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His hands partially covered her ears, muting sound. She closed her eyes, sinking into herself in a way that allowed her to focus on each sensation.
The pressure of the plug in her ass.
The soft throbbing of her abused pussy.
The chill where cool air met the spit that slid off her chin and dripped onto her chest.
The hard, unrelenting thrust of his cock into her mouth.
She was being used, brutally, wonderfully, so. She thought back to when he’d slapped her pussy, abusing her already aching flesh. To the way he so casually took command of her body and her decisions. And the way he checked in with her, took care of her even as he used her.
He fucked her mouth for what felt like hours, given how hard she had to fight her gag reflex, and yet it wasn’t enough. Too soon, he was groaning through his orgasm, and she wished the condom wasn’t there, wished he’d ordered her to swallow his come.
Master Ben eased his dick out of her mouth, then cupped her chin. “Josslyn, look at me.”
She raised her gaze, mouth still open, waiting to be used.
“Fuck,” he breathed, gaze roaming over her face, then her naked body. “Fuck,” he said again, and she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with that sentiment. If she hadn’t been so deep in her submission, she might have made it a joke. Said, “Yes, please.”
Instead, she waited there on her knees, body aching both from being used and with the desire to be used again.
Master Ben’s lips twitched in a small smile that made her heart leap. He stroked her lower lip with his thumb, then leaned in and kissed her head. “Good girl.”
Chapter 7
The dining room was crowded. Good. An audience would heighten the effect of being naked and exposed.
Ilias kept his hand on the small of Josslyn’s back as he guided her into the dining room. He’d switched out the heavy padded suspension cuffs for simple black leather buckle cuffs on her wrists, and also added cuffs to her ankles. He’d debated a collar but decided against it. For many in the BDSM community, a collar was a nearly sacred thing, never used in casual play.
At Las Palmas, the overseers had wanted a way for members to identify that they were in a committed Dom/sub relationship, without using either the term “collar” or physical collars. Instead, the club had a designation of “bonded,” which had to be officially registered with the overseers. That structure allowed collars to be used in casual play, though every Master, Dom, and Owner in the place knew to be very careful with applying a collar to a sub’s neck, as the connotations were intense.
The fact that he’d even considered it was a bit of a surprise. Ilias expected complete submission from his partners, but he didn’t feel possessive of them. When the scene was done, so was his temporary claim on them.
Perhaps it was different with Josslyn because he also felt overly protective of her. They’d known one another for an evening, and yet he felt that he really knew her. Their conversations twisted and spiraled in unexpected ways, revealing hard truths and intimate things.
However, the urge to protect her didn’t stop him from forcing her to walk through the club naked, save for the black leather straps at her wrists and ankles.
The tables were full, and he thought he’d have to take her to the library and find a seat there, but then he saw Peter sitting, seemingly alone, at a four-top table.
Peter must have felt him looking because he glanced up, and when Ilias raised his brows in silent question, Peter waved them over.
It was only when they got close that Ilias saw Peter’s sub kneeling beside the other Dom’s chair.
“Peter,” Ilias said in greeting.
“Ilias. Nice to see you again.”
“May we join you?”
“Of course.”
Ilias pulled out a chair…then carried it over to the wall, tucking it out of the way. He picked up a thick blanket from a large basket in the corner and brought it back, dropping it onto the ground where the chair had been.
Josslyn hesitated only a moment, then dropped to her knees. He waited and watched, and only after she’d obediently spread her legs, resting her hands palms up on her thighs, did he take his own seat.
“How’s R going?” Peter asked.
“My sub just finished riding the horse.”
