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“Ahh, lovely.”
“She was quite lovely in her suffering,” Ilias told the other man.
Peter looked down at his own sub, and Ilias leaned to the side to look too.
A curly-haired brunette sat on a small stool beside Peter, turned toward her Dom, her back to Ilias. The stool was only about six inches tall, but it was enough to raise the sub up, and allow her to tuck her folded legs alongside the edges of the stool, so she was in a modified kneeling position. The seat would allow her to remain in this posture much longer than if she were just kneeling the way Josslyn was.
She wore a waist cincher, and her arms were raised and bent at the elbow, hands behind her head. She wore a simple black collar, the cuffs on her wrists attached to the back of the collar. Additionally, a long leather strap ran from the collar down her spine to the top of her ass, where it connected to a silver bar protruding up from between the sub’s ass cheeks.
“Anal hook?” Ilias asked.
“Yes,” Peter agreed. “Turn and show him how you’re a table.”
A table? “Serving as furniture?” Ilias guessed.
Peter nodded.
The sub twisted very slowly, rotating at the waist. He saw then that she wore the BDSM equivalent of a cigarette girl tray.
The waist cincher served as the anchor point for one side of the small rimmed tray. Instead of a neck strap, chains at the outer corners of the tray were connected to nipple clamps. The sub’s nipples were distended, and she was taking very careful breaths.
As Ilias watched, Peter picked up his tumbler off the tray, took a sip, and then set it back down. The sub whimpered softly when the weight of the glass once more pulled on her nipples.
“You have a lot of ‘serving’ items,” Ilias said.
“We have a lot of items full stop,” Peter said with a sigh.
“Did you come up with a way to divide them up?” Ilias asked. The three Doms assigned to “S”—there were so many items six people had been assigned to tackle that letter—had still been planning when he left them to go set up his meeting with Josslyn.
Peter sighed, then picked up his drink again. This time, instead of setting it on the tray dangling from his sub’s nipples, Peter set it on the table.
“Allow my sub to serve as your waitress.” Peter reached over and casually undid the nipple clamps.
The sub yelped and tried to curl into a protective ball but immediately straightened. No doubt the anal hook had pulled hard on her ass when she tried that.
Peter leaned down, speaking quietly to the sub as he thumbed and rolled her nipples to get the circulation back.
Ilias reached out and touched his own sub’s hair. Josslyn was kitty-corner across from the other woman, and would have been able to see a bit of what was going on, though no doubt both the table, and Peter’s, legs blocked some of it.
She leaned into his hand, breathing a bit harder than she had been a minute ago.
“Scared or aroused?” he asked her softly.
“I’m…not sure, Sir.”
He pinched a nipple. Hard. “Are you imagining what it would feel like to have a tray dangling from these pretty tits?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her hands started to curl into fists but she caught herself.
He rolled her nipple then reached for the other one. Her shoulders twitched, but she didn’t turn away or hide her breasts. In fact, she arched her back, offering herself up.
“Good girl.” He pinched the other nipple just as hard, grinding his fingers together until she cried out.
When he released her, she whimpered softly for several minutes. He gripped her neck, squeezing just enough so she’d feel the pressure. She leaned into his hand, her breath evening out.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said.
He ran his thumb along her lower lip, frowning at the surge of possessiveness he felt.
