Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (50 page)

“Shh… It’s okay. Enjoy it.”
Marcus soothingly coos to me.

“I think I’m going to have an accident. You better stop.” I push at his chest. Jamie is in his own world as he’s fused to my back, slowly rolling his hips against my ass.

“It’s just another type of orgasm. Relax,” he commands in a tone that immediately removes all my fear.

The sensation strengthens. It builds and builds until I don’t think I can bear anymore and yet it keeps building pressure. I bite Marc’s shoulder as the pressure reaches its peak. Marcus abruptly pulls from my body allowing a flood to pour from between my thighs.

I thrash and writhe screaming as the most painful and strongest orgasm tries to rip from my body. My nerves are on fire. I become a wick for my release’s flame. The pressure’s still inside me and I whimper in pain.

Marc gives me my much needed relief with several sharp thrusts of his cock. I flood again in a large whoosh and this time it’s a true release of the pressure inside my body. My orgasm flows in a tide wit
h the flood between my thighs.

Jamie never stops his pleasure inside my behind. He’s throbbing for his own release and yet he holds it at bay.

Marcus seeks the refuge of my clenching passage. He gives me a few more thrusts and he spends himself in a scorching wave. His grunt unleashes something in Jamie and he fills me up, too.

Laughs fill the air. Jamie’s strange animalistic sound and Marc’s impressed husky laugh from deep within his chest. I’d join them but it would t
ake too much energy.

“Wow… that was unexpected fun. I wasn’t sure you’d be willing to share with both of us. I needn’t have worried.” Marc kisses the tip of my nose. He slowly pulls from my body, grunting every time I constrict around him in aftershocks.

“I…I don’t think I can have sex for at least a week. This was the busiest night of my life.” I find a burst of energy to give a weak giggle.

“We’ll let you rest up, especially since I’d hurt you some when we were at the dock.” He falls to his back and si
ghs.

Jamie pulls away from me and leaves the bed. I fear that he’s leaving us alone. I don’t want to push him from his own bed. I want him to sleep next to me.

My fear was unwarranted. He returns moments later with a warm, wet washcloth. I try to take it from him, but he swats my hand away.

Marc makes a sound and laughs. “Thanks, Jamie.” Jamie must have tossed a cloth to Marc.

He gingerly bathes me clean and then himself before he crawls back into bed and curls around my back.

Chapter
Eighteen

We sit around the table eating dinner- Ella’s favorite, spaghetti. Kris isn’t with us this evening, as she hasn’t been for the past week. When I got home from the Brownstone, my soiled couch was missing and a new one was in its place. It was a hell of an upgrade, too. In the place of my three-seater beige, tweed sofa is a u-shaped sectional. Its plushy goodness is perfect for Fate to lounge on one end reading, while Ella and I cuddle watching television. We’ve done just that all week long.

The house flows with a harmony now that Kris will not pass its threshold. I feel a twinge of sadness, but not enough to go back on my decision. She can stay at the guesthouse, but she isn’t welcome inside my home until she redeems herself.

Ella and Ade do their weekly chat about the boys. I try to ignore it. The guilt of keeping the secret that Katya Waters will soon grace us with her presence is eating me alive. I don’t want to worry Ade any more than she already is. Marc, Jamie, and whoever else that is on team domination is trying their damnedest to stop her impending doom. From what I’ve gathered, her Master is the captain of the other team. I don’t think either side intended for Mr. Whittenhower to fuck up their game. I hope that their mutual need to protect their princess will make them come to a truce.

Fate nervously shreds her Italian bread. She’s fretting because tonight is the first night I train with my submissive. I’ve tried to change my mind and just go to Restraint as myself. But both Jamie and Marcus said that it would be in my best interest to portray a Master with a proclivity for female submissives. They’re under the impression that I can’t field manly advances. I suspect that there’s more to the story.

Cort, with his weird sense of helping, said that sometimes you’re made to do things you wish you hadn’t and he didn’t want that happening to me. Marcus actually shuddered at the thought. Frankly, I’m not sure I want to go to Restraint anymore if that’s the case. But I have to keep up the charade that I’m on Ade’s side of the game, pretending to spy on Ezra, Cortez, and Marcus for an unnamed vengeful billionaire.

“Here’s the newest tattoo he inked a few weeks ago,” Ade explains to Ella, showing her a photo
of a creature with green eyes.

“Hey, let me see that,” I command as I see it from the corner of my eye. I’ve seen it before. Fate freezes up at the table as if she’s ready to bolt. The more dominating I get, the meeker
she becomes. It’s disturbing.

“No,” Ade says as she hides the photo under her shirt. “No,” she repeats.

“Why?” I ask in suspicion.

“You don’t ever want to know what’s going on with the guys, I’m just doing as you ask,” she hits me back with my own demands and it’s annoying. 
“Yeah, right. You make sure I hear you every week,” I whine.

I let it drop. If she doesn’t want me to see it, then it must be in my best interests not to look. I do trust Ade on most things.

“I’ll clear the table; can you help me, Ella?” Fate starts gathering our dishes.

Rule is whoever cooks, doesn’t clean up. I cooked tonight. My nine-year-old isn’t living the lifestyle as her brother. She helps clean and watches me intently as I cook. I let her help with a few things. I promised her that when she turns ten, she can cook one simple meal for us a week. She’s a very independent girl.

Ade and I are left alone and I can tell that she wants to say something to me and is chickening out. She sheepishly looks at me and then glances away. It’s unlike her.

“Out with it. I don’t have all night for you to garner you courage. I have to go to the Brownstone in a few minutes and I’m not looking forward to it,” I practically growl.

I don’t want to touch my friend sexually. Since last week’s marathon sex night, I haven’t even had a twinge of arousal. Marcus seems content. We haven’t even trained all week. He and I, with Jamie in the shadows, converse and watch movies while we snack. I endured another embarrassing walk, blinded while Marc leads me down the street. If it wasn’t so funny, I’d hate it. Every night Jamie and I text message back and forth. While it’s teasing and playful, it never bypasses flirting.

“Have you met the newest recruit yet? I believe his name is Dalton.” Her voice is smooth as silk and I go on high alert.

Marc was right. I can see it in her eyes. She’s working for someone and trying to draw the information from me.

“Yes, I met him last week. Why?” I infuse my voice with curiosity to mask my suspicion.

“I was just wondering,” she mumbles. Her pale skin flushes pink.

“How would you know about him?” I act as if the answer doesn’t matter to me either way. I’m getting better at subterfuge. It’s too bad that I have to use it on my best friend. I trusted her before even though Marc told me not to. Now any trust that I may have had, disappears in
an instant.

“Ezra was talking about him earlier.” She lies flawlessly, but I know Marcus and I can guarantee that Ezra knows nothing of Dalton except that he’s training. Marc wouldn’t trust Ezra with this information because he might inadvertently tell Ade. If you’re on the bench for this inning of the game, you’re kept in the dark.

Ade stares at her hands and shuffles an envelope back and forth between them. She looks nervous. It worries me. She showed no weakness when asking of Dalton, but that envelope scares the crap out of her.

“Is that for me?” As I ask, I know it is.

“Here,” she says bashfully, pushing a manila envelope across the table. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” She gives me privacy and I eye the envelope waiting for it to explode.

I pull out a black, document folder and quickly open it. My breath whooshes out and dies instantly. It’s a portrait drawn by an amazing artist. I immediately recognize it for Whitt’s work of art.

A sandy-blond headed man stares at me from the paper. Angelic is the only word to describe the face that gazes at me. Big, bright blue eyes that twinkle with mirth are captured accurately. A set of dimples bracket full, luscious lips. It’s the twitch in the upper-lip that tells me who this portrait is of- Whitt. He looks exactly how I remember Grant. They could be identical twins with the exception of the expression the mouth holds. It’s taunting, calculating- powerful. Grant’s smile was always self-deprecating. Even when he was teasing he still emitted a somber feeling. Whitt has all the confidence that Grant lacked plus his own healthy dose.

He’s no longer the boy I remember him to be. He’s a grown man and it scares me. I stare at the inscription for a very long time,
For our Queen- Daniel Whittenhower II
. 

I don’t know what to make of this or what to do with it. He must know that Ade brings us weekly photos, why would he make me a portrait?

A coldness breezes over my soul and I shiver; a premonition manifesting from the one-dimensional drawing.

I tuck the portrait back into its envelope and hide it in my office. It scares me for some reason. It shows me all I’ve lost and can never get back- Grant, gone forever, and the children that are now young men.

Chapter Nineteen

Fate trails behind me gripping my elbow. She’s shaking and her teeth are clattering. A memory flashes from the depths of my mind: Fate holding my hand, scared shitless, as I barter with a pawn broker. I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier; she truly needs a protector.

After her father went to prison she came directly to me knowing that she could seek solace under my protection even though I could barely protect myself from the Whittenhowers.

The trust she places in me is as scary as it is exhilarating. I could see how it could become as addictive as a junkie’s need for crack or Kristal’s need for sex. We all have needs and the more you feed them, the more addicted you become. It’s the payoff that makes it dangerous.

“Two wannabe lesbians reporting for duty,” I call from the foyer.

Fate relaxes exponentially when she sees the ordinary hallway. I snicker at her. Just wait, girly; you’ll love the rooms. A maniacal laugh bubbles up as I naughtily take her to the restraint room. They’re going to have to restrain me if I don’t get the courage to touch my best friend. I’m chickening out.

Her sharp gasp makes me feel bad. Her earlier comfort dissolves in an instant. I worry she may wet herself. I pull her into the safety of my arm and cuddle her to my side.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I won’t be disappointed. This is t
oo much for Ade to ask of us.”

“No, we can’t allow her to go to that awful place. I trust you, Regina. I know you won’t hurt me and if you do, it
’s because it’s for the best.”

Her naive innocence scares me. No, I’ll never hurt her, but someone else could or someone else could command me to. I silently vow to do my best at protecting her.

In that second I realize that, in a way, she’s been my submissive since we met. She was sure and forceful at Hillbrook, but that was her people and her environment. She was doing her father proud. But outside of Hillbrook and her affluent family, she needed my shelter.

I ignorantly thought that power exchange was about sex and control. I was a fool. It’s about ownership. There are good and bad owners of all things. Ade and how she kept her room as a teenager, not caring for anything- She is a bad owner. The adults, who keep a dirty house or break their belongings in a fit of rage, and later complain how everything is shitty- shitty of their own
making. My mother and I were beyond poor, but our environment was clean and in good repair- clean is free.

Masters are just owners and our personalities dictate how we treat our property. No, this has nothing to do with sex. Respect and trust is fundamental. Marcus and Jamie have a unique relationship built on years of small gestures that aren’t obvious building blocks, but they
strengthen the bond. Fate and I have that- seventeen years of mutual respect and trust. I’ve never doubted her, and she’ll never doubt me.

“We can do this, girlfriend,” I reassure her.

I kiss the top of her head and smile against her hair. We can do this, not only for Ade, but to explore what Fate and I need to enter a lifetime commitment similar to the one my Master has with Jamie. I’ve been looking for a male to play with when I’ve had a submissive under my nose that’s perfect for me. Yes, sex is tied up in my needs. I’ll feed it elsewhere… Cort’s
you don’t shit where you eat,
clicks into place and I instantly understand it.