Her Two Doms

by Ashe Barker

  When Fraze sucks my clit, I tap Declan’s arm hard. Dutifully he increases the pressure, and this time I welcome it. The pain purifies me, fortifies me. It gives me focus.

  Four. Five. Six.

  Fraze somehow manages to increase the strength of the pulsing waves. They buffet me now, demanding my response. He finger-fucks my arse at the same time as he takes my clit in his teeth, makes his tongue hard and presses against the underside of the sensitive bud. It’s too much, I can’t…

  Seven. Eight.

  Just hang on. Almost done…almost…

  Nine. Ten!

  “Now, I sob. “Please, now…”

  “Yes.” Declan softens his grip and is again stroking my nipples. “You can come when you like.”

  My orgasm rips through me with the force of a tornado. I let out small, inarticulate moans of appreciation, sighs of pure delight. Shafts of white light fill my stolen vision, a kaleidoscope of fireworks erupt in my head. I swear the Earth moves under me. Then it fucking moves again and I’m floating.

  As the crescendo of sensation recedes I am limp, washed out. I sag in Declan’s arms when Fraze withdraws his fingers from my rear hole then slides the pulsing toy from my pussy. Declan removes the blindfold, and I blink in the light. He is no longer holding my legs apart, but I make no move to straighten or close them. I’m content to lie here, my thighs splayed, my pussy still drooling as my heartbeat slowly returns to normal.

  “That was…amazing,” I eventually manage.

  “I thought so, too. Dec?”

  “Yeah, fucking awesome. You want a condom?”

  “Yes. Top drawer, on your right.”

  “You…you’re going to fuck me?” I’d sort of assumed that we were done.

  “I reckon you earned it,” comments Fraze. “Unless you want to call a halt now. Your choice.”

  I guess this is the benefit of a threesome—I get their undivided attention, their combined efforts to both pleasure and hurt me, and double the fucking.

  “I don’t want to stop.”

  “Good,” agreed Fraze. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

  I watch, still slightly dazed from the erotic workout I’ve already had. Fraze unbuckles his belt, then unzips his trousers. Somehow, I had managed to forget that whilst I’m naked they are both fully dressed. Fraze’s cock springs free, and I can’t help but admire it. I never had the opportunity to actually see Declan’s cock before he drove it into me, but it felt huge. I have a somewhat limited frame of reference, but Fraze, too, looks enormous. He unrolls the condom over it, the slightly darker, smooth head already dribbling pre-cum.

  “I wanted to touch you.”

  “Next time, baby.” Fraze smiles at me, then grabs my ankles and drags me towards him.

  Declan shifts so he is lying across the bed, at right angles to me. He leans over, his lazy, sexy smile filling my vision.

  “Next time Fraze fucks you, you’ll be sucking my cock.”

  “Oh. But…” I gape at him and try to get my head around this latest twist.

  “Not this time. We agreed on baby steps, sweetheart. But something to look forward to, yes?”

  “Yes,” I breathe, then I completely lose the thread of the conversation when Fraze sinks his cock balls-deep in my waiting pussy.

  He delivers several short, sharp thrusts, and I grope for something to hang on to. I clamp my fist around Declan’s wrist, then close my eyes to savour the build-up of friction. My inner walls convulse, gripping Fraze hard. I squeeze around him deliberately, amazed that I am able to tighten even more. Fraze groans, his eyes now closed, and his beautiful mouth twists in a grimace. He drives his cock deep, his thrusts hard and fast, pounding me.

  Pleasure soars. I might even manage another climax. Perhaps…

  Fraze shifts his position so he is kneeling and my hips are resting on his thighs. He looks down at me from hooded eyes, the emerald glint of dark lust pinning me to the bed. He glances up, beyond me.

  “Dec, I need our girl to come.”

  “On it.” Declan uses his free hand, the one I am not clutching in my fist, to reach over and flick my clit.

  I let out a strangled moan, beyond aroused, beyond pleasured. Fraze is fucking me hard, and Declan’s deft touch on my clit sends me soaring again. As Fraze fills me, as Declan strokes and rubs, my pussy convulses. The climax is on me before I can think to seek permission, if that were even needed now. My whole body shakes as I lose control again, as I surrender totally to my two lovers.

  Chapter Seven

  It’s five minutes before ten. I perch on the edge of the sofa in the lobby of The Scotsman and wait for Fraze and Declan. My wedding outfit is in a small bag at my feet, and I am wearing casual jeans and a loose top. Just before the taxi dropped me off last night after my night of debauched and utterly delightful sex with them, they told me that the wedding is to take place in Pitlochry, a town north of Edinburgh, and that we’ll have a drive of a couple of hours. They told me to dress for comfort and expect to change when we arrive. They also told me to check out of my hotel as I had planned to, and that I will be staying with them tonight. We will all travel back to London together tomorrow.

  My bill is settled, my ridiculously heavy luggage propped up next to me. I can either stow my case in the boot of the car or leave it here at the hotel to collect before we catch our train. A draught of cool air wafts through the entrance as the door swings open. Declan strides across the plush carpeting. He, too, is dressed casually in black denim jeans and a plain grey T shirt. He beams at me.

  “Nice and punctual, I see. This yours?” He leans in to kiss me on the mouth, then reaches for my suitcase.

  “Yes, I didn’t want to be late. There might be traffic…”

  “We’ll be fine. Formalities dealt with?” He cocks an eyebrow in the direction of the receptionist who is gawping at him. A football fan, no doubt.

  “Yes,” I confirm. “I could leave that here and—”

  “It’s fine. Shall we go, then? The car’s on a double yellow line outside.”

  “Right.” I grab my purse and the bag containing my beautiful grey silk dress and I follow him through the plate glass doors.

  I don’t know what I expected to find waiting for me at the foot of the steps, a nice car, obviously, but the sleek limousine with liveried driver standing beside the open rear door takes my breath away.

  “Oh. Are we being driven?” Silly question, but out it comes.

  Declan waves aside the driver when the man makes to take my case. He hauls my luggage around to the rear boot and pops it open. “We were planning to go up in Fraze’s Audi, but this seemed better now there are three of us. More comfortable.” He drops my case into the cavernous boot and closes the lid. “Hop in.”

  I scramble into the car’s interior and I am at once conscious of the luxury. I’m met by buttery soft leather upholstery, a bank of controls for windows, air conditioning, sound system, even a minibar. And, of course, Fraze, lounging across one of the seats.

  “Morning, gorgeous. Did you sleep well?” he drawls in that sexy cadence of his.

  “Like a log.” It’s true. I was so exhausted when I got back to The Scotsman at around one in the morning that it was all I could do to get undressed before collapsing into my bed.

  “That’s good. So, you’ll be fresh as a daisy now. Here, we got you this on the way round.” Fraze waits until I sink into the seat opposite him then hands me a disposable cup of coffee. He shows me how to flick out a small table to my left, and I perch the cup there.

  “Thank you. I had breakfast, but this is very welcome.”

  Declan gets in behind me and sits at the other end of the seat. He stretches out his long legs, and Fraze hands him a coffee, too. “Thanks.” He turns to me. “It’s a long drive, but there’s no hurry. The wedding isn’t until two, so we can stop on the way if you like.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

  Declan winks at me. “Yes, I think I’d have said you were
fine, too.”

  The limousine purrs into life and glides away from the kerb. We’re off.

  We don’t stop on the way but arrive in Pitlochry just after twelve so we have time for a leisurely lunch in a pub before making our way to the hotel, which is to be the scene for this social extravaganza. When we arrive, Fraze checks us in. He’s booked a room for our use during the day, a place to change, to freshen up, to have a nap if need be. The ceremony is due to start in an hour or so, so we go up to our room to change into our finery.

  I should be shy, perhaps, about stripping in front of them, but we are way past all that. I get the use of the bathroom first. I showered at my hotel, so now, clad in just my underwear, I apply some light makeup, brush my hair, then spray myself with my favourite Fendi perfume. Satisfied, I stroll back into the bedroom to find both my men in grey morning suit trousers and starched dress shirts. Their sleek, tailored jackets hang from the front of the wardrobe door, and their top hats are tumbled on the bed.

  “Are you any good with cravats?” demands Declan, prodding at the crumpled mess around his neck.

  “I can do a barrel knot if that helps.”

  “Shit, yes. Anything…”

  I stand in front of him and smooth out the creased affair he has made of his cravat, then stand his collar up. I wrap the cravat around his neck with a longer length on the right, then make a loop by crossing the right side over the left. Declan cranes his neck, trying to see what I’m doing.

  I fix him with a look. “Keep still.”

  He scowls at me but does as he’s told. I finish my work of art, then pull the cravat into position against his shirt. I straighten it, turn his collar back down again, then stand back to admire my handiwork.

  “There. Will that do?”

  He peers in the mirror. “Fuck, that’s perfect. Where did you learn to do that?”

  “At least some good came of my time at St. Hugh’s.” I check out Fraze’s efforts. His cravat-tying is better than Declan’s was, but not up to my standards. “Shall I…?”

  “Please do.”

  Once they are both neatened up, I slip into my lovely dress and turn around for Declan to zip me up. He kisses my shoulder as he does so.

  “We’re going to have such a good time with you tonight,” he murmurs. “Do you want to know what we have planned?”

  I swallow, blink at his reflection in the mirror. Behind him, I meet Fraze’s gaze, too. “Yes,” I reply. “I think I would.”

  “Well, the spanking’s optional, of course. Unless you do something to deserve it, such as being disrespectful or disobedient. But we think you’ll be a good girl for us, won’t you, Ellie.”

  My mouth is dry suddenly. I nod. “I will. I’ll be a good girl.”

  “Good girls get to come, and they get fucked. Would you like that?”

  “Will it be… I mean, both of you?”

  “Oh yes.” Fraze takes up the explanation. “Both of us. At the same time.”

  “What? How …?”

  “Your pussy, your mouth, your arse. We have a choice of three, and only two cocks between us, so there’s ample of you to go around.”

  Ah, yes, I remember now. Declan said something about me sucking a cock whilst the other fucked me. But my arse? I swallow, realign my thoughts to accommodate this new reality, then I straighten my spine and turn to face them both. “That’s fine. I can manage that.”

  “Can you?” Fraze’s tone softens. “Yes, I expect you can, and if not, we’ll help you.”

  I manage a small, grateful smile.

  Declan shrugs into his jacket, places his top hat on. “Glad we got that settled. So, will I do?”

  “You look fabulous,” I gush. “Both of you.”

  Fraze is equally resplendent in his morning suit.

  “So do you.” Fraze offers me his arm. “There are cocktails and canapés downstairs, and we ought to mingle. Shall we?”

  The mingling turns out to be rather easier than I imagined it might be. I do recognise several faces, and one or two of the other guests remember me from school, but of course no one would be impolite enough to mention the unfortunate matter of the maths exam, even if they could call it to mind. For the most part I am simply one of the guests, companion to the Duke of Erskine and his famous footballer friend. More than a few women send envious looks my way, and who can blame them? I’m with easily the most attractive men here.

  That said, the groom comes a close second. Grgur Marek may not be of this social elite, but it seems no one has told him that. He circulates effortlessly among the rich, the famous and the occasionally infamous, chatting to the guests in his perfect and only faintly accented English. He laughs with them, makes jokes, his easy charm and gregarious nature infectious. Fraze observes that it’s obvious what Lucy sees in him.

  “Good for her,” I reply. “A handsome husband who’s good company as well. I expect he’s great in bed, too.”

  “I shall make a point of asking Lucy when she comes down?” Fraze sips his cocktail, and I can’t miss the wicked glint in his eye. “Not that I want to encourage you to be imagining other men in your bed. Are two not enough?”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” I scold, not sure if he means it or not. “And I wasn’t imagining. I just…oh, is that Miranda?”

  Fraze’s sister was a couple of years older than him so not part of our circle at school. I recognise her at once, though. She always had a more aristocratic bearing than her brother, and none of that has dissipated with the years. At her side is a middle-aged man, attractive in a staid sort of a way. I presume this to be her husband. Their two sons bounce in with them, blond lads aged about ten and twelve I’d say, who head straight for the table laden with cakes and pastries. Their father charges after them whilst Miranda makes a beeline for us.

  She kisses her brother on both cheeks, then offers the same greeting to Declan. “I’m so glad you could make it. We don’t see enough of you at Hathersmuir. Either of you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Do you remember Ellie, from school?” Fraze draws me forward.

  “I don’t think so.” Miranda furrows her brow, thinking. “Were you on the hockey team?”

  “Hardly,” I reply, taking her outstretched hand and shaking. “Two left feet, I’m afraid. And the hand-eye coordination of a rabbit.”

  “Ellie was the brainy type,” offers Declan, draping an arm over my shoulders.

  Miranda can’t miss the possessive gesture. She shrugs as though she’s seen all of this before. Perhaps she has. After all, Fraze and Declan have made no secret of the fact that they like to share. Am I one of many she’s seen come and go?

  “How are things at home?” asks Fraze. He snags a cocktail from a passing waiter and hands it to his sister.

  “Good,” she replies, “really good, in fact. Opening the house to the public a couple of days a week has brought in a lot of new revenue. I’m thinking of building some holiday lodges and advertising salmon fishing breaks.”

  Fraze scowls, but his sister is unimpressed. “You might well pull faces, but the place has to pay for itself. Tourism works, there’s money in it. You left me to run the estate, and—”

  “I know, I know. You’re doing a good job. Well, when I say a good job, I mean you’re doing okay, I suppose. You’ll just have to do what you think best.”

  She offers an unladylike snort by way of an answer. “Always the know-it-all. Is he this annoying with you, Ellie?”

  “What? No. Not at all. I…”

  Declan chuckles. “She’s teasing you, love. You’ll get used to it. These two never stop sparring with each other. The arrangement’s simple enough, Miranda runs the estate and Fraze gives her a hard time about it whenever he gets a chance.”

  I’m still processing all of that when the usher calls us to enter the wedding chapel. It would appear the Honourable Lucinda Sinclair is about to make her entrance.

  The day passes in a haze of taffeta, silk, lace, and pretty pink satin bows. Lucy’s taste in
wedding paraphernalia is very traditional, despite her rather more maverick approach to selecting a husband. The ceremony is uneventful, the food delicious, and the speeches entertaining enough. Several of Grgur’s colleagues from the Croatian Philharmonic are here and they rattle off a few traditional waltzes which warm up the room. A Highland band has been hired to lead the serious dancing, complete with a tartan-clad piper. It’s all very lively, and I have a wonderful time trying to get my feet around a Scottish jig.

  By nine o’clock I’m yawning.

  “Ready to go,” asks Declan. “Shall we get the car brought round?

  “Do we still have our driver?”

  “Of course,” says Fraze. “He works for the estate. One of the perks of being a duke. Or if you prefer we can stay here. We still have our room upstairs.”

  I think for a moment, then, “No. If it’s all right with you both, I’d prefer to go back to Edinburgh.”

  “Right. Let’s say our goodbyes then and check out.”

  We had hardly left the grounds of the hotel when I went out like a light. Declan wakes me as we drive through the still lively Edinburgh city centre. I open my eyes to find I’ve been using his lap as a pillow and feel as though I must have been asleep for hours.

  “What time is it?” I ask, my head still groggy.

  Declan glances at his watch. “Almost eleven.”

  He helps me to sit up, and I peer out at the familiar sight of tourists and locals milling along Princes Street. Fraze hands me a bottle of water, and I’m glad of the opportunity to freshen up after consuming more sparkling wine than I’m really used to. Less than two hours after we made our farewells in Pitlochry, Wilson, the liveried chauffeur, pulls up outside Fraze’s apartment in Edinburgh. He exits the limousine and opens the rear door for us.

  Fraze helps me out, followed by Declan, who pauses for a word with the driver. A couple of twenty-pound notes change hands, and the man hops back into the car and glides back into the traffic.

  “If we text Wilson when we’re ready to leave, he’ll pick us up and take us to the station tomorrow. I told him your luggage can stay in the limo, it’ll be safe there.”