Chapter 8
Willow left early enough to arrive ten minutes ahead of schedule. No way in hell was she going to risk being late to Kenny’s. Not for the first night of seven days.
She replayed the rules in her head as she drove, ticking them off in her head.
Dress without a bra or underwear. Heels.
Hair down, with the proper tools to put it into a bun later.
She’d been told to bring nothing but her makeup and hair products, along with seven dresses with the proper footwear, so she could be downstairs around people.
He wanted her shaved and trimmed as she’d been at the cabin, but with orders to pay extra-close attention to the details.
Which she’d done.
The curvy back road between Ooltewah and the pack lands was like a ribbon before her, and she handled her LC 500 like a racecar driver. What’s the use of having a fun car if you don’t drive fast?
She slowed when she hit the main road though, her pulse ticking faster with every mile.
This was it. Not a scene or a fantasy. A full week of structure and surrender with no autonomy and no power, just the sharp edges of discipline and the heat of being owned.
Three wolves, one girl, and a schedule that made her their convenience. Their possession.
When she turned onto the long drive, everything in her went quiet.
Silas stood outside waiting. He didn’t say a word, just opened her back hatch, grabbed her duffel, and headed inside toward the stairs.
Boone and Kenny stood at the front door like sentries.
“Welcome,” Kenny said.
He kissed her cheek — a brief brush of lips that sent a shiver straight down her spine, and he motioned her inside. “Keep walking till you get to the kitchen at the back of the house.”
She stepped into the kitchen and thought to herself it wasn’t a mere kitchen, it was a meeting space.
A long table along the back she figured would hold at least forty people. Two smaller tables that would hold a couple-dozen each. A large island with more seating, and a little breakfast nook at the back, big enough for eight.
On top of that, four large sofas and six loveseats were in conversational arrangements.
Clearly, this was where the pack congregated. They’d told her the kitchen was their gathering space but seeing it for herself really hammered it home.
Kenny pointed toward the long table. “Grab your elbows and bend over the end.”
Her chest tightened as she moved, each step more real than the last. She folded at the waist, arms behind her back, elbows gripped tight in trembling hands. The position alone made her feel small. Vulnerable.
She grunted when a slick, lubed egg pressed into her pussy, and her breath caught as it seated deep. There was no forgetting it was there. No pretending this wasn’t happening.
An unignorable sign of their ownership.
But she hadn’t processed it fully when something much thicker pressed at her ass — a wide, pre-lubed plug already half inside her before she could breathe, and she squealed a full-bodied sound of surprise and helplessness, her breath locking as her muscles fought the intrusion.
Her body went rigid fighting the stretch, her knees threatening to buckle from the strain.
Too fast. Too big. Too much.
And yet it went in. Her hole gave way around it, tight muscles spasming and clenching until she could only pant, desperate for air, desperate for control. She gasped, trying to get used to the twin fullness leaving her hyperaware of every muscle below her waist.
When she was given permission to stand, dazed and shaking, Kenny pulled her into his arms and kissed her like she was the love of his life arriving home after a long trip.
His lips claimed hers, his tongue sweeping in with confidence, a slow drag that said you’re mine now. Mine to fill. Mine to fuck. Mine to break open and rebuild.
The plug and egg had been impersonal, functional. This was heat, possession, and absolute control layered into a dominance she couldn’t deny. It ramped her up a thousand times more, until she’d have fallen if he hadn’t supported her. Held her.
When he finally let her go, she barely remembered how to stand upright.
“You may release your elbows.” His voice was calm again, precise.
He kissed her nose, an unexpectedly sweet contrast that knocked her off-kilter all over again.
“The plug will come out once per day for you to receive an enema, and will immediately go back in once you’ve fully released it. You’ll wear a variety of sizes, so you can’t get used to any one kind.”
Her stomach dipped. Her pussy clenched.
Boone stepped in before she could process the change, and his kiss was different.
Still dominant. Still claiming. But not controlled like Kenny’s.
Boone’s mouth crashed into hers with heat, hunger, and weight.
His lips were firm, almost bruising, and one massive hand clamped the back of her neck while his body boxed her in.
She couldn’t not feel his size — the heat of him, the way his frame dwarfed hers, the wild thrum of unstoppable wolf energy that pulsed under his skin. His stubble scraped her cheek, grounding her in rough sensation.
But even with all that power pressed against her, she didn’t panic. Didn’t struggle to breathe.
Because somehow, even under his brute force, she felt safe.
Possessed and owned, but safe.
Silas came last, returning from upstairs, and didn’t waste a single second.
His kiss landed like a strike, mouth claiming her without hesitation, tongue sweeping in with the arrogance of uncontested ownership.
No warning or softness, just deep, immediate blatant dominance, and his hand found her left nipple.
He pinched until she very nearly tried to move his hand away, the sharp pain spiking her arousal and stealing her breath, but at the last second she curled an arm around him instead. Clutched at him and held on.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, still squeezing her nipple between his fingers. His dark eyes searched hers — calculating, interested. Maybe even a little pleased.
“I like the feel of your hands,” he said, voice low and rough. “Rules for my past submissives have denied them the right to touch me without permission.”
A pause. The pressure on her nipple didn’t let up. “But we might change that rule for you.”
Heat pooled in her core, her pussy clenching around the plug and egg inside her. Arousal and anxiety tangling and twisting through her.
She looked to Kenny, then back to Silas. “I’m sorry, Sir. That wasn’t in my rules.”
“Because it isn’t a rule yet,” Kenny said. “We’re dealing with house rules first. Once those are established, we’ll handle our individual preferences and expectations.”
Willow nodded, chest tight, body aching — her head spinning with the realization that this was only the beginning.
They walked her to a smaller breakfast nook, already set for four. The table held a takeout spread from the Local Goat, with enough meatloaf and mashed potatoes to feed thirty people, steam curling from the containers.
She took her seat, the plug a constant weight, the egg shifting with every move. Boone handed her a glass of tea, Kenny a plate already loaded with food.
“When someone’s glass runs low, you’ll fill it,” Kenny said, his tone calm and even. “Pay attention. I don’t want to start your first night with a punishment, but if you require it, we’ll do so. Tell me your rules while we eat.”
“I address all of you as Sir on the premises, even around people. At the construction company, only in your office. Basically, anytime we’re in private, but not around outsiders, Sir.”
“These first three days, you can forget twice per day. We’ll point it out to you, and you’ll correct your error with a suitable apology. If you forget a third time, there will be consequences. Starting the fourth day, you don’t get any mulligans. “
“Thank you, Sir.”
He waited for her to take a bite and swallow before he said. “Next rule?”
“The dress downstairs. Nothing upstairs. The dress gets folded on a table ten feet from the steps, Sir.” While she was thinking of it, she added, “I’m not to close my bedroom or bathroom doors. I’m not allowed on my bed without permission or invitation, Sir.”
She took a sip of her tea. “I can’t go to hawk without permission unless there’s a safety reason to do so, Sir. “
“Do you understand these rules?” Silas asked. “Any questions?”
“No, Sir. They’re quite clear.”
Kenny forked into his meatloaf, chewed, and pulled his phone from his pocket. He fiddled with it a second and looked to his left.
Willow looked in the same direction and saw a daily schedule on a large screen, a television turned sideways, maybe.
5:00 AM – Wake. Wash face, brush teeth, prepare body for use.
5:15 AM – Kenny’s shower
5:30 AM – Available for Boone’s use
5:45 to 8:00 AM – make and serve breakfast, see Kenny and Boone off to work. Clean kitchen. Shower, makeup.
8:00 AM – Available for Silas’s use, then make and serve breakfast if he wishes.
8:00 AM–11:30 AM – House duties, two loads of laundry per day plus:
Monday – Bathroom cleaning, towel rotation, restocking
Tuesday – Clean and restock playroom, sweep all porches
Wednesday – Dusting, floors, organizing drawers or closets
Thursday – Kitchen deep clean, baking for pack visits
Friday – Bathroom cleaning, towel rotation, restocking, extra cleaning for glass and mirror surfaces
11:30 AM – Prep and pack Kenny’s lunch, take it to him, eat with him.
12:30–2:00 PM – Errands, grocery run, dry cleaning, hardware store, etc.
2:00–4:00 PM – Personal time
4:20–6:00 PM – Owners return, greet at door, offer drinks, put boots/shoes/coats away.
Her pulse quickened as she read down the list. Used by all three men before most people had their first cup of coffee. Every morning. Heat pooled low in her belly while her mind tried to process the reality of it.
“Everyone has it in your inboxes,” Kenny said, and he met her gaze. “You’ll usually give me a blowjob in the shower, Silas is probably gonna want your ass.”
“And for a morning quickie, I’ll fuck your pussy,” Boone said.
“Most mornings, that’s all three holes,” Kenny noted, “but if one of us is in the mood for something else, it’ll be up to you to adjust.”
Her pulse jumped, a flutter in her throat that chased heat all the way down between her legs. She inhaled too sharply, then let it out slow.
“Of course, Sir.”
“I’ll probably put at least a few marks on you before I fuck your ass in the morning,” Silas said. “Cane. Loopy Johnny. Probably less than a half-dozen strikes, but with serious implements.”
The muscles in her thighs tightened involuntarily, and she shifted her weight to keep from rubbing them together.
She nodded, unsure her voice would work as she wanted it to.
“Most days,” Silas continued, “I get to the restaurant between nine and ten thirty, and it’s ten minutes down the road if I travel outside of school zone times. I usually wake at eight, no matter the time I’m going in.”
Boone smirked. “Mornings I have extra time, you might get your ass fucked instead of that lovely little cunt.”
Her pulse jumped, and the plug pressed more insistently against her inner muscles. The ones Boone wanted to fuck wide open all over again.
Kenny went on. “Odds are, when you bring my lunch you’ll either get under my desk to give me a blow job, or lean over it to be fucked in one or both holes.” He shrugged. “Doubtful I’ll make it into all three holes during lunch, but you never know.”
The casual way he described using her at work made her breath go shallow. This was really happening.
“It’s important to note free time isn’t a given,” Silas said. “We might require you to write lines, to exercise, corner time, whatever.”
She swallowed more meatloaf and nodded. “I understand, Sir.”
“Plan to have dinner on the table by five unless we let you know it should be later,” Kenny said. “Foursome nights, everyone will clean up. Other nights, the two not using you will do so.”
The screen changed.
Evening scenes
Thursday: Foursome
Friday: Boone
Saturday: Kenny
Sunday: Silas
Monday: Boone
Tuesday: Kenny
Wednesday: Silas
Bedding Arrangements
Thursday: Kenny, Silas
Friday: Silas, Boone
Saturday: Boone, Kenny
Sunday: Kenny, Silas
Monday: Silas, Boone
Tuesday: Boone, Kenny
Wednesday: Kenny, Silas
Boone tipped back his tea glass, and she was already moving, slipping from her chair to refill it from the pitcher.
The egg shifted inside her as she leaned, the plug a firm reminder with every step.
She set the glass back in front of him, topped everyone else’s glass off, and took her seat again without being told.
“Good girl,” Kenny said, and continued. “Bedtime depends on the scene, aftercare, etc. You can probably count on being double-teamed in bed if you’re with two men who didn’t just play with you.”
“And maybe even if one of us just fucked you,” Boone said.
Kenny grinned at him and nodded. “Quite possible. Yes.”
“And if I’m anywhere in that quotient,” Silas said, “You won’t go to sleep unmarked that night.”
Her breath hitched at that, and Boone’s grin deepened.
“You understand all that, little hawk?” Kenny asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then finish eating. We have work to do upstairs.”