What do gay men do when a lesbian interrupts their sexcapades? Well, the two I’m currently with welcome the lesbian with open arms.

Hello, my name is Jillian, and I’m new to this BDSM game. Edge play? Oh, sure, I’ll try that. Sounds innocent enough.

Holy fuckballs.

At least I don’t have to participate. Actively.

My ex-husband, a man I’ve loved for years and continue to care about, is tied to a massive bed of gold, arms and legs splayed for the world—or at least three members of the world—to see. His gray officer coat hangs open, revealing red lashes where his lover has blazed a flogger over his chest. His lower half remains covered, but he’s about to be boarded by the aforementioned lover gobbling his cock through gray fabric. Wet marks splotch the front of Miles’s pants. Rushed breaths defile what would otherwise be silence as Red sits up and grabs a riding crop from the bedside table.

I’d love to yank this motherfucker off Miles and give him a good, hard, hockey-dyke trouncing. Except Miles enjoys the torture. His face contorts through sex-drunk poses until the riding crop strikes. Then his eyes snap wide and immediately fuzz out in what appears to be an assault of pleasure so intense, it’s the only thing he senses. Siren and I have disappeared. For Miles, there is only Red.

What a rush it must be.

“Ask Red for a taste of Gray’s cock.” Siren’s voice jars me out of my reverie. She’s going to boss me around? Tell me what part to put where, as if I’m a doll to be positioned for her amusement?

Normally, I’d be enraged at the prospect of someone like her telling me what to do and wouldn’t hesitate to tell her to fuck off. But here? Now? Watching Red manipulate Miles and seeing how much he loves it? Maybe Miles was right. Could submission be … freeing?

Without thinking (the object of tonight’s endeavor is not to think), I lean toward Red and say, “May I taste Gray’s cock?”

Red’s busy tracing the underside of the cock in question with his tongue through the cotton/polyester blend, but he’s kind enough to scoot over and make room for me. I look to Siren for approval. She nods and brings the backs of her fingers to her mouth as she eases into the cushions. Her legs split, revealing thin black panties. Sheer. And freshly wet. She casually strokes herself while sucking on a finger.

Fuck. Me.

PLEASE.

I look at Miles. I look at Red. I commit.

And the weight of the day’s responsibilities and demands of the job slide off my shoulders like fine silk.

Siren nods me toward my task. It helps that I’m intimately familiar with Miles’s body and how it works. I enter my tongue into the cockfight, avoiding contact with Red’s as best I can. He sits up, leaving me to swab the deck, and produces a pair of old-fashioned shears from the gilded bedside table. I pause my licking to gauge Miles’s reaction to his ex-wife-turned-lesbian sucking him off. His eyes are glued to Red. Whether out of habit, command, or part of the game we’re all playing, I’m not sure, but Miles is under his spell.

The scissors appear dangerously close to my face. I pull back and allow Red to snip a small hole near Miles’s zipper. He eases the shears inside and cuts slowly, freeing Miles’s dick from one kind of torture that’s sure to morph into another any moment.

Miles keeps his eyes pointed toward the ceiling as Red grasps his shaft, using it as a Popsicle stand-in, offering me a few licks in the process. The muscles in Miles’s hips clench. He’s holding back from thrusting as Red curls his tongue around the head. A slurp sneaks out, and Red smiles.

I take whatever leftovers Red gives, but playing the third wheel isn’t exactly what I signed up for.

Or is it?

I look to Siren for a signal. She’s my default, my go-to, my own personal pit boss while I’m in this room. She tells me what I can and can’t do, and I obey. Just like Miles is doing with Red.

Maybe this whole power playing isn’t about giving control as I originally thought. Maybe it’s about allowing someone else to take the burden of power for an hour or so. Like sloughing heavy baggage with a little help from a friend. Or shirking responsibility and hanging it on someone else for a change.

Fuck.

For months, I’ve done nothing but try to maintain control of interpersonal situations on the bus, behind the stage, in the record company’s offices. But all of those are things I can’t control. Letty will always be a smart-ass with impulsivity issues. Rax will always be an addict. Jinx will always battle her own insecurities. I can influence these people, but ultimately, I cannot make their choices. All the energy I put into trying to force them to behave the way I think they should is wasted.

My problem is I never learned how to return their power to them. I’m too busy playing Mommy, wiping up spills, instead of letting them learn to do things on their own.

For one night only, I get to let go of all the minutiae and bullshit on my to-do lists. Tonight is a blessing in disguise.

I meet Siren’s eyes from across the room and lower my arms to my sides, hoping she’ll recognize the gesture for what it is. An offering of myself. All of me.

A smile floats across her face, and she nods once.

Goosebumps blush across my skin, raking the nerve endings with the first erotic sensations I’ve felt in ages. I turn back to Red and Miles. My husband smiles at me and winks as if he’s in on my latest revelation, and then he falls prey to Red’s hungry mouth roving over his dick.

I will not make any more choices in this room. All of the higher-level decision-making belongs to someone else. I relinquish myself to this odd sort of antigravity that only personal contact with another human being produces, and I will damn well enjoy it.

“You like my mouth on your cock?” Red asks Miles.

Miles nods. “Yes, Sir.”

“How about two mouths?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.”

Red waves me over, and I settle beside him again at Miles’s shaft. We take turns sucking and teasing while Red cracks the riding crop on Miles’s chest at steady intervals. Miles makes no sound, but he flinches and immediately relaxes after every strike. The anticipation must be insane. When Red messes up the pattern, Miles proves me right. He gasps prematurely as Red alters the course of the crop.

“Last time we played, I told you never to assume anything, Gray. It gets you in hot water.” Red stares down the length of Miles’s taut body. “What’ll your punishment be?”

“Whatever you wish,” Miles replies.

I pause my sucking as Red stands. Suddenly, Siren is behind me, leaning down, flashing the pale mounds of barely contained breasts from within her bra. Shuffling ensues from the vicinity of the magic drawer.

“Ball gag first,” Red says. Miles’s legs tense under me.

Siren cups my chin and stares into my eyes. I can almost picture her freckle-dusted face without the mask. So young. Probably best I can’t see all of her. It’s not like I have any room in my nomadic life for attachments.

“Red’s taking out the flogger now,” she says. “He’s going to use it on Gray. I want you to kneel beside the bed with your hands clasped behind your back and watch. Don’t move or talk. Just observe. Got it?”

“Yes.” Am I supposed to say “Mistress” or some other epithet similar here? Queen? Lady? Shag-a-muffin?

She doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of follow-up, so maybe not. Siren drags one of the Louis XIV-styled chairs from against the wall over to the bed and lowers herself into it next to me. I kneel as she instructed and wait.

Miles is gagged and splayed across the bed with all of his juicy bits hanging out through cuts and gaping orifices in the fabric. His face is flushed. He breathes slowly through his nose. A thin line of water runs from his left eye as he focuses intently on the ceiling. Sweat dews every inch of exposed skin.

Red lifts a black leather flogger, and brings it down lightly at the center of Miles’s chest. He repeats the motion three, four, five times. So gentle. But not for long. The skin slowly reddens but refuses to break. Red dangles the leather strips over Miles’s dick and drags them across, teasing the head with a few swirls. Then the instrument snaps to his chest, eliciting a jolt from Miles. The clenching in his jaw must help stave off the pain, or give him something else to focus on besides the lashes he’s enduring.

It’s hard to watch Red whack Miles more and more forcefully without any emotion, but Miles’s cock isn’t complaining. It’s as rigid as I’ve ever seen it. He hasn’t uttered a sound, so he must be okay.

Warm flesh slides up the back of my calf. Toes? I cock my head. Siren smacks my ass hard. The shock knocks me forward into the side of the mattress. What the—

“Eyes on the boys,” she says.

Holy shit, the rush from that slap …

I straighten and refocus. It takes a couple swallows to recover. And I’m not ashamed to say I’m tempted to look at her again, just to see what she’ll do next. But I don’t.

Red shifts off the bed and moves to Miles’s head. Red slips the gag off. “Suck my cock.” He presents the beast and shoves it into Miles’s open mouth. Then he fucks.

Miles’s tongue darts out eagerly. He looks like a starving man, and his dick somehow thickens as he sucks his partner off. Red isn’t gentle. He slams his hips hard against Miles’s face, ramming his shaft down his throat. Miles strains against his bindings, twisting, grasping with nothing to touch. It must be delicious torture, which is exactly what Red’s going for.

Miles gags under the face reaming, but Red keeps pounding, harder and harder with every thrust. A line of spit escapes the corners of Miles’s lips. I tense at the thought of what must be going through his body and mind. Every brush across the hopped-up hairs on his skin. The sensation of not being able to breathe. I graze a hand across my neck. Another crack greets my ass, and this time, I lean into it to dissipate some of the shock. It works.

The lower half of my dress rolls up. It’s tight against my thighs. I’m sweating.

I want her to fuck me. To shove me to the bed beside Miles and Red and just fuck the fucking fuck out of me.

Red pulls out, and Miles gasps for breath. More spit runs out of his mouth, down his cheeks. Red clasps his fingers around Miles’s throat and squeezes, releases, squeezes. He repeats the pattern. When Red drops his hand, the other one regains the flogger and flicks it over Miles’s stomach, leaving an angry lash. Miles huffs great gasps of air. Another strike. And another.

I reach for Miles. I can’t help it.

An arm flies around my shoulders, clasping me to Siren’s chest. My breaths rush almost as fast as Miles’s.

“Leave them be. He’s fine.” She lowers her arm, brings the other one around, and cups my breasts through the pleather dress. I can’t think with her so close, touching me. Her perfume makes my head spin.

She stands and wrestles me to my feet. My pulse beats a wild rhythm, banging against my eardrums, forcing the blood faster through my veins. She caresses my sternum through the open V of the dress’s neckline and dips inside to cup my tit. The nipple hardens to a painful peak.

“Ask Red if he’ll let Gray fuck you.” The air from her lungs hits my ear long before the words register. The impact jars me out of my daze.

I can’t do that to Miles. It would be humiliating. For both of us.

And I doubt I could perform for a crowd, regardless of how interested they might be.

Siren’s other hand slithers the length of my torso and rests atop my mound. The dress’s hem rises under her firm grip. My legs part against my will, begging her to come inside. Any way she wants to will be fine.

“Do it,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

I startle. “I can’t.”

She squeezes my pussy through the fabric. “Don’t you dare say those words to me. Tell him you want Miles to fuck you. If he says no, you’re off the hook.”

I swallow. “And if he says yes?”

A finger slips under the black lace underwear I donned earlier this evening when I joked to myself that I might get laid. I didn’t believe it then, but I sure as hell do now.

“If he says yes, you know what to do, kinder-sub.” The finger dips between my wet lips, and I ain’t talking about the ones on my face. Though, I wouldn’t mind a little mouth-to-mouth action out of this girl. I’ll bet she tastes like apples once you get a good bite.

The penetration is fleeting. Guess I’m not making the moves as quickly as she’d like.

I bow my head. “Red, would you allow Gray to fuck me?”

Red’s eyes light up behind the mask, and his hair glows like a horned god surrounded by woodland nymphs from a long-forgotten forest. He rises to his full height, which is fairly impressive, dick hanging out like a knuckle-dragging ape’s. Fine beads of sweat dot his chest. I have to admit, it’s hard not to be awed. I can see why Miles loves him.

“I’ll let him take you,” he says. Shit! “But on my terms.”

“And what would those be?” I feed my voice box with an empowering shot of verbal tequila, but my knees knock.

“Bend over and find out.”

Siren’s body loosens behind me. “Yes.” I’m not even sure she spoke the word, but it sure sounded like some form of agreement.

In the space between my ears, a bell rings. Not the sweet, church-like sound of a bell, but the clamoring clang that must ensue when one sticks her head inside the mouth of the Liberty Bell and receives a surprise taste of the clapper at full … clap.

This scene has slipped my brain a mickey of Disney proportions.

“You have condoms?” I ask.

“We always play safely.” Red flips open the bedside drawer—that thing must be stocked to the nines with sex gear and bondage shit—and retrieves a handful of packets. He scatters them over Miles and the bed.

Miles won’t look at me.

“And what does Gray have to say about all of this?” I ask.

“Gray doesn’t say a damn thing other than what I tell him to.”

I was afraid of that.

Rock and a hard place. And me, a lesbian, in search of something much softer.

Siren springs like a coil, grasping my hair and yanking my head back. Okay, maybe not that soft.

Fuck it.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”