Micah's Calling

by Donya Lynne

  Jesus!

  "Now, if you move, you will be cut," Micah said, holding the knife steadily against his Adam's apple. "Do you understand?"

  "Y-Yes, Master."

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! What was Micah doing? What was about to happen? Panic crept into his muscles, but he was helpless. Utterly helpless, bound as he was.

  The violet wand crackled once more, zapping his thigh. Trace clenched, but didn't move, feeling the pressure of the knife.

  Relax, Trace. Relax.

  The violent wand hit him again, higher. Then again on his hip after a short pause. And again an inch higher up.

  The pain was near excruciating, but he couldn't move. If he moved, the knife would slice into his throat.

  Zap! Zap!

  Micah was relentless with the wand, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of sanity. The knife, the wand, the pain, the fear, the panic!

  Zap!

  Holy Mother of God! He couldn't take much more. Micah needed to stop. He needed to give Trace a break, for God's sake!

  The wand crackled his skin again, near his cock.

  And still Trace remained still. Every muscle in his body was clenched and quivering for movement, but Trace denied his natural impulse to cry out and escape the pain.

  Zap!

  The wand struck his cock, and that was it. Trace was about to lose consciousness.

  "Red!" He hated using his safe word. This hadn't been the first time he had done so, but he had never used it so soon in a scene. Never. And within minutes, Micah had taken him to the edge.

  Immediately, the knife was withdrawn from his neck and the violet wand stopped zapping him. The blindfold was removed and Trace blinked up in horror at Micah, who was simply smiling down at him.

  Then he held up a credit card. "Not a knife." He said. "American Express."

  He looked down and saw the knife on the floor. "You mean…?"

  "Mindfuck. I never had the knife at your neck. It was my credit card."

  Trace glanced at the onlookers. Many looked as flabbergasted as he felt. When he hazarded a look toward his mistress, she seemed awestruck. Probably because she was shocked he had used his safe word.

  Granted, part of the reason he felt he needed to stop the scene was because he wasn't sure what Micah was capable of. Knowing his reputation and experiencing his abilities first-hand were two very separate things, and there had been too many unknowns at work here tonight for him to continue on. But Damn! Micah was good.

  Fuck me! That was hot.

  As Micah quickly untied him, Trace looked down. His cock was positively straining for release. But this scene was over. He'd used his safe word. He wasn't coming tonight…well, at least not out here in front of the crowd.

  The audience that had gathered began murmuring, and several leaned in to compliment Micah before wandering off. Sam stood in the back hugging herself, concern on her face.

  "Diamond, can I have a moment with him? Alone somewhere?" Micah said to Mistress Diamond. "I want to make sure he's okay."

  "Of course."

  A good dom always tended to his or her submissive after a scene. But Trace had a feeling Micah also wanted to talk to him on a more personal level about what had just gone down.

  Micah helped him up and turned toward Sam. "Sam, join us?"

  Sam pressed the fingers of her right hand to her throat as her left arm hugged her waist, but she immediately nodded.

  With his mistress in front of him and Micah and Sam behind, they slipped into the back room where he had stashed his clothes along with his mistress's things.

  "Here you go," Diamond said. "I'll be back in the playroom cleaning up." She left and closed the door, leaving the three of them in silence.

  For a couple of minutes, no one said a word, and then Micah shut off the light and nodded toward his boner.

  "You need to take care of that?"

  Trace immediately glanced toward Sam, who modestly looked away, trying to give him the impression she hadn't been staring. Nothing like pointing out the pink, polka-dotted elephant in the room to draw everyone's attention to it. He looked down at his hard-as-a-rock cock and nodded, feeling his face heat as he glanced once more toward Sam before looking back at Micah.

  "In front of Sam?" he said.

  Micah turned and looked at his mate. "Do you mind, baby? He needs this."

  She fluttered her hand toward them and shrugged, tightening her hold around her waist with her other arm as her gaze met his. "I'm fine. Go ahead."

  Micah turned back toward Trace, his dark eyes soft with patience and understanding. "Anything I can do to help?"

  "You did enough back there, don't you think?" Trace didn't mean it maliciously. If anything, he was grateful for what Micah had done. That had been the absolute best scene he'd had in years. Fucking hell, he was on the verge of coming just thinking about it.

  Trace gave Sam one last glance before turning his back to her and wrapping his hand around his shaft. He needed to come. His balls were hard as stones and aching.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Micah lean back against the wall as he combed his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, well…."

  Trace glanced down and saw a cat o' nines sticking out of his mistress's bag.

  "Grab that, would you?" He nodded his head toward the bag. "Use it on me."

  With his back turned, he heard Micah push away from the wall. Then he heard the leather flogger rustle out of the bag.

  "You sure, Trace?"

  "Yes." Trace began stroking feverishly. It should only take a couple of strikes and he would come. He reached for a hand towel on the shelf next to him.

  He heard another rustle of the cat o' nines a second before it struck his raw back.

  "Again." He clenched his teeth as his orgasm coiled tightly in his scrotum.

  The flash of pain blistered him again.

  "Again!" His voice cracked.

  The leather tails whipped down over his back at a diagonal a third time, and then a fourth, but his orgasm stalled. Nestled into his balls, his release kicked its feet up and smiled, making itself right at home.

  Fuck!

  Micah continued whipping him, but it was no use. No matter how hard he stroked or how fast, his orgasm wouldn't budge.

  He cried out in frustration.

  Everyone in the room knew he was stuck as he reached for the wall and leaned on his outstretched arm, out of breath, in pain, gripped by the overwhelming need to release but unable to do so.

  "Can I help?"

  He and Micah whipped around to see Sam standing only a few feet away, her face painted with concern.

  "Do you want to?" Micah frowned curiously. He looked almost awed that Sam had offered.

  And wasn't that about as expected as a flood in the desert? Micah allowing his mate to assist in making him come? Holy fucking cow, but Trace thought he could hear Hell freezing over this very instant.

  Sam nodded, her eyes meeting Trace's.

  "What can I do?" She tentatively touched his bare back.

  Just her touch eased him. Trace craved the feminine. He longed for a female's touch to be enough to bring him to completion, but he feared it never would be. He would always need the pain, harsh brutality, and humiliation to give him sexual pleasure.

  Micah seemed to sense the change in Trace at Sam's touch and stepped back.

  "Sam, I want you to hold him," Micah said. "Trace, back up. Come here."

  Trace pushed away from the wall and did as Micah told him, stepping back until Sam was in front of him. Her eyes met his with a beautiful innocence that shamed him. Sam didn't deserve to be exposed to his depravity like this.

  "I'm sorry," he said softly to her.

  She smiled and cradled his cheek in her palm. "It's okay, Trace. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."

  "You shouldn't have to."

  "Never you mind that. I want to help or I wouldn't have offered. Especially after…."

  Sam's voice trailed off, but Trace was sure sh
e was referring to when he had watched her and Micah on the couch. They had been undeniably thankful for what he'd given them that night. Maybe this was Sam's way of showing it.

  Trace would never understand the relationship between Micah and Sam, or the one he was forming with them both. But he was grateful for it. It had been a long time since he'd had friends who were there for him when he needed them.

  Micah's hand pressed against Trace's back. "Let her hold you, Trace."

  Sam opened her arms until he relinquished and stepped into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close as he bowed his head against her shoulder. He didn't deserve them. He wasn't good enough to have earned such unconditional acceptance.

  "Continue, Trace." Micah's hand smoothed down his spine and then was gone.

  Trace felt tears sting his eyes. "I can't."

  "Yes, you can." Sam's arms tightened around him, feeling like a safety net as her small breasts pressed against his chest.

  He shook his head, struggling with his desire to feel the warmth of her feminine energy by pulling her even closer. He couldn't insult Micah like that. This was already too much. Trace was already taking advantage beyond propriety.

  The cat o' nines struck his bare back and he flinched. Sam smoothed one of her palms over his shoulder and up his neck before cradling the back of his shaved head.

  "Use her!" Micah struck him again. "Do what you need to do, Trace."

  Trace was about to break. The pain of the flogger combined with Sam's pure, feminine touch was more than he could stand, but still he refused to touch himself.

  "Trace," Sam's gentle voice pried him like a crowbar against a locked door. "Touch yourself."

  Her fingers brushed along the length of his shaft, and he nearly fell over as he gasped gruffly. Sam's strong arms swiftly pushed back around him, supporting him. The wick had been lit. Trace's hand slammed down on his cock and he began pumping furiously, crowding her, pushing against her, growling, his head still bent and resting against her shoulder as his free arm wound around her waist.

  Micah struck him again, and again, almost as punishment for touching his mate like that. But Trace knew that wasn't it. Micah only wanted him to think he was upset when he wasn't, but it added to the mini-scene they had working here where no audience watched. The mix of sensations was what he needed. The pain of the cat o' nines pushed him while Sam's soft femininity eased him. Between the two, he knew he wouldn't last long.

  With a surge of unbidden strength, he shoved Sam backward against the wall, drawing suddenly close to coming. Her grasp on him never wavered, despite a sudden growl from Micah that was quickly silenced.

  The flogger lashed him again, and just like that, the first wave of release unfurled.

  His cock let loose, spurting semen against Sam's black blouse. Trace's whole body jerked as he came harder than he'd come in years. So hard, in fact, that his legs gave out. Micah caught him under the arms and kept him from falling, and then pulled him back onto his lap as he sat down on the small couch against the wall.

  Sam came with them, easing herself up onto Trace's lap and laying down on him like a blanket, holding him as his orgasm continued quaking his body. He laid his head back on Micah's shoulder, unable to do much else than lie there and simply feel…and twitch.

  "It's okay. I've got you, buddy." Micah ran his hand over Trace's shaved head as he wrapped his other arm around both him and Sam.

  I've got you buddy. Usually it was Trace saying that or something similar to Micah. Or at least thinking it. He had pulled Micah's ass out of the fire several times in the past few weeks, and every time he said or thought, I've got you buddy.

  Now it was Micah's turn to return the favor. Well, Micah's and Sam's. He couldn't forget Sam's role in all this. Without her, he'd still be suffering a case of the blue balls.

  They rested like that for a while, all three of them nestled together, until Trace's orgasm finally diminished and left his body spent and completely undone.

  Trace took a deep breath and blew it out. "I'm a fucked up mess."

  "We all are, Trace." Micah dipped his forehead against Trace's temple affectionately.

  "I wasn't ready for you guys to see me like this."

  "Well, we did." Micah rocked him gently as Sam slowly peeled herself off of him, stood up, and reached for a towel to wipe off her blouse. She smiled endearingly at him.

  "You okay?" she said.

  Trace bowed his head sadly. He was ashamed. This wasn't how he had wanted them to find out his secret. "Yeah. I'm okay."

  "You sure?" Micah asked. "I worked you pretty hard back there."

  Trace disengaged from Micah's hold and sat down on the floor in front of him, facing him. "I needed to be worked hard."

  "Why?" Micah leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

  Sam sat down next to Micah and wrapped one arm around his back. Micah reached over and tucked his hand between her knees. They were completely devoted to each other, even after what had just happened.

  "I shouldn't have used you like that," Trace said to Sam, looking down shamefully.

  Micah tsked and growled. "She's okay, Trace."

  "What about you?" Trace looked up at him. "She's your mate. I took advantage of our friendship. I never should have allowed—"

  Micah held up his hand, cutting him off. "Trace. I'm fine with it. You didn't do anything wrong. Sam and I are both okay. Now, tell me. Why do you need to be worked so hard like that?"

  Trace took a deep breath and looked down. "It's how I keep my power from consuming me."

  Micah slowly sat back. "Fuuuuuck me."

  It was clear Micah understood what he was saying.

  "Yeah, brother. If I don't do this, my power will consume me."

  Micah bent over again and rubbed his hands over his face before combing them back through his hair and looking at Sam as if pulling from her strength. "Fuck, Trace. I didn't know. I thought…shit, I don't know what I thought. I guess I didn't realize your powers were so strong. I mean, I knew, but…I didn't know."

  "Nobody knows. Just me. And, well, now you. Don't tell Tristan or anyone else."

  "Fuck them. They don't have to know. Your secret's safe with me, buddy."

  Trace looked at Sam, who seemed to be following along as best as she could. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

  What she had just witnessed had been pretty intense.

  She nodded. "Actually, yes. More than okay. I feel…." she hesitated and looked at Micah, searching for the right word.

  "She feels…wow, really?" Micah's eyebrows popped at Sam as if he was surprised. He had to be in her head again, seeing her thoughts.

  "What?" Trace was suddenly curious. How did Sam feel about what she'd witnessed?

  Micah turned toward him. "She liked it."

  Sam blushed and looked away.

  "Like the other night at the apartment, when you caught us in the living room," Micah said. "She's surprised by how much she enjoyed it."

  Sam leaned in and hid her face against Micah's shoulder, embarrassed.

  Micah grinned and glanced down at her. "It's okay, Sam." He caressed the side of her face and her hair.

  Trace bit his lip and looked down. What did all this mean? What was happening among the three of them? He clearly wasn't forming a mating connection to either of them, but a powerful bond was obviously forming to join them on a higher level.

  "She'll be okay." Micah turned back toward Trace, still holding Sam's face in his palm. "I want you to come back to the apartment tonight, Trace. I want you with us after what I just did to you, okay?"

  Trace reached out his right hand and clasped it with Micah's as he briefly let go of Sam. "If you're sure it won't make Sam uncomfortable and it won't be an imposition, sure. I'll hang with you guys tonight."

  Sam finally pulled away from Micah's shoulder, still flushed. "It won't make me uncomfortable, and it's no imposition. I'm with Micah on this one. Come home with us, okay?" She chuffed. "I thi
nk I need it as much as you do."

  Micah leaned forward and man-hugged him. "I agree. I think we'll all feel better if you stay with us tonight. You're as important to Sam as you are to me." He exchanged glances with Sam, and she nodded. "She needs to see you're okay and that I didn't hurt you, and I think she wants to know you're okay with her, too. She needs to know this is normal for you — for us." He let go of Trace's hand.

  Sam's expression made it clear Micah had hit the nail on the head. But then, if Micah was in her thoughts as much as he suspected, he knew everything about Sam.

  "Thanks," Trace said.

  "We'll be out front waiting for you." Micah stood and helped Sam up.

  Trace frowned. "I can drive myself over."

  "No. You'll come with us." Micah's tone was final. Clearly, he was a dom worth his weight in salt. The guy intended on taking care of him after what he'd just done to him. "I'll handle Diamond."

  In other words, Micah would compel his mistress's mind so she didn't expect Trace to return home with her.

  Like a lost soul who had just been found, Trace suddenly felt like he fit in somewhere. After what had happened the other night at Micah's apartment, he had felt a deepening bond with both Micah and Sam, and now, after this, despite the shame rolling through him that they had both seen him that way, he had a feeling the three of them would become even closer.

  He hoped so.

  Micah and Sam were more important to him than anyone, being that he no longer had any family left.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sam stood to the side while Mistress She of the White Teeth got her mind jimmied to alter her memory of who should be going home with whom. Queen Dominatrix might have come to the party with Trace, but she wasn't leaving with him. Trace was going home with her and Micah. They could take better care of him than this woman, who would likely send him on his way.

  The last person Sam had expected to see here tonight had been Trace. Sam glanced toward the hall that led back to the storage room. What had just happened here? She couldn't deny that it had excited her, which was surprising. She didn't want to have sex with Trace or anything like that, but she felt protective of him. Based on Micah's behavior, so did he. How strange? Was this normal? Was she feeling this way because Micah's blood coursed through her veins and she would automatically be tied to his feelings?