The Subject Was Rose [The Sunset Palomino Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  “Use a half hitch.”

  “Why not just use a whole hitch? Damn! This flat polyester rope is slippery!”

  “Do you have to tie me at all? Why can’t I just stay untied? I promise not to squirm.”

  “It’s the whole premise,” Jesse explained patiently. “Remember when you were bound like a frog and Drake was…”

  “Fucking me? You can say it, Jesse. You’re timid for someone who was in the racy modeling world.”

  Jesse jerked the rope tight with maybe a twinge of anger. Now it was definitely tight enough to hold her. “Well, how often am I forced to watch while a guy fucks the woman I want to date?”

  Rose sighed. She supposed she knew how Jesse felt. She’d never been with two other people at the same time either. Yet she had never once felt a twinge of jealousy when watching Drake kiss Jesse. Quite the opposite. Her inner—or perhaps not so deeply hidden—psyche wanted to scream out, “More! More! Encore!”

  Still, she could see where Jesse would get a bit miffed when Drake slid his cock inside of her. She had, after all, given her permission to Drake before Jesse. “Jesse, Drake just happened to be in the right position at the right time. You were tied to the wall.” She wouldn’t have given up that experience for the world. How often did one get pounded by such a delicious stud while sucking the prick of another—the middle of a Neapolitan sandwich!

  Jesse sat back on the bed and regarded her. He still wore his jeans, while she was buck naked as the day she was born, spread-eagled on the mattress in Jesse’s bedroom. Drake was in the living room getting prepared, probably in a special latex suit. “So if I were the one kneeling behind you, you would have let me fuck you?”

  “Of course, silly. I mean, Jeez. You had just given me a mind-blowing Hand Relief Party.”

  Jesse sounded much happier. “Business in front, party in the back.”

  Rose frowned. “Wasn’t that how they described a mullet hairstyle? Oh!”

  Rose lost all capacity of speech when Drake entered the room. Not only was he not done up in latex, but he was dressed like a studly shirtless cowboy. Instead of jeans, he wore only leather chaps which nicely framed his pulsating cock, encased in a harness of some kind with four or so silver rings that looked painful. His bound cock bounced when he walked with authority, fully in control as always. He put a silver tray onto the nightstand and lit one candle with a lighter.

  Jesse sucked in air, too, at the sight. He watched Drake’s ass as he bent to light the candle. “Those chaps,” he said, as though he’d seen them before. “Good idea.”

  Standing up tall, Drake grinned down on Jesse. “And the cock harness?”

  Jesse nodded. “That, too. It’s the same.”

  Drake stepped toward Jesse and caressed his head. Jesse’s mouth was at the perfect level to dive onto that swollen, pulsating dick and gulp it down his throat, and it looked as though it was taking every shred of Jesse’s restraint not to do so. “I’ll take care of you later. First, we’ve got this little pet of ours, this little filly, all ready for us.” He took a plastic bottle of something from the tray and drizzled some on Rose’s breasts. Already it tickled, and she giggled.

  “You’re ultra-sensitive.” Drake was making a statement. He pointed at Jesse to massage in the oil on her tits.

  “Yes,” Rose gasped as Jesse’s hot palm stroked over her breast. She tried deep breathing, and before long Jesse’s hands were causing more delight than pain as he swished the oil over her rib cage and collarbone. “Ah. Oh!”

  However, she wasn’t prepared when Drake drizzled oil on her pubic mound. Drake’s touch wasn’t as gentle as Jesse’s—he acted in a hurry, brushing the oil over her mons veneris so rapidly she went all ticklish again. She squirmed when he fingered her pussy with the oil for only a split second—a moment during which she thought she might spontaneously combust. Holy crap, this guy is good. She didn’t want to say it aloud because Drake’s ego was already pumped enough with himself. He didn’t need additional praise from her.

  When she felt something cold and metallic against her pussy, she knew Drake had given Jesse her tits just to distract her.

  “What the fuck?” Rose blurted, lifting her head. But her view was mostly blocked by Jesse’s torso and arms as he swept his oily hands over her underarms. Drake was scraping the metallic thing down her pubic mound with rapid, even strokes. “What is that?”

  “Have no fear, pet,” Drake soothed. She heard him swishing something in a bowl of water, then start scraping again with the metal thing. Now he spread something foamy—shaving foam!—on her mons, making sure to tickle her labia with his fingertips as though tinkling the ivories in a supper club, probably to distract her again from the fact that he was shaving her pussy. “I’m going to have you smooth as a billiard ball, just ready for your waxing.”

  Rose cried, “It’d be nice if you’d ask permission before doing something like that!”

  Drake paused, his face a blank. “Oh. I didn’t know it was required. Dear Pet Rose, may I shave your beautiful cunt?”

  Rose lolled her head on the flat pillow. “Oh, all right.” She had done it once before with a randy teenage boyfriend and had regretted it with a week of itching, but this time was different. She knew it would be worth it, no matter how much it itched later.

  The men sped up their work, Jesse taking delight in thumbing her nipples, shooting arrows of pleasure straight into her clitoris. Meanwhile, Drake teased her clit with little tickles in between strokes of the razor. He was working her up, she knew, trying to distract her from the shaving but also pumping her up for the sensuality of the wax play. By the time he finally tossed the razor into the bowl of water and dried his hands, Rose was bucking like a wild mare at her restraints.

  “Do her forearms,” Drake instructed Jesse. “You did a good job with these knots.”

  Jesse oiled Rose’s forearms, again relaxing her with his massaging skills. But when the men switched so Jesse could gently oil Rose’s naked pussy, Rose jumped and cried out at an unexpected stinging on her chest. She raised her head and saw that Drake stood at the side of the bed, cock proudly erect, bulging between the restrictive silver harness rings. He held a red candle at his shoulder level and was pooling it in the vicinity of her belly button. The sensation was difficult to describe. The hot wax splashed, jumping like drops of water in a hot pan of oil.

  “Stroke your two fingers between her labia,” Drake instructed Jesse. “You’re good at that. But don’t get her too excited.”

  Rose knew the intention was to keep her mind off the wax. She found herself waiting for each splash and drip. Drake wielded three different colored candles that he alternated, seemingly creating a pattern down the center of her torso. He dripped on her boobs, her nipples, and Rose hissed in air.

  “Oh, too much, too much,” she whined, and Drake immediately moved to splatter wax on her rib cage.

  Rose was torn between the stinging of the hot wax and the plunging of Jesse’s fingers between her pussy lips. She knew that was the intention, but the anticipation of each splash of wax was driving her over the edge. Jesse’s massaging fingers would softly arouse her, and then the sting of melted wax would make her gasp. “Oh, please, Drake! Stop!”

  “Is it too hot? I can hold the candles up higher.”

  “Yes. I mean no! It’s fine! I just can’t stand the anticipation anymore. Every time I’m waiting for a drip of wax to fall I tense up, then Jesse’s fingers relax me, then bam! Another drip of wax!”

  Drake nodded at Jesse. “Let’s swap again.”

  Rose protested. “No! Are you serious, Drake? Come on! You couldn’t possibly be such a sadist as to—ah!” Yes, he’s such a sadist. I should’ve expected that. Drake was dripping wax on her freshly shaved mound.

  Jesse commented lightly, “You’re an artist with the wax. A regular Jackson Pollock.”

  Drake said, “My dad used to have a Pollock in the library, and another in the main living room. Here, why don’t you try? You’
re the artist.”

  Jesse took two candles from Drake while Rose squirmed. “I’m not much of an abstract expressionist.”

  “Yes!” Rose agreed fervently. “Jesse, you’re a photorealist, not an alcoholic drip painter!” She had studied some art at her culinary school, which was all about being artsy-fartsy, being near New York City.

  “I know.” Jesse grinned. “But it’s fun.”

  Drake bunched the pillow up underneath Rose’s head so she could watch Jesse. “Is it different when you can see?” he asked. “Then you’re not so tense and expectant.”

  “Yes, it’s less tense,” she agreed. “But the constant bouncing around—I mean the contrast between pain and pleasure—is wearing on me. I feel like I’ve run a marathon. Oh!” Jesse dripped a stream of wax directly between her labia, and it dribbled down hotly over her clit before hardening up.

  “Oh, God!” Jesse held the candle up high as though surrendering. “I’m sorry.”

  “Never apologize!” ordered Drake. Kneeling on the bed, he took the candles from Jesse and replaced them in the metal tray. “We’ve got a good artist’s palette going here.” Drake spanked Rose’s pussy, and she could tell by the clammy slap against her labia that she was mushy and wet with arousal.

  Rose huffed and puffed, every cell in her body on fire. The blistering wax had wakened every square inch of her body, thrown her into a permanent state of anticipation. What would be next? Cold ice? Drake’s brisk slapping over the cooled wax had her literally burning with a need she didn’t know how to fulfill. Drake was a true sadist, merely toying with her like a puppet master just to see her reaction. “Oh, God! Drake, you have to do something! I’m going to go out of my mind with frustration!”

  “Jesse,” Drake commanded. “Sit on her hips.”

  “I’ll ruin the wax painting. It’ll crack.”

  Drake grabbed Jesse by a bicep and jammed him onto Rose’s hips. To his credit, Jesse sat lightly, his hard-on bulging obviously in his jeans.

  Jesse spoke while twisting his torso to watch Drake behind him. “Drake, what are you—oh, fuck, not again, Drake! This is too, too fucking much!”

  Rose strained to lift her torso off the mattress. “What’s he doing, Jesse? What’s ‘not again’? Look, I can’t take any more of—ah!”

  Rose saw the metal and leather cock harness fly through the air and clatter to the floor just as Drake slid his upper thighs under Rose’s ass. Instantly the mushroom head of his hot, naked cock was nestled at the entrance to her pussy, and Drake was saying, “Don’t worry, Jesse. I’m not leaving you out, buddy. Turn around. Face Rose. I want her to watch.”

  Rose was torn between two opposite sensations. Drake’s hot cock slid up her slick channel as though being sucked, easily like hand in glove. He fucked her as though bobbling a ping-pong ball on a paddle, little, short strokes. She was fascinated with Drake’s agile hands, the long fingers snaking around Jesse’s pectoral to pinch the erect nipple, the other hand sliding to undo his jeans buttons. Jesse raised himself on his knees to give Drake better access, even twining his fingers together at the back of his own neck to show his compliance.

  And yes, Jesse had a slight grin on his face. He swiveled his pelvis to encourage Drake’s questing hand. Rose knew he wouldn’t mind so much once more being barred from fucking her if he was getting jacked by Drake.

  Drake unsheathed the long, thick cock, and it sprang forth eagerly. Drake jerked the prick in his oily hand, obviously taking great pleasure in smoothing his palm over the bursting cockhead. It was an unbearable dual sensation, one cock penetrating Rose up the pussy while watching the other, long and dark, being jacked right in front of her face. A mélange of sensations was sweeping over Rose. The cock plunging inside her was increasing the urgency of her own orgasm, had her thrashing her head back and forth and mewling like a trapped kitten. But she wanted to watch one man frig the other, watch the pleasure soaking into Jesse’s handsome features as he stroked his own chest and stomach.

  Drake kept up a lewd banter in a low growl. “You know you look good, Jesse, don’t you? You know you’re driving Rose insane with your beautiful body.” In between his stroking and pumping, Drake would lean forward to chew and nibble on Jesse’s shoulder blades. “You know how unbelievably hot you are, and you’re stoking this poor pet of ours over the edge.”

  Jesse let his head roll on his neck with pleasure. “I think you’re the one stoking Rose over the edge,” he said to the man behind him. Jesse looked down at Rose with soft eyes. “Right, Rose? You like being fucked by this muscular, smoking hot man?”

  “I like both!” Rose cried. Her ankles were bound so tightly to the posts of the double bed she could only lift her hips a couple of inches to meet Drake’s thrusts. The dried wax that coated her rib cage was cracking and falling to the drop cloth underneath her and she felt like she was rocking back and forth on little candies. “I like Drake’s cock inside me and I like watching him jerk you off.”

  “Oh, God,” grunted Drake, “I’m about to get off with your fat, juicy cock in my fist.”

  “Do it,” urged Jesse casually, as though he was completely above such things as “getting off.” “You like jacking me. My fat cock in your fist is making you so hot you’re about to come.”

  “Hey,” protested Rose breathlessly. “A little credit here.”

  “Sorry, sweet honey,” Jesse panted. “Got carried away with myself. Oh God!”

  Jesse came all over Rose’s chest, his eyes rolling into his skull as though surprised with the suddenness of it.

  Drake was a bit more mature with his orgasm. “Do it, my pet,” he growled, biting into Jesse’s shoulder. “Come in my hand. Come all over this pretty sex kitten. She’s lying here, all for you.”

  Drake’s cock spurted deep inside Rose and he held himself up on thighs like steel bars. He must have the concentration of a Buddha. She admired Drake’s ability to keep jacking Jesse’s prick at a thoughtfully reduced rate of speed while he was mired in spending inside her cunt.

  Rose’s toes curled so tightly toward the ceiling she nearly got leg cramps. She felt like an action hero, some sort of woman busting out of a shell made of rock, with the various layers of wax crumbling all around her. Drake painted a necklace of Jesse’s sperm on Rose’s chest, and she was thoroughly satisfied. She didn’t need, or want, to come all the time. Her ovarian syndrome sometimes made it painful to come, depending on how active the cysts were. Sometimes she derived more satisfaction from watching the pleasure of others, of knowing she was part of it.

  Jesse looked like a god, straddling her on his knees, his hands wrapped behind his neck, spewing drops of semen onto her. Aesthetically yes, Jesse had a longer and fatter cock, and Rose was glad it wasn’t pounding inside of her at the moment. Craning around Jesse’s side, Drake avidly watched as Jesse’s cock continued to splatter Rose. Drake bounced her on his cock, then withdrew to gently massage Jesse’s prick, draining it thoroughly.

  Rose squirmed out from under the writhing men and went to the bathroom. She tried not to ruin Drake’s work of art, but especially with the oiling Jesse had given her beforehand, many bits of wax fell onto the floor. She looked at herself in the mirror. Rose, you are a work of art. Who would’ve thought a month ago you’d be covered in colorful wax blobs with two gorgeous men waiting for you in the next room? You’re quite the piece. Rose smiled at her reflection. She liked this new wanton aspect of herself. Drake’s load of seed dribbled down her inner thighs and she hadn’t even bothered cleaning Jesse’s semen off her collarbone. She liked the way it glistened along with the colorful, patriotic wax. Her nude, freshly shaven pussy made her look like someone else entirely. She knew she’d regret it later, but it sure had been fun today.

  When she returned to the cottage’s bedroom, the two men lounged on the drop cloth. They looked spent and exhausted, as though they should be smoking cigarettes. Drake was propped against the headboard with one arm slung over Jesse, who lolled with his head against Dr
ake’s chaps-clad thigh. Rose giggled and carefully crawled onto the mattress to join them, little red, white, and green chips crumbling off her. She sat in the protection of Jesse’s torso, stroking his face with the back of her hand.

  Drake said, “We need to get that wax off you, my pet.”

  Rose sighed. “I’m afraid some of it’s come off on my way to and from the bathroom.”

  “That’s fine,” said Drake. “My maids are used to vacuuming it up.”

  Rose was surprised at how much this irritated her. She had known Drake was an incorrigible horndog when she had met him. Just because he’d promised to explore their new relationship monogamously didn’t erase anything that had gone on prior to that. Without pausing to filter herself, she blurted, “I should’ve made you wear a condom. You’re just a hopeless playboy, Drake.”

  Even more surprising was how readily Drake admitted it. “You’re right, Rose. I even have a couple in my pants in the living room. I’m sorry I got carried away. I just thought we’d do some sensation play and I’d play with Jesse.” The two men looked fondly at each other. “I thought I might force you to watch me and Jesse, that’s all. I got carried away. I promise you I’m clean, but I’ll use a rubber next time.”

  Rose pouted, but was more than appeased by Drake’s mature response. She took the metal tray from the nightstand and began to drop hard blobs of wax into it. Jesse sat up, peeling the wax droplets from the tips of her breasts. Rose said, “That’s all right. I believe you that you’re clean, just like I believe Jesse is—”

  “You bet your sweet ass!” Jesse’s eyes flashed, but he quickly went back to his work.

  “—and I have no chance of getting pregnant anyway.”

  Drake joined in the work, kneeling next to Rose and fingering her slick clitoris before peeling the blobs from her pubic mound. “I’ll put some aloe gel on your mons.”

  Rose smiled and looked at her lover over her shoulder. Drake made her feel soft, desirable, and utterly feminine. “Thank you, Sir.”