“Good girl. Now, walk over to Peter. He’ll give you her hand, and, from there forward until we say otherwise, you’re in charge of her.”
She moved in Peter’s direction. As she walked, she was conscious of the strap-on that had been bound against her, the pull of the straps over her hips and thighs as the phallus gently bobbed with her movements. It gave her a peculiar feeling, looking down at it just above the crevice between her legs. It rubbed against her clit in a distracting way.
When she reached Peter, she saw he’d removed Dana’s nipple jewelry as well, so she assumed he’d also taken out the plug. Lifting his hands from Dana, he laid them on the arms, clearing the field as Rachel reached forward tentatively and closed her hand on Dana’s. “Come with me onto the table,” she said, her voice soft.
Dana complied, rising from Peter’s lap with his help, her hands reaching for Rachel to hold onto her as she shifted and scooted onto the table. She stayed there, lifting a hand to seek and then find a strand of Rachel’s hair, twining it around her fingers playfully. “Where do you want me?”
“Matt’s end of the table,” Jon provided the answer to Rachel. “I’ll take you from a standing position. Peter will figure out how to get Dana on top of him.” He flashed a grin in Peter’s direction as Peter’s lips twisted with wicked confidence.
“I think I can manage that. My bad girl is easy to lift.”
Rachel was figuring out the logistics of how to get Dana to the other end when Peter produced a tether. “Attach it to her collar and walk her around on hands and knees,” he instructed. “Take the long way. I want to watch.”
Rachel took the leash in nerveless fingers and hooked it to Dana’s collar, the woman lifting her chin to make it easier. Rachel stroked her fingers through the waterfall of chains, whispered over the St. Christopher’s medal, and felt the weight of her own collar on her own throat.
Steadied by that, she put a hand on Dana’s side to guide her as they followed the perimeter of the table. The men rolled back their chairs to make it easy for her to do the full circle, moving away from Matt and circling the table to come back around to him.
Rachel noted a certain tension to Peter’s body, a focused attention in his gaze. She realized he didn’t necessarily feel comfortable trusting another to walk Dana along the table’s edge like that, so Rachel took extra care, putting pressure on Dana’s side to keep her at the same distance from it. She was pleased to see Peter relax when she was about halfway there, having proven her diligence.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her,” Rachel said impulsively, and the lines around Peter’s eyes creased with a smile.
“I know you won’t.”
“Hard as my head is, a tumble would do me no harm,” Dana said, though her voice was soft with affection for her Master’s protectiveness. “Especially on this soft carpet.”
“But if it did, more physical therapy,” Rachel reminded her, stroking her free hand along her shifting shoulder blades.
Dana made a sound of mock horror. “Ben can’t devise tortures as bad as that.”
“Really?” Ben said. “Maybe I’ll come mentor with Rachel.”
She smiled at their teasing, her nervousness about the challenge ahead lessening. Somewhat. As they reached Matt’s end of the table, he’d moved back like the others, a three or four-foot buffer that allowed her to position Dana where she wanted her, where Rachel was at the end of the table but Dana was facing toward the center.
“I need you to go to your elbows,” Rachel said. Then she thought about how Dana had taken over, and what Jon said, about her being in charge of Dana. Good girl teaching a bad girl a lesson. Dana would enjoy that. Would enjoy Rachel taking control.
Clearing her throat, she said it more brusquely. “On your elbows.”
Dana’s head cocked, and she complied, which lifted her backside up higher. Tight and round, with the shadowed folds of her sex visible through the almond-shaped opening between her thighs. Rachel remembered the last time she’d been in that position herself. Jon had wrapped a clinging plastic wrap around her thighs, making her pussy an even tighter fit as he worked his way into it. She’d orgasmed around him so intensely she’d almost blacked out.
She could do that to Dana if she had something to bind her with. It wasn’t the impulse of a Dom, she realized, but the impulse of a service sub, conscious of the regard of five Doms, and possessing an innate knowledge of what would please them. What would give Dana even more pleasure. Suddenly, Jon’s words made sense to her, giving her purpose and direction.
“I need something to bind her legs,” she said. She pivoted and bowed her head, lowering her gaze while her attention was obviously directed toward Matt, closest to her. “May I borrow your belt, sir?”
If he’d been wearing his usual suit, she would have asked for his tie, and gotten an erotic thrill from watching his long fingers loosen the knot, strip it from his neck. She didn’t think her other option was a bad choice though, because as he rose, unbuckled and stripped it from his waist, she had to wet a suddenly dry throat. Particularly when he doubled it and moved forward to give it to her, raising a hand to keep her in place. He didn’t want her to leave Dana unattended at the table, even the quick single step it would have required to close the distance between them.
As Matt laid the belt in her open palm, he touched her cheek. Though her eyes remained lowered, she could feel her flesh warm under that contact. “You’re a blessing to your Master,” he said quietly. “To all of us.”
They knew, they all did, her weaknesses and her strengths. That the well of her soul, empty for so long and yet so much fuller now, still welcomed such approbation like water in the desert, a reinforcement of her worth, to herself and them.
“Thank you, sir.” She meant it, enough she choked up a little. Fortunately, he moved back to his chair, so she could turn back to her assigned task before her emotions overtook her. His hand whispered along her lower back, a parting reassurance.
She wrapped the belt around Dana’s legs above her knees and tightened it. She saw Dana twitch, her lips part, and knew the restraint had caught her attention, as it would have Rachel. Everything started to narrow when things were strapped down, restrained, immobilized.
Rachel looked toward her Master. “May I wear the shoes again, sir?”
“You surely may.” Once again, Jon bade her stay there as he brought them to her. He even knelt and put them on her feet. He buckled the straps himself. It gave her that same narrowing down feeling, which was her intention. Jon ran his hands over her calf, to the back of her knee and then over her backside, fingers dipping in to tease her rim and make her sway against his touch before he pulled back. “Better?”
“Yes, sir.” She bit her lip as he rose, curled his fingers under her collar and pulled her to him to taste her mouth. Her fingers tightened on Dana’s tether she’d wrapped around her hand again.