Working Out the Kinks (Chain) (18 page)

When he opened it, two men stood there, one of whom had a girl leashed behind him. They took turns greeting my Master by firmly shaking his hand.

“Thank you for coming by,” Eric said to each of them as they greeted one another. The first man to step inside was tall in stature. His hair was flaxen like Eric’s, but slightly darker. I was immediately taken in by his deep emerald eyes. His face was sculpted with high cheeks and firm lips. He was a Dominant.

The other man, whom I also pegged for a Dom, was shorter, but no less striking. He had a darker complexion, with eyes to almost perfectly match his jet-black hair. He was dressed just the same as everyone else, except he also wore a silk-styled vest buttoned up the front. The girl at his side had slunk down to her knees, looking in my direction, studying me just as closely as I was her. She had small features, a tight nose and lips curved just enough to be a secret grin. She reminded me of a cat, and I felt intimidated by how she was oozing confidence in her stance. Watching the greeting, I barely remembered I was sitting there with only a ribbon tied around my neck as an accessory to my nude body while the other submissive wore a black minidress that hugged her small curves.

Wesley stood up and Eric presented the duo, extended his hand to each.

“Wesley you remember Richard and James,” Eric said as they all shook hands.

“Gentlemen,” Wesley said with a nod. I was taken back by how mature he sounded, nothing of his normal sarcasm coming through his voice. In the midst of watching the men extend their hands in greeting, I almost didn’t see the third man enter the room. He gazed at me as he stood there, leaning against the doorway. Eric turned toward him and welcomed him in.

“It’s good to see you again, Grant,” he said. Grant turned his attention to Eric as a small smile crept to his cherub-like face. His golden curls shifted as he moved from his place to greet everyone else.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he replied as he shook hands with Eric. “Thank you for helping me out on such short notice.”

“He didn’t have much of a choice,” Wesley injected quickly. There was the asshole I remembered.

Eric tried to brush off his attitude. “It’s quite all right, Grant. I know that you would do the same for me, had I needed the help.”

“Hopefully this year we’ll get to see you back at the retreat,” James said to Grant while he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Grant nodded his head and looked at the ground a moment. “I’m hoping tonight’s performance will help me back into the spotlight there.”

“I have no doubt you’ll be the hit of the summer,” Eric replied. “Would you all like to take your seats for me and I’ll bring her out?”

Wesley chose the couch, closest to me. My arm brushed against his leg as he sat down. James and Richard chose seats across from us, close to one another, while Grant sat on the other end of the sofa. There was a large empty space in the middle of the living room, and I noticed a trunk sitting in the corner where it hadn’t been before. As we waited for Eric to return, Wesley crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap.

“How much are you charging this year for the high roller seats, James?” Wesley asked. James smiled, amused by Wesley’s cockiness.

“Two months pay this time,” James answered.

“How pretentious of you, increasing our rent like that.”

“We were all in favor of a price hike, just to keep the unwanted out this time around.”

“If you don’t like my money, I can take it elsewhere, you know,” Wesley hinted.

James crossed his legs, mimicking Wesley’s stance. “Cut it out. You’ll pay like everyone else does and get exactly what you want.”

Wesley grinned, then unexpectedly turned his focus toward me. My cheeks burned with the blood rushing into them.

“And I always do,” he said.

There was a faint
click
of a door closing. Eric returned to the room with Whitney attached by her collar to a leash in his hand. She was crawling naked behind him, blindfolded and gagged. My heart skipped when I saw her, knowing how important this was for not only her, but for Grant as well. He didn’t move when she emerged. Like a statue, Grant sat there, keeping his chin resting on his fingers, hiding his lips. Though he didn’t give any signal of a change when Whitney entered the room, his gaze focused intently on her. He watched as she was walked around first to James and Richard for them to inspect.

“Upright,” Eric called and instantly she was kneeling, her back as straight as a board.

“Hands,” he said and her hands were laced behind her head.

“She’ll fetch too, if you want,” Wesley joked. Richard found that amusing, a slight smirk on his lips.

Eric ordered Whitney back to her feet and walked her up to kneel between Wesley and Grant, her back toward the couch.

“She’s been taught four nights a week, with weekends specifically for sensory practice and play, as you wanted,” explained Eric. Grant gave a nod, his eyes never straying from his prize.

“Show me the bullwhip,” he said to Eric.

“Position,” Eric called out. Whitney crawled just a few feet to the middle of the room where she placed her hands behind her head. She turned around so she could face us, although I knew she still couldn’t see with the blindfold so tight around her eyes. Eric walked over to the black chest in the corner and pulled out the bullwhip he used briefly on me the week before. When I saw it held firm in his grasp I flinched, as if on cue. It wasn’t for me that night, but I still could feel it hitting my skin. When her back was good and flushed crimson red, Grant had Eric change to another, sleeker whip. Eric would strike lower and then higher. It became a random pattern of hits, nothing ever hitting more frequently than to momentarily inflame the skin. To my fascination, Whitney never showed much of any emotion. She was gritting her teeth. Her jaw was locked, but she never cried out.

An hour into the whipping, Eric had broken out into a light sweat. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, though I was hoping that soon he would just forget about the whole shirt entirely. Wesley sat, seeming impressed by Whitney’s stamina. Both James and Richard would casually lean over to one another and whisper something into each other’s ear. The submissive at James’s feet look bored, her head leaning to one side as she watched the scene play out.

Eric showcased Whitney’s flexibility next. She was placed in a series of contortions and then ordered to hold the position for a few minutes at a time. There was a moment when he poured a black-colored wax down between her breasts, and my eyes widened when I heard her gasp. But the sound she made wasn’t from pain. She was in pleasure, lying there with Eric towering over her, a candle dripping from his hand. I wanted the candle instantly, wondering what types of sensations it would bring me. After, Eric methodically scraped away the hardened bits of wax from her body, which left behind red lines against her cream-colored skin.

“Back down, legs bent,” Eric ordered her. Whitney assumed her position. With legs open, she was facing Grant and exposing all of herself to his view. Eric brought out from the trunk a vibrator similar to the one he had used on me. He flicked it on and it hummed to life.

Grant stood up and stuffed his hands into his pockets. When Eric placed the vibrator up against Whitney’s clit, she jumped, then held herself steady. Grant walked around her, watching her closely as Eric increased the speed of the vibrator. I became curious when Grant turned away and rummaged through the trunk. When he returned back to Whitney and Eric, he had a small leather box in his hand.

“Lower the speed,” Grant said, his voice almost inaudible over the noise of the vibrator. Eric flicked the tempo down two notches and Whitney relaxed and tossed her head to one side. Grant opened the box. A pair of tools wrapped in plastic rested on top of a set of blue gloves. He fitted the gloves over his hands and tore the clamps out of the plastic. My stomach dropped when I saw him bring out a needle, long and thick. I tore my gaze away and looked at the others, to see their reaction. Wesley had an erection he was doing nothing about covering up, and Richard and James were sitting there, unaffected by the situation unfolding. I was the only one about to have a panic attack because I knew neither where the needle was going, nor what to expect.

Eric affectionately brushed away a strand of Whitney’s hair that had come loose from her small ponytail. His hand lingered against her face, comforting her silently as he watched Grant fit the needle onto a barbell. With gloved fingers, Grant squeezed at Whitney’s right breast, puckering up her nipple into a stiff peak. She moaned and whimpered at the touch when the clamp came down and locked around the areola.

“Increase the speed,” Grant said calmly and vibrator grew louder. Whitney went rigid once more, doing her best to keep herself stiff.

“Again,” he said to Eric. The noise was louder, harsher sounding. My heart was racing as I sat there watching Whitney’s fate unfold. The needle was set in place, ready to pierce her skin.

“Come,” Grant called out. Whitney bit down on the gag and like a domino effect, I listened to her stifled moans as the needle went through and her orgasm came over her. Grant placed one hand on her stomach to hold her down while she submitted to her pleasure. The breath I had been holding deep within my chest finally exhaled from me. I saw the hint of a smile on Eric lips as he watched Whitney come down from her high, her mouth parted and her head thrown back. Grant quickly finished up the piercing and unlocked the clamps from her breast. It left an impression from where it had been placed, but other than that, there were no signs of blood.

Grant walked away to finish cleaning up as Eric brought Whitney back to her knee and had her fall into the waiting position. He looked tired, but pleased with the results. When Grant returned back to the circle, he was given Whitney’s leash, and he wound the end of the chain tightly around his fist.

“She’ll do beautifully,” he said with a nod.

“I was honored to have her, and I know you’ll be just as happy as I was,” Eric replied. Grant took his seat on the couch, holding on to Whitney, keeping her close as he stroked her hair softly with his fingers. When Eric came closer to me, I couldn’t help but feel pride in him. He was proud of what he did, and I was proud of him. After taking his seat, Eric’s hand snuck under my hair to grasp my neck. He guided me back against the chair, tilting my head and capturing my lips in a deep kiss.

“I’m yours,” I whispered low enough so only he would hear me.

“You’re mine,” he replied, just as quietly.

“Maybe we can pierce other parts of her tonight?” I heard Wesley ask. Eric released me and I adjusted myself back into my waiting position. Grant was smirking, looking at Wesley as he crossed his legs over one another.

“Perhaps another night. I need to get us home. We have a flight to catch tomorrow morning,” Grant explained, then leaned over to untie Whitney’s blindfold. She blinked to adjust to the light in the room and found me. Her smile was contagious, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her. The mascara on her lashes had smeared, her hair was disheveled from the intense play and she couldn’t have looked more amazing. Grant stood up and the men around the room got up from their seats as well.

“Gather your things up and return back to me,” he told Whitney while unleashing her collar.

“Alexandra, go and help her clean up,” Eric ordered me.

“Yes, Master,” I said quickly and followed Whitney out of the room, the both of us crawling on our hands and knees. Once we were inside Eric’s bedroom, I closed the door just enough to give us some privacy. Whitney was on her feet, jumping up and down, covering her mouth with her hand as she muffled her laugh. I grinned and shook my head.

“I can’t believe I did it,” she exclaimed.

“You were incredible,” I said. Whitney went straight for her bag and began to dress. She slipped on a pair of jeans and then pulled a white tank top over her head.

“He’s taking us to Hawaii before he has to get back to work,” she said and picked up a brush to tame her wild hair.

“What does he do?” I ventured in asking.

Whitney twisted around, her brush in midstroke. “He was one of my professors last year.”

I almost choked on my breath, my eyes widened with shock.

“Nice,” I said with a nod. She laughed and turned back around to finish up.

“His best student, or so he said,” she replied. “Personally, I think I deserved a full A, not an A-minus, but whatever.”

Whitney finished her hair and then stuffed the rest of her things back into her bag, zipping it up and throwing it over her shoulder.

“Will I see you in class in two weeks?” I asked.