by Selena Kitt
But being head of human resources for a multinational firm had it share of unexpected thrills. Sometimes it felt like having a ring-side seat at the circus.
The first rule of their marriage? Complete honesty with each other, but this was one little white lie she kept. For all their talk of wearing poker faces, most young lawyers easily lost their cool especially out of the court room.
“It’s true what everyone says,” Stuart began.
He looked at her with accusing eyes, as if Donna was the sole cause of all his problems at work. Judging by his rumpled seat, disheveled hair and faint scent of pizza, Stuart started living at the office. Not uncommon, with the hours these young men and women worked.
“What do they say?” she asked.
Donna heard this argument a thousand times before. Bitch, they called her, prissy viper with a stick up her ass and other worse names. She heard it all before. From personal experience, defending herself and reminding Stuart she was merely doing her job wouldn’t help the situation. When hurt, human nature kicked in. One blamed the asshole—or in this case, the bitch, who rubbed salt over an old wound.
How did one tell a puppy all the big dogs cared about was politics? Didn’t matter how hard these new hopefuls worked. The economy sucked. People at the bottom of the food chain got fired, no matter how hard they worked or talented they were.
End of story.
“That you’re a heartless bitch.”
Donna waited, drumming her nails on her desk. From the corner of her eye, she spied the time—nearing seven in the evening, which was considered early in a workplace that functioned like a 24-hour convenience story.
Two hours more and she could knock off work. Excitement hummed in her veins, dread also slithered into her insides—strange mix of emotions, but who could blame her?
When Donna left work this morning, she found a small wrapped box on the kitchen counter top delicately bound with crimson ribbons. No note. Who else could it be from? Inside the fancy paper, tiny chains linked together gleamed. Two pairs— Harvey’s intention was clear.
They’d been talking about this monumental step for the longest time and she was excited, ecstatic even. Waiting for this puppy to blow up and leave in a huff didn’t improve her mood. She’d stared at the clock all day, counting the seconds, waiting for the work day to end.
If she turned around in her swivel chair, Donna knew what view she’d find—the gorgeous outline of the city. The firm’s office was forty floors up. Every day, Donna could watch the remnants of sunset, the red and orange afterglow disappearing in the horizon. Sunset meant those who played in the dark could finally come out.
Christ, but she wanted to do it now. Shuck off what she called her day time self and put on her night time one—her real skin and Donna’s true self. In her world, no one ever called her unfeeling or inhuman.
“Is my misery boring you, sick bitch?”
The vehemence in Stuart’s voice startled her back to reality. Donna blinked. A thump followed. Stuart rose to his feet so hastily, the chair fell over. Stuart fisted his hands by his side. Real fear, the true kind, wormed its way down her spine.
What a laugh. She’d conquered so many of her fears in the past. Images danced through her head, the memories painted vivid and fresh. She remembered her body, held immobile, noose around her neck, slowly cutting off her air supply…and experiencing agony and ecstasy combined for the first time.
More memories flooded her mind—he sharp edge of a knife, leveled at her skin, ready to create art drawn in lines of blood. Donna heard the whistle made by a rattan cane as it sliced through air. Felt the trepidation in her beating in her chest like the nervous wing strokes of a bird’s wings, while she tried to anticipate the contact of wood with flesh…and guessing wrong when the blow would come.
God. Five years made her sentimental and soft-hearted.
Donna shouldn’t be afraid of some puppy in a ten-thousand dollar suit probably bought by his father.
“How did you get your job anyway? Let me guess. Fucked your way to the top?”
Donna calmed her breathing. Tried to anyway, but the pup went too far. She saw red, but reeled her temper back. Money didn’t teach manners apparently.
What would a kid born with a fucking silver spoon know anyway?
Raised in a single-parent household, Donna fought tooth and nail for everything she owned. Not that the kid gave the fuck. Part of her understood he vented his anger on her because he needed an outlet, any outlet. Well, screw him. It was time to cut this short. Donna had no clue why she let it drag out this long anyway.
“Salvage the remains of your dignity and leave my office before I call security, Mr. Benson.”
Donna silently congratulated herself on her steady tone. Stuart glared at her. She stared him down, unflinching, wondering who would back off first at the test of wills.
“Fuck you. You’ll pay for this.” Stuart hissed.
Turning his back on her, Stuart yanked her office door open. Curious faces poked out from their cubicles, eager to catch some early night entertainment. Stuart slammed the door so hard, the glass rattled.
Trevor, one of her HR officers, came in, looking worried.
“Everything okay there, boss?” Trevor asked.
“You know how it is. Some pups take it the wrong way.” Donna sounded tired to her own ears.
Damn Stuart Benson for destroying the start of a perfectly good evening. She couldn’t let this little incident ruin the rest of the night. Besides, Donna suspected it would be a long one.
Trevor sighed. “There you go again, using the puppy analogy.”
“Some things don’t change.” Donna closed all the opened documents on screen and turned her PC off.
Trevor raised his eyebrows. “You’re clocking out this early?”
No matter what department an employee at Grayson and Bray belonged to, they knew the rules—everyone burned the midnight oil.
“It’s my wedding anniversary,” Donna simply said.
She knew Trevor since college. They braved the stormy waters of corporate drudgery together. Donna could count the people close to her on one finger and he was one of them—her go-to guy. Despite all that, Trevor was a terrible gossip. Some things, Donna kept from her best friend.
“I didn’t know. What year? Fourth?” he asked.
“Fifth.” She corrected.
Trevor beamed. “Congratulations. Made plans?”
“Harvey managed to book us at a new French restaurant we’ve been eyeing.” Donna didn’t fill him on what would happen after. Dinner out was an easy lie.
“Boring.” Trevor faked a yawn. Donna wouldn’t let another subordinate speak to her the way he did, but Trevor was an exception. “Did you buy sexy underwear at least?”
No point telling Trevor she normally didn’t wear any clothes at home. Donna wasn’t permitted to. Tonight though, Harvey’s gift would be the only thing adorning her.
What would Trevor think if she told him the truth, that being Donna, HR bitch terror of Grayson and Bray, genuinely sucked on some days?
On those days, she felt like she’d been borrowing someone else’s skin. She’d always been eager to strip off that persona. Leave her designer clothes, shoes, work bag full of papers by the front door. Then she could kneel for her Master, plant her head on his knee, close her eyes and be content, knowing her place was by his feet.
“Harvey left me something.” Donna left things at that.
Trevor chuckled. “Have fun, darling.”
He left the office, leaving her to her peace.
Thinking about the box Harvey left behind and its implication made her heart race. They’d gone over this scenario a thousand times. Like every step of their relationship, Harvey talked her through each step and heard all her fears.
God knew Donna resisted the idea at the beginning.
She’d been raised a straight-laced Catholic, to remain true to her husband until death do them part.
Reli
gion had been one constant in her life before Harvey. Donna heard mass every Sundays, attended the days of obligation despite no longer believing in God. The familiar rituals and songs made her feel close to her departed mother. There were too many ‘no’s’ in the Catholic faith for her liking, too many clashes to her dark desires.
“Little subbie, you were so pure before we met. Look at you now,” Donna could hear Harvey saying in her head.
Strapped to a spanking bench, a spider gag impeding speech, she remembered snaking out her tongue to lick away the droplet of cum he left on her chin, frustrated when she couldn’t steal a taste of his passion. Master had been watching her through the full length mirror in the playroom though. Caught her in the act and used it as an excuse to punish her, knowing they both needed it.
Tonight, she would agree to Harvey’s fondest wish—to give her away. He mastered her heart long before he owned her body. If he wanted to watch Donna fuck his best friend, she couldn’t deny her Master.
Chapter 2
Donna checked her wrist watch, cursing at the time. She told one of the senior partners she would be leaving early tonight, but another managed to catch her on the elevator. A chat led to a discussion of potential new hires. A hasty retreat couldn’t cut it. Fortune favored her. Donna knew how to run in heels. Tugging a laptop bag and a box full of files on each arm, she reached the apartment half an hour later than expected.
Damn. Previous experience taught her Harvey would take perverse pleasure taking it out on her hide every second she was late. Donna pressed her ear to the door, relieved to hear no movement inside. Perhaps Harvey and Rex were running late. Maybe her luck finally changed.
Despite knowing she looked a little silly, leaning against the front door of her apartment with so bags, she closed her eyes. Visualizing Rex Lewis in her head wasn’t hard. Rex and her Master shared plenty of similarities. Both were tall, fit, scarred and able to break bones with their bare hands.
That was where their similarities ended. When both men stood side-by-side, it wasn’t hard to see opposites. Copper-skinned with short dark brown hair, and midnight eyes, Rex contrasted blond and pale-eyed Harvey.
The last time they had dinner together, Donna didn’t miss the fact both men looked at her the same way—with merciless hunger in their eyes. An unexpected thrill rushed through her.
To be wanted not by one, but two domineering men? Who could resist?
Also a former navy SEAL, Harvey knew Rex since childhood. The two men had been shipped to the same military school since kids, went straight to the navy after and were deployed in the same unit. They’d seen the same horrors, experienced the same sorrows and also shared the same desires.
Understandably, Rex was an integral part of Harvey’s life.
Rex and Tracey—Rex’s wife and sub, frequented the same BDSM club Rex and Donna did. After Tracey passed away three months ago, they saw Rex less often. Rex stopped coming to the club, became a shadow of his former self. In a way, she wasn’t doing this for Harvey, but also for the man who’d give his life for her husband’s without hesitation.
What did she know about Rex? Donna mused.
She saw Rex and his wife in her mind’s eye, sitting on the opposite end of their dining room table. Remembered a scene where Harvey bid her to lie on the spanking bench and hand her over to Rex’s tender mercies. Rex did the same with Tracey. Harvey built trust with cruelty, taught her to crave pain knowing pleasure came at its heels.
Tonight would test the boundaries of that trust.
Harvey owned all of her—body, tits, cunt and ass. She’d take anything he wanted to give without question. On a deeper level, the skin stretched over her bones and the blood flowing through her veins and kept her heart beating—those belonged to Harvey too.
Their roles were clearly defined. Owned and owner, but Donna knew what she was a long time ago—made for Harvey.
The four of them shared so much.
Tracey and Donna bonded over the favorite toys their Masters loved using on them, shared a secret love for pottery and loved exploring new places to eat in the city. Donna confessed she didn’t know Rex all that well.
Oh, they argued politics, defended their views, shared a fondness for talking about Tracey. Harvey let Rex tie her up, spank her, cane her. Suspend her in front of their closest friends at the club.
Despite sharing something that profound, intimate, Rex remained respectful of his best friend’s property, never pushing his boundaries. It took ages for them to finally convince Rex to resume their usual weekly dinners. Then one evening, Harvey offered to help ease Rex’s healing process.
“Anything for you to get your feet back on the ground, buddy,” Harvey had said.
Donna could never forget that night, the way Rex cast his dark and thoughtful gaze on. She had registered shock when a shudder crept down her spine.
A week passed. Harvey took her aside. Told her what Rex and he discussed. Over the past two weeks, Harvey prepped her, asked her numerous times if she wanted out. Donna didn’t.
Her nights ended with her pussy sore, her ass and thighs marked from Harvey’s use. Donna was always content, except the past few nights kept her wide awake. Long after Harvey’s snores filled the room, his cock still buried in her ass, his face pressed against the band of her leather collar, her thoughts wandered. Thoughts of being caged between the bodies of two men, helpless but to accept what they decided to give—to adorn her, to tease, to punish and fuck her senseless.
Her beeping phone yanked Donna back to reality. Seeing the message came from Harvey, she swallowed.
Where are you?
She quickly typed back.
We’ll be home soon, needed to settle some loose strings at work.
Work meant the private security firm both men worked at. Slotting her key in, she entered the apartment, flicked on the lights. She set her bag down, kicked of her heels and calmed down. Plenty of time for her to make any last minute adjustments, soothe out frayed nerves. For a second, she eyed the refrigerator, thirsty for some liquid courage.
A huge no-no, but God knew she needed it. Harvey and she had been married five years, but their relationship went even further. She met Harvey at eighteen. Donna had been a newbie being led by the leash of another Dom—or at least that was that Steven thought of himself.
Donna met Steven online. He’d convinced her to meet at the club and try out a scene. Donna knew everything about the arrangement screamed wrong, dangerous. Still, she went. Donna was hungry to see, experience and taste the world she’d only read about in the dog-earned pages of the books she hid under her bed growing up. Harvey intervened before the scene went wrong.
Last month, she turned thirty-one. Donna had been with no other man but her husband. He’d been the first man inside her, to discipline her, and to validate the truth she hadn’t been born sick in the head.
Donna bit her lip, debating about having one drink.
“No.”
Christ. The sound of her own voice, timid and uncertain, frightened her. What would the puppies in the office say if they saw her now? Donna suppressed a shiver.
Donna knew what her Master wanted—the expectation of obedience. The box, her gift, was by the table where she left it this morning. She took off her clothes. Every article of clothing she peeled away helped her skin breathed easier.
These work clothes always felt like a clown costume some times. She touched her neck, fingered the delicate link of chains that made up her day collar. At first glance, it looked nothing more than a silver chain with a small heart-shaped lock dangling between her breasts.
“Time to prepare,” she muttered, heading to their bedroom.
Unlocking the chain of her day collar, she took her night-time one, comforted by the familiar scent, the feel of the snug leather on her skin. She buckled it shut, pulled out all the pins in her hair, and cleaned away her make-up.
Naked but for the collar, Donna returned to the living room. Flipped the cover off the box
again and traced the cool metal links with her fingertips. A nervous laugh tore out of her. Not like Harvey never used nipple clamps on her before. The bastard loved using them on her every time they did a scene. These though, were a little special.
Donna held them out to the light. They were pretty, but no doubt functional. Usually, Harvey and she picked their toys together. Tonight was different. Copper-painted dual chains were linked to alligator clamps, but that wasn’t just all. An identical piece lay on the box, designed to be worn together to provide the ultimate discomfort.
“Master won’t mind if I take a look, see how they feel.”
