Borderline [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations)

by Tymber Dalton

  He wanted her scent and taste off his body. Immediately.

  As soon as he got home, he locked the door behind him, stripped, and took a long, hot shower despite the fact that he’d had one before he’d left for her place. He finished with the water cold for a few seconds, shocking his body.

  He toweled off, then went to where his collar—the one she gave him—lay on his dresser.

  Picking it up, he traced the familiar, soothing patterns with his thumbs for a moment before bringing it to his lips to kiss it. Closing his eyes and deeply inhaling, he smelled leather and Tilly’s shampoo, the feel of her denim jeans against his flesh, the sound of Landry’s amused chuckle as the sadist laid stripes in Bob’s skin and the sound of Her high heels against the tile floor of her kitchen as she checked his work.

  No, he couldn’t give Her up as a friend, or Landry. Hell, not even Cris. There was too much there in his heart, even if all he could be to Her was a friend.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he whispered. “I tried. She wasn’t as good as You.” He buckled the collar around his throat before dropping to his knees in position two, a deep bow.

  There, on his bedroom floor, he breathed and tried not to cry, barely succeeding at the first and failing horribly at the second.

  Chapter Seven

  Back to the present…

  Bob’s alarm went off at its usual time that Tuesday morning. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the bedroom ceiling and wishing he was in “his” room at Tilly’s. They’d even stopped calling it the “guest” room.

  It was now collectively referred to as “Bob’s Room.”

  Being here in his condo now didn’t feel the same as it did before the triad changed their dynamic with him a couple of months ago from only play to something more, collaring him to them as a house, and specifically to Landry.

  Something nebulous and uncertain in some ways, but in other ways he considered it perfection. Then three weeks ago, Landry had introduced him to prostate milking and chastity.

  Just thinking about that weekend always gave Bob a woody. Exactly what the sadist had intended.

  He sat up, yawning before making his way to the bathroom. In passing, in the mirror he caught sight of the leather collar buckled around his throat. He always wore it when home, dressed or not.

  It was Landry’s collar, though, not Tilly’s. The collar she’d given him lay on his dresser, and he still picked it up every day and kissed it.

  In some ways, this was even better. Her husband’s collar, but representing all three of them. More permanence, that Landry took an ownership interest in him, too.

  So did Cris.

  It didn’t matter there was no sex between him and the triad, at least of a reciprocating kind. He needed the service. To be of service.

  He needed to be of use.

  To feel helpful and appreciated.

  Taking Landry’s sadism and pleasing him was part of that whole package, and Bob felt completely at peace with that.

  He texted Landry good-morning as he always did now, then Tilly, followed by Cris. She responded almost immediately with a smiley face. Landry and Cris might or might not respond, depending on how busy they were. It didn’t matter if they responded. Landry had warned him ahead of time all that mattered was that Bob text them.

  He also texted them good night, too. The only exception to either was if he was in the same house with them.

  Then he had a morning and nighttime ritual with them, which included Cris as well, if he was home.

  Because he didn’t live with them, some rituals weren’t practical. Landry had wanted him to have this, at least, as a way to feel connected to the triad even when they weren’t in the same house.

  After he started the coffee, he grabbed his shower, dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and headed to work.

  This was starting to feel like a true grind.

  In the beginning, he had reasonably enjoyed his work. Neat and tidy columns of numbers, researching options for clients, trying to get them the best deal. He’d started out working for a different firm before striking out on his own when that office had closed upon the owner retiring.

  Of course it wasn’t exciting, like what Tilly did. It wasn’t even full of variety like Landry and Cris running a software business.

  It was…a necessity, in some ways. People needed mortgages.

  And he had employees who depended on him to keep the office open. Could he just close down? Well, sure he could, but that would mean putting people out of work and he’d rather avoid that. He also didn’t want the hassle of “retiring” and keeping it open and having to depend on someone else to run it for him.

  He wanted out. In the past, he’d had a couple of offers to buy him out.

  It might not be a bad idea to look into those now.

  More every day he dreamed of retiring and starting a new career. Not even sure what, just…something different.

  Something that would emotionally fulfill him.

  His first clients of the day were a young married couple, only six months into their vows after dating seven months, and only three months after having earned their college degrees.

  Her parents were giving them twenty thousand to put toward a down payment, in addition to some money they’d saved up. Both of them brilliant, full academic scholarships, now they were ready for “life,” or so they claimed.

  And lucky them, they weren’t saddled with crippling student loan debt.

  As he worked with them, he tried to silence the nagging voice in his brain, the one that told him they’d likely be divorced in a few years.

  The one that wanted to lecture them to look deep inside, shed all the bullshit, and be totally honest and truthful with each other about the shadowy parts of themselves that yearned to be acknowledged and appreciated. Freed.

  So much would happen to them.

  They were too damn young.

  They were too damn stupid.

  They were too…coupley.

  His cynicism wrestled into submission, he managed to smile and keep up the charade and make it through the appointment, showing them out and then retreating to his office, behind a closed door, to decompress.

  Fuck.

  Willingly caught in a Purgatory of his own design, unable to make himself date, unwilling to compromise, needing what he got from the triad.

  Desperate for it.

  Hungry for it.

  When with them, perfection reigned. His life and brain felt at peace.

  He felt peace.

  Is this all there is to life now? I’m stuck sucking up crumbs where I can because I’m not strong enough to make myself look anymore?

  That’s what it boiled down to.

  He absolutely had permission to date. He could even tell during some of his talks with Tilly in the past that she seemed to hope he was dating.

  What was the point of that? Seriously? If he looked on kinky sites, he was finding women who wanted to be paid or otherwise receive “tribute” from him for their “attention.”

  A way to skirt the law and basically advertise pro-Domme services.

  Nope.

  Vanilla dating sites either couldn’t provide him with women who understood what he wanted, or they paired him with women who were, in essence, not Dominants. Like Melissa. Maybe not submissives themselves, but definitely not looking to be some knight’s Lady.

  What’s it say about me that a guy I’m not even having sex with can satisfy me better than any woman I’ve dated since college?

  As he’d told Landry, even before this new iteration of their dynamic, he hadn’t felt like dating when he could play with them.

  Much as he hadn’t dated while he’d been seeing Tilly professionally before Cris and Landry arrived.

  He had just walked out to his car to go grab something for lunch when his cell phone rang, Landry calling.

  “Hello, Sir.”

  “Ah, I take it you’re alone, pet?”

  Bob’s cock stirred at the te
rm of endearment. He was Landry’s boy or pet, and Tilly usually called him sweetie. “Pretty much. Getting into my car to go to lunch, Sir.” He slid into it and cranked the engine to get the AC running and cool the interior.

  “Perfect timing. I wish to consult with you on a matter.”

  “Sir?”

  “The party at Cali’s this coming weekend. She’s invited a woman who is a new volunteer at the club, but she’s not new to BDSM. Very heavy masochist. Cali is trying to line up in advance a few potential service Tops to play with her at the party. Contingent, of course, upon everyone being agreeable to it once they meet in person.”

  He was still a little confused why Landry was calling him. “I’m not a Top, Sir.”

  Landry’s throaty chuckle hardened Bob’s cock. “I know that, pet. I’m calling to ask if you’d be all right with me agreeing to Cali giving her my name as a potential Top.”

  Now he really felt confused. “I don’t understand, Sir. What are you asking of me?”

  “Oh, my sweet pet. I’m asking for your permission.”

  “Huh?”

  “Did you not hear me, or did you not understand me?”

  “I’m…confused, Sir.”

  “One of the stipulations of me putting my collar upon you, if you’ll recall, is not playing with others without permission.”

  “I thought you meant me not playing with others, Sir.”

  “No, I meant all of us.” Now the sadist sounded curious. “Did you honestly not quite get that?”

  “I—” His jaw snapped closed. “No, Sir. I misunderstood.”

  “You didn’t find it odd that I haven’t played with anyone but you, Cris, and Tilly since we entered into this?”

  “Honestly? I thought you were too busy.”

  Another sigh. “Adorable. Simply adorable. And yet you have not answered my question.”

  Bob had to think about it. “You’re really asking me for permission to play with someone else?”

  “No, I’m asking for permission to let Cali present us as a possibility. The final permission would be after we all meet her in person, if it even gets that far. You now get veto rights the way Tilly and Cris do.”

  He let that sink in. “What if I say no?”

  “Then the answer is no. It’s as simple as that.”

  “You…wouldn’t be mad at me?”

  “Why?” He sounded genuinely curious. “Tilly and Cris have each vetoed people in the past. Do you see me get angry at them?”

  He hadn’t thought about it like that. They were…partners.

  Spouses.

  Married.

  Together.

  “I’m okay with you talking to her about it. I guess I’d have to meet her in person first before I okayed playing.”

  “Excellent. I was also going to suggest, depending on how things go, that she could possibly give you aftercare. I realize you don’t mind Cris or myself doing it at home when we can truly relax, but usually it’s Tilly who gives you aftercare at a party or Venture. And…well, truthfully, if she needs aftercare, I would prefer, if you’re amenable to it, that you give it to her. So if we scene with you first, and she gives you aftercare, it might make it easier for her to accept you giving her aftercare.”

  This was getting weirder and weirder. “Why, Sir?”

  “To prevent messy entanglements. I’m no fool. I have my hands full with the three of you. You were a delightfully unexpected addition to what we have, but I now cannot imagine you not being here. I have no desire to complicate our lives any more than they already are.”

  Landry’s words soaked deep into the core of his soul. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “To be clear, you are all right with my telling Cali we will talk to this woman?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Excellent. Oh, and boy?”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Stop by the house on your way home, please. Just for a moment.”

  He didn’t ask why.

  It didn’t matter why. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Text me when you’re on your way.”

  “I will, Sir.”

  Bob sat there staring at his phone even after the call ended. When his stomach growled, he realized he still hadn’t gone for his lunch. Smiling, he buckled his seat belt and headed out.

  * * * *

  Bob wasn’t scheduled to go to the triad’s house tonight. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander, trying to figure out why Landry wanted him to stop by.

  Shit! He didn’t have his collar and cuffs with him.

  Fuck. Well, there would be twenty cane strokes for him. Going home first to get them would take too long, and he really couldn’t leave early.

  Just before he left the office, he texted Landry.

  On my way, Sir. I’m sorry I don’t have my collar and cuffs with me. I’ll take the strokes.

  Landry replied with a smiley face.

  As always, he let himself in with his gate code and drove up to the house, parking in his usual spot in the driveway. He was walking up to the front door when Landry opened it, wearing a playfully evil smile.

  Bob felt his cock harden the way it always did when he spotted that smile, even when he knew he was getting a beating.

  Landry closed the door behind him, but before Bob could see what signal Landry would give him for which version of their greeting he was supposed to use—formal or KC-friendly—Landry grabbed him by the throat with his left hand and pinned him against the wall.

  Fear hummed through Bob, but he didn’t resist, didn’t fight back. Sometimes Landry liked to play mental games, mindfucks.

  Landry’s right hand deftly unfastened Bob’s belt and fly, even as Landry stared into his eyes.

  “My good boy, you’re not getting punished for not having your collar and cuffs, because I asked you here without you having proper notice. But you also will be rewarded for volunteering that information. I actually asked you here to reward you for our earlier conversation.”

  Landry’s hand fished Bob’s cock out of his briefs. “And you’re nice and hard for me. Excellent. When did you get hard?”

  “Walking to the door, Sir,” Bob gasped. Landry wasn’t quite choking off his air, but it felt so damn good to have another hand on his cock.

  “Excellent, pet.” Landry slowly stroked him, slicking pre-cum down his shaft, milking it from him. “A quick one, then. Tilly’s still at the office, and I sent Cris and KC out for groceries so I could have this time alone with you. Do you understand why I’m rewarding you?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Because you said yes to me talking to someone else. There would have been no punishment for a no, but I want you to understand my appreciation. This was the best way I could think to demonstrate it on short notice, especially since I failed to realize you did not understand you now have veto privileges. You may come, pet.”

  Landry’s hand stroked him harder, firmly, expertly. Bob didn’t bother trying to hold back, flexing his hips in time with Landry’s strokes, not caring they were in the middle of Landry’s foyer.

  It built quick and hard and fast, and as Bob’s climax exploded from him, Landry leaned in close.

  “My very good boy,” he whispered, nuzzling noses with him. Landry’s hand stilled, holding Bob’s wilting cock. “I am looking forward to scening with you Saturday night.”

  “Me, too, Sir.”

  Landry finally released Bob’s cock and held his hand up for Bob to lick his cum from it.

  That done, Landry released Bob’s throat and looked down at his own legs. He wore shorts, and a few splashes of cum had landed on his right thigh.

  Landry pointed.

  Bob dropped to his knees and immediately started licking.

  Landry’s left hand threaded in Bob’s hair, gently fisting. “Such a good boy. Do a good job.” He sighed. “I wish Tilly would be with us Saturday, but she and KC fly out with Lucas for LA on Friday. So I suppose I shall have to amuse myself torturing you all weekend to take my mind of
f their absence.”

  Bob laughed even as he licked. “Yes, Sir.” Sure, he’d already cleaned up all the cum, but he knew Landry was enjoying this or he would have already put a stop to it.

  Finally, Landry gently tugged on Bob’s hair, indicating for him to rise. Bob tucked himself back into his slacks and fastened them. Landry stood a couple of inches shorter than him, but it didn’t diminish his stature in Bob’s eyes.

  The sadist smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Tilly will likely get bent over the bathroom counter later while Cris is cooking dinner. I shall tell her she has you to thank.” He grabbed Bob’s hand and laid it over his bulge, where he was hard, and squeezed.

  Bob shivered. “I wish I could take care of that for you, Sir.”

  “I would like that, too. Perhaps one day soon, pet.” He squeezed again before releasing Bob’s hand. “But today is not that day, unfortunately.”

  Landry opened his arms for a hug.

  Honestly? Bob loved this as much as he did the play, even with the men.

  Human contact.

  Landry didn’t rush it, either, holding Bob, stroking the back of his head. “Such a good boy for me. Will you stay over Sunday night as well?”

  “If Sir wants me to.”

  “I always want you to, pet.”

  Bob closed his eyes and absorbed the feel of the man, the warmth of his body, the muscles and lines and strength of him.

  It was hard to imagine him lying in a coma in an ICU and struggling for life, even though Cris had shown him the pictures and he’d seen for himself the faint scars the man still bore on his body.

  “Do you ever think about the future?” Landry quietly asked. “Personally, not professionally.”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m happy where I’m at, Sir.”

  Landry didn’t end their embrace but did pull back just enough his green gaze could peer up into Bob’s blue eyes.

  “Truly?”

  “I’ve been through enough to know that I’d rather have what we have than force myself to date. If I was ever to meet the right woman, sure. But I’m not going to take time or energy away from this for that. This is a sure thing, now. You’ve never lied to me. Unless you’re trying to hint you want to end this—”