by Joey W. Hill
In her moment of distraction, Peter turned the screw once more.
She sucked in a breath, her nails digging into his arm. The pressure did send a little zing of pain through the nipple, but after her mind sorted through it, she realized it was bearable. Uncomfortable, but not horribly painful. And that discomfort, a Master imposing that upon her, seemed to feed into her resurging arousal, something she realized as anxiety died away.
Swallowing, she made herself return her hand to a laced position behind her head, her gaze flicking up to briefly meet Peter’s. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He caressed her breast. “Jon told us everything we need to know about you tonight, a lot of which we already knew, but some we didn’t. He’d rather go over information we know, than take the chance that he missed something we didn’t. Your pain threshold, your hard and soft limits.”
Peter tweaked the chain in an admonishing way. “He knows most of that. Not because you told him, but because he makes it his job to know it. So, you need to say it now, because he needs to hear that you know it. To every Master here, it’s the most important thing.”
His words told her who she needed to be looking at. Her heart was still doing that irregular pounding, but for different reasons now. Jon sat at the other end, his gaze fixed upon her. Her handsome-as-sin Master, with his penetrate-to-the-soul blue eyes.
“Taking care of me is my Master’s job,” she said, her voice trembling a little.
All these years she’d been learning to trust him, she hadn’t always thought about Jon’s side of that, but she was reminded of it in the slight easing of his expression now, which tilted her heart in a poignant way. There were things he needed from her, every bit as much as she did from him. Another hard lesson for her. Enough that she still had these kinds of stumbling points.
“Good,” Jon said. There was more behind the word, and she bit back an odd desire to say something, though she wasn’t sure what. However, after a moment of looking at her with an unfathomable expression, he swept his glance around the room. “Everyone else have what they need?”
At grunts of agreement, she let out a shaky breath. Her body might not survive another infraction. As if he’d read her mind, Peter gripped her waist, a reassurance, but when he didn’t immediately let go and his serious look became even more so, she knew he wasn’t finished.
“Another thing you need to know, Rachel. Every man here also considers it his job to take care of you. They feel the same way about Dana.” He laid his free hand on his wife’s hip, stroking. “And Savannah and Cassandra. Which means, even if your Master hadn’t told me your pain limits, I would have been watching your face, your body, every clue you gave me, to make sure I was hitting the right note for both of us. Understand?”
“I do,” she said quietly, and suddenly tears pricked her eyes, her throat thickening, because she knew he meant it. They all did. And that was more of the miracle that her being with Jon had brought to her.
“Nope, none of that kind of crying tonight,” Peter admonished her gently, reaching up to press his thumb to the corner of her eye. “It’s poker night. Only kind of crying that can happen here is when we shatter you with too many orgasms, or when Ben throws one of his girly tantrums from losing.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly how I’d react. If I ever lost, which I never do.”
Peter winked at her, rather than responding to Ben, and then gave her a nudge, telling her she could go back to Jon.
Jon had taught her it was okay to follow her heart. In a way, Peter had just reinforced the message. So, despite being adorned in sex toys, at a male poker game as a sex slave, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Peter in a grateful hug, whispering “Thank you,” in his ear. “Thank all of you.”
He rose to fully engulf her in the embrace, giving her the kind of hug back that would make any woman feel safe, cherished and strong, all at once.
“Do not grope his ass, or I’ll break your fingers,” Dana said, her voice strained yet containing a trace of her normal sauciness.
Rachel smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to Dana’s temple. “I love you,” she said, and meant it.
But when she looked up, she saw Jon’s eyes upon her, and knew she owed him something more. She wasn’t sure how to show him, give it to him, but she’d do her best not to falter again tonight.
He was another man who knew how to hold a woman in all the right ways. When she returned to him, her Master folded his arms around her hips, holding her close to the side of his chair. As he nuzzled the tip of one breast, she gripped his shoulder for support. He ran his tongue around the clamped area and then reached around her to play with the plug, twisting and pulling it partway out before seating it deep once more.
At length he drew back, and took her hand from his shoulder to kiss it, caress her fingers. “Return to your service pose at the door, Rachel,” he instructed.
Dana, in her spread and penetrated pose, was obviously reaching peak levels again, her body shuddering with her effort not to work the dildo or arch into the hold of the plug and clamps. Peter reached a long arm over the table to stroke her flank. “Doing all right there, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir,” Dana said, her voice a little shaky, too, but with a humorous desperation to it. “My Master’s job is to take care of me, too. Any time he’s ready. Just saying.”
The men chuckled, and Matt shook his head. “She’s about ready for that ring gag, Peter.”
Rachel bit back a smile. Dana did like to push boundaries. That was her and Peter’s thing.
She moved to the doorway as Jon had ordered and knelt, spreading her knees and lifting her arms to clasp her hands behind her head, the pose Dana had assumed while Rachel kissed her. Rachel straightened her back, her breasts tilted up, as the position required, and swept her gaze downward. Jon knew just staying in the position could arouse her, and since she was already well on her way there, she could relate to Dana’s desperation, though Rachel wasn’t quite as worked up as the other woman. Yet. Ben’s next words helped close the gap.
He was shuffling the deck of cards that Lucas had turned over to him. “So here are the rules,” he said. “Each winning hand can dictate what he wants our slaves to do. They have to keep doing it, until someone different wins the next hand. Then that winner can change it up, or have the women keep doing what they’ve been ordered to do. It’s up to the man in question.”
The possibilities could overload the brain. She was glad she was kneeling, since she was sure her knees would have given out from the thought. Her gaze flicked to Dana, and she saw a ripple of reaction go through the other woman as Dana’s head turned in her direction. Though Dana couldn’t see her, the movement equated to a meeting of gazes, a holy hell solidarity they could cling to as they rode this roller coaster.
This would be a little different than each man touching her as she brought him a drink. But she remembered Peter’s words. Jon knew her like no other. He knew what she could handle, what would push her out of her comfort zone, but never beyond the grasp of his hand, his hold on her heart. She trusted him. And she trusted the men he loved and trusted.
As she watched them surreptitiously from under her lashes, Ben dealt out the cards with smooth twists of his wrist. “It’s much easier when the cards can slide across the glass,” he commented. “But the mat works better than I expected.”
“Too bad it doesn’t help you deal better cards,” Peter grunted, tossing a couple back at him. “I’ll take two.”
Matt swapped out one and took a swallow of his whiskey. Lucas studied his cards and also took two from Ben. Jon threw a peanut at Peter as Dana’s husband leaned out in an exaggerated motion, as if wanting to look at his cards.
“No need to look at them,” Ben advised. “As I said, you all suck at this, but Jon’s the worst. He has no poker face whatsoever. It’s that crunchy granola vegetarian Zen stuff. Makes him too honest. Eat meat,” he directed toward her Master. “Puts you closer to the devil.”
&nb
sp; Lucas chuckled. “You might be good at this Ben, but Matt has you beat on poker face.”
“Matt has Mount Rushmore beat on poker face,” Ben said and also put down two cards. “Dealer takes two. But Cass can kick all our asses. Though if any woman in this room tells her that, there will be hell to pay.”
“I don’t mind hanging with the devil,” Dana said, her voice still breathy even as she tossed out the comment. “Might be able to show him the light.”
“With your cute ass, I don’t doubt it. But say another word and Peter will get that ring gag. Even if you make the lovely pouty face.”
Despite the threat, it was clear Ben had a soft spot for the blind woman. Putting his cards face down as the others deliberated, he left the table to go to the sidebar. He returned with a chocolate and leaned over the table. Gaze sweeping over Dana’s spread body, he grunted. “Damn girl. You look entirely too fuckable. Open up.”
When he put the chocolate close to Dana’s lips, his proximity and the smell of the candy had her lips parting even as the command came to do it. He rubbed it over her lips, letting the heat of her body melt it so he could spread it there. “Now put out that clever tongue of yours.”
When she did, he placed the chocolate on it. Then he brought his fingers to his own lips to suck the remaining residue off before sitting back down. Dana licked her lips. Even without seeing him do it, it was obvious the blind woman had anticipated his need and would have preferred to do the honors. Rachel didn’t blame her.
Ben shot her a wicked smile as if he’d heard the thought. Or could simply read it from her face. “You amateurs ready to show cards?” he said.
The others complied, and there were chuckles and groans as Lucas laid his down. It made Rachel smile, listening to them.
“Lucas wins this hand,” Ben noted. “Two pair. Wow, I am dealing crap.”
“So it’s a normal day,” Peter commented.
“Blow me.”
“You wish, horse dick.” Peter tossed an amused glance at Lucas. “What’s your pleasure, CFO?”
Lucas leaned back and surveyed Dana, his silver eyes passing over her with deep appreciation before he lifted them to Rachel. She’d glanced up, but immediately looked back down.
“I want Rachel on the table, Jon. Knees folded, back of her head to the surface, while Dana goes down on her.” Rachel could almost feel the heat of the wicked grin shot her way. “We have a yoga instructor here. No reason to waste that talent.”
A wave of agreement swept the table. When Rachel lifted her gaze to Jon in question, his brow rose. “What did I tell you, Rachel?”
She wet her lips. “That I should obey the other Masters as if they are you.”
“Only less tie-dyed and hippy-dippy,” Peter said.
“Ben’s not the only one you can blow,” Jon responded calmly.
“My day’s just getting better and better,” the former National Guard captain laughed.
Rachel had to bite back a chuckle, which made Lucas’s eyes warm on her. They wanted her to be as much at ease as they wanted her nervous, both emotions for the right things.
“You heard him, Rachel,” Lucas said, his tone becoming firmer. “On the table.”
“Yes, sir.”
Peter rose and detached the lines on Dana’s arms and legs, guiding each limb down as he released the attachment. He also removed the thick dildo from her pussy, his expression reflecting male satisfaction at Dana’s soft noise of reaction. Putting his broad palms under her head and back, he brought her up to a sitting position. “Move back to the center, about two paces to your left, and stay there, on your hands and knees,” he instructed.
As Dana adjusted and Peter returned to his seat, Rachel moved away from the door. But at the side of the table nearest Dana, she asked another question. “May I stretch first?”
“I wish you would.” Lucas’s exaggerated ogle made her chuckle again. She performed a few stretches, including standing on one leg and bringing each heel to her ass, one leg at a time, bracing herself on the table. She followed that with a couple body twists that had Peter’s gaze fastened appreciatively on the movement of her breasts.
She was ready. Or she thought she was. Jon crooked a finger and she came to his side. When she did, he kept his gaze upon her as he reached between her legs and slowly slid off the clit piece. She quivered in reaction, and he set it on the table before him, his touch playing over the honey-slick metal as his molten gaze rested on her face. “Go to Dana now.”
Nodding, she hitched herself onto the table, lifting her legs to swing them up and onto the surface, then she turned around to move on her knees to Dana.
She had already reviewed in her mind the best way to do the pose in proximity to the woman. So she placed her hand on Dana’s shoulder as she adjusted into a spread-knee position. Then, slowly, Rachel leaned back, tightening her stomach muscles, lifting her chin, until the top of her head touched the table, her back arched. She spread her hair around her, and then straightened her arms out to the sides.
It was the Thunderbolt pose, one she particularly liked to watch Jon do, but the feeling was apparently mutual, as she heard him murmur a soft reverence, an approving noise.
She closed her eyes, her lips parting, as Dana’s hands moved to her knees, then her thighs. Lowering herself to her elbows, Dana put her mouth on Rachel’s sex.
“Oh…” Some of Dana’s reverent curses came to mind. Dana had a heated, clever mouth, an agile tongue, and no hesitation at all when it came to giving oral sex to another woman. Rachel’s body tightened upward like a drawn bow, her hands curling and desire rasping from her throat in an animal-like noise.
Dana closed her hands on Rachel’s thighs, holding them with strength as she licked and sucked, teased and stroked.
The men had dealt another hand, but Rachel didn’t feel ignored. Far from it. It was part of the charge, them going through the motions of the poker game while she and Dana did what they were doing, at their command.
She could feel the male interest, a heady blanket of testosterone that made her imagine crazy things. Like every one of them taking her and Dana before the night was over. She saw it, her strapped down on the table as each one thrust into her. Lucas teasing her cunt with his mouth to ensure she was ready for all of them before he had her. Matt’s hand on her throat as he pounded between her legs. Ben flipping her over and taking her from behind, his hard hand gripping her hair. Peter, strong enough to simply lift her off the table, her legs wrapped around him, her arms now bound behind her back, as he pushed her down on him in a standing position, over and over.
It wasn’t something she wanted in real life, but the fantasy of it took her even closer to the edge.
“Hell, Peter won the next one. Dana, stop.”
Dana lifted her head with obviously reluctance. Though she couldn’t see her from this position, Rachel knew her arousal had to be glistening on Dana’s lips.
“She’s sweet, Jon,” the woman murmured. “I’d be eating her pussy every day.”
“It’s my favorite after dinner dessert,” Jon said, making Rachel flush. It was only the truth, though. His favorite place for “dessert” was the recliner in the living room. He’d make her drape her legs over the arms, keeping her wide and spread for every explosive sensation of his lips and tongue.
“Want her to keep going, Peter?” he asked.
“Hell, yeah. But I have something I want more. You guys made me wait for it. Turn around, Rachel. Put those beautiful breasts under my slave’s mouth. I want to see her suckle you to climax.”
Rachel rose and unfolded, then angled her legs around to make the turn, this time sliding so her head was on the table under Dana’s upper body. She was gazing up at Dana’s small, pretty breasts, the slope of her abdomen. A tilt of her head showed her the woman’s smooth sex. Rachel’s body was vibrating, so close, and then they made it worse.
“I have a good view, but I want a better one,” Matt said. “Gentlemen?”
Rachel felt one hand curl around one of her ankles, another hand around the other, and her legs were spread open wide…wider. From their relative positions, it had to be Lucas and Ben. Their strong hands slid up to her knee and thigh, guiding her to adjust and bend the legs so they butterflied open fully.
“Leave them that way,” Matt ordered. “That way we can see her pussy when she comes.”
She might come just from the order, from the impact of having three men involved in it.
Jon crossed her field of vision as he moved to their side of the table. “Not going to deprive myself of that same view,” he said.
“Can’t blame you there,” Peter responded. He was to Matt’s right, so he was rocking back in his chair, studying the rise of her breasts. When his gaze shifted, she knew he was looking at his own submissive.
But before Dana could bend her elbows to bring her mouth down to Rachel’s breasts, Matt rose from his chair. Not to get a drink or food, but to come alongside the two women, so that Rachel’s gaze fell upon him. She put her hand on Dana’s shoulder, a heads up, and the woman stopped.
It was an unspoken thing, that Matt was their leader, so it wasn’t just the two of them that became attentive. She wondered what was going on behind his dark eyes, but whatever it was put a serious expression on his face, one that reminded her of Peter’s when he’d spoken to her about her care.
“All right, Rachel?” Matt asked.
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
A light smile touched his stern mouth, the dark raptor eyes assessing. “You belong to your Master, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” The rest came spontaneously to her lips. “And to all of you.”
“Yes, you do.” He ran a hand over Dana’s hip, and the other woman made a sighing noise, contentment and arousal both. “You have a hard time understanding something, so maybe if you hear it from someone who isn’t your Master, you’ll believe it.”
Rachel’s gaze snapped back up to him at the edge to his voice, but his eyes, though still as direct as ever, weren’t cruel or angry. Just relentlessly understanding. “For all our wealth, the four of you are our greatest possessions. The gifts we can never deserve. One day, when Ben finds his other, there will be five of you, and the circle will be complete.”
