Get Off Easy

by Sara Brookes

  “Still. An odd choice for a Saturday afternoon, don’t you think?”

  Boyce gestured her closer, his breath hot in her ear as she angled forward. “Wait until you see what he’s wearing underneath.”

  Saint grinned in the rearview mirror as she glanced his way.

  A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind in the blink of an eye. Though she considered herself a resourceful woman, she knew whatever they’d cooked up was a million times better. “Something tells me it’s not as simple as an undershirt and briefs.”

  “Never is,” Saint said with a cunning grin. “Place looks busy today.”

  Grae looked out of the windshield, narrowing her eyes at the parking structure Saint was pulling the car into. “Where are we?”

  “You’ll see.” Boyce offered her his hand after opening the door, waiting patiently as she stepped out. He gestured to the high concrete barrier wall. “Take a look.”

  Anxious, she crossed in a few strides, and peered over the edge. Two long rows of tents lined the street three stories below. People milled around in the center of a street that had been closed to vehicular traffic. A big banner hung between two buildings a few blocks down, and Grae could just make out the large red writing from here.

  “Oh! It’s the Fordham Street Fair.”

  Saint joined her at the wall. “The one weekend a year the city shuts down and lets sin and debauchery take over.”

  Her excitement grew. “I’ve always wanted to come here, but I could never get the timing right. I was always too busy on a movie at the time.”

  “Well, now you aren’t, and here we are.” Saint stepped back and offered his bent arm to her. “Shall we?”

  “Yes.” It was hard not to bounce out of her skin as they made their way to the street level. The Fordham Street Fair was the largest single gathering of like-minded people interested in all the variety the BDSM lifestyle had to offer. There were vendors, artists, demonstrations, and even a ball on Saturday night.

  Tonight.

  Exhilaration coursed through her as they joined the flow of the crowd on the street. The long line of tents seemed to go on for miles, and Grae was anxious to visit every single one of them just to see what they had to offer. No telling if she’d ever be able to come back next year. Or any year thereafter.

  She felt at home, filing along with the mass of people who were from all walks of life. There was no judgment. No scorn. No ridiculing someone because of what they liked. The men had taken her hands, tangling their fingers with hers as they progressed.

  She laughed when a man dressed in leather from head to toe stepped in front of her and bowed. He said nothing, simply gesturing to his booth filled with every imaginable item covered in leather. A large St. Andrews cross stood to one side, a split-seat chair in the far corner.

  The chair was currently occupied by a petite waif of a woman. Her pointed nose and pixie haircut added to the fairy-like quality. A very tall, very muscular man stood beside her, tapping a red leather riding crop against her bare breasts. Though the woman’s skin was flushed a bright pink, a pleasant smile indicated she was well nestled in subspace.

  “Care to give it a try?” Boyce nuzzled her ear, caressing her back under her shirt. Heat followed his touch, searing her skin. Awakening her. “See how one of those floggers feels? How a whip feels slapping against your skin?”

  Grae gulped. The idea was both frightening and alluring. She’d never gotten into impact play, mostly because she felt an extreme level of trust was necessary when hitting was involved. She’d never been with a Dom long enough to find out, but if there were any two Doms she trusted, that she wanted to introduce her to pain play, it was Saint and Boyce.

  Saint stepped her to side, pressing his suit-clad body against her arm. “Let me strap you to the cross, fully clothed. Boyce can show you how skilled he is with a riding crop.”

  “Boyce? Not you?” Whenever she’d watched them in a scene, Saint had been the one wielding the various implements for impact play. To hear Boyce was educated with similar skill thrilled her.

  Saint smiled. “There are still a lot of surprises to discover about us, angel.”

  Boyce nudged her forward. “Get her ready for me, Saint. I’ll go find something suitable.”

  Considering the fact she was fully dressed, she expected Saint to just secure her to the cross and be done. But he took his time, gently running his hands over her and putting her in the headspace she needed to be in for something so public. Instead of using the cuffs attached at critical points of the cross, Saint held her in place with his forearm around her waist.

  The strength of his will would have kept her from moving.

  Rough wood grazed her palm, her fingertips, a sign of all the other people who’d been bound to the cross before her. Some of the grooves were so deep, she had to wonder what sort of pleasure they’d found. What would it be like to be bound up in such a device at the club? Spread out and wanting? Begging? Needing? Aching? Screaming?

  Movement behind her caused her to turn her head. Boyce stood a few feet away, his arms behind him as he held whatever he’d found out of sight. “Slow and light, I think. To start. Safe word will make it all go away, angel.”

  Something brushed against her ass, a gentle caress that followed the generous curve of her butt. Her jeans did nothing to dull the sensation grazing her skin.

  “Tell her what I have, Saint.”

  Saint spread his hand wide against her back, holding her firmly in place as Boyce traced her curves. “Boyce has a black riding crop with a heart-shaped tip.”

  A slight sting radiated where Boyce struck her with the implement. It hurt. But the pain was an ache in a good way that dissolved somewhere along the route to her pussy. The discomfort quickly diminished, vanishing altogether in a matter of seconds as her inner walls started to clench.

  To protest being so empty.

  “But I would like to see the heart-shaped marks the crop leaves on her bare skin.” Boyce struck her other cheek, the same pain blooming then vanishing. He continued to strike her body at various points until her lower half was vibrating from the energy flowing through her.

  Saint balanced the slaps of pain with gentle caresses, but never fully massaging away the sting Boyce continued to rain down on her. The world took on a hazy cast, as though she wasn’t quite in tune with reality. As if she was one step off. The sounds of pleasure coming from the men—one striking her, one holding her—made her arousal sharp enough to cut.

  “Such a pretty sub, drifting along in subspace.”

  Saint’s voice echoed in her head, far-off and distant. Her thoughts were jumbled, words just beyond her grasp. All she knew was that she felt fucking fabulous. Not knowing what else to do, she rested her forehead against the cross and drifted along in the pleasure.

  When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer on the cross. Thin tree branches swayed in the light breeze overhead, a rustle of wind swirling around her, brushing over her still-heated skin. Her damp forehead. Hushed voices sounded to her right, and she turned her head to find Boyce and Saint quietly talking. Their backs were to her as they watched the crowd of people. Though they sat a foot or so apart, their fingers were tangled with hers, maintaining their intimate connection with her.

  “Well, look who’s come back to us.” She lifted her gaze to find Boyce smiling at her over his shoulder. “How you feeling?”

  She swallowed, her throat dry and cottony. “Thirsty.” Saint handed her a bottle of water. “Thanks.” A brown paper bag stood at Boyce’s hip, just off the blanket, the handle of something visible. A bright flare of heat streaked across her skin, a phantom reminder of what had happened that had blown her mind. “You bought the crop.”

  “Oh, hell yeah. Vendor practically shoved it my way after watching me drop you into subspace.”


  “Said he’d never seen anything like it even with thirty plus years of experience,” Saint added. “We bought a few more things too, as thanks for letting us use the space.” Saint leaned over to brush a few strands of her hair out of her face before helping her sit up. “Doing okay?”

  “That was...odd.”

  Concern drew Boyce’s eyebrows together. “Odd good or odd bad?”

  “I’m not sure,” she answered carefully.

  “Never been that deep in your own head, have you?”

  “No.” She felt energized now, ready to take on the world and all it had to offer. “Can we walk around some more?”

  “Pretty little sub is anxious for more.” Boyce skimmed his knuckles down the side of her face. “Sure you don’t want to go back home and play with our new toys?”

  As appealing as the thought sounded, she knew today was a special event that only took place once a year. If they left now, she may never have the opportunity to come back. “Please, can we stay?”

  Saint and Boyce both chuckled. Boyce picked up his bag and the men fit her snugly between their bodies. As they walked, Grae forgot to feel ashamed of her position tucked between the men. In fact, she was proud of it. Here there were all manner of people, openly displaying their interests. Right here was the one place in the world she felt she wouldn’t be judged for her desires for a full triad marriage.

  Other than Noble House.

  After walking for about five minutes, they came to a jeweler, wares glinting in the afternoon sun. She broke away from the men, bypassing the necklaces and bracelets, to go to a display in a case tucked into the farthest corner.

  “Shiny.”

  Saint joined her. “Mmm, yes. See anything you like?”

  “Many things. Nothing I would actually buy, though. Just not practical.”

  “This place is all about not being practical. Tell me what you like.” When she remained silent, he pressed. “You have no piercings to speak of, so nothing on the top shelf. Though I imagine anything in here can be modified.” The clerk nodded. “Maybe those?” She wasn’t sure how, but Saint had pointed directly to what kept drawing her gaze. She said nothing again, but he tapped his fingers on the glass. “Yes. Let me see those, please.”

  “Excellent choice.” The clerk used his bony fingers to pluck the small items from the case and dropped them into Saint’s palm. Without care for the fact they were very much in public, Saint pushed her shirt up, unclipping the clasp of her bra with deft fingers.

  “Hey!”

  He slid his thumbs against the underside of her breasts, openly fondling her. “Hush.”

  Despite the apologetic glance she gave to the clerk, her core burned even before Saint finally touched her nipple. “Just the right size too.”

  “Yes. Should do nicely,” the clerk said, pride in his craftsmanship clearly sounding through his approval. “Squeeze there just above the hinge to put them on. They’ll adjust naturally once in place. Not too tight, not too loose. Just enough to give her the sensation.”

  She inhaled sharply as Saint released the first clamp. True to the clerk’s word, the clip adjusted so she wasn’t in pain, but she knew the item was still there. Saint placed the other clip in location and cupped his hands under her breasts as he admired her. Held her. Weighed her. Measured her.

  Somewhere along the way, her trepidation vanished, and all she could think about was how good Saint’s hands felt. How the clips pressing against her nipples made her feel. And how much she wanted for them to use that crop again.

  The clerk handed Saint a mirror. “Gorgeous.”

  Saint held it so she could see the clips covered her nipples, green gemstones glittering in the small spotlight the clerk focused on her. Once again, somehow, Saint had effortlessly made her look pretty. Made her pleasing not only to himself, but to her own eyes. The powerful urge to strip away her bra and walk away topless to show off how Saint had adorned her rose up from somewhere deep inside her.

  “Ah, yes, there you are, angel. Thinking how much you appreciate what a Dom just did for you. How much you want to showcase that gratitude.” He scraped his tongue against her slightly parted lips before turning to the clerk. “We’ll take them.”

  The clerk clapped. “Excellent choice.”

  Through her haze, what Saint said caused her to react. “Wait. No, I won’t let you pay for them.”

  “Nonsense. Boyce bought the items at the leather vendor. Let me treat you to something.”

  “They’re too expensive. I’ll buy them.”

  “Miss Independent.” He gently touched the end of her nose. The bow of her lips. Her chin. “All right. I’ll go find Boyce while you’re checking out. He wandered off a few tents down where a friend of his works.”

  She found them watching a demonstration involving orgasm denial. The submissive’s entire body was trembling and shaking from the strain as she held back. As she fought against the release despite the Dom’s fervent efforts.

  Saint tucked her close to his body, her pelvis pressed against his hip. He touched the sliver of skin her shirt left exposed, reminding her how his fingers had trailed fire over her bare breasts just moments ago. She’d forgone her desire to remain topless for modesty’s sake. Some fantasies were better left as fictional.

  Besides, during the walk over from the jeweler’s booth, she’d decided donning her bra and shirt again was far more torture. Every step she took caused her breasts to shift in the cups of her bra, the metal pressing against her sensitive skin to remind her they were still firmly in place.

  Something hard brushed against her hip, drawing her focus away from her breasts and the denial scene. Whatever Saint wore beneath his clothing was hard and unforgiving. Curiosity finally got the better of her. “So, when will I get to see whatever it is you’re wearing under there?” She tugged at his shirt.

  Saint clamped his hand over hers. “Boyce? Grae wants to know what I’m wearing under my suit.”

  “Just a peek, please?”

  “Always have been a sucker for a begging sub.” Though Boyce sighed and rolled his eyes, the touch of a smile curled up one side of his mouth. “Fine. But I show you. Not him.”

  Boyce tugged on Saint’s belt, sliding the thick strap of leather through a thin metal band. Saint continued to look right at her, his arm still banded around her waist as Boyce tugged at his pants, pulled free the single button and dragged the zipper down.

  “Have a look.”

  Glancing down, she gasped. A wide strip of black leather surrounded the base of Saint’s cock. Two other circles of leather lifted and separated his testicles. Boyce positioned himself behind the couple, touching Grae’s wrist before guiding her fingers between the cleft of Saint’s ass.

  She gasped again when she felt the telling rectangle of a plug that had been seated snugly inside Saint. “You’ve been wearing this all day?” The drive. The walk. “Surely that had to be—”

  “I didn’t notice it for the most part.”

  Boyce pressed a kiss to the back of Saint’s neck. “Liar.”

  “At first I didn’t. But when Boyce started using the crop...uncomfortable is not a term I use lightly. Didn’t think it could get any worse than that, but then you found the jeweler.”

  She’d thought she’d detected a note of strain in his voice. Noticed his movements weren’t as smooth and controlled as they always were at the club. She’d thought it had just been the atmosphere of the street fair, the residual arousal he hadn’t been able to burn off from the scene with Boyce at the leather tent, but now she knew the truth.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” The last thing she’d wanted was to cause him any discomfort.

  Boyce shifted, standing directly behind her and pressing his growing erection against her ass. “He was instructed not to.” Oh, hell. “Mmm, you li
ke that thought, don’t you? Me in charge of you both. Working you both up and up, wondering when I’m going to grant both of you permission to come. If I even will at all. That orgasm denial scene gave me a few ideas.”

  Saint growled quietly in her ear. “We’re in for a long night, baby.”

  “While plans for a long night are all well and good...” Boyce took her hand as he came to stand in front of them. “I wanted to know if you would both do me the honor of being my dates for the fetish ball.”

  Oh.

  The idea of being in that charged atmosphere thrilled her as much as it terrified her. As much as she wanted to agree, she suspected this was an event they normally attended together. They were only asking to be polite.

  “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

  Boyce’s smile fell. “You sure? For a moment there, you were excited by the idea. Unless my radar is completely off.”

  “I was.” She winced at the disappointment she’d put on his face. “Maybe just residual endorphins.”

  “Grae. You know I don’t like it when you lie.” Boyce pressed his lips to the joint where her thumb met her palm. “Please do us the honor of accompanying us.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Perhaps she should attend nude, Boyce? Wearing only the clamps she just purchased.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed as Saint’s hushed words caressed her throat. Heat zipped through her as he skimmed her collarbone, curving to wrap gently around her throat. The memory of Saint’s hand wrapped around Boyce’s throat, squeezing, controlling his breathing while he’d fucked him, played in vivid high definition through her mind.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Boyce studying her intently. Way deep down, she knew she would accompany the men to the ball. And she wouldn’t wear a scrap of clothing if that’s what they ordered.