“Yes, Obi-wan. You afraid she’ll eat more candy than is good for her? Isn’t that Dana’s problem?” Ben grinned and winked at Lucas behind Peter’s broad shoulders.
Lucas snorted. “Dana was already well immersed in the club scene when Peter met her. She has an endless capacity for sweets.”
“That’s for damn sure.” Ben tossed Peter a smirk and Peter shoved at his stool with a booted foot. Neatly surging to his feet, the lawyer caught the stool, keeping his whiskey steady in the other hand. “Easy there. Just making sure the almost-married bear still knows how to growl.”
“He’ll be happy to put his big furry foot up your ass. With claws extended.”
“Don’t tempt me with foreplay, soldier boy.”
“Hmm.” As unofficial point man tonight, and used to their byplay, Lucas brought his attention back to Jon, watching how the man gauged her reaction to each display. The CFO lifted his brow when he let Rachel drift back to one, like letting a compass choose north.
“Look sharp, gentlemen. Surreal’s going to get a rare public performance from us tonight. Jon’s made his choice.”
Chapter Fifteen
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 *, 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 *. 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 *. 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 * 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.