Authors: Morgan Ashbury
“Another time, Molly. Tonight we’ll take care of you.”
“All right. As long as you’ll let me do my part.”
“I think you can pretty well count on that.” She felt like hot silk under his hands. The soap, a gentle combination of lavender and lemon, was made by a friend who fancied herself a dabbler in aromatherapy. Both oils aided in relaxation. He’d credit the combination a hit, except he suspected Molly’s exhaustion came more from this evening’s events.
Richard took extra care with her, needing to be as gentle now as he was firm earlier. When his soap-covered hands caressed her ass, he thought it felt warmer than could be attributed to the heat of the water, and certainly warmer than the rest of her body. Looking down, he could see her skin there still held a deep pink hue.
“Ass still sore?” he asked her.
“Hardly at all,” she said. As if the reminder of her paddling awakened her, she straightened, supporting her own weight. “I liked it. When you spanked me it nearly made me come. I didn’t expect that.”
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Richard chuckled. “I know. Here I thought I would turn you off the lifestyle—and me—and I ended up doing the exact opposite.”
“You’re not going to try to turn me off anymore, are you? Or turn me away?” The seriousness in her expression deserved as serious a response.
“No. I’ve had you now. You’re mine.”
Alan’s hands cleansed him, and when he put his chin on Richard’s shoulder, Richard corrected himself. “I should have said you’re
ours
.
And we hope you don’t think this is a one night stand, or a casual fling. Alan and I don’t do casual anymore.”
“But you did?” Molly asked.
“We’ve shared a woman before,” Alan said. “To see if we liked it.
If it would be something we’d want to do on a permanent basis sometime in the future. And we agreed that it was, provided we could find the right woman.”
“I’ve wanted you since I met you,” Molly said to Alan. “The two of you are the only men to ever get me hot.”
“Good.” Richard couldn’t deny Molly’s confession, given completely without guile, not only stroked his ego but his sex. “Let’s dry off and get horizontal.”
* * * *
Molly had never been as sated nor felt as cherished. After they’d dried her, Richard and Alan gave her the most relaxing massage she’d ever experienced, using some sort of lotion that smelled like flowers.
Their hands caressed and soothed, while at the same time subtly arousing her. Then they’d tucked her in between them. Richard pulled her into his arms, arranging her so her head nestled on his shoulder and her right leg bent over top of both of his. Alan snuggled up to her back, nestling his semi-hard cock against the crack of her butt.
She thought the shower was only an intermission and she eagerly awaited act two. Well, maybe not as eager as she’d been earlier. She
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felt a bit tired. It had been an emotionally exhausting day. Hours spent, first waiting for the evening to come, then getting ready, and then the auction itself. That horrible minute when she thought that, despite having paid the top price, Richard would walk away from her.
And finally, the joy of feeling him inside her, after so many years of imagining. Feeling so many emotions in one short day exhausted her.
“Go to sleep, Molly, while you can. One or both of us may wake up in the middle of the night and decide it’s time to fuck your brains out.”
As a threat, Richard’s words didn’t frighten her in the least.
“Okay.” Both men chuckled when the single word emerged around a yawn. Molly didn’t mind providing them with a laugh now and again. As she felt herself drifting toward sleep, the image of that other man who’d bid on her—Bacchus—appeared front and center in her mind.
He’d given her the willies, no doubt about it. His stare held such intensity. Despite the fact he wore weird colored contacts, she felt his gaze rake her. Did he look at her with familiarity, recognition?
No, that was silly. Likely just the strangeness of his mask and the words he’d said later gave her that impression.
They called him
Bacchus, but he seemed more like Satan
. Molly pushed the strange thought from her head. She didn’t have to worry about him as she’d likely never see him again. If she did, it would be at the club with Richard, and Richard would keep her safe.
She awoke gradually some time later, rested and restless. Richard rolled her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then pinched and pulled it. Behind her, Alan’s hands caressed her bottom, his fingers running up and down the crack, then pressed against the tight bud of her anus.
“Mmm.” Molly’s arousal came to life, a tiny ember that both men coaxed with gentle touches and kisses. Richard shifted her slightly
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and stroked her pussy. Still on her side, she could feel Alan’s cock brush against her ass.
He moved away from her for just a brief moment. When he came close again, he whispered, “Something cold” just before he touched her anus with a chilled, silky
something
. She shivered and not only because of the lubricant.
“We need to stretch you before you can take our cocks there, sweetheart,” Richard said. He caressed back and forth across her slit, dipping in to get some of her moisture, spreading it around her clit.
Heat curled inside her, urged her to move, to try and capture them, take them both deep.
Richard laughed softly. “You want more?”
“Yes, I want more.”
He speared two fingers into her, separating them and caressing her, in and out. Molly pushed against them, moving her hips back and forth to help increase the friction and the pleasure.
Alan gripped her hip with one hand as he pressed a finger against her anus.
She inhaled through her teeth, the slight burning sensation taking her by surprise.
“There’s a lubricant available that would not only ease the passage, but numb a little as well. Haven’t tried it,” Richard whispered.
“Don’t want to.” Alan said. “The slight pain enhances the pleasure.”
Molly found she agreed. The burning seemed to reach out to the fingers inside her cunt and electrify them.
Alan leaned forward and tongued her ear, sending another shiver down her spine. And then his finger sank into her.
Richard seemed to know the moment Alan breached her back entrance. His breathing hitched. He leaned down and brushed a light kiss against Molly’s lips.
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“Let’s see if we can feel each other,” he whispered. He pressed up and back while Alan slid his finger in and forward.
Molly could have sworn that the men’s fingers actually touched through her. The twin sensations sent her over the edge into a free fall of rapture.
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The twin tempting scents of bacon and coffee teased her senses.
Molly sniffed, eyes still closed. Then she sniffed again, this time taking in a deep draught of air as she crested the surface of wakefulness. No mistaking it. Bacon. Coffee. During her sleep she must have been kidnapped by aliens and dragged into an alternate reality.
Then the activities of the night before spoke via their translator—a dull ache between her thighs—to remind her she was alive and well and living in her own reality, which just happened to be her best fantasy come to life.
She wondered which one of the men was the cook in the family, and blessed her good fortune that they wouldn’t automatically expect her to be all female on the domestic front.
The way she figured it, yowza between the sheets trumped talent with a spatula. If the reaction of the men in the middle of the night could be anything to go by, yowza she had.
Molly reached up to rub the rest of the sleep out of her eyes but halted before her fingers could make matters worse. It wasn’t sleep that clogged her peepers, but mascara, not removed properly the night before. Tossing the covers aside, she headed for the shower.
The clear glass enclosing the shower stall became opaque with steam. Molly made quick work of the task, emerging only minutes after having turned on the water. A fast snoop through drawers netted her some cotton pads and baby oil. Not the best tools for removing eye makeup, but, under the circumstances, it would have to do.
Alan came into the bathroom carrying a white shirt.
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“It’s Richard’s,” he said. Then he laughed. “We didn’t allow you so much as a tooth brush last night, did we?” Molly grinned back. “That’s all right. I’m pleased with how things worked out.”
“Breakfast is nearly ready,” Alan said. “Richard says come and eat. You’re going to need to keep up your strength.” Richard made breakfast and very nicely. She liked her bacon so crispy it melted in her mouth. Apparently, so did her lovers.
“Is there anyone who needs to know where you are?” Richard asked.
“No. I don’t call my mother every day.”
“All right. We’ll go over to your apartment tomorrow so you can grab a few clothes. I want you to stay here at least until the end of the week.”
“Still planning to get rid of me?” Even thinking for one moment that he might be gave her a sharp pain in the vicinity of her heart.
Everything she’d experienced last night not only turned her on more than anything ever had, it felt right.
Her instincts told her she belonged here with these men.
“No, but I’m not holding you to anything. This is your first ménage experience and your first taste of the Dom/sub lifestyle. It may tantalize for a time, but how do you know this is something you’d like to participate in for the long haul?” Molly cocked her head to one side. “You don’t have much faith in me.”
“Sweetheart, it’s not a question of faith,” Richard said. “You don’t know if you like something until you’ve taken a good taste of it. So far, you’ve only sipped at it. Once you get a mouthful, you may find you don’t care for it at all.”
“Seems to me I did have a mouthful last night,” she said. Molly slid a sideways glance at Alan, who simply sat, chin on his hand, and watched her and Richard—more or less how a spectator at a tennis match might watch the action between two players.
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She didn’t get the sense that his master told him to remain silent.
More, it seemed as if he chose not to speak.
Richard chuckled at her quick comeback. “You did, and it made a very arousing sight. But be that as it may, you need to know that if after this week you feel like this isn’t for you, we’re not going to hold it against you.”
“So what happens next?” Molly wanted to get to more fun and games, to show these men that she knew her own mind and her own tastes. She may have only just, as Richard said, sipped at the lifestyle so far. But they really didn’t know her, didn’t understand her. Yet.
Marcus Jones loaned her books that were very explicit and covered a wide spectrum of activities and practices of people who subscribed to BDSM. She’d never read anything before like what he’d given her, but the moment she opened that first book, she recognized herself and was hooked.
“Some people only play at being Dominant/submissive,” Alan said. “To them it’s fun and sexy. And while I find it sexy and arousing, it’s more. For me it’s
necessary
. Richard and I are a family, and he is the undisputed head of that family. What he says goes. I own my own business, am out and about all day. I make decisions professionally. Hell, I hire and fire people. But I couldn’t do any of that, couldn’t function, if I didn’t have Richard here, being my lover, my leader, my master.”
“For me, it’s not a need to be the boss or in control, in the same way that Alan needs me there,” Richard said. “For me it’s pure pleasure. I enjoy being the one to steer the ship, solve the problems, make the decisions. That’s out of bed. In it, I’m a satyr. I love sex.
Period. I love being a master. It gets me hard. Spanking you yesterday really turned me on, and I’m looking forward to doing it again. Very soon. So what happens next is that you have to give me back my shirt.
Right now.”
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Molly couldn’t believe that just that one command made her wet.
She’d finished eating, and had been enjoying after-meal conversation—regardless that it had been of the most prurient kind.
Then Richard gave her a single order, and she was aroused.
She stripped the shirt off and gave it to him.
“We have a play room set up. Most people who indulge in this lifestyle do. We didn’t take you there last night because I wanted to let you get a good night’s sleep. But we’ll go there now.”
* * * *
“Did you say play room or torture chamber?” she asked.
Richard laughed. Molly guessed he knew she was joking. He extended his hand in invitation to explore and she did, walking around the room, just looking at all the toys and devices.
She recognized the St. Andrew’s cross. She’d seen one in one of the books Marcus gave her, and she saw a few when she’d conducted her own research online. About two feet out from one corner, a set of chains hung suspended from the ceiling with wrist shackles on the ends. When she looked down on the floor beneath them, she could see the corresponding ankle cuffs.
In another corner stood a cage, only about three feet long and three foot wide, and about as tall as Richard. The final corner held a table with a wheel-like cylinder at one end with a crank attached.
Again, she could see where wrists and ankles could be captured. To say the medieval-looking device got her horny would be stretching it.
But it certainly got her attention.
A pegboard sported several paddles in different sizes and shapes.
Two flails hung side by side. She reached out to touch the strands.
One was made of velvet and the other leather. The items that hung next to them she didn’t expect to see, considering this was the playroom of two men.
“Nipple clamps?” She knew surprise laced her words.