Three-Part Harmony

by Angel Payne

  A tiny smile touched her lips too as she wriggled in his hold. His cock lurched in reaction. Fuck. She was so vulnerable, so warm, so naked. It was going to take a miracle for him to last until Laurelle finished the shave, let alone the rest of what he had planned.

  “All right, then. What’s your devious plan?”

  He forced himself to step back and shifted his hold to her hips. If he stood a chance of making it to the end of this thing, it started with reestablishing roles. On the other hand, a full disclosure would derail the plans before they’d chugged out of the station. Tact was in order. And he sucked at the stuff in the best of situations.

  “It pleases me to hear you asking questions and speaking up.” He let his hands slide up her rib cage. “As a matter of fact, you’re fucking gorgeous when you do. Thank you.”

  Dasha arched both brows. “That’s your answer?”

  He leaned down and bit her bottom lip this time. “Let your Dom finish.” By now, his grip reached her breasts. He reveled in the sweet little intake of her breath as he tugged at both prominent nipples. “I love these,” he said against her mouth. “And I’ve got plans for them. A way of branding them as mine.”

  She pushed her face up, begging for deeper contact with him. “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Even if…there’s a little pain?”

  Her features trembled anew. But she looked him in the eyes with ferocious intent. “If you’ll be there, I’m ready for anything.”

  The Manilow tune threatened his blood again, specifically in the region of his heart. For a second, he gave in enough to drop a kiss to her nose. “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

  After that, it was time to shut off the tenderness faucet once more. David slipped a firm hand into hers and guided her down the hallway. Once they got to the doorway where Laurelle waited, he shifted his hold to Dasha’s waist, a conscious preparation for what would follow when they turned into the room.

  He was glad he had that forethought.

  Dasha stopped cold. Went stiff as steel. Then backed up by two steps.

  The room was clearly one of the spa’s cosmetic procedure areas, with an adjustable treatment table and bright gooseneck lights instead of a candlelit massage setup. Indeed, the table looked almost medical—except for the straps along its length, the fresh plastic sheets, and the modified gynecologist stirrups at its base, each hole sporting a set of padded ankle cuffs. When Laurelle told him she had connections in the city, she wasn’t kidding. He had no idea how she’d gotten the table in here, but he was damn grateful. Just looking at the thing ramped up his blood again, and every inch of his cock flared anew. He couldn’t wait to see Dasha mounted in it.

  He just had to melt her down again.

  “Uh—okay,” she stammered, “is all this really necessary?”

  She tried to back up again, but David had already closed the door with a quiet kick and retightened his hold. “The straps will help hold you,” he explained, “so Laurelle gets exactly what she’s aiming for.” He raised his other hand to her face and pulled her gaze to his again. “You’re gonna be beautiful. And you’re ready for anything, remember?”

  Laurelle, however, wasn’t syncing with him in the patience department any more. “Cherie, I am accredited and licensed for this procedure in seven countries.” She sharpened the edge on her voice with the dual smacks of her medical gloves, fitting them against her wrists. “You are going to be just fine, D. Come on now, up into your place.”

  She patted the table, but Dasha didn’t move. Laurelle arched an elegant brow. David caught the message as if she’d sprayed it on the wall.

  He released a sigh. Then looked at his sub. “You need a little motivation, don’t you?”

  As he expected, she lifted a hopeful gaze, lips already half pursed.

  He didn’t give her that kiss.

  Instead, he turned his grip into a full arm-wrap to her waist. He turned her in that grip, shoving her over for a good stare at his foot, with her ass now high and unhindered for him. He used that access at once, dropping one hard thwack to each cheek. She matched two startled yelps at the openhanded spanks, and the sounds tugged at him in all the right places. That, and the twin blooms he’d created on her delectable, creamy swells.

  “Hmm,” Laurelle crooned. “You have gotten better at that.”

  “Better target,” he returned, taking full advantage of the chance to smooth out the pain for D, slowly stroking her skin.

  The Domina directed her next comment at his sub. “Have you learned your manners now, peu soumis? Or would you like your to Sir deliver a bit more motivation?”

  All David’s senses tuned themselves to Dasha’s reaction. He’d seen her bristle at reporters for less attitude than Laurelle’s, but this was a different time and a very different place. She’d already floored him so much with her courage tonight. Now she did again. Though her breaths came shallow, she went slack in his hold, silently acknowledging his leadership. When he brought her back up, her eyes hung at half-mast. She stepped obediently to the table. As she slid onto it, he watched a multitude of emotions cross her face. Fear…there was still the fear, of course. But he also saw the beginnings of a submissive’s deep peace…and the light of adoration. She gave him a tentative smile.

  He returned the smile as Laurelle positioned each of D’s feet into the stirrups. The ankle straps came next, clinking as the Domina locked down on each side. Laurelle moved up, strapping in each of Dasha’s thighs, then securing a strap across her waist. A pair of thinner restraints went above and below her breasts, making those incredible mounds push up and out more. His own chest constricted, clamped again by those sensations he’d had out in the foyer. Those goddamn emotions, taking new pickaxes at the caverns of his heart. He swore inwardly, then dynamited the fuckers again.

  “Would you like to have the last honor?” Laurelle held out a pair of leather handcuffs joined by a double-sided latch. She finished by pulling another extension from the table, directly over Dasha’s head, a hearty steel rod with a fastener hook on top.

  David grinned, accepting the cuffs. Now this was familiar territory. Dasha’s muscles trembled as he brought up one of her arms, then the other. He knew she wanted to fight him, but he soothed out her rebellion by trailing kisses across her face as he snapped the bonds around her slender wrists. He held her gaze with his as he hooked her into place, exacting her final piece of trust. Words came to his throat. He let them spill out.

  “Thank you.”

  He brushed her breasts with his knuckles.

  “Thank you.”

  He ran an open palm down her stomach.

  “Thank you.” As he gave it to her the last time, he stepped between the stirrups, spread them wide, and locked them into place.

  From just outside the vortex of their bond, Laurelle hummed her approval. Then issued the words that officially began their flight as Dominant and submissive.

  “Trés bien, mon ami. Shall we begin now?”

  He looked again to the tremulous face of the most special, incredible pet he’d ever known…or had. And watched the golden depths of her eyes go wide as Laurelle stepped between them with a long, gleaming shaving razor in her hand. And once more, forced his cock not to burst from need for the sweet grotto at his fingertips.

  Chapter Five

  Dasha had been on the brink of protesting how they treated her like a pinned butterfly. That was before she actually felt like one.

  She’d barely been able to believe what she’d done already, but David had been at her side the whole time, his presence so different in his domination, yet so him at the same time. That perception got obliterated now, thanks to Laurelle and her long steel blade. Oh yeah, the straps made complete sense now. Every cell in her body screamed at her to take flight.

  All right, damn it. Not every cell.

  The exception to her terror was, horrifyingly, confined to one set of nerves, the ones now spread beneath the stares of the people who could move.


  “She has a lovely little pussy.” Laurelle said it with a surprising note of reverence. “So sweet and petite.”

  “Agreed.” David’s tone was tight. So was his face. No, she revised, not tight. Restrained. The look on his face was mesmerizing…because he was mesmerized with her. In giving him complete power, it was like he turned around and gave it right back to her. His eyes glittered with silver intensity now. He took a breath, long and labored, as he knifed his gaze up her body, deliberately lingering over every inch.

  Suddenly, she felt like the most beautiful butterfly on earth. If she was even on earth anymore. For now, the restraints on her body felt like hoists to heaven. Look at me like that forever, please.

  “All right,” Laurelle instructed, shoving at him. “Back with you now. Go sit and enjoy the show, Monsieur Dominante.”

  “David.” The protest spilled before she could stop it. She lurched against the straps for the first time—and truly discovered how little she could move. Her pulse calmed a little when he rose over her, sliding a hand to her cheek. She pressed her face into his touch, not caring how awkward she looked. “You’re not going far?”

  He stroked her cheek with a thumb. But his reply came with low control. “I’m going to let you answer that.” When she winced, he shifted his hold to her nape. “D, answer me. Do you really think I’d let you come to any harm?”

  She answered without hesitation. “No.”

  “All right, then. Do you wish to please me?”

  That slammed her eyes shut. She had to, in her battle to fight the encroaching sting behind them. Don’t do it. Not now. Don’t turn into a sprinkler ad. “Yes,” she got out. More than anything.

  “Then are you going to speak or act out again, unless Laurelle or I ask you a question or gives you permission?”

  Just like that, he morphed the sting. It dissolved and turned into mental mist instead, that strange, soft haze he could bring just by threading the perfect strand of command to his voice. Her pussy completed the circuit, trembling and trickling in its need for him. Damn it, how was this possible? How could she be the picture of turned-on, when to any fly on the wall, she was the epitome of bare and helpless? And now, apparently, she’d earned the trophy for Completely-Smitten-with-Sir too.

  “No,” she finally replied. “I won’t.”

  David pressed closer now. He drew breath as if to kiss her, but instead, she felt a moist stroke at the corner of her eye; it was his tongue, licking her tears away. “Good girl. You honor me so much.”

  Then he was gone.

  Dasha willed her eyes to stay closed, her mouth to stay silent, and her heart not to pull an Alien. Laurelle didn’t speak again, though the woman sang a soft tune in French as she shifted to where David had just stood: between Dasha’s legs. There was a gentle clinking sound from the same vicinity, like something being mixed in a bowl, and Dasha detected the smells of eucalyptus and mint. After that, a soft swishing…then a cool, wet brush touched the top of her pussy.

  Her nerves flared to life. Even the deepest parts of her womb reacted, clenching, suspended with tension. Thick, creamy suds were spread along her skin and into her tight curls.

  Instinctively, Dasha flinched.

  “Relax, chere.” Laurelle stroked her gloved fingertips along the insides of Dasha’s thighs. “Open to me.”

  Right. Relax. Because the possibility of becoming a Clue game answer was so soothing. “She was gutted with the razor in the spa, by the kinky French nurse.”

  Her sarcasm fled the moment Laurelle began her grooming.

  The experience…was exquisite.

  Laurelle started shaving with brief, light strokes that were an impeccable combination of purpose and stimulation. The eucalyptus in the cream made Dasha’s skin tingle; then, right after the hair was gone, the woman’s velvety, slender fingers soothed and stroked Dasha’s intimate lips, transforming the terror into a cloud of pure arousal. Her thoughts tunneled and focused on every moment. It was like a spa massage, only better. Oh, so much better. She silently begged the woman not to stop…not ever to stop…

  She came seriously close to yelling that out as the strokes on her clit got warmer, longer, more incessant. Dasha writhed, squirming against her bonds as the gloved fingers explored her, opening her pussy like she’d never been exposed before.

  “Fuck.” The exclamation belonged to David, though she barely recognized him through the guttural burst.

  “Oui,” came Laurelle’s concurrence. “She is beautiful, monsieur. And such a lusty little thing. Look how pink and soft and wet she is… Shall I spread her more for you? I have brought my pussy clamps…”

  Tension gripped anew. Clamps? On her—down there? But David’s harsh moan stripped the protest from her. To make him feel that way, to elicit such a sound from him again, she’d agree to damn near anything.

  She wouldn’t have to cross that bridge tonight, though. “No,” David returned, his voice an unwavering growl. “My turn. I want to taste it.”

  “Ah. Magnifique. Have a go while I prepare for the next step.”

  Dasha’s mind reeled again. The next step. The second procedure he’d mentioned and she’d forgotten about, thanks to the crazy, incredible turn of the last twenty minutes. Fear bit again but gained no purchase. Her body wouldn’t let her brain take that dive. All her muscles, nerves, and skin quivered together as Laurelle stepped aside, and she felt David’s presence between her legs again.

  His touch descended upon her bare flesh. His fingers, long and sure, claimed her more boldly than Laurelle’s soft strokes. David took her as if to possess her. He pinched one side of her clit, then the other, tugging the folds until she shuddered. Dasha hissed, fighting her outcries, until he ordered, “It’s okay, sweetheart. Scream for me.”

  She did, wailing as he squeezed her core, kneading her without compunction. He focused the pressure low, drawing her clit out, exposing the hard, needy ridge to his stare and his gritted, “Fuck, yes.”

  She screamed again, the sound born of both pain and pleasure, as he sank his mouth to her flesh like a starving man. His tongue gave her no mercy, no tenderness, no cessation. She couldn’t fight, had no choice but to let him ravage her. She’d never felt more desirable or needed in her life, and though he ate at her like a savage, he draped her soul in swaths of silken joy. She was bound to him. Connected with him. She sighed in surrender as his mouth broke open the chrysalis of her awakened senses.

  But suddenly, he tore away. No, she realized, was whacked away.

  “Naughty man,” Laurelle scoffed. “Cesser, Greedy. You are going to cause our darling to come. You know we cannot have that yet.”

  Why the hell not? For all the magic the woman worked on her body, this micromanagement was exasperating.

  Which made David’s follow-up more than a stunner. “Right,” he stated. “You’re right. Let’s get on with it.”

  Dasha opened her eyes. She kept her commitment not to speak but hurled a questioning stare at him. The bastard actually grinned, thumbing her juice off his lip, then licking that finger again, as if sucking her pussy was better than digging into a chocolate bar.

  “G-get on with…what?” She’d meant it to be more Lara Croft and less Snow White, but his attitude was her undoing. The look he delivered, continuing the heat from his sexy-as-freak thumb-suck, warmed every inch of her all over again. He ran his hands up her skin in its wake, even savoring the buckles that bound her, before cupping both sides of her face.

  “How are you doing?”

  She got down a dry swallow. She had no idea how he’d turned four simple words into sexual crack. Or how she absorbed every one of them like a desperate junkie.

  “Not…bad.” It wasn’t a lie.

  “You’re the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She knew he meant every word too. Her skin flared hotter. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’ve been so amazing.” He pressed a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “And now, I want you to be a
little more so.” He did the same to the other corner. “And I think you can do it too.”

  She should’ve felt it coming, even without the new edge to his voice. All she’d had to do was breathe. A distinct smell entered the air, coming from the counter where Laurelle now prepared the second procedure. It was alcohol. Not a nice Pinot either.

  Shit, shit, shit. What was up the man’s beautifully filled sleeve? She knew it involved her breasts in some way. He’d prepared her. But somehow, that didn’t stop her very heartbeat from making its way into both her jutting mounds.

  But he’s kept his word. You’re still safe. More than safe. Floating on a cloud of endorphins and lust, as a matter of fact.

  But still cuffed in. Still being asked to give up her trust again.

  She finally got a reply out. “What kind…of ‘a little more so’?”

  He cocked his head, teething his bottom lip. All he missed were a pair of horns to look like some monster about to tie down a princess and have his way with her. The look deepened as his gaze dropped to her breasts. No surprise there. He’d given her notice.

  “I always ask my submissives to wear a little piece of bling with my initials, to remember me by when we’re apart.”

  Dasha almost laughed in relief. Until she got a whiff of the alcohol again. “Oh kaaay…”

  “But you’re no ordinary submissive,” he qualified. “In many ways.” An arch of his black brows amped the whole rogue thing, especially as he rubbed a thumb over her right nipple. “If you suddenly appear in public with DP on a necklace or a bracelet, the media will swoop like vultures. So I got a little creative.” He scraped his nail over that erect nub now, making her quiver whether she wanted it or not. “Damn. I was right. These lovely things do like being played with.” He paused, openly admiring her flesh between his fingers. “Yes. They’re the perfect choice.”

  The arousal cloud officially evaporated. Dasha ground her wrists into the cuffs. “The perfect choice? Okay…David…what—”