Loving Two Doms (Club El Diablo)

by Holly S. Roberts

  “If your friend is Stephon, Damian made an appointment.”

  The whip stopped its steady crack and Kyle looked over. “Are you speaking to someone without my permission, kitten?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “We’ll take care of that slip of protocol later.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She didn’t seem appropriately terrified and only gave an innocent grin. Kyle walked over, grabbed a towel to wipe his face and chest, and crooked his finger for her to stand. When she was in front of him, head down, he lifted her chin and gave her a tender kiss. “You just want a punishment.”

  “Yes, Sir, I do.”

  Kyle laughed then turned to Matt and Stephon. “Which one of you is next?”

  Matt put his palms out, shaking his head.

  Kyle ignored Stephon for a moment and nodded to Matt. “Then you get the pleasure of helping my sub, Trisha, with Cheryl.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Kitten, take care of her and stay until she’s okay.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Matt helped remove Cheryl from the restraints and held her up on one side while Trisha took the other. They half carried her to the couch in a quiet alcove around the corner. Trisha removed a soft blanket and lotion from a cabinet while Matt laid Cheryl down on the towel-covered cushions. Her sobbing was quieter now, but Matt had no good place to touch her because of the welts lining her shoulders, back, and ass. He settled on stroking her arm.

  Trisha came back and went to her knees beside the couch. “I’m going to put some lotion on you and then give you orange juice. You with me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Trisha laughed softly. “Some days I wish I was a ma’am, but I’m just plain Trisha.”

  “Thank you, Trisha, for sharing Kyle.”

  “You’re actually helping me.”

  Cheryl gave a soft laugh that ended on a groan when Trisha began rubbing in the lotion.

  Matt spoke quietly, trying not to interrupt the moment, “I need to head back over to Stephon.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Trisha looked up and smiled.

  “Any time.” Matt appreciated that she looked him in the eye. He didn’t judge the different rules of those in the lifestyle, but his idea of a sub was a woman like Trisha who didn’t cower or hide her feistiness. She reminded him of Jewel.

  Kyle had securely bound Stephon’s naked body to the St. Andrews Cross in the far corner of the play area. He had Stephon’s head tipped back with a tight grip on his hair. “I’m not in the mood to play around tonight. Will that be a problem?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Good. Safeword if you need to.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  In all the years Matt had watched his friend take a consensual beating, he’d never heard him safeword. Twice Matt had done it for him and that’s why he wanted to be around whenever an unknown worked on his friend.

  “You good with this?” Kyle looked at him and nodded toward Stephon.

  “No, but I’ve watched many times. I’ll stay out of your way unless I think he’s past helping himself.” Matt was Stephon’s safety net, though he knew his friend didn’t see it that way.

  “Has that happened before?”

  “Yes.” He liked Kyle’s no-nonsense approach.

  “I have no intention of taking it easy on him.”

  “That’s not what he wants.”

  Kyle stretched his shoulders and then experimentally popped the whip. It was another single tail, but he’d switched to a four footer.

  The first stroke hit Stephon across the top of his back and upper shoulder. Matt didn’t cringe… yet. While the lashes fell, he tried to think about Jewel, wondering how she’d handle Stephon when he got like this. His need for pain increased with a slow daily build until he submitted to the lash. When the band went drug and alcohol free, Stephon’s needs intensified. Some days Matt wished his friend would just drink a six-pack. The whip continued to fall and Stephon started moaning. Matt’s focus drifted to the day that changed them both irrevocably.

  ***

  Afghanistan, ten years earlier

  Rifle fire cast tuffs of dirt over their dugout. The enemy had kept them held down for hours. For the two dead Marines, friends who would never return home, rescue hadn’t come fast enough.

  The smell of everyone’s unwashed bodies almost overpowered the acrid odor of gun smoke. Showers were a luxury they hadn’t had in two weeks. The baby wipes, sent by the crateful when good-meaning people found out how badly the military needed them, had run out a few days before.

  Besides the constant deluge of bullets, socks were their next biggest problem; foot-rot was a constant worry in the sweltering heat. Life sucked and then you died. Or as Matt thought to himself, “Come on, you sons of bitches! Do you want to live forever?” It was an old Marine quote and one he couldn’t get out of his mind.

  Yes, he was a Marine, but he didn’t want to die in this hole. All he wanted was his platoon and best friend, Stephon, to make it out alive.

  “How you doing, buddy?” Stephon said over the noise of the last volley.

  “Hangin’ in there. How about you?”

  “My fucking feet itch and I’m ready to die.”

  “Speak for yourself, asshole. We’re getting out of here.”

  “I like your fantasies, fuckwad.”

  The muted yell came from their right. “Mathews, Cross, incoming, on foot.”

  Both men peered over the sandbags. It was a man or woman, dressed in a full black burqa, stumbling toward them.

  “You men have the shot,” their platoon leader yelled.

  Stephon grinned. “I’ve got this, Mathews. Sit back and see how a real man takes out the enemy.” His gun tracked the insurgent.

  Matt shifted his body a few inches and gave him room. The two stripes worn by Corporal Stephon Cross outranked Matt’s one stripe, so he didn’t argue.

  The stumbling figure heading their way fell, but managed to get up and move forward again. This entire cluster fuck started with a suicide bomber. They weren’t letting this one take out their platoon—man or woman.

  “See the thickness around the chest?” Matt said to Stephon.

  “Got it. He’s not getting any closer.”

  Matt hunkered down and watched his friend’s steady pull of the trigger. The loud pop echoed; his earplugs made it sound like a dull thud.

  “Chest shot, but no explosion.” Stephon lined up his rifle sight.

  Matt rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. Want me to try?” Matt felt a tap on his shoulder and looked behind him at the platoon leader who had crawled over.

  “Leave ’em there and hopefully it’ll detour anymore crazy motherfuckers.”

  “You got it, LT.”

  “Help is coming, hold the line,” their leader said before crawling away.

  And they did. It was three hours before air support came in and rescued them. The fallen insurgent never blew and they all took a few shots to see if the IED would detonate. It didn’t.

  Stephon looked at Matt. “Hey, motherfucker, you good for checking it out and making sure we don’t have a time bomb on our hands?”

  Matt looked at his lieutenant.

  “Go ahead you crazy motherfuckers,” the LT agreed.

  This was all Stephon and Matt needed. The two men ran to the body. Matt glanced around at the still-burning buildings destroyed by aircraft. He wasn’t letting his guard down.

  “Fuck.”

  Matt looked at Stephon and then the insurgent. The world went a little darker in the recesses of his brain. It was a woman, shot to shit, clutching her dead infant, only a few months old. He repeated his friend’s word, “Fuck.”

  ***

  Club El Diablo

  So Matt watched Kyle apply the whip with a vengeance, knowing why Stephon needed the punishment. It didn’t make it easier, though.

  The lash continued to connect with Stephon’s body and Matt finally heard his friend let out a soft sob. It wouldn’t be long now, or at
least Matt hoped.

  Kyle called a stop before Matt could. He walked over. “Are you going to be with him tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’m sure Trisha put new towels on the couch. Let’s get him over there.”

  Matt looked to the side of the play area where Trisha was back in her original spot and on her knees. She looked away from them so he couldn’t see her face.

  Kyle helped Matt remove Stephon’s restraints and then the two of them managed to get the large man to the couch. Matt walked to the counter to retrieve the lotion and saw Kyle pick Trisha up and walk away with her tightly against his chest.

  After positioning Stephon as comfortably as possible, Matt picked up the bottle of lotion. A young woman walked over and placed Stephon’s clothes on the counter before heading back to the play area to clean it.

  “How are you doing?” Matt rested his hand on his friend’s head.

  Stephon’s reply was low, “Better.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. It’s been building for a while.”

  “You get my hands with the lotion. It’ll add to your torture.”

  “So true. Thank you.”

  “Only you would think my rough hands are a gift.”

  “Do your worst.”

  They made it back to the suite an hour later and Stephon removed his clothes again. Like so many nights before, Matt slept with his chest pressed against Stephon’s back so his friend could feel the heat from his body and Stephon could suffer just a little bit more.

  Chapter Nine

  Matt

  “Time to get your ass out of bed, fuckwad.” Matt used Stephon’s favorite war phrase.

  Stephon’s groan was long and loud. “It can’t possibly be light outside.”

  “We have a date for mouth-watering muffins.”

  Stephon’s head came off the pillow as he looked in Matt’s direction before burying his face in the pillow again. “I don’t need your fucking pity,” came the muffled reply.

  “Yes, you do. If I did a reach-a-round right now, you’d accept my pity with gratitude.”

  “Fuck you.” His head didn’t lift.

  “Today’s zucchini cinnamon.”

  “That’s dirty.”

  Matt smiled when Stephon sat up and twisted so his feet hit the floor. “Take a shower first so she knows you’re at least half human.”

  Stephon stood and walked over to the heavy curtain, pulling it back. “It’s full fucking dark. I can’t believe you’ve been doing this for almost a week.”

  “She’s worth it.”

  A small amount of anger slipped into Stephon’s voice, “I wouldn’t know.”

  Matt ignored the tone, but gave Stephon a drink of coffee and then waited while he showered.

  Stephon grumbled more when he discovered they’d be walking, but Matt ignored him.

  Halfway to the diner, Stephon spoke, “So tell me what you like about this one so much.”

  “This one’s name… is Jewel, and she’s different.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure. She has no idea who I am, she works hard, and she took a few of my kinks quite well. It was hard to leave her yesterday.”

  “You’ve got it bad.”

  “I’m hoping it’s catchy.”

  Stephon’s loud “harrumph” made Matt smile. He waited for his friend to continue.

  “Do you think I’d hurt her?”

  “God, no.” Matt shook his head.

  “Then why did this take so long?”

  Matt looked down at the cracks in the pavement before glancing at Stephon and answering, “She’s not like us.”

  “Degenerate, perverted, deviant?”

  “Exactly, and you’ll love her.”

  “You don’t want to share this one, do you?”

  Matt knew what it took for Stephon to ask the question. They both lived with secret fears of the other finding a soul mate who didn’t share. “Truthfully… I’ve been worried that she’ll freak when she finds out.”

  “Are you embarrassed of what we have?” Stephon wasn’t looking at him.

  Matt stopped and took his friend’s hand, not caring who saw. He brought Stephon’s fingers to his lips. “That will never happen.”

  “You gay fucker.”

  “Only for you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jewel

  She waited on several regulars. Jewel had placed a steaming cup of coffee at table eight, but the liquid was beginning to grow cold and so were her nerves.

  He’s not coming back.

  She shook her head, fighting tears, and made the rounds hoping she was wrong.

  “Holding my table?” Goosebumps rose on her arms and she took a deep breath of relief before glancing over her shoulder. Matt stood with a sexy grin, admiring her ass, and causing her to blush. Just before giving him a set-down, she noticed a man standing slightly to the side of Matt. This must be Stephon and he was just—wow.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “No.” Without thinking, she stuck out the tongue in question. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  He gave a naughty grin and then tipped his head gesturing to the man beside him. “I brought a friend.”

  She transferred the coffee carafe into her left hand and put her right one out. “Hi. I’m Jewel.”

  A large warm palm engulfed hers. “I’m Stephon.”

  “What would like to drink? There’s cold coffee waiting on table eight for Matt.” The hand holding hers was almost hot and for some reason made her pulse rate shoot up.

  Stephon cocked his eyebrows, and quickly looked at Matt and then back at her. “I’ll take the same, but I prefer mine hot.” His lips titled up slightly without giving a complete smile. He had a slight British accent and a low voice very like Matt’s, but almost sexier. He didn’t immediately release her hand.

  She looked at Matt.

  “You can let go of her, bud, she has work to do.”

  Now Stephon smiled and Jewel’s stomach flipped. He was devastatingly attractive—with brown eyes darker than Matt’s, classically gorgeous facial lines, a strong jaw, and had an unshaved shadow of facial hair surrounding a circle beard. His sparkling eyes caused the flutters in her stomach to zing to her lady parts.

  Keeping the smile on his face, he gave her a long, intense look and finally released his grip. “I’d also like a muffin.”

  She blushed, but couldn’t help a little light flirting, “He told you about my… muffins?” She let a touch of non-existent outrage enter her voice.

  “It was the only thing that would get me out of bed this early in the morning,” he said suggestively.

  She shouldn’t be flirting with him and had to mentally shake herself. “I’ll take pity on you and get you two. Do you plan on ordering breakfast?”

  “Yes, whatever the special is.” His eyes raked over her body almost as possessively as Matt’s.

  This time the gentle blush in her cheeks deepened to dark red.

  “Stop teasing her or I’ll take you back to the hotel and leave you there.”

  Jewel gave Matt a thankful smile. She was in over her head.

  “You take all the fun out of everything, old man.”

  The two grumbled as they took a seat at booth eight. Jewel carried the cold cup of coffee away and went into the kitchen. Starla followed her.

  “Wow, too bad you didn’t see that one first.”

  Jewel shook her head, not sure what Starla meant. “Why?”

  “That man could cause an orgasm with his eyes.”

  George walked toward the pickup window. “This I need to see.”

  “Both of you stop. I actually think Matt’s the better looking of the two.”

  “Then you need to have your eyes examined. That man was checking you out right in front of his friend. Maybe you can get your money back on the first one.”

  “Argh. You’re horrible.” She turned. “George, get away from the window an
d start cooking. If you both don’t stop I’ll quit.”

  George looked at her with a knowing grin on his face. “Where did you say Matt was from?”

  Starla had no trouble deciphering George’s comment. “You never know, they might be gay.”

  “I’m counting to ten so I don’t deck you both. Not every man from California is gay.”

  “Only the good looking ones, and I know that for fact.”

  Jewel rolled her eyes. “You’ve never been to California.”

  “Yes, I know, but all the good looking men in California are homosexuals. Just think of Rock Hudson.”

  “He’s way before my time and I’m not listening to this. One of us needs to be adult and take care of business. I couldn’t care less if Matt’s friend is gay, though I’m sure he’s not.” She plopped four muffins on a plate, picked up a warm carafe, and left the kitchen.

  After taking the muffins to table eight, she walked behind the counter and grabbed two mugs then quickly changed her mind and grabbed a third.

  She poured them all coffee then sat next to Matt. He casually put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. She was grateful for his willingness to treat her like a girlfriend.

  She looked at Stephon. “Where did the two of you meet?”

  Stephon’s eyes came back to hers. “Boot camp… how did you get your scar?”

  Few people asked, and involuntarily her fingers went to her face. Matt’s hand rose and took her fingers away, kissing the bottom pucker of scar tissue close to her mouth. She stopped breathing. “Stephon’s rudeness knows no bounds, but I’ve wondered too,” he whispered.

  “A motorcycle accident.”

  “You ride?” Eagerness underlined Matt’s words.

  She stomped it out quickly. “I was the passenger. My fiancé died in the crash.”

  Matt tightened his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. The heat of his breath flowed across her hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was five years ago. I’m over it.”

  “I don’t think so,” his voice rumbled softly.