In rhythm, he finger fucked her in both places.
“You like it?”
“Yes.” Yes, she liked it. Yes, she wanted more.
“Do you want to orgasm?”
He kept up that searing double penetration.
“Yes, please. Please let me come, Master. Please. Let. Me. Come.”
“No.” He stopped the motion entirely and pulled his hands away from her.
“Thank you,” she said.
He smacked her right cheek. “You are a well-mannered slut.”
“Thank you,” she said again, hoping he didn’t notice the words emerged somewhat disingenuously and through gritted teeth.
“You’re welcome. Now, play with your tits. Your nipples need to be nice and hard for the clamps.”
Everything, he’d told her. Today would be a culmination of everything she’d experienced. Those things she liked, and especially those things she didn’t.
He went behind the beautifully lacquered screen and emerged pushing the silver metal tray that generally accompanied the gynaecological table. He kept the tray mostly hidden from her view, just to add to the torment, she was sure.
She cradled her breasts in her palms, then pushed them together and squeezed her nipples against her forefinger, exerting pressure with her thumb.
“Like this,” he said, moving her hands aside.
He pulled on her right nipple, distending it, then painfully pinching it. Her eyes teared up. Then he released one of the clover-style clamps onto it.
“Thank you,” she managed.
He repeated the process with her left nipple.
The clamps were a relief after the pressure he exerted with his grip.
He tugged on the chain linking the clamps, making her blink to force back the tears. When he gave a particularly nasty yank, she said, “Thank you, Master!”
Once she’d remembered her manners, he backed off the intensity.
Now that was a lesson worth remembering. Too bad she wasn’t a quicker study. She could have saved herself a lot of pain over the last fourteen days.
He brought over a collar. And it wasn’t a pretty little thing. It was a stout piece of black leather. Serviceable, but not attractive.
“Lift your hair.”
She did.
It was all she could do not to be overcome by him. He smelled so good, looked so good with tight jeans, and, today, a dove grey shirt that made his eyes even more compelling.
When he tugged on the collar, making it tight, but not uncomfortably so, Alana gave in to her deepest, darkest urges and turned her head to kiss his hand. “Thank you for collaring me.”
“You’ll make some Master a fine sub,” he said.
The reminder that he was going to send her away stopped her heart momentarily.
He attached a lead to her collar. Again, it wasn’t pretty, it was something like you’d use for a medium sized dog.
The emotional realisation that she didn’t want to go back to Florida was more overwhelming to her than any physical or mental punishment he’d ever mete out.
“That rolling stool in the corner,” he told her, “bring it to me.”
Forcing herself to concentrate on the here and now, not the empty future, she rolled the stool towards him.
“Over my knee, sub.”
She placed herself appropriately, balancing with her fingertips. Her nipple clamps pulled downward, exerting even more pressure. She needed something to distract her from the pain, quick.
“Thomas?”
Thomas? When had he arrived in the room? And how had he done it without her noticing?
“Do you mind giving the sub a few spanks?”
“My pleasure.”
Her mind reeled.
This had been one of her fantasies, Ethan holding her prisoner while Thomas spanked her.
The first spank took her breath away. He was much more harsh than she anticipated. But she thanked him regardless.
His bare hand worked her over, and as her rear got heated, she noticed that she became more and more wet. Surely the men could smell her the way she’d smelled Celia after her beating.
She was shameless.
She wriggled her ass, silently asking for more.
“Enough,” Ethan said after a dozen open-handed slaps. “Alana? What do you say?”
“Thank you, Thomas.” Then, hardly believing her own ears, she said, “How about another dozen.”
“Hussy,” Thomas said with a laugh.
“Tip yourself a little farther forward. Spread your thighs a bit more.”
Afraid she would fall, but, on a deeper level, trusting Ethan completely, she manoeuvred into the position he’d chosen.
“Your cunt is going to be clamped.”
She literally bit into her tongue. She hadn’t excluded it from her list, she remembered, but nor had she thought he’d actually do it.
“Be brave,” Thomas said.
As if he’d be brave if she attached a pair of metal teeth to his scrotum.
While Ethan kept a palm firmly pressed between her shoulder blades, Thomas crouched between her legs and plumped her labia with small pinches.
“The tension on these isn’t quite as tight as the ones on your nipples. They’ll burn a bit, but they’ll pull down on your lips, making them look gorgeous.”
She didn’t even want to take his word for that.
“Ready?” Thomas asked.
“Do it.”
“I’ll take that as an unequivocal yes.”
It was closer to a hell no.
It hurt, but it was more of a dull ache than actual pain. And that made it quite a nice surprise.
Then she felt a plug at her anal whorl. Ethan had told her not to wear one for the past three days to give her a rest. Thankfully, though, with the way it slipped in Thomas’ grip, she knew he’d put lots of lube on it.
As he rocked it forward, then pulled it out, her nipple and labial clamps tugged, distending those delicate parts.
There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel inflamed.
And then, she tasted rubber. While Thomas was inserting the plug, Ethan was forcing a gag into her mouth.
“Breathe,” Thomas coached.
But her torment wasn’t finished. Ethan put a blindfold over her eyes. It wasn’t one like Tony had used that she could see beneath if she tipped her head just right. This engulfed her in darkness.
A moment of panic engulfed her and she struggled.
“You can do it,” Ethan told her.
She grabbed onto the sound of his voice as if it were a lifeline.
She repeated his words again and again until she could breathe normally.
They’d calculatingly increased the amount of things she was simultaneously subject to. She could no longer form a coherent thought.
“Thomas will take you to the cross,” Ethan told her.
Then, finally, clamped, plugged, blindfolded, collared, leashed, gagged, the men helped her to her feet.
She felt fingertips against her spine. Thomas, she knew. It had to be. His fingertips were callused, Ethan’s were not. The clamps on her cunt made it impossible for her to take anything more than small, shuffling steps.
“You’re doing well,” he said against her ear. Louder, he said, “Stop. Now, one more step forward.”
She’d never been more disoriented in her life. Her breaths came quicker and quicker.
“You’ll hyperventilate if you keep that up,” Thomas said. “Take deep breaths.”
When she’d regained her composure, Thomas said, “Give me your right arm.”
She had to consciously think which was her right arm. Thomas helped her. He gripped her wrist and pulled it up, securing it to the cross.
“Now the left,” he said, fastening her in place.
In moments, he had both of her legs affixed to the cross as well.
“You’ll receive four strokes with my belt,” Ethan said. “Then four more with a paddle.”
; Him telling her what to expect was a mercy some subs didn’t receive.
“Then I’ll finish you off with another four from my belt. Spread the fingers on your right hand if you understand.”
She did.
“Thomas will count them for you.”
Instead of the expected blow from the belt, she felt Thomas’ hands on her upper and inner thighs, then on her rear as he vigorously rubbed her skin.
“Now then,” Ethan said.
He caught her first with an upper cut, just beneath her butt cheeks.
This whipping, she suddenly realised, wouldn’t be purely for instruction. It was meant to push her.
Behind the blindfold, she blinked.
“Show me your safe sign.”
She did.
He landed the second one in exactly the same spot. She jerked, making the clamps all pull on her painfully.
Only two more of them, though, she knew.
The sadistic bastard placed the next two in exactly the same spot.
Tears spilled from her eyes.
He switched to the paddle.
She heard its whoosh moments before she felt its stinging impact on the right side of her ass.
The next balanced it out on the left.
She jerked.
“You’re not becoming aroused, are you?” Ethan asked.
She felt fingers probing between her legs.
Unbelievably, despite the pain, or maybe from it, she was wet.
Thomas, she didn’t know if it was mercifully or unmercifully, played with her pussy, making her horny. The clamps swayed together even when he moved away, making her delirious.
She lost count of the next strokes or the fact Ethan had switched back to the belt.
All she knew was she was lost, flying, thinking of nothing but the moment.
She was snapped from her reverie when she felt Ethan’s cockhead at her vaginal opening. She knew it was Ethan from his scent, from the way his thighs pressed into the back of hers, denim to hot, naked skin.
“Take me.”
She couldn’t, not with a plug filling her.
But he pressed into her. She moaned behind the rubber ball.
She was stuffed full completely, her mouth, her anus, her pussy.
She pressed back into him, trying to get him deeper.
She ached for his possession, yearned for her Master’s touch.
He ejaculated before she did, shooting deep inside her.
She knew, in that instant, that she loved him. This man who pushed her beyond where she’d ever been before. He understood her, cared for her, gave her no quarter.
Vaguely, she was aware of the buckles being released. And Thomas caught her, holding her upright.
“Concentrate,” he said quietly. “Stand up.”
She forced herself to focus on his short, simple sentences.
“I’ll release your gag last,” he said, “simply because I can’t stand to hear you moan when I take off the clamps.”
Chicken. He was a complete chicken.
“Alright now, love?”
She nodded.
He released her, but her knees sagged anew when he took off the labial clamps.
“Plug,” he said. “It’ll be easier if you’re squatting.”
Not coherent enough to be indignant at the suggestion, she squatted. She sighed from the feeling of relief when he pulled out the monstrosity.
Using his forearm for balance, she stood again.
Next came the nipple clamps.
But Thomas was merciful, as he released each, he suckled on the smashed nub, and that somehow lessened the pain.
He released the blindfold next and she blinked furiously against the light.
She sought Ethan and quickly realised he wasn’t in the room.
Thomas removed the gag, and she swallowed deeply. She still couldn’t talk because her jaw ached, but Thomas surmised her first question, and he said, “Ethan will meet you upstairs.”
Ethan. She wanted him, needed him.
Thomas offered her a towel, and she wiped her mouth. Then she put a hand on Thomas’ face. “Thank you.”
“You are learning.” He grinned.
It took almost a minute before she felt she could walk under her own power. And she started up the stairs, gripping the banister for support.
She knocked on his door, and she entered to find him sitting in a chair, facing the door.
“Thank you,” she said, sinking to her knees.
“You pleased me,” he said. “You did well. Better than I could have hoped for.”
She smiled.
“And you’re proud of yourself? You should be.”
“I…”
He pressed his palms together.
There was a lump in her throat all of a sudden. “I can’t help but think I’ll never find this again.”
“Come here.”
She stood and went to him. He imprisoned her head with his hands and kissed her deeply.
She felt adored and cherished.
Then, she was aware of other hands on her back, rubbing her. Thomas.
There was a heaven, and it was in Ethan’s bedroom.
Wordlessly, Thomas carried her to the bed.
Ethan removed his clothes and joined them. “Mount me.”
Joyfully, she did. She sank onto his cock, grinning. Then Thomas was behind her, cupping her breasts, delicately playing with her oh-so sensitive nipples.
“I’m going to fuck your arse,” Thomas said against her ear, “while you ride the Master.”
“If you could see her expression,” Ethan said dryly.
Then both men were filling her, stretching her, making her cry out.
She’d never felt anything like it, two cocks relentlessly splitting her. There was nothing more overwhelming, more thrilling.
Ethan reached between them to play with her clit. With a shudder and a scream, she came.
Cradled between the two powerful men, she slept.
“You’re still going to let her go?” Thomas asked.
“A deal is a deal,” Ethan said. “We have a contract. Everything between a sub and Dom is sacred. I have to let her go.”
****
“I’ll be having a word with you, Ethan.”
Ethan turned from his place at the window and raised his brows. He’d instructed Thomas to bring the car around for Alana’s return trip to England.
But here she was.
Never before had Alana breeched the sanctity of his bedroom without an invitation.
“This is my letter,” she said.
There was nothing respectful about the woman standing in front of him wearing her high heeled shoes and short skirt with a buttoned-up shirt and tightly fastened bra. This woman, with her flashing green eyes and hair about her shoulders was a force to be reckoned with, she wasn’t a sub, she was the woman who’d fought through layers of his security and refused to take no for an answer.
This was the woman he’d fallen in love with.
She tore up the page and brazenly threw the pieces on the floor. She ground one of them beneath a stiletto heel.
Sexy.
“If that didn’t make my point, maybe this will.” She crossed the room and stabbed a finger into his chest.
Lord help him. He sat on the windowsill, no longer certain he could stand without the aid of his cane.
“I told Thomas not to bring around the car.”
“You countermanded my order?”
“Damn straight.”
And damn if that wasn’t an American term that gave him a sudden hard-on.
She captured his head between her hands. “Now you listen here, Mister.”
“I have a title,” he reminded her, a smile teasing his lips. “A proper one.”
“Not right now you don’t. Your name is mud.”
“That sounds serious.”
She kissed him. Hard. Deep. Aggressively.
She tasted of determination and femininity in one alluring
package.
He was done for.
“I’ve already told Thomas we’re a threesome,” she said when she ended their kiss.
“You have, have you?”
“And now I’m telling you. I. Am. Not. Leaving. I’m quitting my job, packing it in, as you might say. And you’re stuck with me.”
“We had an agreement.”
She glanced at the tattered pieces of paper on the floor. “Now we don’t.”
“I’m your trainer.”
“You’re the man I love,” she contradicted. “Well, you and Thomas. Thomas and you. Whatever.”
“Whatever,” he muttered.
She bit his lower lip.
“Cheeky sub.”
She unbuttoned a button on his shirt. Not her own, but his. “Master me.”
“That’s a fulltime job.”
“I take it the slut isn’t leaving?” Thomas said from behind her.
“Turns out our sub still has a lot to learn,” Ethan said.
“Indeed, Master.”
She looked over her shoulder towards Thomas, then she looked back at Ethan. Despite her bravado, he noticed she trembled a little. This moment meant everything to all of them.
“Are you up for the challenge, Master, or shall I send her packing?”
Ethan saw her holding her breath, waiting.
"Why are you dressed?" He took hold of the front of her shirt and ripped downward, spitting buttons across the floor.
She gasped and then she smiled.
"We want you naked, sub, and your arse presented for punishment. Impertinent wench." There was so much more for them to teach her. And he intended to enjoy every moment. "We're not finished with you yet."
“I guess this means we’re keeping her,” Thomas said. The two men exchanged glances, and they grinned.
About the Author
Born in Northern England and raised in the Wild West, Sierra Cartwright pens book that are as untamed as the Rockies she calls home.
She's an award-winning, multi-published writer who wrote her first book at age nine and hasn't stopped since.
Sierra invites you to share the complex journey of love and desire, of surrender and commitment. Her own journey has taught her that trusting takes guts and courage, and her work is a celebration for everyone who is willing to take that risk.
Email: [email protected]
Signed, Sealed & Delivered Page 14