Dark Secret Love: A Story of Submission (Black Lace)

by Alison Tyler

  He surprised me. He surpassed what I’d hoped. Not letting up on me when I started to cry. No pity. He was a natural Dom. He spanked me until I felt as if my ass were on fire, and then he showed me my reflection in the wall of mirrors, making me look. I was a mess. My makeup streaked, my carefully done hair all loose. He threw me down on the bed and fucked me, and he made me tell him what Jack had wanted to do. Made me tell him everything, promising that he would take over.

  The call came in two days later. I’d landed the job at the salon, front desk, decent pay. The only glitch was the dress code: all black. That was the only thing the owner allowed. So what was the problem? I owned plenty of black—in my closet at Byron’s house.

  “That’s it,” Nate insisted when I explained that I couldn’t afford to buy a whole new wardrobe. “We’re getting your stuff.”

  Garrett agreed, although he was oddly quiet. He hadn’t spoken to me much at all since our night together, and I wondered what he was thinking. I didn’t expect him to be my boyfriend now. I didn’t know what I expected, but boyfriends weren’t high on my list of priorities.

  I do know that Byron didn’t expect what he found when he came home from work that afternoon: Garrett and Nathan and me, sitting on the front curb, waiting. Byron hadn’t taken my calls, had refused to return the messages I’d left at work and on his machine. So now here I was, with two tall young bucks, both wearing solid, serious expressions.

  “She needs her clothes,” Nate said as Byron came slowly up the drive.

  “She should have thought about that before she fucked the boy toy.”

  “Meaning what exactly?” Garrett asked, standing to his full height, and I saw how much taller he was than Byron, how much fitter. Byron must have realized that as well, because he didn’t sneer so much as he said, “Look, I got rid of everything.” He shrugged and I felt my heart sink. I hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t considered that he might not keep my things.

  “Let’s make sure,” Nate said, staring at Byron. I glanced from him to Garrett and understood that although Nate was slightly shorter and leaner, he was definitely the more menacing of the two. “Maybe you missed something.”

  Byron shook his head. “I’ve got company tonight,” he said. “Why don’t you all come back this weekend?”

  Nate stood there blocking the door, holding Byron’s expression with his own, and Byron gave in. He moved forward, and Nate waited until the last second before stepping aside. Once inside the apartment, it was clear why Byron hadn’t wanted us to enter. The place was a wreck. I had been the good little homemaker. Now there were clothes everywhere, and through the hatch I could see dishes piled in the sink. Pizza boxes decorated the dining room table and bags of garbage sagged against the back door. Even more obvious to me was that Byron had been lying. All of my things were still there, although not in the places I remembered. My favorite rose-pink silk nightgown was crumpled on the sofa, next to a pillow and the blanket from our bed. Had he been sleeping with my nightie?

  Byron wouldn’t look at me.

  I headed up the stairs to the bedroom, the boys following after me. My huge suitcase was under the bed and I pulled it out, opened the closet, and threw in as many clothes as I could. I took pillowcases from the closet and Garrett and Nathan emptied my drawers into them. Knickers and stockings and bras spilled free. We hadn’t come armed with boxes. This was true guerilla packing, as fast and as thorough as possible because I didn’t ever want to come back. Hefty bags came next, and I tossed in all my keepsakes, anything I felt I couldn’t live without.

  Garrett and Nathan began toting my belongings to the truck, but I was aware that they made sure I was never alone in the townhouse with Byron. They did this to protect me, but Byron was no visible threat. He seemed to have gone somewhere deep inside himself. As I made my final trip downstairs, I saw him on the sofa, bong in place, staring at the silent TV. But he looked up at me as I headed out the door.

  “Fucking two guys at a time now?” he snarled. “You were a whore when I met you. I don’t know why I ever thought you’d change.”

  I wish I could say that I responded with a snappy comeback. But all I could do was feel sick for him, sitting there in the rubble of the apartment, taking solace in a water bong and an insult. The last thing I saw when I left was my engagement ring, shining on the corner of the coffee table.

  “What the fuck were you with him for?” Nate demanded as we drove his pickup back to Hollywood.

  I shook my head.

  “Was he rich? That Saab wasn’t cheap.” Byron had upgraded to a new convertible.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “But that’s not why I was with him.”

  “Were you a whore when you met?” Nate said this with a smirk. I hadn’t known he’d heard Byron’s parting words.

  I gave him a look, and then the three of us started to laugh. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not like Pretty Woman, if that’s what you mean. He didn’t rescue me from a rough street life.”

  “So what was he talking about?” Garrett wanted to know.

  I took a deep breath, then shrugged. No reason not to tell them. “This thing happened right before I moved in with him, and I don’t think he ever got over it.”

  “What sort of thing?” Garrett pressed. I was sitting in the middle between the boys, and Garrett’s thigh was tight against mine. I wondered if he thought the incident was the same sort that he and I had shared. I wondered if this was the sort of thing he was never going to get over either.

  “I had this threesome with a lady from my work and her roommate.”

  Silence filled the truck. “It was no big deal,” I told them. “But to Byron it was—”

  “How’d he find out about it?” “Everyone found out,” I said, smiling as I remembered. All the men on staff had treated me differently after that night. But I was smiling because I had never told anyone how much of a liar I’d been. Ava and Charlie had thought that I was an innocent. That I’d never had a guy go down on me, that I was naïve about sucking cock. I had no problem playing pure, letting them feel as if they were corrupting me. I hadn’t been with a woman before. That was the only new part of the equation for me. Brock had taught me everything I needed to know about pleasing a man with my mouth.

  We arrived home as the sun was starting to set, and we unpacked the truck as quickly as possible, all of us wanting the whole experience to be over and done with. And when it was, Nathan took me by the hand and brought me back to the truck. Garrett followed behind us. The boys clearly had a plan, but I didn’t know what it was. We drove down the hill to Nate’s favorite bar, a dark dive with a good jukebox.

  “Best place to toast a breakup,” Nate announced as we snagged a booth in the back.

  Garrett nodded and I looked at him, remembering what he’d said about his former girlfriend, knowing that he’d been demolished, trying to guess what he thought about my situation. Rounds of tequila arrived at our table and the three of us toasted.

  “To Byron,” Garrett said.

  “To whores,” Nate grinned.

  “To my clothes,” I sighed. It felt good to have my stuff back. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like a homeless waif.

  “To threesomes,” Nate suggested for the next shot.

  “It’s called a gang bang if it’s two guys,” I teased.

  “I read that in Playboy,” Garrett nodded, “but I don’t agree.”

  “I haven’t done the two-guy thing,” Nate admitted. “Only two girls.”

  Garrett didn’t say anything. I could tell he’d never had either type of ménage. I also knew, from the way I was being handled in the bar, one boy’s hand on my left thigh, the other on my right, that it was an experience not far off in his future.

  We chose Nate’s room.

  “What about Lois?”

  “She got a commercial. Gone for three days.”

  Nervousness fluttered through me. I’d been flirting. I knew the consequences. At least I thought I did.
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br />   Nate had those ties on his bed. The hook for cuffs. He also had the intelligence not to rush. He told me to take a shower first to relax. My muscles were sore from carrying all those bags, and I rotated under the hot spray, thinking about Byron making love to my nightgown while I would soon be fucking my two new roommates. The nervousness turned quickly to arousal. I dried off and found that Nate had hung Lois’s Oriental robe out for me. My skin still damp, I slid into it, then opened the door.

  Candles lined the hallway. I walked to Nate’s room, so aware of my nakedness under the thin turquoise robe.

  Garrett was sitting in the leather chair in the corner, still fully dressed. He had a beer in one hand and a paddle in the other. I shut my eyes for a moment, nerves rushing back. Then I felt Nate behind me, slipping the blindfold into place.

  They must have talked, the two boys. Maybe before I was in the shower. Maybe after my night together with Garrett. They must have discussed the things I liked, the things I’d expressed in my drunken confession. Because the evening was completely choreographed. Nate led me forward, not saying a word, and I found myself pushed against Garrett, who quickly took over, upending me over his lap and lifting up the back of the robe. I was nude beneath, and I felt grateful for the blindfold. I didn’t have to watch them watching me. I wondered what they thought of the fading bruises on my skin, wondered what they thought of my tattoos.

  Garrett set the paddle against my ass, and I could guess what it would feel like when he landed the first blow. This was a leather paddle, rectangular, much larger than the one Connor had used on me. “Tell Nate what you told me,” he said, his voice darker than I’d heard it so far. Menacing. How strange. I’d expected Nate to take control.

  “What part?” I whispered.

  “All of it.”

  I realized that I was going to be punished for the first time in front of an audience. Garrett was going to spank the hell out of me, and Nate was going to watch.

  “Now,” Garrett insisted.

  The two shots of tequila gave me a tiny sliver of confidence. But speaking was torture. “I can’t—” I murmured. And before the words were fully out of my mouth, Garrett had landed the first volley of blows. The pain was fierce, but I held myself still.

  “Don’t press me,” Garrett warned. “I promise that you’ll lose.”

  Ah, but he was wrong. Losing would make me win.

  “It’s all I want,” I said softly, speaking toward the carpet.

  “What is?” Nate asked. He was close, bent on his knees in front of me. He kissed my lips, stroked my hair. “What do you want, Samantha?”

  I took stock of my situation: blindfolded, in a room with two men, both who seemed more than willing to make my fantasies come true. What was stopping me from speaking? That same old fear of rejection? Fuck you, Byron. I didn’t want to be muzzled by that anymore.

  “I want—” I started, then hesitated, and Garrett began smacking my ass again, each slap of the paddle on my skin warning me. “I want this—”

  That vagueness won me a series of eye-watering blows. I wasn’t counting how many; I was simply absorbing. Nate held my hands, he licked the tears from my cheeks as they slowly spilled under the blindfold.

  “I want to take it,” I said, choking over the tears.

  “Take?” Nate prompted.

  Why did I have to say it? Didn’t they see? Couldn’t they tell? Wasn’t it clear from my body language, from the fact that I had allowed myself willingly to be blindfolded, to be led to a man holding a paddle? I hadn’t run away. I hadn’t said that they were crazy, that I never would agree to something like that. I had been meek. I had been humble. I had been willing.

  Garrett said, “Tie her to the bed, Nathan. Face down.”

  Oh, fuck.

  They stripped the robe off me first. The blindfold was black velvet, and I could see nothing. But it was as if I could feel the candlelight on me, casting twisted golden shadows over my pale skin.

  Nate did as Garrett said, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to his mattress. He had me bound in seconds, and I felt relief flood through me. It didn’t matter what I said now. I was going to get what I wanted.

  “Tell us, Samantha,” Garrett said, his voice close to my ear. “What do you want to take?”

  I shut my eyes tight. Describing my desires never got any easier. “You have to make it hurt,” I managed. “It has to hurt. I want to show you that I can take it. The pain—” I was begging now, but I’d reached a point where I could talk more freely. “Please—” I lifted my voice to both of them. “I don’t know why. Just please—”

  That was as clear as I could be. The boys didn’t need any further instruction.

  I’d known Nate had the rigged mattress, but I didn’t know about the closet of toys. Connor needn’t have bought the gear at the Pleasure Chest. Nate had the crops, and the canes, and the clamps. But it was Garrett who used them. Was I his surrogate girlfriend this night, the one who’d broken his heart? Was he taking his aggression out on me? Or was I the nymph who’d freed him to do what he’d always wanted?

  Didn’t really matter, did it? He used a leather flogger from my upper back to the tops of my thighs before striping me with the crop, crisscrossing the marks to leave the most lasting pain. He wielded the instruments like a pro. Not letting up. Not going slow. I twisted under the sensation, but I never said stop. I put my faith in him to read me, to understand. And he did. He made sure I was crying, really crying, before he handed me over to Nate.

  Nate had been at my side the whole evening. Had kissed the welts when Garrett gave me a breather. Had let his fingertips wander down between the lips of my pussy, laughing softly when he felt the wetness that awaited him.

  I heard Garrett take his seat in the chair once more, settling down to relax as Nate brought his face to my ear and whispered, “All right, baby, now it’s my turn.”

  Chapter Nine:

  Fix You

  I had felt from the start that Nathan was the one to watch. He had the fierce look, that unflinching stare. And he’d been comfortable manhandling me, climbing under the covers on the sofa, wrapping me in his arms. Not fucking me, just touching me. His face pressed against the nape of my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin.

  Now he’d seen Garrett make me cry. And if I thought that there had been some sort of good cop/bad cop routine between them, if I’d believed for an instant that Nate was the gentler one, kissing my tears away, caressing my feverish skin, then I was in for a wicked surprise.

  “My turn,” he said again, pressing his body into mine from behind. “And you know what that means, don’t you, baby?”

  I didn’t.

  “Yes you do, because you and I are exactly alike.”

  He’d said that before, and I’d refused to even consider the statement. We couldn’t be alike. Nate consumed women, took what he wanted from them and left them weeping. He never called for a second date. He was always looking toward the next conquest.

  “We’re on the very edge,” he whispered, and I could feel his cock against me now, so hard even through his jeans. He continued to thrust softly, easily against my throbbing ass. “We like things rough,” he continued, “we like to feel everything. We can’t feel it unless there’s some pain involved.”

  My eyes were shut even under the blindfold. I was paying careful attention to every word he said.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” he said, “because you need that.” As he spoke, I felt him move off the mattress. I wondered if Garrett was going to watch the whole time. Why wouldn’t he? We were a performance in motion. Something that couldn’t be stopped.

  Nate didn’t take off his clothes. He split his jeans and climbed back on the bed, and I felt his cock thrust inside me, lulling me with pleasure. I had endured, hadn’t I? I’d accepted everything Garrett had to give. Why shouldn’t I bask in the glow, in the sensation of being taken? I imagined Garrett staring at us, drinking his beer, stroking himself, and then Nate lifted a can
dle from the side of the bed, and let the wax slowly drip …

  I could have laughed at myself for believing that I was due to receive some pedestrian pleasure. Believing that Nate was on board for a simple session of in-and-out. What an idiot I was, thinking for even an instant that Nate was the lightweight. No, this dark-eyed player was in it for the long haul. He’d watched Garrett warm me up, and now he, the Master, was taking over. I tensed my back, anticipation beating through me, and Nate slapped my ass, keeping me off balance. What was he going to do next?

  The candle wax continued to decorate my back as he fucked me, but I could tell this was simply Nate’s way of gearing up. He was only getting started. I shuddered each time the wax hit my skin, and then sighed as Nate rewarded me with a following thrust. He had me teetering on the brink, and he knew it.

  Maybe he was right.

  Maybe we were the same.

  “It’s not enough, is it, baby?” Nate crooned, sounding almost sad. “You need more, don’t you?”

  And suddenly he was off me, and there were sounds of disturbance from the closet. I heard Garrett suck in his breath when Nate returned to the bed. But I had no idea what he was holding.

  “Lift your head up,” he instructed.

  I obeyed immediately.

  “Now kiss the tip.”

  It was a cane.

  I’d written about canes, of course. In my nightly pounding of Lois’s keyboard, I’d written about all of my kinky desires. Being free from Byron had freed my mind as well. I’d seen these implements in the windows of the sex stores in Hollywood. But I had no idea what sort of pain the thing would impart.

  “We’ll start with six,” Nate said, “and you’re going to count each blow.”

  My ass was still hot from Garrett’s punishment, but when Nate ran his hand slowly over both of my cheeks I shivered at the gentleness of his touch. He knew what he was doing. As soon as my body responded to one sensation, he was there to confuse me beyond measure. I didn’t think I could tense my muscles any tighter than they were. I held my breath, but Nate was too smart for that. He waited, saw me exhale, and then inhale again before he put his lips to my ear once more and said, “Prepare yourself.”