Missionary Position (Masters of the Prairie Winds Club Book 7) (12 page)

Tobi’s voice broke through his thoughts when she asked, “So let me get this straight. We’re supposed to serve you seven courses and we aren’t allowed to talk to each other
and
we’re competing against one another as well?”

“Sweetness, don’t think of it as a competition, think of it as putting forth your best effort to please your Masters—avoiding the toy basket we’ve filled for you is just a bonus.” The unholy gleam in Kent’s eye sent a shiver down Tobi’s spine that Peter could feel from across the room. He held back his laughter because Tobi seemed to be the only sub who was actually focusing on the instructions, which wasn’t going to work out well for her since the three of them weren’t allowed to talk to one another. Hell, that rule alone was going to get Tobi in a world of trouble because her natural inclination to help her friends meant she would definitely be talking.

‘
I’m betting Tobi is naked before the third course.’
There was no way Peter was betting against him. Hell, his brother was probably being generous. Everyone who knew Tobi West liked her. There was an effervescence about the little imp that drew people to her. From what other members at Prairie Winds had told him, Tobi had blossomed under Kent’s and Kyle’s care. She’d had a very rough childhood and had been living in survival mode for years, but she thrived on her husbands’ ability to set boundaries even though she tested their ability to do so regularly.

After the women had gone into the kitchen to get their instructions from the caterer, Peter looked up at Kyle and laughed, “How long is your spirited sub going to stay dressed? Is there a pool going already?” The staff at Prairie Winds regularly bet on anything and everything with the proceeds going to the winner’s charity of choice—and Tobi’s antics were among their favorite wagers.

“No there isn’t a need for a pool, she won’t last long enough for us to set it up. Hell, why do you think we added the no talking rule?” They all chuckled as they made their way into the dining area. They’d extended the table so there was plenty of room between each of the six chairs in anticipation of their fun. When they weren’t serving, their subs would either be kneeling on the large cushions between their Masters or more likely, they’d be laying over the edge of the table for one reason or another. Each pair of Doms had filled their own small wicker basket with toys chosen specifically for their sub. He and Fischer had picked out a vibrating butt plug, a tube of clit stimulating gel, nipple clamps, and a remote controlled egg vibe.

Peter was relieved when they finally sat down, walking around with the hard-on from hell tended to get old rather quickly. He’d seen his friends all adjusting themselves in their trousers as they settled into the thickly padded captain’s chairs so at least he hadn’t been alone. Looking across the table to where the Wests were seated, something in Kyle’s drink caught his eye. When his friend picked up the drink, Peter realized the two round objects at the bottom of his ice-filled glass were faintly tinted glass Ben Wa balls—
sadistic bastard.

God he was glad to see the caterer leave through the front door. The young man had been beet red as he’d been escorted out by Ben Monroe, a former Marine who was fairly new to the Prairie Winds team. They’d paid the delivery guy handsomely and the restaurant owner, who was a member of Dark Desires, had assured them the kid would keep quiet—from the look on his face he’d likely be too embarrassed to tell anyone about the crazy group and their scantily clad servers.

When Kyle got the nod from Ben that they were clear, he pulled a small remote from his pocket and the partition above the bar separating the dining area from the kitchen lifted slowly disappearing into the ceiling. Not to anyone’s surprise, Tobi was chattering away as the subs loaded their small trays with crystal cups of shrimp cocktail. The knowing look in Kyle’s eyes and Kent’s chuckle was made even sweeter by Tobi’s gasped, “Well, shit.”

The women had been instructed to make a complete circle around the table before serving their Doms. And they’d been assigned either clockwise or counter clockwise rotations for each course—those assignments were posted on the refrigerator. Each Dom also had a copy of the list because no one doubted that as dinner progressed, the women would become less focused—thus giving the Doms additional opportunities to use all the goodies in their baskets.
Yes, indeed. Let the games begin.

Tobi clearly should have thought this through more carefully. Hell, they hadn’t even served up the first course and she’d already screwed up—
twice
. And her own ratfink Masters were going to make an example of her, she just knew it. She quickly double-checked the chart so she’d know which direction she was supposed to go and took off. She heard Gracie’s muttered curse and knew she was right behind her, that left Lara standing in the middle of the kitchen looking at the chart as if she had no idea what it was for. Hell, Lara probably didn’t know since her Masters had been totally distracting her during the instructions. It had been glaringly obvious they’d deliberately set her up because she was such a good girl—something Tobi was never accused of. By the time Lara finally set the small cups in front of Peter and Fischer she was trembling.

For once Tobi was grateful her Masters were not only pushy, they were also kind-hearted, and they spoke up taking the focus off the fact Lara’s men were looking through their toy basket with exaggerated interest. “Kitten, do you know what you did wrong?” Kyle was enjoying this entirely too much, boy oh boy, had she ever walked into a mess of rattlesnakes when she’d agreed to this dinner party. She had to fight the urge to do the face-palm gesture at her own stupidity.

“Yes, Sir. I was talking and then I said something that probably sounded like ‘shit’.” Well, it probably had because that was exactly what she’d said, but hey, it was worth a shot, right? When all six Doms laughed, she knew her ploy had just been blown out of the sky in flaming glory.
Damn it all to Dalmatians.

“Good try, sweetness. But I’m afraid these are transgressions that cannot be ignored. What kind of example would we be setting as club owners if we let these pass?”
Oh brother, he’s really laying it on thick. Hope I don’t gag on all the PCBS.
One of the terms Tobi had introduced the club’s staff too was politically correct bull shit, and her husbands had been none too pleased. When they’d complained, she had politely told them if they didn’t want to be called on it, they shouldn’t do it—boy had that ever been a mistake. She’d gotten a swat with a big wooden paddle from each of the Dungeon Masters later that evening and she suspected several had taken more than one turn—frick-frack, you couldn’t trust anybody these days. Damn her ass had stung like a bitch for hours afterward even though she knew several of the men had pulled their swats going easier on her as the evening progressed.

Kent had turned her so he could tuck her skirt up in the back securing it over the waistband.
Well, hell. It’s not like it was really covering me anyway.
“According to the rules, you only lose a piece of clothing if you are last to serve your Masters, so that honor is going to belong to Lara this round. But, we still intend to hold you accountable for talking and the word that sounded so much like shit—to everybody who heard it.” The jackass actually had the nerve to make a joke at her bare butt’s expense, she started thinking of all the ways she could get even but one glance at Fischer Weston stopped her cold.
Drown me, how did I forget about he and Peter’s special gift.
When his eyebrow raised she just shook her head and he grinned.

Naturally, Kyle hadn’t missed their non-verbal exchange, but rather than focusing on her, they both turned to Fischer. “Care to share, Master Fischer?”

“Well, since you asked. I do believe your lovely sub was plotting against you, and just for enforcing the rules, too. Tsk, tsk. Shameful. Really, it’s just shameful.”

It was too much. He’d probably flunked out of drama school for being corny. When both Fischer and Peter burst out laughing she felt her face heat until there wasn’t any doubt about how red it was.
Damn and double damn.
This time Kent just shook his head and pressed his palm against the middle of her back to bend her over the edge of the table. “Just think, sweetness, you’ll be the first one to make a mark on our paddle.” Fuck a duck, she’d forgotten about the small wooden paddles laying at the top of each Dom’s place setting. They’d had each of the subs’ names engraved on them and then set black Sharpies to the side so for every swat a sub got, she was to make a tally mark behind her name.

Not that there was much question who was going to win this particular competition, but her men had promised her something truly spectacular if she “won”. It didn’t matter to her that they were protecting Gracie—because she’s preggers and Lara—because, well that shell-shocked look on her face pretty well summed it up. Okay, and maybe “winning” was a bit misleading in this particular case, but none of that mattered to Tobi, nope—not at all, because a win was still a win.

Each of her husbands quickly gave her two solid swats with their damned paddles, but then they ran their fingers through her wet folds and knew exactly how turned on she was. They both chuckled and Kent had made sure she made the hash marks before he had her kneel on the cushion and began feeding her bits of shrimp cocktail. In the back of her mind, Tobi realized Gracie was already kneeling between Jax and Micah—they wouldn’t have had her stand that long because she tended to lock her knees and invariably made herself lightheaded in the process. Glancing over, she noticed they weren’t giving her sweet friend any of the spicy shrimp cocktail but they were feeding her some kind of small cracker with what looked like cream cheese spread over the top. When she’d helped make out the menu, Tobi hadn’t even considered the first course wouldn’t set well on Gracie’s empty tummy.
Damn, some friend I am. Glad her men were paying better attention.

“Princess, just in case you didn’t hear all of the rules, since you were last serving your Masters, you owe us a piece of clothing and we’ve picked out something special for you from our little basket of toys.” Peter knew Lara had heard him, but she had barely blinked, so he took a second to rub his hand up and down her arm a few times until he felt her focus zero in on him. “Good girl. Remember, we are observing the club’s stoplight system for safe words tonight, but there shouldn’t be anything to happen that you aren’t fully capable of handling.” At her quick nod of understanding, he continued, “Take off your shirt,
mi amõre
.”

Lara’s eyes widened and he saw the blush move over her cheeks, but she reached up with trembling fingers and began slipping the small pearl buttons free from their moorings. God in heaven he was proud of her, “Such a good girl. So brave. And it really would be a pity to keep these lovely tits of yours hidden.” He knew she was still struggling with being naked in front of others, but this was a good opportunity for her to become a bit less self-conscious—not that they ever wanted her to be completely at ease being naked in public. After all,
that
would take away quite a bit of their fun.

The white cotton blouse of Lara’s costume only had three buttons, but she’d only managed to free two of them when her hands started shaking so badly Peter gently pushed her fingers to the side and helped her. She actually seemed somewhat relieved when Fischer pulled it over her shoulders and let it slide slowly down her arms. They’d chosen a set of nipple clamps that would hold the small bells attached to the chains, but they were mild enough Lara would be able to wear them for a much longer period of time than any they’d used before. Using the ice cube he’d taken from his water glass, it didn’t take Peter long at all to get her nipples tightly peaked for the clamps. “Those look beautiful,
mi amõre
. And I have to admit, I really love hearing the tinkling sounds the bells make. I’ll be looking forward to you moving around the room with their soft sounds filling the air.” He and Fischer settled her on the cushion before sharing their small dishes of shrimp cocktail with her. Peter had seen her sigh of relief when she knew she was below the other men’s line of sight and didn’t even try to hold back his smile. She was sure to feel better when she saw Tobi’s skirt was still tucked in exposing her bare ass to everyone’s view.

The chilled cucumber soup was served next and this time it was Gracie who was last because she’d walked the same direction as she had the first round instead of checking the list—which seemed odd for the normally detail-oriented woman. Peter watched as Micah unbuttoned her shirt, Gracie looked almost relieved. Jax laughed, “What’s the matter,
cari
ň
o
?”