She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard a phone vibrating on the nightstand. Lucas slid out of bed to answer it. Moments later he was whispering into Brian’s ear.
Brian turned to her. “Baby, there’s a problem down at the gym. A possible break in and one of the cleaning team was assaulted. We have to go see what’s going on and make sure Antonia is okay.”
“Oh no. Sure. You guys go. I’m fine.”
“I don’t like to leave you at home alone.”
“You two are sweet, but I’m fine. I lived alone for years before I met you two. Besides, I won’t be completely alone. Spot’s here.”
She saw Brian grin and Lucas flinch. Spot, her cat, loved Brian and loved to torment Lucas.
Her men opened the door and Spot immediately slipped in and padded over to the bed. She wasn’t allowed in the playroom during scenes and did not appreciate being locked out. Spot curled up at Maggie’s side and stared at Lucas and Brian as they approached to say goodbye.
As soon as they walked out, Maggie lay back down and went straight back to sleep. Or that’s what she planned.
It seemed like she’d barely closed her eyes when she heard the door to the playroom open again.
“What happened? False alarm?” She didn’t bother opening her eyes. “Come back to bed, although whoever wants the right side will have to wrestle Spot.”
“I’ll pass, if you don’t mind. For now. You’ll have to wait until we get where we are going before you spread your legs.”
That voice! Maggie’s eyes flew open. She sat upright, holding the sheet over her bare breasts, her body rigid with fear.
“Trent! How did you find me? What do you want? What are you doing here?”
He flipped the light switch and then stepped closer to the bed. He looked different. He was so dishevelled that she could barely recognize him. Gone was the impeccable tailoring and grooming. He looked like he hadn’t washed his hair in weeks and his clothes were dirty and torn.
He hadn’t shaved in days but it was his eyes that drew her attention. They were… wild, crazy. The charming banker had been replaced by someone almost feral.
It wasn’t until he moved into the moonlight streaming in the window that she realized that he was carrying something long and shiny in his right hand. When he moved closer, her worst fears were realized when she saw that it was a knife.
He sat down on the side of the bed and reached out to obscenely caress her jaw with the blade in an grotesque parody of affection. She froze in place, afraid to move a muscle.
“So many questions, Maggie sweetheart. Why do you think I’m here? You are mine. It’s taken me a while to find you, but how could you think I wouldn’t? And now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”
Maggie wiggled her finger. Then she wiggled her toes. They were the only parts of her body she could move. Lucas and Brian had very effectively bound her to their brand new spanking bench, the first piece of equipment in their brand-new playroom.
She was wearing a blindfold, but they hadn’t blocked her hearing. The two men were speaking quietly at the other side of the room, too quietly for her to make out any words no matter how hard she strained. She was pretty sure she heard a drawer open and close. Now they were placing objects on the small rolling table. There were no sounds for a while and it was driving her crazy.
It was turning her on, too, not the silence, but by just how firmly she was under their control. She was completely helpless through her own actions. In this position, they could do anything they liked to her and the cream of her arousal rolled down her inner thighs.
Her position might have not been so arousing if she didn’t know, with one hundred percent certainty, that all she had to do was utter her safeword and they would have the restraints off instantly. People who didn’t understand or who hadn’t experienced the BDSM lifestyle didn’t understand the power a submissive had.
Of course, the Doms had to be worthy of a submissive. They had to abide by her, or his, limits and always respect the safeword. Last week Maggie had gotten a cramp in her leg and had safeworded in the middle of a flogging.
Her wonderful men had tossed the floggers aside and had her unstrapped and wrapped in a blanket. Brian had held her in his arms as Lucas had left the privacy room to get an anti inflammatory from the Whips and Spurs infirmary. They had taken turns massaging her painful calf and then helped her walk it off.
Now they were plotting her torture in the best possible way. She liked some pain. She wasn’t a masochist like her best friend Sandra, but she found that pain, extreme sensation made the sex better and the orgasms that much more powerful.
The first strike of the flogger surprised her. Damned rubber floor had muffled their footsteps. She was prepared for the second strike. By the third, she was sinking into the sensation. They were using one of the lighter floggers. The strands were made of a soft suede and, even at the most intense, felt like a good hard massage.
Brian, she was pretty sure it was Brian who was flogging her, was bringing the strikes down harder now. He was also methodically covering her upper back and thighs while avoiding her ass. He was driving her crazy and she knew he knew it.
Suddenly, the impact and tempo changed. Lucas. He had a more intense flogger and he wasn’t avoiding her ass. It hurt more than usual because Brian had her so turned on without actually touching her bottom, which had been throbbing in need until Lucas went to work on it.
Maggie’s eyes were closed. They had been from the first strike. She moaned as the pain morphed into something else, something too intense to be called pleasure. She knew intellectually that it was the endorphins coursing through her system that was causing this feeling. It was like getting a runner’s high without running or even moving.
Her clit was throbbing. Her breasts were throbbing, her nipples as hard as rocks. Just a little more sensation and she’d come. It was so close that she could almost taste it. There. She felt the first ripple go through her. A few more good, hard strokes and she’d go off like a rocket.
No flogging, no touching, no sound, no sensation of movement.
Her clit continued to throb, but the sensation was fading. She’d been so close and now it was slipping away. She wanted to beg, to beseech them to continue, but she’d been told not to talk, not if she wanted an orgasm this weekend, and she really, desperately did. If she’d been able to close her thighs and squeeze them together, she might have gotten off. If she’d been able to move a hand, she could have gotten herself off.
None of these actions was an option. She had to stay in position, restrained, desperate to come, totally at the mercy of her Doms. She wanted to cry. She wanted to beg. She wanted to come.