Theirs to Pleasure: a Reverse Harem Romance

by Stasia Black

  And now I have the attention and affection of not one but two men.

  Maybe I should stop worrying and complaining and just…you know, try to enjoy it.

  Whoa, what a shocking thought.

  Me, actually enjoying my life and not just doing what I’m supposed to do like a good little autobot? Perish the thought!

  God, I’ve lived so long in fear of repeating Mom’s mistakes that I’ve barely allowed myself to even live. Never color outside the lines, Sarah. Do the dishes and clean up after your slob of a mother, Sarah. Never let anyone see what a screwed up homelife you have, Sarah.

  Look perfect.

  Be perfect.

  But… what if I just gave it all up?

  All the self-judgement.

  All the guilt at stepping a toe outside the line.

  What if I let go of shame?

  Let go of everything and learn who Sarah really is apart from my mother’s daughter? Completely unshackled?

  Just the idea releases the heaviness that’s been weighing me down ever since last weekend. Then I immediately feel exactly how exhausted I am.

  I’ve barely been sleeping. Every night waiting for something, I don’t even know what—one or both of them to show up at my door. I shake my head and laugh at myself.

  Whatever this is, I’m sure we can sit down like mature adults and discuss it and what we want it to be. I don’t know why I’ve been so wimpy about it. I’ve let fear rule me for too long. I should have spoken up and asked more questions on Saturday. Clarified exactly what was going on, what I was confused about, and what I wanted.

  Communication. You know, that little thing everyone talks about as the most important element in any relationship? How are the guys supposed to know what I want unless I speak up? I want to smack my forehead at how obvious the solution to all my anxiety is.

  I put the dish sponges up to dry and hurry up the stairs to my room, feeling much lighter than I have all week. Taking a shower only further loosens the last little bit of tension from my muscles. I slip into bed, totally calm and relaxed.

  I settle under the covers and read for a while until it’s nine-thirty and my eyes get too heavy to stay open any more. It’s early for me but after my week of non-sleep, I turn off my overhead light and slip back into bed.

  My nightlight’s on. Naturally.

  Just the perfect level of darkness. I close my eyes and settle onto my side. I’m about to doze off when I get the slightest chill down my spine. Silly, but I think it’s because my back is to the door.

  Which is absolutely ridiculous. Oh my God, what am I? Seven years old?

  Still, I roll over, open my eyes quickly, see that my door is firmly shut, and breathe out in relief.

  Then I close my eyes again and snuggle deeper into my pillow.

  Still, a second later, that same stupid chill comes again.

  I internally roll my eyes at myself and groan. I refuse to spend another sleepless night jumping at every other noise.

  Still, I obey the dumb compulsion and my eyes flip open.

  Only to see Dad’s huge silhouette filling my door.

  I scream and grab my pillow to my chest. Then I throw it at him. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  Dad catches the pillow, chuckling as he steps into the room and approaches my bed. “Daddy’s sorry, sweet girl.” His voice seems deeper than it was just a couple of hours ago in the kitchen.

  In only a few of his long-legged strides, he’s over to my bedside. He sits down and lays his large hands on my shoulders. Without much effort he rolls me slightly so that I’m on my stomach and he’s massaging my back.

  “You’ve told me about your homework and what you’ve been doing at school during dinner the past few days,” Dad says, leaning over, “but you haven’t told me what I’ve really wanted to know.” This last part he hisses in my ear.

  I tremble underneath him as his hands get rougher kneading my shoulder muscles and the back of my neck.

  “W-w-what’s that?” I ask, hating how timid my voice sounds. Why am I muttering like a bumbling idiot. I’m supposed to be communicating my wants and needs. I take a gulp of air. “I was hoping we could talk tonight ab—”

  “You haven’t told me whether or not you’ve been a good girl or a bad girl,” he growls. And then without waiting for me to reply, he flips me over on his lap, yanks down my panties, and his palm lands on my ass.

  I yelp in surprise as he spanks me again, hard and sure. “Have you been letting other boys look at what’s mine?” he asks before landing another smack. “Have you been flaunting that tight little ass and making the schoolboys’ cocks hard now that you know how good dicks feel shoved up your nasty cunt?”

  “Wha—? No, I would nev—”

  “Don’t lie to me!” he yells. “Once little girls get cock, it’s all they can think about. I know how you little sluts are. I try to find you when you’re pure. Before the world corrupts you. When you’re still sweet. Are you still my sweet girl?”

  He jams a finger up inside me.

  And I’m not dry.

  I’m slick. As rough as he is, his finger slips right in.

  Somehow all of his rough, filthy talk, even his meanness, has made me wet.

  I like this?

  This turns me on?

  Dad sticks a second finger inside me and starts to scissor them, stretching me and making me even slicker for him.

  “Fuck but you’re so sweet and tight while you’re still innocent,” he mumbles into my hair. “You smell like a beautiful, sweet little girl should. So clean and fresh and good.”

  “Just for you and Dom,” I whisper, panting and on the edge of tears again even while confusing sensations of pleasure rise up in my belly. “No one else. Ever!”

  I don’t know why he’s saying the things he’s saying. They’re mean and hurtful and I was supposed to be standing up for myself. Talking in a mature way about what I want and expect and—

  “Christ, sweet girl, maybe you are the one after all,” Dad says.

  Then he flips me over and I hear the noise of a buckle being undone.

  Even though I’m expecting it, the brief second of bracing myself still isn’t enough to prepare for his giant cock breaching me.

  There’s no gentle nudge and exploration of my lips like Dominick did. No, like before, Dad impales me long and hard, piercing me straight through and pinning me to the bed.

  I let out a low, “oof,” at the pain of it.

  It’s such a tight fit, that even though I’m no longer a virgin and was wet—God there’s no denying it still hurts. Not nearly as much as the first time. But he’s still just too damn big. And I was wet, but not that wet.

  He groans low with the first stick, then almost immediately pulls out and shoves back in.

  The sting makes it impossible to feel any pleasure. I’m sure my face is a grimace, but Dad just cups my cheeks. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl. You’re making Daddy feel so good. do you have any idea what a good girl you are? You let Daddy fuck you so good.”

  Then he kisses me.

  His kisses are nothing like Dominick’s kisses. Dad kisses just like he screws. His tongue is forceful. Thrusting. He pulls back to kiss my lips but only because he’s half-nipping and biting. Always with teeth. Never for a second am I allowed any leeway in the kiss. He’s in command every second.

  I’m left gasping and confused.

  Right when the pain starts to ebb and the pleasure starts to warm in my center again, Dad pulls out. He lifts me off the bed. I stumble to my feet but Dad’s sharp voice commands, “On your knees.”

  I get on my knees on the hard floor. I’m off-kilter. Like before, everything’s a haze. There’s only Dad. This moment. His voice.

  “Open.”

  I don’t— What does he—

  His hands are on my jaw when I don’t respond quickly enough, urging my jaw open.

  Oh, he means—

  He’s shoving his cock in my mouth before I even
finish the thought. He jams it to the back of my throat and beyond.

  “Swallow it,” he orders.

  I try to protest that I can’t. I don’t know. I don’t— None of this is— I can’t—

  He just pulls out and pushes his cock past my lips and into my throat, choking me again.

  “Godfuckingdammit,” he yells. “That’s right, gag on Daddy’s giant cock. Do you know how much I love that sound?” he asks, all but a shout. “Your innocent fucking noises drive me fucking crazy. Gag on me again,” he shoves it in and I’m gagging, choking, spitting. Oh God, I’m going to die if he keeps it up much longer.

  “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he yells and with one more gagging thrust his cum is spurting into my mouth and spilling down onto my cheeks and chin to my chest.

  “Swallow,” he pants. “Swallow it now or I’ll punish you so hard you won’t sit for a week!”

  I gag and try but I just keep spitting and sputtering.

  Then he reaches down and pinches my nose shut. Can’t breathe! Can’t—! Why would he—?

  “Swallow!” he roars again.

  But in all my panicking, I do swallow.

  And when I do, it’s like a switch flips.

  I swallow and gasp and lick at everything covering my lips. And then I suckle at Daddy’s cock and lick every drop from his fingers when he gathers a puddle of it from my breast and shoves it in my mouth. I have to please Daddy. I’ll do anything to please Daddy.

  In the end, Daddy’s beaming at me, a halo behind him from my nightlight.

  “You might just be Daddy’s perfect little girl after all. Don’t wash up until morning.”

  He leaves me there just like that, heaving for breath and totally destroyed, his cum still all over me, inside and out.

  Chapter 9

  I walk through school the next day in an absolute daze.

  When my Early Childhood Development group leader asks me if everything’s okay, I just nod and walk away without saying anything. Usually she’s the closest thing to a friend I have at school and whenever we talk I try to leverage it into going to grab coffee. Today I literally just walk away. As if she’s a wooden post. I pretend I don’t hear her even though she was standing right in front of my face.

  “Sarah?” she calls after me.

  I keep walking across the quad.

  Part of my mind keeps trying to force me to face what happened last night.

  But the rest is sane and keeps bricking up new walls and throwing away the key as quickly as that pesky little concerned part knocks down the old ones.

  Nothing happened last night.

  I did not become some pathetic sex slave who humiliated herself in order to please her Daddy.

  Because that is not who I am.

  Not that I actually know who I am.

  Nineteen, almost twenty, years on this planet and I haven’t managed to figure that out yet. I thought I could start figuring it out, but nope. That didn’t happen.

  It’s just fucking pathetic no matter how you look at it.

  So I won’t.

  Look at it, that is.

  None of it.

  Self-examination is so overrated.

  I will live in the moment.

  And not think.

  Thinking about shit is where the problem is.

  And I cuss now.

  That’s a new thing I do.

  Because fuck it.

  Fuck. All. Of. It.

  Not that I’m thinking about it.

  Whatever it might be.

  Goddamn motherfucking shit.

  Can someone please just give me an escape pod from my head?????

  “Sarah. Thank God. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  I jerk to a stop right outside of the Student Commons and look to my left.

  “Dominick?”

  Okay, maybe I’m really out of it, but I could swear Dominick is jogging my way across the quad. I blink hard. But yeah, it still looks like Dominick—decked out like always in his blue scrubs with the black Henley underneath, the strap of the leather carrier bag he always takes with him slung diagonally across his chest.

  “Sarah.” Dom catches up to me and immediately envelops me in a hug.

  I don’t respond at first. Even with his arms around me, the fog persists.

  “Sarah?” He pulls back and shakes my shoulders slightly. “Sarah?” The worry in his voice is the only thing that finally pierces through the haze. “Are you all right?” he asks.

  Then he pulls me back into his arms. “Christ, it’s obvious you aren’t.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I mutter, blinking.

  Dominick’s here. On my campus. How is he here? How is this possible?

  “What are you doing here—?”

  “I had to see you,” he cuts me off, his hand on the back of my head, pressing me even more firmly into his chest. “Dad wasn’t supposed to go to your room last night. He said he wouldn’t go without me. I came as soon as I heard he did. I’m so sorry if he scared you.”

  As soon as he says the words, my whole body starts to tremble. It’s like him saying it out loud has finally given me permission to feel it.

  Fear.

  Yes. That’s exactly what I felt last night. I was too confused to even know what to call it. But the whole thing was terrifying. I was afraid.

  But I was also turned on by it all. I was wet. So I…liked it. That meant I wanted it… Right?

  I press my face into Dominick’s chest. I’m still so confused.

  But everything feels better in his arms.

  The tilting world seems to settle back on its axis.

  Impulsively, I reach up on tiptoes and kiss him.

  I open my mouth to him, but Dominick surprises me. He pulls back.

  Crap.

  That was the wrong thing to do—trying to kiss him when he just came here to check on me. Besides, Dad said we aren’t supposed to sneak around anymore. Technically, kissing Dom isn’t sneaking around, but it could be construed that way and—

  Then Dominick’s lips land on mine and all my thoughts still again.

  Blessed quiet in my head.

  Dom’s tongue doesn’t seek entrance and he doesn’t press for more. It’s just a gentle, sweet, soft press of his lips. And that’s it.

  After a short moment, he pulls back. Then he leans his forehead against mine.

  And I don’t care if anyone sees us and makes the connection that he’s my new stepbrother. I barely talk to anyone on campus anyway. Having him so close is everything.

  “God I’ve missed you,” he whispers, his eyes slipping closed. “These shifts at the hospital have been hell, knowing I’m not keeping my promise of protecting you.”

  I frown. “Protecting?”

  The line between his eyebrow deepens but then he opens his eyes and he smiles at me.

  “But I’m here with you now. Come on.” He looks around us at students streaming past and the general commotion of the quad. “Let’s get out of here and go somewhere quieter.”

  I nod. I have a class in an hour, but with how little I was able to focus on my morning lectures, nothing sounds better than skipping and spending time with Dominick.

  “Do you want to get some coffee or something to eat?” I touch his arm, noting the dark circles under his eyes. “I can only imagine how exhausted you must be. Have you been eating? You’ve got to remember to take care of yourself, not just your patients, Dom.”

  His smile widens and his eyes soften as he looks over at me. Then he does the last thing I expect. He reaches over and intertwines his fingers with mine.

  Oh my God, he’s holding my hand.

  Such a simple gesture.

  After all the things we did last Saturday, it should feel like the least intimate thing in the world. And yet it makes my heart sing in a way that all the erotic and sexual things I experienced in that room and with his father last night pale in comparison.

  “First of all, I want you to know that what happened last nigh
t won’t happen again. Not without me there.” He looks up at me, eyes widening as he rushes on, “And only if you want it to.” Then he breathes out and looks down, grimacing like he’d practiced some speech but it came out wrong. “How are you? With everything that’s happened? Just say the word and it all stops.” He swings our arms back and forth slightly as we walk. I think he’s leading us toward a small coffee shop on the corner, but I’m not sure.

  And I can’t help stiffening at his questions.

  He notices.

  Of course he notices.

  He stops in his tracks at the edge of the quad underneath a blooming cherry tree. “Sarah?”

  I shrug, then nod towards the little shop. “Let’s get coffee. I need a caffeine fix.” I paste on a smile and then tug him across the road as the walk sign starts to flash a countdown.

  He lets it go and we go get our coffees. He orders me a white mocha macchiato, my favorite drink when I’m disregarding calories. Which apparently I am today. I don’t mind because frankly, I won’t deny I’m in need of comfort food. I don’t balk at the blueberry scone he buys me either, but only because he gets one for himself too.

  It’s only after we’re out of the coffeeshop and walking down the sidewalk sipping our drinks that Dominick starts up again. “So? Spill.”

  “What?” I try to deflect, using a stir stick to eat some of the whip cream off the top of my macchiato. Dominick’s holding the bag with the scones. I get all the cream and then pop the top back on to drink the rest of the coffee. God, that hits the spot.

  He lets me avoid his questions a little longer, leading the way to a small park another block and a half down. Then we settle underneath a big tree. I’m not sure what kind, but it has a huge trunk and root system that sticks out of the ground. Dominick takes off his bag and settles himself on one of the roots, back against the trunk. He pats his lap for me to sit.

  It’s a spring day. Flowers are in bloom. The sun shines bright and happy. The most handsome man I can possibly imagine is gesturing for me to sit with him under a shaded tree with sweet treats awaiting me in a pastry bag.

  …And all I feel like doing is curling up against him and crying.