Rylee remained still as a statue as Taggart, silent, walked around her. He stroked the top of her head with his large hand and then picked up the cane.
“Offer yourself to me,” he said in his deep, gravelly voice.
Rylee’s cunt contracted, her pulse quickening as she lifted her ass high and spread her legs wide, keeping her forehead on the ground, her arms fully extended on either side.
The cane whistled through the air and caught her hard across both cheeks. No matter how much she thought she was prepared for its cutting stroke, somehow the sear of erotic pain always caught her by surprise. It was followed by four more strokes in quick succession, each one as stingingly sharp as the last.
He tapped her back, and Rylee rose shakily to her feet.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, Taggart spun her toward him and wrapped her in his strong embrace. Her cheek against his chest, she breathed in the warm scent of leather and oil, and the essence of the man she loved. She lifted her face to his, the pulsing sting of her welts melting into pure lust as he kissed her.
“Are you ready for the dinner party tonight?” As he said this, he reached for her throat, gripping her beneath the jawline with forefinger and thumb as he gazed in her eyes.
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed.
“You will serve me tonight, R. There is nothing I will ask of you that you will not do for me.”
Rylee lost herself in his gray-eyed gaze. “Yes, Sir,” she murmured ardently.
He let her go and placed his arm around her shoulders as they walked together to the stairs.
Though she had showered and groomed earlier in the day, Rylee climbed into the stall with Taggart so she could serve him. He allowed her to wash his body. She paid extra attention to his cock and balls, lathering and rinsing them with loving care. As always happened, his cock hardened to full erection beneath her hands.
Dropping to her knees, she looked up at him and pleaded, “May I, Sir?”
He smiled down at her. “You may.”
She cupped his balls gently in her hands as she lowered her mouth to take in the length of his shaft. Hot water rained down on both of them as she suckled, licked and worshiped his cock. She could have done that forever, but after a few minutes, he tapped her head. “Enough. We have to get ready.”
Rylee at once dropped her hands and let his beautiful cock fall from her mouth. She rose to her feet and stepped out of the stall, reaching for one of the bath towels. She dried herself quickly as Taggart rinsed any remaining soap from his body. After a moment, he turned off the water and exited the shower.
He allowed Rylee to towel him dry. When she was done, she knelt on the bathmat and lowered her face to kiss the tops of his feet. “Thank you, Sir,” she said sincerely, “for letting me serve you.”
“You’re welcome, R.”
They moved into the bedroom, and Taggart went to the closet, pulling something from a high shelf. It was a large white clothing box, the kind they used to package his handmade leatherwear. A thick, red satin ribbon was wrapped around it and tied into a bow. He grinned at her as he held it out.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” Rylee replied with enthusiasm. Whatever he’d made for her, she was going to love it. She took the box to the bed and opened it. Inside was a beautiful black leather waist cincher with demi bra cups built into it, tailored, she knew, to her exact measurements. Also in the box was pair of thong underwear, the front piece fashioned from the same soft leather as the cincher.
Delighted, she stood and held out her arms on either side of her body, allowing the Leather Master to wrap the very tight cincher around her waist and hook the myriad tiny metal clasps down the front. She put on the skimpy thong, which just covered her mons.
He led her to the mirror, and she drew in her breath, her eyes widening as she took in the hourglass figure the cincher had created. The demi cups barely covered her nipples, and her breasts were lifted high and pressed close in the confining leather.
There were garters at the bottom of the cincher, and Taggart selected a pair of smoky, sheer black stockings for her to wear, along with her favorite high heels.
Though Rylee still favored sneakers and jeans most of the time, she had come to love her growing collection of high heels. In addition to when they went to clubs or play parties, Rylee wore her heels every morning, along with her hobble chain as she did her daily chores. As Taggart had predicted when they’d first gotten together, she had learned to move with grace and ease in the shoes, and just putting them on sent her instantly into a submissive headspace.
He allowed her to select a skirt to cover her lower half, though she knew there was no guarantee the skirt would remain on once they got to the Wilson home.
Taggart dressed in black leather pants that molded to his muscular thighs and emphasized the sexy bulge at his crotch. He chose the black, silk button-down shirt she’d given him for his birthday, leaving the top two buttons open to reveal a hint of his sexy chest hair. He looked good enough to eat, and Rylee’s mouth actually watered as she admired the tall, imposing man.
They left the house and stepped out into the evening air, which was pleasantly cool after the warmth of the early summer day. Rylee pulled her cream-colored cashmere shawl about her shoulders as they walked to Tag’s pickup truck.
They drove in companionable silence along the streets of Portland toward the Wilsons’ neighborhood, the radio tuned to a jazz station. As they neared, Rylee couldn’t resist asking, “Any idea what the scene will be tonight? Have you guys organized anything?”
Taggart glanced at her and then back at the road, flashing a grin. “Yeah, I have a very good idea what the scene will be tonight. But if I told you, that would ruin your birthday surprise, now wouldn’t it, R?”
Rylee’s stomach swooped like an elevator car suddenly dropping. At the same time, her cunt clenched with excited anticipation. “Yes, Sir,” she replied, resisting the impulse to wheedle.
Bonnie and Matt greeted them both warmly at the door. “Hey, birthday girl,” Matt said with a big smile. “I understand you’re the present tonight.” He rubbed his hands together with evident glee. He was of medium height, with gingery red hair and narrow, dancing brown eyes that always seemed full of mischief.
“Hey, that’s not how it’s supposed to go,” Rylee retorted with a laugh. “I’m supposed to get presents on my birthday.”
“Don’t worry,” Bonnie said with a laugh and a wink, “you will.” Bonnie, a little taller than her husband in her high heels, looked radiant as always, her dark eyes shining, her black hair loose around her shoulders. She wore a full-length gown of red satin, with slits all the way up to the tops of her thighs. It was quite evident she wore nothing at all beneath.
Taggart handed Matt the bottle of wine he had brought and they stepped into the house. Liam and Allie Byrne were already in the living room. Allie looked beautiful, her long, coppery hair flowing loose, her blue eyes sparkling. She wore a very short, black leather mini-dress, her long legs bare.
Liam looked handsome as always, dressed all in black, and he smiled broadly as he stood to greet them, reaching for the beautiful walking stick his wife had fashioned for him before they were married. His limp was barely discernable as he moved toward them.
As Allie and Rylee embraced, Allie whispered into her ear, “I’m so jealous. You get to be the center of attention tonight.”
“I hope that’s a good thing,” Rylee retorted, her nerves for the moment getting the better of her.
“Trust me,” Allie said reassuringly. “With this group, it’s a wonderful thing.”
Taggart took the shawl from Rylee’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Take off the skirt, R. You won’t be needing that.”
“Yes, Sir,” Rylee replied, her heart kicking up a notch. As she slipped out of the skirt, Bonnie stepped forward to take it for her. “You look stunning in that cincher,” she said, admiration in her voice. Turning to Matt, she added, “I
want one of those.”
Matt grinned. “Of course you do.”
The doorbell rang and Bonnie went to open it, this time admitting an older couple whom Rylee recognized. Though Robert and Darla Hemingway had to be in their early seventies, they were both still full of life, and passionate about all things BDSM.
Like all the men in the room that evening, Robert, tall and rail thin, was dressed in black, as was his wife, who wore a long silk gown that molded to her still-slender frame. She wore her silver hair pulled back from her elegant face with jeweled combs that matched the jewels that studded her slave collar.
The couple owned an incredibly cool, private BDSM club they operated out of their huge Victorian mansion. Though Taggart and Rylee weren’t yet members of the exclusive club, they had been several times, once as the guests of Bonnie and Matt and twice with Liam and Allie.
“Everyone, make yourselves comfortable,” Matt said, waving his hand toward the grouping of sofas and chairs positioned around a low, glass coffee table. On the table were plates of olives, cheeses, crackers and strawberries. “Bonnie and I will be right back.”
Taggart led Rylee to a sofa and settled there beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You good?” he murmured, pulling her close.
Rylee nestled against him. “I’m great,” she replied, choosing to focus on the excitement the evening would hold, rather than the butterflies fluttering in her belly.
The hosts returned a moment later, each carrying a tray of champagne flutes. As Rylee accepted the proffered glass, she noted the plump raspberry in the bottom, tiny bubbles rising from the fruit.
Matt and Bonnie sat down, and Matt raised his glass.
“We wanted to welcome you all here tonight. It’s always great to gather with good friends. But today’s a special day.” He held his glass toward Rylee. Taggart, his arm still around her shoulder, gave her a gentle squeeze. “Our good friend, Taggart Fitzgerald, has found a wonderful woman worthy of calling his submissive, and it’s her birthday today. How old are you?”
“Twenty-seven,” Rylee replied.
“We should give her twenty-seven spanks then,” Liam said with a lopsided grin.
“We’ll do better than that,” Tag replied, his hand dropping from Rylee’s shoulder to her breast.
“To Rylee,” Allie said, raising her glass.
“To Rylee,” Robert Hemingway echoed, his glass held high. He gave a mock scowl, adding, “Twenty-seven, did you say? I have socks older than you.”
They all laughed, and then drank the bubbly, dry champagne.
The talk became more general as the guests sampled the platters of appetizers and sipped their sparkling wine. A timer dinged in the kitchen, and Bonnie rose from the couch. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced.
They all moved into the dining room. There were only four place settings at the table, a cushion set on the floor beside each chair.
As the men took their seats around the table, Matt addressed the women. “You may take off your shoes before you kneel beside your Master’s chair.”
As Bonnie placed platters on the table, Rylee and the other two women knelt on the floor cushions as directed. Assuming the familiar position beside the Leather Master helped calm some of the butterflies still flapping inside her.
The food, braised pork with roasted mushrooms and potatoes, was delicious. Rylee accepted each bite from her Dom, which he interspersed with sips of water and red wine. The conversation was still light and easy, but, with the women kneeling at the men’s feet, the dynamic had shifted. The very air around them now seemed charged with a buzz of sensual anticipation.
After the meal, Bonnie brought out a bread pudding in a buttery bourbon sauce, along with a pot of coffee. Though Rylee was full from the meal, she had no trouble eating every offered bite of the delicious dessert.
Finally, Matt tapped his wine glass and the room quieted, all eyes moving toward him. “We have something devilishly fun planned for the birthday girl tonight,” he announced. He looked directly at Rylee. “I know you’re probably on pins and needles about now, tired of being kept in suspense.”
“Oh, no,” Bonnie interjected with a laugh. “I sense a pun coming on.”
“You know me too well, wife of mine,” Matt retorted with a grin. “And yes, since we don’t want to keep you in suspense any longer, we’ll just have to suspend you.”
Rylee glanced from Matt to Taggart, confused.
“Matt and I got a new toy recently,” Bonnie explained, placing her hand affectionately over her Dom’s. “It’s a suspension bar and it’s really fabulous.”
“Oh,” Rylee breathed softly, her heart catching a little in her chest.
“That’s right,” Matt said. His grin fell away, his voice suddenly deepening. “Bonnie, Darla and Allie, please take Rylee to the playroom and prepare her for suspension.”
The three women rose at once from their cushions, and Rylee got to her feet as well. She slipped her feet into her heels and followed the others out of the dining room, her heart beating a mile a minute.
Bonnie placed her hand comfortingly on Rylee’s back as they entered the room. “Don’t be nervous, Rylee,” she said kindly. “Remember, all four of our men are very experienced in the scene. You’re in excellent hands.”
“That’s right,” Darla agreed. “Now, let’s get our slave girl stripped and ready for her Masters.”
Rylee took a step back. “Oh, I can do it my—”
“No,” Bonnie interrupted firmly. “Master Matt said we were to prepare you.” She stepped behind Rylee, drawing a fingertip over one of the marks Rylee knew was still visible from her brief caning earlier that evening. “I can be something of a Domme myself, young lady. Don’t make me add more marks to your pretty little bottom before the scene even begins.”
“No, Mistress!” Rylee cried with feigned distress, though she couldn’t stop her broad grin. All the women, including Bonnie, laughed in response.
Rylee lifted her arms obediently as her friends moved around her, unhooking the waist cincher and carefully rolling her stockings down her legs. Allie knelt at her feet and took off her heels to finish removing her thong and stockings.
“Put the heels back on,” Bonnie instructed. “That’s such a sexy look, don’t you agree, girls?” She looked to Allie and Darla, both of whom adamantly agreed.
They led her, naked save for the heels, to stand beneath the hanging bar that had been chained from the ceiling, very wide cuffs with lots of buckles secured at either end.
“That’s a good-looking suspension rack,” Darla commented, reaching up to touch one of the cuffs. “No BDSM home should be without it,” she added with a smile.
“Wow,” Allie enthused, stepping closer. “This looks heavy duty. Sir Liam’s going to want one, for sure.”
“Your birthday’s coming up next month, right?” Bonnie said. “Put in a request.”
“Not sure I can wait that long,” Allie replied with a laugh. “Are you guys busy tomorrow night?”
“Girls, we need to focus,” Darla reminded them. “The Masters will be here soon. Let’s get our little slave girl into position.”
“Right,” Bonnie said briskly. “Rylee, lift your arms so I can cuff you.”
Rylee, heart hammering, cunt thrumming, did as she was told.
Bonnie retrieved the stepstool that leaned against the back wall and brought it over, placing it in front of Rylee. Climbing up, she reached for Rylee’s right arm. “These are suspension cuffs, especially designed to bear your full weight,” Bonnie told Rylee as she buckled the cuff around her wrist. “See how it fits over both the wrist and hand?”
Rylee nodded. Lined with thick soft fleece, the cuff felt good as it closed around her arm, pushing her gently to a more submissive place.
As Bonnie secured the cuff on Rylee’s left wrist, she added, “Because it’s so wide and covers half your hand, it gives you a lot of support when you’re suspended. And see, the D-rings attach to the b
ars in such a way that the pull is vertical, so they don’t put undue pressure on your wrists.”
She slipped a finger between the cuff and Rylee’s arm to test for fit. “How’s that? Comfortable?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Rylee said with a grin. Her pussy was swollen and moist. She loved being stretched like this, arms high overhead, her back arched, breasts thrust forward. She was both excited and nervous at the prospect of being suspended, but excitement, at least for the moment, was definitely winning out.
As Bonnie was putting away the stepstool, they heard the sound of the men approaching in the hall. The other three women quickly knelt in a row in front of Rylee, placing their arms behind their backs.
The guys entered a moment later, stopping just inside the door to admire their sub girls. “Nice,” Matt breathed.
“Sweet,” Liam and Taggart said at the same time.
“Exquisite,” Robert finished.
At a signal from Matt, the kneeling women rose from the ground, stepping aside.
Taggart approached Rylee and wrapped his arms around her torso, his hands on her back, his body pressed against hers. She could feel his erection, hard against her stomach. Dipping his head, he kissed her mouth, his tongue slipping between her lips.
She responded instantly, hungrily, her nipples tingling against his silky shirt and hard chest, her clit throbbing.
All too soon, he let her go. Gazing deep into her eyes, he murmured for her ears only, “Make me proud tonight, R.”
“Yes, Sir,” she vowed.
“Your safeword is butterfly, is that correct?” Matt asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Rylee replied. But I have no intention of using it.
He nodded and then moved to the wall, where he turned the handle attached to the winch and pulley system that caused the suspension bar to slowly rise, pulling Rylee up with it until her toes had left the ground. The pressure on her wrists was marked but not painful, the wide cuffs providing good support, as Bonnie had promised.
Taggart returned to stand directly in front of her. “How do you feel?”
BDSM Connections - The Complete 4 Novel Series Page 39