Soul Rest: A Knights of the Board Room Novel (48 page)

His hands slid beneath them again, teasing the lace edges of the bra, the areola that peeked out of them. Her nipples were taut, pushing into his palms, and he noticed, caressing and fondling her as she let out a thready sigh, rubbed her ass against him again. He nudged her away from him, gave her nearly bare ass a firm pat. “Still showing the marks of my belt, darlin’. Do as your Master tells you.”

She felt a pounding up in her throat, a rush of blood that made her light-headed. She tried to take a step, but the world tilted in a funny way. Before she had to grab onto anything, he was there, holding her from behind. “Okay?” he said in her ear. “Can you do this?”

“I’m not sure. I want to. I really want to.” She wasn’t sure what was going on, but everything was so bright. It was as if she was about to step into a whole different world, as if this act was so definitive, there’d be no going back. Oh Christ, she was doing it again.
Stop thinking.

When he stripped his belt from his jeans, she wondered, heart skipping a beat, if he was going to bend her over the bar and punish her. Instead he looped it around her throat, drew it taut over the necklace. Pulling the slack back toward him, he wrapped it over his fist and rested it on her shoulder. He put his hand on the small of her back. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Walk.”

It made all the difference in the world, that reinforcement. His contact. She couldn’t explain it, but rational thought had no place in this. They walked through the different scenes, past submissives in various stages of what she herself was experiencing. Past the Doms like Matt, Lyda or Peter, all of whom registered her submission with a quick flick of intent eyes, acknowledging she was fully under the care and control of her Master. It made her legs tremble even more. When they skirted past Ben and Marcie, her gaze slid over Marcie’s backside, angry red and marked with circles from that paddle.

Ben was now snapping a dragon tail over it. He’d removed the bed cuffs, but had her collar and wrist cuffs attached to those delicate chains, which were clipped to the end of the bed, his new bride on her hands and elbows. Marcie was doing her best not to break those delicate chains, and lift her ass as Ben commanded. But as she squealed at each sting, Celeste faltered under another wave of that light-headedness. She couldn’t help but notice how wet Marcie was, the slick flush of her cunt. Ben paused just then to press a thumb into that opening as he bent to slide his tongue along her rim, making her writhe and beg all the more. “Yeah, I’ll be putting every inch of my cock in that tight ass soon, brat. What do you think of that?”

“Pleeeassse…” Marcie gasped. “Master.”

“Leland.” Celeste couldn’t find him in the shower of stars closing around her vision.

“Hang in there, darlin’.” His arm steadied her.

“I need you inside me. Now. Please.”

She didn’t want to sound pushy, but she couldn’t help sounding urgent. Though he might not prefer Ben’s extreme physical methods, Leland could be just as much of a sadist, making her wait, making her lose her grip on reality and fly at his command. She thought that was what she was doing now, because she was sure she was walking on clouds.

Leland didn’t take her to the bed under the spotlight after all, but to one in a back corner. Though it could still be seen by the others, it was deeper in the shadows, a space cocooned for the two of them. Leland turned her toward him, loosened the belt, set it aside. Her hands lifted, fluttered, caught his shirt. She shouldn’t touch him without permission, but she found herself pressed against him, her lips to his throat, her body rubbing against his. “God, I can’t…”

“I know. That’s why you have me to set the limits.” He turned her around, pushed her down on the bed and braced his knee between her legs, holding her pinned there with a hand on her nape as he ran his palm over her ass, gave her another smart slap. When she tried to push back up, a spike of rebellion, he showed her he was tolerating none of that now. His grip immediately shifted to that muscle between neck and shoulder and clamped down until she was begging for mercy, that she would be good.

“Not likely,” he muttered. He released the hold but only to put his hand under her hips, yank her up onto knees. He brought her ass up but kept her cheek to the bed. Then he spanked her more fiercely. After that, he began to use the belt.

“God…” She was biting the bed linens. All that overwhelming arousal, all the stimulation here, she wouldn’t have thought punishment was what she needed. She needed to be fucked. Yet here she was, getting even more intensely worked up as he reminded her who she belonged to.

A few times, she tried to fight him, but he put her back down without any trouble. He was past playing. He didn’t stop until he had everything good and throbbing, until she had tears on her face like Marcie, and for some crazy reason she wanted more. Just more of everything, as long as it came from him.

Then, in that insane way only he knew how to do, he turned her world topsy-turvy by changing tactics midstream. He lifted her off the bed, cradling her in his arms. He stood at the end of the bed, just holding her off the ground like that. He swayed back and forth, as if soothing a babe in his arms, her head tucked under his chin while she cried. He brushed his lips over her eyes, her nose, catching her mouth in a hot promise before he bent, laid her down on the bed again.

“Take off your panties,” he commanded. “Get on your hands and knees.”

She obeyed, her fingers fumbling. This way she was facing the wall, but there were mirrors here. She could see behind her, see the others, see who was looking at her. But suddenly that wasn’t all that important. What mattered was her Master, who was opening his jeans. She curled her hands into balls, bit into the covers.
Yes, please.

“I’m not hearing my sub begging. She must not really want this.”

“No, Master, I do. Please.”

He fitted the head of his cock against her cunt, so wet, so slippery. “Is all that for me? Or you’ve just been getting off watching all this?”

“No. Yes. But it wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t watching with me.”

“Hmm.” He played with her opening, pressing the broad head against it, but when she tried to push back onto him, force the issue, he withdrew, picked up the belt again. “Haven’t learned our lesson, have we, darlin’? Who’s in charge?”

“You. You.” She didn’t think she could take more punishment, but her Master wanted to try her in a different way. He ran the belt beneath her arms, brought her up on her knees, the band just above her nipples as he stood just behind her, his breath on her neck.

“Play with your nipples, Celeste. Feel how sensitive they are when I hold the belt over them like this.”

She obeyed, but she couldn’t stop herself from pleading. “Please, Master. I really need you inside me. Please.”

Everything she’d ever been afraid of, needed, lost or found, had to do with that. She was afraid she’d lose it if it didn’t happen this minute, because such a moment always slipped away.

“I am inside you, Celeste. That’s what you need to learn, darlin’. What we’ll learn together, however long it takes. I’m already inside you. Inside, outside, all around you. I’m here.” He let the belt slide away, crossed his arms over her, curving his large hands over both breasts. As he did, he molded their bodies together, moved them in that sway of motion like he had when he’d done the Ichinawa. She molded herself back into him as she had then, trusting his movements, trusting his hold on her. She let out a long moan as one of those movements pushed him into her, full length, his testicles against the back of her thighs as he brought her forward onto the bed, covered her with his body. “There we are. What do you say?”

“Thank you, Master. Thank you…” She gasped it out as he thrust a little deeper, then slowly started to draw out.

“Don’t think I heard you.”

“Thank you, Master.
Thank you.”

“Better. Stay still. Don’t move unless I tell you to move.” He pushed into her slow, wresting a yearning sound from her as she tried to obey. In the reflection of the mirror in front of her, she saw Rachel’s head tipped back over the edge of a spanking bench where Jon had her stretched out and was doing something between her legs that had her flushed and near orgasm. He kept drawing back the phallic-looking device in his hand, teasing her, making her beg as well. Her breasts glistened with something that looked like glitter paste. It was having some kind of erotic effect on her, because the nipples were swollen to twice the expected size. She appeared to be begging for Jon to touch them. When he did, Rachel screamed at the pleasure of it, her body bucking on the bench, her climax held just out of reach.

The look in Jon’s midnight blue eyes was pure Master, getting off on her helplessness, her throaty supplications. That look affected Celeste as well, particularly when Leland spoke to her sternly because her hips started to lift.

“Stay still. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Which made her want to incur the punishment. But she wanted to please him as well, and for once the latter won. She stayed still, every cell screaming to move as he pushed deep inside her, rotated. God, he felt so incredible. She couldn’t possibly stay still, but she did, because he’d ordered her to do so.

“Look at them in the mirror, Celeste. I want you to keep looking at all of them.”

She did, but eventually she had to close her eyes, overwhelmed enough to grasp the one thing she felt over and above all of it. Love. The way she’d never expected it to feel. Visceral, all-consuming, angry, tear-swollen, needy, unquestionable, unconditional and overwhelming.

He bent over her, pressing his full weight against her, driving his hips so he moved her forward on the bed and wrested a cry from her throat. “Yeah, you understand now, don’t you, darlin’? Gonna use you hard tonight, Celeste. Leave no doubt in your mind. Got it?”

Oh God.
“Oh God…”
How had he…
It didn’t matter how, but the words alone were enough. The ripple started in her abdomen and started to spread, a tide that was no turning back. “Leland…Master…”

“Come all you want, baby. Won’t be the last time you come for your Master. Your night is far from over.”

She had no choice. She came, screaming without any thought of who might be around them. Someone else, maybe a couple someones, got tipped over by her orgasm, because she heard several thin cries that matched her own, like doves or swans. Those poignant long notes resonated in the heart and mind, driving the pulsing of her body to greater heights than she imagined possible. He was right. She was going to give him her soul before the night was over.

§

Leland hadn’t been kidding her about her night being far from over. After that incredible orgasm, he’d brought her back up to peak at least twice more. The first time was fast and brutal. He’d bound her on the St. Andrew’s Cross that Rachel and Jon were no longer using, blindfolded her with an eye mask that deprived her of any light. Through the use of a high-powered Hitachi Wand, he forced an orgasm on her. Coming so soon on the heels of the other climax, she thought she might have shorted out some brain circuits. She struggled against the overwhelming flood of sensation, but he didn’t let up until her body was bucking helplessly again and crying for mercy.

But his follow-up was even more devastating. He kept her on the cross, panting and shuddering, and began to press kisses on her body. A kiss high on her thigh first. Then a significant pause, where the sounds of other sessions, gasps, sighs, cries, sharp slaps, the zap of an electric stick, filled her with anticipation and a swirling anxiety. She jumped as his mouth pressed against her navel next, tongue playing there a leisurely amount of time before he drew back again.

He didn’t fix the amount of time or establish any rhythm, so she didn’t know where his mouth would explore next, but over an endless amount of time she felt like he gained an intimate knowledge of her flesh through taste alone. He stayed away from her nipples, her cunt, as she once again began to get slick for him, needing his mouth, his cock, his fingers, anything. She was shuddering, jerking from every touch of his lips. When he kissed her neck, his body leaning into hers, she wanted to twist her head around, seek the intimacy of his mouth on hers. She needed that contact, because she was starting to feel brittle, the roller coaster of arousal hollowing her out. She didn’t think to ask, too busy struggling with it, but when the first tear rolled down her face, his lips were on her cheekbone.

“What do you need, Celeste? You need to learn to ask, darlin’. Trust me enough to ask.”

“I feel empty. You’re making me want stuff so much it’s scaring me. It hurts. Please.”

“What will help?”

“I don’t know.” She felt a frisson of panic at the question. She needed him to know those answers. She didn’t know them. Keep her tied, untie her? Fuck her, or just cuddle? She couldn’t work any of that out.

“Let’s try this.” He released her ankles and then her hands. Leaning full against her, he sealed his mouth over hers, a warm, wet kiss, his strong arms banding around her, lifting her up against the cross as she twined her own arms and legs around him. The kiss took her under, down below sea level. He murmured against her mouth, a soothing reassurance and a command at once. “Hold on.”

He was moving with her, and then they were sinking down on a couch, her cradled in his lap, the blindfold still in place. His hand slid between her legs and her thighs parted without thought, a little gasp on her lips as he explored her engorged clit. He lifted his head, breaking the kiss then.

“Drop your knees all the way open. Wide as they can go.”

She did and then caught her bottom lip in her teeth as he kept doing those butterfly strokes against her. Labia, clit, circles, tiny taps. After the overstimulation, she expected to be numb. If he’d applied pressure, rubbed too firmly, it would have been uncomfortable. But Leland Keller knew his way around a woman’s cunt. Around her whole body, heart and soul, if she was willing to admit that. He brought her back to life with those bare whispers of contact until she was lifting her hips, reaching for his touch, limited in her motion because she kept her knees open, spread at his command. But the intimate position, her cradled in his lap, her now fully naked body—except for his necklace—pressed against him, fixed that hollow feeling. Though he was wearing jeans and the thin T-shirt, she could feel every muscle and his sheer energy in a way that sheltered and surrounded her.