“Was our sub here?”
“Lois? Uh-huh. She dropped in for a few minutes and then left. She didn’t say anything other than to ask me to bring her car around. She was fucked up. She tried to hide it, but I saw it. I made sure she got a cab. Wouldn’t let her drive.” Maurice was looking daggers at Jon, but whatever thoughts he had he kept to himself.
“And you didn’t think to call us?” Trevor was white around the mouth. Maurice looked between them and had the grace to look ashamed.
They left him standing, holding the door, and strode to Trevor’s SUV because it was closer. And a more accessible vehicle to stow a rebellious sub in the back seat. Trevor clicked the remote, and the lights flashed. Jonathon wrenched the passenger door open and fit his bulk inside, but not before moving the seat back as far as it would go. Trevor was already seated and cranking the engine over, his face strained.
“Lois never cries anymore unless in passion or in subspace. We’ve never given her reason to. What the fuck, Jon? She had to have overheard us. It can’t be anything else.”
“Don’t know, but I’ll find out. And she’s not leaving us.” Jon knew he voiced Trevor’s fear. He wondered if they’d been brothers in another life, because despite the other man’s sometimes annoying tendency to micromanage, they complemented one another. Hell, they anticipated one another. His jealousy was even a thing of the past.
“No, she’s not,” Trevor agreed grimly.
Trevor pulled into the driveway, and Jon was out of the vehicle almost before it stopped, Trevor not far behind. Kennedy met them at the door, a finger to her lips.
“Nathan’s sleeping. Don’t you make this a big deal.”
Jon nodded, and they hurried to Lois’s room. He decided not to knock. He tried the knob, and it gave under his hand so he pushed the door open. Lois was huddled on her bed, still wearing the red bustier and matching skirt he’d ordered for her. She lifted her head and stared at him and Trevor, her eyes red and puffy, tears streaked on her cheeks. For the first time in his life with a sub, Jon didn’t know what to do. His first instinct was to soothe her and beg her to tell him what was wrong. He was also angry with her, terrified she was retreating, breaking things off. Trevor saved him the trouble.
His partner advanced on Lois and pulled her to her feet. She began to protest, her eyes now wide, panicked. Trevor yanked the light blanket off the mattress and wrapped her up in it, spinning her like a top, then put her over his shoulder. He tossed the keys to Jon. They left the room as quickly as they’d invaded it, and without a word.
Trevor laid a couple of hearty slaps across the blanket right about where Lois’s little ass would be, and she ceased her struggles. Jon nodded to an astonished Kennedy as he held the door for Trevor and his slight burden, then exited behind them. Trevor sat Lois in the back seat and buckled her in, the blanket swathing her and the seat belt further restricting any movement. Only her face peered out, looking shell shocked. Her sweet lips parted.
“Not a word, honey. Not one word. Jon and I aren’t interested in hearing anything right at this fucking moment.” The tone in Trevor’s voice was as dark as any Jon had heard. Or used.
Jon swallowed his own comment and shrugged, getting into the passenger seat. He stabbed the keys into the ignition. Trevor got behind the wheel and adjusted the mirror in order to see Lois then cranked the engine over, driving quickly and competently back to the club. The air in the vehicle seethed like a living thing.
Maurice nearly laughed when he saw them, Lois again over Trevor’s shoulder, effectively shrink wrapped. His eyes widened and filled with mirth, and his lips twitched, but he managed decorum, nodding gravely and opening the door. Jon went ahead and found Jordan, setting up for a scene in the soft dungeon.
“Put it off, Jordan, as a favor to me.”
“But it’s a regular—” Jordan protested then shut his mouth, his head tilting as he assessed Jon’s face. He shrugged and threw up his hands. “Okay. But expect an audience.”
Jon reworked the length of the chains to suit Lois’s height. He could hear Trevor behind him, and Lois’s muffled complaints as his partner stripped her, the occasional muted slap making him smile. It was most interesting how he and Trev had become an extension of one another in both thought and action. True, he might have coddled their woman, primarily because he’d fucked up, gotten ahead of himself. But Trevor corrected that minor error, and he loved the guy for it. Lois was in the shit, and they weren’t wasting another moment in addressing it. They both wanted her submission, her surrender, but they wouldn’t tolerate a quitter. Unless she used her safe word, it was on.
Trevor hauled her over and held her steady while Jon secured her wrists, ensuring they were firmly restrained yet without undue chafing. He ignored her, otherwise, and she was now mute. Despite her obvious angst, he sensed her arousal, the little pink nipples beaded, her sweet honey wafting to his nostrils. Her little ass bore the pink imprint of Trevor’s big mitt. Jon held her face between his hands, Trevor now kneeling at her feet to spread her legs wide, fastening the ankle cuffs.
“You don’t run, Lois. Not from us, ever. You talk with us, tell us, no matter what. We won’t tolerate a retreat. Are we clear?”
“Yes.”
“You listened at the door. You made an assumption. We aren’t interested in unraveling the bullshit fears, sweetheart. We’re moving forward, and you’re coming along unless you use your safe word.”
Her eyes stared into his, filled with pain and anxiety. Jon hardened his heart. She’d fall back into her past each and every time he or Trevor got ahead of themselves, no matter if it was in her best interest, unless they corrected her. Trust was earned, on both sides, and he hoped they’d read her correctly. If not, and she walked, he’d wither away and die. The tension radiating from Trevor reflected his own.
“Okay.” Her whole body shuddered, and she closed her eyes.
The sound of quiet voices filled the room as the members expecting a very different scene entered and milled around. Ah, spontaneity. Jon went for the lube.
* * * *
She was stretched taut, almost too taut, but Jon knew her physical limits to the most finite degree. Trevor knew her emotional limits as well. She’d prepared a pretty speech, secure in the familiar surroundings of her room at the Alexanders, something to let them both off the hook. She convinced herself, knew she could carry it off, even in the certain face of Trevor and Jonathon’s protest. She shut down the part of herself begging her to take what her men offered, no matter the expense to them. She had expected their arrival, predicted it, although not quite so precipitously. Trevor’s actions blew her away and knocked her convincing speech into the proverbial cocked hat. The fact Jonathon went along with her kidnapping spoke louder than any action on his part. He and Trevor were partners. Jonathon wasn’t compromising, and Trevor wasn’t settling. She was so in for it, and rightfully so. She’d run without asking them, without trusting them. Even if they were wrong, and they would be from time to time, there was no call to run.
Trevor stood, drifting his hands up over her naked skin, from her ankles to her breasts, skimming over her thighs and hips, her waist. He, too, stared into her eyes.
“This is punishment, Lois. You think on that. And then we move on, like Jon said.”
Jon was efficiently stretching her, his heated body close, hopefully blocking all those interested eyes. She’d heard them come in, and while she couldn’t see them from her position, they’d soon see all of her. Oh boy. He pulled his digits free, but a hard, unforgiving plug took their place. Lois felt her blush start right at the base of her toes, flooding up and over her body to wash over her face. Trevor kissed her, and their audience faded to the back of her consciousness.
The nipple clamps popped her eyes wide, her men applying them simultaneously. She sucked air, and the erotic sting blazed a trail to her apex. She was so wet and so needy. Trevor stepped behind her, and she heard the whistle of a crop. It was unmistakable, different tha
n the snap of the whip and the whoosh of a flogger. The first stripe fell across the fullest part of her buttocks and stung like all the fires of hell. Jon stood directly in front of her. She could feel the static electricity between them although he didn’t press a millimeter of skin against hers. She stared into his eyes and took her correction. She bit her lip against the next few blows and nearly whimpered with the remainder. He shared her anguish wordlessly, and her shame built. At the ten count Trevor took Jon’s place, and it began again, this time the flat of Jon’s big hand laying heat and sting on what had to be raised welts on her bottom. He rubbed her ass in between each blow. Trevor, too, united with her as she processed her lesson, and the tears spilled, tracking down her cheeks to drip from her chin. Trevor flinched but didn’t touch her.
Jonathon pressed a kiss right between her shoulders, and she felt his strong emotion. He pulled the plug free and pushed against her sore ass, his cock breaching her anus without pause. He skewered her, and she raised to her toes, her pelvis arching to meet Trevor’s erection. That fat cock pushed between her sopping folds, through the portal and into her channel, surging to seat itself beside Jonathon’s, separated only by such a thin membrane. Trevor tugged the nipple clamps, and she seized that slight pain to center herself. Muttered comments and sounds of shared pleasure echoed around her, surpassing her men’s muted groans, as the other members joined with her in not-so-mute witness.
Lois, unable to move at all, restrained by bulwarks of flesh and chains of love, shook in extremis and clenched so hard her vision blurred. Stretched, filled, complete. Her men took up a familiar rhythm, cocks dragging and sliding in alternate cadence. Lois lasted but a few more thrusts then climaxed, screaming her release to quiet the room. Trevor removed the clamps, and she flew again, coupled with a press of a callused finger on her exposed clit. It was too much, and while she registered the twin jets of heat deep within her, she sagged and surrendered her well-being to her men.
Epilogue
The past nine months had been an utter and total breeze compared to this. She had experienced hardly any of the miseries of pregnancy, only the glow. No morning sickness, no swelling of her feet or any other parts of her anatomy except her breasts. Lois Spence-Braun had boobs. Boobs to die for. Her men were in shock and awe, although they hastened to assure her they liked her little ones, too. And the doctor said they might well remain the same size, or maybe just a little smaller.
She didn’t remember being tired. It was hard to get tired when one or two men waited on a person hand and foot. She didn’t even have to dress herself, and they would have fed her, too, if she hadn’t insisted on feeding herself. Certainly the baby grew enormous within her slender frame, but Lois was rarely on her feet long enough to become tired or struggle with her balance. She never had to struggle getting out of bed or chairs either, because one of her men anticipated her need to rise and lifted her to her feet. She didn’t do housework because they hired someone, and making a meal in their nice, new suburban home was done under close supervision, a chair shoved at her the instant she looked a bit fatigued. It was a wonder she had any strength at all, because she didn’t do anything, except the regular yoga classes and biweekly swims that kept her fit. That and the athletic sex. Jonathon and Trevor were highly inventive in regards to her pleasure and theirs while ensuring the safety of the baby.
Maybe a princess was treated better during pregnancy, but Lois doubted it. Sincerely doubted it. Kennedy laughed at her, and Tara smiled knowingly. Their babies, Peri and Jake, were close in age, and Graham and Joel were already comparing and contrasting skills and talents. Madi delivered prematurely, but both she and baby number three, another girl, Sherilynn, were doing well. Patrick was nearly back to his old self, and rumors abounded about a scene in the near future featuring Madison.
Lois didn’t even get to be a nanny. Nathan grew up once his sister arrived, and big brothers apparently didn’t need nannies, attending preschool instead part days a week. He glued himself to Lois, however, whenever she visited and patted her growing belly proprietarily, calling it “mine.”
She didn’t know the sex of her baby, preferring the surprise, but the way things were going, she doubted she’d survive to hold her child. Another contraction built deep in her womb. Yanking her hand from Jonathon’s, she shoved the corner of the sheet into her mouth to contain her agonized scream.
“That’s it.” Jonathon strode from the room, his big frame shaking with sympathetic pain.
Trevor mopped her brow and offered her an ice chip, pretending her death grip on his hand didn’t hurt at all despite the covert flexing of his fingers. “Breathe, honey. More oxygen, less pain.”
He looked like he could use some oxygen himself, to her jaundiced eye. This was his fault, and she gathered the strength to tell him so when the next contraction surged and burst over her. This time she couldn’t muffle her response, and Trevor whitened. “God, honey. I’m so sorry. I won’t do this to you again, I swear.”
She wanted to respond but concentrated on her breathing instead. Jonathon stalked back into the room, trailed by a man in green scrubs. Mr. Medical god himself. This was his fault, too.
“Your uh, husband, partner, he’s asked me to give you an epidural, Lois.”
She shook her head. Jonathon remonstrated, and she ignored him. This might be her only child, and she wasn’t missing out on any of it. It didn’t matter if she died. She was going to be aware of every agonizing second.
“You won’t die, Lois. You’re in hard labor, and the pain is considerable, but you won’t die. You know we dismissed the idea of a C-section, because despite your size you can deliver babies.”
Well then. If she wasn’t going to die, she could see this through. Contraction and an incredible need to push. The doctor instantly read her face. Was he a Dom? He appeared bewildered, and she realized she was sharing everything that popped into her head. Jonathon looked to be in worse agony himself, and Trevor groaned.
The doctor hustled over and checked her. “You’ve progressed quickly. Far quicker than expected. We’ll get you into delivery right away. Gentlemen, gown up for the event or get left behind.”
Trevor appeared torn. He looked at Jon then at her. He clearly didn’t want to leave her. Jon fidgeted.
“Go. I won’t do this without you.” She shuddered at the enormity of the task ahead and they fled from the room, competing for space in the doorway, a milling of limbs and big torsos. She hoped she could laugh about it someday.
Little Geordie arrived a scant half hour later in the cold and sterile birthing room. Lois didn’t remember much about that time period other than Trevor and Jonathon flanking her, encouraging her and continually professing their love. The baby did what he needed to do, and her body facilitated it. Pushing was the easiest part, satisfying. The nurse who cleaned him and set him on her chest, beamed at his father.
“He looks just like you!”
Jonathon sat on the floor, making an audible thump. Trevor stared at Geordie, bursting into pleased laughter. When he was able to bring himself under control, he wheezed, “Well, shit, buddy. So much for your nonviable spermatozoa! I guess I’ll have to wait my turn!”
He leaned down to give Lois a kiss and press one on the baby’s head then rested his chin on her hair. “Honey, you were amazing. And now you can kick Jon’s ass instead of mine. Until next time.”
Lois cuddled Geordie close and carefully stroked his little bald head, so like his daddy’s. He did indeed look just like Jonathon, although more milk chocolate than rich bittersweet. His father unfolded his length from the floor and gently touched a big finger to his son’s cheek as Geordie rooted at her breast. Jon didn’t hide the strong emotion suffusing his features or the tears standing in his eyes. The badass Dom was clearly at a loss for words, merely offering his hand to Trevor who took it, the clasp firm across Lois’s prone body. High drama, and despite the interest of the medical staff, her men were oblivious.
It was a measure of t
he strength of their relationship that Trevor wasn’t fazed. Surprised, but not fazed. Geordie belonged to them all. Trevor would give her the next child if it was meant to be, and he or she would also belong. Fulfilled.
THE END
WWW.ALLYSONYOUNG.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada, with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks, too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied—when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favors the dark side of romance.
For all titles by Allyson Young, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/allyson-young
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Fulfilled [Club Pleasure 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 17
