With her knees and ankles connected by the straight bars, and the cuffs holding open her thighs, her legs remained bent and spread, as if she were on her hands and knees, only she had her hands bound behind her back, her head slightly lower than her raised hips. She felt the table recede, and when she came to a stop, the heat of the spotlight told her she was about three feet above the table, allowing the men in the room to examine her from every angle, including the parts of her stretched by Jon’s wondrous torture device. It was demanding even now that she twitch her hips in futile attempt to establish a rhythm with the three alternating pumping, stroking and vibrating currents, all individually tailored to maximize response from the three erogenous zones. She couldn’t move much, but the little amount she could her body was using, making her feel the weight of her breasts quivering with her shameless, involuntary movements.
“Matt, I’m ready for my turn.” Peter’s voice came at her from the table level, suggesting he was sitting just to her right, just below her breasts. “I want to suckle those pretty tits and make her come just from that alone.
Jesus, she’s built. “ There was a hoarseness to his voice, the savagery of desire, and she felt it pushing on her from all sides, every man’s need in the room swamping her, mixing with her own arousal until she could think of nothing so exciting as being buried beneath them all, helpless beneath their hands, mouths…cocks. What would it be like to taste each of them, feel one or more of their cocks stretching her mouth, while the others shoved into her wherever they could find an opening?
Did she really have that thought? “All in good time. Lucas.” Matt’s voice filled her like the warmth of a promise. “Give her some visual stimulation.”
“With pleasure.”
She was turned on the track, rotating like displayed artwork. She was stopped when she faced Peter and Ben. Peter’s gaze devoured her breasts in a way that made them tremble and ache. Just beyond the two men the panels of the wall slid back as Lucas operated a switch, revealing a grid of twelve screens, which Matt and his team used to monitor different stock markets and news channels at once, as well as manage video conferences.
The dozen different images that flickered to life now were montages of her recent experiences in this room. She saw not only herself, but the men when she had not been able to see them. Lucas’s expression as he had run his palm down her back.
Peter, watching her strangled cries with rapture on his face. Jon, placing the devices within her most private areas with quiet capability, his lips firm with concentration.
Matt. His eyes intent, flamed with raw passion, presumably while Lucas went down on her. His quick, predatory strength as he tied her, then stood over her while she lay flat on the table. There was an expression on his face at that moment that she did not dare give a name, because it had no place in this room, she was sure.
Definitely not lodged in her heart like an arrow.
She wished she had the blindfold back, or that the straps holding her head were not so relentless, as she saw images of herself. From the back, her buttocks clenching as Lucas’s blond head worked his magic between her thighs, the pale line of them on either side of his face, the pink soles of her feet outside his shoulders. Then a shot after she had been fully restrained in the harness and was listening to the entry of the men. The press of her lips not just suggesting trepidation, but sensual excitement.
Jon doing his namaste to her, the easing of her jaw revealing her change in feelings at that moment.
Embarrassing close-ups when he placed the items against her pussy and anus.
But the worst was a clip from the beginning, when she was still mostly clothed. Matt’s first kiss, her body visibly softening into his as his hands wandered possessively down her body.
“Waiting five minutes like this, doing the low setting, is also a Tantric practice,” Jon said seriously, behind her again. Heat rose in her face, because now she knew exactly what he was looking at. Her attention was caught by Ben’s gaze, his eyes the color of green sea glass, multifaceted, jewel-like, a rich compliment to the sculptured jaw and firm, unsmiling lips.
Out of all of them, she knew the least about him, Matt’s legal pit bull.
Remembering what part of her body Jon had said was reserved for him, she flicked her gaze nervously back to the screens, not able to handle any greater level of anxiety at this moment. She focused on the comparatively soothing quality of Jon’s voice instead.
“Prolonged pleasure makes not only the climax but the spirituality of the moment even more intense.” His voice was as compelling as a priest’s. “When I turn it on full, Savannah, I suggest you fight it. Fight it with everything you’ve got. The best things in life are those you hold off from enjoying as long as possible.
“You’ll understand that best at the end of the night, when you finally stop fighting Matt. You’ll discover an intensity ten times greater than anything we do to you, because it’s something he has that none of us can offer you, no matter what pleasure we bring you tonight. Something that you won’t see until you accept that you’re more than worthy of it. And when you do, Matt will be the luckiest man in the room.
Here we go.”
She was turning now, the suspension straps moving along the circular track, taking her around the table.
It was a disorienting experience that managed to sway her body and increase the effect of Jon’s device within her. When she stopped, she faced the head of the table, her gaze locked with Matt’s. She knew he could see every expression of her countenance, tense with desire, her lips pressed hard around the ball gag, throat working against the forces that were going to overwhelm her in no time, take her back to that place where Lucas had taken her. Only, if Jon’s device worked, it was going to keep her there, in screaming, mindless pleasure, where everything was beyond her control. And Matt was going to see it all, every vulnerable moment.
She would fight, but not for the reason Jon suggested. Her body didn’t rule over her mind and, her father’s tenet be damned, she wouldn’t learn a lesson from failure because she wouldn’t fail. She wasn’t going to be made to do something just because someone wanted her to do it.
She realized she sounded a little desperate, even in her own head, and another rule came to mind. Never lose emotional control, even in your thoughts. Discipline is bone-deep, not just skin-deep. She had no idea what number it was, though she remembered thinking once it was somewhat redundant with Five, which she couldn’t remember at the moment, either.
The clit hood started pulsing harder, rippling strokes like the tide rolling up over a shore after a large vessel had passed, the tongue sensation electrical. The slight roughness of the linen and the fact there were no straps holding it firmly against the clit, the adhesive doing that work, meant it created even more friction as her hips rocked the very tiny amount her bonds allowed her. She tried to stop the movement, but then the other two areas were turned on at the higher setting Jon desired, and she was lost.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.It was everywhere, inside and outside, radiating from the top of her head to the end of her toes. In that moment, if she could have spoken, she would have said things that would have embarrassed her far more than having Matt see her face, which was unthinkably embarrassing in itself.
The electric current ran along the spokes of the wheel firmly pressed against the opening of her rectum, and that short rubber stem rotated very gently, sliding against the opening of the sphincter muscle, rocking the wheel like a spinning top, so it was stroking the rim of her in a way that made her strain against those straps.
And the phallus… Jon had it perform several seconds of simple vibration, his fingertips briefly touching her, verifying how wet she was before he set it in motion again. Slow short glides in and out of her, stroking her pussy lips, with a rotation movement that kissed that dense spot within again and again and again, the mere brush of an electrical tongue.
She fought. She gave it all she had, in total panic, shutting her eyes, unable to look at Matt, her breath rasping around the gag so harshly the saliva escaped, making the ball slick. She bit it hard, desperate to hold back.
She lasted seven seconds, and then the storm crashed down on her.
Against the gag, the scream that ripped from her throat reverberated back in her chest, choking her, accelerating the rate of her heart. Her body was shuddering, vibrating, convulsing, bucking impossibly against straps too snug to allow her room to buck. Whereas the climax Lucas had given her had given her the sense of falling backwards into the embrace of a bed piled high with pillows and quilted covers, this was like catapulting from an airplane, that terrifying feeling of falling, spinning out of control toward bone-breaking impact. She wanted to undulate against something, something solid, something that would rock back against her, ease this tearing need in her.
And it went on and on. There was no pinnacle. She kept thinking she had hit it, and then she’d launch straight across to another peak, the tiny wheel at her anus, the busily stroking dildo and enthusiastically vibrating clit piece alternating their rhythm and patterns as Jon had said they would, giving her no relief, only merciless pleasure for the enjoyment of the men watching, all at the command of one man.
Look at me, Savannah.
Did he say it? Whisper it in her mind? She opened her eyes and met Matt’s dark gaze, raging with the fires of heaven and hell, with everything she could want from both and in between. Jon was right. At this moment, she had no rational thought.
She utterly and totally wanted Matt’s Mastery. She wanted to be his. And if she could speak, she would have begged for it.
Tears slid down her face, her nose running from the excruciating pleasure of the multiple climaxes.
When they finally began to lessen in intensity, she thought her stomach and buttocks would forever be in a state of clenched response, all muscles tight as stretched rubber bands from the onslaught of the orgasms.
However, as the sensations drifted away, leaving her shuddering and sniffing helplessly, everything went limp with exhaustion. The place between her legs still pulsed, almost quivering with exertion.