Chapter Ten

Carys let her head fall back, hair brushing her bare shoulders, as Tristan pulled things out of his kit and whispered something to Aidan. She’d meant what she’d said. The idea of those two plotting to torture her made her feel wanted and loved. Maybe the thing that had hurt most was the idea Tristan hadn’t given her a thought while he was gone. Though he claimed it wasn’t true, it was hard to believe mere words. What they were doing now was starting to shake her walls.

Tonight wasn’t the time to think about walls. It was the time to stop thinking and let herself feel.

The spectators were vague shapes beyond the lights. She couldn’t tell how many people were watching them. She was still properly clothed, and it gave her some cover. Would they get her out of her clothes? Would they demand she strip down for them?

Not while she was cuffed, of course, but Tris seemed to allude to a long scene. In the past they would play some truly fun games. Would she still find them fun?

How long had it been since Tristan set her up for the kind of spanking that made her ache and also opened her up?

Her men prowled across the stage toward her. Prowled was the right word. Tristan was leaning slightly forward as he walked, while Aidan moved and not around to her other side. He was behind her, and she had no idea what he was doing, what he was planning to do. A thrill of alarm worked its way down her spine.

She knew they would never hurt her—well, they would hurt her plenty, but only in the ways she craved. She wasn’t sure she could trust them with her heart, but she absolutely trusted them with her body. Though even as she stood there bound and helpless, she was a little afraid.

And that fear made her nipples tight and pussy throb. It was a heady feeling, a feeling that shoved out all the others and left her blissfully in the moment where she didn’t have to decide anything at all. All she needed to do was comply with her Masters’ commands and accept their punishment and their pleasure.

Tristan stopped in front of her, and she could feel his focus, his attention. He was no longer paying attention to the crowd. He was so much more commanding than he’d been before, and it was addicting.

“You look gorgeous tonight, love,” Tristan said, his voice dipping low as though he meant to keep the words private between the three of them, as though telling her, even with an audience, there was no one in the world except the three of them.

“Fucking sexy as hell.” Aidan’s hand slipped under her skirt and cupped her ass. “I want to show you off tonight. I want everyone in this club to know how stunning our submissive is.”

Tristan’s lips quirked up. “Everyone who isn’t hiding in the lounge.”

She frowned. “Do not take me out of my sexy moment, Tris.”

Aidan’s teeth sank into her ear. It seemed to be his go-to move tonight, and it had her going up on her toes at the thrill of pain. “Bad sub. I’ll move down your neck next. I like leaving a mark, baby.”

Tristan loomed over her. “Another ten.”

Then he lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss unexpectedly tender rather than fiery and demanding the way she thought it would be. His tongue touched hers, then ran along the inside of her lower lip.

When he broke the kiss she was soft and ready. She’d known them all of her life, but in the moment everything felt fresh, like they could have both the comfort of a long-term relationship and the thrill of something new. Like they could reinvent themselves however they wanted. She could be the calm and collected doctor during work and their wild sub here. They could have the loving partnership they’d formed, and also this crazy, reckless passion.

If she could only trust they wouldn’t lie to her again.

His lips clung to hers as he pulled back, a tender moment, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from her.

Then his hand was around her neck, the movement snake-quick and so unexpected she jumped, letting out a short scream of surprise.

“Thank me for kissing you,” Tristan demanded.

Carys leaned into his hand, increasing the pressure of his fingers around her throat. Showing him he wouldn’t hurt her. She wanted his dominance, enjoyed the sensation of his hands sinking into her skin. “Thank you, Sir.”

He smirked, then pushed his thumb against the bottom of her jaw, forcing her to tip her head back. He bent, nipping the skin on her neck and sucking.

A hickie? It had been a long time since she’d had one of those. Not since high school when they’d fumbled around, learning what they liked, what made her hot. They’d teased that if one of them put a mark on her, the other needed equal time, space on her skin.

Tristan was taking his the way Aidan had.

She might end up covered in reminders of the night, and unlike high school, she didn’t think she would hide them now. She would enjoy them.

Tristan released her neck and stepped back and to the side so his body was no longer blocking the audience’s view of her.

“We’re going to play a game now. It’s not a thing I would do if we hadn’t played like this many times before. Our beautiful submissive is damn-near perfect, so we have to get creative when we want her to earn her punishments. By nature she wouldn’t ever earn a single one.” His expression changed, turning dark and dominant. The top was in the house. “On your knees, sub.”

Carys blinked at him, looked first left, then right, at the cuffs and straps, and back to him, arching a brow. They had played these kinds of games before. Usually when she needed to really unleash tension. Tris would come up with wicked games, giving her orders she couldn’t possibly obey. It was something he did when she couldn’t ask for what she needed.

Did she trust him enough to play like this with him?

Tristan crossed his arms over his big, muscled chest, staring at her like he could force her to do his will. Against all the rules of science.

Aidan slapped her ass. “He gave you an order, sub.”

There was still a chance he wasn’t playing a game. The apparatus was a large, upright rectangle made out of heavy galvanized piping that screwed together. It was about nine feet tall and six feet wide and looked like a demented doorway, or the frame for a photo backdrop.

It was clear either Gabe or Cooper had been to Home Depot again.

It could have breakaway pins. During play of this kind, sometimes they would use breakaway pins. All the sub would have to do was apply enough pressure and the restraints attached over her head would come out of place and she would be free.

Carys turned her head up, trying to examine the latch and connectors that bound her cuffs to the straps looped over the frame, but between the lights and the angle, she couldn’t see the metal tube-like piece that would separate when the correct amount of force was applied.

This could be a part of Tristan’s plan. He might want her to demonstrate how the breakaway pins worked and get her on her knees at the same time. It would put her in a good position to suck his cock. Would he order her to suck him while Aidan spanked her ass? As plans went, she didn’t hate it.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, and started to kneel, expecting the pins to move as she put more weight on the cuffs.

Her knees never made it to the stage. Carys’s shoulders and wrists protested as the restraints pulled taut. She grunted in a combination of discomfort and surprise as her body weight hung on her wrists, her knees a good twenty centimeters from the stage.

“Problem, sub?”

She awkwardly got her feet under her, shaking out her arms. “No, Sir. I just need a moment.”

Bracing her feet, she twisted her wrists, gripping the hardware of the cuff, and yanked. Hard. She wasn’t weak. She’d proven it earlier. While she didn’t work out as intensely as her cousins did, she was strong.

Carys yanked on the cuffs, listening for that cracking sound of the breakaway pin snapping.

Nothing happened except her wrists hurt.

She shifted to the side, bringing her wrist as close to her face as she could.

No breakaway pin.

Aidan chuckled behind her. “Did you think we put breakaway pins in? You’re not a newbie, baby. You don’t need them.”

“I do if I’m supposed to get to my knees,” she argued back and then winced. “Sir.”

Tristan arched a brow. “I didn’t tell you there were breakaways.”

He was on her in the next breath. His hands gripped her hips, jerking her forward. Carys inhaled sharply.

“I gave you an order, sub. I expect to be obeyed.”

“I literally can’t.” She waved her arms, making the metal hardware and chains clank. “Sir, do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“I think you need to feel everything tonight. This used to help you push through when you were locked down. It reminded you there are things you can’t control. I was good at getting you through all the stress and tension. This was one of the ways we played, but, baby, I also know this is how I treated you in real life. I put you in a position where you couldn’t win. I need you to know I understand the difference. This is the place to play the hardass Dom, when it’s your pleasure and relaxation on the line. Not when it’s your heart.”

Tears pierced her eyes. It was a perverse way to apologize, but this was a connection she hadn’t felt in so long. If they could get back this piece of themselves, could they have it all?

“If you can’t trust me, I understand,” he whispered. “We can try this another way. But I need you to know I’m never going to stop trying.”

She’d always found this type of play frustrating and oddly freeing. It was a game, one where the goal was sexual satisfaction. And often emotional release. “I think we should give the newbies a good show.”

Tristan leaned in, brushing his mouth over hers. “Thank you, love. Don’t hesitate to use your safe word if it gets too much. This is play, and it’s for you. If it doesn’t work, we try something new.” He leaned back, his eyes going hard. “That’s twice now you haven’t called me Sir.”

And they were doing high protocol.

Carys knew her eyes went wide before she dropped her gaze. Shit. She’d walked right into that.

Did she need this excuse? Had they decided to put her in a corner in order to give her what she needed? He promised to make her scream. She’d thought it would be in pleasure, but what if what she needed was to release the poison in her system?

His words had already done some of the work. He knew what he’d done. He took accountability. It made it easier to sink into this role they wanted her to play.

They were going to push her and push her until she broke. The realist in her knew she needed to break.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said, instinctively trying to go to her knees. If she could have, she would have dropped all the way down.

But she couldn’t. Because sometimes she couldn’t do things even when she wanted to. It was the odd lesson to this experience. She wasn’t at fault. She’d done nothing wrong. The “punishment” was nothing more than a way to get her where she needed to go.

“Are you? You don’t look sorry.” Tristan started to circle her, ducking under the straps holding her arms.

Aidan followed him, switching positions so now she was facing him. “Actually, we’re not looking at very much of you. Strip.”

Yes, this might be exactly what she needed. They would force her into impossible situations so she “earned” an amount of punishment absolutely sure to make her cry, to make her break. Carys looked down at herself. She had on her favorite corset and the skirt she used when she was looking for a more modest night. Getting out of a corset was easier than getting into it, but it required hands. She couldn’t simply shimmy out of it.

It was easier with Aidan in front of her. She could deal with Aidan. She wasn’t so sure about Tris. “Sir, would you help me?”

Aidan stepped back, considering the request. “Help you how?”

Asshole. And where the hell was Tris? Her heart rate ticked up as she realized he could surprise her from behind. What was that bastard planning? “I need help with my corset, Sir. I want to comply with your orders, but I can’t use my hands because you locked me in.”

Tristan pressed against her back. The feel of his hard dick compressed by the leathers was familiar but no less exciting because of the familiarity.

“Do you want me to show everyone your tits?” Tristan whispered the question against her ear.

His arms came around her from behind, and she leaned back into him.

“If that would please you, Sir.”

His lips touched her shoulder, and she felt the smile.

“You’re too well trained to make fun mistakes,” he murmured against her skin.

“I was trained well, and Aidan’s taken care of me,” she breathed back, turning to kiss his temple. Somehow here and now the words weren’t an accusation but rather a way to honor Aidan.

“I can see he has,” Tristan whispered. “And that’s why we have to get creative with reasons to punish you.”

Aidan smiled, an entirely predatory expression. “Very creative. I had a whole lot of last night to think about ways to torture you.”

“You don’t need an excuse to spank me.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But if you don’t disobey, then I don’t have a reason to call you my bad girl.” Tris straightened, and she knew the intimate byplay was over.

“Do you want me to show everyone your tits, sub?” Tristan used a stage voice, letting the audience hear him.

Did she want him to? He’d said she had an exhibitionist streak they’d never fully indulged. Did she want everyone to see her body? Or was it more about having her Masters be so proud to show her off? Was it actually putting their relationship on display because they were proud of it, because it brought them pleasure, brought the people around them pleasure? “If putting me on display would please you, Sir. Does it also please you, Master Aidan?”

Aidan’s eyes were already on her breasts. “You know it will. I’ve always wanted to show you off, wanted to parade you around this club and show the world I have a beautiful sub.”

His hands gripped the bottom of the corset, squeezing the edges together until the hook and eye closures came undone and the bottom few inches were unfastened.

“You want us to share our property with other people?” Tristan asked in a dangerous voice.

Every possessive word caressed over her skin. She needed to believe him, needed to know she was his because it was the only way he could be hers again.

“I want to please—” She couldn’t get the rest of the words out as he gripped the top of the corset, thumbs slipping under the fabric, sliding back and forth over her nipples.

Pleasure sizzled through her from that simple touch. Her moan became a gasp when two quick movements unfastened her corset, and it fell to the stage around her heels.

He pulled at the skirt, dragging it down her hips and off her, leaving her in only a silky white thong.

The lights warmed her now bare breasts, and when Tristan’s fingers danced over the underside of them she strained forward, wanting more of his touch. Wanting to tempt Aidan to join them. She could see the bulge of his aroused cock tenting his leathers.

Tristan cupped her bare breasts, lifting them. Displaying them for the people in the audience. His thumbs flicked her nipples, quick casual motions.

“I don’t like all these strangers looking at what’s mine,” Tristan said.

There was a faint “bullshit” from someone in the unseen audience. It elicited a snort from Carys because while whoever said it was an asshole, he was also right.

She moaned as Aidan reached out and twisted her nipple, bringing her back into the moment.

“Pay attention, sub,” Aidan commanded. “He said he didn’t like all these strangers looking at you. Are you his?”

Was she? She felt like his. In this club, she was definitely theirs. “Yes. I’m his.”

“You are his, too, aren’t you?” Tristan asked, his body big and warm at her back.

Always had been, always would be. No matter what happened. Even if she walked away in the end.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Who decides if you get pleasure…” Tristan circled her areolas with his thumbs, then gently gripped her nipples. It was a barely there touch, but she was so aroused it felt like she’d been shocked with a live wire when he applied faint pressure.

“…or pain?” He pinched her nipples. Hard.

Carys cried out, arching her back as he pulled on her nipples, distending them from her body, and then twisted viciously.

He released her nipples abruptly, her breasts bouncing. She moaned softly, pressing back against him.

Tristan’s hand gripped her hair, hard, her scalp lighting up with pain. “Answer me.”

“You do, Sir. You and Master Aidan decide.”

He grunted in satisfaction and released her hair.

“Cover up, sub.”

Carys didn’t hesitate this time. “Master Aidan, would you put my corset back on me, please?”

He walked around to face her. “No.”

“Sir, I can’t cover up unless you help me because I can’t use my hands.” Carys raised her brows and once more jiggled the restraints. Her nipples felt hot and tender, and she knew her pussy was almost embarrassingly wet. The eyes she could feel on her only added to both sensations.

She realized her mistake. “Please, could you help me, Master Tristan?”

Tristan moved to stand beside Aidan. His lips curled up as his eyes took in every inch of her body.

“No,” he said, echoing his partner.

She stared right back at them, loving how they looked standing there torturing her together. Those men had been her everything for so long. Wasn’t it worth the risk if they could find their way back? If Tris was really ready now?

Aidan leaned in, looking her straight in the eyes. “Sub, where are you supposed to be looking?”

She’d been looking at them as she sorted through her tangled emotions, examining each of his familiar features.

But they were in high protocol.

Carys dropped her gaze to Aidan’s boots. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You should be. You’ve already earned punishments,” Aidan said. “All you’re doing is adding to the total.”

Her body thrummed in pleasure at the promise of impact play.

The folded flap of leather at the tip of a riding crop caressed her lips. Carys gasped in surprise because she hadn’t noticed he’d grabbed it from his kit.

“Last chance to show us that you can be a good girl,” Tristan said.

She could only see their boots, four of them standing together. Despite her gaze being on the floor, the image of them together formed in her mind, Tristan and Aidan—her men—standing together, working together to punish her. To please her.

The words were all part of the act. She was their good girl and they her loving tops. They might have thought frustration would be the way to break through, but she suddenly didn’t feel the need to scream. She only wanted to be with them. In every wicked way possible.

Aidan flicked the crop against her nipples, then pressed the tip hard against the underside of one breast, lifting it. “Spread your pussy open and show us how wet you are.”

She did her best to follow the order without her hands. Carys spread her legs as wide as she could, lowering herself until her arms were pulled tight, and she would have lost her balance if she hadn’t had the restraints to pull against.

She felt her labia part, knew her pussy was open and vulnerable.

But not visible.

Because while he’d taken her skirt, he’d known what he was doing when he’d left her in the thong.

She still had one thing on, and while it didn’t cover much, it covered what her Masters wanted to see.

The crop flicked against the inside of her left thigh. A quick strike, the pain bright and sharp, fading fast.

“I’m sorry, Sirs. I want to be obedient.”

“But you aren’t.” Tristan’s words were soft. “You’re always such a perfect submissive. My dream sub. But tonight you are pushing me.”

She was pushing him exactly where they all wanted to go. “This isn’t fair, Sir.”

The crop cracked against the inside of her other thigh. Carys flinched, the delicate skin feeling hot and thin.

Aidan rolled his shoulders, tipping his head first one way and then the other. She knew that look and did her best to brace herself.

He brought the crop up in an underhand strike. The sound of leather on flesh was loud as it snapped against her inner thighs. Again and again he struck her. Not their normal pace of impact play, but the sweet pain made her lick her lips. Aidan would spank her when she asked for it, but this was something different. This felt like a real Master. She expected it from Tristan, but Aidan was a revelation.

“Sir, do you want me to count?”

“Count?” Aidan asked.

“Count each strike of my punishment?”

Tristan chuckled, a deep sound that rolled over her like a drug. “Punishment?”

The crop cracked against her pussy. Pain and pleasure blossomed in her, and Carys screamed, as much in shock as pain. Aidan struck her right above her clit, and as the stinging heat faded, a pulsing throb started up, making her clit feel swollen and needy.

“This wasn’t punishment.” He dropped the crop to the stage and cupped her sex in his big, hard hand. “That was me enjoying what’s mine.”

Aidan’s other hand fisted in her hair, forcing her head back so he could devour her mouth even as he pulled up on her pussy, making it throb harder.

He bit her bottom lip. “Now it’s time for your punishment.”

* * * *

Aidan had never felt so fucking in control before. The love of his life was wet and ready for whatever he gave her.

And he had to acknowledge the only reason this worked was because Tristan was here.

Tristan was right. They weren’t merely friends. They were something more, and acknowledging that, allowing it to be whatever it was going to be, made a massive difference. It took away any slight awkwardness they’d had before, when Aidan wasn’t sure of his place. Now he settled in.

Carys was oddly calm. He could tell from the set of her shoulders and the serene look in her eyes. Tris had been right about this, too. When they’d decided on this form of play, Aidan had worried. Tris had explained it was his way to show her he wouldn’t ever do this to her again. That he would put her needs, her peace, first.

Outside of the dungeon. Inside the dungeon, they would sometimes push her limits, though they didn’t seem to have truly done so tonight.

And he had to admit, it was fucking fun. He knew one thing. She wasn’t thinking about anything but him and Tristan. The rest of the world had floated away.

She’d “disobeyed,” and now they got to punish her.

His whole body felt alive in a way it never had before. He’d shoved down all his anxiety because he needed to stay calm in the face of an attack. But now this felt like a fucking reward. He’d done what he needed to do, proven he could stay in control, and now he got to truly top her.

He rubbed her pussy and she tensed, adjusting her position. The fabric of her itty-bitty thong was soaked, and she felt warm and soft against his hand. She’d feel warmer and softer against his dick.

Aidan lifted up, her plump pussy grinding against his fingers. Standing with her legs spread wide wasn’t a sustainable position. She was strong, but it would be too easy for her leg muscles to tire. If she dropped any further, she might hurt her legs or arms as she pulled on the restraints, or both.

Being a good Dom, he’d help her stand up straight. He pulled up, hard, his hand digging into her. Carys gasped, scrambling to bring her feet together and stand up to alleviate the pressure.

His fingers slipped between her outer labia, the warm, slick flesh cradling him. Her thighs, pressed together, kept his hand in place.

She ground down on him, hips shifting as she tried to rub her clit against his hand.

“Spread,” he commanded. “Enough so I have easy access to this pussy.”

She adjusted until her feet were a little more than shoulder width apart. He dropped his hand away from her sex.

Then gave her pussy a friendly spank.

Tristan had been behind her the whole time, and now he chuckled. “I think she’s definitely ready to move on.”

Carys groaned, her head tipping back against Tristan’s shoulder, her knees tilting to the side, spreading her thighs wider and forcing her hips forward.

When her pussy was spanked, she didn’t clamp her legs together. She spread them, offering her sweet flesh up for more. There was his sweet sub, and he realized what they’d been missing. Sex was good between them, but this was more. This was a connection they’d been missing.

Aidan reached between her legs once more, but now his fingers were gentle. He molded the wet fabric of her thong against her pussy, making sure it clung to every fold and contour.

Tristan moved in, his hand sliding against Aidan’s as he traced Carys’s clit with gentle fingers. His fingers slid along Tris’s, reminding him in a visceral way that he wasn’t alone.

He’d been so alone.

She arched her back, pulling against the restraints.

“Does that feel good?” Tristan asked.

“Yes, Sir,” came the breathy reply.

Then it was time to shake her up. “And this?”

Aidan carefully scraped her clit with his nail.

Carys let out a shocked sound that was almost a scream.

He did it again.

Carys came. He felt the warm rush of her arousal against his fingers. He hadn’t dreamed she was that close. He doubted she knew she was so close because if she had, she would have warned him.

Tristan stepped back, frowning.

Aidan moved to join him, forming a solid front. “Did you come, sub?”

“Just a little one, Sir.”

Tristan snorted. “And little orgasms don’t count?”

“That sounds fair to me, Sir.” Carys’s cheeks and chest were flushed, her hips moving restlessly. That really had been a minor orgasm because she didn’t look satiated and satisfied. She looked like she was already on the edge again. Right where they wanted her.

“Did she just, uh, orgasm from being punished?” The question came from the audience.

Aidan couldn’t tell who had said it, but he bet it was one of the newbies because he heard Gabe start in on a low-voiced lecture about how to behave during a scene.

Aidan simply snorted. They’d come to learn. They were about to. “That wasn’t her punishment.”

Carys’s eyes widened but she didn’t look totally surprised.

Aidan picked up the crop he’d dropped earlier, watching his sub as her eyes tracked the movement of his hand.

He whipped the crop through the air, quick enough that it made a soft whistling sound. Carys took deep breaths, her posture softening.

Her shoulders dropped down and back, her fingers lovingly curled rather than gripping the strap above her cuffs.

He looked to Tristan, who was still standing there watching. Tris gave him a nod, telling him they were ready for the next part of their well laid-out plan. Aidan carefully flicked her nipples with the tip of the crop.

“You’re going to crop her breasts?” someone in the audience asked. Except it wasn’t merely a question. It was an accusation.

Aidan bit back a chuckle because Gabe was going to lose his shit on this new group. Someone was getting kicked out. Aidan simply snorted and thought about telling the newbie that if he pulled some macho, protective bullshit and tried to “save” Carys, it wasn’t Aidan or Tris he’d have to worry about. Carys would kick his ass herself.

“As a punishment? Nope. This is for fun.” He added a smack to the underside of each breast. The sound of leather on flesh echoed.

Aidan looked at his sub, and despite how deep in subspace she was, she met his gaze. Her eyes flicked to the audience and then back to him.

Tristan reached out and gently forced her chin up so she could look at him. “What do you think your punishment is going to be, love?”

She was almost naked in front of a crowd, had orgasmed right here in what was essentially public, but if she was bothered by it, he couldn’t tell. She was strong and proud, and her lips curled up ever so slightly as she replied. “Spanking, Sir. It’s going to be a spanking.”

“And you’re ready?” Aidan asked, already knowing her answer.

“Yes, Sirs. I’m ready.”

Aidan’s cock twitched in his leathers, and he realized he was ready, too. Ready to start this brand new, utterly fascinating part of their lives.