Soul Rest: A Knights of the Board Room Novel
Page 43
Noah stood a few paces behind her. He’d changed out of his black slacks into a pair of black latex pants that clung to his muscular buttocks and lean thighs. They revealed in mouthwatering detail how aroused he was. Still no shirt, so the tattoo rippled across his back as he threw the whip, popped it again just above Gen’s shoulder. When she flinched, Celeste saw the bloom of a faint red mark. But her friend didn’t seem like she minded. She rolled her head, shifted her feet as if she wanted more. When Lyda ran her fingers over the filmy crotch of the panties, her slight smile, the avaricious glow in her eyes, confirmed Gen was soaked with arousal.
Lyda glanced toward Ben. Following her gaze, Celeste saw the two Doms were coordinating their efforts. He’d put Marcie on all fours on the bed, arms and ankles wrapped in the chained cuffs that had been left there for that purpose. In this position Marcie was facing Noah so she could watch the whip demonstration as promised, though Celeste had a feeling she hadn’t anticipated her Dom integrating it into their own session in such a way. Ben hit her with that scary paddle right after Noah landed that blow, so Gen’s tiny yelp was matched by Marcie’s cry. Noah struck twice then, a crisscross, and Ben did the same, hitting each buttock in a sweeping movement.
Celeste’s mouth was dry. When Noah ramped up his strokes, so did Ben, until Marcie was letting out a cry with every impact. As her cries escalated, Ben fit his bride with a rectangular gag like the one Celeste had experienced. This one had a larger phallus, something that stretched Marcie’s mouth to capacity over it, but the rectangular patch sealed over her lips the same way. As Celeste remembered, it would suppress the screams, intensifying the sensations.
Once she was watching, Celeste found herself entranced, unable to look away from Marcie’s subjugation. It wasn’t the extreme pain Ben was dishing out—that part made Celeste flinch—but how Marcie gave everything up to her Master, matching every harsh demand with a pleading look in her tear-filled eyes. It was a plea for mercy, but not from the pain. Her nipples were tight, and Celeste was sure she was so aroused the barest touch would send her catapulting into climax.
She remembered vividly how Ben could take a woman past reason into pure insanity, just to please him. She’d told Leland at the beginning that she needed pain to get past her personal shit, and he’d proven that wasn’t the case. She needed a mix of things—his total command, some pain, but it was the tenderness, applied at critical moments, that undermined all her defenses.
She didn’t have it in her to want or accept Ben’s kind of physical punishment for sexual pleasure. Not on a regular basis. But Marcie was yin to his yang. She looked as if she’d let Ben do anything to her and just ask for more.
No matter how true that was, she was worried about her friend, because it looked like Marcie couldn’t possibly handle any more. Celeste broke the rules about not looking at her Master, but she knew it was for the right reasons. She glanced up at Leland for reassurance, her hand gripping his thick wrist at her waist.
“It’s all right,” he whispered in her ear. “Watch how he strokes her between every blow. How he caresses her hair, her ass, how he trails his fingers down her spine, her upper thighs. He never forgets her, Celeste. He knows just how much she needs to fly. She’s not his whipping post. She’s the center of his world. The way you are for me.”
Celeste swallowed, her stomach jumping with thrilling response beneath his hand. He trailed his lips along her throat again, nipped her shoulder. “Keep watching, darlin’.”
Noah was proving his artisanship with the whip, striking wherever Lyda indicated, leaving a mix of red marks that had Gen bucking in her bonds. Lyda came to her, kissed her frantic mouth, gazed at her with an assessing look. Her words carried to Celeste. “All done, rabbit?”
Gen nodded, her forehead hard against Lyda’s cheek. The woman brought Gen’s head down so it was against her shoulder, and curved her arm over Gen’s nape, her hand spreading over the crown of her head to hold her there, and met Noah’s gaze. “Five of your prettiest strikes, Noah, and then you get to put your cock inside her. Make the last one count. I want her feeling it for a few days.”
The strikes were pretty, the whip becoming a sinuous snake in his hand. Celeste wondered how a submissive had learned to handle a whip with such mastery. Noah must step into the role of a service top quite frequently. The one thing consistent about the BDSM world was how it resisted definitions. She only had to look at every different dynamic here to prove that.
His last throw was a short, hard pop on Gen’s ass that bloomed into a precise red circle the size of a penny. Gen let out a short shriek, but Lyda caught it, kissing her mouth.
“Pretty damn impressive.” Leland pursed his lips.
“What? Making a woman scream?” Celeste muttered. He caressed her arms, reassuring her once again.
“The whip play. Often when a more forceful stroke is applied, it’s a length of the popper that hits, leaving a slash mark. To do it off the tip end, that drawback point when it cracks, is when you get that small circle mark instead. Takes practice and precision. Boy has both. And see? Your friend is being rewarded for taking the pain.”
Lyda was running her hand down Gen’s back to cup her buttock, soothe the offended skin. The succor was balanced by a pinch that made Gen jump, though Noah knelt behind her and followed that rough treatment with soothing licks of his tongue. He moved to her buttocks, cupping them in both hands and parting the curves to give Gen’s rim a tongue fucking that had her crying out for different reasons
“Look there,” Leland said, drawing her attention to yet another scene unfolding. Since Marcie and Cassandra were sisters, Celeste hadn’t been sure how this group dynamic would work for them. She saw Lucas’s interest had been caught by a hammock frame on the other side of the loft from Ben and Marcie. Celeste wondered if the extra cushion of space wasn’t merely because of the sexual component, but maybe because Cassandra also had difficulty watching her sister take those incredible punishments Ben could dish out.
Either way, Lucas was keeping her well distracted. He had Cassandra lashed on the hammock frame and blindfolded. He’d tilted her back on the web so her knees were higher than her head. As a result, he didn’t have to bend more than a few inches to thread his hands through the ropes, grip her thighs and put his mouth between her legs. She was making harsh noises of pleasure, and when Lucas lifted his head, she saw how glistening wet Cass’s cunt was, her thighs marked as if he’d already brought her to climax this way and intended to keep doing it.
They had company on that side of the loft. Peter had Dana strapped to one of the fucking machines, and was squatting on his heels, studying his petite submissive as she fought her orgasm on hands and knees. Peter’s military-short hair just emphasized the corded neck and broad shoulders. His black T-shirt drew Celeste’s gaze to the Don’t Tread on Me tattoo on his biceps. Despite his intimidating appearance and the stern Master’s expression, his touch on Dana’s nape was as gentle as if he was touching a baby bird.
Celeste hadn’t had a chance to meet the other couples before the lights dimmed, but Dana was going down on one of the women, a Hispanic brunette with large breasts, dark, long-lashed eyes and scarlet-painted lips stretched back from her teeth in a captivating expression of arousal. Peter held a pair of clover nipple clamps. Based on Dana’s urgency, Celeste guessed he was threatening her with the painful things if she didn’t bring the woman to climax before her own overtook her. Yet he had every intention of making her fail. As Celeste watched, he put his hand beneath his wife and began to play with her small nipples as the fucking machine kept doing his work. Celeste had to bite back a strained smile as she detected Dana’s creative curse.
These were just the opening acts. They’d probably go on well until the dawn. Every coupling, every surrender, every command, would honor Ben and Marcie’s union and what such a union could and should mean.
The air was saturated with sex and need, every desire made manifest. Celeste’s nape was damp with perspi
ration when Leland kissed it and pushed her dress to her waist, cupped her breasts in their lace cups, squeezed and fondled. “Rub your ass against me, sweet darlin’. Tell me how much you need me. How much you want your Master to take all your choices away and fuck you until you can’t walk without his help.”
She was already rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat, and when he reached into the cups, finding her nipples to give them a rolling pinch, she jerked hard against him, crying out. “Please…” It was the only word she knew with him right now.
“So should I do all of it to you, darlin’? Every single thing? Or is there something in particular you just have to have, right this minute? Ask me nicely, and you might get your wish.”
She could barely breathe. She knew what she wanted, but that didn’t matter. He would make the decision. She understood that, but she also understood why he wanted her to say it. By saying it, she was acknowledging his right to make that decision, and trusting him enough to follow whatever he decided. Wanting what he wanted as much as what she wanted herself, because it was somehow all the same.
“I want…what my Master said he wanted. To take me here, in front of all of them. To show them…I’m his.”
“Yeah, you are. Every beautiful, difficult inch of you.” He kissed the top of her head. “I want you out of this dress.”
He pushed it off, holding her arm to steady her as she stepped free of it, leaving her in her black low cut bra, lace thong panties, a pair of thigh highs and her heels. He took the dress, folded it over a chair. He also stripped out of his jacket, revealing more of his powerful upper torso clad in the snug white T-shirt. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down to speak in her ear. “Walk to the bed to the right of Ben and Marcie. The one that’s under the spotlight, that everyone can see. I’m going to be behind you, watching the way your hips move, the tilt of your ass in your heels, and thinking about how those pretty tits of yours quiver as you move.”
His hands slid beneath them again, teasing the lace edges of the bra, the areola that peeked out of them. Her nipples were taut, pushing into his palms, and he noticed, caressing and fondling her as she let out a thready sigh, rubbed her ass against him again. He nudged her away from him, gave her nearly bare ass a firm pat. “Still showing the marks of my belt, darlin’. Do as your Master tells you.”
She felt a pounding up in her throat, a rush of blood that made her light-headed. She tried to take a step, but the world tilted in a funny way. Before she had to grab onto anything, he was there, holding her from behind. “Okay?” he said in her ear. “Can you do this?”
“I’m not sure. I want to. I really want to.” She wasn’t sure what was going on, but everything was so bright. It was as if she was about to step into a whole different world, as if this act was so definitive, there’d be no going back. Oh Christ, she was doing it again. Stop thinking.
When he stripped his belt from his jeans, she wondered, heart skipping a beat, if he was going to bend her over the bar and punish her. Instead he looped it around her throat, drew it taut over the necklace. Pulling the slack back toward him, he wrapped it over his fist and rested it on her shoulder. He put his hand on the small of her back. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Walk.”
It made all the difference in the world, that reinforcement. His contact. She couldn’t explain it, but rational thought had no place in this. They walked through the different scenes, past submissives in various stages of what she herself was experiencing. Past the Doms like Matt, Lyda or Peter, all of whom registered her submission with a quick flick of intent eyes, acknowledging she was fully under the care and control of her Master. It made her legs tremble even more. When they skirted past Ben and Marcie, her gaze slid over Marcie’s backside, angry red and marked with circles from that paddle.
Ben was now snapping a dragon tail over it. He’d removed the bed cuffs, but had her collar and wrist cuffs attached to those delicate chains, which were clipped to the end of the bed, his new bride on her hands and elbows. Marcie was doing her best not to break those delicate chains, and lift her ass as Ben commanded. But as she squealed at each sting, Celeste faltered under another wave of that light-headedness. She couldn’t help but notice how wet Marcie was, the slick flush of her cunt. Ben paused just then to press a thumb into that opening as he bent to slide his tongue along her rim, making her writhe and beg all the more. “Yeah, I’ll be putting every inch of my cock in that tight ass soon, brat. What do you think of that?”
“Pleeeassse…” Marcie gasped. “Master.”
“Leland.” Celeste couldn’t find him in the shower of stars closing around her vision.
“Hang in there, darlin’.” His arm steadied her.
“I need you inside me. Now. Please.”
She didn’t want to sound pushy, but she couldn’t help sounding urgent. Though he might not prefer Ben’s extreme physical methods, Leland could be just as much of a sadist, making her wait, making her lose her grip on reality and fly at his command. She thought that was what she was doing now, because she was sure she was walking on clouds.
Leland didn’t take her to the bed under the spotlight after all, but to one in a back corner. Though it could still be seen by the others, it was deeper in the shadows, a space cocooned for the two of them. Leland turned her toward him, loosened the belt, set it aside. Her hands lifted, fluttered, caught his shirt. She shouldn’t touch him without permission, but she found herself pressed against him, her lips to his throat, her body rubbing against his. “God, I can’t…”
“I know. That’s why you have me to set the limits.” He turned her around, pushed her down on the bed and braced his knee between her legs, holding her pinned there with a hand on her nape as he ran his palm over her ass, gave her another smart slap. When she tried to push back up, a spike of rebellion, he showed her he was tolerating none of that now. His grip immediately shifted to that muscle between neck and shoulder and clamped down until she was begging for mercy, that she would be good.
“Not likely,” he muttered. He released the hold but only to put his hand under her hips, yank her up onto knees. He brought her ass up but kept her cheek to the bed. Then he spanked her more fiercely. After that, he began to use the belt.
“God…” She was biting the bed linens. All that overwhelming arousal, all the stimulation here, she wouldn’t have thought punishment was what she needed. She needed to be fucked. Yet here she was, getting even more intensely worked up as he reminded her who she belonged to.
A few times, she tried to fight him, but he put her back down without any trouble. He was past playing. He didn’t stop until he had everything good and throbbing, until she had tears on her face like Marcie, and for some crazy reason she wanted more. Just more of everything, as long as it came from him.
Then, in that insane way only he knew how to do, he turned her world topsy-turvy by changing tactics midstream. He lifted her off the bed, cradling her in his arms. He stood at the end of the bed, just holding her off the ground like that. He swayed back and forth, as if soothing a babe in his arms, her head tucked under his chin while she cried. He brushed his lips over her eyes, her nose, catching her mouth in a hot promise before he bent, laid her down on the bed again.
“Take off your panties,” he commanded. “Get on your hands and knees.”
She obeyed, her fingers fumbling. This way she was facing the wall, but there were mirrors here. She could see behind her, see the others, see who was looking at her. But suddenly that wasn’t all that important. What mattered was her Master, who was opening his jeans. She curled her hands into balls, bit into the covers. Yes, please.
“I’m not hearing my sub begging. She must not really want this.”
“No, Master, I do. Please.”
He fitted the head of his cock against her cunt, so wet, so slippery. “Is all that for me? Or you’ve just been getting off watching all this?”
“No. Yes. But it wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t watching with me.”
“You. You.” She didn’t think she could take more punishment, but her Master wanted to try her in a different way. He ran the belt beneath her arms, brought her up on her knees, the band just above her nipples as he stood just behind her, his breath on her neck.
“Play with your nipples, Celeste. Feel how sensitive they are when I hold the belt over them like this.”
She obeyed, but she couldn’t stop herself from pleading. “Please, Master. I really need you inside me. Please.”
Everything she’d ever been afraid of, needed, lost or found, had to do with that. She was afraid she’d lose it if it didn’t happen this minute, because such a moment always slipped away.
“I am inside you, Celeste. That’s what you need to learn, darlin’. What we’ll learn together, however long it takes. I’m already inside you. Inside, outside, all around you. I’m here.” He let the belt slide away, crossed his arms over her, curving his large hands over both breasts. As he did, he molded their bodies together, moved them in that sway of motion like he had when he’d done the Ichinawa. She molded herself back into him as she had then, trusting his movements, trusting his hold on her. She let out a long moan as one of those movements pushed him into her, full length, his testicles against the back of her thighs as he brought her forward onto the bed, covered her with his body. “There we are. What do you say?”
“Thank you, Master. Thank you…” She gasped it out as he thrust a little deeper, then slowly started to draw out.
“Don’t think I heard you.”
“Thank you, Master. Thank you.”
“Better. Stay still. Don’t move unless I tell you to move.” He pushed into her slow, wresting a yearning sound from her as she tried to obey. In the reflection of the mirror in front of her, she saw Rachel’s head tipped back over the edge of a spanking bench where Jon had her stretched out and was doing something between her legs that had her flushed and near orgasm. He kept drawing back the phallic-looking device in his hand, teasing her, making her beg as well. Her breasts glistened with something that looked like glitter paste. It was having some kind of erotic effect on her, because the nipples were swollen to twice the expected size. She appeared to be begging for Jon to touch them. When he did, Rachel screamed at the pleasure of it, her body bucking on the bench, her climax held just out of reach.