by Cara Dee
River chuckled under his breath and kissed the top of my head.
“I mean it,” I said. “You have this reputation. Subs are intimidated by you. There’s a freaking group dedicated to you in the online community. But they don’t know shit.”
He hummed, and as soon as the sound reached my ears, I knew I had to go further.
“I know. I don’t know shit either.” Because I didn’t. I’d underestimated the Tenley twins from the start, and I’d understood since then—particularly after last night—that they had another agenda with me. “You’re not scary, though.” I lifted my head again and inhaled from the smoke. “You’re sweet.”
River narrowed his eyes playfully and leaned in halfway.
I grinned and smacked a kiss to his lips.
There was something fundamentally wrong with me. For two years, I’d managed to remain cold and distant, allowing only my brothers to see a bit more of me. I was protective of them and worked hard to be able to give them what our parents had given me. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them. And to the outside world, I’d successfully created the image of being fairly social, moderately carefree, and somewhat aloof. Then one single weekend with these two motherfuckers…
They wanted me to stay.
They wanted to dig into my mind.
Resisting that would be a fight much more difficult than facing Reese in a cage, because I had to admit to myself there was a part of me that was desperate to let go of everything. Just…take it all from me, have at it, go nuts, let’s see what’s left of me when I’m naked in every sense of the word. I took a deep breath, feeling the nerves settle in my stomach. I wasn’t sure I could take that leap.
Instead, I finished my smoke, drank my coffee, and kept my mouth shut.
Sundays at the house were calmer, especially after lunchtime when most of the overnight guests had left. River and I were still on the sunbed with the umbrella overhead, rain continuously falling down around us, but now we had Reese with us too.
The nearby town, Mclean, apparently had the best pizza place on the East Coast, according to River, and lunch had just been delivered to us.
I didn’t wanna leave this spot, ever. The three of us formed a triangle of sorts, with Reese sprawled out across the foot of the bed, deliciously naked, and he was discussing the next Game with River. I was on speech restriction, not that I cared. I was busy devouring one of the best pepperoni pizzas I’d ever had.
“I’ll send over the details to Luke today,” Reese was saying. “He said he’ll only need an hour or so. They don’t have anything planned.”
My God, the pepperoni was amazing. I licked my lips and chewed, my mouth exploding with greasy, salty pizza goodness. A guy could get used to this.
“Shay, sit up when you eat,” Reese said.
Dammit. I’d felt like a prince lying there with a pizza slice over my head. Fine. I dragged myself up and took another bite of my slice.
“You’re such a Daddy,” I mouthed silently.
He chuckled. “And you’re a Little and don’t even know it.”
I was not! I was not a fucking Little. I didn’t regress into some kid, nor did I like any typical hobbies for children. I didn’t draw, I didn’t like Disney, I fucking hated glitter, and I had no interest in wearing diapers or superhero pajamas.
Kit was a Little. Not that he wore diapers to my knowledge, but he built model planes and geeked out over ice cream and sprinkles. His online profile had recently become a shrine to the Little Nation. Just yesterday, I’d seen him running around here in his Ironman PJs while Lucas had called for him to come back and finish his vegetables.
Cameron liked diapers sometimes, if I wasn’t mistaken. But his fetish life was too involved and complicated for me to grasp, though mostly because I hadn’t listened to him enough. We weren’t that close.
Reese handed me a napkin before I could reach for my Coke, and I guess that was a good idea. My fingers were greasy.
“Have you decided what you wanna do today, pup?” River asked.
“I—” I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth and widened my eyes at him. Why? Why would he do that? Why would he set me up to fail? Sadist!
He laughed, a rich, gorgeous sound.
Reese looked equally entertained and impressed. “You may speak.”
I huffed and wiped my mouth and fingers. “No, I haven’t decided. I’m too busy trying to figure out what you’re up to.” After discarding the napkin in an empty corner of the pizza box between us, I took a gulp of my perfectly chilled Coke. Rain or not, Virginia was hot as fuck. I was going for a swim after lunch; that was for certain. “My guess is, when I approached you guys at the club, you saw an opportunity to get to the bottom of my, uh, infractions in the community. That’s why you want me to stay longer, so you can work your sadist-y magic and make me talk.”
Reese lifted his brows and exchanged a mildly amused glance with his twin.
“Am I close?” I asked.
Reese merely lifted a shoulder.
“You could be much further from the truth than that,” River settled for saying. “As we’ve told you, that’s where the fight comes in. If our only way of keeping you here is for Reese to challenge you in a fight, so be it.”
“But we’d like to avoid it,” Reese said. “So what’s it going to be, little fighter? Can we get you to stay without raising your fists?”
I didn’t want to answer. I wasn’t ready to face the reality back in DC—or my convictions and my guilt. Out here, I was given a break. I could postpone the inevitable and pretend.
Problem was, they wanted to drag out anything that wasn’t pretend.
No longer hungry, I dropped my forehead to River’s shoulder and asked if I could bum another smoke.
He grabbed his pack from the table and handed it to me with a lighter.
Reese averted his gaze, squinting toward the cabins with a contemplative look on his face.
When I’d lit up my smoke, he looked back at me with a barely there smile and said, “If you belonged to us, I’d make you quit smoking.”
“River does it,” I protested.
“I can’t control him,” he murmured. “He doesn’t care about pleasing me.”
“I’ve told you I’m quitting before we turn forty-five,” River bitched.
I peered down at the smoke between my fingers, then snuck a glance at Reese, who was busy berating River.
He doesn’t care about pleasing me.
Did I? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Especially when we played. I gravitated toward both of them, but I was more frequently looking to Reese for approval. Last night when he told me I’d earned myself a nice orgasm for calling him Daddy, my fucking eyes had welled up from the sheer relief and happiness. It’d hit me right in the gut.
Fuck.
I took one more drag, then reached over River and put out the smoke in his ashtray.
I avoided eye contact, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, and I racked my brain for a topic change. Because I was suddenly acutely aware of them watching me.
I cleared my throat. “I can’t say that I will be here until Thursday, but…can’t we compromise? I want to do a scene with you—both of you. I promise to be honest about my limits. I swear.”
River had told me he’d had the perfect session planned out for me. Given his skill sets, I was more than a little intrigued.
Okay, I was fucking desperate to find out how far he’d go. How far he’d take me.
“One question first,” Reese said. I forced myself to look over at him. He pointed toward the ashtray. “Did you put that out for my sake?”
Goddammit. I clenched my jaw and folded my arms over my chest. “Maybe. So? Don’t read into it.”
He smiled and shifted his gaze to River. “What do you say? Should we have a go with the kid today?”
Please, please, please, please.
River hummed. “I don’t know.” He side-eyed me, no doubt seeing the plea in my eyes. “Can we trust
you to use your safeword if you need to?”
“Yes.” I clutched his arm, ready to beg on my knees. “I promise. I’ll be completely honest. Hell, I swear on my brothers.”
They couldn’t know just how big that was for me, but I recognized that I had to repair the damage I’d caused.
“I promise, River,” I implored. “Both of you—I swear. We can talk limits and stuff now if you want. All of it. I may not want to discuss my life outside of kink, but that’s not what you’re interested in anyway. You wanna know my limits, my likes, dislikes, and if I have any triggers. Right?”
Reese sat up and grabbed the pizza box, placing it on the ground for now. “It doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. Not in your case.”
River inclined his head. “Most of the time, Reese and I don’t care about anything other than what you listed. Limits, triggers, and so on. But most of our previous partners didn’t make it a habit of asking Sadists to beat them without asking why.”
I sat back and chewed on my thumbnail.
“That question of yours makes it clear you’re hiding something,” Reese went on. “You’ve raised enough red flags in the community that digging for your history isn’t merely a personal interest for us—it’s something we’d feel better knowing in order to ensure safe play.” He paused. “We will push those buttons, Shay.”
He had to open that door, didn’t he?
I bit at a cuticle and couldn’t help but feel irritated. “What if it’s a limit?”
“Then we will respect that,” he replied. “We will also respectfully decline to play with you on that level.”
Fuuuuck.
As infuriating as I found him—or them—I got it. They were right. I had raised red flags, despite that it had never been my intention to gain any attention that way. I’d just phrased myself like that to weed out the good Sadists, the guys like…well, River and Reese.
Go fucking figure. Isela could not have been more wrong. She’d claimed the twins played more recklessly.
“What’ve you got to lose?” River asked, cocking his head at me. “You’re on a trajectory of your own. You’ve chosen a path that steers you away from others. Your actions have made that clear. Do you care what others might think about whatever it is you’re hiding?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “I don’t give a shit about that.”
“Then why does it matter if Reese and I found out the truth?” he continued. “Are your convictions that weak? Are you afraid we’re going to change your mind about something?”
No! Maybe! I didn’t know! “No.” I glared and gnashed my teeth. “They’re definitely not weak, and you won’t change shit.” Why was it that every time we discussed playing, everything went south? I just wanted to—fuck it. “You know what? Fine,” I bit out. “Dig for whatever the fuck you want. I know I won’t change my mind, and it doesn’t matter what you guys think. Have at it.”
God, they were fucking annoying. If I were smart, I’d get the hell out of here. Instead, I stormed off like some dramatic bitch and went into the pool so I could cool off.
The discussion was probably pointless anyway. The scenes River and Reese spoke of were nothing but fantasies that belonged in romance novels, not reality. They weren’t going to accomplish what they thought appeared simple. I wasn’t a twig. I didn’t break that easily.
Now what?
As the rainy afternoon slowly morphed into a rainy evening, I became restless and impatient for something to happen.
After my fit earlier, River and Reese had agreed to play with me. For having pushed me so far, they didn’t seem very excited about my consent to let them go nuts. It was what they wanted, for chrissakes. But either way, we’d gone through my limits, experiences, and fantasies properly—from degradation and humiliation to heavy pain and kinks like rapeplay, mental torture, and interrogation—and I’d sworn up and down to be honest and use my safeword if I needed it. Then, nothing. River had walked off to “check shit out,” whatever that meant, and Reese had announced he had some work to do inside the main house.
I’d been told I would know the moment the play began.
Given that I was currently alone in their cabin watching TV, that moment wasn’t now.
I didn’t know what to do. I’d showered, I’d tidied up in the bedroom, the kitchen area, and out by the pool; I’d checked in with my brothers and Aunt Mel, and I had rejected every movie on Netflix. I’d mulled over sending Isela a message but had second thoughts. Being online didn’t appeal to me.
“Enough of this bullshit.” I’d caught myself tapping my feet restlessly one time too many by now, and I was done. Knowing where River kept his smokes in the kitchen, I left the couch and aimed for the lower cupboard next to the fridge. I’d repay him later. Or them both; I’d eaten and lived off of the twins for almost three days now. Maybe they could let me borrow a car and pick up groceries in town.
It wasn’t too late, and I was getting hungry. I could buy us dinner.
I didn’t wanna owe them anything.
As I stood outside on the little porch and smoked a cigarette, I kept an eye on the house for any sign of life. I’d only seen a single couple—albeit briefly—since around noon. Everyone else had left, and it made the house look bigger. Almost too big. I bet they’d had the place painted black for a reason. It reminded me of a stereotypical haunted house. Sitting up on a hill and all.
I glanced up at the darkening sky as a couple raindrops hit my cheek. The clouds above us were less angry now, but the ones looming farther away that were on their way here were practically black.
“Shay!”
I looked over at the house as River stepped out on the deck.
Huh. And it was River. I knew it instantly, without first checking for a neck tattoo of a longhorn skull half buried underneath a pile of wilted rose petals and thorns.
“Light one up for me too,” he said.
He’d been doing some manual labor. How advanced was this scene going to be? I thought the masochist was the one who would sweat and look all flushed.
“You don’t happen to have a gym in that house, do you?” I lit up the smoke and handed it over when he’d reached the porch.
He let out a chuckle but said nothing else on the matter. “You hungry? Reese is making meatloaf.”
I lifted my brows. Oh. So they had a…well, I mean, I guess it made sense that they’d have a kitchen at the main house… “Why’s he cooking up there?”
River exhaled some smoke and lifted a shoulder. “Closer to the office. Bigger kitchen too.”
“Oh.” I looked up at the house again and grew curious about this place as a business. To most of us, it was a community with a membership fee we paid every month—or annually for those who could afford it—but to these two men, it was their livelihood.
If I remembered correctly, there were three tiers. Basic, which was free, that only gave a kinkster access to join the munches. Then there was Visitor, the most common tier, the one I had, which made you automatically invited to most parties out here; you were allowed to spend three nights a month in a guest room, and you got, like, discounts to attend demos and whatnot. It was fifty bucks a month. Lastly, the Resident level. I’d forgotten how many nights they were allowed to stay for, but it cost you a hundred bucks every month, though it came with some sweet perks. There was a Resident group in our online community, and I’d seen pictures of goodie bags filled with sex toys and pain implements from samples that vendors sent to River and Reese.
Ivy had once sorted through an entire closet of free stuff they’d been given and packed it all into bags to hand out.
There was another group in the online forum for those who “worked” here. From dungeon monitors and founding members to Little helpers and those who identified themselves as domestic slaves. People volunteered to keep the place running, to clean, to organize events, to build new contraptions, to host sales parties for BDSM vendors, in order to get perks and reduced membership fees. I’d briefly conside
red it when I first became a member, but in the end, I’d chickened out of contacting them via the form and I’d just paid the fee instead.
It’d felt too intimidating to go near the lion’s den back then. Now I’d just spent a weekend with the lions’ cocks up my ass.
I took a drag from my smoke and exhaled through my nose, and I— “What?” I furrowed my brow, noticing River observing me.
He smiled. “You’re an expressive thinker.”
I scowled.
Which made his smile grow. “You’re fucking beautiful too.”
Okay, it became a little difficult to hold the scowl. What was he playing at?
“You’re screwing with my head on purpose,” I accused.
“I’m sure as shit not doing it accidentally.” He smirked and blew out some smoke. “No bullshit about what I said, though. It’s been a long time since I looked forward to playing with someone like I do with you.” He took a step closer, and my scowl had pretty much melted away at that point. He tapped my temple. “Tomorrow I’m gonna rape every corner of your mind.”
Holy fuck.
A shudder laced with white-hot lust rolled through me, and never before had a single sentence put me in a freaking daze like that. There was worry too, worry that they’d succeed in opening up parts of me that I’d rather keep lock— Wait.
“T-tomorrow?” I asked dumbly and blinked.
“Mm.” He took my cigarette from me and put both of them out in the pot on the floor. Then he ushered me inside and closed the door. “Can’t play mind games until you’re warmed up.”
Oh…so he was, what, going to do other stuff to me tonight?
“You can set the table while I take a shower. Reese should be here soon with dinner.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer for himself. After twisting off the cap, he took a swig and smacked a kiss to my cheek before heading toward the stairs.
All right, then. Set the table. Warm up before mental rape. Good plan.
Reese was bizarrely great at cooking. In my limited experience anyway. The recipe, according to River, came from a Swedish former soldier they’d worked with once, and the dish had to be served a certain way. The meatloaf itself managed to be both dense and light, not to mention rich in flavor—with lots of black pepper. Served with baby potatoes, caramelized onions, freaking lingonberry jam on the side, and it all swam in a pool of creamy green pepper gravy.
