Paid to Be Shared

by Romilly King

  “Yes of course,” Griffin said earnestly, “Whenever, wherever, we just want to see him,”

  “Just as well then,” said Cash with a steely glint in his eye, “Because his only other request is that you don’t speak until he does, and I will be there to ensure that happens,”

  “I understand,”

  “Good,” said Cash shortly and cut the connection.

  Griffin breathed out. He didn’t know what to think. All he knew was that he needed to tell Ivo, and Friday was three days away. He imagined they were going to be the longest three days of his life.

  He told Ivo that night, and Ivo had said nothing, just quietly poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat outside on the terrace drinking it and watching the stars. Griffin knew it was because he dared not voice his hope.

  The man that blocked Birch from Griffin and Ivo’s sight when they arrived at the house was tall and well-muscled. He stood head and shoulders above Dr. Gregory, who was not a small man, and the expression on his handsome face was stony.

  Birch didn’t look at Griffin or Ivo when he entered the house, he kept his head down, a beany pulled over his hair and low down onto his forehead. Wearing sweat pants and heavy boots, he made his way quickly through the house, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, and his collar turned up. He didn’t speak, just went to the orangery with Cash.

  Griffin thought he looked thinner, paler, and he wished he could see his eyes, those dark doe eyes he dreamed about.

  Griffin and Ivo stood silently and waited accompanied by the tall man. He was clearly unhappy with them and made no effort to speak or lighten the atmosphere.

  Eventually, Cash stepped back into the living, “Please come with me,” he said, and Ivo and Griffin trailed him into the orangery.

  Birch was kneeling in the center of the floor, his head was down, and he wore nothing but torn, dirty flesh-colored ballet shorts, and he swayed slowly back and forth as if entranced.

  Ivo’s hand came down on Griffin’s forearm, and his grip was like steel.

  Chapter Thirty-One - Birch

  Birch swayed back and forth. Under his knees, the floor was cold, and his joints ached.

  The orangery was different in winter. He had left it in the first days of fall when it was full of flowers and the scent of ripening things. Now the grapevine that traced the lantern ceiling was a sleeping stick, and the light was harsh, not soft and gentle like the rays that lit the room the first time he scened with Ivo.

  He breathed out slowly and went looking for his headspace. He remembered how he had explained the need to do this to Cash. “I am not good with words, I am good with my body,” he had said, “and I want to dance for them, just this once.”

  Cash had been reluctant, “You owe them nothing,” he had said.

  “I may owe them everything,” Birch said, “If I come to work with you. If I become a counselor, it will be because of them,”

  “No, it won’t,” Cash’s tone had been frustrated, “It will because you have natural empathy, natural insight, and you will work to acquire all the other skills, this is nothing to do with them,”

  “I will dance for them,” Birch insisted stubbornly, “They may not deserve it, but this is the only gift I have to give them, they stayed together, they worked at it, that deserves to be honored, and my dance will honor it,”

  Cash had sighed, “I will never deny any Venditor the closure they think they need,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Birch had said.

  It was time for Birch to let the dance speak for him. He wondered if Griffin and Ivo would understand what he was telling them. He thought Ivo would, and maybe he could explain it to Griffin.

  It wasn’t his intention to copy Polunen. However, he wanted to channel him because Take me to Church had been Polunen’s last dance, and this was probably Birch’s last dance too. And more than that, it may be the last time he saw the two men he had fallen in love with.

  In the dance, he planned to show his sacrifice as a Venditor, throwing himself onto the altar of the contract because he felt he could do good.

  And he wanted to show his Emptores that in leaving them he had sacrificed himself again, for them, and he needed them to see that it hurt him because by then he loved them.

  He swayed back and forth, and tears dripped down his face.

  The first strains of the music reached him, and Birch didn’t look up, he just let himself be drawn into the music with the knowledge that his Emptores watched him.

  He couldn’t see Ivo and Griffin, but he felt the connection they had, broken and unraveled as it was, and he went looking for it in the music and the dance.

  He danced the journey of the submissive, the yearning for the acceptance of the gift gladly given.

  It started with gentle bends and pirouettes on the cold hard floor, his body, his tool, bending to the will of his Doms.

  Birch spread his legs wide and flexed towards the ceiling before he pulled himself into a one-armed handstand. He held it, perfectly balanced because he went wherever they put him.

  Then there was the flight into subspace. He rolled out from the handstand and rose to his feet, and then he was off, spinning and then soaring, his steps hard and fast on the tile of the orangery as he raced through a dizzying series of leaps. Never had he thrown himself so high.

  Each jump felt like forever, as if he floated, and each time he reached the boundaries of the orangery, it wasn’t until the last moment, seconds from disaster, that he spun away from colliding with the wall and took off again.

  The music drove him on, this was his church, where he offered his body on their altar.

  Then came the heartbreak, the sundering of the bond. He threw himself into the air and crashed down full length on the floor – he heard a cry, a yell of pain, and face down as if twisted and broken on the tile, he turned his head and saw Cash and Tay holding back Ivo and Griffin.

  He turned his head back to the ceiling, and the music rolled on, and in his dance, Birch pulled himself out of the drop.

  Muscle group by muscle group he rose until he stood with his head bowed, and as the last verse started, he slowly but then faster and faster spun back to his center, and offered himself again, unbroken, willing.

  He went into a pirouette, again and again, flexing and spinning. His head whipped around in tight circles. He stopped, started again, pirouetted closer and closer to where Ivo and Griffin stood at the end of the orangery. He used their shadowy shapes as his guide through the pirouettes, they became his fixed point to focus on.

  The last chorus roared to a climax, and he stopped in front of them. He dropped to his knees, and as the final chord rang out, he put himself into Humble, his arms stretched out at their feet, his forehead hard to the floor.

  His heart pounded, his body was drenched in sweat, his knees and elbows rang with pain from the harsh punishment of the impact with the floor. His face was wet with tears. He could hear sobbing, he thought it was him.

  And then he was touched. Arms reached around him, two sets, grasped him, held him. He was pulled back against a chest, his bare back to a soft sweater, and he turned his face into the space beneath Ivo’s chin and sobbed harder. Hands stroked him, words washed over him, two voices, “We got you, we’ll never let you fall again.”

  He blinked, and Griffin was kneeling between his legs, cradling his face in his hands, and Ivo was behind him, his arms wrapped around him. “We love you, we love you, please come back, stay, we are incomplete without you.”

  Ivo pressed kisses to his neck, his shoulder, his hair, wherever he could reach. “We are so sorry, we were so wrong, you were right from the start, we are three, always three.”

  “I thought I broke you,” Birch cried, “I thought I killed your marriage.”

  “No, God no,” Griffin kissed his forehead, “You were making it stronger. You showed us how it could be, and we fucked up. But even if you never came back we can’t be apart, we would always be together. We would still be waiti
ng for you though, because while it is good together, better than anything else would be, with you, it is perfect.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked, and Birch nodded.

  Griffin’s kiss was sloppy and salty from tears and perfect, and Ivo held Birch so firm and warm while his husband kissed him for both of them.

  “That was amazing,” Ivo rumbled in his ear when Griffin let his lips go, “That was the most intimate and personal dance I have ever seen.”

  Birch laughed, “It took a lot of work,” he said shyly.

  “You scared the shit out of me with those running leaps, I thought you were going to crash into the walls.”

  “I nearly did,” admitted Birch, “But that would have fitted too,”

  “I nearly threw up when you crashed from that leap,” said Griffin, “I thought it was an accident,”

  “It was disciplined,” said Ivo, “I could see that, but it must have hurt,”

  Birch wiped his nose on his arm, “I put it in because you like to hurt me,” he said.

  Ivo huffed a laugh, “Getting cheeky again already,”

  “I lack punishment!” said Birch sadly.

  “We’ll put that right,” said Ivo, “But not today, today we accept your submission in the spirit in which it is given – with honor and gratitude,”

  Birch tilted his head back and kissed Ivo’s cheek.

  “And after Ivo checks you for damage, we’re going to take you to bed and show you just how precious you are to us by kissing every inch of this amazing body,” added Griffin.

  “Please,” said Birch, “But stay away from my feet, I have absolutely wrecked them practicing that routine!”

  Epilogue

  Dr. Cashel Gregory, Head of Organizational Psychology

  Tay held the door for Cash as they exited the Emptores house.

  They had left Birch wrapped between his two Emptores on the sofa, his face bright and his smile wide.

  Outside light snow fell, and Cash pulled up the collar of his wool coat and tucked the ends of his scarf in to stop the flakes sneaking down his neck. Tay didn’t bother, the tiny flakes melted on his eyelashes and sparkled on his short scruff on his cheeks. Snow drifting onto granite, thought Cash.

  “I think he’s going to make a good addition to the counseling team,” Tay said, “But I’ll miss my most biddable demonstration model,”

  “He’ll be perfect,” said Cash, “And we’ll find you another duty Sub,”

  They started the walk through the twilight towards the agency SUV.

  “Birch was an excellent Venditor,” said Cash, “But he’s going to make a superb counselor. He’s got so much empathy, and he’s so bright, he’s going to do well,”

  Tay grunted in agreement.

  “Just between you and me,” added Cash, “I’m glad to see him out of the Venditor program, I know he made a lot of money, but it isn’t a lasting career, and he would have had to find something else eventually,”

  “BDSM, it’s a young man’s game,” said Tay snarkily.

  “Sorry,” said Cash, “You know what I mean, for Submissives, it is normally a limited time thing. You Dom’s can keep on working so long as you can hold a cane, but Subs tend to want stability and they find someone to settle down with before they get to our age,”

  “Our age?” said Tay, “You’re twenty years younger than me!”

  “Maybe I just feel old tonight,” said Cash.

  They reached the SUV, and Cash wiped the small accumulation of snow from the windscreen with a gloved hand. Tay climbed in and started the engine.

  “This was a good result all round,” Cash said as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Yes,” Tay agreed, “It’s good to see a connection like that. The algorithm works, and it can throw compatible people together, but it can’t solve every single problem, people still have to work stuff out for themselves – or their therapist helps them.”

  Cash looked sideways at Tay, “Are you trying to tell me something?” he asked.

  Tay hesitated a moment, “I think I’m ready,” he said.

  “Ready for what?”

  “To get back in the field, I’m ready to go out on contract again,” Tay said.

  “Not a fucking chance,” snarled Cash, his voice cold and angry, “You’re nowhere near ready.”

  Tay turned and glared at him; in the interior of the car, lit only by the glow of the instrument panel, his eyes seemed to flare orange, “If you had your way, I would never be ready,” Tay growled.

  Cash, can’t deny that.

  #ENDS

  Books By This Author

  Paid to Kneel

  Sex sells and Richard is about to find out exactly how much his submission is worth.

  RICHARD is desperate for money. With his Father needing long term care and graduate school looming he needs a lump sum of cash, and fast. Selling himself via the Delphic Agency seems the quickest way to get ahead of his problems but to earn the kind of money he needs Richard has to offer more than he bargained for.

  Accepting a two week contract as resident submissive to a man who switches between casual friend and relentless dominant at the drop of a paddle leaves Richard sure of only two things – one, he wants to please this man more than anything and two, never mind the money, he never wants this to end.

  But you don’t buy people from the Delphic Agency, only time, and as Richard falls repeatedly to his knees time is running out and Richard is no closer to knowing if the man who has awakened his inner submissive will want more of him or send him on his way.

  PAID TO KNEEL is the first book in the Delphic Agency Series and contains Dom/Sub elements, plenty of steamy kink exploration and a surprising amount of love.

  Paid to take Control

  Painter has never been in control of anything, now he is in a contract where he is being paid to control the man on his knees in front of him.

  Go with the flow, take the line of least resistance, those were Painter’s go to strategies until his career depends on him dominating an unruly submissive who is richer than him, more experienced than him and definitely cleverer than him.

  How can Painter unleash his inner dom? His psych tests insist he has one. His boss gave him a crash course in kink and basically ordered him to take this contract. And now the dark eyed submissive with a smart mouth and a brain the size of a planet is provoking him.

  Turns out Painter’s inner dom is closer to the surface than he thought. But that doesn’t make him feel better about himself and what happens when he finds himself falling in love with the brat that goes sloe eyed with desire when Painter takes charge?

  PAID TO TAKE CONTROL is the second book in the Delphic Agency Series and contains Dom/Sub elements, plenty of steamy kink exploration and a happy ever after in the end.

  Free to be tied

  What can rope bring to a relationship? Well, it can hold you exactly where you need to be, for a start!

  It is six months since Richard moved in with Ash. Six months of teasing frustration, ecstatic rewards, and a growing awareness of just how much he likes to hand control over to his Dom.

  Ash is slowly uncovering Richard’s desires, encouraging him to explore, and Richard, he thinks he knows what he wants to try next; ropes. Ropes look very cool.

  So how should he ask Ash to help him explore this? Richard has a few ideas that are bound to arouse Ash’s interest…

  FREE TO BE TIED is a standalone BDSM scene following the further kink explorations of Richard and his loved up Dom from PAID TO KNEEL, the first book in the Delphic Agency Series.

  Free to Play

  What is on the menu tonight? Anything Ash wants and wherever he wants it!

  Theirs was not the most conventional of courtships but now they are together Ash is determined to give Richard the date nights he missed out on in the beginning.

  But Ash wouldn’t be Ash if he didn’t have a plan to put Richard to the test during a romantic meal in a busy restaurant. And Richard wouldn’t
be Richard if he wasn’t willing to do anything Ash asked of him, including giving in to his exhibitionist streak.

  It’s going to be a long night for Richard, but the reward Ash has planned if he is good will be worth all the frustration.

  FREE TO PLAY is a standalone scene following the further explorations of Ash and Richard from PAID TO KNEEL, the first book in the Delphic Agency Series.

  Due to be Punished

  What’s a caring sadist to do when his brat is acting out?

  Working out what is going on in Brio’s mercurial mind is a full-time job, and Painter wonders if he is up to the task of keeping on top of his submissive’s complex needs.

  Given his behavior, Brio needs an intense scene, and Painter is going to give it to him, and then some. It’s time for Painter to stretch his inner Dom and reset his bratty Sub.

  DUE TO BE PUNISHED is a standalone short scene in the Delphic Agency Series and continues the kink exploration of Painter and Brio from PAID TO TAKE CONTROL.

  Connect with Romilly

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