“Argh.” She arched up as much as possible, which wasn’t much. It made the sensation all the more excruciatingly intense. Some type of electrical wand, sparking shock along that bar.
“Good response,” Peter murmured. “Very nice. Give me the other one, Jon.” Then he did it again, a different sensation.
Lucas tugged her clit ring in his teeth. She was going to come, she was going to… “Master…I need to come…going to come.” She sounded like she had a mouth full of marbles, or in this case, tubing, but Ben understood.
“Not yet.” His tone was sharp, stern. “You don’t have my permission to do that. You’re here to serve the Masters’ pleasure, not your own.”
She bit back a groan, but bore down, trying her best to hold out against the diabolical workings of that tongue. When she was younger, Marcie had wondered about the jagged rips in her sister’s pillowcases, and why she’d had to replace them so often. Her sister had likely gnawed holes in them so the rest of the house wouldn’t hear her screaming.
“You belong to me, Marcie.” Ben’s voice. “When it suits me, you belong to them. But to no one else. No other Master touches you, ever again.”
She jolted from another mild shock through the nipple bar, the sensation arrowing down to where Lucas’ mouth was working her. Then Peter’s mouth got into the act, covering one of the nipples, licking above and under that bar.
Another shriek reverberated in her ears. She couldn’t not come. She had to come. Had to…
“Sorry…can’t…Master…help…”
It swept over her so hard, there was no stopping it. She wailed, cried out, pleaded for all sorts of unlikely things. Lucas kept working her with his mouth, Peter and Jon a mixture of mouth, fingers and tiny touches of electric stimulus. Ben hadn’t touched her nearly enough.
It was indescribable, coming under that level of restriction and restraint, so hard, deep, dirty, so intense it was almost uncomfortable, because she had no ability to move herself against Lucas’ mouth or Peter’s touch. When they finally withdrew, she was making tiny jerks as if Peter was hitting her with far harder voltage.
She needed to see Ben. Needed Ben period, and then she heard his voice again.
“Put her on the web.”
When the vacuum noise stopped, the touch of the latex began to ease. She still had that blindfold though. The hollow gag was pulled from her mouth. Her breasts and cunt tingled from the return of blood flow to those areas.
When she was freed from the cocoon, her legs had no ability to hold her, but she needn’t have worried. She was swung up in Ben’s arms. He was wearing his suit, his tailored shirt and silk tie pressing against her skin, his slacks and belt against her bare hip. Were they all dressed for the office, and her here, naked, stripped down to nothing but sticky arousal, mussed hair? It perversely turned her on even more.
He put her on her knees. “Jon’s making a change to the web, so you have a minute. Get busy. And don’t you let that dildo come out of your pretty ass. Keep those muscles tight, like it’s my cock.” She heard the sound of his slacks being opened and made a noise of eager hunger. She would have surged forward on her knees, but he clamped his hand down on her hair to hold her steady as he fed her his cock, thick and enormous, pre-cum oozing from the slit, telling her how her helplessness had affected him. He thrust in hard, ruthless, working her mouth the way he’d pound into her pussy when he wanted to sate his lust.
She loved it, sucked on him as hard as she could, working him in her mouth, taking him deep, loving how he stretched her lips, the tears of stress that came to her eyes as she tried her best to take all of him. Rough and hard was the way she wanted it. When she gripped him, he didn’t stop her, so she made the most of the opportunity, working that thin layer of heated skin up and down his shaft, giving him that friction, tightening her fingers around his ridged head, using the lubrication from the slit to give him further pleasure.
Too soon, though, he pulled back. Peter’s hands on her again, removing the nipple bar, then Ben lifted her beneath the arms effortlessly. She was placed face forward against a suspended rope net, like the rigging of a pirate ship. Her arms were threaded through two separate openings, wrists bound to the line above it. Her knees were guided into another pair of openings, so her weight wasn’t pulling against her shoulders. More rope passed around her waist, then knotted at her sternum before the two ends were guided between her breasts and to her shoulders to form a Y-shape. Two sets of hands were working on her. Because of those three weeks of casual caresses, she realized she could tell who was who. Apparently both Peter and Jon knew the art of Japanese bondage. She was being trussed to that web, as well as having her upper body harnessed inside a complicated weaving of knots. Helpless, total restraint.
She made a quiet noise as her breasts were lifted in capable hands and worked through two openings in the web, reinforced by further weavings by Peter and Jon. In the end, her breasts were squeezed, constricted, the nipples becoming even more sensitive to the open air. They’d be jutting out, displayed and framed by the ropes, and with her bound this way, the men could do anything they liked to them. Peter replaced the nipple bar, which essentially locked her on the web with steel as well as rope. The lines that were taken over her shoulders had been reattached to the waist rope, leaving her pussy and ass unencumbered except for the wraps of
