“Spread your legs for me, lad.”
He did, exposing his hole to Ethan’s gaze.
For balance, Ethan kept one hand on Thomas’ back. Ethan inserted a well-lubed finger up Thomas’ arse, pushing past that first band of resistance, then the second. He wiggled backwards, urging his lover in deeper.
“Greedy lad.”
“I am. Now for fuck’s sake, fucking fuck me.”
Ethan laughed. “I want you to enjoy this, first.”
“I am enjoying.”
“Enjoy more.”
“You are a sadist.”
“I’m giving you pleasure. Shut up and enjoy it.” A second finger joined the first, and Ethan pushed deeper, finding that sweet spot that made him moan. Deep in his balls, an orgasm built to a fevered pitch.
His insides were slick and moist from the lube, and he was hungry for his lover’s possession.
Ethan inserted a thumb, then began widening Thomas’ hole. He was making love with his hand, lubing, teasing, preparing, taking his time and making Thomas hunger. “I want you ready for me.”
“I couldn’t be more ready,” Thomas insisted. He wanted to grab his own cock and beat off, but Ethan was so deep that Thomas needed both of his hands for balance.
“Almost there,” he said soothingly.
“Already there,” Thomas corrected. “Already there.” Then he groaned as Ethan widened his anal opening even more. “I want your cock.”
Ethan removed his fingers and thumb.
Thomas sighed, feeling the tip of his friend’s cock at his sphincter’s entrance. “Yes!” No matter how Ethan prepared him, the first thrust took his breath away. That power. That energy. That possession. He burned. Hurt. Needed.
Ethan shoved deeply into him, filling him, stretching him.
Then he stopped.
Thomas tossed his head back and forth. “No.”
“Patience.” Ethan’s voice was hypnotically soothing.
The man’s hand closed around Thomas’ cock. He stroked, and, greedily, Thomas began to move.
The sensation of having his arse stuffed full by his lover’s cock and thrusting back and forth in his hand was almost too much. Pre-ejaculate leaked from the tip of his penis.
“Come for me, lover,” Ethan whispered, jacking him off.
With a yelp of surrender, he did.
His hot seed spurted everywhere. And Ethan was relentless, milking him until he was dry. “Ethan!”
“That’s it,” he said.
Overwhelmed, Thomas moaned when Ethan pulled out entirely, only to slam back into his arse in a single, masterful stroke.
“I…” He sounded like Alana had earlier, weak and submissive.
“Yes, lover, you can take it. You can take me.” He buried his cock all the way to his balls.
“Argh,” he moaned again.
Ethan fucked him hard, all the way out, all the way in, until he was spiralling out of control.
He felt the subtle change in the man’s cock. And he knew Ethan was going to come. Ethan’s fingers dug into him as a deep, guttural moan escaped from low in his throat.
“I’m yours!” Thomas cried out, happy, grateful for the lovemaking.
Finally, orgasm spent, Ethan withdrew.
Thomas, his own legs trembling, helped Ethan back into the chair. “The woman’s given you a new burst of enthusiasm.”
“Are you complaining?”
After that bout of sex? “Not at all, Sir.”
“Me, either.” He reached for his all-but-forgotten brandy. “I may have need of your body more than usual.”
He smiled. “I live to serve.”
* * * *
Upstairs, alone and forgotten, Alana fumed. Despite Ethan’s earlier admonishment that she should be graceful and calm, she paced back and forth. What the hell did she care if she wore a hole in the elegant tapestry rug? It would serve him right. Jackass.
She’d travelled thousands of miles to be in his lordship’s presence, and he’d sent her to her room like an errant child. Or a woman to be taken off the shelf when he wanted to play with her. Or, damn it, like a sub to be ordered about…
Her breath left her lungs with a whoosh.
She sank onto the edge of the bed.
She was all that.
When he’d told her to bring the letter, he’d been very specific. He’d e-mailed her a detailed list of acts, of punishments, of humiliations, and she hadn’t crossed through anything, including the branding or the piercing. To tell the truth, she hadn’t taken them seriously. People really didn’t do those kinds of things, did they?
She unfolded the letter and scanned the list for at least the tenth time. And then it hit her. Some of the stuff, she was embarrassed by. But if she didn’t say it embarrassed her, they wouldn’t have to talk about it.
In not marking anything, she hadn’t meant that she was game to try it. She just hadn’t wanted to look too deeply at it, hadn’t wanted to confront her own thoughts and feelings.
Now, he was making her do exactly that.
He’d made her come to him, instead of coming to her.
He’d instructed her to bring no clothes, no toiletries, nothing but herself, and that damnable bag of inhibitions, fears, and desires. And was going to open the bag and expose every one of them.
She wondered what she’d really gotten herself into. It was one thing to sit on the patio of her Florida home and daydream about being a sub. It was a kick to dress up as a man instructed and go into a club in the heart of Miami. But it was another entirely to be in the middle of nowhere, stripped of not just clothes, but also of a polite veneer to hide behind.
With this man, she wouldn’t go home by herself to her private sanctuary, and then go on with her regularly scheduled life. Here, for the next fortnight, she’d be exposed, mentally, as well as physically.
How would she ever go back to her regularly scheduled life after this?
She slid off the edge of the mattress and crossed the room to pick up the letter.
When Thomas had delivered her to the room, he’d told her there was no lock on the door. “But Master has made it clear you’re to stay here until the morning. It’s part of your punishment. If you don’t stay in the room, he’ll assume you want to go home.”
With a grin that lit his gorgeous eyes… Wait. Had she actually thought the driver had gorgeous eyes? He didn’t. He had eyes that disguised a diabolical mind, just like Ethan’s… Thomas had closed the door with a decisive click.
Pissed off, she’d wadded the paper and envelope and thrown them at the closed door.
She carried the letter to the small desk and smoothed it out, a bit ashamed of her childish display.
She sat at the desk, aware of her naked lower body on the wooden seat.
She took out a pen, and, this time, she was honest with herself.
Spanking. Yes, definitely.
Paddle. Maybe.
Crop. Scares me.
Cane. Absolutely not.
Leather belt. Yes, definitely! She added a second exclamation point. She gnawed on the pen’s cap. Would it be a bit over the top to add, please?
Gag. Pushes my limits.
Blindfold. Scares me. Even though she’d used one before, it wasn’t an experience she really wanted to repeat.
Dental dam. Absolutely not.
Handcuffs. Yes, definitely.
Other restraints. Yes, definitely.
Nipple clamps. Nervous. But might like to try.
Nipple clamps with weights. Absolutely not.
Collar. Yes, definitely.
Lead. Lead? Had she missed that one the first time? Lead, like as in a leash? But the idea held an illicit thrill. Nervous, she admitted. But might like to try.
Labial clamps. Embarrassed to admit I want to try this.
Public spanking. She’d done this at the club more than once. It wasn’t so bad. But, she wondered, did he mean the same thing? At the club, there were rules. Nudity wasn’t allowed. With Ethan,
she suspected it meant that she would be exposed, which was an entirely different thing. With trepidation, she marked, yes, if it pleases Master.
Homosexual play. Her gut tightened. No. She didn’t add absolutely not. But she didn’t stray into the convince me option.
Threesome. A threesome? With him and Thomas? Yum. How was that for honest?
Under all the bondage options, including breast bondage, she selected, pushes my limits. Then she wrote, convince me.
Piercing. Embarrassed to admit I want to try this.
Branding. Not. Ever.
Finally done, she tossed the pen on the table and stood up.
Thousands of thoughts crowded in her mind. His demand that she be honest with herself as well as him had opened her eyes. There were things she never wanted to try. There were things she might like to try, still others she wanted him to nudge her towards trying.
Now that she was done with her pique, she really noticed how lovely her room was. Antique furnishings. Down comforter inside a gorgeous jacquard duvet cover. Half a dozen pillows on the bed. Crystal glasses with a hand-etched water pitcher.
Still, she thought, as she looked at the closed door, it was a cage, gilded or not.
She wondered what he was doing, wondered what Thomas was doing.
And she hated being isolated.
Lesson well learned.
She took off the ridiculously high heeled shoes. That improved her mood all by itself. Then she removed her garter belt and stockings. She wiggled her toes into the rug. Feeling happier, she took off her bra and blouse.
Now, naked and aroused by the thought of all the things Ethan might do to her over the next two weeks, she wanted that orgasm she’d been denied.
He hadn’t expressly forbidden her from masturbating. But he hadn’t said it was okay, either. So that left her…where?
For now, frustrated.
She crossed into the attached bathroom. Might as well get ready for bed. After all, she had to face her lord and master first thing.
The bathroom too, was lovely.
Marble and luxurious hardwoods, along with soaps and lotions. A dozen white, fluffy towels hung from heated racks.
And, hanging from another rack was an enema bag.
Oh-oh.
A subtle reminder of her subservience.
Her heart thudded.
Freaking wonderful.
She’d never had an enema before, and she couldn’t say she ever wanted one. Alana scowled. Enema hadn’t been listed on the letter. So what did that mean? Surely he wouldn’t force her to have an enema without even discussing it?
Try as she might, even while she filled the oversized, jetted tub, she couldn’t take her gaze off the hated thing.
Finally, before getting into the steaming hot water, she unhooked the bag and shoved it into a drawer…where she found extra tubes of lubricant and something in a black velvet bag. She pulled it out. A glass butt plug. Bigger than a man’s penis.
She dropped it and slammed the drawer shut.
She didn’t want a plug up her ass any more than she wanted a gush of water in it.
Alana found a hair clip and some pins, and she scooped up her hair and secured it atop her head before climbing into the bath. Determinedly, she enjoyed the bliss of the soaps, and she turned on the jets. She tried to forget about the need for an orgasm and concentrate on something else. Anything else.
The warm jets of water pulsed, massaging her lower back and shoulders, easing the fatigue of the trans-Atlantic flight and the discomfort of being on her knees in the back of his car, and, oh yes, as well as being on her back, legs spread and her butt lifted so she could show both men her pussy.
Something like that should scandalise her. And at one time, it might have. But not now. Now the memory of it just made her hot. Had Thomas, looking in the rear-view mirror, liked what he saw? Had Ethan, her master, wanted her?
Almost unconsciously, she turned over and moved towards one of the powerful jets. She spread her legs and tried to get her body angled correctly so the stream would pulse against her clit.
She closed her eyes. Sightlessly, she parted her labia and moved her hips, thrusting in a simulation of sex.
Thoughts of Ethan consumed her.
She imagined him implacably pulling her across his lap and spanking her bottom for being so naughty.
Maybe Thomas would be there, watching, as well…
Maybe Ethan would hold her prisoner while Thomas had a turn. After all, she had behaved badly…
Maybe…
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter Five
Guilty, caught, Alana shoved herself away from the jet, slipping as she did.
She flailed, seeking purchase, unsure how she was going to act.
Unladylike, ungraceful, she slipped, knocking her chin on the side of the tub.
Ethan hauled her up and out of the bath.
She stood in front of him, head lowered, shaking from the onset of nerves as steam swirled through the room. Water cooled on her skin and her nipples were hard little nubs.
The roar from the jets couldn’t begin to drown the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears.
Ethan pressed a palm against a wall as he studied her. “I asked you a question.”
She knew well enough to know he wouldn’t accept “nothing” as an answer. So she opted for the truth. “I was using the water’s jet to masturbate.”
“Ah.”
Water dripped from her body onto the ceramic tiles. “I was horny.”
“Always a good reason to fuck yourself without permission.”
She lifted her head. His words sounded conversational enough, but were they just a cover? She had no idea how much trouble she was in, and she had no idea whether to continue speaking or leave well enough alone and shut up while she still could. He didn’t appear angry, but what did she know? With him just staring at her, saying nothing, she more or less babbled. “I was having my bath, and I had my head tipped back, and my eyes closed, and I was thinking about you spanking me.”
“Go on.”
“And Thomas was there, watching. I wasn’t consciously masturbating.” Well, mostly not.
“I unconsciously masturbate all the time,” he told her.
Crap. How serious was he? Totally off balance, and now, nervous, she ran her tongue over her upper teeth. “Uhm…”
He raised a brow.
“Am I in trouble? I mean, we never specifically discussed whether or not I could pleasure myself.”
He spread his fingers apart on the wall. “When we were in the car…”
“Yes?”
“I can swear I said something to the effect of, if you don’t climax when given the opportunity, it could be a long time before you get the chance again.”
“I…”
“The rules, my rules, are not flexible. Was there anything in that statement that you found questionable?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Join me,” he said, the statement as inflexible as his rules, “in the drawing room in five minutes. Fully dressed.”
Fully dressed?
“Questions?”
“Are you sending me away?”
His eyes were storm-tossed as he leaned in closer. “No.”
So why, then, did he want her dressed?
“Five minutes.”
The moment he left, she grabbed a towel and dried herself off. Five minutes was an eternity if you were on your knees, the blink of an eye if you were trying to get ready to go somewhere, especially if you had to fuss with stockings and a garter belt.
It was less than five minutes when she made her way down the stairs, holding on to the banister for dear life in those shoes. Going up was one thing, she’d learned, going down was an art.
When she entered the drawing room, both men were there, seated in the wing-backed chairs. Ethan was sipping another brandy; Thomas was drinking bottled water.
Ethan, she notic
ed, was absently rubbing his leg. Maybe from the exertion of dragging her from the tub?
“Come in,” Ethan invited. “Stand before us.”
Not knowing what to expect, she did.
“Tell Thomas what I caught you doing upstairs.”
Somehow it was worse confessing her transgressions to someone else. She felt her face flush crimson as she said, “Masturbating.”
“Specifically?” Ethan asked.
“I was…” She cleared her throat. “I was trying to get myself off on the hot tub’s jets.”
“A little louder, please.”
She cleared her throat again. “I was thinking about…fantasising about Ethan spanking me, and I was masturbating in the tub.”
“Would you simulate that act for us, please?”
Her eyes widened as she jerked her head towards Ethan.
“You told me upstairs that you were fantasising about Thomas watching while I spanked you. Go ahead and get undressed, pretend you are climbing into the tub, and talk us through your fantasy. We have all night. Take as much time as you need to bring yourself off.”
He was dead serious.
Being asked to strip and masturbate herself in bright lights was a worse punishment than isolation. It had been different in the car. There was an air of urgency then, and Thomas’ glances in the mirror had been furtive. Now, they were both sitting back, enjoying a beverage and she was the entertainment. “I’m really not an exhibitionist.”
“You wanted to be the centre of my attention,” Ethan said. “And you’re the centre of Thomas’, as well. And you’re always free to leave,” he reminded her.
“Keys are in my pocket, whenever you give the word, love,” Thomas added. “We wouldn’t want you to do anything you’d rather not.”
“Indeed,” Ethan agreed.
No way would she leave, especially not within the first twenty-four hours. She was made of sterner stuff.
Resolved, she pulled her blouse from the waistband of her skirt.
Alana suddenly understood why she had been instructed to get dressed. There was an extra layer of humiliation involved in taking off her clothes for their pleasure.
She couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned.
In every email communication over the last few months, he’d warned her that she’d be asked to do things that were outside her comfort zone. Until now, she hadn’t realised where her boundaries were.
Signed, Sealed & Delivered Page 4