“If it’s an option, I’ll chip in too,” Willow told him. “For mine. No laundry at all sounds good.”
He nodded, and she relaxed a little more. They were willing to make changes, to discuss.
Kenny took a sip of his water. “I had someone come in to change the sheets on my bed, dust, vacuum, clean the bathrooms— all the other things you’re doing. Any objections to continue doing those things?”
That wasn’t on her list, so she considered her answer. “They’ll need to come the week to ten days I’m away working, so I don’t walk into a filthy house, and maybe I can have two or three days off when I return, because it takes me a few days to recover from a week or more of twelve-hour shifts.”
He nodded. “More than reasonable. We’ll go with two full days without duties other than servicing us, meaning you’ll have the day you come home plus two full days.”
Servicing them.
The words hit hard because she immediately realized they’d have gone without fucking anyone for over a week, and she’d be used a lot harder in those initial days. Her pulse sped a little, her nipples tightened, but she tried to ignore her body’s reaction and remember this was a negotiation and she needed to keep to the facts.
And she decided it was okay, being used a lot in those initial recovery days. She mostly had to just accept what they did to her, and it would be a nice way to destress after a week in some crazy ER or whatever flavor of ICU they stuck her in.
“Right, ya’ll are going to be horny as fuck when I walk in the door, and I get that, but maybe ya’ll can focus on fucking me when I’m horizontal more than vertical those first days?”
Kenny chuckled. “We’ll keep it in mind.”
Not a promise, but she figured it was as good as she was going to get.
She looked at her list again. Why hadn’t she put this in the same item? “Same topic, but can you maybe buy two robot vacs? One for upstairs, another for downstairs? I’ll still need to vacuum the stairs.”
No one said anything, and she said, “At least one for the downstairs. I like most of the wolves, and I’m getting used torandom people hanging out in the kitchen, but they track stuff in and I’m constantly sweeping, and it’s a huge fucking kitchen.”
“May as well get two while I’m at it,” Kenny said, “but you’ll be responsible for programming them and doing whatever maintenance they need to keep them running.”
“That means emptying it and cleaning the brushes, or whatever,” Boone said. “If one breaks, that’s different.”
Kenny glanced at him and nodded. “While we’re on the subject of reducing your load, it’s probably a good time for me to tell you of another job you’ll have — gardener.”
She furrowed her brows. “I saw a raised bed out back, and Boone said you grow tomatoes, peppers, and a few other easy vegetables in the summer.”
He nodded. “We’ll build waist-high beds along the kitchen wall farthest from the sink, so the eastern windows will bathe it in light. The peppers will move inside, but you’ll also cultivate a patch of stinging nettles for ritual punishment. In the spring and summer, you’ll harvest fresh leaves that grow naturally on the property when you’re to be punished. Fall and winter, you’ll harvest from the kitchen.”
She stared at him, her clit throbbing, her mind horrified. She’d experienced nettles before, knew how they’d sting, how the little needle-like hairs would claw into her skin long after the leaves were gone, heat and itch blooming under her clothes for fucking days if they didn’t let herchange, and she didn’t figure they would.
The thought of tending the very plants that would torture her, watering them, nurturing them for her own punishment — it was twisted. And her body’s immediate response told her exactly how twisted she was, too.
She blinked and reminded herself to focus. He wasn’t asking her. He was telling her. And yes, this was a negotiation, andshe could argue, but he’d been clear this would be a ritual punishment, and she’d fucking asked for rituals.
So she looked to her list, checked off the laundry and vacuum items, and moved to the next point.
“I’d like to choose my own clothes sometimes. Date nights, especially, but I’d like to wear pants to go walking on the property. I feel silly in a dress when I see wolves in the woods, whether they’re on two legs or four.”
Kenny shook his head without time for telepathy. “Denied.”
She stared at him. “No. I need more than just denied. Maybe that’s the way we end up, but I need you to understand how I feel, and I guess I need to understand why this is so important to you.”
“We want you always available to us sexually. If I want to bend you over the table and fuck you in the kitchen, I don’t want to have to remove anything to get to your holes. You can’t be naked because unless it’s a shifting thing, no one sees you without clothes but the three of us. If we didn’t have people in and out at all hours, you’d be naked atalltimes when home.”
“And I get that, but I’d still be able to wear what I wanted to go shopping, or to have lunch with a friend during my personal time, right?”
Silence while they telepathed, and then, “We’ll allow you to bring a few dozen outfits to put in your closet, but it will be locked to you. We’ll put an armoire in the hallway with two weeks’ worth of dresses we like, so you can choose the color and style you wish for the day. Every week, we’ll put another seven in, so you’ll always have at least seven to choose from. You’ll need permission to wear something from your closet, which we’ll likely give for your two examples.”
“I’ll need underwear in my closet, to wear with jeans and hiking clothes.”
“Underwear we approve of, but yes,” Kenny said.
