On Loan Part VII
She’s back! The master and servant series continues in Hawaii after a brief hiatus. Enjoy!
Kneeling by the table, rising only to refresh drinks, I had plenty of time to admire the well taken care of yard to the house that we were visiting. The lanai was brick and the built-in grill was a brick/stone setup as well. The men sat in comfy chairs around the table, ignoring my disheveled presence kneeling beside my Dom (on a supplied cushion… thankfully! My Dom had dealt with knee problems of his own and knew you don’t leave a pet kneeling for an extended time on cold bricks!)
The blonde girl had served the next round of drinks, and two of the men were smoking fat cigars. The gentle island winds were carrying the last wisps of aroma from the hot coals and the last scents of steak and potatoes as the men finished eating. I had been fed only tidbits, being made to crawl from hand to hand and beg at each spot for my food, I was still quite hungry, almost lightheaded, and I could feel my stomach grumble.
Pouting slightly at not getting more to eat, I crawl back across to my Dom’s side. He grins down at my sullen expression, amused at my pouting, and commands me to please him. Without hesitation, I crawl under the table and carefully unzip his shorts. My hand slides in and I begin to caress and lightly massage his stiffening cock. The conversation carries on over my head and I hear one of the men, who is indulging in a cigar, call the blonde girl to bring poker chips. I kiss the tip of my Dom’s quickly swelling cock when abruptly his hand slides into my hair to push my mouth all the way down to the base of his shaft.
He holds me there as I try to not struggle for air, gagging gently around the hardening further in my throat, fighting the need to lift my head. After what seems like an infinity of breathless agony, my head is gently drawn back up and I gasp for sweet oxygen. My hair is disheveled now, my face red and flushed.
Before I can come out from under the table though, I am commanded to crawl around and give each man a small one-minute sample of my oral skills. I stare at the ground for a moment in rebellion, and before I know what has happened I have been yanked up across his lap and his hand lands repeatedly and brutally against my tender and sore ass. I remember not to use any words, but am beginning to grow angry too when he dumps me onto the ground and with a glare repeats his order.
My own arousal has dropped somewhat at this point, but the need to cum is still there, throbbing and driving me to deeper depths of nasty games to earn an orgasm for myself. Fresh tears of frustration and anger decorating my cheeks, I crawl under the table, thankful for tiled ground under the table, but even that is harsh and cold against my knees. I slide my hand out to unvelcro the first man’s surf shorts that he is wearing, when his hand reaches out to stop me. I hear him tell my Dom over the top of the table that he wants to wait until he has won a hand to experience my sluttiness, and I wonder to myself what that might mean. My Dom laughs and directs me on to the next man, who has already pulled his long hard cock out of his shorts.
My deep throating skills are not needed here, as a grip in my messy curly hair guides me to focus on sucking on just the end of the man’s cock. My tongue travels over the ridge at the head, and I hear the man have to swallow once, twice, before continuing with his conversation. I dip my tongue lightly into his cum hole, and his hand pushes me away before I can draw any more reaction from him. I obey his touch, and continue on my crawl to the next player and the host of the barbeque.
His voice is clear as without even looking under the table, he commands me to not touch his cock at all, a privilege I haven’t earned yet. Instead I am to gently suck and kiss his balls, showing again that I am an obedient and needy slut. My mouth softly sucks his sac into my mouth, my tongue dancing a caress around and across his soft skin. I lick and suck until he too pushes me away. A soft content sigh from above tells me I have performed this task to perfection and I crawl out from under the table and back to my Dom.
My Dom gestures for me to kneel beside him back onto the cushion, then gives me my next command. For the duration of the game, I am not allowed to speak at all… any reaction, any need, anything I need to convey must be done with body language and pre-verbal noises until I am commanded otherwise. I am nothing but a little animal pet for the men to play with, and pets don’t talk. Regardless of what was done to me, or how I was used or not used, I was NOT to speak. A safe signal was explained to me, and I nodded in slightly anxious silence when asked if I understood. I already felt the rising arousal crawling through my body, raising goose bumps over my skin as kneeling and silent, I waited to see what would happen next.
The men have begun playing the first hand of a poker game while my mouth had intrigued and teased them from under the table. To my curious interest, not only are poker chips at stake, but my Dom has tossed the black bag I carried onto the plane with me onto the table. The winner of each hand is to pull one toy out and use it for his own amusement on my needy submissive body.
The first hand progresses quickly, and the man who would not let me touch him at all wins, to the other players disgust, with a lousy three sevens. The man pulls the first item out of the bag, and at first I can’t even tell what the various straps and buckles are. The man commands me to stand by his chair, and I rise and do so. The first straps go snugly around my ankles and wrists, the feeling of tightness and then the slide of the buckle against the strap beginning to carry me into a sensual oblivion.
More straps encircle, buckle around my waist, above and below the breasts, one wide strap is slid around my neck, forcing my head up to look into the face of the man currently binding me. His focus is on tightening the collar to the perfect level, but a swat on the ass reminds me that although my chin is forced up by the collar, my gaze needs to be dropped.
More straps connect the ones already decorating me, these go around my thighs and one wide, ridged one is drawn tightly up between my cunt lips. Finally, smaller, thinner ones drawing across my cheeks, up onto the crown of my head and buckling onto a ring there. I grunt softly in discomfort as the strap between my legs is pulled up sharply, the edges cutting into my pussy while the smooth strap presses firmly against my swollen clitoris. My arms are pulled behind my back, hands clasping bent elbows, then bound strictly and almost painfully in place. Following that, the strap between my legs is joined to the ones binding my arms and pulled up tightly against my hungry fuckhole.
The man’s hands have caressed slowly over the curves and mounds of my body as he completes his work. His slightly roughened palms rub over my goose bumped skin, only neglecting to touch and notice the areas already decorated with his bonds. My whole body pulses with the beat of my heart, and at every binding I can feel my blood rushing. The man continues to caress me, learning my responses swiftly and then using them against me without mercy.
In only the few moments it takes my Dom to deal a new hand of cards he has me squirming, writhing and trying to beg for mercy with my sounds. His fingers slip quickly into my soaked pussy, then wipe my juices across my open panting lips. He moves into my line of sight, a pleased smile on his face as he checks his work, then orders me to go kneel again by my Dom….
