The Proposal

by Kitty Thomas

  After dinner I let Griffin and Soren cuddle with her on the couch for the movie. I don't need to be in the mix because I get her all to myself tonight. Griffin chose a romantic comedy with a fake wedding of all things, but she's smiling and laughing at least, and that's a vast improvement from the state I found her in an hour ago.

  She falls asleep about halfway through the movie in Griffin's arms. I allow it because she needs this nap. All that champagne both drinking and soaking was bound to fully hit her once the adrenaline subsided. And even a healthy meal wasn't going to stop it from claiming her.

  “Enjoy your night with her.” Soren smirks.

  I laugh. “Oh, I'll wake her up after the movie. Don't you worry.”

  The house has three bedrooms, and all of them have a bed large enough for the three of us and a girl. Officially we each have a room, and the girl gets passed between rooms, though many nights we've ended up all in one bed. Each room has an attached bathroom, but the room with the master bathroom with the jacuzzi is mine. As the movie finishes, I take my bags to my room and make sure I have everything I need.

  I'm not kind enough to let her sleep until morning, but I will let her sleep a little while longer.

  Soren has already gone up to his room for the night by the time the credits roll.

  “I'm afraid I'll wake the octopus if I move,” Griffin whispers, his arms outstretched to show the problem he has on his hands. Livia is pretty aggressively snuggled into him, her limbs wrapped snug around his body. I help him untangle her, and he carries her up to my room.

  “Don't wake her,” I whisper.

  “You're letting her sleep?” he whispers back, surprised.

  “Fuck no, but I want her to wake on my terms when I'm ready.”

  Griffin nods and deposits her gently on the bed then retreats, leaving me alone with my prize.

  25

  Livia

  The Honeymoon

  The Present.

  I wake in total darkness, fabric covering my eyes while soft lips devour my mouth. I moan into the mouth on mine as I try to remember where I am and who I'm with. He must feel me stir because he pulls back.

  “D-Dayne?” I ask. He said it would be him tonight. Just him. Though I feel almost equally safe with Griffin. I wonder if I'll ever feel as safe with Soren.

  “You know that's not what you're supposed to call me,” Dayne says.

  I let out a slow breath. “Sir,” I say.

  “Good girl.”

  I'm naked under the covers, I assume in his bed, in his room. I move my hand up to remove the fabric covering my eyes.

  “No. Leave the blindfold on.”

  He pulls the covers back and I shiver as the cool air touches my bare skin. I turn my head as if by doing so I can somehow see through the blindfold.

  “It's just us. Like I promised,” he says, knowing my question without me asking it.

  He strokes my cheek, and I lean into him. Then he goes back to kissing me. I should have known when I woke that it was Dayne. They all kiss so differently—each a unique signature none of the others can forge.

  Soren's kisses are like a tornado spinning through me and breaking me apart, rough and ravaging and demanding I submit. No matter how much I already think I have, Soren's mouth always disagrees and demands more. Griffin's kisses are passionate and frenzied but they don't have the fear I might disappear behind them. They don't have the need to lock me in a tower and throw the key away.

  Dayne's kisses are all calm command. They are strong and silent but soft and gentle at the same time. His tongue doesn't dominate me or conquer me when it slips into my mouth. It coaxes my tongue to join his dance. Maybe he's the one with the bread crumbs that leads me safely out of the forest.

  When he touches me he makes me want to swear ancient blood oaths to him—not due to any overwhelming fear or excitement, but because of how calm and peaceful he makes me feel inside. How safe and protected.

  His mouth moves from mine to trail over my throat, across my collarbone, then briefly nipping each breast. He places soft kisses on my belly and holds his hand there for a long time as if he's willing his child to grow in there—or sensing its essence.

  But even if I were already pregnant with someone's child, it would be too soon to know.

  Then he moves lower still, his mouth between my legs. I gasp and arch up into him, but he's only teasing me.

  “You're already quite spoiled,” he says, pulling back. “Roll over onto your stomach.”

  “Sir?” I'm sure he can taste my fear on the air in the stillness of the room.

  “Don't worry. I'm not going to fuck your ass tonight.”

  I roll onto my stomach.

  “Good girl.”

  I feel the blankets that were pulled back partially only a moment ago, now removed completely.

  “Stretch your arms and legs out like an X,” he orders.

  “A-are you going to tie me?”

  “Yes. I want your complete surrender. Do you trust me?”

  I don't answer him in words. Instead, I spread my arms and legs out in an X like he requested.

  He presses a kiss to my back and murmurs, “Good girl” against my skin.

  I gasp as ropes are tied around my wrists and ankles, then tied to what I assume must be the bed posts. I don't know, I haven't actually seen his room. From the roughness of the ropes, I know he wants to leave marks on me. After all he could have used silk, or soft cords, or ties. Does he want Soren and Griffin to see them? Does he want to watch as I sit uncomfortably through breakfast, rope burns on display in the morning light?

  I wonder if there's a bigger power struggle than I thought and what that ultimately might mean for me. Whatever's going on with them, it doesn't feel like jealousy. It isn't as though they're each fighting to be the one to win my heart. It's nothing so quaint and prosaic as that. It's about power. Control. It's about who gets to move the pieces across the chess board.

  The queen is supposed to be the most powerful piece, but I don't feel it. Maybe I'm only a pawn after all.

  Dayne's voice interrupts my thoughts. “I need you to relax for me. Take a deep breath in and then slowly let it out.”

  I obey him, and when I exhale, I gasp as he pushes something hard and cold and wet inside my ass. Metal? Glass? I don't know what it's made of. But it's only about the thickness of a man's finger.

  He presses a hand against my back. “Shhh, Livia. Relax. Everything is okay.”

  I'm pretty sure Dayne could make me believe this even if the world was literally burning down around me. Just his skin against my skin and his soothing words can make me believe anything. It's a dangerous power to have.

  He eases the toy in deeper. At first my muscles tighten against the invasion, but under his calming caresses and his steady voice, I relax, and I feel the tiniest tendril of something that's surprisingly more pleasure than pain. It shouldn't feel good. It's dark and dirty and makes me feel vulnerable and self-conscious in a thousand different ways.

  And I wonder if he's in the dark like I am, or if it's merely the illusion of the blindfold and he has full light.

  “Stop thinking. Just feel. Surrender. You have no control over this situation.”

  Even as he says these words, I know if I cried or begged he'd stop. I know this because Dayne's darkness is cloaked in honor, unlike Soren's ruthless storm.

  “Give me another slow breath. In. And out.”

  Dayne could have been a yoga instructor in another life. I follow his direction as he begins to slowly ease the lubed toy in and out of me. My pussy responds with arousal and jealousy that another part of me is being penetrated, and suddenly I want to be fucked. Suddenly I want to feel fullness from both sides. In my cunt and in my ass at the same time.

  I'm shocked and unnerved by this thought. It's not possible. I'm not anatomically set up to be able to handle it. I know I'm not. This silent struggle goes on in my mind while Dayne continues to send my nerve endings into overdrive.

&n
bsp; The ropes dig into my wrists as I struggle, but I'm not struggling to get away, I'm struggling for more without having to ask for it.

  Dayne stops and removes the toy.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  He chuckles. “You want more?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He raises my hips and places something underneath me, then he presses me back down on it. It feels like a spongy rubber ball, except it must be flat on the bottom. It's pressed between my legs. And then it starts vibrating.

  Without meaning to, I begin to grind on this new toy. Then I feel more lube being pressed into my ass, followed by a toy a bit larger than the last.

  “Breathe,” he reminds me.

  I do, and he slowly eases it inside me.

  “Good girl.”

  I move with both the rubber ball stimulating my clit and the other phallic toy awakening me to surprising new sensations I never knew I could access. I didn't know this could feel good for women. I thought it was only men who could access pleasure this way—as the receptive party.

  That's when I notice Dayne's breathing has gone ragged, and his hand is no longer on my back. He's jerking himself off while he slowly fucks my ass with the toy and the vibrator drives me insane from beneath.

  My orgasm crests over me in a sudden wave too powerful to stop. He doesn't turn off the vibrating toy, nor does he stop moving the other one inside my ass. A few moments later he lets out a growl, and I hitch in a breath when I feel warm wetness hit my back.

  Dayne removes the toy from my ass, and turns off the vibrations that were pulsing against my clit. But he doesn't untie me immediately.

  I'm silent. I can feel his eyes on me. He doesn't go get a towel or wash cloth to clean me up. Instead, he uses his strong steady hands to massage his release into my skin. It's one of the most filthy and erotic things I've ever experienced. And I can't help the moan the slips out of my throat in response.

  26

  Livia

  The Honeymoon

  The Present.

  It's the last day of the honeymoon. Most of the trip has been surprisingly normal after what I witnessed when we first arrived at the resort, and I'm feeling silly for my emotional meltdown that first night. I was just... overwhelmed. And shy. And unsure of who and what I was bound to. For the most part we've spent our resort time at the house, using the attached private pool. They've taken me to several nice restaurants but nothing on the property. When we haven't gone out to eat, we've ordered room service.

  On the first full day, the guys took me to Manuel Antonio which has a huge national park with the cutest capuchin monkeys. It was kind of crowded and touristy but nice. We spent time on the beach as well as exploring the varied wildlife that lives in Costa Rica, including the sloth sanctuary. Dayne booked us a behind-the-scenes tour so we got to see baby sloths up close in the nursery and even feed them. Watching Soren feeding a tiny baby sloth while it just stared up at him was surreal and caused me to drift off into a fantasy about him holding our baby.

  Over the past few days, we've zip-lined over the rainforest, soaked in natural hot springs, painting each other with warm mud only to get back in the springs to rinse off. And we walked across a huge swinging bridge that I had to be reassured about twenty times wasn't going to snap and kill us all.

  With each passing day I feel more comfortable with all of them, not just sexually attracted, but safe—more like the way things felt before I knew they all knew each other. And I'm starting to think somehow this actually could work.

  After the first night alone with Dayne, it was a night alone with Griffin, then Soren. It was nice to be able to spoon with each of them in something mirroring traditional intimacy. Then there was a few nights with all of them. Those nights went kind of like the wedding night.

  Each night they've prepared me with a range of ever widening anal toys. And aside from that one aspect, this thing with us is starting to feel somehow normal. Domestic almost. Well, and the titles. Even though nothing especially kinky has happened in Costa Rica, they've demanded the titles when we've gone to bed. It's still Sir for Dayne and Griffin, and Master for Soren—something Soren wants to make sure I don't forget during the power shift of this vacation interlude.

  Soren is the roughest when he fucks me. He fucks me like he's trying to use his cock to brand me, to remind me that he will always be inside me and I can never leave him. I can never go anywhere. But increasingly it's hard for me to think of anywhere else I'd want to be but with them. Even Soren's terrifying nature has started to feel comforting.

  The idea of going back to my small lonely apartment and sleeping by myself seems suddenly far more horrifying than the way Soren holds me down, chokes me, and fucks my mouth. The way they pass me back and forth between them, the way they grab and paw at me and make me feel both completely used and completely desired by the time they're finished each night.

  It has all started to feel less threatening because they've kept everything private as they've slowly gotten me used to the myriad ways they might take me together.

  When I step out of the shower and into Soren's bedroom, there's a black evening gown on the bed, strappy black heels, long black opera gloves, a masquerade-type mask—yes, also in black, and a note:

  Put this on, and come downstairs. We're going out. -D

  I know Soren hates the way Dayne has taken charge of things on the honeymoon. And I know it won't always be this way, but I've felt safe with Dayne in control. But this... the dress, the sexy shoes, the mask... we're going out.

  I know what this means. It means he's ready to stop shielding me from the rest of the resort. I take a slow, calming breath and remind myself we're going home tomorrow. Whatever happens tonight, it's just for tonight, then we're going home, and I'll never see any of these people again. And I'll be partly shielded behind a mask. That's something, isn't it?

  In these last few days, I've started to trust they'll keep me safe. I jump when I see a reflection in the full length mirror besides my own. I turn to find Soren leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He's dressed sharply in a black suit with a black shirt and tie.

  “Drop the towel and dress for me.”

  My gaze goes to the ground. He always makes me feel so shy. I don't know who this demure girl is that blossoms out in his stern presence.

  “Yes, Master.” I glance up to find the satisfaction and pleasure on his face at that title.

  I drop the towel and obey him. Sometimes putting clothes on for Soren is as erotic as taking them off. The dress is form fitting but not too snug and has a high slit up the side that goes so high it reveals the strappy band of the black thong panties I just slipped on. The zipper for this dress is in the front, instead of the back, the little pull dangling right between my breasts. One tiny tug on it and I'd be exposed.

  My breasts practically spill out of the dress under Soren's watchful gaze as I sit on the bed and bend to put the shoes on. They have snaps where buckles might otherwise be, making them quick and easy to get on or off.

  Next I put on the elegant masquerade mask then the opera gloves.

  Soren nods, satisfied with this performance. “Come downstairs.”

  I follow him down to the main level where Dayne and Griffin stand waiting, both wearing black suits with black shirts and black ties just like Soren's. There are three additional masquerade masks on the table for them. We look like we're attending a secret society funeral.

  “Kneel,” Soren says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the floor in front of him. And I suddenly understand why this slit is so high. Without the slit, kneeling in this dress would be impossible.

  I get on my knees in front of him.

  “Take the shoes off and sit back on your heels,” he says.

  I let out a sigh of relief as I remove the shoes I just put on for him and settle into this more comfortable position. Soren produces a black velvet box from his jacket pocket. He always seems to be the one giving me jewelry. It's somewhat
thin and square. He holds the box out to me.

  “Open it.”

  I open it to find a solid gold band. A collar? It's not like the other collars I saw the first night in the lobby. Those collars were all leather dog collars with metal loops and leashes. This is actual jewelry.

  Soren takes it out of the box, unlatches it, and locks it around my throat while my head is still bowed.

  “It protects you,” Dayne says. “No one is allowed to wear jewelry collars at the resort—only the leather ones. A girl in a gold collar is marked as mine and protected. No one else is allowed to touch you but us. Do you understand, Livia?”

  I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good, let's go.” Dayne and Soren walk out the door while Griffin offers a hand to help me up. He steadies me while I put my shoes back on.

  I felt a shift in Dayne just now. It's that darker more commanding side—the side that scares me a little and reminds me of Soren.

  When we get outside, Dayne holds an arm out to me, and I loop my arm through his as though he's escorting me to Homecoming or something. Griffin and Soren walk directly behind us like they're our bodyguards. The guys are wearing their masquerade masks as well now.

  Dayne leads me across the resort grounds into the enormous main building I only caught a glimpse of that first night. I keep my gaze straight forward, avoiding eye contact with the guests we pass. My heartbeat thunders in my chest.

  They take me to an elegant ballroom which seems to be dripping in gold, which I'm pretty sure isn't fake. Gold accents on the walls, gold chandeliers, gold accents on furniture. The ceiling is white with complex swirling designs carved into it.

  The lighting is low. There's enough light to see everything, but it's an understated illumination. A string quartet plays on a stage at one end of the ballroom. They aren't playing classical music. They're instead playing a darker rock piece re-imagined and arranged for strings.