It resonated inside her, squeezed her heart hard. Seeing that made Rachel see other little things. The way Savannah held her jaw, how her fingers were over Matt’s on the bar, a little tense and unsettled, as if she’d recognized herself in Rachel as well. Matt was giving all three women his protection, but the way he curved into the side of her body in particular showed he was in sync with her needs and moods. The way a Master would be.
Jon slid his hands over Rachel’s shoulders, up to the back of her neck. As he folded his body over her, blanketing her, the gag loosened. Shaken by what that brief bond with the women had given her, she turned her face into his neck, breathing in his scent, burrowing as much as she could, wanting to be subsumed in the stillness of his very soul. He gave her a blissful second, his head pressed down over hers.
“I love you,” he said softly, and slid the gag from her mouth, caressing her lips with a cloth to dry the saliva that came with it. “I want them to hear you come, every word you say, every plea you make. Don’t hold back. Your Master wants to hear you.”
Now he straightened, his hands moving down her back, and she groaned as he worked the larger dildo out of her p-ssy, though he left the one in her ass. He massaged her labia, teased her cunt until she was making those cries again. The crowd was a heaving sea of shifting bodies, flashing eyes, bared teeth. She careened upon the waves of pure lust. It was stoked by the more intimate and personal scene that unfolded before her at the bar. Not having the mirror where she could watch Jon, as she wanted so desperately to do, she kept her gaze there.
Peter had left the platform to join Dana. As he stepped onto that end of the mezzanine, he slid an arm around his petite submissive, lifting her full off the stool to kiss her with erotic demand that made Rachel gasp, her own body hungering for such intimate contact. As he lowered her back to the seat, still kissing her, he slid his hand between the legs that Dana parted immediately. He rubbed her beneath the latex mini-skirt she wore as she clutched his biceps. Rachel noticed she kept hold of Cass’ hand, their fingers tangled and stroking one another unconsciously, caught up in the same wave as Rachel.
Sliding Savannah’s hair to the side, Matt bent to touch his mouth to the delicate flesh under her ear. Her long nails cut into his palm as he slipped one of the buttons of that silky blouse. As Rachel watched, panting, he reached in to cup her breast, lifted it free of a lacy bra and stroked a thumb over a prominent nipple, obvious through the sheer fabric. Savannah’s head dropped back against his broad shoulder, her face turning away to give him better access.
But even through that, the women’s attention came back to Rachel. Though Matt and Peter weren’t looking toward her at the moment, she felt a link to them as well. It was her and Jon and them. The mass of humanity drove her arousal even higher from their presence, but what gathered it all together was this intimate circle, the fact they’d pulled her into the center of it. And what would shatter her, take her completely over, was the man behind her now.
Jon put his hands on her hips again, and she cried out, sheer ecstasy, emotional and physical, as his heated, bare cock pushed into her. She wished she could see it, the graceful movement of his body as he opened his slacks and levered the thick organ to her opening. Stretched and abused, she nevertheless welcomed him with tight, slick muscles, holding him as he drove in deep, joining with her there in front of all those eyes.
She was so hot and overcome by all of it, the climax thundered toward her like an unexpected flash flood when he’d done three, blissfully slow strokes. “Master…” She gasped it out on instinct. They’d never talked about rules, she realized. They just knew, she just knew, what she needed…wanted.
“May I… Please let me come!”
He held his silence, pushing in, dragging out, thrusting, working her faster, then slow, and she became desperate, crying out for the permission. “Please…please…Master.” The heat was sweeping over her, p-ssy spasming, and in another second she’d be in breach of the obedience her Master should demand from her, never to release without his permission. “Help…can’t…”
“Now, Rachel. Come for your Master. For me alone.”
That sense of disorientation, of being lost on a turbulent tide of sensation and the collective desires of those around her took over, swept her up and over, and she was at the hub of it, held by Jon’s sure, steady grip. As she was pulled away into sensation, her last coherent thought was that the pillory, the environment, the men, even the presence of the other K&A women, was an ultimate organic device engineered by him, a Master whose will she was helpless to resist. She was lost in a rushing river, dependent on him to guide that narrow boat through the roaring waters.
She was screaming again, this time shrieking like a banshee, lost to all of it, her ass squeezing down on the plug as she lifted to meet his every thrusting stroke, as he began to slam hard into her, mixing the pain that lingered with a pleasure that wouldn’t be denied. His hands captured her breasts and squeezed the nipples, and that additional sensation rocketed her higher. She was straining back and forth against her restraints, feeling everywhere his remarkably fully clothed body was touching her, wanting to serve him, devour him, hold him…
It was too much. Something broke inside of her, that concrete dam that had suppressed her emotions, pain and loss, disappointment…crushing loneliness. It rushed over her, driven over the wall by the unstoppable force of that climax and all that it meant, all that she could no longer deny. There would be no rebuilding that wall, no matter what happened. She was naked, shivering and vulnerable, protected from whatever came howling toward her by one man. One Master’s love.
That sense of timelessness again, such that on the downward slide, she found herself blinking hazily, as if she’d come out of a long journey into a fantastical place, and reality was hard to comprehend. But on the downward slide of that incredible climax, she met Savannah’s gaze. There she once again saw understanding. Comprehension of the panic and ecstasy, all wound together, a restraint even more frightening than physical bonds. Rachel grayed out some then, because the rush of blood, the quivering of nerves and limbs, overcame her. But when she phased forward in that hazy dream state, those three beautiful women had risen from their places at the bar.
With Cass guiding Dana, they were winding their way around the edge of the crowd until they reached the platform. There, Lucas and Ben gave them a hand up, Peter and Matt bringing up the rear. As they did, Jon touched kisses all along the curve of her spine. Some of her hair had come down in the front during her thrashing like a feral creature. It wisped along her cheeks, over her eyes. He’d caressed it to the side when he kissed her neck. But now he was withdrawing, his hands lingering on her hips, giving her a squeeze before his touch disappeared. For a harrowing moment, she was alone with the crowd, no familiar faces before her or in her peripheral vision.
Then female hands stroked the hair, finger-combed it out of her face, helped to re-secure it with the pins and sticks she’d used. Rachel saw it was Cass, her generous bosom smelling like a jasmine fragrance as she leaned over Rachel. Dana had a soft cloth, and wiped her face, the tears and remaining saliva. Pressing her lips to Rachel’s temple, she moved behind her, following the line of her spine and hip with her slim fingers until she located the base of the anal plug and eased it out. A third hand, Savannah’s, Rachel assumed, pressed on her lower back, a reassurance as it was removed.