“What do you want, Marcie?”
“Whatever my Master desires.”
“What do you think he desires?”
She couldn’t help it, her lips curved, even as a few tears ran out from under the mask. “To fuck me. Please, Master.”
She listened to the polished dress shoes move behind her. His fingers touched her ass, worked the dildo so that she spasmed in near climax once more, crying out. Then it was pulled free.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Your cock, Master. In my ass. Please. If that’s what you want.”
“In a moment. We have a late arrival. Someone who takes the topping issue almost as seriously as I do.”
A late arrival? There was only one… She hadn’t expected him, not with Savannah pregnant, but then she felt his touch. Matt’s firm hand was as unique as the four others. She recalled his fingers tracing the shell of her ear as they now slid along her spine, up to her nape. As he moved around her, he must have gripped the rope, because her body swayed on the web.
“I expect Ben will have to stay on his toes, keeping you in line.” A statement of fact, not really a question, but the Master’s tone was so clear, rippling through her every nerve ending, she knew a response was needed.
“Yes sir.”
A masculine chuckle. “Lucky man. We’re all lucky in that regard.” She drew in a breath as Matt’s hand caressed her throat, then cupped her cheek in a firm hold. “You won’t push it to the lengths you’ve pushed it before this night though. Will you?”
She was incapable of lying, even to save her tender skin. “Unless my Master needs me to push it, sir.”
Five more from Ben, and as she shrieked through the impact, she pressed her face hard into Matt’s large hand, bit down to contain it all. The sound of her flesh being whipped just made it even more intense. Matt didn’t move away, letting her lock her jaw on the calloused mound of his palm. With the other hand, he held her head rigidly still, reinforcing the rope bindings on it, his fingers tangled in her hair. When Ben finished, she was gasping for air. A handkerchief touched her face, Matt taking away her tears.
“Do you love him, Marcie?”
“More than anything,” she sobbed. “Always. He’s my Master.”
Matt brushed his lips against her forehead, both cheeks. “Yes, he is. Make him deserve you, sweet girl. And love him like he deserves.”
A reminder of their talk, and a blessing from the patriarch at once. She pressed her lips into his palm once more, soothing where she’d bitten with a shy touch of her tongue. Another chuckle, and he gave her hair a reproving tug. “She’s a handful, Ben. She’s all yours.”
“Yes, she is.” There was a silence, in which she imagined Ben and Matt exchanging a look that, like everything tonight, made things right. Balanced. Then she heard Matt moving away.
Now it was just her and Ben. Alone.
Chapter Sixteen
At the blissful sound of his slacks being unbelted, opened, she was already pushing out toward him, her sphincter muscles contracting. He let out a soft oath, his fingers dipping in to caress that rim.
“You’re flaring, love. A beautiful red rosebud, begging for my cock.”
“Yes, Master.”
He was wearing a condom, a surprise, but it made him nice and slick. He stretched her as she made those animal noises, which became a long cry when he slid in fully, pressing his thighs and pelvis firmly against her abused buttocks.
“Whose are you, Marcie?”
“Yours, Master. All yours.”
“And if I want to fuck your ass all night?”
“That’s your right. I belong to you.”
“Make you suck my cock until your jaw cramps?”
“I belong…to you. Anything.”
“Then clutch me with those muscles like I taught you.”
She did, until she was struggling against exhaustion. But she reveled in every thrust, his grunts, the ropes rubbing against her flesh, the constriction around her breasts, her waist, her legs, everywhere she was bound. His pelvis pressing against her ass, making the welts from the switch burn, a reminder of his claim on her. The moist heat of his breath against her neck.
The others might still be watching, they might be gone, but for her there was only him right now. And then she was sure they were gone, because he loosened the blindfold, let it drop.
It was his loft apartment. Whereas the dungeon in the Garden District was full of luxurious pieces with satin polished wood and velvet, this one was a sparsely outfitted torture chamber, intended to be intimidating with its hard dark floors, blackened windows, single-bulb lights hanging from the ceiling. It was separated from the rest of the apartment by a thick curtain of overlapping thick plastic strips, like at a construction site.
“I’m glad I didn’t move everything to the Garden District. I like the idea of having this equipment close to work. Particularly if I need to take a particular K&A employee home for lunch and discipline her.”
“That employee might decide to work for Tennyson Industries. The pay’s better.”
He chuckled, a dangerous, thrilling sound, his breath on her neck. “Savannah can’t match our benefits. I promise you that.”
There was the sound of the condom being removed. When he came to stand before her, he’d left the slacks open, his erect cock pushing up and out of the fabric. He got up close and personal, so she was staring into those vivid eyes and his cock brushed against her belly through the opening of the ropes. He cupped her face, traced her cheekbone, caught strands of her hair. “My sweet slave,” he murmured.
Stepping back, he unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged it off, dropped the slacks and shoved off his briefs, got rid of all of it. It was the first time he’d given her that pleasure when she was conscious enough to appreciate it. He was beautiful, every bare, perfect inch. She saw some unexpected scars, high on his thigh,
