by Kitty Thomas
Lindsay brought a coil of black rope and tied her wrists together in front of her.
“Grab the ring,” Damian said.
Shannon reached up and gripped the metal ring that came down out of the ceiling at just the right height so she could hold it without going onto her toes.
“Don't let go or you'll only add to your future punishment.”
Lindsay blindfolded her with one of his dark ties. She heard the footsteps as they prowled around her like a couple of hungry wolves planning the take-down of their dinner. She lost track of who was who as they circled her.
“We're going to play a game,” Lindsay said. “It's called, which master. One of us will do something to you and you'll tell us which one it is. If you're right, we'll reward you. If you're wrong, we'll punish you.”
“I-I thought Damian said no punishment until I heal.”
Lindsay laughed. “That's because Damian wants to be able to punish you however he likes without limitations. And I'm just fine with caning your ass or thighs. So for this game... you're at risk. Guess wisely.”
Footsteps receded, and she knew that one or both of them had gone to the box of whipping implements and toys. She hated the cane. He knew she hated the cane. Which was exactly why he used it for punishment. It was Lindsay's favored tool.
Shannon had no idea why he kept a paddle hanging on his office wall when he liked the cane so much.
“Here are the rules,” Damian said, his voice echoing in a circle around her which made it feel as though he were everywhere all at once. “One of us will do something. When we stop you have five seconds to guess correctly. You can't change your answer. The first name you say is the answer we're taking. Do you understand the rules, baby?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Good girl.”
There was silence for several seconds and then a tongue swept over her nipple before a mouth closed fully over her breast.
“D-Damian?”
A buzzing toy was pressed between her legs. “Good girl,” Damian whispered in her ear.
She arched toward the pleasure, but it was withdrawn a few seconds later.
A hand moved to the back of her neck, gripping her possessively, then a mouth kissed and sucked at her throat.
“Lindsay,” she said.
The toy was between her legs again. She moved against it. The moment she began to moan it was taken away.
A hand stroked her ass, rubbing and kneading, slipping between her cheeks but not penetrating. That was an easy one. “Damian.”
The cane struck the back of her thighs with punishing swiftness, and she shrieked, gripping the ring over her head harder. “B-But Damian said only he could...”
Damian's voice was in her ear then, and she wondered if he was the one who'd just delivered the blow with the cane. “Nobody penetrates your ass but me. He didn't put his fingers inside you.”
Several moments later, a tongue stroked over the place where the cane had landed. She stopped to think, wondering which one of them would have soothed that pain away. She was confused now. She had no idea who'd licked the cane mark. And was it the same tongue that was now seeking the wetness between her thighs?
“I don't know,” she whimpered. “I can't tell.”
A hard smack came down on her ass. “Really, kitten? I've gone down on you for months and you can't tell my mouth on your sex from Damian's?”
Damian chuckled. “She's got plenty of time to learn.”
“Let go of the ring,” Lindsay said.
Shannon let go, and one of them dragged her across the room and threw her down on her stomach on the bed.
“One of us is going to fuck your mouth, and one of us is going to fuck your cunt. When we pull out of you, you better guess right which was which. And you will not come until we tell you to,” Lindsay said.
Strong hands pulled her up onto her knees before a thick hard erection slipped inside her. She was already wet, excited from the mingled fear and pleasure of their game. She whimpered as she adjusted to him. Who was it?
A moment later, before she could decide which one of them was fucking her, a second cock prodded her lips. She licked, tasting him. She'd fucked and sucked them both, why couldn't she remember which was which? They were distinctly different. The way they felt. The way they tasted. The way they fucked. This shouldn't be so difficult.
But the threat of the cane made it so hard to think clearly. A hand gripped the back of her neck. That was a Lindsay move. Right?
But the way the other one moved inside her pussy... that felt kind of like Lindsay's rhythm, too. The pleasure began to build between her legs, and she bucked against the one, while sucking the other, taking him far down her throat as he guided her, stroking her... preparing to make her swallow.
They made different sounds. She would figure it out then. But they came almost simultaneously, one driving hard inside her cunt, the other thrusting into her mouth. Neither of them made a sound when they came. The one at her mouth, massaged her throat, helping her swallow.
Nobody gave an order. No one so much as grunted or groaned. They both pulled out of her. That swallow move was a Lindsay thing. It had to be Lindsay at her mouth. But then... the cock in her pussy had sort of felt like Lindsay, too.
Now she couldn't remember what Damian felt like. He'd only spent the entire weekend fucking her.
“Poor thing,” Damian said. “She looks really confused and frustrated.”
“At least she didn't come yet. That might buy her a little mercy if she's wrong,” Lindsay said.
“Well? Who was who? Which one of us fucked your mouth?”
“Lindsay?” she said, more of a question than an answer.
“Hold her down,” Lindsay said. Hands gripped her wrists and held her while the cane came down across her ass in three quick strikes. But they weren't hard. It was just a game.
Still, the tears flowed down her cheeks at the pain. Then Lindsay's tongue was soothing the sting of the welts. She only knew it was Lindsay because Damian held her bound wrists in a firm grip to keep her from struggling away. They flipped her onto her back and laid her bound arms over her head.
“You'll learn,” Lindsay said. “No more game, just feel. You don't need to know who is doing what. The interrogation portion of the day is over.”
Then the two of them went to work on her together. One mouth was at her throat, kissing and biting her, while the other's mouth was on one of her breasts. A hand—she didn't know whose—stroked between her legs. The two of them caressed and fondled and licked every exposed inch of her while she squirmed and begged them for more.
She didn't know which of them did what and she'd given up trying to figure it out. Then the vibrating toy was pressed against her clit. “Come for us now, kitten,” Lindsay said.
She bucked helplessly against the harsh vibrations until she screamed out her own pleasure. Then the toy was taken away. Her wrists were untied. Lips caressed the raw skin. Then the two men pulled back the covers, arranged her in the middle, and got into bed with her.
“Rest,” Damian said.
No one removed her blindfold as their bodies folded into each other to sleep.
77
It had been a little less than a week since the new arrangement.
The nightmares of Brian had left, and they hadn't returned. Shannon knew now that the reason they'd tormented her for so long was the unspoken and unfinished threat that had hung on the air between her and Brian. Nothing had felt settled between them—until the night she came back to the house.
She'd seen the subtle shift in him, the way she'd gone from being someone he wanted to punish, to someone he wanted to hurt because of his hatred of Lindsay, to someone he'd decided was now to be protected.
It was like Mina, but different. Brian had no feelings for Shannon. Actually that wasn't true. He felt something. It wasn't lust or love. It was... complicated. Respect, maybe? Whatever it was, and despite the ugly history she would never truly forgive
him for, it seemed that she had shifted into the closest thing Brian could get to a friend. And though she'd never see him that way because of what he'd done to her, she wouldn't complain about the fact that he saw her that way. It was the thing that kept her safe.
Except for the rage and his own pain, Brian didn't feel much for other people, but what little he did feel, Shannon knew without any doubt that she'd never be in danger from him again.
It was Friday evening. She'd just returned from her day at the spa and shopping and exploring around the city. She'd skipped the beach because she knew she'd get plenty of the beach soon enough and the beach would make her think about Damian. And thinking about Damian would just tie her stomach in knots because she had a punishment coming. Tonight.
She walked into the back office to find Lindsay scribbling down some notes. He looked up at her and placed them in the folder of a new patient.
“Ready, kitten?”
“Yes, Master.” Shannon's hand strayed unconsciously to her bare throat. She felt the absence of the metal that no longer sat comfortingly against her skin. She wanted it back so badly. Every time she tried to work up the courage to ask, the words died in her throat. Besides, Lindsay had already made his decision... she'd get a collar when they decided she got a collar. But she wanted her collar. Not another one. She loved that collar. It was the singular thing she'd ever worn that made her feel beautiful.
They were quiet on the drive to Damian's. This would be the first time she'd see him since that day at the house when all the decisions had been made.
Lindsay parked in front of the large glass house and got out of the car. Shannon waited, knowing he would come around and get her door. He liked to be old-fashioned and she liked the gallant gesture—especially given the dark and dirty way he liked to treat her. She felt like less of a whore as long as he was opening her car door. As fucked up as that was.
She took his hand as he helped her out and guided her to the front of the house. Was this going to be weird and awkward? The three of them seeing each other again? Although it had only been a few days, it felt as though months or years had passed since the last time the three of them had been together at the house.
Lindsay didn't have to ring the bell. Damian was already there, opening the door and standing aside to let them both in.
Shannon stood hesitantly in the doorway even as Lindsay had already crossed the threshold and made his way into the house. Damian's hungry gaze found her breasts, admiring the way her nipples protruded through her shirt. He looked up and smiled at her, then took her hand and pulled her through the door.
She truly did want him. She wanted them both. It hadn't been a rejection to go back to Lindsay and the house. She just hadn't been willing to let the doctor go.
“Are you hungry?”
She was starving, but she'd been too nervous to think about food. She'd been nervous all day in fact, wondering how all of this was going to go down—if it could even work. One master felt precarious. What if he turned dark and violent? What if he lost interest and abandoned her? But two? It felt like double the risk. Double the potential pain. The balance of it all felt so very delicate. It was part of why she hadn't asked questions.
She wanted to berate herself for feeling this way. Even though she hadn't known it, Shannon had already been in this relationship with the two men. She just hadn't fully realized what Lindsay was orchestrating behind the scenes.
Lindsay had already taken off his jacket. He stood at the table, fixing all three of their plates. Damian had made a roast that had been simmering in a crock pot with carrots and potatoes. There were also green peas and rolls. A red wine sat breathing on the table, the cork lying on the glass tabletop in a small pool of the dark-colored liquid. Each place setting held a goblet filled with water and a wine glass.
Damian pulled out a chair for Shannon and she sat and took a sip of her water. Her chair was alone on one side of the table. Damian and Lindsay's chairs were together on the other. The power imbalance couldn't have been more clear.
The two men shared a look Shannon couldn't decode, but it was about her. Dinner was a silent affair composed of shy looks from her and answering possession from the two men across from her.
After they'd eaten, Lindsay cleared the dishes away as Damian came around once again, pulled her chair out, and guided her to the basement door. Lindsay was with them a few moments later, and they all went down the stairs together.
There were two chairs in the center of the room facing one another. Lindsay sat in one. Damian flipped a switch on the wall which turned on a light that shone down and spotlighted the large space between the two chairs, then he sat in the vacant chair.
“Go retrieve the package from the bed,” Lindsay said, his eyes never leaving her.
She crossed the floor, her heels echoing over the concrete, the sound bouncing off the walls. She picked up a black velvet box with a red bow on the top and brought it back, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn't want to let herself hope that what she thought was in the box was in the box.
“Open it,” Damian said, when she was standing once again under the spotlight between them.
She untied the ribbon and opened the box. She could barely breathe. It was her collar. Not a collar, her collar. The same one.
“Read the inscription,” Lindsay said.
Shannon took the jewelry out and held it up to the light to read the inscription on the underside of the band. It read, “Property of Dr. Lindsay Smith and Damian Brand.”
“From now on, you aren't wearing my collar, you're wearing our collar. Whichever one of us you spend more time with, you belong to both of us equally. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Master,” Shannon said, unlatching it and putting the collar back on.
“And if you try to play us against one another, you will regret it,” Damian added.
She met his serious gaze and nodded.
“Title,” Damian demanded.
“Yes, Master,” she said to Damian.
“Good girl.”
“Now, undress. It's time for your punishment,” Lindsay said.
Shannon's hands trembled as she kicked off the wedge sandals and removed the jeans and T-shirt she'd worn in the city during her free afternoon. Both of them watched as if they'd never seen her undress before. She'd worn sexy underwear, a black cup-less bustier that had made her nipples poke out through the T-shirt, and a matching black thong.
“Nice,” Damian said. “Is this a ploy to earn a lighter punishment?”
“N-no, Master. I-I just wore it to please you.”
He chuckled at that and crooked a finger at her. She walked over to Damian. When she reached him, his hands spanned her waist, then he slipped the panties down over her hips and to the floor.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
She turned and he unhooked each little hook that held the bustier tight against her body. When she was free of it, he stroked her back. She knew he was inspecting it, to see if she'd healed properly from Brian's bullwhip earlier in the week.
“All healed. Good,” he said. “That means I get to punish you.”
Shannon felt her lip begin to quiver again.
“Tell me, baby, what are you being punished for?”
“For putting myself in danger,” she said.
Lindsay rose from his own chair and came to stand in front of her. He brought the familiar tube of arousal cream out of his pocket and rubbed a generous amount into her pussy. She blushed, wondering if he'd explained the cream's effects to Damian.
“You want her to like her punishment?” Damian asked with a chuckle.
Lindsay shrugged. “It makes things more interesting.” Then he turned back to Shannon, his expression more serious. “Kitten, we're going to tie you to the St. Andrew's cross. Damian is going to use the bullwhip.”
Her eyes widened. “No!” She tried to get away, but Damian held her firm. Lindsay blocked her escape from the other side. She started to cry. “Pl
ease, Master, no, not that. You promised you'd never use those things. You promised.” The last words came out in a hurt whisper.
Lindsay brushed his fingers gently through her hair. “That was when I thought you were broken. That was before Brian tried to create a re-enactment of your destruction and you still came back to the house. And you know, exposure is the best therapy. I've always thought so.”
She shook her head, the tears streaming down in earnest now. “Please, please, anything but that. Please don't let him...”
Damian was behind her, rubbing her lower back in slow, soothing circles, as if he wasn't planning to whip her with the one kind of whip she couldn't take.
“Please,” she pleaded again. “Please... mercy.”
Lindsay pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Damian knows how to use a bullwhip properly. He's spent a lot of time learning. He's used it in play on many people. He will not hurt you. It will hurt, but he won't break the skin. Trust us. Your story started with the bullwhip. I really think it has to end in the same place. Don't you?”
“End?”
“Yes, kitten. You have to end one story before you can start a new one. Aren't you ready for a new story?”
“Yes, but...” The words died on her lips as he bent to kiss her, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, pulling her into him.
He took her hands and led her over to equipment.
“Spread your arms and legs out for us like a good girl.”
Shannon did as she was told. Damian secured her ankles and wrists while Lindsay stroked her back.
“Just breathe,” he said.
She tried to focus on breathing. She turned to Damian. “Master, how many lashes?”
“Five,” he said. “You will count them.”
She turned to Lindsay, the fear and panic beginning to fade as anger started to rise up in its place. “Are you going to let him cut me, too? Where's the knife? Brian used a knife.”
Lindsay smacked her hard on the ass. “That's enough! You have to go through this, and then the rest of the night is pleasure.” He moved back out of the way, his arms crossed over his chest, observing. Of course he would protect her. He'd step in if Damian broke her skin. Wouldn't he?