by Kitty Thomas
I shake my head. After all, what could I possibly ask in this situation? I've just finished my tea and cookies when Soren thanks the doctor for her time and discretion and offers me a hand to help me out of my chair and to the door, Griffin and Dayne following close behind us.
When we get out to the car, Soren says, “That will be your doctor when the babies come.”
“You mean the heirs?” I ask a bit acidly.
“Careful, Livia.” But as he opens the car door for me, I feel somewhat relieved and comforted to know that sweet woman will be the one who is there for me while I'm delivering my part of the contracts.
18
Livia
Wedding preparations
Four months ago. February.
After the doctor's appointment this afternoon, Soren put me in a separate car with a driver to escort me home. The phone rings at nine p.m. Like clockwork. Every night when I don't go out with one of them, I get this phone call at nine. When I do go out with one of them, I get the call at midnight. They've decided to go back to this dating situation we had where they each get alone time with me. On these dates, the others aren't discussed, and it's sometimes easy to forget they all know each other and everything has changed forever.
I pick up on the third ring.
“Are you home alone?” Soren asks. As if he needs to ask. He knows I am.
“Yes,” I whisper. I don't know why I whisper, but I can't help it when Soren calls. He's the only one of the three who calls like this. But his dominance in the pecking order has been established.
Soren doesn't bring up the phone calls when I see him. In person, he acts as if they aren't even happening. And I don't bring it up either. The phone sex is a separate thing, a separate world and as long as I keep it separate I can look him in the eyes.
I don't even know if Griffin and Dayne know about these nightly phone calls. Then my entire body flushes as I realize Griffin and Dayne may be listening at this very moment. After all, Soren calls from his land line at the estate. Someone else listening in is a distinct possibility because there's more than one phone in his house—all connected to the same phone line. It feels oddly old-fashioned, and yet, he refuses to give up his land line even as he handles most business with his cell phone. He is the oldest thirty-seven-year-old man I know.
“Was your pussy wet at the pre-nup meeting today?” he asks without any warm up. And now that it's occurred to me that Griffin and Dayne may not be making calls like this only because they're enjoying the pleasure of listening to them, everything takes on an even more illicit tone.
“W-what?” I stammer.
He laughs. “You looked really turned on. I know that look.” And he does. They all know that look. Even though they've behaved like monks when we're together, it's only because they don't want me to get too comfortable with them before they've stolen all my freedom away. This act of waiting for the wedding night has become its own brand of kink. We don't talk about it out loud, but I know we all feel it.
They've gotten used to this fantasy idea of me, the untouched virgin on her wedding night. And even though it isn't true—I'm not in any way untouched—my long bout of celibacy means in some ways it'll be like my first time. And it will definitely be my first time with three different people all touching me together. So there's a strange truth to this extended role-play.
“I wasn't turned on,” I say, “I was upset. I was mortified and humiliated, especially by what Griffin said.” I still can't believe he said that. I've been romanticizing him somehow as my protector for months on the basis of a single interaction where he stepped in against Soren.
“Sure, Livia. You know, these lies won't be tolerated when we're married. You may get away with it now, but if you try this after you've pledged to honor and obey me, you will be punished. By all three of us.”
I swallow hard at this, trying to tamp down the stupid fucking excited arousal flooding my panties again. My body is in an all-out mutiny against my mind these days.
“You're wet right now, aren't you?”
“Y-yes,” I confess, clutching the phone more tightly.
We're reciting traditional vows at the wedding. Very traditional vows—the ones where I will promise to honor and obey him in front of hundreds of people. Royal weddings don't even include the word obey for the bride anymore. But the idea of saying those words in front of all those people sends an erotic thrill down my spine. There is something deeply wrong with me.
“Are you ready for wedding preparations?” he asks.
The first time he called me and asked this question I thought he meant things like flavor of cake, or the dress, music, flowers, invitations, or the thousand tiny details of a wedding this large and lavish.
But that wasn't what he meant. He was talking about me preparing my body so that I could receive them on the wedding night. He actually used those exact words, and my knees almost buckled beneath me as my breathing became more erratic. He'd only chuckled at my reaction.
“Yes, I'm ready for wedding preparations,” I say quietly. Demurely. Who is this person I become under the spell of his low rumbling voice?
“Good girl,” he growls. “And let me remind you, sweet Livia, these wedding preparations are for your benefit and protection. If you're lying to me and not doing what I ask, it's going to be a very painful and difficult wedding night for you which would be a fitting punishment for your deception. We're all very large—me especially—so you have to prepare yourself every night so you'll be able to take us.”
My breath hitches in my throat. It doesn't matter how many times he speaks to me in this way, it always has the same effect on my frazzled nerve endings.
Eight and a half inches. He could be lying, but somehow I don't think he is. Even so, the concerning part isn't the length, but the girth. And honestly I'm a bit scared to have his monster dick inside me.
He interrupts my near panic attack over the size of his cock with, “Now go get your gift.”
Every few days a gift is delivered to my house. It's always in a black box, wrapped with elegant embossed silver paper and a black satin bow.
I'm both excited and afraid of what may be inside the box because I know I'll have to obey him and use it while he listens and jerks off on the other side of the call.
“What are you wearing?” he asks.
“I... um...” He'll know if I lie. I can't do that thing women usually do where they pretend they're wearing something sexy when they aren't. It comes out in my voice. And I know he wants me wearing something sexy when he calls. “Jeans and a T-shirt.”
There's a long pause. “I think you want to be punished. Perhaps I should keep a list of your offenses against me so I can be sure all penalties get paid. Go to your bedroom and put on that see-through red thing.”
Soren has seen all the lingerie I own. Ninety percent of it he's purchased for me the past few weeks. Often it comes in the silver and black wrapped boxes along with various toys. Sometimes it comes separate. Sometimes he takes me into the store, and makes me try it on first.
But he's never seen me in any of it. He doesn't even ask for photos. He's said he wants to take it in all at once on our wedding night and honeymoon at the same time that Griffin and Dayne get to take it all in. What he really wants is my discomfort. Rather than slowly easing me in to intimacy and the vulnerability that comes with clothes coming off or lingerie going on, he wants it to all flood my system in one moment of pure adrenaline.
He feeds off this anxiety. He gets off on it so much that he's more than willing to wait just so he can keep me on this razor edge of fear and anticipation.
I take the red lingerie he requested out of the closet, remove my jeans, T-shirt, and undergarments, and put it on. I know I could work on being a better liar. I could rebel and put different lingerie on or just be naked, and he'd never know. But a part of me wants to obey these commands.
“Is it on?” he asks. I'm pretty sure he's begun to slowly stroke his cock by now. His tone an
d breathing have changed.
“Yes.”
I want to say Sir after that so badly. And I know with the way he orders me and the threats of punishment, and the many times he's explicitly described to me the way his cane will feel across my flesh as I've been made to finger myself to his filthy descriptions. This part started only a few weeks ago, the explicit overt hint of kink. I'm not innocent. I know there should be a title.
It feels wrong without one. But he hasn't requested one. And he makes me so ridiculously shy that I can't initiate it. And what if I did, and he didn't want it? What if he doesn't like it or doesn't get off on it? So every time I answer him, I bite back the increasingly strong urge to offer this verbal submission.
“Good,” he says. “You may buy yourself back into my good graces tonight after all. Open the gift.”
I take a deep breath and untie the bow. He's always patient as I carefully unwrap the box. I don't like to rip this beautiful paper. And I save it. I don't know why I'm saving it. It's so absurd. It's not like more isn't coming. It's not like I won't be able to afford wrapping paper. Heat races up my neck and into my face as I imagine giving gifts to others using this paper. It would be like inviting guests to sit on a couch you know people have recently fucked on—a couch you've recently fucked on.
When I finally open the box and pull back the black tissue paper, I let out a small whimper. The toys vary, but today it's a dildo. Not glass, which is often his preference. I have a growing and impressive collection of glass dildos in all colors with all manner of bumps, ridges and swirling curves. They are each beautiful in their way, each a new piece of erotic art, each creating different sensations as they slide back and forth against my wet swollen flesh.
“Run your fingers over it and tell me how it feels,” Soren says, interrupting my thoughts.
I reach out and stroke the length of the sex toy. “I-it feels like real skin.”
It's been so long since I've touched a real dick that I'm surprised I remember what it feels like, but it does seem remarkably real against my fingers. It's also bigger than the other toys he's sent in the past.
“Soren, I don't know if I can...”
He chuckles, and I know he knows exactly what I'm thinking. “You better find a way, princess. My dick is bigger. The toy is only seven inches, and it's nowhere near my girth.”
I stifle another whimper. I am terrified of his dick. It's too fucking big. There's no way I'll be able to take it. And then I torture myself with the reality that the three of them won't just want my pussy, but my mouth and ass as well. And what if they all want to take me together? He hasn't done any kind of anal preparation with me so what does that mean? Does it mean I'll be spared that on the wedding night?
I hope that's what it means.
It doesn't matter how much it scares me, it excites me more. I want to be impaled on his terrifyingly large dick. I want to gasp with shock and a little bit of pain as he drives into me. As Griffin and Dayne watch. As they take turns using my wrung out body for their own pleasure.
There's something else in the box—a new bottle of lube. Soren buys me what I can only describe as luxury lube. It doesn't irritate my skin and feels like silk inside me. I've developed a Pavlovian arousal response every time I see the elegant bottle because I know the magic it contains—the ability to at least double the pleasure I would have without it.
It's safe for use with all toys and condoms, which is just a bonus. Though it's my understanding there won't be any condoms, at least not until the three heirs get here.
“Take the dildo and the lube and go lie down on your bed. Spread your legs wide when you get there.”
I do as he says and position myself on the bed. I turn out the main lights, leaving only the light spilling in from the bathroom. Even alone I can't stand to obey his orders in full light. It feels too exposed even when there's no one here to watch.
I wonder if lights on should be part of the wedding preparations since three sets of eyes will be on me that night and every night after. I'm pretty sure they won't let me shroud myself in darkness.
“Okay,” I say, my voice going even softer.
“You know what I like,” he says. “Do it.”
I do know what he likes. We've been doing this since three days after Griffin drove me home from the penthouse when everything was decided. It was the first black box with silver wrapping, and my first orgasm under the power of his voice.
I put some of the lube on my fingers and begin to stroke myself. Soren hears it the moment my breathing starts to change. I'm so wet naturally that I don't really need the lube for this part, but Soren still demands it. He wants the lube. There's something more dirty and deliberate about adding lube to an already wet pussy.
His deep seductive voice pours into me. “Don't touch your clit. I don't want you getting there until I'm ready for you to get there.”
“Okay,” I whisper. God, I want to say Yes, Sir. Why hasn't he asked for that? Of everything else he's said to me, every dark and dirty promise... I know he's a freak. Fuck, he's sharing me with two other men. So why am I not allowed to call him Sir? Why doesn't he demand it?
“Lube the toy. I want you to use a lot so it slides right in.”
I take a deep breath as I do what he says. Even with lube, it's been a long time since I've had something this large inside me and I know we've been gradually easing to larger toys, but I get nervous and close up.
“Now, Livia. Fuck yourself. Penetrate that tight little pussy and imagine it's me.”
I let out a yelp as I push the toy inside. I spread my legs and arch my hips up to relax my muscles. My body finally lets the toy in. It's just a couple of inches at first, but finally after some patience I'm taking the entire thing.
Soren knows I've obeyed him because he chuckles and says, “Good girl.”
19
Griffin
The Phone Call
Four months ago. February.
I'm on my hands and knees in the middle of Soren's bedroom while he fucks my ass. He's still moving slowly inside me—almost gently—which only makes me impatient for more, but I can't make demands right now. He's on the phone with Livia, walking her through the next escalation in penetrative sex toys. He's using the same lube with me that he buys for her gifts. And I don't know how it feels for her, but it's the best fucking lube I've ever had inside my ass.
Today, I selected the gift, and I wish it was me on the phone with her. But we've all agreed Soren will be the only contact point for overtly sexual behavior until the wedding, because there needs to be one overwhelmingly dominant point of power to organize this shit. And if that's not Soren, it's nobody.
I bite back a moan at her loud begging and whining which drifts out through the phone as he voice fucks her and forces her to impale herself repeatedly on a dildo that isn't even as big as him. But it's very big for her.
It excites me that she's so tight, that she has to work so hard to accommodate even the toys we've used with her. Her obedience and surrender to each new demand only makes me harder. I want to bury myself inside her and feel her sweet cunt grip onto my dick.
We'll have to keep her at this size for the next week before giving her more. That very thought is about to send me over the edge, and Soren isn't even fucking me like he's serious yet. I have no idea how the fuck we're ever getting inside her ass, but we're all used to accomplishing big goals, so I'm sure we'll figure it out.
I'm jealous I only hear bits and pieces of the conversation, not the whole thing like Dayne and Soren are getting. Dayne sits at the other end of the room in a large overstuffed chair, his dick out, languidly stroking his length. A cordless phone is pressed to his ear as he listens to Soren and Livia having phone sex.
I know I'll get to listen next time. And then it will be Dayne either sucking Soren's cock or taking it up the ass.
I never expected this to be my life. When I met Dayne and Soren, none of us would have considered ourselves gay, and on a certain level
I don't think we really consider ourselves that now. We aren't really into labeling things, and we're definitely also into women. We love women. But there's something carnal and animal and purely physical about what we share between us.
It's lust without parameters, without softness. It's hard fucking without the promise to call. It's pleasure without the risk of unplanned offspring.
Livia is the luminescent full moon that shines down on all of us, offering her soft glow to light up the night. But we are the men who shift to animals under that same moon.
I don't love Soren or Dayne. Not like that. I love how I feel when we fuck. I love the pure physical release. We don't cuddle after or say sweet things to each other. Nobody gently caresses anybody or buys anyone presents. We save all that tender shit for Livia—even though she doesn't understand just how careful we are with her.
Although none of us have fucked her yet, we've kissed. We've touched over clothes. I feel like a teenager acting like this. Suddenly second base is some new big deal again. It was Soren—of course—who decided we'd all just fuck each other until the wedding night, that we should all take her for the first time together after everything was finally and fully legally sealed.
I agreed, because why not? Increasingly she's the one left hungry, and we're the ones satiated. Watching her squirm while our needs are quietly fulfilled in the background is a just punishment for the way she played us. She doesn't think she played us, but what else could you call it?
I let out a groan as Soren's dick hits me just right. He's picking up speed, Livia's soft moans and whimpers and begging driving him toward violent release. Mother fuck he knows exactly how to thrust for maximum impact, but he isn't thinking about me or my pleasure. He's thinking about her. I'm just riding this roller coaster.
