Young, Allyson - The Promise [Siren Publishing Ménage Amour] (14 page)

“Slave Peter?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he got out.

“Who gave you the red boxers?”

Uh-oh.
      

Jillian waited, the butt plug’s threat implicit.

“Karen English,” he said.

“Don’t know her,” Jillian said with satisfaction, then shoved the plug in the last inch.

Peter gasped and breathed through the burn. He would never again feel even the slightest twinge of impatience if Jilly was slow at taking a toy.
Holy Christ.
But it was interesting the way that his cock had hardened. The butt plug felt really big, yet he had used bigger ones on women. He quickly shut that thought pattern down in case Jilly read his mind.

Jillian slapped Peter’s ass. “Slave Peter, are you okay?’

“I’m okay,” he managed, still trying to assimilate the plug.

She crawled over him, dragging her silky, warm thighs and wet pussy over his buttocks, just grazing the plug, which shot all sorts of messages to his prostate, then to his cock, like some kind of telepathy. She pressed against his back, and Peter realized that she was releasing the restraints at his wrists. She slid back in much the same fashion, her heated little body imprinting on him, and released his ankles.

“Stand!” she ordered.

Peter gingerly climbed off the bed and stood before her at her imperious motion that he do so. She backed to the mattress and sat, then spread her legs wide.

“Kneel between my legs.”

Peter heard Sean move on the chair and looked over Jillian’s head to see that his friend was now very much awake and probably resisting a sneak peek.

“Look at me, not at your fellow slave, Slave Peter,” she admonished. “Slave Sean will not look, or I will repeat his punishment. Would you like that, Slave Sean?” Sean fairly shouted, “No, that’s okay, Mistress. I’m good.”

“Oh.” Jillian sounded disappointed.

Peter appreciated that Sean quickly added, “I couldn’t do that again so soon, babe. I’m kind of toast.”

“Well then, that’s reasonable,” Jillian said.

“Slave Peter, why aren’t you kneeling?”
 

Peter instantly dropped between her thighs, wincing at the movement of the plug and wishing he could pull off the sock because it was actually making his cock sweat and he’d have a rash soon. He could smell Jilly’s arousal, though, and it quickly took his mind off of his own discomfort. The skirt bunched between her legs, just covering her, and, as if she again read his mind, she hauled it up and tucked it inside of her garter belt. The sight of her spread labia, moisture glistening on her folds and her little clit poking out from its hood, took his breath away.

“Sean, can you see the clock?” she asked.

“Yes, mistress.”

“When I say, start a five minute countdown, shouting out each minute,” she ordered.

“Understood.” Sean sounded puzzled but willing.

“Slave Peter, make me come but do not use your hands. They may rest on my thighs. If you have not succeeded in your task by the end of five minutes, well, I’ll just let you wonder what might happen next.”

Peter licked his lips in anticipation.

“Oh, and, Peter? Nothing for you. If you come in your sock, you won’t like what happens next.”

Sean laughed out loud, but Peter hid his smile. Pleasuring Jilly was everything.

“And now,” Sean called out. “Five minutes and counting.”

Peter eagerly leaned forward and ran his tongue from Jillian’s opening up to her clit. It was a bit more difficult without his hands to assist, but he was sure he could manage. However, he couldn’t hold her steady either or in position for his tongue placement, and every little twitch seemed to keep her nubbin out of reach of his tongue. He took hold of her thighs to keep them spread and dove in, using his nose, his mouth, his tongue, even his teeth, growling against her folds. Jillian didn’t protest. Peter heard Sean call out the four-minute mark and felt an instant of panic. Then a strange sense of calm came over him, and he fell to laving her clit, persistently and patiently. Jillian settled and arched into him. Her clit swelled and hardened more and his tongue began to circle it. He vaguely heard the two-minute warning but didn’t change his approach. Jillian’s moisture gushed from her vagina, and he paused to scoop some up on his tongue before spreading it on her clit, then gently sucked the little piece of flesh into his mouth. Jillian bowed up, and he pushed back, now sucking hard. She called out and broke, falling back and splaying her legs in abandon. Peter kept sucking, refusing to release his prize, and she shivered into a second orgasm.

“Time,” Sean said.

Jillian squirmed away from Peter and propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes dreamy and her face relaxed.

“You are freed, my slaves, once you have bathed me. That doesn’t mean shower sex, Peter. Nothing for you tonight.”

Peter lifted her into a sitting position and undid the clasp of her bra as Sean came around to help with her skirt. They each dealt with a stocking, and Peter slipped her garter belt off. He motioned Sean ahead into the bathroom with her. He had a date with a plug in the other bathroom. Not something he ever wanted to have again, but it had definitely been an experience at his woman’s hand.

Chapter Twelve

Her men carefully bathed Jillian during the shower. While Peter was denied sexual activity, Sean made no efforts to pursue it. He did kiss her masterfully after she was dried off and gave her a little pat on the ass, but other than that he was curiously silent. Lunch was also a fairly quiet event, with the three of them collaborating to put a meal together. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but certainly a thoughtful one. Jillian had a sense that something profound had taken place in her men’s submission to her, and aside from her deep sense of caring and trust of them, she was also content with them. And, it appeared, they with her. The future actually beckoned.

Sean asked, “Jillian, honey, can you clear up here and entertain yourself for a few hours?”

A bit startled, for she hadn’t heard him in conversation with Peter, yet it appeared they were going out together, Jillian hesitantly agreed.

Sean smiled, his whole face lighting up. “Babe, we have some shopping to do for tomorrow. It’s our last day of your promise, and we want it to be spectacular.”

Jillian touched his face. “You don’t have to do any shopping, Sean. Nor do you Peter. The last day will be spectacular regardless.”

Peter shook his head. “Okay then, honey,” he replied. “The shopping is for us. You tapped into something with that costume theme party, and we’re on it.”

Jillian laughed. “Fine, go. I’ll tidy up and watch a movie.” At their raised eyebrows she added, “Not our movie.”

* * * *

She missed them. She missed them like crazy. The condo felt empty and cold without them. Jillian marveled at how much her feelings had changed in just a few days. She no longer worried that Sean and Peter were just playing with her, using her for sex. She believed Peter when he applauded her business acumen and said he didn’t want to change her. Well, except in the bedroom, and Jillian truly wasn’t adverse to those kind of changes. She believed them when they insisted they wanted a relationship with her, wanted babies with her. Somewhere along the line Jillian had put her total faith in them, trusting them with her heart as well as her body. And she couldn’t wait until they got home.

Jillian cleaned the kitchen, then stripped the bed and did laundry to while away the hours. She dusted and vacuumed, washed down both bathrooms, and then had to take a shower to wash away the sweat. Of course, then she had to clean that tub again. Jillian avoided Peter’s personal space, not wanting to pry, although those red boxers hit the trash alongside the sex toy she had discarded. Finally she accessed her phone and Internet accounts and sorted through the trash and messages. There was nothing of any importance awaiting her attention. It seemed like the boss had been intent on giving the team the week off. Two more days, and then back to the grind. Jillian found herself wondering about what working hard again was going to feel like after a long break. She didn’t think about being pregnant, at least not too much, because somehow it would all work out.

Jillian remade the bed and put away the rest of the laundry, hoping she hadn’t shrunk any of her guys’ clothing. Her guys. She hugged that idea to her heart. She had found her shirt, so now had it, a bra, garter belt, and hose, plus a hacked-off skirt. Her panties were still MIA, and she secretly hoped Peter had kept them for himself, like a forbidden panty fetish. They matched her bra and were pretty cute. She went through the pantry and the fridge, searching for something to make a meal, and cobbled together a casserole with ground beef, mushrooms, onions, and noodles. There wasn’t enough coffee cream left, but she diluted it with water and thickened it with butter and flour, plus a whole bunch of spices she found languishing in the back of the cupboard. The mixture approximated a sauce, and she shoved the dish into the oven and set the timer to bake. And they still weren’t home.

God, was she was a sex-starved nympho or something?
She had just gotten off thanks to Peter, and tomorrow was going to be special, they had promised. Surely she could wait. She thumbed through Peter’s stash of movies and found a few X-rated ones.
Hmmmm.
She chose one that pictured a big-breasted blonde held between two hulking men and pressed play. The scene came up with the blonde begging for more time to pay a loan and the two bouncer types looking menacing. One grabbed Ms. Titsy and yanked the dress clean off of her, the flimsy fabric tearing easily to bare her heaving, inflated boobs. Holy cow, those babies just sat right up there with no support. Jillian looked down at the front of her tattered robe and winced. She opened the top part and lifted each breast, glancing at the screen and then at herself. She had a nice rack, maybe, but what about when the baby came? No, she wasn’t going there. What about in a few years when they sagged? Would Sean and Peter like her girls then?

A shriek from the speakers caused Jillian to look away from her personal breast exam to observe the blonde spread-eagled on her kitchen table, one of the “collectors” finger fucking her. No, he appeared to have his whole hand up there. Jillian reached between her legs and experimentally pushed a few spread fingers into her vagina, trying to approximate a fair-sized cock, but couldn’t fathom what she was seeing. The blonde’s shrieks were cut short as she was flipped over and a cock stuffed inside her mouth. The hand disappeared up her pussy again, and Jillian leaned forward to peer at the screen when a hand touched her shoulder.

“Holy Christ!” she screamed, leaping about a foot off the couch, her robe slithering to pool around her waist. “Sean, you gave me a heart attack.”

Sean’s eyes were nearly black with lust as he stared at her breasts and then at the screen. Peter came into view, his hands full of shopping bags. Jillian grabbed for the remote and managed to shut the volume off.

“What did you buy? Let me see!” she demanded.

Sean fended her off as Peter hauled their purchases away to the bedroom.

“So, babe,” Sean said, “were you intrigued by the porn?”

Jillian tried to pull her robe up to cover her breasts, but he quickly sat beside her and held her hands. He kissed her hard and devoured her mouth. She kissed him back with fervor, so happy they were home. Home.

“I never watch porn, Sean,” she confided, “except for that one hen party. I can’t imagine why I wanted to today except I was lonely and bored. And you two have turned me into a pervert.”

Peter came to sit with them. “I see you’ve been playing housekeeper, honey. I appreciate it, but you aren’t our slave. At least not that kind.”

“I was bored, and you were gone a long time,” Jillian said. “So I occupied myself.”

Peter nodded at the frozen tableau on the big screen. “See anything you liked?”

Jillian hesitated and then took the plunge. “Do you think I should get implants so my breasts will sit up like hers?” she asked.