Chapter Four

Tawny squatted over Jack, straddling his face and stroking his broad chest while he licked her cunt. He hadn’t complained when she told him to lie down on the padded fucking table, bound his legs in the stirrups and handcuffed both wrists to the bars on each side. She leaned over slightly, enough so she could blow on his locked-up cock and watch him squirm. “Control yourself, baby,” she whispered, “You know you’re not gettin’ loose tonight.”

“I know, Mistress.” His words vibrating against her pussy made her smile.

Jack had come a long way from being the hot young stud she’d fallen in love with even before he’d left home for college. Back then he’d come at the drop of a hat, with her and anybody else who gave him a chance—even another guy that time before she became his Mistress.

Now he’d channeled his aggression onto the field and was one of the most promising young players in the league, while he let her direct and control his sexual urges. In some ways he reminded her of a docile tomcat who’d been neutered. She glanced at the cage that contained his cock, figured he had clipped himself, after a fashion.

Even though he often begged to be let out, she knew he liked wearing the restraint that kept him under her complete control. His self-discipline had grown to the point that he could tongue her for hours. Sometimes he could even take the fucking machine’s biggest dildo up his ass without losing it. Spreading her legs farther, she sank hard onto his mouth, enjoyed the feel of him tongue-fucking her while he lay passive, apparently interested only in pleasing his Mistress.

That would bother her if she didn’t know he’d fuck her to mindless orgasm every time she let him loose, which she did a lot more often than Matt Rubin’s mistress thought she should. No, chastity hadn’t dulled Jack’s libido—it had just channeled it toward her and nobody else. That gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling down deep inside.

There came Brian, hobbling toward them, stopping when he reached them to give her a kiss before moving to the stool between Jack’s legs and inserting two fingers up his ass. Tawny watched his cock twitch then settle down in The Curve as he got used to feeling the slow, steady rhythm of Brian’s fingers.

“I’m gonna miss doing this.” Brian leaned over, ran his tongue over Jack’s taut abdomen and down under his cock cage. “And watching Jack get you off for me.”

“We’ll miss you, too.” Tawny gyrated to the beat of the music, feeling Jack increase the pressure of his tongue and lips on her flesh as Brian stimulated his prostate. She held on to Jack’s hands, lacing her fingers through his.

And she watched the others—Coach Zanardi, so tender and careful with his pregnant wife whom he had on a hammock, petting her distended belly and occasionally slipping his fingers between her damp, slightly spread thighs. His large, thick cock stood straight up against his flat belly, lubrication glistening on the thick, silver ring pierced through its tip. But he seemed to have no problem denying himself, for he never took his gaze off Susan to ogle any of the players’ partners. Tawny guessed it might be that way with her and Jack, if they ever decided to have a baby—but she wasn’t ready to find that out just yet.

She and Jack had played with practically everybody who was here tonight except for Coach and Susan, but for the past year Brian had become their third—the guy who almost always joined them, playing with her and Jack without seeming to have a preference between them. Frankly bisexual, Brian had a girlfriend in LA who Tawny imagined would become his Domme once he got back home. Unlike Jack, before he’d embraced chastity, Brian seemed always to have his libido under tight control. She’d rarely had to exercise discipline over him—not that she often had to do it these days with Jack.

When she glanced across the dungeon, Tawny saw that Jimmy Bronson had Julie half-pinned on the St. Andrew’s Cross, where he lapped her smooth, slick pussy while she wrapped her long legs around his bald head. They’d all watched her shaving him earlier tonight while she straddled his cock and fucked him. Tawny glanced at Julie’s beautifully shaped, hairless scalp and wondered how fate had brought these two together who so obviously shared the same unusual fetish.

Tawny had liked the feel of being shaved that one time and might have done it again if Jack hadn’t hated the look. After all, a lot of black women shaved their heads or wore their hair closely cropped, but she’d opted to live in Jack’s world, and Julie was the only white woman she’d ever run into who deliberately got rid of her crowning glory for no reason other than that being bald aroused her—and Jimmy. Even Julie wore a wig everywhere but in the dungeon and, Tawny supposed, at home. Jimmy and Julie are admittedly weird about hair, but we share an even less common fetish, she thought as she looked at Jack’s beautiful cock locked up securely in chastity, his testicles snugly bound between the retaining ring and the base of his penis cage.

Tawny ran her fingernails gently over Jack’s muscular torso, tangling her fingers with Brian’s when they came together over Jack’s cock cage. In the time they’d been living the chastity lifestyle, she’d grown to give almost as much significance to the clear, plastic cage as Jack obviously did. While he didn’t embrace the lifestyle for himself, she knew Brian admired Jack for having done it.

When she ran her hand along Jack’s inner thigh, he sucked her clit between his teeth, tonguing it until her belly clenched and she started to climax. Her juices flooded his mouth and he lapped greedily as she tried to concentrate on watching Sid Conyers wrap one of the club subs in an elaborate shibari pattern and hoist her off the ground on a hook attached to a pulley so he could play with her pussy. Tawny liked Sid, wondered how those boiled hemp ropes would feel cutting into her breasts and ass and cunt—and she came again when Jack dug deep into her pussy and tongue-fucked her some more.

The heat of Jack’s mouth, his labored breathing and the way his flesh trembled under her hands revealed he wasn’t unaffected. Brian shifted on the stool between his legs, inserted another finger up Jack’s ass and applied more pressure.

“Come on, buddy, let go. Mistress says you can,” Brian said when Tawny nodded, giving him the permission he’d obviously been waiting for.

Jack’s belly tightened, and she felt him stab his tongue deep inside her cunt. Hard and fast, as if it were his cock pushing her over the edge. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Make me come again. God yes.”

Brian’s gaze settled on her face and he finger-fucked Jack harder. She felt Jack groan against her pussy, a soft sound that had her belly clench once more.

“That’s it, Mistress. Come for Jack. Oh, yeah.” Clumsily—the cast seriously limited his ability to move—Brian lowered his body and licked away the slow flow of Jack’s release from the outside of his cock cage.

Tawny leaned over, lifting herself off Jack’s busy tongue, and licked the creamy evidence of his release from Brian’s lips before lifting her gaze and noticing a strangely familiar-looking Dom. He was standing alone, watching…giving her an uneasy feeling.

* * * * *

Ty stood in the shadow of the dungeon’s unoccupied spiderweb and watched a ménage playing out between an African-American Domme and two white guys. Weird. One had on a chastity device of some sort while the other was sporting a cast on one leg from his toes to his crotch. It was by far the most interesting action, because, for the most part, a bunch of heterosexual, mostly one-on-one scenes, were playing out.

He felt isolated as hell. Maybe he should have taken the bubbly white girl named Donna—he figured she was a club employee—up on her offer to play. But he wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be what he wasn’t.

His coaches and teammates wouldn’t trust him any farther, even if he did.

He held back a laugh when he saw tough-guy Matt Rubin, better known as Killer, crawl in behind a behemoth of a sister decked out in startling white leather. Killer looked anything but his nickname in a thick, studded collar. Fuck, he was sporting a short, corkscrew tail that stood up from the end of a butt plug stuck up his ass. Who’d have figured the hard-hitting linebacker for a pony—make that doggy—sex slave?

Ty couldn’t stop his mouth dropping open when Rubin crawled by on all fours, his ass in the air. The Domme had his PA ring padlocked to a smaller ring behind his balls. Ty hurt just watching the expression on the guy’s face when his Mistress ordered one of the club subs to sniff and lick his ass while he lapped Mistress’ cunt.

Shit, Rubin had laid Ty low three years ago when they’d both been playing for other teams. It didn’t seem right, seeing the macho linebacker tricked out like a dog and writhing in pain while he buried his wild-haired head in the folds of a Domme’s huge crotch. Donna, the same sub who’d offered herself to Ty earlier, tortured Rubin’s locked-up privates until they swelled grotesquely.

Moving a little closer to the trio playing out the strange ménage, Ty glanced toward the fucking table again and did a double take. He recognized the woman sitting on one white guy’s face. He’d seen her in that Chicago dungeon two years ago, only then she’d had a real short Afro instead of the curly, shoulder-length black hair that framed her pretty face today. Instead of the catsuit and boots he recalled, she had on a red leather bustier, a silky red miniskirt, fishnet stockings and red stilettos.

Ty ventured a guess that the guy in the long-leg cast might be Brian, the man he was replacing. Was the guy in the chastity device Jack Winters? Hard to tell, because the Domme had his head covered up. But there weren’t a lot of tall, heavily muscled white guys on the team. Winters was the only blond player Ty had noticed, but he couldn’t even tell if the guy had light-colored hair, because his crotch was shaved as smooth as a baby’s ass and Ty couldn’t see his head.

He told himself he was nuts, standing here watching the guy with the cast licking the other guy’s locked-up stuff and thinking about how much he’d like to join them and rim her sub’s rosy asshole with his tongue. If he did, though, he’d lose his fucking job again and that would mean the end of his football career. Unless they invited him to join them, which he doubted was gonna happen.

He’d nearly summoned up the balls to look away, but then the Domme looked at him as though she were seeing a ghost.

Oh God. Tawny recognized Ty Dailey’s face from his pictures on TV yesterday, but now he was wearing a full frontal harness and nothing else. The outfit, if you could call it that, reminded her of the hooded Dom in Chicago, that last night she and Jack had gone to the North Side club. And she didn’t like the way Dailey was staring between Jack’s legs or at Brian’s half-hard cock. But mostly at Jack.

She didn’t think it was the chastity device that drew the guy’s attention. With his legs restrained in the stirrups, Jack’s asshole was right there, open for the taking. Or so it must look to a guy who reportedly liked ass way more than pussy. Tawny started to move then settled back over Jack’s face and fluffed out her skirt over his neck and shoulders.

What was Dailey doing here anyway? Didn’t Coach know about the trouble he’d gotten into in Chicago? She guessed the dungeon was for all the team members who were into BDSM—and unfortunately she could attest to the fact that he was. Her heart pounded as the man headed their way.

Once in a while she and Jack liked to bring another guy into their club play. They’d even talked about someday becoming a real, permanent threesome. But a Dom would never do. Neither would one of Jack’s teammates, although they occasionally played at Rebels’ Roost with bisexual submissives like Brian.

“We’re about ready to go,” she said before giving Dailey the chance to get any closer. This guy made Tawny feel uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that she was ready to cut off the pleasurable evening early just to get away from his piercing, sad-looking gaze. “Brian, let us know how your surgery goes. We hope to see you again next spring.”

As he watched Brian hobble toward the dressing room, Dailey bowed his head as if in apology. The guy knew dungeon etiquette, she’d say that for him. “No hard feelin’s, Mistress. I was just interested in seein’ how you’ve got his stuff locked up.”

His polite response made Tawny feel ashamed for having been so mean. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s just that my slave doesn’t like to play with other guys unless they’re subs, too. And I respect his wishes.” She paused, considering whether to answer Dailey’s unspoken question about Jack’s chastity device. “It’s called The Curve,” she finally told him. “You can buy them at BDSM stores online.” She’d be a lot more comfortable if she had an extra one to lock over Dailey’s junk, and she had a feeling his teammates, including Jack, would feel safer, too.

“What if I told you I’d like to have one, sister?”

She met his gaze, saw sadness and regret in his large, dark eyes framed by the longest lashes she’d ever seen. For some reason she thought of Jack, the way he’d looked that day when he confessed his sins and begged her to become his Mistress. “You look like a Dom to me, Mr. Dailey.”

“Ty. Looks can be deceiving.” He shot a glance toward Jack’s vulnerable crotch, edged a little closer. “The way you’ve got him tied up there, it looks to me like you’re invitin’ anybody who’s interested to play with your slave’s pretty ass.”

“I’m not.” When Brian wasn’t around, she sometimes asked one of the female club subs to stimulate Jack while he pleasured her. “If I hadn’t heard that you go for men, I’d ask if you’d like to play with my breasts.”

He laughed. “So you’re tellin’ me your slave’s off limits, huh?”

“Exactly. Unless you want to turn submissive. If you do, I’ll order him to flog you and then let him loose to fuck your ass, the way you’re thinkin’ about fuckin’ his.”

“Would you like that, white boy?” Ty asked, his gaze sliding insolently over Jack’s exposed, fully restrained flesh.

“He might,” Tawny snapped before Jack could say a word. “Now I’d appreciate it if you’d go away, I want my slave to take me home and get me off, not worry ’bout anything but pleasin’ me.”

But Tawny didn’t move until she saw Dailey leave the dungeon. When he did, she got up, loosened Jack’s bonds and told him it was time to go.

* * * * *

When it came to club scenes, Jack never questioned Tawny’s decisions, and he rarely asked her to explain her actions. But the question kept bugging him while they drove home and showered together. Later, as they cuddled in bed, stroking each other with more affection than desire, he couldn’t put the questions out of his mind. “Honey?” he finally asked, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew what had spooked her back at the dungeon. “Want to tell me which one of my teammates was bugging you so I can beat his ass?”

“Leave it alone, baby.” He felt her tense up against him, and that just fed his curiosity.

“Sorry, Mistress, I can’t. I couldn’t hear much of what was going on with you sitting on my face and the music playing so loud. I may be your sex slave, but I still need to know who’s making you jumpy as a cat with bells tied to its tail.”

She pulled away and sat, cross-legged, next to him. “The new guy.”

“Dailey?” Jack sat up, too, felt the adrenaline building, destroying the sense of peace that cuddling with Tawny usually gave him. He clenched his fists, tried to ward off the sick feeling that was bubbling up in his gut. “He’s dead meat. I’ll—”

“You’ll leave it alone. Jack, listen to me. I’m pretty sure he was the Dom who wanted to play with us that night after you came back from the Senior Bowl. I’m afraid he may have recognized me.”

The memory of him watching a big, masked Dom fucking the ass of a naked sub came back, as clear as if it hadn’t been close to two years since that night in the Chicago dungeon. So did Jack’s sense of helplessness, humiliation. And guilt. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit is right. I didn’t see his face back then, but his build’s pretty much the same. And his voice… You remember that leather and metal full frontal harness he was wearing?”

Jack doubted he’d ever forget anything about that night, or the sense of horror that had engulfed him when he’d admitted to himself that he’d enjoyed every minute of the scene as it played out. He remembered that realization had triggered his insistence that Tawny lock him up in chastity the following morning. “It was typical Dom gear. Nothing special about it that I can recall.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’m just jumpy. But he was wearing what looked like the same—”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Tell him to stay away from my Mistress.” And beat the son of a bitch half to death if he gives me any trouble. Lots of times, the violence in him bubbled up in sexual tension. Tonight, though, he just wanted to deal out pain.

“Wait, baby. Maybe what you should do is invite him to think about joining us to play at the dungeon. Brian’s not going to be around, and I know you enjoy me making you get pleasured by another guy every now and then. You used to fantasize a lot about fucking a male sub. I bet you still do, at least a little bit. Think about it, honey. I’m pretty sure he was playing at being Dominant, just like you used to do at first.”

“You wanna watch me fuck Dailey’s ass?” He and Tawny had talked about a scene like that, and the idea used to get both of them hot. He couldn’t help remembering his Mistress offering that to Dailey last night, though he hadn’t known at the time who she was talking to. “Would that turn you on?”

“You know it would. I know it would get you hot, too. We might even think about taking him on for a long-term relationship, if all of us like it.”

Jack sat up and looked down at Tawny. “You know, Mistress, I haven’t thought much about that lately. You’ve made me feel comfortable in my skin—you and chastity. I don’t feel that rebelliousness and anger inside or hate myself because I’m a little bit bisexual, anymore. You’ve helped me accept that it’s okay. At first when we started along this road, I thought I’d like a permanent third, one I could take out my aggression on.”

“You don’t, anymore?” Tawny laid her hand on his thigh as she met his gaze, looking a little surprised.

Jack covered her hand, rotated her wedding band with his fingers. “Not really. All I need is you. And sometimes The Curve to remind me I belong to you.”

“Okay. No long-term relationship. But damn it, I feel sorry for Dailey. Tonight I saw some of the regret, the sense of desperation I remember seeing in your eyes that morning when you came over to my place and begged me to take you under my control. I think maybe we should help him. You know, he asked about this.” Tawny laid her hand on Jack’s crotch, her touch gentle and loving.

“You want to help him get his dangerous urges under control, then?”

“Yeah. I guess I do, even though I’m still kind of scared he might try to push his way into our scenes, maybe try to force things we don’t want.”

Jack sighed. No way could he deny his Mistress anything, even if sometimes doing it would cause him embarrassment, even humiliation. “Okay, I’ll see if Dailey’s serious about wanting to try a chaste lifestyle. From what I’ve heard, though, I doubt he has that on his mind.” Jack sure as hell didn’t look forward to having a sexual conversation with the guy who’d been making him itch to mete out some pain from the first words they’d exchanged before practice today.

Jack lay back down and held out his arms to Tawny. Lots of times he needed her strength, but tonight he needed her softness to calm the violent streak he usually kept under tight control. He realized that, over time, it had gradually been trained to go dormant off the field, thanks to her aptitude as his Mistress, his chastity, and maybe even because those things had helped him find some measure of peace with his past.

Of course this lingering desire for male flesh, fed by playing with Brian for the last time, could still bring his raging aggression to life. He didn’t know how to feel about that, so instead he focused on her.

His cock kept trying to harden against its restraint, so he closed his eyes against the pain and tried to think calm, peaceful thoughts. That didn’t work. “Baby?”

She didn’t lie down beside him the way she usually did when he asked her nicely. Instead she slid down toward the end of the bed and used restraints with Velcro fasteners instead of the usual shackles to immobilize his legs. “Relax. I know I said I wouldn’t, and I realize I let you fuck me just last night, but I’m gonna let you loose. Now, give me your hands.” Surprising Jack, she ignored the metal handcuffs and used the Velcro straps that had come with the bed to restrain his wrists.

Testing the Velcro with one leg, he found it strong but nowhere near strong enough to hold him if he wanted to get loose. And he figured, with the way his heart was pounding, he just might lose it enough to let go of the discipline he’d honed over these past years. “I can get out of these, babe.”

Tawny smiled. “I know. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to be chaste tonight. Hold still for me, though, so I won’t hurt you.” Gently, she stroked his lower abdomen with one hand while using the other to unlock the padlock and work the tube off his cock. “There. All done.”

When she bent and tongued his bellybutton, he ripped the Velcro apart to free one wrist and caught her head in his hand. “Gotcha, Mistress.”

“Break out of those restraints and fuck me, Jack. I wanna feel you on me. In me. I shouldn’t have said anything to him. Now I’m starting to get damn scared that he’ll try to push something that we both don’t want…” Her voice trailed off, and he felt her ragged breathing against his skin.

With one fierce tug he broke loose his other wrist and both legs. He rolled over Tawny, cupping her beautiful face in his hands and wiping away the tears that stained them. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” He hated having upset her, hoped she didn’t think he was unwilling to play the Dom in a scene with Dailey if that was what she wanted. After all, though he was pretty much okay with his bisexuality now, he knew his original horror about it was what had fed their ménage fantasies for so damn long. “I’ll talk to Dailey. I’ll even fuck his ass at the dungeon in front of everybody if that’s what you want.”

“But you don’t want that, do you?”

“No. If I’m gonna do it, I want it to be in private.” As much as he was okay with playing scenes with his Mistress at Rebels’ Roost and having all his teammates know he was her sex slave, he wasn’t ready to take part in any public male/male action with him acting the aggressor. “You know me too damn well, honey.”

When Tawny moved restlessly beneath him, Jack ran his hands over every inch of her firm, slender curves, stoking her flames the way he used to when they first fell in love—kids, tasting forbidden pleasures, indulging their curiosities and fantasies before their libidos had flamed out of control. But tonight she needed him to be strong. To force her to set aside her worries and think only of his hard cock pressing against her tender slit, the substantial weight of his body pinning her to the bed.

He’d almost forgotten how to take control, but she was his Mistress and she’d ordered him to fuck her. He found her taut nipples with his fingers, pinched and twisted them until she moaned and clung to his shoulders. “Fuck me now, honey, please.”

He rose to his knees, used his hands to spread her legs wide apart and caress her strong, firm thighs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fucked her without a lot of foreplay with his hands and tongue. She didn’t need it tonight, though. Her pussy glistened with slick, wet heat when he looked down at her. He’d have asked her for permission before taking her but somehow he knew she didn’t want that, didn’t expect it. “I am,” he whispered as he bent to claim her mouth, and slid into her welcoming cunt at the same time.

Slowly, smoothly, he slid in and out, treasuring the way she milked his cock with every stroke, the sounds of her soft pants as she tried to hold off the climax that soon rippled through her, into him. He blessed his chastity training for giving him the discipline to hold back, ensure her pleasure while he postponed his own.

This felt so good. So damn right. At this moment Jack couldn’t imagine wanting Dailey or anybody else intruding on his love for his wife. She was his life, his happiness—the other half of himself that made him whole. He held her tighter, rained kisses over her face, tasted the salt from her tears when she wrapped her legs around his waist and shuddered in his embrace. “That’s it, sweetheart, let go.”

Finally, when she lay limp in his arms, he came inside her, a rare treat. He’d have gotten up and licked away his semen but she stilled him with a gentle touch. “Stay here and keep me warm.”

As they lay in the dark, the light of a cool November moon beaming on them through the bedroom window, Jack thought about their problem—no, his problem—and how he was going to solve it. Somehow he’d have to make his new teammate understand why he had to back off or join them under their terms, not just for his own good but for the good of them all.

Not to mention for the good of the Rebels’ playoff hopes.