“Daisy! Where the hell are you going?”
Like last time, almost. Rory asked the question. Yet in his silence, she sensed Christopher’s anxiety. She stopped but didn’t turn back.
“It doesn’t matter. As Master just said, it’s done. I’m sorry.” She hadn’t planned the sob that escaped her, then. It simply was, and she couldn’t regret it. Oh, please. Please.
She took another step, and then another and another. Ahead of her, beyond a small pile of rocks, the land sloped gently down, toward the east.
“Goddamn it.” Christopher’s words brimmed with anger and frustration. She imagined him using his right hand to comb through his blond hair, his frustration palpable.
She kept walking even as hope bloomed. “Damn it, Daisy. Stop right there. Get back here and back into your position. Now.”
“Listen, Christopher—”
Daisy had no doubt that Rory and Christopher could quite easily come to blows. That could go either way. She couldn’t worry about that overmuch. It would be an improvement over their behavior toward each other all these years, each pretending the other didn’t exist.
There came a time when Daisy had to accept her own limitations, and she did so now.
I’m only one sub. I can only do so much.
“Shut up!” Christopher’s voice—her master’s voice—brooked no argument. “You just shut up, Rory Phelps! By God, I’ve had enough of the rebellion of my submissives. Rory! Daisy! The two of you right there and right into position, right now!”
Daisy turned slowly until she faced her master—her masters—again. She’d never seen Christopher so angry. That anger shimmered from every line and pore of his body, flowed down his arm to the finger he held outstretched as he pointed to the very spot where she had so recently knelt.
Daisy didn’t run or race or grin. She merely took those few steps back and slid to her knees then stretched herself out, facedown, into position.
Waiting.
* * * *
Am I out of my fucking mind? Why had I ever thought I could do this? Christopher nearly called back his command. Jesus, what was he doing? He’d stepped away from them, from this, four years ago—not because of the lies, as Daisy assumed. Oh, they’d been a convenient enough excuse at the time and he’d seized on them as such, to be sure.
But that wasn’t why he’d turned his back on the only two people he’d ever loved.
He’d been afraid. Suddenly, totally and completely afraid and vulnerable—something he’d sworn as a fifteen-year-old kid beaten and left for dead never to be again.
He’d felt too much, too fast. The dream-come-true kind of family he’d always wanted stared him in the face and he’d been afraid to believe in it, or in them. To trust in it, or in them, or even in himself.
And so he’d played the coward for the only time in his adult life—and he’d been only half alive ever since.
Who the hell ever said Doms were perfect? He sure as hell wasn’t. No question, there.
He’d longed to go back, to undo the damage he’d done, but he had never been able to figure out how. The more time passed, the more impossible fixing things seemed to be.
He watched as Daisy returned to her spot and gracefully slid to the ground and stretched out. Don’t think of her beautiful breasts or how delicious her ass would look all rosy pink from your paddle. Or how good it would feel to bury your cock deep inside her ass and feel Rory’s magnificent cock right there brushing against yours as he fucks her cunt.
Daisy had given him this, this one chance. And when it came right down to it, he guessed he was more desperate for them than he was afraid of failure. Steeling himself, he met the eyes of the man who’d been the center of his universe until Daisy had joined them and made them three and made their family complete.
Sorrow and hope, hunger and hesitancy flashed, quicksilver, across Rory’s face and in his oh, so familiar chocolate eyes. Christopher dug deep and held his gaze.
Waiting.
Rory lowered his gaze and then, finally, walked over toward Daisy. Keeping his gaze down, Rory stripped, folding his clothes, piling them neatly right there in the dust of central Texas. As Daisy had been clever enough to use a corner of her robe, so Rory used his shirt to cushion his knees as he dropped down and showed his master obeisance.
It occurred to him that Daisy had gone to some trouble—one might even say topping from the bottom, which wouldn’t surprise him in the least—to bring them together, to this place and at this time. He wondered just how thoroughly she’d prepared her chosen venue and how serious she was in the words she’d spoken earlier.
He might thank her later—for the hard work and the opportunity. If things turned out the way he hoped they would. Regardless, the time had come to take control of this situation. Hell, it was time to take control of himself and his two wayward submissives, period. When he stood back mentally and thought about it, they all had much to atone for.
He may have walked, but they had let him. Time now to get them all back on track.
“You will stay as you are, the two of you, until I return.”
Chapter 3
Rory stayed in his position, his body singing with the familiar and missed discomfort of being on his knees. But his eyes tracked Christopher’s feet as he walked toward the building. He lost sight but could hear the sounds of his master’s—his lover’s—footsteps on the porch, and then the opening and closing of the screen door.
“He’s seeing what’s there before he begins to deal with us.”
Daisy’s words nearly made him smile. He felt as if he could oh, so easily just slide back into old times. Heart, body and soul would be healed in one fell swoop.
He didn’t know if he was ready for that—if he’d be cheating himself and the two people he loved if he simply did just that.
Daisy wasn’t the only one who’d needed to beg forgiveness. He had certainly made his share of mistakes.
Still, the urge to go back drew him strongly so he said, “You’ve forgotten your place, Marguerite.” He guessed he wasn’t any good at keeping the smile out of his voice. He knew the woman kneeling beside him was likely smirking inwardly at the use of her given name. In the past, he’d only used it when he’d been given leave to discipline her.
“Someone had to do something, Sir. I swear this is the only time I’ll take matters into my own hands.”
“Oh, I sincerely doubt that.” Curiosity got the better of him. Christopher had been gone for nearly five minutes. Still, he—the both of them for that matter—had been ordered to stay in their positions. He may peek, looking up as far as he could from his prostrate pose on the ground, but not for the world would he disobey his master’s order and actually lift his head.
He knew Daisy was of the same mind, for she hadn’t moved either.
“So what is all in there for him to see and use in dealing with us?”
“Well, I couldn’t lug a St. Andrew’s Cross or even a paddling bench all the way out here.”
“Should I be grateful?”
“But the rest of it’s there. All of the rest of it.”
The door opened and Rory felt his heart kick. Expensive oxfords didn’t rattle the boards of the porch as their master approached, because he’d taken his shoes off.
“Sit up.”
Rory noted that he and Daisy moved in unison, as if they hadn’t just spent the last four years apart. He knelt, eyes down, hands resting on his thighs, and, God help him, his cock at more than half-mast. His mind might say he wasn’t completely ready for this, but his body was behaving like an eager, randy young teenager.
I may top Daisy, but I’m more sub than master. Of course, he’d always known that. When it had been just the two of them, he hadn’t been able to give Daisy what she needed, because he hadn’t been able to know what she needed the way a real Dom would.
“Eyes on me.”
He looked up and had to swallow hard. Hard. His master, his lover, stood before them gloriously
naked, fully aroused, arms akimbo, and a six-foot single-tail whip coiled in his hand.
My God, Daisy. What have you done?
“A master’s first responsibility is to see to the health and well-being of the submissives in his care. Therefore, you’ll get up, gather your clothes, and come inside, out of the sun. The door behind me opens to a great room, with a large kitchen on the right. Resume your current positions at the edge of the tile floor to that room.”
Rory had trouble pulling his gaze away from Christopher’s cock. His mouth watered and his balls drew up, tight and eager to propel him into climax. He’d been celibate these last years, unable to bring himself to give himself to anyone, woman or man.
His body wanted only Christopher and Daisy. But he needed to be able to hand them his soul as well as his heart and that, he wasn’t so sure he could do.
He moved seamlessly, rising, gathering his clothes, obeying his master. He allowed himself only a quick scan of the interior before walking with Daisy to the edge of the kitchen.
His gaze landed on the kitchen table. He salivated and swallowed. Daisy had indeed been thorough in her preparations.
“I won’t ask you for your pledges—yet.” Christopher uncoiled the whip. The leather unfurled, a graceful snake, and came to rest within inches of Daisy’s knee.
“I find it curious, Daisy, that you included this particular toy in the collection you amassed and provided for our…pleasure. Tell me, why the six foot?”
“Because I said I was afraid of it, but what you heard was that I didn’t trust you. I understand that now.”
“I did hear that, yes. So you included it because you wanted to tell me that you trusted me?”
“Yes, Master.”
“To use it, or respect your boundaries?”
Rory looked from Christopher, to Daisy. He couldn’t read Chris’s intent, but the fear in Daisy’s eyes was plain to see.
As was the way she swallowed before she answered him. “My boundaries are protected by my safe word, Master. And by your good judgment.”
“So they are.” Christopher stepped back and used his hand to indicate a single kitchen chair that stood, pulled away from the table.
“You begged me for forgiveness, and for punishment. I told you there was no need for either, but perhaps, there is, and that need lies within you. Present yourself to me, then, and prepare to be punished.”
Rory’s heart thudded. “You can’t mean to use the six foot on her!”
Christopher faced him, and it was all Rory could do not to shrink back. “Don’t question me. Tell me, lover, after I cut you both loose four years ago—what did you do? Did you take over as Daisy’s master? Did you seek out a new master to care for both of your needs?”
How like Christopher to put his finger, exactly, on Rory’s deepest failing, and his greatest shame. No—not his greatest shame. He, too, had shown a lack of faith in the man he’d pledged himself to. He’d rebelled when Christopher had chosen to believe the words of another against their woman. Christopher walked away? From where Rory knelt, it seemed to him they’d both walked away.
From each other, most certainly, and what they could have had together. And they both had walked away from their duty to and love for Daisy.
“No, Master. I did nothing.”
“In that case, you’ll be the next one to taste the lash. Would you care to determine the count for you both?”
Chapter 4
Fear gripped her, but Daisy couldn’t let the fear win. She couldn’t let it prevent her from doing what she knew in her heart she had to do in order to win what she needed most.
What she needed above all else was the love and, yes, the respect of these two men.
She moved, doing what she’d been ordered to. She approached the chair, and then bent over, her hands gripping the bottom rail of the seat back. Ass in the air, a perfect target, she waited, listening, wondering what Rory would say. Wondering if he would accept the challenge Christopher had given him.
Then he spoke, and Daisy rejoiced at the sound of his voice. Rory Phelps sounded confident. “Five for Daisy. Ten for me, Sir.”
“Reasonable. Go and stand before her. I want your eyes on her face as I kiss her flesh with my leather.”
Oh, God. It was really going to happen. She felt the quaking within and knew if this was to be—if they were to atone and heal, all three of them—then she would have to face this fear, and extend this trust.
What the hell are you doing? It’s been four years. He could have changed! You don’t know him anymore. He might no longer be the man you remember, and that’s providing you remember him as he really was and not as you perceived him to be through your rosy glasses. You’re a crazy woman, Daisy Kendrick.
Maybe she was crazy. But she knew that in those four years, while Christopher had continued to grow his businesses and expand his club, he’d never taken another sub. She knew that, and it was that fact alone which had given her hope.
She needed to meet this fear and trust this man. Period.
“Daisy, do you remember your safe word?”
She did, and it heartened her to know he did, as well. They’d only had a few months together. Just a few short months of living in heaven before it had all gone to hell.
These two men had given her the only real love she’d ever known, and had completed her when she’d believed she’d forever be incomplete.
“Yes, Master. My safe word is snowball.” As in, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell she could make it as a sub. Something he’d said to her the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
But she had, and she’d loved everything about being a sub—his sub. Well, his and Rory’s. They’d paddled her for punishment and for fun, and she’d happily recited the count and then asked for more.
The only thing she’d refused was the whip. She’d never been able to bring herself to submit to him in this one area.
Daisy dug deep. This would be no different than the paddlings, for the man who’d held the paddle was the same one now wielding the whip. Christopher Lyons was a master at using the six foot. She’d watched him in the dungeon, on nights when he’d been invited to join some scene or another. She’d watched him display his mastery for her, when he would pop whichever balloon she chose from a rainbow bouquet of them. More important, though, was the fact that in her heart, now and forever, he was her master. She would trust him in this.
She heard the sound of leather falling from its coil, sliding back and forth against the floor as he acquainted himself with the feel of the toy in his hand. She shivered and then took a cleansing breath.
“Count of five, Daisy.”
“Count of five, Sir.”
Rory came and stood before her, and her eyes glanced up and caught the way his cock had gone from being a little bit hard to being as erect as she’d ever seen it.
She could smell him, and Christopher, that special two-man cocktail that affected her like the most potent aphrodisiac. Her nipples peaked as her slit leaked.
Then Rory squatted so her gaze could more easily meet his. He placed his hands over top of hers and squeezed gently. She flicked a look down to his cock then back to his eyes and licked her lips. He smiled.
Leather swooshed through the air, the sound light and fluid. The crack split the silence and echoed loudly. Daisy jerked and bit down on her scream even as she felt a line of heat blossom on her right ass cheek, just above the fleshiest part of that globe. She swallowed hard and found her voice.
“One, Sir.”
It hadn’t been as hard, as sharp as she’d expected. Daisy felt certain Christopher had landed the paddle harder.
Swoosh, crack. She knew what to expect this time and was ready for it. The heat jumped to her left cheek, almost at the same point as on her right, and she clenched even as she felt a tiny gush of her juices slip from her cunt to coat her pussy lips. The twin points of fire sent heat rushing all through her body.
“Two, Sir.”
; He proved very evenhanded, not increasing the intensity of the lash, and Daisy found she could hang on to her composure, she could maintain her control. The next two kisses landed right and left again, just below the first two strikes. She counted them despite the fact her eyes seemed to lose their focus and she felt as if a large bubble was beginning to envelop her. The arousal didn’t surprise her, but that bubble-like sensation did.
“One more. Daisy!”
This was why she shouldn’t have been afraid to trust him. He knew her, even after all this time, knew where she was, and despite what he’d said as he’d left her, he did care about her. No, he loved her. She would never believe otherwise. “One more, Sir.” Daisy blinked, her vision clearing, that mental bubble popping on the swoosh-crack and stinging line of heat that spread from the bottom of her right cheek to the bottom of her left.
“Five, Sir.”
Daisy’s voice quavered slightly. Her entire bottom felt as if it had been brushed by a fine, ethereal fire. It burned, steadily, but not cruelly. Her ass stung, no question, but the discomfort wasn’t enormous, nor was it unbearable.
“You did very well, Daisy. Thank you for trusting me. Please stay as you are for a moment.”
“Yes, Sir.” She felt him approach, and the heat of his body reached her, seeping deep to her bones, warming her as she hadn’t been warmed in so very long.
“I didn’t break the skin, so you’re not leaking any blood. I’ll care for you shortly, love, as soon as I deal with Rory. But first I want to see if you’re leaking anything else.”
Daisy shivered, understanding making arousal pool in her belly. The glide of masculine fingers over her slit, and then the bold, bodacious insertion of two long digits into her pussy pulled a moan of need, greed, and pure lust from her very soul.
It was all she could do not to thrust against those fingers and steal her orgasm right then and there.
She knew the rules. They were in a scene, and she couldn’t come until he gave her permission to do so.
Love Under Two Masters [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2
