“Judge?” Brock asked, startled.
“Good things come to those who wait,
Sir
.” Rory laughed and waggled his brows.
“Only fifteen minutes,” she conceded.
Mitch tilted her lips and kissed her. His kiss was tender and sweet, a kiss Trixie would undoubtedly cherish and enjoy.
Brock took a step back, propping his hips on the back of a leather chair and observing. He quietly took in their surroundings. The room was much like he remembered. The toy chests against the wall likely housed many of their favorite things—rope, clamps, dildos of various sizes, butt plugs, vibrators, a couple of magic wands, and anything else a practicing Dom might require.
Mitch secured the harness, yanking the leather strap against her pussy until she cried out in pleasure and in discomfort. Rory stepped into her, catching her by the torso when she seemed to wilt away.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
She smiled and said, “Of course I am. I trust you completely. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, Judge.”
He yanked her forward, smothering her mouth with his kiss as he held her as close as he could. He lifted her shirt and dragged his thumbs across her extended nipples.
Trixie practically purred. Her head dropped over her shoulders as he rubbed the points with a painstakingly slow hand.
Mitch gave one of the harness straps a firm tug then went to the wall and pushed a button.
“Shit!” Trixie yelped.
The long lever above the bar pulled her off the ground, leaving her to stand on her tiptoes. Mitch approved without a doubt. He slapped his hand over the button, grabbed something from the toy chest, and approached the wall again.
A familiar soft hum resounded and Mitch approached Trixie with caution, showing her the magic wand, the king of all toys or so they’d once been told by one of their former submissives.
None of their opinions mattered now. Only one woman’s pleasure was king.
Mitch lifted his arm and handed the wand to Rory. “Use it on her clit.”
“What?” Trixie asked, the question practically a squeak.
“Your clitoris,” Mitch drawled, a sadistic smile tilting his lips. “Want to use your safe word now?”
“No, Dom.” If anything she looked as if she might grovel for the forthcoming experience.
Rory watched the rotating end. About the size of a tennis ball, the head of the wand produced repetitive tremors.
Stepping behind Trixie, he hooked his arm around her waist and brushed the wand against her side.
“Oh my God!” she squealed. “You can’t put that on my clit!”
So maybe groveling was out of the question.
Mitch’s eyes met Rory’s. Rory dropped his arm and moved the vibrating object up and down her leg, dragging the head from her knee to her inner thigh and back to her hip.
“I think you’re having too much fun over there,” Brock said, enjoying his position from across the room just as much.
Rory shot him a wide grin then stuffed the wand between her legs, letting her feel minimal sensations with the leather strap between her pussy and the wand.
Her body jolted forward and her head bowed. A raspy sigh fell from her lips.
Then Rory reached around her body again, twirling her nipple and nipping at her earlobe, telling her all sorts of naughty secrets. He laughed aloud when she seemed responsive. Her body swayed back and forth, bumping against his.
Just when Brock had started to believe Rory would only tease her, he thrust his arm forward, tapped her clit with the wand, and gripped her side to steady her.
“Rory!”
“I like that better than Judge,” he told her. “I don’t care what you call Brock and Mitch, but me? I want you to always say my name.”
“You should’ve…”
He brushed the round head over her clit again. She cried out in pleasure, throwing her head forward and staring down the length of her body.
“I should’ve what, sub?” he asked, peering around the mess of golden hair forming a curtain over her face.
“You should’ve told me,” she rasped, her syllables choppy as she seemingly tried to grasp some level of composure.
Her knuckles were white. She used the bar above her head to try to straighten her back and square her shoulders, but Rory was relentless.
He rubbed the pulsing head against her clit again. This time, he looked as if he took great pleasure in stroking her, circling that hard gem between her legs with true precision.
“Come…let me come,” Trixie pleaded.
“Not yet,” Rory said, handing the wand to Mitch.
“Mitch, please!”
“That’s not how you address me,” he said firmly. Stalking the wall, he unplugged the device, tossed the wand in a silver cleaning tray, and returned to his treasure chest.
Once there, he perused the contents. “Damn.”
“Missing something?” Brock asked.
“The dildo.”
As if he only owned one.
Brock left the room and returned with the large dildo Trixie had compared to bullets and rabbits. Instead of handing the toy off to Mitch, he stood beside her, watching the unusual way in which she eyed him.
She was enjoying this and he couldn’t have been more pleased. “This is what you like, sub?”
She nodded.
“I know you do,” he said, loosening the belt under her crotch.
He fingered her cunt, pressing three fingers inside her center and twirling them high inside her. Her back bowed, her legs left the ground completely, and her thin limbs trembled.
“There you go, baby,” he whispered, watching her reach for her climax, the orgasm he wouldn’t allow her to take.
After a second or two of teasing, he tucked the tip of the dildo inside her pulsing pussy, reassembled the harness, and motioned for the others.
“You can’t leave me here!” she yelled.
“Why not?” Mitch asked, stalking her again. “This is where you agreed to play, sub. Remember. I gave you a choice. Rory is my witness. I asked you if you wanted to see a room I’d never shown you before. You shrugged. Then, I told you what awaited you here and you all but raced me to the door. Are you having doubts now?”
“No, Mitch. I’m not.”
Mitch growled. He marched to the far end of the room and returned with a paddle.
“What are you doing?” she asked, twisting around until the chain knotted and she couldn’t turn at will.
“I’m reminding you of how you should address me,” he said, rubbing his hand across her cheeks.
Brock flinched as he watched the two of them together, wondering if he could stay on this side of the room while Trixie endured her punishment.
“You will call me Dom,” he said, raising the paddle and striking her ass. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice weakened as she struggled to hang onto the bar.
“Yes, what?” he asked, striking her again.
A resounding wallop filled the room.
Rory thinned his lips as he watched the discipline transpire.
“Yes, Dom,” she croaked. “I’ll respect your wishes as my Dom.”
“What happens when you don’t follow protocol, sub?”
“I’m spanked, Dom.”
“You are spanked,” he agreed, swinging his arm behind him again and coming through with a powerful paddling.
“Ouch!” she screamed. Her head dropped and her body jerked. “I can’t…”
“Say the word, Trixie,” Brock reminded her, turned on by her will and hoping she would hang in there a little longer.
“I can’t,” she whispered, very little defeat in her voice. “I’m your sub now. I want to accept the punishment so I can reap the rewards.”
“Very good, sub,” Mitch said, setting the paddle on a bench before going to her. Giving her a spin, the chain lowered her to the ground and she stood flat-footed once again.
“We’ll be back,” Mitch said.
“When?”
“Are you questioning me, sub?” he asked, moving closer.
“No, Dom, I’m not. I wanted to be here. I’ll wait for you. I know you’ll return for me.”
Rory shot Brock a disconcerting glance and the three of them left the room together. Closing the door behind them, they left Trixie behind in the chamber of complete surrender.
“Got somewhere you need to be?” Brock asked, studying Mitch as he looked at his watch for the second time in the last ten seconds.
“We have nine minutes,” he informed them. “I told her fifteen and I want her to know she can trust us.”
“She knows she can trust me and Rory. We’ve been around for the long haul. Remember?”
“How could I forget? You remind me every thirty seconds,” Mitch snapped.
“Is all of this absolutely necessary?” Rory asked. “I mean this is some pretty heavy stuff.”
“Don’t have the stomach for it, pretty boy?” Mitch asked, ribbing him like old times.
Rory directed his question to Brock. “You think this is all right?”
“As long as Trixie is okay with everything, it’s fine. If she acts uncomfortable or frightened, we stop.”
“That’s how Domination and submission works,” Mitch said.
“Yeah,” Brock said, taking a personalized and quite deliberate jab. “Mitch, I hope you remember and play by the rules while you’re training Trixie. I don’t want her to change her mind.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Mitch said, waggling his brows. “How in the hell did you manage to live with her for all these years without dragging her into the lifestyle?”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“He ain’t lying,” Rory piped in.
Brock and Mitch turned on Rory at the same time.
“How the hell would you know?” Mitch asked. “Have you been holding out on us all these years?”
“No,” Rory replied. He tilted his head at Brock. “But ask him. It’s tough being married to a Cartwell when you’re not involved in the kink club.”
“That’s right. I forgot about the club. Who owns Clink now?”
“Patience McKay and Trixie’s sisters,” Rory replied.
“You say that as if you don’t like the idea.”
“I think they’re too young to be so embedded in the lifestyle,” Rory explained.
“He isn’t telling you all of it,” Brock said.
Mitch jerked. “Well? What’s the problem? If you ask me, the family business is probably lucrative in more ways than one.”
“Yeah, it is.” Rory frowned and Brock practically read his mind before he added, “Patience and Ansley handle themselves all right with the business but Kimberly hasn’t been…well, let’s just say she isn’t exactly kink club owner material.”
“Why not? Is she a prude?”
“We could be so lucky,” Rory said, his concern obvious.
“I thought Ansley was the wild one.”
“It’s the quiet ones you have to watch,” Brock informed him, thumbs toward the door. “I don’t want to ruin Trixie’s day. We’ll talk about this later.”
“It’s none of my business. I barely remember the girl. If she looks anything like her sisters, I’m sure the men around there are in for a real treat.”
“Most of them have already been served and spanked.”
“What?” Mitch asked.
“It’s a long story. Kimberly is messed up with the wrong guy and whenever they break up, she’s all for moving on and then—”
“She’s a tease,” Brock interrupted him.
Mitch laughed. “And her big sister wasn’t?”
“He has a point,” Rory said.
“You act concerned about her, though. Who’s the guy?”
“Really, I don’t want to upset Trixie,” Brock said. “Mention Kimberly’s fellow and the entire Cartwell clan reaches for their boxing gloves.”
“This guy must be a piece of work if the whole family is against him.”
“You might say that,” Brock muttered.
Rory slapped his forehead a second later. “Shit. I can’t believe we’re making small talk. We forgot to tell you about your delusional pal.”
“I didn’t forget,” Brock assured him. “I just hadn’t decided how I wanted to broach the subject.”
“What about him?”
“What do you know about him?” Rory asked.
“Are we back to this again?” Mitch asked. “We met in prison. He did his crimes. He did his time. End of story.”
“What kind of crimes?” Brock pressed. “I don’t think we’re talking petty theft here.”
“A few misunderstandings and armed robbery.”
“Were those misunderstandings with women?” Brock asked. “And please God tell me you aren’t going to try and convince us that an armed robbery was a mistake.”
“The misunderstandings were with women, as a matter of fact. And no, he committed the bank robberies and admitted to the crimes.”
“And you welcomed him here?” Rory asked, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
“What kind of issues did he have with women, Mitch?”
“He was being tried for a misunderstanding with his girlfriend. Apparently, her attorney was brilliant in the courtroom. His ex-girlfriends were subpoenaed and they marched in one by one telling tales of perversion, all kinds of sick stuff.”