Calla #2
Amiyah followed, softer but no less desperate.
She let her hands glide up my thighs, tentative at first, then firmer when I didn’t stop her.
Her lips brushed the inside of my knee, feather-light, then higher, trailing fire up my skin.
The combination of her tenderness and James' hunger made me gasp.
Her finger tips grazed my nipples, causing my body to jerk slightly, her eyes laser-focused on my response to her touch.
Grabbing her throat, I guided her needy mouth to my nipple, where she latched on with the perfect amount of suction and flicked her tongue sensually across it, making me gasp.
“Ahhhhh,” I murmured, threading my fingers through her hair with one hand, fisting James' head with the other. “Serve me, together.”
And they did, I felt a tongue in my ass and one in my pussy, my excitement seeping out of me as pleasure unknown washed over me.
“You eating my pussy so fucking nasty, Princess,” I praised, making her eat me even nastier.
Amiyah was an attentive lover, learning me through touch, through the smallest acts of worship, her lips and hands mapping me like I was sacred text.
James was relentless, groaning against me, every movement soaked in knowing how to give himself away.
His tongue was buried deep in my ass as he stroked in and out of my tight hole, opening up for him.
The contrast was electric, sweet and rough, new and practiced, worship and ruin, all of it feeding straight into my core.
My hips jerked despite myself, a moan ripping from my throat, and they both responded instantly, doubling their efforts. Amiyah whimpered softly, as if she could feel my pulse through her own, while James growled low, the sound of his need syncing with mine.
“Look at me,” I ordered, and both lifted their eyes. Their gazes locked on me, one dark and smoldering, one wide, wet, and trembling.
The sight unraveled me.
“Perfect,” I gasped, nails digging into their skin. “So fucking perfect.”
I didn’t hold back after that. I let myself ride the worship, let their mouths and hands and voices consume me.
Every gasp they pulled from me made them moan in turn, like my pleasure was their only oxygen.
My body burned, sparks firing through my nerves until I was shuddering, gripping them both tight.
Needing more than mouth service, I pulled James to me. “Spit in my mouth.”
With no hesitation, he let a string of his saliva mixed with my arousal spill from his mouth into mine. I savored the taste, moaning my satisfaction—the rigidity of his length poking at my pulsating center.
“Princess, come get on my face while James proves he’s my favorite good boy and fucks this pussy until I come,” I moaned out.
Doing as she was told, her plush body mounted my face, the smell of her arousal intoxicating and addicting.
I covered her pretty clitoris with my lips and sucked and licked until she was shaking on my face.
Smacking her ass, I demanded, “Ride my fucking face.” And she did, bouncing all over my tongue, leaving a trail of her cream all over my face.
James fed himself to me inch by inch, delivering deep, powerful strokes. His dick knew it was home as it stretched me deliciously, and my pussy swallowed him greedily.
“You’re fucking me so goodddddddd, baby.”
“Fuckkkk,” he grunted, grabbing Amiyah by her throat and spitting in her mouth before tongue kissing her.
Everyone’s climactic tension had bubbled to the surface and was about to jump over the edge, both Amiyah and James asked in unison, “Permission to cum, Mistress?” Sending me into an orgasmic Astro plane.
“Come with me, nowwwww, mmmmm fuckkkkk,” I managed to moan out, spilling my climax into the eager devotion they gave me as James emptied himself in my sugary walls and Amiyah gushed all over my face. I was in absolute bliss.
When it was over, I sat back, chest heaving, sweat beading my skin. They stayed at my feet, foreheads pressed to my thighs, holding me up in the silence that followed.
Owned, worshipped, and whole.
Their foreheads rested against my thighs, their breath warm on my skin, and I let my hands drift through their hair, grounding myself as much as I grounded them. This was the part no one outside our world ever understood: after the fire, after the breaking, came the stitching back together.
“You did beautifully,” I murmured, stroking James' damp head, then cupping the back of Amiyah’s head. “Both of you. I’m proud.”
James pressed a kiss to my knee, his voice rough but reverent. “Thank you, Mistress.”
The word made Amiyah shiver. She looked up at me, lips swollen, eyes wide. “That’s… what you are to him?”
I exhaled slow, nodding my head up and down. For years, I had kept the two halves of myself divided: Calla the CEO in daylight, who thrives as The Black Dahlia in shadows, but she deserved more than masks. If I was going to bring her into my world, she had to see all of me.
I slid my fingers under the edge of the leather mask, held her gaze, and pulled it free. My face lay bare, sweat-slick, lips swollen and red.
Her breath caught, but then, she laughed. A low, disbelieving laugh that turned into a grin. “I knew it. I knew you gave Dom vibes. I’ve been saying it, and you sat across from me at Olive & Oak, acting like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth if you looked at it too long.”
I tilted my head, amused despite myself. “You don’t sound shocked.”
“I’m not.” She shook her head, still laughing, eyes glistening. “It all makes sense now. The way you look at me. The way you touch me. Calla in the daylight, Dahlia in the dark. It’s you, of course it’s you.”
Her words struck deep, not mocking, not judgment, but acceptance. My chest loosened, just a fraction.
James finally lifted his head, his jaw still tight, his eyes moving between us. “So now you know,” he said, voice low, unreadable. “Question is, what are you gonna do with it?”
Amiyah looked between us, her hand still resting on my thigh. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t run, she just breathed deep, then whispered, “I want… both of you. I don’t know what it means, or if it’ll ruin everything we have at work, but I can’t stop wanting it. I can’t stop wanting you.”
Her words melted something in me I hadn’t realized was still frozen.
I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to hers, cupping her cheek in my bare hand.
“You’ll never have to do anything you don’t want.
With me, you’ll always be safe, always. I’ll hold you when you kneel, and I’ll hold you if you can’t.
Submission isn’t about breaking yourself apart, it’s about letting someone worthy keep you whole. ”
Her eyes watered, her lips trembling. “Then take me there, teach me, just… don’t let me lose myself.”
My smile was soft this time, not sharp, not cruel. “You won’t because I won’t let you.”
Behind her, James shifted, finally lifting his head, his voice deep and certain. “Then what does this mean for us?”
I looked between the two of them, the man who gave me his pain, the woman who’d just begged to kneel at my feet. Power curled in my chest, but so did something else, something I hadn’t felt in years.
“It means,” I said slowly, deliberately, “that you’re mine. Both of you, together.”
Amiyah shivered. James' eyes darkened with desire.
And for the first time in my life, I let myself believe that owning them both didn’t have to mean losing myself.
Last night was beautiful.
James on his knees, trembling with need.
Amiyah, soft and sweet, whispering Mistress like it was carved out of her soul.
The two of them together, their pleasure braided into mine until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
For a few hours, I felt whole, not broken, not haunted. Just wanted, claimed, and complete.
And that’s why I hated this—sitting here in this too-soft chair, in this too-gentle office, with sandalwood curling through the air like a lie. Therapy felt like dragging my ghosts into the light, like smearing blood across clean white walls. I wanted to stay in the glow of last night forever.
But if I was going to love them, both of them, it had to be whole. I needed to allow myself to have something tangible, not another performance, and it had to be healthy. It had to be healed. Otherwise, I’d bleed all over them, cut them with wounds that were never theirs to carry.
The therapist’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Calm, measured. “Calla, last week you mentioned how your father’s choices shaped the way you see relationships. If you feel ready… can you share more today?”
My throat tightened. My nails dug crescents into my palms.
Caleb sat stiff on my left, his broad shoulders rigid, eyes shadowed. Calil leaned forward on his knees, restless energy practically vibrating out of him. Mama sat across from us, hands clenched so tight in her lap her knuckles were bone-white, eyes fixed on the rug.
I wanted to stay silent. To keep my walls up. To bury it all under steel and control like I always did.
But last night’s sweetness lived under my skin. And if I was going to give James and Amiyah my truth, they trusted me with their submission, and if I was going to trust them with my dominance, I had also to trust them with my pain. I couldn’t keep pretending.
So I inhaled and I let the words tear their way out.
“Daddy…” My voice cracked. “Daddy wasn’t what people thought he was. He cheated like it was second nature to breathing, and everybody in the city knew, and Mama knew too.”
I felt Caleb’s jaw lock. Calil’s fist clenched in his lap.