by Aya DeAniege
“I need something from you,” Mr. Wrightworth murmured as he approached me.
“I consent,” I said clearly.
“Good,” he responded, holding a hand out to me.
I took the hand, and he brought me to my feet. His free hand slipped around my waist as he brought me close to him.
“Red and yellow today, Darling,” Mr. Wrightworth purred out. “Or in your case, yellow and banana. If we come to anything, anything that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me immediately, understand?”
I remember thinking to myself that a dom and a sub because Nathaniel was clearly still in sub-mode, couldn’t push my limits that much. Mr. Wrightworth would be in control like he had always been in control, and he wouldn’t cross any lines while Nathaniel was there because that wasn’t the time to push my limits.
And then I wondered how that would work, two subs and a Dom. Two female subs and a Dom I would have understood, the rules would be the same as a threesome with two women.
“Here,” Mr. Wrightworth said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “I might let you slide into that soft little cloud, but that can’t happen tonight. Alert and understanding can give consent. Floaty and stupid cannot.”
“I don’t get stupid,” I grumbled.
“Not particularly no, but I like seeing that glazed look in your eyes and knowing I was the one who did it,” Mr. Wrightworth said with a sigh. “Now, there is no plan, can’t plan when there are three because there are too many possibilities. All that can be planned is the beginning. So, over here.”
He drew me to the spanking bench, and I allowed him to arrange me. Just as Nathaniel had stood, I was bound to the bench. Mr. Wrightworth took my clothing, minus my underwear, and set the items by the door. He returned and came before me, holding a wide ribbon in his hands. Satin and oh so soft, the ribbon was purple, but it wasn’t quite Mr. Wrightworth’s shade of purple.
The ring was Mr. Wrightworth’s, so why did Nathaniel give it to Mayfair?
“I know you’ve wanted this for some time,” Mr. Wrightworth purred out, sliding the purple ribbon through his hands. “To wear my colour, to be mine. Tonight I’m going to let you wear it. What do you say to my gift?”
“Thank you, Master.”
Of course, I had thought about it, though I hadn’t quite realized that it was his colour. I should have, just as I should have realized that Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth had been in a dom-sub relationship. But it’s easy to get caught up in the moment and ignore the truth.
He walked around me and slid the ribbon under my belly. I couldn’t see it, but I’m told that he tied a very nice bow. Another of his many tricks.
After tying the bow, Mr. Wrightworth set the ends carefully down my buttocks, fingertips grazing down my legs before he walked back to me.
“The underwear will be lost at some point this evening,” he whispered.
“Oh?” I asked.
There was that Cheshire cat smile.
“Well, he might preach play without sex, but he’s still who I trained him to be.”
I made a small sound, a squeak that was almost a moan. It had been months and months, and now the sex being offered to me—at least I thought it was being offered to me—was from the man who used to look at me, and I’d get wet.
Oh right, that’s what that feels like.
For all Mr. Wrightworth could taunt out of me, I never had the ‘oh shit’ moment of being so aroused that I was afraid of what I would find if I dropped my underwear. It had been so long that for a moment, the barest moment, I thought I had done something embarrassingly inappropriate, and then it dawned on me.
And the distinction was clear.
Mr. Wrightworth ran his fingers over my cheek, chuckling quietly.
“My dear, he has that effect on everyone. I long ago stopped being jealous of it. You might shudder at the thought of his caress, but I am the one you call Master. Say it.”
“You are Master.”
His response was a huff of breath, half-annoyance, half-laugh. Mr. Wrightworth looked away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“We’ll work on that,” he said, looking at the floor and away. His hazel eyes flitted back to me. “If you aren’t careful, we might, what is Mayfair’s term for it...?”
“Tag team,” Nathaniel’s dark voice said from behind me.
There was a quality to it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Nathaniel was behind me, out of my view. My back was to the door, just as his had been. It wasn’t lost on me that Mr. Wrightworth had placed me in the same position that Nathaniel had been in.
“That’s right, tag team, why is it called tag teaming, do you think?” Mr. Wrightworth asked Nathaniel, ignoring me as if they were the only two in the room.
“I don’t know, as tag teaming is typically one watching and the other tagging them back in,” Nathaniel said, his voice coming just a little closer. “I would think Elaina of all people would understand that that is not how we work.”
“Good to see you’re feeling more like yourself, Nathaniel.”
A cold washed over me.
Mr. Wrightworth had only ever called Nathaniel ‘Nate’ since the time at the church, except, of course, during the interviews with the police officers. He took the naming system seriously, separating the subs and doms by their names alone.
And he had just called Nathaniel by his Dom name.
Fuck.
Chapter Nineteen
The spanking bench was meant to keep a sub about hip level, though it wasn’t exactly Mr. Wrightworth’s hip level because the man was tall and lean. Because it was about hip level I could lay across the top level, and my feet still touched the ground, but it wasn’t the most comfortable position. The bench had been padded and then covered in leather, a material which is relatively easy to keep clean but also had the smell of leather, something I’ve not always been a fan of.
It’s grown on me.
The manacles had been replaced with ones with a longer chain and smaller cuffs, more suited to my height and size. Given the fact that Mr. Wrightworth had never placed me in that position before, I assumed he had some other female sub that was about my height tied to the bench in the past.
I couldn’t lift very far off the bench, making looking around me difficult as I had to crane my neck. Craning almost immediately pulled muscles in my neck, which made me cringe and set my head down on the bench.
All I caught was a glimpse of Nathaniel’s disheveled hair, and that cold look as his eyes traveled down the bow wrapped around my midsection. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and there was still a towel around his neck, which he had been drying his hair with moments before.
“What’s this?” Nathaniel asked.
“A birthday present.”
“I thought we agreed, no presents,” Nathaniel said, his voice right by my hip.
Mr. Wrightworth let out a dry chuckle.
“I thought playing with me would be considered a present.”
“You aren’t God’s gift to all men, Mr. Wrightworth,” Nathaniel muttered. “Playing with you is a privilege, but I’d hardly call it a present. At least not one for me.”
“True, and I do enjoy it more than you,” Mr. Wrightworth sighed out. “But little Darling here was snooping. I thought I’d wrap her up in a cute bow and have you unwrap her. Underwear optional.”
“Do you just lend her to anyone?” Nathaniel asked, a cold edge to his tone.
“Goodness no, only you. I’m still trying to talk her out of playing with Mayfair, but she and I both honour our word, so it’s been difficult,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “I only agreed to the swap because I thought she’d back out. Besides, how much harm can she do in an hour?”
“She,” I swear I saw a finger jab in my direction out the corner of my eye as Nathaniel walked past me. “Can do a great deal of damage in an hour.”
Mr. Wrightworth’s Cheshire cat smile returned.
“Do you want your present, or not?”
Nathaniel was quiet a long moment. He looked over his shoulder at me. I blinked back at him, wondering if this whole thing had been a mistake.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Nathaniel, she’s not gagged, not fully trained, and I even made certain she didn’t start enjoying herself early. The woman consents.”
“Do you?” Nathaniel asked as he turned entirely to me.
His green eyes locked with mine and I lost all will to breathe. Struggling to get in air, I was silent for a long moment.
“Yes, Sir.”
Both of them reacted.
Nathaniel shivered, Mr. Wrightworth, behind Nathaniel, twitched.
As I watched, a thumb grazed over index and middle finger of Mr. Wrightworth’s right hand. A motion that I learned meant that he wanted to smack something.
When playing with another dominant, it’s always best to see to the needs of your Master before the needs of the second Dom. A Master agreeing to let you play with another, and then watching it happen, are two different things.
In my words I had been respectful, I had used the right title.
But in my tone, there was an entirely different story.
Mr. Wrightworth might have claimed that he was merely preparing me for another Dom, but there was no denying that he had made some connection with me. He had slowed down his so-called training to take more time with me. That he had crossed what he had thought were his own lines, to test the waters with me.
Nathaniel turned to Mr. Wrightworth. The two met eyes and seemed to have a silent conversation.
The result of that conversation?
“I would love to, you know I’ve wanted this for months.”
Yeah, to be a Dom again.
I could be dense, let’s just leave it at that.
“Underwear optional,” Mr. Wrightworth repeated slowly.
“Oh, you’ve not?”
“Goodness no, I’m still gay,” Mr. Wrightworth protested.
He seemed flustered.
It made me wonder if part of Nathaniel’s allure to Mr. Wrightworth was the simple fact that Nathaniel could still elicit such emotions from the well controlled Mr. Wrightworth.
“Limits?” Nathaniel asked.
“When you reach one, you’ll know,” Mr. Wrightworth responded.
“You...you aren’t putting limits on me?” Nathaniel asked.
“No,” Mr. Wrightworth responded.
Nathaniel leaned down, suddenly acknowledging me.
“Mr. Wrightworth always puts limits on Doms who share his subs. This is quite a treat for me. The temptation to push you to your limits and then right over just to see if he’ll let me go that far.”
“Do remember who you are playing with,” Mr. Wrightworth said.
“Mm, suppose,” Nathaniel said, moving behind me.
I felt a tug on the ribbon, then another. Ever so slowly the bow shifted against my back and stomach as the bow came undone. Nathaniel pulled the ribbon free of my stomach in one motion.
The slick satin slid over my skin, causing me to shudder and move instinctively with the motion.
“I have a thought,” Nathaniel said, to which Mr. Wrightworth made a questioning sound as he walked away from me and towards the wall of the room. “Have you...?”
Mr. Wrightworth glanced at Nathaniel before he sat in the dining chair he kept in the playroom at all times, and arched an eyebrow.
“We are all just now learning rope play. I wouldn’t risk her limbs.”
Nathaniel was silent a moment, whatever he did caused Mr. Wrightworth to smile just slightly and twitch the eyebrow. His hazel eyes drifted to me even though his face remained positioned towards Nathaniel.
“Well, that’s an oddly eager sort of thing,” Mr. Wrightworth purred out.
“Blindfolds,” Nathaniel said.
The ribbon slipped down over my eyes. Nathaniel tied the ribbon behind my head, just tight enough for it to stay in place. The ends of the ribbon were draped over my back, then Nathaniel arranged them carefully, grazing my back with his long fingers.
I could see nothing.
Not Mr. Wrightworth’s lips twisting up in a smile as he chuckled, not the warming of Nathaniel’s eyes as his hands ran over the bare flesh of my back, down my hips and legs. Then back up again.
“Sweetheart,” Mr. Wrightworth said, causing my head to lift. Nathaniel responded with a small sound. “You only have an hour.”
“When did you start counting?” Nathaniel asked, panic edging his voice.
“When you untied the bow, I’m not cruel.”
“Just a question—”
“In the toy box,” Mr. Wrightworth said, I swore I could hear the smile in his voice.
Blind, I struggled to fill in what was going on with my other senses. I heard Nathaniel walk off, but didn’t know what exactly the toy box was. Mr. Wrightworth had only ever used the items hanging on the wall.
I heard the sound of something opening and closing and didn’t understand what I had just heard.
There were no cupboards or storage items in the playroom itself. Not unless a piece of furniture had a cupboard built into it.
I tugged at my bonds, for some reason forgetting that I was tied down.
“And have you been—” Nathaniel asked.
“Orgasm training, but we haven’t reached the part about not coming until she is allowed to. It’s not an exact science, not for me and not when it involves a woman.”
“Oh, well that’s simple,” Nathaniel said in a cheery voice.
I distinctly remember thinking, ‘Ah, fuck,’ a moment before I felt a touch. I relaxed, thinking that it must have been some other sort of toy that Nathaniel was teasing me with.
And then he turned it on.
I definitely don’t recall those first few moments. By the time I wrapped my mind around the multitude of sensations, Nathaniel had pulled away.
I panted, forcing myself to relax.
One arm protested, my back hurt down my spine. I had convulsed as the vibrator touched me.
“Now,” Nathaniel said, setting his hand in the small of my back. “I’m going to use this again, and you are going to enjoy it. But you aren’t allowed to come. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whined out.
“Whiny,” Mr. Wrightworth muttered.
“That’s not whiny,” Nathaniel said, even though I would have said it was a whining tone. “It’s more frustration. She wants to come. Don’t you, Darling? You want to come for me?”
Yes, I reacted because he used the right tone. Every bit of me leaped to obey the trigger word. The swirl in my stomach flooded my limbs with that wonderful feeling of pre-orgasm.
I’m not even fully trained, and I react like that?
“No, no, not yet,” Nathaniel said, his hand pressing tighter against my back. His tone promised more. “Not yet, just remember that.”
I cried out as the vibrator pressed against me and turned on at the same time. The vibrations continued, causing me to writhe against the spanking bench. As the first wave came upon me, the first warning that my orgasm was nigh, the sensation was suddenly pulled away.
“What was the indicator?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
“She went perfectly still,” Nathaniel responded, his voice moving away from me and towards the toy wall as he spoke. “You’re used to men, where we want faster and faster, more sensation. I swear every woman I’ve ever been with just stops. And that’s not the orgasm itself. That’s the pre-wave.”
“And to bring her back down?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
“Too soft and it won’t divert her,” Nathaniel said, moving back towards me. “Unlike with men, you can’t beat her in rapid succession. The female mind—at least in my experience in dealing with them—can link the repetitive impacts to pleasure and it can push them over the edge.”
“Is that why Nicole advises not taking up a rhythm when beating anyone?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
“And making certain they’re present,” Nat
haniel said.
I heard a whistling sound, then was struck by the many tails of the flogger. The very speed of the flogger sent a shock through my body. Then my mind caught up with the motion and my back bloomed in burning pain.
“Izzy,” Nathaniel snapped.
“Fucking, Christ sake,” I snapped out before I realized what I was saying and what he had said.
“And she’s present and off the edge,” Nathaniel said.
“Quick and dirty,” Mr. Wrightworth said.
“Oh, there are subtle ways, but I don’t feel like teaching you all the tricks.”
“On the contrary, I think you do feel like it,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “But this is your time, and I’ve only seen you smack her once. So why not show me what sort of a Dom you are?”
Nathaniel struck me again with a great deal of force. It was the kind of strength that I had grown accustomed to experiencing.
Over my time with Mr. Wrightworth I had learned the differences in each strike. Nathaniel was holding back with each strike, only hitting me hard enough to make it seem like he was putting effort behind it.
Unlike that first strike.
He traded off between the impact toys and the vibrator, tormenting me until I was on that edge and then beating me back down. Each time he beat me, it was a little harder to come back down. The edge stayed there and so close at hand.
“Please, Sir,” I pleaded, unable to take it any longer.
Nathaniel tangled his hand in my still growing hair. It was just long enough to get a handful of hair and pull. He pulled my head back, but all I saw was a haze of purple through the ribbon. I couldn’t see shapes, just the colour purple, or black if I closed my eyes.
The ribbon was a constant reminder of the fact that I didn’t belong to Nathaniel, I wasn’t his.
“Please, what?” Nathaniel asked.
“Please, let me come.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from across the room.
“We aren’t playing that game tonight,” Nathaniel growled.
My mind struggled because no one had told me ahead of time how to react or what to expect. If it wasn’t about me getting to come, it was about him. I made that connection thankfully.