Master Z sure came up with strange games. A completely darkened dungeon. Doms lying in wait for vulnerable submissives. No sound permitted.
The drums didn’t sound, so Uzuri kept crawling and crawling.
Did Master Z have a reason for when he’d start and stop the sessions? He could see the room, after all, since he and the devious dungeon monitors had donned night-vision goggles. That was actually reassuring. Apparently the “no speaking” ruled didn’t apply to the dungeon monitors since earlier, Master Raoul had reprimanded a Dom for being too rough, and Master Marcus told a slave to stop stalling and get off the road.
A roll of drums sounded. Time for the submissives to head toward the center of the room.
Uzuri hesitated. The last Dom had wiped out a lot of her enthusiasm. Her knees were getting sore, too. With a sigh, she crawled across the floor, ran into a mattress, and detoured around it. She brushed against someone and startled. They both stopped, but her shoulder was rubbing against a man’s bare side, so he was another bottom.
Without speaking, she turned away at an angle and continued.
Her hand bumped another mattress, and she started to back away.
Fingers closed around her wrist, halting her. Like a predator lying in wait, a Dom had felt the thump and snagged her. His hand was big—huge—and her heart skipped a beat.
But in the dark, she couldn’t see his height or size. Couldn’t tell if he really was big. Some short men had large hands, right? And, although he guided her firmly onto the mattress, his grip was controlled—not painful or mean like the last Dom.
When she was in the center, he squeezed her wrist slightly, so she stopped crawling, remaining on hands and knees. Not releasing her wrist, he stroked down her back, slowly. Sensuously. His palm was hard and callused.
Fingers under her chin lifted her head. A hand cupped her face, and a slow thumb ran over her lips. This hand was smooth.
She froze, barely breathing. A hand on her back, a hand holding her wrist—and one on her face? There were two Doms here? She couldn’t see them. Her heart rate sped up. As fear wedged a cold blade through her insides, she whimpered.
A warm breath brushed against her ear. “Shh-shh-shh.” When he caressed her cheek reassuringly, she realized he was trying to help her avoid Master Z’s punishment for making noise.
The other Dom’s hand rested on her back as he waited for her to relax.
She slowly pulled in a breath. The two weren’t trying to scare her. On the contrary. Her muscles relaxed, and she bowed her head. All right.
As if she’d spoken aloud, they started moving. Slowly, silently, they explored her body. One ran his hands over her face, her shoulders, and arms. The other rubbed her bare feet, stroking his rough palms up her calves. He was the one who gripped her hips and rolled her onto her back.
She gasped at the vulnerable position. Blind. She could feel them, their size and strength, looming over her. She tensed.
Again, they waited, hands on her, but unmoving. She fought her fear back down.
At some silent signal between them, they started again.
The Dom kneeling beside her upper arm moved warm, firm hands over her shoulders, across her collarbone. She lifted her hands to touch him—and he pressed her arms back to her sides in an obvious order—they would be the ones doing the touching.
And he did. His hands claimed her breasts, kneading and stroking. But when he rolled one abused nipple between his fingers, she winced.
Feeling vulnerable, she tried to sit up. Hand on her shoulder, he kept her in place. Then, a tongue ever so lightly swirled around her scraped left nipple as if to make it feel better.
With a lingering ache, her areola wakened and puckered, and he teased his tongue over the hard nub. As his hand cupped her other breast, she realized his hands were huge.
The Dom who’d captured her had large hands, too. How big were these two men? A warning shiver ran over her, but she couldn’t see them, and the fear stayed at bay.
The one with callused hands knelt beside her right hip, and his soft tunic brushed against her bare skin. With both hands, he massaged her thighs, moving upward, stroking past her pussy to her waist and back down.
The other Dom remained beside her left shoulder. Releasing her breasts, he kissed her. His lips were soft, gentle, and ever so sensuous. He lightly teased her mouth and nibbled her lips until she opened. His tongue took possession as his long-fingered hand curved under her chin and along her jawline, letting him control the kiss.
When his face brushed hers, she felt a short, trimmed beard. Each breath brought her the fragrance of a spicy citrus and vetiver aftershave. Was his kiss familiar?
She tried to think, but being the focus of two Doms’ attentions made her dizzy. In the complete darkness, she had four hands fondling her. She didn’t know where they’d touch. What they’d do. The sense of having no control shook her. Heated her.
As her center unexpectedly warmed with arousal, she squirmed.
The hardened hands of the first Dom—the one who’d captured her—tightened on her thighs in an unspoken restraint, and she forced herself to hold still. When he kissed above her pelvis, his jaw held the rasp of a clean-shaven man with a day’s stubble—harsh, rough, and ever so sexy. Her belly quivered, and his lips curved against her skin.
Hands on her hips, he leaned on her, pressing her backside into the mattress. And, somehow, the feeling of being held down wasn’t frightening but totally intoxicating.
The bell…didn’t ring, and the music continued as the two Doms played with her. Enjoying themselves.
Dom Beard nibbled on her ear and down her neck, and goosebumps rose on her arms. When he licked over her nipples, his tongue was hot. Wet.
Dark desire hummed straight to her pussy.
As if in response, Dom Captor kissed downward from her belly and over her mound, deliberately rasping his chin right over the cleft. He pushed her legs apart about a foot. Ever so slowly, his tongue traced the crease between her hip and thigh, then touched her outer folds.
She pulled in a startled breath. The waxing had left her skin highly sensitized. There were no post-shaving bumps or little hairs, nothing to offer resistance to his tongue or lips. Every nerve ending felt more exposed. She felt the slickness between her legs increase.
His tongue touched her inner labia.
Too intimate. With a will of their own, her legs pressed together.
He lightly nipped her thigh in a silent reprimand.
She froze, barely breathing, cringing as she waited for him to punish her.
The pain didn’t come. Instead, he moved her legs apart again. His slow, warm breaths brushed over her mound, and then coolness washed it as he moved back. His powerful grip anchored her hip as his other hand cupped her pussy. Her jerk of surprise was halted before it even began.
And there were two Doms.
When she’d jolted, Dom Beard’s hands had closed on her arms, restraining her upper half. He nipped her shoulder in warning.
Fighting the instinctive need to flee, she lay still, heart pounding, as an unsettling heat flushed her skin. The controlled power in the way they handled her was making everything inside her sink into an unfamiliar, wonderful submissive space.
Dom Captor slid a finger between her folds, and she gasped at the intimate exploration. As if unworried about being interrupted by the bell, he swept his slickened finger up and around the sides of her clit…never touching the actual nub. Holding her down, he teased the nub until it swelled, then cycled between her clit and entrance until her whole pussy tingled with a full, hot sensation, growing more and more sensitized.
Dom Beard held her upper arms firmly, increasing her feeling of being captured, as he nuzzled her breasts. Alternating from left to right, he licked the nipples and sucked—lightly—obviously remembering her tenderness.
Her breasts felt hot and swollen, the nipples hot and aching.
Gripping her right hip, Dom Captor continued to tease her pussy, even as he bent forward and kissed her mound.
When his lips moved lower, she caught her breath. Ever so slowly, his tongue teased the hood above her clit.
Omigod, the sensation.
She tried to move. Heard Dom Beard chuckle against her breast. His grip stayed firm.
Restrained. Pressed into the mattress. Helpless and at the mercy of two Doms. Somehow, her arousal grew and grew until she shook with need. Her thighs trembled as her hips lifted in an effort to get more.
She felt the huff of Dom Captor’s breath in a silent laugh, but his hand tightened on her hip until she lay still again. The fabric of his tunic slid over her hip and right thigh as he moved closer. Unhurriedly, his mouth moved down…
* * * * *
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