Tricking Her Cowboy Doms [Pleasure, Texas 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Jane Jamison

  She had him, hook, line, and sinker. Without hesitating, he jerked off the jacket of his cheap suit and tossed it to the side. “How about you undressing me? First thing I want is to feel you cup my balls. Right before you go down on your knees to suck on them.”

  No, no. Don’t hurl. For Jacee’s sake, keep it together.

  Somehow, she managed a smile. “So do you go in for the Dom/sub thing? I’ve learned a few things since I’ve been working here.”

  “Sure I do.” He licked his lips. “But it’s me who gets tied up.”

  She hadn’t expected him to make it easier for her. “Really? Okay, then, you can call me Mistress Jewel.”

  Someone leaving the club laughed, the sound carrying in the air from the front parking lot. Wilburt glanced that way. “Are you sure we have time? We can do this afterward at your hotel room.”

  Like hell they would. “No, it’s okay. We have time.” She dared getting closer so she could run a fingernail along his cheek. “Besides, I’m too horny to wait.”

  “Fuck, yeah.” He tried to pull her closer, but she shoved his hands down.

  “Uh-uh-uh. Mistress Jewel calls the shots.” Keeping the smile plastered to her face, she swatted him on the ass. “Fuck, yeah, who?”

  “Fuck, yeah, Mistress Jewel.”

  “Good boy.”

  It wasn’t what she’d planned. It was even better. She strode over to the big, black box that was attached to the side of the trough and filled with all kinds of sexual tools. Flipping open the lid, she reached inside and took out a bullwhip. Although she’d never handled one, she was damn sure going to try. Next she took out a pair of fur-lined handcuffs, a ball gag, and a leather collar and leash.

  “You really did learn some new tricks, didn’t you?”

  She was getting into it. Not from a sexual point of view, but from the idea of getting him trussed up and ready to be taken down. If she could borrow a branding iron, she’d really give it to him.

  No. Don’t sink to his level.

  “Strip, slave.” She’d seen a few Dominatrices and their slaves in the club, but she’d paid more attention to the Doms and their subs. Still, she’d seen enough to exact a little payback and a way to get her sister’s video erased.

  Keeping a straight face was difficult, especially when all his clothes were on the ground and his penis was fully erect. His very small penis. She felt sorry for him. Almost. His eagerness put a glint in his eyes that made her want to bathe in a hot shower until she could wash away the memory of him.

  “Good, boy. Now on your knees.”

  “Aren’t you going to undress, Mistress?”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. Do as I say and shut your mouth. Now.” She took a chance, throwing back her arm, bringing the bullwhip slashing behind her, then whizzing forward. The end of it hit well over his head, the snap of it singing in the night air, but it wasn’t because of her aim. She’d tried to whip it to the left of him.

  Better be careful. If I hurt him, he might stop and decide he wants me own my knees again.

  He ducked his head, but the smile never left his face. “Yes, Mistress. Anything you say, Mistress.”

  Hooking the whip underneath her arm, she picked up the cuffs, then stalked behind him. “Hands behind your back, slave.”

  Was that a chuckle she heard from behind the tank? And the click of a camera? She needed to hurry in case Wilburt had heard them, too.

  Wilburt put his arms behind him, then let out a little squeak when she cuffed his wrists together. “Please, Mistress, will you let me lick your toes?”

  Oh, hell, no. I’d rather eat manure.

  “Not yet.” She slid the end of the bullwhip over his shoulder and saw him tremble. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk? I guess I’m going to have to make sure you can’t.” Retrieving the ball gag, she came back and lifted her eyebrows. Obediently, he opened his mouth, letting her insert the ball into his mouth. A quick snap of the strap behind his head had him gagged for good. She yanked on it, making sure it was secure. Maybe even tighter than was necessary.

  Again, she slid the end of the whip over his shoulder, but this time she took it down to his butt, then using only the last part of the whip, gave him a quick lash. He squealed, but didn’t try to get away.

  “Good, boy. There’s just one more thing I think you need.” She dropped everything to get the leash and collar. Although she’d seen many people use collars in the club, both in play and accepting collars to signify that they were welcoming a new Dom into their lives, she’d never held one.

  He moaned, then stretched out his neck to receive the leather band. She hooked it around his neck, then clipped the leash to the metal ring dangling on the front.

  “Perfect. You’re exactly how I want you.”

  Eew. Did his cock just twitch?

  She couldn’t take any more. “Guys, come on out and meet my boss. Or, actually, my ex-boss.”

  Wilburt frown, but as soon as Ryce and Owen came out of their hiding places, he understood. He roared his anger, but the gag muffled the sound.

  “What’d you say, Flaxsom?” asked Ryce. “I can’t understand you. Can you talk louder? No? Oh, well, that’s okay. After all, a picture’s worth a thousand words.”

  “It’s a good thing you brought along a camcorder.” Owen picked up the satchel and took out the expensive-looking piece of equipment. “The one we were using just died. You don’t mind if we borrow yours, do you?”

  She enjoyed every minute of Wilburt’s dilemma as Owen positioned the viewfinder and put Wilburt into focus. “How’s it feel to have someone tape you?”

  Anger flashed into her then, and she let loose, first adding a quick lash against his legs—albeit not hard enough to exact any major pain much less break his skin—then yanked on his leash.

  Wilburt roared and tried to get to his feet, but Ryce beat him to it. He held down his legs, then clamped a metal restraint bar between his legs, locking around his ankles. Wilburt was stuck on the ground, unable to get to his feet.

  “This isn’t how we like to do things here at the club.” Ryce got out of the frame of the shot. “It’s safe, sane, and best of all, consensual. And private. But since you don’t know the meaning of that word, we figured we’d teach you.”

  If Wilburt’s eyes got any bigger, they’d pop out like a cartoon character and roll to her feet. “Here’s the thing. I never wanted to take photos of what goes on inside the club. And I never wanted to write an article, either. But you forced me to do it. You blackmailed me. You were a lousy boss before you did that, but now you’re a real shithead of one.”

  Owen circled around him, going slowly. “Hold still, man. Your dick’s so small, I’ve got to get a close-up for anyone to know you’re not just holding a pencil between your legs.”

  She giggled. Not to be mean, but, after all, what Owen said was true. “This is what’s going to happen. We’re going to make a trade. You promise to delete Jacee’s video and forget about the pictures I’ve taken, and we’ll promise never to show your video online. And you’ll make sure that asshole of a musician deletes his copy. I don’t care how much it costs you, but you’ll pay him off.” She gave him another quick lash of the end of the whip. “Can you imagine how your rival e-zine, Dirty Rag, would go crazy to have a video of you like this? I bet they’d pay a small fortune to get it.”

  Wilburt’s shout turned into an agonized groan. He twisted, trying to break free, but it was impossible. Ryce clicked a couple of pictures, then got up close for a good shot of his face.

  “So that’s the deal. Simple, right? You delete the video of my sister and we don’t show anyone tonight’s amateur film.”

  “Hmm, Jewel.” Owen put a finger to his lips, pretending to wonder. “How do we know we can trust him?”

  “Because,”—Wilburt couldn’t miss the venom in her tone— “like I said. He shows my sister’s video and we’ll show his.”

  The men, their playful mood gone, stood beside her. Ryce took a c
ouple of more pictures, then lowered the camera. “What do you say, Flaxsom? Do we have a deal?”

  What else could Wilburt do but nod? They had him where they wanted him. Of course, if he went ahead and put the video online, it’d be devastating to her sister and her. Retaliation wouldn’t matter much. But she had to believe Wilburt was vain enough to want to keep their bargain.

  Owen wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, giving her the support, both physical and emotional, she needed. “Damn, but you’re beautiful when you’re being a bitch.”

  She dropped her jaw wide. “A bitch? Me?”

  Ryce laughed as he grabbed the satchel. “He meant that in a good way. Flaxsom, as soon as we get the photos downloaded to our computer, you’ll get your equipment back. Unless I have an accident and break it, of course. That would be a damn shame.”

  Owen nuzzled her neck. “I’ve got a better idea. How about we let Paul handle the video while we go inside one of the private rooms? Ryce and I need some private time with you.”

  “But I can’t. I don’t work there any longer.” She hated that. In the short time she’d been there, she’d come to enjoy her job. “I’m not a member, either.”

  “But you’re with us. Paul and Destin won’t have a problem.” He pulled her along with him.

  “What about Wilburt?” She didn’t have any pity for the scumbag, but leaving him alone wasn’t safe.

  “Damn, but you’re too sweet for your own good. That’s why you need Owen and me. I’d just as soon leave him here and let the coyotes play with him, but you’re right.” Ryce bent over the silent Wilburt and undid the ball gag, then released the metal restraint bar and undid the cuffs.

  She half expected Wilburt to make a break for it. Instead, he fell to his side, cursing them with every colorful word in the English language. She adopted her Dominatrix stance, feet planted apart, and her head held high. “When you feel strong enough, slave, you can get dressed and leave.”

  “I’m going to have the cops on you. This was kidnapping.”

  Owen was on top of him before she knew what he was doing. His hand closed around Wilburt’s throat. “Go ahead. Hell, if you like, I’ll run inside and get a highway patrolman. He just happens to be a member. But if I do, you’d better hope he wasn’t in any of those pictures Jewel took.”

  She’d been correct before. Wilburt was a slime bag, but he was a smart one.

  “Please turn me loose,” he pleaded. “I’ll leave.”

  Owen tightened his hold on him. “And we have an understanding. Is that right?”

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll delete the video. Just let me go.”

  “And get the musician to delete his, right?”

  “Yes, yes. Anything you say. Just don’t show that video of me to anyone. Ever.”

  Owen turned him loose. “Good. We have a deal. But you’d better remember this. If I hear of you bothering our Jewel or her sister ever again, I won’t just take photos of your balls the next time. I’ll yank those pebbles right off.”

  Ryce was on his phone. “Paul, it’s done. Yeah. That’d be great.”

  “What’s going on? You can’t just leave me like this.” Wilburt’s eyes were wild as he jumped his gaze from Ryce to Owen.

  Ryce shoved his phone in to his pocket. “Don’t worry, Willy boy. A couple of our friends are going to take care of you.”

  “Wait. What do you mean?”

  “Calm down. They aren’t going to rough you up or anything.” Owen sneered at him. “Although it’s not a bad idea. If Jewel wasn’t so forgiving, I’d haul you out to the pasture and cause the cattle to stampede straight over your sorry ass.”

  Wilburt let out a squeal. “Jewel, you can’t let them hurt me. If they do, I won’t be able to get rid of the video.”

  He wasn’t only a scumbag, he was a terrified scumbag. “As much as I’d like to make you pay, I won’t. But listen up, Wilburt. Once the guys escort you off the ranch, you’re going to go straight to your office and take care of the video. And don’t even think about calling my sister. If you do”—she linked her arm in Ryce’s—“you’ll have some visitors coming and you won’t get away from an ass kickin’ the next time.”

  Ryce’s grin spread wider. “Listen to you getting all tough. But she’s right, man. If we have to talk to you again, we’ll do more beating than talking.”

  “I swear I’ll do what you say. Please, just let me go.”

  Paul and Destin strode out of the building, then came to a stop. Destin snorted at the sight. “Dang, boys, you weren’t kidding, were you?”

  “’Course not.” Owen waved a dismissal at Wilburt. “He’s all yours. Don’t be too gentle, you hear?”

  “Don’t worry.” Paul circled him. “You three go on inside. Destin and I will show our new friend the way off our ranch.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear.” Owen snagged her, taking her off her feet. “Come on, darlin’. It’s time to celebrate.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jewel clung to Owen’s neck as Ryce pushed open the back door, his phone to his ear as he asked Paul to see to Wilburt, then led the way down the hall. When they came to the private suite that was the members’ favorite, she saw that the sign outside the room had the men’s names on it.

  “You reserved a room?” The fact that they’d thought about it ahead of time, had realized that she’d need to have them close to her after dealing with Wilburt, touched her more than she’d ever have thought possible.

  Owen kissed the tip of her nose. “Hell, we’d lasso the moon and give it to you. But this is the best we could do.”

  He and Ryce had always been so strong and so manly that his sweet words caught her by surprise. A tingle of excitement floated through her as she mimicked his action by kissing him on the nose. “Just being with you and Ryce is more than enough.”

  “Okay, you two, stop acting like Eskimos and get your asses into the room.” Ryce held the door open.

  “Eskimos rub their noses together.”

  “Yeah, bro. If they kissed each other’s noses, they’d freeze and stick together.”

  “Whatever.”

  Owen set her down on her feet. The room was small, but the furnishings were beautiful with a red silk bedspread over a king-sized bed. The overhead lights were dimmed, casting a sensual atmosphere. The room had no windows and the walls were textured with soft blue paint. She’d seen the room several times, but had never really looked at it. Why should she when she’d never thought she’d be inside it?

  It wasn’t the type of room she would’ve envisioned for a BDSM room. Aside from the sexual tools hanging overhead, of course. Since she’d never participated in any playtime, especially in any of the private rooms, she had no idea what type of pleasure instruments each room held. A large bureau rested against the far wall and she had a good idea that it was filled with whatever members might need.

  But she did know one thing. The room didn’t usually have a vase filled with a dozen roses and a champagne bottle chilling in a bucket. A white gift-wrapped box rested on top of one of two nightstands.

  “Remember how it was by the pond?” Owen’s fingers lingered at the clasp for her halter top.

  “Uh-huh.” She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his skin touching hers. “Sir.”

  His chuckle warmed her neck. “Good. Then do as your masters want and take these damn clothes off.”

  “Master Owen’s right. We can’t wait a moment longer.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask if this is something I want? After all, my cover’s blown sky high. How do you know I want to do anything you say?”

  Ryce moved fast, coming beside her and putting his mouth close to her ear. She trembled as the warmth of his words drifted against her skin. “Baby, we saw how much you loved our time on stage and even more by the pond. You can’t fool us any longer. Not about anything, but especially not about that. Can you tell me you didn’t love being our sub?”

  “No. I really liked it. A lot.�
��

  “Again no title.” Owen made clucking noises. “You’ve got to do better.”

  “We need to teach her. It’s our responsibility to train her.” Ryce nibbled at her ear, sending a wave of desire rolling outward. “Now do you want to take off your own clothes, or do I have to tear them off you?”

  If she’d been wearing her own clothes, she would’ve loved having him shred them to pieces. But her uniform wasn’t hers to ruin. “It’s my uniform. I’d have to repay Paul.” She purposely left off the title once again.

  Her halter top tore away from her with one smooth move of his hand. “Fuck that. I’ll pay for it.” He took hold of her breast and squeezed. “I won’t tell you again. Start calling us by our correct titles. Don’t make me punish you.” His tongue flicked across her earlobe. “Or do you want us to punish you, baby?”

  Owen tugged off his shirt, then took her other breast. His tongue swept a wet path over her pebbled nipple. “You’re our sub, darlin’. All you have to do is let it be. Just let us be. Now answer my brother.”

  She looked into Ryce’s eyes and dared him. “Punish me if you think I deserve it.”

  He recognized her need. “Tell me your color.”

  “Green. I’m all green.” Once again, she didn’t add a title.

  Owen clutched her by the hair and made her lean forward. “I think you’re right. She wants us to punish her.”

  “Then it’s up to us to give her what she needs.”

  Owen fondled her breast, pinching her nipple between his finger and thumb. “Let’s get the lessons going. Bend over, darlin’. It’s time to get a paddlin’.”

  Ryce opened the large bureau and pulled out a sleek, long paddle. “Lift up her skirt, bro.”

  With her hands on her knees to support herself and her hair falling over her face to obscure her vision, she didn’t know when to anticipate the first smack. When it finally came, it was almost a relief. The sting of his swat rippled over her skin, awakening not only the nerve endings but the storm of need already starting to churn inside her. The squeak she let out came more from surprise than it did from pain.