He went into the bathroom to wash himself and to get some warm, wet cloths. After he’d cleaned everyone up, they curled up, exhausted, in each other’s arms. “Tomorrow can we go down to the Play Room?” Sarah asked quietly just before sleep claimed her.
Chapter Fifteen
As the Humvee sped through the night like a sleek, black bullet, the muffled howls coming from the backseat made the two men in the front glance at each other and grin. They were on their way to Club Ravage for their Collaring Ceremony. Only they hadn’t told Sarah any of that. They’d just basically kidnapped her, tied her both to herself and to the car, stuffed her with vibrating plugs, and driven off into the night, letting her shriek and holler to her heart’s content as they diabolically brought her right to the edge of orgasm over and over again without ever allowing her to fall over into completion.
The evening had begun innocuously enough for Sarah. At their one-word command, she had stripped naked and stood placidly while Adam bound her breasts and put her in an intricate karada harness with two knots in the crotch rope—one over her clit, the other over her anus. Jesse had suckled her nipples to hard, achy peaks before clamping them with the alligator clips, hanging the diamond-encrusted platinum fishing weight from the silver chain that dangled between her flushed breasts.
While she was still hissing and groaning and shuffling her feet with the mixture of pleasure/pain twisting through her, he’d said quietly, “wrists.” Automatically, she’d held them out, trusting him, willingly allowing him to place cuffs where she still bore scabs from her recent ordeal in the compound. And that one act of total submission had nearly wrecked him.
Sinking to his knees in front of her, he’d raised both her hands to his mouth, placing reverent kisses first on each palm, then turning them over and kissing each and every knuckle. Then he’d placed his lips tenderly against the wounds on the undersides of each wrist. “Thank you, little sub,” he said in a strangled voice. “That took real courage. You have made your Masters very proud.”
Gently he’d wrapped the wide leather cuffs around her injured wrists and ankles, leaving them slightly looser than normal to keep from reinjuring her. Rising with difficulty, he stepped aside to let Adam pick her up and carry her outside to place her in the back seat of the Humvee.
While Sarah had struggled to keep her panic at bay, Adam had tied her forearms to her shins before anchoring her ankles and knees to the clothes rods above the back doors. Then he’d lubed up a purple plastic butt plug and inserted it, as Jesse had shoved a three-inch metal bullet into her vagina, making her moan and shriek.
And now here she was, sitting on the base of her spine on the backseat, feet over her head, totally naked except for her black leather collar, a black silk blindfold, and nipple clamps weighed down with matching diamond-studded, platinum fish weights.
All they had to do was turn their heads, or, in Jesse’s case, look in the rearview mirror, and see her pussy and ass wet and gleaming in the lights from the oncoming traffic. She was spread wide for their pleasure. And, if the squeals and little yelps coming from behind the penis gag they’d gleefully stuffed into her mouth were any indication, for her pleasure as well.
“Shall we kick it up a notch?” Jesse asked wickedly.
“Sure, why not? We’re almost there.” Adam turned to look at the bound, blindfolded woman lying in the center of the backseat, her legs up in the air and spread wide. The crotch rope was still in place, the knot over her anus keeping the butt plug secure, the one over her clit adding to her arousal as the bullet continued its low vibrations deep inside her vagina.
“Christ, little sub,” he said on a note of awe. “You look so gorgeous, I think we’re going to have to start doing this at least once a week—you know, tie you up and drive you out to the woods someplace, where we can fuck you until none of us can walk straight. Sound like a plan?”
Since she couldn’t say anything, she just yanked at her restraints in frustration. God, she needed to come! They’d been tormenting her like this ever since they’d left home. They hadn’t even told her where they were going, for crap’s sake! They’d just trussed her up like a pot roast, stuffed a rubber penis in her mouth, jammed vibrators in her other two holes, and tied her to the back seat of the car. At first she’d been terrified that someone would look over and see her and call the cops or something. But reason had finally reasserted itself. The windows were way too dark for anyone to see into the car.
“Okay, Sunny, we’re going to turn the vibrators back up. Just remember, you are not to come. If you do, it will be our pleasure to punish that sweet little ass. As beautiful as it looks right now, it will look even more beautiful wearin’ our handprints.”
He and Jesse turned both vibrators up to their highest settings and watched as her neck arched and her body convulsed with the pleasure bombarding her.
It had been nearly a month since the raid on the neo-Nazi compound, and they’d already conducted several scenes in the Play Room. To their relief, Sarah had not only permitted them to tie her up, but had insisted on it. And the fact that she hadn’t had another nightmare had gone a long way to alleviating their fears that she’d be too traumatized by her kidnapping and captivity to continue allowing them to dominate her.
Unfortunately, they’d each had their own issues to deal with. Jesse’s guilt over subconsciously blaming Adam for Sarah’s abduction, even knowing there had been nothing Adam could have done, manifested itself in his own recurring nightmares. The first one had come as a shock to all of them. The second one had prompted a call to Art Portman, their psychiatrist friend.
Adam’s own guilt over not being able to prevent Sarah’s abduction had triggered bouts of insomnia that had been just as worrisome—insomnia that had sent him prowling restlessly through the house at all hours of the night, uselessly checking all the doors and windows, as if to reassure himself that no one could get in and harm them.
As SEALs, Adam and Jesse were no strangers to trauma or the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. They had taken part in harrowing rescues that had left the victims haunted for years afterwards. But somehow they had always managed to maintain the remoteness necessary to separate themselves from their traumatized victims—to keep their emotions out of it, shrugging off any reaction as just part of the job.
But this time it had been different. This time, it had happened to them. This time the traumatized victim had been the woman they loved more than life itself. And they’d come closer to losing her than even they were willing to admit.
The US government had been trying to shut down Sokolov’s trafficking operation for years without success. The island where he “trained” and sold all his slaves fairly bristled with all the latest in electronic security devices and was guarded by a small army of Jihadist extremists. It was located inside the territorial waters of an acknowledged terrorist state, the government of which would have regarded a U.S. invasion as an act of war and responded accordingly. If Sokolov had managed to get Sarah aboard that plane, she would have been out of their reach for good.
Not wanting Sarah to be as traumatized as the usual hostages they’d rescued, they had kept this from her. She still had no clue how close she’d come to being lost to them forever. And they’d had no plans to tell her.
Until keeping that secret had triggered their own problems, so they had flown in Dr. Art Portman from Seattle, and he’d met with the three of them both separately and together for over a week. He’d encouraged Adam and Jesse to talk to each other, and he’d insisted that they tell Sarah everything. After all, wasn’t total honesty one of the cornerstones of the D/s life they claimed to espouse?
So they’d told Sarah the truth and, far from being traumatized, she had been relieved. Somehow a part of her had known that they’d been keeping something from her—something important—leaving her to deal with her fears alone.
Gradually the nightmares and bouts of restlessness had stopped. But their ordeal had changed them, no question. A
nd the changes manifested themselves in the many small adjustments they’d had to make in their daily routine.
Now, when they were in a “scene,” they made certain that one of them was touching her at all times—especially when they were out of her field of vision. Most often, it was Adam, just as an added reassurance to her that he was, indeed, alive and not dead as she had feared. At first she’d balked at being blindfolded, until they’d come up with the solution of talking to her almost constantly, just to let her know where they were. But the most obvious change was that now, when they got home, Sarah was at the door to greet them, naked and on her knees, with her hands resting palms up on her thighs.
At first they’d hesitated over adding this new requirement. She had acquiesced to everything new that they had asked of her, not just with her customary enthusiasm, but with a new, deep-seated need that had concerned them at first. But Art had explained that this, too, was a result of her captivity—and likely to be permanent. That she needed the increased control from them in order to increase her own feeling of safety. Since that scenario fit in with their own plans to move her more toward a twenty-four seven Master/slave lifestyle, they were only too happy to oblige.
So, carefully walking the tightrope that allowed her to keep her independence while away from them, they had begun tightening the rules at home. They had added new subservient positions, put her on a strict schedule, stiffened the protocols, devised new, more inventive punishments, imposed new limits, generally expanding the boundaries of her submissiveness, giving her that extra measure of safety she seemed to crave.
When they arrived at Club Ravish, Jesse pulled into an empty parking space directly beneath a street lamp and shut off the engine. He and Adam shut off the vibrators, watching Sarah’s muscles sag at the sudden cessation of stimulation. She groaned around the gag in her mouth, letting her head loll sideways, the only movement she was actually capable of making.
Together the two men untied their exhausted sub from the car. Then Adam carefully cut through the ropes that bound her forearms to her shins. Her legs dropped like stones. Putting his arms beneath her, he lifted her out of the car and set her on her feet, holding her by the shoulders when she swayed.
Brushing stray strands of her hair back from her sweat-dampened face, Jesse reached behind her head and unbuckled the penis gag. “I’m going to remove this,” he said in that low, impersonal Dom voice, the one that never failed to turn her knees to jelly and send icy shivers of anticipation rolling through her. “But you are not to speak. You are on speech restriction until either Master A or I ask you a direct question. Nod your head if I’ve made myself clear.”
She nodded her head.
“Good girl,” he said approvingly. “Now, can you walk?”
A pause. Then another nod.
“Good girl. Hands behind you, please, little slave.” She placed her hands at the small of her back, heard a metallic click as her wrists were padlocked together. She heard two metallic clicks in front and knew that her Doms had just snapped their leashes onto her collar. She felt the tiny tugs against her neck as they wrapped the leather lengths around their hands, followed by two firmer tugs as they pulled her forward. “Come, slave.”
She gulped and stumbled after them, walking barefoot across pavement of some sort. But she had no idea where she was until the faint whiff of kerosene reached her nostrils and she realized they were at Club Ravish! Holy Moley! So this was their destination! Just the thought of the things her Doms might be planning to do to her here had her so excited she could hardly keep still.
As Adam and Jesse guided her up the steps, she heard Otto’s voice. “Good evening, Masters. Welcome to Club Ravish. Please go on inside, everyone’s waiting.’
“Thank you, Otto,” Jesse said smoothly. “If you would be so kind as to take our girl to Molly, we will go get ourselves ready.”
She felt the tugs on her collar again as they unwound the leashes, then heard one of them unclip. The remaining leash gave a sharp tug. “Come, girl,” Otto said, pulling her through the door and into the club’s lobby.
“Sarah!” came Molly’s delighted little squeal just before she pulled Sarah into an enthusiastic hug. One which Sarah wanted to return, but couldn’t, since Jesse had clipped her wrists together behind her back. Sadists. “Oh, you lucky, lucky girl! This is going to be so beautiful!” Molly took Sarah’s arm and pointed her, Sarah presumed, toward the women’s locker room. “C’mon, let’s get you ready.”
Molly told her to stop and untied the blindfold, waiting while Sarah’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. No, they weren’t in the women’s locker room. They were in a small room with a desk, a chair, and a rolling clothes rack. On the desk was a single white rosebud. On the rack hung a floor-length gown made of white, see-through chiffon, decorated with delicate lace appliques on the bodice, down the front, and at the ends of the long sleeves. Oh, my. She put her hand out to touch it with the tip of her index finger. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“It’s yours.”
Wait, what? “It’s–I—” She just stared at Molly stupidly.
“You didn’t know? You mean, they didn’t tell you?” Molly went off on a tirade. “Ohmigod, I don’t believe this! I swear, they should all be shot. Men in general, Doms in particular! God, they are so exasperating! How can they not tell a girl she’s coming to her own Collaring Ceremony?”
“I–my—”
Molly just chortled. “Yes, my lovely Sarah, this is your Collaring Ceremony, the BDSM version of a wedding. I know yours is still two weeks away, but Master Adam and Master Jesse wanted to give you this gift early. And they wanted it to be a surprise.
“Well, they certainly managed that,” Sarah said weakly. “But how will I know what to do? What to say? I thought I had two weeks yet to memorize my lines. I’ve barely even had a chance to look at them! How could they do this to me?” she wailed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there to help you. Mostly you will just do as they tell you and answer their questions. When they give you your chance to speak, just say what’s in your heart, after which Master Michel will guide you through the Ceremony of the Roses.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Okay, go ahead and sit in the chair,” Molly said, opening the desk drawer to reveal an array of cosmetics. “So I can fix your hair and put on your makeup.” Sarah sat and let the young girl braid her hair and pin it closely to the back of her head. Next Molly wiped her face with a disposable cloth. “Your Masters want your eyes smoky and dark, and your lips really, really red. They’re going to ask you to leave your mark on them as a sign of your, um, readiness to, um, well, you know,” she finished lamely, nearly making Sarah laugh.
For someone who worked in a hardcore sex club like Ravish, Molly was surprisingly prudish. She unzipped the back of the dress and held it low for Sarah to step into.
“Wait. Am I supposed to wear it over these ropes?” She indicated the Shibari harness Adam had tied around her torso, including her breasts, which were dark with engorged blood, her nipples enlarged and sensitive from the clamps she’d been wearing.
“Don’t worry,” Molly assured her. “They’ve thought of everything. You’ll see.” She tugged the gown up over Sarah’s hips, waited for her hands to find the sleeves, then pulled it all the way up over her shoulders. She found the zipper tab and pulled it up.
Sarah stared at her reflection in the mirror. They had indeed thought of everything. The dress was a perfect fit even over the rope harness. Her bound, swollen breasts were thrust through two openings in the bodice, framed all around by the delicate lace, like exhibits on display in a museum. Her clamped nipples were right out there for everyone to see.
The diamond-shaped pattern Adam had tied down the center of her torso was matched by diamond-shaped lace appliques perfectly framing each one. Even though her pussy was covered by the gown, it was clearly visible through the sheer chiffon, framed with lace as if it were a priceless treasure.
Holy Moley!
A knock at the door had Molly calling, “Come in.” When Sarah saw who was standing there, she did a double take. Theodore “Solo” Solomon, dressed elegantly in a black tuxedo with a snow-white shirt and a black cummerbund and bow tie, walked into the room. His hair no longer resembled a haystack but was, instead, cut short and neatly combed from a side part.
She was so stunned by the transformation in his appearance, all she could do was stare at him with her mouth open. The last time she’d seen him had been at the hospital, where he was recovering from the bullet he’d taken to the chest, although, they had talked on the phone since.
Fortunately for her, he was equally stunned by her appearance. “Jesus, Sarah,” he whispered, barely breathing, “you are absolutely gorgeous.”
“Wh–what are you doing here?” she asked, also in a whisper. “I didn’t know you were into this particular lifestyle.” Belatedly, she remembered that her breasts were naked and her pussy was on prominent display. But it was too late to try and cover herself. So she stood there, proud and elegant in her rope harness and her beautiful, revealing gown.
“I’ve been a member of this club nearly as long as Adam and Jesse. I’ve just never been lucky enough to find my forever sub, as they have done. It is my distinct honor to escort you to your Masters tonight and turn you over to their safekeeping.”
“I am equally honored,” she said solemnly, lifting up on her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.
Picking up the rose, he handed it to her with a slight bow. “Careful. It has thorns. Now, if milady is ready?” he said, extending his elbow for her to take. With Molly in the lead they passed through the soundproof door and entered into the main room of the Club. A string quartet was playing Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nacht Musik.” Chairs had been set up on either side of a center aisle, complete with a red carpet that led up onto a stage with two chairs, placed side by side, facing the audience. In front of the chairs was a red velvet cushion with gold tassels at the corners.
Owning Sarah [Sequel to Loving Sarah] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 39
