FightingforControl (4 page)

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Speak clearly.”

“Yes,” she repeated, louder.

“‘Yes Master’ or ‘yes Sir’ is the proper response. You will
call me Master Q and him, Master C.”

“Yes, Master Q.” Her arms were shaking, her stomach
clenched, but the more he spoke, the more tension drained. She could follow
rules once they were explained. It was the not knowing that worried her.

“Are you concerned about having two masters?” he asked.

“Yes Sir. I thought I would only have one. I’ve never—”

“There are probably a few things you’ll try tonight that
you’ve never done before. Are you comfortable with that?”

She gulped. That had been the idea, the reason she was here.
Trying something new. There was something about their voices that sounded
familiar. The sexy man in front of her was the same height as her coworker,
Marc, and the strong jaw certainly fit. Which would make the fairer man Brad.

Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t walk away anonymously
after this scene if Brad and Marc were involved.

How had they managed to set this up? She should have known
better than to call the number on that card, when she assumed they’d put it in
her messages. This could screw up their ability to work comfortably together,
at least on her end, which was her entire reason for coming to a private club.

Her ego jumped into the discussion.
They want me.
Holy crap, if they set this up, they really did want her, not whatever cute
young thing they could pick from in the public rooms at the club. Why? And did
she really want to fight them? She needed to make a decision before this went
any farther.

It had taken a lot of mental energy to take this step, to
steel herself to at least try letting a Dom please her. She owed it to herself
to follow through. Drawing in a deep breath, she looked Master Q in the eye.
“Yes Sir.”

One side of his mouth pulled back in a smile. “We have read
your hard limits. No brown or golden showers or bodily function-related play.
No caging or closeting. No electrical play or piercing the skin. And I noticed
you are experienced in anal penetration. Is that correct?”

“Yes Sir.”

He ran his fingers up the back of her thigh, flirting with
the hem of her skirt. “What about double penetration? Any experience?”

She fought against the need to squirm from the warm tingles
spreading from his touch. Double penetration? She’d never even fantasized… “No
Sir.”

“I see. But are you willing to try it?”

“Um, yes. Sir.”

He was close enough she could see his eyes. Deep, dark eyes
she could fall into and spend a week there. It bothered her not to see the skin
around them to read his expression better. She had to trust his mouth to smile
or not.

And oh, that mouth. His bottom lip was perfect, full enough
to want to nibble without looking pouty. His tongue snaked out, wetting that
lip, sending gooseflesh over her skin. To have that tongue flicking her nipples
or clit—
yum
. But she couldn’t ask for it. She had to hope it was what he
intended at some point.

What did they intend? She had no clue what toys they planned
to use on her. She wondered once again what she had gotten herself into.
Trust.
She was here to learn trust.
I trust this man—these men—to satisfy me.

Two men. She hadn’t even considered the possibility of more
than one sex partner. That had always seemed to be a man’s fantasy—two women.
Why would she want to have two men to worry about when one was a big enough
nuisance?

She bit her lower lip and tried to still the voice of
anxiety chattering in her head. If she didn’t lose the negative attitude, she
didn’t stand a chance.

The golden god, Brad—no, Master C, she needed to
remember—moved behind her and she twisted to see what he was doing. He stood at
the table with the toys on it, but she couldn’t turn far enough to tell what he
was up to. She heard him shift objects around, and then he approached, standing
so close she felt his breath on her shoulders.

“You want to learn if someone can fill your needs without
being asked, right?” he said.

“Yes, Master C.”

“Be free to enjoy an evening without planning it all
yourself?”

“Yes Master.” He was describing her wants practically word
for word from her list. Hearing him speak them aloud made her understand
submission as Mistress Marla described it. Lori wasn’t bending to someone
else’s desires, she was looking for someone who matched her needs. Finding the
man who wanted what she was willing to give, and who was willing to give in
return.

“Tonight is not about taking orders, being told what to do.
It’s about not giving orders. Do you understand the difference?” Master Q
asked.

“Yes Sir.”

“Tell me the difference.”

“I’m not going to tell you what I want you to do. I’m going
to trust that I’ll be satisfied by what you decide to do.”

“Very good.”

Something as soft as a whisper brushed across her shoulders
and she gasped. What a sensation, like butterfly kisses flitting across her
skin. Master C swept the tool back and forth on her upper back. His gravelly
voice heated her insides. “Pleasure comes in many ways. The entire body is a
sex organ if you let it be. Close your eyes and focus on the feeling of the
feather.”

She did. The feather stroked down her shoulder and up her
raised arm, and returned to repeat the trip on the other arm. A wake of
gooseflesh flowed outward from the touch. He circled her, moving to her
chest—first the flat upper part, then skirting the slopes pushed up by the
bustier. Her nipples tightened as her areolas wrinkled, the rest of her breasts
swelling. The leather top grew uncomfortable as she filled the cups completely.
Automatically she tugged her right arm to reach for the zipper, wanting to feel
the feather on the rest of her breasts.

Realization that she wanted to bare her breasts to Brad made
her freeze. She tried to put him out of her mind and focus again on the
feather.

“Stop fighting it. That won’t get you anywhere. Relax and
let us work. For now, just feel. Do you like it?”

“Yes Sir.” She wasn’t sure who spoke, since she still had
her eyes closed. It sounded more like the buttery-smooth tones of Master Q.
Both men orbited continuously around her. She heard their shoes squeak on the
floor, became aware of their shifting energy, but only one continued to touch
her, if only through the feather.

That changed when the constraint of her bustier released as
the zipper lowered. Sucking in her stomach, she straightened. The need building
in her from the feather on her chest evaporated at the thought of being seen by
both men. She licked her lips to keep from speaking.

The bustier fell away and the men’s breathing audibly
altered. The shorter, faster breaths somehow made her feel attractive. They
liked what they saw. Could she open her eyes yet? She needed to see their
reactions.

Braving punishment, she blinked. Neither man was in front of
her. She bit her lower lip. So much for her ego. No one was looking at her
breasts. She twisted again to see what they were doing.

“Pleasure can be reached by many routes,” said Master C as
he walked around and stood in front of her. He traced the outline of her areola
with one finger, pinched and pulled gently. “This will hurt for a moment but
you will keep still. Understood?”

“Yes Master.” She tensed in apprehension.

He placed a clamp on her nipple and she jumped, bit her lip.
She jumped again when he applied the other clamp. The pain receded quickly,
becoming a dull ache. Her skirt lifted from behind, coming to rest high on her
hips. Something hard and thin stroked her slit and up the cleft of her
buttocks.

“Are you wet for us?” asked the graveled voice of Master C.

“Yes Sir,” she responded, her clit knotting. She was
surprised her juices didn’t run down her thighs, she was so wet. Her hands
ached with the need to touch. Her insides burned with the fire they had
started.

“That’s a good girl. I’m going to flog you with this,” he
explained as he ran the soft fabric strips over her butt cheeks. “I want you
even wetter.”

Her heart jumped, her pussy clenched at the thought of
getting still wetter. Already she was hungry for release. How far would they
take her before they let her go? And when would she get to touch them? The feel
of hot, throbbing male flesh was so necessary to her, she ached for it.

She heard the slap of the flogger an instant before the
sting flashed through her. Sharp, but not unbearable. It rang again and again,
creating a slow burn on her ass.

Master C said, “I’m only going to give you a few lashes this
time. This is not a punishment, just a little something I thought would
increase your pleasure.”

“But I thought—” She bit down on her tongue, remembering she
wasn’t to speak unless instructed. “I’m sorry, Master. May I speak?”

Her fingers itched to touch his skin, glowing now with a
light sheen of sweat. He stood just out of reach, even if her hands had been
free. “Yes, you may speak.”

“Thank you, Sir. I thought flogging was about pain, not
pleasure. Isn’t it supposed to hurt?”

“The pain is a means to an end. The endorphins will help you
cope, increase your pleasure.” He tugged on the chain attached to one of the
nipple clamps and a sharp twinge radiated into her breast just as the flogger
stung her butt.

Her hips jerked, thrusting her pussy forward as if seeking a
cock to slip inside her. She was so ready to be fucked. She bit back a moan,
arching her back to raise her breasts toward the gypsy.

“Tell me what you need,” he commanded.

“I need you to touch me, Master.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere, Master. God, anywhere. Um, my breasts—”
Smack.
The flogger hit her ass. “Oww!” She couldn’t hold back the cry at the next
slap. Her voice rose in pitch with each gasp.

Her butt cheeks stung now, in between the lashes, but the
throbbing pulse in her clit told her it wasn’t a bad thing. Good God, she was
getting so tense she thought she might come just from the flogging. Was that
possible?

Master Q tugged on her nipple chain again. “She’s getting
close.”

“Yes,” her other master agreed. “It’s time.”

Shrugging out of his vest, the Master Q laid it on a bench
and quickly tugged off his shoes and pants. The other one did the same. They
stood and faced her, light and dark, cocks standing proudly at attention as
they rolled on condoms.

And they were hard for her. The thought flashed through her
mind as they walked toward her and resumed what they’d been doing. Master Q
toyed with her nipple clamps and Master C stroked the lashes of the flogger
over her tender skin.

The tension within her calmed a bit as pain lessened. Then
all at once she felt the lash and the tug on her breasts and her pussy gushed
in readiness. She cried out wordlessly as two fingers entered her pussy from
behind, spreading her juices back onto her anus. It tightened at the touch. Was
he going to fuck her there? Was she ready for anal sex?

Master Q pinched her clit, drawing her attention forward as
a finger worked her juices into her ass. Master C must have found some lube,
his digit gliding in and out of her tight ring. The stroking back there
combined with the flicking on her clit built her pleasure, her need.

She wanted someone to suck on her breasts, someone inside
her pussy, in addition to the fingers she now enjoyed. She needed to taste
skin, lick the sweat off one of the men, suck his cock, anything. Anything to
take her over the edge.

“Please…” she begged. “Masters, please…”

“Please what?”

“Please…” Her focus was hazing. The fingers thrusting in her
ass had spread, or he’d added another to open her more. Master Q now stroked
his fingers in and out of her dripping pussy while thumbing her clit. “Oh God,
please…”

“Say it,” ordered Master C. “Tell us what you want, sub.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me now!”

In a flash of sensation, the clamps were yanked off her
breasts, and cocks entered her front and rear. The sudden pain and fullness was
like nothing she’d experienced and it threw her off the precipice she been
clutching onto. “Ohh!”

They sandwiched her between them, fucking her hard and fast,
grunting as they thrust. She hung from the manacles, held up by their arms
wrapped around her. One cupped her breasts; the other spread her ass cheeks.
Cocks slammed in and out with short thrusts.

She shattered. Every nerve in her being snapped. Her juices
gushed and kept flowing as she peaked and ebbed with their strokes. She thought
she would die of ecstasy.

And their grunts sharpened just before they cried out. The
men froze, holding her tightly. Master Q’s head rested atop hers. Their panting
breaths echoed hers.

No one spoke. Lori absorbed the sensation of heated skin against
her back and front at the same time, the security of their arms. The smell of
each man’s sweat, and of his sex. This was what she’d been avoiding by not
having sex with her coworkers. But was it the added elements of being bound and
whipped that made it so good, or was it these men in particular?

Should she let them know she recognized them? She assumed
they had reasons for the masks, probably to keep her from walking away the
moment she saw them. It also set the mood, and kept her focused on the scene,
rather than the men. Perhaps it was best that she kept silent for the time
being.

She felt their cocks soften as their breaths slowed. Master
Q raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Very good, sub.”

“Fuck yeah,” came the rasping response from behind. He
cleared his throat.

They disposed of their condoms and Master Q brought a warm
cloth to clean her with, surprising her with the intimate act. So different
from her lovers who wandered off to the bathroom before collapsing in the bed
to sleep. So nurturing.