 
## **Contents**

Cover

Title Page

About This Book

 By Trent Evans

Copyright Page

Acknowledgments

 Chapter One

 Chapter Two

 Chapter Three

 Chapter Four

 Excerpt - Her Troika

 Other Books by Trent Evans

 From The Author
Becoming Theirs

Trent Evans
About This Book

A Dominion Trust story.

What is a modern, independent woman to do when the only thing she truly wants is to surrender herself completely? Erica, a young, beautiful college student is looking for that something which speaks to what she truly is deep down inside. Is it possible to finally find peace, even happiness within the strict bonds of utter submission?

When Blaine, a powerful, successful businessman realizes he and his wife are ready for something new, a deeper exploration of the love and lust they've shared as husband and wife, the naive, fetching Erica enters the picture. As a member of the Dominion Trust, Blaine has witnessed the fascinating dynamic of other couples who've taken a submissive into their beds, and into their lives. And now it's time to experience it for himself.

Blaine's wife Kathryn — a fiercely driven executive in her own right — submits to her husband in all things, but as the years have gone by, new needs, darker desires have stirred within her. Is she ready for a submissive of her own? Is their D/s marriage ready for a third, a woman who will submit to them both?

In this story, three people come together to find out if happiness really can be found in the complicated dance of dominance and submission, pain and pleasure of a D/s menage relationship.

Publisher's Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!

This is a MFF D/s menage steamy romance, with explicit sexual contact among all three members of the menage.

Word count: 22000 words.

* * * *

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No Spam — just new books!
By Trent Evans

Published by Shadow Moon Press

A Message of Love

What She's Looking For

Captive, Mine

(with Natasha Knight)

Taking The Human

The Chronicles of Muurland Series:

The Fall of Lady Westwood

The Dominion Trust Series:

Becoming Theirs

Her Troika

Expecting Surrender

Quinton's Crucible

The Valley of Surrender Series:

Maintenance Night

Maintenance Week

Lacey's Surrender

Falon's Captivity

Published By Stormy Night Publications

The Doctor and The Naughty Girl

What The Doctor Ordered (Box set)
Copyright © 2012 by Trent Evans

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Rachel A Olson (www.nosweatgraphics.weebly.com)

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and as such, any similarity to existing persons, places or events must be considered purely coincidental.

This book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.

For mature readers only.

Published in the United States by Shadow Moon Press, Washington.

First Shadow Moon Press Electronic Edition: October 2012
Acknowledgments

To my wonderful beta readers: Alice, Anna, Kayla, Renee, Sadey, and Sheri. Thank you so much for all that you do.
Chapter One

Erica was one night away from fulfilling her lifelong dream — to experience true submission. Why does a modern, free woman seek to give away her liberty? To fritter it away in pursuit of that one state of being, that singular experience of being subject to another's will.

Standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, she felt lost in the immense room, lost within herself. There were people outside, far below on the beach, walking along the car-choked road crowded on both sides with businesses all jockeying for the same tourist dollar. Atop the hill, nestled among Douglas fir and towering Western Hemlock, the sprawling house — her temporary prison — surveyed all.

The late afternoon sun hit the water at just the right angle, the light captured, reflected, transforming the blue green, foam-flecked ocean into the mottled iridescence of flowing, molten metal. Erica had always loved the sea, and though she'd lived most of her life within ninety miles of it, she could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually seen it. Every time, it took her breath away; the enormity of it; that confirmation, at once humbling and freeing, of just how small and insignificant a human being really was.

"Come to the ocean to be... not free," she whispered. "You should have listened to your Mom."

A mother's job is to protect her young, and Erica remembered that night she'd told her mother she'd be taking a break from school. There were the questions, the suspicions, all of it overlaid with the unspoken fear a good mother feels when her young, naive children stray from carefully laid parental plans.

Erica found those plans nothing less than a numbing path to invisibility, the captivity of normal expectations; she sought captivity of quite another sort.

No, mom, it's not because of a boy.

Erica couldn't really tell her could she? Some things just can't be processed.

No mom, it's not because of a boy. It's because of a boy... and a girl.

When your life has been meticulously planned, managed by your parents all the way up to college, you're going to be taking some flack when you decide to quit said college — and Erica took a lot of it.

Worse than her worried mother though, had been the stone-cold silence from her father. He wouldn't even talk to her. It was like something you'd watch in a Lifetime™ movie: daughter delivers Big Reveal; seething Father, brow properly furrowed, stalks off accompanied by mournful piano score. End scene.

Erica didn't blame him, of course — not one bit. She'd have been livid if she'd been in their shoes. But they didn't really know, couldn't really understand. How do you explain the appeal of subjugation, the frisson of lust a girl experiences amidst diabolically cruel humiliation, the soaring, otherworldly high following the searing pain of a caning? Trying to explain that to her loving parents would be about as successful as attempting to teach algebra to a toddler.

So, she ran. It had been six months since that night.

The door opened behind her, but she stayed rooted to her spot, gazing out at the freedom just beyond the glass. The elegant maid Ana had said she'd be up soon to deliver Erica's "meal," How bread and water were regarded as a meal, Erica would never understand. She'd been warned though. Sir had outlined to her over the phone what accommodations she could expect at the beach house, and part of her at least (that unthinking part south of her waist), really didn't mind the idea of mealtime as penance. As long as it was by his direction, by their direction, she would obey... and want even more.

Down there, a lazy summer evening unfolded, the crisp, salt-scented wind banishing any trace of the afternoon's summer heat while atop the hill, Erica, the tall, lonely bird, caught in her gilded cage looked on, at once wistful and grateful. Her keen vision could pick out the red flash of color as someone slid across a sheen of waterlogged sand on a boogie board. Much further out she could see the white smudge of a low-slung cabin cruiser, bobbing as it drew too near to the surf zone.

Then a moment before she felt it, she saw the slight movement, the black color out of the corner of her eye, reflected in the thick double pane of the huge plate glass window. She moved to turn, but a hand pressed to her upper back, pushing her against the cold plane of the window. Nipples stiffened under the thin blouse, her chest against the hard glass. "Stay right there. Hands on the window."

It was him! Her heart hammered in her chest, her hands shaking. She put her heated palms against the cool glass.

"Higher."

She ran them along the smooth surface, grateful for something to mask her shakes.

"Mm, so tall," he murmured, standing close behind her. His cologne wafted over her, along with something else.

Smoke?

"You stay right where you are. I'm taking a shower. Need to get this fucking cigarette smell off of me." He pressed the solid length of his body to her back, the bulge at his crotch against her buttocks. "If I come back to find you've moved one inch, I'll be giving that cute ass of yours a beating earlier than I'd planned."

His lips nuzzled her earlobe, his stubble rough against her skin. Then he was gone, leaving her trembling against the glass, held as fast as if he'd bound her in truth. She wondered what one of those summer tourists would see if they but turned to look up the wooded hill? Could they spot the slim woman spreading herself against the window as if she were being frisked? The sudden mental image of Sir's big hands roughly manhandling her vulnerable flesh sent her clit humming. She knew the locals would smile knowingly, moving on with the remainder of their day.

Blaine Forster meant as much to the town as ten thousand tourists did, and the long-time residents knew it. So what if the rumors of what went on at his stunning vacation home occasionally drew raised eyebrows and clucking tongues? Those who knew him knew what he represented, understood when it was wise to make an issue, and when it was prudent to simply move on with life.

"I'll just leave your lunch for you here." Erica nearly jumped out of her shoes. The maid. How had she missed the woman's entry?

Erica heard a tray laid down on the wood of the bar. She smiled. Only someone as loaded as Blaine would feel the need to have a goddamn bar in his bedroom. "Ah, thank you. I—"

"No need to explain, Erica." The satisfaction in the woman's soft voice made Erica want to crawl under the bed as her face burned. She heard the door close behind her, grateful that the maid had not shown up later — though she had no real idea what was coming later.

Fighting the absurdly strong urge to turn to look at her meager repast, she kept herself plastered to the glass like a perp thrown against a convenient wall by a cop to search and cuff.

She assumed the cuffs would be coming a little later.

The sun had lowered considerably, its waning, filtered light shining directly into the room. Erica wondered at the shadow her body must have cast on the wall behind her. Alas, she didn't dare turn to look at it. Yes, the idea of Blaine whipping her ass didn't exactly sound all bad, but she hadn't yet summoned up enough courage to defy one of his orders outright. Besides, she knew she wasn't a brat; she found it a richer, far more exciting experience to obey him... in everything.

So, there she stood, watching the daytime world slowly give way to that of the night. She grew up in Portland, OR, and she remembered the remarkable transformation that occurred in downtown on the weekends. Where during the daylight hours there were the business suits, the tasteful, stylish skirts, the occasional garishly dressed hippie bucking the conformity of the business day, those gave way to the night — and an entirely different city seemingly grew right out of the ground. There were the street kids, the slumming, BMW-driving teenagers, the punks, wannabe gangbangers, the hookers — she had even seen a man walking across Ankeny wearing nothing but a pair of assless chaps.

That concept of two beings in one had stayed with her, for it was something she felt particularly keenly. She'd given up trying to relate to friends swooning over the romantic dinner their boyfriends had taken them on, when her idea of "romance" was to be bent naked over the back of her couch and spanked. She'd ceased arguing with friends who'd used sex as a tool, leverage to be used against boyfriends that she generally found rather nice (though there were one or two douche bags as well, truth be told).

The very idea of withholding sex seemed... alien to her. Erica couldn't really get enough of it, as long as it was kinky — preferably depraved. She liked giving pleasure, and her drive, her urge to serve had always unnerved her. Her mother tutted at Erica when she deferred to others, strived, often at her expense, to make others feel better. She loved taking care of people — and that drive naturally extended into her sexuality.

The blue white of arc-sodium streetlights randomly flickered on below. A single, poor police car, strobes and blues flashing, crawled along the nearly gridlocked coastal road. It surprised her to see only one cop on the night of the Fourth of July, but then again, the night had barely begun. People from the valley would be flooding in, and the cops would have more pressing matters to attend to than directing traffic. Up in her world though, none of that mattered, really, for her concern was only for him — and for her. It was a big night; Sir had told her that he and Kathryn had been discussing things, their arrangement. He had hinted that it might be time to take things to the next level. They would need to test her though, to see if she was capable of meeting all of their... needs.

Erica just hoped she didn't fuck it all up.

"You're a good girl."

Erica had been leaning against the window, her shoulders burning, and she straightened at his voice.

Glass clinked together somewhere behind her as a mass of humanity gathered down below her, preparing to celebrate.

"Do you remember our first meeting, Erica?" She felt him moving close behind her. Her arms trembled with the fatigue of holding them up for so long.

"Of course."

A finger tapped her shoulder. "Don't 'of course' me, girl."

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"I'll let it slide, but only because my fearsome wife hasn't arrived yet."

"She's coming... here?" Erica gulped, thinking "fearsome" to be a particularly apt description for her strict Mistress.

"Mm hmm," Blaine said sipping from his drink, and leaning his back against the window, letting her see him. His close-cropped hair, white t-shirt and muscular arms made him look more like a mixed martial arts fighter than an executive, but she knew he purposely eschewed the look of a "suit." The fact that he owned this house and close to a dozen other properties in this town alone confirmed he was every bit as successful in business as she had no doubt he'd be in a fighting ring.

He cocked his head. "Why the face? I thought you'd be happy."

"I-I just didn't know, Sir."

His eyes glinted, and he smiled over the rim of his glass. Though he looked like he could tear phone books in half with his hands, his eyes gave the whole game away. It was what struck her that first night, and it still struck her now. Despite the fact that he was her Sir, commanded her obedience, those eyes of his held such warmth, such kindness. She'd not realized how much her life needed those two things until the night she'd agreed to let her friend Cam set her up to meet a friend. Cam knew what kind of man Erica was after, and when she'd first laid eyes on those deep browns, saw the playfulness, the caring, she thought maybe Cam had known more than she'd let on.

"You'll have to get used to that." He winked at her. "I don't know where she is half the time, either."

Erica smiled. "Yes, Sir."

It wasn't that she didn't want to see Kathryn — quite the opposite, really. Nevertheless, she was a lot to take in, a trial to be sure — and Erica wanted to be ready for her. She was attracted to the cold beauty of her Mistress, like a supplicant to a cruel Goddess. She craved kneeling at her feet, wringing whatever kindness she could from the smallest of gestures from the aloof woman. Those kindnesses gave Erica pure joy — perhaps because such things from her Mistress were so very rare.

Truth was sometimes hard for Erica to come to grips with, and in this case, she knew she craved more than those fleeting kindnesses from her Mistress. No, she needed the other part of her too, needed that darkness, that willingness to revel in Erica's pain, her humiliation. It was only with Kathryn, did Erica realize fully what she was, what she'd been all along but hadn't the words to describe it.

Blaine's hand reached out, molding itself around her ribcage, stroking the fabric of her blouse. His touch sent ticklish electricity through her skin. "You do remember that night don't you?"

"Every second, Sir."

"Then you know what I want you to do, don't you?"

She shot a glance at Blaine. "Now?"

Lips tight and jaw firm, he nodded slowly, light dancing in his eyes.

She unbuttoned the blouse quickly, keeping her eyes on the task, not trusting her trembling fingers to complete the job without direct supervision.

His hand patted her ass, and he walked away. She turned toward him, slipping the last button and pulling the blouse from her slacks.

"No, turn back around."

"Blaine—"

He glared at her, his jaw clenched.

"Sorry. It's just that... they'll see."

"And what if they do?"

She inhaled, her breath shaky. "I don't... know."

"That's something else you'd better get used to, girl. If you really want to do this, be mine, this body is going to be on display. A lot."

He was at her back once more, his lips touching her cheek, kissing the smooth flesh at the join of shoulder and neck. "Yes, I think you'll have some adjusting to do won't you?

"Yes, Sir." Her hands clutched both sides of the blouse. She was grateful for something to hold on to her fingers trembled so much.

His arm reached around her, the warm hand sliding up her belly. Fingers worked at her bra, releasing the front clasp in moments, the lace falling away to let cool air caress her breasts. "How will you react when we make you walk down a city street in a skin tight shirt but no bra? Your hard nipples on display for all to see?"

Clutching them both in his big hands, he squeezed her breasts firmly. "I think we'll make you wear some nice tall heels too. Get those hips rolling and these tits bouncing."

She dropped her eyes as her deep blush traveled down her neck, the flushing evident even on the slopes of the breasts still clutched in his big hands.

"I love your reactions," he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "You can't hide anything from me, you know."

"Yes, Sir." She didn't want to hide anything from him — ever. She only hoped it would be enough, her submission the key that would unlock his heart to her.

He spun her around, forcing her chest against the window. His hands pulled the blouse and loose bra out to the sides and she gasped as her breasts made contact with the cold glass.

"Don't you dare move," he growled. He clawed at her slacks, yanking them down along with the black thong.

"Sir, wait I—"

"Shh, just be a good girl. Obey me."

Breathing labored, heart racing, she closed her eyes against the embarrassment of it. She felt as if every eye down below was trained upon her now, watching the girl with her naked boobs squashed against the window.

Urging her to lift each foot in turn, he slipped off her heels. His hands massaged the grooves the straps left in her flesh, then pulled her slacks completely off. Naked from the waist down, she fought the insanely powerful urge to bring her hands down to cover her pussy. They could see all of it!

"Spread your legs."

His hard hand stung her ass, and she tried to ignore the embarrassing jiggle of her flesh. "Wider."

She moved her feet shoulder width apart, trying to ignore the image of what she must look like; the dark patch of pubic hair drawing the eye like a beacon to the sex nestled between pale thighs.

Strong hands gripped her buttocks, kneading the flesh. "God, I thought about this ass all day long."

Erica's breath hitched as his fingers dipped into the valley between the cheeks, stroking the velvet flesh of her bottom hole.

"I had Jack Weber giving me construction estimates for the new server farm, and all I could think about was being inside you, fucking this wet cunt."

A hand smacked against her soft labia, and she yelped. Despite the sting, she could feel the slickness of her sex increase by the second. He always knew how to touch her — just that right mix of roughness, possessiveness. His fingers spread her labia apart, the air cool on her heated inner flesh. Two thick fingers slid in, sinking deep into her wetness, and a low moan escaped her lips.

"All ready I see," he chuckled, planting a light kiss behind her ear. "Soon enough, bad girl. Soon enough."

There was a sound of a zipper lowering.

Oh, God! Please don't make me do this here.

Erica turned, dropping her hands from the glass, moving to step around him. "Wait, not—"

His hand clasped her upper arm in a bruising grip, his other hand grabbing her by the hair, pulling her up short. "What are you doing?" His voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear it.

"I can't do that... there."

Blaine's hazel eyes locked with hers, boring into her, searching. She saw the warmth there, warring with the lust, the need to control, to own her. He kissed her, hard, his tongue plundering her mouth even as his fist twisted further in her hair, holding her fast. He bit her lip, sucked on her tongue, the almost imperceptible growling from deep in his chest making her pussy spasm.

"You'll do what I tell you, girl. No questions."

"Sir, I'm sorry, it's just—"

A finger, scented with her juices, pressed its wet length across her mouth, silencing her.

"What happens to girls who disobey? Slaves who disobey?"

Erica knew this was right, had fantasized about this as long as she could remember. It had felt like a dream come true meeting a man like Blaine. However, sometimes it unnerved her, the reality of her submission more raw, more intense than even the darkest of her fantasies. She reveled in it even as she tried to flee from it. Flee from the woman she was deep inside... the slave who craved this.

She whimpered as he jerked her head, the sensitive roots of her hair protesting.

"I'm waiting."

"Slaves are — punished, Sir."

"That's correct." His voice lowered, the sound vibrating in her chest, through her pussy. "And do you deserve to be punished?"

No! Yes! I don't know!

"Yes... Sir."

"Good. You will be." He released her hair, and pointed at the bed. "Bend over the side of the mattress and wait for me."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered. Blaine left the room, the door closing with a quiet snick, the lock thrown with authority.

Get it together, Erica.

She splayed a hand over her ass as she walked away from the window. She knew she was being ridiculous; it was unlikely anyone on the road below could see much in the waning light of the evening. The sun was nearly set, the clouds on the horizon awash in pinks, lavenders, and deep blues.

Folding herself over the edge of the high mattress, she felt the heat of her blush as a bead of moisture escaped from between her labia, wetting the curls of her sex. Punishment always did that to her, the anticipation and dread becoming all mixed up, confusing her. Soon the pain would clear her mind, simplify everything into nothing but sensation and reaction.

The waiting was as bad as the punishment (okay, maybe it wasn't quite as bad), and she knew Blaine took great joy in making her wait. He never told her how long she'd have to stew until he'd carry out the sentence. He'd make her lie there for two minutes, or twenty. She never knew, and that uncertainty was itself a cruel certainty of any punishment. Blaine believed that punishment needn't just be physical — it could be psychological as well. Getting into, and messing with, a sub's head was a favorite technique of his... and in that, he wasn't alone.

Shivers coursed through her body at the thought of what Kathryn would do were she to walk into the room and see a bare-bottomed Erica laid out like this for punishment. Though Blaine could be scary when he wanted to be, it was her Mistress who truly terrified Erica.

The fact that such terror held more than a slight undercurrent of excitement to it disturbed Erica. Was it normal to be turned on by fear? She knew the answer to that — and it didn't lend her any comfort. She wasn't sure she knew how it was possible to be both scared to death of the woman, and yet have her pussy be soaked at the thought of being under her thumb.

It made no sense, but Erica had long since passed trying to sort out her desires. Things were just too tangled up, her sexual motivations so convoluted as to make any determination of the whys of whom and what she was, impossible. She'd just learned to accept it — mostly. Someday she would examine those motivations more closely, but right now, all she cared to do was surrender to sensation, surrender to her Sir, to her Mistress. Nothing else mattered.

The door opened again, and she heard his heavy footfalls draw near. Something solid hit the mattress near her head, the air current disturbing a strand of her hair.

"No, not there. Other side, Erica. I want that ass facing the windows. Better light."

She gulped, nodding. Erica had hoped he'd let it go, but as usual he didn't. Why did she hope for something she didn't really want? Leniency wasn't what she wanted. Quite the opposite, actually.

As she moved around to the other side of the bed, her eyes alighted on what he'd dropped on the mattress.

The paddle.

It was a broad rectangular piece of dark leather; flexible enough not to cut her with harsh edges, but with enough stiffness to give her what she knew he intended — a roasted ass.

He took up the paddle, swinging it a few times through the air, practicing his form. He brought the leather to her face, the smell of it strong and clean. "Kiss it."

She pressed her lips to the cold leather, her face burning with a deep blush. He took away the leather and presented his fingers to her lips. She gently kissed those too, his hand leaving her with a caress of her blushing cheek.

It was a well-practiced ritual, but it didn't make it any easier. Her Sir liked to draw out a punishment, luxuriate in her embarrassment, strip away any last vestiges of her dignity, and finally, enjoy her pain. it sounded crueler than she really thought it was; he was quite open about enjoying inflicting pain — but only if the person receiving it wanted it too. She was ashamed to admit she was very much that person, disturbing to her though it had been when she'd finally come to grips with that fact.

His hand stroked her hip. "Legs together."

She complied, squeezing her thighs in a vain effort to hide her sex from his gaze. She knew that with her height, bending over the bed would blatantly display the swollen folds of her pussy.

As if to confirm this, his palm patted her labia. "I love the way your pussy peeks back at me this way." Hands smoothed over her buttocks. "But I'm afraid this won't do. Move your feet back."

"What?"

"Come on, girl. Move them back," he said, landing a slap to her bottom. "Your ass is too tight bent this way. I want those cheeks loose for your punishment. As much as I enjoy watching your cunt weep for me as I discipline you, I don't want you clenching."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, pressing her burning face to the thousand thread count sheets. She shuffled them backward until her heels came off the carpet, the weight of her legs on the balls of her feet.

"That's better; keep those thighs nice and tight now." His hands roamed over the taught hamstrings. "God I love these legs. These were what I most wanted to get my hands on when I first saw you, Erica. These long legs of yours. So powerful, so graceful."

All she could think about was wrapping those legs around his waist as he pounded into her needy cunt. But first, she would receive her punishment... eventually.

She hissed in pain at the harsh pinch to her inner thigh. "I've got plans for these legs, girl."

Those little comments made her wonder. Erica had agreed to see both Blaine and Kathryn on a regular basis. In truth, it had quickly evolved into a one-sided arrangement: one of them would call her, and she would arrive at the predetermined destination, aroused, fearful — and hopeful. She considered if perhaps their arrangement was about to change. How would it? Was she ready for it if it did?

Hands smoothed over the curves of her bottom once more. "Kathryn didn't believe me when I told her about this ass," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. He grasped a cheek between finger and thumb, shaking it back and forth like a dog chewing on a toy. "But when she finally got a look at it, she marveled at it."

She did?

Erica, like many women had a love/hate relationship with her ass. It gave her great, forbidden pleasure when her Sir caressed it, spanked it — even fucked it. But she thought it was much too big. Cursed, when other tall woman typically had slender hips and asses, she bucked the trend with what was (to her mind anyway) her too plump bottom.

"You still with us, Erica?"

"Oh — sorry. Yes, Sir." The feel of his hands on her drove her to distraction, the thought of his thick cock pushing between her cheeks sending her mind spinning, even as her pussy clenched with need.

He continued. "Yes, well. Like I said, she couldn't believe it. I think I remember hearing her use the words 'dream girl'."

Erica was stunned. She felt so inadequate when in the presence of the icy, steel-willed Kathryn. Half the time, she wanted to either kneel at her Mistress' feet, or raise her ass for her whip. It was ridiculous of course; why would she respond in such a way to that callousness, the sometimes arrogant indifference? Could a woman even be described as arrogant? If so, Kathryn could occasionally resemble the remark. Something about the woman spoke to Erica though, spoke to her on a level that simply compelled her to want to do one thing.

Obey.

Kathryn was so different from Sir, though not in a way that left him wanting in Erica's eyes. No, to Erica, nothing about him would ever be found wanting. Nevertheless, the two certainly differed dramatically in how they treated her, their styles of dominance. To Erica though, they were just two halves of the whole — she responded (God did she) to both of them, regardless of their differences in technique. Her pussy knew what she wanted.

"That first night we all got together," he said, his fingers stroking up and down the crevice of her buttocks. "She was almost uncontrollable."

It was at an outdoor light festival, one of several put on display around the city during the winter holiday season, where Erica had agreed to first meet them together (she'd seen Blaine alone before). Nervous as hell, Erica had perched herself on one of the wrought iron chairs, her breath fogging in the chill night air. There were people all around her of course, everyone bathed in the dazzling white light of the displays, but the only two she registered were Blaine and Kathryn. Two beautiful, powerful, unattainable people — both there for her.

God, she was so beautiful, so far out of Erica's league! She'd thought for a moment about just slinking away, wanting to avoid the humiliation of those strangers' eyes comparing her gawky frame to the classical beauty of the willowy, elegant Kathryn.

They'd stood and moved away, just out of earshot of her (she'd tried to listen though, oh yes, she'd tried). Erica had watched them talk, watched them stare at her, the cold possessive calculation in their eyes sending chills down her spine, yet moistening her pussy.

"She wanted me to bundle you up and take you home that very night. No taking 'no' for an answer, either. Ours — whether you liked it or not. She told me she wanted me to hold you down while she caned your ass until it turned purple."

Erica's mouth went dry at the thought. Her pussy, however, had an entirely different reaction to the frightening imagery.

Jesus Christ, Erica. You slut.

Cold leather covered her ass, tapping gently, and she froze. "Do I have your attention?"

"Yes, Sir."

Oh God, here it comes!

But there was no burst of pain, no loud crack of leather on flesh. Nothing.

The tension in her calves and hamstrings was already building, and waiting for her agony to begin only made it worse.

"I'm waiting." The leather tapped her bottom.

"Sir, I don't..."

"You're clenching. Relax them."

"Sorry, Sir." Consciously willing your tense buttocks to relax in the face of an imminent paddling was not a natural act, and despite the fact that this wasn't the first time he'd admonished her for clenching, she still had a difficult time complying with his order. Her cheeks just wanted to huddle together fearfully, as if they could better weather the coming storm. She couldn't blame them.

"Now, girl." The leather snapped down, heat blooming across her skin.

Come on, loosen. Relax! Get it over with, Erica.

"There, much better." He pulled the leather away, and his hand lightly smacked each cheek a few times. "I like to see them shudder and wobble as I punish you. That doesn't work when you're clenching, and keeping those cheeks tight just makes the strokes hurt worse. Unless, that's what you really want. I can oblige your needs by hitting harder if that's the case."

"NO! No, please, Sir!"

Her face heated at his low chuckle. "Okay, girl. Maybe another time we can explore just how much you need that pain, hmm?"

She didn't answer, afraid one day he'd go through with it; afraid one day that he wouldn't go through with it.

He laid the paddle across her ass once more, the leather still, menacing. "Why are you being punished?"

"Because I disobeyed you, Sir."

"You did, though admittedly it wasn't too serious an offense. You're mostly a good girl."

"Thank you, Sir." She wanted to turn around and kiss him. Praise helped her, gave her strength for the ordeal to come. The pain was bad enough; his disapproval with her was worse.

"You just... lost your head for a moment," he said. "Still, punishment is called for here. How many do you think you deserve?"

None! A hundred! Shit.

"As many as you think I deserve, Sir." Her voice broke ever so slightly on the last word.

She tried to marshal her courage, to be strong. It was this way every time, a warring within her between the urge to flee — fight or flight — and the urge to tell him to hurt her, that there wasn't enough pain for her.

"Good answer," he said. "I think ten will do — a minor offense after all."

The first stroke landed with a loud pop in the quiet room. The tip of the paddle wrapped around her bottom and bit into her flesh. She knew if he gave her a few more like that, she'd wake up tomorrow morning with nice, deep bruising on that far hip.

The next blow was harder, and seemed to cover the whole of her cringing bottom, sending the cheeks bounding.

Relax, relax.

His hand stroked gently over the marks. "Good start here."

The next blow was much harder, and she yelled at the smart, the sting digging deep into her buttocks. "Felt that one?"

"Yes, Sir." She drew still once more, urging, begging her body to cooperate.

The leather whipped down four more times in quick succession, and though they were just as hard as the previous strikes, she just managed to keep still for them, her cries muffled by the sheets she clutched to her face in desperate, white-knuckled hands. His growled voice admonished her to loosen her cheeks again before the last blow.

He stroked the body-warmed leather over the curves of her bottom, his hand caressing her lower back. She could feel the fine sheen of sweat on her skin already.

"These last three will be the worst, Erica. I'm going to make these hurt, because you need them. Are you ready?"

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!

Her ass burned, the skin feeling abraded the way it always did after a solid leathering. It wasn't nearly as bad as a caning, but she knew she'd be a sore girl in the morning, even without the last three strokes still to come.

"Yes... Sir."

He bent over her, his lips whispering at her temple. "Be strong, beautiful."

Quick, crisp smacks rained down upon her ass. Each blow was harder than the last, the pain searing, and she cried out at each one. He knew how to make a paddling hurt when he wanted to — and this time it seemed he definitely wanted to.

Erica sucked in a great lungful of air, exhaling it in a soft whine. The throbbing made her move her hips, trying to shake off the pain.

"Punishment over," he whispered, making her kiss the paddle once more. He grasped her arm, and helped her to her feet. Her head swam a little and her bottom was definitely warm. Overall, though, ten strokes was a very light paddling, and she was grateful that's all she'd suffered for her transgression. She knew it could have been a lot worse.

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on her arm.

"W-what are you... ?"

The fire in the hazel depths of his gaze was unmistakable. "The paddling was for your punishment. This is for me. Over my lap."

Oh no.

She swiftly found herself in that familiar, humiliating position, blood pounding at her temples, the unruly dark curls of her hair all around her. She felt heat against the side of her hip and looked back. His cock stood up from the open fly of his slacks, its heavy length laid along her flesh. The urge to turn and take him between her lips was so strong; she almost risked further disobedience to do it.

Blaine looked down at her, his jaw clenched. "Get your head down."

She obeyed, shivering, hiding her face back under her curls once more.

The loose blouse partially covered her bottom, so he rucked the fabric higher, fully exposing her, the air cool on her sweaty lower back. His hands eased over her ass, the calloused fingers rough against her soft skin. Her thighs shook, fatigued from holding them steady during the paddling. His hands squeezed the lush flesh.

"Tired, little girl? We're not done yet — not by a long shot."

Blaine massaged each cheek in turn, both hands stroking, kneading, working the tension from her muscles. He traced each stinging, abraded mark with gentle fingertips, even bending to blow on them once, making her shiver. "Scorched here I see. Might be pretty sore after your spanking."

"Um, maybe you could skip the spanking?"

His hands stopped moving, his body tense, still. She swallowed. Maybe talking back hadn't been the most brilliant of moves.

Fingers dove into the tangle of her locks, twisting as he pulled her head up sharply. "Do you get to dictate what happens in this relationship?"

Wait — relationship?

He'd never called it that before. 'Play' or 'arrangement' were the terms she'd most often heard him use.

"N-no, Sir."

"And why is that?" The cadence of his speech slowed, his voice soft. But she wasn't fooled — when he got this way, she knew she was in trouble.

There were few right answers to these questions, and many wrong ones. "Because my only duty is to obey, do as I'm told?"

"That's correct. So, does that mean you get to suggest I let you off of your spanking?"

Were it possible to unspeak words, she knew she'd be doing it now.

"Ahh!" Her scalp burned as his hand tightened in her locks. "No, Sir! I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry."

"Good, then we understand each other, don't we?"

She nodded as best she could against his steely grip.

Blaine let go of her hair, his hand stroking from her nape down the length of her spine, fingers tangling in the blouse bunched at the small of her back.

He squeezed her buttocks harshly, making her wince. "Ready for your spanking?"

I thought this was for you?

She was eternally grateful her snark did not make it past her lips.

"Yes, Sir. Please, not too hard."

Hands stroked circles over each cheek, adding to the heat of her paddling. "That's up to you. Be a good girl, and this shouldn't take long."

The spanking began immediately, heavy smacks swiftly building heat to scorching levels. His palm slapped down onto the middle of one of her cheeks, the sound like a pistol shot. Soon, she was wagging her hips side-to-side, unable to help herself, even though she knew it would only encourage him to be even harsher with her.

"Keep still. I'm not hitting you that hard. A good girl takes her spankings quietly."

What the hell was he talking about? Her ass was on fire, the pain much more intense than that from the paddling. She breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth, trying anything she could to cope with the burning heat. All the while her body betrayed her, the deep uncoiling in her belly as she thought of what he must be seeing, her naked ass laid out for him to punish. She wished he'd give her a breather, to let the heat in her ass cool off, but his steady, hard blows continued.

"Please, Sir! Too hard!"

Blaine laughed, landing a smack along the top of her thigh, making her yelp. "We're just getting started, girl. You aren't fooling anybody."

His hand spanked over every inch of her ass, raising a throbbing burn everywhere. He paused after a harsh blow to the bottom of one cheek, sending her flesh bounding. She was grateful her hair shrouded her blushing face, for she hated the mortifying feel of her cheeks bouncing and wobbling under his smacks.

"I love seeing your little bottom move, girl. We've got some good color now too. Need some more here though." His fingers pulled up on one cheek, and she felt the stretch at the junction of thigh and buttock before he cracked a palm down onto that sensitive spot. An identical blow smacked down on the other cheek, shaking her whole body, the sting dragging a small sob from her.

Blaine moved his hips against her. "God, you're fucking killing me."

I'm killing you?

She wanted nothing more than to take care of his problem for him, but she knew there was no way it was happening until he'd roasted her cheeks to his exacting specifications; likely until they were hot to the touch, and tears streamed down her face. She had no doubt he'd then pronounce them "just right."

"Spread your thighs, Erica."

Thankful for a reprieve from the punishing blows, she gladly complied, widening her legs until she could feel her wet slit open, exposed to him. The first few times Blaine had spanked her, the humiliation of the exposure of her pussy (and often her bottom hole) to his gaze proved more of a trial to her than the actual pain of the spankings. She always felt so... vulnerable. Erica well knew that that was precisely the point, but knowing that didn't make submitting to it any easier for her.

Thick fingers traced the sensitive folds of her labia, smoothing the delicate flesh out with gentle fingertips, then splaying her lips firmly, making her gasp.

Yes, finally.

She never ceased to marvel that two hands that could deal out such pain, be so rough, cruel, yet in the next breath, become so very gentle, attentive, even loving. It was just one of the many remarkable things about the man she called Sir. The man she hoped someday might truly claim her for his own.

A long finger slid into her, curling in the way he knew drove her insane with pleasure.

Oh God, yes!

His finger squelched within her soaked flesh as he stimulated just the right spot within her, the exquisite sensation curling her toes, the tension bunching the strong muscles of her thighs, her abdominals clenching. "Oh, that's good," she breathed, her hips rolling, wanting more, needing more. "Oh Jesus, that's so good!"

Then he stopped, his finger held still inside her. She tried to keep it going with her hips, clenching down, twisting upon him, but his hand smacked her sore buttocks. "Stop that. You come when I say you can — if I let you come at all."

She stilled her hips, but it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to do so. Erica thought about begging him (it wouldn't be the first time), or telling him she'd let him do anything to her (which she knew he'd do anyway) as long as he let her come. The tension thrummed through her body as she kept herself motionless, hoping, praying he would continue.

When he did, a tear slipped down her cheek, her sigh of relief coming from the very depths of her soul. The man knew how to work a pussy, and he literally (and figuratively) had hers wrapped around his finger.

She sighed as he eased a second finger deep within her, but her sighs quickly turned anguished as he began spanking her once more with his off hand. The explosion of fresh pain had her crying out within seconds. The blows were different though, the stinging, jarring smacks somehow imparting a vibration through her flesh straight to her throbbing, erect clit, her tight nipples aching sympathetically.

Relentless, he did it twice more, working her to the brink, then stopping. Her agonized protests, her desperate pleadings rose again as he smacked her now blazing buttocks some more. The second time he stopped, he added the calloused fingertips to her clit, working the hard nodule back and forth along with the clever, devastating fingers stroking inside her pussy. She grunted as he left off for a third time, clutching herself to his legs, waiting for the harsh pain to begin again, accepting it as her lot. Her face was awash in tears, her hair wet with it.

"Good girl," he crooned, thrusting his fingers as deep as they'd go, earning a groan from her. "That's it girl, surrender to it. That's what a slave does. There's no choice in this, only acceptance. Give yourself to it, to me."

Erica sniffled as he spoke to her. All she knew was that he had her; he controlled her, her everything. There was no longer any shame, nor any fear. There was just Sir and his slave. All she wanted was for him to make her come, to let her come for him. God, she wanted it so much.

Fresh tears came to her eyes as he spread her buttocks well apart, his soft lips upon the inner slopes, planting a tender kiss directly upon the delicate, sensitive flesh of her bottom hole. He worked a broad hand over the whole of her sex, cupping her throbbing labia, coating his palm in her juices, the wet sounds of her soaked pussy making her whimper in embarrassment.

His fingers left off one last time, peppering hard smacks all over her bottom. He finished her off with a flurry of smacks marching down the vulnerable flesh of her thighs, the harsh pain of the blows drawing a strangled scream from her.

As she wept, the pain finally overwhelming her, his thick fingers slid between her labia once more. "There we go, girl. No more spanking now." His fingers thrust in hard, and she moaned through her tears. It felt so good to be penetrated deeply, the primal, animal pleasure astonishing her with its power. His fingers were back at her clit, pushing the hood back, fully exposing the aching flesh to the pain and pleasure of his rough fingertips.

"Oh God, oh God! Please, Sir!"

"What do you want, girl?" He added a third finger to her cunt, stretching her further as he plunged within her once more, the thrusts rougher by the second.

"Please, I need to come! Let me come. Oh God, please!"

Rough, cruel fingertips swirled over her throbbing, aching clit, and he pushed three fingers deep, the tips hard against her cervix. She went over then, screaming out her ecstasy, the light in the room exploding into a brilliant white, blotting out everything in her world but the mind-bending bliss of her orgasm. She could feel her pussy flood over his fingers, her hips jerking as he wrung more impossibly pleasurable spasms from her. Erica knew she could happily die from orgasms this good. Her body finally hung, spent, her lungs working like a great bellows, her breathing labored. Beads of sweat ran down her inner arms, tickling her sensitive flesh.

"That's my good girl. My lovely girl," Blaine whispered as she came down from it, his fingers gently stroking within her. He swiped a fingertip across her over-stimulated clit, and she cried out in both pleasure and anguish. Chuckling at her reaction, he did it again.

"Ahh, Sir, too much! Please, I can't take it!"

Cruel man. Lovely man.

He bent over and laid a soft kiss on her wet cheek. "Luckily, your Sir is merciful."

Erica craned her head up at him, flashing a wry smile. "Is that what you call it?"

"Watch yourself, Erica" But she could see the warmth in his gaze. He was pleased with her.

"Come here now." His strong arms enfolded her, bringing her up to sit on his lap, her long legs curled over his thighs. She rested her head on his chest, the beat of his heart a steady thump under her ear. The tip of his hard cock was wet, and she felt the moisture against her thigh as she hugged herself to him.

"That was... amazing," she whispered, closing her eyes. Her ass and her clit seemed to throb as one now, the afterglow of her orgasm merging with, becoming indistinguishable from, the warm aching of her ass.

"It's been too long." His lips brushed her cheek, nuzzled the frazzled locks at her temple.

She turned her head up to him, to his intense hazel eyes. Such a beautiful man. How in God's name had he ended up with someone like her in his life? A man, filthy rich, who happened to have the body of a god, holding this gawky, too-tall girl in his arms, cradling her as if she weighed nothing. Sometimes things just made no sense, and even in her short life she'd learned enough not to question too much. Not to question the good things.

"I want you, Erica," he said, his kiss hard, possessive. His hand held her face while his tongue explored her soft mouth, her swollen lips. Enjoying, claiming.

His.

He pulled back, gazing at her a moment, searching for something, the last light of the setting sun sparkling within the depths of his eyes.

Then she saw it, that darkness descending on his gaze like a cloud passing over a sunny prairie, just a hint of what lay beneath.

"Get up," he said, a new edge to his voice.

Erica slid off his lap, drawing herself to her full height before him. She barely suppressed the urge to cover her sex, displayed as she was before him. It made her feel like a shamefaced little girl. The thought sent another little surge of moisture between the slick lips of her pussy.

"Take the rest of it off."

She pulled reluctantly at one arm of the blouse. It was absurd to think so, standing there in front of him with her naked cunt bared to his gaze, but even the open blouse provided something. A symbolic protection, a weird sort of comfort.

"Now," he barked. "I won't have you hiding from me, not ever. Get it off."

Swallowing, looking over the top of his head, she slipped the fabric off her shoulders, the blouse whispering to the floor, the lace bra following suit. Blaine's eyes roved over her body, his jaw clenching, his unhurried, assessing gaze making her flush anew.

Erica watched his hand wrap around his cock, stroke slowly up and down the long, veined shaft. She licked her lips, and tried to kneel, but he was up and on her in a flash, a hand entwined in her unruly curls. She stumbled as he dragged her over toward the window once more. Back to all those watching eyes.

"No, wait —"

"I don't want to hear you speak that word again, Erica," he whispered into her ear. "We need to talk about that again, I see." He used his grip on her hair to turn and push her against the window, her cheek laid along the glass. "But first, I want you."

Oh God, yes.

She fluttered her hands at her sides, unsure what to do with them.

"On the window, over your head."

Absurdly, she felt relieved he'd told her what to do. Despite that, the position made her feel even more helpless, further exposed. She had no doubt that was his intent. Even as she felt something hard and hot touch her ass, she found herself gazing at the brilliant red gold of the waning sunset, the beauty of it so unlike anything seen in the valley.

Blaine was a big man, and as his cock slid into her, she panted, the very tight fit just this side of uncomfortable. It was the same every time of course, no matter how often he'd taken her. She knew he liked that she had to work to take him, that it was never easy. Erica never wanted easy, she just wanted him — and stretched pussy or not, she'd have him.

The fabric of his slacks pressed to the backs of her thighs as he seated himself fully within her, the head of his big penis seemingly at the core of her. Her body shuddered at the deep penetration, the feel of his hard thighs against her making her grind her ass slowly against him.

"Shh, don't move. I just want to feel you, feel you tight around me. Be still now."

She moaned, fighting the urge to roll her hips. How could she? With her Sir's cock deep within her, the need to work him, to thrust down upon him was visceral, primal.

He drew a whispered sigh from her lips as he began to thrust, just slow, deliberate movements at first, the slide of every hot, hard inch of him exquisite and maddening all at once. He kept at her like that, the room silent but for her labored breathing and the wet sounds of her pussy surrendering to the solid strokes of his cock.

"That's it, girl." The hand in her hair pushed her face harder against the window. "You just stay nice and quiet, and let me fuck this cunt."

He let go of her hair, relaxing the tension in her neck. The light had lowered further outside, some of the creeping cars' headlights now visible on the road below. Erica squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't look out the window like that.

Could. Not. Look.

A hard thrust shook her body against the glass, as he took up deeper, faster movements. She moaned again as his hips slammed into her ass, her bare breasts squeaking against the window. Her nipples had grown so hard, she was sure they would etch the glass as her body jostled under the assault of his thrusting.

Hands grasped her waist, squeezing. She responded by clenching her pussy upon him, earning a deep groan from Blaine. "Good girl! Such a good girl."

Blaine pulled on her hips, roughly moving her back from the window. She took one hand from the glass, trying to balance herself.

"No. Keep them up there unless I tell you otherwise."

Soon he had her bent almost double, her head hanging down between her arms, his big hands clasped tightly, possessively around her waist. Her hair swayed below her as he took up a swift rhythm, pounding into her repeatedly.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned as he pushed close, filling her to bursting, the awkward, but pleasurable sensation of the big head forced against her cervix.

She felt his hands reach under her, clutching her swinging breasts, squeezing them until she whimpered. He caught her hard nipples between cruel fingers, pinching and twisting her sensitive flesh, making her cry out. The pain arrowed straight to her womb, transforming itself as she clenched down upon him once more.

He leaned over her, still stroking his big cock within her. "Just wait, girl. I can't wait until these are mine."

His? What...?

"I'm going to have your nipples pierced."

Erica gasped as he squeezed again, his fingers pinching them at the base where they met the smooth, dark surrounds.

"Kathryn and I talked about it. She wanted to have you tattooed. But I wanted to have you pierced. Nice, thick gold rings right at the base. Soon, bad girl."

The idea terrified her. It wasn't that she was afraid of needles at all. Rather, it was the dark fascination with it, with the pain of it. In her freshman year in college, her dorm mate Shauna had decided to have her nipples pierced for her boyfriend's birthday. She'd dragged Erica down with her as moral support to have it done. Even though the man in the shop had numbed the nipples, then clamped them, Shauna had still cried through the whole procedure. Her high-pitched keening was chilling, but it had also stoked an illicit heat between Erica's thighs. As she'd watched the man dab the drops of blood from Shauna's impossibly red, inflamed nipples, Erica had been shocked at her body's physical, lustful reaction to the undercurrent of subjugation, even degradation, in the act.

Ever since that day she'd wondered how bad it really did hurt, if it was the kind of pain that would morph into the forbidden desire she felt after having her ass blistered by paddle or hand. The kind of pain that made her nipples stand up, her pussy gush.

She grunted once, twice, three times as Blaine straightened, thrusting hard, shaking her entire body. Fingers reached down to stroke over her clit, and she moaned, twisting her ass against him. It hurt to have him stimulating her again, but the hurt just magnified, crystallized her lust for him. She wanted the pain, needed that edge to the pleasure.

"This... is... how... I... want... you," he ground out, each word punctuated by a brutal thrust that drew panicky breaths from Erica. He leaned over her, still driving into her, one heavy hand clasping her shoulder in a painful grip, as he whispered in her ear. "If you were mine, I'd keep you naked, dependent on me for everything. I'd have you chained to the foot of my bed. I'd wake you in the night and fold you over the foot board. Take you whenever I felt the urge. No words, no seeking your permission. Mine."

"Yes! Oh, god. Harder, Sir!" Erica could feel her climax gathering, spiraling higher. Both his words and his thick cock worked her, broke her down, made her a slave to him. Nothing else mattered in this moment, just the feel of him, his strength controlling her, enveloping her, binding her body and soul to him.

His.

"Close, so close," he grunted. His big hand laid down a punishing slap to Erica's ass, making her yell, the blow reawakening the throbbing, punished flesh. A fist yanked hard on her locks, pulling her head back, the pain blooming in her scalp and driving her lust higher, that agony earthing in her womb, intensifying the pulsing ache of her clit.

His hips pounded against her in sharp, staccato thrusts, his tortured groan punctuated by the harsh pull on her hair like the reins of a thoroughbred. The pain kept her on the knife-edge of orgasm; the feeling of him riding her like an animal lending a taboo energy to their fucking that was at once degrading and exhilarating. Then she felt wetness flood within her as he came, the heat of it a delicious surprise. He slumped over her, catching his breath. Warm drops of sweat dripped onto her back, his labored breath whispering through her hair.

She smiled. He'd been saving up on his trip, evidently. Saving up for her.

They both liked to make her worship his cock with her mouth, revere the gift of his semen. Often, on the days he'd arranged to have her visit him, he'd take great joy (and if she were honest, she did too) in making her kneel naked before him while he brought himself off, thick dollops of hot come spraying over the slopes of her breasts, her exposed neck. Sometimes he'd make her hold her mouth open for him, the strangled purplish head depositing a thick offering on her outstretched tongue. He'd hold her chin gently in his hand raising her gaze to his, his thumb spreading a drop of his come across her swollen lower lip, the warm fondness in his eyes melting her, leaving her defenseless against him. He'd coo to her as he softly told her to swallow, to take all of it like a good girl. Then she'd lower her gaze, shivering as the warmth suffused her cheeks, the pleasure and the shame of it melding within her into a seething mass of lust.

His spent cock slipped from her sex, drawing a ragged sigh from her. His hands helped her to stand again, easing her back against the hard planes of his chest. Somewhere he'd shed the t-shirt, and she longed to see the sectioned abdominals, the powerful pectorals, worship all of it with her lips and tongue. But he just held her, one muscled arm over her chest, his gentle palm cupping the weight of one of her breasts.

They just stood there, both of them listening to the other breathe, reveling in the feel of flesh on flesh. The warm metallic scent of her Sir's semen was strong as it leaked sullenly from her hard-used pussy. She had the urge to run her fingers through it, to taste it, but knew she wasn't to move unless he ordered it.

The light of the sun had bled almost totally from the sky, a smudge of magenta and deep blue at the horizon, the night ushering in the dazzling star field above.

"I never get tired of seeing it," Blaine murmured. "That incredible sunset."

Erica smiled back at him. "I've never seen it before, like this. At the ocean."

It filled her with such calm, the pure simplicity of it. She thought she knew a little now of why long-time sailors might grow melancholy when away from the sea for too long.

"When your Mistress and I were first married, we spent time here every chance we got, enjoying this beauty, enjoying each other."

The pang of longing gnawed at her. She searched her feelings to make sure it wasn't jealousy or possessiveness. Such things were corrosive, insidious, and she was determined never to let herself succumb to them.

No, what she felt was... regret. It wasn't because he'd had that time with Kathryn, but regret that Erica couldn't have shared it with them. She pictured them standing at this very window, arms wrapped around one another, two beautiful immortals enraptured by their new love. Erica would be there with them, naked, on her knees, the chain to her collar tucked in the crook of Blaine's muscled arm. She'd press kisses to their thighs, to the fingers offered to her fervent lips. A silent, loving tableau.

It hadn't happened of course, but who knew what the future held? It was a future she told herself not to hope for, her naive attempt to stave off the disappointment of reality. She knew she was young, a little rash at times (Mom and Dad would say a lot rash), so she tried not to get too far ahead of things. Blaine, wiser than his years might indicate, had helped her to let events happen on their own, to surrender to them — and to him. He'd tried to show her the peace found in the accepting of the vagaries of chance... and maybe even a little good fortune.

Erica's stomach growled loudly, both of them laughing at her startled jump. She turned in his arms, looking at him, then pointedly moving her gaze beyond him to the bar.

"Guess we'd better feed you, bad girl," he said, winking at her. "All this fucking is sapping your strength. What kind of a vampire would I be to allow my victim to wilt so soon?"

She giggled at him, kissing his soft, sensual mouth.

Blaine nipped at her lip. "Insatiable."

What more gorgeous specimen of a vampire than her Sir could there possibly be? She his source of sustenance, his blood slave, bound to him in more ways than her chains. The thought made her shiver, her pussy awakening yet again.

"Go get your bread, and bring it to me." He nodded his head back toward the bar.

Erica was starving, and just the thought of even that plain bread made her mouth water. She brought the plate to him, and he took it, dipping his chin toward the floor.

Sighing, she sunk to her knees. She spread her ass properly on her heels, her cheeks heating at the bounce and wobble of her breasts. He stood over her, bright eyes drinking in her nudity. Her gaze took in the broad, muscular chest, the brown, flat nipples beckoning to her lips and tongue, down the lean, sectioned abdominals with the light dusting of dark hair that dove down to his crotch. He'd tucked himself back in, only a tuft of wiry pubic hair visible in the casually open fly of his black slacks.

He bade her kneel closer, and she obeyed, not able to divine a way to do it without sending her breasts bouncing once more. Blaine pulled her head to his muscled thigh, fingers stroking though her hair. She kept her hands in her lap as he'd taught her long ago, though she itched to run them up the heavy muscles of those thighs, to feel the barely harnessed power of those legs hum beneath her touch.

They stood that way for some minutes, his fingers feeling positively divine in her hair, stroking the tension from her scalp. Then he stirred, tapping her cheek. "Raise your eyes, Erica."

Clutched in his hand, the piece of bread floated just above her. She tilted her head, questioning, and he nodded at her.

Then she realized what he intended, and her blush burned to the roots of her hair, his broad grin registering the gleeful pleasure he took in her embarrassment. Plucking up her courage, she knelt up, taking the bread from his fingers with her lips.

She'd feared it would be bland, tasteless, but instead it was delicious, obviously fresh baked, and fair melted on her tongue. He tore off another piece, holding it above her once more. She moved to kneel up again, but a sharp shake of his head stopped her.

"Present your breasts."

"What? I don't..."

"Use your hands, Erica."

Cupping her breasts, she held them up to him, the globes quivering in her unsteady hands.

"That's it. Very good." He placed the piece in her mouth, the back of his hand caressing the warmth of her cheek.

There was a soft knock and Ana stepped in, a hand wrapped around the door. Erica tried to stand, but Blaine's hand clamped her head to his thigh. She thought better of struggling against him, and instead hid her face against his slacks, her arms wrapped around him.

Ana cleared her throat. "Sorry to disturb you, Sir. Mrs. Forster called to say she'd be late."

"Thank you, Ana. You can go to bed now, if you want. I'll lock up." Erica could feel the smug maid's gaze on the round, bare ass pressed to her naked feet. "Is there anything I can... get for you, while I'm here, Sir?"

The bitch. No!

"No, I think we're good," Blaine said, mirth in his voice. "Thank you, Ana."

"Good night, Sir." A pause, her voice raised for effect. "Good night, Erica."

Erica wanted to crawl into the floor, through to the center of the earth. But first, she wanted to murder Ana.

Blaine growled, his hand tightening on her hair.

"Good night, Ana," she mumbled, as if chewing on broken glass.

"Oh wait, Ana?" His palm caressed the crown of Erica's head. "There is something."

"Sir?"

Erica could claw the woman's eyes out at the blatant eagerness in her tone. The slut.

He's mine.

It was insane for her to feel jealous about a man who — essentially — owned Erica, and who was himself married to another woman. However, love — and lust — rarely made sense. She could accept it though, and she knew she'd do everything and anything to make Ana accept it too if the tarted-up maid touched one hair on her Sir.

Erica knew he'd probably punish her for such thoughts, but luckily, he wasn't able to get inside her head — yet.

"Do you know where the arm binder is? The leather one?"

"I think so," Ana said, hesitation plain in the maid's voice. "In the... room, Sir."

No, no.

"Okay, good. Bring it to me along with that black cloth I left draped over the end of the horse." Blaine used his grip to turn Erica's face up, her eyes reluctantly meeting his. Something danced in the depths of his gaze, and a shiver shook her body. He grinned down at her.

"Might as well bring the hobble too, Ana. This girl needs it."
Chapter Two

The breathing of the soft, beautiful body curled up next to him had settled, sleep claiming the girl whom he feared he'd become increasingly fixated upon. Blaine shifted her body a little, adjusting the position of her head, her warm cheek laid upon his shoulder. She wasn't used to sleeping with her arms bound, so he wanted to keep her as comfortable as possible. The girl had a long night still ahead of her.

He'd been surprised when she'd fallen asleep shortly after securing her in her bonds. Her trembling was such as he'd fitted her arms into the binder, that he thought she might dissolve into tears, plead with him to leave off. Luckily, she hadn't. Instead, she'd endured the vulnerability of the arm binder, the way it blatantly presented her luscious breasts, displayed those long nipples of hers his fingers could never resist pinching into aching hardness. Surprisingly, the blindfold seemed to calm her, her tight lips loosening, opening, calling to his mouth to kiss, to take. Her whole body softened, the tension melting from her muscles, and no longer resisting, she'd allowed him to draw her into his arms.

Surrender.

It's what he craved from her. It was still hard for her, but that very difficulty added the sweetness to it that he savored. That moment of realization that she was truly helpless, entirely subject to him and his whims. Lying there in that massive bed, the same bed he'd shared with his wife countless nights, his thoughts wandered. He wanted more, so much more. A beautiful, introverted college girl, at once unassuming and compelling, he'd been fascinated by her fresh, fearless embrace of her needs. It was a quality entirely unlike someone of her youth, and it drew him — and Kathryn — to her. But he still wondered if Erica was truly ready for it, fully prepared for what he'd soon expect from her — if the night went according to plan.

Blaine knew he wanted her the first moment he'd set eyes on her. That scared, but obviously eager girl sitting uncomfortably in the midst of all those strangers, awash in the bright whites of the light display. She'd looked almost angelic, a purity of spirit in those pretty eyes. But the thoughts that shapely body of hers had evoked in him were decidedly impure.

She stirred against him, the chain of her hobble clicking softly as she moved her ankles.

"Shh, girl," he murmured, placing a kiss on her cheek. "It's okay, sleep now."

Her lips moved in that uncertain way those who dream have, the words formed in that twilight mind, but not transmitted completely to the mouth, to the means of expression. Blaine kissed those lips into stillness.

As much as he loved holding the helpless Erica next to him, listening to her breathing, something was missing.

His wife.

She'd been the one to first propose the idea, and he'd shot it down immediately. Why do it when they were both already so happy?

His hand stroked the hair away from Erica's eyes, his thumb tracing a dark eyebrow. Now he knew she'd been right; she'd nailed it, actually. Would there be jealousy? Could there be a chance sometime in the future that one would be favored over another? Certainly, there was a chance.

But the one in danger of feeling left out wasn't whom he'd thought it might be.

The door opened, whispering along the thick pile carpet. a figure strolling into the darkness of the room. The street lamps from the road below cast a ghostly light through the huge windows, partially illuminating the otherwise dark room.

"How's our little slave girl?"

Blaine grinned, easing his arm out from under the bound, slumbering Erica. "I didn't think you'd be back until late."

His wife stepped fully into the light, her hands working in her hair. Her tight, tailored gray suit, while itself an almost masculine affectation, nevertheless perfectly accentuated her slim, willowy figure. "I had James fly me out of there early. Did you know he's got a girl in Vancouver? He was quite amenable to getting me to Portland as fast as possible." Kathryn smiled. "He just about flew the wings off that thing."

"I'm glad you're back," Blaine said, rolling gingerly from the bed, hoping he wouldn't wake the beautiful, constrained nude curled over the blankets. He pulled on the warm-ups, the cotton cool against his skin. Striding to Kathryn, he wrapped his arms around her, tasting her lips after much too long. "Missed you."

She kissed him back, angling her hips against him, his cock stirring. "She didn't wear you out I see." Her hand closed around him, stroking slowly, knowingly. "My insatiable husband."

"Someone needs to be reminded of her place."

Kathryn tilted her head, giving him an exaggerated flutter of eyelashes. "I'd say she's well aware of her place."

"I wasn't talking about Erica," he rumbled.

Yes, it had been much too long for many things. He used to obsess about when he'd next get his hands on his gorgeous, bewitching wife. Imagine the color and shape of the weals his whip would raise over her ass, her anguished cries filling the air. All of it culminating in the animal, primal energy of their fucking, taking her the way a woman like her needed, her body yielding to his lusts.

Deep blue eyes flashed at him, her smile faltering just a tiny bit. "Let's get a drink."

His hand caught her arm as she moved past him toward the bar. "Not here. Let her sleep a while. She's tired."

Kathryn allowed him to reel her back into his arms, and he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids. Her scent was something he'd never cease to enjoy. She always smelled so good — even after a nonstop from Bismarck to Portland. He worked the jacket off, his hands itching to reacquaint themselves with her flesh.

His flesh.

Slipping out of his grasp, she sauntered to the door, looking back at him as she finally loosened her hair, the golden mass of it falling all about her face. "Outside," she whispered, and disappeared down the hall.

Ana, dressed in only her diaphanous nightgown, met him at the door. The dark surrounds of her nipples beneath the sheer fabric were plainly visible in the hallway light, and Blaine tore his gaze away from them to look back at the bound beauty slumbering on his bed.

The buxom maid's brow furrowed. "Everything okay, Sir?"

"Leave her there until she wakes," he said, laying a finger along a soft olive cheek, bringing her gaze up to his. "When she does, give her whatever she needs — but this door stays locked when you're finished. Understand?"

Ana lowered her gaze, her hands clasped in front of her thighs. "Of course, Sir." The dark nipples hardened under Blaine's gaze, and he considered taking Ana out to the deck with him and Kathryn. It would not have been the first time they had pressed their maid into other... duties.

He kissed the mass of Ana's dark hair, then went searching for his wayward wife.
Chapter Three

The night air smelled faintly of sea and sulfur, the locals already lighting off a wealth of fireworks all around them. Kathryn sipped from her wine, her glass dangling in her long fingers, her slender, yet shapely figure leaning over, elbows poised on the black wrought iron of the railing. Strands of long hair blew about in the breeze, the wildness of it such a contrast to her normal compact, tightly controlled state.

His hand stroked lazily over the curve of her ass, so nicely displayed in the tight slacks. "You've gotta be beat, Kathryn. We don't need to do this tonight, you know."

Her gaze turned up to him, her face only partially illuminated by the streetlamps below. "I'm ready. We're ready."

Blaine shrugged, leaning his hip against the railing. He moved his hand up her back and submerged it in the heavy tresses. She moaned, arching her head up as he massaged her scalp.

"Maybe, maybe not." he said. "What makes you so sure?"

"God, that's fucking amazing, Blaine."

"I aim to please," he murmured. He grasped her nape in a firm grip, her body tensing. "But answer the question."

She looked at him again, smiling. "Why do you play games like this? I know how much you want her. It's plain to see."

"You want her every bit as much as I do." He wondered some days if she might actually prefer the young innocent to her own husband. Perhaps it was simply infatuation — it wasn't as if he weren't guilty of his share of obsessing over the fetching girl.

"Mm hmm," she murmured. "And your point?"

Blaine pulled her head up, forcing Kathryn to straighten. "You forget yourself, wife."

She caught her breath, her sparkling eyes searching his. "Make me remember, Blaine."

He kissed her, spinning her around and slamming her back against the dark wood siding. She dropped the glass to the deck, wetness splashing against his foot. He forced his leg between hers, the heat of her cunt raised up on the hard muscles of his thigh. Her hands reached for his face and he batted them away, clutching them in one fist. He wrenched her head to the side, exposing the whiteness of her delicate throat to him.

She gasped as his lips found her soft flesh, nipped her skin. "When this is over tonight, you and I." He caught a soft breast in his hand, squeezing brutally, her whimper drowned in his mouth. "We're going to help remind you where you stand in this marriage."

"Why not now," she breathed, twisting her hips, grinding her heat into his thigh. "Show me."

Blaine's quelling finger pressed to her lips. "That's for me to decide, woman." He extricated his leg, to a disappointed murmur. "First, we need to talk."

Kathryn's gaze dropped to the wet planks. "Now that's a waste of some good Malbec."

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh in the cool night breeze. "You're sure about this?"

Kathryn blew out a breath, both hands grasping the rail. The wind caught her hair, twirling it like an ephemeral windsock for a moment. "Yes. Can't you see?"

Blaine saw it. He felt it, the restlessness of his strong-willed wife. She submitted to him, in all things, and had from the very beginning. But that strong will needed an outlet, a focus.

They'd both enjoyed his taming of Kathryn's willfulness in the beginning (and they still enjoyed it now), and yet with the passage of the years, and the blossoming of his once reticent wife into the fierce, driven corporate shark she was today, a new need had surfaced — one they both knew he was ill-equipped to satisfy.

Then she'd seen her. It happened quite by accident, really. Blaine's friend Cam (a woman who was quite aware of his particular tastes) had told him she knew of a woman whom he might enjoy meeting. He hadn't even thought about it with any deliberateness. Blaine had brought young, naive women into their bed before, of course. Kathryn had always reveled in it, soaking up the wide-eyed innocence exposed to the realities of a world of possibilities, to treatment equal parts tender and cruel.

That night Kathryn had come to exchange phones with him, having somehow left hers in his coat pocket. He'd barely spoken two words to Erica, but his cock was already hard for her, already imagining what those long legs would look like stretched out before him, her lush bottom quivering over his lap, her nervous breathing as she waited for her spanking to begin.

He'd watched Kathryn moving through the dazzling light of the courtyard, her gleaming golden plaits washing over the thick collar of her coat. God, she was so beautiful! She'd stopped dead upon seeing the girl he sat with.

Erica hadn't seen her yet though, her trembling attention fixated on Blaine's fingers as they stroked her open palm he held in his hands.

His wife's glittering eyes met his, the naked fire in them quickening his heartbeat, his cock throbbing further. He'd walked to her then, hoping his coat hid the obvious bulge he was sure would be visible at his crotch.

"That's her. Make her ours, Blaine."

Those words had started it all for them, begun the journey — and with luck, they both hoped the new chapter in that journey, would begin tonight.

Nevertheless, he wondered. They'd never taken it this far before, and they'd planned to take things much further still. There was always a danger in it, introducing a third, subordinate though she'd definitely be — to the both of them. It was for that reason alone that he thought it just might work.

Having a slave meant responsibility, work, and diligence. Kathryn would be up to the task, and then some. In a way, he actually felt a little sorry for the girl. Though he'd seen her pussy react to Kathryn every bit as strongly as she reacted to him, he knew the young woman had no real concept of what she was truly getting herself into.

"Then if she passes your little test, you'll have what you wanted, Kathryn."

Her eyes stared off toward the dark expanse of the sea. "A slave."

Blaine's hand closed over hers, squeezing. "Ours."

* * *

Erica awoke to the movement of the bed. The room was pitch black, and she looked around groggily for light, any light. Then she remembered the blindfold.

"Sleep well?" Sir's voice. The bed moved again, and she felt the warmth of his naked body next to her, his side pressing to her naked breasts, the hairs tickling her.

"Yeah... how long was I?"

"A while. It's dark now. Time to head to the beach in a bit."

Strong hands hooked under her arms, helping her to sit up, the blackness behind the blindfold disorienting her for a moment. "Ahh, this..."

She twisted within the arm binder, her fingers working in the soft cloth balled in her palms.

"Stop that," Sir said, a hand slapping her breast, sending it bouncing. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I'm sorry, Sir. It's just... need to get loose." Her hands were sweaty, and she wanted them out, to feel the fresh, cool air kiss her clammy skin again.

"You're not getting out of that binder until I say so. You can start by doing what you're told. Now stop fidgeting."

Hard hands captured her breasts, kneading the vulnerable flesh, her treacherous nipples tightening against his grip. "As much as I like what your struggling does to these tits of yours, I don't want you injured." He bounced a breast in his palm then let it drop, his finger tapping her chin. "Be a good girl now."

She nodded with a whimper, curling into herself, trying vainly to find some way to feel less... vulnerable. It felt like her breasts had spotlights on them.

"Just follow my lead, girl." His hands pulled on her arms, drawing her toward him, and for the millionth time she cursed the arm binder for preventing her from embracing him. The damned thing ensured that everywhere Erica went, she led with her breasts. She felt her nipples stiffen at the thought, and Blaine chuckled somewhere in front of her.

"Eager?"

"No, Sir," she lied. She couldn't tell if the cool wetness between her thighs was her own juices or Sir's seed. He rarely gave her leave to allow her to clean his semen from her sex, and this time was no different.

He clasped her waist tightly, and she stiffened. "Lift your leg up now. There you go."

Oh, please let it be this.

Something hot and hard touched her inner thighs, and she barely suppressed an exultant yell. She loved being on top of her Sir. It was so rarely allowed during her visits that she regarded it as a true gift, allowing her to grind her clit against him as they fucked. He allowed her to ride his cock, but still he controlled her, directed her movements. Her physical proximity to him meant nothing — he was still her Sir in every sense.

The broad head of his cock slipped between swollen, sensitive labia and she slid down, down. Erica panted as he spread her wide once more, her pussy unexpectedly sore from the earlier encounter. He must have been even harder on her than she'd thought.

Her pussy spasmed at the thought, making her wince.

Hands squeezed her waist. "Stay very still Erica. Very still. I want to look at you."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, dropping her head even though she was blindfolded. She knew he was watching the rise and fall of her proffered breasts, even as the hot blush spread from her cheeks down her neck. Such was the one drawback of the position — total exposure to him. From the flush of her cheeks to her bouncing breasts (as she had no doubt they would be once he worked her up to speed) down to the bare pussy stretching around his thick, throbbing cock. All of it for him, his to do with as he pleased.

"Very slowly now, work me with that cunt." He slapped her breast, his finger catching a hard nipple, making her yelp at the sting. "Slower, more. There you go."

Erica knew how he liked it, and her sinuous hips swirled as she thrust up and down on the big penis, her pace entirely dictated by those hard, cruel hands. Her pussy made a wet noise upon him and she felt her cheeks warm anew.

Fingers played below, finding her aching clit even as, at the urging of those implacable hands, she thrust down upon him faster. "Sir, please."

"Please, what?" His voice had lowered, the tension just under the surface. For once, she was affecting him, getting to him. The flash of triumph was very short-lived however, as fingertips claimed her hard nipples, pinching down in twin points of bright pain. "Don't even think about it."

"Please!"

She groaned, shuddering as his fingers twisted her nipples, the pain arrowing straight to her womb, transformed into burning lust. She could feel the copious wetness coating him, spread over her inner thighs, as she obediently worked his shaft repeatedly. God, if he'd just let her. Just once!

"This isn't about you right now, girl." She cried out as he slapped first one breast, then the other, causing the globes to collide with one another. "Your job is to be quiet, and fuck me with that wet cunt. If you come, it's incidental. Don't forget it."

"Yes... Sir," she whispered, wanting to hide her face, the shame was so exquisite.

"Faster now. Come on, girl!"

Her hips slammed down upon him, his cock going so deep it took her breath away, the big head rubbing against the mouth of her womb in that odd mixture of pain/pleasure she experienced with cervical stimulation. The blindfold didn't help her block out the vision of her breasts wobbling up and down under his avid gaze, the tips bright red from the cruel ministrations of his fingertips.

She felt a smaller, softer hand caress her ass. "How's she doing?"

Erica froze. The coolness of the voice was unmistakable. Her Mistress.

"Jury's still out on that one," Blaine said, a twist of his hips grinding his hard cock deeper within her. "She's been a good girl, mostly."

Erica couldn't quite stifle a whine at the sharp pain of the pinch to her ass. "I see you had to punish her. What's she done?"

She trembled, her hands twisting helplessly within the leather of the arm binder.

"Oh nothing too bad, really," Blaine said, his hands settling on the curves of her hips again. "She just needed a little reminder to do as she's told."

"Pity. I was looking forward to giving her some more if she'd really misbehaved."

"Not having a reason's never stopped you from disciplining her before. Why start now?"

The silence from her Mistress sent ice water through Erica's veins. She imagined all manner of horrible implements in Kathryn's capable hands. Implements intended to reinforce her submission, the proof of it written in lines of fire across her tender flesh.

"Get that ass moving, Erica." Blaine squeezed her hips threateningly. "You work my cock until I tell you otherwise."

"He shouldn't have to tell you that," Kathryn whispered in her ear. "I see we still have a long way to go with you."

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Don't say sorry to me, slut. It's his cock you're sitting on." Kathryn's hand landed a tremendous smack to Erica's already roasted bottom, making her cry out. "Now get back to work."

For a few moments, as the hand print throbbed painfully across her ass cheek, Erica wondered if perhaps her Mistress had retired.

Blaine chuckled. "Listen to your Mistress. Get on with it, girl."

"Y—yes, Sir." A tear slipped from beneath the blindfold, tracking a lonely trail down her cheek.

"How was the shale negotiation?" His voice was raised somewhat, moving on to other topics while his slave girl lunged up and down his thick shaft. "Did Collins sell?"

Dear God, they aren't really going to talk about this now!

Kathryn gave a rueful laugh. "He tried to play hardball with us. Actually brought in his niece to propose new contract terms. The asshole."

"Niece?" He groaned softly as Erica squeezed him, her lower lip caught in her teeth. She suppressed a victorious curve of her lips she feared might be seen as impertinence.

"Yeah, can you believe that shit? No warning, no nothing. She walks into the conference room and slaps down a codicil an inch thick. Apparently, she's a contract lawyer — but she looked to me like she was just fresh out of law school. She was an idiot, but she had an ass on her that wouldn't quit. Couldn't have been a day older than our little rag doll here."

Her Mistress' hand ruffled Erica's unruly curls, and she swallowed, dropping her head.

"I told you he'd try something." Blaine's hands stilled Erica's writhing hips, her clit throbbing against him. "That offer was too good to be true. Let me guess, once he got wind of the size of the Bakken shale find, he upped the price, right?"

"Yep, Watkins and Miss Great Ass hashed it out for over an hour. I left about halfway through, disgusted with the whole thing. I wanted to wring Collins' fat neck for pulling something like that."

"What'd she cost us?" Blaine's hips rolled beneath Erica and his hand patted her stinging ass. Time to continue.

Her Mistress sniffed. "Five percent. She'd opened with fifteen, but Watkins told her to go fuck herself."

Blaine chuckled. "Losing your edge, Kathryn? There was a time you'd have given them two percent and made them feel fortunate to get that."

"Yeah, well, we all have our off days."

Then the mattress dipped on one side.

Oh God, no!

She didn't think it could have gotten worse having her Mistress walk in to see Erica sitting on Sir's cock. But as usual, she was wrong.

"Those boobs of hers sure do bounce. Big girl!" Erica thought she might actually spontaneously combust with embarrassment.

Sir's rough fingers claimed one wobbling globe, his thumb circling the taut aching tip. "We picked well didn't we? I like to see—" his hips snapped violently up into her several times, and Erica grunted at each thrust, keenly aware of her breasts swinging up and down like church bells "— I prefer to see them hanging down as I fuck her though."

"Like cow's udders," her Mistress offered helpfully, Erica whimpering out the mortification.

"This is nice change though, just once in a while," Sir said, his voice thick. "Try it on for size."

"Speaking of cow's udders," her Mistress said with a pleased tone. "Do you think she'll get to see one of Kane's girls? He's supposed to be coming to the next Gathering."

Blaine laughed, then groaned at a particularly strong twist of Erica's hips. She was beginning not to care, her consciousness succumbing to the strength of her arousal. Her world revolved around the incredible feel of her Sir's hard cock impaling her, repeatedly.

"If he brings — he usually does — at least one," Sir grunted, lust thick in his voice. "Probably be Bella."

The mattress moved once more, and her Mistress' lips moved against Erica's ear. "Leave some for later, slut." She winced in pain as her Mistress nibbled on her earlobe "See you downstairs."

Sir's strong hands slammed her down upon him several times, the mix of pain and pleasure making her groan. She almost lost her balance at a particularly jarring thrust, but he caught her before she could topple over.

Her clit rasped against his wiry pubic hair, her pussy now complaining loudly at the repeated hard use it had seen this evening. She was so close, but his heavy thrusts and the way he held her tightly to him weren't quite letting her get there. She whimpered in resignation as he groaned out his climax, his hips crashing upward repeatedly, jostling her so hard it rattled her teeth.

So close, yet so far.

But she knew he withheld her orgasms at his will. When she was with him, she knew he considered them his (like the rest of her) to give or withhold, entirely at his whim. It's the way she secretly wanted it — that lack of choice — but she wasn't sure if she was completely prepared for what that might mean. Every time she thought she had the two terrifying, beautiful dominants figured out, they subjected her to something new. It was both darkly exciting and terribly confusing.

Blaine came down slowly, his hands stroking her trembling thighs, fingers occasionally dipping to her stretched sex to feel the combination of their fluids leaking out onto him. She inhaled sharply as a fingertip grazed the hard nodule of her super sensitive clit. Another touch like that and she'd blast into orbit.

Christ, please, just one more touch.

His cruel, satisfied chuckle denied her. "Need to keep you just off a boil, bad girl. You haven't earned another orgasm yet."

Easing her off him onto her side, she trembled against him as he slipped the blindfold up off her eyes, kissing her fluttering eyelids.

"We need to find your bikini. We've got somewhere to be, gorgeous."
Chapter Four

"I want you on your knees under that blanket, Erica."

"What — here? Seriously?" Little knots of people were clustered around them on the beach, but none were particularly close. She looked at her Mistress.

The flickering light from their fire pit reflected in Kathryn's cold eyes, her lips a thin line across her strikingly beautiful face.

"Not a good idea to make her tell you again, Erica," Blaine's deep voice rumbled. "Just do what you're told."

Erica winced at the disappointment in his voice. "Yes, Sir."

She licked her suddenly dry lips, and lowered her eyes. Kathryn, seated next to her, leaned in close, her breath warm on Erica's cheek. "So you hop right to it when your Sir tells you what to do. Why not with your Mistress?"

"I... I'm sorry."

"Save it," Kathryn whispered, her voice barely audible above the crash of the distant surf. "That will be one of the first things we'll address if this goes further. For now, I want you on your fucking knees. Now."

"Yes, Mistress." Erica gulped. Their three chairs clustered on the beach in a semi-circle. She slipped off her chair, bumping into the knees of both her Sir and Mistress, seated to either side of her, surrounding her.

Erica knelt on the cold beach, a sharp withered stick poking into her shin. Her toes dug deep into the sand as she settled her bottom upon her bare heels. She could feel the ridiculously small thong bikini bottom dig into the crease of her ass as if it wanted to burrow into her body.

She scooted backward until her head ducked under the thick comforter that Blaine and Kathryn had stretched across their laps. The night wind, even in July, could be quite cold on the Pacific Northwest coastline. Tonight, the Fourth of July, was no different.

Someone nearby set off a battery of whistling, whining rockets, and Erica reflexively flinched.

Blaine cursed under his breath. "Idiots."

Slim, but strong fingers grasped Erica's chin, pulling her gaze up to her Mistress. Kathryn's eyes were gleeful. "I want you to suck Sir's cock."

"What?"

"Keep your fucking mouth shut, Erica." Kathryn's fingernails dug painfully into her cheek. "If you interrupt me again, you're getting an ass beating right here on the beach."

Erica's eyes darted to Blaine. His cool smile and avid eyes told her she'd receive no aid from that quarter.

"As I was saying," Kathryn hissed, jerking Erica's gaze back to her. "You're going to suck his cock, and then you're going to put that tongue of yours to work on my pussy."

"Mistress... I can't do that."

"Why not?" A muscle clenched in her Mistress' delicate jaw, and Erica had to suppress a whimper.

"We're — in public."

Blaine chuckled, his big hand working at the drawstring of his warm-ups. At any other time, her mouth would be watering, her hands whispering over the tree-trunk thighs to help release him for the tender mercies of her lips. She loved to suck him, loved the taste of his heavy flesh on her tongue. But kneeling there on the night-shrouded beach, surrounded by people, all she could think about was possible arrest, her mug shot going viral on social media.

"You're covered by the blanket, it's dark and there's nobody close to us." Kathryn leaned forward, her eyes pinning Erica to the ground. "Stop making excuses."

"But they'll hear... "

Blaine's hard cock was out, his fist clenching it at the base. The blanket just barely covered the purple head, but Erica knew anyone looking would wonder what the man was doing. Still, it was quite dark on the beach, despite the faint light offered by their fire pit. Flickering, waving beams from various flashlights scattered here and there, punctuated by the occasional arc of sparks from a bottle. There were few remaining lights in town, most of them turned off for the impending fireworks show.

"Get to work, girl." Blaine's hand closed on the single braid of Erica's dark hair. "I want to feel those gorgeous lips of yours."

The heavy cock slapped against her mouth, demanding entry. She opened up, taking him in. Her hands moved to cup his large balls, to caress him as she serviced his hard cock.

"No, he just needs that mouth," Kathryn said, sharply. "You keep those hands to yourself."

Erica grasped the cold aluminum of the legs of Blaine's folding chair, darting her head forward to take him to the root. She hoped to God that nobody could see her head moving under the thick blanket.

"That's a girl, all the way now." Blaine's hand pulled steadily on her hair, ensuring she couldn't pull back far, making her take him deep. She stuck her tongue out, willing her gag reflex to subside as the broad head opened her throat. Her pulse pounded in her ears as his hand stroked her throat. "Breathe out with it, girl. Take the rest now."

She felt tears at the corners of her eyes as her nose brushed the pubic hair at the base of his cock. His implacable hand held her there a moment, her throat clicking. When he allowed her to pull back, she drew in a quick breath before his hands drew her down once more. Several times, to his murmured approval, she took the full measure of his considerable length deep into her throat.

"The girl's getting better at this," Blaine said, his voice strained. Erica loved that note of abandon she could hear in his deep tones as she sucked him. If she were honest with herself, she'd say this was what she most enjoyed — giving her Master pleasure, whether it be with her oft used mouth, or her frequently lonely, bereft pussy.

"That tongue needs a lot more practice licking pussy though," Kathryn said, a smile curving her cruel, red lips. "She'll get it too if this works out."

Erica's gaze snapped up to hers, even as her lips continued their loving attention to the hot length filling her mouth. They'd all talked about where this arrangement was going. Though she was originally just a play submissive, a toy for Blaine to spank and fuck whenever the urge struck him, something had changed when his wife had joined in the fun. A new, darker energy grew between the three of them, Erica's anguish and ecstasy the nexus of it. What did her Mistress mean about things working out?

Kathryn's eyes hardened. "Pay attention to what you're doing, slut."

Erica dropped her gaze, licking along the pulsing underside of Blaine's heavy cock, his length leaving a wet trail of her saliva along her cheek. "Fuck yes," he groaned. His hand squeezed her hair, and she grunted at the flash of pain flooding her scalp.

Sir's thighs stiffened, his heavy hand on top of her head stilling her movements. His cock throbbed insistently within the clutch of her soft lips. He murmured something to Kathryn, who drew the blanket fully across their laps, enclosing Erica in deep darkness.

"Blaine? Kathryn? Is that you guys?" Erica didn't recognize the man's voice, but she trembled, kneeling there with a man's erect penis in her mouth, sucking him off like a five-dollar whore.

"Mike Lindsley?" Blaine said, his voice somewhat strained. He shifted forward, Erica guessing he was probably shaking the man's hand. "Holy shit, man. What're you doing out here?"

"Visiting the parents in P-town. Thought Becca and I would come out to the coast for a change of pace. Get away from the city, you know? It's nice to see you again, Kathryn."

"You too, Mike." The cool tone of her voice told her that her Mistress thought him being here was anything but nice. Kathryn's hand stroked Erica's shoulder, an incongruously gentle gesture from her normally strict Mistress.

The two men made small talk for a few minutes, Kathryn adding a word here and there to keep up appearances. Though Erica knew it would probably get her in trouble, her tongue teased along Blaine's cock, the sinuous movements making him shift subtly. His hand tightened on the crown of her head, and she decided not to push her luck any farther. She wished the man would just leave!

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the interloper moved away with Blaine's best wishes and a squeeze of her Master's hand on her tresses.

"Get on with it," Kathryn said, easing the blanket down enough so that she could watch Erica work. "You've still got a cunt to lick when you're done sucking my husband's cock."

She nodded, knowing he'd punish her if she had the temerity to pull Blaine's erection from between her lips.

Erica sucked avidly, her head bobbing up and down on her Master's big penis, his hands holding her hair away from her face as she serviced him. She looked up at him as she worked, his gaze, heavy with lust, locked with hers. His jaw clenched, and she felt his cock swell even further, his orgasm almost upon him.

His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her off his cock. The burning in her scalp wasn't enough to overcome her urge to lick his shaft, her tongue reaching for him. He shook his head, pulling her just out of reach. "I want those tits out, Erica."

"What?"

"You heard what he said, girl," Kathryn said, menace lacing her husky voice. "I'm getting tired of you questioning orders."

"Please, no—"

"Quiet." Kathryn's fingers clawed at the neckline of the white t-shirt they'd permitted Erica to wear. The bikini top was laughably inadequate in keeping Erica's breasts covered, so they'd allowed her this modest covering before heading down to the beach for the show. "Take off this damned thing."

Erica's eyes darted from her Mistress to Sir, hoping for leniency. This was going farther than she'd anticipated. Still, she wanted to show them they'd made the right decision, that she was the one for them.

"Do what she says."

She moved to pull the shirt over her head, her eyes drawn to Blaine's fist gliding up and down the glistening, veined length of his cock.

"No, wait." Kathryn leaned down yanking at the bottom of the shirt. "Just pull it up."

Erica rucked the shirt up under her arms, her breasts in the tiny bikini top bare to the cold air.

"Take that top off too. Keep your shirt up when you're done."

Erica complied, untying the top and letting it fall to her lap. Blaine's fist stroked his cock faster. She pulled her shirt back above her breasts, feeling her nipples pebble to stones against the night chill.

"God, I love her nipples. Unbelievable," Blaine murmured, grinning.

"They're certainly long," her Mistress growled, her hand reaching out to pinch one between cruel fingertips. "Impudent."

Warmth suffused Erica's cheeks, and she dropped her gaze to the sand. This night was getting more surreal by the minute.

"Get closer," Blaine grunted, reaching for her hair again. He twisted her locks slightly and she yelped, moving within the span of his spread thighs. He took his hand away from his cock, and caught her gaze, his lips quirking.

"What are you waiting for? Get that cock back in your mouth!"

Erica cringed at how loud Kathryn's voice seemed even against the dull background roar of the surf. She engulfed the hot flesh once more, driving downward until she gagged, pulling back then driving again.

"Remember just relax your throat, extend your tongue and concentrate." Kathryn's voice softened, her hands taking up both of Erica's breasts again. She truly felt like a slave girl as she worked Sir's cock with her swollen lips, her Mistress' hands squeezing her vulnerable breasts. Erica was finally able to calm her gagging, pressing forward once more until Blaine's pubic hair tickled her nose, his scent making her pussy spasm. She longed to do this somewhere private, somewhere quiet, where she could serve them both. There was something else though, an added frisson of excitement at the tinge of degradation she felt as they forced her to do this in public. Erica wasn't sure she knew how to process why the thought of her degradation made her pussy wet. But it did.

"Finish him off, Erica." Kathryn's hands patted Erica's breasts, then let them drop. The muscles of Erica's shoulders burned, but she knew better than to drop the shirt until they'd given her leave to do so. She bobbed her head faster, her lips growing numb as she sucked ever harder on Blaine's cock. Kathryn pulled the blanket fully over Erica's head once more, her world returning to only darkness and servicing Sir's hard shaft with her mouth.

She jerked as two big bangs sounded off to her left, the wind carrying a smattering of distant laughter. Sir's big hand pressed down on her head, and she took him as deep as she could once more. He held her down for several seconds, and she began to squirm as her supply of air dwindled.

Finally, he let her up, and she gasped, sucking in a lungful of fresh, sweet air. She was lucky really, for when they were alone, he took great delight in forcing her to deep throat him repeatedly, scolding her if she gagged too often.

Something bounced against her ass, and she froze, terrified.

A... beach ball?

"Sorry, Mister," a young voice said.

Blaine's body jerked as he leaned forward to grab the ball and throw it back. "No worries, bud."

Kathryn chuckled, her foot stroking the curve of Erica's hip. "Good girl. Don't worry, he had no idea."

Erica's heart began beating again, and the insistent throb of Blaine's cock brought her back to the task. She dropped her shirt, despite the high likelihood they'd punish her for it, needing to finish him before her lips and tongue completely gave out. After all, she still had to service her Mistress as well. She wasn't sure she was going to make it if Sir didn't come soon. She grasped the base of his thick cock, and gently squeezed the heavy sac of his scrotum. He groaned, his hand rubbing light circles atop the blanket over her head.

"Christ, she's good."

Erica felt the chairs shift as Kathryn leaned over. She heard the couple kiss, and felt a sharp pang of loneliness, as if for that brief moment, they'd left her out in the cold.

"Glad you like her, honey." Kathryn said. "But you're hogging her talents all to herself. My cunt is soaked. It needs some attention too."

Blaine looked down at Erica again, a hard glint in his eye. "Finish me, girl."

She bent forward to take him in once more, but his hand hauled her up short, yanking cruelly on a fistful of her hair. "No, just your hands."

The pull at her scalp made her wince, his grip steady, merciless. She took his cock in her hands, pumping it briskly, the wetness of her saliva and his precome easing the way. Erica loved watching the head of his penis congest as she drew her fist up to the top of his shaft, then the skin stretching as she pumped down, firmly squeezing him at the base, the edge of her hand pressing into the heavy sac of his scrotum. She loved the raw power she felt holding Sir's big penis in her hands. She could give him pleasure and feel his maleness, under her control for once. She thought she could do this for hours, never tiring of the feel of his hot flesh in her palms.

"Such a good girl. Harder now, faster." He grunted as she worked him quickly now, using both of her small fists to stroke the entire shaft at once. She could feel him swelling anew, the muscles of his thighs tightening against her arms.

"Now," he ground out.

Kathryn's hands batted Erica's away from Blaine's cock. His hand wrapped around the twitching length, jerking it swiftly. "Pull that shirt back up. Higher."

Erica obeyed, feeling the embarrassing sway of her breasts as his gaze alighted upon them. She wasn't sure how much he could see in such darkness, but judging by the languid rumble of his voice, it was enough.

Kathryn held the blanket up enough that Blaine could masturbate himself, but keep everything hidden from view. His pumping fist became a blur, and he urged Erica to move closer. She did, the hot, heavy head of his cock occasionally slapping against the inner slopes of her breasts. She watched it, entranced, knowing he was almost there. She screwed her eyes shut.

"No, Erica," Kathryn said, her voice thick. "Open them. You watch him come. Get those tits closer."

His hand yanked her head up once more, and she whimpered at the pain. He held her head immobile, her scalp protesting at the biting sting of his tight grip. The slit in the congested head of his cock gaped, and Erica flinched as several thick spurts of semen erupted forth, coating her breasts in hot ropes of white fluid. His body shuddered after the last spurt, and he rubbed his seed into her skin with his still hard penis, the big head slipping into her slickened cleavage. He chuckled as he slapped the heavy shaft several times on each of her breasts; the wet smacking sounds making Erica want to drop straight into the Earth.

She looked up into Sir's eyes, searching their depths, the metallic scent of his cum strong in her nostrils. "Rub it in, Erica. I want to see it all over."

Reluctantly, she spread his semen over the slopes of her breasts. He helped her, his fingers massaging it into her nipples, smoothing the viscous fluid over her wide areolas.

"There, much better," he said, grinning. "Now, time for you to give Kathryn a little relief don't you think?"

"Yes, Sir."

She turned to Mistress, glad to have sensation back in her lips, but knowing that was soon to change. Erica froze, seeing what Mistress held in her outstretched palm.

"I think we need something else for those nipples of yours."

"Mistress, please."

"No?" She slapped Erica's breast sending it swinging. She felt the shaming blush warm her cheeks. Kathryn's viper-quick hand struck the other breast, making it sway as well, Erica gasping at the pain. "What have we talked about, slut?"

"I—I don't know."

A bright series of flashes, like strobe lights, lit up the night behind Erica, the glare lending an unsettling starkness to the pretty contours of her Mistress' face. Her eyes looked as cold as the night winds Erica could feel even under the shelter of the blanket. "Try again. Think."

The pressure of such a question had her near panic. She didn't want to disappoint her demanding Mistress, but the fact was that they'd talked about many things. Where was she going with this?

Blaine's hand whispered a caress over Erica's cheek. "Concentrate, girl. This isn't a trick question."

"It might as well be, Blaine." Mistress lifted her chin, her lips down turned. "She doesn't pay any attention. Show her a penis, and her brain apparently shuts down."

"Kathryn, I don't know about—"

"It's true. All the girl can think about is bouncing her cunt on that big cock of yours."

Blaine stiffened, his voice lowering. "Kathryn, that's enough."

For the first time, Erica saw uncertainty in her Mistress' eyes — or perhaps it was just the crazy play of light and shadow created by the strobe-light fireworks.

Kathryn shook her head, a rueful smile curving her lips. "Maybe, I'm overreacting Blaine. I just want so much for her. I expect the best."

"I know you do. Just help her. She'll get there." He turned his gaze on Erica, a hardness back in his eyes. "You need to pay more attention. If this is going to work, you need to learn to obey, and more than that, anticipate."

Going to work? There it was again. Were they considering it? She dared not let the possibility steal its way into her heart. The thought had her pulse pounding, her pussy lubricating anew. Perhaps it was possible to live one's dream after all?

"Now, where were we?" Kathryn leaned down, seizing one of Erica's hard nipples between pinching fingers. Erica hissed, the pitch of her voice sliding upward, as the clamp pinched fully down. Her Mistress had placed the device at the base of the nipple, the pinch morphing quickly into a deep, sharp ache that seemed to spear through the center of her breast. Tears instantly sprang to her eyes at the overwhelming pain.

"Ah God! I don't... " Erica shook her head as her Mistress flicked the heavy clamp with a finger. "That looks to be on alright. I'll bet that hurts!"

Erica couldn't help but nod vigorously at the statement; despite the fact her Mistress appeared to be ignoring her. The look in her cruel Mistress' eye told Erica that she was seeing her as nothing more than a pair of breasts to be hurt.

The thought sent a surge of moisture between the lips of her lonely pussy.

"Now," Kathryn said, leaning back, her fingers easing aside the gusset of her panties to expose a smooth, glistening sex. "It's my turn. If you don't make me come before the show starts, I'm going to cane your ass when we get home."

Erica gasped, both at the searing pain of the clamps and the prospect of the fiery kiss of her Mistress' cane. She'd felt it enough times to fear it, the mere mention of it making her body tremble. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Deep breaths, Erica. You can do it.

She inhaled, shuddering, even that small movement hurting her further. The pain was so overwhelming, her nipples crushed in the steel jaws of the merciless clamps. She knew she couldn't do it, no matter how hard she tried.

"Mistress, please." Her voice was a broken whisper, the tears tracking down her cheeks anew.

"Shh, calm down now, girl. You've done this before." Sir looked down at her with a fond curve of his lips.

"It — It hurts, Sir."

Blaine's hand caressed Erica's wet cheek, his thumb playing through the tracks of her tears. She leaned her face into his touch, a soft sob escaping her lips. "It's supposed to hurt, Erica. Be a good girl, and take care of your Mistress now."

"Yes, S—Sir." More tears coursed down Erica's face, but her pussy was as wet as her cheeks. How she'd ever gotten to the point where such pain turned her on, she'd never know. She didn't particularly want to think about it.

"You're coddling her, Blaine," Kathryn said in a gentle voice, the smooth tones and cadence belying her irritation. Her Mistress was a tough woman to satisfy, but despite herself, Erica found her body reacted to the cruelty, the injustice of her treatment at the hands of the beautiful, brutal Kathryn. It was yet another revelation Erica wasn't ready to examine too closely.

His strong hand patted Erica's cheek gently. "Do what we've taught you, Erica. Don't let me down."

Blaine's words made her shiver. The last thing on Earth she wanted to do was disappoint her Sir. She'd do anything for him, anything at all. Just his touch — even if he was relishing her pain, her misery — was enough to lend her strength.

Erica shuffled her knees across the cold sand, the crackling sound of more fireworks in the distance startling her. She knew she was just one in this sea of people, a girl, a slave, there to serve her Sir and Mistress. The thought gave her some peace, even as her nipples throbbed, ached within the prison of their clamps.

Kathryn's hand burrowed into Erica's thick hair, the woman's long nails scratching her scalp. "Get in there slut, I'm not going to tell you again."

Erica let the woman's hand pull her head forward, her lips pressing to the soft, wet labia. Her scent overpowered Erica for a moment. She loved the smell of her Mistress, though she'd never confessed as much. Both of them reveled in her discomfort and her pain; they'd take advantage of such knowledge, use it against her somehow.

"Just the lips" Kathryn admonished, squeezing Erica's hair in a fist. "The clit can wait, for now."

"I'm not so sure about that," Blaine said. "Show starts in five minutes."

"She'll never make it. " The disappointment was plain in her Mistress' tone. "The slut spent too much time swallowing your cock, Blaine."

Laughter rumbled from Blaine. "She was a good girl, too."

Erica wanted to beam at the praise; such a kindness sparsely doled out to an eager, long-suffering submissive. Erica wouldn't have it any other way, hard though that fact may have been at times.

She didn't want things to be easy; she wanted to be pushed, controlled — even forced. Working at the direction of another had a purity to it, a simplicity that relieved her, in an odd way. There was peace to be found in submission, contentment in obedience... and pleasure, even in the pain.

Erica eagerly lapped at the wet pussy, licking between the folds, tasting the spicy juices of her Mistress. Her hands stroked over the trim thighs, luxuriating in touching the woman who so rarely allowed such contact.

"Slow down, Erica. That's it, get it right in. Yes!"

Blaine chuckled. "Keep a lid on it, honey."

"Oh God, that's it, slut," Kathryn hissed, her legs clenched tightly, the firm flesh of the thighs warm over Erica's ears. Her hearing muffled, everything was her Mistress, her scent, her wetness on her tongue, her lips. Fingers twisted into Erica's hair, holding her fast.

Erica slipped two fingers between the swollen labia, pushing deep. She took up a quick twist-thrust, curling her fingers so the knuckles brushed along that special spot that made her Mistress fly apart. Before long, both hands were clutching Erica's head, her Mistress bucking her hips. Erica longed to touch her own lonely, aching clit, just one little touch. But it was not to be — at least not then.

Those slim, yet cruel hands ground Erica's face against the open, flooded sex, painfully smashing her nose against the woman's pubic bone. "Keep licking," Kathryn breathed, her voice a strained, desperate whisper. "Don't fucking stop."

"You've got one minute, girl," Sir's voice rumbled in her ear. "If you don't make her come in the next minute, you're going to be punished. Right here, right now."

Oh, shit.

Erica attacked her Mistress' pussy, her tongue working the hard clit repeatedly, adding a third finger to give her that delicious tightness, that slight stretching she so loved.

"Oh Jesus Christ, oh fuck," her Mistress said, her voice almost a whine.

Erica felt movement against her side, and looked up, even as her tongue was playing ruthlessly over her Mistress' clit. Blaine had clamped a big hand over Kathryn's mouth. He glanced down at Erica, winking at her.

Light washed over her Sir and Mistress, and she heard the booms a moment later. The show had started. Blaine looked up, smiling. "Ah, here we are. Very nice!"

With a shudder, Erica knew she'd let them both down, and she both feared and anticipated the consequences of her failure.

""Finish her, girl." Blaine said, leaning down, the corners of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. How she wanted to kiss those lips.

She continued working the hard clit, the wet slit. Her tongue was tiring, her arm and wrist burning from thrusting into her Mistress. The woman's hands pulled on her hair hard one last time, then her entire body went rigid, the thighs shaking, squeezing Erica's head. She thought she heard the long, low whine of her Mistress' climax over the booms and pops of the fireworks overhead. Copious amounts of juices washed over Erica's questing tongue, wetting her chin and cheeks. She lapped it up, swallowing gratefully, just as she'd been taught to do.

Blaine took his hand away, planting a gentle kiss on his wife's cheek. Kathryn finally relaxed, the tension in her thighs easing slowly. Her hands grew gentler, languidly stroking Erica's dark locks. She pressed soft kisses to her Mistress' inflamed labia, slipping her fingers from the soaked pussy. She hoped the gentle caresses from her Mistress were a good sign. She hadn't brought her off in time, but it had been close. Perhaps they'd judge it to be good enough.

"Look at me, Erica," her Mistress said, her voice growing husky once more. She met the cold gaze of the woman, and Erica gulped. She knew then that they'd deemed it anything but "good enough."

"What did we tell you?" There was a bright flash, then a deafening boom, the sound vibrating in her chest. She heard a faint chorus of oohs and aahs from people nearby. Her Mistress glanced up, her lips forming an 'O', then she locked her gaze with Erica once more. "Well?"

"That I'd be punished... if I didn't make you come in time." Erica had to force herself to grind the words out loud enough for them to hear her over the din.

"And did you?" Erica turned to Sir's deep voice. His expression was stony, unreadable.

"No, Sir." She dropped her eyes, not wanting to see the disapproval in his.

"Did I tell you to look down?" Kathryn leaned down, Blaine pulling the blanket back slightly to allow her more access. Her hands slapped Erica's breasts, sending both of the heavy clamps swinging. The aching pain flooded through her anew, her nipples awakened from their numbness under the stricture of the clamps.

"I'm sorry, Mistress." Erica raised her eyes, the light from the fireworks washing Kathryn and Blaine in a kaleidoscope of colors.

"Turn around. I want your head down and your ass up." Kathryn's eyes flashed. "We're going to see how obedient you can be now that you've earned yourself a punishment."

Erica nodded her head miserably as she turned underneath the heavy blanket, her breasts aching as the clamps swung. The absurdity of the situation would've made her laugh if she didn't fear the imminent pain of punishment. Hands roamed over her proffered buttocks, tugging at the knot at her hip that held up the tiny strip of the bikini bottoms. The fabric fell away, fingers tugging it away from her pussy.

"Her cunt is sopping wet. Look at this, Kathryn."

She heard her Mistress' laugh, and Erica wanted to burrow into the sand — despite the fact her embarrassment made her want them more. Her twisted desires shamed her, even as she craved more of what she needed.

Fingers splayed her labia wide, dabbing at the moisture within. They fluttered over her clit making her catch her breath. She arched up, groaning as her clit was pinched, hard. The pain/pleasure of it made her want to lunge out of reach, but the thought of her now nearly naked body surging out from beneath the shelter of the blanket mortified her. She could picture the news stories as "shocked" onlookers' recounted tales of a naked woman crawling like a dog on the sand, shiny metallic clamps swinging pendulously from her nipples. No, she'd stay right there, no matter how much pain she'd have to endure.

A slender palm tapped the swollen lips of her sex. "Spread your legs and hollow your back. Show us that cunt."

Erica obeyed, and immediately that palm cracked across her pussy, the fingertips wrapping below, harshly smacking over her clit. She froze, not sure what was happening. They'd never done something like this before, but more than that, she was afraid the wet sound of the blow would attract attention.

"Spread more," Kathryn said, two fingers tapping the plump lips. A hand smacked her ass, heat blooming across her skin. Erica hoped the booms overheard really did mask the sound; the blow sounded deafening from within her prison of blankets.

"Here, let me," Blaine murmured. Strong hands spread her buttocks wide, exposing Erica's vulnerable bottom hole to the wind and their gazes. "Such a pretty little ass."

A sudden gust of wind caught the blanket like a sail, sand blowing into Erica's face. The covering slid down to the middle of her back, and she scrambled forward to stay hidden beneath it. Blaine cursed, snatching it back from the clutches of the breeze.

"Get back here girl," Kathryn said, her fingers closing over Erica's ankle. She moved backward, to within reach of the cruel fingers, and the harsh smacks.

"Erica, I want you to hold very still now." She froze as something cold touched her throbbing clit, fingertips easing the hood away to expose her fully.

Pain exploded through her pussy as the clamp squeezed the bud of her clit in remorseless jaws. Erica whined, panting at the white-hot pinch, the hurt rapidly intensifying.

"Hold it for thirty seconds, Erica," Blaine said, his big hand patting her ass. "Do this and all is forgiven."

Time seemed to stop for her as she crouched in the sand; the loud cracks of the fireworks above them intermingled with the approving sighs and cries of the people nearby. All of it faded into the background as each second ticked slowly, inexorably by, each one an eon to Erica's screaming clit. She grunted, digging her fingers into the sand, her cheek pressed to the cold Earth. The situation was truly surreal; a grown woman, naked, prostate on her knees, with heavy clamps crushing her nipples and clit, enduring her pain for the pleasure of the two most important people in her world. All this while surrounded by unsuspecting strangers, people, and neighbors out enjoying a holiday evening at the beach.

The delicious irony of her practical slavery on the celebration of Independence Day was not lost on her. But was that really true? She did feel a kind of liberation in her abjection; a letting go of her will, in embracing her submission. Perhaps it wasn't ironic after all?

Her clit had grown numb by the time they released the clamp. She shoved her own hand in her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to burst forth as the blood flow and feeling returned to the sensitive bundle of nerves. She willed herself not to cry as the pain washed through her in waves. Shockingly, it soon transformed into a heated, pulsing pleasure, her consciousness unmooring, drifting.

Slender fingers eased Erica's pussy lips apart, penetrating her, curling deep within the clutch of her sex. She sighed as those cruel hands ministered to her, rubbing the life back into her flesh. Thankfully, they avoided touching her clit straight away, the smart of the clamp leaving it too sensitive. But when Sir's long, thick fingers took her roughly, claiming her pussy as his, Erica couldn't help but reach back and ease her bud between two of her fingers. The pain of it mingled with, became lost in, the pleasure of her Sir's fingers driving deeply, the thrumming, angry clit fully reawakened to sensation.

"Sir, I need... "

"Come for us Erica, make it all better," he said, the pleasure evident in his rich voice. "Be a good girl, and show us."

Her orgasm overtook her with frightening swiftness, her fingers rubbing frantically at her inflamed clit as Blaine added a third finger to her overfull pussy. All the pain, the excitement, the uncertainty, and the promise combined into a dark storm of sensation that drowned her as she yelled into the back of her hand, her teeth closing over her own skin. She had no care anymore for who saw her, who heard her. There was only this pleasure, this moment in time, this perfectly pure feeling of... belonging to another.

"Come here Erica," her Mistress said, her voice soft. Hands guided Erica's hips as she turned and knelt up to embrace Kathryn. Her Mistress stopped her, pulling up the thin t-shirt and unclipping both clamps from Erica's tortured nipples. She quickly dropped the t-shirt back over the aching breasts, and Erica buried her face against Kathryn's torso, the tears coming full on as the pain in her breasts overwhelmed her once more. She wrapped her arms tightly around her Mistress' hips, wanting her closeness, needing her touch.

"It's okay, it's okay, sweet girl. You did great," Kathryn whispered, planting little kisses on the crown of Erica's head, her hands rubbing circles over her back.

"All is forgiven Erica," Blaine said, his hand tucking her hair behind her ear, his palm caressing the vulnerable curve of her ear.

She simply hugged her Mistress for several minutes, the cacophony of the fireworks show all around them. When her breathing had settled, she looked up into her Mistress' eyes, the wetness of her tears cold on her cheeks. Her Mistress smiled down at her, a slim finger tracing Erica's eyebrow, feeling the contours of her swollen mouth. Erica pressed a kiss to the fingertip, and smiled.

"You know," Blaine said, with a gentle tweak to Erica's earlobe. "Richard and Kerri will be coming out for the annual Trust meeting. Do you think we'd have enough time to get her moved out and settled in before then?"

Relief and joy flooded through Erica to see her demanding Mistress' smile. "Do you — do you mean what I think... ?"

Kathryn nodded. "We want you to be ours, Erica. Come live with us. What do you say?"

Erica could scarcely believe it. Something she'd hoped for with all her heart, but had not dared consider a possibility — a home with her Sir and her Mistress. The tears overflowed once more, meandering in hot trails down her face. "Yes, Mistress. Of course, yes!"

Blaine grinned. "I think Kerri will be relieved to have another slave to draw some attention at the meetings. The girls do get rather... tired."

The End

# # #

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Read on for an excerpt of Her Troika

Book #2 in The Dominion Trust series.
Excerpt - Her Troika

Her Troika (Dominion Trust - Book #2)

Two strict Doms, one brave sub, and a slave auction...

Kurt Erickson has been offered a Dom's dream job. He picks his own hours, answers to no one, and gets to train submissive women all day. One of those submissive women happens to be his willing wife. Making Breanna's deepest, darkest fantasy come true is the easy part. It may be trickier to persuade his best friend Derek to... buy her.

Breanna Erickson prides herself on being ready for anything. From the courtroom to the bedroom, she can handle it all. But when her strict, but loving, husband gives her the chance to live out a dream, she finds there are things no woman can be ready for.

Derek's marriage ended because he buried dark needs that proved incompatible with a vanilla wife. He's buried those needs, those truths, deep down, determined to never let them hurt him again. Being Kurt's best friend has many benefits, but some of them are much more than Derek is ready for — or so he thinks.

Then one night, an auction. Only a select few women agree to a Term of Service to the shadowy organization known as the Dominion Trust. One of them is Breanna. For Kurt, thrilling, tantalizing possibilities are laid out before him. For Breanna, it's the chance to realize a dark, erotic dream — and to heal a broken heart. And for Derek, forced to confront who he really is — and what he never realized he needed — he must take that first step.

All he has to do is bid on her...

Publisher's Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!

This book contains the following acts or themes: pony play, D/s, total power exchange, bondage, corporal punishment, forced exhibitionism, objectification, humiliation.

MFM menage D/s steamy romance. There is no sexual interaction between the males in this story.

120,000 words

NOTE: This novel collects the entire Her Troika story (Parts I — V) into one volume.

EXCERPT

Prologue

The naked, sweating woman lay lashed securely to the bale of hay, her body motionless in the warm fragrant air of the stall. George Trask slipped in, closing the stall door with a quiet snick behind him. He stood behind her, taking in her beauty in the solitude of the afternoon. None of the adjacent stalls were occupied, leaving the pair blessedly alone, and George free to indulge himself with the woman who was nothing more than property in this place.

He removed his leather kid gloves, draping them over the top of the stall wall. Each enclosure was partitioned with walls and doors just barely six feet high, enough to lend a modicum of privacy but low enough that a passing groom or Owner could easily check on the health of the charges ensconced within the simple, utilitarian spaces.

The overhead fixtures concentrated illumination into the center of each stall, the broad, sun-kissed bare buttocks prostrated over the prickly yellow straw looking almost pale under the harsh lighting. Some of the Owners had once complained about dim lighting in the stalls, and George very much approved of the remedy for such complaints. A woman in this place wasn't allowed to hide anything: she was bared to all on the track, in the display stands, and most of all, in the intimacy of her stall.

He'd watched E on the dirt track earlier, her heavy boots pounding the hard-packed soil, the merciless sun baking the ground. Round and round she'd run, the grooms' whips licking out to lend motivation whenever she'd flagged. Her generous breasts, unfettered, bounced wildly on her chest, the vulnerable globes no doubt throbbing by the time she'd reached the end of her prescribed distance. The larger busts of some of the women never caused the trainers to waver, and E was no different. Sore tits or not, she'd obey the dictates of her trainers — slacking was never tolerated.

The bit must have galled the corners of her mouth, George knew, but it was better to get the creatures acclimated to such use as soon as possible. Being firm with them from the very beginning was the most merciful thing to do when training these women. To coddle them out of the gates was to mislead them as to the real rigors of the life their Owners had sentenced them to. For at this place there was only the running, the lash, and obedience. Everything else was meaningless.

George removed his light coat, hanging it from a hook next to numerous whips, crops and canes. The implements hung along the top of one wall, a silent menace none of the inmates in this place ever failed to notice. He ran his fingers through the lengths of leather, playing with the stiff leather flapper at the end of a well-made crop. Perhaps another time.

Rolling up the sleeves of his starched white shirt, his gaze took in the rounded curves of the female rump. It still bore faint lines from the whips of the grooms, but he was pleased to see they'd not needed to mark her over much. He preferred an unblemished bottom to work upon in case he decided she needed further correction.

His hand stroked over the urgent erection tenting the front of his pants, the throbbing between his legs more insistent by the second. He'd deprived himself of his slave for nearly a week, wanting her to acclimate as best she could to the rhythm of training without the distraction of her Owner. But finally it had been too much, and he'd made his way to the intake facility in Washington, eager to be reunited with his precious Elaina. Though her real name would never be uttered by any of the trainers or the grooms – the diminution of "E" her only allowable designation within the confines of the facility – in the privacy of the stall, things were different. With only her lord and Master as witness, her name could once more be uttered, if only to remind her that she still had one, that it too existed only at the whim of her Owner.

His hands smoothed over the softness of her hip, acquainting itself with her lush flesh once more. The straw rustled as she stirred, her bottom moving against the bale. Her hands, bound wrist to wrist extended straight ahead lengthwise along the bale her body straddled, the cuffs imprisoning her wrists tied off to an eye bolt in the back wall.

His palms eased across the inflamed, whip-scorched buttocks, pausing to squeeze their weight before stroking down the taut thighs spread to either side. The bound woman moaned through the stout black shield gag, his thumbs yawning open the crevice of the buttocks, the harsh light illuminating the moist cleft, the sweat-sodden valley surrounding the bottom hole.

"Shh, that's a girl. Be still now, Elaina. It's just me, having a look now." The plug had stretched the anus slightly, the pink whorl still glistening with a light sheen of lubricant. Nothing she couldn't handle easily though. He leaned over her, pressing his lips to the curve of a buttock. "How I've missed you."

George inhaled the scent of her exertions, remembering the sidelong glance the head groom Lino had given him when he'd instructed that her sweating, trembling body not be sluiced down with the cool water most of the women were greeted with at the conclusion of a hard, exhausting run.

No, to George, who adored every inch, every atom of his slave's body, such a thing would be to reduce the value of her exertions, and to him, any Owner who couldn't partake of his slave's talents in her body's natural state, who couldn't enjoy the healthy clean scent of her labors, wasn't worthy of being an Owner. He loved all of her, and took great lengths to show it.

His hand palmed the swollen, sodden folds of the pussy displayed between the splayed thighs, and she sighed as he stroked the heat of her for a moment.

"You ran well today. So well." He leaned close allowing her to feel the hard erection through the fabric of his pants, reaching under her, raising her up enough to free her breasts from under her body. "It's time for a reward. Such a good girl, you've been."

Stroking her breasts, he brushed a sheaf of straw from a turgid nipple, his palms luxuriating in the texture the rough straw had lent to the soft skin of her breasts. Working himself loose, he pressed the heavy head of his cock against the moist lips.

"I don't know how I'll be able to stand this," he whispered into her ear, his body laid over hers, his thick cock sinking into the liquid bliss of her cunt. "An entire month without you is much too long."

As he took up her hips in a strong grip, sounding the full depth of her pussy, her moans rising in urgency, he resolved to enjoy every last second he could steal with her in the waning afternoon.

# # #

Like what you just read?

Her Troika (Dominion Trust - Book #2) is available now from all major e-book retailers.
Other Books by Trent Evans

Published by Shadow Moon Press

A Message of Love

What She's Looking For

Captive, Mine

(with Natasha Knight)

Taking The Human

The Chronicles of Muurland Series:

The Fall of Lady Westwood

The Dominion Trust Series:

Becoming Theirs

Her Troika

Expecting Surrender

Quinton's Crucible

The Valley of Surrender Series:

Maintenance Night

Maintenance Week

Lacey's Surrender

Falon's Captivity

Published By Stormy Night Publications

The Doctor and The Naughty Girl

What The Doctor Ordered (Box set)
From The Author

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