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

by Allyson Young

  Patrick looked incredulous. Silence reigned. He stared at Jon and burst into laughter. Jordan and Emily looked up in shock. Jon was grateful Lois had kept her voice down. Patrick would keep his mouth shut and trot the event out only when he wanted to knock Jon down a peg or two. He stood and glared at his boss. “Excuse me. I have a sub to deal with.”

  “No medical, Jon.”

  “Fuck the medical, Patrick. You know she doesn’t need a medical. She’ll need a cushion to sit on for the next week or so, but she won’t need a doctor.”

  Patrick shrugged and didn’t bother to hide his smirk. Jon went after Lois. And if Maurice was anywhere in the vicinity he’d deal with him, too.

  He pounded through the halls and down the stairs, catching her twenty feet from the front door. She shrieked when he whirled her around and threw her over his shoulder. Her purse fell to the floor, the contents spraying every which way. She wouldn’t need her purse. She wouldn’t need anything but him for the next while.

  He ignored her protests and feeble attempts to escape, bearing her slight weight to his quarters. He shouldered his way in, kicked the door closed and dumped his furious package on the bed. It was a simple task to strip her. She wriggled like an eel when he pinned her with one hand on her belly and used his superior strength to yank her clothes off. He put her into a kneeling position on the floor and shoved her head onto his boots. She crouched there, passive and silent. Her attitude soothed him, and his outrage calmed. He was still too angry with himself to punish her and his cock made a sly alternative suggestion.

  Jon fisted his left hand in her hair and drew her upright on her knees. She didn’t look repentant. Not at all. She looked a little wary, watchful perhaps, and annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss it with her. He freed his cock with his other hand, and it sprang upward, right in front of her face. Her eyes crossed comically, but his sense of humor was on vacation.

  “What is your safe word?”

  “Nanny.”

  Oh, she was so going to regret that little jab. “Open your mouth, Lois, and follow my instructions.”

  She set her lips for an instant then parted them.

  “Wider.”

  When he judged he could set the cockhead on that pillowy bottom lip he put it there.

  “Close around me.”

  The sight of her obeying, feeling those soft lips applying a gentle pressure, softened his resolve. He pushed it down. This was a lesson for them both. “Watch your little teeth.”

  He fed her his aching flesh. She had no idea what she was doing, and he loved her for it. She gagged and her eyes ran, but she wasn’t a quitter. He told her to breathe through her nose and relax. She struggled but accommodated a considerable piece of him.

  “Use your tongue. Explore me. And suck. C’mon, Lois. Show me you can do this.”

  He used her mouth until he was certain her jaw ached. Saliva leaked from the corners of her mouth, running down her chin to drip to her breasts and he warned her to keep her hands on her thighs. It was a highly erotic sight.

  “Swallow on me. Swallow me down, little one.”

  She did as he bid her, and he let himself come in ropy spurts down her throat. He moaned, despite himself. She choked and swallowed frantically. As he pulled from that warm, wet heat, towering above her, he didn’t miss the satisfied look in her eyes. Her lashes quickly veiled it, but it’d been there. Definitely a dual lesson.

  When he was sure she was able to breathe properly, he pulled her up and transferred her across his lap in the same smooth movement, trapping her legs between his. An arm across her shoulders immobilized her. Her ass was sweetly curved, vulnerable. He smoothed a palm over the soft skin and eased a finger between her legs. Wet. Blowing him worked her up. His cock raised a feeble high five against her belly.

  “Twenty, Lois. No safe word. You’ll trust me to know your limits. I’ve apparently used up my quotient for stupidity.”

  He cracked her a good one, and followed it up with two more, arching his hand to mitigate the actual impact, but the noise was impressive. She lurched and yelped. He smacked her harder by the ten count, and there were no further protests, although she clenched against the blows. He would teach her not to another time. Her pussy was soft and wet when he inserted his hand between her thighs. He pulled some of that moisture through her sodden folds and over her perineum to paint her puckered opening. That touch she did protest, if faintly, and he desisted. He’d given her a hint of what she might expect in the future, and that was his intent.

  The final five spanks were meant to sting, and they did, her flesh reddening significantly. But she was adrift on endorphins, sobbing with pain and moaning with passion, trying to rub her pussy against his jeans, steal an orgasm. How quickly she’d learned, become a creature of decadent passion. Jon wasn’t going to allow her to come, however. This was correction.

  He blew across her abused flesh, and she shivered. He lowered her to the floor again, tucking himself back into his jeans. She knelt, propped against his calf, and he stroked her hair. Her head inched upward, and she cautiously looked at him through the tangled skeins. She blinked and swallowed, her throat working in much the same way it had when she swallowed his cum. Jon instantly wanted her again and forced himself to look impassive.

  “Sir?” There it was. She wasn’t going to call him by his title, not yet. She wanted to be certain he’d figured it out. Well, lesson learned.

  “Say it.”

  “You’re damn arrogant.”

  Holy shit. He hoped for her to beg his pardon.

  “And it makes your thinking narrow.” She spoke clearly.

  “You might want to explain that, Lois, and make it good or you’ll be over my lap again.”

  Her chocolate eyes didn’t reflect any worry or concern. Instead they sparked with arousal. He’d need to be more creative with discipline in the future. He liked this little spark of rebellion.

  “You didn’t give me the option of responding to your news. You asked me if I wanted kids. I do. So you pushed me away because you feared rejection! That’s not how it works, Jonathon. Sir. Maybe that’s how things go in this world, but I doubt it. In matters of the heart there’s always an option, a compromise. Even I know that. You didn’t give me a chance.”

  “You want kids. I can’t see you as complete without one.” He strove to keep the pain from his voice.

  “And if I hadn’t met you until I was fifty? Sixty? What then? A little late, don’t you think? Did you consider I might accept you regardless? That you’d be enough for me once I knew? Of course not. You’re the big, bad Dom. Bullshit.”

  Holy shit. She was kicking his ass again.

  “Language, Lois. I won’t tolerate it.”

  “Bullshit.” There were tears now, anger mixed with sadness. She sobbed once, deep in her chest. “I thought you were rejecting me because I wasn’t enough. You’re gorgeous, and I’m nothing. I’m nearly forty, and you’re a lot younger. I thought you were slumming and wanted out. But this is about you! And it’s selfish.”

  He gathered her up and held her close, mindful of her reddened ass. “Shhh, sweetheart. You’re worth two of me. More. I admit it. I’m a guy, and it freaked me out to think I couldn’t give you everything you need. I’ll figure it out. I promise.”

  She cried for a long time. He knew it was a combination of her first correction, his earlier unconscionable behavior, and relief. He was feeling overwhelmed himself. When she hiccupped into silence, he patted her face dry with a wad of tissues and held them for her to blow her nose. She was a red, shiny mess, and he dared hope she belonged to him.

  Chapter Ten

  Lois breathed through the burn and concentrated on the rush of dark pleasure. Jonathon worked the plug deeper into her anus, murmuring encouragement, praising the way she relaxed to take it, until it was seated as deep as it could go. He had been slowly stretching her back entrance for days now, first with a narrow wand, because his fingers were on a scale with the rest of him,
but she’d finally been able to accept two of his digits. The forbidden, edgy pleasure of something hard and unforgiving in place there while he licked her to orgasm was indescribable, although he made her tell him in filthy, explicit detail. The soliloquy was often delivered in a voice she barely recognized as her own toward the end as she crested, her thighs clamping convulsively around the smooth, soft skin of his head. Unless he tied her down, immobilizing her legs and giving him the opportunity to direct the activity, prolong her orgasm or replicate it. Her throat hurt from screaming it raw after number three, and she tended to slip away on number four.

  Sex was now the tasty treat, the banquet, and the dessert she craved incessantly. Two weeks with Jonathon, some of it spent in his quarters, draped over or attached to every piece of furniture he owned, introduced her to every variation of sexual activity known to mankind and maybe some species she’d yet to meet. He played her body with exquisite precision, and when she could make her eyes open, the feral intent on his features sometimes frightened her. Until she saw the pleasure and love in the depths of his eyes.

  She’d confided her teenage fantasy about The Saracen Blade and told him the story in increments, lying in his arms at night before well-earned rest. He told her any Saracen worth his salt would use her ass, and she’d shuddered with arousal laced with fear. The preparation of that orifice began the next morning.

  “Okay, sweetheart?

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Tell me.”

  “It stretches and drags, burns, too. I like it. It pulls in my belly.”

  “My cock is bigger. It’ll fill you up, sweetheart. I’m gonna use you well.”

  Her pussy pulsed and moistened in response. He rolled her onto her back, and the extra pressure on the plug made her eyes water before she adjusted. He grinned down at her evilly, and her eyes traced his beloved features. She wondered if she knew anyone as well as she thought she knew him. Their close proximity forced openness and sharing, something she wasn’t used to, but she went with it wholeheartedly. She told Jonathon everything about her life and all the crap attached to it. In turn he shared with her, making her laugh helplessly at his stories about his three brothers and their escapades. He was the second oldest and the only one who’d enlisted. The rest worked in Michigan, settled in Dearborn, not too far from his parents. He assured her his family would be accepting of their relationship, and his confidence reassured her immensely. She was afraid they’d resent an older woman involved with their son and brother. When they weren’t talking and sharing, they were having sex. Actually, Jonathon did sexual things to her, with and without her permission, pushing her boundaries and introducing her to hedonistic pleasure.

  He taught her how to pleasure him, too, and didn’t hide his ecstasy from her. She couldn’t take all of him in her mouth but doubted anyone could. Still, he sometimes allowed her to fellate him at her own pace, and she loved to make him stand on the balls of his feet and clench his buttocks in an effort to contain himself, although she hid her private glee. She thought that might be her best sexual skill and laughed herself into tears one day at the thought. Jonathon insisted she tell him the joke and, when she did, gravely assured her she could market her talent.

  The vaginal sex was spectacular, too. She usually rode him because he liked to watch, but there were times he took her from behind, driving her ahead on his cock. He made love to her when he was on top, holding her like a fragile vessel, working himself in measured increments and thrusts inside of her, waiting for her to signal her release. Then he’d power through a few more strokes and shudder his own, dropping his body to cover her completely, blot her out of existence and absorb her into him for a brief, loving moment before easing his weight away so she could breathe.

  The one thing they didn’t discuss was the lack of babies in their future relationship. Lois was fine with it. She had her cake and was eating it, too. Icing was a bit much to ask for when she never dreamed of being with someone, ever, and now had Jonathon. He apparently accepted her impassioned outburst that morning she’d slandered him in front of Patrick. He recognized how she’d manipulated him, too. Life had moved on and her education begun.

  “We only have a couple more days, sweetheart. I’m going to introduce you to these and then try out my new flogger. You have your safe word.”

  These were some shiny, gold circles complete with tiny teeth in a miniature mouth. Nipple clamps, and they looked nasty. He professed to love her breasts and wouldn’t hear her disparage them. The second time she mourned the size, he tormented them until she begged with frustration but he wouldn’t let her come. Lesson learned. She insulted him when she insulted herself.

  She never needed to use her safe word, at least not yet. He paid close attention to her every response and reaction, and the one time he gagged and blindfolded her, suspending her from the hook above the shower, well that time…Lois had dropped the ball that time. Literally. The little rubber ball he pressed into her bound hands, closing her fingers around it, was her safe word. He wanted her to be blind, to feel and experience touch, focus on it and manage her inclination to be vocal. The steam and heat of the water set the tone for that particular session. The vibrating wand in her anus vied with the enormous phallus in her front passage, every little vibration against the ridges and projections through the thin membrane between the two channels making her shriek against the phallic-shaped gag in her mouth. She sucked on it to muffle her cries and wished it was Jonathon instead. The nipple clamps were attached to a chain apparently threaded through that same ceiling hook, and every time she shifted, her nipples pinched, the bite of pain arrowing to her apex. Jonathon sprayed her clit with the handheld showerhead, so she shifted a lot, assaulted by a myriad of sensations. She couldn’t process them all and became a trembling mass of need. She wanted to plead and beg and knew he’d deprived her of that ability for a reason. She clutched the rubber ball for dear life, but when he pushed the shower head up against her bottom hole and sucked her clit into his mouth, the ball squeezed between her spasming fingers and squirted free. It bounced wildly around her feet, and Jonathon instantly stopped suctioning her engorged nub and surged to his feet. The handheld battered against the shower doors as he snatched the blindfold from her eyes and fumbled the gag free.

  “Little one! Are you okay?”

  She hadn’t been okay. She’d been on the edge of what promised to be a momentous orgasm and hissing her disappointment at him earned her a look. Then he chuckled and kissed her, her Saracen shrouded in steam and mystique. He left her hanging, literally, and immediately returned with a paddle. He heated her buttocks with it. The wand vibrated and the dildo stretched her. Her nipples ached with splendid pain as the chain tugged despite her best efforts not to move. When her bottom burned so brightly she actually considered using her safe word, Jonathon spread her folds and exposed her tingling clit. The smartly laid slap of the paddle directly on that tender nub stunned her into total immobility, her breath shocked still in her lungs. The second tap pushed her over, and the tiles echoed with her accompanying response. He recognized her intense, frustrated need even as he corrected her disrespectful response. No quarter. The best of both worlds.

  These new nipple clamps bit down with excruciating, erotic stimulation. She sucked air but didn’t complain and was rewarded with a searing kiss from her Dom. Her Saracen Dom. She kissed him back with her heart and whined a little when he pulled back. He lubed his enormous shaft with a viscous substance she knew from past experience would heat and create a slow burn within her. They’d dispensed with condoms, and he’d told her she was the first sub he fucked without a layer of latex. He notched his cock at her entrance and pulled her folds apart to watch as he battled for space against the plug. It was nearly too much. She breathed and made herself relax.

  “You may come whenever you please, little one.”

  He lifted her legs and folded them back against her chest, lifting her buttocks off the mattress and easing the pressure on the plug. She
had time to process that before he fucked her. She was powerless beneath his weight and driving cock, his to use and pleasure. It was glorious. He cleverly prodded that spongy spot high inside her channel, and she climaxed without warning, all the more powerful without those little signals she learned to recognize from pending clitoral orgasms. He shouted something above her and held still, suspended before her wavering vision. Their mingled juices poured down her cleft to pool beneath her as he withdrew.

  She lay, replete, and he sagged beside her, their arms and legs barely touching, but enough to maintain the connection.

  “Gonna take you into the club this weekend, Saturday night. I want you naked.”

  She struggled to sit up, mindful of the plug. “What?”

  “I want to show you off.”

  Well then. Unbidden, her eyes dropped to her breasts and lower.

  “Don’t or I’ll correct you and you won’t come. Until Saturday night.”

  “Okay.” She trusted him. If he thought she was ready she was ready. And if he was proud of her that was enough. Although a little skirt, maybe a bustier? She really wanted a bustier.

  “Naked.”

  “Okay.” She was still buying a bustier.

  Chapter Eleven

  In the end, Jon relented. He bought her a tiny leather skirt and a leather bra, rounding it out with high-heeled boots. She looked like an erotic Annie Oakley in the fetish wear, minus the rifle, and he had to put it on her twice before they finally hit the scene rooms and the soft dungeon. He didn’t clothe her because of her need, but because of his. Maurice had the night off and would be haunting the place like an evil spirit. Jon didn’t want to mix it up with the other man but knew he would if he looked at Lois’s naked form. Possessive much? Yes.