Taking It All(29)

James looked impatient with Tate's instructions, his eyes glittering as   his gaze swept hungrily over Chessy. It was as though he wanted to   dispense with the niceties and get straight to the action.

James lifted one of Chessy's hands and whispered a kiss over the top of   her knuckles. "It will be my honor to bring you pleasure while your   husband watches."

She shivered again, the quivering sensation in her belly increasing. Why   was she so nervous? This was not new to her even if it had been a  while  since they'd last indulged. Perhaps it was because she wanted so  much  for the evening to be perfect and for her and Tate to further  solidify  their recommitment to one another.

Tate took the hand not held by James, and for a moment she was suspended   between the two men, one her husband, the other her Dominant for the   evening. Tate gave her hand an encouraging squeeze but didn't put to   voice any of the things she saw in his eyes.

"The others will remain on the periphery," Tate said in a low voice.   "When and only when it is time for them to participate will you see   them. Enjoy my gift to you, my girl. I know I certainly will enjoy every   moment."

Then he turned his attention to James. Chessy blinked because Damon had   discreetly removed himself from the trio and she hadn't even seen him   leave.

"Undress her slowly," Tate ordered. "And then prepare her as I already instructed you."

The command in Tate's voice sent a delicate shiver of delight cascading   over her flesh. Her fingers curled into fists so her trembling wouldn't   be noticeable. Equal parts nervousness and anticipation vied for   control.

James tugged firmly at her leash, pulling her away from Tate and closer   to himself. Tate took a step back but kept a watchful eye on Chessy as   James slowly began to divest her of her clothing.

"Very nice," James murmured when he was down to just her stockings and stilettos.

He ran his hand over the swell of her behind and then grew bolder,   sliding his palm underneath one breast. He brushed over the nipple with   his thumb and it puckered in reaction, hardening to a point.

Her breath caught and then she let out a gasp when he lowered his head to her breast and sucked the nipple wetly into his mouth.

"Delicious," he murmured. "You taste every bit as good as you look."

Heat scorched over her skin and she lifted her gaze to find Tate, only   focused on him even though another man was pleasuring her in his stead.                       
       
           



       

Her action brought immediate reprimand from James. He yanked on the   leash, forcing her gaze back to him. His eyes glittered in irritation.

"I am your master tonight. He is only an observer. You are to look only at me and obey my commands."

She started to launch an immediate protest because that wasn't the case.   No one but Tate would ever be called her master, and it was a silly   term anyway. It wasn't a word that she or Tate ever used. But something   in James's eyes halted her objection. She shivered and wanted to look  to  Tate for reassurance, to gain his reaction to James's forceful  dictate,  but she didn't dare look away from him again.

James ran his palm lightly over her jaw and then turned her body so her   back was to Tate, effectively preventing her from the temptation of   seeking her husband's guidance. It confused her that Tate was allowing   this man such leeway.

James positioned her over the bench that had an inverted, padded cutout   that would cradle her abdomen. Then he stretched her arms outward,  tying  one wrist to one of the two posts situated in front of the bench.  After  securing one, he then secured her other wrist so she was  stretched over  the bench, her ass in the air, both arms tied tightly  enough that there  was no give when she tested the strength of the  bonds.

James disappeared from her view and then she felt leather straps circle   her ankles, securing them to the legs of the bench. She was spread  wide,  her most vulnerable areas accessible.

"Start with the leather flogger," Tate directed.

She took immediate comfort in hearing her husband's voice and her early   apprehension eased and melted away as Tate took control of the   situation. She relaxed, mentally preparing herself for the first kiss of   fire.

"Administer ten blows, spread out so her flesh is evenly marked and   colored," Tate continued. "When you are finished, offer her the   appropriate praise and then bring her close to orgasm with your hands   and mouth. Then switch to the leather strap and mark her ass so that   when you fuck her ass the flesh will have been scorched by fire. As I   said, her mouth is mine, and I'll fuck it while you fuck her ass. She   doesn't come again until she's been flogged, untied and is being held   down by the men waiting."

She closed her eyes as his words flashed like wildfire through her mind.   She was bombarded by a host of decadent, sinful images, and already  she  could feel her body climbing to orgasm and they hadn't even yet  begun.

A gasp exploded from her when the first lash landed across her ass.   She'd been so absorbed in the dreamy fantasy Tate was describing that   she hadn't braced herself for the first blow.

Her eyes flew open and yet she could see neither man, not James nor her   husband. Only the wall stared back at her. She was positioned facing   away from the rest of the entire room. For all she knew everyone was   observing her flogging. That didn't bother her. She'd long since gotten   over any shyness when it came to being naked in front of strangers. But   she didn't like not being able to see Tate. She knew he was there, but   he wasn't in her line of sight.

She wanted to see the approval and pride in his eyes. She wanted to be   able to lock gazes with him and share the intensely personal connection   between them. To forget that anyone other than the two of them existed,   even if another man was charged with her submission.

Her jaw clenched and she winced when another blow rained down on her.   James wasn't as careful as Tate was in the administration of his lashes.   There was something undisciplined about James's flogging, almost as if   he lacked the proper experience for the job. Or perhaps he was merely a   sadist who only cared for his pleasure and didn't concern himself with   the delicate line between pain and pleasure for her.

There were no words of praise or approval from James as Tate had   demanded. Nor did James offer her the pleasure Tate had instructed him   to. Where the hell was Tate? Why wasn't he admonishing James for not   heeding Tate's dictates?

There was no break between the flogger and the leather strap. Fire   spread rapidly over her skin and she bit into her lip to prevent the cry   of pain. This was no longer about pleasure. Certainly not hers at   least.

And then she felt an insistent prodding at her anal opening and she   realized James was trying to force his way in without the aid of   lubricant. This was not the way Tate had told him to do things. Why   wasn't Tate putting a stop to it?

"Relax, damn it," James growled, his fingers digging into her hips. She   was certain she'd wear bruises from his grasp. "You're going to get   fucked and it's up to you whether this is easy or hard."                       
       
           



       

She cried out, shocked that he'd persist and that Tate had nothing to   say. And then, as if to punish her for her resistance, James cracked the   strap down over her shoulder blades as he thrust more forcefully into   her reluctant body.

Tears ran down her cheeks and sobs welled from her throat. "No! Stop! I don't want this," she said in a garbled tone.

Her safe word. God, what was it? Her mind was a chaotic mess of fear and pain.

"Rain," she croaked out. "Rain!"





SEVENTEEN


TATE had just uttered his last command to James when his cell phone   vibrated against his side. Out of habit, he glanced down quickly to pull   out the phone enough so he could identify the incoming caller, fully   intending to hit ignore.

He swore under his breath before glancing back up to where James had   administered the second lash of the flogger. This was an important call   but it had to come now of all times? Tabitha Markham had strung him   along for weeks over whether she was going to transfer her late   husband's portfolio-her inheritance-to Tate's firm and he was supposed   to have a firm commitment from her any moment. Apparently she'd chosen   now to inform him of her decision.