Chains and Canes (26 page)

“Good,” Remy said as he stopped. His breath was ragged. His slick smile turned razor sharp. “Now stop.”

Daniel clenched Naya’s hip and thigh. He froze. “Stop?”

“Pull. Out.” Remy smacked her twice with the flogger, emphasizing each word. It made Remy’s order that much harder to obey when her sheath pulled at his length.

Dizzy, feeling as if he’d been kicked in the head, he slipped away. Cool air washed over his wet flesh like an arctic breeze. He stumbled back. His hands shook violently. He tucked them behind his back in what probably looked like an obsequious pose. It was his only way of saving his pride.

Except Remy wouldn’t let him keep even that. Service. Humiliation. That’s what they ratcheted to almost painful perfection, he and Remy together.

“Kneel, Daniel. Hands on the top of your head.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Naya trembled.

For a dancer, learning to control one’s body was the goal of every hour of practice from the first day of class. She’d been four years old for hers. Juanita, the youngest of her mami’s sisters, had taken her to the school she owned, where all of Naya’s siblings and cousins had been instructed in the basics. Only Naya had continued her studies long enough and hard enough to become a professional.

She had no control now. Her limbs were shaking. Her toes brushed the carpet. Clenching her hands or shaking her head were useless. She was balancing but couldn’t still the sway Daniel had caused by withdrawing.

Oh, that had been heaven. Bliss. Daniel kissing, biting, fucking, while they shared each of Remy’s hard strikes.
Shared.
She’d always taken the pain on her own, content with those beautiful experiences. Only recently, with Remy’s urging—with his
commands
—had Daniel become part of the experience. Small ways. Little prompts. Then a more active, integrated role.

Now she was empty and Daniel was on his knees.

She smiled. Yes, she was empty, but she and Daniel still shared something astonishing. Remy was giving them what they needed. Naya…the pain. Daniel…the complete lack of control.

For being such a close-lipped man, intent on flipping off the world and acting like a hard-ass bastard, Remy was selflessly considerate. Yes, he took what he wanted, but never at the expense of satisfying Naya and Daniel too. A real bastard wouldn’t have given a damn, and they never would’ve played with him a second time.

Instead, Naya’s heart swelled with so much admiration and hunger that she was dizzy on a fresh rush of emotion. As with many moments in her life, she centered herself in Daniel’s eyes. He knelt as he’d been ordered. His mutinous expression eased as he seemed to eat his humiliation and anger from the outside in. Processed it somehow? Maybe like she absorbed the pain and made it beautiful inside her skin.

His eyes were neon. No other way to describe that intense liquid blue. Every weighty muscle and each defined ligament popped beneath his skin as if the sheer force of holding back was going to blow him apart. She could relate. Pain did the same for her. Different mind games. Different means of finding that incredibly rare place where nothing mattered but more and trust and
yes, please, Sir
.

She giggled. It came out of nowhere, as the giggles always did. “You look so pretty down there, love. Your poor prick.”

A merciless shudder overwhelmed his shoulders and worked down his tense torso. He swallowed. “You should see your back.”

“Y’all are the chattiest fucking subs,” Remy said. He was obviously pleased with himself—and with her and Daniel—because he didn’t seem able to hide a near-joke and a lightning-fast smile. She liked that glimpse. For all his intensity, he was loving the hell out of this too.

She tried to steady her body, but her slow, helpless spin continued. Remy caught her nape and brought them face-to-face, then draped his arms over her shoulders. The falls of the flogger mingled with her unbound hair to tickle her hot skin. His eyes were a blaze of focused need, demonstrating how quickly he’d recovered his composure.

“Naya girl, you’re not flying high enough for what we both want.” He kissed her with remarkable tenderness. She blinked back tears that hadn’t been born of physical pain. “Tell me.”

“The cane, Sir.”

“That’s right.” After releasing her, he adjusted the restraints that imprisoned her wrists. Her soles pressed flat on the floor. “No Daniel to keep you upright. Gonna have to do that on your own while I whale on you for a while.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She curled her toes into the carpeting.

“Oh, and we have rules tonight. You listening?”

She and Daniel nodded in near unison. Her fiancé looked so amazing. Just…mind-blowing. He still knelt, still held his arms up with his hands laced behind his head. To imagine her Daniel in such a position never would’ve been possible without Remy, without how efficiently he’d unlocked Daniel’s deepest needs.

“Naya gets to come as much and as hard and as often as she wants.” He tilted his head, wearing a smile that was nearly silly. Absolute tease. It was a dare.
Smile along and you’ll pay for it.
“You don’t even need to ask permission, Naya girl.”

A hushed breath gusted from her lungs. “
Gracias
, Sir.”

“Whereas Daniel…” He smiled, almost pityingly. “You came so close, didn’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s what your night looks like. Over and over. Kneel there and get used to that idea while I hurt our girl.”

Naya had barely positioned her feet in the carpet, solid and true, before he began again with the flogger. Across her ass, down her back, straight across her tits and stomach. He had full access to her body, coming at her from every side. The heavy wallop of each hit shook into her until body and leather and sensation had no boundaries. It was building, gathering. She could take it all night long. She could take it for the rest of her life.

The sneaky trick of the flogger, though, was that it had devilishly cruel patience. Her skin began to burn. Flame. She writhed. Remy’s breath huffed now. He was golden and godlike and glistening, prowling around her with delicious grace.

He stopped and wiped tears from her cheeks. She hadn’t realized she was weeping. “Who’s on the floor, Naya?”

“Daniel Baker.”

“Who’s the mouthiest dancer in our company?”

Our company.
Oh, he was being so sweet to her.

“Answer, Naya, or we’re done. Focus, girl.”

“Toss up, Sir,” she said with a huge grin. “Jack or the sweetie Alabama girl he keeps in his pocket. Tara Jean.”

More giggles. She was mad from what he was doing to her.

So dazed and happy, she cried out when his tongue slipped between her pussy lips. “
Ai
, fuck!”

When had he dropped to his knees? Remy Lomand. Her Sir. On his knees like Daniel, but the dynamic couldn’t have been more different. Daniel wanted. Remy
took
.

“Wet slut,” he whispered against her thigh. Then he was back again, plunging deep, sucking her clit. He used both hands to spread her wobbling thighs. “Hungry girl. Daniel can’t fill you right now. Tell me who can.”

“You, Sir. You. Oh…”

No permission. As many as she wanted. So Naya gave her Sir the first orgasm of the night. She bucked forward as he held her ass between implacable hands. One wasn’t enough. She knew it and he knew it. Even as the shudders and white flashes of release singed her senses, they fought for another.

It didn’t take long. He was relentless. Naya was made of raw nerves and a pure ambition: more pleasure.
More
.

“
Sí, sí. Cristo, mi señor…
There, there, there—”

He laved her sensitive skin until she came down from her sharp release, but then shoved four fingers into her pussy. She went from moaning in the afterglow to a different sort of pain.
Violation.
Her body stretched and accommodated that rough push. He latched his teeth onto her clit and banged her cunt with fast, taut fingers. Her vision was awash with sparkles of colors.

“Look at me,
chère
. Don’t fucking look away. Just me. Just your Sir.”

With as much energy as she could muster, Naya let her head drop. Remy was staring up at her. His pose said supplication, but his eyes were fierce and menacing—as if she’d be punished if she
didn’t
come.

And fuck, that was another. Her Sir. Punish. Come. Another. Her mind shut down as the release took what was left of rational thought and scattered it like fall leaves.

Distantly, she heard the men talking as if at the end of a long tunnel.

“On your feet, Daniel. Come here. Im’ma suck your cock. I’m being generous tonight.”

Daniel was so strong. Even after those long minutes on his knees, he was able to stand and walk and present his stiff prick to the man who owned them both. Naya floated on her pretty cloud as she watched Remy ready to suck Daniel’s broad head.

“What’s the rule, boy?”

“Don’t come,” Daniel said, as if the words made him gag.

“Good. Wrap those big hands around my head. Dare you, Daniel. Dare you to fuck my face. Hard as you want.” Remy smiled as if he were bestowing an innocent gift. All three knew differently. “But as soon as you pull free, that’s it. No more head.”

Without warning, Remy opened his mouth and swallowed half of Daniel’s prick. Daniel grunted. His hands dropped like stones. He grabbed the back of Remy’s head, unable to stop the instinct to fuck the hole he’d been given.

Remy closed his eyes, and Naya would’ve sworn he was smiling—especially when Daniel got rougher. His powerful, masculine body had taken over. Did he forget whose face he fucked with abandon? Had he forgotten the rules?

No. God, no. Because an animalistic sound gathered in Daniel’s chest, like approaching thunder. It grew and grew until he bellowed at the ceiling and flung Remy away. He doubled over, hands wrapped so tightly around the base of his cock that his veins bulged. His expression was a picture of agony.

“Knees,” was all Remy said.

Daniel dropped. Hard. No grace. His head lolled forward. His back lifted and lowered on frantic breaths. His cock was so hard, so swollen. Naya couldn’t take her eyes off it, or truly comprehend the control he’d achieved. Then again, she was the one still crying soft tears.

Remy appeared in front of her with the cane.

Rattan.

Black handle.

Long and mean and evil.

She giggled once, then smiled at him with all the adoration she was beyond hiding. “Yes, Sir.”

“Haven’t asked you a thing.”

“It’s what we both want,” she said, tenderly echoing his earlier statement.

He tucked the cane under one arm and used both hands to smooth the hair back from her temples. “Yes, Naya girl. It is. But I’m gonna tell you this once. You get
no
say in this. You’re on the edge of too gone, and we’re pushing this as it is. Two sets of six. Understand?”

She nodded, despite wanting to protest. Could she really cry, really let go, with only twelve strokes? How high was she? How close was she?

That she couldn’t tell meant he was probably very, very right. She’d beg until she was a bloody mess, but Remy, her Sir, wasn’t going to let that happen.

He took up position behind her. The sweeping slice of the cane whistling through the air hit her brain just before rattan connected with her ass. Microseconds of anticipation, then the long moments between strike and pain. She lingered in that place, savoring, before her nerves exploded and she gasped a hoarse cry. Two, three…Remy kept up a slow, steady pace, letting her enjoy each on its own. Her
mind
was enjoying. Somewhere outside, her body was fighting. She heard the chains above her head rattling and the pitiful pleading of her own sobs.

Six.

She began to cry in earnest.

“Not quite, huh, baby girl?” Remy gripped her chin. “Not quite.”

“Sir. Please. Wanna…”

“Put it into words, Naya. Stay here a little longer.” His expression, his words—they were seductively tender.

“Want…
you
.”

He flinched. Frowned. “You get your Sir. That’s it.”

“I’m yours,” she whispered. “I’d give you anything. To thank you.”

Remy closed his eyes and dipped his chin.

“Hiding, Sir? Don’t, please. Come back. We need you.”

“Daniel,” he barked. “Get that tool over here.”

Standing was an effort for him this time. Naya saw it in the way he braced his fingertips on the floor as he pushed off his knees. He looked dizzy or high or exactly like Naya felt.

“I don’t care how you fuck her,” Remy said, moving behind her and petting her bruised ass. “Again, your call, boy. But I want your prick inside her when she takes these next six. You’re going to make her come.”

Daniel faced her. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. Dancing little movements. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

Naya blinked past her tears. “I can’t either. But we want to.”

He fit his massive prick against her dripping-wet opening and held her by the hips. She slid down his length as if he weren’t the biggest man she’d ever fucked. Her body soaked up his stretching, questing power just as she soaked up pain. Pleasure. More more
more
—

Swish.

Smack.

Scream.

“Five more, Naya girl. Do it for your boy and for your Sir. You’re gonna cry and come and fucking shatter every window in this place.”

His task must’ve been tormenting Daniel, but he stroked her deep. This was no slow, cursory fuck. He pounded faster, faster, even as he held her hips still. To help Remy aim? Where were they? Nothing but rainbows.

Neither showed mercy. Strike and fuck. Strike and fuck. Until the last smack of the cane and her orgasm aligned. She
did
scream. She fought the chains and fought Daniel and screamed until her throat burned. Tears dripped down her neck and mingled with sweat.

Her body wasn’t her own and her mind wasn’t her own and she…

“Good girl,” came a soft, proud voice. “So good. Just right, Naya girl. Come on back.”