Enlightened [Sexual Magic 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Jennifer August

  She looked over her shoulder at him and licked her lips, then slowly snugged herself even closer to the wood.

  He patted her butt in approval, and then they attached the cuffs to her ankles. He took both floggers Mason handed him. He dropped the horsehair one to the floor. He would use that later knowing it was best to get her endorphins going with the leather flogger first. He walked around the cross until he faced her. Sliding the leather throngs through his fingers, Griff studied her intently. “I will stop for only two reasons.”

  She winced. “Which reasons would those be, Sir?”

  “If you use your safe word.”

  She shook her head empathically, a move he was expecting and one that hitched his lust even higher. Emma’s determination to take his whip turned him on to no end.

  “Or if I draw blood.”

  Her pupils dilated with that information, her pretty lips pursing into a moue of surprise. “All right.”

  He chucked her under the chin with the whip, letting the straps sway over her tits. “I wasn’t asking permission, little slut.”

  With that, he strode behind her. “Mason, stand in front of her. Give her a show by stroking your cock.”

  Mason nodded and took his position in front of Emma. Through the X of the cross, he could see his partner, hard dick in hand and passion on his face. “Ah, like the sight of me playing with myself, do you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  “Hm. Excellent.”

  Griff drew the flogger back and let it rain down on her back with much less force than he figured she was anticipating. The slap and thud of the leather against her silken shoulders went right to his cock.

  He struck her again, gauging her reactions. He met Mason’s gaze and a sudden wash of lust burst through him. Oh, hell yeah, she was enjoying it.

  Griff picked up the pace. He walked in a small arc behind her, using a criss-cross overhand motion as he whipped her. The blows were still light, designed to draw the blood to the surface and sensitize the skin.

  Her butt undulated as if she sought out the leather throngs, and he applied more pressure while increasing the speed.

  Emma began to gasp and moan with each blow. Mason’s face was a mask of concentrated desire, and his hand continued its slow path up and down his cock.

  Griff’s balls tightened in response. God, how he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to slam his dick so far into her tight pussy that she felt him in her throat.

  He growled at the savage image and increased the blows once more.

  Her small oohs and ahs titillated him, pushed him to continue. He gave her four very hard slashes to the ass, pinkening it up nicely, then stilled. His chest heaved, and he was covered in a sheen of sweat.

  She twisted her head to the side. “Sir?”

  Griff bent and picked up the horsehair flogger. “You’re not bleeding, slut, and you didn’t say your safe word. This one is going to be more painful. It’s horsehair.” He slapped at her spine, the backs of her thighs, scored her calves. She danced on the cross, murmurs of delight and pain emitting from her.

  Another burn of need burst through him. He looked at Mason. His cock was purple and as hard as he’d ever seen it.

  He lifted a brow. Mason might be dominant over Emma, but he bowed to Griff. “Yes?” Griff asked silkily.

  He began to whip Emma again. He started with slow, almost gentle strokes, building her back up.

  Mason matched the speed of his blows, eyes still focused on Griff. “Please, Sir, may I come?”

  “No.”

  “Fuck,” Mason said on a long moan.

  “Keep that cock hard and hot and in your hand.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The air in the room burned bright and hot at the words, and Griff chuckled as he moved outside the arc and lashed at Emma’s waist and tits. “You like hearing him say that to me, don’t you, little slut?”

  “Oh, yes, Sir.”

  He moved to the other side, slapping harder and harder. Her skin had to be on fire by now. Her entire body was flushed a deep red, and she bore more than a few marks from the flogger’s bite.

  Griff stepped around until her long, lean back faced him. He gripped the flogger loosely in his hand and drew in a deep breath. The next few minutes would make or break her.

  And him.

  He drew his arm back and began a flurry of hard blows that rained up and down her entire body, from her shoulders to the soles of her feet when she rose on tiptoe.

  Emma thrashed and wailed in her bonds. Great, gulping cries tore from her throat, but he didn’t stop. Below the noise of her pain, he caught and held the exhilaration she felt. Her entire system was on lust overload, and she was soaking it in.

  “More, Sir, more. Whip me more, please.”

  Her pleading litany tore at him, pleased him, aroused him.

  “Fuck,” Mason gasped. “She’s a whip bitch.” His hand blurred as he stroked his cock. He moved closer, arched his hips, and groaned as he came, spewing all over her tits and the cross.

  “Yes,” she screamed. “Whip me! Coat me in your cum. Oh God, do it. Use me, Sirs. Use this slut!”

  The desire suddenly rose higher and higher, screaming toward a peak that Griff recognized. She was approaching orgasm, and when she came, her crash would be epic.

  Bracing himself, he redoubled his blows and counted six before she stiffened backward, jerking hard against the cross and screaming at the top of her lungs as she came.

  The orgasm was powerful and seared through him like the blows he’d just been raining down on Emma. It set off his own climax. Griff gripped his dick and sprayed cum over her pink and streaked back and ass.

  She yelped and bucked at her bonds, unintelligible mutterings and moans escaping from her. He stood close behind, hands on her hips as she continued to jerk and thrash.

  “Mason, get those damn clamps off her,” he shouted.

  Emma’s emotions were as wild and turbulent as the Black Sea as she broke from subspace and crashed back to reality. He was already fumbling at the cuffs to free her when she started to shake.

  Mason worked her ankle cuffs, releasing them just as she pitched backward, thudding into Griff’s chest with a wet splat.

  “Get a towel,” Griff murmured. He turned Emma around in his arms and cuddled her close. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.”

  She stared up at him, her green eyes glazed and uncomprehending. Her shaking grew worse, and then two fat tears fought free and rolled down her cheeks. Her teeth began to chatter.

  “Easy, easy, Emma.”

  Mason swiped at her back with the towel then her belly. His big hand nudged Griff’s cock as he cleaned him off, too. Griff was sure the touch was deliberate.

  “Let’s get her to the couch,” Griff said and swung her into his arms.

  She was as limp and pliable as a rag doll.

  He watched her blank face with worry as he strode down the hall toward the living room. “God damn it,” he muttered.

  Still holding her trembling body close, he sank onto the couch. Mason grabbed the burnt-orange throw, dropped next to him, and swaddled the three of them beneath it.

  He stroked her hair while Griff rubbed her tummy, her flank, anywhere he could find to settle her shaking.

  More tears rolled down her face, and she sniffled once. Twice. Then she burst into huge sobs that tore at his heart even as her wild emotions wrapped their way through him.

  Absurdly, tears burned his own eyes, and he blinked rapidly.

  Mason lifted a trembling hand and cupped his neck, squeezing lightly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Griff said and swallowed. “Intense, that’s all.”

  “No shit.”

  Griff shifted Emma in his arms and brushed a kiss over her forehead, murmuring soft, nonsensical words to her as Mason rubbed her shoulders and neck.

  The minutes stretched out, but gradually her cries lessened, her body lost its stiffness, and her eyes started to regain their familiar
gleam.

  She sniffled once more, lifted her palm and cupped his cheek, then reached out for Mason.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Mason smoothed his knuckle over her jaw. “I came all over you.”

  They all laughed, and she relaxed into Griff’s arms, snuggling beneath his chin. “That was amazing. I felt so alive, so energized.”

  He cuddled her close, inhaling the sweet scent of her arousal and feminine sweat. Glorious. “You took it so well, sweetheart. I’m very proud of you.”

  She blushed and burrowed closer, turning her face almost into his armpit. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I was watching your face as he whipped you, Emma,” Mason said.

  She lifted her head, eyes bright with curiosity. A tingle zipped over Griff’s skin, and he realized her lust was rekindling.

  It was too soon. Wasn’t it?

  His cock stirred beneath her soft form, and she darted a knowing look in his direction.

  “What did you see?” she asked.

  “You on fire and enjoying it. Every time the flogger came down, connected with your skin, wrapped itself against your body, you quivered and pure ecstasy flooded your face. How many times did you come?”

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t know. It felt like I never stopped coming, to tell you the truth.”

  Griff squeezed her arm, and she glanced up at him, guilt already covering her face. “Did you have permission to come?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “It’s an infraction, and apparently whipping you isn’t a good choice to discipline you.”

  Mason leaned closer. “She really didn’t like the TENS unit.”

  Griff noted the subtle tension in her shoulders, but her sweet face remained neutral. “What are you suggesting?”

  Mason’s grin was dark and feral, which took Griff by surprise. His partner was usually very easygoing. More often than not, he was all for waving away discipline for subs. It was one reason he made a better submissive than Dom himself.

  “Emma, go to the bedroom and clean up. I suggest a warm bath with lavender oil.”

  She nodded and slid off Griff’s lap. He missed her warmth immediately.

  “Leave the door unlocked,” Mason added.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She gave them a soft little smile before leaving the room.

  Griff stared at Mason, one brow lifted. “What was all that about?”

  “She’s experienced several highs with us, Griff,” he said, tone serious, face drawn. “She has yet to endure anything truly distasteful to her. A real punishment.”

  “We didn’t know she was going to be such a whip slut,” Griff felt compelled to point out.

  “Agreed. She asked us to step it up. I definitely think we should. Both in the pleasure and the punishment realm.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Mason’s lips lifted in a dark, ominous grin. “A little violet wand and a bit of figging.”

  Griff eyed him with both approval and shock. “You have a devious mind, Mace. I like it.”

  His friend rose and stretched, his lean torso popping with the motion. Griff ran his finger down the ripples of his taut abdomen before snapping sharply along his flaccid dick. Mason jumped back.

  “You do realize you came without permission, too, don’t you?”

  Mason scowled. “I was not in that scene as a sub, Griff,” he argued.

  “We’ll see. I bet the minx would enjoy watching you being punished right along with her.”

  His mouth pursed, and a familiar, devilish glint appeared in his eyes. “Hm. Maybe.” His gaze turned intense. “She fits, doesn’t she, Griff?”

  His gut tightened, and he swallowed his automatic denial. Mason was right. She did fit. But it didn’t matter. She was a job, nothing more.

  Bullshit.

  He shoved away the small inner voice. “Not now, Mace.”

  Mace shoved a hand through his hair. “Cut the crap, man. Emma is a great girl. She’s smart and spunky and holy-fuck submissive. She fits us perfectly.” He moved between Griff’s legs, shoving aside the blanket. “I went to Pleasure Isles looking for fun and release. I didn’t find either of those things. Instead, I realized superficial isn’t what I want.”

  Confusion wrapped with dawning acceptance ran through Griff. He cupped Mason’s lean flank. “What do you want?”

  “A family.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath as panic assailed him. Family had been his ex-wife’s other big reason for leaving. She didn’t want his kid because she didn’t want to ruin her body.

  It did not help his equilibrium that the image of Emma, sweet and swollen with their child, formed easily in his mind. He swallowed hard and patted Mason’s ass.

  “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

  Mace shook his head. “Not about this, Griff. It’s important. She’s important to us. I can feel the connection. Hell, even when we had the connection turned off she managed to blast right through. I know you felt it.”

  “Yeah, I did,” he murmured quietly. “But it’s complicated.”

  Mason stared down at him for a long, quiet moment. His hands fisted at his side, and a muscle pulsed in his jaw. Finally, he relaxed and the normal congenial expression returned to his face. “All right. We’ll shelve the discussion. For now.” He moved back.

  Relieved, Griff also stood. “I’ll go make sure the wand is ready. Want to peel the ginger?”

  “Sure.”

  Griff waited until Mason reached the doorway to the kitchen. “Mace?”

  He turned. “Yeah?”

  “Peel two.”

  Chapter Nine

  The water swirled noisily down the drain as Emma patted herself dry. Her entire body still tingled from the flogging. Her mind, thankfully, no longer felt like it was wrapped in layers of wool.

  So, that was full-blown subspace. It was a pretty damn interesting place.

  Emma snorted as she hung the towel over the curtain rod. “Admit it, girl, you can’t wait to get back there.”

  As Griff whipped her and Mason masturbated in front of her, she’d realized all her senses were wide open and on full alert. The sharp scent of male sweat coupled with arousal swept up her nose. Each lash of the flogger, each strand as they laid into her body, became more and more pronounced. Even now, she could still feel the grain of the wood pressed into her pelvis, ground against her pussy.

  She shuddered.

  When her brain blanked and only sensation remained, the high had been incredible. Her orgasms, of which she was sure there were dozens, had piled onto each other, culminating in a burst of wild explosion that wiped her out entirely.

  She barely remembered Griff scooping her up or taking her to the living room. Emma reached for the companion bottle of lavender lotion she’d found and slathered her thighs, belly, and butt with it.

  When she did resurface, it was to the comfort and security of being surrounded by Mason and Griff. She could not recall a time when she’d felt so safe and cherished.

  Capping the bottle, Emma stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes glinted wildly, and her skin bore the blush of excitement. She knew if she were to dip a finger into her pussy, she’d come away drenched.

  She was ready for more experiences, more learning. She was eager game for whatever they wished to throw at her. She was game for it all.

  “Knock, knock,” Mason said cheerfully from the partially opened doorway.

  She tugged the door open and dipped her head. “Hi,” she said, suddenly shy.

  He tipped her chin up. “Hi yourself. Feel better?”

  “Yes.”

  He clucked his tongue. “Good, let’s go.”

  She trailed him through the hallway in what was becoming a familiar trek. Her gaze found its way down to his perfectly muscled ass, watched the play of his skin as he walked.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  “Definitely.”

  H
e laughed and opened the door to the play room and motioned her inside. As she crested the entry, he caught her arm. “Pay attention to what is about to happen, Emma. You’ve earned it, and it’s a necessary component of your training, the lifestyle in general. But embrace it.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  He didn’t answer, just released her arm and patted her butt, propelling her inside.

  Griff stood at the sideboard where a small bowl covered with cheesecloth rested. His arms were crossed, and he had a harsh, foreboding expression on his face.

  She gulped.

  Somehow, she didn’t think this session was going to be nearly as fun as the previous ones.

  Damn.

  He lifted a brow and looked down at the carpet in front of him.

  She hustled toward him, dropping into position, careful to keep her gaze lowered, hoping her bent head was a sufficient show of submission and earned her a bit of mercy.

  Mason’s warmth invaded the space behind her. A chilled, thin, hard object nestled along her butt. It felt like a ruler or something. While she really wanted to turn her head and check it out, she knew that would garner her even more trouble which was something she did not need right now.

  “So, little slut,” Griff said. “I want you to give me an estimate. How many times did you come without permission?”

  Her tummy tightened. Yeah, this was going to suck and not in the good, balls-against-her-chin kind of way. Her mind raced back to the flogging, and she honestly could not come up with a number. She’d been in a maelstrom of ecstasy. Counting climaxes had not occurred to her. She peeked up at him.

  “Uh, ten, Sir?”

  Mason slapped her ass with the ruler thing. She jumped and did look behind her this time. The wooden rod was long, thin, and stung like hell. “What is that?”

  “It’s called a Schoolmaster’s Cane. Eyes front, mouth shut.”

  Caning was bad. It was painful. Why had she mentioned it? She’d read and watched a lot of videos about it. She swiveled back to position, heart pounding so loudly she missed Griff’s question, catching only the last bit.