Acres, Natalie - Sex Junkie [Cowboy Addiction 1](Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (8 page)

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to say something and I hope you’ll listen to me. Right at the moment, I love crystal more than I’ll ever love you or Grant. I know you don’t understand. I wish you could.” A second or two later, she said, “Scratch that. I hope you never know the hell I’ve had to endure because of meth.”

“What happened to the woman who was clean and never going back?”

She shrugged. “My opinion changes as my needs and cravings vary. Meth addicts stay in emotional turmoil.”

“I’m glad you realize this,” Grant said, walking in the bathroom. “Maybe now you’ll understand why you aren’t permitted to mention meth or any of its street names.”

He snatched her away from Blake’s arms, pulling her completely free of the shower stall. Then, he hoisted her over his shoulder and flayed her as he walked toward the bed. Once there, he dumped her on the mattress and with a guttural tone, he said, “We have a few rules. It’s time you heard about them.”

* * * *

Grant was officially on her nerves. He had it in him to be a general pain in the ass, but this was too much. He wasn’t just a pain. He was an ass.

When he finished explaining what he called severe offenses and moved on to the various forms and stages of punishment, he said, “Now, because you mentioned crystal in the shower, what kind of punishment will you receive?”

“You’re giving me a whirl around the Catherine Wheel.”

“Yes,” Grant deadpanned.

“If I were you, I’d prepare for more than a spin or two,” Blake quickly informed her.

Apparently her upcoming trip around the world wasn’t open for discussion. She’d never particularly liked the Catherine Wheel. Her brothers, who were active in the lifestyle, happened to have one in their basement. In fact, much to her dismay, unless things had changed, there was an entire dungeon down there.

“I hate dark, damp spaces.”

“I happen to love them,” Grant said, his response loaded.

Morgan should’ve realized her opinion on the subject wouldn’t matter. If Blake and Grant had decided to take her there, she wouldn’t be able to change their minds.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what, sub?” Grant asked, picking up his favorite way to address her. When they were together before, he almost always called her his sub-muffin or sub. She preferred sub-muffin. The term possessed pet-name appeal.

“I don’t want to take a ride on the Catherine Wheel.”

“Too bad,” Grant told her. “Maybe after you take a few spins, you’ll remember why it’s not in your best interest to mention meth again in our presence.”

* * * *

She hated the wheel. Grant and Blake loved it. After they thoroughly dried her body, Grant secured her hands behind her back with gold-plated handcuffs. Then, he and Blake escorted her downstairs to the dungeon, affectionately called out as such by her brothers who’d designed the area for their own submissive’s training program.

Once completely against Morgan being trained as a submissive, her brothers probably wouldn’t be too happy to discover Blake and Grant using their equipment to train, punish, and pleasure their little sister. Oh no, Kit would hit the fan.

Morgan stared at the various contraptions. “They’ve added a lot since I’ve been down here.” After thoughtful consideration, she quickly said, “No wonder Kit and Kemper can’t keep a woman. One trip to this room and she’s probably convinced they’re serial killers or something.”

“I happen to like what they’ve done with the place,” Grant said, pointing toward some floor model machine with a dildo attached at both ends.

“Naturally, you would,” she said, rubbernecking in order to get a good look at what appeared to be a piece of revamped abs-exercise equipment.

“Careful, sub,” Blake warned.

Her gaze returned to the dildo-toting machinery. She didn’t have to wonder what kind of delicious punishment a woman faced slipping and sliding on that particular piece of equipment.

“If a trained submissive knows what to expect, then this place isn’t that frightening,” she explained. “But look at it from a woman’s point of view, particularly one who doesn’t know anything about Domination and submission. If trust hasn’t been established, why would she want to be down here? I wouldn’t.”

“She’s right,” Blake agreed. “Kit and Kemper always go for the women who don’t have a clue about the lifestyle. Can you imagine the expressions on some of their faces after they enter Kit and Kemper’s world for the first time?”

“I doubt they take the time to establish trust before they bring their women down here. They run gals through this place quicker than we can release cattle through the livestock loading chute,” Grant said.

“Nice,” Morgan muttered, thinking her brothers had probably changed considerably since she last saw them. Still, she couldn’t imagine Kemper being this hardened Dom. Kit? Sure. But not Kemper.

Two lightbulbs swung from the ceiling, providing very little light and giving the place a real eerie feel. Morgan looked up and said, “I bet they blindfold them when they lead them down here.” She shuddered. “I can’t bring myself to think about anything else that might go on here.”

Blake snickered. “Your brothers once said the same thing about you.”

“It’ll be worse now,” Grant pointed out. “They may never come down here to play again.”

“I would prefer it if you don’t discuss my training with them.”

Blake stalked her then. He cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. “Morgan, what happens between you, me, and Grant remains between the three of us. It’s no one’s business what we do.” A beat later, he grinned and said, “Besides, a man would have to be crazy to tell another Dom, his little sister was punished by means of the Catherine Wheel.”

Grant chuckled. “I’ll say.”

Morgan smiled up at him and then shrugged away. She took a stroll around the room, spotting an odd-shaped and quite intimidating toy stuffed in yet another nook and cranny. The place was completely sterile, with various cleaning solutions and wipes placed next to each piece of equipment. Minus the erotic playthings and dim lighting, one might think the area was better suited for a state-of-the-art medical facility.

Next to the Catherine Wheel, a violet wand was plugged into the wall. The device was often a Dom’s favorite electrical play device. “Over there,” Grant said, pointing to a solid black bench, similar to a workout platform.

“I don’t want to, Sir,” she whined, issuing Grant the respect he deserved but defying him all the same.

Blake shook his head. “Either you want more punishment than you can handle, or those drugs did some permanent damage to your head.” A beat later, Blake cleared his throat and roughly bit out, “Lie down on the bench. Face down.”

Morgan pursed her lips. Here we go, she thought. It’s now, later, or never. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the preferred option of later.

* * * *

Her eyes were wide, wild, and untamed. Grant would’ve traded a steer or two to have captured that priceless look on camera. She must’ve been as shocked as Grant was to hear Blake take such an authoritative position. Blake had it in him to be a controlling Dom, but Grant always knew Blake as a kind and gentle man where Morgan was concerned.

Then again, they’d never placed Morgan in this kind of situation before.

“I’ll need help. My hands are behind my back.”

“No you won’t,” Grant said. “Straddle the bench. Then, let your body fall forward.”

“First, I want her to straddle the bench and hold the position,” Blake said, walking toward a small refrigerator barely visible in the dimly lit room.

Grant couldn’t help but smile as he watched Blake take a bowl of ginger from the freezer compartment. When he returned to the bench, he reached above the unit and retrieved a transparent glove, working the plastic piece over his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Surgery,” he said without cracking a smile.

When she looked alarmed, he retracted the statement. “I’m kidding. We’re using something new today. Have you ever played with gingerroot?”

“No,” she replied.

“I think you’ll love it,” he said, rubbing a sliver of ginger over her nipples. Her small buds hardened as soon as he applied considerable pressure. “There you go. That’s sweet, submissive. I think you’ll enjoy this.”

He replaced the small gingerroot and fumbled around for a much larger one, a thick finger-cut shaped much like a penis. “Grind against the bench.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see what’s so special about this ginger. It was cold, but outside of that, it’s not anything spectacular.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t do anything for you,” Grant said, thinking the element of surprise would be worthy of framing. Morgan wouldn’t know what hit her once the gradual onset of the burning sensation began. As sexual as Morgan had the ability to be, she’d beg them to fuck her by the time Blake finished with her.

“I asked you to hump that bench,” Blake told her.

Grant stepped to the side of the furniture so he could watch her. She pursed her lips and her eyes watered. “I’m not happy about this.”

“Of course you wouldn’t be.”

“I haven’t even kissed either one of you outside of a peck, and here I am dry humping a damn board so you can watch and get your jollies.”

“Respect, Morgan. Remember who you’re talking to here,” Grant said.

“You’ll enjoy it,” Blake assured her, thrusting his hand forward. The ginger finger tapped against her clit as she pretended to fuck the seat underneath her. He wiggled the wedge between her legs and left the root there for a few minutes.

“Your juices combined with the ginger juice will make for some pretty intense sensations,” Blake said.

“I’m sure that’s true,” she drawled sarcastically, acting as if she were positively bored.

That was one thing that pissed Grant off. Drug addicts were all the same in that regard. They believed nothing was as exciting as doing their drug.

That was about to change.

At one time, Morgan was a Dom’s fantasy. She was as sexual as most men and compliant, too. Whenever he took Morgan to bed, she was a treat, always willing to try something new, rarely using her safe word, and going that extra mile to pleasure her Dom…him. Now, she acted as if sex were boring?

Oh yeah, Grant and Blake would force her to change her attitude. They’d fuck her in the middle of town if they had to, but one way or another, that sparkle of lust and desire would soon reappear in Morgan’s eyes.

“Lean forward,” Blake told her, walking behind her. When she complied without giving him a blatant objection, Grant thought of that as an improvement.

Blake gently eased her forward and helped her spread out. With her hands locked behind her back, her reaction to the ginger would be interesting.

“I’ll insert the root tip up your ass,” Blake said, dragging the ginger up and down her crack.

Immediately, she trembled. “You know I don’t like anything up my butt!”

“That’s too bad. I happen to like being there. We’re preparing you for greater things, Morgan.” Blake massaged her bottom while she writhed under him, her body twitching as if she were trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Are you okay?” Grant asked, smirking.

“Fine,” she snapped.

“Good, sub-muffin. We’ll have you all squared away soon,” Grant said. Then, he looked at Blake. “Do you need some help?”

“Yes. Spread her cheeks. Since she isn’t feeling anything, I want the ginger buried inside her ass. Then, maybe she’ll at least remember what it’s like to have something thick and long locked inside her asshole.”

Grant smiled and Blake waggled his brows. Grant held her cheeks apart and Blake dragged the tip of the cold ginger around her anus. The small hole puckered and Blake shoved his hand forward, securing the gingerroot inside her bottom.

“There,” Blake announced. “Now, let’s wait and see if Morgan here remains unimpressed by ginger.”

“If she is, she’ll be the first. And considering women and men have played with ginger for generations? She’ll probably be the last.” As Morgan strained against the cuffs binding her hands, Grant tilted his head toward the bench, realizing the ginger was beginning to take effect. “But you’re right, Blake, we’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

Chapter Seven

Wait hell! She was ready to blow up in a matter of minutes. Her nipples were already on fire. Her pussy was a fucking inferno, and her ass? Oh God, if they didn’t remove that thorn from her bottom, she might kill them both if she ever had the chance.

Or maybe not kill them exactly, but perhaps torture them.
Hmm, torture
. She couldn’t help but think of the delicious ways they planned to punish and seduce her. Already, the slow burn was excruciating and exhilarating at the same time.

If they meant to punish her, they might have considered another way to torment her. The gingerroot provoked lust in the third degree. The combustion combined pain and pleasure like someone set a match to her folds with every intention of torching her insides.

She felt afflicted, as if she were being persecuted for the past choices she’d made. Perhaps Grant and Blake planned to help her lose sight of the drug upon which she’d long since focused. Maybe they had a fail-proof plan to help her sober up once and for all.