“Servant-slave,” A.J. whispered, his lower belly tightening with desire the moment the word left his lips.
Lyss nodded slowly, her eyes trailing over the collar around his neck. A.J. fought the urge to squirm as her gaze traveled down his chest, knowing she was about to get an eyeful of the bulge in the front of his shorts. The part of his brain that lived in the real world knew he should try to hide it, or at least shield himself. But the rest of him, the part that desperately yearned for the BDSM lifestyle, knew he had no right to deny her the sight of his arousal.
Especially if he wanted to honor the letter of the slave contract he’d just claimed he wanted. By the terms of that contract, A.J.’s body would belong to them, to do with as they would. Which meant that Lyss had the right to see him, no matter what state his body might be in. The best way to prove his sincerity, to prove his desire to give them ownership, was to act as if the contract were already in effect.
So he didn’t move, didn’t try to cover himself, when Lyss’s hazel eyes drifted downward. Except for the blush that darkened his cheeks, a reaction he couldn’t have controlled even if he wanted to, he didn’t react. He simply waited for his Lady to finish her perusal of her new property, all the while hoping she wouldn’t find him lacking.
Was he being submissive enough? He knelt the way Austin had taught him, knees spread wide with his hands behind his back, so his whole body was exposed. He wore the collar and his boxers, just as he had during the auction. Should he have stripped naked? Perhaps. He still wore the Club S cuffs. While playing with them earlier, he’d discovered that the stylized S’s were situated inside a little track embedded in each cuff, so they could be slid to either side or adjusted as needed. There were also a series of little clasps and hinges that he couldn’t quite figure out, but which lead him to believe the individuals curls were moveable. He’d also discovered—quite by accident—that the metal rings weren’t steel, but magnets that had been painted to look like shiny metal. The thought of what could be done with those cuffs—the variety of ways they could be used to restrain a submissive—gave him a hard-on so bad, it had taken him an hour just to talk it down.
Ripping his thoughts away from that memory, A.J. licked his lips and tried to calm himself.
Good luck with that, Johannes.
Ryder had moved toward the dining table, where the contract sat waiting for their signatures. The playroom was a large space, divided into four distinctive sectors—a dining area complete with a table, sideboard, and four chairs, a sitting area with two loveseats and a sofa with an attached divan, a bedroom area with a large four-poster bed, and a play area with a variety of BDSM equipment, including a massive wooden St. Andrew’s Cross right in the middle. Since he found himself blushing furiously every time he looked that direction, A.J. kept his focus on his soon-to-be lovers, waiting for them to make the next move.
Fortunately, they didn’t keep him waiting for long. “You said you chose the servant-slave contract,” Lyss said.
Since it wasn’t a question, A.J. said nothing.
“Did you read it through carefully?” Ryder asked, coming over to stand beside his wife. He had the contract in his hand.
A.J. nodded.
“And do you agree that the terms adhere to the safe, sane, and consensual credo of the BDSM lifestyle?” she asked. When A.J. nodded again, she smiled. “Very well. Tell us what being a servant-slave means to you.”
He blinked, swallowing hard as he looked back and forth between them. Then he looked down at their feet, embarrassment making his voice high and strained. “I know I haven’t been…in the lifestyle as long as the two of you. And I know…there’s a lot I need to learn.” He paused, swallowed again. “I don’t know all of the terms, or…”
“Stop.”
Lyss’s command was jarring enough to make A.J. look up in surprise. She captured his chin, forcing him to look at her when he tried to look down again, keeping eye contact. “This isn’t a test, A.J. There are no right or wrong answers here. We need to know what being a servant-slave means to you. Not the textbook definition.”
Ryder held up the contract. “This is just a piece of paper. One rip, and it becomes meaningless. But even if I don’t tear it apart, it only has as much power as we choose to give it.”
Ryder walked back over to the dining area and set the contract down on the sideboard. Then he picked up two chairs and brought them over to where A.J. still knelt, setting them both down in front of him. They both sat, Lyss with her legs crossed, Ryder with his feet planted wide apart.
“This is the negotiation phase,” Ryder said. “This is where you tell us your wants and needs, A.J. So, tell us what being a servant-slave means to you. Only then will we discuss the contract.”
A.J. found himself trembling, his fists balled so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. But it wasn’t fear. Anticipation had sweat breaking out on his forehead and pooling at the small of his back. To actually say the things he wanted out loud, to give them voice, give them credence, set his body on high alert. Could he truly do this? Say what he really, truly needed? Out loud?
“I…I want…I need…”
Lyss pinned him with a stern look. “Say it, A.J. No judgment, no censure, and no embarrassment. From this moment forward, between the three of us, there are no barriers. Understand me?”
He stared at her, feeling like he had an earthquake going off inside him. The pressure built, and built, and built some more…until the walls came crashing down and the words poured out without hope of stopping them.
“I want you to own me,” A.J. said in a hoarse, breathless whisper. “I want to be possessed by you. I want you to treat me like your property. I want you to use me like a sex toy, use my body for your own pleasure, without regard for my own. I want you to…to make me do things. Things I wouldn’t do unless you told me to.”
He gulped, looking at Lyss. “Like the other night, at the restaurant. Your hand was on my thigh. I wanted you to unzip me, take me out, play with me. I wanted to know that other people might see what you were doing to me, and to know that you didn’t care if they saw. I wanted you to play with me in public…just because you could. Because I belong to you. Because you have every right to play with me, touch me, however and whenever you want, even if it might get us in trouble or embarrass me. God, I know it sounds crazy, but I wanted the…the thrill of possible discovery.”
“It doesn’t sound crazy,” Lyss admonished him. Her eyes were flashing, a deep blush staining her cheeks and neck. “It sounds incredibly erotic. What else, A.J.?”
A.J. swallowed, turning his attention toward Ryder. “I wanted…when we were at Street Smartz. The times you were…when you were kissing me. I wanted you to…to bend me over that desk. Amber’s desk. I wanted you to get so turned on that you couldn’t stop yourself. I wanted you to fuck me right there, knowing Amber and Maddox might walk in at any time. I wanted you to take me, use me, right there in their office. Because you could. Because I belonged to you. And because you wanted to.”
Ryder gave him a slow, predatory smile. “I thought about it, A.J. Every single time, I thought about doing just that.”
A.J. suppressed a shudder as the words kept spilling out. “I want…I just want…to be yours. To be owned by you. And…I want to serve you. Both of you. I want…” He trailed off, closing his eyes briefly. But he couldn’t hide anymore, not now, so he opened them again.
“I want…to be your servant. To take care of your needs. To just…be there for you.” He met Lyss’s eyes and continued fervently, “I want to take care of you, Lyss. I want to have dinner ready for you when you get home after your horribly long shifts. I want to wait on you, bring you things, like wine and chocolate and whatever else you need to feel happy. I want to have hot bubble baths waiting for you, so you can relax after a long day. I want to give you massages, wash your hair, brush it out for you afterward. I want to carry you to bed, help you get to sleep, and then kneel by your feet until you wake up again
.”
His voice dropped as he said, “And I want to take care of your body. Give you orgasm after orgasm after orgasm to help you feel good. I want you to use me to get yourself off. I want to know my body is your property, to use whenever you wish, however you wish. Whether that’s on my feet, waiting on your every need, or lying on my back while you ride me until you come.”
Lyss let out a little moan, but A.J. wasn’t finished. He shifted he gaze toward Ryder. “I want you to take your aggression out on me. I want you to wrestle me to the ground, overpower me, make me do things to you and for you. Whenever, however, wherever you please. I want you to fuck me because you can, because I’m your property. I want you to use me, Ryder. I want you to possess me. To make me your slave.”
“A.J.…” Ryder began.
But he still wasn’t finished. “For you, Ryder, I just want to be…whatever you need me to be. I want to take care of Lyss because she belongs to you, and it’s my job to take care of what belongs to you. I want to be your rock, the person you can always rely on. I want to be the one to take your stress away, help you get through the hard times that come from being a cop. I want to do whatever I can, however I can, as often as I can, everything that can be done to make your life easier.”
“A.J.…”
A.J. slid forward on his knees, pleading. “I know I fucked up before, okay? I know I made a mess of things when I let my fear win. But I’m not that kid anymore. I know what I want, now. And I want to do everything in my power to make it up to you, to prove that you can trust me, Ryder. Please, give me this chance.”
He pivoted slightly so he could include Lyss in his plea, looking back and forth between them as he spoke. “Both of you, please…just give me this chance. Give me these three days to prove my submission to you. Three days. Then, afterward, you can release me. Just…”
Ryder stood up, towering over A.J., and yanked A.J.’s head back with a fistful of the hair on the back of his head. A.J. groaned as that sharp bite of pain rippled through his whole body, making his cock jump, and stared into Ryder’s fiery golden eyes.
“Enough. We will consider the three-day contract…with one stipulation.”
A.J. swallowed through a suddenly-dry throat, but couldn’t do anything else. Oh, God, had he fucked up already? Had he said something wrong? Were they about to back out of this whole deal? Oh God…
Lyss stood beside her husband, reaching down to caress the vulnerable column of A.J.’s throat, fingers lingering on the collar around his neck. “We will consider the three-day contract,” Lyss reiterated. “But, you must be open to an extension, A.J.”
A.J. blinked, stunned, as Ryder nodded. “If we decide to keep you after three days,” he said with a wicked little smile, “you must be willing to extend the contract. Indefinitely. Understand?”
A.J. couldn’t breathe. Dare he hope? Dare he even dream of being with them past the three days stipulated for the auction? Dare he think that far ahead?
“Do we have a deal?” Lyss purred, still tracing the top edge of the collar. Goose bumps followed wherever she touched, making his skin buzz. “Three days, with the possibility of an indefinite extension. Do you agree to that amendment to the contract, A.J.?”
Did he? Could he?
How could he not? This was his dream. His dream come true.
“Yes,” A.J. whispered, feeling giddy all of a sudden. “God, yes. Please. Keep me. Own me. Use me. I’m yours, body and soul. Please.”
Silence.
Then Ryder said, “Choose a safe word, A.J.”
He shuddered. “Tyler. My safe word…is Tyler.”
Ryder’s eyes immediately softened, and he turned his grip at the back of A.J.’s head into a comforting caress. “Then it’s settled. From this night forward, you belong to us. In private, you will address us as Sir and Lady. There will be other rules, but we can discuss those later. Actually, there’s a lot we still need to go over. But, for tonight, we’ll stick with the basics. One last time, A.J. Do you agree to the terms of the contract? Do you choose, of your own will, to become our servant-slave?”
He nodded immediately, his inner earthquake growing to epic proportions as Ryder’s words began to sink in. Then he remembered his most recent command and whispered, “Yes, Sir. Yes, Lady. I accept the contract. I’m yours.”
Ryder drew A.J. to his feet, and the three of them approached the sideboard. Lyss slid the contract toward her, accepting the pen Ryder gave her—he must have had one in his pocket—with a triumphant smile. She signed her name, then handed the pen to Ryder, who signed his. When Ryder turned and offered the pen to A.J., he immediately dropped to his knees and, with reverence making his hands shake, signed his name to the contract that would make him a servant-slave to the two people he cared about more than anyone else on earth. When he finished, his Sir and Lady helped him rise again.
Lyss smiled, and there was a decidedly predatory gleam in her eyes. “Very good. Very, very good.” She looked up at Ryder. “Shall we begin here? Or are we taking him home right away?”
“Why waste our reservation?” Ryder said with a chuckle. “There are so many things we can do to him in this room. So many possibilities.”
A.J. shivered.
Lyss grinned hugely. “Excellent. I know where I’d like to begin.”
“Me, too,” Ryder said. He looked down at A.J., amber eyes glowing with anticipation. “We’ll order dinner first. A celebration feast, if you will. Do you remember how to get down to the front reception desk?”
He nodded.
“Good. Go down there and order a lover’s feast for the temple room. You are not to speak to anyone but the receptionist. Not even the people you happen to know. Now, let’s see those cuffs.”
A.J. immediately presented his wrists for Ryder’s inspection. Ryder took hold of the left cuff and did something with the stylized S, pulling it out and forward so that it now formed an open hook that protruded about two inches out from the metal. He twisted the hook around until A.J. heard and felt a snick, as if it locked into place. Then he took A.J.’s other wrist, brought them together, and latched the hook into the S on the other cuff, effectively turning them into manacles.
Or handcuffs.
Ryder looked up, grinning at A.J.’s bemused expression. “That’s to let folks know that you’re a claimed slave, sent on an errand. Most will know not to approach you just from that, but just to make sure…”
He pulled something out of his pocket, a small piece of black metal, and held it up for A.J. to see. It was a lock. A stylized, medieval lock, similar to the one he’d seen in their photo in the club booklet. While A.J. trembled, Ryder attached the lock to the ring on A.J.’s collar, letting it rest in the hollow of his throat. The metal was cold, and heavy, and absolutely impossible to ignore.
“There,” Ryder said, sounding truly satisfied. “Now, head straight for the front desk. Come straight back after you place our order. And do not speak to anyone along the way. Go.”
“Yes, Sir,” A.J. heard himself say, already bowing in acquiescence. He headed for the door, pausing for a heartbeat before opening it. He was still in his boxers. Still mostly-naked. Should he put some pants on? But, no, Ryder hadn’t mentioned wanting A.J. to cover himself. Without a direct order, it was safer to assume he should go as-is.
Which meant anyone lingering in the club’s hallways would see him walking around half-naked. The thought should have embarrassed him. Instead, he found his hard-on twitching with anticipation. All those eyes on him, yet no one would touch him because he was a claimed slave. He had owners. They could look all they wanted, but A.J. belonged to his Sir and Lady. They had no right to touch someone else’s property. He was owned. Protected.
That bracing thought in mind, A.J. opened the door and strode out.
Fortunately, this floor of the club was relatively private. The space was divided into individual private rooms. It looked like an opulent hotel hallway, with doors spaced along each wall and soothing paintings on
the walls. Each door had a plaque depicting the Club S emblem hanging from a hook near the top. He’d been told that if the plaque hung on the wall beside the door, then the room was open and could be reserved. If the plaque hung facing outward on the door, then the room was occupied, and the occupants didn’t want to be disturbed. And if the plaque hung on the door, but with the plaque reversed so that the blank back of it faced outward, then the room was occupied, but those inside wouldn’t object to visitors. The thought made his lower belly tighten.
Swallowing hard, A.J. made his way down the hallway, trying to ignore the plaques, since temptation might make him want to peek into those rooms that welcomed visitors. He made it to the stairs at the end of the hall without seeing anyone, which helped steel his confidence. But as he reached for the push-bar on the door that would take him out into the main lobby, the door opened itself.
Austin stood there, still dressed in his fancy suit, and the expression on his face said he’d found the person he’d been looking for.
“I was coming to check on you, A.J. Are you all right? Is everything okay?”
Shit. Ryder had given him an order not to talk to anyone. Thinking fast, A.J. looked down and to one side, holding his wrists up so that Austin could see the cuffs more easily. He also puffed up his chest, hoping the other man would also notice the lock that had been attached to his collar. Eyes on the carpet near Austin’s feet, A.J. waited.
“I see,” Austin said after a tense moment. “They claimed you. Good. I take it you’re on an errand? Never mind, of course you are. I’ll let you get back to it. But, A.J.?” He paused, so A.J. flicked his gaze toward the other man without raising his head. Austin sighed but kept going. “If anything happens, you know where to find me. I’m happy for the three of you. I truly am. But I wanted you to know that I’m still here for you. Always.”
Saints United [For Love of Authority 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 19
