by Joey W. Hill
"Look at Troy, Madison. He's worked up over you, wants like hell to disobey and take a good long look, not just steal those quick glimpses I'm going to take out of his hide. He wants to stare at your breasts, how gorgeous and swollen they are, tied up in the rope, your nipples stiff and wanting to be sucked. Imagine you're going to pick something out to wear for him in your bedroom later tonight, when he's not tied up, when he has the chance to seduce you. He wants to put his mouth on you, his cock inside you. What would you wear to make him even crazier? You're driving what's already there, not coaxing it out. Any man you have to talk into getting hard for you is the wrong guy. Plus he's fucking blind and too stupid to live."
She choked on a laugh, but she had a crazy quiver happening, too, the husky timbre of his voice emphasizing the male power he could unleash. It wasn't Troy she was seeing in her bedroom. When she lifted her gaze to Logan, she wondered if he saw the hunger, what she couldn't voice. Then she didn't have to wonder.
His jaw relaxed, those fathomless eyes flickering. "All right then," he murmured. "What would you wear for me? For yourself, to make yourself feel beautiful, seductive, capable of bringing even a Master to his knees? Bringing this Master to his knees."
That did steal her breath. But she responded. "Nothing but a T-shirt like this and a thong. All cotton. I think you'd like that best."
When she saw the curve of Troy's lips, pleasure surged through her. She must have guessed correctly. She also learned that Logan's brown eyes transformed to a tawny hue, the more aroused he became. Obeying some instinct of her own--and the unspoken message of his intense regard--she swept her own gaze down.
"You're doing a hell of a job distracting me from training Troy."
"You were the one who asked the question," she pointed out.
He snorted. "Keep that up, and Troy won't be the only one who gets his ass blistered tonight."
He slid between them, giving her hair a tug. She imagined him bending her over one of his beautiful carved benches, blistering her ass with hand or paddle and then ramming into her, holding on to her hair as he thrusted.
It was a full-blown, no-holds-barred domination fantasy. She closed her eyes, scrambling for some type of sanity, some type of anchor. But her mind refused. It wanted her to stay right here, and it made her open her eyes.
He'd turned toward Troy. There was enough space for him between their bodies, but with one more step she'd be up against him. She wanted to put her cheek against his back, see if his heart was thundering the way hers was. Only his display of a Master's authority and her own fear kept her in place, though the former ironically made her long to do it even more. As if she was seeking that punishment.
He did the same upper-body harness on Troy, only he took it lower. When Logan moved behind Troy, no longer obscuring her view of his front, her eyes widened. The rope wrapped around the base of his cock and looped his testicles, the two ends passing between his thighs and disappearing around back, loose enough there was a small space between his balls and the slack. Troy adjusted at his Master's grunt, spreading his thighs wider. When that slack disappeared, Troy's jaw snapped closed and his cock jumped. Every muscle in his body stiffened, as if he battled an irresistible need to move.
"I'm putting knots in the rope and running the line of them along the crack of his ass," Logan explained to her absently, his head down as he focused on what he was doing. "One right up against the rim. Put the proper pressure there . . ." Troy grunted, body tautening further. "And the results make it impossible for him to think of anything but wanting to come. But you're not going to do that, or I'll ream your ass with a jackhammer. Got it?"
He gave the young man a slap on the buttock, hard enough Troy jumped. "Yes sir."
Constricted like her breasts, Troy's cock and testicles were an eye-catching display. His fingers flexed against the chains, the metal making tiny clinks. Semen dripped from his slit, creating a small pool on the floor. The fluid that clung to his cock head made it glisten.
"You'll be scrubbing that tarp with a toothbrush, boy."
She heard Troy's muttered oath, a groan as Logan did something else behind him. Though she couldn't see, she suspected Logan had pushed that knot deeper against his rim, was massaging it. He caught Troy's throat and shoulder in one big hand as he kept up the manipulation.
"You want to push it with me? I tie a sexy woman up in front of you and your dick gets hard, makes you think you can be a badass. I'll rip you a new one, you don't get in line right now."
Logan sounded as menacing as she'd ever heard a man be. And instead of being terrified, she was caught in that erotic stasis. His eyes were pinned on Troy and she had no doubt Troy could feel them like a blade at his throat.
"No sir. I'm sorry. Please . . ." Troy's lips stretched back, teeth baring as he fought the climax she could tell Logan was building. "I don't want to disappoint my Mistress. Or you."
"Yeah. That's better."
Logan stepped back, and Troy let out a relieved breath, swaying in his bonds. As Logan came back around Troy, she knew her pussy was as drenched as Troy's cock head. When he shifted to stand behind her, put his hands at her waist, she shivered. "You want to help me really torture him?" he said against her ear.
Pretending that she was still somehow his assistant instead of his willing victim, she nodded.
He eased her forward, as if knowing she might startle like a deer if he moved too fast. Her breasts mashed against Troy's chest. With her heeled boots giving her some extra height, that constrained cock pushed against her lower abdomen, above her mound. If she lifted onto her toes, she could rub the crotch of her jeans against it. Logan did say she could help, right?
When Logan was retrieving something else, probably more rope, she couldn't resist testing the theory. Leaning against Troy for balance, she rose on her toes to grind herself against him. Mischievous pleasure surged at the answering flash in Troy's gaze, the further constriction of his jaw. The quiver of a man's restrained lust--while his body was likewise restrained--was a heady combination. Add her own restraint to it, and it was indescribable.
Troy shifted enough to rub himself against her, a skillful stroke against her clit. She gasped as his lips firmed. Logan had warned her when he warned Troy, hadn't he? Tie a woman up in front of him, get his dick hard, and the need to re-assert himself was there. Being a submissive didn't obliterate Troy's innate male desire to conquer female flesh.
Then she gasped for another reason. The heavy leather slapper caught Troy squarely across his hindquarters. If the noise didn't tell her the impact it delivered, Troy's snarl, the flare of pain in his gaze, certainly did. Logan's hand holding the slapper clamped over Troy's shoulder, fingers digging in as he gripped Troy's hair with the other hand. He yanked his head back while the young man was still quivering from the strike. As scary as he'd been a moment ago, the words he spoke against Troy's ear were nothing less than a sure promise of violence. "She's mine, the way you're mine right now. So you don't have the fucking right to look at her, to touch her, to even have a wet dream about her, without my say-so. I'll come into your dreams and rip your dick right off, you so much as consider it. Got it?"
"Yes sir. I'm sorry, sir."
Logan kept his eyes on hers, an even more captivating lock than the chains holding Troy. "You're not sorry enough. But you will be."
"I'm sorry," Madison stammered. "Logan, it was me. I misunderstood what you told me. I--"
He moved behind her again, his hand on her shoulder. The grip was firm, but not punitive. "You've done nothing wrong, Madison. I didn't put any limits on your behavior. Only his. He's the one being trained to restrain himself at his Mistress's behest."
The easy shift to a calm tone, the squeeze of his hand, told her this was all part of it. The anger wasn't true anger, only a response calculated to have an impact on Troy. Even so, the way Logan had looked at her as he spoke to Troy, it was as if he meant every word. She's mine.
She sensed Logan waiting, wanting to
be sure she was all right before they continued. She could end it here, say she'd had enough, was in over her head, but pride held her back. He'd made it clear her role was helping him create the atmosphere for Troy. He wasn't intending to make her submit like Troy, no matter where her imagination was trying to take her.
So she nodded, and then Logan threw her further off her axis. He proceeded to bind the two of them together. She tried to remember how many lengths of rope were on that workbench, how many he'd used thus far, but her brain was far too clouded with lust to figure it out.
Chest to breast, waists, then a wrap beneath the curve of her buttocks in the jeans, cinching her up against Troy, pressing her clit against his rigid muscles and aroused reaction, making her moan again. Did all assistants act like this?
At the beginning of the evening, she'd assumed a training Master's assistant would be an arm's-length thing, where she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Logan, a partnership. Could he possibly use her like this, compartmentalize it, and still see it that way? There was no way in hell she could. She'd anticipated a little voyeurism, some nervous speculation, but in no way had she anticipated this full immersion. She was being swept along in an irresistible current. If he was intending to take her deeper, it was a diabolically clever way to do it, disarming her with Troy, seducing her with the possibilities, so nothing felt too frightening. Logan knew how to mix the emotional with the physical, keeping a woman compliant.
The ironic thing was she could have all these cynical thoughts and still not want to be doing anything different from what she was doing right now.
"Put your cheek against his shoulder, Madison. You'll be more comfortable, and it will relax your body into his." He gave her hair that tug again. "If you were my sub, you would have earned a punishment as severe as his tonight, with that little bump and grind of yours."
The idea sent a startling thrill through her vitals. Troy's body twitched against hers. When she laid her cheek on his chest, his breath stirred her hair.
"No sir," Troy said quietly. "I'd take both of our punishments."
"Protecting her, hmm? Just what I'd expect of you. Don't tighten up on me, boy, or I'll make it worse."
In this position, she couldn't see Logan, but she could certainly feel the results of his presence. When that slapper hit again, Troy's body became as rigid as a plank, but he made a visible effort to relax, to do as Logan commanded. Her fingers curled, and she closed her eyes as the next strike came.
She'd witnessed the close relationship between pleasure and pain in the dungeons. Now Troy's cock convulsed against her, hips jerking as he tried his best not to let his increasing arousal earn another response from Logan like before. Her heart was clutching at what sounded like a totally awful punishment, while her body was liquefying against his, in more ways than one.
"Stop," she whispered. "Don't hurt him anymore."
Troy's lips brushed the top of her head, and he groaned as Logan landed another blow, the hardest yet. His body shuddered with each strike. She realized she was rubbing against him, her stiff nipples, her mound, her thighs, unable to stop herself. With every blow she absorbed through his body, she was getting more and more excited. Too excited.
"You're thinking you'd like the same kind of punishment, Madison, aren't you?" Logan grunted, not slackening the rhythm. "Only maybe you'd like it even rougher. You need the punishment to let go. You crave the release."
She might have been able to stop her reaction if the only stimulus was physical, but Logan's words took the choice out of her hands. The friction she was creating against Troy, the vibration of his body against her with those blows, the power of Logan watching them, was too much. The orgasm rose up fast, unstoppable. Though she fought against it, made a desperate attempt to claw it back, desire won out. She bit Troy's chest to muffle her cries, her hips jerking against him.
Hard, quick and intense, the way such an unplanned response could be. Troy risked further punishment by shifting his engorged cock against her clit, increasing the sensation when Logan kept striking him. Because of the repetitive impact, she imagined Troy thrusting into her. It prolonged the overwhelming sensations an extra few sweet seconds.
The sudden wave, here and gone, left her light-headed and tingling. Her soaked panties clung to her, a wet friction.
The blows stopped, Troy panting against her. Logan's fingers wrapped over his hips. "Easy, boy," he said. "Give her a moment. You hold back until I say otherwise."
"Yes, Master." At the desperate note in Troy's voice, she looked up at him, saw the strain in his face. It brought Logan's face into view, over Troy's shoulder. She couldn't hide the flush of her skin, the mussed hair, her moist lips. Though a part of her wanted to duck her face, she couldn't turn away from the magnetism of that forceful glance.
"Fucking beautiful," Logan said. "You want to bring him home, Madison? Has he earned it?"
Jesus, yes. When she managed a jerky nod, Logan cocked his head. "Since you like rubbing that hot little body against him, make him come that way. I'd free you, but you'd want to do it with your mouth then, and I won't permit that. Your mouth is mine."
She saw herself on her knees, her arms still boxed behind her, Logan's hand fisted in her hair as she worked his cock in her mouth. Servicing her lover, possessed by him. Her knees quivered, her body reacting to the idea like an aftershock to her climax. Fortunately, she was still tied to Troy, keeping her from collapsing.
Logan leaned away, pulled a condom out of a drawer of a rolling table he'd drawn close to hold the slapper or various ends of the rope he'd cut. Tearing open the protection, he reached around Troy, rolled it onto his cock. He'd tied them so closely together, his knuckles pressed against her mound, easing her back the scant amount possible as he rolled the condom onto Troy. She shuddered, another aftershock passing through her, and his brown eyes passed briefly over her face, a visual caress.
He put on Troy's condom with the same efficiency he'd done everything else. Though she felt nothing but straight vibes off Logan, he obviously didn't have any hetero hang-ups about touching another male as a Master to a sub. In fact, she could well imagine him fucking Troy's brains out as a way to exercise Dominance, not as a sexual preference.
The idea made her hot all over.
"Don't want him to mark your clothes any more than he already has. He's going to go off like a rocket." Logan moved away from them both, pulling up a stool so he was seated a few feet away. Thinking of what he'd told her to do in the aftermath of her climax, she found herself self-conscious, even though her body was still vibrating.
"You know why men love lap dances?" Logan asked casually. "All those curves moving over their body, squirming and wiggling. The way a woman can rub herself against his cock--tits, ass, cunt--is indescribable. He's on the edge of begging for it. Aren't you, Troy?"
"Yes, Master. Please . . . Madison."
The husky voice, the plea in it, got her started, though mainly it was Logan, his ability to know what to say and when.
She crowded closer and was gratified by how eagerly Troy thrust his cock against the damp denim. She squirmed against his chest, dragging her nipples against his bare flesh once more. Growing more confident, she nibbled at the pocket of his collarbone, using her tongue to taste the perspiration there. His hips worked against her as she increased the movements of her own, dragging her clit up and down his cock, the condom fortunately lubricated enough to make that work against the fabric. Logan was right, though. Between the punishment and her teasing of him, he was ready to go over. His heart was thundering in his chest and his breath was hot puffs against her, his jaw against her temple.
"Fuck . . . God . . . Master . . ."
"You have to ask me, Troy."
"Please, Master. May I come?"
She caught Logan in the corner of her eye. He'd leaned up against the workbench again, had unscrewed the top of a water bottle and was taking a sip. His eyes remained on them, his mouth a firm, unrelenting line. "Keep rubbin
g against her while I think about it. Feel how hard her nipples are. She's soaked with her climax. If those jeans weren't in the way, you could be greasing yourself between her thighs, her cunt rubbing against your cock."
Troy let out a desperate noise, but he obeyed, not slacking up in the least.
"You come without my say-so, Troy, you'll get a beating twice as bad as the first."
"Yes . . . Master."
She was getting aroused all over again by the wealth of need pouring off of Troy, the incredible effort he was exercising, holding back. She nestled her cheek harder against him, her fingers clasping her forearms behind her back. Her gaze lifted to Logan.
He'd moved, was standing next to them again. He touched her face, sliding a knuckle along her cheek. Turning her head, she caught his finger in her teeth, sucked it in, needing to taste him, wanting his mouth, his flesh, anything she could get. His other fingers fanned out along her jaw, lightly stroking her throat. The sensation made her close her eyes. His breath, his lips, brushed her brow, but when she tilted her head up, he drew back, not giving her the taste of his mouth she wanted.
"You can thank Madison for that delay, Troy. She distracted me. You can come."
Troy let go with a groan, humping hard against her body, only the ropes helping her keep her feet as he spurted into the condom, though she was sure some would run down to bathe his testicles and dampen her jeans further. The scent of it, of herself, of male and female perspiration, of sex and heat, kept her just as wet beneath the denim.
During sex, time could get eaten up by the things she felt obligated to do. Movement of hips, whispered encouragement, contracting muscles. However, tied the way she was to Troy, both of them under Logan's command, she had the luxury of savoring. Through sight, sound, scent and every vibrant nerve, she relished Troy's climax, but not just as a spectator. Since she was tied against him, it was a fully immersive experience. She never wanted it to end.
But at length, of course it did. As Troy started to come down, Logan set the water bottle aside and stepped in close. He laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, idly rubbing him there, a soothing touch as he studied Madison. When his gaze lighted on her parted lips, she couldn't move.
