The Mistress

Kingsley came up to her again and faced her. Only a single drop of blood still remained on his lip.

“Lick it off,” he ordered. Eleanor stood on her toes to reach him. With a flick of her tongue she lapped off the blood. Kingsley’s eyes half-closed with naked desire. “Keep kissing.”

He raised his hand and opened his collar more. Eleanor kissed his chin, his neck, under his ear, his neck and throat.

“Bite.”

She dug her teeth into the graceful tendon between neck and shoulder.

“Harder.”

She dug her teeth in hard enough he flinched. After the flinch came a groan, barely restrained. Not of pain nor of pleasure but pain in the pleasure, pleasure in the pain.

As she kissed and bit her way slowly across his neck and shoulders, Kingsley ran his hands possessively over her back, her br**sts and her arms.

“We will both be inside you tonight,” he whispered as he raised her chin with one finger.

“I know. That’s the plan, right? Wouldn’t be a threesome if you didn’t both f**k me?”

He gave her one last kiss, this one almost tender. He followed up the kiss with a smile, one utterly terrifying.

“You misunderstand. I mean we’ll both be inside you tonight...at the same time.”

All gentleness and tenderness ended at that moment. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and steered her to the bed. Søren waited with rope cuffs in his hands. He wrapped the cuffs around one wrist and threw the end over the wrought-iron bar of Kingsley’s canopy-style bed. He cuffed her other wrist and pulled the rope tight. Now she stood facing the bed, the front of her thighs pressing against the mattress, her arms tied high over her head.

She watched as Kingsley walked to the opposite side of the bed and pulled off his shoes and socks. He unbuttoned his vest and shirt before crawling across the sea of red silk toward her. He straddled her thighs so that she stood trapped between his open legs. With both hands he stroked her br**sts, her chest and stomach.

“He’s going to beat you now,” Kingsley said before pausing to give each nipple a long, slow, deep kiss.

“You did say you wanted me to moan, monsieur.”

“That’s not why you’re going to moan. He’s going to beat you...I’m going to eat you.”

At that she felt the first lash of the flogger onto her back. She gasped from the sudden shock of pain even as the things Kingsley did to her ni**les sent shock waves spiraling deep into her core. The flogger came down again and again. It bit at her back with a dozen fangs while Kingsley kissed and licked every inch of her chest. Søren paused only long enough to switch to a harder flogger and, in that moment, Kingsley rolled onto his back, spun around so that his head lay off the end of the bed at her hips, lifted her knee onto the bed and buried his tongue inside her.

Eleanor’s body went to war with itself. Pleasure versus pain...with every passing moment, one would top the other. Pain dominated the pleasure until the pleasure threatened to take over her whole being. She knew she moaned and moaned loudly as they’d predicted. In the back of her mind she could even hear herself. Witty, articulate, intelligent—all words that had been used to describe her a thousand times. Now these two men and their desires had reduced her to a cat in heat moaning for relief.

“Please...” She panted the word and didn’t know what she pleaded for. Relief...release...

The flogging stopped even as Kingsley continued to lap between her legs, licking and teasing her with his lips and tongue. She felt like every drop of blood in her body had pooled in her clitoris. She would die if she didn’t come soon.

Søren pressed his naked chest into her back.

“Not yet,” he whispered in her ear. “Not quite yet.”

She could have cried from disappointment but for the erotic torture Kingsley continued to inflict on her.

“If you don’t mind, Kingsley,” Søren said with an air of the nonplussed gentleman.

“Pas de tout,” he said as he pulled away from Eleanor and resumed his prior seated position in front of her. “Allow me.”

Eleanor whimpered as Kingsley raised the front of her skirt and tucked the hem into the waistband. He slipped a hand between her legs and penetrated her with his middle finger. He wore a silver ring with a fleur-de-lis signet on that hand. She could feel the cold metal pressing against her burning clitoris. She waited for another finger or even two...the more the merrier. She was so wet she could have taken his whole hand with a little patience. But no...only the one finger. He pulled his hand toward him and Eleanor cried out as her inner muscles spasmed hard as he stretched her open. Then she felt something else...Søren opening his pants. And then he started to enter her from behind. Slowly, inch by inch, he filled her...they filled her, both of them—Søren sharing her body with Kingsley’s finger.

She’d never felt so filled before, so open. Søren thrust into her with torturous slowness as Kingsley moved his finger in tandem. She couldn’t say what aroused her more—that Kingsley and Søren were both inside her at once, or that Kingsley was touching Søren.

She might have taken a few seconds to decide the answer to that question but Kingsley then decided to bring his other hand to her, and start stroking her clitoris.

“Now you can come, Little One,” Søren whispered into her ear. “Come for Kingsley. Come for me.”

When she came she came hard, her vaginal muscles contracting wildly around both Søren and Kingsley. As the spasms fluttered and faded, she leaned back against Søren’s chest and sighed.