Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  On the King bed, Sal anxiously blinks on his back to Deacon, kneeling between his legs. The sheet draped over Sal’s midsection, conceals them.

  I swore my silence to witness this kind of love. And considering how generous they are being, I will honor my word.

  “This is so fucked up,” Sal complains at the awkwardness of the situation. And it is. “I don’t think you can get me there.”

  “You doubt my ability to guide you?” Deacon replies, grazing the back of his knuckles over Sal’s cheek. He confidently muses, “Think again.”

  “I’ve got big sapphire eyes on my right side, staring at me.”

  “Ignore her,” Deacon says. “Pretend she isn’t here. Think of it this way. She knows what to do if something happens to you; she is supposed to run to me. But what if, God forbid, something happened to me one day, Sal?”

  “Don’t even fucking play that card,” he replies, crooking his neck up. His shimmering olive skin halos around the crucifix he holds so dearly.

  “I’m serious,” he tenderly says. “She needs a way into your vault. And I can give her the keys to unlock your shadows.”

  Sal leans his head back and glances at me. I offer a kind smile. “Do you know how much I fucking love you?”

  I nod.

  “And do you know how hard this is for me?”

  I close my eyes with an affirmative.

  “I never asked for this,” he admits as his eyes turn glossy. “It wasn’t like I said, ‘Hey, I’m going to go play soccer.’ No one ever says, ‘Hey, I want to be gay!’ I never asked for this need. It’s been almost like an affliction for so long.”

  “A curse,” Deacon adds, trickling his fingers over the dip in my silhouette. I’m fully dressed because I will not be participating. “Particularly when you’re young. And it just gets worse. Even now, Ma asks when I plan on having children. And I’m like, we’ll share Iris and Sal’s babies, but that isn’t enough. She wants me to marry a female and have babies just to make her a grandmother again, which is a lame reason to have children or a wife if you ask me.”

  My lips twitch at their pain and the revelations I feel. I let a single tear go as all their walls instantaneously collapse, and I am left in the rubble only to wonder—what the fuck just happened?

  “We’re both at a place of genuine acceptance,” Sal mentions. “But we’re so into each other. We ignore the world. We don’t display what we have because if we never let anyone touch it, it never gets harmed, tainted, shamed. What we do is sacred on hallowed ground.”

  “It’s easier that way,” Deacon adds with a shrug. “Except for Dom and Nicky.”

  I lift a curious brow.

  “Dom embraces wherever we are as long as we’re happy,” Sal elaborates. “Nicky tends to shun it, and we pick on him about it by taking baths together.”

  We all laugh.

  My lips curl as I try and hold back the words.

  “Say it, pretty,” Deacon urges.

  “I would love to see Nicky’s expression if we were all three in the tub because he’s so rigid in some regards.”

  “He would freak,” Sal says, grinning at me. He stares into my eyes like he’s consuming my very soul. It is haunting, frightening, and unnerving. “I want to marry you.”

  I smile, understanding full well what we’re doing isn’t the norm. But it feels so right for us. With his finger under my chin, Sal pulls my lips to his, and we kiss. I feel Deacon’s hand lying against my hip.

  He breathes his warm words into my being, “I have fought for this love for thousands of nights, and I will keep fighting until my last breath, Iris Amarie.”

  “I know,” I whisper as Deacon swiftly pops my butt. “Sorry.” And again, he swats, only this time harder. “You’re quite the meanie!” His fist curls around my breast, groping and twisting my concealed nipple against his fingers. “Fucking alpha Doms…both of you!” Dipping low, he forces his tongue into my mouth and sharply bites my lip.

  “You have no idea,” Sal snickers wide a broad grin. “He’s a fucking fiend when I let him out of the cage.”

  Deacon flicks a brow and snarls.

  “How does this work?” I ask, pushing, as Deacon hastily spreads my legs and cups my pussy, magnetically in his hand.

  “I am always in control with you and him,” Sal mutters. “I say, fuck me, Cruz…and we fly…” With a smirk, Deacon bucks, nudging. “Not yet, you hungry fucking whore.”

  “Do you ever flip?”

  Deacon’s hand slips under the lace and thrusts his finger inside of me—hard. “Sometimes, but it’s rare.” Sal’s brows lift. “I like getting my ass fucked.”

  “And I like fucking his ass—a lot,” Deacon admits, rolling his hips as he hovers over the top of us. “It’s one of my favorite places to mark.”

  “Stop humping on me, you horny bastard!”

  Deacon laughs and says, “I’m a pushy bottom to you see.”

  “I see this,” I reply as he rubs my asshole and gives a warning glare.

  “I don’t mind receiving,” Deacon advises. “We just usually don’t go that way. Now, I love sucking cock.”

  My eyes widen at his admission.

  “Goddamn, hussy!” Sal cackles, lifting his arms and gripping the bars. “Do you see what I have to endure?”

  “Yes,” I giggle, enjoying a playful, tender side to them I’m not usually privy to. “And what about position?” I ask as Deacon slides his pinky into my ass. “Do you always go face to face?” He pushes in, to his ring.

  “Nah, I bend him over all the damn time.”

  I apologetically mutter, “Where did I go wrong?”

  “Pause, Cruz,” Sal quells his punishment cycle. Deacon hastily pulls out of me, wipes his hands, and rubs them with a towelette smelling faintly of alcohol. “You went wrong by shocking the fuck out of me. I don’t do change well at all.”

  Deacon rapidly blinks and shakes his head. “He’s very routine, and if you break the pattern, it fucks with his head. I’m far more malleable than he is. Like it wouldn’t bother me if you want to fuck my ass.”

  Sal quickly turns his head and stares down Deacon. “Do not encourage her deviance.”

  “I don’t think she needs any encouragement,” he replies, cackling. “Sal is much stricter in the way he likes things. He’s got to be able to feel like he’s always in control.”

  “And is he always in control, Deacon?”

  His gorgeous blue eyes light up as he grins. “At the source, yes…but I can pull his strings.”

  “Are you always so clean?”

  Sal furrows his brow. “Cruz is a dirty fucking prick.”

  “Not always, we try, though,” Deacon says. “If you’re asking if we go bareback—I’ll be honest. Absolutely. I’ll go bare with Sal before I would almost any bitch. I know where his ass has been.”

  Sal grins. “On your miserable dick for the last ten thousand years.”

  “What about Dom?”

  “Dom is very thorough,” Sal says.

  Deacon translates, “He usually always wraps it.”

  “You guys are providing advanced lessons free of charge.”

  “Oh, they’re not free, Darlin’,” Sal deadpans. “We’re going to fuck you like a rag doll when we’re done.”

  I giggle and lay my head on his shoulder as Deacon says, “Good D/s maintains not only respect of the craft, but also allows for some imagination and creativity depending on the partner. But sometimes, shit happens.”

  “Literally,” Sal quips with a quick smile.

  “Sometimes we throw out the damn rule book, just like in scenes, you modify, expand, and work the problems together.”

  “Ya,” Sal says. “But I wouldn’t imagine either of us would ever push Dom.”

  “No,” Deacon concurs, shaking his head. “Dom is pure Dominant, with no sway. He’s a very challenging Master because without the continuity ebbing and flowing, shit can get messy quickly. Emotions get whacked, subs cry, and he laughs. On to
p of that, he isn’t the best at aftercare either. Takes a hell of a sub to perform well under Dom.”

  “Not only does he provoke the physical aspects, but he’s also emotionally very hard. I don’t think I could do it again,” Sal ponders. I realize we’re having an open, honest dialogue about love, sex, fetish, and commitment. This brings me hope that we will all be okay. “And I trained under him. But I don’t practice all his high protocols because it’s just too much for my personal preference. I implement some that work for me and leave the rest alone.”

  “I’ve been in scenes with him.”

  “But not as a man,” Deacon interjects, “Dom has a definite lack of empathy, and while it is attractive in short bursts when we do play that way with one another, it is too confining for our long-term happiness. You can’t only play the bass notes, or the monotony drags the scene down.”

  “That was a good analogy,” Sal says.

  “It was very attractive in the kitchen, and when I came back downstairs,” I confide. “I almost twinkled when I saw Sal was dressed and standing there.”

  “… Did you like that move?” Sal grins like the devil. “I did that just for you.”

  “The effect you two can evoke, shifting on a dime,” I admire, blushing. “It’s wonderful…for a submissive.”

  “Thank you,” Sal praises with a little smile. “We try.”

  A strange minute passes as the silence consumes us.

  “I want all of it,” I whisper to Sal. “All of your darkness…from the things you keep hidden to the things you do alone…I want all of it. I want all of you. All of your inside thoughts.”

  “I know you were never trying to exert a power play with your pretty dildo.” He trails his finger over the diamond collar. “You just wanted…”

  “I want your emotional release…”

  With bright eyes, Sal professes, “I surrender best with Deacon exactly like we are, but I can be difficult.”

  “Yes,” Deacon snickers, running the tips of his fingers between Sal’s pecs. “We do intentional breaks.”

  “Intentional breaks?”

  “He pushes me to the point of sobbing like a fucking baby.”

  “… Seriously?”

  He nods. “You may not want to see this. You may only think you want to. Just like you thought you wanted a dick.”

  “It can get violent,” Deacon mutters, grabbing the lube. “You’ll need to move—quickly. Do not intervene. Do not interfere. Do not scream. If it gets to be too much, walk away. Let me take him down and bring him back up. Got it?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “If you have to leave the dungeon, you may not leave the house,” Sal warns. “You are to go directly to the bath, get in the water, and do not come out until one of us fetches you.”

  “I understand,” I acknowledge, wondering if I’ve gotten myself in too far. “Is this going to hurt?”

  “It always hurts.”

  “That’s the point of it,” Deacon advises, squirting a liberal amount of lube on his hand. “He doesn’t shift easily. He’s kind of like an old transmission that locks up. He gets stuck in first, won’t get out of third, and blatantly refuses to reverse.”

  Reluctantly, Sal nods. “I haven’t always been this way.”

  “No,” Deacon concedes. “But it gets worse the older you get. Some subs shift with ease.” He glances at me. “You do.”

  Startled by his compliment, I babble, “I do?”

  “Oh, God,” Sal moans, proudly glowing. “Yeah, you do now… You didn’t at one point. You can be a dream sub when you want.”

  With one hand propped up on Sal’s bent knee, Deacon’s other hand disappears behind the sheet. I know he’s between Sal’s thighs, and I’m turned on in ways I didn’t imagine. “You allow the driver to control you.”

  “I need a piece of gum, baby.”

  “I’ll get it…” I say as Deacon reaches into the nightstand. “Sorry, wrong baby.”

  Sal grins at me. “It’s okay, baby.”

  I whisper, “What is the gum for?”

  “He clenches bad during stress.”

  “See you don’t know any of this because we moved you to keep you safe,” Sal mutters, gazing at me. “My beautiful, precious flower.”

  “Do you have a safeword?”

  They smile as Sal says, “More of a trigger word we can use.”

  “Bayou,” Deacon informs, peering at me. I see his forearm moving, and I try to not stare. He’s in the forbidden zone of my man. I’ve been there, but not often. Not like Cruz, taking up residence. “Our first encounter.”

  “I want grace,” I bluntly confide with a nervousness. “Please, Sir.”

  “… With The Commission?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “If you can…”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he mutters, winking. “Breathe, Iris. You’re more terrified than I am.”

  “There is a lot riding on this…Ride.”

  Wiping his hands, Deacon chuckles. “I am a very good Dominant, Miss Nakamura. And I am an expert at handling Mr. Raniero. You have nothing to fear.”

  “Nothing to fear,” I repeat, trying to convince myself. “Is there always this much work up?”

  “No,” Deacon replies. “I’m breaking his stone all for you.”

  31

  Holy Christening

  His Butterfly

  “It’s time. Blow,” Sal requests as I instantly expect something other than Deacon extinguishing candles.

  “I’m scared,” I whisper.

  With only the moon as our light, he gazes at me. I see hints of wetness in his eyes with demons hiding in the tenebrosity. “I am sorry for what you’re about to experience. Please don’t scar. Please don’t leave me. I am going to try and do this…for you…because I love you this much.”

  “What you are about to see never leaves this room,” Deacon warns, returning to the bed. “You do not use it as ammo in your quibbles with Sal. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say, slipping back to my side of the bed. “I love you both. Thank you for trusting me.”

  Their solemn prayer slips in with no forewarning. “What are we working on tonight?”

  “Everything,” Sal mumbles, cracking his knuckles. His face strains with tension. “It’s been a long damn time, Cruz.”

  Tossing the sheet, Deacon falls on top of him. They’re belly to belly, nose to nose.

  Close. Bonded. Intimate. Sudden.

  A numbness flows through my body as my breathing increases with a panic. I’ve overstepped and demanded too much. This isn’t my right, but I’m strapped in, and it’s too late to get off the ride.

  They’re going to fuck.

  Correction, they’re going to make love.

  In. Front. Of. Me.

  “You want this?” Lifting on his forearms, Deacon strokes his cock against Sal’s. Oh. Dear. God. They’re grinding against one another. “You need this?”

  “Yes,” Sal mumbles as their lips and tongues meet in passionate, frantic kisses. His hands reach to grip Deacon’s ass, pulling him closer.

  Rough. Brutal. Barbaric.

  Out of the blue, Sal confides, “I needed you in Florida.”

  Deacon skids his calloused fingers over Sal’s sides as his lips wind from his inked chest down to his waist. “I know you did. And I failed you. That’s on me.”

  With a jolt, Sal pulls Deacon by his biceps back to kiss him. “You need therapy?”

  “What I need is to stop feeling the tug of war,” he honestly says as my eyes fill with tears. I know what Deacon is referring to. The bedroom. The moment. The confession. “I’m the middleman.”

  “Stop hesitating,” Sal warns. “Get there.”

  “Flip over,” Deacon barks. “Let’s make this easy.”

  “Fuck, no.” I see the seesawing in his jaw despite the gum. “You want to fuck my ass? You do it this way.”

  Are they sparring? Or is this foreplay?

  “You’re such a damn d
iva,” Deacon scolds, running his tongue from Sal’s mouth to his cock. Bodies arch and buck. Arms flail. Sal kicks his leg out, and I curl backward. “You want this big cock in your ass, Pretty Boy?”

  “Yes, give it to me hard,” Sal hisses as Deacon rapidly strokes his dick. His fist moves with purpose. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to skyrocket your ass into the stratosphere.”

  “I figured you were down there baking for me.” Sal’s fingers drift to his dick, but he doesn’t pump it. Suggestively, he lingers his fingers, enticing Deacon. And me. “Oh God, we need egg rolls…”

  I giggle under my breath.

  But I may as well be the wall because they ignore me—one of the cruelest moves of my Masters. I am nothing more than a ghost.

  “Where do you want them from?”

  “The place in Slidell is good.”

  “They’re closed,” Deacon murmurs. “I’ll text Kim.”

  “She will not get up to fry me egg rolls,” Sal muses, licking his lips as his expression strains with pleasure. “At midnight.”

  “I’ll charm her with my good looks and boyish ways.”

  Deacon lowers, snapping his teeth against the eight-pack abs, the hip dips, and the pierced beast. He lovingly suckles Sal’s cock and cradles his sack. The act is strangely gentle during the chaos. Sal’s fingers gently comb through his golden hair.

  “Are we going to build the bridge, Jesus?”

  “Yes,” Deacon mumbles with the head of Sal’s dick on his lip. His tongue flicks over the tip. And I found heaven. He savors every inch as my mouth waters. “We’re going to get filthy and fuck.”

  “Not uncommon,” Sal mutters, closing his eyes. “Why do you put up with my bullshit?”

  “Because I love you more than anything.”

  “Fuck,” Sal moans, bucking to meet Deacon’s drooling mouth. “Don’t stop, baby.”

  I cry quiet tears because Deacon has the one thing I never will—he swings like a pendulum between control and surrender. And every word Sal said about his ability is correct.

  My focus is on Deacon, eyes shut tightly, and lips wrapped taut around Sal’s dick. He’s so beautiful in his complacency as he relishes his strokes. His blue eyes open, catching mine. His mouth rises up the shaft, slick and erect, and he groans. “If I keep going, I’m going to come. And I want to come inside of you.”