Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(79)
The rosewood base divided into two pieces at the narrow waist part of the shape. It would tent like a drawbridge, turn over and come back together, revealing that the base frame was more than support. It also served as a St. Andrews’ cross, with bronze fixture pieces at the appropriate points for attaching chains, cuffs, etc. There were also additional tracks slotted into the thick wood platform, positioned above and below the crossing point of both beams, that permitted the attachment of a programmable arm. It could hold a variety of devices to pleasure a woman at any reasonable angle.
While a woman was lying on the cross, the glass top could be brought back together with another press of a control button, so the men could continue whatever they were doing, while the pleasurably tormented woman was displayed beneath glass.
Tonight, it simply looked like a table, but there were other options in the room she’d heard about that she didn’t doubt might be called into service. The thought of that added to the weakness of her knees. She noticed the table was covered with a large piece of black foam, about the thickness of her yoga mats. It was cut in the shape of the table surface, but slightly smaller, leaving about a foot of glass exposed along the perimeter. Seeing Dana’s hands and knees pressed into the cushioned support told her why it was there.
One side of the room was a bank of windows. She recalled the windows were tinted so, though she saw a romantic postcard view of the lights of the New Orleans business district, and the markers on the Mississippi riverfront, no one could see into their room. Recessed lighting gave the room an intimate ambiance, though she expected it could be brightened to a more businesslike wattage when needed.
Jon had also been involved in some of the feng shui elements of the room. A couple of their propagated Japanese maples were here, and a three-platform pedestal that bore a trinity of orchids, under which clever silver channels allowed a continuous flow of water to a basin. The sound was like the whisper of mist, the distant gurgle of a stream, rather than water falling from a faucet. The water moving from channel to channel relaxed and soothed, a meditative effect she might need to utilize a few times tonight, if Jon aroused her to the point of extreme agitation and then required her to hold back her release. A very probable certainty.
She saw the side bar was stocked with alcohol and snacks, including chocolate, because she scented it as she turned in that direction to begin her circle of the table.
She’d debated it in her head for a quick second—turn away from Jon, so she finished her circuit in front of him, or start with him, so she could perhaps receive a reassuring brush of his hand before she began? She chose the first option, because he would be able to touch her longer, if he wished, when she completed the task.
As she tried not to rush or go too slow, she realized she was self-conscious again. That wasn’t what she wanted to be feeling. She recalled how she’d felt in front of the mirror, thinking of their regard. Her head lifted, her back straightened, and she made the most of walking in the heels over the carpet. She let her hips swing naturally, and knew the change in posture had her breasts tilted, the taut peaks on display.
She didn’t make eye contact, but she was aware of each man’s gaze upon her as she passed. It wasn’t merely the lust-filled regard that came from men appreciating a naked woman in their midst. This was the focused attention of five sexual Dominants, appraising her as a submissive, there for them, under the control of her Master.
The thought sent another spurt of arousal through her, and she faltered slightly. Her clit was pulsing in the grip of the shield, her nipples aching for attention as the chain between the clamps beat a light tattoo against her skin. The extra swing in her hips had the plug doing incredible things inside her ass, so the more steps she made, the more sensations washed through her.
Jon often called her a goddess. The last time he’d done it, he’d brought her down upon him when he was sitting in his home office chair. He’d threaded her legs under the arms, then reached up to her face, murmuring the words.
You’re a goddess.
It was hard to explain to someone, how belonging to a Master could make a woman feel like a goddess, powerful beyond description. Not powerful like politician or businesswoman powerful; powerful because she was loved, and loved so completely she knew she could do anything.
While it hadn’t been scripted, when she reached Jon, she knelt before him where he stood. Leaning forward, she touched her forehead to his knee, something she often did at home when they started a session. He touched her head, just as he did then, completing the ritual.
She remembered she was supposed to go to the door now, so she started to rise. Not unexpectedly, he put a hand under her elbow, helping her, but when his grip tightened, telling her he wanted her to stay where she was, she was more than happy to comply.
Gathering her hair up in one fist, he tugged it idly as he half-circled her, so her head was following his movements, her eyes upon him. Using his other hand, he curled his fingers on the back of the robe collar. Understanding, she rolled her shoulders back, and the robe slid off her shoulders, gathering at her elbows. He shook his head when she would have dropped her arms to let it slide completely free, so she stopped, the garment pooled at her elbows and waist, her arms bent and fingers lightly tangled together to keep it there.
He released her hair, letting it fall down her back. The strands whispered over her bare skin. He slid his palm over her shoulder, curled the fingers to trail his knuckles along the outside of her breast, then descended to her hip, beneath the robe. As he reached her buttock and caressed her there, he moved behind her and tugged so she straightened her arms and the robe fell free into his hands. He draped it over a chair and stood behind her, his breath caressing her ear and throat. He was so close she could lean back against him, but she controlled herself. With effort.