Lieutenant

by Lesli Richardson

  Leaving. Will text when home. Rough time, Owen will be okay. PHT

  The last is shorthand code he’s set up with me—Please Hold Texts.

  It means wait until he contacts me, don’t even text a response that I received that text.

  So I do what I can to make Carter’s life easier—I sit and wait, glancing at the clock to calculate a rough time of arrival for them at the dorm.

  It’s over three hours later when he texts me.

  Home. Awake?

  I reply immediately.

  Yes, Sir.

  My phone buzzes with another text a moment later.

  She’s a cunt, worse than I thought, but I know what we need to do now. I’ll give you details tmrw night. You still going to Tllhsee on Owen’s bd wknd?

  That’s an odd segue, but whatever. Carter knows about my trip. I haven’t told Owen yet, because Carter told me to hold on to that info, for now.

  Yes, Sir. Why?

  He responds shortly after.

  I want the house for the wknd. I have a plan, but need privacy and 2 nights w/him.

  I think about this long and hard. I’ve already given the men keys and alarm codes.

  Then you can use the house.

  :) Good girl. Tnk you. Sleep tight. See you tmrw.

  Carter doesn’t use emojis very often. As in rarely.

  It’s the texting equivalent of him stroking my hair when I’m on my knees for him.

  Especially when his cock is down my throat.

  The next evening, Carter motions me to follow him outside to the lanai shortly after Owen falls asleep on the couch. Between a heavy dinner, and the stress of yesterday catching up with him, our poor boy is wiped out. Owen acted subdued today, but I sensed I shouldn’t mention yesterday to him unless he brings it up first.

  Carter now confirms that.

  “It was bad last night,” he starts, speaking low and quickly, knowing as well as I do that Owen could awaken at any time. “Really bad.”

  He recounts the evening for me. To someone else, it might sound like an exaggeration.

  Except I know our Owen—and yes, I already think of him as ours.

  Our pet.

  Hey, Owen himself came up with that label, and it privately makes both me and Carter giggle in good ways.

  If only he knew.

  Carter and I were raised differently than Owen, even if our adult experiences differed drastically from each other. Carter was raised standing up for himself as the little brother. I was raised to be independent and speak my mind by parents who reveled in my stubborn streak, my tenacity, my unique personality.

  Owen, not so much.

  I totally get why Carter wants to use the house for Owen’s birthday weekend, and why he prefers that I’m not there, although I wish I could be a fly on the wall. Carter’s afraid Owen won’t fully open up around me for fear of me rejecting him.

  Carter is a genius, and, once again, my confidence in him is affirmed.

  “So what now?” I ask when he finishes.

  “Birthday weekend.” A slow smile fills his face. “I’m going to bring things to a head and shift him into full-on formal sub mode.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  His smile widens. “Emotional lubrication.”

  “So, getting him drunk, then, I take it?”

  He snorts. “Fuck yeah, getting him drunk.” He glances through the sliders to make sure Owen’s still asleep before pulling me in for a long hug. Carter relaxes a little more with me in private now, as if his trust is building in me, too. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m evil.”

  “Oh, you’re evil, but we’re the same kind of evil. The good kind of evil.”

  His chuckle rumbles through me. “Yeah, true.”

  * * * *

  Well, I almost fuck everything up. Fortunately, Carter doesn’t ding me for it later. What happens is that Carter is too busy and focused on Owen during Owen’s birthday weekend to do much texting with me. Sunday, when I tell Carter I’m on my way home from Tallahassee, he texts me back and asks me to play along following my arrival.

  I hope that means a breakthrough, because Carter also decided a few weeks ago that he wasn’t going to fuck me unless or until we get Owen over the hump into full-on formal submissive status. We do nearly everything else but that.

  So yes, I have a vested personal interest in this beyond the obvious.

  Sue me.

  When I arrive home, Carter and Owen start telling me about their weekend. I sense a change in Owen, a good one. He acts nervous, yes, but he also seems to possess a more relaxed vibe.

  And I spot the collar around his neck, the lock peeking out the back, even though it’s hidden under his shirt, until they show it to me.

  It’s after we finish getting dinner ready, and it’s in the oven, where I nearly fuck it all up.

  We’re sitting on the couch, and Owen’s going to kneel for me and show me positions.

  Keep in mind, these are positions I already know by heart.

  Thank god Owen is nervous, because although they haven’t told me the position names yet, without thinking, I ask him to kneel in At Ease.

  D’oh.

  Carter starts talking to me, telling me about the position, then leads Owen into the next one. Only once Owen’s down in Devotion does Carter give me one of his infamous smirks.

  “Sorry, Sir,” I silently mouth to him.

  But all is forgiven, and he indicates for me to rub Owen’s head and talk to him.

  And…I do.

  Before they leave that evening, while Owen’s in the bathroom, Carter pins me against the kitchen wall and kisses me. “You know what happens now, right, pet?”

  I smile. “Fun and games?”

  He grins, and it’s so perfectly evil and dark that it nearly makes me come right there. “Fun and games, pet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Carter, the rat bastard, still hasn’t taken us over that intercourse threshold yet, even though it’s been over a week since Owen formally became our submissive.

  Okay, a week since Owen formally became Carter’s submissive, and I have certain…privileges with him.

  Why aren’t we fucking yet? Carter refers me to Owen’s admission to me about his submissive needs. That Owen was nearly panicked before they “told” me, worried I’d reject him. Carter told Owen that Carter would be working with me to show me….things.

  That means the bastard extraordinaire uses much of our alone time together for working on my “formal” training. I mean, sure, it is what Carter told Owen we’d be doing, so I guess we really should do it, instead of further misleading Owen about what we’re doing. There’s enough we’ve already concealed from him.

  Like that I already know much of this stuff.

  Although, as Carter points out to me, we never told Owen we weren’t having sexy time together, or getting together behind his back, and that’s a key point. While there are some omissions and even a few outright lies being told that I agree are in Owen’s best interest right now, we haven’t actually broken any rules Carter laid down for Owen in terms of Carter and myself.

  That is a key distinction.

  Besides, if Owen can survive Carter’s training, I know I can do it. It’s a point of pride for me to want to be able to take what I’m going to be dishing out.

  Carter does have a valid point, though, as much as I hate to admit it. He wants to make sure we’re on the same page, and wants to make sure Owen’s getting consistent training. I completely agree with that. The best way to do that is to train me, too, which dovetails nicely with the narrative he’s given Owen about our current activities.

  Except…

  The more Carter works with me—both on how to dominate Owen in only good, healthy ways, and working on my own submission—the more I realize I can no longer deny the truth.

  I am in love with Carter, and have been, for a while. Probably since the week we first met, if I’m really honest with myself.

 
I’m well aware of our deal. He clearly made a point of telling me not to fall in love with him unless I can completely give myself to him.

  Marry him.

  But even more, submit to him.

  Yet the heart wants what it wants.

  I’m used to getting what I want, even if I have to work my ass off for it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want Carter.

  Another promise I made to him when we started this was that I’d never lie to him.

  That night, after Owen’s left for the dorm, as I kneel there—naked, of course—in front of Carter in Primed, I feel the words itching in the back of my throat and yearning to be set free.

  Carter sits back on the couch and watches me. I know he’s in a lot of pain tonight, which is why I’ll be driving him home after we’re done. Part of that is due to a bad fall he took with me at lunch yesterday, when we had one of our “struggle snuggle” sessions here at the house.

  I didn’t mean to knock him off the bed.

  #whoopsies

  He wasn’t upset about it, though. The man does have a wicked good sense of humor. He even made a joke about that’s why it’s always best to tie a subby to the bed, to prevent them from falling out.

  But tonight, he’ll leave the Snot Box here, and Owen can bring him back tomorrow morning before their classes to pick it up.

  Although it won’t be the first time Carter’s been in pain following one of our play sessions. He’ll have to cover it up in the morning during his run with Owen, use his old injuries as an excuse. I mean, yes, Carter does legitimately have bad pain days from his old injuries, but wrestling with me doesn’t help things any.

  Then again, he keeps doing it with me, so who’s really the masochist?

  “How’s my pet tonight?” he quietly asks in that voice.

  The voice that makes my body tingle and turns me into someone I don’t recognize, but who I enjoy becoming, for a while.

  I don’t know how to answer him without lying, and I don’t want to come right out and say it. That’s why it takes me a moment to muddle through it in my brain before I open my mouth.

  “Preoccupied, Sir.”

  He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “You might as well tell me, pet. I knew there was something going on, even before Owen left. You’ve acted tense all evening.”

  “I love you, Sir.”

  “I love you, too, pet.” All three of us have said that to each other now, countless times, meaning it as friends.

  “I…I mean, I’m in love with you, Sir.”

  And there it is.

  I refuse to break Primed to wipe away the tears now rolling down my cheeks, but I hear the sigh that escapes him, see the way his gaze softens a little.

  “I guess it’s time we had a talk our own, then, isn’t it, pet?”

  “I know your rule, Sir. I’m sorry.”

  I still haven’t been instructed to move, so I hold my position and sniffle back tears, hating that I feel so weak and vulnerable.

  Something I’m definitely not used to feeling. Not like this. Except I also know that’s kind of the whole point of this. Carter wants to gently break me down, wants me to understand things from this end so that I can be a better Dominant to Owen. He wants me to understand what we’re doing to Owen—only more drastic in Owen’s case, since Owen has so many unhealthy thought patterns Carter needs to rid our sweet boy of first, deprogram what his fucking mother did to him

  Except…

  I’m starting to see it’s also pretty addictive, feeling like this. I wonder if Owen feels addicted to me and what we do the way I’m starting to feel addicted to Carter.

  Or if Owen feels like this about Carter, too.

  He studies me for a long time. “You know Owen is in love with you, right?”

  Stunned, I study his gaze, note he’s smirking, and I’m completely at a loss for words.

  “Really, pet? You couldn’t tell?”

  “I-I mean, I know he likes me, and loves me as a friend—”

  He laughs. “Pet, he belongs to you. Totally. There is no one else in his heart. You are the only one on his mind in that way. He’s in love with you. Madly, deeply. And therein lies a slight…problem.”

  “Problem, Sir?”

  “Yes. Well, not a problem so much as a complication. I’m in love with Owen. I have been since the first day I met him. You know that. I also meant what I said to you about you not falling in love with me, unless you’re prepared to marry and submit to me.”

  My throat dries up as I contemplate that. Sure, I’ve masturbated to fantasies of being sandwiched between the two men, especially since Carter takes great pride in using those kinds of fantasies on me, but that’s one of those impossible things.

  Isn’t it?

  He continues. “I don’t want to break up the band, so to speak. Before we go any farther, I need to know—honestly—how you feel about Owen.”

  “I like him. A lot.”

  “Do you love him?”

  I think about that long and hard. “Of course I love him. But I’m not—”

  “In love with him, the way you are with me?”

  “Correct, Sir.”

  “Are you physically attracted to him?”

  Hooooo, boy. Am I. “Yes, Sir.”

  “To the point you could you sleep with him?”

  My face heats, so even if I wanted to lie, I’d immediately be called out on it. “Yes, Sir. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

  It’d be a few hundred fantasies made real.

  Carter continues. “No, Owen doesn’t know how I feel about him yet, or even that I’m bi. I never wanted to pressure him. I wanted to make sure I didn’t scare him off, or pressure him in bad kind of ways. I think he will quickly learn to enjoy being with me under the right…circumstances. Especially considering how quickly he’s taken to everything I’ve put him through so far. He hasn’t asked to reciprocate with me yet, so I don’t think he’s quite at that point. All he wants is unconditional love, and affection, and he gets that from me. And now from you. He’s eager to please when he can trust. That’s why he bends over backward for us.”

  “Because he trusts us.” I immediately feel more shame about something that happened last Friday, when I inadvertently broke one of Carter’s secret rules for me about how to handle Owen.

  I’d told Owen not to be stupid, when I should have used the word silly or ridiculous. One of those kinds of throwaway lines we’ve all used without thinking about it.

  I certainly didn’t think about it, at the time.

  Fortunately, Owen didn’t take it the wrong way. But Carter immediately put Owen in Devotion before calling me from the room to chew me out in private in the bedroom.

  Carter warned me then if I repeated the error that he would take Owen, walk out, and they’d be done with me.

  “And that’s why you came down on me so hard when I told him not to be stupid, even though I wasn’t actually calling him stupid.”

  His gaze bores into me. “Exactly. In addition to the I’m in charge and no lying rules, here are our revised rules moving forward, should you accept them.”

  Carter ticks them off on his fingers. “Owen will always come first. When in doubt, default to whatever must be said or done to follow that. Rule two, regarding you accidentally calling him stupid the other night, you cannot do that again. Ever. If you do, I will end things with you immediately. At some point in the future, if I feel he’s finally moved on to where he can easily tell generic idiom from direct insult, I might lift the restriction. But I promised I’d protect him, take care of him. That means in all ways, and that means even if I’m protecting him from you. It’s not our fault she weaponized language against him, but it is our responsibility to make sure we keep him safe. He’s fragile right now. Maybe it’s overkill on my part, but that’s my rule, take it or leave it.”

  I sniffle back snot even as tears roll down my cheeks. “Yes, Sir.”

  Owen is gentle and sweet, and the thought t
hat I could have wounded him emotionally, even accidentally—which makes it worse, in my mind—well, it kills me. I’m definitely not going to be much of a sadist when it comes to Owen, I can see that now. Carter will need to take up the slack in that department.

  Somehow, I don’t think either of them will mind that.

  “Rule three, what we’re doing right now still stays secret and between us, except for what I tell Owen. Especially the sex. Rule four, you will not date anyone but me, and you’re not sleeping with anyone but me, and probably Owen. This also means I now control your orgasms, the way I control his.”

  I can barely talk now, with hope and the good kind of fear suddenly filling me. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Rule five, you must be okay with something sexual developing between me and Owen, and my complete ownership of him and you. No jealousy over that, over what might happen between us, either in front of you, or without you present. Yes, there will be sex involved, including threesomes. Meaning the three of us,” he adds. “Not any outside people.”

  A mental image of Owen bent over the bed and eating me out while he gets plowed by Carter flashes through my mind. I give up trying to form words and simply nod.

  Carter the bastard extraordinaire smiles that smile. “Did you just think about the upside to me owning and using both of you, pet?”

  I nod again.

  “I can’t guarantee he’ll be okay with that, but I suspect he will, if we handle this properly. So if you and I are going to do this, understand that once that final line is crossed with him, there will be times I turn him loose on you to fuck your brains out for my amusement. It means you do what I say, it means you don’t argue with me. Means I’m trusting you not to masturbate, and to follow those rules. It means I require trust and faith and honesty. Means a lot of hard work. Some of it unpleasant.”