One Ring

by Tymber Dalton

  Before Carl could verbally trip over himself any further, Marcia returned with a cup of water. “Don, Carl, they need me out in the office for a minute. Would you mind sitting here with her and keeping an eye on her, please?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Don said.

  In other words, Marcia was saying she trusted them, and to not let anyone else bother Mel until Marcia returned for her.

  And to not fuck things up.

  * * * *

  Across the room, a guy had a woman suspended from a rope harness in the middle of the large, metal A-frame that dominated the space.

  “Do you guys do that?” Mel asked.

  “We’re into rope,” Carl answered before Don could, “but not suspensions. I’d like to eventually reach that level of skill. I’m not there yet.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m newer than he is,” Carl added, then he flinched.

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear Don might have kicked him under the table.

  But they were cute. Don had gorgeous blue eyes and brown hair. Carl had green eyes and dark-blond hair that was almost brown.

  “I don’t know what the protocol for this is, but would you tie me up?”

  They exchanged a glance.

  “I mean, I went to that class Marcia taught a couple of weeks ago. For new people. But I’d really like to try some different things.”

  “How did you get into this?” Don asked without answering her question.

  “Accidentally.” She found herself rambling about her horrible marriage, and the book club, and Mike, and accidentally seeing Marcia working on the website, and then…

  When she finished, the men were staring at her and she realized she probably sounded like a psychotic idiot.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was probably way too much information.”

  Marcia picked that moment to return. “So? How are we all getting along?”

  * * * *

  If they weren’t being set up, Don would eat his goddamned rope bag. He’d been warned about Tilly and Eliza, but he would not have picked Marcia as a matchmaker.

  “I think I just told them too much about me,” Mel said.

  She was damned adorable. If Carl didn’t go after her, he was liable to, although he usually preferred they had a little more experience first.

  Marcia slid into a chair at the table. “Mel is in a transition period in her life right now,” Marcia told them, giving them a knowing gaze Don had no trouble interpreting. “I want to make sure I introduce her to safe players, people Derrick and I trust, to help teach her about the lifestyle. If you guys wouldn’t mind playing with her, I would consider it a personal favor.”

  Don Corleone might as well have sat down and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.

  “Sure,” Don said. “We’d be happy to.”

  Marcia smiled. “Great! We’re her ride, so unless she wants to go back home early, she’s here all night.” She stood and rounded the table, patting the men on the back and leaning in. “Thank you. I greatly appreciate it.”

  “What about Crissy?” Carl asked.

  Don wanted to backhand him.

  “Crissy?” Marcia asked.

  “Yeah, you know her,” Carl said. “The little redhead.”

  “Oh. The flake.”

  Ouch. “Yeah, her,” Don said.

  Marcia smiled. “If she shows up, I’ll make sure she hooks up with Scrye or Kel. They’ve flown her before.” She patted them on the backs again and turned, leaving.

  Oookay.

  Don gave Mel a smile. “I guess if you’re new, we should start at the beginning, huh?”

  She smiled again, so trusting and vulnerable, and he felt something tug on his well-shielded heart, just a little.

  Oh, boy.

  Chapter Six

  The men took her over a quiet corner, grabbing a couple of MMA mats and towels and sitting down with her.

  “Is there anything you have questions about?” Don asked her.

  “Everything.” She still felt almost giddy now. “Sorry, I know I must seem a little out of it.”

  “It’s okay,” Don assured her. “That’s normal. You might have hit subspace a little bit with the fire cupping.”

  “Really? I’ve read about that.” She felt like an idiot, like she’d forgotten how to talk to people.

  Then again, maybe she had. Years with Mike surely had atrophied her communications abilities outside of work.

  They opened their toybags to her and let her look at everything, all the different implements. She wanted to feel a few of them, too, and they let her smack herself in the thigh with them.

  “I thought some of these would hurt a lot more,” she said.

  “It depends on how hard you hit with them,” Carl told her. “And sometimes, the point isn’t to hit as hard as you can, but to get someone to the edge of their endurance and keep them right there on the verge of safewording, but not quite. A lot of people, that’s the point where subspace really kicks in for them, at that fine edge. It’s not a hard and fast rule, of course.”

  “That makes sense.” She was holding a silicone spatula and smacked herself even harder in the thigh with it.

  That stung. “Okay, I see what you mean.” She handed it back to Don.

  “So being tied up, or restrained,” Don explained, “it heightens the experience for some people. Especially if forced orgasm play is involved.”

  Screw it, if she embarrassed herself too much, she could simply never come back again. “Okay, I’ve seen that done, and I’ve heard Marcia talk about it, but what is it, exactly?”

  The men exchanged a glance. Carl explained. “Well, you ladies are lucky enough to be able to come more than once in a very short amount of time. Usually it takes a vibrator to help, but forced orgasm play usually involves restraining the woman and then, well, using the vibrator on her. Sometimes it’s part of a longer scene, and sometimes that is the scene. Again, it depends on the people.”

  She took a risk. “Is that something you can do to me?” These two guys were cute, Marcia obviously trusted them if she passed her off onto them, and…

  Well, dammit, she was horny.

  Somewhere in the dungeon, someone cried out in pleasure, accentuating the fact that she couldn’t even remember the last orgasm she’d had, much less the last one Mike had given her.

  Then she realized yes, she was still married.

  Even if only on paper.

  And that might be a no-go for them. “Or,” she quickly added, “we could do that some other time, if you wanted to show me something else.”

  “What do you want to do?” Don asked her.

  She took a deep breath. “Honestly?”

  They nodded.

  “I want to see if I can make noises like that other lady was just making.”

  The men exchanged another glance. “You can keep your panties on, if you want,” Don said. “We can do vibrator play over them.”

  Relief washed through her. “Even better.”

  The men continued talking with her, and she realized they’d ventured into sexual history. And why.

  No, they weren’t having sex, and yes, it was one-sided, but this was something Marcia had talked about in her class. Negotiations, full disclosure, all of it.

  If she wanted this to be part of her life, as Marcia had emphasized, she needed to get used to discussing it and comfortable talking about it, because it got easier every time you did.

  Marcia stopped by to check on them while they were still talking. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m going to let them do some orgasm play on me,” she admitted, her face heating. “Panties on.”

  Marcia arched an eyebrow and glanced at them, then back to her. “Your idea, or theirs?”

  “Mine.”

  “Oh. Good. Carry on.” She left, the men watching her go.

  Mel watched their reactions. “You’re a little scared of her, aren’t you?”

  “Sort of,
” Don admitted. “Not scared as much as we are respectful.”

  * * * *

  She left her panties on but took off her bra, sundress, and shoes. The men had clarified what they would and wouldn’t do to her. They were going to tie her up, give her a bare-handed spanking, and then do orgasm play with her over her panties.

  They could also fondle and touch her breasts and nipples, if they wanted to.

  She sure as hell wanted them to. They were both cuties, hunks compared to Mike.

  It took them over half an hour to tie the harness around her. She sat there, eyes closed as they did it, enjoying the attention, enjoying them talking to her, the feel of their hands on her.

  Human touch.

  Damn, how she’d missed it.

  With her arms immobilized in front of her, they rolled her over Don’s lap. She flinched when his hand caressed her ass through the fabric of her panties, which she was pretty sure by now had a wet spot on them.

  “You can say red at any time,” he assured her once again. “Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.” His hand stopped, lifted. Then, the first smack, a fairly light blow that didn’t hurt at all. He must have been testing her, because he steadily increased the force, until she was squirming in his lap from the sting.

  Then Carl turned on the vibrator and pressed it between her legs from behind her.

  She froze, the orgasm shocking her with its suddenness and intensity. Gasping for breath, she moaned, arching her back to press against the vibrator even as Don continued spanking her.

  Finally, as she lay there gasping over his lap, Don stopped the spanking and Carl turned the vibrator off and draped a towel over her.

  She felt Don lean in. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, processing, unable to speak yet. She hadn’t been ready for the orgasm to stop.

  And, damn, that had been far better than any orgasm Mike had ever given her.

  Ever!

  She heard Marcia talking to them, then felt her lean in. “Mel? You all right?”

  “Super green,” she mumbled, remembering a line from Marcia’s class that had made everyone laugh.

  Marcia stroked her hair. “Okay. If you need me, holler.”

  She didn’t want to open her eyes. She sensed the men waiting on her to recover before they started untying her.

  She really didn’t want them to untie her. She wanted to lie there all night with them, but knew that was unrealistic.

  They now probably thought she was a clingy psycho or something.

  Gathering herself together, she raised her head. “Okay.”

  They helped her sit up and started untying her. As much as she could, she kept her head tipped over against one or the other of them, just wanting the damn contact.

  How long had it been since she’d been able to snuggle?

  Forever, it felt like.

  When they finished, she was afraid they might say okay, see ya, but they didn’t. They helped her get her dress back on. She shoved her bra into her purse and nearly cried tears of gratitude when they suggested going over to one of the couches to sit and talk for a while.

  Yes, please!

  As she sat there with them, a blanket wrapped around her, Marcia checked on her again and brought her a bottle of water.

  “Wow, a fire cupping and a forced orgasm scene with spanking. So what do you think of your first night?”

  She gave her friend a thumbs-up.

  Marcia smiled. “Glad you had fun.” Then she leaned in and whispered something to the guys, first Don, then Carl.

  When Marcia left, she asked. “Did she just threaten you?”

  Don laughed. “No. She thanked us.”

  She snuggled more deeply between them, enjoying the contact. “Thank you,” she said. “I really enjoyed that. You have no idea how much.”

  “We enjoyed it, too.”

  * * * *

  It was almost closing time when Carl and Don left Venture. Marcia, Derrick, and Mel would be staying until closing.

  The men sat in the car for a moment after getting in.

  “Wow,” Carl said. “That was…amazing.”

  “No, shit,” Don said. “Damn, that was fun. I usually don’t like playing with brand new newbies because it’s so stressful, but damn.”

  “I want it said right now, that I would not mind playing with her again.”

  “Me, either.” Don finally cranked the engine. “She was something special. I’ll be taking a shower before bed.”

  “Well, if you’re going to do that, then I’ll go out to the hot tub so we’re not fighting for the hot water, because I suspect you’re doing that for the same reason I’m doing that.”

  They laughed. “Yep,” Don said. “Probably.”

  * * * *

  Mel rolled over in bed the next morning and felt disoriented until she remembered she was in Marcia and Derrick’s guest room.

  And she felt strange aches and pains here and there. Nice, but strange.

  The good kind of strange.

  When she went to use the bathroom, she turned and looked in the mirror, lifting the hem of the T-shirt she’d slept in. Yep, she still had faint marks all over her back.

  A delightful shiver raced through her as she thought about the scene she’d had with the men. Definitely nothing as severe as some of the people she’d seen play, but it had changed her life. There was no way she could continue with Mike.

  She needed out, before she was too old to enjoy the life she’d been given. She only had one shot at happiness, and Mike had proven beyond a reasonable doubt that he had no interest in being a part of that happiness.

  And, who knew, maybe he needed some dorky little wallflower who wanted to do nothing but sit at home and watch sports with him.

  She was not that woman.

  She wasn’t even the same woman she’d been the morning before when she’d awakened and taken off to the beach to think.

  And this woman needed to make some serious changes in her life.

  Chapter Seven

  Wednesday morning, Mel was in Ed’s office at eight o’clock and seated in front of his desk.

  “No children, correct?”

  “Just the house,” Mel told Ed. “No pets, even. He was allergic to everything. Including me, apparently,” she added. “Or might as well have been the way he’s avoided me.”

  Ed took notes. “Cars?”

  “They’re in both our names, but they’re paid off. He’s already signed off on the title on mine, and I signed off on the title on his.”

  “Bank accounts?”

  “I took exactly half of what was in the savings account, and in the joint checking account. Although, technically, since I made more than him, I should have been entitled to more.”

  “Maybe, but good luck arguing that in court if it’s even close. Judges like simplicity.”

  “I don’t think he believes I’m filing for divorce,” she said. “I think he thinks this is some phase that I’ll grow out of.”

  “That’s not uncommon,” he said. “Denial by the spouse getting served. Or he likely thinks it’s some sort of attention-grabbing tactic on your part.”

  “You might be right. He even sort of laughed when he signed my car title last night, like he was humoring me.”

  “What’d he say about the bank accounts?”

  “I haven’t told him yet. We each had our own spending accounts that the other can’t access. They were left over from when we were single, before we got together. He probably hasn’t even looked at the bank accounts yet. I did it last night. I filed paperwork on Monday with my job to send my direct deposit to that account instead of the joint account, and that next paycheck won’t hit until next Friday. It’s like he’s not taking this seriously.”

  “He’s not. Not right now. What about your stuff?”

  “I rented a storage unit yesterday. And everyone’s meeting me over at the house at noon today to move. But I was going through stuff
yesterday while he was at work, getting ready, you know? You’d think after fifteen years together that I’d have more stuff to take. Most of the furniture I don’t want. It was stuff he picked out and I let him. I’d rather get my own. I packed my dishes and stuff that I wanted, my clothes, pictures, books, DVDs, all of that. But I didn’t realize until the time came to do this that I’ve let him pretty much direct my whole life.”

  “Funny how that works, huh?” He stopped and took his glasses off to meet her gaze. “Sorry, I shouldn’t make light of it like that, but this isn’t anything I haven’t seen before with divorces, unfortunately.”

  “When did this happen to me? I didn’t realize how I pretty much rolled over to him on everything all through our marriage. If there was something our opinions differed on, pro or con, he’d basically badger me, or piss and moan, or even pout, until I gave in and did things his way. He didn’t really bully me, either. It just got easier to give in. I guess I got into a habit of automatically giving in without even thinking about it. What the hell is up with that?”

  “Again, not uncommon. One partner wants to keep the peace and subverts themselves, their personality, even. It can happen with little things, or on an abusive level.”

  “He never abused me,” she quickly said. “Consensually or not. He never laid a finger on me.”

  “Mentally?”

  “Not really, no. Yeah, he reacted badly when I confronted him a few weeks ago about how bad things were between us, but it’s not like he called me a lot of names or bullied me around.”

  “I thought you said he called you ‘sick’ for liking romance and BDSM books?”

  “Well…” She stopped to think.

  Yeah, that was pretty much exactly what he’d said. “But it was just about that. Not about everything.”

  “You sure?”

  She started to say yes, then thought about it.

  Thought really hard.

  She let out a sigh. “Okay, he wasn’t abusive, but he wasn’t exactly the most sensitive of guys throughout our marriage. I get it.”