by Jane Jamison
“What’s wrong? Do you want the gag off?”
She nodded at Ron and he quickly removed it.
“I want to do it, sirs.”
Ron gave her a funny look then looked at Hank as he lifted up, worry etched on his face, and shrugged. “Darlin’, that’s kind of what we were getting round to.”
“No. That’s not what I mean, sir.”
If she hadn’t known it before, she knew it all too well now. She’d been wrong to put all men in one category. They weren’t all liars and cheats. Hank and Ron had proven that, for which she’d always be grateful. They were her men, and if her luck held, the fathers of her children.
They’d changed the way she looked at the world and at sex, too. Her trust had solidified the day they’d freed her mother and her from her father’s torment, and it had grown with each passing day. She trusted them completely, without one ounce of doubt.
And it was time to prove it.
“I want you to spank me. Please, sirs.”
She’d caught them by surprise. They glanced at each other.
“Are you sure, darlin’? You don’t ever have to do that if you don’t really want to.”
“I want to. Please, Master Ron, spank me.”
She wouldn’t have called attention to it, but she was sure she saw his eyes moisten. Finding Hank’s gaze, she gave him the same adoration. “Please, Master Hank. I want you to spank me.”
They still hesitated, the men who would never do her any harm. She smiled, trying to show them that she was sure.
“Okay, baby. Ron?”
Hank pressed his cock to her pussy, then, keeping his gaze to hers, he slid inside. As always, his size and length stunned her, then her vaginal walls welcomed his hardness and closed around him.
“Master Ron. Please.”
Ron leaned over and withdrew the shiny black paddle that had never left the nightstand before. Taking her butt cheeks, he spread them apart, then eased his cock inside her dark hole. The paddle rested on her hip as he began working his hips back and forth.
Was there a better feeling in the world than having their two cocks inside her? She doubted it.
Together they moved. They were joined not only with their bodies, but with their hearts and souls. Carly watched the men she loved, the men she’d always obey, the men who had become her Doms and so much more. Her body was enflamed with their hot cocks, burning hotter and hotter with each thrust, each grip of their fingers. Her body readied again as the need whirled, spinning around faster and faster until, at last, she knew she’d break apart.
“Please, Masters.” She closed her eyes.
They gave her what she asked for. Hank’s hand flattened against her left butt cheek just as Ron brought the paddle down on her right.
For one awful moment, the old fear, the constant anger she’d lived with for so long found a foothold. She wanted to scream, to shout at them to stop.
Instead, she opened her eyes and found theirs once more.
A smile formed on her lips.
Again and again, they spanked her, lighting her skin up with tingles of pain that quickly transformed into slices of pure heaven. Hand and paddle met her flesh. Their cocks found their marks inside her, meeting the stings of the spankings to form an entirely new kind of sensation.
She moaned, telling them that she loved what they did, encouraging them to continue. And continue they did, spanking her even as they vowed their love and devotion.
The climax took her, rolling her over and over until she wasn’t sure which way was up. She reached out with her bound hands, but couldn’t find them.
And still the spanking continued.
Her body was no longer hers or theirs, but a captive to her erupting desire. She shouted their names as her body trembled out the last of her release. Their shouts joined hers as their hot cum burst from them to mix with her juices.
When reality came back, when she could again think coherently, she burst into tears. Feelings, past and present, swamped her until all she could do was cry.
“Aw, shit. I knew we shouldn’t have done that.”
“Then you should’ve said something, asshole.” Ron pushed his body off hers and tossed the paddle away. “Darlin’, it’s okay. I’m sorry. We won’t ever spank you again.”
“He’s right, baby. We’ll break the damn paddle in half and burn it.”
She wiped the tears away, but it did no good. Fresh ones replaced them. “No, no. You don’t understand.”
Her cries changed, morphing into laughter. Her men, the best men she’d ever known, stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.
“Are you okay?” Hank grazed his palm along her leg. “Damn it, Ron. I think we drove her crazy.”
Ron’s worried expression brought more laughter to her. “Holy shit. Carly, talk to us. You’re scaring the hell out of us.”
She fought against another giggle rising to the surface. It wasn’t fair to leave them thinking they’d hurt her. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”
“Wait. Then it was okay? The spankings?”
She motioned for Hank to untie her. He did, with Ron helping him. “You don’t understand. I’m not crying because it hurt or because I hated it.”
“Then why?”
She sat up and stretched. Taking the paddle from Ron, she slid her fingers along its smooth surface. “I was laughing because I loved it.” She arched one eyebrow. “In fact, I loved it so much, I think you two should learn how good it feels.”
They looked at each other, then at her as she lifted the paddle over her head.
“So, sirs, which one of you wants to go first?”
Hank threw his body off the bed. “Not a chance. You’re our submissive. Not the other way round.”
Ron slid off and hurried after Hank toward the door. Her laughter had them turning around again.
“I was only kidding.”
“What the hell?” Ron jerked Hank’s arm, keeping him in the room. “Look, man.”
Giving them a sexy smile, she got onto her hands and knees, then wiggled her butt at them. “Masters, would you like to spank me again?”
THE END
WWW.JANEJAMISON.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jane Jamison has always liked “weird stuff” as her mother called it. From an early age she was fascinated with stories about werewolves, vampires, space, aliens, and whatever was hiding in her bedroom closet. To this day, she still swears she can hear growls and moans whenever the lights are out.
Being born under the sign of Scorpio meant Jane was destined to be very sensual. Some would say she was, and remains, downright sexual. Then one day she put her two favorite things together on paper and found her life’s true ambition—to be an erotic paranormal romance author.
Jane spends at least six days a week locked in her office surrounded by the characters she loves. Every day a new character will knock on the door of her imagination. Her plans include taking care of her loving husband, traveling, and writing at least twelve books a year.
For all titles by Jane Jamison, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/jane-jamison
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
