“We all know Ben’s going to cheat, so he’ll win every hand.”
“Even so. Rules are rules, gentlemen,” Matt spoke. “Else we’ll wear our lovely subs out before the night even gets started.”
“Good things happen when you wear a sub out,” Ben said. “Especially the kind these two gorgeous ladies are. The mind goes away and it’s all about whatever you need from them. They’ll keep trying, even when they don’t have the energy to stand. It’s a thing of fucking beauty.”
“Even so,” Matt repeated. “Let’s stick to the program. For now.”
She wasn’t sure what rules or program were governing them, but her energy was concentrated on doing her best not to move, not to rub herself against Dana’s thigh and bring herself to climax. By the time Peter sighed and commanded Dana to stop, Rachel was quivering with the effort.
“Finish my instructions,” Jon ordered.
It took her a moment to recall what they were, which shot panic through her chest, a reaction that gave the arousal possessing her another charge. Fortunately, she recalled the instructions in time before she had to ask him to repeat them, something sure to earn punishment.
She latched the clip on the cuffs around Dana’s wrists to the back of the collar, which would keep her arms in that lifted, crossed-behind-her-head position. Then she sat back on her heels and adjusted so their knees were back where they’d been ordered to be. Dana let out a little shuddering sigh that Rachel was sure she mirrored, but then she focused on the last part of the instructions. Kissing Dana until Jon told her to stop.
She’d spent so much wasted time in her life just trying to get through each day. Wake in the morning, get dressed, go through the motions of being a functioning, pleasant person, no matter how dead and heartbroken she’d felt inside. There’d been many flickers of light in that darkness, yes. Her yoga studio, her patients, like Dana. A breathtaking sunset, or the brilliant red of her poppies growing thick and full on her apartment balcony. Many of those things she’d appreciated in hindsight, too numb to recognize at the time they were helping hands, pulling her forward.
Since being with and marrying Jon, she’d been learning to appreciate things in the moment, slow it down, take the time to experience every amazing feeling and thought as they were happening. It wasn’t only Jon who had helped her with that lesson. She’d noticed that about all the men, especially when it came to this. They wouldn’t rush a second, because they wanted her to do everything she wanted to do, within the parameters of Jon’s instruction. Which meant they’d want her to savor the new experience of touching another woman like this.
She ran her hands fully over Dana’s face, her short-cropped hair, her ears and slender throat. Rachel had been her physical therapist, helping her fight through the grueling exercises to regain her mobility. Drying frustrated tears, rubbing her back and murmuring encouragement as Dana fought the unspeakable pain and sometimes despaired of ever feeling like the woman she’d once been.
Now, having emerged from the hell of physical rehabilitation, Dana kept in fighting shape, thanks to workouts with Peter, so Rachel knew all those slim muscles were as resilient as steel cable. And the personality beneath was just as unbreakable.
But she was also all soft, enticing girl, like a porcelain doll. Jon was right. Though she identified predominately hetero, Rachel did have some serious girl-girl fantasies. But just like her feeling about being shared with other Masters, that interest had a defined group. Jon would never share her outside the K&A circle, and she had less than zero interest in him doing so. Her female fantasies had also always centered around the K&A women, ever since she’d given herself free rein to expand upon them.
Particularly Dana. Perhaps because Dana had flirted with her in an aggressively physical way when Rachel was still in the early stages of her relationship with Jon, and those memories had become the foundation upon which she’d built. But regardless, here she was.
She’d been ordered to kiss Dana, and so she did. She started with her brow, her cheekbones, her jaw over the pulse in her throat. Then she made her way to her mouth.
Dana met Rachel’s kiss with fervor. This was the first time Rachel had experienced the energy pouring off Dana close up when they were both deeply aroused. Pleasure surged to greater heights when she put her mouth on Dana and Dana tried to almost devour her, seeking fulfillment in some mindless, crazy way. Needing touch and connection.
Rachel easily got lost in it, cupping Dana’s skull, fingertips pressing into that short, springy cap of hair. She slid them along a neck that seemed far too delicate to belong to the stiff-necked, courageous Army sergeant who’d gotten in a firefight and taken a nearly fatal hit from an IED. But it did, and that mix of strength and fragility, feminine beauty and a core of steel, hit Rachel with longing and revelation.
She loved her. She loved Dana, the other women, and their Masters. She loved all of them, and Jon most of all. It was as if they were all connected in some inexplicable way, her and Jon’s love bonded to the love of all the others, so they were all for one and one for all, as the song and story went.
She kissed Dana and kept kissing her, swimming in the endless pleasure of it. Women liked to kiss, and often men didn’t indulge it long enough. Not these men, praise Goddess, but the chance to simply kiss a pair of full, moist lips as long and in as many ways as she desired was a rare treat.
Dana pressed her body against her, the restraints notwithstanding, and Rachel pressed back, assuming the no touch below the neck rule meant with her hands. She caressed Dana’s face, her throat, holding her still, stroking her as she kissed her. As their tongues tangled together, stroked, sounds of hot need were coming from them both. The pressure of desire built between her thighs from nothing more than a kiss.
Jon had done that to her more than once, kissed her until she reached an open-air climax, her body jerking on the bed as he teased her mouth with his, commanded her to come in a murmur.
But this time, the pressure of their knees, shifting slightly from their unavoidable movements, was becoming a dangerous friction, especially with the additional stimulation of the clit piece. The plug also contributed, responding to the pressure of her heels against her backside. Her nipples in the grip of the clamps were hard as they’d ever been, aching, a feeling compounded as she recalled Dana’s mouth there.
Rachel made another noise against Dana’s lips, answered by a similar needy cry. Her fingers dug into the side of Dana’s throat, hooking in her collar. Their nipples brushed, the chains between the clamps making a little metallic clicking noise.