“But it’s ugly,” I whined.
Patrick pinched the bridge of his too straight nose. “That’s not the point, Lydia.”
I groaned and stared down in disgust at the yellow gold choker; it was thick, a wide band with clusters of topaz stones, and a hidden clasp that did up magnetically. And it was absolutely hideous, but I was expected to wear it for two weeks while I underwent my first round of training at The Club.
“You already have a pretty one,” he continued, “And the matching bracelets, might I add. You just have to wear this for two weeks, and besides - it’s not like you’ll be wearing it out in front of your friends.”
Allie would retch if she saw me wearing this. He had a point though, not that I could admit that to him. “Do I have to wear it right now?” I asked with an exaggerated pout.
His warm amber eyes heated as he met my gaze, he was very obviously done with my shit at this point. “You’ll wear it when I drop you off tonight, you don’t have to wear it at work.”
“You know,” Mr. Harris interjected from across the room. “This is the only pet that I’ve seen talk back to a Master, and not get their ass handed to them. You need to keep that in mind, Patrick.”
Patrick whipped around and glared at the older man. “I can handle this just fine thank you,” he said through a tightly clenched jaw.
I giggled and the two locked eyes on me instantly; I swallowed and busied myself with the iPad again. It had been like this since we had come back from the conference in Washington; the men would bicker, I would poke the bear, and the two of them would get over their squabble by finding extra special punishments for me. Yesterday it had been orgasm denial - brought to the brink over and over for an hour straight until I was an incoherent crying mess. Every day brought something new for them to teach me about, it was hard to believe we had been doing this for over three weeks now.
I still found it slightly odd that things had shifted so quickly; the way Mr. Harris had taken a step back from our relationship entirely to the way Patrick had fought to be the only man in control all the time – it was weird and fun and in the back of my head I knew more than anything that it was dangerous. Dangerous to want them, to be with them, to just be around them even, but I loved it. And while I had never had multiple partners before, let alone been dictated by a partner who to fuck, and when to fuck, I certainly wasn’t going to complain.
“Bend over the desk,” Patrick said in a low, commanding voice.
Oh shit. My eyes snapped up to his and my lips parted slightly as he towered over me. My hand went to my hair unconsciously and I toyed with the long, silky, platinum blonde curls. “I’m not supposed to have any marks when I arrive,” I pointed out.
“There are plenty of things we can do that won’t leave marks, and if I want to cover your ass in bruises, then I fucking will,” he snapped. “Now bend over the fucking desk, I’m not telling you again.”
Mr. Harris practically cackled from the other side of the office space and I fought the urge to shoot him a foul look. I did as my Master asked, however, and bent over the desk obediently; my hands clasped behind my back, feet wide apart, and my cheek pressed to the edge of the cool glass.
The hem of my tight grey dress was forced up over my ass, my thong pulled down, and I squeezed my eyes tightly just before Patrick’s hand met my ass in a harsh blow. I couldn’t help the shocked cry that escaped my lips, and I clenched my fists as he jerked my panties off, pulled me back by my hair, and forced the crumpled-up lace into my mouth. I slumped back across the desk as I felt him stroking every inch of my exposed skin.
“Why don’t you put the so-called “ugly” collar on her, Jon?”
No! I struggled against Patrick’s tight hold on my wrist, I felt Mr. Harris hold me down while Patrick worked soft leather over my crossed and joined forearms. The sleeve. A device meant to hold limbs together, specifically my arms behind me in a leather holster, I heard the soft click of the lock as he secured the zipper. They weren’t fucking around with me today.
I whined softly around the fabric in my mouth but stopped struggling. Mr. Harris shifted me, I gazed up into his glacial blue eyes as he secured the metal piece around my throat, just as he locked it into place, he crouched down in front of me and refused to break the eye contact. The squareness of his jaw, his hooded eyes, the tanned skin and dark stubble, it was like starring into the face of my many Pierce Brosnan fantasies.
“Miss Morrison, let me make this perfectly clear.” His voice was even, and darkly sinister, it only increased the growing heat between my legs. “If you make unsolicited eye contact with one of the Sirs, Masters, or Mistresses at Plaisir Interdit, you will know what it feels like to crawl on all fours through a mansion for the entirety of your visit.”
Plaisir Interdit. That had to be the name of the club. I knew a little French, I had taken enough of it throughout school, and if I wasn’t mistaken it meant Forbidden Pleasure. I pushed away my curiosity and nodded once before dropping my gaze to the floor submissively. His hand stroked the back of my head and I smiled softly at his gentle touch. They could act like I needed all the discipline in the world, but at the end of the day, the two of them had a soft spot for when I did listen.
All too quickly I felt Patrick running slick fingers over my rear entrance, a place neither of them had touched since before we went to Washington. I squirmed uncomfortably as he pushed two fingers roughly into me, Mr. Harris’ hands held firm on my shoulders again to let the other man continue his probing. I was breathing shallowly and trying desperately not to clench my fists by the time Patrick’s cock pushed into me.
I whimpered and twisted my hips at the uncomfortable fullness, his hands held firm on me as he pushed forward. It hurt, a lot. Not in the usual sexy spanking way either. And it was as his thrusts sped up, despite the tears now leaking down my face, that I clued in that my Master meant what he had been telling me for the past week - I was going to be punished if I acted like a brat, and it was going to fucking hurt. It was still a game, I still had my safe word, and signals, but they were going to push my limits to teach me lessons.
Any fight I had left dissipated with that realization; I stopped whining, squirming, and slowly I started to relax my muscles. Mr. Harris loosened his hold and stroked my hair again, without warning he leaned down and kissed the shell of my ear so softly I thought I had imagined it.
“I knew you could be a good girl,” he murmured.
A new set of tears welled up, and while I was embarrassed by my reaction, I had to admit that I felt immense pride and happiness at his words. I wanted his approval more than anything in this world, it was the only thing that I was never sure if I had. It was soon after that when Patrick’s motions became more brutal, and then he pushed hard into me and I felt the way his shaft pulsed and filled me with the warmth of his release. He groaned and pulled out, his hands rubbing softly up my back before he and Mr. Harris switched places.
I didn’t want him to fuck my ass too, but I knew I didn’t have a choice, and I knew that if I didn’t fight it, I would be rewarded. At least, I hoped I would be rewarded. Patrick’s cock was thick and in my ass, it felt like an instrument of immense torture, but Mr. Harris had more to work with lengthwise, and honestly, I didn’t know if it was worse to be impaled or split in half.
I whimpered and clenched my fists uncontrollably as he fucked me hard, treating my ass the same he way would’ve my pussy. Patrick held my face in my hands and urged me to look at him, I did, through teary eyes and knowing I looked like a mess, I gazed back. He pulled the panties out of my mouth and pressed his lips to mine; his tongue swept my mouth as I moaned wantonly against him. It was all it took for my body to come to life; a flood of renewed wetness rushed to my pussy, and heat bloomed where his hands touched me.
Mr. Harris finished quickly, as he did, he gave my other cheek a hard slap and chuckled at my surprised yelp.
“You’re doing well, sweetheart,” Mr. Harris whispered to me as he came back around. “You’re listening much better than you were.”
He paused to kiss me as well and I couldn’t help but sigh against his mouth; if there was anyone I wanted to make out with, it was him. Patrick was my Master, but Mr. Harris’ kisses were intoxicating and I would have loved just to stay like this with him forever.
We broke apart just as my alarm beeped loudly in my jacket pocket. He reached for it and swore as he stood back up and practically ran across the room.
He grabbed his jacket and waved to us. “We’ve got the conference call in ten minutes, don’t be late!” he called from the door as he left abruptly.
Patrick undid the leather sleeve and stood me back up before turning me to face him. “You did good, Kitten,” he said as he leaned down to kiss my cheek. “I can either make you come now, on my desk, with the vibrator, or you can wait until we leave, and I’ll fuck your cunt instead.”
Of course, I want you to fuck me! “Tonight,” I mumbled as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his jaw.
I felt him grin and heard the newfound excitement in his voice, “Good choice.”
“Don’t go yet,” I pleaded as he pulled his jacket back on. “Please Master, just a bit longer.”
He eyed me as he did up the navy-blue suit, his hands working quickly. “You’re getting needy, it’s cute.” He came back and I smiled widely at him as he pulled me back into a tight embrace. “If you tell Jon I said that I won’t be nice to you again.”
“Oh, please, he knows you’re too nice to me already,” I teased happily.
“I am,” he cooed close to my ear. “I’m on the fence about whether or not it’s working out for me because on one hand when you do listen you do it well, and on the other, it’s clear you won’t listen without consistency. You’re turning into a fulltime job.”
“What happened to the ‘I want a fulltime submissive’ shtick you had going last week? I thought I was doing what you wanted me to…” My stomach twisted and I was trying not to panic, but his words hurt, and suddenly I worried that he was just going to call everything off.
“Stop panicking kitten, I can hear you working yourself up.” His thumb stroked my cheek as he gazed down at me in concern, his eyes softened and the corners of his mouth tilting into a frown. “I want this fulltime eventually, it’s why I work sixty hours a week, it’s why I have a dozen hobbies; I like control and having control over another person gives me a sick thrill. But I’ve never had a sub that needed so much training, one that was disobedient, and one that just can’t seem to do as she’s told the first time. You’re worse than a brat. You’re frustrating Lydia, and this is a learning curve for both of us right now. None of that means that I want this to stop, it just means there’s going to be some growing pains.”
Oh. I had no idea what to say to that. It occurred to me that I had never really told Patrick, or Mr. Harris, that the extent of my kink knowledge before all this was a set of novelty fuzzy handcuffs from college. This was completely foreign territory to me, and other than a book I bought two weeks ago and browsing a few forums, my only real experience came from what I had done with them.
“Are we still doing dinner tonight, you know, before I go?” I asked suddenly, changing gears and hoping to focus on our date. Though Patrick had said it wasn’t a date, I didn’t know how else I was supposed to interpret it. I also kinda hoped that he would want a real date eventually.
“Of course, do you have something nice picked out?” he asked with a knowing smile.
I did, a lovely red gown with a plunging neckline waiting under my desk. I assured him I was well prepared for dinner and he left with one last quick kiss. I stood quietly in Patrick’s office after he was gone and shifted my panties back into place before smoothing the front of my dress while I gazed around the room. It occurred to me that neither of them had removed the collar and I cursed the both of them angrily.
Patrick’s office was nothing like Mr. Harris’, there was no minibar, no hidden array of sex toys, and not done in sterile black and grey. Instead, it was vibrant - warm red walls, creme plush carpet, glass and steel furniture, and modern abstract art. I sank down onto the black recliner and toyed with the platinum bracelets still locked around my wrists, they were beautiful; the triskelion design stamped repeatedly into the face, and three small sapphires accenting the centre of several circular swirls. A symbolic version of real shackles and they matched the collar waiting for me in my desk.
Ugh, my desk. That was going to be moved soon; I was leaving Mr. Harris’ office space and officially into Patrick’s one floor down. It was intimidating honestly; to be leaving the space I had held down for over six months now, and pretty much only because Patrick wanted me to be at his beck and call. He didn’t know that I heard the two of them talking a few days ago, and now I knew I was officially having my job terminated and replaced with a new placement to Patrick instead. All because I was fucking him. In some ways that didn’t make me feel good, but every time I got to gaze up at him while I knelt it felt worth it. It wouldn’t be worth it forever, but it was alright for now.
I finally forced myself up and collected my folio and iPad before heading back out to the elevators, I had three more hours to busy myself before I got time alone with him again, and God knew I wouldn’t get any work done if I stayed in his office all day.
***
“It’s occupied!” I yelled at the bathroom door.
I heard the person huff and walk away as I fixed my hair; twisting it into a high bun with a few tendrils falling around my face. I reached for the red lipstick again and applied another coat, it popped against my silver eye makeup and light grey eyes. I took a step back and admired myself one last time; the satin red dress perfectly matched my lipstick, the gown had two high slits on either side, a neckline that almost dipped to my navel and a low back that rested just across my ass. Maybe it wasn’t classy, but I wasn’t going for classy tonight - I wanted Patrick to have to pull over to fuck me before we got to the restaurant.
I mean that’s why I wasn’t wearing anything under the dress, even though I really should be wearing panties with the precarious design of the skirt. The only thing that clashed with my look was the hideous collar, the yellow gold crap on my neck. I had my real collar in my clutch, and I planned on presenting it to Patrick in the hopes he would put it on me before we left. I grabbed my purse from the counter and took one last deep breath before I took off down the hall, my nerves making me wobble slightly with every step.
I reached the marble lobby and stood quietly, the darkened space was empty and a bit eery - but maybe that was just the light reflecting across the stone floor and casting odd patterns on the wall that made me think that. I spun around as I heard the sound of footsteps down the hall, my heart started pounding as I watched Patrick approached slowly, his hand in his pocket, the other swinging lightly.
“You look…” he trailed off and gestured up and down.
“Amazing, beautiful, stunning, practically perfect in every way?” I asked as I twirled.
“Humility isn’t one of your strong suits is it?” Patrick asked with a face splitting grin.
He looked great; the shiny onyx suit with a red sateen dress shirt, his dark brown hair tousled and perfectly quaffed, his stubble grown out into a very short beard, and the large signet ring on his left hand - it was all perfect to me. I reached for him without thinking, pulling him in for a deep kiss as my tongue traced his lips.
“We’re never going to make it out of here if you keep doing that,” he mumbled against my mouth.
I giggled and pulled away reluctantly, without saying anything I reached into my purse and pulled out the platinum choker with soft leather padding on the back. My hands trembled as I handed it to him, the way he gazed unwaveringly at me as he took it made my heart beat even faster. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the small star-shaped magnet, without asking he reached behind my neck and undid the gold choker. I slipped the ugly jewellery into my purse and turned my back to Patrick, he stepped in close and locked his collar into place.
I reached up and laid my hand over his as I felt the cool leather rest against my throat. It was heavy, the material felt a lot different from the other one, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I was going to cry. I took a deep, steadying breath, relaxing as I was engulfed by the scent of his aftershave - a heady, earthy scent with hints of lavender.
“It really does look better on you,” he said softly, his breath tickling my ear. “Maybe I’ll see if you can wear this for training instead.”
I turned to him as my eyes started to water, grabbing his hand and urging him towards the car. I slid into the leather seat with him behind the wheel, everything was right, and yet horribly wrong. Who else was getting dropped off after a fancy date to go fuck a bunch of strangers, that also planned on brutally beating my ass? I certainly never expected that this was going to be happening at any point in my life.
“Patrick,” I said quietly, my voice cracking. “What exactly is going to happen tonight?”
His hand rested on my knee and rubbed gently as we sped down the highway. “Dinner, and I know that’s not what you’re asking about, but we’ll start there. Everything is negotiable kitten; I know you’re nervous and if its too much we can hold off.”
“You don’t want to hold off,” I replied. “I’m not an idiot, I know you want it to happen tonight or tomorrow. Tell me the truth, please…”
I gazed at him as I rested my head back, he glanced at me before responding; “If everything goes well, we’ll get on the jet and you’ll be checked into the Palazzo before midnight. It’s supposed to be two weeks, but like sleep-over camp, if you call me in the middle of the night crying then I’ll come to get you.”
“Do you think I’ll be crying and calling you in the middle of the night?” I asked quickly.
“I hope not, but if it happened, I wouldn’t leave you there,” he assured.
I’m scared. The thought hit me like a ton of bricks; I was legitimately terrified to be away from Mr. Harris or Patrick, completely alone in another state. Was I ready for this? No, I wasn’t. “Master,” I gasped out, suddenly crying. “I don’t want to be left alone.”
The blaring of horns and sudden jerkiness of the car made me jump, I whipped around to see us pulling off an exit ramp and into an abandoned parking lot just off the road.
“Lydia.”
I turned to Patrick and wiped my eyes, blotting gently to avoid smearing my makeup.
He pulled me close to him and I clung to his jacket desperately. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving you there, I don’t want you to think that I would just leave you in another city, with people you barely know.”
What? “But then--"
“Lydia, you can’t tell me you honestly thought that did you?” he asked incredulously, pulling me back so I could see him. “Kitten, I took the month off work starting tomorrow, I’ll be staying in Washington and visiting you every other day, probably every day if I’m honest about it. And after your training’s done, you’re coming to stay with me for a while.”
“Really?” I asked as I gazed up at him in awe. “I kept thinking that it was just me and like some random dude wearing leather chaps. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in leather chaps though.”
“You will never see me in chaps, I have taste, and I’m not a gay cowboy.”
I laughed and clutched at his neck as his mouth met mine, we stayed there a long while, just making out, no pressure for anything else. And just like heavy making out I desperately I wanted him to rip my dress off and fuck me in the backseat, like prom night, a very fucked up, kink heavy version of my prom night five years ago. By the time we were ready to continue on our way, I was feeling a lot better about leaving. I didn’t know if it would be tonight or not, but I was a hell of a lot calmer.
Dinner was elegant and wonderful, we ate food I could barely pronounce, let alone spell, and drank horrifically expensive wine. Or at least I drank most of it, Patrick limited his intake and warned me to stay at least a bit sober. The restaurant was nothing like places I had been before; the dark hardwood, the jazz singer crooning on the stage, the silk tablecloths, low hanging chandeliers dimmed, and the soft rose centrepieces all made this feel like a magical place.
“You’re full of surprises, Mr. Rosing,” I said as I took another sip of wine. “I didn’t think places like this still existed.”
He smirked and lounged back in his chair. From where we sat in the room, he was now half in shadow and it almost felt like a scene from a 1930s movie – he was the man trying to convince me to cheat on my husband, and I was struggling to remember why I didn’t choose him in the first place. “I wanted something special for you tonight, Jon pointed me to this place though.”
Jon. His name was so foreign to me, I wasn’t allowed to use it and even in my own fantasies, I called him Mr. Harris. My face burned suddenly and I had to look away. I was on a date with Patrick and thinking about my fantasies with another man, one who had clear and obvious jealousy problems as it was.
Patrick reached across the table and took my hand in his, I smiled at him as I tightened my grasp. “What changed?” I asked. “Mr. Harris was the one spending time with me, he made the first move, what made you step in?”
“Would you prefer if Jon was here instead?” Patrick had a slight edge to his voice, and I noticed the way the muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth slightly.
“No, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” I rolled my eyes. “I just want to know why you didn’t make a move if this is what you wanted.”
He jerked my arm and I lurched forward, grabbing the edge of the table as I suddenly was leaning over it - inches from him. “Roll your eyes again Kitten, I have all night and I’ll tie you to my bed while I use the Hitachi on you, again.”
His voice sent chills through me. “I’ll be good.” I clenched my thighs uncontrollably and averted my gaze. “You’re avoiding telling me something.”
His face changed and he let go of my wrist, he looked almost surprised before quickly smoothing his features. “I asked him to, why does it matter?”
I shrugged and smiled nonchalantly. “You just seem…I don’t know, weird about it I guess.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”
Alright then. He was clearly not pleased with whatever conversation had gone down, that much was clear to me. “Can we go?” I asked sweetly, leaning forward so he could get a good look at my cleavage. “Please, Master?”
Patrick was up instantly and pulled me with him, my wrist tight in his grasp as he threw a wad of bills on the table and dragged us out the door. I giggled as he suddenly pushed me up against the car, his arms braced on either side of me as he leaned in to nip my earlobe. The noise from the city roared behind us and drowned out the sound of my moans as he pawed at my tits in full view for anyone to see.
“Say it again,” he growled.
“Please, Master,” I moaned. “Please.”
He groaned and pressed himself hard against me, the rigid line of his cock straining at his pants and rubbing on my thigh. “Jon didn’t choose you,” he said gruffly, “I did, Jon made the first move because I asked him to. I didn’t know he had you alone in his office and that pissed me off, that’s why you aren’t going to be working for him anymore, it’s why you don’t have sex with him alone either. I’m not sharing you with him anymore.”
“You’re awfully territorial for a man that wants me to fuck other guys. And a picky bastard honestly, I wouldn’t think that you’d be this selective.”
He chuckled mirthlessly. “I want you to do what I want, if I want you to fuck a group of my friends except for some asshole that works in my office, then I’m still having you fuck a group of my friends. I’m just selective about the process.”
“But you like Mr. Harris, you’re always having dinner, and lunch and you day drink together. You even trusted him enough to send him after me I’m missing something,” I urged. I knew I was pushing too hard, but I couldn’t shake it, and I couldn’t pretend to not notice that they hadn’t been meeting up recently. I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t miss him being apart of our fun.
Patrick stared at me with a resigned face, his eyes heavy, a frown forming. “Stop calling him Mr. Harris,” he said quietly.
What? “But that’s what he told me to call him.”
“No!” Patrick yelled, stomping backwards and running his hand through his hair. “You’re never going to listen to me if you think about him as your superior. You get that, don’t you? That he wants you to call him that because it’s a power play?”
“You want me to call you ‘Master’ because it’s a power play!” I snapped, poking his chest lightly. “How is it any different?”
“I don’t have a wife waiting at home, I’m not in the habit of fucking my assistants, and I’m not trying to assert dominance over someone else’s girlfriend!”