Enlightened [Sexual Magic 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Jennifer August

  Should I move closer? He’s not given me any orders to stay.

  Propelled by her damnable curiosity, Emma stepped up and peeked around his shoulder, into the drawer.

  Her nipples puckered instantly.

  Those she was well acquainted with.

  The drawer was filled with nipple clamps in varying styles and sizes.

  Without acknowledging her presence, Griff selected three different ones and laid them out with precise detail upon the sideboard.

  The gleaming metal nestled intimately into the strands of the floggers. Her pussy twitched, and her breasts grew heavy and aching.

  “Hm, good little one, it doesn’t take much to excite you, does it?” Mason stroked her arm. The touch set off shivers of awareness that bounced from brain to tits to pussy.

  She looked up at him and had to concentrate on focusing her gaze. Gone was the playful, boyish charmer. In his place stood a lean, intimidating Dom whose look and touch seared her all the way through. “I guess not.”

  “Emma, come here,” Griff ordered. He stood next to the bondage bench.

  Mason accompanied her across the carpet, his quiet strength both a comfort and a distraction.

  She stopped in front of Griff and waited.

  His big palm settled on her shoulder where he kneaded lightly. More tension slipped away, more excitement rose.

  She blinked at the amplified surge.

  “Emma.”

  She met his gaze. “Yes, Sir?”

  “Is there anything you have decided to add to your list of hard limits?”

  She thought about that. They’d been over the biggies already. She wanted to experience just about everything else, if only once. “No, Sir.”

  “All right, then we’ll begin. Today we’re going to take it slow. Introduce you to the things you’ve marked as highly arousing and intriguing.”

  “Like what?”

  Mason rubbed her back with long, light movements. Shudders ran rampant over her, and she almost closed her eyes and moaned in appreciation. “Over-the-knee spanking, for one thing.”

  Again, her pussy twitched and swelled.

  “Oh,” was all she could manage through parched lips.

  Griff tipped his head and studied her, a half smile on his full mouth. His brown gaze flared with a deep fire. “A bit of rope play.” He flicked a glance at the other man. “Mason here is a Shibari master.”

  “What’s Shibari?”

  “Japanese rope bondage,” Mason replied. He returned to the sideboard, opened another drawer and pulled out a coil of deep-blue rope, which he dangled at her.

  Emma’s breath hitched. “I don’t remember checking that off.”

  Griff chuckled. “You marked breast bondage. This is the perfect vehicle for that. Soft enough not to mar your beautiful skin, but strong enough to immobilize you.”

  Her heart kicked up another dozen paces. “Oh, boy,” she whispered.

  His grin was pure amusement. “You are going to be a joy, little one. We have some other surprises lined up for you, too.”

  She wanted to ask what, but Griff held up his hand. “Every Dom has his own personal preference for a submissive and the way she submits, so you should be prepared to adjust when you go out into the real world.”

  His words startled Emma. She’d only now adjusted to the idea of submitting to Griff and Mason. The thought of anyone else terrified her.

  He seemed to sense this. “That’s a ways off, though. For now, we’ll cover the basics.” Griff’s expression turned flat. “Enough talking, Emma. Are you ready to begin your training?”

  No. Yes. Maybe.

  God, she wanted to run, and at the same time she wanted to fling herself into their arms and let them do anything they wished.

  Instant images of what those things could and would entail hit her like a sack of cement and amped her excitement level even higher.

  “Yes, Sir.” The words tumbled out of their own accord, but Emma did not wish them back.

  She was ready for the next phase of this adventure to begin.

  Both men’s faces went taut, and all semblance of tenderness disappeared. “Rule one, obey instantly,” Griff said. “Any hesitation, questioning or refusal will result in a stroke of discipline. You are here to learn, to be trained. The first lesson is that you and your body are here solely for our pleasure.”

  The hard words resonated in her psyche, and she dampened between her legs. “Yes, Sir, I understand.”

  Griff crossed to the sideboard and picked up a pair of the nipple clamps. “Strip.”

  Despite her words of a few seconds earlier, Emma found herself pausing.

  “One,” Griff said.

  Her hands flew to the buttons of her shirt, and after the first two she pretended to struggle as she worked up the courage to bare herself to them.

  Mason lifted a brow as if he knew.

  She looked down, saw the blush as it rose up from between her breasts. With a deep, rippling breath, she popped the final button and pulled the sleeves down her arms. She held the fabric to her tits and stared at the men.

  “Two.”

  She dropped the shirt. In seconds, her skirt fluttered to the floor, leaving her clad only in her fuck-me stilettos.

  “Should I take them off?” she asked as her eyes darted left, right, up. She looked anywhere but at the two men who stared so avidly at her now-naked form.

  She felt more exposed than she had ever been. Even sharing an open shower in college had not been this nerve-racking.

  But then, those girls had not been intent on showing her the ropes—literally—of domination and submission.

  “Yes,” Mason finally said. “Even though they are sexy as hell, we don’t want you tripping on the carpet. And they can’t be all that comfortable.”

  She managed a slight smile as she slipped them off. “No, they hurt like fire.”

  The shoes joined her miniscule pile of clothing. When she was done, Mason scooped everything up and set it neatly on a cushioned chair.

  Griff crooked his finger at her, and she moved closer, heart thudding with each step.

  When she came within touching distance, she stopped.

  “Do you know basic slave position?”

  Her body jerked at the word slave. “I believe so, Sir.”

  “Get in it.”

  She sank to her knees, very grateful for the carpet and padding. Her mind tumbled through the myriad articles and forums she’d read on this subject. She spread her knees, rested her buttocks on her heels, and laced her fingers together at the base of her neck. She stood with her back straight, tits thrust out, eyes downcast.

  The immediate sensation of subservience washed over her with unexpected force. This was what she craved—being at the mercy of a man.

  Being used as a plaything.

  Emma sucked in a shuddering breath as the eroticism of her position truly hit her. Then, from nowhere, her lust grew, tripled from one heartbeat to the next.

  “Damn,” Mason grunted. “She’s running hot already.”

  “I feel that,” Griff murmured. “Can you dial it back some? No sense burning her out before we even start.”

  “Yeah.”

  She didn’t really understand their discussion, but seconds later a pressure she’d not noticed loosened, and the lust dimmed a bit, though it did not go away.

  “Good, that’ll work there.”

  Griff walked around her, studied her from every angle. Emma wanted to ask what he thought, to know if he approved, but kept her mouth shut. She’d garnered two strokes on the punishment board already. She had a feeling that total would grow fast enough without her mouth adding to it.

  Griff finished his walk around. She watched his legs travel from in front of her off to the left toward the sideboard. Seconds later the soft throngs of a flogger fluttered in front of her.

  “Very good for your first time.” The flogger slid sinuously down her back and tapped. “Arch your tits out more. Good.”
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  The flogger made its way between her legs, and he gave her several light thumps against her already-sopping pussy. Emma tried to control her shivered response.

  “Your mental and emotional states are as important as your sexual obedience. You give over everything to your Master while you are in a scene. You are his to do with as he pleases, regardless of what he wants.” The flogger twirled in the air, close to her breasts, then skimmed the protruding tips of her nipples.

  Emma groaned at the contact. The throngs were soft and gentle, the pressure not enough to satisfy.

  She arched her back.

  Thwack!

  The flogger landed on her bare back. She shivered in surprise.

  Again, it didn’t hurt, but it certainly got her attention.

  She risked a look up. Griff was frowning, and her heart sank.

  “Remain still. You do not control the situation, little one. It’s imperative you remember this. Don’t try to top from the bottom.”

  She gave a quick nod.

  The flogger returned to her tits, and Mason moved behind her.

  She heard him settle on the carpet, and then his hands touched her thighs, traveled up them, and circled her ass.

  “I can smell your pussy, how aroused you are,” he murmured close to her ear. “I love how much this position excites you, Emma.”

  Griff twirled the flogger again, beating it against her tits in quick strokes. Her nipples grew tighter with each pass, her tits heavier.

  Mason slipped his hands between her legs, fingers digging at her pouting lower lips.

  Emma groaned as his fingertips reached inside to touch her wetness.

  “Do you like to be flogged?” he asked.

  She nodded jerkily.

  “More,” he said.

  Griff’s strokes picked up both pace and intensity.

  Mason’s hands disappeared from her pussy to clasp her upraised elbows. He pulled back lightly, and she grimaced at the tug of tension.

  Griff laid the flogger harder upon her tits in a rhythmic slap, slap, slap.

  Her skin burned now from the light blows, the edges of her tits seared with each contact, and her nipples were so hard they ached.

  She looked at them through the falling strands, shocked to find her normally small, pale nubs ruby-red and engorged. They were the size of dimes instead of their usual pencil erasers.

  Griff tossed the flogger down and knelt in front of her. His mouth closed around one nipple as his fingers tweaked the other.

  She writhed beneath his touch. He drew back and held up the clamps. “Deep breath.”

  Emma complied as best she could, watched her chest rise obediently into his hands, and jumped when he fastened the flat edges of the clip around her flesh.

  The instant pain made her eyes water.

  She bit her lip to quell the protest.

  Griff watched her for a moment, his fingers still tugging on her other breast. He lifted the other half of the clamp and fitted it to that nipple.

  It came down with equal crushing pressure, and again Emma swayed.

  “You will take it,” Griff said on a snarl.

  She struggled to remain still, now grateful for the support Mason offered behind her.

  The tone of Griff’s voice, the snap and demand, broke down what little resistance she had left. “Yes, Sir,” she gasped.

  His chuckle was dark and satisfied. “I knew you were going to be an exemplary student. Such an eager little slut, so ready to learn. To obey. Aren’t you?”

  He had her at slut.

  “Yes. Sir.” The words puffed out as separate sentences.

  Her tits were on fire. The pain writhed and moved within her nipples like ants on candy.

  Then Griff lifted the chain that joined the clamps together and slowly pulled outward.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she muttered feverishly as her body reacted to the torture. She wanted to come right then, felt the orgasm hovering at the verge. She tried to remember if he’d forbidden that yet, but the wash of lust scoured away any semblance of reasonable thought.

  “She’s close,” Mason warned.

  “Don’t do it, little slut. Coming is forbidden,” Griff said.

  She wanted to please him, to have his praise again, so Emma battled the urge, relieved as the need lessened.

  “Good girl.”

  The words jump-started her impending orgasm all over again, and Emma nearly groaned.

  When her tit flesh pulled away from her body and she squeaked in exquisite pain, he stopped and dropped the chain then rose.

  “Bring her.”

  Mason helped her stand. He kept her wrists manacled at the small of her back with his strong hands. He guided her across the room to where Griff now stood.

  The chair beside him was the old-fashioned kind found in schools. It featured a curved wooden seat and back, gun-metal green legs with a flat shelf underneath it.

  Griff sat down and tugged her to his side.

  “You’ve been a very naughty sub.”

  His words crushed her. She scuffed her bare foot along the carpet. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispered.

  “What should I do with you?”

  Emma looked up at him. “I don’t know.”

  His brow arched in clear disbelief.

  She nibbled at her lip, stalling for time. Telling him straight out that he should spank her was harder than she imagined it would be.

  “Emma? You’re only making this harder on yourself. Don’t disappoint me further.”

  The words trembled on the tip of her tongue. “Spank me,” she finally whispered.

  A well of passion filled her, and she staggered a bit, held up only by Mason’s unyielding grip.

  “Ask me properly, slut.”

  She took in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and dove in. “Please spank this sub for her disobedience, Sir.”

  As soon as the words came out, another overwhelming flash of lust blasted her. The feelings were tangled and dark, seethed with power and satisfaction.

  She realized Mason was channeling all of their emotions and that Griff must be amplifying them. Surely this much passion, this much feeling, could not exist in a normal setting.

  The knowledge made her sad for a moment, and the lust dipped.

  “Pay attention,” Griff snapped. He did not break Dom for a second. In fact, when she looked at him, she saw his brown eyes had gone flat. “That’s three.”

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  His satisfaction rolled over her. “Not yet, but you will be.” He gripped her hip and pulled. Mason released her, moved to stand on Griff’s other side. “Naughty girls such as yourself get spanked bare-assed and bare-handed. Drape yourself over my lap.”

  He settled back against the chair and spread his muscled thighs. Emma tried to figure out the best way and finally decided there was going to be no gracefulness attached to it.

  She bent and braced her hands against his khaki-clad leg then slowly lowered her belly to the cradle of his thighs. Her tits, still clamped and aching like the damn devil now, hung over his leg.

  “Palms on the floor, ass up.”

  She adjusted her stance and found she had to dig in to the carpet with her toes to remain steady. The chain swayed and beat his leg as she moved. It caught on the button of his side pocket and hung.

  The chain pulled her tits mercilessly down.

  “Ow,” she yelped. “Fuck, that hurts. Please, Sir, take them off,” she pleaded.

  Soft plops sounded at her head, and she caught sight of a small pile of clothes on the ground. Mason’s bare legs appeared in her vision and completely distracted her from the pain that burned through her nipples.

  No surprise his flesh was tanned and dusted with honey-colored hair. His calves were taut and cut. Emma lifted her head, tried to glimpse his cock, but a hand—whether his or Griff’s, she didn’t know—pushed her back down.

  “Four,” Griff said on a low growl.

  He wrapped his arm
around her waist and scooted her closer to his rippled abdomen then clamped down on her lower back like an iron bar.

  Mason squatted in front of her, and she caught a glimpse of his impressive equipment.

  Her pussy dripped juice even harder.

  Mason cupped her tits, massaged her soft flesh, but avoided the nipples.

  “Look at me,” he murmured.

  Cautiously, she lifted her head. He leaned in and kissed her lightly. Desire started in the soles of her feet, shot up through her legs, and centered on her lower body just as Griff’s open palm made contact with her ass cheek.

  She yelped. It stung. A sharp, fast sensation. Immediately it faded.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  Smack.

  The four rapid-fire blows took her breath. This time the burn lasted much longer, spread farther.

  Her clit spasmed, and Emma rubbed her pelvis along Griff’s leg. He spread his thighs wider. “Five. Do not come, slut.”

  Four more loud and hard slaps. Emma could feel her ass cheeks sway and ripple like a waterbed mattress.

  The heat was constant now, and each time his hand came down on a spot he’d already struck, it ramped ever upward.

  She wiggled a bit and bumped the chain again.

  “Crap,” she mumbled and tried to remain still.

  Mason’s fingers found the clamps and roved over them, tweaking her sore nipples.

  Emma moaned and begged for him to stop.

  “My pleasure, slut, remember? You want to please me, don’t you?”

  She met his blue eyes. “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  “I want to see your ass as red as a cardinal. That means about twenty more swats.”

  She whimpered. No way could she take that kind of punishment. Her ass was already on fire, and her pussy ached and throbbed.

  But beneath the pain, Emma found her pleasure growing. The urge to come also grew strong.

  She peered at Mason. “Are you doing that?” she gasped out.

  “No, you are.”

  She contemplated that for a minute. “Griff, Sir?”

  His hand palmed her ass, a soothing, tender touch that raised prickles. “Yes, slut?”