Enlightened [Sexual Magic 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (22 page)

She cleared her throat. “I don’t know. It felt like I never stopped coming, to tell you the truth.”

Griff squeezed her arm, and she glanced up at him, guilt already covering her face. “Did you have permission to come?”

“No, Sir.”

“It’s an infraction, and apparently whipping you isn’t a good choice to discipline you.”

Mason leaned closer. “She really didn’t like the TENS unit.”

Griff noted the subtle tension in her shoulders, but her sweet face remained neutral. “What are you suggesting?”

Mason’s grin was dark and feral, which took Griff by surprise. His partner was usually very easygoing. More often than not, he was all for waving away discipline for subs. It was one reason he made a better submissive than Dom himself.

“Emma, go to the bedroom and clean up. I suggest a warm bath with lavender oil.”

She nodded and slid off Griff’s lap. He missed her warmth immediately.

“Leave the door unlocked,” Mason added.

“Yes, Sir.”

She gave them a soft little smile before leaving the room.

Griff stared at Mason, one brow lifted. “What was all that about?”

“She’s experienced several highs with us, Griff,” he said, tone serious, face drawn. “She has yet to endure anything truly distasteful to her. A real punishment.”

“We didn’t know she was going to be such a whip slut,” Griff felt compelled to point out.

“Agreed. She asked us to step it up. I definitely think we should. Both in the pleasure and the punishment realm.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Mason’s lips lifted in a dark, ominous grin. “A little violet wand and a bit of figging.”

Griff eyed him with both approval and shock. “You have a devious mind, Mace. I like it.”

His friend rose and stretched, his lean torso popping with the motion. Griff ran his finger down the ripples of his taut abdomen before snapping sharply along his flaccid dick. Mason jumped back.

“You do realize you came without permission, too, don’t you?”

Mason scowled. “I was not in that scene as a sub, Griff,” he argued.

“We’ll see. I bet the minx would enjoy watching you being punished right along with her.”

His mouth pursed, and a familiar, devilish glint appeared in his eyes. “Hm. Maybe.” His gaze turned intense. “She fits, doesn’t she, Griff?”

His gut tightened, and he swallowed his automatic denial. Mason was right. She did fit. But it didn’t matter. She was a job, nothing more.

Bullshit
.

He shoved away the small inner voice. “Not now, Mace.”

Mace shoved a hand through his hair. “Cut the crap, man. Emma is a great girl. She’s smart and spunky and holy-fuck submissive. She fits us perfectly.” He moved between Griff’s legs, shoving aside the blanket. “I went to Pleasure Isles looking for fun and release. I didn’t find either of those things. Instead, I realized superficial isn’t what I want.”

Confusion wrapped with dawning acceptance ran through Griff. He cupped Mason’s lean flank. “What do you want?”

“A family.”

He sucked in a sharp breath as panic assailed him. Family had been his ex-wife’s other big reason for leaving. She didn’t want his kid because she didn’t want to ruin her body.

It did not help his equilibrium that the image of Emma, sweet and swollen with their child, formed easily in his mind. He swallowed hard and patted Mason’s ass.

“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

Mace shook his head. “Not about this, Griff. It’s important. She’s important to us. I can feel the connection. Hell, even when we had the connection turned off she managed to blast right through. I know you felt it.”

“Yeah, I did,” he murmured quietly. “But it’s complicated.”

Mason stared down at him for a long, quiet moment. His hands fisted at his side, and a muscle pulsed in his jaw. Finally, he relaxed and the normal congenial expression returned to his face. “All right. We’ll shelve the discussion.
For now
.” He moved back.

Relieved, Griff also stood. “I’ll go make sure the wand is ready. Want to peel the ginger?”

“Sure.”

Griff waited until Mason reached the doorway to the kitchen. “Mace?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“Peel two.”

The water swirled noisily down the drain as Emma patted herself dry. Her entire body still tingled from the flogging. Her mind, thankfully, no longer felt like it was wrapped in layers of wool.

So, that was full-blown subspace. It was a pretty damn interesting place.

Emma snorted as she hung the towel over the curtain rod. “Admit it, girl, you can’t wait to get back there.”

As Griff whipped her and Mason masturbated in front of her, she’d realized all her senses were wide open and on full alert. The sharp scent of male sweat coupled with arousal swept up her nose. Each lash of the flogger, each strand as they laid into her body, became more and more pronounced. Even now, she could still feel the grain of the wood pressed into her pelvis, ground against her pussy.

She shuddered.

When her brain blanked and only sensation remained, the high had been incredible. Her orgasms, of which she was sure there were dozens, had piled onto each other, culminating in a burst of wild explosion that wiped her out entirely.

She barely remembered Griff scooping her up or taking her to the living room. Emma reached for the companion bottle of lavender lotion she’d found and slathered her thighs, belly, and butt with it.

When she did resurface, it was to the comfort and security of being surrounded by Mason and Griff. She could not recall a time when she’d felt so safe and cherished.

Capping the bottle, Emma stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes glinted wildly, and her skin bore the blush of excitement. She knew if she were to dip a finger into her pussy, she’d come away drenched.

She was ready for more experiences, more learning. She was eager game for whatever they wished to throw at her. She was game for it all.

“Knock, knock,” Mason said cheerfully from the partially opened doorway.

She tugged the door open and dipped her head. “Hi,” she said, suddenly shy.

He tipped her chin up. “Hi yourself. Feel better?”

“Yes.”

He clucked his tongue. “Good, let’s go.”

She trailed him through the hallway in what was becoming a familiar trek. Her gaze found its way down to his perfectly muscled ass, watched the play of his skin as he walked.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Definitely.”

He laughed and opened the door to the play room and motioned her inside. As she crested the entry, he caught her arm. “Pay attention to what is about to happen, Emma. You’ve earned it, and it’s a necessary component of your training, the lifestyle in general. But embrace it.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He didn’t answer, just released her arm and patted her butt, propelling her inside.

Griff stood at the sideboard where a small bowl covered with cheesecloth rested. His arms were crossed, and he had a harsh, foreboding expression on his face.

She gulped.

Somehow, she didn’t think this session was going to be nearly as fun as the previous ones.

Damn.

He lifted a brow and looked down at the carpet in front of him.

She hustled toward him, dropping into position, careful to keep her gaze lowered, hoping her bent head was a sufficient show of submission and earned her a bit of mercy.

Mason’s warmth invaded the space behind her. A chilled, thin, hard object nestled along her butt. It felt like a ruler or something. While she really wanted to turn her head and check it out, she knew that would garner her even more trouble which was something she did
not
need right now.

“So, little slut,” Griff said. “I want you to give me an estimate. How many times did you come without permission?”

Her tummy tightened. Yeah, this was going to suck and not in the good, balls-against-her-chin kind of way. Her mind raced back to the flogging, and she honestly could not come up with a number. She’d been in a maelstrom of ecstasy. Counting climaxes had not occurred to her. She peeked up at him.

“Uh, ten, Sir?”

Mason slapped her ass with the ruler thing. She jumped and did look behind her this time. The wooden rod was long, thin, and stung like hell. “What is that?”

“It’s called a Schoolmaster’s Cane. Eyes front, mouth shut.”

Caning was bad. It was painful.
Why
had she mentioned it? She’d read and watched a lot of videos about it. She swiveled back to position, heart pounding so loudly she missed Griff’s question, catching only the last bit.

“…answer, slut.”

Damn, damn, damn.
Did he say it was a good answer or a bad one?

“Sorry, Sir,” she mumbled. “I didn’t hear you.”

Another smack with the cane and she winced. Stung was not a good enough word. Her skin was on fire, but she dared not move and risk another switch.

Griff sighed. “I asked if you were certain of that answer.”

“Yes, Sir.” What the hell? She was going to be punished either way.

“All right.”

The cane slapped lightly against her buttocks a few times then clattered onto the top of the sideboard. Mason squatted beside her, one hand held out. “Come on, up you go.”

She took his hand and rose, docilely following as he led her to the bondage bench.

“Bend over, legs spread.”

Emma braced her elbows on the cushioned bench and leaned forward, shuffling her legs apart until the insides of her thighs protested.

Griff set the bowl in front of her. A sharp, spicy scent wafted up, and she wiggled her nose, trying to pinpoint the aroma.

“Part of training is learning to obey and being punished for infractions. Different Masters have different punishment styles.”

Her neck tensed. She did not like the thought of different Masters. She was really attached to these two. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She wouldn’t think about good-byes right now.

“Usually being spanked or whipped is sufficient for small wrongdoings such as coming without permission.” Griff chuckled. “In your case, however, it appears those avenues would only heighten your enjoyment.”

She successfully shoved away the momentary sorrow and smiled up at him. “Agreed, Sir.” She bit her lip. “Is that what the cane is for?” She really hoped not. They’d said no blood. That damn Schoolmaster’s Cane looked like it would easily draw blood from her.

“No,” Mason said from behind her. “I was just playing with that. And you.”

“We’re going to try something a little different with you.” Griff flung back the cloth, exposing two white, knob-encrusted stalks of…something. She still couldn’t identify it.

He fished one out and held it up to her eyes. The thing was about as long and big around as a hot dog, except in the middle where it flared a bit. The thing sported knobs here and there, which poked out along its sides.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Finger of ginger, peeled and soaked.”

“Ginger?” She frowned. “What’s it for?”

His grin was lethal. “Punishment, little slut. This will make you think twice about disobeying us again. Since you’re still new to ass play, we’ll use a little lube. But not much.”

She straightened up. Mason’s strong hand to her back shoved her down again. “Maintain your position.”

“I’m not sure about this,” she muttered.

Griff shrugged. “You know how to stop it. Mason, lube her asshole.”

“Yes, Sir,” Mason replied cheerfully.

He pried apart her butt cheeks, and a dribble of cold oil hit her tight hole. She clenched, and he lost his grip.

Smack.

“Naughty girl. If you don’t want the lube…”

“No,” she said. “No, please, use it.”

The thought of anything entering her ass without the slick aid did not sound pleasant at all.

He pulled her cheeks apart again, and his finger rimmed her hole. She inhaled at the rush of pleasure. Once more her nerve endings shot to life. Mason stroked her ass flesh as he reamed the lube in and around her rosebud.

Just as she was really getting into it, he let go.

Griff picked up both pieces of ginger and held them up in front of her. The one on the left was slightly bigger, longer, a bit thicker.

Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades.

“Mason is also going to be punished for coming without permission,” Griff said. “Pick one. Left or right.”

For him or herself?

She wished she knew.

“Right,” she guessed, hoping that would be hers.

Mason appeared in front of the bench, his back to her. His ass was clenched tightly.

Oh hell, he wasn’t looking forward to this either.

Griff nodded and set the larger piece back into the bowl before plucking the bottle of lube from the bench. “I’m sure Mason will appreciate the smaller ginger. Figging is not his favorite thing.”

Damn.

Just like the lottery, she chose wrong again.

“Bend forward, put your hands on your knees,” Griff said, voice harsh and clipped.

Mason complied and shuffled his legs apart. She watched, absolutely fascinated—and a lot turned on—as Griff rubbed the shiny liquid into Mason’s asshole. When his finger disappeared to the first knuckle, she smothered a moan.

Watching them together was incredibly arousing. She loved the way they were so familiar with each other’s bodies. She only wished she could watch more.

Griff pulled his finger out, grabbed the ginger, placed the rounded tip to Mason’s ass, and pushed.

A hiss echoed sharply in the room. Mason’s legs trembled, and his shoulders were as stiff as oak trees.

Griff continued shoving until just the bottom knob stuck out from his hole. He released Mason’s cheeks, and the stump disappeared.

“How’s it feel?”

“Not bad.”

“Yet,” Griff murmured with a knowing grin.

He snatched the larger piece from the bowl and strode behind her. No fanfare, no pleasantries, he simply opened up her cheeks and repeated the process.