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

by Rhiannon Ayers

  Pure torture.

  Both of them were kneeling on either side of him now, though he’d lost track of who was where. Allen cocked his head, trying to pick out identities based on the sounds they made, but his lovers were being silent just to torture him further. Growling with frustration, Allen opened his mouth, ready to beg to have the blindfold removed.

  Just then, he felt one of them kneel behind him, straddling his calves. Allen had all of two seconds to prepare himself—then a thick, heavy cock was breaching his ass with insistent pressure. He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut despite the blindfold, mouth hanging open as he panted through the pleasure rocketing through his system. The stretch, the burn he loved so fucking much quickly took over his whole universe, inundating him with wave after wave of bliss.

  He was so caught up on the overwhelming sensations powering through him, it wasn’t until he felt Sidri’s hands clamp around his waist, felt his ass cheeks hit her abdomen, that he realized it wasn’t Tatum behind him—it was Sidri wearing a strap-on.

  And the moment he realized it, the moment he pictured the woman he loved wearing a fake cock and using it to penetrate his willing ass, Allen detonated.

  His shout of ecstasy echoed through the room as he shot rope after rope of hot, sticky cum all over the deep-blue carpet. Tatum’s thick, strong fingers clamped around his pulsing erection as the big man murmured his approval, squeezing and pulling and drawing yet more seed boiling up out of Allen’s balls. Head thrown back, muscles rigid, he came for what felt like an eternity, completely overwhelmed.

  But that was only the beginning.

  The moment he started to come down from the euphoric high, Sidri started riding him. She used her fake cock like a consummate pro, taking him to the hilt in long, deep strokes. Allen grunted every time her pelvic bone hit his ass, moaned every time she drew almost all the way out. There was a faint buzzing noise in the air, and after a moment he realized there must be a vibrator inside the strap-on, massaging Sidri’s clit while she fucked him. The thought made him hard again instantly, and he shuddered from head to toe.

  Sidri’s strokes in his ass grew erratic, her fingers digging into his hips. He could hear her panting, breathing hard as she got closer to her orgasm. Desperately wanting to hear her lose control, Allen started rocking backward, driving himself back onto Sidri’s fake cock, hoping the kinetic motion would drive the vibrator harder against her clit. She cried out, hands convulsing against his sides, as she fucked him harder, faster. Finally, at long last, she slammed into him hard, a long, low moan pouring from her throat as she came.

  Allen was shaking all over, rock hard again as she and Tatum switched places. The big man knelt over Allen’s calves just as Sidri had done, his powerful hands drawing Allen back onto his cock in a single, deep thrust. Then, without so much as a pause, he started riding Allen hard and fast, rocking his whole body forward with every penetration. Allen shouted, completely out of control, feeling every stroke from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

  It went on for hours. They switched places as soon as one of them came, completely ignoring Allen’s state of arousal. He went off once in the middle of Tatum’s second ride, again in the middle of Sidri’s third. By now there had to be a huge stain on the carpet, what with the amount of cum that had spilled out of him.

  Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore but the feel of his lovers taking him, using him, owning him. They claimed him, right there on their bedroom floor, made him theirs forever and always. He belonged to them, body and soul. They could fuck him as long as they wanted, as often as they wanted, as many times as they wanted, and he would let them.

  Because he loved them. And they loved him. He knew it now, knew it down to the last atom of his being. He was theirs.

  And they were his.

  Allen was riding the edge of another orgasm when his lovers switched places yet again. Sidri’s hands circled his waist as she slid her fake cock into him, taking him deep. But this time, Tatum didn’t move to the side. Instead, Allen felt the big man lower himself to the floor, felt him slide underneath Allen’s prone form. And just as he was starting to wonder what the hell was going on, Allen felt Tatum take his cock in a one-handed grip and wrap his lips around his cockhead.

  Allen shouted hoarsely. Sidri continued fucking him, snapping her hips in short, sharp strokes that drove him forward, forcing his cock to slide in and out of Tatum’s hot mouth. He was spinning in a sea of overwhelming pleasure, lines of lightning ricocheting around his whole body, so close to going off it felt like his heart was about to explode. Moaning, gasping, Allen reared back a little, ripped the blindfold off his head, and looked around frantically.

  Tatum lay on his back, his body at an angle to Allen’s. The big man was still naked, his knees bent with feet planted flat on the floor. Allen lunged to one side, surprising Sidri as the motion forced the strap-on against her clit. Both of his lovers started to protest, to order him to put the blindfold back on and give himself to them again. And he would. He would.

  But there was something he wanted to do, first.

  Breathing like a bellows, Allen yanked Tatum’s hips closer, watching that hard, hot shaft bob against the larger man’s stomach. Then, without giving either of his lovers time to react, Allen swallowed Tatum’s cock in one long gulp.

  It had been years since he’d felt a dick in his mouth. And never in his life had he done it because he wanted to do it. Yet now, here, with the people he loved more than anything else in the whole world, he wanted it. Wanted to feel Tatum’s soft skin against his tongue. Wanted his pre-cum to coat his throat. Wanted to use lips, teeth, and tongue to drive the bigger man off the edge of sanity, make him shout and moan and come like a geyser. With a happy, blissful, hum, Allen bobbed his head and started sucking for all he was worth.

  His lovers froze, stunned, for all of a minute. Then Sidri started fucking him in earnest, powering into him with such skill the rubber cock seemed part of her. Tatum writhed in Allen’s arms, his hips gyrating against the carpet as he clamped both hands around Allen’s waist and went back to sucking him hungrily. They feasted on each other endlessly, relentlessly, creating a storm of sexual power so intense, so shattering, that when all three of them finally came, it felt as if the house were caught up in an earthquake strong enough to break the world in half.

  Afterward, Tatum and Sidri helped him to the bed, helped him get cleaned up. Then they wrapped themselves around him, surrounding and protecting him from all sides.

  And from that night onward, Allen had no nightmares.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  Allen stood at the head of the reception line, grinning like a loon.

  He was a married man. Granted, the marriage wasn’t legal here in Texas. They’d had to go up to Massachusetts to have the ceremony. And since they’d wanted to keep the event small, they’d only had a few close friends and family join them for the big day. But that was a week ago, and having felt bad about the necessity of limiting the guest list for the main reception, they’d decided to have this secondary get-together here, at the lake house, to allow their other friends and acquaintances to join the festivities.

  Allen still had a hard time believing everything that had happened to him over the last year. So much had changed, it made his head spin whenever he thought about it.

  It also made him grin like he was doing now.

  After his week of being Sidri and Tatum’s personal sex slave, he’d gone back to work, knowing down to the marrow of his bones that he belonged to them—and that he didn’t give a damn who else knew about their relationship. The only people who mattered to him loved him desperately, completely, and without reservation. Balanced against their love, the rest of the world could go fuck themselves.

  He’d walked off the elevator, expecting to find the receptionists staring at him again, but this time couldn’t care less. And he was right, they were staring—but then Tandy rushed around the desk and enfolded hi
m in a fierce hug. Stunned, Allen just stood there, patting her back awkwardly until she pulled back and looked up at him with earnest brown eyes.

  “We’re sorry, Allen,” she said breathlessly. “We’re sorry we were so rude before. We didn’t know how to react—I mean, what do you say to someone who’s been through something like that? ‘I’m sorry’? We didn’t know what to say to you, how to let you know how much we hated what Brock did. Can you forgive us for reacting badly? We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I swear to God, we didn’t mean it.”

  Flabbergasted—that little speech contained more words than Tandy had managed to say to him in the whole time he’d known her—Allen could only nod. She hugged him again, then stepped back, wiping her eyes. “I’m glad you came back,” she said in a watery voice.

  Allen just blinked at her, then turned and walked back toward his office. As he passed through the first room filled with cubicles, he heard a noise—dozens and dozens of chairs, all rolling back at the same time. He stopped in the middle of the room, looking around in bewilderment. People were looking at him over the cubicle walls, every face in the room turned toward him. As he glanced from one to the next, every single person gave him a smile or a nod. Then, while he blushed furiously, they started to clap.

  The applause followed him through every department he walked through. The moment he entered a new area, the people there stopped what they were doing, faced him, and started clapping. He was beet red by the time he reached his office and threw himself inside, embarrassed beyond belief.

  And happier than he ever could have thought possible.

  Work hadn’t been the same after that. Everyone treated him with deep respect, though no mention was ever made of the things they’d learned about him when Brock was trying to destroy his reputation. Every single person in the company acted like he was some sort of hero for having survived such a horrible time in his life, and not one person ever tried to use that knowledge against him. And even after people started noticing his relationship with Sidri and Tatum, no one made any comment or tried to make it into some big scandal. If anything, people seemed to think he was the luckiest person on earth, to have gotten two such amazing people for his lovers.

  If only they knew.

  But that was only one of the changes in his life.

  Buddy had adopted him.

  After calling Buddy to make sure the man was home, Allen had brought his lovers to meet the man who saved his life. Sidri had folded the old man in a fierce hug, tears streaming down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for saving him. We wouldn’t have been able to love him if you hadn’t come along when you did. Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

  Misty-eyed, the old man patted her back affectionately then accepted Tatum’s hug as well. They spent the rest of the day talking and drinking fresh-squeezed lemonade on Buddy’s back porch. It became their regular Sunday routine to visit the old man for a few hours, watching football or just hanging out, shooting the breeze. Then, about six months after they renewed their relationship, Buddy had pulled Allen aside and held up a manila folder.

  “Don’t know how you’re gonna feel about this, son,” he began, shuffling his feet nervously. “Don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. But, I thought, maybe…”

  Allen laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Just spit it out, Buddy. What’s going on?”

  He cleared his throat, flipped the folder open, and pulled out what looked like a hundred sheets of paper, all covered with legalese. He pressed the packet in Allen’s hands and said in a rush, “I want to adopt you. Officially. You need a real name, son. One that you can stand behind, that won’t bring up bad memories.” He paused, swallowed. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”

  Allen just stared at him for a long, tense moment—then he threw his arms around the old man and broke down in tears. His lovers came running, demanding to know what was wrong. And when he told them, they both started crying, too. The four of them stood there, arms around each other, for a long time afterward.

  It took a little doing, but eventually, the papers were legitimized. Now, Allen had a certificate saying his official, legal name was Allen Sorensen. And he’d worn it proudly, like the treasure it was.

  Until, of course, it came time to add another one.

  Allen could still remember that night, three months ago. He’d come home late, having gotten stuck at the office working on a photo shoot for a new client. He’d walked in the house to find the living room and kitchen completely dark, the place totally quiet. Alarmed, he’d called out, dropping his bag on the floor as he raced toward the stairs. But Tatum’s voice, coming from the open French doors behind the dining room, stopped his head-long rush.

  “We’re out here, baby. Come join us.”

  Confused, Allen walked through the living room, out the doors, and stepped out onto the deck. Sidri and Tatum were standing beside the outdoor kitchen, on either side of a small, elaborately decorated table. They’d hung fairy lights everywhere, bathing the space in soft pink light. The table was set for three, with elaborately folded napkins and a bottle of wine chilling in silver bucket in the center. Allen blinked at the display, then looked at his lovers questioningly.

  Tatum cleared his throat, glanced at Sidri, who smiled encouragingly. Then the big man stepped forward, dropped to one knee—and held up a ring.

  “We love you, Allen,” he said in a husky whisper. “We have since the day we met you. And while we wish it were possible for both of us to marry you, unfortunately we can’t. But that doesn’t mean you can’t marry one of us.”

  While Allen just stood there, thunderstruck, Tatum wiped a tear from his cheek and continued. “We talked about it, Sidri and I,” he said quietly, blue eyes shining in the dim light. “And we decided I should ask you. Not because she doesn’t want to marry you, too,” he said hurriedly, his cheeks burning adorably. “She does, I promise. It’s just, well, the guy is usually the one who proposes, and we thought…”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Tatum,” Sidri said, laughing. She met Allen’s bewildered look with a sweet smile. “Allen, baby, don’t pay attention to his bumbling. The two of you need this, plain and simple. I love you both more than life itself, always have. But I’m also the only one of us who has never doubted this was meant to be. This is my gift to the two of you. You both already belong to me. Now you’ll belong to each other as well.”

  Allen’s jaw dropped, and he looked back and forth between his lovers in utter shock. Tatum inched forward, holding up the little box. “So, what do you say, baby? Will you marry me?”

  After a long, tense moment, during which Allen’s heart made a desperate attempt to leap out of his throat, Allen threw himself to his knees, wrapped his arms around Tatum’s neck, and whispered, “Yes. God, yes. A million times yes.”

  And just like that, he was engaged to another man. It still seemed surreal whenever he thought about it. Having grown up determined to hide his sexuality forever and always, here he was getting married to a man instead of a woman.

  Not that Sidri was any less a part of their lives. She was the focus. The center. The general of their small army. Allen hadn’t noticed it at first. Tatum was so big, so vocal, especially during sex, he’d automatically assumed Tatum was the driving force behind all their encounters. But after a while, he started to notice things. Like the way Tatum always glanced at her, always waited for her nod of approval, before giving Allen a command. The way he and Tatum both waited, breathless with anticipation, for every quiet word she spoke. She was the foundation, the bedrock on which their lives were all built. And without her, none of this would ever have been possible.

  And she’d been right, too. Tatum had needed the confirmation of a ring more than she did. Sidri told Allen about some of the things they’d gone through early in their relationships with other men. Told him about how heartbroken Tatum had been when their first love stormed out of their house, calling them both freaks of nature—calling Tatum a
monster clothed in human flesh, a piranha determined to suck the life out of Sidri and whoever happened to love her. About how Tatum had become convinced that he would never be loved for himself, only valued for the length and breadth of his cock in bed.

  It still killed Allen, whenever he thought about that conversation. Tatum was so very male, so very Alpha. For a strong, Dominant man like him to doubt himself, to doubt his ability to be loved, seemed ludicrous. Yet the big man had still had some doubts, still wondered if Allen would someday ask Sidri to get rid of Tatum so the two of them could be alone.

  After hearing that, Allen knew he had to do it. He had to marry Tatum, make the man his, so he would never again question Allen’s love or his right to be in his and Sidri’s bed. So they’d made their plans, hopped on the plane to Boston, and gotten married in a small church just outside the city. It was a beautiful ceremony, with only Sidri’s parents, Tatum’s parents, and Buddy in attendance. But it was one of the very best days of Allen’s life.

  One of many, he hoped, with more yet to come.

  And there was one more thing, one more life-altering event that still sent chills down Allen’s spine whenever he remembered it.

  The night Tatum and Sidri gave him his official tattoo.

  It was their wedding night, after the ceremony. Sidri had rented them a limo to take them back to their opulent hotel room, and Allen had been perusing the minibar delightedly when Tatum suddenly tapped his shoulder. Allen turned, surprised to find his new husband seemed suddenly nervous.

  “I have somewhere else I want to take you tonight,” Tatum said with a quick glance Sidri’s way. “That is, if you still want it.”

  And he gestured out the window. Allen looked, surprised to find the limo stopped in a mostly empty parking lot, pulled right in front of a high-end tattoo shop.

  Tatum cleared his throat, making Allen turn back to him. He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his tuxedo pocket, smoothed it out over his knee. Then he handed it to Allen with a pensive little smile.