Though the biggest crowd was in front of the girl in rope suspension, Rachel’s curiosity drew her to where a woman was pilloried between two posts, her legs spread out wide enough that her cuffed ankles could be hooked to the eyebolts there. The same had been done to her arms, held straight out from the shoulder. The pillars were carved in the shape of elongated male and female nudes, rough, simple outlines in the wood so that it kept its functional post shape. The images reminded her of Shakti and Shiva, the male and female deities that symbolized the kundalini energy exchange in Tantra. She noticed worn places on the posts, where she imagined countless fingers like this woman’s had clung, the grain smoothed by the friction and perspiration of nervousness, desire, pain.
She jumped when the whip hit, a cat-o’-nine that fanned out over the woman’s shoulders, her back, then lower, across her naked buttocks. She had on a simple collar, a silver cuff. However, it appeared to be custom made, suggesting the man whipping her was her dedicated Master. More than that. Rachel’s gaze strayed to the only other jewelry they wore…matching wedding rings.
The woman’s back was already red with the stripes, her ass pink and inflamed with heat. He came to her then, yanking her head back by her hair and kissing her while she moaned, obviously close to climax. She was begging in a harsh whisper, words easy to read. “Please let me come.” The Master caressed her throat, her jaw, shook his head. Clamped a hand on her tender backside and pinched hard, making her cry out and writhe more.
Jon shifted Rachel in front of him so she could see better. It also allowed her to lean back against him, gave her his protection on all sides, and in front by the one arm he had around her waist. He slid the other hand under the clinging fabric, over her hip bone and then down, down, two fingers surrounding and pressing on her clit, idly tormenting her there. If the Master on the platform turned around, he could easily see what Jon was doing. The dual stimulation, mental and physical, had her leaning more fully into her escort. “Keep your hands at your sides, palms open,” Jon said in her ear. He’d anticipated how difficult it was to do that rather than reach up, hold his neck, or even grip a small fold of his slacks to hang on as an anchor.
Her breasts had ached in reaction to the girl in breast bondage, nipples of course drawing up hard, and now they burned for attention. All of her did, every inch of flesh. She wanted to be the woman in front of her. She wanted all the clothing stripped away, wanted Jon to touch and mark every inch of her overheated, needy skin. The music from the dance floor was pumping through the soles of her feet, and the energy of this place was like that, surging through her, matching her increasing heartbeat, her increasing wild need to let out some of the desire she was feeling. She wanted this, this form of painful release she’d never experienced directly, but wanted to, so badly.
The Master had uncuffed his wife, helping her straighten from the spread-legged position. He massaged her hips and her wobbly knees, suggesting she’d been there awhile. Then he recuffed her wrists to one another and did the same to her ankles, holding onto her to keep her steady. Bending, he lifted her over his shoulder, her cuffed hands falling down his back as he put his hand squarely on her abused backside, his fingers settling over the glistening and flushed cunt they could see through the almond-shaped opening between her thighs. Holding her like that, he slid two fingers in, then used his thumb to massage her clit. So highly aroused, he’d known he’d finish her in such a vulnerable position. She cried out, begging him for permission.
“Please, Master…let me come. Let me come.”
“Come. Gush for them. Please your Master.”
Her body writhed on his shoulder, and Rachel appreciated the man’s brawny strength, because it would take some power to hold a climaxing woman so still, though having the ankles and wrists bound to one another as they were certainly helped, she was sure. The woman squirmed, screamed, shuddering, convulsing, and Rachel couldn’t look away to see if the audience was as riveted as she was, though she gave a little cry of her own as Jon’s fingers rasped over her clit. A hard stroke, his mouth opening on her throat to set his teeth there, as the woman came.
In that position, they all saw the creamy fluid spill from her cunt in several generous offerings. As Rachel watched, the Master beckoned to a man in the crowd. Intrigued, she watched a handsome blond with vivid green eyes come to the platform. He placed a familiar hand on the Master’s chest.
The brawny man covered the other man’s hand with sensual affection, making it clear the three were intimate. The blond said something that had the other man smiling, then he leaned in and licked away her release, running his other hand over her buttocks around the Master’s hand, caressing, enjoying and reassuring her at once. She made those bleating noises and shudders that came with aftershocks, and Rachel realized she was matching some of those movements with tiny jerks of her own as Jon continued to work her clit with such slow and maddening movements.
As the three moved off, he lifted his mouth from her throat. She felt the throb of where he’d bitten her, knew from the ache he’d left another mark over the first.
“Your turn,” he said.
She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right, but then he smoothed her dress and stepped up the short step to that platform. As he tugged her with him, the heat of the spotlights was suddenly closer and brighter. In her tour of the public play area, he’d recognized the one scene that fascinated, disturbed and scared her the most. Pilloried, stretched between two demands, helpless to them.
Short and snug as the dress was, the coverage was somewhat of an illusion. But she noted how he’d smoothed it back in place before he brought her up here. He could strip and bind her, but he’d obviously wanted the crowd to see her at the beginning, put together, sexy, beautiful. She saw all of that in his eyes.
When was the last time she’d thought of herself that way without prompting? Laying her hand against the Shakti side, he guided the other one so her palm pressed to Shiva. Now that she was up here, she could see the posts could be adjusted, that they were fixed onto curved tracks that would allow them to be closer, wider, or even at diagonal angles.
He’d chosen two sets of cuffs from an attendant, and now he brought them to her. She stared up at him, barely breathing as he kept his attention on her wrists, wrapping the cuff snugly on her right wrist, then hooking it to that eyebolt. She couldn’t speak. She didn’t know how right now. She felt held there by what he wanted, what he seemed to know she wanted, and that want was growing large, capable of crushing her with its weight.
“Sshh…” he murmured, though she’d said not a word. He threaded a hand through her hair, a gentle stroke that became firmer as he tilted her head back. He was so close, but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, his gaze roved over her face, her lips, making them part, making her wet them, wanting his kiss. He smelled so good, that male aftershave smell. The jacket etched the line of his shoulders, drawing her attention to the tie around his corded throat, the tie she’d tied for him. The silken, ebony strands of his hair brushed his collar, and she followed that to the smooth line of his shirt, how it delineated his chest. As he shifted, her attention went to the belted slacks, the muscular waist she knew was under that buckled strap, and even lower, to the cock she knew was already straining the fit of the tailored slacks. Her fingers curled in the cuffs, registering the unmovable force of the posts.
He stepped back then. An attendant had brought something else to him, the briefcase he’d carried into her apartment that first night. Though her back was now to the crowd, she had a sense that it was growing in size. Given the deference Jon was shown here, and the artistry and skills he’d shown her in a short time, she realized he could be a popular performer. It gave her a sinking feeling, but he’d said she was special. Different. Could she believe that? Was she hopelessly deluded and naive? And could she really resent how he’d obtained his skills, skills that had so far brought her to some of the most intense sexual experiences she’d ever had?
She started as a familiar hand slid over her lower back. She looked up into Peter’s eyes, and he nodded toward her opposite side. “I don’t think you’ve met Ben yet.”
She shifted her attention to another impossibly handsome man, one perhaps a year or so younger than Jon, with black hair and brilliant green eyes. Though not as broad as Peter, his shoulders were certainly broad enough, his fit body enough to command a woman’s attention. He wore a charcoal gray suit, an emerald tie over a black dress shirt.
“And you remember Lucas.”
Lucas stepped up behind her, so she had to turn her head, then drop it back. With a smile, he cupped her skull in his hand, let her fall all the way into his palm, a dizzying sensation as she looked up at him. “Hello,” he said.
She may have mouthed Hi. She wasn’t sure. The men were flanking her on three sides, Jon in front. When she straightened to look at him again, the serious set to his mouth heralded a shift as distinctive as if he’d barked an order, only this was a command that hummed through her blood, not needing anything as overt as sound. On instinct, she nodded to each man again, only this time she lowered her eyes, acknowledging she wasn’t surrounded merely by Jon and his friends, but four different Masters.
Remembering Jon’s questions earlier, and her own thoughts about where her boundaries were, who could touch her at his behest, she knew these had been at the top of that short list.
“Gentlemen, strip her for punishment, please. Leave the heels on.”
Punishment? It was a word capable of making her even more off center and short of breath, but she tried to calm herself with the three-point breathing, not wanting to miss a single second, even as she harbored a dark fear of the things all of it might release in her. When she’d looked into Jon’s face, seen the mesmerizing power in the blue depths, the thought of what he might be capable of unleashing inside her made her tremble.
Peter was the one who untied the sash, his fingers moving along her powdered skin, bringing her the smell of lavender. He didn’t hesitate or fumble, a man familiar with the curves and vulnerabilities of a woman. Since he lifted the fabric away from her skin as he freed her breasts, he didn’t brush her nipples, though they were erect and begging for friction. Then down to her waist, over her hips, his knuckles sliding along her skin as he brought the dress to her ankles.
When he touched her calf, she lifted her feet clear of it, one at a time. Lucas’ steadying grip was on her waist. Then Peter nudged her to a wider stance, until her heels were placed outside the range of her shoulders, putting her off balance. The pillars were adjusted, aligned with her ankles, and then they were cuffed firmly so there was no range of movement, even if she wavered like a reed in a monsoon.
Ben and Lucas pulled the top of the pillars out to form a vee angle, so her arms were stretched out as far as they could go. They adjusted them so her shoulders were pulled back, her breasts thrust out, her bound ankles creating an angle that arched her back and tilted her ass upward as well. It was an extremely sexual and open position, entirely vulnerable and arousing at once, the pillars locked in place to hold her fast.
Ben had stepped off to the side with Jon, his hand on the side of Jon’s neck. It was the affectionate gesture of a brother, similar to the way Jon dipped his head to speak back in his ear, so they could have a private moment yet hear one another over the crowd noise. Ben nodded, glanced toward her. When he’d first stepped onto the platform, Rachel hadn’t seen it in the affable body language and genial expression, but now she saw clearly what Dana had said about him. He’s probably the toughest, most hardcore Master of all of them.
It was in the intent way his gaze passed over her body, stripped except for her collar and high heels. Perhaps because of how open she was right now, in many ways, she saw a glimpse of exactly what kind of Master he was. He could judge exactly how much a woman could endure, but he’d then bring her to such an overwhelming subspace she’d leap off that edge, merely if he commanded her to do it. That was his thing. He demanded utter devotion, proof of a woman’s unconditional surrender. Oddly, she sensed he wanted a woman’s soul, but not her heart.
It was a little frightening to recognize such a thing in this defenseless moment, but Jon was here. He was her Master. He knew her heart. She was standing naked in a crowded club, cuffed to two posts. She was trembling, but any trepidation was of herself, of the sheer power of what was inside of her, responding to all this. Craving more, harder. A pressure was growing inside that needed pain, stimulation, something to release it.
Lucas stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Jon. What was the cologne he wore? It was such a male exotic scent, it made her think of Egyptian pharaohs again, as did the precise cut of his cheekbones, those intense eyes.
“Open up for me,” he said. She saw he had a gag like the one Jon had used the first night, the one shaped like a man’s cock. This one was shorter, but thicker.
Obediently, she parted her lips. As the shape of it passed between them, knowing a man’s eyes was on her, watching her take it, she curled her tongue around it instinctively. It was flavored with honey and sugar, stirring her saliva glands and making her suck a little harder. Rather than fastening it in place right away, Lucas played with her a few moments, sliding it back and then forward, watching her work the length of it. The muscle flexing in his jaw made it clear she was doing a good job of affecting him. Her body rocked toward him, even as her gaze strained to look around his shoulder. Where was Jon? And what did he mean by punishment?
She didn’t have long to find out.
Lucas at last strapped it to her head, smoothing the fasteners beneath her hair line at the nape, though he made them snug, so the gag pushed down on her tongue when fully seated, rendering her silent and keeping her from teasing the gag, or him, further. There was a glint in his gaze, a light smile on his lips as he caressed her still working jaw. Leaning forward, he brushed her temple with his lips. “You get over your fears, sweetheart, you’re going to be damn irresistible. Jon’s going to lose his mind over you.”
He stepped away then, letting her see Jon again with her hungry eyes. He moved forward, circling her as Lucas and Peter drew back to two chairs placed at the rear corner of the platform where she could see them, making it clear she was on display for them. She wasn’t sure how she would have felt about facing the unknown crowd, but knowing they were there, at her back, and these Doms were at her front… Oh God and Goddess, the heat of it was making her dizzy.
Jon passed behind her, his fingers trailing down her back, but he stopped short of her ass. He shifted, and she could tell from the corner of her eye that he’d faced the crowd. At the same moment, the attendant to whom Ben had been talking pulled a curtain cord. The black drape behind Peter’s and Lucas’ chairs drew back, revealing a mirror that allowed the crowd to see her face, her gagged mouth and needy expression. Worse, she could see all of them staring at her.
Jon’s hand settled on her back, a reassurance. However, when he addressed the crowd, she learned his velvet voice translated well into the ringing tones of a Master addressing a crowd. It even brought the noise from other nearby demonstrations down to more hushed tones.
“The submissive you see before you has been in need of a Master’s punishment for a long, long time. She believes she’s not beautiful, not worthy of a Master’s love and attention. Of my love and attention. I’m very disappointed by this.”
The overpowering physical arousal she was experiencing hadn’t anticipated an emotional assault. It hit her below her heart, a sharp blow. Her lips pressed down on the gag, her nostrils flaring with the need for air, fingers clutching at the posts. When her gaze flickered to Peter, Lucas and Ben, who’d now taken a seat with them, she was startled to see Jon’s tone reflected in their faces. Reproof, stern admonition and something else that stirred that pain higher up, made her heart beat faster. This wasn’t roleplaying or playacting. The things Dana had hinted at, their cohesion as a solid, Dominant unit, was clear here. Jon’s intent was fully reflected in their body language. They didn’t like what they were hearing, and they would all make her accountable for it.
“If I wanted to use her like a cheap whore, hand her out to anyone who wanted her, she believes that would be my right. Even if it destroyed everything fragile and amazing that has only recently begun to stretch its wings inside of her. She doesn’t believe she deserves anything more, believes she can’t hope for anything more than that.”
Okay, that ache was ascending into her throat. She looked toward the foot of the mirror, so she could cast her gaze down, stare at the row of polished shoes and well-cut slacks. She couldn’t look at any of the men. She wanted free. This push-pull between the emotional and the physical was putting the taste of panic in her mouth.
“She doesn’t realize what a gift she is, what a treasure I’ve discovered in her.” He settled his hand on her shoulder now, that tender juncture with her neck. The pointed caress stilled her. “But I think a little well-placed punishment will help her discover her value, help her strengthen her realization of what being a slave to a Master truly means. In the past, when someone committed a crime, the authorities punished them in public like this, so that they remembered the lesson and never repeated it. That’s our intent tonight, but for her ultimate pleasure and yours. As most of you know, we don’t often play this deeply in public, but when one who belongs to us needs the lesson, we don’t hesitate to do what needs to be done.”
You belong to one of them, but in a peripheral way, you belong to all of them.
Jon moved back to her front now, his firm touch moving over her tense fingers in the cuff. He loosened their curl so they lay flat on the wood again, then let his hand drift over her arm. She gazed up at him, suffering, communicating myriad things she didn’t know how to express, so maybe the gag was a good thing. She didn’t know if this was where she wanted to be anymore, though some part of her knew she did, that she couldn’t back away from this. He’d brought her to the starting line, and he was challenging her to have the courage to run toward something instead of away from it.
“I’m here,” he said, meeting her gaze. Touching her chin, stroking over her stretched lips, he tightened his grip on her jaw, underscoring his words. “I’m always going to be here.”
* * * * *
He shifted then, so blissfully all she could see right now was him, not the mirror or the others. “Rachel, did you ever have a male teacher when you were in school? One who attracted you in a particular way?” He spoke in that raised voice that carried through the crowd, but the way he kept his focus on her, it was all about the two of them.
An answer to his question sprang right into her mind. Mr. Montgomery. Mixed with his energetic and creative teaching style, there’d been a natural authority to him. It gave him control over every person in his class with little more than a direct look or a slight lift to his deep voice. He hadn’t been extraordinarily handsome, but had the look of a rugged, middle-aged Viking warrior, broad shouldered and strong.
She nodded. Jon’s lips twitched, though his gaze remained serious. “And did you ever imagine him punishing you for passing notes?”
That twitch at his mouth reminded her he could be more than one thing, elicit more than one emotion from her at the same time. So he’d remarkably intertwined a sliver of humor among her spiked emotions, cushioning her. It helped. She held his gaze, glad now he offered her that lifeline, and gave him a slight nod. It had been a quiet, shameful fantasy, one she hadn’t thought about for a long, long time. She’d remembered it on occasion in her marriage, realizing it was early evidence of those inexplicable needs that Cole had made her feel were appalling.
The humor died away, probably because he saw her emotional shift. He caressed her face, holding her attention. “Never again, Rachel,” he said, low. “I’m going to punish you, not for passing the notes but for being ashamed of wanting that fantasy.”
Ben now rose. He had two things in hand. One was a nylon flogger. The other was a switch.
“In the one-room schools of our past, they used hickory switches as a very effective way to maintain a student’s attention.” Jon addressed the crowd again, though his gaze held Ben’s an extra moment, a significant exchange that sent a capricious wave of panic through her, understanding what might be about to happen. Her Master settled his gaze back on her face, and that expression confirmed it even before he began to speak.
“My friend here knows more about the female bottom than any man I know, how every individual nerve ending can be stimulated to maximum response. He’s devoted a great deal of time and study to it.” He cocked his head, and his voice modulated, addressing her specifically, though the audience could still hear him. “I know you’ve already recognized exactly what type of Master he is, sweet girl, and you can probably well imagine him as your stern teacher, can’t you? He’s going to punish you, and like the other night, I’m not going to give you a number. He’s going to keep going until I tell him to stop. I’ll know when you’ve had enough.”
Her breath had speeded up, such that she was making small, helpless noises against the gag. It only fueled the fire in his eyes. “Give yourself to my desires. Believe that I know what it is you truly need and want. In time, you’ll be brave enough to tell me, and then we’ll go to even deeper levels. But tonight I’m going to prove how far down that path I can take you, merely from what I know of you now.”
Ben had disappeared, and she knew he was behind her. Jon stayed in front, laying a hand on either side of her throat, his thumbs teasing that sensitive pocket of her collar bone beneath the midnight blue strap. Then his gaze rose. “Begin.”
She hadn’t expected Ben’s hands first, so she jumped at that initial contact. He’d set aside the tools, because his large fingers slid fully over her buttocks, molding their shape and weight, the depth of the valley where they met her thighs, then slid back up the crevice between. Those fingers parted her cheeks wide, so wide she felt the stretch on her anal opening. She’d played in that area privately of course, and though she was tied here naked, she hadn’t realized the startling defenselessness of having one of her most private openings displayed to a crowd. Then, all that disappeared, because his fingers were tracing that rim. His knee pushed against the inside of hers as he knelt. A second later, his mouth was right upon that intimate area.
Holy Goddess… He didn’t waste time on preliminaries. He already knew she was well aroused, but of course there’d been no direct stimulation to that part of her. When the wet heat of his mouth touched that sensitive nerve circle, everything in her body arrowed toward that point of contact. The fingers holding her buttocks dug in, conveying how strong his hands were as he kneaded and pinched, sensitizing all of it in an unpredictable pattern of discomfort and fondling.
She strained forward against Jon’s hands as he saw every reaction, the way her lips strained around the gag, making her lips slick with her saliva. She was sure her expression was wild and uncertain, but she couldn’t look away from him, not now. It was as clear as a spoken command that he expected her to look at him, let him see all of it.
The rest of her life, past and future, dropped away. This moment was like finding herself at the gates of Heaven and Hell, not sure which way to go, but knowing the decision didn’t rest with her. That decision was out of her hands, and she could only surrender to judgment.
Ben’s hands and mouth at last drew away, but hellfire was quick to arrive. The first slap of that switch came so quickly on the heels of the stimulation, she wasn’t expecting it. Her body was still shuddering from the pleasure when she received the pain. Because she hadn’t tensed against it, fire sang unimpeded through her flesh. He’d cracked it square over both buttocks, at the most cushioned point, her response arrowing straight into her pussy. She made a plaintive scream against the gag, her lashes fluttering against eyes wet with stress and more. Jon’s hold shifted over the collar, reinforcing the reminder of it as he caressed her chin. His to protect, cherish. Punish.
A second strike, and she cried out. It really hurt. But then there was the flogger, layering over that. Her nerves were in chaos, still burning in pain, her body shaking and flinching. A firm, brief smack against her buttocks, the nylon cords wrapping around her hips, between her legs, was followed by a lick and sting of sensation as he hit her pussy square. Then back to the buttocks. Just as she was sinking into that feeling, the switch was back.
And so it went. Her nerves gave up anticipation, and abandoned her to full, jittering reaction, taking pain and pleasure the same way. Perspiration broke out on her face and body. Ben never paused, but once Jon took a towel from the attendant, stroking it over her brow, the place between nose and lip, the indentation of her chin. He leaned forward, nibbling on her lips around the gag, his breath caressing her skin. She screamed as the next strike with the hickory switch felt like it cut through skin. Her hands convulsed in the cuffs. Then Ben spread her buttocks, his mouth once again busy on her rim.
She screamed again at the sensation, until she was making a repetitive shrieking response in her throat, her tongue hampered by the phallic gag. Jon kept up that erotic play over her quivering lips with his own skillful mouth, touches of his tongue. She wasn’t climaxing, but it was like she was being overcome by sensation, and sound was the only way to release some of the enormous pressure building inside her. But that wasn’t enough for Jon. God help her…
Lucas and Peter rose from their seats now. Jon drew back, clearing the path to her. Since Peter and Lucas were both large men, if her brains weren’t so scrambled and she wasn’t clinging to Jon with her gaze, terrified he’d disappear, she might have appreciated the grace with which Lucas dropped to one knee between her legs, putting his hands on her hips. Peter stood to his left, bracing his hand over hers on the post as he leaned in, cupped one of her breasts and bent his head to take the nipple in his mouth, at the same moment that Lucas’ tongue found her clit and started to lick.
She was choking on her passion, so close to climax, yet the fiery pain of the hickory held it out of reach. That, and what Jon was holding in his hands now. It was a phallus, so thick that surely it was bigger than a woman was meant to take, even well-greased as it was by the attendant. Jon had another that seemed only slightly smaller, and he handed that to Lucas, who passed it without conversation between her legs. His forearm brushed against her calf, Ben bracing himself on the small of her back as he bent to take it.
Lucas slid his tongue around inside of her in a way that had her swiveling her hips with the motion, begging for a thrust that would emulate the fucking she needed so badly. She couldn’t take this. She couldn’t. And yet she had no choice.
When Lucas straightened, her body pleaded for him not to stop, that it was far too soon. He licked her off his lips, taking an additional taste, and she saw his gray eyes were fierce silver with appreciation. He glanced at Jon. “She’s dripping wet. She’s got a shameless, hot little cunt. She can take whatever you want her to take.”
Her husband had said crude things to her, in a terrible, hurtful way. But they seemed to know when to say things crudely, to drive her even crazier.
Peter took Lucas’ position to better stimulate her nipples with clever hands, his devil-blessed tongue. She mewled, her body twisting and writhing in the restraints. Her gaze clung to Jon’s face. If she could speak, maybe she’d protest, make her fear or trepidation known, but now her fate was his to determine. Peter’s hands settled on her thighs now, increasing the sense of being widened. She felt the brush of the dildo as Jon guided it down there. Ben’s tongue stabbed deep inside of her ass and she arched forward, right onto it. The broad head pushed between her labia.
“Relax for me, sweet girl,” Jon murmured. “You can take this. I know you can. Just relax…”
She was being split open. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t unbearable either. At that moment, Ben started to work the other one inside of her. He moved through the outer ring of muscles easily enough, and began to manipulate it through the second ring as Jon got the head of the large phallus through and started moving up her channel.
Now those short screams were long, strangled cries. Her ass was on fire, her pussy and anus being stretched so hard by the thick phalluses. All while her nipples were being suckled, squeezed and stimulated, to the point her attention was divided everywhere, no one thing able to take precedence over another.
When at last they had them as far as they were going to take them, an attendant stepped forward with a harness, and Jon strapped them in place. She thought she’d been trembling hard before, but now she was like a woman in the midst of a seizure, her body racked with convulsions.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Jon nodded to them. “I’ll take it from here. Rachel, meet each of their eyes directly and say thank you.”
It was harder than anything else, surprisingly enough, because she was stripped so raw. But she managed it with Peter first, mumbling the words incoherently against the gag. Her nipples were as stiff and aching with arousal as they’d ever been. She thought of Dana, being the beneficiary of that adept mouth whenever Peter wanted to torment and pleasure her both.
Then Lucas. He’d given her a taste of the cleverness of his mouth, but she believed without question that he could drive a woman to complete insanity with it—and she’d embrace it. Her pussy contracted, just from passing her gaze over those firm lips that would still have her scent on them.
They were both well aroused, two powerful men who reminded her of the holograph, each man waiting his turn with intent, hot gazes, but after she completed the etiquette, they nodded, acknowledging her, and moved back to the chairs. The hickory switch slid over her shoulder, curved around her throat, lifting her chin as Ben bent over her shoulder, pressing his body against her ass so that thick plug seated even more deeply.
“I didn’t hear my thank you, darlin’.”
She said it one more time, and when his hand descended, gripping her ass, she wondered at how it stimulated both the lingering pain and the pleasured nerve endings. It surprised her when his lips brushed her neck with far more gentleness. “Jon’s right,” he purred. “You’re a pure treasure. Unlike Jon, I’m going to hope you forget this lesson, so one day I have to help him repeat it. Harder.”
Jon exchanged an unfathomable look with his friend that she wasn’t sure was accord or warning. Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around anything that complex. Two plus two was far beyond her right now, though she was sure that the answer being four wasn’t a coincidence, given what had been happening for the past…however long it had been.
It wasn’t over yet. The section of the platform that held the pillars was marked by a circle on the carpet, but it wasn’t merely a design. It was a dais that could be rotated. As Jon moved to the control and flipped it, engaging the motor, alarm flooded her chest. Instead of a mirror reflection, with his shoulders mostly blocking the view, she was about to come face-to-face with the wall of strangers witnessing her punishment.