The Proposal

by Kitty Thomas

  I lean down closer, my voice going lower. “Do you not remember the vows you spoke to me not twenty-four hours ago? How you promised to honor and obey me for the rest of your life?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Yes, what?”

  A long tremulous breath flows out of her, and then she says in that same soft whisper, “Yes, Master.”

  “Good girl, now come with me.”

  I step back to give her space to obey me and extend my hand out to her. She takes it, color flooding her cheeks as she allows me to lead her back to the bedroom.

  I lock the door when we get back there, not because I really need to, but because it pushes the final nail into the coffin, it puts hard punctuation on the end of the sentence.

  “Now, where were we?” I say as if I'm picking things right back up where we left them now that I've fulfilled her requirements for letting me inside her, now that I've put a ring on her finger. And though I've already been inside her—and it was exquisite—this is the first time I've had the pleasure of taking her alone.

  She's wearing a dress today—not the same dress she wore the night of the underwater restaurant date. This one is more of a casual flirty sundress, white with yellow flowers sweeping up along the flared base. Her shoes were left behind next to her seat so her feet are bare. She has light pink polish on her toes and a yellow flower painted on the largest nails. I realize she got a pedicure to match this dress.

  She looks so innocent, and she feels equally innocent on the inside. Even with all of our toys and preparation, she is tight.

  I look her slowly up and down. “Turn around.”

  “S-Soren,” she whispers.

  “Master,” I correct.

  But she doesn't say anything else, she just turns away from me. The dress has a zipper, and I take my time dragging it slowly down her back as goosebumps chase the path of the zipper. I slip the straps off her shoulders and push the dress to the floor. She's wearing the most innocent sweet white cotton panties and no bra. I let her keep the panties for now because I like looking at them. I like the way she makes me feel when she looks so vulnerable.

  “Go lie down on the bed on your back,” I say. I can barely keep my voice under control.

  While she does this, I go back to the door, unlock, and open it.

  “W-what are you doing?”

  “I changed my mind about the door. I want everyone on this plane to hear you.”

  Dayne and Griffin are only a few feet away. Griffin's seat allows him a glimpse with the door open, but not enough to consider it a front row seat. He and Dayne would both have to get up and come in here for that. But they know I don't want them to, and they'll stay in their seats and let me have her the way I want her.

  “Master, please,” she whispers.

  I strip off my own clothes and watch her. “Spread your legs and slip your fingers underneath your panties. Play with yourself.”

  She only hesitates a moment before doing what I ask. I can tell from where I'm standing that her panties are already soaked. She can protest all she wants. She can display her fear like a badge, but every part of her body is excited by this, by the power I wield over her, by the idea of her other two lovers only a few feet away, by the idea of the pilot and the co-pilot behind only a divider wall. There isn't a proper door to separate them from the rest of the plane.

  I crawl onto the bed with her and pull her hand away from her pussy as if catching her misbehaving instead of doing exactly as I asked. I cup her over her panties, my grip hard.

  “Whose cunt is this?”

  “Y-yours, Master.”

  “And?”

  “A-and Griffin's and Dayne's.”

  “Good girl. And you will honor and obey all of us. That vow applies to all of us. Do you understand?”

  She nods.

  Her hips arch up into my hand as I begin to rub her hard through her panties. I don't warm her up with gentle caresses, and she doesn't need it. The rougher I handle her, the more her body responds to me.

  I grip her throat, holding her down as I continue to stroke her with my other hand. She struggles and fights between the panic of my hand around her throat and the close cresting of her orgasm.

  “You want to breathe, princess?”

  She nods to the extent that I allow her movement.

  “Then you must promise when I remove my hand from your throat, you will come and you will scream your pleasure loud enough for everyone on this plane to hear.”

  She nods again.

  “Good girl.”

  I release her throat while the fingers of my other hand stroke feverishly over her clit. She bucks and moans and screams. When her body finally settles and she goes quiet and still again, I rip off her panties. She lets out another loud gasping moan when I shove my cock inside her.

  She's so fucking tight. There are tears in her eyes when I look at her face again, and I'm not sure if it's the force of her orgasm or my giant dick slamming into her that put them there. But her hips begin to move, urging me on.

  Her small hands claw at my shoulders trying to pull me deeper into her even though I'm buried to the hilt. She makes the most gorgeous panting moans in rhythm to my thrusts. She comes again right as I do, as I'm spilling inside her, hoping she'll be carrying my child soon.

  It isn't until I pull out of her and spoon her against me that I realize... even though she struggled and bucked, she never clawed at my hand when it was around her throat. Some small part of Livia trusts me, and while her fear may excite me, her trust fills me with warmth.

  24

  Dayne

  The Honeymoon

  The Present.

  The jet landed in Costa Rica a few minutes after eight. Livia can't hide her surprise at all the people greeting me with “Hello, Mr. Montgomery,” “How was your flight, Mr. Montgomery?”, “Everything is prepared for you, Mr. Montgomery,” as we're led through the resort by an entourage of eager help.

  They take us to a large two-story house done in the same style as the rest of the resort. It's a separate private building, and it's never rented out to guests. It's always kept on reserve for me and my private guests. Both Griffin and Soren have been here on many occasions. We've kept toys here for weeks at a time in the past—women who begged to be ours forever by the time it was over.

  Unfortunately we all have work to get back to and don't have as much free time in our schedule right now, but we'll be back. Maybe a shorter stay is better this time to avoid overwhelming Livia. Soren has a respectable dungeon set-up at his estate, but the public stuff is fun, and we only get that here. It's the only time and place we can be truly out and open about our arrangements without judgment or risk of scandal. After all, every member has their own secrets to keep and everyone signs about half a dozen contracts, including NDAs.

  It's an underground—as in secret—resort where those with money and power and the password—which changes frequently to control security leaks—can come and engage in open public kinky debauchery with those they bring as guests. Guests are carefully screened and have to be open to being shared, passed around to the other members, and anything and everything we choose to do with them while they're here.

  But Livia, because she's mine, won't be shared with anyone but Griffin and Soren. She gets this one mercy which only exists because the three of us don't want anyone else getting close to our dynamic or fucking with it. We've made that mistake in the past. We won't make it again.

  Livia is slowly awakening to my power in this arrangement. I think she believed at first that I was just an extra, or somehow submissive to Griffin and Soren. But I'm not. There isn't a submissive bone in my body. It takes a woman in our grouping to keep things stable which is why we almost never fuck each other unless there's a woman in the mix. We're all far too aggressive and dominant to make it work with just us.

  The fucking we do happen to do—just the three of us—is for pleasure. But we don't get the same psychological rush we get when we have
someone to share, a girl completely under our power. We've all been on the receiving end of anal—even Soren, though he would go to his grave before admitting it. There's something vulnerable in that act which requires a high level of trust.

  We couldn't do it with anyone else but each other. It's because of the things we went through at Dartmouth during rush that allows us to trust each other enough for that. Otherwise, despite the intensity of the pleasure afforded, we could never bring ourselves to do it, to surrender in that way to someone else.

  When it's more than just fucking, when there are feelings beyond brotherhood, when there's a relationship, there has to be someone at the center of it all to bend to our will. That's where Livia comes in. It's a delicate dance and trade of power across the board. Even so, there has to be a power that can hold everything together.

  Griffin's power is too impulsive and uncontrolled—wild like an unexpected rainstorm. Soren's is too ruthless. He knows what's right, but he'll do whatever he wants anyway. And even though I came to this party late, I know why Soren invited me rather than just keep her between him and Griffin—even if he himself doesn't know. And it isn't just access to the resort and all its pleasures.

  It's because I'm the stable power, the safe power, the one who subtly manages things behind the scenes. Livia is the soft power, but she doesn't know that yet. It may take years for her to realize and step into her own power. It may take her years to understand just how much all of us would sacrifice for her, how much wealth and luxury and pleasure and safety and protection we will gladly lay at her feet because she makes everything possible. She's the first one we've all seen a real future with, the key to all our locks.

  I don't think any of us believed we could ever have this in a real and permanent relationship. It was always just supposed to be fucking around. And it always was. Before her.

  I've had my hand on the small of Livia's back since we got onto the property, and I keep it there the entire walk through the resort until we're safely inside our home away from home. The staff and members need to see her; they need to see this. They need to know she's with me and under my protection. I will remove any member who tries to violate this boundary and revoke all their future privileges, as well as those of their families, friends, and even descendants because the blacklist here can stretch through generations. There are people who will never gain entrance because their grandfather fucked up and pissed off the wrong person fifty years ago.

  We're finally alone, the four of us. Our bags have been brought in and all resort employees have taken their leave. Livia looks shaken by what she saw in the lobby and on the grounds. People half dressed. People naked. People in leather. People in collars being led crawling through the resort like it was nothing.

  It is nothing.

  I call and order room service to the house, then I do a walk-through to make sure everything is as I requested. When I'm finished, I go into the master bathroom and run a bath for Livia.

  I turn a few minutes later to find her standing in the bathroom with me, looking almost as timid as she did last night coming into our suite. “Griffin sent me up here,” she says. She can't meet my eyes, instead looking to the large jacuzzi tub as it fills.

  I pop the cork on a bottle of champagne and pour her some in the single flute that was left on the counter. She gasps as I pour the rest of the champagne into the tub with the water and sprinkle in the still fresh fragrant cream-colored rose petals the staff left before we arrived. I light the candles around the tub and hand the champagne to her.

  “Drink this. I need you relaxed. The champagne bath will help, too.” If possible, this pronouncement makes her more nervous.

  She takes the flute and chugs it back like it's beer. Well, that's one way to do it.

  “Dayne? What's going to happen to me here?”

  It's moments like this when I wonder if I'm wrong about her. Can she handle us? She sends such mixed signals. I choose not to answer because I'm not sure there's an answer that will put her at ease. She was already warned last night that things would escalate, but I know she didn't expect this. She expected a normal honeymoon—at least on paper. And she hasn't even seen the half of it yet.

  I take the empty flute from her and place it on the counter behind me. “Turn around.”

  She does, and I carefully unzip her sundress and push it to the floor. Oh I like this. No bra and virginal white panties. I bet Soren liked it when he had her on the plane, too. I push the panties down over her hips, and help her step out of them when they hit the floor to join the dress.

  Then I guide her into the tub. I lean over and press a kiss against her forehead when she's settled. “Just relax. I'll come get you when dinner arrives.”

  The guys are stretched out on sofas in the main room when I get downstairs. “New plan,” I say. Most of the planning has shifted to me now that we're at my resort, but Soren will be happy to take the reigns again when we return home, on his turf—the estate. But this is my castle. My rules.

  “Oh?” Soren says. “I thought we were taking her to the dungeon to show her off and play.”

  I shake my head. I remain convinced that this is inside Livia, but if we push her too far too fast, we could lose her. We could break her, and then we're left with the mess we made.

  “It's too soon. She needs a night to relax and acclimate. She needs a night that feels normal and safe.”

  “Bullshit,” Soren says. He practically spits the word.

  “Hey,” I say, my tone hardening. “Settle your ass down. I can ban you from the resort just like anyone else. Fuck around with her, and we won't be able to undo the damage. I want her tonight when we go to bed. Alone. For the whole night.”

  “Fuck that noise,” Griffin says.

  “No,” Soren says, flatly.

  “We're here for a week. You can each get her alone for one of the nights, too. And Soren, you already had her alone on the jet.”

  “Why should you get her alone all night first? You had her first last night,” Soren says.

  I know what he thinks. He thinks I'm trying to usurp his territory. He thinks I'm trying to unseat him and run this quad. I've never attempted a direct power takeover, and I'm not attempting it now. But they've both noticed I'm more possessive of Livia than I've been of the others and just how fast that possession took hold.

  “Because I'm the one who can be the most gentle with her, and that's what she needs right now. She needs eased into our world. She's not like the other girls who voluntarily came to us and knew what they were getting themselves into.”

  A lot of those girls were guests of other members here at the club. They'd already been passed around to at least a dozen men and some couples before ending up in our bed and under our control. Livia is different. In so many ways.

  Griffin nods. “Yes. Okay. I agree with Dayne. Just for tonight. Come on Soren, you know he's right. He's not trying to take over.”

  “When we get back home...” Soren says, warning.

  “Your castle, your rules,” I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender.

  He nods his agreement. “Fine.”

  Half an hour later our food is here. I ordered normal casual American fare. Nothing fancy. Nothing foreign. Nothing unpronounceable. Livia doesn't need to navigate bizarre spices and mystery sauces right now. She needs normality. So it's burgers and fries. We're all going to have to hit the gym hard as soon as we get home.

  When I go back upstairs to retrieve Livia, I find her sobbing and shaking in the tub. If even a champagne bath can't calm her nerves... I was right about this. I blow out the candles and pull the plug on the tub and lift her out. She clings to me even as she's clearly afraid of what I—what we—will do to her here.

  I've seen girls break down like this in the dungeon, and I haven't intervened. But those girls weren't mine, and it wasn't my business to know what they could and couldn't take. They signed contracts. They knew what they were getting into, but Livia doesn't.

  I carefull
y dry her off then get her into a soft terrycloth robe and pull her into my arms.

  “Please, Sir,” she whimpers. And that broken sob breaks my heart.

  “Shhh,” I say. “We aren't going to hurt you. We're going to have dinner and cuddle on the sofa and watch a movie. Then you're coming to bed with me—just me. We aren't leaving this house tonight.”

  “But you said...”

  “I know what I said, and you aren't ready. We have our entire lifetimes. We'll go slow with you. I'll protect you.”

  “But Soren...”

  “... isn't in charge here. This is my resort. I'm running the honeymoon. Relax.”

  Inexplicably these words have a stronger effect on her than the champagne she drank or just soaked in, and I feel her sigh as the tension finally rolls off her body and she melts into my arms.

  It was worth it waiting for the wedding night to initiate her, but the side effect of that is that we've lost time we could have used seducing her into our world. Soren may like her fear—fuck I like her fear—but it's too much too soon.

  I wipe the tears off her face and kiss her. I shouldn't have left her up here without any explanation, but I needed to manage Soren and Griffin.

  She's much calmer by the time we get downstairs. We all sit together at the big kitchen table with our ginger ale and burgers and fries. Livia picks over her food at first, but then her appetite shows up and she digs in.

  “There's our healthy eater,” Soren teases. And I see the corner of her mouth twist up in a smirk.

  “Soon you'll be eating for two,” Griffin says.

  “Or three,” I say because I can't help myself.

  Livia's gaze goes solemnly to mine and then back to her food. I wonder if she's already pregnant. The timing of the wedding couldn't have been more perfect. Last night she could have conceived. There could be the tiniest proto-person growing inside her at this very moment.