Page 35 of Delicious Surrender

Brynne winced. “Bad news travels fast.”

He chuckled. “You’re fresh meat, love. Don’t worry, the novelty will wear off soon enough.”

“I hope so,” she said, handing him the drink.

John raised his glass in her direction and sat back down. The scene unfolding at the other end of the room re-captured her attention. Ben was dragging a feather along the underside of the prisoner’s arms and down his torso, all the while massaging oil up and down the length of his prick. Brynne overheard Achilles’s sharp intake of breath and watched his taut body shudder as the Irishman continued to torment him.

John took control again. “Thank you, Ben. Now we’ll call upon the holder of the other spade to bring our gladiator back down to earth.”

“That’s me.” A man with ebony skin and mischief in his eyes rose from the table. He was well over six feet of lean muscle and sculpted cheekbones.

While he stood at the cabinet perusing the items, Brynne salivated over his perfect butt. What would he do to poor Achilles? It didn’t matter. She was already impatient for what might happen next.

She couldn’t see what he chose because he stood in front of the cross, his large frame blocking everyone’s view. When Achilles moaned low, her body shuddered in reaction to the obvious discomfort in his tone. The sounds in the roomwere subdued. Everyone was holding their breath, listening for signs of his resistance or surrender. Another distressed groan followed by the tinkle of a bell. Achilles sucked in his breath, and it was obvious his tormentor was fastening something between his legs. When he stepped aside, a collective sigh passed around the room. Brynne would give anything for a gin and tonic to wet her parched throat. She swallowed a gasp, seeing the clamps fastened to his nipples with small bells to signal his duress. The Black man had also wrapped several leather straps tightly around the base of his penis and balls. If Brynne thought his cock looked hungry before, it was positively ravenous now. She swallowed hard and reached for a bottle of water.

A buzz sounded, and the security guard moved to the door. He peered through the small window first and then allowed the three servers to enter. They made quick work of clearing empty dishes and then set down the salad course. Brynne circled the table with the wine and topped everyone up. Once she retreated, John raised his glass.

“A toast to Master Gage, who gave us this delicious 2001 Barolo.”

“Hear, hear!”

“Cheers,” the guests chimed in.

Everyone except John clinked glasses and dug into their salads. He dropped his napkin on his chair and walked in front of the captive, strung up for his amusement. He leaned in to Achilles, his mouth close to his ear as he unfastened the hooks holding the cuffs to the corners of the cross. Achilles nodded and dropped to his knees, the bells from his nipple clamps echoing off the paneled walls. John took a dining chair and placed it in the corner facing the room. From her vantage point at the otherend, Brynne could see everything. Part of her wondered if John did that on purpose, and her pulse quickened. She reluctantly pried her gaze away and focused on wiping the bar, but couldn’t ignore the sounds coming from that corner. The unbuckling of a belt, the sound of a zipper, and the swish of trousers being drawn down. When Brynne looked back up, Achilles was kneeling between John’s legs with his cock cradled in his grasp.

“Tut, tut,” he said, his tone gruff. “No hands.” He drew the young man’s arms behind his back and clipped the cuffs together.

“These bells are a distraction.” He swiftly tossed the clamps to the floor. Achilles moaned as the blood rushed back to the tortured tips and he whispered his thanks.

“I’m sure you are glad to be rid of them. Now you can show me just how much.”

Achilles nodded, raised himself to a kneeling position, and opened his mouth. The hood covered his eyes, so he waited to be directed. John’s jaw clenched; his steely blue eyes glittered as he pulled the open mouth toward him. Achilles took the smooth round head into his mouth, tentatively at first, running his tongue over the crown, then down the sides, letting his saliva coat the stem. He took him into his mouth and descended slowly, propelling himself forward a little further each time. John closed his eyes and let his head fall back. Achilles coated the entire length of it with swirling strokes, sucking on the way up, licking on the way down. He increased the intensity, forcing himself down farther each time, and Brynne swore she heard the sound of it thudding against the back of his throat. John clenched his fists and began thrusting himself forward to meet every stroke. They were both oblivious to the onlookers.

Everyone had ceased eating. They stared, mesmerized by the erotic sounds of a cock being worshiped. John gripped the arms of the chair; he was getting close, swelling, and growing under Achilles’s proficient tongue. The next time he pushed himself down, the entire length disappeared into his throat. He remained there, and Brynne could see the tendons in his neck working, swallowing the head over and over.

John let out a keening cry of ecstasy, his legs twitching as every drop was wrung from his body. Only then did Achilles pull himself off to rest his forehead on the older man’s thigh. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths. To Brynne’s surprise, John started undoing the laces at the back of the hood. Once they were loosened, he stood and pulled Achilles to his feet in front of him. Yanking off the leather covering, he took his face in his hands and kissed him deeply. John’s large right hand concealed much of his face from Brynne, but a strange feeling of recognition dawned. They turned slightly from the table, so they were both shielded from prying eyes. She watched John take hold of the young man’s rock-hard prick. It wasn’t long before his manipulations brought Achilles to completion. Another all-encompassing kiss muffled his groans.

Then Brynne saw his profile properly, and she nearly fainted.

10

Tink’s Punishment

Holy fucking fuckazoids!

She had no way out of the room, so she scooted down and pretended to fix her shoelace. There was a crack between the bar and the wall where she watched John pull his pants up and put a robe around her best friend. He led Jared to the door and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

“Thank you for a wonderful gift, Achilles. I hope I’ll see you next weekend at Fetish night.”

“You will,” Jared murmured, and left.

Thank god he didn’t see her. Brynne was stunned and hot all over. Her mind was racing. Had he done that before? Did they know each other well? Could she ever tell him she’d witnessed that? She had to digest the whole thing and try to act normal. If she ever got the nerve, she would ask him how he did that thingwith this throat.

They released Helen, the lovely centerpiece, from the table for a break, but planned to bring her back for the dessert course and more card games. Brynne looked forward to seeing more. She served more wine and cocktails after the entrée was served. She had completely lost track of the time, so when Bettie arrived a short time later to take over, her stomach dropped. There was still time to bolt for the nearest exit.

Gage was talking to Garrick at the top of the main stairs, but their conversation stopped when she approached. He looked stern, and she wondered if he ever smiled. When she saw the collar and cuffs dangling from his hand, she paused, moving no closer. Her body was still buzzing; shock, arousal, and a million wild thoughts vied for attention. She had just witnessed her best friend pleasure a man, a scene that would be burned into her brain forever.

Gage handed Garrick the wrist cuffs and addressed her brusquely. “Come here.”