“Thank you, Sir.”
“I’ve suggested they use the ongoing state of the investigation as the duration of the contract,” Chris said. “Once the investigation has concluded, they must then renegotiate with you. That wasn’t their wish. It’s my condition for their using the Lyon’s Den.”
She tilted her head to the side and met Chris’s gaze. He grinned. “I didn’t want you to think that part was their idea. I’ve spoken with them both, privately, and I know neither of them is thinking about an end for this arrangement between you. Now, I’ll leave the three of you to discuss the more intimate details of your contract.” He turned and looked at Ramón and Clint. “I do want to see the completed document.” Both men nodded.
No one looked to her to agree, but that didn’t bother her. She had the definite sense, because of the way she’d been brought to his apartment the night Ramón had rescued her, that Christopher Lyons was invested in seeing to her best interests.
The Master of the Lyon’s Den got to his feet and left the room. Marcia felt a little more at ease now that it was just the three of them. Though they hadn’t actually made love with her yet, the two men had seen and touched nearly every part of her body.
With them, she was comfortable in her skin.
“You did well, darlin’,” Clint said. “I know you were uncomfortable being naked in front of Chris. We both owe you an apology. We didn’t ask you about that, first.”
“I was a bit nervous, but he didn’t leer at me. In fact, I don’t know if he actually looked at me, except to meet my gaze.”
Neither of her Doms said anything to that. She guessed they were going to let her live in her little fool’s paradise for a bit longer.
“We need to talk about hard limits—things you absolutely do not want to try and things you absolutely don’t want us to do. Also, we’ll include our list of hard limits—things we refuse to do.”
“No humiliation.” She felt her face get warm and wasn’t surprised by it. She’d had that on her mind for a couple of days, now.
Ramón jerked as if he’d been hit with something. His eyes wide, he looked from Marcia to Clint.
“Humiliation?” Ramón’s tone said it all. He was appalled at the thought. Clint’s expression wasn’t shocked. He was more familiar with the lifestyle and likely all the different ways people lived it.
Not all of the information Marcia had learned online had thrilled her. That, and her experience with Torres, who’d claimed to be her Master as he’d degraded her had made her adamant about what she would not tolerate going forward.
“Darlin’, our duty is to discover what pleasures you as well as what you need, and to share with you what turns us on. This is a power exchange. First, we need to identify your needs, sexual and otherwise, and then, second, we see to it those needs are met. There is no way we would ever do anything to make you feel ashamed or hurt you emotionally. We’re not either of us interested in bullying you.” He reached out and took her hand. “That doesn’t mean there won’t be a little pain—erotic pain—involved in our relationship. And maybe, at some point, you might receive a punishment that might sting more than a little. But we would never give you what you can’t handle. And you can always use your caution word or your safe word, and when you do, we will abide by that. Agreed?”
“Yes. Thank you, Clint.” Her Doms both preferred she used their first names, although they each gave her permission to call them “Sir” if she wanted to.
“You’re welcome.” He worked the keyboard on his laptop. “All right, I’ve put down humiliation as a hard limit. What else?”
“No blood play, no breath play, no fire play.”
Clint met her gaze. “Good girl. You’ve done your homework. I don’t do those, either, and I can almost guarantee you Ramón feels the same way I do.”
Ramón shook his head. “I’ve done a bit of homework, as well. I’m relieved those are off the table for all of us. What about impact play?”
“I’m open to that.” Marcia licked her lips. “I’ve seen a few videos, and the idea of a spanking, or even a flogging, look…interesting. I’m willing to try that. I’m also willing to try bondage.”
“Is there anything else you absolutely won’t consider?”
“I’m afraid of electricity, so I don’t think I want to try the violet wand. And, um the last thing I saw that completely repulsed me was figging.”
“What is figging?” Ramón looked to Clint for the answer, and Marcia kept silent as Clint explained.
“Some subs—and Doms—get off by the insertion of a peeled piece of gingerroot into either the sub’s anus or her vagina,” Clint said. “Within a few seconds, the spice begins to burn. It’s used as a punishment, but it’s also used as pleasure.”
By the look on Ramón’s face, it seemed he didn’t like the sound of that, either.
“Marcia, was it the use of something in your anus that would sting and burn what upset you or the idea of something in your anus, period?”
“The burning part. That seemed like torture to me. I know there are likely butt plugs and anal sex in my future. I’m okay with that as long as you prepare me for it, first.”
Clint nodded and took a moment to add those items to the contract. “Now, it sounds like you are low on the masochism scale.” Clint directed that at her. “Which is a good thing for us because neither of us has any sadist tendencies.” His gaze drilled hers. “Make no mistake, if that was something you discovered you needed, we would find a Dom who is a sadist to give you that, under our supervision.”
“Even though you don’t approve of it?”
“I don’t think it’s a question of approval.” Ramón reached for her hand. “I’m beginning to understand something I never got before. We may be the Doms, but we’re not the ones with the real power, and we’re not at the center of this dynamic. You are.”
Clint grinned. “This is a proud moment for me.”
The unexpected irreverence surprised laughter out of Marcia. She felt herself truly relaxing for the first time since arriving at the club. Then Clint and Ramón both focused their attention on her.
“There are only two things I can think of right now that would be punishable offenses,” Clint said. “The first is if you show disrespect to any Dom by breaking protocol here at the club. Even if by some strange twist of fate an asshole Dom comes up to you and threatens you, you must keep to the protocols. We will never let you out of our sight here. One or both of us will always be with you. No one else will be allowed to touch you. You must remain submissive and let us deal with the situation. If not, you might end up suffering a very public punishment.”
“That sounds reasonable.” As Clint had spoken, she saw the strength of his Dominance. She felt relieved that in pure Dom mode he got her juices flowing even more strongly than before. “What’s the other circumstance?”
“If you ever consciously do anything to put yourself in danger.” Ramón’s words sounded just as forceful as Clint’s. “You’re our submissive, our woman. Your safety is our first priority, and we will tolerate no one endangering our woman in any way—not even you.”
“Thank you, Sir. I just want to do my part, and you’re allowing me to do that. I plan to do all that I can to assist you in keeping me safe. I was in that man’s clutches once. I never want to be there again.” She meant it, too. She’d had enough treatment by villains to last her a lifetime.
Which made the fact that she immediately shivered in dread just about the strangest moment she’d ever experienced.
Chapter 8
Marcia lifted the lid and looked to see what lay inside the flat, white box. Unsure of what she was looking at, she felt her forehead crease as her eyes tried to make sense of the item.
And then realization dawned, and she gasped. Her gasp was echoed by Daisy Lyons, the only other person in the guest bedroom in the Lyonses’ penthouse with her. Daisy was there to help her “get ready” for the evening ahead.
In the box she’
d just opened lay her outfit for her debut appearance as Ramón and Clint’s submissive at the Lyon’s Den. She lifted the item out and held it up for her friend to see.
“It just looks like a series of straps or belts…or something.” Daisy’s gasp had clearly been one of confusion, whereas Marcia’s had been one of recognition and appreciation.
Daisy’s assessment of what Marcia held up was spot-on. Marcia was trying to make sense of how to put on the thing, but mostly, she knew, trying to understand the why more than the what.
Her thoughts turned to her two Doms, and just that easily, she had her answer.
The day before yesterday they’d signed their contract, and then they’d begun to “play.”
One of the things she’d consented to try that first day was being restrained. Marcia had thought that Clint was going to handcuff her to a bed, a spanking bench, or a St. Andrew’s cross. Instead, he’d taken what looked like the kind of rope bundle a hiker might have on hand and began to open it up.
He explained that he wanted to get this out of the way first. His eyes fairly danced with laughter as he clarified. He meant before her bottom was pink and perhaps too tender from the spanking Ramón planned to give her. A rosy bottom, he’d explained, and the silk would chafe too badly. He then proceeded to tie her up in a way that, when he was done and she looked at herself in the mirror, appeared very artistic even to her untrained eye. Near the end of his work, he’d picked her up, laid her on the bed that was placed before a large mirror in the practice room, and finished what he referred to as his design.
Marcia had most definitely been bound, and she certainly couldn’t move. Then Clint asked her how she felt.
The moment had been a revelation to her as her answer came, almost without thought. “Safe. No, it’s more than feeling safe. I feel comforted and free of everything bad. It’s almost as good as at bedtime when the two of you snuggle me down between you.”
Marcia looked over at Daisy, who seemed to be trying to figure out how to help her get into the outfit, too.
“Kinbaku is what Clint called it. He said it is more familiarly known as Shibari.”
Daisy tilted her head. “Ah. I take it you liked being bound.”
“It was amazing. I’ve never felt so free and yet so secure.” She looked down at the garment. “That’s what they want me to remember. How I felt when I was wrapped up in his ropes. They know I’m nervous about tonight, and they want to help me feel safe. This is obviously one way they’ve decided to do that.”
Daisy’s smile lit her eyes with a sheen of happiness. “Instead of using their pride in showing you off as their sub as their guideline when they chose this, they tailored their choice to take care of you, your emotions. Your Doms really care about you, Marcia.”
Marcia had known that, in her head. Now she felt that, without reservation.
She laid the garment out on the bed so they could both see the shape of it. “I think these three wider bands separated by this long vertical piece are where my breasts go. And the twin triangles form the front and back of the G-string.”
In the shower the night before, Ramón and Clint had shaved her mound, making sure she was freshly smooth and bare. Now she understood why.
Marcia quickly undressed and then picked up her outfit. It took a bit of adjusting. Daisy helped by tying the back of the top and then finding just the right tension for the Velcro that held the bottom together, also situated at the back of the garment.
While essentially one piece, the outfit could be opened at the top, both mid-back and around her neck, and left to hang down, exposing her breasts completely. It could also be opened in the back by peeling back the Velcro that held the bottom together, allowing her Doms to push the material out of the way, effectively giving them access to her pussy and her ass.
Once she had the outfit on and was satisfied with the fit, she looked at herself in the mirror. “It shows a lot of skin, but I like it.” She grinned at Daisy’s reflection in the mirror. “I really do have a tactile sense of Clint’s Kinbaku binding me, keeping me safe.”
Christopher, Ramón, and Clint were already downstairs in the club. Leaving Marcia upstairs with Daisy and Rory had been a calculated move, one suggested by Chris. Rory’s accompaniment would signal that Marcia, not wearing a collar, was under the protection of the Dungeon Master. Her kneeling before her Doms in his presence would be another signal. They didn’t, any of them, believe that Torres had been able to infiltrate the membership here, per se. But Ramón had pointed out there were a few members of the Lyon’s Den who also frequented a few of the city’s fetish bars he’d been scouting, including the one where Ramón had been contacted by a representative of Torres’s organization. While at Leathers, Ramón had seen a couple of other people he recognized from the Lyon’s Den.
It would be very likely that someone could go from here to there with news about the “new submissive” Ramón had taken on. He’d already explained to her, as he and Clint had outlined the program for this evening’s agenda, what the one thing was that might cause them all a problem down the road.
Torres’s minion, Lance Kramer, who worked at that fetish club, Leathers, would know who that new sub was. And if Kramer knew, Torres would be told. Ramón had confessed he worried that Torres would try to get her back, either for himself or to use her against him. At least this way, broadcasting Marcia’s presence in his life, meant the bastard would have to decide if he wanted to do something as blatant as attack her outright.
Marcia had shivered at the time, said a very quick and fervent prayer that wouldn’t happen, and then deliberately pushed the possibility out of her mind.
Marcia brought her thoughts back to the moment. Her hair was caught up in a high ponytail, another request from her Doms. Yes, she knew what was awaiting her downstairs. The evening had been scripted and laid out for her so she would be aware of each step before it even happened.
The only thing she didn’t know, with clarity, was how she was going to react to getting her first ever public spanking at the hands—or should she say paddles—of her Doms.
What she did know was just thinking about it made a delicious shiver course down her spine. She understood what sexual attraction was, now, and she could hardly wait until she was with her two Doms and could enjoy that sensation once more.
* * * *
Ramón felt her presence the moment she entered the room. There had to be thirty people on the dance floor between where he stood with Christopher and Clint and where Marcia would enter the main clubroom with Rory and Daisy by her side.
No, he couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there. He cast a quick look at Clint, grateful the man seemed to be able to sense her, too. He came and stood next to Ramón, positioning himself back an inch of so, and, with him, waited. They were becoming closer every day—more like true brothers. He trusted Clint with his life, but more, he trusted him with the woman who was coming to mean the world to him.
Ramón cast a glance around the room, a little more prepared this time for the appearance of Brenda Freeman and Craig Gilbert, his fellow FBI agents and team members. I really wish they would have warned me. While he’d known, intellectually, that those two members of his team would be in attendance tonight, he hadn’t been prepared for the reality of it. But after that first eyeful of them, he was coming to be more at ease, able to let his gaze skim over them as if he didn’t know them. When he thought about it, Ramón wasn’t all that surprised to see that it was Craig sporting the collar and a G-string, with Brenda dressed in leather, wearing a cat’s-eye mask, and tugging on Craig’s not-so-metaphorical leash. He had one instant to wonder if the whole point of their roles was to get Craig out of those damned cowboy boots. The man, right now, sported bare feet the same as every other submissive in the club. In the next heartbeat, Ramón put them both out of his mind and turned his attention back to where it needed to be.
It didn’t take long for Marcia to reach them. A sexual thrill shot through Ramón when
he saw her in the outfit they’d chosen for her. It seemed very revealing, but in truth, though Marcia was displaying a lot of creamy flesh, her most intimate areas were covered.
Just barely, but she was more covered than most of the submissives in the room. Ramón would gladly admit, if she asked him, that particular detail was as much to cater to his own sensibilities, as hers. He was fine with sharing her with Clint. But he really didn’t want anyone else looking at her.
Marcia’s approach garnered attention, as he’d known it would. Not only because was she beautiful, but arriving as she had with Christopher’s submissives, she’d given rise to speculation that, perhaps, she was one of them. He could almost hear the whispers. Had Master Christopher taken on a new sub?
Marcia’s gaze directed toward the floor, her perfect little naked feet looking so small Ramón began to believe what both his old friend and his new brother had been telling him. Because, right at that moment, as she slipped gracefully into position on her knees, offering her submission so sweetly to him and Clint, every inch of him was more aroused, and more pleased, than he’d ever been.
They waited a small beat of time, and then, together, both Ramón and Clint laid their hands upon Marcia’s head. Ramón heard and felt her sigh. He didn’t think that was anything but heartfelt. Having seen her reaction to being bound, and her response to the small spanking they’d given her shortly after that, he understood more than he had why he and Clint had agreed to share the responsibility of being Marcia’s Dom.
She truly needed them both.
“Marcia?”
She looked up and met his gaze. “Yes, Ramón?”
“Clint and I want to know if you like your outfit.”
“Oh yes, thank you, Sirs. I like it very much.” She included Clint in the response not just by using the plural pronoun but by looking at him. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
“You’re welcome.” Clint withdrew his hand.
“You’ve been a good girl, done all that has been asked of you. Would you like your reward now?” Ramón focused on Marcia, comfortable that both Clint and Chris—and Rory and Daisy, for that matter—were watching the crowd that had gathered closer.
Avenging Angel [Tales from the Lyon's Den 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 8