Two Sirs, with Love [McQueen Was My Valley 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  Victor had already told her he was a Dom. It was up to his mood and whim right now if he’d fulfill her request.

  His mouth curled sensuously. This whole Iron Man thing was working very well for him. He probably had women coming out his ears, being a famous biologist who traveled the globe giving knowledgeable speeches to esteemed societies. “You’re a sultry tigress,” he said with wonder. She squirmed, not knowing if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Then he dove back into her cleavage.

  Popping a breast from its casing, Victor nibbled and worried the erect nipple. Felicity hadn’t experienced this sensation in months, years perhaps. Once in a while bound fellows got loose and ran amok, and that was probably the last time anyone had nuzzled at her breast. She gasped loudly with the shock of it. He supped at her nipple like a frisky puppy until she could stand it no more. He squeezed her tit at the base and popped it into his mouth, laving the entire tip with the flat of his tongue.

  Felicity squealed, truly unprepared for such an assault. She was fairly well schooled in casual modes of self-defense, so it was almost automatic for her to bring her leg up and knee him in the balls. He sucked in air and paused in his gurgling, but she hadn’t kneed him that horribly, and he went right back to his feast. This time he released the other tit from its bondage. He nursed that one enthusiastically, nibbling and sucking, before burying his face between them and applying one enormous lick to the valley there.

  Felicity’s pussy was trickling juice into her ass crack, he was making her that hot. She humped his hip bone while shimmying her shoulders, the better to wriggle his face into her bosom. But her words told him a different story. “You rat bastard. How dare you take advantage of me? Just because almost all women are naturally weaker than most men, you use your strength to control me. Do you like taking advantage of women who don’t want you?” Again she grabbed a handful of his tie that now hung from his neck like a noose after their tussling. She was a strong woman, having not much else to do in her downtime in Stockholm but work out and lift weights, and she snapped his head back to attention. He looked even more handsome, if such a thing was possible, with his thick dark hair all in disarray. “Do you hear me, you bastard?”

  Victor only grinned again! He said smoothly, “Do you really expect me to believe you’re not enjoying this? You’ve got a spectacular rack, Mistress, in case you weren’t aware.” Even more impudently, he slid his palm over the rise of her boob and diddled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Here he was practically dangling from the noose she’d made of his tie, still arrogant enough to toy with her like that!

  She yanked him with the tie, her other hand shoving his chest. He stumbled back, giving her enough room to leap to her feet. Her bared tits swayed, buoyed up by the bra’s underwire cage. In the towering beige heels and slim slacks with tendrils of her flaming red hair coming undone from her bun, she knew she was the picture of the vivacious Amazon. In the flashing of a few fingers, his tie was undone, limp in her hand.

  She growled, “You think you’re the first man who has come along and thought he could best me? You’d be amazed how many men have that fantasy. ‘Oh, I’ll overpower the big, redheaded Domme, and’—hey!”

  The next thing Felicity knew, the tie was in Victor’s hand. He twirled her around while simultaneously gripping both her wrists together in the small of her back. Maybe because it was so unexpected, Felicity allowed herself to be handled like a blow-up doll. She came to her senses, but not in time to wrench her hand from the knot Victor swiftly tied with the zeal of a Boy Scout.

  “You pig!” she shrieked. “We haven’t talked—we have no safe word—we have no mutual agreement at all! How dare you bind me without my consent?”

  The heated slab of his body pressed against her back. He rattled her by the wrists, ensuring his knot was solid. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose? It’s called bondage and discipline for a reason. You forget, Mistress. I’m experienced in tying women up.”

  “How dare you—”

  With only a slight shove, Victor was able to topple her face first onto one of the beds.

  His voice was breezily cheerful as he stood between her feet, removing first one strappy heel and then the other. “Yes, some women underestimate me because I’m an animal biologist who hangs out in the savannah with the hyenas and baboons. But I tell you, Mistress—there hasn’t been a tigress yet that I couldn’t conquer. And definitely not one as regal as you.”

  Felicity wailed, “We don’t play this way in Stockholm! No one tries to take unfair advantage of the other!”

  Kneeling between her outspread thighs, Victor slid his hands between her waist and the mattress. He undid the button and zipper like a magician—they parted like butter at his touch. “There’s one thing you’re forgetting, Mistress.” With one yank, he’d bared her generous white butt to the ceiling. She squirmed like someone in a sack race, but her wriggling probably only made Victor randier. He slapped her ass, cupping his palm like an experienced Dom, knowing it would sound louder that way. Felicity gasped, but relished the warm tingling spread of forbidden pleasure, and wished he would spank her again. “I know that you like this treatment.”

  Felicity protested like a little girl, trying to yank her torso up off the mattress without benefit of her hands. “How do you know that?”

  Slap.

  He’s right. That feels good.

  “I think I’ve been around the block a few times, Felicity.” Smack. “You’ve wanted to relinquish control for a long time.” Slap. This time Victor swiped a few fingertips against her snatch, mortifyingly feeling her wetness. Her entire body was jolted with electricity when his fingers brushed against her pulsating labia. Felicity was glad and disappointed he didn’t linger there, instead standing to finish yanking off her pants.

  She wasn’t accustomed to feeling so helpless and imprisoned. But he was correct in his assessment that she’d been waiting years to find someone to give up control to. She just wasn’t about to admit it to the devilish animal doctor. “You’re just a fucking asshat, that’s what you are, Dr. Reznik! How can you know what I feel? You can’t.” While he was tossing her pants onto a chair, she flipped onto her back and propped her torso up with her bound hands behind her. She was as vulnerable as a kitten now, naked from the waist down, and she glowered at the good doctor. She was glad she had refreshed her bikini “landing strip” wax before leaving Stockholm, her trim little bush just a red rectangle. “You said you wanted to treat me like a regular date and take me to dinner. This is hardly a normal first date!”

  He was as dashing as ever, only slightly rumpled and missing his tie, rubbing his hands together with relish as he looked down at her. His stiff cock bulged in the crotch of his trousers, sending a flutter up Felicity’s pussy. She knew what that cock looked like erect, reddened, ejaculating. There was nothing sexier than a man at his most vulnerable when he came. Then he was helpless and defenseless, like she was now. “Men try to impress and please women on the first date, do they not?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, “if I recall correctly. It’s been awhile.”

  “Well, then,” he said cockily. He was full of the arrogance of the man who had never been rejected. “Allow me to do that.” And he fell to his elbows between her knees.

  Felicity allowed him to continue, just to see what he would do. She could have easily kneed him in the chest, but her breath was taken away just by the brushing of his soft hair against her inner thigh. The walls of her pussy actually trembled with anticipation, her pulsating clitoris quivering as his breath blew across it, fire and ice at the same time. He nibbled his way up her thigh, taking tiny bites from the baby fat, tantalizing her with his little puffs of hot breath. When his nose touched her clitoris, she nearly jumped out of her skin. As she looked down at the top of his head, his broad shoulders holding up the weight of her upper legs, she recalled how he’d looked in the shower, before he’d noticed her. The lovely spray of dark hair across the well-developed pectorals. The t
one of the bicep as he worked his cock. The flaring of his nostrils as his eyes rolled up into his head the closer he got to shooting his load.

  Oh God. I can’t take this.

  When Victor’s tongue tip peeked from between his teeth and he dared to touch it to the hood of her clit, she did jump a foot in the air. Her thighs automatically locked around his neck, and in one giant lunge she had flipped him over. He lay on his back sprawled on the mattress, Felicity straddling him. She towered over him on his knees, her enormous breasts bobbing like some kind of milkmaid wench.

  “I am the Über Domme,” she commanded. “I tell you what happens. You don’t control things. I do.”

  “Very well,” Victor gasped.

  Was he finally willing to submit to a woman’s will? Was he tired of wrestling her for supremacy? To test him further, she continued, “I am the one who controls. You got that right?”

  “Got it.”

  Then she queened him.

  It felt good—but vastly different—to be practicing her kink again. When she squatted on Dr. Reznik’s face and mashed her pussy to his mouth, she wasn’t Mistress Klara any longer. In a strange way, she wasn’t even Mistress Felicity. She was plain old Felicity, having her pussy licked by a date, a suitor, a man she was highly attracted to.

  Maybe it was because she was in Utah and not Sweden. Maybe because she was in the uncustomary position of having her hands tied behind her back. Or maybe because this wasn’t some patron at Fett Axel she would probably never see again, but a man whose name she knew. He was here, out in the open of the vanilla world, capturing ostriches and going after smugglers. That was his job. He literally wasn’t hiding behind a mask. And, scarily, neither was she.

  But she fucked his beautiful face, swinging her hips in wide, clockwise motions. Victor obliged by grabbing her thighs and sticking his tongue out stiff, like a peg against which she could masturbate. When he joined in the action by flicking his talented tongue up and down—somehow managing to find the exact spot on the right side of her clit that had always driven her crazy—Felicity began wailing like one of his African hyenas.

  Victor had hit it just right. And even though he was on the bottom and she was sitting on his face, he had once again managed to retain some sort of dominance over the scene.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God!” she wailed.

  Nothing other than her vibrator or shower head had made Felicity come in years, but instantly she was hovering on the verge. She felt blood rush to her pelvis, and her bulging button felt as big as a strap-on. Fact, if she looked down and held her “landing strip” out of view, she could see Victor working her clit hard. His Iron Man moustache and soul patch added to the exquisite, agonizing teasing, and with one loud-ass “Oh Goddddd,” Felicity exploded.

  It was as though she were being electrified, buzzing against one of those electric horse fences, every muscle and tendon in her body trembling. She stopped breathing as her entire uterus clenched in one giant spasm, waves of ecstatic relief washing down her inner canal, urged on by Victor’s tongue. Once the initial waves of bliss ebbed a bit, she felt that she would choke on her tongue, followed by about twenty, thirty undulating ripples that seized every organ in her abdomen, gripping her entire canal.

  She was drenching poor Victor’s face, washing him in her juices. When his lapping became too rapturous for her to handle, she collapsed alongside him on the bed, flopping like a beached fish, twitching. They both panted heavily. Felicity glanced aside to see Victor wipe his face off with his forearm.

  “Whew,” he remarked.

  Felicity honestly didn’t know what to say. She just lay there sprawled on her back, side by side with Victor, the first man in eight years who had made her come.

  “Whew,” Victor said again, propping himself on his elbow and looking down at her.

  She looked back and smiled. “Untie me.”

  She rolled over, displaying her back to him so he could undo the tie that bound her wrists. “That was fantastic,” she admitted. She never normally discussed any scene that had just occurred. It was part of her Domme personality that she acted as though nothing had transpired. “Do you still want to take me to dinner, though? It seems we’ve put the cart before the horse.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “More than ever.”

  Free at last, Felicity sat upright and again smiled at Victor. She didn’t care that her breasts were sticking out lewdly, supported by the underwire, or that she was making a wet spot on the lodge’s bedspread. She just wanted to be near Victor. She took the tie from him and looked at it. “I think you’d best get a new one from your suitcase.”

  “That’s the only one I have. I wasn’t expecting anything fancy out here at the Triple Play.”

  “Ian probably has more than one.”

  As if on cue, there came the rattling of a key in the room’s doorknob.

  Gasping loudly, Felicity jumped to her feet. Her panties and capri pants were all in one unit on the chair, and she had stepped into them and was just buttoning them when Ian entered the room. He froze, looking from Victor, who smiled like the cat that ate the canary, to Felicity, who held her breath, her eyes wide.

  Ian was no dummy. “Well, well. I see I’m not the only one who needed a little discipline around here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ian hadn’t counted on the overpowering strength of the jealousy that shot through him when he opened the door to his own room.

  That arrogant superhero Dr. Victor Reznik leaned back on his elbows on a bed, his stupid crotch packed with a stupidly bulging hard-on. Ian had obviously caught them about to commit some act, because Felicity was hurriedly buttoning the pants she’d worn when she’d left her suite, and her stupendous boobs were swaying from the shelf of her bra. They jiggled enticingly as she stood erect, her mouth a little O of surprise. Ian fumed. He hadn’t been allowed to see her tits! And Felicity certainly didn’t look like she was disciplining Dr. Reznik! There were no “pervertibles” lying around, just the rumpled necktie Victor held loosely in his hand.

  “What the fuck’s going on around here?” Ian demanded. “I let you share my room, and you go and scam off of my—my—” Ian really couldn’t consider Felicity “his” anything, not really. She was hardly “his” Domme.

  Victor picked right up on this, sitting perkily on the edge of the bed. “Your what, Ian? Miss McQueen is perfectly free to come and go as she wishes.” Saying “come” brought mirth into both Victor’s and Felicity’s faces, and Ian felt his face redden with rage. What exactly had they been doing with no toys, no rope, no vegetables? Victor looked as though he hadn’t even undressed, although his hair stuck out every which way.

  “Yes, Ian,” Felicity said soothingly, remembering to stuff her breasts back into their pink casing. “You and I hardly had an agreement. Could it be that you’re jealous because you wish to join in the play with Victor and me?”

  Victor cocked his head and looked at Ian expectantly. Felicity had hit the nail right on the head. Ian did wish to indulge in a three-way scene with the Dominatrix and the superhero doctor. He had already been envisioning himself in a sandwich between the two sultry lovers. He’d been having that anxious, thrilled feeling that the dashing Dr. Reznik would be the one to breach the gap between fantasy and reality and fulfill his secret desire to make love to another man. He’d missed the boat with Rowan O’Shea, although there had been plenty of horny, drunken nights he could have been bold and made the connection.

  But now that he’d made a fool of himself by making his jealousy known, Ian could hardly admit it. Combing his hair with his fingers, he walked to the window and tried to sound casual. “Of course not! Why would I want to engage in a threesome with another man?” He tried to wrinkle his nose at this concept.

  But Victor was unruffled. He even stood, seemingly unembarrassed by the erection that bulged in his trousers. “Why not? I think that’s a great idea, Felicity.” He had the nerve to put his arm around the Domme’s waist n
ow! What the fuck was going on around here? “You wouldn’t believe how tasty this gal’s pussy is, Ian. Why, can you imagine her in a leopard skin print bikini? Felicity, I have half a mind to find a seamstress here at the lodge who can make you something like that. Would you like that? I think you’d look like a redheaded Bettie Page.”

  “Oh, I’d like that very much,” Felicity said girlishly.

  Ian had no frigging idea who Bettie Page was, but all of this talk was making him hot and bothered. “All I know is, I offer you a bed in my room and you take advantage of my generosity to put your dirty hands all over my play partner, the woman I am supposed to be squiring around! You know, Victor, you can go get your own fucking room somewhere else.”

  Victor looked at Felicity and shrugged. She shrugged, too. “All right,” Victor said amiably. “Shall we go to dinner, Mistress?”

  Felicity took Victor’s arm. “Certainly.”

  This wasn’t how Ian had planned it. “Wait, wait,” he said angrily. “Felicity, your stepbrother came to your door. He said you’re urgently wanted at your sister’s house to Skype with your dad. He’s having a lucid moment and it might not last long.”

  It worked. Already Felicity was releasing Victor’s arm. “Which sister?”

  “Ah, the doctor sister. Sasha, the one who’s marrying Rowan.”

  “Oh! I believe she still lives in one of the cabins, but I have no idea which one. I’m sure that Cass Cameron gal will know. Ian, Victor. I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow. I’m sorry to miss dinner, Victor, but my sisters and father probably need me.”

  Ian was on top of things. “Felicity, let me accompany you—”

  Victor practically stepped on Ian’s shoes in his eagerness to accompany Felicity. “No, let me—”

  At the door, Felicity held up both palms to the men. “I’ll go alone, thank you very much. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she was gone.

  Ian turned angrily on Victor. “What’s the fucking idea, just butting into the good thing I had going?”