by Amy Valenti
Obviously a little confused, she watched me through eyes hazy with want, and I explained myself, keeping my hands on her thighs to still her.
"Now, you're gonna ride me until I tell you to stop, then you're gonna get up and kneel by the side of the bed. I will allow you to touch yourself until you come, and you don't need to ask for permission, but if you make me come before Santoro gets his turn, you're gonna be in big trouble. Clear?"
"Clear, Sir,” she whispered, unable to resist shifting against me a little. I tightened my grip on her thighs—a warning—before looking over at Santoro.
He was drinking in the sight of us together, and I had to catch his gaze before I spoke. “Senior detective, the second Faye leaves this bed, I want you on it and my cock in your mouth. Clear?"
He grinned. “Clear, Sir."
I released my grip on Faye, and she began to move, keeping the pace slow for the time being and leaving us both frustrated. I watched as her self-control crumbled by degrees, as she began to take me faster and harder, driving me closer to the edge.
I almost couldn't bring myself to say the words, knowing that if she kept going, I'd come within seconds. My voice was sharp as I forced the command out. “Now, little tease. Go."
Faye resisted for a split second, unable to ignore her body's instincts. Just as I thought it would be too late, she rolled away from me with a soft moan, and I bit back a curse as the pleasure subsided.
Then Santoro was beside me, taking me into his mouth and putting his lips, tongue and hands to expert use. I buried my hands in his hair, thrusting up against him, driving deeper, and he took it easily, meeting my eyes as I watched his endeavours.
Nearby, Faye cried out, her fingers busy against her own flesh, providing a provocative soundtrack to the moment. Santoro added a groan of frustration to the mix, the vibration against my cock almost too much to bear. My entire body was taut, aching for release, and my senior detective gave it everything he had.
A final, hard, almost violent touch was all I needed, coming in powerful surges that knocked out the capacity for thought entirely. Santoro swallowed it down, then stretched out beside me when I spoke his name, unable to stop himself from brushing his hard cock against my hip.
Amused, I looked over at Faye, on her knees beside the bed with her head resting against the mattress. Leaving her to her own post-orgasmic bliss, I pulled Santoro into a kiss, wrapping my hand around his cock and stroking firmly upwards.
"Ask me for it, senior detective..."
"Please, Sir,” he murmured against my lips, and groaned when I gave him what he wanted without holding back. He tensed in my arms, crying out roughly again and again until he came hard, thrusting into my touch a few more times before slowly calming.
He whispered his thanks against my lips, and I smiled, taking the towel Faye offered and beginning to clean us up.
"Any doubts about my motivations left, senior detective?"
He shook his head, still looking a little dazed, but smiling. Faye sat beside us, affectionately running her fingers through his hair, and I raised an eyebrow at her. “Have fun, little tease?"
She gave me a wicked grin, with a giggle to match. “I had the most fun. I'm actually scared I won't be able to remember it all."
Santoro turned in my arms, tugging her down to lie with us. “Well, if at any point you want a repeat performance..."
She rolled her eyes. “Tommy, please! That goes without saying. I'd take a repeat performance in, like, half an hour."
Santoro and I let out simultaneous groans—I could barely summon the will to move, and Santoro was so relaxed I could tell he felt the same.
"Gonna need to recharge for a little longer than that, Faye."
She pouted. “Men! Make you come a couple of times, and you're useless. See, this is why we should get Erica in on this. Once you guys are done you can just lie there and watch us."
This was the first time I'd heard her mention involving Beaumont. She was getting carried away, not to mention stepping out of line.
"Little tease...” I warned her.
"Sorry, Sir,” she said, a little reluctantly.
Santoro interjected, “Okay, question. If we get Erica in here—which is an awesome idea, by the way—are you then gonna want to bring in Layton? Cause I'm gonna have to draw the line. I see enough of that little subbie in the squad room—"
I decided to put a stop to the idea before it got out of hand. “It's just the three of us. Is that clear, senior detective?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Little tease?"
She nodded, seeming genuinely contrite now. “Yes, Sir. Sorry."
I watched my long-time submissive lie beside our new partner with a sense of satisfaction. Part of me wondered what exactly I was letting myself in for, trying to manage Faye and Santoro—they were both challenging enough to deal with on their own. But as I watched Faye snuggle into Santoro's arms, reaching one hand over him to lay it against my side, I got the feeling it'd be worth it.
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Chapter Four
Carte Blanche
* * * *
Pierce
"What do you have for me, Faye?"
Sighing, she looked up at me, her expression slightly irritated. I let it slide—I had to admit I'd been a little more impatient than usual with her that day. But the timescale on this one was tight, and my vague sense of unease was growing stronger with every second.
"Nothing, Zach. I have nothing. Just like the last time you asked. I'm working on it, okay? Just...give me some space.” Holding her hands up for emphasis, she crossed the lab, checked the display on one of her machines.
She has a strong work ethic, and I didn't doubt she'd been applying herself that day. Owning a girl for over a year gives you a sense of when she's stretching the truth, and today she wasn't. So instead of snapping at her, I stepped in close to her, murmuring into her ear, “Get me something in the next hour and I'll let you pick a reward."
Her ire abating, my little tease shot me a sideways glance. “Anything, Sir?” she asked, keeping her voice as soft as mine. One of the terms of her slave contract was that our games would be kept extracurricular, but I wanted my current suspect put away, and if this would help, then so be it.
A tiny voice reminded me that if she was working to the best of her abilities already, dangling a metaphorical carrot in front of her wouldn't change a thing. I ignored it, curious to see what she'd come up with. “Anything."
She flashed me a quick grin and headed back to her computer, her voice back to its usual volume. “I'll call you when I'm done."
Forty-eight minutes later she called my cell phone, her voice triumphant. “Got a match with twelve minutes to spare... You owe me!"
This should be interesting.
* * * *
When we got to her place that night, arrest made and the case neatly tied up, I reminded her of her prize. “What'll it be, little tease?"
She didn't stop to think—I could tell she'd been thinking about it all day, and anticipation was practically radiating from her now. “I want to switch, Sir."
I thought about the request. Although she leaned slightly further towards the submissive, Faye was a born switch, and that hadn't changed since we'd brought Santoro into our bed a few months ago. My senior detective was commitment-phobic, and after his first scene with Faye in the Domme role, he'd decided he preferred it that way rather than topping her. We'd agreed to change our arrangement—when she felt like inflicting a little controlled pain, we called on Santoro. I joined in with some scenes, and let her indulge herself completely in others. All three of us were satisfied with the way things were at the moment—casual, with maybe one intense scene per month.
It surprised me that Faye would ask for carte blanche on it, though. It was something I was usually disposed to agree to when she asked. “Okay. We'll call Santoro."
Faye shook her head, grinning. “Not Santoro. You, Sir."
"No, Fa
ye.” The words were out of my mouth the instant I thought them, and she scowled, dropping down onto the couch and directing a sulky stare at me.
"But you said ‘anything'!” She was going about the accusation in an unnecessarily bratty way, but she was right. I had. And she'd come through for me.
As much as I loathed the idea of relinquishing control, I wouldn't break a promise to her. So much of our relationship was based on trust that I wouldn't destabilise it now. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “One scene, Faye. No more than that."
She flinched at my tone, but softened a little as I sat beside her.
"Promise me you won't safe word just to get out of it early?” The look I gave her in response was enough to dissuade her from questioning me, and she backed down with a murmured apology.
I waited a few seconds before letting the issue of her insolence drop, running my fingers through her hair. “When?"
Basking in the show of affection, she leaned against me. “How about now, Sir?"
God damn it.
It was on the tip of my tongue to delay her, but there was never going to be a time when I was feeling more submissive.
Might as well get it over with.
"Yes, ma'am,” I drawled, resigning myself.
Suppressing a grin, Faye initiated a lingering kiss that set my blood boiling.
"Thank you, Sir,” she breathed against my lips, then she was gone in a flash of red hair and dark clothing, leaving my mind struggling to catch up.
Within seconds she was back, a collar I recognised held in her hands. Santoro's. Made of a leather strip thicker and wider than the ones Faye wore, it was noticeably masculine, and though my mind protested at the indignity of having to wear a collar, I was grateful that at least it wasn't one of hers.
"Hold still,” she instructed, and I recognised the tone she normally used with Santoro—calmly authoritative. She always managed to fall into this role so effortlessly that sometimes I wondered if she could really be happy without an owned sub of her own. But that wasn't a train of thought to be followed now.
With deft fingers, she fastened the collar around my neck—not tight enough to constrict but tight enough that I could feel it.
Sitting back, she nodded approvingly. “There. Much better."
I kept my mouth shut, not crazy about the idea of addressing her as a submissive would, and waited for her next orders. She got to her feet and clicked her fingers in my direction without looking at me, indicating that I should follow suit. Suppressing a sigh, I did, mentally swearing I'd never give her carte blanche again. In fact, I'd be adding a clause to her contract that prevented her from trying this in the future...
Jarring me from my thoughts, she gave me the same instructions she would have given Santoro. “Go to the bedroom. Clothes off, and lie on the bed face-up.” For a mutinous second I hesitated, and she scowled at me. “If you make me repeat myself, detective, you won't like the consequences."
With a reluctant nod I acquiesced, heading through into the bedroom. As I shed my clothes, my analytical brain threw up a possibility. I might be having so much trouble with this scenario because it was Santoro's collar I was wearing, Santoro's situation I was in. I was used to being his boss and his top, and being in his place grated on my nerves.
Naked, I settled back on the bed, waiting. A couple of minutes later, Faye appeared in the doorway, making no attempt to disguise her appraisal of me.
"Not a bad sight,” she said critically, heading straight to her play-cabinet and beginning to rummage through it. “We'll work on it."
Her aloofness was something that always had a profound effect on Santoro. I just found myself giving her mental points for it, analysing her technique rather than getting lost in the scene. She pulled out cuffs and silk scarves for restraining me, and I decided to go with the flow and give her some pointers later. After I'd punished her. I was hazy on exactly what for at the moment, but I sure as hell was gonna find something...
She blindfolded me, then cuffed my wrists to the headboard with a couple of firm, confident manoeuvres. When she'd secured my ankles to each bedpost, effectively spreading my legs, she hummed her approval and trailed a finger across my chest.
"Better. Still needs a little work, but we'll get there. How's the circulation, detective?"
Testing each restraint, I told her, “It's fine."
A short moment of silence later, something cracked down on my left thigh, hard enough to sting.
"While you're in this situation, you address me as Mistress, understand?"
When this was over, she was gonna get the cane. No other punishment was severe enough.
"Yes, Mistress,” I growled in the direction of her voice, and faintly I heard the pattern of her breathing change as she bit back a giggle.
"Now, you be a good boy and lie quietly for a while."
I heard her moving around the room, the sounds of rustling fabric, drawers being opened and shut, and several other noises I couldn't identify. For a good five minutes, all I could do was ‘lie quietly', but just as impatience started to get the better of me, she spoke again.
"Hmm. That should do it."
Footsteps approached, sounding slightly different from before, and then, without warning, she tore off the blindfold. The light in the room was dim, so it only took a second for my eyes to readjust and to seek her out. And when I found her...
I'd seen her Domme for Santoro in a corset and lingerie, but this was entirely different, and for a moment my mind went blank as my eyes swept over her. Her red hair was down around her shoulders, framing her pale face and the darkly dramatic eye and lip makeup she'd applied. Further down, her bra, thong and stockings were all complex swirls of black lace that left little to the imagination, and her heels were just chunky and platformed enough for her to be comfortable walking in them.
The overall visual effect was breathtaking, and I couldn't hide my arousal from her—why would I have wanted to? But this went deeper than the way she was dressed—the attitude she exuded was something I'd never seen before. She was dismissive, haughty, predatory, and as her eyes flicked down to my hardening cock, then back up to my face, she arrogantly arched one eyebrow.
It was as if Faye's extremely bitchy twin had stepped in, and I barely recognised her. I was taken aback, and as she interpreted the expression on my face she let the facade drop, giving me one of her warm, suggestive Faye-smiles to reassure me she was still in there. I laughed softly, shaking my head in admiration, and she winked at me before slipping back into character, tapping her riding crop against her palm.
"Something funny, boy?” she demanded, her gaze icy and her low, husky voice disdainful.
"No, Mistress,” I told her, unable to completely screen the amusement from my words.
Disapprovingly, she flicked the crop down on my thigh, and pain flared there, a sting that faded to a slow burn.
"There better not be. Because this is no laughing matter."
I lay still, sensing she had more to say, and she didn't disappoint me. Shifting her weight seductively from one foot to the other, she contemplated my bound and naked body. “I heard something about you. I heard you have a high pain threshold, and I'm sure hoping that's true. Wanna know why?"
I nodded, and she let me get away with it, telling me, “Because I've also heard you're a Dominant. And if you can Dom worth a damn, which I highly doubt...” Despite her words and her demeanour, her eyes were shining with amusement at the put-down, and I bit my tongue to stop myself from telling her exactly how well I was gonna Dom her later.
Beginning to move around to the side of the bed, she continued, “...then you'll know the amount of torture you can inflict on a willing subject with a high tolerance for pain."
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she scratched her nails down my stomach. “Tell me your safe word, boy."
Unable to resist, I said pointedly, “It's ‘revenge', Mistress."
Her lips twitched as she struggled to hide a smil
e, and she took a second to get herself under control before responding.
"Really? I was just thinking something along the same lines. And I'm the one with the bound and helpless victim."
Leaning in to kiss me, swiftly and violently, she gave me a smile that went straight to my erection.
"Use it if you need it, boy, because there's no way I'm going easy on you. I held back with Santoro because he doesn't do mind-fucks. You don't get the same luxury. So... Where should I start?"
Recognising a rhetorical question, I kept quiet, captivated by the movements of her body as she paced around the bed. For long moments she deliberated, her eyes hungry as they traversed my figure.
"Pain...?” She snapped the crop down on my thigh again, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. I gritted my teeth and bore it without a sound, and she nodded her appreciation.
"...or pleasure?” She ghosted her fingers over my cock, lingering for a couple of seconds against the sensitive head. The feeling was electric, and I tilted up my hips a little, seeking extra friction. Faye dropped her hand back to her side, giving a slight smile at my frustration as I scowled at her.
I really am gonna make her suffer for this later...
"Since you're such a sulky boy,” Faye said, mild disapproval in her tone, “we'll start with a little pain and go from there. Say, twenty?” She raised the crop and waited for my reaction.
"Not like I'm in a position to say no, Faye,” I told her, deliberately neglecting to call her ‘Mistress', and she gave me another warning strike to the thigh.
"Don't fuck with me, detective,” she snapped. “You have no idea what I'm capable of."
To illustrate her point, she began to lightly tap the head of my erection with the end of the crop, the sensation more pleasurable than anything else. I felt myself getting impossibly harder, even when she increased the force of her strikes a fraction. Then I saw her stance change a little as she lifted the crop higher, and my brain screamed out a warning just as she brought it down sharply against my thigh, a scant couple of inches from my aching cock.
I hissed with reflexive relief, looking up at her with new respect. She was good. Really good.
