“We haven’t actually done anything to him,” Laurent continues.
“Other than beat him up, sedate him, kidnap him and tie him up.” I say back at her quickly, with a flash of anger.
Careful B, you might sound like you’re actually defending Booker. Paris says to me.
I’m not trying to defend Booker, but her behavior is just as out of line as his. To presume to interfere with our affairs.
“Right, other than that.” Laurent answers me back. “But if you would like for us to let him go, we could do that right now also.” Laurent says walking over to one of the wrist binding restraints.
“Stop!” Paris says causing Laurent to freeze on the spot immediately and turn around to face him, her eyes twinkling.
Paris what are you doing? I ask him telepathically. Booker’s head semi lifts up, eyes unfocussed in our direction.
Dealing with our problem. He replies to me. I know just how.
“You presume to give us a gift, then take it away from us again?” Paris asks Laurent. “Then that’s more of a taunt then a gift isn’t it? I think I know what Paris is thinking.
I don’t want Booker as a third. I reply back at Paris. That is not going to solve this problem we have with him. It’ll make it worse. I also don’t need to add that Booker is probably too out of it to perform at sexual capacity.
“His sedation should wear off in about five minutes. Please let me know if you require more. Otherwise I will leave you two in privacy of this room to decide what you wish to do with him,” Laurent moved towards the door again. “Do you require anything else?” Paris looks around the room; there is a red leather couch in place of a bed, places in the wall for restraints to be looped through. A display of sex toy on top of a set of drawers.
“Champagne would be nice.” Paris replies coolly. Laurent tilts her head in acquiesce.
Which pet do you like the most? Paris asks me. My heart races. Bg? We will not be using the pet for ourselves. I want to let out a sigh but that would be far too obvious.
“Of course.” Snapping her fingers at one of her entourage that has the word “Pet” on their collar. Pet runs off to find us champagne. “Will that be all?” She asks us again. “If you would anything else, my pets can be summoned to do what is required, unless of course, you would like one of my pets for your own personal use?” She leaves her remarks hanging like a question and I can tell we’re being challenged.
“Please ask your pets to line up on display.” Paris takes great pleasure in telling Laurent. She snaps her fingers and her pets, all fall into a line, standing tall before us, still dressed in clothes, all but the receptionist in the collar in her hands. I look at our hotel receptionist, kneeling beside Laurent and quirk an eyebrow. Well, her collar does say owned.
“This one does not share.” Laurent says. “But I would happily substitute myself if it would please the Manhattan Maen.”
Paris walks over to my side, his hand on the small of my back as we look over each werewolf, they’re young in their twenties, fit looking. And so not either of our types. But one of the females has a baby pink collar around her neck with the metallic words “Kitten” spelled out. She has matching baby pink wrist cuffs on either wrist with a loop through them.
What do you think of Kitten? Paris asks me.
Fine. I reply not really caring. Because I’m not sure what we’re doing with the current situation at hand, yet. Paris hasn’t really told me anything.
“How well does your kitty play with others?” Paris asks Laurent. We all look at Kitten. She’s petite and blonde and pretty. Wearing a tight fitting, short, black dress that has a heart shape cut out across her chest, displaying plenty of skin but no breasts. It’s tasteful. Kitty’s hair is in soft blonde waives down her shoulders. She wears some, surprise, surprise, not kitten heels rather black ballerina fetish shoes with the highest of heels. The shoes make Kitty look like she is en pointe at all times. All I can think is that they kitty must be very disciplined to wear such shoes for such a long time.
Sweetheart, trust me that I know best on how to deal with this Booker situation, please.
“Kitty is an very good choice. She likes to play with both men and women and is extremely obedient.” Laurent finishes just as her other pet, approaches us with a polished ice bucket, stand, champagne and glasses. “Set it up in the room.” She directs the other male pet while she reaches for Kitty’s lead and hands it over to us.
After you. I tell Paris. He takes her lead off Laurent who’s hand lingers as she hands Kitty over to us. My nerves start up again. My mind is ticking over trying to figure out what the state of play is in Paris’s head. Why does he want kitten with us?
Bg?
You want to torture Booker with sex. I’m not okay with it. I state back at Paris firmly. I enjoy sex and sexual freedom with Paris. But the one thing I do not abide, is sexual masochism, it doesn’t work for me. Paris knows this. And that means using it on others also.
“The rule is simple, obey all safe words all guests are held accountable to the house if rules are disobeyed. And one hard tug, like so,” Laurent says tugging on Kitty’s leash, “Will command Kitty to heal.” Paris nods his head in understanding.
Please trust me as your alpha. This is not about torture.
Paris yanks the lead as Laurent lets go and Kitty, somehow, manages to gracefully rise in her fetish shoes without so much as a wobble.
Then what is it about? I ask him telepathically.
Keeping her head slightly bowed and her eye line down, Kitty is perfect. “If there is anything else, please let me know.” Laurent states.
It’s about asserting my dominance and claim to you. Paris replies back at me and glances at me.
“Bathroom,” I state suddenly loosing a bit of my nerve.
Take as long as you need. Paris says softly to me, kissing my temple.
“Phillip will direct you.” Laurent says as Philip steps forward form the line up and indicates the direction to go. I follow the smartly dressed male in a suit to the bathroom on our level. He opens the door, sticks his head around to check there is no one else in there, before indicating I can go through. I rush in and close the door behind me, putting my hands on the marble basin top and start breathing heavily. I never thought going on my honeymoon would mean putting in a weird, place between the two greatest loves of my life. I am over Booker. I know I am, I’m in love with Paris, but I wish to hold on to the sensation that was my first love. Even if I never allow anyone to know it or see it. And here I am about to ruin that by whatever I do next.
I look up at myself in the mirror. “I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
I walk over to the toilet and sit down, contemplating my love life’s fate and what it means for me. Booker is a problem, more than a problem now, he was a problem before. I pull down my lace knickers and relax. Now he’s gone too far. And is likely to go further given this action. Which is an insult to me, to Paris. And Paris gave me my shot at handling it, twice and look where that got me. With an obsessed lycan following me on my honeymoon. Paris is right, it’s time to deal with this in a werewolf manner, no threats, no nice-guy, it’s basically a dominance fight for me that Booker has walked himself into. Standing up again I pull my knickers up and flush. So I need to side with the werewolf I want to be with. I splash cold water from the tap on my face, and use a hand towel to wipe it dry again.
That werewolf is Paris. I’m his and he is mine and no one, not even Booker Parish shall come between us. It’s time to clear this thing up that hangs over the three of us, once and for all.
31
When I reemerge from the bathroom Phillip is waiting and has been keeping guard over the bathroom for me. He escorts me back to our playroom before departing. I walk in and see Paris has poured two champagnes and is standing in the centre of the room, blocking the view to Booker. Kitty is kneeling beside him silently, her legs tucked under herself, her hands behind her back, her head bowed. Paris has her lead in his ha
nds, it’s quite a powerful image really. I close the door behind me.
“Hello little wolf.” Paris greets me with, holding out champagne towards me. Booker moans slightly behind Paris and my eyes divert, as if to look around him. The sedation is probably wearing off more.
“My alpha.” I greet him back with, my eyes going back to Paris as I accept the drink off him.
“If you wish to end play, you will use your safe word.”
“Yes.” I state back out loud to him.
“Good. The rules are this, you will not look or keep eye contact with the lycan behind me at all times.” My heart beat calms down a little. This makes sense to me and does not seem torturous, rather like Paris said, about dominance. “You will address me as Your Alpha or My Alpha at all times.” And I sip my champagne relaxing a little more, I understand now why he is saying all this out loud. All this information that I already know and would comply with anyway. It’s about letting Booker know what is going on as he becomes more alert, through the haze of the sedation. It’s about asserting dominance over the situation. Over Booker. It’s about making me his. And making that clear to Booker. From Paris now, rather than just me. We’ve been patient. Now we have to be obvious.
“Yes, my alpha.” I reply between champagne sips.
“Good, enjoy your drink.” Paris says looking down at the bowed head of the woman beside him. “Kitty?”
“Yes sir,” She replies as I watch on. I do get a kick out of seeing how others respond to Paris. He’s alluring in so many ways.
“Crawl towards our play thing.” Kitty is used to this, she likes doing this kind of thing, being fully collared does require a kind of unabashedly natural obedience that I’m not sure I own a natural abundance of. To allow all your control to be someone else’s, it’s almost unnerving to watch. And yet, I do as I slip a hand around myself and sip champagne form the other.
Paris does like to play with sex, he enjoys sex and he enjoys bringing pleasure not only to himself but also to his partners. And whilst part of me would never be able to act in the same manner as Kitty, I can sense her excitement about what she is doing, even as she crawls. Paris lets go of the lead and stands facing Booker, blocking his bowed head and face from me. Kitty is before him, at his feet, right in front Booker.
“This is my werewolf.” Paris says softly, leaning forwards towards Booker. And I can feel his anger flare as he stands there before his former friend. Rage can be quiet you know, it doesn’t have to be loud. I’m sure he’s letting Booker feel his anger, because despite not looking directly at Booker, I can hear a grimace from him and then a gasp. My eyes lower, as Paris moves, Kitty’s head is moving back and forth. I sip my champagne and steal myself. “Kitty, suck him hard.” Kitty does not have to be asked twice. “Use you’re hands on his balls.” Paris turns to face me as the slurping noises of Kitty giving Booker head commence.
“How’s your champagne little wolf?” Paris asks me as if this were normal conversation and we’re both pretending not to be awkward. Me with my husband and my ex-boyfriend, slash first love, who’s naked, his cock on display for Paris to see, getting sucked into a hard on by some blonde on her knees. Yeah nothing weird here at all. How do I find myself in situations like this? I have no idea. Booker is making more moaning noises, which I think means he’s coming to. In the conscience sense.
“Tasty, my alpha.” I answer Paris. There is moaning from behind Paris and he looks at me, as if studying my reaction, waiting for me to look up at Booker’s face or down at what Kitty is doing. This isn’t about obedience between us, it’s a fascination in a battle of wills and I will not let my alpha down. He takes my empty glass off me and puts it down on a table beside himself.
“Take a seat, little wolf.” I walk over to the leather couch and sit down.
“Kitty, how is our boy doing?” Paris asks over his shoulder, looking at my while he speaks to her. Her slurping, wet noises tell us without words, that she is enthusiastically enjoying her job. “Answer me. I don’t ask twice. And I am not immune to punishment.” Paris says waiting for her to stop giving Booker a blow job. I watch as Kitty moves, withdrawing herself form Booker’s cock.
“He’s hard sir.” Paris glances back down at her and Booker’s cock.
“Thank you kitty.” Paris says looking at her. “You can look at me when I thank you.” He says to her and she looks up, desire and passion written across her features. I can feel her desire in the room, she is excited to be here, to be on her knees before us. “You can return to your mistress now.” Paris says back at her and her eyes drop automatically.
“Have I done something wrong sir? Are you unhappy with me?” Kitty asks him.
“No, You did exactly what you was asked of you. But that is all I require. Thank you for your services.” Paris says as Kitty slowly stands up and nods her head at us. Paris walks over to the table with the sex toys on it.
“What, where am I?” Booker’s voice cuts through the silence in the room as Kitty, confused, exits the room as told. Paris’s hand skims over the toys on display until he picks up a small object that looks like a ring. I hear the rattle of chains as Booker pulls against his restraints. “Paris?”
I watch Paris’s body movement and see him grab Booker’s cock tightly in his hand. Booker moans, and it does not sound like pain to me. Paris strokes him while he talks. “You need to be taught a lesson, dog.” Paris tells him, working Booker faster in hand. I wonder what Paris is thinking. I could ask him internally, telepathically I suppose. I’m lucky my link to Booker is no more. Turns out my telepathic links only remain open that we can figure, if you use them regularly, like Paris and I do. I might have once or twice used telepathic links with Booker, when we were testing my skill. But I haven’t used it regularly with him. Especially since we started to fall apart after the incident in the club where he hit me. I watch Paris slide the cock ring onto Booker’s erect cock and adjust it. I can hear the slightest change in breath from Booker, as the ring goes on.
“Bg?” Booker asks and I have to presume he’s looking up at me, I wouldn’t know because I keeping my eyes averted.
“You,” Paris says back at Booker. “Will not address my pack mate.”
“Paris, I’m,” But his words are cut off by the sound of a resounding hard slap to skin.
“You’re still alive because I deemed it so. You have no idea how easy it would be to feed you to the wolves down here, piece by damn piece. So you will be quiet and you will take your punishment, like a good little lycan. Because if you don’t. We will cut this session short and I will personally hand you over to the New Orleans pack and tell them to ensure you do no make it back to New York.” Booker is puffing and panting, the sound of him trying to contain his anger. “What? you think you’re a big bad wolf?” Paris hisses at him. “You’re a jealous man, who can’t let go of the past and is now not only metaphorically locked in chains over it, but quite physically too. And the thing is, it was all your own doing, we didn’t have anything to do with it. So take your god damn lesson and learn. Besides,” Paris pauses sounding calmer now he’s got this off his chest. “We’re being watched. If Bg and I do not punish you for your indiscretion, Laurent Masson will do so much worse to you for it. She’s just itching to.”
Paris walks over to me and I drag my eyes up his suited form and take the hand he is holding out.
“Did you catch any of that little wolf?”
“Yes my alpha, I did.”
“Do you understand now, why we must do this?” Paris says softly to me leaning in to my ear and nuzzling me behind my ear.
“Yes my alpha I do.” Paris runs the tip of his nose up alongside my neck slowly and it elicits a shiver from me.
“Good, very good.” And I can’t tell if he’s happy with my reaction to his physicality or my answer to his question. “Strip.” He says firmly pulling back and away from me. “Strip for me, now.” He says sounding almost impatient. I reach for my zipper at the back of my neck and grasp it, pulli
ng it down a little bit. Paris waves a hand at me, indicating I should turn around to face with my back to him. He slowly pulls down the zip from my neck to my lower back. “Face me.” He instructs and I again turn around. “Now, strip for me.”
Werewolf Consort Page 16
