The contrasting images of safety and danger caused his cock to throb. Ripples of excitement joined the tingles on his skin. The whole arrangement was a stage set, awaiting only actors to walk on.
I’m one of the actors
, Trey thought. Zane—or perhaps Rebecca—understood his love of theater better than he’d realized.
“How did you pull this together?” he asked once his voice recovered.
“We rush ordered the bed last night on the Internet. It arrived in pieces and we assembled it down here. You should have seen Owens’ face when I told him Rebecca’s help was all I needed. Our driver seems to think billionaires and women are equally helpless.”
“He’s wrong there,” Rebecca said, emerging from the shadows of a niche. “I can lift hundred-pound tuna.”
She knew how to make an entrance. She wasn’t wearing a stitch: not makeup and not clothes. She was no vamp as she came toward them. Her walk was just a walk, not shy but maybe self-conscious. Her body was naturally beautiful—slim, strong, the faint cooking scars on her arms picked up by the strong spotlight. Her small rounded breasts jiggled like maracas, better to him than any centerfold’s.
She stopped on the nearer side of the bed. The frame was tall. She rested her butt back against the mattress. His breath caught as he noticed her pubic hair was waxed. A honey brown strip replaced what had been a triangle.
“Do you like it?” she asked, noting where his gaze had gone.
He nodded, his throat choked with arousal.
“Would you undress so I can see for myself?”
He wasn’t averse to making a show of himself. Aware that both his lovers were watching, Trey removed his clothes. Rebecca smiled when his erection came free of them. He stood, letting her enjoy her eyeful. If he was going to be chained like a slave—and he sincerely hoped he was—he might as well get into character.
Pleased by his behavior, Rebecca clambered onto the bed. She patted the red coverlet. “Join me up here. Zane showed me how to lock you up.”
If he’d ever heard a phrase more delightful, he didn’t remember it. Fighting a last unsureness, he shot a look at Zane. How much had he told her about his preferences? She could have guessed Trey’s fondness for bondage from what he’d done to her.
“Go on,” Zane said, waving him forward. “This game can’t start until you’re secured.”
It had started for him. His motor was revved and his knees shaky. As he swung up and faced her, his cock was very erect. Its shaft was hard and aching, impatient for pleasure. With one finger Rebecca flicked its tip. The subtle but sharp sensation sent a deep thrill through him.
Maybe Zane had told her everything.
“Pretty,” she said. “But we’ll see to it later.”
She attached the shackles at his wrists and ankles. She was slightly awkward, the task new to her—which only aroused him more. This wasn’t some practiced scene from a cookie-cutter script. She’d be involved as this unfolded.
He tried to wrest control of his breathing, but it was difficult. The chains the shackles were attached to stretched from him to a hook on the domed ceiling. Though they allowed a good range of movement, their weight and rattle reminded him he was bound.
“Sit back on your heels,” she said.
Her voice was different, not authoritative but husky with arousal. That was fine. Strictly speaking, Trey didn’t need to be mastered; he was happy to volunteer. Rebecca turned on her hands and knees to open the bedside table. He didn’t think she was consciously trying to display herself, but the position did. He clenched his hands, wanting to lick his way up her slit and bite that sweet little ass. Her newly groomed folds were rosy, the glistening of her sex forcing him to swallow back a groan.
She rummaged through the drawer and huffed out a curse. “I can’t find anything in here. I’m pulling out the whole thing.”
Trey heard Zane snort as she yanked it free and set it on the coverlet between them. He caught glimpses of objects that made him shiver.
“Sorry,” she said, lifting her gaze to Trey’s. “I guess I should be smoother about this.”
“No, no,” he demurred. “I find your inexperience charming.”
He was too breathless for her to doubt the words. Her attention fell to his erection, which was pointing skyward and throbbing violently.
Grinning, she extricated a quirt from the jumble in the drawer. With a slowness designed to torment him, she drew the braided leather across her palm. “Zane tells me this is for after you’re warmed up. We’ll set it aside for now.”
She laid the lash neatly on the bed. In his reluctance to drag his eyes away, he missed her making her next selection. She held a wooden paddle, seven inches square with a high gloss finish. The handle was wrapped in rubber to prevent it from slipping in a sweaty hand. Having been on its receiving end, Trey knew it dealt out a smack. “Zane says this is good to start with. I’ve decided to let him use it. His arm is stronger and, well, he knows what he’s doing.”
That explained, she handed Zane the paddle. He’d taken off his shirt, but was dressed otherwise. Trey guessed he was enjoying Rebecca’s first performance. A considerable bulge distorted his zipper. He stretched to warm up his arms and loosen his shoulder joints. The shifting of his muscles had Trey swallowing. Sometimes he forgot just how powerfully built Zane was.
“Yes, he’s something,” Rebecca agreed when he turned back to her. “Makes me wonder where I find the nerve to let him have at me.”
“You enjoy it,” Trey burst out. “You love all that strength and size overwhelming you.”
“That’s true. I do.” She looked so directly into his eyes that for a second he felt like he was falling. “You’re big enough to overpower me. If Zane decides you deserve it, maybe he’ll let you.”
A stab of longing shot through his cock. “If Zane decides . . .”
She tipped her head to the side. “Don’t you like him being in charge? He thought I’d make a nice reward for good behavior.”
“What’s to keep me from just taking you? These chains are long enough for that.”
A flush crept across her cheeks, her eyes suddenly brighter. “He’d stop you.”
She didn’t sound sure, and Trey like that immensely. When he responded, his tone was darker than hers had been.
“Maybe,” he said, “and maybe I’d shove my cock into your pussy before he could rescue you.”
Any dominant but Zane would have smacked him for his defiance, but he seemed curious to hear her answer too. Her respiration had sped up, her breasts starting to tremble.
“You’d have to be careful if you took me,” she said, surprisingly steadily. “You’re very excited, and when you come, the game is over. I think we both know you don’t want that happening soon.”
She knew she had him. She didn’t wait for his response, but pushed sharply at his chest. He’d been leaning into her space, and this made him back off. He sat on his heels, satisfied she’d show the spine he wanted. Satisfied with
him
, she pulled a pair of nipple clamps from the drawer.
“Do you want these?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, his earnestness not put on.
The clamps were new, chosen by her perhaps. Their business ends were rubber-coated to prevent them cutting into his skin. Rebecca attached them to his nipples. Zane must have showed her how to use them. She knew to squeeze in his areola to give them enough flesh to grip. That task accomplished, she turned the wing nuts that tightened them.
“More,” Zane said from behind him. “Don’t stop until our prisoner gasps.”
She gave each screw two more twists and he did, unable to restrain the intake of air—or the momentary shutting of his eyes. The pain was perfect: enough to make his nerves jump but not enough to discourage his arousal. Wetness leaked from his rigid penis, tempting him to make good on his threat to simply take Rebecca. He knew he wouldn’t. Waiting would make this better for all of them.
The thought of marauding was in his head all the same. When he opened his eyes, the things that were in them caused Rebecca to scoot back cautiously toward the pillows. He liked that, probably more than he ought to. She set the drawer of goodies back onto the nightstand. Looking nervous but excited, she nodded at Zane that she was ready.
Zane wasn’t ready, and Trey thought he knew why. Rebecca sat with her knees pressed together almost primly. She dried her palms on her smooth pale thighs.
“Tell her to expose herself,” Trey said hoarsely. “I want to see her pussy.”
Startled, Rebecca jerked and looked past him to Zane.
“Our prisoner deserves encouragement,” he conceded, “if he’s to get through his ordeal. Spread your knees as far apart as they’ll go.”
Blushing furiously, she spread them.
“Now that’s pretty,” Trey said, observing her wet and engorged state.
“No one asked your opinion,” Zane snapped, ramping up the role play. “Grab the chains higher up. Go to your knees and stay there.”
As soon as Trey obeyed, the paddle landed. The sting sang through his buttocks, stirring the pleasure he never could manage to suppress—no matter how twisted that made him. A sound broke from him, low and grateful. Zane hit him again and twice on the other cheek. Trey moaned helplessly when he stopped. Zane was strong and knew what he could take. Trey’s ass was hot and pulsing.
“Kiss his cock,” Zane ordered Rebecca, his voice harsh with arousal. “Lick the tip very gently until I tell you he’s had enough.”
Rebecca bent forward. Trey tensed as she approached, chains rattling from his grip on them. This was almost too exciting. He and Zane never played together in front of an audience, much less a woman they both wanted. For that matter, Trey always took the dominant part with guests. He was naked here, and on uncharted ground. His responses were all amped up. He held his breath as the pointed tip of her tongue made contact with his glans and licked.
It felt incredible, much more intense than a light touch should.
“Shit,” he said, unable to stay silent.
Zane didn’t miss the reaction, though it wasn’t Trey he cautioned.
“Careful,” he said to Rebecca. “Don’t use your lips. Just lick him around the head.”
She was very serious, like she truly had to follow his instructions. Her earnestness got to Trey more than any roleplaying could. Positively tormenting him, she licked him—circles and swipes and soft little flicks across that sensitive pulsing flesh. Beads of pre-cum welled from his slit. She gathered them until he trembled, until his veins began to stand out. He couldn’t hold on much longer. He wanted to give in too badly. As if he knew, Zane finally said
stop
.
Without being told, Rebecca retreated to the bed’s head rail. Her eyes were wide, her breathing nearly as broken up as Trey’s.
“Prisoner,” Zane said, his manner all authority. “You’re going to take ten strikes, and you’ll count them aloud for me.”
Trey counted. Each stiff blow was hard. At first they were welcome, because they helped him back off the edge, but soon they excited him as well. For whatever reason, he was wired to respond that way. His ass was on fire within a minute, his inner muscles twitching with their desire to be fucked. Zane seemed unlikely to satisfy that craving in front of Rebecca—a fact that only made Trey want it more. He wanted to fuck and be fucked simultaneously. The instant he acknowledged the desire he knew he was stuck with it. This was his obsession, the yearning no amount of wooden paddles could beat from him. He wanted Zane and Rebecca at the same time.
“
Ten
,” he rasped with all the frustration he had in him.
Zane ceased swinging. Sensation throbbed through Trey’s whole body.
“Do you want your reward?” Zane asked sternly.
“Yes, sir,” Trey answered, a response Zane only drew from him sometimes.
“‘Yes, sir,’” he repeated with the faintest wisp of a sneer. “That’s polite, prisoner. I’d double your reward, except I know you prefer suffering.”
“He’ll need protection,” Rebecca said softly. “Would you do that for me?”
She tossed Zane a condom, and he caught it. There was a little pause. “For you,” he said, huskiness in the words. “I’d do anything.”
He walked up the side of the bed to roll the rubber on. With absolute fascination, Rebecca watched his hands on Trey’s cock. Zane didn’t fumble under her regard. He was too accustomed to handling Trey. Cranked up by the whole situation, Trey’s balls jerked closer to his body.
“Will that do?” Zane asked when the task was done.
Rebecca’s eyes flicked from Trey to him. Did she realize she could order Zane to touch him more? He’d shown her more deference than any previous play partner. She pressed one finger thoughtfully to her cheek. Her next words flashed through Trey like a rocket trail.
“You could have caressed him more,” she observed, “around the balls or shaft, but I admit he looks well prepared.”
“If I’d excited him more, he might not last through his reward.”
“True,” she said.
“What’s my reward?” Trey dared to ask.
“You took ten strokes from me,” Zane said. “You can have ten strokes inside her. If you survive them without coming, I’ll use the quirt on you.”
Trey groaned, the reaction as unavoidable as his hard breathing. Under normal circumstances, ten strokes inside her would be a breeze. Under these, they might in truth finish him.
“Grab the head rail,” Zane said. “Only your cock can touch her while you do this.”
Rebecca moved down the mattress while he moved up. She’d bent her knees, but Zane pulled the leg nearest to him down. “Keep this flat. You don’t want to spoil my view.
Rebecca’s lips parted for a quick breath. Trey concluded they hadn’t pre-planned this part, and it excited her.
“I’ll aim your cock for you,” Zane told him.
It wasn’t all Trey wanted, but it was good. Zane’s hot fingers placed his head at her creaming gate.
“There,” he said. “You may push now, prisoner.”
Trey pushed . . . and let out a helpless whimper as his broad crown went in. Her body gave for him easily: soft, wet, clinging to his throbbing cock all over. When he was fully seated, he looked at her.
“Please don’t move,” he begged in an undertone.
“I’ll do my best,” she promised breathily.