Her Master at Last

Morgan’s breath hitched with excitement as Jack shoved them down, but she refused to make it easy for them. Kicking out, she fought to keep Jack from pulling them completely off. Her struggles caused her shirt to bunch up, revealing the bare lips of her shaved pussy. Marc used his free hand to cup between her legs, his palm covering her mound, holding her in a tight clasp. Biting her lip in frustration, Morgan held back

a moan as Jack stripped the jeans from her.

“Marc, my sub needs to be punished for disobeying me, but I think her ass is too sore for another spanking right now,” Jack said.

“Well, there’s only one other thing to do then,” Marc agreed, right before his hand pulled away from her pussy to slap against her sensitive folds with a jarring smack.

The startling pain elicited a cry from her, his hand landing in a barrage of steady slaps again and again. The short, rapid succession of stinging swats heated her tender folds, her whimpers going unheeded as Jack watched Marc mete out her punishment. Within moments, her perverse acceptance of their treatment had her enjoying the warm throbbing between her legs. With her juices creaming her thighs, she couldn’t keep from thrusting against his descending palm, meeting and welcoming each painful slap.

Biting her lip, she locked her eyes on Jack’s, imploring, “Please, master, please.”

“Stop.”

Marc stopped, his hand damp from her juices. Looking down into Morgan’s red face, he saw what Jack had seen. Morgan was on the verge of climax and a few more well-aimed slaps would have sent her flying. “Poor darling.” Rubbing his fingers over the soft flesh he had just tormented, he continued to stimulate her to the edge of orgasm before backing off.

Tears filled her eyes as Marc caressed her sensitive folds then dipped between them to stroke over her inflamed clit, only to retreat before she could come. All the while, Jack stood in front of her, arms crossed, watching out of those dark, enigmatic eyes. “Damn it, you two, quit teasing me. I can’t take it anymore,” she cried out when Marc once again teased her clit just to deny her the relief she was in desperate need of.

Jack kissed her on the nose and nodded at Marc. “Come help me get this stew going, or we’ll never eat.”

Marc released her and joined Jack at the counter where the two of them resumed cutting vegetables as if nothing happened. And, damn it, nothing had happened as far as she was concerned. She knew Jack well enough to know he didn’t do anything without an ulterior motive; she just had to figure out what that motive was, because right now she didn’t have a clue. Striving for nonchalance as if she hadn’t been begging only moments before, Morgan joined them in preparing the beef stew. Within minutes, the three of them were laughing as Marc and Jack told her about some of the spills and antics the guests had pulled that afternoon.

Morgan’s hopes that Jack had finished toying with her were dashed when he unbuttoned her shirt and flipped it open before boosting her onto a stool between him and Marc for dinner. Even though she had gotten comfortable being naked in front of Jack, she still felt self-conscious in front of Marc, more so with both of them being fully dressed. His green eyes lit with appreciation when he looked at her, but years of hearing her mother put her down for her larger figure left her with insecurities that were hard to suppress.

Grabbing the edges of the shirt, she pulled them closed, retorting, “I’m not sitting here exposed while we eat.”

Attuned to her every nuance, Jack noticed her uncertain glance at Marc before she turned her glare up at him. “Yes,” he stated implacably, “you are.” Pulling the shirt from her tight-fisted grasp, he spread it open again. “You’re so pretty, Morgan. Surely you don’t want to deny us the pleasure of looking at you.”

Marc, taking his cue from Jack, added, “Gorgeous. Soft in all the right places.” Reaching over, he cupped a full breast, kneading the soft, pliant flesh. “It’s no wonder Jack’s had a hard-on for you for years. If it had been me, I sure as hell couldn’t have refrained from taking you for so long.”

Morgan’s startled eyes flew from the sincerity reflected on his face to see Jack frown and mutter, “Shut up, Marc.” Hearing he wanted her long before she arrived in Colorado gave her a warm fuzzy feeling to go along with the ripple of irritation his stubbornness in keeping her at arm’s length always induced.

Marc was handsome, nice, and his hands knew their way around a woman’s body. She didn’t crave any man but Jack as a lover, but if he wanted to add to her pleasure by giving Marc certain liberties, who was she to argue? He was the master after all, she thought with an inward smile.

“Eat, princess, you’ll need your strength for tonight.” Jack intentionally relieved her from the awkwardness with his disconcerting statement. Throughout dinner, he and Marc conversed casually while every once in a while caressing Morgan’s breasts, legs, or soft folds, keeping her arousal high and on edge. Their touches didn’t affect her appetite, he noted, as she ate her whole bowl of stew even as her eyes grew glassy and her legs tightened together in an effort to ease her frustration. By the end of dinner, he was satisfied she was ready and so eager to be taken by him she wouldn’t care where they were or who was watching.

An hour later, Morgan was so ready to get laid she could literally scream with the frustration, but when she realized Jack meant to take her downstairs in front of a room full of strangers, her insecurities dampened her excitement. She was just now getting comfortable bringing Marc into their scenes; the very idea of being taken in front of strangers wedged a lump of unease in her throat.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Jack commented, handing her a plate to dry. He had stayed to help her do the dishes while Marc went downstairs to greet their guests, her silence since he mentioned taking her downstairs speaking volumes.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” she said, hoping he’d think she referred to their titillating touches throughout dinner.

“What’s bothering you, Morgan? And don’t give me some bullshit answer. This is me you’re talking to. Am I moving too fast?”

“No!” Her swift denial gave away her fear he’d reject her if she didn’t go along with him. She was unsure about fucking in public, but not about wanting to be with him for as long as he’ll have her.

Pinning her against the counter with his arms braced behind her, he held her gaze with his. “Out with it.”

“Fine,” she snapped, irritation overriding insecurities. “I don’t want you to fuck me in front of all those people. But I will if that’s what you want.”

“Sorry, princess. It doesn’t work that way. I thought you trusted me?”

“I do.” Her brows furrowed as she wondered why he thought she didn’t.

“If you did, then you’d know I would never subject you to anything I wasn’t sure you’d enjoy. I would never put you in a position you weren’t comfortable with. Well,” he amended with a rueful grin, “a position you weren’t mentally comfortable with.”

Thinking of the uncomfortable hot then cold outdoor butt experience, Morgan returned his smile, relaxing. “This is important to you?”

“Yes, but not as important as your well-being. I don’t want you to go home regretting anything that has happened between us. That’s why I didn’t want to start this in the first place,” he reminded her.