Chapter 8
Saturday nights aremy only relief, and I’ve never needed it this bad.
Guilt has me ripped into two men.
I’m one man, the father of a daughter he lives for. So many times, I wanted to jump off that bridge, but I didn’t. Gia is my joy. She’s my life. I will never abandon her.
We were fine until I met her—Scarlett.
And to watch her guard my daughter with her life? To see her endure ridicule from cruel women while she does it? To adore Scarlett as she tenderly wiped crumbs off my daughter’s face? It made my throat burn with what emotion, I can’t fucking name it.
I don’t want to name it because the other half of me is an animal.
I need blood on my hands again. I need pain. I need Scarlett so fucking bad I feel the edges of my mind slipping. All I want is dirty, brutal sex with her. Sex that hurts her, that heals me. Sex that’s so taboo anyone can see that she belongs to me.
It’s a drug. It makes me feel better. I love it. I crave it. I want it so much I share it.
It’s an addiction I discovered in college, and Zar never lets me down. He desires my satisfaction. He needs it as much as I do.
We need our Saturday nights.
Even when I travel to another property, Zar takes care of me. He travels with me to exotic locations or the glimmering cities of The Mercier Hotels, where they provide a ready supply, always waiting and willing.
But living here in Charleston for so long? We have to be very careful. Rumors flow like the wide river beside this city.
It’s midnight as I take the elevator down to the executive level. No one’s here at this hour. I insist my staff take Saturday nights off. We have staff at my Paris property ready for emergencies because it will be a crisis if I don’t get what I want.
My steps know the path, down hallways of white marble floors with Grecian rugs of blue and white. Silence and barely audible classical music piped through the speaker system fill the air. But it doesn’t muffle the giggles.
The laughter I hear comes from my secret suite.
Pressing the access code, I silenced the beep long ago as I carefully open the door. I want to watch what they’re doing so I don’t let the door close behind me. I leave it barely cracked open so the click won’t disturb what I hope to find.
“Come on,” Zar’s laughing too, “you gotta pick one. You can’t possibly take two.”
I grin, leaning against the wall in the dark foyer. The light above me is off, so they don’t notice me here. Not yet. Zar enraptures the two naked women wearing black leather collars around their necks, and I love watching his game.
The man is a master.
He collars women every week.
But he’s wearing a collar, too—a wide black leather one with a 24-karat gold O-ring. Seeing it adorn his tan flesh warms my heart. His impressive masculine nudity gives me a constant thrill. His long cock, swelling half hard, gives me deep satisfaction. His play soothes my jagged edges because I had that collar made for him.
I’m Zar’s Master.
“But they’re both so big.” The redhead giggles, and I exhale, relieved he finally found me another. It’s been months since our last one. “How can I decide?” she teases. “Let me fuck them both for you, Daddy.”
“Bad girl.” Zar playfully slaps her thigh with an extra long, purple, double-ended dildo. Then he slaps her other thigh with a pink one. “I’m not your Daddy, and you’re being greedy. You need to share the cocks, ladies.”
The brunette practically purrs at him, lacing her hands into his dark waves. “But we want to share your cock, Sir.”
He’s got them right where he wants them, where I am, too.
No one can resist Zar.
He makes sure his body is a magnet. I do, too. Our grueling dawn workouts keep us in top shape for this. He craves our punishing routine as much as I do, though he doesn’t have to follow the rules like me.
I don’t know what Zar does on his free nights, but he has my permission to play. Every Friday, he leaves his suite on the fifth floor. I’ve watched him with my cameras, sliding into his Porsche in the parking deck and disappearing into the Charleston night.
Yes, we’re creatures. We have lots of good habits and very bad ones, too.
“Ladies,” Zar caresses the brunette’s ass, “if we’re going to share tonight, then let’s invite my Owner to watch. He’s patiently waiting for us.”
He saw me here all along. I swear the man can sense me even when I’m not around.
The women turn, surprised at first to see my shadow looming in the hallway, and that swells my cock.
I love getting caught watching.
Because here’s the test.
What do you do when you have this chance? The opportunity to truly be free and submit? To fuck how you’re told to and for anyone to watch? Don’t underestimate it. It’s liberation beyond your wildest dreams.
“Oh my god,” the redhead sighs at seeing me. “You’re Luca Mercier.”
“Holy shit,” the brunette mutters. “Are you our Dom tonight? Are we fucking you, too?”
I’m not worried. They’ve signed NDAs. They know the cost of this secret. Their phones are secure in the safe beside the bar cart. Zar makes sure of it all before I even enter the room.
“You’ll do as I say.” I enter the hotel suite, aiming for the gold and glass bar cart. “My stud has told you the rules. We honor limits and consent. But I think you’re going to want my demands tonight.”
In this suite, most of the traditional Mercier furniture is gone. We removed it but left the plush king-sized bed in the bedroom. It’s for aftercare, of course. This large living room is empty except for a black leather armchair and a few black leather benches with gold side tables around the room’s perimeter.
It’s all seating for an audience.
A few glass curio cabinets featuring supplies and toys stand in the corners, while a very large, low platform gleams like a stage in the center of the room.
The dark blue walls are empty of art, too. Instead, gold-framed mirrors are strategically placed to reflect the platform and the black, padded St. Andrew’s cross on the wall opposite the windows.
I designed the room, while Zar designed the platform. It’s covered in top-grain black leather, like a massive bed, but it’s also functional. It has a multitude of gold chains secured underneath with cuffs to restrain ankles, wrists, or necks. It’s the right height for us, just below our knees. Zar’s six-three, I’m six-five, and it fits us and any arrangement of bodies we desire.
Zar even selected the lighting. It’s ambient and minimal but glows bright enough to see all the details. The music in here is different. Zar picks that, too. He’s got a playlist of fuck-songs, that I only allow myself to listen to on Saturday nights.
Blue velvet drapes sweep the dark blue and white carpeted floor. They’re closed, though I wish I could open them. I wish more could watch us, but the risk is too high.
No one can know about our habits. Our need. It stays in this suite. We haven’t even used the benches for an audience yet.
“Yes, sir,” the redhead giggles at my warning. “I consent to all of Luca Mercier’s demands tonight.”
I grin, pouring myself an Ouzo with a splash of water.
I’m sure Zar’s already fed them and spoiled them with dinner downstairs and one drink; that’s it. Again, this is consensual. We don’t fuck drunk, and he directly asks them if they want a threesome. He asks about limits and interests and any questions they may have about BDSM. He explains impact play, spanking in particular. He makes it very specific and clear. He makes it so shameless with no surprises.
Well, except for the surprise of me joining them. But the women can always say no to me, too.
But what I love is…
They never do.
Taking my usual seat in the black leather armchair two feet from the platform’s edge where all three kneel, I set my milky anise drink on the brass table beside me. Leaning back, I unbutton my linen shirt, sweeping it aside, exposing my abs and chest for this and all three watch, anticipating my first demand.
“Ladies,” I command with Scarlett still scalding like fire through my veins. I’m not playing around. I have no patience tonight. “Get on all fours and share the purple dildo. Fuck it like whores while we spank you and watch.”
And the show begins.
It’s a long one, I insist. It gets me so hard. I love making people please themselves because I can’t. But I can tell them what to do, to stop or go slower or faster. Tonight, I demand to watch a thick glistening dildo slowly disappear between eager slick pussies.
Zar kneels on the platform, centered between their bodies and facing me. His hands remain clasped behind his back while he watches them, too.
I lick my lips at his hefty, hungry erection, jutting out at the sound of their moans, at the sway of their ample breasts. They’re getting off on giving us a show, and it’s having the usual effect.
“Stud!” I bark at Zar.
“Yes, my Owner.” He knows he can’t look at me yet.
“Spank them for being bad for us.”
Zar tries hiding his grin, but we’ve done this too many times, and I see it as he lifts the red leather paddle from the platform beside him. He’s a pro. He’s been trained. He doesn’t spank them hard. That’s not what I want.
I want them thrilled to be bad for me. To be free for me. To fuck for me. To let me watch.
Whack!
Zar swats the redhead’s ample bottom, her flesh blooming red along with her cheeks. “Yes,” she moans.
“You like it, don’t you?” He teases her, spanking her again. “You like being bad for us?”
“Yes,” she quickly stutters again, looking over her shoulder at him. “Yes, spank me more.”
Zar gives her three more smacks before it’s the brunette’s turn.
Thwack!
He reddens her bottom, too, making her cry out, but she doesn’t use the safe word “Red.” No, she writhes her hips, seeking more of the dildo that’s fucking her, too.
“Bad girl,” Zar taunts. “You’re being so bad for us, aren’t you? Letting us watch you share a dildo and fuck another slut.”
“Yes!” She groans, shaking.
She’s close to coming, and I have all night long. I need this to last. I need this always. I’m leaking in my jeans for it.
Their pleasure. Their display. Their submission. I control it when I tell them, “You’ll both get spanked for being our bad little sluts tonight until you come, and you’re going to love it. Keep telling my stud how much you love us watching your dirty pussies fuck.”
Neither woman lasts long. Not with my demands. Not with Zar’s measured pain heightening their pleasure creaming from their lips. One comes, then the other does, and I need more.
“Stud,” I command Zar, and he loves being used by me.
“Yes, My Owner,” he replies.
“Have her suck that big cock, the cock that belongs to me, and make her do it nice and slow until I hear her choking on it.”
I gesture to the sexy redhead on all fours. She’s still fucking one end of the long dildo while the brunette fucks the other, moaning and watching me.
“Luca,” the brunette moans. “I mean, Master, Our Owner, let me suck your cock, too.”
She’s beautiful. I like that her nipples are pierced, that she has ink down her arm like Scarlett, but I’m not even tempted.
“Silence.” I toast my drink to her. “Enjoy me watching that dildo fuck your wet pussy, and I promise we’ll make you come more tonight. Because you like obeying me, don’t you?” I grin. “You like me watching you. You like being a dirty girl for me.”
She moans with my gaze on her, like she’s obsessed with my stare, but this is safe. This is controlled as she starts rolling her hips harder, fucking her friend, and amping up her show.
“Do you want this cock in your mouth?” Zar asks the redhead, dragging his swollen tip across her bottom lip as she nods yes, and I’m riveted.
“Say it, my doll,” Zar demands. “I need to hear you say I get to fuck all of your holes for my Owner to watch. Say you want to be a slut for us.”
“Yes, I want to be your slut.” The redhead practically shouts it. “I want to suck your cock. I want you to fuck me.”
It makes me unbutton, then unzip my jeans, exposing my hard dick.
Zar takes turns, brutally fucking one woman’s throat, then the other’s, all while they moan with spit drooling from their chins, while their bodies twist and writhe even more, sharing the glistening dildo. When they finally come again, it’s how I feel, too.
Lust owns me, but I won’t break. I won’t ever break my rule again; I only watch.
“Fuck her hard, Stud,” I tell him, and he knows which one.
The redhead.
Zar now knows why I’ve changed my requests for almost a year. Why I told him I crave redheads to fuck.
For him to fuck for me.
I’m obsessed with it.
But this is the first time since Zar’s known about Scarlett that he’s found her substitute. A mere shadow of the woman I really crave.
I start stroking my hard cock to the truth, watching what I won’t do with Scarlett ever again, but I’m desperate to.
The denial. The punishment. The loneliness and pain of no true satisfaction is what I deserve.
Zar directs the women’s bodies, turning the redhead around and grabbing her hips as he guides her to the edge of the platform. Lifting two chains underneath, he binds her ankles in black straps to the edge so she can’t escape. She’s on all fours, her pussy waiting and open for his cock while he stands behind her, and I lick my lips again, remembering a similar sight one night at a club.
After Zar rolls a condom down that tempting dick of his, he starts fucking her as I tell her what to do to her friend. “Now eat her pussy. You know you want to. Be a bad little girl for us and lick up her cum while my stud fills your pussy with his.”
The women grin at me like they’ve done this before, and I swear Zar has a spidey sense for bisexual women. Or for ones curious enough to try.
I have so many sights I crave to watch. Usually, I want to dominate, I want to torture with pleasure for hours, and Zar’s done it all for me. It’s like he enters a trance, being told what to do, being controlled by me, on fucking for me while I whip his ass, but tonight’s only for him. This is his favorite scene, and though he didn’t say it, I owe him.
I broke my rule.
I broke his heart.
It’s not a rule he made or asked me to keep, but Zar knows what my rule means to me. How it brought me back to life, how it brought me back to him.
For years, I’ve only been his, and now he knows who I broke my rule with, and he gets to make me watch the punishment I crave.
Zar and I have been together for so long, since college, so he knew it the second his eyes met Scarlett—I fucked her—so now he wants to fuck her, too.
And this time, I’ll kill him if he does.
Zar always wants what’s mine. That’s the punishment he craves.
I’ve been watching him and Scarlett around my hotel. When they spar in the gym, they’re happy, relaxed, and like best friends.
But his arousal around Scarlett is obvious, too. It’s starting to bother me in ways I’m not used to. I can’t stop staring at how his cock gets hard around her, knowing I’ve fucked her.
When it’s business, their security meetings are chatty. They sit in the lobby with their laptops open, discussing how to mitigate risks at my various properties, but they laugh too much.
His eyes linger on Scarlett’s stunning smile too long. His hands twitch to caress her hair. He licks his lips when he watches her walk away, his stare equally captivated by her ass in a tight skirt as mine is.
I sit in my office and watch them all the time through my security cameras, and every so often, he glances up and smiles at the lens, feeling me do it.
Zar lives for me to watch him, and I live through him.
So he starts fucking the redhead with a feral passion I’ve never seen in him before. With lust, she cries out at his brutality, at his hips slapping against her ass, and his discipline falters, glaring my way.
My jeans are open. I never wear boxers on Saturday nights. I need full access to do this. It’s my only relief.
But tonight, as Zar’s lips part like they always do when I permit him to stare at my hard cock, to watch me jerk off, something’s changed in his eyes.
I know he feels something about me fucking Scarlett, but we won’t talk about it.
We’re men. We do. We fuck. We fight. But we don’t talk.
The brunette is in heaven. She’s been screaming so loud for minutes with her eyes closed, her legs spread wide while her friend leans over and devours her pussy. The redhead’s tongue swipes across the brunette’s clit in tempo to Zar’s unrelenting thrusts, and I can’t stop licking my lips, remembering the taste of Scarlett’s honey.
I’m parched for her. Starving for her. I’ve never known hunger like this, and the deprivation is what I need.
“Eat that pussy,” I command her. “That’s it. Bury your nose in it. Smell her lust for you while you suck her clit and make her scream. Make her come so hard on your tongue that she fills your mouth with her cream.”
It’s what I did to Scarlett, and the redhead moans, obeying my demands. She’s jutting her hips high, seeking even more of Zar’s cock that curves up, long and thick. It hits a spot in women every time.
But his eyes are on my cock, swollen and leaking in my grasp.
“How does her pussy feel?” I stroke my tip, always demanding he taunt me.
“So fucking tight and wet for us,” he growls, his thrusts slapping against her ass. “She’s a good little slut for us, eating pussy and loving it while we fuck her pussy, too.” The women moan. The brunette grabs her friend’s head and holds her there as she thrusts her hips up for more of her tongue.
“Look at her,” Zar taunts me. “Look at her red hair, her tongue eating pussy for you, and her tight little cunt taking this big cock that belongs to you. She loves it, my Owner.”
I love it.
Now that Zar knows, he’s going to torture me, and it’s what I crave. Yes, I want Scarlett, and no, I can’t have her, so this is what I deserve.
I love this pain.
“What a sweet whore she is for you, Luca.” Zar keeps going, his jaw clenching. He’s close. I’m close. The women are having their orgasms, and now it’s our turn.
I stand up with my jeans open, my hard cock fisted in my grasp. Stalking toward Zar’s taunts, I drip because the sight of my arousal enraptures him.
It always has.
Zar loves my cum shooting over his hard dick. I know he wants it in his mouth, too. Probably in his ass, as well, but this is all he ever gets from me, and it tortures us with the denial we love.
“She’ll let you watch her.” He keeps serving me. “She’ll let us fuck her. That’s what you want? Right? To watch your sweet whore fuck for you?”
Yes, it is.I lock my eyes on him because Zar knows my soul; he knows my desires and demons. He licks his lips to them, his eyes on my swollen cock about to come, and whenever I do, it makes him come, too.
“You want her, don’t you?” He takes me there. I’m swelling in my grasp, jerking my fist faster, and falling into my favorite hell. “You want to fuck her and make her your whore for all to watch. For me to watch. For everyone to watch.”
Yes, yes, fuck yes, I do, but I can’t speak.
The answer is my pumping fist, my thrusting hips, my mouth open, about to release a painful roar from my soul.
“Luca,” Zar coaxes, “you want to fuck Scarlett, but you can’t because you’re a fucking devil.”
Fuck, yes, I am.
I come so hard to her name, to him taunting me with pain, with denial, with truth. Ropes of my cum spurt over Zar’s abs, drizzling down to the base of his pumping dick. He didn’t know my weakness—Scarlett—and now that he does, it only makes me come harder, grunting again as more of my torture escapes, splattering his flesh, and it takes Zar’s guilt away, too.
He grabs the redhead’s hips. “Fuck yes, take us. Take us,” he grunts. His body, dripping with my cum, shakes while his eyes won’t leave mine as he releases his deepest secret into someone else.
Zar’s never confessed what he feels for me, but we know it, and we’ll never say it.
“Wanna join us?” The brunette giggles, and it jerks me out of my haze.
I rip my focus off of Zar, his head also whipping around to see who’s hidden in the shadows of the foyer.
But she can’t hide the flames in her hair.
They match the fire in her eyes.