Thursday, November 24, 2016

Playing in a Group - Part Two


The Way Back to Play Novella  
Tag Team:   
Part Two
Read Part One Here
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“Who’s here?” Kat’s voice was quiet and a little shaky. Her shoulders hunched in on themselves.

“Friends,” Hallie assured as the other hands—even more pairs, two more sets that she could count—slid soothingly along her hair, her face, her shoulders and back.

“Breathe for me, baby,” she heard—felt—Hallie coo into her ear, making her shiver as Peter’s voice—his same sure, authoritative tone—flashed sharp and hot like a memory inside her. “Big, deep breaths. Come on, Katherina, you know how. Breathe.”

Breathe.

Relax.

She repeated the words in her head as she let her eyes slip shut behind the blindfold.

Just relax.

Her tension eased as she gave in to the rhythmic stroke flowing sweetly, reverently, over her body. They silently worked the tight muscles in her shoulders and back. 

They held the blindfold in place as they loosened the knot, sweeping her hair up and off her shoulders to give them better reach. 

She felt those nimble fingers weave through her hair, twisting and braiding it, in soft sifts as they massaged her scalp, making her sigh.

She only peripherally noticed the hands slip the straps of her dress down her shoulders. The satiny slide of the soft cloth just another sensation as hands followed suit, slicking lower, down her back, over her ass, and down her thighs. Not obtrusively—it wasn’t sexual—just a smooth glide over her skin, leaving a silky sheen in their wake. 

Her legs instinctively parted when they dipped between to stroke her inner thighs. Her back arched into hands that coasted down her small breasts, over already hard nipples and down her soft belly.

It wasn’t sexual, this touch. 

No, it was sensual. Luxuriant. Worshipful. 

Even as they slipped up to the apex of her legs, delicately easing in to tease the sensitive lips of her labia, the touch didn’t seem to lust. It adored. Leaving her warm, not hot. 

The oil heated over her skin, the pungent scent growing stronger as it wrapped itself around her. It smelled...reverent, rejuvenating, renewing. 

She felt somehow cleansed by it. Relaxed. She sighed, content for the first time in a long while. 

Just when she was sure her body would fall limp from the pleasure, the hands stopped. 

Left.

Kat straightened, feeling once again bereft. Alone. Naked and suddenly cold in the dark, never-ending space behind the blindfold.

Then she felt it. 

Soft lips pressed sweetly against her cheek, just a soft, lingering brush against her skin before they sighed. Then another. And another. Four mouths, each slightly different—a different touch, a different scent—hinting with faint, familiar teases at the friends around her.

Kat was still pondering that when her phone rang.

The phone was pressed into her palm. She raised it to her ear. “Peter.”

“Feeling relaxed, Kat?” he said without preamble, as if just continuing their last conversation.

“Yes, Peter,” she replied. “Thank you.” It’d been wonderful. Lovely, really. She felt better, more at ease, more herself, than she had in a very long time. 

“Good,” he said. “Are you ready for the next step?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Good.” 

She inhaled deeply, the silent moments between often more torturous, more excruciating, than anything—any blow or strike—any sadist could could deliver.

“Close your eyes, Kat,” she heard Peter say.

She did.

She felt hands at the knot at the back of her head, loosening the cloth.

“I’m taking off the blindfold,” he told her over the phone, despite the fact that other hands, not his, were touching her. 

As though they were an extension of him. Mere tools in his game. 

“You’re to keep your eyes closed though. Until I tell you otherwise, you will not open your eyes,” he told her. “Not even to check or to peek. Or you will be punished. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Peter.” Those hands once again untangled her hair from the knot and removed the blindfold completely.

Kat shivered, somehow feeling more than naked without it. 

Exposed. She felt exposed standing there nude, still blind, and without the soft shield of that simple strip of cloth.

“Good girl,” Peter’s voice purred through the phone, an aural stroke to her stripped nerves. “Good.” 

Her shoulders relaxed and she forced her chin up. She could do this. She wanted to do this. 

You can do this, she reminded herself when Peter hung up. She lowered the phone and clutched it tight, pressing it into her palm.

She felt Hallie pull a soft, sylphic cloth up her arms, letting it drape ephemeral around her like a sensual aura. Kat felt her wrap the delicately decedent material around her before cinching it about her waist. 

Then, lifting each foot in turn, letting Kat lean on her shoulders for balance, Hallie slipped a pair of impossibly tall, strappy stilettos on her. 

It was so strange, that difference. The sweet, flowing freedom of the robe and the hard, relentless rigidity of the shoes. Kat wiggled her toes and marveled, feeling the silk shift about her body as the hard leather straps bit into her feet. 

She had no idea what the clothes she wore looked like, no clue as to color or cut or style, but somehow she felt beautiful in them. Felt like, no matter how she appeared, a tactile temptation.

Hallie took her hand again and led her forward. Kat, try as she might to mentally map her way through the club, had no clue as to the layout of the underground space. 

A niggling, lost feeling tickled in the back of her mind. She reminded herself of the trust she knew she could put in Hallie. Of the trust she had in Peter. 

He knew where she was going. And that was all that mattered at the moment.

Kat felt herself being pulled into a small space, confused by the closet-like feel. An elevator, she knew as she felt the floor rock beneath her, vertigo unsettling her. 

Kat’s hands shot out, trying to feel for the walls. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to keep from opening them—just a crack—to right herself and find some semblance of balance.

Hallie laid her hands over Kat’s shoulders, steadying her as she squeezed slightly. “Almost there,” she promised, leaning in to whisper into Kat’s ear.

Kat let out a breath, unaware until then that she’d been holding it at all. She breathed again, deep and calming, and straightened her spine. Almost there. She repeated those words to herself, the silent sound comforting.

She held onto that thought as Hallie led her out of the elevator and out into the club again. Kat knew she was in the club now. She could hear the dull lilt of the musicians Max had hired, muffled through the back hall’s walls. 

If she strained, she could hear the guests talk and mingle among themselves. She could almost smell the aroma of the deliciously catered food. 

She wasn’t being brought back out there, was she? 

The idea of meeting all those people—being paraded in front of them—like this...  

Kat bit her lip and stiffened.

It was only when Hallie hurried her down a hallway away from the party that Kat relaxed again. Even though she still couldn’t place exactly where in Donovan’s she was, it felt better—easier—being escorted deeper into the familiar space again. It was like coming home again. 

She didn’t need her sight here. Here, she didn’t need control. She could let go.

Hallie stopped her suddenly, holding her in place before whispering to her to stay there and stay still. “Can you do that, Kat?”

Kat nodded obediently before she felt those hands lift and leave. 

She waited, trying not to be so aware of how alone and exposed she was right now. 

She waited, fighting the urge to fidget, and stood painfully still. 

She waited, though her body felt intensely tight, held in ready for whatever was coming. 

Seconds passed like minutes, minutes like excruciating hours and still she waited.

Something just shy of her senses made her flinch. 

Not a sound, not really. 

Not a scent or a movement. 

More like a feeling, a presence making itself known. It was the oddest sensation of...something. Something or someone was here. With her. 

It wasn’t a threat or a worry; she felt—knew—that much, but a strange hush hung heavy in the air around her. It felt alive. She could practically hear it breathe—pant—in hungry expectation. 

Slightly—hardly enough for someone to notice—she turned her head, first one way and then the other, trying to hear or smell or sense something. But there was nothing but that hush.

Her phone rang, making her jump.

With jittery hands, she fumbled with the mobile device still held in her hand. She brought it up to her ear. “Peter?”

“You can open your eyes now, Kat,” she heard him say, his voice calm yet touched by something. Something kin to amusement, maybe. Or excitement. It hit her like a warning, heightening her already sharpened senses.

She hung up the phone. She slowly lowered it down to her side. She forced her limbs to relax and prepared to meet whatever—whomever—was on the other end of that hush.

Then she opened her eyes.

And saw darkness. Nothing but an endless shadow.

She looked around, blinking into the black. Where was she?

She jumped again as a spotlight shone, dim but still blinding to her light-deprived eyes, onto her. She shielded her eyes and tried to see past the light.

The auditorium. 

She was on the stage. 

She could just make out the outlines of people filling the seats before her. Not full, the area sat maybe fifteen or so members, a handful of people in the sea of seats, all gathered near the front in rapt attention.

Her nervous heart pounded as she stood there awkward and unsure. The weight of their stares was almost painful. She scrambled to think of something to do. They stayed that way for a long moment, her single gaze so small against the joined force of their attention.

She had to turn away from that gaze, couldn’t—for the life of her—hold it. She lowered her head, looking down at herself. 

She felt naked on that stage, in just a shimmering pearl-toned robe and heels. With her dark hair swept up into intricate braids, she couldn’t even hide behind the shade of its fall. 

She wanted to run. To flee into the safe space behind the curtains. To be embraced by the stage wings. 

Her body tensed. Her feet itched to move. She inhaled as her flight instinct prepared to take off.

She should do something.

Anything.

She couldn’t just stand here like this.

“Katherina.”

Kat jumped at Peter’s low, authoritative voice that boomed over the auditorium’s PA system. 

Squinting, she stared through the glaring lights to the overhead tech booth in the back of the theater. “Peter?”

“Take off your robe,” he told her, “but leave the shoes.”

She swallowed. Her eyes teared from staring into the blinding light so hard. Public nudity was hard for her. Always had been. To be exposed and laid raw like that in front of strangers…she’d never really built a tolerance to it. 

“Now, Kat.” 

Her breath hitched at the command in his voice. Her chest heaved as she forced her hands to move. She looked down to stare at her hands as they tugged at the robe’s tie. 

The knot came undone easily despite her shaky grip. 

She caught the halves of the robe in her hands, the tight grasp desperate and involuntary. Her wide-eyed gaze glazed as she met the unknown, nebulous stare hidden and hushed in the shadows. 

“Katherina,” Peter chastised, “you can do this. Take it off. Now.”

She shut her eyes and notched her chin up before forcing her fingers to let go. She felt the sides flutter around her, the soft fabric framing her form.

“Good girl.”

She let his words wash over her before she let her last shield slide off her arms in a satiny fall to her feet.

“Good, Katherina.” His voice was warm and pleased. She rolled her shoulders, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her body, covering herself. “Good. Now, hands behind your head.”

Kat balked a bit, freezing in place. Her limbs locked. 

She peered inside the darkened room. She thought she could see the hint of a shadow shifting in the dark, but she couldn’t be sure. She spied the tiny flare of a red light in the black.

What was he doing? Where was all this—where were they—heading?

“Hands, Katherina.” She shook her head, trying to clear it as her heart raced. “Behind your head. Now.”

She knew that authoritative tone. Instinctively reacting to it, her shaky arms rose to fold her hands behind her neck. The pose stretched her torso, making her feel on display as her nipples hardened and her sex clenched. 

She’d never understand why the hardest things for her to do were always the things he knew would make her react the most.

“Good girl.” The pleased timbre of his voice was clear even through the theater speakers. She felt herself grow wet.

Kat jumped when she felt a pair of strong hands grip her wrists. Large hands. A man’s hands. Kat tensed.

“Calm,” she heard Peter say. “Shh. Relax.”

She took a deep breath. And another. And another. Forcing her body to calm, to relax, she gave herself over to the hands holding her wrists firmly, securely. She turned her head to see who was holding her.

“Don’t.” The command was clear and snapped her head forward again. “Stay still or the blindfold goes back on.”

She straightened her shoulders and stared back out into the darkened audience, again feeling their gaze. She felt those hands rub her wrists, massaging her skin. They didn’t touch anywhere but her wrists, just a gentle rub that reassured.

It wasn’t until her breathing steadied that she felt the first rough brush of the ropes, shocking her. 

She jerked, but fought the gripping urge to turn, to see. 

She tamped down the desire to resist when the ropes twined around her wrists, the braided material coiling around tightly. And, just as her fear was about to take her over—force her to flee—the ropes were tugged, making her stumble a bit. 

The expertly tied knots were comfortable but held her tight even as the long tail ends dangled down her back, tickling her sensitized skin.

Those hands gripped her shoulders again and turned her, moving with her so she still couldn’t see who it was. 

Turned, she stopped when she saw a whipping post. She felt the man behind her give her an encouraging push, but still she stopped, her knees locked as she bit her lip.

“Katherina?” she heard Peter’s PA-ed voice ask.

Her face scrunched. She didn’t know how she felt about this. In all the years that she’d known Peter—in all the years that she’d been in the kink world—she’d never played with anyone but him. She’d never wanted to; had never wanted anyone other than him.

He was home and safety. He was excitement and edge. He was the love and lust of her life; what more could she want?

“Katherina?” he asked again. “What’s your color, Kat?”

Kat felt the hands cupped around her shoulders squeeze and then still. Not pressuring, encouraging. 

She could feel the audience collectively hold their breath. 

She’d never wanted this—never needed this. But did that mean that she didn’t want this? She bit her lip, worrying the bite of flesh between her teeth, when she felt the man behind her lean in. “You can do this, Kat.”

She licked her lips, her tongue soothing the bite. She knew that voice. She knew she did.

“Katherina,” Peter asked again, “what’s your color?”

Those hands slipped down to rub her forearms, the smooth touch reassuring. 

Rob.

She inhaled deeply, his warm scent comforting. She took a step toward the post, feeling Rob’s presence almost protectively behind her. Breathe, she told herself. He lifted her arms by the ropes at her wrists, yanking them high so he could bind them to the top rung of the post.

“Green.” She still didn’t quite know if this—this game and these players—was what she wanted. But she knew she wanted to try.

“Head tucked in,” she heard Peter order as Rob’s hand cupped the back of her head to position her between her stretched arms. “Forehead against the post.”

The metal was cold against her hot skin, almost a relief as she pressed tight against it. 

She took one more deep breath.

Relax.



READ THE WAY BACK TO PLAY'S 
"GAME MAKER" TO FIND 
OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT !



CHECK OUT HOW
PETER & KAT MET IN MY
NOVEL THE TAMING SCHOOL
AVAILABLE NOW






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