“Tell him that this is the only warning he’s going to get—and if he ever comes back to the South Side or tries to send one of his bitches after me, I’m going to snap his fucking neck.” I gave the knife a quick twist. “You got that message?”
“Yes.” He grimaced.
“Repeat it.” I twisted the knife in the other direction.
Reggie didn’t miss a word, so I pulled the knife out of his skin and folded it closed.
“Thank you, Brody. Thank you so much—I’m really sorry.” He started to run past me, but I caught his arm.
“Hey Reggie.” I turned and looked into his eyes. “Don’t let me see you on the South Side again either—got it?”
“Yeah—you won’t.” He nodded quickly, and I let go of his arm.
Stupid mother fucker. I hope Weber cuts his losses here—either way, if I see that bastard again, he’s going to regret this.
I got back to my place and Anabelle was already there with Rourke. They weren’t in the bedroom and they weren’t in the living room which meant only one thing—Rourke had finally decided to show her his playroom. I walked down the hall to the spare bedroom and saw a dim light peeking out from the cracked door. I looked inside before I entered and saw Anabelle strapped to the bench. Rourke was teasing her with one of his leather whips and judging by the way she was reacting when a lash got close to her pussy, she was fucking loving it.
This should be fun.
Anabelle
18 months ago
I had been going to the South Side for six months—always careful that my father didn’t know where I went. I just couldn’t get enough of Brody and Rourke, but it was Rourke that was running away with my heart. I hadn’t told him how I really felt—maybe I kept hoping it would be unsaid, or that he would say the words first. I was afraid of rejection—afraid that my I would find out it wasn’t reciprocated—and afraid that would bring what we had crashing down. I couldn’t stand the thought of that. What we had felt special and also rather taboo since it was a secret that I couldn’t share with anyone—even Samantha.
Brody was the first one to really get rough with me and they both saw how much I liked it. Rourke was always kinder and gentler at first, but over time he started to display a side of himself that was just as rough. Then I found out that his dominance was deeper than what we did in the bedroom. He wanted me to call him Master. He wanted me to submit. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of being ordered around—that happened enough in my father’s world. I was willing to try though, mostly because I cared so deeply for Rourke. My willingness took center stage when I saw his playroom—and all of the things he wanted to use on me.
“You’re going to strap me to this?” I let my fingers trace the wooden bench that had a leather top.
“I am.” He nodded slowly. “Remove your clothes.”
“Yes Master.” I giggled when I said those words—they still didn’t feel natural, I just did it because they turned him on.
I took off my clothes and stretched out on the bench. It had cuffs for my wrists and ankles. I felt very vulnerable in that position and I was already getting wet—especially when he started dragging his fingers across my body—teasing the back of my thighs—getting extremely close to my pussy without actually touching me. He walked away for a moment and when he returned, he was holding a thin leather whip. The leather was braided and only about as long as his arm. It didn’t look like it would hurt very much, especially considering that Brody likes to spank me with the palm of his very large hand on a regular basis when he was taking me from behind.
“Tonight, we’re going to do something different—something we’ve never done before.” He brought the whip along the surface of my skin and then I felt his hand on my ass. “You’re going to give us something you haven’t given us yet.”
“What’s that?” I looked over my shoulder, then I felt his fingers push past my cheeks and press the one hole they had never asked for. “Oh no, I’m not doing that.”
“You will…” The whip snapped against my ass. “Because every part of your body belongs to us.”
“I’ve never had trouble pleasing both of you before—why do you want that?” I winced from the whip, but it wasn’t hard enough to actually hurt.
“It’s a sign of your submission—your willingness to do anything we ask.” The whip snapped against my flesh again, a little harder than the first time.
“Ow…” I wiggled my ass. “It doesn’t really—turn me on—the thought of doing that.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s about pleasing your Master.” He snapped the whip on my ass for the third time. “And in this case, you have two of them.”
I didn’t feel very submissive. I felt like a girl strapped to a bench being whipped because the pain made me wet. Brody had already taught me that. The whipping continued, with Rourke giving me a chance to submit to wh
at he wanted each time it landed on my ass. Brody showed up, and he mostly just watched—letting Rourke do all of the real work. The whip started to sting and hurt after several minutes passed. I felt myself connecting with the pain and I felt myself letting go of the inhibitions that resisted him in the beginning. I was caving—but it wasn’t the pain that was doing it necessarily—it was knowing how much it made him want me—how much it made both of them want me.
“Okay.” I squeezed my fists when a particularly hard lash from the whip landed near my pussy. “I’ll do it!”
“See, how hard was that?” Rourke rubbed his hand along the spot on my ass where most of the whipping had occurred. “You’re going to make Brody very happy tonight.”
“Damn right.” Brody walked over, and I felt his fingers exploring—pushing against the one hole that had never been fucked. “This is going to be nice and tight for me.”