“Bring her here.”
“Come on.” Vaughn hooks his fingers into a loop in the rope behind my back, then turns me around. He walks me over to this massive mirror that’s on a tripod of wheels. I gasp a little at the sight of my reflection. Gravity wins every battle versus my huge tits, but Vaughn managed to create a nice shelf of rope for my breasts to sit on. My nipples are perfectly on display, but my favorite part is the way he’s looped the ropes in the shape of a heart just below my collarbone. He only used the black rope, but I can just imagine how nice other colors would look against my skin.
I look up at Shaw, just as he bends down and shoves his fingers between my legs.
“Shit,” I hiss between my teeth before I catch myself. He glares up at me and I remember the rules. “Sir.”
I try to hold still as his middle finger slowly rubs back and forth over my slit. Whatever wetness my labia was hiding from the open air is now on his hands and he’s spreading it over my skin, around my clit. I know what I said earlier about wanting to slow down, about needing time. Still, I wouldn’t be upset if he shoved his dick inside me and put me out of my misery.
“Come over here with me,” he says.
He takes hold of the twisted rope behind my back and walks me over to the sex rocker where he’s secured that large dildo to the base mount. “I’m gonna take care of Vaughn and you’re going to watch and take care of yourself.”
I nod, biting the inside of my lip. That seems to be a sufficient response for his house rules. I follow his lead as he maneuvers me over the padded seat of the rocker, then helps me squat until the dildo is pressing against my entrance. My thighs are strong, but not strong enough to hold this awkward squat for more than a minute. Maybe two, if I’m really determined. Shaw knows it, too. I look up at him as his eyebrow arches, questioning what plan I seem to have in mind. I let out a deep breath and sink down on the silicone cock.
“Fuck!” I cry out as it presses against my cervix. It hurts, I won't lie.
“Sit back and adjust your feet,” Shaw says. I let my ass settle fully back on the red cushion supporting my thighs, then scoot my feet forward a couple inches. That does the trick. The dildo presses perfectly against my g-spot. The pain is replaced by a perfectly sweet ache. Shaw takes my chin again, his go-to move that I don’t hate all. I watch him as he scans my face.
“You set the pace. Go as fast or as slow as you like. Come your fucking face off or don’t come at all, but keep this in mind. When I’m done with Vaughn, I’m gonna dick you down untilI’mready to stop.” I remind myself that I still have my safe word. I still have red on my side if I literally can’t stand it. For now though, I accept the challenge. That’s the point of all this. I want to be pushed to my limit. I can have boring sex and three minutes of quality time with my hand at home. I nod again and a small voice in my mind tells me to beg. Yes, beg Shaw to kiss me again. I don’t know what is wrong with me, but it’s what I want the most right now. One of his rough, commanding kisses.
I miss my moment, though. He turns and walks over to the cabinet and busies himself, most likely looking for what he needs to take care of Vaughn, who is now pacing through the middle of the room. I can’t help but notice that he won't look at me. It’s okay. I have no idea what Shaw has in store for him. I’m sure Vaughn needs more than a few minutes to get his mind right.
I sit on the rocker and focus on my breathing and every tiny motion of my hips. My pussy is so full and I know all I need to do is rock forward and rock back. I know I can make myself come, but I don’t want to move. Not yet. Maybe this is part of Shaw’s lesson. I can sit on the sidelines. I can watch and give myself a certain kind of pleasure. Or I can dive fully in and play with these boys.
I look over at Shaw again as he leans back and calls out to Vaughn. “Do I need to tie you up?”
Vaughn stops pacing, considering the floor before he looks up and shakes his head. “No, sir. I need to move.”
“Fine by me.” Shaw closes the cabinet and crosses the room, heading in my direction. He squats in front of the rocker, holding a handcrafted wooden paddle across his palms.
“I did make this,” he said, clearly proud of his work with the dark-stained wood. It is very beautiful. “I’m going to use this paddle on Vaughn.”
I swallow and nod, encouraging him to go on.
“Vaughn is very good at communicating his needs to me. When he has a lot of emotions built up, he likes pain. He enjoys rough strikes. I want you to remember that before we get started. What I’m about to do is what he asked for.”
“Yes—yes, sir,” I squeak out.
“We are in a scene together, though, all three of us. If this becomes too much for you, use your safe words. Okay? Voyeurism also needs consent. I’m not going to force you to watch something you don’t want to watch.”
“Okay, sir.”
“Good.” He winks at me before he stands to his full height and turns back to Vaughn. He pushes up the sleeves of his henley and stretches his neck. My eyes are drawn to his inked forearms. In the back of my mind, I realize I want more of Shaw. All of him. My eyes move to Vaughn as his shoulders and chest rise and fall. I can see his whole body. Taut, even muscle, his toes moving against the floor. I know this stance is a type of mental preparation. I almost laugh when I realize where and how I’ve experienced it before when I’m anticipating a horrible day in court. Vaughn is gathering his strength and his focus. I realize that I’m afraid for him, even though I shouldn’t be.
Shaw huffs out a breath through his nose, then fixes his gaze on Vaughn’s pacing. “I’m ready to begin,” he says.
Vaughn lets out his own deep breath, walks over and grabs the edge of the stocks with his hands as he bends over. Shaw carefully walks up behind him. I brace myself for the first strike, ignoring the thrill that shoots through my pussy as my whole body clenches down. Shaw doesn’t swing, though. He waits. I look at Vaughn and his mouth is moving, but no sound is coming out. Suddenly he moves his head to the side and I hear a small pop as he cracks his neck.
“Begin, sir,” he says, nice and clearly.
I blink, my neck snapping back in surprise as Shaw lands the first blow.
Eleven
Vaughn
I have a high tolerance for pain. Higher than most people. When I received my fraternity brand, my line brothers were disturbed for months by how calmly I’d handled the whole process. Shaw’s first strike is nothing, but it helps reset my brain. We’re trying our best to loop Brooklyn in. To be honest with each other and honest with her, but he knows that I’m already struggling. He knows that she’s pressing all of my buttons. He knows I’m on the verge of fucking this all the way up.
