Her hands clasped tightly behind her back, Shea struggled to keep her mouth open. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, though she wasn’t crying. After a while, she stopped gagging every time he thrust forward. She even managed to lick and suckle at her Master’s shaft as it moved back and forth across her tongue.
She forgot the fatigue in her jaw and the ache in her knees. She became aware of the pulse at her clit and the tingle in her throbbing, engorged nipples.
Master Zach groaned softly, his fingers twisting in her hair as he began to thrust, still gently but with more urgency.
“Good,” Sir Stephen urged, his hand still a comforting presence on the back of her head. “You can use your hands again. Stroke your Master’s balls as you worship his cock.”
Shea reached eagerly for Master Zach’s balls, which were heavy and warm in her hand. Instinctively, she gripped the base of his shaft in one hand as she gently caressed his heavy, warm balls with her other.
Master Zach moaned again, louder this time, his breath quickening. He stiffened suddenly, his fingers tightening in her hair. Then he gasped, his fingers loosened, his hands falling away.
Suddenly Shea’s mouth was flooded with salty, bitter goo. With a startled cry, she dropped her hands and jerked back, sputtering and choking.
Sir Stephen’s hand fell away as Master Zach’s eyes flew open, his lips parting in surprise. “Sorry about that,” he said a little breathlessly, a broad grin moving over his face. “That just sort of snuck up on me.”
Confused and dismayed, not sure if she was in trouble or not, Shea glanced from Master Zach to Sir Stephen as she tried to wipe away some of the ejaculate that dribbled down her chin.
Sir Stephen, too, was smiling, though he was also shaking his head. “A properly trained submissive is always ready to receive her Master’s offering,” he said. “Spitting it out and wiping it off as you have done would be definite grounds for serious punishment.”
Shea’s heart constricted at his words, her breath catching in her throat.
But, to her relief, he continued, “Obviously, you’re not yet properly trained. In fact, you did better than I expected for the first time.” He drew his hand suggestively over the substantial bulge in his briefs. “And lucky for you, you’ve got a second chance. We’ll take a little break so you can wash up, and then you will report back here, naked and on your knees, ready to try again, this time with me. Does that suit you, S?”
“Yes, Sir Stephen,” she said, surprised to discover she meant it.
“You look absolutely fantastic, Shea. I’m horribly jealous. Clearly, whatever you’ve been into this past month agrees with you.” Katie Anderson, Shea’s closest friend and the only one of her vanilla friends who might be open-minded enough to accept Shea’s new lifestyle without totally freaking out, pulled Shea into a warm embrace.
As they moved toward a booth in their favorite pizza joint, Katie continued, “It’s about time we reconnected. I get it that you’re totally into this guy, but surely you have to come up for air occasionally. You’ve missed four happy hours and three movies.” She laughed, but then frowned. “If I wasn’t so happy for you, I’d be pissed off.”
“I know, I know,” Shea said ruefully as they sat down opposite one another. “Mea culpa. I’ve been a horrible friend. It’s just been so…so all encompassing, you know?”
Katie nodded, but obviously she didn’t know the half of it—she couldn’t know. A waitress appeared with two glasses of water and some menus. Once she’d gone, Katie leaned forward conspiratorially. “So tell me everything. Enough with the cryptic texts and the evasions. Is this guy an international spy or something? If you tell me about what he does, you’ll have to kill me?”
Shea laughed and then blew out a breath as she tried to think what, and how much, to say. “I know I’ve been really vague, and I appreciate the space you and the girls have given me. If I tell you what’s been going on, I don’t want you to tell the others. I just don’t think they could really deal with it. I have to warn you. This isn’t a typical relationship.”
“You’re making me nervous, Shea. If I couldn’t see that you’re obviously happy, I might think this guy was keeping you prisoner in his dungeon or something.”
Shea, who had just taken a sip of her water, choked slightly and set the glass down harder than she meant. Did Katie already know? How?
“What?” Katie demanded, lifting her eyebrows. “You looked shocked. I was just kidding, obviously.”
“Oh,” Shea answered lamely as she tried to gather her thoughts. “It’s just, like I said, uh, not typical.”
“I got that,” Katie said, clearly a little exasperated. She put her hands flat on the table and said emphatically, “Now, out with it. The whole story. I promise—no judgments. We’re BFFs, remember?”
Shea nodded, smiling to cover her hesitation. She was given a short reprieve by the return of the waitress. They ordered a pizza and mugs of root beer. As soon as the waitress had gone, Katie persisted. “I’m waiting. Tell me everything.”
“Okay,” Shea said, making a decision. If Katie freaked out, then she freaked out. “First of all, it’s not just one guy. It’s two.”
Katie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Two?”
Shea nodded. “I met them at Hardcore, a BDSM club,” she said, her heart knocking against her ribs.
Katie’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs, her mouth falling open.
Slowly, hesitantly, Shea began to talk.
It was hard to believe a month had already passed since that fateful night in July when Shea had taken a chance with the two wonderful men who now consumed her world. Though she had yet to stay the night, Shea trained with her Masters at least five times each week. If they were training other subs on the off days or while she was at work, they never mentioned it and she didn’t ask, not sure she wanted to know.
While she still had a long way to go, Shea was learning, slowly but surely, how to be a proper submissive. She loved to worship her men’s cocks and balls. While she still sometimes worried she might gag or spit, she had learned to open her throat, and usually managed to swallow with reasonable grace, and no longer minded the taste. She thrilled to the ritual and adored the exquisite sense of submissive vulnerability coupled with the empowering feeling of bringing each of her Masters to orgasm.
Her Masters introduced her to levels of erotic pain she would never have believed she could tolerate. She had been welted by the cane, whipped with a single tail, tightly bound in difficult positions for extended periods and paddled until her ass was bruised.
They had worked with her on orgasm responsiveness and denial, bringing her again and again to the edge and then jerking her back with a smack or searing stroke of the whip applied directly to her throbbing clit.
Though it didn’t happen every time, if she was lucky, at the end of a training session her Masters would take her up to the second floor. There they would make love to her until she lay nearly unconscious with bliss.
Because they saw her so often, they no longer gave her tasks to perform during the day while away from them, preferring instead to train her directly. Though she was sometimes tempted late at night alone in her bed, she never, ever touched herself, saving her body and her orgasms for the men who owned her.
She had discovered a new ability to concentrate at work, and was more productive than ever. Her efforts didn’t go unnoticed, and she had recently been made head of a new research and development team that was working on some very innovative products for a high-end cosmetic company.
An unexpected but welcome byproduct of her newfound happiness was the change in her appetites and cravings. Her work pants had begun to bag, gaping at the waist and sagging at the buttocks. Blouses that used to strain at the buttons now hung loosely on her frame. When she finally found the courage to step on the scale, she had been delighted to see that seventeen pounds had miraculously melted away.
She treated herself to a new wardrobe, adding
dresses and tailored skirts to her work ensemble, no longer hiding behind the drab, boxy outfits she used to favor, and buying sexy little sundresses and clingy outfits for her off hours that she never would have dreamed of wearing in her past life.
The guys in the lab, even the dreaded Jeff, began to treat her differently. Aaron and a guy from accounting had even asked her out, though of course she’d said no. People teased her that being in love suited her. They didn’t know the half of it.
Whenever she went into the women’s bathroom, she couldn’t resist lifting her skirt in front of the mirror to admire the bruises and welts that remained from whatever delicious session her Masters and she had engaged in the night before. Aware her vanilla friends and colleagues would be horrified, she felt only pride and a deep sense of satisfaction at her well-earned badges of submissive courage.
Occasionally she sensed a little friction between the guys, which she was pretty sure revolved around her, but they were careful never to make her feel uncomfortable or conflicted. Sometimes she wondered where things were going, and how long they could sustain the dynamic that existed between them. No one ever threw around words like love, for which she was grateful. She had all she could handle at this point.
The pizza arrived, but neither of them touched it as Shea related her story and Katie listened, open-mouthed. Shea gave her an edited, much-diluted version that was heavy on the romantic side and rather vague in terms of specifics, especially regarding the BDSM training, but still it was more than enough to shock her friend into stunned silence.
Shea gave a self-conscious laugh and nodded toward the pie. “Aren’t you hungry?” She took a slice and placed it on her plate, though she herself had no appetite, her stomach clenched with nervous anticipation of Katie’s reaction.
Katie, too, took a slice, lifting it to her mouth for a bite.
“So?” Shea said anxiously, “You’re totally freaked out, right?”
Katie nodded, and Shea’s heart sank. She wiped her lips with her napkin. “Yeah. I guess I am. Definitely not my flavor.” But then she added with an impish grin, “But I also think it’s one of the sexiest, most exciting things I’ve ever heard. Holy shit, it’s like that book, you know that Fifty Shades whatever thing, except this is even better, because you have two guys!” She shook her head in wonder. “Shea Anne O’Connor, you are amazing. I am in awe.”
Shea laughed with relief. “Seriously? You’re okay with it?”
“Sure. Like I said—not my thing, but so what? You’re happy, right?”
“More than happy.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
Chapter 9
Shea came over to see the guys early on a Saturday morning in late August, armed with a box of fruit pastries and blueberry muffins. The three of them were enjoying a casual breakfast out on the porch when Steve’s cell chirped in his pocket.
He reached for it and glanced at the screen. “Oh, cool,” he said to Zach. “Tag is hosting a bonfire tonight at his place. He’s going to debut those LED whips we’ve been working on.”
Turning to Shea, Steve added, “They’re like fire whips, but we use LED technology instead of fuel and flame. The whips are made from hollow plastic tubes with LED circuitry fitted inside.”
“Except it’s not just a conventional LED string,” Zach said enthusiastically. “Steve’s modest about it, but he’s really good with electricity, and he figured out how to design circuitry that offers more strength and flexibility.”
“We had a breakthrough this week,” Steve said, looking pleased. “It gets kind of complicated, but in simple terms, we fill the tubes with liquid to protect the circuitry. Tag was taking it to an electrician friend of his for some tweaking. He must have given the thumbs up.”
“That sounds really interesting,” Shea said, her scientific interest piqued. “How does that—”
Steve’s phone chirped again, and he glanced down, cutting her off. “Ah, even better. He says it’s not just any bonfire. It’s a BDSM bonfire. In addition to the demo, they’ll have a casual play party for a few close friends. He wants us to come, and says to bring whomever we like. Of course we’d want to bring you, Shea. It’s more than high time you met our friends and took your rightful place as our sub girl.”
“Oh,” Shea said softly. Our sub girl. She quite liked the sound of that.
“The play at these events is usually pretty intense, but we’d be with you every step of the way. Would you be up for that?” Zach asked.
“Am I ready?” Shea asked, suddenly apprehensive at the thought of other people in the scene witnessing her submission. The cloak of her recently acquired submissive serenity slipped a bit. What if she got nervous and made a fool of herself?
“If we didn’t think you were up to it, we wouldn’t have suggested it,” Steve said gently, fixing her with that intense gaze that always made her tumble headlong into his dark blue eyes.
Of course, he was right. She would trust her Masters. If they thought she was ready, then she was.
“Thank you, Sir Stephen. Thank you, Master Zach. Your sub girl would love to go.”
After leaving the guys that morning, Shea drove straight to the Clara’s Naughty Toys BDSM boutique, which was located in the same block as the club. Along with Taggart Fitzgerald’s invitation to the party that night, he had requested that the guys come in for an extra shift that afternoon, as he was up against a deadline for a big order.
Not for the first time, Shea wondered what it might be like to live full-time with her Masters. The thought was at once intriguing and frightening. Though she already spent most of her free time with them, the knowledge that she still had her own place to return to was comforting. Or was it a way to maintain her distance; to stop herself from getting too close?
Whatever the case, today she had things to do—her most important task of which was to get something sexy to wear for that evening’s festivities.
Shea had been inside the boutique before, but only to stare at the myriad erotic torture implements, sex toys and clothing offered for sale. A woman on a mission, she now went directly to the clothing racks. She flicked her way through the items until she found the perfect black corset. She selected several sizes and took them into the dressing room, a single large space lined with mirrors.
There were two other people already in there, one of them a woman in her thirties trying on a long black, satin gown with slits high up on the thighs, the other woman naked save for a pair of thong panties. She was maybe fifty but very fit, and she was holding up several different tiny camisoles in front of the mirror. Shea resisted the impulse to tell her they would never fit over her surgically augmented breasts.
She went to an unoccupied corner of the room and, turning her back on the other two women, quickly shucked her clothing, including her bra. She started to the reach for the largest of the three sizes, but instead selected the smallest.
It had three vertical rows of hook-and-eye closures. Shea sucked in her stomach as she hooked the dozen tiny closures into place and then adjusted herself into the built-in, very low cut bra. The corset cinched her tightly around the waist, lifting her breasts high and cradling them together to form a deep cleavage. She stared at herself in the mirror, transfixed by the hourglass figure the outfit had created. The fit was extremely snug, but she quite liked the feeling. It was akin to bondage, reminding her of the ropes her Masters used to bind her. She loved the way it held her tight, making her feel instantly sexy and submissive.
“Whoa,” the younger of the two women said from behind her. She saw in the mirror that both of the women were staring at her, approving looks on their faces.
“Honey, that thing was made for you,” the other woman said. “You look super hot.”
Shea turned to smile at the women. “Thanks,” she said, feeling a little shy, but very pleased. “I’m wearing it to a party tonight.”
She wanted to wear it out of the store, but figured she had better buy it first. She was tak
en aback by the hefty price tag, but decided she deserved it. It was a gift to herself, and to her Masters.
Once back at her apartment building, Shea stopped at the communal mailboxes and pulled out the usual assortment of junk mail and bills from her box, which she stuffed into her purse.
She passed the afternoon by writing up a few lab reports on some recent experiments her team had been conducting on non-greasy emollients, and emptying out her closet and bureau, piling up for donation old clothing she would never wear again.
She grilled a piece of salmon and made a small salad for dinner, and then brushed her teeth and took another shower, carefully grooming herself in preparation for the evening. She even painted her fingernails and toenails, something she hadn’t done in years.
Finally, she put on the sexy corset and added a long, flowing wrap-around black skirt. She chose a pretty cream-colored lace shawl for cover, and in case it got chilly at the bonfire. She tried on the sexy four-inch heels she’d worn for her debut at Hardcore, but figured she’d be safer in kitten heels, since the event was being held outside. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but whatever it was, she was determined to make Sir Stephen and Master Zach proud.
Shea sat on the blanket between her Masters at the bonfire, her fingers wrapped around a mug of hot apple cider spiced with cinnamon and cloves. On their right were Matt and Bonnie Wilson, on their left Liam and Allie Byrne.
The two couples had already been out back getting the fire going when Steve, Zach and she had arrived at Taggart Fitzgerald’s house. Taggart made a very imposing figure, as tall and broad as Zach, with deep-set, brooding eyes and rugged, craggy features, his skin the tan of someone who had spent much of his life outdoors.
Rylee Miller, Taggart’s live-in lover, full-time submissive and business partner, had been extremely welcoming, putting Shea instantly at ease. A few years younger than Shea, she was a beautiful woman, with eyes an unusual shade of blue that exactly matched the soft leather sub collar she wore at her throat.
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