Demons Within [For Love of Authority] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Rhiannon Ayers

  Allen moved immediately, without the slightest hesitation, making Tatum’s heart hurt. He’d grown so much, discovered so much of his inner courage, since he and Sidri took him under their protective wings. He could go so much farther, fly so much higher, if he would just trust them to help him fight his demons.

  Well, maybe they could slay one of them today.

  Allen settled on the extended bench in front of Tatum, his back pressed against Tatum’s chest, his thighs echoing the v Tatum’s already made. Tatum wrapped his arms around the smaller man, giving him the shelter of his body while giving him the ability to speak without having to look at him. It was easier, sometimes, to speak to a blank wall than in was to speak to someone face-to-face. If he felt safe enough, he might share some things he wouldn’t have otherwise. When they were both settled, reclining together, Tatum urged Allen to rest his head against his shoulder.

  “Ask the question again,” Tatum said quietly.

  Allen swallowed, his chest rising in Tatum’s hold. Tatum didn’t push, didn’t repeat himself. He just held his lover tenderly, letting him know he was safe.

  Finally, Allen spoke. “I asked why you never ask me for a blow job.”

  Tatum rumbled out a laugh, his cock hardening against Allen’s lower back. Allen squirmed, but Tatum ignored it. “Loaded question, baby. Why do you think I haven’t?”

  Allen sat silently, thinking. He sighed. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  The tips of Allen’s ears turned red. Tatum chuckled, breathing across the earlobe closest to his lips. But he didn’t take things any further, despite his cock screaming at him. He waited.

  Silence reigned for a time, during which Sidri slipped inside with her cooking accoutrements. Tatum was just beginning to think he needed to prod things along, make Allen ask the question again, when the man in his arms took a deep breath.

  “I was sitting there, thinking about things,” he began in a heated whisper. Clearly, by “things” he meant “all the sex we’ve been having.” Tatum bit his lip, glad Allen faced away and couldn’t see his smile of amusement. “And I guess it just popped in my head, that that’s the one thing you haven’t asked me to do yet.”

  “The one thing?” Tatum said with an all-out grin. He laughed. “Oh, honey, you have no idea. We haven’t even scratched the surface.”

  Allen shifted again, making Tatum chuckle. “Jesus,” he said with a sexy groan, “you two are going to fuck me to death.”

  “Damn right,” Tatum rumbled. He let one hand drift down Allen’s stomach, took hold of his growing erection. But he didn’t stroke, didn’t play. Just applied pressure enough to start Allen panting—and keep him focused on the subject at hand, so to speak.

  “Tatum…”

  He squeezed. “We’re in the middle of a conversation,” Tatum replied to the question in Allen’s voice. “Keep talking.”

  “What…were we talking about?” he strangled out breathily.

  “Blow jobs.”

  Allen groaned. “Right. Okay. Jesus…”

  Tatum squeezed again. “If you want to move on to other topics, finish the one you started.”

  “Why?” Allen gasped. “Why…haven’t you asked me for a blow job?”

  Tatum closed his eyes, pressed his lips against Allen’s ear. “Because you don’t want me to.”

  Allen froze. “Say…say what?”

  Tatum gave the cock in his hand a slow stroke. “You set the boundaries, baby,” he reminded Allen gently. “You make the decisions for what’s allowed and what’s not. And you giving me blow jobs is not on the list.”

  Clearly, Allen was taken aback by that. Tatum waited. Finally, the younger man whispered, “How do you know that?”

  Tatum kissed his ear. “We love you, Allen. We only want to bring you pleasure, let you know how much we need you, want you, desire you. And that means taking care of you. Your needs. Your wants. Your desires. Blow jobs—giving them—doesn’t fall onto that list. Therefore, the question will never be asked.”

  “You didn’t answer me,” Allen said. He turned in Tatum’s arms, his brows drawn together in a gorgeous little frown. “Tell me, Tatum. How do you know that? Did I…do something to make you think that?”

  Tatum reached up with his unoccupied hand and smoothed the lines from Allen’s beautiful face. “I know because I love you, baby,” he answered, keeping his expression open and honest. “I know because I can see what turns you on, and what turns you off. I know you.”

  Allen’s chin dropped, his eyes going wide. Just as Tatum had feared, he started to get agitated. Tatum soothed him with gentle strokes on his cock—still hard, thank God—and urged him to turn around again. He kissed the back of Allen’s neck, his shoulder, his ear. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Allen was quiet, refusing to answer. Right then, Sidri joined them, slipping into the water like a nymph. She straddled Allen and Tatum’s thighs, gloriously naked, and rested her hands on Allen’s shoulders. They held their lover between them, anchoring him.

  “Tell us,” Sidri said, her green eyes soft and full of compassion. “Talk to us.”

  Allen swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively. After a long, painful silence, he whispered, “You said…you know me. But you don’t. Not really. There are so many things I haven’t told you, so many things…”

  “That give you nightmares?” Tatum finished for him. He and Sidri exchanged a look over Allen’s head, both aching for him as he winced.

  Sidri cupped his cheek, bringing her body closer. “You can tell us anything,” Sidri breathed, kissing him gently.

  Allen shook visibly now. He swallowed, opened his mouth, shut it again, several times. All they could do was wait—and hope.

  Finally, in a broken, shattered whisper, Allen revealed, “I was a whore.”

  Tatum’s arms closed around the smaller man’s torso as Sidri’s arms wrapped around his neck. They held him, petted him, soothed him, as tears started running down his face. And then, as if a dam inside him burst, Allen started to speak.

  “I ran away. You know that. But I never told you what happened to me. What I had to do to survive.”

  And he told them. About Marcus. About being approached later that same year, when he was starving and filthy and sleeping on a park bench, by a man offering a way to make a little money. About finding himself on his knees, giving blowjobs for twenty dollars a pop. About being offered thousands upon thousands of dollars if he would just offer his ass as well as his mouth. About going cold and hungry because he could not, would not bring himself to do that much.

  His expressive brown eyes met their blue and green ones, one by one. “I tried to tell you, the day you hired me. You said you knew, that it didn’t matter. But it does. God, it does.”

  “No, baby, it does not,” Sidri said with quiet authority. She forced Allen to look at her. “Whatever happened to you, whatever you did, was done to save your life. There is nothing, nothing wrong with doing what you have to do to save yourself. You are so strong, baby, so very, very strong. A lot of people would have been destroyed by the things you went through. But you came out of it, stronger than anyone has any right to be. You survived.”

  “There’s no pride in what I did!” Allen almost yelled, tears running down his cheeks. “No one forced me to run away. No one forced me to live like I did, to do the things I did. People talk about surviving adversity as if it’s noble, as if there’s no chance whatsoever it could be self-inflicted. But the things I went through were all of my own making. The sins I committed…” He trailed off with a sob.

  Sidri met Tatum’s eyes, both of their hearts going out to this man. Tatum wrapped his arms around them both so that Allen was sandwiched between them, completely surrounded. They held him while he cried and shook, held him until some of the soul-deep pain began bleeding out of him with every heart-wrenching sob. Held him until he finally, finally went still, spent.
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  Another shared look, and they knew what they needed to do.

  Sidri cupped Allen’s cheek, brought his face out of hiding. She waited until his gorgeous brown eyes focused on hers before she spoke in a quiet, authoritative voice.

  “If you have sinned, then you must be punished.” Her words were like whip cracks in the evening air. Allen went perfectly, totally still between them. Sidri caressed his jaw, but her expression remained hard and blank.

  “You will go inside,” she said, green eyes completely serious, “and lie in the middle of the bed, on your back. You will put your hands above your head, grip the bottom of the headboard. You will be naked when you lie down. Then you will stay there, in the dark, and wait for Tatum and me to deliver your punishment. Do you understand?”

  Allen shivered violently.

  Sidri tightened her fingers on Allen’s chin, not giving him an inch. “Do you understand?”

  He licked his lips. Swallowed. Then he nodded.

  Sidri stood immediately. Tatum lifted Allen from his lap, helping the man stand and get out of the hot tub, yet making it clear he was going to receive his punishment no matter what. Allen trembled, eyes on the ground as he slowly, slowly walked inside and closed the sliding glass door.

  The moment he was out of sight, Sidri threw herself in Tatum’s arms. They held each other, overcome with emotion. Allen had confided in them. Released one of his demons into their care. If they could pull this off, if they could make him feel as if his punishment made up for the crimes he believed he’d committed, then maybe, maybe, he would have one less nightmare haunting his dreams.

  This had to work. Had to. Because if they couldn’t get Allen to see how special he was, how wonderful he was, how much they loved him, then sooner or later, he would leave.

  And that would kill them both.

  Chapter 19

  They tortured him for over two hours.

  But not with pain. Never with pain. No, something far more sinister, far more devastating to Allen’s peace of mind. Something so powerful, so all-encompassing, that Allen knew if he ever did anything to earn that kind of punishment again, it might very well kill him.

  Orgasm denial.

  He lay in the dark, positioned exactly as Sidri commanded him to be, for maybe twenty minutes before they joined him. His cock was a solid steel bar resting against his abdomen, leaking pre-cum like a sieve. He had no idea, none, why he was so turned on right now. He was about to be punished to help purge some of his sins. He should be frightened, nervous—uncomfortable at the very least. Instead he was so aroused he could barely think.

  The clinical, cynical part of his mind told him this was just another manifestation of his sexual submission. He’d read about it during his internet research sessions. Some submissives enjoyed being punished, craved it, to the point where they would misbehave intentionally just to earn a punishment from their Master or Mistress. But those submissives were usually into pain, into flogging and caning and whipping. The application of pain as punishment helped them let go, release their inner demons and set them free, purged through every fiery lick of a whip. But Allen wasn’t into pain, and neither were his lovers.

  So why was he so turned on by the thought of being punished?

  Then his lovers were there, and he had no more time for introspection.

  Sidri walked in first, her eyes caressing his entire body as she confirmed her orders had been followed to the letter. She walked to the foot of the bed, green eyes shining like emeralds in the darkened room, as Tatum walked in behind her and closed the door. Both were clothed, Sidri in a light summer dress that was completely inappropriate for the season, Tatum in jean shorts and a tight black T-shirt. They both paused, staring at Allen’s naked body with open appreciation yet not addressing him directly, for so long Allen was shaking from the weight of their regard alone.

  Finally, Sidri moved to her bedside table. She opened a draw and removed a strange arrangement of straps and buckles. She wrapped it around her fingers, holding it out for Allen’s appraisal.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  He swallowed, shook his head. Tatum moved to the other side of the bed, still silent.

  “This is a cock harness,” Sidri informed him mildly. She might have been saying, “This is a cup of tea,” with the way her tone stayed so light and disinterested. Allen shivered, and not because he had no idea what was about to happen to him.

  “It wraps around your shaft like so”—she demonstrated with two fingers thrust through an arrangement of loops at one end of the device—“and this strap wraps beneath your balls. These buckles here”—she held them up—“wrap around your thighs to help hold everything in place. And this one here, it wraps around your waist, giving us a place to anchor this.”

  And she held up a butt plug.

  Allen’s chin hit his chest as shock rocketed through him. They hadn’t used toys on him at all so far. There was no need, not when they knew how to play his body so well. He started panting, mouth dry, heart pounding—but not with fear. Arousal curled in his belly, so strong and so overwhelming he almost came right then.

  Sidri, of course, had other plans. She approached the bed, gave him a look that clearly told him not to move a muscle, and slipped the first three loops over his dripping cock. She used his pre-cum to lubricate her way, fingers brushing his erection, but her touch was impersonal. Clinical. While Allen lay there, watching her with mouth open and eyes the size of dinner plates, Sidri buckled straps and cinched everything tight.

  Allen’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when she tightened the last strap. He understood. God help him, he understood. With the straps in place, squeezing the base of his cock and pulling his balls down, he couldn’t come. As long as that devilish contraption strangled his dick, they could do whatever they wanted to him, for as long as they wanted to do it, and he wouldn’t be able to find release.

  Not until they gave him permission.

  He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get enough air. All he could think about were the myriad ways his lovers could use him, take him, fuck him, and all while he kept getting driven higher and higher, with no end in sight.

  His cock was already screaming with the need to come. And they hadn’t even started yet. This was only the beginning.

  “Beautiful,” Tatum said in an awed whisper once Sidri finished with the harness. “You look delectable, Allen, all trussed up and ready to be fucked. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” He waited until Allen met his gaze, raised an eyebrow. “Sins such as you’ve committed deserve a much greater punishment than this, don’t they? Sit up, and get to your knees. Move to the end of the bed and turn around to face the headboard. Kneel, hands behind your back, wrists crossed. Do it now.”

  Allen did it, shaking all the while. The weight of the contraption surrounding his cock dragged everything down, putting additional pressure on his balls, keeping his focus right where they wanted it. His shoulders were heaving like a bellows, his eyes glazed with lust. When he finally knelt at the foot of the bed, he crossed his own wrists at the small of his back—and suddenly felt as if manacles had been cinched on tight, though no such thing existed.

  Tatum approached him, bringing all that devastating sexual heat right up against Allen’s quivering body. But he didn’t touch, didn’t caress, the way he normally did every time he got close enough. His fingers were just as clinical as Sidri’s had been, just as impersonal. He attached the strap Sidri had shown him to a buckle just above his crease, checking the fit with a sharp tug that pulled a grunt from Allen’s chest. Then he ran that strap between Allen’s cheeks, attached it to the strap beneath his balls. When those talented fingers began spreading lube on Allen’s fluttering ring, he closed his eyes with a desperate moan. Tatum worked the butt plug inside him, causing little zings of pleasure throughout his frame. Tatum ignored Allen’s cries, making none of the usual sounds of approval, making it clear he was performing a service, not providing pleasure. It just made A
llen harder, hotter, even more desperate to come. And when the plug slipped all the way inside, when he felt the wide base settle against his ass cheeks, he shouted incoherently.

  Allen blinked, head swimming, and realized Sidri was now on the bed in front of him. She reclined against the headboard like a queen on her throne, her legs spread and her skirt bunched around her hips. She wore satin panties, some pale color Allen couldn’t make out in the dim room. Her eyes were glittering with arousal, the silky fabric covering her mons obviously soaking wet.

  “Did you know we fantasized about you every night these past two years?” She purred in a velvety-soft whisper.

  Allen shivered.

  Tatum moved around the bed, his hot blue eyes fastened on Allen’s cock, displayed so enticingly in that diabolical harness. He crawled up beside Sidri and reclined beside her, his erection clearly outlined against his shorts. “We did,” he confirmed lustily. “Sidri can weave sexual fantasies like no one else on earth. She could make me so hot, so desperate to fuck you, I’d be aching for hours.”

  “We have our favorites, of course,” Sidri said with a sexy little laugh. Allen groaned.

  “Definitely,” Tatum affirmed, licking his lips. “Tell him about the desk.”

  “Mmmm, the desk.” Sidri closed her eyes, a look of unfettered desire on her beautiful visage. “You know your new desk, Allen? That huge, solid mahogany desk we chose specifically for you? There’s a reason we chose one so big, so strong.”

  In sync with each other, Sidri slipped her fingers inside her panties, and Tatum pulled down his zipper and reached inside, obviously taking hold of himself. Allen’s chute pulsed around the toy inside him, his cock aching in the leather loops strangling it. He was trembling, panting uncontrollably. Other than the harness itself, he wasn’t restrained, wasn’t being prevented from moving. But it felt as if velvet-wrapped ropes had been wound around his body from neck to knees, chains of lust locking him in place.

  “The day I bought that desk for you, I told Tatum how I wanted to christen it,” Sidri murmured, her fingers stroking her pussy lips inside her panties. “We’d wait until lunchtime, so there weren’t very many people around. Tatum would invite himself into your office, but make certain the door wasn’t closed all the way. He’d walk up behind you, wrap those big hands of his around your waist, and pull you back against his chest. He’s so big, you see, that no one walking by would be able to see you, standing in front of him. He’d whisper in your ear, so soft and so gentle, saying how gorgeous you looked that day.”