Valentine laid me down very gently on the voluptuous bed. Before I had a chance to reach up and tug the blindfold away from my eyes, he was gone. Still, I was positive it was my boss who had carried me in his arms like a bridegroom. I would know his smell, the timbre of his breath, the emotion roiling through those strong limbs anywhere in the universe. In a veil of blissful release and the pampering environment of the most luxurious room I'd ever inhabited, I quickly dropped into the deepest sleep of my life.

The silk ballgown drapes had been drawn and I had no idea what time of day it was when I came back to wakeful life. I realized it was my phone, on the carved gilt bedside table that had dragged me from total relaxation. Still curled on my side like a small child, I stretched my arm to retrieve the jangling machine.

“A/C, what the fuck are you up to? I been calling you,” Josh said when I picked up and I noticed his habit of slight hip-hop speak.

I hadn't entirely missed it before, but this was the first time it jarred on me with a spurt of irritation.

“Nothing much, just work,” I bumbled, wishing I'd let the call go to V-mail. “I had dinner with Valentine then I must have passed out.”

It wasn't actually untrue. I had no reason to feel guilty.

“Not too exhausted for phone sex are you?” he said with that persuasive laughing voice so that I could see his lightning grin in my mind. He assumed I was dying to get off by now.

“Oh, what time is it?” I moaned. I wanted to stay in the delicious bed and order breakfast from some willing servant. As if.

I rolled onto my back and winced as something poked and forced its way into my rear. I reached behind and felt the tail lodged between my cheeks. The sense of immense filling in my butt reminded me that I'd been taken for the first time in the rear. The tail plug had been buried inside me while I slept. No wonder I had such intense dreams.

I curled my fingers to grope and probe around the edges of the puckered hole, feeling the complete weirdness of the leather tails emerging. A tentative tug did nothing to release the device from inside the suction-like clench of my butt.

“What time is it?” Josh repeated, incredulous, “It's almost one- I know you're up for a lunch quickie.”

“Freaking lunchtime?” I screeched.

I'd slept through the morning, but what time had I been finally put to bed? A delicious warmth flowed over me as I remembered being carried like a girl in Valentine's strong arms all the way through his mansion and placed carefully and even, could I dare dream, lovingly, into my bed.

“No, I can't, I mean I have to get to work – back to work,” I moaned.

I definitely wasn't up for a quickie- I was still sore from Marc's pummeling of my pussy and the plug had stretched and filled my ass to satiation.

“Do you miss me, A/C baby?”

Did I? I hadn’t really thought of Josh in the last couple of days. And not at all in the last twenty four hours when my entire attention was on only one man.

“I-Yes of course. You know I do. It's been cray here, is all.”

“I thought I'd come out there this weekend,” he said, asking my opinion without his usual instruction. “We don't seem to be able to connect for Skype-sex.”

My long silence disconcerted him and for once he lost masterful control over me.

“If you’re not too tied up with work, of course,” he added.

Did I want him to come out here? I could hardly imagine meeting him face to face knowing what I now knew. It would have to be somewhere neutral, because there was no way in hell I could manage three alphas under one roof.

“Yeah babe, that would be great,” I mumbled. “Listen, I really have to get up, er, get to work. Talk to you later, okay?”

“I'll book a flight right now,” he said, as I swiped the end button.

I hadn't meant to cut Josh off so abruptly, but I'd slept through half the day and my orders were to report to the boss' office at nine each morning. Having missed that, there could be punishment in store for me. As exciting as the idea of more attention seemed, my body was currently stretched to its limit.

Josh's orders had been that I would tell him about all my intimate encounters while we were apart – he'd insisted on knowing who I fucked and even that he be the one to select my partners. He wanted to command me to sleep with a man and then hear every detail. I heard his exact words rumbling through my head: “You will only fuck who and when I tell you.”

He'd also been adamant that he retain control of my pleasure while we were separated and that I rein in my extravagant sexual lust. That promise had fallen apart and I was now keeping secrets from my boyfriend back home and my pleasures all to myself. Perhaps Valentine had seen a side of me I wasn't conscious of when he said I was unable to keep my commitments.

In the shower, I again toyed with the resistant tail plug, tugging on its end like a kid with a puppy, to no avail. It was firmly ensconced and the leather tail was buried into my back channel, no way to remove it. Was I going to have to go to work with the thing still inside me? In the end I had no choice but to yank hard on the end and yelp as the round metal insert plopped onto the tile. A solid gold tiny cone of prick.

I dressed quickly but carefully, recalling how Valentine said he hated to see me in men's clothes. I donned a dark red pencil skirt and creamy silk blouse with a long bow-tie at the front that I wrapped around my throat a number of times, hoping that it would bring an instant image of last night's binding to his mind.

Then it hit me, I hadn't had the time to luxuriate in my silk-dressed bed and ponder the fact that I had two men inside me last night. Two handsome, ripped, smart and confident alpha males at the same time, inside me. My clit twitched and sparked as the memory rippled through my mind.

I'd been blindfolded, so there were no visual memories to recall other than those imprinted on my sense memory. And those were exact in their pinpoint accurate detail. The smell, taste, and sensation of being so completely filled was strong enough to make my knees weaken.

Underneath the outfit, I'd put on my best La Perla lace and net, embroidered lingerie and a pair of silk stockings. From now on, if he told me to strip, I wanted to make sure he had a designer experience. Surprised by how eager I was to see him, my heart fluttering as I hurried down to the main hall and toward Valentine’s office at the end, my legs failed me when I got to the huge door.

Calm down.

Breathe.

In. out. in. Shit.

Those words brought pictures of his perfect cock sawing into my mouth over and over. And still he never allowed me to feel it-him- in my hands. For all the intimacy of being allowed to suck him, the sensation of a man's hand in mine, or his long thick shaft in my cupped palm, was somehow more profound and complete than in my mouth. It implied a different level of closeness and it was that affinity that I deeply yearned for between us.

I steeled myself to knock and opened the door the instant his mellifluous voice gave permission. When I stepped in, unable to restrain a grin of excitement, I was brought up short, my visions of intimacy wiped away. There was Delilah standing beside his desk chair, with her freaking hand on his shoulder. The bitch was touching him.

Fifty Freakouts, what is wrong with me? I never had vile thoughts towards other women, or the kind of irrational jealousy I'd developed towards Valentine’s secretary. But fuck that, why was she allowed to rest her hand on his broad blade in that manner, while I had to be restrained from any tiny stroke?

It wasn't fair. What did she have on him?

They must be lovers, that was the only possible explanation. She was his paramour, maybe she didn't care for games but in order to keep him, she allowed some idiot savant contract worker, desperate to make a name for herself, to be kept as a submissive slave.