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A groan wrenched from his chest, unsteady and broken, as her pace picked up. The rapid slaps of her groin against his ass was music to his ears, a rhythm matching the sensation of having his world turned upside down. The dildo inside him became an entity of its own, infuriating his prostrate with every nudge, then forging hard into tender tissues.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a blurry sea of faces. Just wavering blobs in an ocean of yet more of the same. He couldn't read expressions, couldn't tell whether they observed the scene with lust, disgust, or pity, but it wasn't their scene to judge. He dismissed them without a second thought, concentrating on the rush of pleasure flooding his system. The pain in his cock was reaching the point of unbearable, the need to come unstoppable.
Connie hammered into his ass, her own whimpers of excitement becoming more frequent, morphing into cries of delight. The bite of her fingers was inconsequential, the bump and grind of her strap-on nothing but a catalyst to the finale. He jerked forward when she rammed into him viciously, holding still as her arms wrapped around him like steel cables, her hand reaching down to loosen the restraint around his balls, then fisting him, tugging the thick shaft once, twice…
That was all it took. Before her fingers finished squeezing him, the orgasm ripped up through his spine. It took no prisoners as it surged through his balls, battling the constriction of the cock ring, then used the pressure to force copious amounts of cum spurting onto the floor.
Thane roared, his spine snapping straight. The metal frame shook as his arms fought the ropes tying him in place. His cock felt like a burst waterpipe, spewing stream after stream of ejaculate in what seemed like a never-ending orgasm. The lucid part of his brain not drowning in endorphins was frantic to break free, turn around, and fuck Connie into the floorboards, pumping her full of every last drop of wasted cum.
The rest of him, well…the rest of him was helpless, enslaved by his Mistress and the release she gave him.
His legs crapped out on him a few seconds before his brain. He felt his weight hanging off his arms, heard Connie cursing and shouting for someone to grab him. As his head fell forward, lolling limply as he surfed along in absolute bliss, someone grabbed him around the waist and hoisted him up, releasing the pressure off his shoulders.
“Jesus Christ, Connie, what did you do to the poor guy?” Atticus demanded gruffly, tilting Thane's head back to study his eyes. “He looks like you shot him up with cocaine, for fuck's sake.”
Thane grinned stupidly.
“Just shut up and hold him steady while I cut the ropes.”
His eyes rolled back in his head.
*
“Congratulations, Con. You fucked your sub unconscious.”
Connie glared at Atticus as she used the knife she'd set on the table to slash the blue ropes free from Thane's arms, the ones tying his ankle cuffs to the rig. As the Master bore her lover's weight, she checked for signs of corrupted circulation and found none. She hadn't tied them tight enough to restrict blood flow, but with the way Thane had thrashed through his orgasm, she'd been worried they'd strangle his limbs. But his skin was healthy and pink, marred only by the pattern of the rope imprinted on his flesh. “Are you okay keeping hold of him for a minute?”
Amused green eyes glinted at her. Oh, the big oaf was fucking loving this. “Do what you have to. I've got him.”
Stunned by her own climax, she took a few seconds to get her head back into working order, then wrestled the harness off her hips, wincing as the small dildo slipped from her pussy. She grabbed a large Ziploc bag from the canvas tote she used for her toys, stashed the harness and toys inside, and zipped it up for cleaning later. Trying to work as fast as she could, she tidied the scene up and dressed, gathering Thane's clothes into a pile.
“Connie, sweetie, leave your stuff. Just grab a blanket and we'll take loverboy next door so you can coddle him, okay? Calm down,” Atticus advised gently when she didn't know what to do with her hands. “It's nothing to be flustered over. I have subs pass out on me all the time. It's disconcerting to be on the other side, right?”
Damn straight it was. Never in all her years of topping subs had she caused one to lose consciousness. It made her anxious, undermining her control as a Domme. Questions ran through her mind like rats scattering in the face of imminent danger. Was he hurt? Had she caused irrevocable damage somehow? Jesus, had he been in overwhelming pain? Had he yanked his shoulder when he dropped, twisted his hip?
“Come on, get the blanket. I'll find a couple of recalcitrant subs to fetch your bag and Thane's clothes, then finish cleaning up.” Carefully, Atticus swung Thane easily into his arms, tilting the limp form toward his chest to give him some semblance of modesty.
Snapping out of her funk, Connie yanked her special sub blanket from her bag and shook it out. Before she covered Thane with it, she quickly extracted his cock from the rubber rings around the base of his shaft and his balls. With sure movements, she spread the material in her hands over him from chest to thighs, tucking it down between his body and Atticus's chest. “Sorry, it just threw me for a loop. I wouldn't have restrained him to this if I thought he'd go down like a ton of bricks.”
“I doubt he was expecting to, either, if that's any consolation.” Atticus started walking, pushing through the lingering crowd, and heading straight for the walkway. “That was a different scene to anything I've seen you do before. Usually you like to torture your subs before the grand finish.”
Connie pushed her tired body to keep up with Att's long strides. She felt like someone had shoved her through the wringer a few times on top of riding the astonishing wave of release still vibrating in her core. “He hasn't played for a while. I didn't want to toss him in at the deep end and keep pushing his head underwater with a long stick.”
Her friend laughed, grinning at her. “I think you dropped him in at the deep end with a pair of concrete shoes, sweetheart. The look on his face when he came was like he'd seen the light and God was calling him home.” They stepped into the social area, and Atticus jerked his head at Liam before beelining for the seating pit. “Sit yourself down, Con, and relax. You're not in much better shape than he is.”
“Thanks for that,” she muttered balefully, but eased herself into her usual spot with a grateful sigh. Cradling her arms, she supported Thane's head and neck as Atticus settled him along the bench seat, taking great care to keep the blanket over him. “On a less sarcastic note, thank you, Atticus. I'd have been stuck if you hadn't come to the rescue.”
“My pleasure, as always, but there were a couple of Doms already heading for you. You wouldn't have been stuck.” He retreated to his own seat, sitting like a king. “This thing between you is getting serious, Connie. More than I expected when I asked him to step in for me as your Dom. He's making you happy?”
She stroked her fingers through Thane's hair, smiling as she noted the peace on his face. “Don't worry, Att, you didn't set me up to be heartbroken. He makes me happy, he exasperates me, and he gives me a reason to laugh. We love each other, and I know he sees a future for us. It's nice to be in a relationship with someone who's so damn sure he knows what he wants, instead of a guy who hedges about what he thinks he'd like to happen.”
“That's reassuring.” Atticus arched a brow at her when she narrowed her eyes at him. “What? I like the guy, I approve of him. I was uncomfortable with the idea I might have to beat his brains into mulch,” he admitted. “It would've pained me to make him bleed, but I would have—still will, if he does a single thing to hurt you.”
“You're not shocked I'm in love after three weeks of knowing him?”
Atticus pulled a Seriously?face, then wafted her question away with a wave of his hand. “I watched Braun lose his shit over Boadicea in record time. Jasper fell for Anarchy the moment he laid eyes on her, even if he was a dumb fuck and kept her at arm's length for damn near a year. Both of them serve as an example, Connie. Fate throws our hearts at the ones we're meant to be with, and it's up to us what we do with the time we're given. Braun almost lost Bodie, Anarchy almost lost herself and Jasper. Don't base your relationship on three weeks of normal time constructs. A relationship isn't the measure of days and weeks, it's the sum of your interactions. You can't calculate how much trust one scene adds to the dynamic and compare it to so many days.”
“So I shouldn't be freaking out?”
