by Desiree Holt
Horton smiled slightly. “I’m going to undo your cuffs. You’re going to focus on staying on your feet, understand?”
Dallen nodded. “Yes, sir.” The words were barely audible.
He undid one of the submissive’s wrists. Before he undid the other, he slid one of his arms around the smaller man’s waist. The moment the second hand was released, Dallen’s knees seemed to disappear from beneath him.
Horton kept him on his feet, pulling him back tight against his master’s body. The submissive gasped, as the marks from the crop rubbed against his master’s clothes. Horton didn’t ease his grip. He’d heard the pleasure in the sound, and he doubted the younger man would enjoy tumbling to the floor half as much as he loved the reminder of each and every mark Horton had left on his body.
Dallen glanced over his shoulder at him. The confusion in his eyes made Horton sure that it had never occurred to the submissive that the evenings entertainments could come so close to bringing him to his knees. “It’s been a while since you did a scene like this, hasn’t it, sweetheart?”
“Yes, sir.” The words were whispered through a throat left raw by pleasure.
“That’s fine. Just relax.”
“Yes, sir.”
Very slowly, the submissive took more of his weight onto his own feet. A few more minutes passed and he was supporting himself.
Horton slowly released him. Looking over the younger man’s shoulder, he met Caroline’s eyes. She smiled sleepily across at him. When he was sure Dallen was steady, Horton stepped away from him. He walked around them until he stood behind Caroline.
“Ready, darling?”
“Yes, sir.”
He repeated the process. A nod to Dallen sent the other man’s arms around her as he allowed the younger man the pleasure of keeping her on her feet as her wrists were freed.
They stood in the centre of the room like a perfect submissive masterpiece. And for the first time, Horton really understood how an artist might feel when he realised he’d created a perfect piece of sculpture, but that his creation was completely separate from him. The only true links existed between the elements of the composition itself.
Dallen looked across to him first. Horton let the submissive follow his master’s gaze to the bed set in the corner of the room. The younger man helped his lover down off the foot stool and kept a careful eye on her all the way across to it. They sat on the edge of the mattress together, a tangle of limbs and gentle touches.
Watching from the centre of the room, Horton couldn’t tear his eyes away from them.
They were mesmerising in their simplicity, even if the emotions they raised inside him were far from simple. It was stupid really, to be able to love something so much, and somehow hate it at the same time.
He’d thought he’d get tired of watching the way they were with each other at some point, just the way the other couples he’d played with over the years had quickly lost his interest. This time, that hadn’t happened.
He still adored the fact that they were so blatantly in love with each other, and so comfortable with that fact that it didn’t seem to occur to either of them to hide that from anyone. The bond had been there long before either of them had ever set eyes on him. As pretty as it was, it was also something he knew he had no part of, no claim to, no control over.
With any other couple, he’d have considered their self-sufficiency ideal. No need for any guilt when he got bored and walked away. His lovers could look after each other. It was a perfect arrangement—unless he suddenly found that he didn’t want to walk away.
“Just submit.”
The words caught his attention again, whispered very quietly, for submissive ears only.
“What does that mean?”
Dallen looked up at him. “Sir?”
“Just submit. I heard you say the same thing earlier. What does it mean?” To his relief, the words came out calm and steady. They sounded like the enquiry of a dominant who knew he had the right to question any word his submissives said during a scene with him.
There was no hint of the love sick fool who suddenly hated being on the outside, looking into a world where dominants might not have any place.
Dallen and Caroline exchanged a long look, the emotions in the gazes impossible for Horton to read.
Very slowly, Dallen nodded, as if agreeing with a request he saw in his lover’s eyes.
Even after that, it seemed like a long time before either of the submissives spoke. Standing on the other side of the room, dominant or not, there was nothing Horton could do but wait.
“We didn’t meet at a kink club,” Dallen confessed. He looked across to Horton.
Nodding his acceptance of the first fact to be stated, Horton waited for the rest of the story.
“By the time either of us got around to admitting how much we enjoyed submission, it was too late.”
“It didn’t matter that we were both submissives, that neither of us wanted to dominate the other,” Caroline added. “By then, we were both already head over heels in love.” She smiled up at Dallen as she said it, not even a trace of regret in her expression
“When something like that happens, all you can do is, just love each other—and just trust that things will somehow turn out okay. So that’s what we did,” Dallen whispered.
Horton looked from one submissive to the other and back again. It was hard to imagine that there had ever been a time when they weren’t bound together in one perfect, submissive unit. Part of him knew that coming through a time when they each had to decide if they were willing to accept the other in spite of that, had probably been one of the things that brought them so close, but it was still almost impossible for him to understand it.
He looked away from them for a moment. There was no reason why a master should need to understand how it felt to discover his lover was a submissive and to not be thrilled with that fact. He turned his gaze back to them, just in time to see them exchange a very speaking look.
Dallen nodded, as if giving what Caroline was about to say his approval. “And sometimes when submissives fall for their master, there’s nothing they can do about that either. All they can do is love, and trust and…just submit,” Caroline said.
Horton met Caroline’s eyes, then Dallen’s. His mind raced in circles around the words as he analysed every possible interpretation and kept coming back to the same one over and over again.
“We’re yours for as long as you’re interested in us both, sir. And when you’re not interested any more, then we won’t bother you—but it won’t be because how we feel about you will change,” Dallen said, very softly, as if the words were hard for him to force out.
Unable to make them wait for his first response, Horton nodded very slowly, letting them know that he had heard everything they said, that he understood what they were telling him.
The grip the submissives had on each other’s hands was white knuckled. He stared at the entwined digits for a long time. He walked across the room very slowly, trying to work out what he was going to say before he got there but unable to get thoughts straight inside his head, let alone words.
After so much time spent with them, it was second nature to slide his hands into two heads of hair. It took no conscious thought to brush his lips against first one pair of welcoming lips, then another.
That wasn’t the plan. If things started to get too involved he walked away. It was what he’d done for so long, the knowledge that it was what he should do next was engrained inside him. The only thing that made this situation different to the others he’d been involved in was that he was usually sensible enough to spot the signs and leave before anyone had a chance to make any such confession. Except, he knew that was a lie—there were differences that were far more important than mere timing.
“And at what point did you intend to make me aware of all these facts if I hadn’t called you on your whispering?” he asked, his tone of voice carefully pitched.
“I don’t know, sir
,” Caroline admitted. “Maybe never.”
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t keep secrets from your master,” he informed them both. He took a deep breath. “Not if you want him to continue be your master even when the scene has ended and the cuffs come off.”
Dallen blinked at the idea. He didn’t look away, not even to glance at Caroline. When Horton turned his attention to the other submissive, she was staring at him just as intently, as if trying to work out if this were some kind of cruel joke.
“Only the cuffs would need to come off of course,” Horton added. “There’s no reason why a nicely matched pair of discreet little markers shouldn’t remain all the time.” He looked at one bare neck, then another. The idea appealed to him in a way it never had before.
He couldn’t help but think simple silver chains would fit the purpose very well, perhaps with a strand of leather running through the links, just so those who might guess what the chains meant would know for certain that they were no longer available to play with other dominants.
Caroline lifted her hand to her neck, but he doubted she was even aware of the gesture. He smiled as he turned to Dallen and saw that he’d mirrored the movement perfectly.
“Would you like that?” he asked, trying to sound as if he already knew what their answers would be, or perhaps that it meant far less to him than it did.
“It’s…we’ve only…” Dallen stuttered.
Horton reached out and set his fingertips against the submissive’s lips. It wasn’t fair of him to make him think he had to be sensible and make complicated decisions when he was still caught up in the tail end of the scene and could only really want to be fussed over and to sleep.
“Not right this moment. But…in the future,” Horton suggested.
A glance between them, and he could already read them well enough to know what their answer would be.
“Yes, sir.”
Horton smiled his acceptance of their decision as if it was a simple little thing that didn’t really change anything. When he looked to the bed, they shuffled apart and made room for him between them. As he sat down, two pairs of hands reached out to him, instinctively looking for reassurance from their master. He slid an arm around each naked body and encouraged them both closer.
Fitting three bodies comfortably together on the small mattress wasn’t entirely easy.
Wide awake as his younger lovers dozed and snuggled against him, Horton doubted it would be all that simple to fit three lives together either—even when two were already as well entwined as Dallen’s and Caroline’s already were.
Leaning his head back against a leather covered pillow, he soon decided his best course of action was to take a leaf out of his submissives’ book. When a man found himself in a certain position, all he could do, was love, and trust, and…Horton smiled slightly as he shook his head. There was no need to get too carried away. It seemed safe to say, he could leave the submission to them.
About the Author
26 years old, from Wales, UK, Kim writes about kink, love and happy endings. If a story doesn't have those three things, it's not going to be written - at least not by this writer!
Apart from that, Kim likes to write a little bit of everything. Male/Male, Male/Female, ménage, vampires, werewolves, ghost, time-travel - that sort of variety always keeps life interesting.
A firm believer that there is no “One True Way” for people to kink, Kim also likes to let the characters in each book pick their own ways to dominate and submit to each other. As long as they stay safe, sane and consensual – Kim’s happy to let them live their lifestyle 24/7, or just open the toy box on weekends—whatever’s right for them.
Email: [email protected]
Kim loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Kim Dare
Collared: Turquoise and Leather
Collared: Imperial Topaz
G-A-Y: Gaydar
G-A-Y: Gay Like You
G-A-Y: Gay Until Graduation
G-A-Y: Gay for Pay
G-A-Y: Gay Divorcee
G-A-Y: Gay Since Today
G-A-Y: Gay Pride
G-A-Y: Gay Man Seeks Same
G-A-Y: Gay Friendly
G-A-Y: Gay Best Friend
Perfect Timing: You First
Perfect Timing: Silent Night
Perfect Timing: Time to Do
Perfect Timing: Three Minute Man
Perfect Timing Bi Now, Gay Later
Pack Discipline: The Mark of an Alpha
Christmas Spirits: The Gift
My Secret Valentine: Secret Service
Night of the Senses: Whispers
Caught in the Middle: Between Tooth and Paw
Summer Seductions: In the Heat of the Moment
Friction: Yes!
Voracious Vamps: Blood Slave
Gaymes: Elliot’s War
STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT
Brynn Paulin
Dedication
For my best friend who keeps me from making insane decisions.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Keds: SR Holdings, Inc.
Krispy Kreme: HDN Corporation
Barry Manilow: Hastings, Clayton and Tucker, Inc.
Chateau Ste. Michelle: Ste. Michelle Vintners Inc. DBA Ste. Michelle Vineyards, Inc.
Chapter One
McKenzie Stewart knew what lay just inside Sin’s Door. Sex. Lots of it. Anonymous and hopefully hot.
Nervously, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Could she do this? It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing a quiet nanny usually did. Okay, it was the kind of thing a nanny never did.
But at the moment, she wasn’t one. She had no charges and none lined up for a few months until the Andersons returned home from their trip abroad to Europe. They hadn’t wanted a nanny with them, and McKenzie was quite sure Mrs. Anderson didn’t want her around at all, but her husband insisted. To give the kids a sense of stability, you know? he’d told his wife, and somehow, she’d acted as if it was okay that he’d felt up the help.
McKenzie wasn’t all right with it, but at the moment, jobs weren’t exactly falling from trees. Neither were men—not that she was at all interested in Mr. Anderson. She just wanted a sexy as hell guy to keep her warm. Barring that, a normal guy would be okay.
So here she stood, staring at the green and blue neon lights of Sin’s Door. Normal did not reside beyond that portal to debauchery.
Butterflies bombarded her insides as she ran a trembling hand over her short, red plaid skirt. She’d dressed sweet, innocent, and subtly naughty tonight—not that the hint of school girl in her dress was subtle, but so be it. At twenty-five, with fewer curves that your average high school cheerleader, she could still get away with that.
She took a deep breath and pushed back her thick fall of dark brown hair. It brushed her lower back as she stepped towards the point of no return. And it was that point. She was not chickening out. Once she got through those doors, she was picking a guy and making a move and getting her brains fucked out. And tomorrow, maybe she’d do it again.
McKenzie was tired of being nursemaid to the rich and mistress to none. Her schedule left her zero time for men, and now at loose ends, she had no one to be with. And she wanted sex. Lord, how she wanted sex. Perhaps Mr. Anderson had sensed that, and that’s why he’d tried to feel her up just before his family’s trip. Or perhaps he was just a pervert. She wasn’t taking the blame for his actions.
So no man, no time—and usually no time for a man. It all brought her here, looking for anonymous sex. That would be far better than finding some poor guy who might want a
relationship. Her job just didn’t allow for one. Not much. What guy would be happy with Saturdays after the kids’ bedtimes until Monday morning at six a.m.?
&nbs
p; Yes, this was better.
Resolved as she made it across the street, she tamped down any remaining nerves. Her panties grew damp with anticipation with every step she took—and she hadn’t even set eyes on the man.
Music blared from the bar, flooding the sidewalk and street with sound as she approached. Would she even hear a pickup line if someone tried to toss one out? She’d have to rely on body language, she supposed. Just fine. If she could hear the guy, there was more of a chance that he’d tell her his name. She really didn’t want that.
She shivered at a fantasy of what she did want, a fantasy that had haunted her the last few weeks as she’d spent nearly every night with her vibrator. Her pulse raced at the thought. Her on the bar, being passed around to man after man. Fucking a parade of them as everyone watched. Loving every second of it.
Never going to happen.
She pulled open the heavy wood door to Sin’s Door, anticipation prickling her skin.
Inside was nearly as dark as outside, with crazy beams of green and blue lights slowly moving over the crowd. The interior as warm as late June, and just about as steamy. To bring out the body heat and natural musk in people, she decided as a light perspiration started to coat her skin. It wasn’t warm enough for her to really sweat—gross—and definitely more comfortable than actual summer heat. It was more like the heady warmth that took a body after particularly fantastic sex.
Sex… Where to find it? Tiny white lights lined the walkways on the floor, cordoning off the bar from the aisle and the aisle from the table area and the dance floor from it all.
McKenzie had no idea where to start. Feeling a bit like a deer caught in headlights, she glanced around until she was bumped from behind by a couple entering the bar.
The man’s hand slid down McKenzie’s back to her ass and right on up under her skirt where he cupped a cheek bared by her thong.
