The three of them were waiting. Fully dressed.
Kenny stood to her right, hands in his pockets, gaze cool and steady. Boone sat in a chair at the edge of the rug, also to her right, legs spread, forearms on his thighs. Silas leaned against the wall to her left, arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
She stepped to the center of the rug and assumed the position: feet planted, hands behind her head, chin up, eyes down. The pose made her boobs point out and a little up. There hadn’t been instructions about shaving. Her pussy lips were neatly trimmed, but that was it.
The silence stretched. Her skin felt tighter with every second, every breath dragging heat through her chest.
Finally, Kenny’s voice. “We’ll start simple. Boone.”
The chair creaked as Boone shifted on the armless kitchen chair. “Over my lap.”
She obeyed, the scratch of his jeans rough under her belly, his arm anchoring her in place. He tugged her backward across his thigh a few inches, so less weight was on her arms, and she remembered the threat of a cock down her throat.
His hand was warm and steady on her hip just before it lifted. The first solid swat landed with all the promise of what was to come, and her breath caught.
Another came, harder this time, and heat bloomed under his palm.
A dozen more at the same intensity, and then one came with even more force. Then another. She squirmed and wriggled, fought.
Silas squatted in front of her face and watched her expression. The eyes were human, but she could still sense the wolf.
She closed her eyes for the next threewhompsof Boone’s too-big hand, and then opened them to see Silas still a foot from her, watching.
His hand came toward her face, and he said, “Open, girly.”
She obeyed, and he ran two thick, callused fingers into her mouth, over her tongue.
He fucked her slow and deep with them, his gaze loaded with the promise of more to come. Strong fingers scraped over themuscled surface onto the softness beyond, and she had to fight not to gag around the invasion.
And all the while, Boone spanked her, increasing the speed and intensity in increments.
Silas pressed deeper into her throat, and she finally gagged around his fingers. “Oh yeah, can’t wait to feel that on my cock. Look up, girly. Let me see into your eyes.”
She obeyed and his steady, unyielding gaze held hers. No smirk, no grin, but the weight of his will pressed down until she was drowning in it. Her very soul yielded, followed by her body — from her throat to her heart, all the way to her clit. A wave swamped her, a craving so overwhelming she wanted to beg him for more, but he merely eased his fingers free, stood, and wiped his hand on his jeans-covered thigh an inch in front of her face.
Boone’s palm landed again, twice as hard as the previous time, and she jerked with a startled gasp. Her ass was on fire, heat sinking past skin into muscle.
“Pretty sure she’s warmed up,” Boone rumbled.
“Agreed,” Kenny’s voice was mild, coming from behind her. “Time for the beam.”
Boone’s hand tightened on her hip before he helped her upright. “Can’t wait to see how she looks all strung up.”
Her legs felt shaky as Silas guided her toward the center of the room. They’d already looped a strap over the thick beam, both ends dangling a few feet overhead. She stood silently while the work gloves were slid on, while zip-ties were locked snug around each wrist, and then paracord knotted between the plastic zip-ties and the steel d-rings on the ends of the straps.
Standing still to be bound is both thrilling and terrifying. There’s no louder consent than the act of bending over someone’s lap, or remaining motionless while every ratchet and expertly tied knot strips away more and more of your freedom, bringing pain closer with every step.
Her heart pounded while she both craved the pain and feared it.
When she was in place, arms so high the position stretched her spine, her breasts once again poking out and up, nipples rock hard.
And fuck, but her clit throbbed, her pulse raced, and heat pounded through her veins.
Kenny stepped in front of her, his gaze going from her face, to her boobs, her mons, her feet, and back up.
And then, slowly, with intent, he unbuckled his belt, slid it free, doubled it over, and offered the curve of it in front of her lips. “Kiss the belt that’s about to stripe your ass, and then the hand that will wield it. Show us you submit to pain, to our will, that you offer your flesh freely, every hole waiting to be forced open, made raw, and filled with our essence.”
She held his gaze, the intensity between them almost unbearable while she kissed the leather belt and then the warm flesh of his hand, the first kiss an emotional connection between them she could feel, the second a twist yanking it tight, making her surrender a tangible thing between them. His gaze transformed into satisfaction. He’d given an order, and she’d not only obeyed, she’d handed herself over to him on a fucking silver platter.
