by Joey W. Hill
Rachel had to stand on her knees so she could reach behind Dana, figure out the latch that would connect the rings on the cuffs to the back of the collar. First, though, she ran her fingertips under the waterfall of looped chains that formed a decorative scalloping along the bottom edge of the thick strap of Dana’s collar. Rachel stopped at the St. Christopher’s medal, caressing the tender pocket of flesh beneath it where Dana’s collarbones met.
She didn’t think about doing it; she just had a desire to touch the collar on another submissive, that proof of ownership. If Dana’s hands hadn’t been behind her head, Rachel suspected Dana would have given in to the same urge, linking her fingers under the silver wire choker Rachel wore, tugging the sapphire pendant dangling from it.
The vertical posts of gold that bound the band of silver wire weren’t all alike. The one closest to the lock in back had an engraving on it, a Sanskrit phrase which translated to “Owned.” She’d let Dana feel that before, so Rachel expected Dana would have slid her touch all the way to that post, anticipating how another sub’s touch upon it would make Rachel feel.
How she hoped her touching the other woman’s collar made Dana feel.
As Rachel leaned forward, she received the answer to that. Dana’s tongue flicked over her nipple, and her mouth sealed over it to suckle.
Goddess… Jon had said she couldn’t touch Dana below the neck. He hadn’t made any provisions about Dana touching her. Rachel heard Peter’s purr of approval.
“Little troublemaker. Stay just like that, Rachel. Let her have a taste of your magnificent tits.”
I am giving you to them tonight, Rachel. To their desires and my own. When one of them tells you to do something, you obey them as you would me.
Rachel managed a nod, her trembling fingers resting on Dana’s shoulders for support as Dana deepened the contact, pulling harder on the nipple. Her tongue flicked over the clamp in a way that had Rachel crying out, a hard pulse happening between her legs.
“Holy fuck, that’s beautiful,” she heard a male voice murmur, but she couldn’t tell who’d said it. Probably Peter, and then she was sure as he added, “I want her to do that until Rachel comes.”
“Getting ahead of yourself,” Lucas said. “Got to win it in the cards.”
“We all know Ben’s going to cheat, so he’ll win every hand.”
“Even so. Rules are rules, gentlemen,” Matt spoke. “Else we’ll wear our lovely subs out before the night even gets started.”
“Good things happen when you wear a sub out,” Ben said. “Especially the kind these two gorgeous ladies are. The mind goes away and it’s all about whatever you need from them. They’ll keep trying, even when they don’t have the energy to stand. It’s a thing of fucking beauty.”
“Even so,” Matt repeated. “Let’s stick to the program. For now.”
She wasn’t sure what rules or program were governing them, but her energy was concentrated on doing her best not to move, not to rub herself against Dana’s thigh and bring herself to climax. By the time Peter sighed and commanded Dana to stop, Rachel was quivering with the effort.
“Finish my instructions,” Jon ordered.
It took her a moment to recall what they were, which shot panic through her chest, a reaction that gave the arousal possessing her another charge. Fortunately, she recalled the instructions in time before she had to ask him to repeat them, something sure to earn punishment.
She latched the clip on the cuffs around Dana’s wrists to the back of the collar, which would keep her arms in that lifted, crossed-behind-her-head position. Then she sat back on her heels and adjusted so their knees were back where they’d been ordered to be. Dana let out a little shuddering sigh that Rachel was sure she mirrored, but then she focused on the last part of the instructions. Kissing Dana until Jon told her to stop.
She’d spent so much wasted time in her life just trying to get through each day. Wake in the morning, get dressed, go through the motions of being a functioning, pleasant person, no matter how dead and heartbroken she’d felt inside. There’d been many flickers of light in that darkness, yes. Her yoga studio, her patients, like Dana. A breathtaking sunset, or the brilliant red of her poppies growing thick and full on her apartment balcony. Many of those things she’d appreciated in hindsight, too numb to recognize at the time they were helping hands, pulling her forward.
Since being with and marrying Jon, she’d been learning to appreciate things in the moment, slow it down, take the time to experience every amazing feeling and thought as they were happening. It wasn’t only Jon who had helped her with that lesson. She’d noticed that about all the men, especially when it came to this. They wouldn’t rush a second, because they wanted her to do everything she wanted to do, within the parameters of Jon’s instruction. Which meant they’d want her to savor the new experience of touching another woman like this.
She ran her hands fully over Dana’s face, her short-cropped hair, her ears and slender throat. Rachel had been her physical therapist, helping her fight through the grueling exercises to regain her mobility. Drying frustrated tears, rubbing her back and murmuring encouragement as Dana fought the unspeakable pain and sometimes despaired of ever feeling like the woman she’d once been.
Now, having emerged from the hell of physical rehabilitation, Dana kept in fighting shape, thanks to workouts with Peter, so Rachel knew all those slim muscles were as resilient as steel cable. And the personality beneath was just as unbreakable.
But she was also all soft, enticing girl, like a porcelain doll. Jon was right. Though she identified predominately hetero, Rachel did have some serious girl-girl fantasies. But just like her feeling about being shared with other Masters, that interest had a defined group. Jon would never share her outside the K&A circle, and she had less than zero interest in him doing so. Her female fantasies had also always centered around the K&A women, ever since she’d given herself free rein to expand upon them.
Particularly Dana. Perhaps because Dana had flirted with her in an aggressively physical way when Rachel was still in the early stages of her relationship with Jon, and those memories had become the foundation upon which she’d built. But regardless, here she was.
She’d been ordered to kiss Dana, and so she did. She started with her brow, her cheekbones, her jaw over the pulse in her throat. Then she made her way to her mouth.
Dana met Rachel’s kiss with fervor. This was the first time Rachel had experienced the energy pouring off Dana close up when they were both deeply aroused. Pleasure surged to greater heights when she put her mouth on Dana and Dana tried to almost devour her, seeking fulfillment in some mindless, crazy way. Needing touch and connection.
Rachel easily got lost in it, cupping Dana’s skull, fingertips pressing into that short, springy cap of hair. She slid them along a neck that seemed far too delicate to belong to the stiff-necked, courageous Army sergeant who’d gotten in a firefight and taken a nearly fatal hit from an IED. But it did, and that mix of strength and fragility, feminine beauty and a core of steel, hit Rachel with longing and revelation.
She loved her. She loved Dana, the other women, and their Masters. She loved all of them, and Jon most of all. It was as if they were all connected in some inexplicable way, her and Jon’s love bonded to the love of all the others, so they were all for one and one for all, as the song and story went.
She kissed Dana and kept kissing her, swimming in the endless pleasure of it. Women liked to kiss, and often men didn’t indulge it long enough. Not these men, praise Goddess, but the chance to simply kiss a pair of full, moist lips as long and in as many ways as she desired was a rare treat.
Dana pressed her body against her, the restraints notwithstanding, and Rachel pressed back, assuming the no touch below the neck rule meant with her hands. She caressed Dana’s face, her throat, holding her still, stroking her as she kissed her. As their tongues tangled together, stroked, sounds of hot need were coming from them both. The pressure of desire built between
her thighs from nothing more than a kiss.
Jon had done that to her more than once, kissed her until she reached an open-air climax, her body jerking on the bed as he teased her mouth with his, commanded her to come in a murmur.
But this time, the pressure of their knees, shifting slightly from their unavoidable movements, was becoming a dangerous friction, especially with the additional stimulation of the clit piece. The plug also contributed, responding to the pressure of her heels against her backside. Her nipples in the grip of the clamps were hard as they’d ever been, aching, a feeling compounded as she recalled Dana’s mouth there.
Rachel made another noise against Dana’s lips, answered by a similar needy cry. Her fingers dug into the side of Dana’s throat, hooking in her collar. Their nipples brushed, the chains between the clamps making a little metallic clicking noise.
“Stop,” Jon spoke, his voice satisfyingly throaty, nearly a growl.
Rachel pulled back reluctantly, Dana following as far as she could before the kiss broke and the woman had to catch herself so she didn’t topple forward. Rachel was ready to steady her if needed. Rules were rules, but she knew protecting one another was always top priority. But Dana’s stomach muscles contracted and she avoided the mishap, sinking back to her heels again.
“Come to me, Rachel.” Jon again.
She moved across the table on hands and knees, body swaying with lust-fueled movements. When she reached the edge of the table closest to him, she sat back on her heels, her eyes lowered, back straight, hands clasped at the small of her back, her resting pose when he didn’t specify otherwise. The plug in her ass did that adjustment thing that made her very aware of it, and her bound clit. She could see the blue shirt tucked into his belted jeans, and the mouthwatering erection pressing against the denim.
Jon clasped her waist and slid her forward, guiding her to a seated position on the cool glass, the edge of the mat against the curve of her buttocks as her legs dangled off the edge. As he held her there, a firm hand at her waist, he reached between her legs. When his thumb pressed against the metal piece, she shuddered.
“Look at me.”
When she did, the blaze of heat in his intense blue eyes, the set of his mouth, almost wrested another moan from her. As he held her gaze, that moan did escape, because he slid two fingers inside her cunt, and his thumb rubbed against the metal, warming and manipulating it.
“Come,” he said. “And be loud about it.”
Two things she couldn’t have controlled, even if she’d wanted to do so. Her hips lifted to his touch, pulling him in deeper, and a scream tore from her throat as the climax hit her like a hard wave. It shoved her against a solid wall and held her as it pummeled her with relentless contractions against his fingers. Her clit throbbed inside the torturous hold of Lucas’s gift, intensifying the situation, so it wasn’t one scream but a whole symphony of them that echoed through the room.
As the wave crested, she bowed back, arching over Jon’s arm. Even as the climax passed, fast, impossibly intense, the aftershocks remained, making her jerk and quiver, little whimpers coming from her. It was on that slow, sweet downward spiral that her glazed eyes focused on Dana.
Peter had brought her to his side of the table, though she was on all fours again, head up once more. He’d also ensured the padded stool had moved with her, for it was positioned under her for support. Her ribs were lifting and falling, her hips making little jerks as if she couldn’t stop herself from emulating the coital rhythm.
“I told you to stay still.” Peter rose from his seat. He spun a paddle in his hand and, as Rachel watched, he brought it up in a sweep to hit Dana at the fullest part of her buttocks. Another moan escaped Rachel in response.
“Lift that disobedient ass, Sergeant,” Peter barked.
Dana complied with a whimper as Peter landed the next blow, hard enough to rock her forward on her hands. It sent another intense aftershock through Rachel, almost like a second climax. It took a few more seconds to level out, especially as Peter continued to paddle Dana’s backside, her buttocks wobbling in reaction, thighs flexing, hands curling into the mat, more cries wrenching from her.
Rachel’s pussy continued to pulse like her rapid heart. Jon scooped her up and put her on her feet. He turned her to face the table, pushing her down with a hand to the back of her neck. He was…oh Goddess, he was…
It took less than a second for Jon to open his jeans. He thrust into her with just the right amount of force, her still slippery and contracting tissues pulling him in eagerly. The force of his thrust home pushed her forward almost as aggressively as Peter’s paddle had Dana. As her nipples rubbed against the mat, her upper body pressed down on the chain so her forward movement created a sharp tug on the constricted points. A cry tore from her own throat.
“Hear that?” Peter told Dana. “Good girls get fucked. Bad girls get paddled.”
Dana made a pleading noise and Rachel couldn’t stop herself from uttering another moan that would undoubtedly add to the other woman’s torment. Jon wrapped his hand in her blond, thick hair and used it to anchor himself, working himself in her.
Her gaze darted around the room. He was taking her in front of the others. If she were in their position, she would have wanted to look, but in an indirect way, avoiding eye contact.
That wasn’t the case with them, and it made her arousal, the confusing tangle of emotions in her, even more impossible to control. Every man she looked at had his gaze locked on her face, their expressions studied and appraising, watching the contortions of her mouth, the wideness of her eyes, the way she was making pleading noises. The sway of her breasts and clutch of her hands on the mat as Jon pushed her forward with the strength of his taking.
He came within a minute or two, not unsurprising because of how impressively thick and hard he was, but it also emphasized he was using her to relieve his lust. His sub. His property. She didn’t care what the world thought of such thoughts. In this moment, it was true, and there was nothing more she wanted to be, because as his, she was her truest, fullest, best version of herself.
The jet of release bathed her channel and cervix, her hips lifting and body shuddering, taking him deep, taking all of him. Her eyes somehow found a focus on Matt’s hand. Strong-looking and large, the long fingers had a light covering of dark hair over the top. He was at the head of the table and had his body slightly rocked back, as if he had his chair pushed back on its axis. But his arms were long enough that hand still rested on the table surface, the fingers somewhat curved. It was his left hand, so it bore his wedding ring.
She’d once seen Savannah kiss that, after a dinner she and Jon had hosted at their place. Savannah had been curled up next to Matt on their couch. Matt had lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles. She’d nuzzled his shoulder, then lifted his hand and did the same to his wedding band. What seemed to initially amuse him had changed into something else as his wife and submissive lifted her gaze to him, her mouth on the ring.
Jon’s left hand had curled over Rachel’s shoulder, giving him a more substantial anchor to thrust into her during the height of her climax. Now she dropped her cheek to it, feeling the coolness of his own wedding ring beneath her flesh.
Goddess… She had a feeling that word was going to come to her mind a lot tonight. An appeal for strength, or to give fervent thanks. She’d already invoked it for both.
Jon eased out of her, wresting another quiet sound from her throat both from the friction and the timing, since Peter landed his last blow on Dana then, the woman responding with a sharp cry as he apparently put a little extra zing into what was already a pretty aggressive paddling.
Peter murmured something soothing, and rubbed his large hand over the abused area. “Just can’t ever learn to behave, can you, Sergeant?”
Dana shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was choked with tears. “No, sir.”
A grim smile touched Peter’s mouth, and he bent to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. “I lov
e you, Master,” Dana said. When she turned her cheek to her shoulder, Rachel saw the tears that matched the broken voice.
Peter increased the pressure of the kiss, and brushed his forehead against the base of her neck, holding there an extra moment, a tactile answer that responded in kind.
Then he straightened, but he didn’t draw back. He ran his hands over Dana’s ass, her lower back and higher, combining caressing and checking the tension in her muscles to ensure she wasn’t uncomfortable in the wrong way. Though Dana no longer needed PT, Rachel gave her bi-monthly massages to keep the back and joint issues that could plague her after such a traumatic injury at bay. But no one was as diligent as Peter about keeping an eye on that.
Easing a hip onto the table, Peter bent and kissed Dana’s shoulder again. “Want to come, bad girl?”
Dana nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you think you deserve to come?”
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
The response caused a smile on Peter’s face, but his gray eyes were storm-cloud dark, focused on Dana’s face. “All right then. If I let you come, you’ll owe me some time on your knees, taking my cock in that smart mouth of yours.”
“Yes, sir. Please, sir.”
Peter twisted partly around as he ran his hand down her back. Rachel held her breath as the hand disappeared behind Dana’s hips. Her head came up further, lips stretching back as Peter massaged her clit and labia, his gaze upon his wife.
Jon had tucked himself back into his jeans and drew Rachel up to stand between the pressure of his clothed body and the smooth edge of the glass table. As Rachel watched Dana’s climax build, her hands unconsciously wrapped around Jon’s arm banded around her, just below her breasts. She quivered against him as she saw the process she’d just experienced seize Dana. Her expression twisted, lips opening and stretching, her body stiffening and arching.
As the climax started, Peter used his free hand to grip the chain between Dana’s nipples and tug, his long fingers caressing, flicking a nipple. Dana screamed, and Rachel saw the fierce male satisfaction on Peter’s face, his fascinated absorption with his sub’s response, which made him work his hand even more energetically behind her hips. He twisted his fingers in the chain to make it tauter, the pull on the nipples more insistent.
