throat to groin, with further diamond patterns and wraps down his legs and arms. His limbs were bound to the altar, holding him upright and stretched to the limits. He’d been thoroughly oiled beforehand, so his flesh glistened. His bride was on folded knees, staring up at him in adoration. She wore a brown velvet skirt that came to her ankles and purple Ked sneakers. A lavender T-shirt hugged her lush curves. She still wore the satin ribbon Alanna had put in her hair.
Brendan had been blindfolded, much like Alanna had been earlier on the bed. Apparently, Chloe understood as well as Evan and Niall did how sensory deprivation heightened and focused response. When Chloe reached out, slid her fingers through the oil on his thighs, up to the part of the harness that pressed against his testicles, his muscles flexed in instant reaction. She’d used a smaller grade of rope to do an intricate cock harness, the head plum-colored from the restraint. Now Chloe leaned forward and tasted, a kitten’s lick on the tip, and he bucked, showing how aroused he was. Loosening the cock harness, she slid it free and massaged him, rising to her knees to put her mouth on his abdomen, his hip bone, a reverent worship of the man who’d surrendered to her.
Chloe had woven a spell around those watching, yet it was obvious the new bride wasn’t aware of anything but her husband. When she stood up, she slid her arms around his bound torso. “I love you,” she said. “You are so perfect.”
He was unable to dip his head because she’d attached the wide collar he wore to two horizontal tethers, but the strain of his body against her gave his answer to that. Sliding under his arm, she went behind him. Her hands glided down the front of his body to curl around the ropes, tug on the ones that looped under his testicles. His cock slit glistened with fluid.
Alanna was at a side angle to the stage, so she could see the harness in back had a line of knots threaded between his buttocks. When Chloe worked them against his rim, he pumped against her hold, fucking the air.
“Do you want to please me?” she whispered.
“More than anything,” he said hoarsely. “Let me please you.”
Niall had his arm around Alanna’s waist. She gripped his forearm hard, aware of his heartbeat behind her back, the press of his heavy kilt against her bare buttocks. He cupped her breast, thumb brushing idly over her nipple, making her whimper softly.
“Do ye want to please me, lass?” Niall’s voice was in her ear.
Yes. God yes. She was so wet she felt the sucking dampness when he moved the thong aside. His probing touch made her catch her lip in her teeth. She wanted him to lift his kilt, bend his knees and drive into her with third-mark strength. With Niall’s strength.
Despite the oil on Brendan’s skin, Chloe pressed fully against her husband’s back, wrapping both hands around his cock. “Come for me. Here. In front of all of them, so they know you’re mine. Okay?”
Her soft voice wasn’t a Mistress’s demand, but a sweet desire, a need expressed, and Brendan thrust into her fingers. “Please . . .” he said. “Yes. Anything.”
She began to work him, slow, long strokes. The gathered audience was absorbed in it, Alanna no exception. Niall brought her closer to a bench in front of them. The Mistress who sat there looked nearly six feet tall, black skinned and red-haired, intimidating even without the coiled single tail next to her. She wore a buckled corset over tight leggings and thigh-high boots.
When she looked back at them, her dark brown eyes coursed over Alanna’s features, measuring her aroused state, as well as Niall’s hot male intent.
“She’s welcome to put her hands here, Niall.” She nodded at the back of the bench, her voice a husky purr. “I’ve seen what meat you bring to the table. She’ll need something to hang on to.”
“Do it,” Niall ordered, breath bathing her neck. Alanna clamped down on the smooth wood. As Niall adjusted his kilt, the Mistress tilted her head to watch, her tongue touching her top lip at what he revealed. Her gaze shifted to Alanna’s face as Niall drove into her wet cunt.
Alanna shuddered, internalizing the incredible energy, because she wouldn’t distract from Chloe’s beautiful display, any more than she would deny Niall. The Mistress was right, however. She needed the brace of the