Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(85)
“Hear that?” Peter told Dana. “Good girls get fucked. Bad girls get paddled.”
Dana made a pleading noise and Rachel couldn’t stop herself from uttering another moan that would undoubtedly add to the other woman’s torment. Jon wrapped his hand in her blond, thick hair and used it to anchor himself, working himself in her.
Her gaze darted around the room. He was taking her in front of the others. If she were in their position, she would have wanted to look, but in an indirect way, avoiding eye contact.
That wasn’t the case with them, and it made her arousal, the confusing tangle of emotions in her, even more impossible to control. Every man she looked at had his gaze locked on her face, their expressions studied and appraising, watching the contortions of her mouth, the wideness of her eyes, the way she was making pleading noises. The sway of her breasts and clutch of her hands on the mat as Jon pushed her forward with the strength of his taking.
He came within a minute or two, not unsurprising because of how impressively thick and hard he was, but it also emphasized he was using her to relieve his lust. His sub. His property. She didn’t care what the world thought of such thoughts. In this moment, it was true, and there was nothing more she wanted to be, because as his, she was her truest, fullest, best version of herself.
The jet of release bathed her channel and cervix, her hips lifting and body shuddering, taking him deep, taking all of him. Her eyes somehow found a focus on Matt’s hand. Strong-looking and large, the long fingers had a light covering of dark hair over the top. He was at the head of the table and had his body slightly rocked back, as if he had his chair pushed back on its axis. But his arms were long enough that hand still rested on the table surface, the fingers somewhat curved. It was his left hand, so it bore his wedding ring.
She’d once seen Savannah kiss that, after a dinner she and Jon had hosted at their place. Savannah had been curled up next to Matt on their couch. Matt had lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles. She’d nuzzled his shoulder, then lifted his hand and did the same to his wedding band. What seemed to initially amuse him had changed into something else as his wife and submissive lifted her gaze to him, her mouth on the ring.
Jon’s left hand had curled over Rachel’s shoulder, giving him a more substantial anchor to thrust into her during the height of her climax. Now she dropped her cheek to it, feeling the coolness of his own wedding ring beneath her flesh.
Goddess… She had a feeling that word was going to come to her mind a lot tonight. An appeal for strength, or to give fervent thanks. She’d already invoked it for both.
Jon eased out of her, wresting another quiet sound from her throat both from the friction and the timing, since Peter landed his last blow on Dana then, the woman responding with a sharp cry as he apparently put a little extra zing into what was already a pretty aggressive paddling.
Peter murmured something soothing, and rubbed his large hand over the abused area. “Just can’t ever learn to behave, can you, Sergeant?”
Dana shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was choked with tears. “No, sir.”
A grim smile touched Peter’s mouth, and he bent to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. “I love you, Master,” Dana said. When she turned her cheek to her shoulder, Rachel saw the tears that matched the broken voice.
Peter increased the pressure of the kiss, and brushed his forehead against the base of her neck, holding there an extra moment, a tactile answer that responded in kind.
Then he straightened, but he didn’t draw back. He ran his hands over Dana’s ass, her lower back and higher, combining caressing and checking the tension in her muscles to ensure she wasn’t uncomfortable in the wrong way. Though Dana no longer needed PT, Rachel gave her bi-monthly massages to keep the back and joint issues that could plague her after such a traumatic injury at bay. But no one was as diligent as Peter about keeping an eye on that.
Easing a hip onto the table, Peter bent and kissed Dana’s shoulder again. “Want to come, bad girl?”
Dana nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you think you deserve to come?”
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
The response caused a smile on Peter’s face, but his gray eyes were storm-cloud dark, focused on Dana’s face. “All right then. If I let you come, you’ll owe me some time on your knees, taking my cock in that smart mouth of yours.”
“Yes, sir. Please, sir.”
Peter twisted partly around as he ran his hand down her back. Rachel held her breath as the hand disappeared behind Dana’s hips. Her head came up further, lips stretching back as Peter massaged her clit and labia, his gaze upon his wife.
Jon had tucked himself back into his jeans and drew Rachel up to stand between the pressure of his clothed body and the smooth edge of the glass table. As Rachel watched Dana’s climax build, her hands unconsciously wrapped around Jon’s arm banded around her, just below her breasts. She quivered against him as she saw the process she’d just experienced seize Dana. Her expression twisted, lips opening and stretching, her body stiffening and arching.
As the climax started, Peter used his free hand to grip the chain between Dana’s nipples and tug, his long fingers caressing, flicking a nipple. Dana screamed, and Rachel saw the fierce male satisfaction on Peter’s face, his fascinated absorption with his sub’s response, which made him work his hand even more energetically behind her hips. He twisted his fingers in the chain to make it tauter, the pull on the nipples more insistent.