The Dom with a Safeword

by Cari Silverwood

***

  “So, now that’s done, I have two sweet women to warm me in bed.” Jude gathered the pillows up and threw himself down on the bed, then beckoned, grinning. “Come warm me.”

  “How romantic. So I’m a hot water bottle?” Sabrina seemed to be trying for pouting angriness but to Jude it came off as annoyed sex doll. “Have I just sold my soul to the Devil?”

  “Probably.” He patted the right hand side next to him. “Here.”

  Sighing, she slid in close. He almost sighed, himself, when she snuggled up and rested her head on his chest. His palm found the upper curve of her ass.

  Yes, this was his dream. On hands and knees, Q crawled in close. Her hair had regrown quickly, and it swayed across – long enough to block his view of her cleavage under her tank top.

  “Room for me?” she asked.

  “Always.” He reached and ran his hand along the front edge of the collar, watching the change in her eyes. For Q it meant something just a little deeper than it did for Sabrina. He didn’t mind. It was their differences that drew him to them, that made this relationship work. “Come on, beautiful, lay down with us.”

  “Beautiful?” Smiling, she leaned in to kiss him. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve figured it out.” Sabrina popped her head up. “You want us to help pay the rent.”

  He snorted. “Yes, that too. It’s not for the hot sex. You’ve barely scratched the surface, Jersey girl. Don’t you know all the perks Doms get from collared subs?”

  Her eyes went wide. “What?”

  To his surprise and amusement, Q followed his lead. “He’s right. Maybe I should have told you all the details.”

  In mock astonishment he went on, “You didn’t know? I get to tattoo my name on your asses, get you both pregnant and then take you behind the woodshed on Fridays to beat you.”

  Before Sabrina could blurt out some smartass reply, there was a crash that sounded like something breaking downstairs.

  “Oh my god!” As if she were on springs, Sabrina shot upright into a sitting position. “Maybe Grace is back!”

  He grabbed for her but his hand met emptiness – she’d hopped off the bed already.

  In her fleecy PJs and skimpy top, she did a fast tiptoe to the door then listened with her head cocked to one side. “I think it’s in the kinky sitting room.”

  “Sabrina!” he and Q cried in unison.

  “Shh! Quiet, you’ll scare her,” she answered then she went through the door.

  By the time they had caught up, Sabrina was poised outside the sitting room door. Reflections of streetlight revealed her warrior stance – umbrella raised in one hand and her camera in the other.

  “Sweetheart, you’re joking.” Jude smiled indulgently. “An umbrella? Is it a patented anti-ghost umbrella?” Nothing said Sabrina more than a ridiculous weapon on a ghost hunt. He wrapped his arms around her and held her back. More noises from within made it clear something was moving inside.

  He whispered in her ear. “You will wait here. If it’s not a ghost it may be an intruder.”

  Though she scowled, she offered him the umbrella. It was all he could do not to laugh. But he took the umbrella and stealthily opened the door. It swung in silently.

  Just as he was about to take a step, they both grabbed an arm. “What?” he hissed.

  Q glanced at Sabrina then at him. “You should let us come as back-up.”

  “No. You’re staying here. I’m going in.” That they cared gave him a warm and glowy feeling. But he wasn’t caving on this one.

  Sabrina scowled. “Keep the umbrella, at least, if you’re gonna be so stupid to go alone.”

  He growled quietly. “Stay, both of you.”

  Despite mutinous glares, both of them waited. He sneaked through the door, and after listening a while and only hearing the flap of cloth, he switched on the light. A freezing cold breeze wafted past. By the window, the curtain snapped and curled out as the wind gusted in and caught hold of it. A vase lay smashed nearby, fractured pieces strewn on the floor. Nothing else moved.

  “It’s okay, you can come in. Someone left the window open.” He stepped aside and laid the umbrella on the floor. When Sabrina tentatively came up and grasped his hand, he added, “I’ve cleared the room of hostiles with my automatic rocket-launching umbrella.”

  She whacked his stomach with the flat of her other hand. “Very funny.”

  Which only made him grin more.

  “It might have been a ghost.”

  “Sure.” Q grabbed her attacking hand then looked at him. “Did the curtain knock a vase over?”

  “I think so.”

  “Supposition and circumstantial evidence,” Sabrina muttered. “I should go get my equipment. Just because you see a curtain, doesn’t mean a thing. Who opened the window?” Though he saw Q open her mouth to reply, Sabrina rambled on regardless. “Not me. Maybe we need another a séance even? I mean just because the last one –”

  He put his hand over her mouth. “Shh. No more.”

  When she poked her tongue at his hand then closed her teeth over a fold of skin on his palm he addressed Q. “Get the ball gag please and wrist cuffs.”

  Sabrina’s muffled shriek of protest made him smile and hug her to him as Q ran to the toy chest. “Naughty little sub.”

  By the time Q had returned with ball gag and wrist cuffs in hand, he’d wrestled Sabrina to the floor into a kneeling position and had both her wrists in one hand and her nose to the carpet. Though he’d freed her mouth she’d did nothing except pant and strain at his grip.

  He knelt beside her. “Do I have a second sub who likes wrestling?”

  She whined and squirmed.

  “Ah. I see I do. Do we need the gag?”

  “I’ll be good, Sir.” Then she peeked out the corner of her eye. “No séance?”

  “Let me think.” He ran his hand over her body while he did so. He didn’t really want to suppress Sabrina’s crazy way of looking at the world. “Here’s what we’ll do. Every time you have a séance or any other ghost-related activity, we get you as a pet for the night. Understood?”

  By now she was squirming at his touch, but he kept her wrists tight under his hand. “Understood?”

  She looked up at Q. “Help me?”

  Q only laughed softly. “I don’t think so. The more séances the better, little girl, if we get a pet Sabrina as the result.”

  Sabrina’s whimper was pitiful enough to make his balls tighten. There was something excruciatingly arousing about a woman giving in to the inevitable, to submitting.

  Then she added, with her nose still an inch from the carpet, “This Tuesday, eight PM…and then three AM too if we get no spirits contacting us.” She swallowed. “And no butt plug tails.”

  He found himself trembling, holding it in, his face contorted, but no use, he cracked up. He let her go and rolled onto the rug laughing in half-choked guffaws before he broke out howling. “Oh, god, Sabrina… That’s…”

  They stared at him, shocked. Between Sabrina’s matter-of-fact negotiation, and their expressions, he fell apart laughing again.

  “What?” she asked, completely dumbfounded.

  He shook his head. “Nothing.” Gazing at them in awe, he wondered how he got so lucky. “I just love you. Both of you.”

  A naughty smirk his only warning, they tackled him, knocking him down on his back. Warm bodies. Laughter. For once, he let them have it their way and they tumbled over him and pretended to hold him down with their weight. When they stopped wrestling, they lay with their heads on his chest, their hair spread across, tickling and soft on his skin. He patted their backsides and sighed. Luxurious. Feeling a woman’s ass must be the cure for all ills.

  Sabrina shifted to look up at him, and waggled her eyebrows. “I thought you were tying me up and having your wicked way with me.”

  “Uh-uh. Right now, I’m lying here staring at the ceiling.”

  Q snorted derisively. “Lazy Dom.”

  He smiled and squeezed t
hem close. “Shh. As long as I’m with my two girls, I’m happy.”

  As they snuggled into him, he sighed with contentment. No one had told him that sometimes in fairy tales the guy gets two princesses and the princesses are in love with each other and him. But if anyone came by to repossess their happily ever after, he hoped they had a safeword. Because no one should fuck with true love.

  Acknowledgements

  Cari, Sorcha, and Leia would like to give a special shout-out to their fabulous beta readers; MJ, Bianca Sarble, Casea Major, and Nerine Dorman.

  Also, thank you to our fans who keep us going even on the hardest days. We couldn’t do this without you guys.

  About the Authors

  Sorcha Black

  Sorcha writes fantasy about women who are too busy fighting, suffering, loving, and generally getting shit done to think of themselves as heroes.

  In her real life, she is married to a lazy but well-loved man and has a shoe full of children. She does her best writing on scraps of paper at red lights.

  Find her at: www.sorchablack.blogspot.com

  Leia Shaw

  Leia Shaw is the bestselling author of the paranormal romance series, Shadows of Destiny. Thinking up fae politics, plotting dragon power games, and calculating how fast werewolves can change forms has given her a way to express those dark places in her mind. More recently, she’s branched out into the erotic world and has written two humorous but heartwarming contemporary BDSM romances, 31 Flavors and The Dom with a Safeword.

  Leia lives in New England with her husband and two kids. Though she will go to her grave denying it, her husband insists she would be thrilled if he suddenly sprouted fangs.

  Find her at:

  www.leiashaw.com

  www.leiashaw.blogspot.com

  www.facebook.com/leiashaw

  Twitter @LeiaShaw

  Cari Silverwood

  Cari Silverwood writes the way the world should be - dangerous and sexy with bullets piercing the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need escape, when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here you will find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the tang of BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you dare to read.

  And...in this real world, she has a lovely family in Australia, with the prerequisite teenager who dwells in the dark bedroom catacombs…a husband who raises eyebrows when he catches glimpses of what she writes, and a furry menagerie of other animals barking, meowing, and swimming about the place.

  Find her at: carisilverwood.com

  Also by Leia Shaw and Cari Silverwood…

  31 Flavors of Kink (a true BDSM story)

  There are some things in life you have to try before you know how they will affect you. After five years of awful sex, I was ready. Bondage and spanking had always featured in my fantasies, and one day, I convinced my husband to try them. That day was a turning point.

  Ice cream comes in many flavors and that's us too -- not vanilla, maybe not Rocky Road either. We can be a combination or make up our own and no one has the right to judge us. But there will always be one question that tears at my soul: Will my husband, Nick, ever be happy with what I crave?

  “Come here.”

  His voice, low and full of authority, slides through me like a cold shiver. My breath hitches as I glide silently over our office carpet.

  “On your knees.”

  I immediately drop. Acutely conscious of my nudity, I sit with my ass resting on my heels and my hands on the curve of my upper thighs.

  “Do you know why you are being punished?”

  A lump of anticipation lodges in my throat. I keep my eyes downcast and nod.

  “Good. Now, I’m going to tie you to the desk, spank you, and stuff you with the vibrator. And you’re not to come without my permission, do you understand?”

  My stomach lurches, and I’m soaked with arousal. I can’t trust my voice, so I nod again.

  “Answer me.”

  I clear my throat and croak a shaky, “Y-yes, sir.”

  “Stand up and bend over the desk.”

  My knees tremble. I can barely hold my weight as I walk to the desk. A thin rope dangles from his hands. I dare to look in his eyes. They remain impassive, foreboding. I’m a prisoner in the shadow of my executioner. Can I do this?

  His brows rise a fraction of an inch. “Go on.”

  I steel myself and bend over the desk. The glass top is like ice on my naked breasts. My breath quickens as he coolly and effectively ties my ankles to the desk legs, then my wrists behind my back. I twist my hands, checking the tightness. No give, at all. Suddenly I feel vulnerable. Too open, too exposed.

  I notice the wooden paddle on the desk only when he reaches for it. I gasp. From fear or anticipation, I’m not sure. He moves away so I can no longer see him.

  From behind me, I hear, “Count, Sidney.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and the paddle whistles through the air –

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I wake with a start, flushed and wet. A dream. I exhale a deep breath, then slam my hand on the Snooze button. Nick stirs beside me, his body heating me through the blankets. My dream comes back full force, an assault on my already overeager libido.

  Nick. His eyes stern, his lips turned down in a disapproving frown. The rope, the paddle… Oh. I can’t stop a sharp inhalation.

  The idea is laughable. Nick wielding a paddle? He’s more likely to cross-dress and pierce his nipples than mercilessly paddle my ass. Nick is the nicest man I’ve ever met. It’s why I married him.

  I sigh in frustration and push my fantasies away. The dog jumps at the door. Nick rolls over. His voice is groggy. “Honey. The dog wants to go out.”

  “I know.”

  Welcome to real life.

  Have you read Carrie Ann Ryan’s paranormal ménage Trinity Bound, part of her Redwood Pack series? Here’s a snippet, just for you!

  Chapter 1

  Cold spread from a pinprick of sensation as a droplet of water hit Hannah Lewis’s cheek. It trailed down to her eye, forcing her to open them to blink it away. Stone walls surrounded her, and the frayed edges on the cement floor dug into her skin. The only means of escape seemed to be a lone rusty metal door in the stone wall. No windows illuminated the room. Cut off from the outside world, she couldn’t feel the earth.

  As an earth witch, she needed the sensation of soil beneath her feet, the air dancing across her face and through her hair. But cut off, she drifted without an anchor. Hannah slowly sat up, and her muscles ached from her stay.

  She snorted. Stay. Right.

  That sounded like she was happy to be here. No, the bruises and cuts from her captivity hurt. But she thanked the goddess she wasn’t hurt any more than she was.

  The man sharing her room moaned in his sleep. No, not a man, a werewolf. By the shouts of their captors, she knew him to be Reed, a wolf of the Redwood Pack, son of the Alpha. They’d brought him in three nights before. At least she thought it was three nights. She couldn’t be sure anymore. He seemed to hurt more than she. They had chained him to the wall, same as her, but far enough apart they couldn’t touch. And if they were to speak to each other, the guards came in and beat Reed. Never her though. It was almost like a cruel joke to have someone share her burden but be allowed no contact. Her gut twisted, and bile filled her mouth.

  Her fingers ached to touch his smooth skin and heal his pains as the healer she was. But she couldn’t get close enough to him to do so. Another cruelty. She couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

  Reed shifted, then snapped open his eyes. She gave him an encouraging smile, the best she could come up with under these conditions. He smiled back, that small gesture almost lighting up his face. Maybe in another time, another place, when they weren’t being held in the Central’s basement, with no clue whether they would live or die, they would have met and gone on a date. She smiled again at the thought. Yes, that would have been nice. Her smiled faded. But that was no
t the case. And by the looks of this place, it would never be. Sadness filled her at the loss of something she didn’t know she wanted.

  Reed reached out and spread his fingers toward her, careful of the cameras watching their every move. Hannah did the same, longing to feel contact. To remember who she was.

  The metal door scraped open, the screeching sound echoing in the dank room. They both pulled their arms back as she began to shake in fear. She cursed herself for her cowardliness. But it had been too long since she held hope. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now.

  The Central Alpha’s son, Corbin, walked into the room with his smooth glide and a snarl on his lips. Hannah hid the shudders fighting to rack her body at the sight of him. His eyes were dark orbs with no light of goodness hiding within. Whatever was on his mind reeked of evil, an evil she wanted no part of, but it looked as though she had no choice.

  The man strode to her, nodding to his two accompanying guards. The guards walked toward her and unshackled her arms and legs. Pain tingled in her fingers and toes as the blood rushed through them from being cut off from good circulation for so long. Oh goddess. What is he going to do with me? The guards lifted her to her feet, their grips digging into her arms, hurting her further.

  “Let go of her. Take me,” Reed’s growled from his place on the floor, his voice gravelly.

  Oh, how she wished she could just be with this stranger and not go where Corbin wanted. But she couldn’t let him be hurt either. She didn’t know why, other than the fact she hated to see anyone harmed. It pained her to think about him in her position. He might be a werewolf and be able to heal at a faster rate, but she could take what Corbin brought. She had to.

  Corbin laughed at Reed and took a previously unseen whip to her companion’s back. Reed groaned in pain at the contact of the whip flaying his flesh. Hannah whimpered at the sight of his blood leaking to the floor. The guards pulled her toward Corbin, her feet trailing the ground as she fought their hold. They merely shook her violently for her to comply. The Alpha’s son grabbed her from them and forced her against him. Bile rose in her throat at the oily feel of his skin, his aura.