Fulfilled (12 page)

He taught her how to pleasure him, too, and didn’t hide his ecstasy from her. She couldn’t take all of him in her mouth but doubted anyone could. Still, he sometimes allowed her to fellate him at her own pace, and she loved to make him stand on the balls of his feet and clench his buttocks in an effort to contain himself, although she hid her private glee. She thought that might be her best sexual skill and laughed herself into tears one day at the thought. Jonathon insisted she tell him the joke and, when she did, gravely assured her she could market her talent.

The vaginal sex was spectacular, too. She usually rode him because he liked to watch, but there were times he took her from behind, driving her ahead on his cock. He made love to her when he was on top, holding her like a fragile vessel, working himself in measured increments and thrusts inside of her, waiting for her to signal her release. Then he’d power through a few more strokes and shudder his own, dropping his body to cover her completely, blot her out of existence and absorb her into him for a brief, loving moment before easing his weight away so she could breathe.

The one thing they didn’t discuss was the lack of babies in their future relationship. Lois was fine with it. She had her cake and was eating it, too. Icing was a bit much to ask for when she never dreamed of being with someone, ever, and now had Jonathon. He apparently accepted her impassioned outburst that morning she’d slandered him in front of Patrick. He recognized how she’d manipulated him, too. Life had moved on and her education begun.

“We only have a couple more days, sweetheart. I’m going to introduce you to these and then try out my new flogger. You have your safe word.”

These
were some shiny, gold circles complete with tiny teeth in a miniature mouth. Nipple clamps, and they looked nasty. He professed to love her breasts and wouldn’t hear her disparage them. The second time she mourned the size, he tormented them until she begged with frustration but he wouldn’t let her come. Lesson learned. She insulted him when she insulted herself.

She never needed to use her safe word, at least not yet. He paid close attention to her every response and reaction, and the one time he gagged and blindfolded her, suspending her from the hook above the shower, well that time…Lois had dropped the ball that time. Literally. The little rubber ball he pressed into her bound hands, closing her fingers around it, was her safe word. He wanted her to be blind, to feel and experience touch, focus on it and manage her inclination to be vocal. The steam and heat of the water set the tone for that particular session. The vibrating wand in her anus vied with the enormous phallus in her front passage, every little vibration against the ridges and projections through the thin membrane between the two channels making her shriek against the phallic-shaped gag in her mouth. She sucked on it to muffle her cries and wished it was Jonathon instead. The nipple clamps were attached to a chain apparently threaded through that same ceiling hook, and every time she shifted, her nipples pinched, the bite of pain arrowing to her apex. Jonathon sprayed her clit with the handheld showerhead, so she shifted a lot, assaulted by a myriad of sensations. She couldn’t process them all and became a trembling mass of need. She wanted to plead and beg and knew he’d deprived her of that ability for a reason. She clutched the rubber ball for dear life, but when he pushed the shower head up against her bottom hole and sucked her clit into his mouth, the ball squeezed between her spasming fingers and squirted free. It bounced wildly around her feet, and Jonathon instantly stopped suctioning her engorged nub and surged to his feet. The handheld battered against the shower doors as he snatched the blindfold from her eyes and fumbled the gag free.

“Little one! Are you okay?”

She hadn’t been okay. She’d been on the edge of what promised to be a momentous orgasm and hissing her disappointment at him earned her a look. Then he chuckled and kissed her, her Saracen shrouded in steam and mystique. He left her hanging, literally, and immediately returned with a paddle. He heated her buttocks with it. The wand vibrated and the dildo stretched her. Her nipples ached with splendid pain as the chain tugged despite her best efforts not to move. When her bottom burned so brightly she actually considered using her safe word, Jonathon spread her folds and exposed her tingling clit. The smartly laid slap of the paddle directly on that tender nub stunned her into total immobility, her breath shocked still in her lungs. The second tap pushed her over, and the tiles echoed with her accompanying response. He recognized her intense, frustrated need even as he corrected her disrespectful response. No quarter. The best of both worlds.

These new nipple clamps bit down with excruciating, erotic stimulation. She sucked air but didn’t complain and was rewarded with a searing kiss from her Dom. Her Saracen Dom. She kissed him back with her heart and whined a little when he pulled back. He lubed his enormous shaft with a viscous substance she knew from past experience would heat and create a slow burn within her. They’d dispensed with condoms, and he’d told her she was the first sub he fucked without a layer of latex. He notched his cock at her entrance and pulled her folds apart to watch as he battled for space against the plug. It was nearly too much. She breathed and made herself relax.

“You may come whenever you please, little one.”

He lifted her legs and folded them back against her chest, lifting her buttocks off the mattress and easing the pressure on the plug. She had time to process that before he fucked her. She was powerless beneath his weight and driving cock, his to use and pleasure. It was glorious. He cleverly prodded that spongy spot high inside her channel, and she climaxed without warning, all the more powerful without those little signals she learned to recognize from pending clitoral orgasms. He shouted something above her and held still, suspended before her wavering vision. Their mingled juices poured down her cleft to pool beneath her as he withdrew.

She lay, replete, and he sagged beside her, their arms and legs barely touching, but enough to maintain the connection.

“Gonna take you into the club this weekend, Saturday night. I want you naked.”

She struggled to sit up, mindful of the plug. “What?”

“I want to show you off.”

Well then. Unbidden, her eyes dropped to her breasts and lower.

“Don’t or I’ll correct you and you won’t come. Until Saturday night.”

“Okay.” She trusted him. If he thought she was ready she was ready. And if he was proud of her that was enough. Although a little skirt, maybe a bustier? She really wanted a bustier.

“Naked.”

“Okay.” She was still buying a bustier.

In the end, Jon relented. He bought her a tiny leather skirt and a leather bra, rounding it out with high-heeled boots. She looked like an erotic Annie Oakley in the fetish wear, minus the rifle, and he had to put it on her twice before they finally hit the scene rooms and the soft dungeon. He didn’t clothe her because of her need, but because of his. Maurice had the night off and would be haunting the place like an evil spirit. Jon didn’t want to mix it up with the other man but knew he would if he looked at Lois’s naked form. Possessive much? Yes.

And then there was Trevor. The man stalked the halls of the member and scene rooms. He scowled in the soft dungeon. If looks could kill, Jon would be six feet under. All those facial tics vanished when Trevor looked at Lois. Desire, tenderness, supreme interest, and a variety of other emotions he couldn’t identify softened the other man’s face, and Jon rejoiced at winning this particular race. Lois was an unprecedented prize.

It didn’t escape his notice how Lois scrupulously avoided looking at Trevor, didn’t speak to him, didn’t acknowledge him in any way. Her behavior was so foreign to her usual polite interaction, even with Maurice, Jon knew he’d been damn lucky. If Trevor had been in Patrick’s office before him…but she’d made her choice, and Jon had no question about her fidelity. Just as she expected it of him. Yup, his job was going to be a problem.

They wandered the place, Lois at his side. There was no way she was walking behind him where he couldn’t see her, touch her when he wanted to, and watch her response to the goings on. By the end of the night she was established as his sub and flushed with arousal. He noted her total engagement with a ménage scene, and when he pulled her into the cradle of his arms she was sultry hot. The sub being pleasured by her two Doms was indeed an arousing sight. Jon had to rethink his possessiveness. It was his job to give Lois what she needed, whatever was in his power to give. He failed her once and wouldn’t do it again.

She knelt at his feet at the end of the evening when he, Jordan, and Patrick met for a drink. Maurice came in and took a seat opposite and to Jon’s surprise, practiced total decorum. The Lamont brothers lounged in separate chairs, their short haircuts advertising their past profession, both of them in excellent shape, animals in their prime, at rest. Patrick liked their style and their independence. They shared their women and worked well together and separately. Neither had any interest in anything other than their work and women, aside from regular and vigorous workouts. Word was out, and women emerged from the woodwork to apply for training under their hands. Jon considered Owyn and then Rees, but decided against either of them. Lois wasn’t even aware of them. The only Doms she responded to, aside from him, were Patrick, Graham, Maurice, and Trevor. Oh, she was respectful, deferred to the other Doms, but with Patrick she was skittish, probably because he was the head honcho. And Patrick wouldn’t stand in. He was monogamous. Graham elicited ambivalence. She liked him, showed respect for his status, but gave him a little grief, too. They were familiar in a big sister, little brother way. It would be incestuous, and Kennedy would have an opinion, he was sure. Maurice drew her but scared her, and the fear was bigger than the draw. Which suited him because it was never happening. That left Trevor. She was drawn to Trevor, and while she minded her manners, Jon again accepted if the other man had spoken for her first,
he
might be the one being considered as their third. As if. Although on second thought, he’d probably have taken whatever he could get. Lois was special. He decided.

“Patrick, watch over my sub.” She froze against him then relaxed when he touched her head. Accepted his expectation she would wait and not question. That might change back in his quarters, where he’d fill her in, but her trusted acceptance of his behavior meant everything to him. He’d earned her trust after that phenomenal fuckup in the atrium and treasured the gift. He made his way to where Trevor Braun sat at the bar halfheartedly negotiating a contract with the sub providing the bartending service.

Braun saw him coming and wounded him with a glare. Jon took the seat next to him and ordered a beer from Mallory. Trevor didn’t say anything, just stared and waited. Jon wasn’t in a hurry, but he didn’t want to leave Lois for too long. He wanted to capitalize on her simmering arousal.

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Really.” Trevor was hostile, and Jon couldn’t blame him. He doubted he would be as civil in the other man’s boots.

“My sub needs a threesome.”

“Fuck you, Spence. I don’t want you throwing me any bones.”

“It isn’t about you, asshole. This is why you’re a third. Grow a pair.”

Trevor launched himself forward, and Jon blocked the punch but not the impact of two hundred furious pounds of male. They tumbled to the floor, Jon’s beer tipping and spilling a cascade of golden liquid in one of those weird corner-of-the-eye moments. His breath left his lungs in a whoosh, and he brought his elbow up to catch Trevor in the face to buy some time. He’d misjudged the situation, probably blinded by the submission of one particular little sub.

He struggled to get out from under the other man who was recovering enough to land a few well-placed blows. If he could just use his weight advantage…

“That’s enough. Settle down right now.” Holy fucking shit. He knew that voice. He’d never heard that tone before but it was one he recognized. It took him back to his early school years when his teachers ruled a bunch of boisterous, aggressive little boys. And if he continued to fight, she could get hurt. Jon ceased and desisted. Trevor immediately followed suit and shoved away from him.

“This isn’t acceptable behavior.” Lois stared down at him with indignant censure, and all he wanted to do was claim her right in front of everyone, fuck her and collar her.

“He invited me to be his third, Lois, and I reacted to his disrespect.”

Jon made a fist and would have punched Trevor square in the face except Lois redirected her attention immediately. “Who did he disrespect?”

“Uh, me. I think.”

“So, I’m not your type, then, Master Trevor?”

Jon watched the exchange, fascinated. Trevor blanched but manned up.

“You most certainly are, Lois. And you know it. If we’re talking about respect…”

Lois immediately lowered her eyes. “I apologize.”

“Accepted. And I apologize for my reaction. And I’d be honored, Spence.”

Jon thought maybe the crack to his head scrambled something in his brain. Lois stood demurely, hands clasped in front of her, eyes focused on the floor. Huh. The rest of the people in the room were watching and listening with varying degrees of interest and amusement. Except for Patrick. Patrick looked pissed.

“Let’s take this to a member room.”

Trevor nodded, and Lois flicked him a glance. They were going to have a little show and tell about why little subs didn’t get involved in a fight between two men twice their size. Or any size.

Jon punched the code in for the closest member room. He led the way, Lois right behind him. Trevor closed the door. Jon chose a chair against the far wall, and Lois sank down between his knees and rested her weight against him. Trevor shrugged and went to lounge on the bed.

“Lois is very interested in three-ways, aren’t you, little one?” Jon figured he’d cut to the chase.