The doorbell rang. Shea rushed from the bathroom and hurried down the stairs to get the door. The guys had warned her to keep out of the kitchen and dining room, instead directing her to greet the guests as they arrived.
Allie and Liam Byrne were at the door. With dark hair and green eyes, Liam, or Sir Liam, as she had been instructed to address him tonight, was quite attractive. He was dressed in black jeans and a black button-down shirt open at the throat. He walked with a limp from a car accident he’d suffered some years back, and he carried a beautiful cane Allie had made for him. Allie, who had hair of an auburn shade Shea would have killed for, wore a toga exactly like hers, except it was a rich, dark red. It matched the red leather collar she wore around her neck. Beautifully made, the collar had a small gold padlock shaped like a heart at its center.
Not for the first time, Shea wished she had a collar to symbolize her devotion to her Masters and their ownership of her body and soul. She half smiled as she imagined her staid, super-conservative colleagues’ reactions if she showed up at the lab in a leather slave collar.
They exchanged greetings and hugs, and Shea led their guests into the living room. She offered them each a glass of the champagne Zach had brought home that afternoon, and Sir Liam, thankfully, assumed the duty of popping the cork. Just as Shea had filled their flutes, the doorbell rang again.
Bonnie and Master Matt stood at the door, Master Taggart and Rylee just behind them. The men, like Sir Liam, were dressed in black, the women wearing the same beautiful red gown as Allie. Bonnie’s collar was made from three strands of leather, black, gold and copper, skillfully braided together, while Rylee still had the turquoise collar she had worn since Shea had met her that night at the bonfire.
“They ought to be making a video, especially considering we’re all in costume,” Rylee quipped as they made their way to the living room.
“Who knows, maybe they will be,” Master Taggart replied with a grin.
Master Zach appeared carrying a tray loaded with crackers, cheese and crudités. He took over the duties of pouring the champagne as everyone took seats. Though they had no particular rules in their house about submissives sitting on the furniture, each of their female guests knelt on the rug beside her Dom. Thus, when Zach sat down, Shea knelt likewise on the ground beside him. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder, his touch both comforting and thrilling, as always.
Wonderful smells were wafting from the kitchen, and a moment later, Sir Stephen appeared to greet their guests. Master Zach stood and handed him a glass of champagne.
Like the other Doms, Sir Stephen and Master Zach also wore black. Zach was in his customary thick cotton black T-shirt, leather pants and square-toed boots. Steve, also in leather pants, wore a silk button-down shirt with white mother-of-pearl buttons, characteristically rolled to the forearms.
Sir Stephen held up his glass. “To our lovely birthday girl, and to our good friends.”
As Shea blushed scarlet, everyone lifted their glasses and clinked. The champagne was dry and bubbly, and Shea finished her entire glass. After a few minutes of small talk, the oven timer began to ding from the kitchen.
Master Zach rose to his feet. “I’ll help you,” he said to Sir Stephen.
Sir Stephen nodded as he also stood. “If everyone will move to the dining room, dinner is ready.”
There were only five place settings at the long, narrow table, one at each end, two on one side of the table and one on the other side. The table was covered with a crisp, white tablecloth, black linen napkins beside each plate. Large, flat floor cushions had been placed next to each chair, the one in between the two settings obviously for Shea.
Master Matt and Master Taggart took their seats at opposite ends of the table, Sir Liam settling at the single place setting across the table. The subs knelt on cushions beside their Doms.
A moment later, Master Zach and Sir Stephen came in from the kitchen, both carrying platters. Dinner was salad, pork tenderloin and garlic-parmesan green beans. Both red and white wine were offered, along with sparkling water flavored with lemon. It was odd but also somehow extremely erotic to kneel between her Masters, opening her mouth obediently as they took turns placing delicious morsels of food on her tongue. She felt a little silly at first, but then began to enjoy being taken care of in this particular way. She was at once nurtured and controlled, and the combination suited her submissive soul.
When the meal was over, the subs were instructed to remain on their cushions while the Doms cleared the table. The girls whispered and giggled about this being a nice change of events. The guys returned a few moments later, all of them carrying something—a coffee carafe, a tray of mugs and dessert plates and, in Master Zach’s hands, a large cake with a ring of lit candles around its edge.
“Girls, stand up and see,” Sir Stephen directed as he set down the cake with a flourish. The subs all got to their feet, their eyes on the cake, big smiles on all their faces.
Shea endured the birthday song, willing herself not to blush as she listened to her friends, a few of them woefully off-key. When it was over, Sir Stephen directed her to blow out the candles.
The Doms beckoned their subs to sit on their laps for the dessert course, and Shea settled on Master Zach’s knees as Sir Stephen fed her. The cake was her favorite, chocolate mousse with plenty of chocolate buttercream icing, but she barely tasted it. Her stomach filled with butterflies of anticipation for what she knew lay just ahead.
When dessert and coffee were done, Sir Stephen stood and looked down at Shea. “S, from this moment forward and for the duration of the evening, you belong to everyone in this room. You will submit without hesitation to any and everything that is asked of you.”
It wasn’t a request, but rather a declaration, and his words sent a shiver of fear and desire coursing through Shea’s body. “Yes, Sir Stephen,” she said softly.
“Girls,” Sir Stephen continued, now directing his attention to the women. “Take S to the den and prepare her for presentation. We’ll be waiting for you here in the dining room.”
The women rose, everyone’s eyes on Shea. Rylee came over and placed her hand supportively on Shea’s arm and together they walked toward the den. Shea wasn’t sure if she felt more like a queen being prepared for her coronation, or a prisoner being led to her execution. Maybe a little of both.
Once in the room, Bonnie turned to Shea. “You doing okay, Shea? Or should I say S?” She smiled.
“That’s so cool that they call you S,” Allie enthused. “Just like in Story of O.”
“And you even have your own Sir Stephen,” Rylee said.
“I loved when the guards would come in and just whip her and then leave her alone, chained to the wall. Great masturbation material,” Allie added.
They all laughed, Shea included.
“Seriously, though,” Bonnie said, placing her hand on Shea’s arm. “Are you doing okay? Being the center of attention like this can be kind of intimidating, even though it’s sexy as hell.”
“I’m okay,” Shea said, refusing to give in to her nerves. “At least that’s what I keep telling myself.” She managed a smile.
“We’ve got our instructions,” Rylee said. “Which are to strip, inspect and prepare you for the men.”
Rylee reached for one of the clips that held Shea’s shoulder straps together. Allie reached for the other. In tandem, they released the clips, and the gown fell open to the waist. Bonnie plucked at the sash and the dress puddled around Shea’s feet.
“Have you lost more weight?” Allie asked as she knelt in front of Shea to remove her sandals.
“Yeah, you better cut it out, or you’re going to disappear,” Rylee said.
Shea laughed with pleasure. “It’s not like I’ve been dieting or anything. It just kind of melted away.” She shrugged. “Oreos and ice cream used to be my best friends.”
“I hear you on that one,” Rylee said. “They’re still pretty darn good friends of mine.” She laughed. “
If I didn’t swim and do Jiu Jitsu all the time, I’d be in serious trouble.”
“Focus, girls,” Bonnie said, though she was smiling. Addressing herself to Shea, she said, “Stand with your legs shoulder width apart and lock your hands behind your head. I’m going to inspect your body.”
Shea was familiar with body inspection. Her Masters required that she keep herself smooth at all times, and occasionally one of them would tell her to assume the inspection position. Though she was careful in her grooming, and certainly more comfortable with her body now, the command always caused her heart to skip a beat. There was something inherently humiliating about being inspected like an animal or a piece of meat. At the same time, the humiliation was oddly thrilling. Thus, while she hated being inspected in this way, she also loved it.
Shea assumed the position, lifting her chin and fixing her focus on the middle distance as she fought down her blush. Bonnie ran her fingers lightly along Shea’s underarms, tickling her in the process. A month ago, she would’ve giggled and jerked away, but now she stood still.
Kneeling, Bonnie ran her hands along Shea’s legs. Standing again, she stroked Shea’s shaven mons, her fingers sliding between Shea’s legs. Her touch sent a jolt of desire directly to Shea’s clit, despite the fact she considered herself completely heterosexual.
Allie approached her next, a lipstick in her hands. “Rouged nipples, just like O,” she said with a smile. She cupped one of Shea’s breasts and ran the lipstick lightly over her areola and rapidly rising nipple. She repeated the process with the second nipple.
Rylee approached, holding something she had retrieved from Steve’s desk. She held out a chain leash and leather dog collar. “Lower your arms,” Rylee instructed. “We’re to lead you to the Masters on this leash.”
Shea’s heart, which had slowed with the girls’ friendly banter, sped up again to a mile a minute as Rylee fastened the dog collar around her throat. When it was on, Bonnie reappeared holding a black satin sleep mask. She placed it over Shea’s eyes, careful as she slipped the elastic behind her head.
There was a gentle downward yank on the chain. “On your hands and knees,” Rylee said. “You’re to crawl.”
“The lucky birthday girl,” Bonnie said as Shea blindly lowered herself to the ground. There were murmurs of assent.
Shea wasn’t sure how lucky she felt at that moment. She could barely hear herself think over the pounding of her heart as the women, flanking her on all sides, led her slowly out of the den and through the living room.
Just inside the dining room door, hands gripped her upper arms, pulling Shea to her feet. There was some rustling and whispers as Shea stood, trying not to fidget, unable to see.
When the blindfold was removed, Sir Stephen stood in front of her, the upper half of his face covered by a black domino mask, only his eyes visible. His dominant gaze pierced her soul.
When he stepped aside, Shea saw that all the men were wearing identical black masks. The effect was at once erotic and chilling, as if she were among strangers—dark and dangerous Masters who would soon have their way with her.
The women, too, wore masks over their eyes, though theirs were of a red that matched their gowns. They were each kneeling on their cushions now, and all eyes were on Shea.
The table had been covered by a new cloth, this one black instead of white, and in front of each Master there was an object. Before Master Taggart lay a small black whip, its tail split at the tip like a snake’s tongue. In front of Master Matt was a tall red candle and a box of matches. At Sir Liam’s place sat a long riding crop with a looped handle.
Then she saw the cage.
It stood in the corner of the room, moved from its customary place down in the dungeon. She had been in the cage on only two occasions during her training, both brief periods of time-out, but each time she had been thrilled to her bones by the captivity, which sent her to a deeply submissive place the instant the door clanged shut.
Staring now at the tall, narrow cage with its black bars and ceiling just high enough to accommodate a standing adult, she understood the guys had provided a very real prop from the sexual fantasy she’d whispered while masturbating for them in the video it seemed she’d made a lifetime ago.
Without speaking to her, Sir Stephen picked up the end of the leash and led Shea to the cage. He pushed her gently but firmly inside. “Lift your arms high, grip the bars and don’t let go until I let you out,” he instructed her.
Shea obeyed, taking hold of the cold bars as Sir Stephen removed her leash and collar. He closed the door, leaving her naked and alone in the cage.
Returning to the table, Sir Stephen took his place. Lifting the brandy bottle, he poured a little more into his snifter and then turned to Sir Liam. “I understand your sub has something new to show us.”
Sir Liam nodded. “She did the design, I did the piercing. Show them, Allie.”
Obediently, Allie stood and reached for the clips at her toga, releasing them one at a time. As the top of her gown fell from her shoulders, Shea could see the small, delicate gold hoops at her nipples. They had been beaded with tiny purple stones Shea thought must be amethyst. The jewelry looked stunning against her small, high breasts, and Shea made a mental note to ask her Masters for nipple rings, even though the thought of needles piercing her flesh frightened her.
Master Taggart went next. “Go on,” he instructed Rylee as Allie re-clipped her gown and lowered herself back to her cushion. “Show our friends your latest mark of ownership.”
Rylee rose from her cushion and lifted the skirt of her gown to her waist. Without the slightest hesitation or hint of self-consciousness, she spread her labia, revealing three tiny gold rings embedded in the hood of her clit. All of the other girls, including Shea, gasped in awe and admiration while the men grinned at one another.
As Rylee lowered herself back to her cushion, Master Zach said, “What about you guys, Matt? Anything new to show us?”
Master Matt nodded. “Yeah, actually. Something pretty major.”
The room became silent, everyone watching and waiting, including Shea, ignored and still clenching the bars of her cage. “We haven’t told you guys about this before now, because Bonnie wanted to make sure it healed properly before we showed anyone. We had it done by a pro. We chose the design together, and I’m guessing most of you will recognize what it is.”
Murmurs of interest and curiosity rippled through the room as Bonnie stood. She turned so her back was to the table and slowly lifted the skirt of her gown. On her left cheek stood a small but distinct brand, the ridged skin permanently darkened to red.
“It’s the BDSM emblem,” Sir Stephen said as they all took in the circle with its triple spiral.
“Oh,” Shea breathed, recalling her extensive research into all things BDSM in the years before she dared to make it her reality. The symbol was based on a triskele. The triple spirals in a rotating symmetry represented the three divisions of BDSM—B&D, D/s and S&M, and the hole at the center of each spiral symbolized the void within each person who is hardwired for BDSM—a void that can only be filled by a complementary other. BDSM cannot be done alone.
There was excited discussion around the table as several of the guests lightly touched the raised, darkened flesh of her brand, and Master Matt talked about the procedure itself and Bonnie’s incredible submissive courage during the ordeal. Shea’s ass tingled with sympathy as she tried to imagine the searing heat of the fire-hot brand burning its image permanently into her flesh.
Finally, Bonnie lowered herself back onto her cushion, and all eyes turned toward Shea. Shea, who still held the bars of her cage, gripped them tightly as Master Zach approached her. His eyes behind his mask bored into hers as he unlatched the cage door and pulled it open.
“Drop your hands to your sides,” he instructed. As Shea obeyed, he reached for her throat. Gripping her just below the jaw, he pulled her from the cage. Her heart was pounding, his hand on her throat thrusting her instantly int
o primal sub mode.
He drew her toward the table with his hand. “Bend over and extend your hands out flat on the table,” he instructed. “Spread your legs and offer your ass for Master Taggart.”
He let her go, and Shea obeyed, resting her cheek against the linen tablecloth, her heart thudding.
Master Taggart came up beside her, the small whip in his large hand. “Thirty strokes for your birthday,” Master Taggart announced in his gravelly voice. “And one extra for good luck.”
“You will count the strokes out loud,” Sir Stephen informed Shea from somewhere behind her.
Shea was reminded of Rylee that night at the bonfire—of how gracefully and stoically she had accepted the Leather Master’s single tail, and Shea silently prayed she could do the same tonight.
Master Matt stood on the other side of the narrow table and reached for her wrists, which he pinned to the table with his hands. There was no gentle warm up and no warning as Master Taggart’s snake cut across Shea’s flesh like the twin blades of a knife. In spite of herself, her first count came out as a yelp.
Her entire ass was soon a crisscross of stinging fire. Despite her prayer, she began to whimper and squirm. By the stroke of twenty, tears were pouring down her cheeks, and by thirty, she was wailing. “Thirty-one,” she cried with relief as the last line of fire was drawn across her tortured flesh.
As she lay limp and exhausted, someone tapped her shoulder. Master Zach’s voice murmured in her ear, “What are you forgetting, S? Master Taggart gave you a gift.”
Shea managed only to lift her head. “Thank you, Master Taggart,” she croaked.
“Anytime,” he replied with a grin.
Someone smoothed a soothing balm over her ass and thighs. Hands reached for her, helping her to a standing position. Master Zach handed her a glass of water, while Sir Stephen dabbed at her tear-streaked cheeks with a tissue.
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