Spring Training (22 page)

“Fuck, you have a wicked mouth.”

She smiled at the compliment, tucking his sated cock back into his pants. His breathing was fast and shallow, his legs still twitching with residual release.

“If you’re finished there, slave, we could use some dinner.”

Brooke patted Frank’s zipped fly with her left hand. It thrilled her to see the platinum and diamond ring Todd had given her winking back at her. Rising to her feet, she acknowledged the order before heading to the kitchen to complete the meal preparations.

She plated the food then assumed her position on the dining table as the centerpiece before ringing the tiny bell calling them to eat. As planned, Todd led their guests to the kitchen where they each gathered their own plate. He showed them to the dining room where she had arranged herself down the center of the table, arms above her head, her knees bent, feet planted on either side of her Master’s place setting.

“That’s the loveliest centerpiece I’ve ever seen,” Mistress Lola said, taking her place at Brooke’s left.

“Exquisite,” Frank said. He sat across from Mistress Lola on Brooke’s right.

Todd made the rounds, filling wine glasses before he sat. “We want to thank you both for coming this evening. Brooke has been anxious to show you how much your training has meant to her as have I.” He raised his glass. “To Spring Training.”

Crystal clinked above her navel.

“To Spring Training,” her guests repeated.

“Are you sure we can’t decorate this sweet body for the wedding?” Frank asked. “I’d love to see her walking down the aisle with a few stripes showing.”

“I’d like nothing more, but we must restrict our marking to her ass. She assures me no one but me is going to see that part of her tomorrow.”

“Are you sure we can’t do something with these lovely tits?” Mistress Lola teased the nipple closest to her with the tip of her steak knife. “They’re so much fun to play with.”

“Enjoy them all you want,” her Master said. “Just make sure the tops remain unmarked. Her dress is strapless.”

“You’ve seen it?”

Brooke quivered as the Domme scraped the edge of her knife over Brooke’s nipple.

“I chose it for her. Left to her, she would probably have picked out something with long sleeves and a turtleneck so she could walk down the aisle with stripes. I wanted to show off her body.”

“Too bad she couldn’t walk down the aisle in nothing but a veil. It’s a shame to hide her body under anything.” Frank joined his dinner companion, teasing Brooke’s breast with his knife.

“I agree completely, Frank. That’s why she’ll no longer wear clothes within our home unless we have company that would freak. At home, she’ll wear her collar and her rings. Nothing else.”

“Maybe some clamps….” Frank scraped her nipple with the sharp edge of his blade.

Brooke felt a rush of heat to her pussy.

“You should see how wet she is.” Something cold touched her pussy, scraped lightly along her perineum. “Her pussy is dripping on the table.” She couldn’t resist. She opened her eyes. Master held his knife up for all to see. The tip glistened.

“I think she likes a little edge play.” Cold metal teased her clit.

It was all she could do to remain still. Reason told her to run, but arousal held her pinned to the table while the three of them trailed sharp points over her skin. By the time they finished their meals, her thighs quivered and her pussy ached for release. Her nipples were so sensitive the slightest touch might send her over the edge.

“Here, take my plate.” Todd handed his place setting to Frank who deposited it at the far end of the table before adding his and Mistress Lola’s.

“Cover her eyes.” A napkin sailed through the air.

Mistress Lola caught it, draping it over Brooke’s face. All she had to do was turn her head to the side, and it would slip off, but she wouldn’t. Whatever her Master planned, he wanted to deprive her of sight. Not so her hearing. He pushed Brooke’s knees down and out, spreading her wide. “Hold her, please.”

Their dinner guests grasped her legs, pinning her with surprising strength. Panic sent her heart racing. She wasn’t bound. She could move anytime she wanted, but she didn’t want to. Deep inside, she knew she was in no danger. Her Master would never do anything to harm her, but playing on the edge excited her.

Air stirred between her legs. “Time for some fun.” Master’s voice came from somewhere above her. He must have stood. Strong fingers parted her folds. Something cold and unforgiving pressed at her entrance.

“Hold still, slave. I want to see this inside you.”

Brooke clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Judging from the size of the object, it had to be the handle of a steak knife. Harmless, but nonetheless erotic in that these three were watching it slowly enter her. Soon only the blade would protrude from her pussy.

It seemed like forever, but must have been less than a minute when Todd’s fingers released her folds to close around the hilt of the knife. Brooke shuddered, imagining what they were seeing. A warm hand on her stomach stilled her.

“Don’t move, babe.” Todd’s voice was thick with desire.

“Fucking beautiful,” Frank whispered. “Look at that. Shit, I want to fuck the hell out of her.”

“Oh, Brooke,” Mistress Lola said. “I wish you could see this. Fuck, it’s amazing.”

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” Before she could speak, he said, “Someone take that napkin off her. I want to see her face.”

Brooke stared up at the chandelier, afraid to even glance at the people gathered around her.

“Talk to us, slave. How does it feel?”

“Dangerous. Exciting.” She closed her eyes. “I need to come, Sir.”

Silence around the table. Brooke imagined them all staring at the blade between her legs and her pussy clenched.

“Shit! Don’t move, babe.” The hands holding her tightened. “I’m going to touch it now. Fuck you with it, slow and easy. We want to see you come, baby.”

The wooden handle slid from her then back in until Todd’s fingers bumped against her clit. She almost came then. He did it again, this time entering her faster, bumping her clit harder. She convulsed around the foreign object invading her. Muscles in her stomach and abdomen clenched. A long, feral moan escaped her throat.

When her body quieted, she felt the object slip from her. She’d never been in any danger—none of the people controlling her would ever put her safety at risk—but knowing that hadn’t mattered. Just the illusion of danger took her higher than she’d ever been before.

“Holy Mother of God,” Todd swore. “I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful. I’ve got to have you, babe. Right now.”

There was a clattering of a belt buckle, followed by a zipper. Then he was braced on his arms above her, filling her in one hard stroke that felt so right it brought tears to her eyes. She was only vaguely aware of the people holding her legs wide while her Master fucked her. He wasn’t gentle, and she didn’t want him to be. She needed him hard and fast. Needed to feel his desperate need to be inside her.

She didn’t come, but she wasn’t disappointed when he came, bathing her with a wash of hot cum.

“Ah, fuck,” he said, still buried in her pussy. “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Good thing she’s the one who has to walk down the aisle,” Frank said.

Brooke couldn’t contain the love inside her. It bubbled up and spilled out as laughter. Todd softened, slipped from her. His laughter joined hers as he climbed off the table.

“Your turn, Mistress,” he said. “The dessert course is yours.”

Oh, God!
Brooke almost forgot the final course of the evening. They’d gotten off track a bit with the knife—and the fucking on the table. That wasn’t on the menu, but there wasn’t anything wrong with a little improvisation, was there?

A soft hand stroked along the inside of her thigh. She looked down the length of her body and into the heated gaze of Mistress Lola.

“Brooke?”

“Please, I know how much you want to.”

“If it’s okay, I’d love to have you for dessert.”

“There’s a Chocolate Orgasm cake, if you would prefer.”

“No.” The other woman shook her head. “Nothing tastes as good as you with a little Todd mixed in.”

She sat in the chair Todd had vacated. Brooke scrunched down the table until her ass rested on the edge, her pussy open.

“Come on, Frank. Let’s get some cake then come back and watch.”

The two men left. Brooke closed her eyes, smiling as the Domme pressed her mouth against her heated sex. “Feels good,” she sighed.

EPILOGUE

Brooke walked down the aisle to the man of her dreams. With every step, she was reminded of the night before. After dessert, they’d returned to the playroom where her trainers made sure she would be thinking of them on her wedding day. Her Master, her soon-to-be husband,
had
held her hands while they took turns caning her ass. After their guests left, she’d fallen asleep with Todd rubbing Mistress Lola’s salve into the welts she would have for days, if not weeks. Too bad there wouldn’t be a record of them in the photo album. No matter. She’d never forget them.

Leaning on her father’s arm for support perhaps a bit more than she normally would have, she looked to the front of the church. Todd’s gaze locked with hers. He looked every bit the successful athlete he was—tall, handsome, fit. Intelligence and love sparked in his eyes, eyes that were only for her. Eyes that claimed her, possessed her, dominated her. She barely resisted the insane urge to square her shoulders and lock her hands behind her head as she made her way, one excruciating step at a time toward her future. Toward her Master.

Todd couldn’t believe his luck. Life was good. His firm hand with the Mustangs management had worked. Matthews left Arizona headed to San Diego, and Todd had left Spring Training with a new lease on life. Halfway through the regular season, and he was having one of the best years of his career. He owed it all to Brooke.

His bride, his slave, looked like an angel gliding down the aisle when he knew how painful each step must be for her. She’d been used hard the night before, but she’d done well. Her trainers had reason to be proud. As had he. She was his. His to love, to cherish, forever. Just a few hours before, he’d tended to her striped and bruised ass before fucking her senseless. She’d showed up for the wedding—something he never doubted—therefore he would mark her as his. He’d purchased a new flogger for their wedding night. She would love the way it felt on her skin. She was especially going to like that it was soft enough to use on her front, too. Her lovely breasts would be even lovelier laced with stripes he put there.

Damn
. He was getting hard, but he couldn’t look away. Jason Holder, his best man, elbowed him.

“You have to wait until you get her out of the church, man.”

Todd smiled at the whispered warning. “Got it.” No fucking in the church.

He shook hands with her father, a man who would kill him if he had a clue what he’d done and wanted to do to his daughter. Then he took Brooke’s small hand in his and looked into her eyes. Love like he’d never known filled his heart. He’d promise anything to anyone in order to possess her.

“Do you, Todd Stevens, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Other Titles by Roz Lee

Mustangs Baseball Series

Inside Heat

Going Deep

Bases Loaded

Switch Hitter

Free Agent

Seasoned Veteran

Lothario Series

The Lust Boat

Show Me the Ropes

Love Me Twice

Four of Hearts

Under the Covers

Also:

Sweet Carolina

Still Taking Chances

Making It on Broadway

The Middlethorpe Chronicles

About the Author

Award winning author Roz Lee has penned over a dozen erotic romances. The first, The Lust Boat, was born of an idea acquired while on a Caribbean cruise with her family, and soon blossomed into a five book series published by Red Sage. Following her love of baseball, she turned her attention to sexy athletes in tight pants, writing the critically acclaimed Mustangs Baseball series.

Roz has been married to her best friend, and high school sweetheart, for over three decades. Roz and her husband have two grown daughters (and a new Son-in-law) they couldn’t be more proud of. They are currently raising a thirteen-year-old Labrador Retriever, Betty Boop, who isn’t aware of her canine heritage.

Even though Roz has lived on both coasts, her heart lies in between, in Texas. A Texan by birth, she can trace her family back to the Republic of Texas. With roots that deep, she says, “You can’t ever really leave.”

When Roz isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. No trip is too small, no tourist trap too cheesy, and no road unworthy of travel.

www.RozLee.net