It took her a moment to understand, then she gave a nervous half laugh. “The gynecologist took care of that years ago.” She felt shy about saying it, but she did it, forcing herself to try and be as sophisticated as they were being about all these things she’d never done, things she’d never even realized could be done. “Just…don’t go any deeper than you know…you know.”
“All right, then. You tell me if I cause you a moment of discomfort.” There was the glide of something within her opening, and then pressure. She tensed. Jon immediately stopped, his palm obviously on her back to register such a reaction. “I think an additional distraction might be good. This is low setting.”
Savannah sucked in a breath as current ran through the hood over her clit and through the pinwheel. The oblong clit piece hummed against her in a wave rhythm, like experiencing a tongue and a vibration at once. And the anal piece…there were tiny electrons of sensation leaping all over there. She couldn’t track them all, but it robbed her of the ability to retain any control over her voice. She was making soft moans of pleasure, unable to stop herself, and she wished for the gag, so the embarrassing noises would be muffled.
Jon eased the phallus in on one of the tiny undulations she could not help making, and seated it against a dense spot that reacted immediately, almost spasmodically, to the touch.
“Perfect. God, you’re perfect. That’s it, honey. The current goes through the spokes of the wheel and all around the rim, and there’s a different rhythm pulsing through the hub, the part that’s inside you. It’s key to the whole thing, because the flow and speed of the vibration alters constantly in all three pieces, so they keep stroking you, over and over, but in different ways. When you finally go, that lack of consistency will prolong the orgasm, much like when a man changes the angle of his cock during lovemaking between the clit and G-spot.”
She knew nothing of those things, only that his words were goading her further.
“Jon,” she gasped.
“Hang with me.”
Being an engineer, and therefore very detail-oriented, he was making some more adjustments. His hands moved quickly over her now, and she felt the satin ribbons of the straps tighten over her thighs, between her legs, so the components were held firmly against her anus and in her pussy. The clit piece was left alone, and its greater freedom to vibrate against her made all three sensations even more excruciating.
“Oh, God…” She was so close. It was going to be hard and intense, more than she could handle, but she wanted it, craved it like the relief of an excruciating pain being taken away.
Jon wasn’t in the mood to let her go so quickly. Abruptly, the vibration stopped.
“No,” she blurted out. “No.”
Matt stepped into her field of vision, his hand cupping her face, his expression dangerous with brutal male desire, telling her he was not there to soothe, but to see her agony. With no outlet for her passion, she bit him anew, this time his palm, too wound up to exercise restraint. She tasted his blood again and reveled in it, the taste of life.
He growled in response and buried the fingers of his other hand in her hair, but not to yank her away. In the same instinctive way she knew how to breathe, she knew he wanted to grip her with such brutal force at this moment, make her feel his dominance over her. She snarled against his flesh. It eased the grip of her jaw and he drew the hand back, showing her that she had marked him. She wanted to mark him everywhere. That gorgeous chest, flat abdomen, hard thighs, his feet, his…
“Start taking her up, Jon,” he muttered.
“Five minutes at low setting,” Jon responded behind her, his voice thick with his own reaction. His hand slid over her buttock, squeezed hard and she whimpered at the bolt of electric reaction. Matt’s spanking had made her hypersensitive there, in a way that made pain irrelevant. Pain or no pain, it was all pleasurable. “That will build her reaction, make it even more intense.”
The three pieces activated again. They weren’t just vibrating. The dildo began a slow, measured stroking, like a man’s cock must, only still not deep enough, making her want to struggle, pull it in, even as the terror of what that desire meant swept through her.
Matt stepped back, though his attention never left her face, and then he was outside the range of her vision. She could feel him to the left of her, and Jon was before her again.
With his beautiful face, the long sensitive fingers, the curve of his mouth, Jon would never need a device such as this to get a girl to go to bed with him. But with it, women would elevate him to the stature of a god, bow down and worship him. At the moment, she’d cheerfully volunteer to be High Priestess of the cult of Jon.
“Now,” he continued. “Before I raise the setting, I’m going to put the gag back in your mouth. I want something seated on your tongue to keep you from biting through it, though I’d love to hear you scream for us. I’m going to draw up your head a little higher, because we all want to see your face. That will enhance the sensation of your bondage, your slavery to us, to Matt.” At that amazing statement, one she would not have expected from Jon, he put his fingers along her cheek again, pushing the ball gently against her teeth. “A most cherished slave. One we couldn’t do without. Open up, honey.”
She didn’t have much choice with her head held rigid and his thumb cleverly inserting into the hinge of her jaw, making her obey.
“Put her on display in the center of the table so we all can enjoy watching her reach climax again and again,” Matt commanded.
The gears whirred at the far end of the table and the mechanism began to lift her even higher into the air and move her forward, toward the center. With her knees and ankles connected by the straight bars, and the cuffs holding open her thighs, her legs remained bent and spread, as if she were on her hands and knees, only she had her hands bound behind her back, her head slightly lower than her raised hips. She felt the table recede, and when she came to a stop, the heat of the spotlight told her she was about three feet above the table, allowing the men in the room to examine her from every angle, including the parts of her stretched by Jon’s wondrous torture device. It was demanding even now that she twitch her hips in futile attempt to establish a rhythm with the three alternating pumping, stroking and vibrating currents, all individually tailored to maximize response from the three erogenous zones. She couldn’t move much, but the little amount she could her body was using, making her feel the weight of her breasts quivering with her shameless, involuntary movements.
“Matt, I’m ready for my turn.” Peter’s voice came at her from the table level, suggesting he was sitting just to her right, just below her breasts. “I want to suckle those pretty tits and make her come just from that alone. Jesus, she’s built. “
There was a hoarseness to his voice, the savagery of desire, and she felt it pushing on her from all sides, every man’s need in the room swamping her, mixing with her own arousal until she could think of nothing so exciting as being buried beneath them all, helpless beneath their hands, mouths…cocks. What would it be like to taste each of them, feel one or more of their cocks stretching her mouth, while the others shoved into her wherever they could find an opening?
Did she really have that thought?
“All in good time. Lucas.” Matt’s voice filled her like the warmth of a promise. “Give her some visual stimulation.”
“With pleasure.”
She was turned on the track, rotating like displayed artwork. She was stopped when she faced Peter and Ben. Peter’s gaze devoured her breasts in a way that made them tremble and ache. Just beyond the two men the panels of the wall slid back as Lucas operated a switch, revealing a grid of twelve screens, which Matt and his team used to monitor different stock markets and news channels at once, as well as manage video conferences.
The dozen different images that flickered to life now were montages of her recent experiences in this room. She saw not only herself, but the men when she had not been able to see them. Lucas’s expression as he had
run his palm down her back. Peter, watching her strangled cries with rapture on his face. Jon, placing the devices within her most private areas with quiet capability, his lips firm with concentration.
Matt. His eyes intent, flamed with raw passion, presumably while Lucas went down on her. His quick, predatory strength as he tied her, then stood over her while she lay flat on the table. There was an expression on his face at that moment that she did not dare give a name, because it had no place in this room, she was sure. Definitely not lodged in her heart like an arrow.
She wished she had the blindfold back, or that the straps holding her head were not so relentless, as she saw images of herself. From the back, her buttocks clenching as Lucas’s blond head worked his magic between her thighs, the pale line of them on either side of his face, the pink soles of her feet outside his shoulders. Then a shot after she had been fully restrained in the harness and was listening to the entry of the men. The press of her lips not just suggesting trepidation, but sensual excitement.
Jon doing his namaste to her, the easing of her jaw revealing her change in feelings at that moment. Embarrassing close-ups when he placed the items against her pussy and anus.
But the worst was a clip from the beginning, when she was still mostly clothed. Matt’s first kiss, her body visibly softening into his as his hands wandered possessively down her body.
“Waiting five minutes like this, doing the low setting, is also a Tantric practice,” Jon said seriously, behind her again. Heat rose in her face, because now she knew exactly what he was looking at. Her attention was caught by Ben’s gaze, his eyes the color of green sea glass, multifaceted, jewel-like, a rich compliment to the sculptured jaw and firm, unsmiling lips.
Out of all of them, she knew the least about him, Matt’s legal pit bull. Remembering what part of her body Jon had said was reserved for him, she flicked her gaze nervously back to the screens, not able to handle any greater level of anxiety at this moment. She focused on the comparatively soothing quality of Jon’s voice instead.
“Prolonged pleasure makes not only the climax but the spirituality of the moment even more intense.” His voice was as compelling as a priest’s. “When I turn it on full, Savannah, I suggest you fight it. Fight it with everything you’ve got. The best things in life are those you hold off from enjoying as long as possible.
“You’ll understand that best at the end of the night, when you finally stop fighting Matt. You’ll discover an intensity ten times greater than anything we do to you, because it’s something he has that none of us can offer you, no matter what pleasure we bring you tonight. Something that you won’t see until you accept that you’re more than worthy of it. And when you do, Matt will be the luckiest man in the room. Here we go.”
She was turning now, the suspension straps moving along the circular track, taking her around the table. It was a disorienting experience that managed to sway her body and increase the effect of Jon’s device within her. When she stopped, she faced the head of the table, her gaze locked with Matt’s. She knew he could see every expression of her countenance, tense with desire, her lips pressed hard around the ball gag, throat working against the forces that were going to overwhelm her in no time, take her back to that place where Lucas had taken her. Only, if Jon’s device worked, it was going to keep her there, in screaming, mindless pleasure, where everything was beyond her control. And Matt was going to see it all, every vulnerable moment.
She would fight, but not for the reason Jon suggested. Her body didn’t rule over her mind and, her father’s tenet be damned, she wouldn’t learn a lesson from failure because she wouldn’t fail. She wasn’t going to be made to do something just because someone wanted her to do it.
She realized she sounded a little desperate, even in her own head, and another rule came to mind. Never lose emotional control, even in your thoughts. Discipline is bone-deep, not just skin-deep. She had no idea what number it was, though she remembered thinking once it was somewhat redundant with Five, which she couldn’t remember at the moment, either.
The clit hood started pulsing harder, rippling strokes like the tide rolling up over a shore after a large vessel had passed, the tongue sensation electrical. The slight roughness of the linen and the fact there were no straps holding it firmly against the clit, the adhesive doing that work, meant it created even more friction as her hips rocked the very tiny amount her bonds allowed her. She tried to stop the movement, but then the other two areas were turned on at the higher setting Jon desired, and she was lost.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. It was everywhere, inside and outside, radiating from the top of her head to the end of her toes. In that moment, if she could have spoken, she would have said things that would have embarrassed her far more than having Matt see her face, which was unthinkably embarrassing in itself. The electric current ran along the spokes of the wheel firmly pressed against the opening of her rectum, and that short rubber stem rotated very gently, sliding against the opening of the sphincter muscle, rocking the wheel like a spinning top, so it was stroking the rim of her in a way that made her strain against those straps. And the phallus… Jon had it perform several seconds of simple vibration, his fingertips briefly touching her, verifying how wet she was before he set it in motion again. Slow short glides in and out of her, stroking her pussy lips, with a rotation movement that kissed that dense spot within again and again and again, the mere brush of an electrical tongue.
She fought. She gave it all she had, in total panic, shutting her eyes, unable to look at Matt, her breath rasping around the gag so harshly the saliva escaped, making the ball slick. She bit it hard, desperate to hold back.
She lasted seven seconds, and then the storm crashed down on her.
Against the gag, the scream that ripped from her throat reverberated back in her chest, choking her, accelerating the rate of her heart. Her body was shuddering, vibrating, convulsing, bucking impossibly against straps too snug to allow her room to buck. Whereas the climax Lucas had given her had given her the sense of falling backwards into the embrace of a bed piled high with pillows and quilted covers, this was like catapulting from an airplane, that terrifying feeling of falling, spinning out of control toward bone-breaking impact. She wanted to undulate against something, something solid, something that would rock back against her, ease this tearing need in her.
And it went on and on. There was no pinnacle. She kept thinking she had hit it, and then she’d launch straight across to another peak, the tiny wheel at her anus, the busily stroking dildo and enthusiastically vibrating clit piece alternating their rhythm and patterns as Jon had said they would, giving her no relief, only merciless pleasure for the enjoyment of the men watching, all at the command of one man.
Look at me, Savannah.
Did he say it? Whisper it in her mind? She opened her eyes and met Matt’s dark gaze, raging with the fires of heaven and hell, with everything she could want from both and in between. Jon was right. At this moment, she had no rational thought. She utterly and totally wanted Matt’s Mastery. She wanted to be his. And if she could speak, she would have begged for it.
Tears slid down her face, her nose running from the excruciating pleasure of the multiple climaxes. When they finally began to lessen in intensity, she thought her stomach and buttocks would forever be in a state of clenched response, all muscles tight as stretched rubber bands from the onslaught of the orgasms. However, as the sensations drifted away, leaving her shuddering and sniffing helplessly, everything went limp with exhaustion. The place between her legs still pulsed, almost quivering with exertion.
“Her pussy is as full and juicy as the prettiest peach you’ve ever seen. Lucas?” Jon’s soft voice, not quite steady itself.
Oh…no…yes. Lucas’s mouth ever so gently closed over the distended area, and she let out a guttural, animal sound of near pain, exhausted pleasure. He licked her tenderly as Jon worked around him, eased out the dildo, which felt slick enough to be dripping. It was Lucas who held open her
buttocks as the anal piece was removed. Through it all, she stared at Matt, her body heaving with gasping breaths.
When he rose, leaned toward her, her mind dragged her gaze where it wanted to go, to see the enormous erection straining against his slacks.
“Do you want my cock?” It was a throaty demand that she respond, his voice beyond civility, commanding her. Prying open her fingers, he took away the handkerchief, using it to wipe her nose and around the corners of her mouth. That tender cozening perversely seemed to underscore his right to impose his will upon her, rather than lessening the force of his demand. When he didn’t give back the handkerchief, she knew she was being told her choice to call an end to it all had been rescinded. “Answer me, Savannah. Do you want my cock?”
She nodded as much as she could. Not just that. All of you. Everything. But she couldn’t say it, even if the gag weren’t there. He caught the strap holding the gag, ripped it away, pulled the ball from her mouth in a rough move. She didn’t expect it, the way his hand gripped her jaw, her throat, in a hold just a step below bruising. No more than she expected to delight in the pleasure of the pain.
“Say it. Say it now.”
“Yes.” She was hoarse, her lips and throat dry.
“Lower her,” he ordered. “Leave her ass in the air so Jon can get her ready for Ben. Just her head, to the level of my cock. And spin her, so she can take me deep.”
Her eyes widened as Peter and Ben moved to either side of the table. Their arms went under her body and they tightened the straps that held her to the bench. Jon slipped the S-hooks of the suspending chains and they turned her and replaced the chains so she was facing the ceiling. The long narrow bench supporting her front simply held her torso straight as the chains were adjusted. Her head was lowered, lowered, lowered, Matt’s fiery gaze staying pinned on her even as the back of her skull touched the edge of the table, while her lower body went to approximately a forty-five degree angle above her, her legs still spread for Jon to do…whatever Matt had just told him to do. She couldn’t remember, not with Matt’s crotch this close to her face.
Anthology - Behind the Mask Page 8