by Joey W. Hill
“You’re misbehaving, girl,” Peter said reprovingly. He’d moved during the exchange, was now behind her, and Ben’s scent had shifted into his place. A second later, fire sliced across her hindquarters, the damned switch Peter wielded with expert skill. Though in all fairness, she gave him lots of opportunity for practice.
She bit down on her reaction, but she knew she wasn’t going to have the additional reinforcement of locking her jaw, because there were other plans for her mouth. Ben’s fingers were there now, thumbs inserting themselves in the hinges of her jaw. Though she tried to draw back, the tether brought her up short.
“Wider,” Ben ordered, and she obeyed on instinct, though she protested as a ring gag was maneuvered behind her teeth. A big-ass ring gag, one that made her jaw ache to hold it, and rendered her tongue useless, at least for speaking, because she had no ability to move her mouth or lips at all. The ring gag was strapped in place just as Peter landed strikes two and three. Her breath rasped out like a steam engine. Fuck, it always felt like it was cutting through skin, even though her captain knew exactly how to do it without leaving anything more than short-term welts. That top layer of nerves was just that damn responsive.
In between punishments, he massaged healing balms into her ass that kept it soft as a baby’s bottom, and as sensitive. No leather-butt for her, not with the kind of aftercare the K&A men wielded as effectively as every other weapon in their arsenal.
“Going to be drooling a bit with this,” Ben observed. “I’ve put a towel between your palms. Don’t want that mess on my expensive shoes. But I think…yeah, hand those to me, Peter. I know what a tit guy you are. You always have the right thing to keep the headlights nice and perky.”
Another set of clamps, but not the clovers, thank God. These screwed on, but maintained a steady pressure. It was uncomfortable, but not screech-level painful. Plus, it was an unsettling distraction, Ben handling her there so personally, his fingers pinching and adjusting her nipples, knuckles sliding along the curves of her breasts. She was so used to Peter’s touch there, because he was a true breast guy, such that it wasn’t unusual to wake with his palm curved possessively over one. Or he’d suckle her awake, or come up behind her to cup and squeeze, rub his cock against her ass, kiss her neck while he indulged his need to fondle her tits about a hundred times a day.
It meant they were incredibly easy to stimulate, to arouse, so she was panting when Ben ran the connecting chain up to the ring gag, hooking it there with no slack, the two strands of chain pressing against her wet bottom lip.
“Yeah, he’s got you trained to come just from breast play. That’s hot, baby girl. Makes me want to get even rougher with you.” Ben’s voice held a low growl of approval. “Every time I push in, you’re going to feel the tug on those pretty nips. You better hope I don’t start pounding in there and forget myself, or you’ll feel like you’re being suckled by barracuda.”
What came out of her mouth then was unprecedented, but it was pretty much unmistakable, even with the gag. The next switch strike fell in the high degree mark, and she cried out, she couldn’t help it, not with her mouth wide open. The sound was muffled, though, because Ben rubbed his groin across her mouth. He was still wearing the slacks, hadn’t opened them yet, but she felt the weight and shape of him, hard against the fabric. When he pushed against her lips, she moaned. Peter squeezed her ass with his big hand, a caress, warming the striped areas, and the noise became a plea.
Ben stayed against her stretched-open mouth as the next three strikes came. She did cry out again, tears beginning to fall despite herself, damn it. It was breaking open, that thing inside of her that Peter always found, but she hadn’t expected it this fast.
Ben backed off. Her nostrils flared, smelling the heated length of him, the scent of pre-come as he opened the slacks. Putting his hand on her head, he guided himself into her forced-open lips. Damn if he barely pushed through that big-ass ring, shoving the meat of himself into the hot wet cavern of her mouth, all the way to the back. She’d only taken part of him, and probably not the largest part.
“Work that tongue against him, girl,” Peter said. “Show him it can do something other than mouth off.”
She lashed at the base of Ben’s cock, wishing she could suck, but her smart mouth had deprived her of that pleasure, hadn’t it? Maybe if she focused on being a good girl, a really good girl, they might take out the ring gag. Ben worked himself past her gag reflex. From what she’d learned from Savannah and Cass, and the men themselves, none of the Knights were small in the cock department, so it was a survival skill to deep-throat without choking. She’d been good at it before, but Peter had helped her hone the skill. She’d been an eager pupil, wanting to give her captain head that would send him out of control and spewing down her throat as often as possible.
Those skills stood her well now, because she had to force the throat muscles to relax, even while her jaw was held rigid by that ring gag. She lashed at Ben with her tongue like a cat’s tail, trying to curl and stroke, flail and flick, stimulate him. He had a rich cologne smell down here, telling her he put it on his balls, something that turned her on to no end, a man making sure his stuff smelled good to a woman.
“I’m wondering if she needs another ten,” Peter commented. “What do you think, Ben?”
She made a small noise of complaint before she could bite it back. Ben tightened his fingers on her scalp, pushing himself in deeper. The nipple chain pulled just as he promised. She choked against him.
“Do you have any say in this, Dana?” Ben asked.
She couldn’t shake her head much, but she managed. Even mouthed a desperate, garbled “No sir,” against him.
When the switch strike came again, she sobbed against his cock. But Peter only gave her three more before replacing the sting with his mouth. As his lips and tongue cruised over her abused flesh, his fingers slid down her wet labia, soothing, stroking. He was dialing it back a little, giving her a little breathing room, so to speak. It was a relief, since her ass felt like it was on fire.
“Time to switch places,” he said, when she was shuddering from the overload of sensation. “I want to see you fuck my slave, Ben. Teach her some manners.”
“This one wouldn’t have manners if you kept her this way 24/7. Course…” Ben paused, apparently considering as he continued to slowly work himself in and out of her frantic mouth, his fingers tight on her scalp. “She’s an ask-for-forgiveness, not ask-for-permission slave. A prevention program would cure that. Put her in this kind of set up a couple hours each day, switch her ass every other day, no matter how good she’s been. Keep her mind on her Master’s will.”
“It’s a good thought.” Peter slid his fingers in her cunt, scissoring, and she made another strangled, pleading noise. Lash, flick, tease that heated, thick cock. Please…help. Fuck. “Especially seeing how responsive she’s being tonight. I’ve never seen her so wet.”
“You have the cam running? The others will want to see this.”
The idea had her clenching against Peter’s hand. She swallowed hard, and was rewarded with more of Ben’s salty, slick taste. Just imagining Matt, Jon and Lucas in the darkness of the board room, the five men watching a replay, overwhelmed her mind. Watching the close up of her body being used by two of the five Masters, all of them evaluating technique and her responses… When she was around them, she’d feel the knowledge of it in their touch, their voices, how they’d seen her naked and exposed.
Another of those pleading, moaning noises escaped her.
“Audio and video, so she can listen to it later as well. Might even convert those sexy begging and crying sounds she’s making into my new ring tone, when she calls me.”
She pulled herself away from that precipitous, mindless edge, enough to give him a creative, garbled response. Both men chuckled. It also earned her a swat from Peter’s big hand on her tender ass.
“See?” Ben sighed. “She’s a hopeless brat. All right, clear out. Much as I lov
e her sweet mouth, you’re hogging my preferred end.”
Peter squeezed her ass, fingers running lightly down her thighs in contrast, and then he was gone. For just a moment, Ben was as well, and the lack of stimulation, after such an overload of it, was almost destabilizing. Then Ben’s hand replaced her captain’s on her ass. He rubbed briskly over the switch marks, then gripped a cheek hard, fingers bruising, almost lifting her up off the frame with that single hold point. Just when she thought she couldn’t take the compression a moment longer, he released her and smacked. Hard, with a sweeping motion that came up from below, rocketing through her muscles. It hurt, but with her legs spread, the vibration that resounded through her pussy balanced it. When he did it to the other buttock, she made an animal noise, rocking forward in the frame from the strength of impact. He gripped both cheeks in powerful hands, squeezing roughly even as he brushed his thumbs over her labia, a light patter of movement that had her writhing again.
Peter had moved in front of her; she could tell by scent and shadow. However, he stayed out of reach, such that her entire focus had to be on what Ben was doing to her. She kept on with those guttural moans as the lawyer subjected her to more stinging blows, bruising grips. It was as if she was being tenderized for his fucking. The second the remarkable thought hit her mind, she knew she was right.
“I know you can do this to her tits, but you can do it to her ass as well. Make her come just by stroking it, spanking, licking, rubbing it.” Ben spoke matter-of-factly over her head to Peter. “Women love it. Once you teach them to surrender to it, the ass is as sensitive as the cunt. Put her over your knee when you’re doing it, you add the psychology to it. She’ll be biting down on your pants’ leg, screaming as she comes.”
Her heart ramped up as Peter touched her face at last. He traced the big ring gag on the inside, his finger stroking her tongue briefly, the silky wet insides of her mouth. Then she heard the buckle of his belt being unfastened, the more decided zip of jeans being opened, versus the less detectable slide of the zipper on what had been Ben’s suit slacks. If she hadn’t had the ring gag in, she would have parted her lips, showing her eagerness to service her Master. Taking his cock in her mouth never failed to steady her, and she sure as hell needed steadying at the moment.
A wave of Peter-scented air, and she knew he’d pulled his T-shirt over his head. She offered a soft sound of pleasure when he squatted in front of her, rubbed the balled-up handful of heavy cotton against the side of her face, over her lips, not just to take away the saliva there, but to give her that reassurance, that intimate touch of his clothes, his scent.
“You’re making me proud, girl,” Peter told her, and she knew she’d jump off a cliff for the man.
However, the two Masters had other plans for her. As Peter took the T-shirt away, Ben brought her back out of that comforting haze. When he probed the switch marks, she jumped. He was scraping something sharp over them. It was a single steel point, one that dug into one of the more sore spots, making her moan against Peter’s cock as it slid into that ring. “Damn, I like the ring gag,” her Master noted. “You can really slide back deep.”
“It keeps them from talking, keeps their mind on their proper business,” Ben noted. “Consider it my gift to you. You need it with this one. Tsk, tsk.” The chiding rebuke came as she did her best to try and kick him like a mule, despite the fact her thigh was strapped to the fucking machine frame. She strangled on a curse, her voice vibrating against Peter’s cock, as Ben pricked her with that talon again. It had to be part of some kind of bear claw glove, or an attachment for one finger that simulated it.
“If we ever get another bad girl in the group like this one, we can tie them ass to ass when they misbehave,” Ben said. “Use a double-headed dildo and make them slap against each other, fuck each other’s asses as we play carousel, have them give head to the whole group. That would be a pretty picture. Even more so if we can talk Matt and Lucas into letting them eat Savannah and Cass’s pussies while we watch.”
“Damn, Ben. Fuck. Don’t make me harder. I’ll choke her.”
Ben’s words made her even hotter as well, which she was sure he intended. Though she’d come just a little while ago, her body was humming like it had never happened. She was on the edge, immersed in what they were doing to her, keyed up, wound up, scared and hyper stimulated. No wonder her trembling was shaking the frame. She visualized the scenario, her and this imaginary woman, the next that would come into the group, which meant Jon or Ben’s fated mate. She, Savannah and Cass had talked about it. Just as it had happened for the other three, it would be the same for Ben and Jon. They would each find that one woman, that one submissive who was it for them, their soulmate. And the possibilities for more mind-blowing sessions like this would grow.
Peter knew she wasn’t averse to playing with girls. Now she imagined the privilege of Savannah standing before her. Matt would unzip his wife’s fashionable tailored skirt, push it down to pool around her ankles. He’d make his lovely ice princess put her cuffed arms above her head, loop the connecting ring over one of the suspension hooks disguised as plant hangers in the board room. He’d then slide that hook along its track, bringing Savannah closer to Dana, waiting on all fours, her head yoked up like it was here. She’d smell Savannah’s fragrant pussy, the cool perfume smell of the woman’s soft, silken skin. Matt would spread her legs with gentle but relentless hands, holding her steady, positioning her before Dana’s mouth. She’d be wearing one of those dainty, beautiful slips of lacy underwear, and Dana would be so eager to tongue her through it, she could already taste the splotches of arousal on the crotch panel. She’d make the princess of the Knights moan, Matt holding her tight against his big, powerful body as he teased his wife’s throat with his mouth.
“She’s in the zone now, big time.” Peter knew her too well. “Time to flip her.”
“Absolutely. Let’s take her to the weight bench.”
She was released from the frame, from the chin rest. Peter even removed the ring gag with strong, tender fingers, but when he had withdrawn, possibly to put it aside, she gasped as Ben’s grip landed on her nape, a hard hold that pushed her cheek down to the flat top of his shoe, because he was squatting next to her. As he massaged the tendons of her fragile neck, his voice was terrifyingly mild.
“You start talking back again, you’ll have that gag back in there, you mind me?”
“Yes, sir.”
Then Ben was gone and Peter took over. He ran his hand over her scalp, stroking, bringing her back up onto her heels. His thumbs massaged her sore jaw as he put his lips on her cheek, over the tracks of tears. “Easy, girl,” he murmured. “My good slave. My beautiful, perfect wife.”
It squeezed her heart. They weren’t married yet, but sometimes he said things like that, because for both of them, it was already the truth. Peter was the one to lift her, to carry her to the weight bench, and she was glad of it. When it came to being carried, moved into unknown territory, she was still tentative about that because of her blindness. But she trusted Peter to carry her through hell. He’d done it before.
She was laid out on her back on a short padded bench that was segmented. The head rest was dropped so it was at forty-five degrees, the perfect angle for taking a man’s cock down her throat. Her hips were positioned on the opposite edge of the bench. Peter guided her hands to her sides, curling her fingers around the sides of the bench at her hips.
“Ankles on my shoulders.” Ben slid his hands down under her knees to her calves, lifting her legs so her feet were on his broad shoulders, against his suit. It was so soft, there must be silk in the wool. Since her toes were now on either side of his head, of course she couldn’t resist curling them in his hair, catching the thick strands.
“Smartass. Peter, she needs something to occupy her.”
A noise of pleasure hummed in her throat as Peter guided his cock back into her mouth, that padded head rest giving her the stability so he could thrust in hard and long,
his hands on her shoulders to hold her body steady. Most days she dreaded the workout room, because her body would never again have the flexibility and strength to achieve the endorphin rush a good, hard workout could bring. However, she had nothing but enthusiasm for this kind of workout. She flat-out loved giving him head.
It’s a win-win, girl. It was what he’d said, the first time he realized it. She’d had her fingers on his mouth when he made the comment, felt that wry, sexy smile.
Giving her that distraction was calculated, because Ben was occupied with something a little more unsettling. He’d switched both her feet to one shoulder, and was holding her ankles together as he wrapped them in tight webbing, just like what was around her breasts. He put padding between the key joint areas before he passed it several times around her soles and ankles, restricting even the movement of her feet, and worked his way up her calves. He tied it off above her knees. Just like across her nipples, she felt the cut of the thin lines against her flesh as Ben ensured the webbing was snug. But he wasn’t done.
“Palms flat against your thighs, arms straight. We won’t let you roll off.”
That was the least of her worries. When she obeyed, he began wrapping her again, overlapping where he’d just finished off. As he kept going, around her hips, over her mound, putting delicious, tantalizing pressure on her clit, Peter tightened his hand on the side of her head, reminding her to keep her mind on the business of servicing his cock. She needed the reminder, because it was disconcerting, being immobilized, her arms up to her elbows now included in the wrap around her lower torso.
Ben stopped beneath her breasts, tying off there. She was now mummified from breasts to feet, a few strategic rips in the netting capable of giving them access to every part of her, while the netting itself gave them full view of what her body could offer them.
