by Roxy Harte
Garrett reaches up and strokes my face. “I don’t want anything to go wrong, Kitten.”
He means he doesn’t want me to lose the babies, and I don’t honestly think Thomas would be so irresponsible. He had a kinky wife, they had three children together, and all three children were fine. I smile, I can’t help it. I’m hoping for pain with a capital “P” but I’m trying to convince Garrett to not worry. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me or the babies.”
“I’ll be near. Right next door in an observation room.”
Thomas opens the door to Room Eight and slaps Garrett on the back. “Oh, you’ll be closer than that.”
He pushes Garrett into the room and holds out his hand to me. “Be careful. Watch your step here.”
The room is pitch black but suddenly starts to glow with red lights recessed in the floor. The dim lighting tracks reveal a labyrinth of pipe attached to the floor. Some low, only a few inches off the surface, some a foot high, and a few several feet high. I’m perplexed. Looking up, I see that a similar structure hangs from the ceiling.
I see that Thomas is holding a remote control. He presses another button, and the sound of hissing steam precedes the mist’s burst from pipe running vertically up the walls. I lick my lips, ready, impatient. I didn’t think I’d be nervous, this is after all a very controlled, safe setting, so unlike the places Lord Fyre normally takes me, but I can feel the sizzle of adrenaline racing through my veins and can’t deny being both nervous and excited.
Thomas leads me deeper into the room. Garrett has taken up a post near the wall, looking none too happy. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing. The doctor said no bondage and no impact play.”
Thomas chuckles and smiles at me before calling across the room. “You didn’t ask the right questions. Come. Be my assistant.”
For a moment I don’t think Garrett will come closer, but he does. I meet his gaze, realizing he is flushed. I think that just being in the room does it for Garrett on some core emotional level. If I touched him, I’m certain I would find he’s hiding a tight erection beneath his slacks, but I don’t have time to wonder why. Thomas directs me to sit on two parallel pipes which are affixed to the ground close enough together to form a bench. “Lie back.”
I’m not certain how he expects me to maintain my balance but I obey him and am surprised when he holds my hand in an assist. Before I am even halfway reclined my shoulders collide with another parallel pipe. He leads my hand to the pipe and I grasp.
“Hold on with both hands.”
I stretch my other arm out as instructed and grasp. A vision of Jesus stretched out on a cross flashes through my mind, but I kick the thought out of my brain. I recently concluded that this, my need to be restrained and hurt, would be one of the lesser things that would likely send me to hell.
“Comfortable?”
My head swivels. Lord Fyre has never asked me if I was comfortable during the course of one of our play sessions. Must being pregnant change everything? Like sitting on two pipes and reclining against a third is any less comfortable than lounging in a lawn chair. “I’m fine.”
He looks at Garrett. “Satisfactory?”
He sighs heavily, still disgruntled despite his arousal. “So far.”
Thomas kneels before me and gestures Garrett closer.
“You, my friend, need to start asking the right questions. No doctor in his right mind would give approval for any type of bondage or pain play. Even a community-friendly physician is going to fear a lawsuit if something goes horribly wrong.” Thomas cups the mound of my pregnancy. “The womb is an amazing shock absorber, almost nothing that takes place on the outside of a woman’s body will hurt the fetus.”
Garrett objects but Thomas lifts his hand, effectively silencing him. “That doesn’t mean I have any intention of spanking her, caning her, or whipping her.”
I narrow my eyes, disappointed that Thomas, who I thought was on my side, is suddenly being overcautious. At least in my mind. How could a simple thuddy flogging hurt the babies? I press my lips tightly together to keep from screaming. Thomas catches my gaze and I see him smirking. My heart swells with hope that he hasn’t turned completely.
Thomas separates my knees, spreading me wide. He strokes the inside of my thighs. “The veins here—”
Garrett names them, “Iliac, femoral, saphenous,” while waiting for Thomas to make a point.
“—can be prone to blood clots during pregnancy, so even though you would think that a light spanking here might not hurt the baby, it could be deadly to both mother and child.”
Garrett looks at me smugly. “And that is why bondage is also a very bad idea after the second trimester.”
“Correct,” Thomas agrees.
Turncoat. I don’t break protocol though I’d love to interrupt. Since I am here, I have to assume that sooner or later Lord Fyre will arrive to save the day.
“The pipe can control without compressing.”
Garrett nods, meeting Thomas’s gaze. Something passes between them. Unsaid. I feel the ripple of energy as something changes. Have they found a common ground? Is the argument over? Are you going to do something with me now?
The men leave me sitting and go together to a wood workbench where they sort through bins silently. I sigh, impatient, wanting someone to tell me just what in the hell was decided. I don’t have to wait long, but the interim seems to take forever. They return bearing flashlights, tools and parts. Without a word to me they go into motion, working in tandem to trap my wrists and ankles between pipe. Both men hold the flashlights trapped between chin and chest, making me wonder if perhaps it would have been easier to turn on the lights, but knowing them as well as I do, it is all about the ambience.
They are so synchronized it is unnerving. I know they’ve worked together for years, played together, played with me as a threesome, and every time we play I am left awed. It is like they have one brain between them, anticipating each other’s moves.
I shiver, hating the noise the hand ratchet makes as they tighten down bolts to secure the assembly of pipe and metal elbows. This I wasn’t expecting. They step away and look at their work. I don’t feel bound. I’m disappointed in the effect for all the noise they made. “It’s too loose. I don’t feel anything.”
“Can you get free?” Garrett asks, and I pull my hand. I’m stuck. I don’t have to wiggle my ankles to know I’m not going anywhere.
Thomas closes the distance between us and slaps me. Hard. Fuck! Not Thomas. Lord Fyre. He is angry. Cheek flaming, adrenaline speeds through my veins. I want to run but understand too late, I’m not going anywhere. He slaps me again. And again.
I guess my face is fair game. I hate to be slapped. That is why with Lord Fyre I try really hard to behave. I’d forgotten. In only a few short weeks, with Garrett’s irregular enforcement of the rules, I’ve become a very bad slave. He grabs my cheeks and squeezes. “Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes, Lord Fyre,” I say through pinched lips. It must have been a satisfactory answer because he walks away to join Garrett at the workbench. Leaving me to sit and wait.
It’s a funny thing how bondage which could have been perfectly comfortable a moment before can suddenly turn not so. Arms stretched to the sides, my back only supported by the single pipe, I am starting to feel the burn. I shift but it doesn’t help. Closing my eyes, I try to relax. Harsh whispers are a distraction. No chance in hell of finding my zone with them arguing in the corner.
Garrett glances over his shoulder at me, looking resigned, but it is still several minutes before they rejoin me. Each man carries a tray set up with alcohol, swabs, gauze, and an array of needles. Yes! This I can get excited about. I’ve watched both of my men do piercing sets onstage, separately, with partners other than me, and though I’ve considered asking to do a set with either or both of them, I haven’t and now that I am faced with the prospect of actually experiencing it, I don’t know why I haven’t. Well, actually, that’s a lie, normal
ly, with Lord Fyre at least, this type of scene would be absolutely tame, and I enjoy our edge play too much to spend our time with something so mundane compared to what he can normally dream up for us to do together. And Master? Eh. I’m happy to let him tie me up and torture me. He chooses to not use needles, and I’ve never requested them.
Garrett swabs me from shoulder to groin with a liquid surgical prep, which seems like overkill to me but I’m not arguing. I get to play! My heart is racing.
Lord Fyre asks, “Is this acceptable?”
“Yes, Lord Fyre.” Yes, yes, yes, a hundred times yes. I wonder what part of my body they intend to pierce. I consider begging, ‘not my nipples’, because they’ve grown so sensitive, but I don’t. Right now, I’ll take anything they choose to give me.
He takes a surgical pen off of his tray and draws a spiral on my baby bump. He hands the pen to Master who draw three lines just above my breasts.
In concert, Master and Lord Fyre pick up alcohol swabs and needles. They wipe the top line of the design Master drew. The liquid cools my flesh, and a cold chill goes up my spine. They each pinch the skin over one of the lines and align their needles. Both needles pierce my flesh, the needle moving smoothly under my skin like a snake. Oh! Expected but an unanticipated higher intensity pain knives through me. I break out in a cold sweat and feel slightly dizzy. Is this normal?
“Are you okay?” Master asks.
I realize my hands are trembling. “Yes, Master.”
Between my answer and their action, there is no delay. They pinch and pierce the second line. Oh God. I close my eyes as pain spreads between the two needles, a small dance of fire under my skin. I feel a third pinch and prick of pain. I open my eyes to watch as the metal slides between my skin layers, raising my flesh. Though I can only focus on one of the needles at a time and they are both piercing together, the needle I do watch seems to move in slow motion. I see the tip nearing the surface just before it pokes through the skin. Pop! I gasp, though the discomfort seems more tingling verging on numbness as I float above the soft comfort of pain. This. This is what I’ve missed.
“Continue?” Lord Fyre asks.
I am not certain whether he is asking Garrett or me. It seems unusual that he would ask, I have a safe word after all, but just in case Master would refuse, I answer, “Please, Lord Fyre. Don’t. Stop.”
Our gazes collide and I see such pride reflected back at me, my heart swells. Lord Fyre starts at the center of the spiral drawn on my stomach and works the design from a tight inner circle, widening outward. Master stands, arms crossed, not participating but witnessing.
The pain of the piercings ebb and flow and I float on the current, enjoying the rush. I float, forever suspended between the two men I love.
How much time passes? Minutes? Hours? I do not know as needle after needle slides under my skin to create the spiral. I know I am crying when a mirror is carried forward to show me the result. “It’s beautiful.”
I am immediately frustrated because I want to hug them both but I cannot move. Hug me. Hug me. Hug me! They don’t, they walk away, leaving me bound, pierced, and alone with my thoughts.
“Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.”
Helen Keller
Chapter 27
Thomas
We leave Kitten under the close supervision of a room monitor, who will watch her via camera until we return. In an emergency he is seconds away. It is Lewd Larry’s policy to have each room in The Attic under constant surveillance by both a team member and with an audio-visual recording.
As we leave the room, I don’t mention it to Garrett, but I plan to check up on him by watching the last month’s worth of his logged sessions. There are definitely some perks to being head of security, and I’m worried about him. He isn’t playing with Kitten, he isn’t playing with me, so it makes me wonder if he has lost his edge…or if there is something else going on. Someone. I don’t want to consider that but I know Garrett, he’s a monogamous kind of guy, except on the rare occasion he completely loses it. High stress affects people in different ways. I get that. But if he’s being a slut, I want to know before Kitten. I’m not sure she would understand that particular personality glitch.
It may be more mundane than that and I may be concerned needlessly. He’s often distracted by the sheer amount of work that goes into keeping Lewd Larry’s a well-oiled machine, and he’s on occasion forgotten Kitten, regrettable but also the flipside of his personality. The man is a workaholic. From what I know about his father the same could be said about him. I don’t know if it’s genetic or learned, but it’s definitely a family trait.
He’s not happy that I’m dragging him back to his office for a chat, and his irritation bristles off him. “If you trust me to take care of her while you’re away, the least you could do is support the decisions I’ve made in your absence instead of overriding my authority.”
I don’t offer comment even after we are behind closed doors.
“The doctor was fairly adamant that she not participate in any form of bondage.” His back to me, he runs his hand through his hair. When he turns to face me I can tell he is spoiling for a fight. “And please, do not encourage this damn natural birth quackery. Jackie is a bad enough influence.”
I sit down in one of two wing chairs, waiting for him to finish venting.
“You need to be home. She’s carrying your sons. Do you have anything to say?”
“Nothing.” I spread my hands out in front of me.
“I can assume you haven’t returned? Your brother still needs you? So tonight whisk in and give Kitten all the answers she wants to hear and when you leave, I’m again the bad guy. What comes next? Another trip out of the country?”
He is so enraged there is nothing I can say that will calm him nor can I promise him I won’t be called away. Anything I say at this point would only inflame him more. Silence seems the best answer.
He paces. “I can’t believe you aren’t going to say anything.”
Standing, I block his path and step into him, bumping our chests together. The kiss begins gently but then becomes rougher as I take what I want from his mouth and he takes what he wants from mine. Both of us struggle for dominance.
It is a long moment before he relaxes against me completely. He says, “Stay.”
“I can’t,” I say, though I know the safest thing for me to do would be to return to my regular routine. If Glorianna is having me watched, which I haven’t been able to determine, she would immediately notice I am not following a normal routine. I have to try to hide my brother in plain sight. Only as a very last resort will I turn him over, and then only because I do trust her word.
Taking my frustration out on Garrett, I kiss him again, rougher still, ripping apart the closure of his silk shirt. Buttons fall to the floor and the click, click of their bounce mocks the ruination of his Stefano Ricci handmade original. He shrugs out of the designer weave and lets it fall to the floor while he lifts my plain black t-shirt over my head.
Garrett jerks my belt off and slings it over the back of his neck so that the ends dangle over his shoulders. He unbuttons and unzips my pants, sinking to his knees and sucking my cock into his mouth before he even has my pants pulled over my hips. God. He bites my glans, the sharp jolt of pain pure pleasure.
“Easy, tiger.” I knee him in the chest, pushing him back and follow the motion, pinning him. I slap his face repeatedly. “You want it rough. Is that right?”
“Yes,” he grits out between clinched teeth.
“You want to hurt me?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe I’ll let you…after I take what I want from your hide.” I grab the ends of the belt, twisting then together before jerking his neck forward. I kiss him hard, tightening the leather to the point he can’t breathe. He doesn’t struggle, he pushes into the kiss. When I push him away, he is left gasping for air. His face is deep r
ed. I smack his cheek. “You like that too much.”
“Yes,” he grunts.
I slide the belt off his neck and double it in my palm, using the folded leather to smack his chest, his arms, and his abdomen. He yelps but the force I’m using is nowhere close to what I know he can take.
“Have you gotten soft on me?”
“No, Sir.”
I strike him repeatedly with the belt, making his chest glow a rosy shade of pink before straddling his face. “Suck me off. Fast.”
He doesn’t disappoint me. His face darkens as I force my cock deeper. He gags when I push as deep as I can go. I like the sound of him gagging around my penis. I withdraw and thrust deep just to hear the sound.
I feel his arms moving and guess he is undoing his pants. I pull out of his mouth. “Did I say you could do that?”
He grins guiltily.
“You want to touch your own dick?”
Catching his gaze, holding it, I watch his face, liking the lust I see as he grabs my hips and pulls me back into position over his face. I fill his mouth and slap the leather belt down over his bared side as he does so. He moans in pain, then laughs. I push deeper and he gags.
“God damn I’ve missed you, Garrett.”
I pump his mouth, while I’m lashing him with the belt. He is going to be welted and bruised when we’re finished.
I pull out, wanting to see my jism arc and spurt over his face.
While I am put slightly off balance by my ejaculation, Garrett takes the advantage by pushing me back. I’m gasping for breath when he pins me with his body. I could fight him, roll him off, and reestablish control, but I don’t want to. He wipes my cum off his cheek and laughs. He moves to straddle my face, asking me, “Turnabout is fair play, eh?”
I smile and open my mouth, but he doesn’t thrust in fast and deep as I’d expect.
He rubs his glans over my lips. “Lick it.”