Chains

  When he finished and withdrew, he turned her around, his arms around her, while Toby rolled on the other condom and took Logan’s place. As he slid his cock inside her with a happy moan, he leaned in and kissed her, deeply, his tongue sliding into her mouth in time with his cock.

  Yes, this is where she wanted to be. Nothing felt wrong about this.

  At all.

  He nibbled the side of her neck as he fucked her, faster, a long, sexy groan escaping him when he took a few last hard, deep thrusts inside her and climaxed.

  They stood there under the water in silence for a few minutes, their arms around her and each other.

  “We really missed you,” Toby finally said. “And not just for sex. We missed you.”

  “And our illustrious leader, the world dominayshun dog,” Logan added.

  She lifted her head and stared into Toby’s blue eyes.

  “Maybe I need to try to spend more time around here, then. I wouldn’t want to deny Chewi access to his minuns.”

  They both chuckled. “Sounds like a fantastic idea to us, sweetheart,” Logan said.

  * * * *

  She’d made them a little late for work, but suspected neither man minded. After getting some well-needed sleep, she dressed, ate, and put Chewi on his leash to walk next door.

  The house felt different now, clean, no hint of the stench of decomposition remaining. Her footsteps echoed through the empty, hollow shell of a house as she walked the entire place.

  Back in the living room, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine. What would it look like remodeled, furnished? She could have a whole room devoted to her jewelry business and supplies, able to spread out with multiple projects instead of only one at a time.

  She’d have room to film video tutorials.

  They could have friends over.

  They?

  Yes, she realized trying to picture this without Logan and Toby in it wasn’t going to happen. She already visualized the men as part of her life, part of her future. There wasn’t any doubt now, just a matter of her continuing to get to know them. She was done talking herself out of it.

  Now, she was accumulating reasons it would work between them, why it was right between them.

  She could remodel the kitchen, have a huge, modern stove, be able to bake for her friends.

  She hadn’t done any real baking in years.

  Looking down at Chewi, she said, “Well? What do you think? Remodel and call it home?” Money wasn’t the issue. Between the life insurance and other accounts, in addition to the bank accounts, she could afford to demolish this house and build anew, if she chose.

  But she didn’t. This house wasn’t bad. It just needed some love and attention, some updates.

  Chewi looked around, stood up, sneezed, and wagged his tail.

  “Seal of approval?”

  He chuffed.

  “Yeah, me, too, buddy. Me, too.”

  * * * *

  Saturday night, they met Toby and Logan’s friends for dinner at Sigalo’s. Some of them she’d met already, some she only knew from FetLife, and some she’d heard about but hadn’t met yet in person. Eliza and Rusty joined them and would be going to the club with them later.

  Everyone welcomed Rebecca as part of their group. As she sat there, listening to the conversations, she realized this was something she’d desperately missed, for years, and had ignored.

  Had refused to admit she’d missed.

  Yes, she loved her life, but things changed. People changed. Circumstances changed.

  Her solitary life no longer suited her. Not really. Not when she was choosing isolation over love and friendship.

  The men weren’t pressuring her for anything. They’d already had some deep discussions, including the men telling her that she had to be the one to tell them when she was ready for more.

  Including if she ever wanted them to collar her, she had to ask for it. That they weren’t going anywhere, and they wouldn’t play or date or have sex with anyone but her—well, and each other, of course—but if she wanted a commitment, she would have to ask for it.

  That they would never force her to do anything, including to stay with them.

  That made her want to stay with them all the more. It made her want to trust them even more.

  It made her want to submit to them, to hand things over to them, to relish the feeling of having a solid support under her, the foundations firmly set in their feelings for her.

  After dinner, they headed over to Venture, her excitement warring with jangled nerves as they drew closer to the club. She wanted to play sooner rather than later, before it got too busy and there was a crowd or a waiting line for equipment.

  As they picked a bench toward the back, nearest to the wall, Logan took her hands in his and stared down at her. “You’re sure this is what you want tonight?”

  She nodded. “Just go slow.” She smiled. “Kiddie pool. Not high dive.” A couple of times during sex, one or both of them had lightly spanked her bare-handed, a delicious sting that made her pleasure even stronger.

  Yes, she wanted this. She’d missed it. Maybe this was another reason why the few times she’d fooled around with guys, besides the missing emotional element, those encounters had felt hollow and flat.

  Because that spice wasn’t there.

  That trusting control, that zip.

  They slowly stripped her, not tying her down to the bench after she climbed on it. They started out getting her settled by massaging her body, fingers kneading and probing, getting her worked up and sinking her into a delicious haze she suspected might be subspace.

  It’d been so long, she couldn’t remember.

  When the first bare-handed smacks began, she started arching her back, pushing her ass into Logan’s hand, sucking on Toby’s fingers as if his cock, her brain downshifting into a deliciously freewheeling mode where she didn’t have to think. All she had to do was feel, to enjoy what they were doing.

  And boy, did she.

  It’d been too damn long since she’d been able to feel this sensation, enjoy it.

  Have trust in someone to let herself go.

  She’d be damned if she’d deny herself any longer.

  She was aware of a hum, and then the feel of a strong vibrator being pressed against her clit made her scream in pleasure around Toby’s fingers.

  “Ooh, she likes the Hitachi,” he said.

  Logan kept smacking her ass with one hand while using the vibrator on her with the other. “I figured she would.”

  “We just got it last week,” Toby told her. “It was going to be a surprise.”

  Surprise! Yes, she loved it.

  Even when Logan switched from bare-handed swats to a lightweight paddle that he started using on her ass.

  She moaned, both loving and hating it, each impact swirling like a stone hitting the water before the pleasure flowed in to fill the empty space again almost immediately.

  Time folded and bent, and before long, she was rocking back and forth on the bench between swats from a riding crop and the Hitachi. Then it switched off, and she felt them draping a blanket over her.

  Forcing her eyes open, she stared up at Toby, who smiled down at her. “We’re done?” she asked.

  He laughed. “It’s been almost forty-five minutes. You said start slow. That was slow.”

  He helped her up and off the bench. Logan got their stuff picked up and the bench wiped down while Toby led her over to one of the couches in the social area for them to snuggle.

  It hadn’t felt that long. It had seemed to last just a minute or two…or forever.

  Curled tightly against his side, she closed her eyes, not even moving when Logan joined them a few minutes later.

  “How do you feel, baby?” Logan asked. “Was that too much?”

  It almost hadn’t been enough. She easily could have taken a lot more, much harder impacts.

  “It was perfect,” she said, still surfing her subspace time. “You guys are perfect.”
/>
  * * * *

  Once she’d recovered and got dressed, they spent some time chatting with their friends. Before long, she found herself yawning.

  “Uh-oh,” Logan said. “I think our lady is turning into a pumpkin.”

  Eliza and Rusty had also played. Rusty—now sporting a red ass—smiled. “Better get her home,” Eliza said. “She looks tuckered out.”

  “Sorry,” Rebecca said. “Oh, and I still haven’t talked to Derrick yet.”

  “Then let’s get that done,” Toby said.

  “I’ll get our bag,” Logan said.

  After she hugged Eliza and Rusty, Toby went with her out to the office. Derrick had wanted to talk to her about stocking more of her chainmaille collars and other jewelry, expanding the selection. They were wrapping that discussion up when Logan joined them.

  “Sorry, got stuck talking.”

  She’d just shaken hands with Derrick when she heard the front door open. She didn’t know why she looked, but she almost let out a scream when she saw him.

  Sam.

  He immediately spotted her, too, pausing and not saying anything to her before he crossed the office.

  “Well, I’ll get some pieces to you next week,” she said as she grabbed Toby and Logan’s hands and dragged them out of the office behind her.

  She didn’t bother to turn and look. She didn’t want to see.

  “Um, babe?” Logan asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t you see him? That was Sam!”

  “What?” they both asked, stopping and forcing her to stop, too.

  “No, I don’t want a confrontation. Please! Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  She could tell they wanted to turn around and give the asshole a piece of their minds, but they let her lead them back to the car.

  “And make sure he doesn’t follow us!”

  “Let him try,” Toby darkly said.

  “If he’s stupid enough to go inside, Eliza will likely neuter him with Tilly’s help,” Logan joked.

  “Please!” she begged, near tears. “Let’s get out of here!”

  “Okay, honey,” Logan assured her. “We’re going.”

  He took a very roundabout course home, first heading in the opposite direction and making several double-backs, including pulling into a Walmart parking lot and waiting for a few minutes, watching for any approaching cars.

  Only when she was satisfied Sam wasn’t following them did she let Logan head for home.

  Why was it that just when she thought she had a handle on her life, and perfection had set in, that bastard had to reappear? It was like a bad omen, like maybe she’d chosen wrongly.

  Like maybe she wasn’t meant to be happy.

  Chapter Ten

  Sunday morning, Eliza texted Rebecca. You awake?

  Yes, she was awake. She’d barely been able to sleep despite the men being able to coax her into making love before they all crashed in bed.

  Sam.

  Asshole Sam.

  Eliza called her after Rebecca texted her back that she was awake. “So…how are you this morning?”

  “Cut the crap. Sam came in just as we were leaving.”

  Rebecca heard her sigh over the line. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d missed him. I wasn’t going to say anything first.”

  “Nice try.”

  “He spotted me and Rusty. I pointed him out to Tilly and the others, so now they know who he is. Don’t worry, I took care of it. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

  “Yeah, well, now he knows I’m a club member.”

  “So? What’s he going to do about it? Again, it’s taken care of. So relax.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “You have two guys who can kick his ass. Let him spin his wheels. Who gives a shit about Sam? Quit giving him rent-free space in your head, girl.”

  Easier said than done. “I need to get off here. I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

  “Okay. Seriously, relax. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

  After ending the call, Rebecca stared at her phone.

  If only relaxing was that easy.

  Unfortunately, she’d run the gauntlet of Sam’s wrath once before and swore she’d never put herself in that position again. If he knew she was back in town, it likely meant she’d always be looking over her shoulder.

  So much for my happy ending.

  * * * *

  Monday morning, Toby and Logan had left for work after both of them kissed her good-bye.

  It tore at Rebecca’s heart, but she knew she couldn’t say anything to them.

  She needed to leave.

  Running into Sam at the club on Saturday like that had rattled her in a way she hadn’t expected, and it wasn’t going away. He was not a nightmare she wanted to revisit. She could tell by the look on his face when he’d spotted her that if she hadn’t been there with Toby and Logan—and her beating feet right out the door—he would have approached her.

  She also suspected it was no coincidence that she suddenly had a flurry of hits on her website later that same night from an IP address in the Sarasota area, checking out every damn page, and ten contact form messages—from the same IP range—hitting her business e-mail account asking for more information about her…

  Like if she had a local store they could visit.

  And now knowing her uncle’s house was also in her name meant there was another way Sam could track her down if he really wanted to. She was no longer a phantom person able to disappear onto the road with no way to find her.

  It brought back a nervous panic, a stifling feeling. Bad memories of trying to get herself free from Sam flared fresh in her mind.

  Yes, it was probably PTSD, something Eliza told Rebecca way back then she suspected Rebecca suffered from, but it wasn’t something she’d ever sought treatment for.

  She’d been in survival mode.

  When she moved out while Sam was at work, she ended up leaving some things behind but getting out with her life and safety, at least. Finally. And she couldn’t claim abuse in the paperwork, because he had the slave contract he’d pressured her to sign.

  And pictures.

  Lots and lots of pictures. Pictures where she was obviously enjoying what was going on, or at least appeared to be.

  Pictures she wished didn’t exist, but at least held no power over her now other than as a bad memory. Her parents knew, Eliza and Rusty knew, and she was now self-employed.

  It had been bad enough back then having to call her parents and warn them that Sam might send them pictures of her. Reliving the stress of those days was even worse.

  Hiding out at Eliza and Rusty’s house, having to quit her job and get another one, having to face the jerk in court. Horrible memories, all of them. Sam had tried to drag out the process as long as possible, but they’d owned no property together, her car had been in her name before she’d met him—fortunately—and they had no kids. She’d taken exactly half of what the current balance in both the savings and checking accounts had been at the time she left, even though most of the money in both of them had been hers.

  Still, he’d stalked her, little things here and there that she could never pin down or get evidence on to obtain a restraining order. Never a threat from him, nothing actionable or traceable back to him. If she’d reported every tiny thing, her attorney told her she would look like she was the petty one and Sam’s attorney might use it against her. And she didn’t have the money to send a licensed PI after Sam to get the proof she’d need to nail him for the activity, either.

  She’d even received unusual e-mails from anonymous accounts with cell phone pics of her at various places. Text messages—until she’d had her cell number changed—and how he always “coincidentally” showed up at places where she was shopping. Not speaking to her, but watching her, waiting until she saw him before turning and walking away, just another customer going about his business.

  Just enough stuff to unsettle her and shatter what little peace
of mind she might try to claw back.

  Once the divorce was final and she had her maiden name again, she made her decision and fled, quitting her job and walking away from everything. The monthly payments on her first RV were less than rent and utilities for a crappy apartment, and she had the nation as her backyard. She was already making enough from her jewelry business at the time to support herself. The return address she used for any items she shipped was a remailer service that sent items to Eliza and Rusty’s address for her.

  Paranoid? Yes.

  She’d accepted a lot of mental and physical abuse under the guise of BDSM. She recognized that now, but at the time she didn’t understand she had a voice. She’d fallen in love, and by the time she realized what Sam was, she was already married to Sam and trapped under his thumb.

  Not anymore.

  Even better, Sam couldn’t find her, couldn’t track her, couldn’t trail her. She set up a private domain registration for her website, so Sam couldn’t get that information.

  Now, he knew she was back.

  The one time shortly after the divorce was finalized that Sam had shown up at Eliza and Rusty’s house looking for Rebecca, Eliza had—literally and bodily—thrown the much larger man off her front porch when he refused three times her demand for him to leave.

  It was nice having a friend who was a martial arts expert.

  When Eliza had come home one evening a week later and passed a car parked down the street that she didn’t recognize, with a man sitting in it who she did, she snuck back down under the cover of darkness and placed large roofing tacks in front of and behind all four tires without the man ever realizing she’d been there.

  An hour later, a tow truck drove past their house and stopped just down the street.

  That was the last time they’d seen a hint of Sam Edsel around their neighborhood. The wrecker left a short time later with the car on it, all four tires flattened.

  Sam wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. At least when faced with an obviously superior opponent—or, in Eliza’s case, a crazier and wilier one—he’d backed off.