Chapter 15 #2
“Next,” he said, tone flattening into something that would tolerate no argument, “you’re going to rim me.”
Willow blinked, sat back. “That’s a hard limit.”
He shook his head. “Shifters don’t get sick from E.coli or anything else that might be present. This isn’t a health thing, it’s a personal one.”
“Yeah, but it’s still a hard limit.”
“It’s one of my kinks, part of the humiliation thing, and I’ve never let a submissive keep it as a hard limit. Ever.” He lifted his brows. “It gives me great pleasure to force it, and the fact it was a hard limit will make it all the sweeter.”
That last had done it. Her scent blossomed, wafting pure lust and submission into the room — followed by the horror that we’d all know.
“Fuck.”
She said it with frustration and irritation, but rather than agree, she had a stipulation.
“You’ll wash with soap and water first. Spotless. Completely clean. Smelling of soap.”
He smiled slow, like a wolf finding fresh prey. “Done.”
Her shoulders eased a fraction, and he took that moment to drop the last brick. “I want more casual use. Not just the mornings and my assigned nights. If I come home from work and I need to fuck something, I’ll do it. Any hole, any time.”
She glanced toward Kenny, maybe hoping for backup, so Silas added, “That’s not a request. It’s a condition.”
“It’s part of the negotiation,” Kenny said, “but we all feel the same. We don’t like being restricted to mornings and nights to drain our balls into whatever hole appeals at the moment.”
* * * *
Willow wanted to argue, but she had to admit they had a point.
She considered stipulating no pain, just sex, but immediately knew she’d be pissed at herself two weeks in, knowing someone wanted to hurt her but couldn’t because of her rule.
She wasn’t supposed to make the rules. She could create boundaries and guidelines, but they made the rules within her margins.
“I want to say no pain while you’re fucking me, but that wouldn’t be right. No intense scenes though, right?”
“Correct,” Kenny said. “Hand spankings, maybe a few swats of a belt, some nipple torture, but mostly just emptying our balls in you.”
“I’ll have wooden spoons handy, too,” Silas said, and Kenny smirked.
“I think that’s all the individual wishes,” Kenny said, “the rest are mostly logistical, with a few requests we all have. First up, the things I’m planning to install in the playroom. Not a comprehensive list, but the items you need to be aware of.”
He ticked the items off from memory, “Pillory, cage, you already know about the gyno table, an adjustable fucking bench so the three of us can quickly get you to the right height, a leather sling Boone wants for fisting training, and a fucking machine we’ll personally build from an industrial motor, with brackets to install it to the end of the bondage table when we want to set you up to be fucked for a few hours. ”
“That brings up training for how to handle more than one man,” Silas said.
“For now, we’re just fucking you, but eventually, you’ll be required to actually service us — especially two on one in bed, which means learning to pleasure the cock in your mouth while you ride a cock under you.
The fucking machine will help with that, fucking you from behind while you pleasure a dildo in front of you.
We can set you up in the playroom and then go handle yardwork or whatever on the weekends, keep an eye on you over encrypted video we can watch from our phones — with a way to shock your clit if we check in and you aren’t giving it your all. ”
Willow could only stare at him. It was diabolical, and yet… had she disappointed them in bed?
“You’re fine,” Kenny said. “All three of us enjoy the training process. It’s all good. My question, before Silas sidetracked us, is whether you have an issue with any of the items I mentioned.”
So many issues, but only one was a possible showstopper. “Why would you need a cage?”
She’d been caged while a hawk when she was young.
Not out of cruelty, out of necessity, and for her safety, but she’d hated it.
Stuck under the rounded dome, the bars at her side not wide enough to fully open her wings.
She’d had plenty of room to stand on the perch and move around, and water available.
It hadn’t been cruel, but her hawk loathed being confined. Trapped.
“Your scent says there’s something more than you’re telling us,” Silas said. “Why is a cage a problem?”
She explained, and Boone sat back and looked to Kenny.
“I think we can work with that,” Kenny said.
“The resentment, the trapped feeling. It isn’t just for storing you away, but also another restraint method, with a hole we can open to put your head through, lock it in place to fuck your throat.
Another hole on the other end we can fuck you through — back you up so we can bind your thighs to the back bars. ”
And once again her thighs pressed together of their own accord because her clit had traitorously pulsed with every damned word at the visual of locking her to the cage to be fucked.
She hated that they could read her scent, hated that she couldn’t keep it neutral no matter how much she schooled her face.
Half of her wanted to scowl just to cover it; the other half wanted to lean forward and ask when it would all be ready.
“You’ll also see changes to your bedroom,” Kenny continued.
“A fancy steel Alaska king bed to replace the double-queen I had to come up with right away. Sliding barn doors into the playroom, which will make it an extension of your bedroom when open. I’ll wall up the door into the hall, and you’ll have a medallion in the floor outside the playroom as well as beside the bed, where you’ll stand to await permission. ”
She was used to that, standing beside the door to the playroom, and the small bathmat beside her bed, so she nodded.
“You already know your closet door will be locked. Also, we’ll install plumbing so we can easily turn off the hot water to your room as an optional consequence or punishment.”
Consequences happened when she didn’t do as expected during training. Punishment happened when she disobeyed her rules or refused an order. She didn’t like the idea of a cold shower, but it wasn’t unreasonable when used as a deterrent.
“You’ve been giving yourself an enema every morning, and this will continue.
We’ll install a permanent nozzle and enema system in your shower, so you can fill and empty yourself quickly.
Shifters aren’t as likely to become enema dependent, but your week-plus a month working will ensure that doesn’t happen. ”
When she didn’t argue, he kept going. “Other than when the morning schedule calls for it, you’ll never walk past your bedroom toward our end of the hall when we’re home.
You will go into our rooms when we’re away to clean them per your daytime schedule, but when we are home, we will have total privacy on our end of the hall. You, however, will have zero privacy.”
She felt her brows pull together. “Zero?” She’d already understood this, but she had a feeling there were things he had in mind she didn’t yet understand.
“The doors to your bedroom and bathroom will be removed. We’ll also have the passwords to get into your laptop, phone, and tablet, and you’ll stay logged into all websites so we can see the histories. No privacy for anything.”
She stared at them, wanting to argue. It was too invasive.
He sat back and crossed his arms. “Either you belong to us, or you don’t.”
The words hit like a sledgehammer. He was right, and she would agree to it for social media and the like, but…
“Right, agreed, but I’ll need private access to my banks. Also, my investment accounts.”
He clearly didn’t like that, but he gave a terse nod. “You may tell your browser not to remember the login information for those sites.”
It would be a pain in the ass to have to log in from scratch every time, but she nodded.
Part of her wanted to surrender so completely there was nothing left to hide, but no boyfriend was ever going to have access to her money. She trusted these guys, but people did stupid things when a relationship blew up.
Still, the part of her that craved complete surrender, the version of herself who ached for a way to let go completely, complained she was blowing it.
“Pack integration,” Kenny said. “You handled Misty just fine. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
She nodded faintly. She hadn’t expected that to be part of negotiations, but it made sense. It also made her feel good he thought she could handle herself enough not to give her rules.
“Sunday evenings, seven o’clock, group meeting outside of power exchange,” he continued. “Eventually, that’ll go to once a month, and we’ll stay in power exchange, but you’ll still be expected to be honest.”
The practical side of her latched on to that. “Yes. Thanks for that.”
His smile was real again. Not a smirk. “You’re welcome.”
His voice shifted, a little more wicked. “We like the idea of making time with you a currency between us. Poker nights — winner gets you for three scene nights in a row, and all to himself in bed.”
Her stomach flipped, a flash of heat rushing lower. Three days with just one of them… there were ways that could be heaven, and ways it could be absolute hell. Both made her chest tight in a way she didn’t want to think about too hard.
“This could be expanded,” Kenny said. “So if I do a favor for one of them, I’ll give up a night sleeping with you.” He glanced at Silas. “It’ll have to be a helluva favor for me to give up a scene night.”
An object to be bartered. Her clit pulsed. Her nipples throbbed. She nearly moaned.
Kenny continued as if he hadn’t just tilted her reality on its side.
“Punishment authority. Any of us can discipline you for a transgression.”
Of course. She’d expected that one. And still, the certainty of it — no escape valve, no waiting until the right one came home — made her pulse race.
He opened a wooden case beside him to reveal an infinity collar with the matching circles for her wrists and ankles.
She felt her eyes widen, and the cold gleam of the steel instantly made her imagine the weight of it on her throat.
His tone dropped lower. “We expect that at the end of four months, when your lease is up, you’ll be ready to either move in permanently or walk away.
If you feel as if it’ll be the former, I’d like to put the collar and cuffs on you tonight, when we finish negotiations.
They’ll come off when you shift, and I’ll have to put them back on, but otherwise, they stay on.
Consider them permanent. You’ll be bruised for the first week or two — wrists, ankles, feet, collarbones — until your body adjusts to wearing steel. ”
She swallowed hard, pulse skipping. The gleam of polished steel caught the light, cold and heavy in her imagination. The image bloomed in her mind. She’d look like a slave girl whether naked or in a dress.
And it would take mere seconds to restrain her at any time. A carabiner to connect her wrists behind her back. A lock to attach her to a chain.
She’d been collared before, but not like this. Not with this permanence in the air threatening, promising, forever.
And not with what amounted to five collars.
Vanillas would just think she wore odd jewelry, but anyone in the scene would recognize she was owned.
The thought sent flitters through her entire being.
Owned.
But Kenny wasn’t finished.
“The three of us want a joint ritual, just before the full moon every month. Within the twenty-four hours before the first night, we piss on you. All three of us. Probably in the shower, with you lying on the floor between us. No part of you covered. Nothing sacrosanct.”
Her breath caught. Not quite a gasp, but close. They wanted to mark her in the most feral way possible. And she understood why it needed to be before the full moon, when wolves get even more possessive than normal.
When she didn’t argue, he continued. “And other shared marking rituals for important events,” he finished. “Each of us with a different implement. Horse whip, loopy, cane, whatever we choose.”
It wasn’t more than she’d agreed to before, so she figured he’d put this in as foreshadowing, a hint at where he was heading.
It came exactly as she expected. “Unless you have objections you haven’t voiced, we’ll end with the collaring ceremony, and then the three of us will mark you, each with a different implement before we take you at the same time to commemorate the occasion.”
Her body gave her away again, heat flooding between her thighs. She lowered her gaze to the table and nodded.
It was everything she’d ever wanted, but agreeing to it sent terror spiking through her veins and twisted her gut into a demented fucking pretzel — all while her traitorous clit throbbed and pulsed like an old open-element heater glowing bright red and about to set the drapes on fire.