by Alison Tyler
Jack motioned for me, and I hurried to his side, ready to be sent into battle. Ready to be cast onstage. “And you?” he said, running his hands along my shoulders and down my sides. “What are you thinking about?”
He didn’t only want to dominate my body. Jack wanted to rule my mind.
I shook my head. I felt as if I were spinning. I didn’t know what to think.
“We’re not done. You know that.”
I nodded. “Yes, Jack.”
“So what might I have planned for you next?”
I looked over at Alex, waiting by my vanity, his kohlrimmed eyes and tousled hair almost deviantly erotic. I had an idea. But I didn’t speak right away. Jack knew I was holding back, and his hand came up, quickly, slapping my cheek, bringing me into focus once more. My own hand went up instantly, rubbing away the sting, and I managed to whisper, “You’re going to have me fuck him.”
Jack laughed, dark and low. “No, kid. I’m going to have you fuck each other. But now, you’re on a more even playing field.” His hand slid down farther to press against the cock in my jeans. “Now, you’ve got a fighting chance to get on top…”
Chapter Thirty–Eight:
What Now?
A fighting chance.
What did that mean exactly? Were Alex and I supposed to engage in some sort of Greco-Roman combat for Jack’s viewing pleasure, rolling around on the destroyed white sheets in an erotic attempt to get on top? Had I been correct in envisioning Jack as some sort of Caesar? Twisted. Wicked. Power drunk.
I stared at him, waiting for further instructions while my mind raced ahead. What had I thought tonight would be about? Alex simply taking it up the ass? Willingly? Like a humble servant? Sure, he bowed down to Jack’s rule in all visible manners. But there was nothing in his personality that should have made me think he would bend over and spread ’em at my command.
And who was I to give commands anyway?
I wondered if Alex was thinking similar thoughts. He didn’t appear nearly as nervous as I felt. Rather, Jack’s words had given him at least a momentary sense of calm. Maybe he’d been worried all evening, and now he was finally able to relax. I don’t know. I’m not Alex.
Jack looked at me and said, “First, you need to start with an even playing field.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think?”
I hated questions like this. Because if I said something wrong, I might give Jack a more filthy idea than he’d already had. But with his eyes on me, so telling, I said, “You’re going to spank me.”
“Really? That’s what you think?”
I looked at the floor. “Alex is.”
“Give the girl a prize,” Jack murmured. Then, to his boy, “How do you want her?”
“Stripped down.”
There was no use in arguing. Any pleasure I had won from spanking Alex was now a distant memory. While the men watched, I undid my Docs and kicked them off. I pulled off my shirt and sports bras until I stood as naked as Alex had been, except for that harness sporting my vibrant blue erection. I felt a little silly, actually. If I had known I was going to be on top, I would have been able to slide into that attitude. But Jack’s words echoed in my head: I had a fighting chance. I would much rather have been forced into submission, led to the bed and cuffed, given no opportunity to fight at all. That scenario was far more my speed. But here I was, nervously eyeing Alex, waiting for Jack’s next instruction.
The words didn’t come from Jack.
“Bend over. Touch your toes.”
I could do this. I’ve always been flexible. But Alex must have known it was my least favorite way to get a spanking. I’d have preferred being spread on the bed. Or pulled over his lap. Or bent over a chair. This way meant I had to work on staying balanced. I didn’t bother to watch as he chose his implement of pain. I shut my eyes and waited for the spanking to begin.
But Alex was in a mood. He took his time. This was payback, and he relished every fucking second.
“Straighten your legs,” Alex said, and I obeyed, knowing I’d never get it right for him. He wanted something beyond perfection. He wanted to show Jack what a good Dom he could be. “Prepare yourself,” he said, and I heard the laughter in his voice. There was no way to do this, and he knew it. No way to get ready for that first, startling blow.
He spanked me hard, pressing one hand into my lower back to make me arch my ass even higher, forcing me onto my tiptoes, but using the weight of his palm to keep me steady. He slammed the paddle into me, and I worked to keep from crying out. He didn’t make me count, which I was grateful for in one way, but fearful of in another. Not having to count meant there was no foreseeable end in sight. Alex was going to spank me until…well, until he was done. (Like that line a military friend told me about—his commander saying, “You’ll do those push-ups until I get tired.”)
I felt tears in my eyes and hated myself for them. I hadn’t made Alex cry. But there I was, being a girl all over again, humiliated and humbled, on display for both of the men. I wished I hadn’t bought this type of harness, the one with the fully exposed back. It gave Alex the perfect frame of my ass to cover with blow after blow, until Jack gripped his hand and pulled him away.
“She’s done,” he said. “For the moment, at least.”
I sighed and stood up, not giving Alex the pleasure of seeing me rub my heated cheeks, but shooting him a look of pure venom, nonetheless. While I stood there, waiting, Jack undressed Alex once more. He seemed to enjoy this part of the evening, giving us power and then taking it away. Alex appeared less confident once he was naked again.
“You’ll need lube,” Jack said next. “Both of you.”
I felt dizzy as he poured a handful of the clear liquid into my palm. I’d already been chastised for not jerking my cock the way a real man would, and now Jack wanted me to lube myself up. There was no way I could do this convincingly. I watched Alex, fisting his cock, getting obvious and instant pleasure at the sensation of flesh on flesh. I was at a disadvantage, wasn’t I? My cock was plastic. But if I pressed down right, the base hit my clit, winning me a spark of sweetness.
“On the bed,” Jack said next, not giving me any time to worry now. Taking full charge as the director of this X-rated romp. “Sam, I want you on your back.”
Alex smirked at me, and it seemed I’d lost before the games had begun. On my back, with my legs over Alex’s shoulders, his cock ready as Jack said, “Now, fuck her.” He was about to, his body poised, when Jack pulled him back, physically pushing Alex off me.
“You’d let him, wouldn’t you?”
My eyes widened.
“You’d let him slide inside you. You wouldn’t balk at all.”
“But—”
“But what?”
“You told him, you told me—” I was stammering, making no sense. But Jack wasn’t making any sense either, was he?
“I said you had a fighting chance,” Jack repeated, and then I got it. He didn’t want to choreograph the whole event. He wanted to see what we would do if left to our own devices. I had felt empty, waiting for the Master to input information. When I looked into Jack’s eyes, I saw what he wanted. More than a show with him as the writer. He wanted live action, that wrestling match I’d imagined. A fighting chance. He’d said it, and he meant it. I looked over at Alex, and I saw that his confidence level seemed to have slipped a bit. He was staring at Jack in awe.
“Let’s try that again,” Jack said, stepping back, and I felt that wave of power come over me once more. Jack was giving me permission. And I could do with that freedom what I would.
Alex climbed onto the bed, looking wary. There was no way I could beat him with strength. No way at all. I had to be wily. Clever. I had to be a girl.
He didn’t speak to me. He sat back on his knees, staring, waiting, until I came forward and pressed my body to his. I cradled his face in my hands. I kissed him. Softly. Kissed his cheeks and his lips and when he closed his eyes, kissed his
eyelids. I stroked my fingers through his hair, let my fingertips trail down the muscles of his arms. Alex shivered, put off balance by the candy of my caress.
Yes, I had a cock between my legs. But I was a girl.
I let my lips trail down the hollow of his throat. I kissed his chest, and worked my way along his flat belly. I pushed him back on the bed, gripping his hard-on in one hand while I continued to trick my lips along the tender skin of his inner thighs.
Alex groaned and arched his hips. I heard Jack chuckle behind me. He seemed to understand what I was doing, seemed to guess my plan. But he didn’t say a word. He simply watched.
Slowly, sensuously, I worked my way back up Alex’s strong body. I didn’t let him feel the cock against him. I teased him, pinching his nipples, then lifting his arms over his head and licking along the lines of his muscles. Moving from one bicep to the other. Carefully making my way to his wrists. I had reached for the cuffs, discarded after our previous encounter, but Alex opened his eyes before I could get one on.
“What the fuck—?” He was in motion instantly, on me, grabbing the cuffs from my hand as he tussled with me on the bed. I’d hoped to at least manage to get one cuff on before he rebelled, but that didn’t seem possible now. Alex easily pinned me down, and in seconds the cuffs were on my own wrists, and Jack was laughing once more.
“Good try,” he said, coming closer to the bed. Alex wasn’t moving. I felt his weight on top of me, keeping me in place. My wrists were cuffed, but he hadn’t fastened the chain to the hook. “You wanted to lull him into trusting you.”
My breath was coming rapid now. I felt like a trapped animal. But I wasn’t scared in the slightest.
“So let’s see how you get yourself out of this one,” whispered Jack. “Let’s see….”
Looking back now, it all seems so damn debauched. Jack, the ringmaster. And the two of us, willing subjects, off-centered players. Who were we? This trio of misfits in the bedroom of a penthouse over Sunset? What tied us together aside from our twisted fantasies? And yet—I always have to compare things to life with Byron—how was this any darker than what I’d already lived through? No, my ex never raised a hand to me, but I’d been put down in a cage for so many years, lived without light. This world seemed heavenly to me.
Freedom like I’d never even imagined.
Chapter Thirty–Nine:
What Would You Do?
I’m not a magician. I’m no Houdini—or even a modern, female version of Houdini. I was cuffed, and Alex outweighed me by seventy pounds, and I was pinned down on the bed.
Where do we go now?
Where indeed?
Jack seemed amused by the whole situation. Pleased, in fact, by the way I’d handled myself up to this point, and the ultimate indignity of having the cuffs that I’d tried to put on Alex wind up on my own wrists.
But when I looked into Alex’s eyes, I wasn’t scared. I saw something there. Saw—not fear. Not hesitation or nervousness…but kindness. I had to call it that in my mind, searching still for a better description. This was an emotion I rarely saw when staring at Alex. Generally, Alex was performing some task for Jack, and he had the give and take of a robot. But now, he actually seemed to feel for me. I stared back at him, and then realized, that no, he wasn’t looking at me kindly, he was looking at me with pity. And that changed everything.
I would not have him feel sorry for me. No way. Sure, my wrists were cuffed, and sure, he was superior physically, but I would not roll over and give in. I would not do what I’d imagined from him—bending and spreading—at a word, at a nod.
The atmosphere seemed to shift in the room for me, changing in seconds as I backed up against the wall behind the bed, my cuffed wrists in front of me, wary, waiting.
Alex tilted his head at me, and he seemed now to sense danger. “You’re not thinking of fighting.”
A statement, not a question. Besides, it came from Alex, not Jack. I didn’t have to say a word to him. Not a fucking word.
How long was this night going on, anyway? Felt like years since I’d first dressed the boy. And now, look at us. Fighters on a mattress ring. Circling, at least, with our eyes.
“Tell me you’re not, Sam.”
“If I did, I’d be lying.”
He looked at me again with those pity-filled eyes, and I wanted to scratch him.
“It’s too easy with you bound like that. All I have to do is grab you, flip you over, and I’m in you—one, two, three.”
“Then take the cuffs off.”
“Why would I do that?”
I kept him talking, sizing up the situation as I did. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel aroused. Let me make that clear. I was turned on beyond belief. Knowing Jack was watching was one thing. But Alex and I were like two characters on a sitcom who hate each other on the surface, but deep down trade erotic sparks. We were probably destined to fuck at some point. Why not tonight?
“Why would I take off the cuffs?” Alex asked again. He turned then, to look at Jack, perhaps to see what his boss thought of all this, and that was all I needed. I pushed him, not hard, but firmly—my bare foot in his chest, knocking him off balance enough to get around him on the bed. I didn’t have any plans. Didn’t have any idea at all. But I was out of the room in a hurry, that ridiculous cock still harnessed to my body, trying to figure out my next move.
No, I wasn’t going to sprint out of the apartment. I only wanted to get to some private corner where I could clear my mind. It didn’t matter if ultimately I was brought back to the bedroom and fucked senseless. I knew, based on the constant, heady pulse from my clit that I reveled in the thought.
But Jack had said: a fighting chance. I wasn’t going down without a struggle.
Alex was behind me in seconds, but I’d made it to the kitchen, pressed my back against the fridge, hands still cuffed in front of me. He didn’t appear angry at all. The action was thrilling to him. Nothing easy about this evening. Nothing sane.
“Why, Sam?” he said again, but softer this time, as he came forward, pressing his own body up against mine. “Why would I uncuff you, when it’s so much more fun to take you like this.” In a flash, he’d gripped the chain of the cuffs and pulled it upward, making me rise up to my tiptoes. He dragged me a few steps to the left, spinning me around to face the cabinets, and he hooked the chain onto the knob of one of the cabinets, forcing me to stay on my tiptoes, fully stretched. I couldn’t pull the chain off the knobs. I couldn’t spin around to face Alex because his body was flat against mine, pinning me to the counter.
“Answer me,” he said.
I was breathless, the harness now digging into me, the synthetic cock pressed flat and up against my body.
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice as soft as his. “I don’t know, Alex.”
His hands slid down my naked body, coming to rest on the cheeks of my ass. Very slowly, he spread them apart, and I lowered my head, waiting.
“That’s it?” His mouth to my neck. “That’s all you got, tough guy?”
I’d thought I’d been pretty clever, actually. Getting this far. But now, he was taunting me. The winner, getting ready to claim his prize. Yet I was trapped.
What did he want me to do?
Alex reached into a nearby cabinet and pulled out a bottle of imported olive oil. Jack and I rarely ever cooked. But we did have the most expensive ingredients around. Just in case one of us felt like playing house. Alex poured a river of this organic lube between my rear cheeks and then rested the head of his cock against me, waiting. I don’t know who he thought I was or what he thought I was capable of doing. I couldn’t vanish. I couldn’t do a thing.
“Really?” he murmured again. “That’s all the fight in you?”
And then I had an idea. Turning my head slightly, I said, “Is it me you really want to fuck?”
He hesitated.
“I mean, isn’t it Jack you want to bend over? Or is it Jack you want to bend over for? Why are you on me, Alex? Why aren’t
oiling up your dick and showing it off to him.”
He’d frozen behind me. I was fighting with the thing I knew best: with words.
“Or is that what you guys did before we met? Is that the secret nobody is willing to share with me? The elephant in the room that neither of you will talk about. When you had your little foursomes, did you two ever cross swords?”
He was still behind me, absolutely still. I took over then, pressing back the slightest bit, pushing myself against his rock-hard cock. My body shuddered at the immediate pleasure of that delicious sensation.
“Is that what this is all about?” I asked next. “A way to reveal secrets to me…?” Again I pressed back lightly, and now Alex moaned, making me feel a tiny bit more powerful. How bizarre. Standing naked and cuffed in the kitchen, yet my words giving me the spark of power I craved. At least, until Jack joined the party.
“Would it change things?” I turned my head quickly to the doorway. There was Jack. He took a step forward, and then pushed Alex away from me. Then it was Jack behind me, pressing his body to mine. Jack fully dressed, not giving a damn about ruining his expensive slacks with the spreading stain of olive oil.
Would it? Jack pressed firmly against me, letting me feel how hard he was. I squeezed my eyes closed, not knowing what to do. What to say.
“Tell me, Samantha.”
He turned my head sideways, tilted my chin, forced me to meet his eyes.
“Tell me.”
Chapter Forty:
A Kind of Magic
Magic is all about secrets. The hidden slit in a coat pocket. The unnoticed compartment in a black silk top hat. But relationships should be about truth and honesty. There should be no secrets between lovers, right?