The candle’s flame winked a warm glow against Sinclair’s handsome face. “No shoebox, no.”
Violet tried to jam her hands onto her hips angrily, but got stuck when the chain snapped taut against the back of her neck. Oh, right. Cuffs. She was confused about where her new shoes had gone, but Harper enticed her to the bed. He sat on it and patted the mattress.
“Come. Be a nice, docile little patient. Your husband here said you can be quite feisty and stubborn and willful. You know we don’t tolerate that around here. So, come. That’s good.”
“Yes, she’s been just terrible,” said Sinclair, standing on the other side of the bed. “Telling me about steamy fantasies she’s had, rubbing her nether regions against me, even being so daring as to lick my earlobe.”
Violet lay on her back like a mummy, hands above her head. Even when she and Bryan had been sexually active they hadn’t played games like this, and Violet was completely ignorant about how to proceed. Luckily she had two experienced players. Harper clicked the lobster claw clasp on her wrist chain to a rope around the headboard posts.
“I’m telling you, doctor,” she declared in that plaintive tone she hoped was old-timey. “I’ve been just about going out of my mind with these horrible fantasies.”
“Tell me about them,” Harper said smoothly as he inched the tight one-piece spandex down over her hips.
“She’s just been awful,” Sinclair breathed, fiddling with one of her nipples so it peaked. “Just full of womb fury.”
Violet almost giggled at that. “Womb fury” actually was one of the descriptions the Victorian doctors used to describe their patients. She could picture an enraged, reddened womb gnashing its teeth, steam coming out of its head. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with erotic fantasies,” she protested. “What do you think, doctor?”
Harper said, “They’re acceptable if they’re done in the right environment. The doctor’s office, for example. Right, Mr. Nieman? This is an acceptable environment for sexual fantasies.”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Sinclair. He bent forward and took Harper’s lead in sliding the black garment down Violet’s legs. “Tell the nice doctor about your fantasies, Violet.” When Sinclair tossed the bathing suit to a chair, he quickly snapped her ankle cuffs to ropes around each footboard post.
Violet wiggled her bare hips. She still wasn’t comfortable being completely naked in front of her men, and now she couldn’t even fold her hands over her belly. But she had to get over it sometime in order to play freely with them, so she had to swallow her pride and keep telling herself, They accept me the way I am. “Well, my fantasies actually involve a doctor…doctor.” She almost giggled again, but Harper’s serious aristocratic face encouraged her to continue. “I daydream about sitting on a doctor’s lap and squirming around, making his penis erect while he discusses anatomy with me.”
“Anatomy?” Harper prompted, sliding his hand up her thigh. Her inner cunt fluttered as his talented fingertips neared, but he just barely brushed them against her pussy lips.
“Yes,” she gasped, “we discuss my figure, my form, how attractive he thinks I am. He runs his hand over my tit—my breast, and pinches my nipple. It makes me wet in my…nether regions.”
As Sinclair was doing just that, taking turns pinching each of her nipples, Harper’s fingers plunged between her cunt lips. With her ankles tethered, she didn’t have much wriggle room and could only thrust her hips up toward the ceiling. She realized the restriction on her movement was making her more vocal. Her frustration with being bound was going to come out one way or another.
As she said “nether regions,” Harper began a stroking against the side of her clit, a rhythmic petting movement that imitated the plunging of a penis. “You like authority figures,” he said quietly. “You like the idea of being helpless, being played with by someone in power, like me.”
“Oh, yes.” Already Violet was thrashing her head about. She tried to keep her eyes squeezed shut, but they popped open because she wanted to watch Harper. So very beautiful. I’d like his face between my legs again. “Like you, doctor. I know you’re going to take care of my hysteria, and my husband will be very glad about that.”
Harper tilted his head thoughtfully. “He’s helping. He has every wish to have his obedient, proper wife back again.”
“You’ve got an erection,” Violet gasped. She felt herself turn red when she realized what she’d blurted, but she had no wish to take it back. “Your penis is hard, doctor. You must enjoy your work. If you untie me I could fondle your erection.”
Harper laughed. “Not a chance. I’ve got you right where you need to be, to be taught submission. What else do you dream about, Violet? Do you dream about sucking the doctor’s cock? Do you dream about being filled in every orifice?”
Violet’s brain nearly exploded as it struggled to wrap around the dirty talk. Sometimes she thought she would just spontaneously combust at the hands of these two sensual men. “Yes! That’s exactly it, doctor! I feel so empty and I want to be filled. I know I’m a naughty, lewd woman thinking this way, but I can’t help it. I dream about big cocks, sucking on them, being filled by them. You’ve got a big fat cock and I want you to plunge it down my throat now!”
Sinclair said, “You see, doctor? You see what I have to deal with?”
Harper’s response was strangely calm. “I know you’re craving forbidden fruits, my dear.” He stroked her higher and higher, ever closer to the edge from which there was no turning back. “All hysterical women desire the dark, taboo side of sex. It’s part of the disease and only I know the cure.”
“Oh, yes, doctor!” Was that me crying out? “Give me the cure. God, please give me the cure!”
“I’ve got the cure, all right,” Harper said suavely. He gave Sinclair a nod then.
Up until now, Sinclair had only been toying with her breasts. Now he stood and shucked his golfing trousers. It must be nice to be so unashamed of one’s own body. Violet drank in the sight of his carved torso and rounded ass as he stripped off his boxer briefs, too. His dick stood out, proud and erect and pulsating with his heartbeat.
She asked quietly, “What does my husband have to do with the cure, doctor? He is the one making me so hysterical.”
Harper said, “I like to make husbands part of the cure. That way they can learn to participate in healing the patient. Mr. Nieman? Sit on her face, please.”
Obediently, Sinclair clambered on, straddling her by placing a knee on either side of her neck. His testicles dangled, overly large so close to her face, and without instruction she opened her mouth to suckle them.
She was gratified when Sinclair let loose with a deep, resonant groan. He sounded like a man who had just settled into the perfectly heated hot tub, and his groan vibrated right down to his balls. Violet could vaguely hear Harper on the fringes of her awareness goading them on.
“That’s right. Good girl, Violet. Pleasure your husband. You’ll find that pleasuring him increases your pleasure, too.”
Violet nearly scoffed with disbelief. True, that was probably how they advised wives in the Victorian age. Harper was just enhancing the role playing they were doing. But even knowing that, Violet bristled with rebellion. What about my pleasure? Isn’t this all about the hysterical woman gaining relief? Why did men always have to stick their dicks into it?
But as she suckled and Harper offered soothing words of encouragement, Violet came to the slow realization that Harper was right. Sucking and nibbling at the enormous testicles was turning her on even more. Harper hadn’t sped up his ministrations to her clitoris. But she knew she was dripping such copious amounts of juice onto his poor hand that he could barely get a grip on her anymore.
This is turning me on. Knowing she had absolutely no control over whether or not to lick the balls, knowing that she was helpless in the face of the men’s domination, it was turning her on. It made her hot to have her wrists and ankles bound so all she could do was pointlessly pump her hip
s. When Sinclair started swaying his hips forward and backward, slashing his balls across her teeth, Violet set to groaning, too. She knew the vibrations of her groans would oscillate through his balls and abdomen and drive him insane, and she was right. He gripped his cock by the base and started jacking himself.
“Good, good,” Harper continued. “Keep sucking your husband’s big balls.”
And then he stopped stroking her. On the outskirts of her awareness, Violet knew Harper was shedding his clothes. She certainly loved watching that, but she was being smothered by the enormous ball sac.
“Suck him, Violet.”
Suddenly Harper was standing nude right at her shoulder. Detaching her mouth from Sinclair, Violet tried to inch her way up the mattress by yanking on her arm chains. She wanted to see Harper naked, to luxuriate in the sight of his beauty, but he cupped Sinclair’s balls in his hand, fondling them, rolling one ball and then another through his fingers.
“No!” she demanded.
Harper paid her no attention. He licked Sinclair’s lower lip and drawled, “How can you keep your hands off this big, beautiful stud, Violet? Living with him would have me hot and ready to go every minute of the day.” And he cradled Sinclair’s jaw in his hand so he could plaster an openmouthed kiss to his lips.
“Noooo…” Violet wailed plaintively, like some hyena on a distant prairie. She knew what Harper was doing. He was trying to rile her until she went out of her mind, and it was working. Taking a deep breath, she yelled some more. “Harper! Doctor! It’s time! I’m ready! Finish me off. Soothe my hysteria. Soothe me right now or I’m going to get even more hysterical!” She rattled her chains like a modern Jacob Marley, and her moans did sound eerily similar.
But Harper only chuckled as he licked Sinclair’s luscious, bowed lips. He covered Sinclair’s hand on his prick with his own, and took charge of jacking his friend. Salaciously, sensuously, he jacked the length of the stiff tool, making sure to rub his thumb around the shining droplet at the slit that loomed ominously above Violet’s head.
“You bastard! I know you’re trying to teach me a frigging lesson. Enough already! What happened to the credo of ‘do no harm’? Doesn’t the patient come first? Don’t I have any rights?”
This time it was Sinclair who laughed. His tongue reached out like a lizard’s to lap at Harper’s mouth. “What should we do? Shut her up?”
Of course Harper loved that. “Yes. Let’s.”
Harper vanished as Sinclair sat squarely on Violet’s face. Her mouth was full of his meat again so she couldn’t yell actual words, just sounds. And she yelled plenty of sounds, even when Harper finally touched the tip of his tongue to her clitoris and licked.
What she was screaming in her mind was “God fucking dammit, you frustrating bastard! Is this what your clit torture involves? Then I don’t want a fucking thing to do with it! Just do me, make me come, and give me my hysteria relief!”
But Harper wouldn’t even do that. As Sinclair groaned like a bear and pumped his prick, Harper gave her clit a few last slices of the tongue, and now she didn’t even feel his breath against her labia. Where did he go?
“God fucking dammit! Get back here, Harper! Put your handsome, sexy face between my thighs and make me come!”
Sinclair swiveled his hips like a pole dancer, grinding his ball sac more firmly into her open mouth. Violet flailed pointlessly against her chains, lifting her hips to the roof. She let out a yowl that must have resonated fully into Sinclair’s Adam’s apple when something dull, firm, and round was pressed against her pussy.
Harper’s hands held her hips up now, too. Was he violating her with a dildo? He should know that wouldn’t satisfy her hysteria. But Violet had no control, and no choice other than to allow Harper to invade her. As he slid up inside her, she realized it’s his cock. He’s fucking me. They hadn’t consummated their affection yet as they were taking their time and going slowly, but as his cock filled her, Violet realized now was exactly the right time.
Harper had called her his “girlfriend” and now he was claiming her. It felt more right than ever as he kneeled beneath her, impaling her on his fat cock. She mouthed Sinclair’s balls with a sob in her throat. She jiggled her pelvis to let Harper know she approved of his invasion of her inner cunt. Now his fingers returned to her clit to finish the job, and she immediately ruptured in a mind-blowing orgasm.
“Do it, Harper,” urged Sinclair. “Fuck our little Violet with your delicious cock.”
Sinclair, too, spilled his seed on Violet’s forehead, in her hair, against her ear as she went off like a rocket around Harper’s cock. Sinclair flooded her with arc after arc of warm jism as Harper pounded her, the tip of his cock nudging up against her cervix.
Spasms rolled up and down the length of her pussy. They gripped her womb in a new kind of hysteria and clutched at Harper’s beautiful penis as he thrust into her. She wished painfully that she could watch Harper, his hypnotic eyes drilling into her soul, his thin, narrow features shutting down with concentration as he pumped to his own climax.
Sinclair soon granted her wish as he rolled off her, spent. She gasped a few healthy breaths of air and tried to raise her torso to watch. Harper was divine in the candlelight. It was just as she’d envisioned. Her inner clitoris was still convulsing around Harper’s cock as he fucked her with his well-hung cock. His sinewy body was cut and toned from years of riding the range, his throat burned a red-brown by the sun. Sinclair propped himself on one elbow and admired Harper too as Harper’s mesmerizing eyes bored into Violet.
She knew when he came—his cock jerked and he wedged himself deep inside of her. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, only the edges of his nostrils flaring.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Violet whispered. Her pussy clutched at him in some new kind of second orgasmic wave. His thumb was still rotating against her clit as they locked together.
When Violet squeezed her eyes shut next, she seemed to lose track of time. She didn’t know how long her eyes had been closed but she was still engaged with Harper. Now he folded his torso over hers. His satiny chest hair felt cool against her breasts. “I love you,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her throat.
It took a while for it to sink in. Violet was too focused on breathing to notice at first. Her inner pussy kept on twitching, making her jump like a drip of water in a hot pan. She clenched around his fat prick, milking him.
“I love you, Violet,” he said, and rolled off of her.
She lay there panting, completely wiped out. Then it struck her. He just said he loves me. Twice. As though I didn’t hear it the first time. And I don’t think I did.
Violet knew she loved Harper, too—she had known this since meeting him in Drake’s kitchen. But admitting it, confessing it, was another issue entirely. She wasn’t used to it, and couldn’t give that word freely. She and Bryan had even stopped using it after the first five years, when things had started going downhill. She hadn’t expected Harper—of all people—to be the first to say it. If anything, she thought it would be Sinclair.
Maybe if I just lie here and pant, he’ll think I didn’t hear him. She loved Harper with a passion that made her chest hurt—she just couldn’t say it.
She felt more than heard Harper get up off the mattress. That’s when Sinclair said firmly, “Hey. Violet. Did you hear Harper?”
“That’s okay,” said Harper in a dismissive tone.
Sinclair persisted. He started unbuckling her wrist restraint. “Did you hear what Harper just said—twice?”
“I heard him,” Violet had to admit. She could feel Harper hovering there in suspense, wondering what would happen next.
Sinclair prompted her. “And? Do you have anything to say to him? It’s the normal routine, you know. It’s only good manners.” He rubbed her arm, sore from being held in a new position for so long.
“It’s all right, Sin. Thanks for having my back. It’s okay.”
Now Violet could raise her torso a
nd twist so she could lean on her elbow. Harper was heading for the bathroom. “Harper, no!” she called. He stopped. “Come back. I did hear you. Let me explain.” She unbuckled the other cuff as though it were a minor irritant now, which it was. She was overjoyed that Harper came back, but he stood there, his fat cock still at half mast, throbbing with blood.
Now she could sit up at least, and Sinclair slid down to unbuckle her ankle. “This better be good,” Sinclair murmured.
Violet lifted both hands to Harper in an expression of remorse. “It’s just difficult for me to say those words, Harper. It’s not that I don’t feel them—I do. Lord knows I do, Harper.”
Harper’s smile seemed genuine, and he stroked her temple. “It’s all right, Violet. No explanations needed. I don’t require quid pro quo. It’s not a race or a game. I just said what I really felt—what I’ve been feeling.” He shrugged. “That’s all.” He made as if to turn around again.
Violet had to stop him. Sinclair had finally gotten her ankle unshackled and now she could curl up submissively into a small ball, expressing the emotions she felt. She felt small. “But I must explain, Harper. You know, for some people it’s easy to open up and give. It’s no effort at all for them to give of themselves like that. Me, I’m not used to it. I’ve never experienced real love for a man until recently, meeting you…” She looked shyly aside. “And Sinclair. But for me it’s a major big deal to express such strong emotions. Who has given more, then? Receiving love from which person is a bigger, more substantial gift?”
Both men were silent, and Violet knew her words were sinking in. She tugged on Harper’s hand, and it didn’t take much effort to pull him down to the bed.
“Makes sense,” Sinclair said. “It’s difficult for you to express emotions, Violet. We get it.”
Harper said, “Makes sense. But that’s no excuse, Violet. You know you’re going to have to come clean one of these days.”
Sinclair chuckled. “She basically just said it.”
The Substantial Gift [The Sunset Palomino Ranch 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 13