Page 137 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

Nolan walks to the dresser and returns with a pair of scissors in his hand. “Do you have a spare set of clothes in your locker?”

Oh. My. God. He’s going to cut off my uniform. A dizzy rush sweeps through my body. “Yes, Sir.” I clear my throat as a prosaic thought intrudes. “It’s hard to find a bra that fits that doesn’t also cost an arm and a leg.”

Nolan grins. “Don’t cut off the bra. Duly noted.”

The blade is cool. My skin breaks out into goosebumps as Nolan snips my skirt. The fabric falls in a pool by my feet. Two more snips, and my panties follow. He cuts my t-shirt too, but as promised, he unhooks my bra and tosses it on the couch.

Caleb’s been watching me, his expression smoldering. When I’m naked, his eyes widen. “You shaved?”

My cheeks heat. “I got waxed, actually.” I went to the salon Thursday night. The woman said it wouldn’t hurt, but she’s a liar; it hurt like the devil. Never doing that again. “I thought I’d mix it up. What do you think?”

His mouth finds mine. His tongue swipes over my lower lip. “You’re always hot to me,” he murmurs. His hand trails down my stomach and his fingers find my folds. “Mmm. Very nice.”

I start to lean into him, but he straightens and gives me an inscrutable half-smile. “The first night you came over to my house, you asked me if I was going to spank you.”

I remember. The events of that night are seared into my memory. Caleb had positioned me on his coffee table, and he’d gone down on me, and watching us, Nolan had jerked himself off.

“I’ve been thinking about your request.” He circles me slowly, his eyes staying on mine. “I think I’ll fulfill it tonight, Kiera.”

My breath skips. “You’ve spanked me a few times since then.”

Nolan chuckles, low and amused. “Ah, sweetheart,” he says.

“You think those were spankings.” He nears me, threads his fingers through my hair, and presses a hard kiss on the back of my neck.

My scalp prickles. His grip is dominant, and the pain is delicious.

He’s not pulling hard enough to seriously hurt, but there’s just enough edge in his grip to paint another layer of arousal over me.

I shudder with my need, shudder to hold still. “You remember your safewords?”

“Yes, Sir. Green if I’m okay, Yellow if I’m not sure, Red to stop.”

“Good.” Without warning, he swings me into his arms and sets me down on the Y-frame, stomach down, ass in the air. “Get comfortable,” he advises, dark amusement threaded through his voice. “You’re going to be here for some time.”

The frame is padded, the trunk of the Y wide enough to comfortably support my body but narrow enough that my breasts hang down on either side. My legs are spread wide. I can see myself in the mirrored walls, completely naked, completely open to them.

Another shiver wracks my body as Nolan moves around me, spreading my legs even wider apart and strapping them in place on the frame.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling that comes over me as he carefully buckles each strap into place.

Xavier Leforte owns several boutique hotels all around the world. As employees of his organization, we’re offered discounts on hotel stays, but it’s still far too expensive to afford. However, one Christmas, two years ago, a few of us did a staff trip to a spa in Vermont that Mr. Leforte owns.

There was an underground salt pool there. Amy couldn’t do it. “It’s too claustrophobic,” she’d shuddered. “It’s too dark, too gloomy. The room’s closing in around me.”

Not me. I’d savored every minute in that salt pool. I’d closed my eyes and floated in perfect, meditative silence, and it was freeing. Almost trance-like.

With each strap Nolan buckles around my body, I feel myself fall deeper into that same trance. He ties me up at the ankles. Just above my knees. Another set of bindings sit at my thighs, just below my butt. The leather doesn’t cut into my skin, but it’s tight enough that I can’t wriggle.

My movement’s cut off. I should be nervous. I just feel free.

Nolan watches me test my bonds, a small smile playing about his lips. “I don’t want you falling off.”

“I’m so green,” I whisper.

“Yes, you are.” He can see my arousal in my eyes; I’m making no effort to hide the way I feel. My nipples are swollen. My pussy clenches with need.

He moves between my legs. In the mirror, I watch him bend down. His tongue swipes through my folds, tasting me, feasting on me. “Wet already,” he growls. “Who is this arousal for, Kiera?”

“For you, Sir.”

It’s all for them. I’m not anti-BDSM, not the way Dix claims she is, but though I’ve worked at Club M for years, I’ve never been interested in trying it. Then again, I’ve never met someone that I dropped my guard around.

BDSM is about trust. I trust Caleb and Nolan completely. That’s why I’m here, tied to a Y-frame, entirely at their mercy. That’s why my bindings are erotic, not terrifying. That’s why I’m turned on. That’s why I ache. That’s why my entire body vibrates with desire.

It’s because I’m doing this with Nolan and Caleb.

I’m restrained for them.

I’m wet for them.

It’s all for them. Every shiver. Every moan. Every orgasm.

Caleb moves into my vision. “I’m going to blindfold you, Kiera.”

Another shiver runs through me. “Yes, Sir,” I whisper. “Thank you, Sir.”

The blindfold is a long narrow black scarf. Caleb loops it around my head several times, cutting off my vision. “How’s that?” he asks, resting his fingertips on my shoulder.

I can’t see anything. “Still green, Sir.”

I feel myself sink even deeper into my blissful, floaty feeling. Nolan’s hands are at my waist, strapping me in place. He takes my hands in his, extends my arms out to the front, and ties my wrists together, and then to the frame.

Hands touch my breasts. They squeeze them. Sometimes the touch is casual and fleeting, and sometimes, it’s more intent. My nipples are swollen, aroused. I whimper, my body ablaze.

A tongue swipes over my right nipple.

Another tongue licks the left.

Oh fuck. A jolt of arousal shocks through me. If my legs weren’t tied apart, I’d squeeze them. I want to squirm, to wriggle, to do something to alleviate the ache in my pussy…

Nolan and Caleb suck my erect nipples into their mouths, scraping the tender flesh between their teeth. They suck and they nibble until my thoughts are scrambled, my breath comes faster, and I’m so wet that I’m positive my juices are dripping on the polished wooden floor.

They stop.

Cool air brushes over my over-sensitized nipples, and then something bites down on an engorged nub.

Nipple clamp.

“This is a tweezer-style clamp,” Nolan says. “I’m going to tighten it. Tell me when it gets too much.”

My nipple throbs. The tension grows as Nolan slides the ring tighter, his breath warm against my ear. My core clenches. My nipple hurts, but in a good way. Caleb’s hand rests on the base of my spine, touching me, anchoring me. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. He’s letting me know he’s there.

The ache in my nipple tips from good-pain to bad. “Ouch,” I yelp.

Nolan eases the pressure fractionally. His fingers skim the side of my breast. His tongue laves attention on my swollen nipple. I whimper in pleasure, and he pulls his mouth off. “Okay?”

“Yes Sir.” Every time I say Sir, it makes me feel a little lighter. A little freer. It’s an addictive rush. “I’m green again.”

He moves around the other side and clamps my other nipple.

Caleb, in the meanwhile, has moved away. I strain to listen to his movements, trying to hear what he’s doing, and yelp like a startled puppy when he says “No,” his voice at my ear. Damn it, Caleb can move like a cat if he wants.

“Don’t,” he says sternly. “You’ll find out what we’re doing soon enough. Just be.”

“Sorry,” I whisper, abashed. I take a deep breath. Exhale. Another deep breath. Exhale. Let yourself sink back into the pool.

A dozen strings trail down my spine, and then a flogger snaps down on my ass.

I bite my lips to keep myself from crying out.

Heat sears my skin. Every muscle of my body clenches in response.

Oh God. Why have I never done this before?

I’ve stood on the sidelines and watched submissives get flogged, whipped, even caned, and I’ve never quite understood the need that drives them.

I get it now. Yes, the flogger hurts, but in such a good way. Such a perfect, necessary way.

A hard cock brushes against my fingertips. Nolan’s voice sounds in front of me. “You know what to do, sweetness.”

Yes, I do know what to do.

The wrist bindings don’t give me a lot of movement, but I do my best. I stroke Nolan’s length, focusing on him, focusing on the way he feels. Velvety smooth, hard as steel. I drag my thumb over the tip, spreading precum around his head, and I shiver as he groans, raw need in his voice.

Caleb cracks the flogger against my ass, quick and forceful. I yelp, more from surprise than pain. “Green,” I say quickly before he stops. “Don’t hold back. I promise I’ll remember my safewords.”

Nolan’s fingers twist my hair, and I realize I stopped stroking him. Oops.

Caleb trails the flogger over my back. “I’m glad you said that,” he says, his voice smooth, controlled.

He swings, and the tails connect with my skin.

I clench, but the pain fades, leaving warmth in its wake.

I relax, and the whip comes down again, a sharp bolt of fire. “Because we’re just getting started.”

We are? Oh boy. Fresh anticipation snakes through my blood.

I wait for the next stroke of the flogger, but it doesn’t come. Nolan’s still in front of me, but where is Caleb? I can’t hear him.

“Did I not tell you to relax, Kiera?”

Damn it. You try relaxing when someone’s flogging you, I want to snark, but I hold my tongue. Caleb wouldn’t ask me to do anything that is impossible. He won’t set me up to fail.

I don’t want to disappoint him.

Salt pool, I whisper to myself. Remember the warmth in the room. The absolute peace. Fall into it.