Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

stretching out his legs under the stock so they pressed against her calves on either side. She shifted on her toes, making the muscles in her thighs and that heart-shaped ass strain. Her gorgeous tits looked round and heavy. The lock was dragging her bare nipples down, which he knew were tingling like a son of a bitch. Taking his time, he leaned forward and blew on one.

She screamed, convulsed in aroused reaction. He wanted to do this forever, but because he didn’t want to damage those tender blood vessels with prolonged constriction, he closed in, put his mouth over one nipple and the clamp.

“Oh, God, oh, God . . .” It was a chant. On another night, he’d ask Lucas to lick the fluids trickling down her leg, all the way back up to her cunt, start drinking that nectar he liked so much, while Ben slid a few nicely lubricated things in and out of her pretty little puckered anus. She’d come again and again, until she was so exhausted they’d have to carry her. But tonight, he wanted her to come from his mouth on her nipples only, a reminder that he could command her response. That he could take care of her in all ways.

Oh, fuck, she tasted like butterscotch. Jon thought of everything. He suckled her, so gently, because hard would have been way too much right now. It was the thing he’d learned first about pleasuring a woman, and it remained the most important. Take it slow and easy, keep it slow and easy, until she was begging mindlessly for it rough, and then the time was right to let loose his own needs. That was fine; he was so hard, he wasn’t getting out of the chair until the very second he intended to ram his cock into her.

Her head thrashed this way and that, fighting her restraint not because she wanted to be freed, but because her body had to move in response to the stimulus. He moved to the other nipple, teasing that one, swirling, nipping, then slow, long drags of his tongue. He brought his hands into it, adding to the squeezing sensation, milking her breasts into his mouth while she became animal and savage, her words reflecting the fact he’d put his claim on a soldier as well as a good churchgoing girl.

“Oh . . . fuck. Please fuck me . . . Let me fucking come . . . Oh, God . . . love you sucking my tits . . . Please, Master . . . My cunt needs you . . .”

He kept sucking, licking, biting. Her legs were shaking, but he didn’t need to worry about her falling against the restraint and hurting herself. Ben materialized out of the shadows and slid a capable arm around her waist, holding her steady. He met Peter’s eyes, gave him a nod, and Peter kept doing his magic on her breasts. Ben had to be light on his toes, because in her state, her pussy was seeking his hard thigh to rub and hump. He kept his leg away from what was Peter’s alone tonight as a flush rose along her throat and the expanse of smooth flesh above his mouth. Her face was straining, lips pulled back in a pre-orgasmic snarl. Peter bit, sucked harder now, and squeezed one last time, pushing her over.

Her shrieks could have been heard in the lobby, as if he hadn’t already attracted a sizeable crowd. He and the other K&A men weren’t normally public players. Cassandra and Savannah were sitting up in a mezzanine seat with Matt, where they had a good view of the display, but were not part of it. Peter liked keeping his woman to himself as well, but he’d known Dana needed the more hard-core, the sensory overload. It would push her into the mindless ecstasy state that was a Master’s drug, where nothing stood in the way of her true self and desires.

As her climax rocked her against the stock, her hips pumped wildly. Ben was intent on her reaction, his jaw tight and eyes green fire. Some girl was going to get the ass-fucking of her life tonight. Ben would make Peter pick up the tab, because he’d likely use one of the house submissives who could handle his rougher needs. That was okay. He’d gladly pay it.

Peter rose, circled around. Ben held her until Peter opened his slacks, slid a condom on, and then the lawyer stepped out of the way. Perfectly in sync, Peter’s arm slid around her waist as Ben’s was sliding away. As she collapsed back against Peter, he slammed into her cunt, into rippling, slick-as-an-ocean flesh. She was still coming, her pussy oozing sweet honey as he plunged into it.

She cried out again, a deeper, animal cry of satisfaction. Digging his fingers into the back of her collar, he held her head up, drawing the tether taut between its hold on the D-ring and her hands as he worked his hips against her ass, striving for deeper, harder. “Fuck . .

.” He came as violently, ramming her so her tits pressed harder through those holes, the lock swinging in a way that had her flinching even through her pleasure. Jon moved into Peter’s chair, catching the lock so it couldn’t cause her further pain. As she whimpered through aftershocks and Peter’s final thrusts, Jon removed it, as well as the nipple clamps. Knowing the blood surge could be intense, he brought his fingers into play, massaging her sore breasts as he loosened the stock. She moaned at the additional stimulation, but stayed where she was, good little slave that she was.

Peter shuddered with her through their aftermath, even though he wanted to be where Jon was, making sure she didn’t experience the terrible pain that could sometimes come with the returning blood flow. Damn, he wanted to be everywhere at once. Jon gave him a wry smile, backing off as