by Avery Gale
After making plans to visit her grandparents’ estate north of Houston, the Masters of the Prairie Winds and Dark Desires decided it was time for a bit of fun distraction.
Chapter Eight
“Tell me again how we ended up in this pickle.” Gracie looked expectantly at Tobi but Lara knew the Central American beauty didn’t really expect an answer. She’d been so grateful Jax had agreed to make the arrangements for them to visit her grandparents, Lara hadn’t cared much about the mess Tobi had gotten them involved in.
“Stop complaining, you know perfectly well all the Doms are going to go easy on you because you’re knocked up. And that means Lara and I are going to get to deal with all the tricks they’ve got up their sleeves.” Tobi shuddered before continuing, “Did I tell you all six of them raided the shops at the club? And they wouldn’t let me see what they picked up, either. Well, except for these outfits. Damn it to daffodils I don’t know how this happened. That bet should have been a sure thing.”
Lara and Gracie both laughed, “Yeah, Gracie told me that you’d say that. And that you’ve said that same thing every time you have lost a bet.”
“And I might add that every time she manages to pull me into one of her sure things, I end up naked in front of people doing something crazy. Make Tobi the Greek tell you about last Halloween.” They were all three standing in front of the long marble counter in the master bedroom’s dressing room in the West’s suite putting the finishing touches on their hair and make-up before they reported to the kitchen. They were supposed to serve their Doms a seven-course dinner—of course the food had been catered in since the men all knew better than to allow any of them to cook. Kyle West had explained to his exasperated wife that the hotel had insisted he sign a sworn affidavit stating Tobi wouldn’t be allowed to cook anywhere on the property after the fire department had been summoned not once, but three times during their last trip to Houston. Evidently it didn’t matter they’d stayed at different hotels each time, word seemed to travel quickly between competitors when it came to pyromaniacs.
Lara turned to Tobi and raised a brow in question launching the other woman into a rant, “Oh drown me. I swear, Gracie, you have a stunted sense of adventure sometimes. Sure it was a little bit chilly by the time we were done, but we sure did get lots of treats. Of course our men got a few things we had to hide, but I’ve still got Snickers bars stashed and they haven’t found all the toys they were given. Damn, I still can’t believe the size of those butt plugs—you’d think doctors would have more mercy.”
Gracie laughed, “She bet Kent she could go a whole week without cussing. I was going to bet with the men, but she pulled the BFF card on me and guilted me into buying a ticket for an all-expenses paid cruise on the Titanic.” When Lara giggled Tobi glared at them both as Gracie continued, “Anyway, guess how long she lasted. Never mind, I’ll tell you because this was a record, even for Miss Potty-Mouth over there.”
This time Tobi’s cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment as she shrugged, “How was I supposed to know it was a set-up? Damnable men. You should never trust twins by the way.”
“Anyway, just as she seals the deal with Kent, Kyle grabs her from behind in one of the moves we’d been learning in our self-defense classes. That’s another mess she got me into by the way.” Looking over at Tobi, Lara almost laughed out loud at the ridiculously fake look of innocence she was struggling to maintain. Shaking her head, Gracie continued, “Tobi manages to actually take Kyle down, which shocked everybody, including her. But she also managed to let loose a string of curses worthy of a Guinness’s record—four seconds flat.”
“Hey, Drama Diva, we need to get to the kitchen, so I’m going to cut to the chase here.” Turning to Lara, Tobi grinned, “We had to do strip Trick or Treating. Every stop cost us a piece of our costumes. You’d be surprised how quickly you end up naked even when you started out in full Marie Antoinette regalia.” Using her thumb to indicated Gracie, Tobi laughed, “Catherine the Great over there didn’t fare any better. But just seeing the looks on our Doms faces when we walked out in those elaborate costumes was worth all the effort.”
“True, but we’ll never get to pick out our own costumes again. Case in point these damned skimpy maid’s outfits.” All three of them looked down at the revealing outfits their Doms had given them before breaking out into fits of giggles.
Fischer watched the women walking down the hall and felt his blood rushing out of his head directly down to his cock—hell, he’d be lucky if he didn’t pass out. The outfits he and the others had picked out barely covered them, but it didn’t matter because they wouldn’t be in them long anyway. Everyone involved—except Lara—knew tonight’s fun had been planned to distract Lara from the emotional strain she’d been under since learning about her parents’ disappearance. They planned to visit her grandparents’ estate tomorrow, so tonight’s fun would hopefully keep Lara from worrying about it.
Fischer had laughed out loud at the look on Tobi’s face when they’d asked her to deliberately lose the bet. Even though he didn’t know her well, it hadn’t been difficult to figure out the bubbly little blonde wasn’t accustomed to loosing on purpose. He’d been standing next to Kyle who had leaned close and whispered, “Tobi is compulsively competitive, this will be a good lesson for her.” When Fischer didn’t respond, he’d added, “Don’t worry, she’ll do it because Lara is her friend. She just has to get over the shock of it first.” Kyle’s chuckle let Fischer know he was enjoying his wife’s discomfort—a lot. Fischer wasn’t sure what Kent had whispered in his wife’s ear, but she’d blushed a deep red before nodding her agreement.
As if it had been choreographed, each sub took her place between her two Doms standing quietly waiting for instructions. Fischer was thrilled Lara hadn’t even hesitated to take her place between Peter and himself as they all stood in a casual circle talking. “Everything for dinner has been delivered and is in the kitchen ready to be served. One of the caterer’s staff is waiting to show you where everything is, he’ll leave before you begin serving.” The Doms had been in agreement that no one but club members would be allowed in the suite during their “dinner party”. A Dominant might love showing off his or her lovely submissive’s body in the club or during private parties, but outside of the lifestyle they were almost always notoriously possessive. He’d heard submissives accuse their Doms of being full-grown toddlers because of their “Mine!” mentality and it was probably a fairly accurate analogy.
Fischer was able to relax since he was only picking up random thoughts from around the room, over the years he’d become so accustomed to blocking whenever he was in a group setting he often did it without even realizing it. The fact he could hear the others clearly if he tried emphasized the fact he couldn’t hear Lara—and it drove him crazy. The others were all playing their parts flawlessly, and even though he couldn’t hear her, he could feel Lara’s emotions, which were a nice mix of anxiety and anticipation. Perfect.
Peter placed his hand over the top slope of Lara’s curvy ass and smiled at her soft gasp. She was listening intently as Jax and Kent explained the rules for dinner. ‘I think our sweet sub needs some distraction. She’s listening much too closely—hell, you know how she is, she will follow all the rules and where will be the fun in that?’
“Totally agree with you, brother. Let’s see if we can’t derail her train of thought.’
Fischer ran his hand under the back of her skirt and when Peter felt her shift positions he knew his brother had instructed her to spread her legs for him. When he looked down at her, he was pleased to see her cheeks blushing beautifully and the flush of arousal beginning to spread across her chest. He could hardly wait to get her naked, he loved watching her ivory skin wash with pink and then rose as she became more and more aroused.
Tobi’s voice broke through his thoughts when she asked, “So let me get this straight. We’re supposed to serve you seven courses and we aren’t allowed to talk to each other and we’re competi
ng against one another as well?”
“Sweetness, don’t think of it as a competition, think of it as putting forth your best effort to please your Masters—avoiding the toy basket we’ve filled for you is just a bonus.” The unholy gleam in Kent’s eye sent a shiver down Tobi’s spine that Peter could feel from across the room. He held back his laughter because Tobi seemed to be the only sub who was actually focusing on the instructions, which wasn’t going to work out well for her since the three of them weren’t allowed to talk to one another. Hell, that rule alone was going to get Tobi in a world of trouble because her natural inclination to help her friends meant she would definitely be talking.
‘I’m betting Tobi is naked before the third course.’ There was no way Peter was betting against him. Hell, his brother was probably being generous. Everyone who knew Tobi West liked her. There was an effervescence about the little imp that drew people to her. From what other members at Prairie Winds had told him, Tobi had blossomed under Kent’s and Kyle’s care. She’d had a very rough childhood and had been living in survival mode for years, but she thrived on her husbands’ ability to set boundaries even though she tested their ability to do so regularly.
After the women had gone into the kitchen to get their instructions from the caterer, Peter looked up at Kyle and laughed, “How long is your spirited sub going to stay dressed? Is there a pool going already?” The staff at Prairie Winds regularly bet on anything and everything with the proceeds going to the winner’s charity of choice—and Tobi’s antics were among their favorite wagers.
“No there isn’t a need for a pool, she won’t last long enough for us to set it up. Hell, why do you think we added the no talking rule?” They all chuckled as they made their way into the dining area. They’d extended the table so there was plenty of room between each of the six chairs in anticipation of their fun. When they weren’t serving, their subs would either be kneeling on the large cushions between their Masters or more likely, they’d be laying over the edge of the table for one reason or another. Each pair of Doms had filled their own small wicker basket with toys chosen specifically for their sub. He and Fischer had picked out a vibrating butt plug, a tube of clit stimulating gel, nipple clamps, and a remote controlled egg vibe.
Peter was relieved when they finally sat down, walking around with the hard-on from hell tended to get old rather quickly. He’d seen his friends all adjusting themselves in their trousers as they settled into the thickly padded captain’s chairs so at least he hadn’t been alone. Looking across the table to where the Wests were seated, something in Kyle’s drink caught his eye. When his friend picked up the drink, Peter realized the two round objects at the bottom of his ice-filled glass were faintly tinted glass Ben Wa balls—sadistic bastard.
God he was glad to see the caterer leave through the front door. The young man had been beet red as he’d been escorted out by Ben Monroe, a former Marine who was fairly new to the Prairie Winds team. They’d paid the delivery guy handsomely and the restaurant owner, who was a member of Dark Desires, had assured them the kid would keep quiet—from the look on his face he’d likely be too embarrassed to tell anyone about the crazy group and their scantily clad servers.
When Kyle got the nod from Ben that they were clear, he pulled a small remote from his pocket and the partition above the bar separating the dining area from the kitchen lifted slowly disappearing into the ceiling. Not to anyone’s surprise, Tobi was chattering away as the subs loaded their small trays with crystal cups of shrimp cocktail. The knowing look in Kyle’s eyes and Kent’s chuckle was made even sweeter by Tobi’s gasped, “Well, shit.”
The women had been instructed to make a complete circle around the table before serving their Doms. And they’d been assigned either clockwise or counter clockwise rotations for each course—those assignments were posted on the refrigerator. Each Dom also had a copy of the list because no one doubted that as dinner progressed, the women would become less focused—thus giving the Doms additional opportunities to use all the goodies in their baskets. Yes, indeed. Let the games begin.
Chapter Nine
Tobi clearly should have thought this through more carefully. Hell, they hadn’t even served up the first course and she’d already screwed up—twice. And her own ratfink Masters were going to make an example of her, she just knew it. She quickly double-checked the chart so she’d know which direction she was supposed to go and took off. She heard Gracie’s muttered curse and knew she was right behind her, that left Lara standing in the middle of the kitchen looking at the chart as if she had no idea what it was for. Hell, Lara probably didn’t know since her Masters had been totally distracting her during the instructions. It had been glaringly obvious they’d deliberately set her up because she was such a good girl—something Tobi was never accused of. By the time Lara finally set the small cups in front of Peter and Fischer she was trembling.
For once Tobi was grateful her Masters were not only pushy, they were also kind-hearted, and they spoke up taking the focus off the fact Lara’s men were looking through their toy basket with exaggerated interest. “Kitten, do you know what you did wrong?” Kyle was enjoying this entirely too much, boy oh boy, had she ever walked into a mess of rattlesnakes when she’d agreed to this dinner party. She had to fight the urge to do the face-palm gesture at her own stupidity.
“Yes, Sir. I was talking and then I said something that probably sounded like ‘shit’.” Well, it probably had because that was exactly what she’d said, but hey, it was worth a shot, right? When all six Doms laughed, she knew her ploy had just been blown out of the sky in flaming glory. Damn it all to Dalmatians.
“Good try, sweetness. But I’m afraid these are transgressions that cannot be ignored. What kind of example would we be setting as club owners if we let these pass?” Oh brother, he’s really laying it on thick. Hope I don’t gag on all the PCBS. One of the terms Tobi had introduced the club’s staff too was politically correct bull shit, and her husbands had been none too pleased. When they’d complained, she had politely told them if they didn’t want to be called on it, they shouldn’t do it—boy had that ever been a mistake. She’d gotten a swat with a big wooden paddle from each of the Dungeon Masters later that evening and she suspected several had taken more than one turn—frick-frack, you couldn’t trust anybody these days. Damn her ass had stung like a bitch for hours afterward even though she knew several of the men had pulled their swats going easier on her as the evening progressed.
Kent had turned her so he could tuck her skirt up in the back securing it over the waistband. Well, hell. It’s not like it was really covering me anyway. “According to the rules, you only lose a piece of clothing if you are last to serve your Masters, so that honor is going to belong to Lara this round. But, we still intend to hold you accountable for talking and the word that sounded so much like shit—to everybody who heard it.” The jackass actually had the nerve to make a joke at her bare butt’s expense, she started thinking of all the ways she could get even but one glance at Fischer Weston stopped her cold. Drown me, how did I forget about he and Peter’s special gift. When his eyebrow raised she just shook her head and he grinned.
Naturally, Kyle hadn’t missed their non-verbal exchange, but rather than focusing on her, they both turned to Fischer. “Care to share, Master Fischer?”
“Well, since you asked. I do believe your lovely sub was plotting against you, and just for enforcing the rules, too. Tsk, tsk. Shameful. Really, it’s just shameful.”
It was too much. He’d probably flunked out of drama school for being corny. When both Fischer and Peter burst out laughing she felt her face heat until there wasn’t any doubt about how red it was. Damn and double damn. This time Kent just shook his head and pressed his palm against the middle of her back to bend her over the edge of the table. “Just think, sweetness, you’ll be the first one to make a mark on our paddle.” Fuck a duck, she’d forgotten about the small wooden paddles laying at the top of each Dom’s place setting. They�
�d had each of the subs’ names engraved on them and then set black Sharpies to the side so for every swat a sub got, she was to make a tally mark behind her name.
Not that there was much question who was going to win this particular competition, but her men had promised her something truly spectacular if she “won”. It didn’t matter to her that they were protecting Gracie—because she’s preggers and Lara—because, well that shell-shocked look on her face pretty well summed it up. Okay, and maybe “winning” was a bit misleading in this particular case, but none of that mattered to Tobi, nope—not at all, because a win was still a win.
Each of her husbands quickly gave her two solid swats with their damned paddles, but then they ran their fingers through her wet folds and knew exactly how turned on she was. They both chuckled and Kent had made sure she made the hash marks before he had her kneel on the cushion and began feeding her bits of shrimp cocktail. In the back of her mind, Tobi realized Gracie was already kneeling between Jax and Micah—they wouldn’t have had her stand that long because she tended to lock her knees and invariably made herself lightheaded in the process. Glancing over, she noticed they weren’t giving her sweet friend any of the spicy shrimp cocktail but they were feeding her some kind of small cracker with what looked like cream cheese spread over the top. When she’d helped make out the menu, Tobi hadn’t even considered the first course wouldn’t set well on Gracie’s empty tummy. Damn, some friend I am. Glad her men were paying better attention.
“Princess, just in case you didn’t hear all of the rules, since you were last serving your Masters, you owe us a piece of clothing and we’ve picked out something special for you from our little basket of toys.” Peter knew Lara had heard him, but she had barely blinked, so he took a second to rub his hand up and down her arm a few times until he felt her focus zero in on him. “Good girl. Remember, we are observing the club’s stoplight system for safe words tonight, but there shouldn’t be anything to happen that you aren’t fully capable of handling.” At her quick nod of understanding, he continued, “Take off your shirt, mi amõre.”