Ryan’s voice trailed off when he heard the inane comments. He felt so helpless, so removed from Sarah. Fuck, how could he have done what he did? If only she hadn’t run away. Right, and maybe he should have listened to his gut and never even confronted her. He thought back to when he and Alain had been fortunate enough to have met her.
Sarah designed women’s clothing for a high-priced line. She was forever in motion, sketching out an idea, then hopping up to feel fabrics, spinning to view the fall and texture. She worked strange hours, and both he and Alain wanted her to quit and be home with them, but she refused. Since she refused them little else, they went along with her need to create, but insisted that she take time off when they did. She was perfect for them, and the day they had gone backstage to talk with the head designer had been the best day of their lives.
He and Alain had been looking at investing in a clothing line. Their involvement with women had piqued their interest in high fashion, and the retail cost of such clothing had appealed to their business interest. However, it was soon apparent that design was as fickle as the weather, and they dismissed their interest. But not before they met Sarah Westlake. She had been flitting about, divesting rail-thin models of their runway apparel, smiling and reassuring them of their performance, and both his cock and Alain’s had simply jumped to attention. There had been no frisson of excitement, no building of awareness. She was there, they responded, and without any need to consult, both had centered themselves on her like wolves upon a sheep.
Not that Sarah was a sheep, they soon found out. She was an independent, high-spirited, intelligent person, who led them in a merry dance of seduction. They sent flowers and gifts, called her regularly, took her out to dine and dance, all of which was a new and interesting experience for them. Women usually succumbed the same day, and most times, to both of them. Most of the women even agreed to some of their more dominant desires, although not many came back for a second round, and those who did were clinging, needy women who were gently returned to the dating pool.
Sarah thanked them prettily for their initial gifts then returned the rest, the more extravagant items. They respected that, for both realized she was sending a message that she wasn’t interested in being paid for her services. It was a bit disconcerting, given their experience with women’s avarice, and somewhat annoying that she thought they might see her as a whore of sorts. She was different, and they wanted her to understand that.
Sarah seemed to enjoy their company and figured out early on that they both wanted her sexually, together. Not that they weren’t quite clear about it. Sarah was a bit taken aback but discussed the notion with them, learning about ménage, asking intelligent questions, and taking the time she needed to sort it through. They took her back to their condo one night after a pleasant dinner and hours on the dance floor. Such was her physical condition and endurance that she had danced with both of them, taking equal turns, all evening long. Alain thought that boded extremely well for what they demanded of women in the bedroom. Alain was more dominant than Ryan, requiring total sexual submission, but his charm and capacity for love balanced him out. Ryan simply craved sex, and lots of it, combined with erotic pain visited upon his partners. Sex with Sarah and Alain. Together they fulfilled a woman and themselves.
* * * *
Sheila drove Sarah back to George’s, and Sarah prayed the spare key was still in the fake rock by the back door. Sheila promised not to tell anyone where she was staying and didn’t ask for an explanation. Sarah had been her mentor and so very supportive when she first joined the design firm, and Sheila had often told Sarah that she inspired loyalty. The key was there, and Sheila got Sarah settled in bed, unloading the groceries she had picked up prior to the hospital stop.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay, Sarah?” she asked. “Because I can stay with you.”
“I’m good, Sheila, really. I just appreciate all you have done for me. Just make sure you lock up, okay?”
Sarah didn’t feel like sleeping after Sheila left, but she didn’t feel like doing much of anything else. She checked her cell and deleted dozens of messages from Ryan and Alain without listening to them. She checked her e-mail and deleted those messages, too. Sarah posted a message saying she was out of town and unavailable to answer e-mails and adjusted her voice mail accordingly. Then she got some juice from the fridge and thought about her future. Her empty, pathetic future. She didn’t even have any residual anger to ride. Her body would heal, but would her heart? Would her soul? She didn’t know, and didn’t really care. This was probably depression. She had suffered a loss, and she knew there were stages of grieving. She just didn’t know what they were. Giving oneself over to another, make that two others, probably wasn’t such a wonderful idea in the first place. But they had been so convincing, so seductive.
She had gone home with them one night after dating them for a long time, and left the next morning a different woman. She had gotten to know them, their personalities, their attitudes, and their quirks all the previous months. She knew what Ryan liked to eat and what made Alain laugh. She knew about their families and something about their jobs. They had all shared of themselves, and she believed they got to know her as well. Sarah wasn’t an easy lay. She liked sex but could live without it unless the man meant something to her personally. She wasn’t governed by lust, wanting to wake up the next morning to someone she liked and to be able to still like herself. That night with Ryan and Alain changed the lust part for her. She was eager and enthusiastic for their creative sexual behavior.
She had kicked her shoes off at the door, mindful of the hardwood, and caught them looking at her with interest and respect. Alain made her a light drink while Ryan hung up her coat. They gave her the Cook’s tour of the condo. It was a really nice place to live, with great views, but by then the tension was so thick she allowed Alain to lead her down the hallway into the huge master bedroom.
Sarah had stood in the dimness of candlelight while they removed her clothes and then their own. Ryan had kissed her, all the while moving her onto the big bed that Alain turned down for them. They lay on either side of her, stroking, learning her body, taking turns kissing her. They tasted different from one another, Ryan spicy, Alain sweet, and she had chuckled inwardly at her fancifulness. Ryan then had suckled at her breasts, nipping and teasing her nipples as Alain slid down her body to press his face between her thighs. His mouth and tongue worked through her folds with precision, lancing into her opening, teasing her clit out from its hood. Sarah thought she might lose her mind with the sensations. She heard moaning and begging and realized it was her, straining for release. When Alain sucked hard on her clit just as Ryan sucked her nipple the same way, she flew.
They gave her only a few minutes to come down before Ryan was building her arousal again, his tongue tracing her clit, two fingers pumping in and out of her vagina, while another circled her anus. Alain pinched and rolled her nipples, pulling them up and away from her body, the erotic pain lancing down her belly to her pussy. She had flinched away from the finger on her anus, but Ryan wet his finger in her moisture and tapped it, lubricating it and pressing gently. Just as she came again, he pushed a fingertip inside, and it increased her orgasm twofold. And all the time they were making her come they were watching her face, asking her to open her eyes, telling her how beautiful she looked when she climaxed. They praised and encouraged her, using filthy, earthy expressions to describe her private parts and breasts, shocking and titillating her when they shared what they wanted to do to her.
Both had fucked her that night, one after the other. They had large cocks, and she was stretched, sometimes to the point of pain, and the sex wasn’t always slow and easy. They hammered at her, and she begged for more, even knowing her labia would be bruised and tender. The bite of pain enhanced her pleasure. Then they bathed her, together in a huge shower stall, with tenderness, chuckling at her protests of exhaustion. Alain paid further attention to her anus, rubbing it with oil and pressing a
finger inside. She had risen to her toes at his touch, and Ryan was instantly on his knees in front of her, the water streaming over them, as he parted her thighs and tongued her clit mercilessly. They let her sleep for a time then woke her with a press of a cock at her mouth. She, who wasn’t entranced with giving blow jobs, and never swallowed, broke both rules in one night, delighting in the pleasure she gave them both, thrilled at the power she felt. One would fuck her from behind while she sucked the other off. It was magical.
Ryan had explained that the time would come when they would have sex with her at the same time, one in her ass, one in her pussy. She became aroused thinking about it, believing him when he promised it would feel incredible. They had taken a lot of time, preparing and stretching her, with their fingers and with butt plugs. That in itself was incredibly erotic, the pinch and burn offset by the stimulation of her clit. It felt so forbidden and naughty, and she reveled in it. Sarah became a wanton woman, craving them as often as they had her. She would be working, totally focused on a project, when something would remind her of them, and the arousal would nearly overwhelm her. She never tired of them or what they did to and with her.
Alain was less forthright about what he planned that first night. He probably hadn’t wanted to scare her, but he had held her hands while Ryan fucked her and playfully covered her eyes when Ryan went down on her. She understood later that he was getting her used to being restrained, having all control stripped from her, taking the burden of choice away as well as learning simply to feel. And because she innately trusted them, she complied. Relying on senses other than sight, just feeling, was incredibly powerful, too. She came to embrace Alain’s perversions and utter dominance. He employed a variety of sex toys with considerable skill, but she craved the touch of his mouth and hands more than any toy, and his cock could never be replaced.
Alain loved to tie her hands to the hook in ceiling above the shower and wash and tantalize every inch of her body, using the different jets to bring her off over and over. Her screams of release would echo against the tiles and spur him on to greater experiments. She thought Alain probably came up with something new every day to try with her. She mostly liked what he did to her or demanded of her, although having orgasms until passing out was right up there with pushing her limits.
Ryan was always there to soothe her and ease the way if she became overwhelmed, although he was very demanding and certain of what he wanted from her sexually, giving back to her with equal fervor. He was insatiable, his recovery time much quicker than Alain’s, and some days Sarah actually found it difficult to walk comfortably after a long night of inventive passion. They gave her a safe word, but it was never necessary. Sarah had fallen totally in love with them that night. She didn’t question the difficulties of loving two men, nor the semantics. It just was right, and she never questioned the depth of their feelings for her. Until now.
Sarah wouldn’t let herself think about how they treated her the day she left. She had nearly a week and a half of vacation time to get her shit together and figure out where her future lay. She didn’t think she was the kind of person to hold a grudge, but she would have physically hurt Alain and Ryan if the opportunity had presented itself. But it didn’t, and the grudge would have to take a backseat. Oh, wait, she could have made a police report! That would have fixed them! Sarah fought against the hysteria bubbling up inside her. She had a life to live without them. If the European job hadn’t been filled, she thought she might accept it. Nothing like an ocean to build some boundaries between them.
Chapter Nine
Alain and Ryan determined that Sarah was staying in George Davis’s house, the one they followed her and Sheila to. Ryan had a vague memory of Sarah talking about someone she hung out with in college, laughing as she described herself as being a beard for him. Apparently George was gay, and his family couldn’t know or they’d cut off his funding for university. So of course Sarah, their loving, tolerant Sarah, had helped him out. They knew from what the doctor had said about the cleaning woman mix-up that this George was away. It meant Sarah was alone, which provided several options. They could stake out the house and, when she came out, approach her and try to convince her to talk with them. They could go to the house, and perhaps she would let them in. Or they could take her into the house and use the privacy and the time to repair the damage they had done.
Door number three. Both knew that it was risky. It appealed to Alain because of his true dominance, and Ryan liked the idea, too, but he was the voice of reason. If they couldn’t make Sarah come around, then a kidnapping label would quite fairly be applied to their behaviour. Ryan wasn’t sure they could get out of that one if they didn’t get away with it. So they kicked the ideas around and still couldn’t see any other way. They didn’t dare warn her that they knew where she lived, believing she would flee again or call the cops, and then they would never get close to her. If they approached her on the street and she freaked, well, that was probably not their best choice. Back to door number three.
They staked the house out during the day, returning to sleep fitfully at the scene of their crime. It was almost too much to bear.
* * * *
Sarah didn’t emerge from her new home for two days. She slept as much as she could, partly to recover, partly to avoid thinking. The rest of the time she searched for jobs that would take her away from the city. She didn’t want to run into those bastards. She’d started thinking about them in those terms just to refrain from using their names. If she thought their names, the memories came back, the good ones, too, and she couldn’t allow that. It hurt too much. The European job was taken already, and she had precious little time to apply and interview for others. Otherwise, she was going to have to go back to her job and didn’t think she could face it. Everything would remind her of what had been lost, and it was hard enough just not thinking about them. The bastards. Sarah had watched the news and learned that there had been considerable activity surrounding the bastards’ company. It appeared the real culprits had been discovered. She had switched channels without wanting to learn anymore.
She ran out of cream. Sarah knew Sheila would bring her some or she could call in a grocery order, but she convinced herself getting out for some fresh air was a good idea. She pulled a pair of George’s bikini briefs on, giggling to herself while amazed that she could find humour in anything, and donned the scrubs she had washed upon getting back from the hospital. Her coat kind of added to the refugee look, what with her total lack of makeup and waxen complexion. She had lost a lot of weight with whatever it was she had contracted, and even her hair looked tired. She was a total, unappetizing mess.
After dismissing the cab, Sarah wandered through the grocery store, picking up a few items along with her coffee cream. She had no appetite but understood that she would have to eat if she were to get her stamina back. She paid with the last of her cash and made a mental note to stop at an ATM on her way home. She was shifting her purse and the two grocery bags to a more comfortable load on either arm, looking toward the cabstand, when the car pulled up beside her. She heard the door open and felt someone get out beside her. Sarah opened her mouth to scream when that someone wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her from her feet. A hand over her lips muffled the sound, and then she was unceremoniously swept onto the backseat, a hard body covering hers as the car sped away.
Sarah knew who it was. She knew by his scent and his touch. After the first shot of adrenaline, she wasn’t terrified. She was pissed, enraged, furious. As soon as she was able to move she was going to claw someone’s eyes out or tear open their throat. Sarah literally saw red, and it shimmered behind her eyes, and she made herself relax and wait for her opportunity. The other bastard was driving the car, of that she was sure. Their arrogance, the entitlement of their actions was going to backfire big time. They made the drive in complete silence, aside from the whirring of the tires on the pavement and other street sounds. And the sound of her heartbeat in her ears.
Ryan pulled up in front of George’s house at an angle to the street and trusted the landscaping of shrubs and bushes to shield them as they took Sarah the short distance from the car to the front door. Alain passed him her purse, and Ryan located a single key. He opened the door, ringing the bell simultaneously, but the place felt empty, so he tossed her purse inside the foyer and went to help Alain. Sarah was a small woman, but he suspected that it would take the two of them to get her inside, particularly as they didn’t want to hurt her.
Alain backed out of the car, pulling Sarah with him, his hands at her waist. She was somewhat enveloped in her coat, and Alain probably relaxed his guard, believing he could lift her out and hand her over to Ryan. Just as they emerged from the car, Sarah turned in his hands like an eel and smashed her head into his face. Bent over as he was, Alain couldn’t avoid the blow. His lip split and blood began to flow as his nose seemed to bend sideways. Alain staggered back, and Sarah propelled herself upward, pushing off with her feet and pulling herself up his body with her fingernails in the fabric of his coat. The grocery bags impeded her progress, or she might have escaped, but he somehow turned with her toward Ryan. Ryan enfolded her, grunting as her heels connected with his shins and her head slammed backward into his chest. The groceries spilled to the pavement, and she began to fight in earnest, reaching behind to claw his face then leaning to try and catch him off balance. He adjusted his grip, and she sank her teeth into his wrist, bare beneath the sleeve of his jacket.
Alain’s groan of pain when Sarah connected with his face, her actual roars of rage, and Ryan’s muted shout as he felt her teeth meet at his wrist were like background music to some weird dance. Alain somehow caught her feet, and Ryan pulled his wrist away, certain he’d left his flesh in her teeth but never relinquishing his grip on her.
Young, Allyson - Forgiveness (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Page 4