Every now and then, Master Grigori looks down at me, a frown marring his face. I try to hold still, but the longer this meeting is going on, the more tired my legs become. Since I'm not able to go down all the way, the burn in my thighs is exponentially what it would be during training. I feel like we've been here forever, but there's no way to tell time. I rise up on my knees to give my legs a small break before settling back down. Each time I do, the burn increases as I hold.
As suddenly as the music started, everything goes silent. The quiet is deafening in my ears. Whirling around, I meet Master Grigori's amused gaze as he stares down at me. I hope I didn't disturb him too much. I wasn't actually trying to be disobedient this time. I just couldn't hold my position with this dress!
He reaches out his hand and helps me stand, and I sway for a moment as I get my legs back underneath me. Pinpricks crawl up my limbs, and blood rushes into all the areas that were constricted early. He plucks out the right side bud before speaking to me.
"I take it that position is uncomfortable to you?"
I glance around, dismayed to see all the men staring at me. Fuck. He's going to be so pissed that I disrupted the meeting. I just know it.
"I asked you a question, Lastachka, and you will answer me."
His voice is gruff as he makes his demand of me. Lowing my head, I nod.
"Yes, Master. I'm so sorry. I -."
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand before putting the earbud back into my ear and starting up the dreaded white noise. I tremble as his fingers encircle my waist. Surely he should know I wasn't trying to be bad. Emotions flood my body as I send a frantic glance about the room. The uncle smiles wide, his grin every inch that of a predator about to eat me up. Without giving me a second to think or prepare, Master Grigori sits me on the table in front of him, the wood biting the insides of my knees as he presses in. After a moment, the music starts up again, settling some of my jangled nerves.
His lips descend on mine as his fingers slide down my shoulders and onto my wrists. Without having my hearing, everything else seems much more attuned to everything. The scrape of his skin against mine is something I've never noticed before, but now, it's my entire world. My body shivers as he trails his hands over me, and I almost forget that we're not alone.
It's not until a pair of hands grab my shoulders that my mind kicks back into gear. The things I learned from my training flood back in as if becoming instinct and taking over my body. I twist to avoid capture, but Master Grigori holds me down as a stranger drags my wrists over my head. Soft cuffs grip tight as the unknown man fastens them together and attaches a metal chain. It's like an out-of-body experience as I watch the chain disappear over my head and to some unknown attachment point.
I crane my neck to look at Master Grigori, but from where he's standing, I can barely see him. He's pulled back to my knees, and with being laid out flat, all I can really see is his hair against the wall. I tug at my wrists, dismayed to find that they can't budge. The steady tap of Master Grigori's fingers against my knee is the only thing keeping me from completely losing it. The moment I think I can't breathe, I feel for his tap and alter my inhalations to match. After several agonizing moments, I regain control and breathe normally on my own. He stops for a few moments then taps me twice in succession. Good girl.
A deep breath fills my lungs as I let myself sink into the table. With Master Grigori here, I don't have to worry. Several more moments go by until things shift again. The chain pulling my wrists taut tugs some more, and firm hands grip my hips to slide me further up the table. It takes a minute or two, but soon I'm completely on the table, my feet dangling off. Nimble fingers work off my shoes, leaving my feet bare before the shifting begins again. With my soles planted on the cold wood and my arms stretched out above me, I realize I must look like a virgin sacrifice to all these men. My head can only go so far back, and the view doesn't offer me any clues.
To my best estimate, I'm somewhere in the middle of this blasted table. A pair of hands grab my ankles, holding my feet in place, while another set grabs my hips again and drag me back towards the other end until my ass touches my heels. I tug at my wrists again, hoping with all the movement, whoever's on the other end isn't doing their job. No such luck. My wrists again hold firm. I bite down on my lower lip, fighting to go back to my place of calm. The modicum of relief I find is short-lived as I feel the front of my dress give.
Don't scream. Don't scream. I press my nails into my palm, shrieking in my head as my knees are wrenched open, revealing me to anyone who cared to look. I glance first to my right and then my left, noting the disinterest on most of the faces. Though some actively stare, most keep glancing down at their papers, mouths moving in conversation. It's as if I don't really exist.
As the hysteria wells up in me again, I feel that strong tapping at my thigh. Master Grigori is still here with me, guiding me even though I can't see him. Staring up at the ceiling, I start to count the dots on the tiles, forcing my breath in and out in a slow, controlled manner. He keeps up his tapping until my heart rate finally goes back to where it needs to be. Even though he pauses, the moment my breathing quickens, he's quick to start again.
Once the fear drains from my body, I'm left with an agonizing feeling of arousal. Knowing that he's probably staring at me, his tongue sliding across his lips as he stares at my piercing, I squirm in anticipation. There's no way he'd give me an orgasm in front of all these people - not when I've messed up their meeting like I did, but a girl can hope, right? I turn my attention back to the tiles, letting my mind drift. Perhaps if I'm good right now, if I don't fight and struggle, I'll get an orgasm when I get home.
The first swipe of his tongue catches me off guard. I stifle a shriek as the rough warmth slides through my folds, teasing my clit with small strokes. His tapping confirms that it's him and not some unknown stranger, but the close proximity to the other men puts a kernel of doubt in my mind. I've never had a Dominant share me before, and I'm pretty sure Master Grigori is possessive enough that he wouldn't let someone else touch me. But then why do this in front of them? Glancing about, they're still going about their business as if my entire world is not being turned upside down. How can they be so passive in the midst of such arousal?
A whimper leaves my lips before I can hold it back, and a few of the heads I can see glance up, a lascivious smile curling up their lips. At least they're not completely immune to me. I groan as a finger prods my entrance, stretching me out with the shallow pumps. My gaze searches the room until I can see his uncle. If someone else is playing with me, I wouldn't care as long as it wasn't him. He's still sitting at the head, but his eyes never leave me. It disgusts me to be getting so turned on while he's watching, probably getting aroused himself.
Though I force myself to not feel, to not give them the satisfaction, the fingers and tongue don't let me escape their onslaught. Soon, one finger becomes two or maybe even three. I groan against the sensations being forced onto my body. The men stop and stare now, no mouths moving. All eyes that I can see are on me. I turn my gaze upward, not able to stand the lust shining in so many eyes. It's as empowering as it is unnerving. This meeting where powerful men plot and scheme is at a standstill as I'm being pleasured.
Riding that wave of power, I move my hips with the fingers, sighing as he does the double-tap once more. Unless I'm misreading his signals, he's pleased that I'm enjoying myself. With that unspoken permission, I let a few more bands of mental restraints fall. My knees tilt out a bit more, giving him access. The tongue swipes up my slit again, sending toe-curling pleasure through my body. Arching forward, I moan, not caring who hears me. This is for Master Grigori. He obviously wants to show me off in this way, and I don't want to disappoint him.
His fingers thrust forward, unrelenting, as his tongue redoubles its efforts. The very tip teases my piercing, sending shafts of pleasure through my core. I flutter about his fingers squeezing as he drives into me. I thrash about as my pleasure builds, needing more. Wailing, I arch my hips up, meeting his stroke each time. A few more strokes, and I plummet over, my stomach clenching as an orgasm rips through me. Groaning, I shift back and forth as his fingers glide softly into me, riding out my orgasm. Relief flows through my body as I relax against the table. Mouth curling up into a grin, I stare back up at the tiles, no longer caring how many spots are there. All I care about is the steady tapping of Master Grigori's fingers and afterglow rushing through my body.
* * *