Daring Dixie

by Tara Crescent

  With a sigh, I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I’m not a fan of cold showers, but maybe a lukewarm one will take some of the edge off.

  24

  Dixie

  Hunter and Eric are exactly on time. Once again, when they knock on my door, I don’t invite them in. Last time, I wanted to keep it impersonal. And this time? I’m desperately trying to rebuild the walls I’ve dropped around them.

  I don’t know what it is about them. I’ve trusted them with my fantasy. I told them about William. I’ve laid back on my bed, my legs spread open, and I masturbated on camera while they watched. If I invite them in, we’re going to end up making love in my bedroom.

  Everything feels far, far too intimate. This is a casual arrangement. I can’t want the intimacy. I can’t need the closeness. I’m not entitled to it.

  This time, Eric’s driving. “It’s a rental,” he explains as he opens the front passenger door for me. “Unlike Hunter, I don’t obsess over cars.”

  “Are we going there?” Hunter raises an eyebrow. “If we’re going to talk about insane hobbies—”

  “Let’s not.”

  Their banter is easy. Hunter and Eric have known each other for a very long time, and it shows. Maybe that’s why they’re so comfortable with the idea of a threesome.

  It’s not a big car. “I’ll get into the back,” I demur. “There’s not enough legroom for you here.”

  Hunter opens the door for me. I slide in, and he shuts it and gets into the car. Eric starts the engine, and we head down the road toward the highway. “Where are we going?”

  Hunter and Eric glance at each other. “That's a little complicated,” Hunter responds. “We have some options. Eric is staying at Summit, so we could head there.”

  I don’t like that idea, not even a little bit. That’s Xavier’s castle. He lives there. I know my boss knows what I’m doing—Eric has told him—but I still don’t want to run into him. I’m having a threesome, sure, but I’m not ready to shout it from the rooftops.

  “Or?”

  “Or we could head to my mother's house.”

  That sounds worse. It’s one thing to have sex in the backseat of a car—that’s a hot, forbidden fantasy. But going to Hunter’s mother’s house, sleeping in his bed—that feels too real. Too intimate.

  I swallow hard. “Is there a third option?”

  “Yes,” Eric responds. “Our friend Damien's house is thirty minutes away. He’s on vacation.” He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “That was his driveway we borrowed last Saturday.”

  “Oh. That's how you knew it would be private?”

  Hunter flashes me an amused look. “While your fantasy was to be watched by a stranger, I assumed that you didn't really want it to be a stranger.”

  That's why he was so calm last week. He knew we were on private property and the odds of us being disturbed were extremely small.

  A friend’s house. That should be nice, neutral ground. “Can we pick that option?”

  They exchange another glance. Then Eric speaks up. “Damien’s house it is.”

  We drive in silence for about ten minutes, and then my gaze falls on a black duffel bag on the seat next to me. “What’s in the bag?”

  “That’s your present.”

  “A present?”

  Hunter chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. It’s an assortment of sex toys. You never did pick out what you wanted, so Eric grabbed some things.”

  My throat goes dry with anticipation. Heat swirls through me. The duffel bag is not small. How many toys did they pack in there? What are they going to do with me?

  I can’t wait to find out.

  We arrive at our destination, pulling up in front of a two-story brick house. Eric gets out and holds the door open for me. Hunter grabs the duffel bag from the backseat and a bag of groceries from the trunk.

  Two large planters flank the door. Eric bends down and grabs a key from under one of them. “So predictable, Damien,” he says with a shake of his head.

  “Umm, are we breaking and entering?”

  Hunter’s eyes rest on me. “Another fantasy of yours, Dix?”

  As a teenager, I’d fooled around with William, half my attention on the door to my bedroom. I’d been afraid that my parents would burst in at any moment. It wasn’t until after I went away to college that we finally did it. Eighteen months after the park incident.

  “Not really.”

  A smile touches his lips. “Don’t worry, nobody is going to burst in. Damien’s in Peru, and we warned him we might borrow his place.”

  “And he didn’t want to know why?”

  He chuckles. “He didn’t ask, but I’m assuming the reason was obvious.”

  Inside the house, a floor to ceiling window overlooking the lake dominates the living room. The furniture looks solid and comfortable, chosen for function, not form. That’s all I have time to take in. Hunter sets the duffel bag down on the coffee table, and beckons to me. “Come here, Dixie. You’re not getting out of choosing.”

  I make my way to him, anticipation setting my pulse racing. Eric moves into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator, and puts the groceries away. “In case we get hungry,” he explains. “After all, we have to keep our energy up. Dixie, do you want some wine?”

  Sex toys and wine. “Yes please.”

  He holds two bottles up to me. “Red or white?”

  The white looks like Chardonnay, and every time I drink it, I get itchy. Not a good idea. “Red, please.”

  While Eric opens cabinets in search of wine glasses, Hunter unzips the duffel bag and empties its contents on the coffee table. Oh wow, it’s like a very kinky Christmas in here. There is rope. There is a large wand massager, similar to the ones I’d seen last night on the Internet, its head as big as my fist. There are a few packages of nipple clamps—none of them pink. I pick one up and glance questioningly at Hunter.

  “Eric bought a few different types,” he explains. “You can decide which one you like best.” He picks up a package and holds it out to me. “These are Japanese clover clamps,” he says. “They tighten as the chain connecting them is pulled.”

  A shiver runs through me.

  Hunter’s hands settle on another package. “These are tweezer-style clamps,” he says. “Unlike the clover ones, these are adjustable. You can decide how tight you want them.”

  My fingers tremble as I take them from him. My eyes scan the table. There are two pairs of cuffs. A blindfold. There’s an intimidating looking whip, and when I catch sight of it, my insides clench. “You’re going to whip me?” My voice comes out high and nervous, but strangely, my nipples harden.

  “It’s a flogger.” Hunter takes it out of the plastic bag, and I watch him, mesmerized by his long fingers. He trails the tails over his palm. “It doesn't have much of a sting.”

  “It doesn't?”

  “Take off your clothes and I'll show you.”

  Eric walks over and hands me my glass of wine. I take a nervous sip. I’m wearing a simple flowered dress, mostly chosen because it’s easy to get out off. No zippers, no complicated buttons. Underneath though, I’ve worn my prettiest lingerie. The black satin bra has lace insets through which my nipples are clearly visible, and the panties are tied at the sides with ribbons. They’re ridiculously impractical, and they make me feel beautiful.

  Take off your clothes, Hunter says, but that’s not easy, not here, in this brightly illuminated living room. It was so much easier to get naked last week under the cover of darkness.

  “Why don't I see what’s in the rest the bag? I haven't finished looking at the toys yet.”

  He lets my refusal go. For the moment, at least.

  There is a page with three anal plugs, a small, a medium, and a large. A large purple vibrator. A clear bottle of lube. More rope. “There’s a lot more than three things here. It’s hard to decide.”

  Eric grins. “Because you want to try everything? We can do that.”

  Hunter sets
down the flogger. “Want to move this to the bedroom?”

  My throat is dry. I take another sip of my wine. Any suggestion of a bedroom sends my anxiety sky-high. The bedroom seems so intimate. Already, I’m having trouble with the boundaries that I myself set down. “Why not here?” I look around the living space. “The dining table looks sturdy, and I’ve always fantasized about being bent over a table.” And fucked. That part, I can’t make myself say out loud.

  Hunter exchanges another glance with Eric. “Sure,” he says after a pause. “We can work with that.”

  Eric takes a pair of scissors from a kitchen drawer and methodically cuts open the package containing the blindfold. A shiver run through me. “Come here,” he says.

  I pad over to him. When I was getting dressed, I’d thought about tying back my hair, like I usually do, but I’d decided against it.

  It hangs in loose waves around my face. Eric seems to like it. He threads his fingers through them, titling my face up and ghosting a kiss over my lips. “You look different with your hair down,” he murmurs. “Turn around.”

  Hunter takes my wine glass away while Eric places the blindfold over my eyes. My vision is suddenly cut off, and another shudder of pleasure runs through me. We’ve barely started. I’m still fully clothed. And I’m already so wound up. So turned on.

  “Feel around the table,” Hunter orders. “Since you can’t decide, we’ll do this a different way. Hand me three packages at random.”

  I’m not going to be able to see what I pick. It's going to be a surprise. A shock of desire jolts through me. I wet my lower lip and grope around the coffee table. My fingers land on something soft. The suede flogger. Oh God, yes. I pick it up and hold it out. “This one.”

  “Oh.” That's Hunter. His voice is a cross between a rasp and a growl. “I am really going to enjoy this.”

  My hand lands on a smaller package. This must be the nipple clamps. “I want the adjustable kind,” I whisper. “Is that okay?”

  “Yes. I’ve got it. Keep going.”

  I feel the remaining items. I can’t see them, but I can narrow things down. The larger package would be the anal plugs. I definitely want to try that. Then again, the purple vibrator was curved at the tip, and I very much want to know what that would feel like. I think I’d like to be tied down.

  I can’t choose. I’m greedy tonight. So very greedy.

  Be logical, Dix. I don’t need the vibrator—their cocks are far more enticing. I don’t need to be tied down—they’re both strong enough to hold me in place if that’s what I want. They don’t even need to do that—if they just order me to stay still, I’ll obey.

  “Dixie,” Hunter growls. “Pick.”

  I hand him the package that I think holds the anal plugs. I start to reach for my blindfold so I can check, and Eric’s voice stops me. “What are you doing?” he asks almost pleasantly. “Were you given permission to remove the blindfold?”

  Oh dear. I’m in trouble. “No,” I whisper. “Sorry.”

  I feel Eric circling me. “How does this dress come off?”

  “Just lift it over my head.” I lift up my arms to make it easier, and he yanks it over me, stripping me down to my underwear, baring me to Hunter’s hungry eyes.

  They both audibly suck in breaths. “God, you’re beautiful,” Hunter growls.

  “That is a very sexy bra,” Eric agrees, his voice a little hoarse. “Unfortunately, it has to go.” His fingers work the clasp, and he frees my breasts.

  Last week, Eric had been the voyeur. This week, Hunter and Eric seem to have switched roles. Eric is undressing me while Hunter watches. I’m blindfolded. I can’t see the expression in his eyes. I can only imagine his reaction, and somehow, that’s even hotter.

  “Should I take off my panties too?” My voice is breathy and aroused.

  “Not yet.” Eric’s fingers trail a pathway down my spine, from the back of my neck to the small of my back. “Keep them on for now.”

  He moves his hands to my waist, and he sits down on the couch, pulling me down with him. I’m seated on his lap, my thighs on the outsides of his, my back pressed against his chest.

  I’m on display. Eric is displaying me to Hunter.

  A shiver runs through me as Eric spreads my legs open. His fingers caress the sides of my breasts. His voice is a hot whisper in my ear. “I’m so fucking hard,” he growls. “Put your hands behind your back, Dixie. Feel what you do to me.”

  I run my fingers over Eric’s thick erection, feeling his hard length through the fabric. Licking my lips, I rub his shaft, trying to encircle it with my fingers, and failing. “Your clothes are in the way.”

  “I can fix that.” He leans me forward, undoes his belt, and frees his cock. I stroke his hard length, fisting my hand up and down his velvet coated steel shaft. I can’t see at all, and it heightens my other senses.

  Then Hunter’s lips crash into mine.

  He kisses me as if he’s burning up with passion, as if he can’t get enough of me. This isn’t a controlled kiss. This is savage and wild and primal. I moan and open my mouth, and his tongue slides inside, exploring, plundering, taking…

  “He couldn’t watch you any longer,” Eric whispers in my ear. “He couldn’t stay away. That’s what you do to us, Dixie. You strip us of control. We’re going out of our minds with lust. Because of you.”

  Hunter squeezes my breasts, still kissing me. Eric’s hands are on my inner thighs, his fingers less than an inch away from my pussy. I whimper into Hunter’s mouth and wriggle on Eric’s lap. They left me hanging last night, needy and aroused, and I can’t take it any longer. I want him to touch my clit. I need him to make me come.

  Hunter pulls away. I bite back my whimper of protest. I can’t see what he’s doing—the blindfold is very effective—and all I can do is wait.

  Something soft and warm caresses my nipples.

  It takes me a second to place it. It’s not Hunter’s fingers. It’s the flogger. Oh God, it’s the flogger, and he’s going to use it on my breasts.

  The tails of the flogger glide over my aching nipples, over my sensitive, swollen breasts. Goosebumps rise on my skin in their wake. “You should have a safe word,” Hunter says, his voice quiet in the darkness. “Most people start out by using the traffic light system. Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green to keep going.”

  A safe word. This is all too real. This should be the part where I whip the blindfold off my face and run away.

  I stay exactly where I am, on Eric’s lap, my fingers wrapped around his thick cock. “I’m green.”

  “This is not a heavy-duty flogger,” he assures me. “This will only hurt a little, and the pain should dissipate almost immediately.”

  Nerves war with anticipation. I wet my lips. “Okay.”

  He slicks the flogger over my breasts.

  A thousand pinpricks of pain explode on my skin. But the pain fades instantly, almost before I have time to notice, and it's replaced by warmth and heightened sensation. Oh, that is nice.

  “Do you like that?” Hunter asks.

  “Very much.”

  Eric chuckles softly. He’s gone back to holding my wrists hostage. That reminds me—I’m neglecting my task. I move my hand again, stroking his cock, steady and insistent, loving the way it feels in my grip. Smooth and rock-hard, warm, and throbbing, and intensely male.

  Hunter snaps the flogger over my breasts again. “You were very bad yesterday, Dixie,” he says, his voice almost meditative. “You touched yourself without permission, you forget to do your homework, and then you lied about it. I think you’ll get three strokes of the flogger as punishment.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “I want you to count them out for me,” he says. “Of course, the strokes so far don’t count.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re right. What a pity.” He doesn't sound the slightest bit sympathetic. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before you lie to us. Remember, count them out.”r />
  He slaps my breasts again with the flogger. This time, one of the tips catches my engorged nipple, and I bite back my yelp. “Too much?” Hunter asks.

  Oh God, I can feel it so keenly. My nipple is throbbing in a way that makes my toes curl and my insides clench. I shake my head. “One.”

  Eric slides his hand under my panties and finds my clit with unerring precision. “You're being such a good girl,” he breathes into my ear. “You’re taking your punishment without complaint.” His teeth nip my earlobe. “Good girls get rewarded.” His fingers circle my clit. “Good girls get to come.”

  The flogger cracks across my breasts again, just as Eric presses down on my tender nub. “Two,” I shout. Both my nipples are stinging now. I am so aware of them. They feel so sensitive. They ache in such a good way.

  “Poor Dixie.” Hunter sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, soothing the sting. “That’s enough punishment for now. We’ll do the last stroke later. The night is young, and we have so much to do.”

  His talented tongue swirls over my peaks, one after the other. Eric rolls my clit between his fingers, once, twice, a third time. Then, as if some unspoken signal passes between the two of them, both of them pull away.

  Less than a minute, and I would have come. This is so unfair.

  “Stand up,” Hunter tells me.

  I’m so shaky I’m not sure my legs will hold me up. I get to my feet. Eric stands up too, pressing his cock into my ass.

  They lead me across the room. I still have the blindfold on, and I can't see where I'm going. This reminds me of the trust exercises that well-meaning HR people make you do at retreats. Close your eyes and let yourself fall. We never did that at my last workplace—nobody was under any illusions about their coworkers. My fellow lawyers would have happily stabbed me in the back if it helped them get ahead.

  Eric finally removes my blindfold. I blink, my eyes getting accustomed to the sudden light. I’m standing next to the dining table, and Hunter is holding up a round anal plug. “These are fun,” he says, anticipation coating his voice.