Trixie complied. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t complain. She didn’t question any of it.
“Trixie, honey, if this isn’t what you want, you say the word,” Brock said, realizing he was breaking his own rules, the guidelines he’d decided to adhere to when he’d reached the decision to fully embrace the lifestyle once more.
“I’m fine, Sir,” she assured him. Her eyes were heavy with desire. The new lust shaded them a more pristine blue.
Rory joined Mitch and helped him hold the bar steady. Dressed only in a pale pink cami now, Trixie twisted and turned as they secured the handcuffs on her wrists and ran a harness underneath her, a leather strap dividing her legs.
Rory stood in front of her. Mitch fiddled with the thick leather strap then cursed under his breath.
Trixie lifted her brows. “The ginger needs to be removed.”
“I’ll decide when,” Mitch snapped.
“Pudding,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, acting as if her safe word would solve all the world’s ills.
Mitch stilled at the mention. After a moment, he said, “Fifteen minutes. Wear this harness with the ginger in place and I’ll reward you.”
“Will you fuck me?” she asked, licking her lips. “Will you?”
Mitch growled. He glanced down at his package before his eyes met hers again. “I will reward you, sub. How we choose to do that is between the team sharing ownership.”
“I’m owned now?” she asked, a smile tilting her lips.
Her hard nipples imprinted her camisole. Her face was flushed. Her body swayed with the contraption. She acted as if Mitch’s words set her afire.
“Is that what you want, Trixie?” Rory asked, marked concern in his furrowed brows.
“This is what we all want,” she said. “Isn’t it, Judge?”
“Judge?” Brock asked, startled.
“Good things come to those who wait, Sir.” Rory laughed and waggled his brows.
“Only fifteen minutes,” she conceded.
Mitch tilted her lips and kissed her. His kiss was tender and sweet, a kiss Trixie would undoubtedly cherish and enjoy.
Brock took a step back, propping his hips on the back of a leather chair and observing. He quietly took in their surroundings. The room was much like he remembered. The toy chests against the wall likely housed many of their favorite things—rope, clamps, dildos of various sizes, butt plugs, vibrators, a couple of magic wands, and anything else a practicing Dom might require.
Mitch secured the harness, yanking the leather strap against her pussy until she cried out in pleasure and in discomfort. Rory stepped into her, catching her by the torso when she seemed to wilt away.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
She smiled and said, “Of course I am. I trust you completely. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, Judge.”
He yanked her forward, smothering her mouth with his kiss as he held her as close as he could. He lifted her shirt and dragged his thumbs across her extended nipples.
Trixie practically purred. Her head dropped over her shoulders as he rubbed the points with a painstakingly slow hand.
Mitch gave one of the harness straps a firm tug then went to the wall and pushed a button.
“Shit!” Trixie yelped.
The long lever above the bar pulled her off the ground, leaving her to stand on her tiptoes. Mitch approved without a doubt. He slapped his hand over the button, grabbed something from the toy chest, and approached the wall again.
A familiar soft hum resounded and Mitch approached Trixie with caution, showing her the magic wand, the king of all toys or so they’d once been told by one of their former submissives.
None of their opinions mattered now. Only one woman’s pleasure was king.
Mitch lifted his arm and handed the wand to Rory. “Use it on her clit.”
“What?” Trixie asked, the question practically a squeak.
“Your clitoris,” Mitch drawled, a sadistic smile tilting his lips. “Want to use your safe word now?”
“No, Dom.” If anything she looked as if she might grovel for the forthcoming experience.
Rory watched the rotating end. About the size of a tennis ball, the head of the wand produced repetitive tremors.
Stepping behind Trixie, he hooked his arm around her waist and brushed the wand against her side.
“Oh my God!” she squealed. “You can’t put that on my clit!”
So maybe groveling was out of the question.
Mitch’s eyes met Rory’s. Rory dropped his arm and moved the vibrating object up and down her leg, dragging the head from her knee to her inner thigh and back to her hip.
“I think you’re having too much fun over there,” Brock said, enjoying his position from across the room just as much.