by Hill, Joey W
“None of that.” She jumped as a switch touched her buttock, a sharp sting. Then Ben’s hand was there, working that dildo in her ass. “Clench down, as if it was my cock. Like you were imagining, that night in your bed. Say what you were thinking, out loud for all of us to hear.”
Her arousal shot up even higher, even as she blushed. “Fuck me…with your cock. Master…harder…please. Ohh…” She remembered how her climax had taken her over, without his permission to release. It made her pussy ripple with an aftershock even now.
She clenched over the dildo, groaning with the sensation. “Keep doing it,” he ordered, and she obeyed as the others finished what they were doing. Even her head was secured to the web, a line that ran around her forehead. With her legs spread, knees tied down, her body completely restrained, she was able to be fucked, sucked, whatever they desired. The web gave them the flexibility to angle her as they desired.
“Beautifully done.” He touched her flank with that switch again, a quick sting. “Thank the Masters properly, Marcie.”
“T-thank you…Master Peter. Master Jon…Master Lucas. Thank you for using me for my Master’s pleasure and your own.”
“Gorgeous.” That came from Jon. He caressed her shoulder as he tested the bindings once more. “Welcome to the family, love.”
Then Peter cupped her breasts, a flick of his tongue over the sensitized nipples. “Your breasts are as beautiful as your sister’s. Pure honey skin.”
Finally, Lucas. His hand trailed over her face, a softer, more thoughtful caress, but then that hand dropped, found her dripping cunt, fingered her until she was growling like a needy cat.
“I think we’ll be able to talk Cass into that fantasy I have, don’t you? Particularly since it’s your fantasy as well.”
That sent a spasm through her, particularly when his fingers stroked her clit so knowledgeably. “Yes sir.”
A touch of amusement entered his voice, tangled with a good degree of lust. When Lucas got home tonight, she was pretty sure Cass was going to get a good workout. “I’m sure I won’t get that kind of deference when she’s off this web, Ben.”
“She still has a punishment coming,” Peter offered, creating a spiral of anxiety in her lower belly. “Maybe that will help her remember to be more respectful. For a day or two.”
“You know I have a certain code, Marcie,” Ben said, staying frustratingly out of reach. She licked her lips, remembering the taste of his cock. “About letting my submissive top from the bottom. You need to remember your place is firmly on the bottom, always. Five switches from each of them to drive the lesson home.”
Despite the threat, Marcie clung to his voice. She was in high gear, stimulated by all of this, but her emotional hunger was nowhere near sated. She needed him. Would eventually beg if she had to do so.
She remembered how much the switching had hurt from Ben, but how it had made her so hot, knowing she’d given him the right to do it. Now he was offering it to the others as a rite of passage, as part of her initiation. A ball gag was pushed into her mouth with cloth wadding to absorb the saliva. Then it was buckled tightly around her head, as her fingers clutched the ropes. She shook her head several times, trying to shake off the fear, the anticipation of the pain. She needed to do this. Punishment was necessary. Her Master said so.
She yelped as the first one hit. She didn’t know who it was until he was done, alternating between the right and left buttock. “Nice striping,” Peter commented. “Hand it over, Jon.”
She was braced for five more strikes, but not for them being around her breasts. She let out a startled cry as the switch stung the top of her breast, brought down upon both of them from above, since Peter was a tall guy. His large hand curved around her nape, holding her there as he administered four more, at different angles, probably making a crisscross shape of red lines on her distended curves.
Lucas got her inner thighs, not quite hitting her pussy, but close enough she felt the reverberation through it. She was gasping, holding on to those ropes for dear life. Fire was spreading across her flesh, and then Ben gathered her hair, wrapping it into a tight tail, securing it high on her head, baring her neck for the press of his mouth.
She shuddered, moaned like a dove, needy. She wanted the gag gone. But she was at the mercy of her Master. Then he was removing it from her mouth, answering her prayers.
“No more topping. No more misbehaving.”
“Yeah, I’ve had that conversation with Dana before.” Peter’s snort sent a ripple of humor through the men.
Dana misbehaved because she needed to feel her Master’s yoke, its reassurance. That was a part of it for Marcie, but it was more than that also. Sometimes her Master needed her to misbehave, to give him the outlet of punishment, to feed his sadistic side. It gave her as much pleasure as it gave him. So in as demure a voice as she could muster, she managed two words. “Yes, Master.”
Ben’s snort was quite distinguishable from Peter’s. “Just for that…”
She started out with “No, no, no…” because hell, it hurt so bad, having that switch strike her buttocks, her thighs. The pain was intense, excruciating, because it didn’t take much with a switch. He knew her better than they did, knew how much she could take, what she craved. On ten, she gasped with relief, her legs quivering.
Things had gotten quiet again. She could hear Ben’s breath, his shoes tapping as he moved, studying her stretched and tormented body from every angle, she was sure. She ached for him. Her pussy hadn’t stopped dripping yet, and her ass, legs and breasts were on fire.
“What do you want, Marcie?”
“Whatever my Master desires.”
“What do you think he desires?”
She couldn’t help it, her lips curved, even as a few tears ran out from under the mask. “To fuck me. Please, Master.”
She listened to the polished dress shoes move behind her. His fingers touched her ass, worked the dildo so that she spasmed in near climax once more, crying out. Then it was pulled free.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Your cock, Master. In my ass. Please. If that’s what you want.”
“In a moment. We have a late arrival. Someone who takes the topping issue almost as seriously as I do.”
A late arrival? There was only one… She hadn’t expected him, not with Savannah pregnant, but then she felt his touch. Matt’s firm hand was as unique as the four others. She recalled his fingers tracing the shell of her ear as they now slid along her spine, up to her nape. As he moved around her, he must have gripped the rope, because her body swayed on the web.
“I expect Ben will have to stay on his toes, keeping you in line.” A statement of fact, not really a question, but the Master’s tone was so clear, rippling through her every nerve ending, she knew a response was needed.
“Yes sir.”
A masculine chuckle. “Lucky man. We’re all lucky in that regard.” She drew in a breath as Matt’s hand caressed her throat, then cupped her cheek in a firm hold. “You won’t push it to the lengths you’ve pushed it before this night though. Will you?”
She was incapable of lying, even to save her tender skin. “Unless my Master needs me to push it, sir.”
Five more from Ben, and as she shrieked through the impact, she pressed her face hard into Matt’s large hand, bit down to contain it all. The sound of her flesh being whipped just made it even more intense. Matt didn’t move away, letting her lock her jaw on the calloused mound of his palm. With the other hand, he held her head rigidly still, reinforcing the rope bindings on it, his fingers tangled in her hair. When Ben finished, she was gasping for air. A handkerchief touched her face, Matt taking away her tears.
“Do you love him, Marcie?”
“More than anything,” she sobbed. “Always. He’s my Master.”
Matt brushed his lips against her forehead, both cheeks. “Yes, he is. Make him deserve you, sweet girl. And love him like he deserves.”
A reminder of their talk, a
nd a blessing from the patriarch at once. She pressed her lips into his palm once more, soothing where she’d bitten with a shy touch of her tongue. Another chuckle, and he gave her hair a reproving tug. “She’s a handful, Ben. She’s all yours.”
“Yes, she is.” There was a silence, in which she imagined Ben and Matt exchanging a look that, like everything tonight, made things right. Balanced. Then she heard Matt moving away.
Now it was just her and Ben. Alone.
Chapter Sixteen
At the blissful sound of his slacks being unbelted, opened, she was already pushing out toward him, her sphincter muscles contracting. He let out a soft oath, his fingers dipping in to caress that rim.
“You’re flaring, love. A beautiful red rosebud, begging for my cock.”
“Yes, Master.”
He was wearing a condom, a surprise, but it made him nice and slick. He stretched her as she made those animal noises, which became a long cry when he slid in fully, pressing his thighs and pelvis firmly against her abused buttocks.
“Whose are you, Marcie?”
“Yours, Master. All yours.”
“And if I want to fuck your ass all night?”
“That’s your right. I belong to you.”
“Make you suck my cock until your jaw cramps?”
“I belong…to you. Anything.”
“Then clutch me with those muscles like I taught you.”
She did, until she was struggling against exhaustion. But she reveled in every thrust, his grunts, the ropes rubbing against her flesh, the constriction around her breasts, her waist, her legs, everywhere she was bound. His pelvis pressing against her ass, making the welts from the switch burn, a reminder of his claim on her. The moist heat of his breath against her neck.
The others might still be watching, they might be gone, but for her there was only him right now. And then she was sure they were gone, because he loosened the blindfold, let it drop.
It was his loft apartment. Whereas the dungeon in the Garden District was full of luxurious pieces with satin polished wood and velvet, this one was a sparsely outfitted torture chamber, intended to be intimidating with its hard dark floors, blackened windows, single-bulb lights hanging from the ceiling. It was separated from the rest of the apartment by a thick curtain of overlapping thick plastic strips, like at a construction site.
“I’m glad I didn’t move everything to the Garden District. I like the idea of having this equipment close to work. Particularly if I need to take a particular K&A employee home for lunch and discipline her.”
“That employee might decide to work for Tennyson Industries. The pay’s better.”
He chuckled, a dangerous, thrilling sound, his breath on her neck. “Savannah can’t match our benefits. I promise you that.”
There was the sound of the condom being removed. When he came to stand before her, he’d left the slacks open, his erect cock pushing up and out of the fabric. He got up close and personal, so she was staring into those vivid eyes and his cock brushed against her belly through the opening of the ropes. He cupped her face, traced her cheekbone, caught strands of her hair. “My sweet slave,” he murmured.
Stepping back, he unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged it off, dropped the slacks and shoved off his briefs, got rid of all of it. It was the first time he’d given her that pleasure when she was conscious enough to appreciate it. He was beautiful, every bare, perfect inch. She saw some unexpected scars, high on his thigh, at his abdomen, but they fit the tough, muscled body. The light mat of dark hair arrowed down to his groin and sprinkled his thighs and calves. A virile male animal. If this was Beauty and the Beast, she’d want him to stay the growling, dangerous Beast, never become the cultured, much-too-gentle prince.
“Eyes down, Marcie.”
She obeyed, and had the pleasure and anticipation of watching him take that thick cock in his hand. She’d love to watch him masturbate, see how those strong fingers milked seed out of the thick organ. The night he’d told her he was doing that in front of the TV, she imagined him ordering her to stay on her knees next to him, eyes down while he jacked off. Then he’d torment her further by letting her clean him with her tongue, licking his seed off his balls and thighs, the base of his shaft, the broad head.
His other arm slid through the ropes, around her waist, palm settling on her buttock to use the ropes’ flexibility to angle her properly for him. It tilted her away from him, so that with her head firmly anchored to the web, she had to strain her gaze to keep looking down as he’d ordered and see as much as she could within that range.
He pushed into her pussy, stretching her out with excruciating slowness, that harrowing, almost too-full feeling she’d never tire of experiencing. He kept going until his thighs pressed against the inside of hers. He kept his hand on her ass, but brought the other one back to the side of her neck, fingers twisting in her hair tight. He withdrew, then slid back in, keeping his eyes on hers.
No words; none needed. This was a taking, his mouth in that ruthless set, eyes unwavering, and she returned that in full measure, holding the lock, letting him see her helpless pleasure, hear the unintelligible pleas for her Master that broke from her lips, increasing the fire in his eyes. He was building her up to that incredible peak again, and bound as she was, she had no control. He had it all. But it wasn’t a one-sided thing. She could see his total attention on her, how her surrender absorbed him…overwhelmed him, brought him into an untouchable space with her. It was just the two of them, giving, taking, until those two sides were fully twined together, the two of them fused.
He came closer, put his mouth on hers. It brought her to life like a detonator. She tried to devour him, would have if she hadn’t been so completely restrained. As it was, she made little crazed sounds in her throat, conveying her madness without words. She needed him, needed him.
Oh God, his cock felt good. He was pressed to her now, his chest a broad wall against her bound breasts, pelvis rocking against her thighs. The angle was precarious, narrow, and it rubbed him against her clit in a tiny, teasing touch. In, out. With how thick he was, every thrust and withdrawal made her burn even hotter, the excruciating stretch of his size keeping the climax just out of reach for the moment. Scraping his teeth against hers, he nipped, tongue teasing her lips as he held her head still. He was a master at building an explosion inside a finite space, the pressure becoming so dense until she was sure she’d shatter from the inside out. But she squeezed down on him. She wanted him to come with her, get lost in this, stay in that bubble together.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Please come for me, Master.”
“You…first.”
His voice was satisfyingly hoarse. It infused her with pleasure and power, and she had to hear him come, wanted to know she’d been able to give him that. “Please, Master.”
“Always…trying to…argue.” He pulled his lips back from his teeth, maybe a feral grin, maybe a rictus of control, trying to hold back his climax. “Right now, Marcie. Obey your Master. Your pussy is mine. You do what I tell you to do with it…or you won’t be sitting for a week.”
Putting his hand between them then, he found her clit. That mere brush of friction and she lost control. She protested, a brief plea, and then she was coming, milking him hard with the spasms, such that she got what she wanted as well. He came right in the middle of her own climax, grunting at the intensity of it, making tears spring to her eyes as his fingers bruised in their hold on her buttock. She liked the idea of those bruises, but it was all part of a whirling vortex of sensation as she screamed out her pleasure once again, her body unable to resist anything he desired of her.
He was her Master, after all.
When that climax left her, so did every scrap of energy she had. It wasn’t just the physical. There was a haze over her mind, a numb aftermath of ecstasy, a postpartum experience that kept her drifting, malleable, limp. She was aware of him freeing her. He put the collar back on her, as well as the tether. Twining it aro
und his wrist, he lifted her tenderly as a child cradled in his arms. He walked through those thick plastic curtains, and they were in a well-appointed loft apartment with masculine furniture, a big flat-screen, a kitchen full of silver appliances. There were intriguing pieces of art on the walls.
Moving across that space, he took her into a large bathroom. She smelled fragrant steam, sensed flickering candlelight.
She was shivering, but he stepped into a large Jacuzzi tub, sat down, putting her between his knees, wrapping an arm around her middle and pressing her head back on his shoulder. She didn’t know how long the tub had been running or who had drawn the bath. Jon had likely invented something to keep the water nice and hot.
“No talking,” Ben said quietly. “Not unless I give you permission.”
She didn’t think she could form words anyway, so that was good. But she drifted around in that haze as he wet her hair, cleaned it, fingers combing, massaging her nape. Then he shifted her around to all fours and attached the tether to a ring on the tub wall to keep her in that position. Using a moisturizing soap, he cleaned her skin, then followed that up with a warming oil he worked all over her body, paying particular attention to her joints and muscles. Her nipples still held that steel bar, replaced by him, and it was a provocative weight in her all-fours position. Then he turned his attention to her pussy and ass.
He cleaned her thoroughly, embarrassingly so, then worked in more soothing oils, spreading her legs out farther, making her whimper at the ripples of response he started. She was so sensitive, as if that climax had permanently awoken nerve endings that responded with jolts of pleasure to his every touch.
Unhooking the tether, he spoke in a quiet rumble against her ear. “Put your arms around me, baby.”
She did, and he lifted her out of the tub, taking her to her knees on a stack of soft towels. He used a couple others to dry her while she leaned against the inside of his right leg. He massaged her head for a long time, almost putting her to sleep. She could barely keep her head up by the time he combed her hair, but he steadied her chin with one hand.