Trusting Her Doms [Pleasure, Texas 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  Oh, lord.

  Risky raced past Hank and kept on going. She let out a shout, too afraid to turn back to see if they’d heard her. Clamping her knees against the sides of the horse and hunkering down over the saddle horn, she held on and prayed she wouldn’t lose her grip and end up breaking her neck.

  She’d learned a long time ago that prayers weren’t always answered. Other times, they were answered in a different way than she expected.

  Risky jumped over a small culvert, his long legs spreading out in front of him as his front end lifted into the air, then came down. He landed hard, shaking her out of the saddle.

  When she landed, she didn’t break her neck. She did, however, almost wish she had.

  “Shit!”

  Carly pushed up, bringing her face out of the huge pile of manure. Whether it was from a horse or a cow didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was on her face, in her hair, in her eyes, and worse of all, in her mouth. And it was still warm. She spit out a wad of the terrible gunk and wiped it away from her eyes.

  “Carly, are you hurt?” Strong arms lifted her back onto her feet.

  “Get it off me! Urgh! Please, get it off me.” She scraped at her face, bringing off gobs that plopped to the ground. The stench permeated her nostrils and burned both her eyes and her nose. If she didn’t get clean soon, she’d go crazy.

  “Hold still.”

  Holding still was impossible. She shook her hands, getting as much of it off as she could, only to have to grab another handful off her again.

  “Damn it. Hold still.”

  She gasped as water struck her head, then her face. “What the hell?”

  Hank snagged her arm, holding her as she tried to jerk away. “Will you stop acting like I’m trying to kill you?” He poured more of his water bottle over her head.

  She sputtered, holding back the tears of frustration. “Just get it off me.”

  “We’re trying, but you’re not making it easy.” Ron brought her hands down, then started wiping her face with his own hands. “Let me help. You’re just putting more back on your face every time you take a swipe at it.”

  She’d rather have broken her neck. Her hair was a wet tangled mess and she couldn’t smell anything except the odor of manure. Yet as they kept working on her, Hank pouring water over her head and Ron helping to wipe it away, she began to calm down.

  At least she’d calmed down about the manure.

  Their touches, however, set the rest of her body doing anything but calming down.

  She had it bad. Why else would she get turned on when she was covered with shit?

  It was a few more torturous, yet heat-filled moments before they’d cleaned her off enough that she could stand herself.

  “Are you all right now?”

  “Really, Hank? Do I look all right?”

  “I think what he means is whether you’re hurt. Do you have any pain anywhere? Any broken bones?”

  She glared at Ron even though she knew he didn’t deserve it. “I don’t think so. Aside from my pride, I think everything’s intact.” Shudders, and not the good kind, racked through her. “I need to get into a shower.”

  “Let me round up Risky for you.”

  Her hands flew up to ward Hank off. “Uh-uh. No way am I getting on a horse again. If I have to I’ll walk back to the house.”

  “Hey, it’s not the horse’s fault. Risky wouldn’t have taken off running like that if you hadn’t told him to. Don’t blame the horse for your mistake. But suit yourself. It’s a fair piece to walk when you can ride instead.”

  He was right. Especially when she wanted to get the manure off her as soon as she could. “Fine. If you’ll get hold of him, I’ll get onboard again.”

  Ron had walked the few yards over to Risky and was leading him back. “What were you thinking, darlin’? Where was the fire?”

  Was that a hint of humor in his voice? She didn’t think there was anything funny about it. “I thought I’d come and help out. You know. To pull my weight around here.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  That was it? No “thanks” for trying? Her glare deepened as she centered it on Hank. “Just help me up, will you?”

  Hank helped her get her foot in the stirrup, then pushed her up and handed her the reins. She couldn’t help but notice that he did his best to keep his hands out of the shit caking her clothes.

  “We need to finish what we’re doing.” Ron cleared his throat, a sure sign that he was trying not to laugh. Hank managed to keep a blank expression.

  “I can manage.” She shifted in the saddle and felt a glob of the putrid stuff slide down the front of her shirt.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  “Just tell me where to park him once I get back.”

  Ron lost it, pivoting around as the laughter burst from him. To his credit, Hank tucked his head down, recovered, and then brought up an overly serious face. “Park it? You don’t park a horse.”

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten, determined not to take it out on them.

  It’s not their fault. It’s not their fault.

  “Just tell me what to do with him.”

  “Take him inside the barn and put him in one of the stalls. We’ll take care of him once we get back.”

  “Will that be long?”

  “Nope.” Hank finally lost control as his grin took over. “Unless we have to dig another woman out of a pile of shit.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re such a funny cowboy. Not.” She spurred just enough to get Risky to go into a walk. If she’d dared, she would’ve put him into a canter, but she wasn’t about to find herself flat on her face and covered with manure again.

  If I ever see another pile of manure again, I will go shit out of my mind.

  * * * *

  “Are you sure, Carly?” Destin Casing, Paul’s brother and co-owner of the club, leaned against the bar. “You don’t have to do anything. As far as we’re all concerned, you’re hired.”

  But she had to. Not for them and not for the job, but for herself. She wouldn’t let the past or memories of her father get in the way again.

  “No. I want to. It’s just a spanking. I can handle it.” She smiled, then let him know that she’d learned a little about how to handle herself. “I’m green.”

  Hank chuckled along with Ron. Destin shrugged, then looked to Hank. “How about you do the honors?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He stood up and came around to stand behind her. “Drop your jeans, baby.”

  She hesitated, enough that it made her angry that she did. Determination flashed through her as she undid her jeans and dropped them to the floor.

  “I’ll be damned. I sure as hell didn’t expect that.”

  She kept a neutral face, although she was pleased that she’d caught them off guard by not wearing any panties. The heat from their appreciative looks made it all worthwhile.

  “Ron, hand me that paddle.”

  She tried to hold back, but couldn’t help but release a hard breath. “Do you want my top off?”

  Ron’s excited grin sent a wild flutter dancing in her stomach. “Hell, yeah.”

  She took her time, unfastening one button at a time on her sleeveless blouse. Once she had them all done, she slipped the material over her shoulder, exposing her breasts, then let the shirt fall behind her.

  Hank cupped her breast from behind, squeezed it just hard enough to send a quick sting into her, and then pushed against her spine. “If you’re sure about this, baby, then bend over.”

  She did as he said, her breasts hanging to the floor and her butt sticking out. It was a bold move on her part to shove out her butt that way, but if she was going to do it—and she was determined that she was—then she was going to do it right.

  “Damn, but that’s a pretty sight.”

  Those were words she’d never thought she’d hear spoken about her bottom.

  She jumped, coming halfway back up to a standing position when Hank laid the paddle against her b
utt cheek.

  “Carly?”

  “I’m okay. Sir.” The words came out sounding all too shaky to be dismissed as anything but fear.

  She closed her eyes and fought back the tears that came unwelcomed and unexpected. The memory of her father, a belt instead of a paddle, struck her, blindsiding her in its intensity.

  “I’m not doing this.”

  She opened her eyes and found Hank striding away from her. “No. It’s okay.” And yet the tears betrayed her again as one rolled down her cheek. “Hank, please.”

  He tossed the paddle to Destin. “No. I can’t do anything that bothers you that much.”

  Destin slid the paddle down the long bar, away from them. “Like I said, Carly. You’re hired if you want the job. No one says you have to get paddled to do well here.”

  Ron was by her side, placing her shirt around her shoulders and handing her jeans to her. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. Just take the job and give yourself some time. Not everyone can jump right into it.”

  “He’s right. Ease into the job. All you have to do for now is sling drinks.” Hank waved his hand in the direction of the paddle. “Forget all about that. Okay? For us?”

  The pain she’d seen on his face when he’d talked about their horrible first time in that other club was there again. Was she hurting them? That made her more upset than she’d have ever guessed it could.

  “All right. I’ll do that.” She managed a weak smile.

  “Great. I’ll ask Lucinda to get you a uniform.” Destin picked up his phone. “Then we’ll see you later tonight? Around eight?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “And so will we.” Ron took her by the chin, then gave her a sweet peck on the cheek. “You know how to get back to the ranch, right? And where to find the spare key?”

  “Yes.” She was ashamed that she felt so relieved. Damn it. I could’ve done it. If only I’d tried harder.

  “Then we’ll leave you to it. Hank and I’ve got chores that are calling our names.”

  She hurriedly pulled on her clothes as the men strode toward the exit. Disappointment flared inside her. She’d let herself down, but soon enough, she’d conquer the fear. For herself and for the men she wanted to please so much.

  * * * *

  Carly tugged the skirt lower and stared at the front door of the club. Not that tugging helped. Nothing could stop the flare outward that gave everyone a peek at her pantiless bottom.

  Here goes nothing.

  She’d arrived early, too anxious to wait any longer. Barb, one of the women who had worked at the club for some time, greeted her with as much friendliness as a kid for an ice cream cone.

  Within minutes, Barb had her feeling at home among the crowd and learning the ins and outs of waitressing. It wasn’t tough to catch on, especially since most of the people were regulars who ran a tab. All she had to do was keep track of their drinks and add it to their bills.

  Everyone else was just as nice as Barb. Wilson, the main bartender, had been quick to forgive her drink order mistakes and had given a couple of customers drinks on the house to make up for it. The tips were as good as she’d heard they’d be. In the two hours she’d worked, she’d already made more than she would’ve made all week at the market. Hell, all month.

  Which reminded her. She still hadn’t called Little John to quit. Not wanting to forget, she pulled out her phone and sent him a text. It was sheer delight doing that.

  “How’s it going?” Hank’s rich voice flowed over her. The tingle that always came whenever she was near him took off at the speed of light. Her body recognized and wanted his. And yet, she didn’t reach out and kiss him like she yearned to do.

  “I’m fine. I’m catching on fast. I think.” She tugged at the skirt again. “The hardest part is getting used to this outfit. Couldn’t they have made the skirt a little longer?”

  “Now where’s the fun in that?”

  “Fun for you maybe.”

  “Ain’t no maybe about it.” Ron slid up behind and wrapped his arms around her. “You look fucking hot.”

  She loved hearing him say so, but a part of her, the part that had heard sweet words so many times before, warned her to keep the wall around her heart strong. “Thanks.”

  “Um, not to jump on you on your first night, but keep the cell phone tucked away. Or better yet, in your purse.” Ron caressed her cheek. “We’ve got a strict policy against taking photos, or worse, videos. For the members’ privacy.”

  “Oh. Sure. That’s understandable. I was just texting Little John and telling him I quit, but I’ll put my phone in my purse as soon as I can.”

  “Good. Although wouldn’t it have been more fun telling him in person?”

  “Yeah. Still, I’d just as soon never see him again except as a customer. So texting was fine.”

  “Carly, we need to talk.”

  “Damn. I hate to say it, but Hank’s right.”

  “Really? About what?” She took a quick look around. It wasn’t as if anyone was paying attention to them, but she was still hesitant to get into any discussions with people around. “Here?”

  Ron dropped his arms, then took her hand and led her to one of the booths at the edge of the room with Hank following. The booth was secluded behind a large potted plant, giving privacy to whomever wanted to use the space to play.

  “About getting together in the kitchen.”

  “Uh-huh.” Did they regret what they’d done? Or what they hadn’t done?

  “Do you remember what we said about wanting you as our sub?”

  Her hand trembled so much she had to put her order pad into her pocket. “Yes.” If they wanted her to help them out in the conversation, they were going to be disappointed. She was still confused about them. They’d had sex and talked about her being their sub, but what did that mean as far as a real relationship went?

  “You need to learn to trust us.”

  Trust them? Didn’t having sex show them that she did? At least as much as she could? “I do.”

  Ron caressed her arm, sliding his rough, callused palm over her skin. The texture against her smooth skin woke up the nerve endings, then dove into her to awaken every other part of her body. Her pussy reacted instinctively, calling to them in a primal way as her juices wet her between the legs.

  “No you don’t. Not really.”

  He wasn’t making any sense. Or was she trying hard to make sure she didn’t understand? No. That wasn’t it. The nearness of their bodies, the bulges in their jeans, jumbled her mind, mushing her thoughts so badly that she couldn’t pin anything down.

  “Yes, I do.” Although no one could’ve heard them above the music and all the chatter, she lowered her voice. “Otherwise, I never would’ve let you touch me the way you did. Not here at the club and not at your home.”

  Hank took her by the chin, his dark eyes driving his intention into her whether she wanted it or not. “That meant a lot to us. It did. But that’s not what we’re talking about. A submissive trusts her Doms with every aspect of her life. She trusts them to know what’s right for her. She trusts them not to make her decisions for her, unless that’s what she wants, but to help and guide her. We want you to trust us with your pain.”

  “What pain? I told you. I didn’t hurt myself when I fell off Risky.”

  “Not that kind of pain.” Ron’s jaw clenched. “We’re not getting this out right. Hank and I have discussed this. What we want is for you to trust us to handle your father.”

  She tensed, thrown by where the conversation had gone. Jerking her chin away from Hank’s hold, she ground out, “I thought this was about sex.”

  “It is and so much more,” answered Ron.

  “Trusting us with the sex part helps you learn to trust us with everything else.”

  “And I’m not doing that?” She laughed. “I sure thought I was last night.”

  “So you think that’s the whole of it? Hell, darlin’, you won’t even trust us enough to let us spank yo
u.”

  Why was he saying that? She’d tried as hard as she could. “I don’t like being hit. So sue me.”

  Ron jerked back like she’d slapped him. “It’s different and I think you get that. Then again, maybe I’m wrong.”

  “Fine. If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then spank me.” She turned around and thrust out her behind. “Spank away. Sir.”

  They hadn’t pressured her into calling them sir, but she knew that she’d have to start doing so soon. And she wanted to. She just kept forgetting, what with having to learn so many other things.

  “Don’t say it unless you mean it, baby.”

  His frustration was gone, replaced by a look that was compassionate and kind. He was giving her a way to back out. All she had to do was to take it.

  “I mean it.” And she did. She’d failed earlier, but she wouldn’t fail again.

  Hank grabbed her, then lifted her and sat her on top of the booth’s table. “You’re not getting this. This isn’t a joke. You’re our sub and you do what we say. If you do, we’ll show you what it’s like to have two men you can trust with everything you are and everything you’ve gone through. We’ll accept the good and the bad of it just like you’ll accept us as we are. Are you really willing to do that? Are you ready to trust us completely?”

  Did she trust them that much? Could she expose all of her to them? Giving them her body was one thing, but he was demanding much more than that. He wanted her thoughts, her soul.

  Her heart.

  She didn’t know the answers to those questions, but she lifted her head defiantly anyway. What did Suzie say? Fake it until you make it?

  “Do it. Let me show you that I can.”

  He searched her again.

  Ron squeezed her hand. “Be damn sure about this, Carly.”

  “I am.” She swallowed, and tried to maintain her confidence. Her body hummed, coming alive. She wanted him to spank her. More than anything. But would the past still haunt her? “So? Are we doing this or not?”

  “Okay. We will.”

  He had her on her feet and was dragging her through the crowd before she could catch her breath. Taking her to the stage where the band played, he said something to the lead singer who then ended the song abruptly.