out your lungs. Keep mouthing off, you’ll be having to explain why you can’t sit down, either. Want to talk back to me again?”
As he waited, a significant pause, she set her lips in a stubborn line. She didn’t let herself back down from a challenge. When she’d gone down to the market, it had been like that. She’d been a little afraid, going into an environment where she couldn’t see, knowing there was danger there. But the biggest fear she had in life was that she’d let Peter protect her from too much, too often and, as a result, she’d slide back into being that cowering person again. The one who’d been afraid of everything, even living, after she woke up blind and deaf. She wasn’t going to do that to Peter. She wasn’t going to be less of a partner to him than he was to her. And that, as much as anything, was why she’d taken the risk of going down to the market. And why she did something probably just as foolish now.
“I can take anything you’ve got,” she said, before she could lose her nerve.
“Whether you can or can’t doesn’t make a shitload of difference to me, baby girl. Because you will.”
They never cursed in front of women, not like that. Ben sounded a little mean. She was goading the sadist to the top, on purpose. What the hell was she doing? She was starting to feel out of control, that was what. With Peter, though he held all the reins, they were familiar reins. She hadn’t acted out like this, actively bratted, in a while. She wanted to fight Ben. Wanted to prove she wasn’t weak. If he let her out of this thing, she could kick his ass. Didn’t matter how unlikely that sounded, it was what it was. Fight or flight was kicking in, and fight was winning.