Fulfilled [Club Pleasure 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Allyson Young

  Club Pleasure 5

  Fulfilled

  Getting caught spying on your employers enacting a scene in their bedroom would normally result in termination of employment. Instead, nanny Lois Wright is invited to attend their BDSM Club Pleasure and determine if this just might be the Lifestyle for her.

  Alone and lonely, Lois believes she is past the “dating” scene, but the Lifestyle offers her opportunities never dreamed of and she embraces them wholeheartedly. Three very different Doms vie for her, and Lois must trust her heart and accept her needs to make the right choices.

  She then listens at another door. What she hears and mistakenly interprets has her walking away to protect the men she loves. But Master Jonathon Spence and Master Trevor Braun know their little sub and take steps to move her past her historical need of putting everyone else first. Lois casts her final inhibitions and self-doubt aside and truly surrenders.

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Interracial, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 54,362 words

  FULFILLED

  Club Pleasure 5

  Allyson Young

  MENAGE AMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

  FULFILLED

  Copyright © 2013 by Allyson Young

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-417-7

  First E-book Publication: March 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Fulfilled by Allyson Young from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Allyson Young’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Young’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  Lydia wanted Lois’s story so I wrote it. And for Monica Rivera—Trevor’s story. Happy reading! Ally

  FULFILLED

  Club Pleasure 5

  ALLYSON YOUNG

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Heart pounding, body shaking with reaction, Lois Wright made her way back down the hall as quietly as she could. She tottered through the darkened living area, along the other hall, and stepped into her room, easing the door shut. She leaned against it, the solid wooden panels in direct contrast to her trembling insides. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop or spy. It was said people who listened in on others’ conversations never heard good things about themselves. That wasn’t the case this time. The discussion and activity down the hall wasn’t about Lois, but the content froze her in her tracks, paralyzed her vocal cords, and stirred a storm in her belly defying description. She was nearly forty years old, and while she lived a fairly sheltered life, she honestly thought she was reasonably aware of what went on in the world. After all, she read extensively, kept up with current events, and even mastered e-mail and web surfing in her limited spare moments.

  Tonight was supposed to be her time off, followed by the next two days, the first holiday in forever. Lois didn’t need lengthy vacations. She didn’t have anywhere to go, and she couldn’t bear to leave Nathan for periods of time. She arranged to meet with her book club in the city and then stay with one of the members, an elderly librarian who craved company. The weekend was to include visiting the museum, some shopping, and on Sunday, chamber music at the performing arts building. Lois looked forward to it for weeks, because she normally just stayed home on her days off, and while she enjoyed Mrs. Alexander’s company, she could confess to feeling there might be more to life. It wasn’t discontent. She really didn’t know what it was. Maybe a midlife crisis because the things she saw and overheard tonight threw her restlessness into high gear. Lois, sexually unaware for all intents and purposes, probably because she’d had no opportunity and subjugated all her baser urges out of necessity, felt her hormones surge. With a vengeance. The closest she’d come to witnessing lovemaking, the sexual act, was in a few PG movies. It had been romantic, she supposed, but mildly embarrassing. Lois didn’t think she was a prude. She knew what went where and how human bodies worked. She read all the old touted romances and thought she understood carnal needs and orgasms. She had no issue with any kind of lifestyle or sexual orientation as long as people practiced informed consent. She tried to blink tonight’s vision away, but it remained, emblazoned in her mind and on the back of her eyelids. Holy cow.

  It was sexual arousal she felt, and there was no doubt about it. She studied anatomy and physiology at college, part of child development, and as incredible as it seemed, puberty had just now struck. Oh, not literally. Lois had “become a woman” at the tender age of twelve to her mother’s chagrin because it meant focusing attention on Lois, however briefly, and distracting from good old mom. Lois endured the lecture and obediently took the supplies and the accompanying little book on hygiene, and that was that. Any interest in the opposite sex was nipped in the bud by mom and her expectations, so she had no experience and was probably the last thirty-nine-year-old virgin on the planet with the exception of some nuns and women living alone underground. Her nipples were hard and her panties damp. She suspected what she’d inadvertently witnessed was a familiar practice with her employers and had to do with tying people up and doing erotic things to them. She’d read about that sort of thing, or at least books alluding to that sort of thing. Bo
ok club wasn’t really the place to do anything other than consider novels from the academic perspective. She’d dried up and gotten old before her time. Heck, she’d been born old.

  She locked her door and logged onto her laptop. It took her a few tries to get the acronym right, but she found a plethora of sites. She chose one that looked professional, if that was even possible. Good grief. Who knew? At first she thought it was porn, pure and simple, what with all the naked bodies and implements in the pictures. But the captions under the pictures, the explanations, and the videos suggested it was not. When she’d earlier walked toward their master suite, she overhead the Alexanders talking about going to some club but couldn’t because they didn’t have a sitter. This must be that kind of club to judge by the apparel and other items. Mr. A was wearing leather pants. Tight leather pants over sexy leather boots.

  Lois had raised her hand to tap on their slightly open bedroom door to tell them she was home and to offer to keep an ear open for Nathan for the evening. But just before her knuckles descended, Mr. A laughed and told his wife he could tie her to their bed at home and torment her just as easily as at the club, although he preferred the cross.

  Lois scrolled down the pictures on her laptop, studying that piece of equipment and the man stretched upon it, quite nude and quite attractive, his delineated musculature obvious from his shoulders down to his buttocks. The woman with the whip in her hand wore shiny black from head to toe, skin tight, her generous breasts spilling over the confines of the top.

  Mrs. A had snapped back, in that feisty manner of hers, telling her husband there was no way he was putting her on display in her condition, and he was certainly not using nipple clamps. Her breasts were sensitive enough because she was pregnant.

  Lois was confused at first, her breath stuttering in her chest. While she definitely wasn’t worldly, she had read those books, and she thought she knew what her employers were discussing. And it wasn’t right for her to eavesdrop or spy.

  There was a wide variety of nipple clamps in the pictures on the screen. They were labeled with ominous sayings such as clover and tweezer, displayed right beside enormous phalluses and something called butt plugs, as well as assorted other interesting appliances. Who knew?

  She had turned to slip away when Mr. A said in a deep, commanding voice, “Strip.”

  Lois’s hands went to the buttons on her blouse of their own volition before her higher brain functions kicked in. He hadn’t been speaking to her! She hated herself for it, but she peeked into the room and saw Mrs. A obediently removing her clothes. Mrs. A wasn’t the obedient type, making things more intriguing. Lois blinked and tried to look away as Mr. A pointed to the floor at his feet. His wife sank to her knees, balancing her bottom on her heels to accommodate the weight of her belly, thighs widespread. It was a lovely sight to behold in Lois’s opinion, albeit an earthy one. This wasn’t dirty, filthy sex. It was beautiful. Mrs. A resembled a pagan goddess, bowing before a handsome, well-built god…Lois’s face flushed hot when she realized, even with his back to her, Mr. A was freeing his penis for his wife to…She’d fled soundlessly back to her room.

  And now here she was, stepping right out of her comfort zone, looking at BDSM on the Internet with what she desperately hoped wasn’t prurient interest, and not a little arousal.

  Mr. and Mrs. A’s bedroom was in a separate wing of the house. Lois knew they used a baby intercom system to monitor Nathan, who slept like the proverbial log, so they likely weren’t worried about being overheard or seen. She accepted they believed she was away, that they were alone to play. It was play. It was sexual, yes, but there was a component to it even Lois couldn’t miss despite her inexperience. They were having fun. And the door hadn’t been open that much, just a few inches. Lois couldn’t help herself. Her feet carried her back down the hallway past Nathan’s door, still shut tightly. The little fellow hadn’t yet mastered opening doors fitted with child-proof handles, although it wouldn’t be long. He was very talented with his hands, tending to study and dismantle everything he got hold of.

  She crossed the living area and once again approached that slightly open door. Mr. A, in those tight leather pants, his private part now tucked away from Lois’s sight, loomed over his little pregnant wife. For an instant Lois thought to run for the phone and call for help. Mrs. A was tied, spread eagled to the bed frame, wearing nothing but sparkling jewels at either breast. She was moaning in accompaniment to the sounds of her husband striking her with what appeared to be a fringe of leather tassels. Lois’s stupefied brain processed those noises as being those of pleasure, not pain, although there was perhaps a hint of pain. Mr. A was obviously taking great care not to strike her distended belly, focusing on her breasts and thighs, and a trifle higher than her thighs, and Mrs. A wasn’t calling for help. She was begging for more, and for something far more personal. Lois tried to look away when Mr. Alexander tossed the tasseled thing away, knelt, and lowered his head between his wife’s widespread legs. She succeeded only when the other woman gasped and groaned beneath her husband’s ministrations. It served to break the spell, and Lois fled quietly back to her room. Again. She wondered how she’d come to live here and how many more surprises were in store for her.

  Lois worked as a live-in nanny for Kennedy and Graham Alexander. Mr. A worked as some kind of consultant, and Mrs. A was the part-time personal assistant to a friend of theirs who apparently had a number of businesses. She wasn’t working right now because of extreme morning sickness, but that was abating, and she’d be back to work soon. Their two-and-a-half-year-old Nathan was Lois’s little charge. He recently moved into his own room, because in five months or so there would be a new little Alexander in the nursery, and Lois would have even less spare time. Not that she minded. She loved children and might have hoped for any number of her own, but the idea of being in a relationship was foreign to her, considering the example her parents had set. And becoming impregnated just for the sake of making a child was distasteful. Lois knew she could raise a child alone, but felt having the input of the father was optimum. Not that it made any difference now. She was getting past the safe childbearing years, having spent most of them caring for her mother, supporting that woman through various maladies of a totally hypochondriac nature, but all too real in the end. Her mother suffered an aneurysm in her sleep after complaining of a headache, something both Lois and her father discounted. Her dad dusted off his dating shoes within three months of the funeral. He signed his worldly goods over to Lois with the exception of his pension, kissed her on the cheek, and boarded a plane for Florida, where he was apparently reliving his youth with gusto. She rarely heard from him and had nobody else.

  Lois, with only a high school education, sold the family home, found an efficiency apartment, and enrolled in community college. She studied child care, excelling at the academic side of things, focusing on her studies and not the social activities accompanying post-secondary education. She didn’t think she would fit in and avoided the casual camaraderie, connecting instead with more mature adults closer to home. The field placements were equally rewarding, and Lois graduated, the oldest member, if not the most worldly in her class, at the age of thirty-one. And nothing in her life experience prepared her for what she’d heard and glimpsed down the hall. Not the five years in Special Times, the day care she found immediate employment in, with its professional mothers and fathers, their lovely little children, and the well-educated staff living lives above reproach as far as she knew. Not the small group of friends and neighbors in the community where she lived, many of whom considered her family, giving her a taste of what she missed out on in her own. Not even the nearly two years with that nice Mr. Layne and his nasty wife, Jennifer. One would have to be blind not to know that woman indulged in frequent and questionable sexual escapades, particularly after Mr. Layne died.

  When Lois was offered a position as a live-in nanny for the wealthy couple, she’d been cautious and planned to work it through in her usual careful
manner, weighing the pros and cons. Mr. Layne had obtained her name from one of the parents who used Special Times. When she didn’t respond immediately, he quietly appealed to her, hinting his beautiful wife wasn’t perhaps as happy about her pregnancy as he was. He hoped having support with child care would ease the transition into motherhood. Lois remembered feeling a spark of resentment and not a little anger that a woman of means and beauty would see a child as being a burden, a distraction, and in that moment agreed to take the job. She essentially committed to a child, yet unborn. She had, in fact, been Nathan’s surrogate mother, because Mrs. Layne delivered then abandoned him for all intents and purposes into Lois’s care. Mr. Layne fortunately doted on the baby, and Lois was certain Nathan would be well taken care of by at least one of his parents. Then Mr. Layne died before Nathan was eighteen months, and a power struggle ensued between his wife and his ex-wives. In the end, the present Mrs. Layne was stripped of some of what she believed to be her rightful inheritance. She next hatched a plan to blackmail Nathan’s real father, Mr. Alexander, into marrying her in order to obtain another wealthy husband and Nathan’s money.

  Mrs. Alexander, who hadn’t yet married Mr. A, outsmarted Jennifer, and she and Mr. A parented Nathan, although Lois was part of the deal as decreed by the custody court. It was okay. She loved Nathan, and it would have killed her to leave him. And she really liked the Alexanders, especially now they’d straightened things out between them. They probably thought she hadn’t noticed they were having troubles in their relationship, but Lois was very observant. She took her role as Nathan’s second line of defense very seriously, and strain between his new parents wouldn’t have been good for him. But it all worked out, and now Mrs. A was expecting, and the couple wanted Lois to stay on. Spending her years as a live-in nanny wasn’t the worse thing in the world for certain, and she’d been reasonably content. Until now. Now there was a storm unleashed in her belly, and her fingers drifted, almost without thought, under her loose shirt to touch her hard nipples. She wondered what it would feel like to have something attached there, or a hot mouth on her. Her privates tingled, and she was suddenly so wet she gasped at the foreign sensation. She placed her free hand against the crotch of her mommy jeans and pushed the thick seam against her flesh. Instinct took over and she ground her pelvis in a circular motion, rubbing first one nipple, then the other in conjunction. The shuddering, aching flash of a new experience encompassed her and she hung, frozen, on the shuddering experience before yanking her hand away in consternation. Self-abuse. That’s what her mother warned against.