Her throat worked, scent shifting with that little ripple of unease he liked so much.
“Next,” he said, tone flattening into something that would tolerate no argument, “you’re going to rim me.”
Willow blinked, sat back. “That’s a hard limit.”
He shook his head. “Shifters don’t get sick from E.coli or anything else that might be present. This isn’t a health thing, it’s a personal one.”
“Yeah, but it’s still a hard limit.”
“It’s one of my kinks, part of the humiliation thing, and I’ve never let a submissive keep it as a hard limit.Ever.” He lifted his brows. “It gives me great pleasure to force it, and the fact it was a hard limit will make it all the sweeter.”
That last had done it. Her scent blossomed, wafting pure lust and submission into the room — followed by the horror that we’d all know.
“Fuck.”
She said it with frustration and irritation, but rather than agree, she had a stipulation.
“You’ll wash with soap and water first. Spotless. Completely clean. Smelling of soap.”
He smiled slow, like a wolf finding fresh prey. “Done.”
Her shoulders eased a fraction, and he took that moment to drop the last brick. “I want more casual use. Not just the mornings and my assigned nights. If I come home from work and I need to fuck something, I’ll do it. Any hole, any time.”
She glanced toward Kenny, maybe hoping for backup, so Silas added, “That’s not a request. It’s a condition.”
“It’s part of the negotiation,” Kenny said, “but we all feel the same. We don’t like being restricted to mornings and nights to drain our balls into whatever hole appeals at the moment.”
* * * *
Willow wanted to argue, but she had to admit they had a point.
She considered stipulating no pain, just sex, but immediately knew she’d be pissed at herself two weeks in, knowing someone wanted to hurt her but couldn’t because of her rule.
She wasn’t supposed to make the rules. She could create boundaries and guidelines, but they made the rules within her margins.
“I want to say no pain while you’re fucking me, but that wouldn’t be right. No intense scenes though, right?”
“Correct,” Kenny said. “Hand spankings, maybe a few swats of a belt, some nipple torture, but mostly just emptying our balls in you.”
“I’ll have wooden spoons handy, too,” Silas said, and Kenny smirked.
“I think that’s all the individual wishes,” Kenny said, “the rest are mostly logistical, with a few requests we all have. First up, the things I’m planning to install in the playroom. Not a comprehensive list, but the items you need to be aware of.”
He ticked the items off from memory, “Pillory, cage, you already know about the gyno table, an adjustable fucking bench so the three of us can quickly get you to the right height, a leather sling Boone wants for fisting training, and a fucking machine we’ll personally build from an industrial motor, with brackets to install it to the end of the bondage table when we want to set you up to be fucked for a few hours.”
“That brings up training for how to handle more than one man,” Silas said. “For now, we’re just fucking you, but eventually, you’ll be required to actually service us — especially two on one in bed, which means learning to pleasure the cock in your mouth while you ride a cock under you. The fucking machine will help with that, fucking you from behind while you pleasure a dildo in front of you. We can set you up inthe playroom and then go handle yardwork or whatever on the weekends, keep an eye on you over encrypted video we can watch from our phones — with a way to shock your clit if we check in and you aren’t giving it your all.”
Willow could only stare at him. It was diabolical, and yet… had she disappointed them in bed?
“You’re fine,” Kenny said. “All three of us enjoy the training process. It’s all good. My question, before Silas sidetracked us, is whether you have an issue with any of the items I mentioned.”
So many issues, but only one was a possible showstopper. “Why would you need a cage?”
She’d been caged while a hawk when she was young. Not out of cruelty, out of necessity,andfor her safety, but she’d hated it. Stuck under the rounded dome, the bars at her side not wide enough to fully open her wings. She’d had plenty of room to stand on the perch and move around, and water available. It hadn’t been cruel, but her hawk loathed being confined. Trapped.
“Your scent says there’s something more than you’re telling us,” Silas said. “Why is a cage a problem?”
She explained, and Boone sat back and looked to Kenny.
