Chapter 2
TWO
Ella
There’s really nothing quite like having the brat spanked out of me.
I’m floating, swaying on a swing of bliss.
These men can use me however they like, because even when it hurts, it feels good.
Pain, pleasure, humiliation, pride—they all blend together into a perfect cloud of cotton candy.
I’m so addicted to it, I’ll never be able to let them go.
I can’t see anything while wearing this scarf. There’s no way to anticipate what they’re going to do next. All I know is Kingston’s going to fuck my ass.
I fucking love this. I love them.
I belong to them, and I wouldn’t change this for anything.
There’s a rustling sound of fabric, clothes being removed, no doubt.
Hot breath skims over my thighs, close to my pussy. And then a wet tongue licks my folds.
My knees start to buckle and I moan. Strong hands grip my hips and bend me forward slightly.
The tongue at my pussy continues its explorations, tantalizing, slick, and warm.
The soft beard that rubs against my thighs as he moves for better angles clues me into the fact that it’s Sebastian giving me head.
“Spread your legs a little more, angel,” Kingston says, nudging my feet apart with his own.
A moment later, there’s the click of a bottle opening, and cool, slippery liquid drizzles over my crack. Instinctively, I try to move forward, but Sebastian’s mouth is at my mound, and he holds me in place with his hands on my hips.
“You’re doing great, Ella,” Kingston says in a raspy voice as he uses a finger to breach my hole.
I groan in a combination of discomfort and arousal. The nerve endings back there are so sensitive and it feels so strange to be touched in this way. The very wrongness of it turns me on even more. I’m a fucking freak, and I like it. I’m not ashamed.
Kingston moves his finger in and out of me, and soon, I’m rocking slightly to meet him.
Sebastian continues to lick and suck my clit, and he pushes two fingers into my pussy.
My world is dark and it has narrowed to the feelings of their fingers and Sebastian’s lips, and the wet sounds of their invasions of my body.
I’m panting with the effort of holding myself upright. I’m going to come.
“Don’t come yet,” Kingston says. “I want to feel your ass squeezing my cock when it happens. Hold off for me, baby. Just wait a little longer.”
“But I can’t wait,” I say.
Sebastian pulls his face away from my pussy, and takes his fingers from me, as well.
“Nooo,” I whine. “Come back.”
“Just trying to help you out,” he says, “since you can’t seem to help yourself.”
I pout in his direction. “That’s very mean of you, Daddy.”
I feel a faint touch at my clit, as if he’s dragging a callused finger over the nub. But there’s no rhythm to the movement, and it isn’t enough to get me off.
The touch disappears, and Kingston takes his fingers from my ass and guides me to my knees.
Sebastian’s hands are there, too, directing my legs where to go.
I’m straddling him, but I can’t see anything.
He’s going to fuck my pussy while Kingston takes my ass.
It was a good position for this, the other day, with the men reversed.
But instead of a cock at my entrance, there’s a mouth.
I’m hovering over his face. He holds my thighs apart with his hands.
“Get on all fours,” Kingston says. “Brace your upper body, little one, yes, like that.”
“What about—how is Daddy Sebastian going to get off?” I ask.
“I’m jacking myself,” he says. “This is so fucking hot. I love tasting you on my lips when we come.”
My response is lost in a wail as Kingston starts working his cock into my ass.
“Push back, like you’re pushing out, princess,” Sebastian reminds me before returning his lips and tongue to my pussy.
I try to do what he suggests, and Kingston’s big hand on my hip is warm and reassuring.
“You’re doing great,” Kingston says. “This is perfect. Fuck, you feel so good.”
I want to come, but he said he wanted to be inside of me before I do.
I try to think about other things, to hold it off, but how can I think about anything else when my daddy dom is pushing his big old cock into my ass?
I grip the threads of the rug beneath my palms. If I wasn’t wearing this blindfold, I could look around, maybe find distraction in the black and white photographs Sebastian decorated his bedroom with.
But no, my vision is blocked and all I have are sensations.
Lips, tongue, hands, fingers—and, where I feel it most—a cock.
“Are you in yet?” I ask.
He chuckles, and I feel that, too.
“Almost, sweetheart. You’re doing so good.”
“I feel like I’m going to come,” I say, whimpering. “I can’t hold back.”
Sebastian slows his licking again, and he moves away from sucking on my clit entirely.
I miss the sensation, but I’m glad I’m not toppling over the edge just yet.
I imagine his strong, tattooed forearm flexing while he jerks himself off, and how the three of us must look like this.
A trio of loving adults, wrapped up together, linked with each other.
There’s more pressure back there, and Kingston leans forward, his chest touching my back.
“I’m in, sweetheart,” he whispers in my ear. “You feel so good, Ella. So fucking good.”
“Daddy, I want to come,” I say.
“You can come whenever you want,” he says, before stroking out, then back in again. “Fuck. So good.”
He must be holding himself up with just one arm, because a hand comes around to cup one of my breasts. He lightly pinches my nipple in time with his thrusts. Sebastian’s mouth resumes its magic on my clit, and he fingers my pussy as well.
I never want this to end, but I don’t stand a chance of holding off my orgasm, now. I let go, allowing the incandescent pleasure to wash through me, pulsing over and over again while Kingston growls praise in my ear.
Suddenly, he yanks me back with my hips and shoves my head to the floor, then he starts fucking my ass harder and faster.
I barely have a chance to register the change before his grip on my hips tightens and he shouts, “Fuck, Ella, yes,” before thrusting into me one last time and freezing.
I can feel the pulsing of his cock as he empties into me.
There are more sounds of movement, even while Kingston and I remain locked like this.
After another long moment, he pulls out.
Sebastian sits up, I think, and a warm washcloth is pressed between my legs, cleaning me.
Sebastian holds me against him while Kingston wipes between my legs with the washcloth.
My scarf is untied, and I blink up at Sebastian’s kind face.
His hazel eyes are soft with love. “Was that fun, princess?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Kingston hugs me from the side and kisses my cheek. “That was so good, little girl. You’re amazing, you know that?”
When I’m with them, I feel that. And I never want this feeling to end.
* * *
Ella
The next day, I’m pleasantly sore. Every step I take reminds me of what my men did to me last night. What they gave to me—punishments and rewards. I’ve never felt so treasured, so safe, as when I’m in their arms.
I’ve picked up an extra shift for Maids in Heaven, filling in at a hotel that sometimes calls us for extra help when one of their regular maids is out sick. I’ve cleaned here before, so I know the drill, and I’m able to let my mind wander.
Unfortunately, memories from last night only distract me for so long before I remember the real problem pressing on my heart—my brother.
I’ve tried texting and calling him a few more times, but there’s no answer, no response.
Anxiety is starting to really get to me, but I remind myself that Tommy is no stranger to dangerous situations.
There was that time not too long ago that he showed up to my apartment, all beaten, and I helped fix him up. He was okay then. He’ll be okay now.
I owe them, they said, and I shouldn’t try to get out of it. Owe who what? How can I owe anyone anything? Yeah, I still have hospital debts from my dad’s treatments, but I hardly think the hospital administration is going to hide my brother from me and send me threatening notes.
It’s got to be those guys who came into Bartleby’s when I was working there—the ones who followed Natasha and me into the alley, and hurt Sebastian.
Tell someone, and your brother dies . Well, not telling anyone isn’t making him any safer.
This is eating me up inside.
I don’t have to tell everyone. I don’t want anyone else to be in danger from this, either. But I could tell the very people whose job it is to protect us. I don’t always trust the police to do the right thing, but they helped with all the Joel stuff, and figuring out who kidnapped Kristin.
The next hotel room I go into, I take out my phone and dial the San Esteban police station, then ask to be put through to Detective Baldwin.
I expect the call to go straight to voicemail, but instead, Detective Baldwin answers.
“Hi,” I say. “This is Ella Marchand. I’m not sure if you remember me, but you assisted with the case against Joel Tyler…”
“Yes, I remember you,” the detective says. “How can I help?”
“My brother seems to be missing,” I say. “And I received a note.”
“Drama just seems to follow you everywhere, doesn’t it?” he says.
I’m not sure how to read his tone. “Do you think this is a joke?” I ask in a carefully polite voice.
“No,” he says, “I apologize. But I should send you to the missing persons department—that’s who you should be talking to about all of this.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m patching you through now. Good luck, Ms. Marchand.”
“Thank you.”
I’m on hold for a few minutes, so I straighten the hotel room, doing all the jobs I can do one-handed while I hold the phone.
Stripping the linens, piling them into the hamper, disposing of all the partially-used soaps, picking up a few pieces of trash that the guests were too lazy or distracted to toss on their own.
Finally, a male voice comes through my phone’s speaker. “This is Detective Marks, with Missing Persons.”
“Hello,” I say, “I need to report my brother as missing.”
“When’s the last time you spoke with him?”
“Um…” I think back. It was the middle of April. “Almost three weeks ago? He said he was going away for a bit.”
“Stop right there. He told you he was going away?”
“Yes, but I got this weird note about owing someone, and if I tell anyone, they’ll kill him.”
“That could be anything,” Detective Marks says in a gentle voice. “Baldwin told me you’ve been through a lot recently. If your brother were truly missing, he wouldn’t have announced he was going away.”
“He never said how long he would be gone,” I say, “but this is very unlike him.”
“He’s never left for long periods of time before?”
He has, when he’s been on a manic gambling spree, but I don’t want to tell Detective Marks this.
As if sensing my reluctance, and the reasoning for it, Detective Marks says in a kind voice, “It’s hard, sometimes, when family disappoints us like this.
Ms. Marchand, I would really like to help you, but anyone else in my place would tell you the same thing…
it sounds as if your brother doesn’t want to be found, in which case, there’s nothing we can do about it.
I’m sorry and I hope he comes around soon. ”
Before I can respond, the call ends. I stare at my phone for a long moment, until the screen goes black.
Maybe Tommy’s not really missing…but the note I hid in my purse is real.