“I’m sorry, Master. I just couldn’t. There is nothing else, believe me.” Rose was all contrition.
“I do, mi vida. Now come here and show me just how much you missed me.”
She giggled as he took her in his arms and kissed her, tenderly to start with, but the kiss soon heated as their tongues tangled and his arms closed ever more tightly about her. He broke free, took her hand, and towed her into the bedroom.
“Strip, Rose, and be quick about it. I can’t wait. I have missed you so.”
Their clothes came off and were dropped on the floor. He stood back for one quick, heated look before pushing her back onto the bed and following her down. His mouth devoured hers, his hands caressed her breasts, and then his fingers found her nipples. He pulled, tweaked, and flicked, then broke the kiss to nibble and lick his way to her nipples. Sucking one into his mouth he felt her back arch and her sobbing moans spurred him on. With one hand he reached down between them and found her pussy. His fingers parted her pussy lips and found her clit. She writhed and moaned under him, and he smiled in anticipation. He flicked it then pressed and rubbed until she stiffened then cried out in her pleasure, but he kept up the stimulation until he gave her another orgasm.
She was wet as usual and so responsive. He reached to the night table for a condom, all the while kissing her and whispering words of love in his native tongue. She didn’t understand them but she said she loved to hear his voice, as it was different in Spanish, and he always obliged her. Once the condom was on his cock, he entered her, careful to angle his thrusts to give her the maximum pleasure as he stroked over her G-spot. She lifted her legs and wrapped them about his hips as they both loved, and then he rode her hard and fast, each thrust deep and sure. She thrashed her head from side to side, and as she came again she screamed his name. The clenching, milking of her pussy muscles around his urgent dick brought on his own release and he groaned in pleasure. He collapsed on top of her as her legs released his hips. She held onto him and wouldn’t allow him to fall to one side. She always wanted to feel his weight upon her and he lay on top of her for a while, dropping butterfly kisses all over her face and neck. Eventually his softening cock slid out of her and he got up to clean them both. They lay together in the big bed, cuddled close.
“Do you like living in Carlisle?” she asked when they had both got their breath back and were enjoying the afterglow.
“I’m happy enough living in Carlisle. There’s a reasonable Spanish presence in the city but at times I long for the hot, scented air of Andalucía, and in particular Seville. I miss the long, hot summer days, the flower-scented nights, the music and the dance. You will love it there, Rose.”
“Do you go back often, Master?”
“I always go home for Holy Week.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“You call it Easter.”
“What’s it like in Seville?”
“I like to stand on the balcony of my mother’s flat, in the Barrio de la Macarena, singing one of the saetas or religious songs as the procession of the Macarena pauses, to allow the sweating men bearing the heavy float to rest and refresh themselves, before resuming their burden. The float sets off in the early morning and remains on the narrow streets for fourteen hours, carried on the backs of the men. It’s a great honour to do it. The candles and the banks of carnations scent the air. The Brotherhood follows the float dressed in white robes and tall pointed hats. Some walk barefoot and others whip themselves in penitence for sins committed. I always wondered if this was where my interest in BDSM had its origins.”
“That sounds really beautiful, but very moving, too. What is the Brotherhood?” Rose asked.
“The cofradía looks after the image of the Virgin Mary. They walk in the processions behind her float.”
“That must be a sight to see!”
“You are going to see it this year, Rose,” he said.
“Really, we are going to Seville for Easter? Awesome, Master.”
“Not just for Holy Week. We will stay for the April Fair.”
“Oh, I like a fair, with roundabouts and such?”
“Not quite like that. After Holy Week I usually accompany my brothers to the Feria de Abril, the April Fair, in the traditional fairground by the banks of the river Guadalquivir. We all dress in the tight grey trousers, with leather chaps and short coats with flat brimmed hats. We hire horses. There’s no lack of young women desirous of being chosen to ride side-saddle behind us, with their colourful dresses displayed over the horses’ rumps. This year, as there are three of us, I shall hire an open carriage. You will wear an emerald dress in the traditional style, and Olafur will be dressed like me. We shall cause a sensation.”
“Is that all there is to it? Just riding on horses?” Rose sounded a little disappointed.
“No, Rose. I have the entrée to many of the booths in the Feria. As I can and will play and sing all night long, I am always sought after. Occasionally in the past I’ve danced flamenco with one of the young ladies. It’s a dance that leave you breathless and panting with the exertion and the sexual tension. This year will be different. I won’t leave you alone to dance with another.”
“Please do. I’d love to see you dance, and I know it won’t mean anything to you. Won’t you dance just once, so that I can see what it’s like?”
“Others will dance, Rose. You will see it,” he said.
“I want to see you dance, Master. Will you?” she pleaded.
“Very well, if it means so much to you, I will.”
“Thank you.” Rose turned her face up and kissed him tenderly.
“It must be very different, living in Seville. How do you put up with the cold and damp?”
“I look forward with relish to both events. They complement the two sides of my soul. I need both events to set me up for another year of work and as an antidote to the cold and damp that settles in my bones during the year. That can only be dispersed by a regular exposure to the hot sun of my native land. We will go there together every year, Rose, and you’ll see what I mean.”
Just then the door to the flat opened and Olafur came in. He came into the bedroom, and Salvador glimpsed tears on his cheeks. Rose must have seen, too. She jumped up out of bed and put on the coffee-coloured silk robe he’d bought her. It was trimmed with cream lace and moulded itself to her curves in a very alluring manner. She drew Olafur to the bed and made him take off his coat and shoes and lie down between them. He was cold and shivering and upset. She cuddled him close to her, but he continued to shake. Salvador got up and fetched him a glass of brandy and stood over him until he sat up and sipped it. Rose sat with her arm about his shoulders. As he finished the brandy he handed the glass to Salvador and looked up into his eyes. Salvador handed the glass to Rose and raised Olafur to his feet. He took him in his arms, tipped up his chin, and kissed him. It was a slow, exploratory kiss at first and that seemed to suit the Icelander. He returned the soft pressure of Salvador’s lips and moaned softly.
Rose climbed onto the bed and lay back on the pillows. Salvador was surprised to see she wanted to watch so early in their arrangement but nothing loth to let her. Olafur whimpered as Salvador drew him closer, and the kiss deepened and heated. Salvador was ready to call a halt as soon as he sensed resistance but there was none. He helped Olafur to undress, and then they lay down on the bed. Rose moved into a big arm-chair, he supposed it was to give them room, or maybe the better to see what they did. Salvador turned his attentions to Olafur’s nipples, nipping and sucking until he arched his back, and then he kissed and licked his way downward until his mouth closed over the swollen purple head of Olafur’s cock. The man groaned as Salvador swirled his tongue around the head before dipping daintily into his slit and wringing more moans from him. Suddenly to everyone’s surprise, Olafur took Salvador’s head in his hands.
“No, Salvador. I want to fuck you. Please let me fuck you tonight.”
“If that’s what you want to do then it will be
Salvador didn’t usually allow subs in the club to fuck him. He sensed that Olafur needed to feel in control tonight and, truth be told, he enjoyed being fucked on occasion.
“How, long has it been, Master? Will you need long?” Olafur asked.
“It’s been ten months, so yes, I’d appreciate it if you went slowly at first.”
Olafur got up and allowed Salvador to take his place. He began, as Salvador had done, playing with the Spaniard’s nipples. In his turn Salvador began to moan and writhe under the sensuous play. He heard a soft groan from Rose and allowed a fleeting smile to his lips, and then he couldn’t concentrate on anything but what was being done to him. He heard the cap of the lube as it opened, felt the cold and Olafur’s fingers slowly and carefully pushed into him, twisting and stretching. He breathed through the bite of pain, knowing it would soon change into pleasure and pushed back onto Olafur’s hand. Olafur’s nimble fingers connected with his prostate, and involuntarily Salvador’s hips came up off the bed to help the Icelander maintain the pressure in just the right spot.
Oh but the man knew his business. Salvador would be pleased to allow a repeat of this. He heard the rip of the foil, a pause as Olafur sheathed his cock. It was always a pleasant sensation of waiting for what came next, in Salvador’s opinion. Olafur’s dick sought entrance to his hole, was pushed firmly home, and the pleasure was excruciating. He was no novice in this area, but Olafur’s cock was thick as well as long and filled him as he’d never been filled before. Thrusting deep inside him, the Icelander leaned over between his bent legs and fucked him hard and fast. Somewhere someone was panting. Was it him? There seemed to be two people panting. Olafur reached between them and took Salvador’s cock into his hand, pumping it as he thrust his erection ever deeper into Salvador’s hole. Salvador felt the hot semen shoot out of him and land on his belly and chest as Olafur’s last thrust brought on his own release. There was a wail of pleasure from the armchair, and he realised that Rose had been unable to watch without giving herself release. Olafur collapsed onto Salvador and rolled to the side.
“Rose, come here,” Salvador said.
She came and Salvador lay on his back, Rose in one arm an Olafur in the other. His little family was complete. Or was it? Rose still found it difficult to accept that he did scenes with others that included sex. He must really try and do something about that but what?
Chapter Nine
Olafur lay in Salvador’s arms and thought over what he’d decided. He’d found the post box easily enough. He put the letter into it but didn’t let go at first. He made up his mind and dropped it into the box. That was that. His bridges were burned. He’d asked Edward not to contact him again, simply to pack up his things and send them on to Salvador’s address. That in itself would send a strong message to Edward. Olafur had walked about the city for a while mulling over what Rosie had said. Can I be part of such a triad? Can I know that Rosie is being fucked by Salvador and not feel jealous and resentful? He thought about that for a long while. Why not? Edward fucked lots of men and I put up with it. The difference here is that Salvador makes no secret of his nature. He isn’t doing anything underhand. He wants Rosie and she wants him. Salvador won’t be disappearing to fuck some nameless person then causing me worries about STDs. Salvador is fastidious and a stickler for all the offered check-ups. He’s well-known for it.
So the question is can I watch Salvador and Rosie fucking? I don’t think I can. By then he was cold and tired and upset. Tears he couldn’t hold back had flowed down his cheeks. He turned back and went home to Salvador and Rosie.
He’d smelled sex as soon as he’d entered the flat. They were in the bedroom and he’d gone in to find them cuddled in bed. When he’d started to fuck Salvador, Rosie had removed herself to the big arm-chair and was watching as they made love. He heard her pants and moans then her wail as she came when he and Salvador attained their release. He found it added to the pleasure. Now Olafur asked himself the question again. Can I watch Rosie and Salvador together? Why not? She’d watched him and Salvador and been so turned on she’d given herself an orgasm. It would take time but maybe with these two I will be able to watch. If I don’t I’ll exclude myself from a part of their lives. I’d not be a full member of the triad. Do I want that? What would I do? Would I walk out when they began or expect them only to fuck when I’m not around? That would mean a crack in the threesome right from the start. He loved Rosie as a person and not as an object of desire. This was one instance where the English language, usually so rich in vocabulary, was lacking a word that meant love but not physical intimacy. Rosie was a caring and vulnerable soul and their connection ran deeper than any physical attraction and wouldn’t wear out as such attractions do. I can stay and watch Salvador bestow on Rosie the pleasure that I also receive from him. What did a ménage mean after all? It should mean three people living and loving together, not one leaving the room while the others got on with it. I’ll stay and get over it. He turned into Salvador’s shoulder and put his arm across Salvador’s chest and was unsurprised when Rosie’s hand closed over his and squeezed it tightly. They would all try and make it work together, that was what ménage meant.
* * * *
A week later they were both in the club. When Salvador was working, Rose had developed the habit of sitting and holding Olafur’s hand. She knew that he wasn’t happy either when their Master was doing a scene. They had to accept it and make the best of it. She knew that Olafur was suffering from jealousy just as she was. They had talked about it and decided they had to face their fears. Master Salvador loved them and came back to them, but if they continually made a fuss about things he would get tired of them. Olafur seemed to be coping better than she was. This evening they laughed and chatted with the others, and if Rose’s laughter had a brittle edge only the two of them could detect it. She supposed that as she became more confident she would relax and accept it and then it would bother her less. She hoped in time to make the adjustment that Olaf, as she liked to call him, seemed to be well on the way to making.
“There you are, Olaf. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Rose looked up and saw a carbon copy of Olaf coming toward them, and her mouth dropped open. He descended the steps and seized Olafur in a bear hug. Rose heard the whispers of the other subs as they all looked on, avid for the gossip.
“Haldur, how wonderful. When did you get here and what are you doing here?”
“I got here yesterday. I left as soon as I got your message about Edward. What a bastard. I hate to say this, brother, but I told you so.” Haldur grinned. “Better off without him, if you ask me. Now where are those two who rescued you? I want to thank them.”
“Here’s Rose.” As Haldur turned and his gaze met Rose’s, it seemed to her that there were only the two of them in the room. She held out her hand but instead of shaking it he raised it to his lips, reversing it at the last minute and pressing a firm kiss on the inside of her wrist and making her pulse gallop. “Rose,” he breathed, “so apt, too. You are beautiful and fragrant.”
Rose blushed and looked down.
“No, my little flower, look at me.”
Rose responded to the firm note in his voice and looked up again. He smiled at her, and she was sure he enjoyed the sight of the blush that overspread her cheeks.
“Just like a plump, ripe cherry. It’s such a shame you’re gay, Olaf. Luckily I’m not.”
All the subs fell to their knees.
* * * *
Haldur was aware of a presence behind him. He turned.
“Now who is this?” Haldur saw a striking man of medium height, not bulky but muscled. His skin was as dark as Haldur’s own was pale. Night as opposed to his and Olafur’s day. He was beautiful in a foreign, exotic way, and Haldur licked his lips, a movement which was not lost on the stranger as his lips curved into a smile. The smile transformed him, his eyes lit up, his lips curved into a perfect Cupid’s bow. The whole effect was one of ill-supressed mischief. Haldur’s cock swelled in his trousers. He longed to adjust himself but knew that nothing would escape this man’s attention.
“Master Salvador, this is my brother, Haldur,” Olafur said with a smile.
“Remarkable, I knew you had brothers and sisters, but not one who looked exactly like you. Is he your twin? I can see very little difference.”
Haldur watched the considering look as the Dom’s measuring gaze flitted from one to the other. He was beginning to feel like a spare part as he stood and listened to his brother and this Dom discussing him.
“Yes, Master, he is.”
“Is he gay, too?” Master Salvador inquired.
“No, Master Salvador, I’m most certainly not gay,” Haldur said. Time I took a hand in this conversation.
The gaze from those huge, mesmerising eyes was turned on him. He felt their attraction at once. He’d told the truth. He wasn’t gay, but he was bisexual and liked what he saw. This man was delicious, but he was Olaf’s, and so off-limits. Haldur’s cock said differently. He’d been hard since seeing Rose. Now he was fit to burst, and his trousers became ever more uncomfortable.
“Are you sure about that?” The sardonic tone brought him back to the present and confirmed what Haldur had suspected. This Dom missed nothing. Although he’d chosen more formal trousers today and not his usual leathers or jeans, he knew without looking that the front was beginning to tent in a telling way.
“Oh, yes, Master Salvador. I’m bisexual.”
“I see.” There was a world of meaning in those two words, and Haldur didn’t doubt that the Dom did see and understand. “What are you doing here?”
“I came when I got Olaf’s message. I never liked that man, and I just knew he’d end by hurting Olaf.”
“Well he’s history now, and Olafur and Rose are my subs.”
“I am so happy to see my brother settled and contented. I am delighted to meet Rose and to make your acquaintance, Master Salvador.”
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