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Brendan's eyes watered with the effort to keep them open. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth where he'd apparently bitten down on his tongue to keep from screaming. When his breath came like a rasping bellows, Marguerite nodded to Jeremy, assuring him that the young man was fine, that his response was normal. She handed him the iron and went back to the head of the bench.
Stroking Brendan's sweaty hair off his brow, her hand descended and covered his mouth and nose, cutting off his air and causing a surprised exclamation from the audience.
His body jerked in shock but Marguerite kept her face close, her voice a whisper that nevertheless carried well over the speakers.
"Take the pain into yourself, Brendan. Make it one with everything you are. Breathe in and out of your soul. If you want my brand there, you have to let it reach deep down into you, past the flesh. Burn the deepest part of who you are. " As she spoke the words, Brendan's eyes started to roll, the precursor to a faint.
Marguerite took her hand away, a smooth move without hurry. She spoke in the imperious voice of a Mistress. "Your deepest breath, Brendan. Now. " His chest expanded. He gasped, his eyes blinking, focusing again. Tyler noted without amusement that there was a rush of air as the audience around him and on the main floor below drew in almost at the same moment Brendan did, not realizing until then that they were holding a collective breath.
Miraculously he did look more tranquil, even as his body continued to make convulsive jerks from the pain and the near-orgasmic state of his body.
"Mistress," he said,
just gazing into her face. "Mistress. " She brushed her knuckles against his cheek, rose. Stopped and let him press his lips with passionate adoration to her thigh, just above the knee, continuing his quiet chant.
Not her name but the one word that represented all she was to him at that moment.
Marguerite turned, bringing her other leg to the opposite side of the low bench so she was straddling his head, facing toward his buttocks. Sinuously she laid her body down along the length of his, her elbows on either side of his hips. Taking hold of the plug, she seated it more deeply, beginning slow thrusts in and out which inspired his buttocks to clench, his hips to rise to meet her, the little amount of movement that his bonds permitted. Tyler could see Brendan's eyes, his brow and the bridge of his nose as he continued to work kisses along the inside of her thigh, covered with the thin white barrier. In her position, her pussy was pressed against the back of his neck out of the range of his mouth but Tyler was sure the young man could smell her scent. He would be hyperaware of where she touched him, the crevice of her buttocks brushing the hair on his skull, her belly pressed between his shoulder blades, her breasts just above the brands.
She raised up, putting pressure on his skull as she effectively sat on the back of his head. Taking the zipper of the one-piece bodysuit down to her waist, she spread it open. The lace bra she wore was for support, not coverage, the cups open as he'd suspected. She held out the edges of the suit to keep the zipper from touching him as she lay back down on him, using the strength of her upper body alone to hold herself.
Just barely putting her bare breasts against the raw wounds, she dragged her soft nipples over the area, tracing the skin outside of the brands.
He stiffened from the pain but even as he did, the shuddering desire on his face registered that he knew what she was doing. She lowered her head, using her mouth to deftly move the plug. Despite the obvious torment he was feeling, Brendan writhed at the stimulus, whimpering between lust and pleading. The angle at which Tyler sat showed Brendan's erection was enormous, ready for release.
"Astounding. " Lisbeth shook her head. "Brendan's never been into large amounts of pain. This threshold. . . I've never seen anything like it. "
"I know the lightest touch brings pain, Brendan. " Marguerite's voice came through the speakers. "Do you wish me to continue?"
"Ah. . . God, yes, Mistress. You feel so good to me. " Brendan's face was contorted with the conflict between torture and pleasure.
Tyler was sure that the touch of the Ice Queen's bare breasts meant that the fires of hell could have been consuming Brendan right now and his cock would have been hard, straining to spew for her. To one of her submissives, it was like getting the best parts of heaven and hell together.
"That's enough now. I've no intention of causing you infection. And it's time for the last one. "
Marguerite rose. As if rewinding, she took her leg back over his face with the same graceful movement and posed there at his side. Elegant, haughty and bare-breasted.
The restrained man nuzzled her thigh, tears of pain running down his face even as his body shook uncontrollably from head to toe.
"He's in the zone now. " Tyler heard another Domme near them comment.
"Zone, hell. " Lisbeth snorted. "That poor baby is gone. Up in the tornado, hell and gone from Kansas. "
Putting her hand down, Marguerite cupped his jaw and broke the contact. She circled him, let him watch her as she picked up a rigid rubber phallus, a jaw-stretching size.
"Are you close to coming?" Marguerite asked her captive.
"Yes. . . Yes, Mistress. "
"I thought so. You're very hard. " She reached down, gripped him. He groaned.
"That's when I'm going to lay the last one down, when come is shooting out of you. "
"Mistress. . . "
"Yes, Brendan?"
"I. . . you're giving me such a gift. I know you'll think I'm selfish. But when it's over, if you'll consider it, I want. . . I wish. . . " His gaze flicked up to her, Whatever it was he wanted, he mouthed it, for it didn't come through the speakers. Her body was positioned where Tyler could not see his lips. But whatever he said, she reacted to it.
