by René, Dani
Then I feel it. The crown nudging against me, requesting more. I nod. He pushes. My body slowly accepts the thickness as he pushes into my ass. The pain sears me, but the pleasure of Oliver sends me into orbit as both men start moving. I know for a fact that Daddy’s cock isn’t fully seated or I’d have passed out from the pain.
We’re a trinity of bodies moving in sync. Grunts of pleasure, moans of delight, and slapping of skin is all I hear as we all three move together, hoping to find the release that slowly beckons. It won’t take long. I’m almost there.
“Such a good toy for Daddy and Sir, aren’t you baby?”
Nodding, because I can’t find the words, I feel the smile on his face. I don’t know who. I have no idea where the words come from. My body is a vessel for them. They take and I give. But as much as I do allow, they give me more than I’ve ever thought possible.
People may see me as a slut. As a whore. But this is my love. This is my body. And I am owned. Happiness warms my chest as both men plunge inside me. Filling me with not only their cocks, but their love. They give me everything in return for my body.
“Come for us, Toy. Scream for us.”
I do. Someone pinches my clit and the other tweaks and twists my nipples as their hips piston into me.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Euphoria.
13
Elijah
She’s innocent, yet seductive. When she finally fell asleep in our arms, I laid her down on the bed and watched her for a moment until I knew I needed to get some rest myself. The threesome was a test. I needed to see if she really trusted me. I wouldn’t allow any other man near her, but Oliver is someone I trust with my life.
He’s spent years training submissives and Dominants alike, so his suggestion at us sharing her first didn’t sit well with me. But when he explained that it’s a test of trust. She’s been hurt before, but if she really was submitting fully, she’d do anything to please me. Also, she’d allow herself to trust fully. Completely. If she’d called out a safe word, I would have stopped, but I needed to know her heart was in this, not just her body and mind.
That sweetness she exudes, is her game. She plays it well, like a virgin taunting her first lover. Oliver left not too long ago and since he walked out, I’ve been thinking about his advice to get the truth from her. I know I need to know what happened to her after I left, but deep down, I’m scared. I don’t want to lose her, and I think if I push, she’s going to walk out. I should man up and talk to her. She’s explosive though. Her personality is volatile. But after tonight, I know at least she trusts me.
I gave into Oliver’s suggestion of a threesome to confirm in my fucked-up mind that she’d be willing to do anything for me. Even though I knew she would. There wasn’t a question about it.
The phone buzzing on the sofa beside me drags my attention away from her. A message from my best friend. A thank you for the night. He knew, and he was right about what would happen. The threesome was intense, and it allowed her to offer me more trust than I’d expected. Now all that’s left is for me to make sure she tells me what I need to know.
Pushing up, I head out to the kitchen and pour a large shot of gin. Not my regular drink of choice, but I need something different. Perhaps it’s a bad idea, I need a clear head when it comes to Giana. I want to call her by her real name, but I don’t know if that would go down well. She’s hiding from her past, her demons that seem to have followed her into the present.
“Do you ever sleep?” Turning to find the beautiful vision of a naked Giana staring at me from the entrance to the living room, I can’t help smiling.
“I do, but after a session like that, I’m a little wound up.” Lifting the glass, I tip it toward her. As she pads over to me, her breasts bounce with every step. Her nipples are a dusky-rose, having hardened into little peaks that my mouth waters to taste. I want to suck them and bite down, causing her to cry out. The sound of her whimpers and moans I now own and I realize I’m the luckiest man in the world. She’s mine. My toy.
“Can I help ease that?” Her sultry voice is all I need to hunger for her again. As much as I want to fuck her, I know we need to talk. There’s so much we need to say to each other. So many truths need to be confessed.
“How about you tell me about what happened to you, sweetheart?” I’ve never been so loving to any woman I’ve had in my house. After or before Raquel.
“Do we need to do that right now?” Giana questions with a seductive smirk that tells me she’d rather be swallowing my dick than talking.
Setting my glass down, I nod. “We do.” My murmur has her face falling into a sexy pout. I reach for her, lifting her against me, I walk us toward the sofa and settle on it with her straddling my lap. This isn’t the best position to keep my concentration, but it will keep her happy while she tells me what she suffered through.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she questions then, realizing I’m not letting up this time, no matter how much she taunts me. I nod in response. My heart thuds against my rib cage. I’m not sure I want to know, because I don’t doubt I’ll be planning a murder once she’s confessed. Her gaze darts away, trailing over everything in the room but me. “I was thirteen when I was broken for the first time. He broke me. He forced himself inside my ass, he didn’t do anything to make the pain stop. He told the nurses he’d found me like that when he came home.”
Her words are filled with anguish that I feel right to my core. My hands are splayed on her hips, holding her as if I’m her anchor. Giving her the support she needs, I allow her to lean in, her head on my chest. I want to cocoon her from pain, from heartache. Like a father would his daughter, only, this is much more sordid than that. I’m her Daddy Dom, the man she’s supposed to rely on. To satisfy both her sexual needs, as well as emotional. A father figure, but with the sexual benefits of a boyfriend.
When I chose the path I’d follow, becoming a Dominant, I didn’t realize how caring I would be. At first, I enjoyed the sadist side, like Oliver. But as time went on and I learned more about who I was, I knew I couldn’t dole out pain without pleasure. I wasn’t as fucked in the head as Oliver is. I know why he is the way he is, but deep down, I’m not like that. I’m caring, gentler in other respects, whereas he’s cold from the way he fucks to his professional life.
She’s silent for a long while and I realize I got lost in my thoughts. I know she’s not looking at me because it makes it more difficult for her to tell me what happened while facing me. Her body is warm as it molds to mine.
“I was a pretty girl, at least that’s what he told me the first time. My parents had gone out to their anniversary dinner and they asked my uncle to babysit even though I was far from a baby. I’d never been out with a boy, but I knew about sex, and…” A soft sigh falls from her lips, filled with apprehension. “We were sitting on the sofa watching one of my favorite TV shows when he put his hand on my thigh. At first, I pushed it away, thinking it’s weird, but he said he was just showing me how much he loved me.”
“Giana—”
“Then he pushed me down on the floor. He told me I was so pretty, that pretty girls were like dolls. They needed to be played with. In one way, I knew what was happening, and in another, I didn’t realize that I’d be broken beyond recognition. Not physically, but emotionally. Everything seemed to blur together, me pushing him away, him grunting. It’s a sound that stayed with me for years. The pain. It felt like I was being torn in two. There was so much blood.” She’s speaking in short sentences, taking deep breaths in between. The wetness from her eyes soak the shirt I’m wearing and my arms wrap around her, cocooning her as if I can shelter her from the agony.
“Giana, stop.” It’s an order she has to obey. “You are mine. You’re safe. I will never hurt you like that.”
“After a few months of him doing it, I became numb. I went to school and sought out other boys who would love me. Maybe in my mind I figured if they did things to me, I’d find love. A girl wi
th a hungry heart always believes love comes from physical contact.” She laughs then, mirthless and unamused. “At least that’s what the psychiatrists said.”
“Look at me.” She does, and when she lifts her gaze to mine, I see the love shining in them. She loves me. “Why did you try to kill yourself?”
When she blinks for a moment too long, I think she’s about to shut down, but then she opens those soulful eyes and spears me right through the heart. “I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted him to stop.” She shrugs. “When you came along, it changed. I found something worth living for until you walked away,” she says. It’s not meant to make me feel guilty but it does. Then she looks at me again. “After you left, I was… I was sold to someone. A Master, is what he called himself. I thought he’d give me the love you took, but he didn’t. He wasn’t like you, he was… He was sick.” She sighs, and it’s filled with pure agony. “He violated me in more ways than I can count.”
“Riley.” Her name slips from my lips and she gasps. “I’m sorry, Giana. I just… I didn’t mean to leave you. I thought I was doing what was the best for you.”
“I escaped the monster after two years. I slept on the sidewalks, under bridges for three or four months until I met Carrick. Even though he saved me, I took a blade to both my wrists. Rick found me when I was late for a meeting and gave me hell. He whipped me because he didn’t know what else to do with me. When I told him why, he cared for me and healed me in his own way.”
“You fucked Carrick?” She shrugs like it’s nothing. I suppose after all she’s been through, it might not mean much to her. “Why me, Gia?”
“I love you, Eli,” she confesses. It’s easy, there’s no tension in her body.
I thought she ran away from home. Figured her parents didn’t notice, but clearly what I knew of this girl wasn’t the truth. When I did search for her, there was nothing on her. Her family didn’t care, and now I know why. No police reports, no missing person’s posters, just… nothing.
“You were twenty when you escaped that monster?” I hiss in angry frustration.
“I was.” She affirms like it’s an obvious occurrence for a teenager to go through the hell that she did and then try to kill herself. “It’s been years since you walked out and I’ve been through both hell and heaven. Since I found you, I knew I needed to find the courage to tell you who I really was. I spent years locked in his dungeon. He’d feed me a bare minimum to keep me alive and strong enough to take the beatings. To take his cock in all my holes. It was… normal to me.”
“Why did you try to hurt yourself when you were safe? Carrick would never hurt you.” This was the question I’d been dying to ask. Why try to kill yourself when there’s people who would care for you? Why not focus on healing and giving life a chance?
“I wanted someone to find me. To finally care and Carrick did,” she whispers painfully, lifting her gaze, she blinks and a lone tear races down her cheek. I’m tempted to lick it, tasting her sorrow, and allowing it to seep into my veins. “I wanted someone to finally see me.” Her words cause a crack in my chest, so wide open, it’s festering with hatred and anger at three people who were meant to keep her safe. The words she implored me with only yesterday, just see me, settle heavily in my chest. I do see her.
Her naked body trembles, wracking with sobs.
“When you looked at me in that hospital room, it was the first time I felt like someone was actually seeing me.” Her confession has emotion tightening in my throat. Thickening, attempting to choke me. If only she knew how much I saw. How much of me I saw in her.
“I’ll always see you, Toy. Always.” She nuzzles into my chest then, as if she’s trying to burrow inside me. Like she wants to hide from the world and I’m her knight in shining armor. Only, I’m not the savior. I’m the one who could ruin her worse than anyone else in her life. Not because I want to, but because she’s in love with me.
Closing my eyes, I inhale her scent. Her warmth is all consuming. It’s embedded into my soul. “Why do you like the pain?” I question; my brows furrow when I realize how much agony she’s been put through, yet she loves when I inflict pain on her.
“It’s the only time I feel alive. It makes me realize I’m free, I’m living, and I’m wanted. If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t hurt me. With each kind of love, comes a variation of pain.” Her words are dark, yet so damn true.
I do love her. I love her more than my next breath. “And you’re so sure I love you?” I question as her head snaps up. She meets my gaze, seeing the gentle amusement I watch her with. Then she nods confidently.
“If you didn’t love me, you would never have let me stay here. None of your other toys have ever spent the night with you. Yet, here I am.” Her mouth quirks into a satisfied smirk. She reads me like a book. Open and bare to her gaze.
“Well done, sweet girl. Now, I need to be inside you. Take my dick out.” Her hands work quickly as she unzips my slacks and pulls my cock free. It’s thick and hard, ready to slide into her tight heat.
“Can I suck you first?”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “No, rub your cunt on me, just those pretty lips, Toy. Back and forth, I want to feel you coat me with your juices.” Her hips move. My hands grip her hips as she undulates over my erection. Her sweet cunt drips all over my shaft, my slacks, and I revel in the sensation of her body sliding over mine.
Soft, sweet moans fall from her lips as she takes pleasure. She’s using me as I want to use her. I’ll never hurt her, only in pleasure. I suppose that’s the kind of love we have. She’s my baby girl, my toy, and I’ll always be her Daddy.
14
Giana
“Wake up, Giana,” he murmurs in my ear, and a small smile curls my lips. The heat of his breath fans over my cheek, causing my skin to dot with goose bumps. Rolling over, I open my eyes to find Eli staring down at me.
“Am I late?” I ask, my voice croaky with sleep and heavy with emotion. He shakes his head, but the way he’s regarding me tells me there’s something he’s hiding. “What’s wrong, Eli?” Scooting up, I wait for it. I expect him to tell me to leave, to take my shit and go. Like every other man in my life, the disappointment has been something I’ve dealt with.
“I made breakfast, I’d like you to come downstairs. We need to talk before heading into the office.” He leans in, the clean scent of his aftershave is spicy and masculine. Reminding me of why all those years ago I found solace in his arms.
“I’ll be right down.”
“I want you clean shaven, smooth and warm. I’ve laid out an outfit for you in the closet. And remember the garter belt.” He smirks, pushes off the bed, and heads out of the bedroom. We slept in the guest room last night after my confession and after we had sex. My gaze darts around, taking in the soft feminine furnishings that certainly don’t suit him.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress, I pad over to the en suite bathroom and step inside. It’s immaculate. The white Italian tiles are patterned with a light shadow of blue. Almost as if I’m standing in the clouds, with the sky all around me. There’s a his and hers basin, as well as a corner tub with jets that remind me of a Jacuzzi.
The shower could probably fit three or four people, causing me to wonder if he ever did that with other toys. Jealousy has always been my weakness, but this is something different. I’m in love with this man and the thought of him with anyone else sets my blood boiling.
Stepping into the shower, I turn on the taps and allow the cool water to wake me up from the sleepy state of my brain. My body trembles from the cold, but as the spray heats, I warm immediately. Closing my eyes, I recall the memories that kept me going through the five years without Eli.
I was seventeen when we met. He made me come on his hand before my eighteenth birthday. For months, we were just friends. Talking everyday about things that didn’t matter. He gave me life, he offered me the attention that no one else ever gave me. And I reveled in it. I watched him mourn. I saw him cry. As a young gir
l, you don’t ever expect to see an adult crying, but he did. I was his rock as much as he was mine, but mostly, I think I was his solace as he was mine. There was a connection even then. Before I knew what it was, I loved him.
At that age, all I knew was pain, heartache, and the horror of being used. Men abused me, boys took what they could, even when I didn’t want to give it.
“Hi.” He stalks into the room. There’s a limp in his gait.
“Did you hurt yourself?” I quiz him, lifting my chin in gesture to his leg.
Through narrowed eyes, he stares at me for a moment. The cigarette between my lips gets pulled away. He tells me I shouldn’t do it. Every day, each week he comes back here and he warns me that it’s bad for me.
I don’t listen. Why should I listen to a man I don’t know? “Why do you do it?” He asks with frustration dripping from every word.
Shrugging, I smile up at him. “Because nobody else cares.”
“I do.”
Those two small words are foreign to me. I’ve never heard someone say them. It’s one of those things I’ve always been in tune with. If someone says they care, they’re lying.
It’s how grown-ups make us do what they want. Force. It’s part of life.
“Come, we’re going for a walk.”
“I don’t like being alone with men, but why am I okay with you?” I ask.
He doesn’t look at me, merely shrugs as if I just told him about the weather.
The grounds are quiet. He always comes at night, not when it’s completely dark, but those moments between the sun setting on the horizon and the moon finally making itself known. Casting a silvery light on everything below, I glance up and stare at the sliver that greets us tonight.