Three-way Tie
A Total-E-Bound Publication
www.total-e-bound.com
Three-way Tie
ISBN #978-0-85715-850-5
©Copyright Sierra Cartwright 2012
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2012
Edited by Penny Chapman
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.
This story contains 71 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 10 pages.
THREE-WAY TIE
Sierra Cartwright
Lindsey wins a weekend with a renowned Dom, and when she arrives, she is stunned to discover there are two men to tie her up and give her the experience of a lifetime.
Two Doms? Lindsey has no idea what to do with one renowned, unyielding, strict dominant, but when she wins a weekend with Master Rafael, she’s shocked to learn he’s invited Master Eric to join him. One sexy Dom is beyond her experience, but two gorgeous hunks focussed entirely on her...?
Rafael and Eric are determined to give Lindsey the BDSM experience of her lifetime. It’s not enough just to pleasure her physically, they won’t be satisfied unless she completes the ultimate emotional and mental journey into subspace.
In one unbelievable weekend, they take her to the edge of her limits, testing her endurance in a way only two skilled men working together can.
Dedication
Bev, you rock!
Chapter One
“There are two of you?”
“Is that a problem?” Master Rafael asked, arching an expressive brow.
Lindsey Nolan stood on the porch of the magnificent Rocky Mountain home, looking up at the tall Dom. The hint of a Spanish accent, sexy and compelling, laced his voice, sending a shiver of anticipation through her.
He stood next to another man whom he had introduced as Master Eric. While Master Eric was slightly shorter than Master Rafael, both men were over six feet tall. Both had broad shoulders, narrow hips, powerful and oh-so-sexy thighs.
While Master Rafael was dark, with rakishly long hair and brown eyes she could drown in, Master Eric had sun-kissed blond hair that he wore short, cropped. His expressive blue eyes were warm and welcoming.
Could the two men be more different?
Intuitively Lindsey wanted to be dominated by Master Rafael, but she wanted to be held and comforted—perhaps made love to—by Master Eric.
“A problem?” she repeated. “No. I just have no idea what to do with two Doms.”
“You’ll be told what to do,” Master Rafael explained. “You’re just expected to obey.”
She sucked in a breath.
“Come in, Lindsey.”
For a moment she didn’t move. There was something overwhelming about standing here, eight hundred miles from her small- town central Texas home that made her forget everything she knew about decorum. From the moment she’d asked her cousin to take her shifts at the family’s diner and packed her bag, nothing had been the same.
Master Rafael silently regarded her. He’d told her on the telephone she wouldn’t be pushed into anything. The choices, all along, would be hers.
Even though her heart thundered, a few moments later she entered the foyer, dragging her small piece of luggage.
The house was constructed from warm-toned wooden beams. The entrance floor was slate and a Native American rug stretched across its length. This private place, on acres of land, was so different from her humble reality.
Again she wondered what she’d got herself into by travelling to Master Rafael’s home.
He reached above her head and flicked the door closed, sealing out the cool mountain air.
“We’ll talk in the great room,” Master Rafael said. “I have your signed copy of the rules.”
She nodded. The man was thorough. They’d talked and talked on the phone, and before she’d sent him a copy of the signed rules, they’d gone over the simple statements one by one, several times.
“I printed out your contract.”
“That’s something different than the rules?”
He nodded. “Your contract discusses your limits. It also discusses our mutual agreement that you’ll be here from Friday afternoon to Sunday evening. It states you’re free to leave anytime. The contract includes your safe word and everything else we’ve talked about. I want you to read it carefully and be certain it includes everything you want it to. Once you’re certain everything is in order we can begin.”
Because of his attention to detail, she’d already trusted him with secrets no one else knew. In a way, though, that unnerved her. “What should I do with my bag?”
“Leave it there. You won’t need it.”
Her mouth dried. He sounded serious. Did they intend to keep her naked all weekend?
“Place your car keys there.” He pointed to a row of brass hooks. “They will be accessible if you decide to leave.”
She hung her rental car key on an empty hook and then placed her handbag on top of her suitcase. It felt as if she were entering an alternate universe.
Master Eric led the way to the great room. Master Rafael followed her, leaving her sandwiched between the two hunks.
Lindsey resisted the impulse to look back at the door and the possibility of a retreat.
Lindsey squared her shoulders. She’d already decided that, no matter what happened, she wouldn’t leave early. She had paid dearly for this experience. She would endure and enjoy every moment of it.
Like the rest of the home, the space was spectacular.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased tall pines and mountaintops dusted with snow. A stone fireplace served as the room’s focal point. A settee, a couple of end tables and two leather armchairs were arranged in a semicircle in front of the hearth.
“Kneel with your back to the fireplace. Not on the rug. You haven’t earned that comfort.”
Earned? She had to earn the privilege of kneeling on a rug?
She felt awkward, but tried to make her motions graceful as she lowered herself to the polished hardwood floor. Both men stood in front of her, and her eyes were even with their crotches.
Her heart raced. She’d played BDSM games before. They generally weren’t accompanied by such an attack of nerves. Then again, she was usually at a club where it seemed natural. Either that, or she was with an established lover and the play was an extension of their sex play.
Both men regarded her. She was unsure how to act. Where would they expect her to put her hands? On her thighs? Behind her neck? Behind her back?
She knew enough to cast her gaze downward and remain silent unless responding to a question.
She spread her legs
a bit and leaned slightly back. She put her hands palm up on her thighs. Her previous boyfriend hadn’t ever given specific instructions, so she’d adopted this position. It felt as comfortable and natural as kneeling could.
The men allowed the silence to stretch and drag. Testing her?
Finally, Master Rafael spoke. “We went over the reasons you bid on a weekend with me, but I want you to tell us both about your expectations. What do you want from the weekend?”
Unsure of proper protocol, she took a chance and looked up to meet his gaze. She’d always had a thing for men with thick, long dark hair. She imagined having her fingers laced in the strands as she screamed his name during an orgasm.
“I…” She trailed off. A sudden attack of nerves left her brain feeling like scrambled eggs.
They waited.
She understood. They’d show as much patience as needed, but she wouldn’t be able to get out of answering their questions.
She took a steadying breath and tried again. “As I told you on the phone, Sir, I have had some BDSM experience. I go to a club in Dallas fairly regularly, and I’ve dated a couple of men who are Dominants. But I’ve always come away a bit disappointed.”
“Go on.”
“I’ve heard others talk about subspace. I’ve read about it.” She sighed. “Maybe it doesn’t really exist, but I’ve seen other women, men too, getting into a scene so deep they seem as if they’re somewhere else. I always feel as if I’m distracted. This may be naïve, but I wonder if there’s a part of the experience I’ve completely missed.”
“You’re hoping to get that here?” Master Eric asked.
He sounded so very different from Master Rafael. Master Eric’s voice was crisp and cool, like a winter morning.
“I’m not sure that’s realistic or even possible,” she admitted. “I think I’m the problem. I think I mentioned that I always feel distracted on some level. I’ll think about work or how things could be better. I notice if the room is too hot, or too cold or I need more pressure or the bindings are too tight.”
Again they waited.
“I can’t get out of my own head long enough to really let go. A couple of my boyfriends have told me I’m a control freak.”
“Are you?” Master Eric asked.
“It seems a bit at odds with someone who wants to achieve the ultimate, I suppose.”
“You like BDSM, but you like to be in control,” he surmised.
She nodded.
“That’s the thing about a D/s relationship,” he continued. “It seems the Dom is in control, but the sub truly has the power.”
“I’m not sure I want it, Sir. I think that’s been part of the trouble. I wanted to control every aspect of each scene. I think what I want is to just let go.”
Master Rafael spoke, “For a sub to truly let go, a huge amount of trust is required. Your Dom needs to know you completely.”
Which might have been part of the reason he’d instructed her to phone him every day for the past week, in addition to answering his numerous emails.
It seemed no part of her life had been left unexplored. He’d requested a copy of her health report, he’d asked about men she’d been with, he enquired as to how many enemas she’d administered to herself.
Everything had been so matter-of-fact she hadn’t been mortified.
“Have your Doms taken the time to get to know you?” Master Eric asked. “Do you play with people you trust?”
“No one has talked to me like Master Rafael has, Sir. I have trusted the men I’ve been with. They’ve all stopped when I asked them to. When I ask for more, they have given it to me. When I say I don’t like something, they have tried something different.”
“Trust is about more than that,” he said. “It’s about knowing limits in advance. It’s about knowing you, what you want, what terrifies you. It’s about pushing you to the edge.”
She shivered in anticipation. That was what she wanted.
“I want one thing perfectly clear,” Master Rafael said. “What you’re talking about isn’t just trust. You’re talking about topping from the bottom. With us, that’s not an option. Everything will have been discussed in advance. We’ll establish the trust you require so that we can give you what you want. If you want to achieve subspace, we’ll get you there.”
“You think it’s possible, Sir?”
“I’d generally want more than just a couple of days. But if we’re focused, if you are willing to do what it takes, we’ll get you there.”
She nodded.
“As we discussed, if you are beyond your comfort zone in a way that frightens you, use your safe word. Sunday.”
He’d remembered.
In their first e-mail exchange, he’d asked her for a safe word. She’d never really used one before. It had been her agreement with the men she’d played with that stop meant stop.
Master Rafael had explained that he wanted her to have the freedom to scream no and stop and let her continue with a scene. She’d come up with Sunday because it was Sunday when he’d asked. She wished she’d been a bit more creative, but he’d said as long as she would remember the word it would work fine.
“If you overuse the word, sub, you will be sent home.”
She blinked. “Sir?”
“No topping from the bottom. Your safe word should be reserved for times—as I’ve mentioned—that you are beyond your comfort zone in a way that frightens you. You need to manage your reactions and emotions in order to go beyond what you’ve experienced before.”
Beforehand, they’d agreed that she could ask to slow down by using the word yellow. Using that word would grant her only a short reprieve, a two-minute timeout. It wouldn’t stop the scene, it wouldn’t change the scene, but it would give her a chance to gather her wits.
“Remove your blouse.”
Her heart thundered from the sudden realisation she truly had no idea what she’d been in for when she’d entered the online BDSM site’s silent auction. There had been a host of items to bid on, from autographed books, to engraved floggers, to erotic artwork, to weekend escapes. She’d bid on several different items since the proceeds all went to charity.
When she’d entered a large amount of money for a weekend retreat with one of the scene’s most reclusive yet respected Doms, she’d had no real expectation of winning. But the website’s picture of Master Rafael had inspired her. In a way he reminded her of a pirate with his pulled-back hair; smooth, brown, bare chest; low-riding black pants and black boots. She’d entered the secret bid and hoped, dreamed, even masturbated to images of the handsome man tying her to a St Andrew’s cross.
But she hadn’t honestly believed the sum was large enough to beat everyone else who wanted a personal, private forty-eight hours in Colorado with Master Rafael.
And if anyone else had known Master Eric had been added to the pot…
“The blouse,” Master Rafael prompted.
Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned her blouse from the bottom up. Feeling utterly self-conscious, she shrugged out of the silk and dropped it on the floor next to her right knee.
“Now the brassiere.”
He hadn’t even seemed to have noticed the lacy black material. She’d spent half a week’s wages on new lingerie for this weekend, and neither man had given her bra a glance.
She unfastened the clasp then dropped the bra.
“Lovely,” Master Eric approved.
“We’ve spent the last week talking about your limits, Lindsey. I wrote down everything. But you’re going to go over them with us again for clarity. We’ll have no misunderstandings.”
“Yes, Sir,” she told Master Rafael.
Master Eric crossed to one of the end tables and picked up a piece of paper. She assumed he was looking at her contract. She tried to remember all the things she’d discussed with Master Rafael but knew it would be impossible Master Eric spoke. “Tell me your hard limits.”
“Cutting.”
He nodded.
“Actually, anything that would leave a permanent mark is a hard limit, so that includes brands and tattoos.”
“Piercings?” Master Eric asked.
She nibbled her lower lip. “I’d have to think about that one. I don’t think I want to be pierced, but if it pleased my Dom, I might be open to it. But it would have to be in a permanent relationship, not a weekend thing.”
Master Eric nodded again. “Any other hard limits?”
She shook her head.
“Soft limits?”
“I’ve never been caned. The idea frightens me.”
“You’re willing to try it?”
Was she? “Could we negotiate that at the time? I want to say yes but I’m scared to.”
“Of course. We’ll give you the opportunity to experiment.”
Already she was starting to trust this man. He wouldn’t force her past her limits, but he’d encourage her to go past them.
“What about other forms of corporal punishment?”
Her stomach was tied in knots, but now it was more from tension and excitement than fear. “To my knowledge, they’re all fine.”
He scanned the list. “And your favourite type of punishment?”
Was she really being forced to admit all this out loud? It was one thing to write it in an email and talk about it over the phone. It was another entirely to discuss it with two men while she was on her knees and wearing nothing from the waist up. “Open-handed slap to my buttocks.”
“How else do you like to be punished or beaten?”
“Is there a difference?” she asked.
Before answering, he glanced at Master Rafael, as if seeking permission before answering. Even amongst Doms there was a hierarchy?
When Master Rafael nodded, Master Eric explained, “Beatings can be erotic and for amusement. If you’re going to attain subspace, it will most likely be from a beating, not from punishment.”