**********

PRESENT DAY

***

Gemma

***

It was still dark when I opened my eyes, a rare occurrence. I rolled over, wrapping my arm and leg around Arlo, stealing the heat from his body. He nuzzled into my neck, the scent of patchouli and spice lingering from his dark hair. I traced over the “S” carved into his bicep, the raised scar smooth. I didn’t know when he would be summoned again, and prayed it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

His breath was steady, peacefully at rest beside me where he belonged. “Wake up my love,” I whispered, the fear of him leaving again awakening my need.

His eyes lazily opened, the blue hidden in the darkness. “Are you okay, Mistress?”

“Tell my slave to get his cock.”

He smiled, rolling out of bed. He rubbed his eyes as he opened Cole’s cage, bending down to speak muffled words beneath our bed.

Cole’s shadow moved through the darkness while Arlo climbed back beside me. I pulled him to me, pressing my mouth to his, my body growing more willing when Cole crawled into bed behind me.

I needed them both inside me. There was no safer feeling than being wrapped up between them. No more erotic feeling than knowing their focus was undivided, their need unyielding. Cole’s lips teased the skin at my neck, bringing my hand grasping into his hair. Arlo’s tongue twisted around my own, stifling my moan before it could escape.

Cole’s mouth dragged down my back, licking and nipping before reaching my ass. They all the time knew what my body needed, what my soul craved. They were a part of me, a part I too often had to release, my body aching in emptiness until they returned to me. Arlo’s fingers slipped inside me, curling into me as Cole’s tongue traced between my cheeks, pushing through my back entrance. I shivered and squirmed, Arlo’s fingers relentless. Cole’s arms wrapped around my waist, forcing me still. His tongue reached farther inside me, preparing me for what was to come.

My need echoed through the room, the sound wet and undeniable, louder the rougher Arlo’s fingers moved. “Inside me,” the command rolled from my tongue. “Now.”

Arlo’s fingers disappeared, their replacement far larger. I gasped when he shoved into me, his body slamming into mine, the sensation vibrating through my clit. My nails grasped his skin, scraping down his back, impatient when he paused.

“Keep go–” the scold slipped from my lips, halting when Cole’s body pressed against mine. His cock tickled against the back of my thigh, the strap-on firmly pressed against my back entrance. “I said now.” The prompt was soft, the final encouragement he needed to push harder, my body trembling when he broke through the resistance.

I reached back, my hand locking into Cole’s hair, desperate for something to cling to when they found their rhythm. Their hands grasped at my body, holding me between them as if I’d try to escape. But this was what I was made for- for them and them for me. Their lips teased my skin, Arlo’s trailing over my neck while Cole’s slid between my shoulder blades, the sensations blurring like fire through my veins.

Finally whole, finally full, my body was weakening faster than my heart. I wasn’t done feeling them inside me, whimpering while they penetrated through me, forcing me to an edge when I wasn’t ready to fall. But the fire was already rolling, taunting me to submit. I cried out when the climax tore through me, their bodies forcing it from mine with each stroke.

“Enough,” I whispered, wanting to cry as I spoke the word.

**********

2 YEARS PRIOR

***

Gemma

***

“He’s quite impressive,” I mused, fixated on the scene in front of me. Piper slid down his cock, her dark hair bouncing down her back with each movement.

“He’s very attractive, very rich and, as you can see, has a very large cock,” Lexa said from beside me. “And he’s the first trainee I’ve heard of who purposefully hunted down a white card, using all three of the aforementioned attributes to get one.”

He was gorgeous, gorgeous enough for my heart to take a break from its mourning long enough to notice. “If he’s a trainee, why is he with Mistress Paris and not Mistress Brianne?”

“Brianna’s out of town for business for the next month, and Mistress Paris begged to assist with his training until Mistress Brianne returns.”

“It’s never a good idea to want something so bad unless you know it’s yours to have.”

Lexa’s stare remained straight ahead, fixated on the moans howling from the dungeon. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“What you know.”

“That could take awhile.”

Her green eyes tore through mine, the threat of a true Madame. “You have the look on your face of a person who knows too much and knows they shouldn’t say it.”

I turned back to the scene, the obscene vanilla display distasteful in such an elaborate dungeon. “If you want to analyze his behavior, maybe you should ask Mistress Morgaine for a consultation.”

She grabbed my arm, dragging me out of the doorway and down the hallway. “You’re a domme of this château–“

I jerked my arm out of her grasp. “And that means what, Lexa?”

She paused, glancing both methods down the empty hallway. I tensed when her arms wrapped around me, her blonde hair soft when it pressed into my cheek. “It’s been almost a year, Gemma. You have to let him go.”

I waited to feel tears roll down my cheeks. I waited for the burn to begin in my chest, the pain creeping into my lungs. Anything to show myself I was still alive, but none of it came. My arms hung at my sides, too weak to reciprocate her embrace. “Why did he hunt down a card?”

“Arlo didn’t hunt down a card.”

“I’m talking about Cole.” I gestured towards the dungeon, waiting to feel the shock of pain rip through my heart at the sound of Arlo’s name, unsurprised when it could no longer penetrate the numbness.

She released me, stepping back. “I’m sure he wants what all the men here want.”

“But for him, what does that mean?”

Her lips curved, barely parting. “Once you find out, I’ll expect a full report.”

“I’m not inter–“

“The limo will pick you up tomorrow at 5:30pm. I’ll deal with Mistress Paris.”

***

I stared out my window, watching the black limo pull up in front of my house. I put on my red coat, pulling it tight around myself so my neighbors wouldn’t see the sheer white dress I had on underneath. This was the fourth trainee I’d been asked to work with since my Arlo disappeared. Lexa’s fourth attempt to bring me back from the dead.

The slave opened the limo door, shutting it behind me. I used to think if I screamed the Siren’s name, summoned her from the depths, she would come for me. I was ready to see her dead, grey eyes. To see what all the world feared staring back at me, and demand she send me to wherever my Arlo was. But my screams would then soon turn to pleas from my knees, all unanswered.

The drive seemed infinite, my legs heavy as they dragged my heels up the château steps. The Château had once been my home, a place where hopeless vanilla reality dissolved into the fantasies haunting my mind. I could become everything the world told a woman she could never be, ruling over men who could become everything the world told them they should never be. But now the grey walls were suffocating, reminding me what was expected of me the minute I walked through the doors.

Cole was in the dungeon typically only used by Mistress Brianne, waiting for me on his knees as all trainees were taught. His hair was light where my Arlo’s had been rich brunette. He was lean where my Arlo had been solid brawn. His eyes were bright blue. My Arlo’s had been as dark as a storm filled sky.

I ignored him, taking my time to scan the contents I had to work with, hoping for inspiration. Ropes, chains, cages, a St. Andrew’s cross, spanking bench, stocks… none could break through the numbness. I pulled open the cabinets eyeing whips and canes, spreader bars, gags and cock cages. Nothing called to me anymore.

“Mistress Gemini?”

A jolt twisted through my bones at the sound of my name, surprising me. It broke through the haze, revealing what was hiding beneath it- a cool, defiant anger. “Did I give you permission to speak?”

“Sorry, I just wanted–“

“I want you silent.”

His lips pressed together then began to shift, the words screaming from the other side. “I was just–“

“Silent,” I cut him off, my voice low.

“Yes, Mistress.”

The anger rippled through my bones with every breath. I closed the space between us, grabbing him by the hair. I was done being kind. I didn’t want to be caring. It wasn’t his fault. He may have been a good man, a good slave, but I wanted back the pieces of myself Arlo had taken. I pulled hard, wishing I was strong enough to drag him forward, daring him to fight back.

“Mistress–” His hands flew to his scalp, gripping my hand roughly.

“Silent.” I tightened my grasp, waiting for him to come untrained. “Crawl.”

His jaw clenched as he released my hand, crawling beside me across the floor.

I dragged him forward, my grip unrelenting until I reached the cage. “Inside.” I shut the door and pushed the combination lock closed until it clicked, then spun the dial.

He had just enough room to turn around, his head brushing against the top bars when he sat down and tried to straighten. He rubbed his scalp, his gaze hunting the floor.

“You spoke six words after I told you to be silent.” I stepped away from the cage to search through the cabinets. “At ten minutes a word, that’s sixty minutes for your insubordination.” I found the timer, spinning the dial. “Time will be added for any further disrespect.”

His eyes followed me as I wandered around the dungeon, tossing the timer back and forth between my hands. I paused when I found a well worn copy of Fanny Hill in a drawer full of butt plugs, grabbing it then making myself comfortable on a spanking bench. The padded leather was soft against my back, calming as the timer ticked its incessant reminder through the otherwise silent dungeon. Every few minutes I glanced towards him, each time surprised to discover his unwavering erection.

I slid off the bench, taking my time as I approached the cage. “You’re much more enjoyable when you don’t speak.” I wrapped my fingers through the bars, staring down at him. “Everyone is so impressed with your cock, and you’re so proud of it, aren’t you?”

***

I glanced around my office, ignoring the intrusive thoughts my night at the Château had left me with as I rocked back in my chair. My coworkers had all gone to lunch, leaving me in glorious silence, my mind free to drown. I scrolled through my phone, adjusting my AirPods, turning up the volume when I found what I was hunting for.

“More questions than answers…” Donny Rex’s voice drifted into my ears. “I hate that saying. I hate it. I hate it. I. Hate. It. It’s what we’re always left with. What she always leaves us with. Or what they always leave us with…”

I closed my eyes, nodding. At least with the darkness came illusion. I could pretend my Arlo was still at my feet, not lost with the rest of the answers she hid.

“Sometimes we have to dig for hints. Look for clues,” his voice blared through my head. “We’re probably more detectives than hunters. We have to decipher what we’re given, which isn’t much.” He paused, his breath filling the empty air. “Whatever happened last month was bigger than we, the civilians of the world, will ever know.”

I opened my eyes when my phone dinged, Miranda’s name popping up on my screen. I swiped the message away without reading it, not ready to discuss Cole’s cock with her.

“I keep getting message after message full of theories she was killed. Or seriously injured. Laying low to heal. Blah blah blah…” He dragged out the final syllables, leaving them lingering in my head. “That theory makes no sense! Where’s the underground militia?”

My phone dinged again, Miranda’s message pausing Donny’s voice. I swiped up, briefly listening to make sure the office was still silent before pressing play again.

“Where are they? If she was dead or injured, don’t you think this would be a perfect opportunity for them? But they’re as silent as she is! I think it’s more likely she finally won the war and is on a well deserved vacation in the Bahamas. Anyone listening from the Bahamas? You may have hit on her in a bar last night!”

I jumped when the door flew open, breaking my trance. Miranda stormed into the room, her skirt whipping wildly around her thighs. “What the fuck, Gemma!”

I pulled the AirBuds from my ears, tossing my phone onto the desk. “Love those boots.” The leather rose just above her knees, the matte brown subtle in its dominance.

She adjusted her hair and skirt, her eyes narrowing. “Are you avoiding me?”

“Where did you get them?”

“Why are you being selfish with the giant cock? You have a debt to be paid.”

“Are they comfortable? Do they come in any other colors?”

“Dillards!” She flopped down in the chair across from me, unzipping the boots. “Black, taupe and brown.”

I kicked off my patent leather pumps, pulling on the boots. The leather was soft against my skin, supple as it followed my movement. I dragged the heel over the hardwood floor, the loaded movement breaking through the numbness.

Miranda shook her head, laughing. “Always such a domme.”

I tried to remember how it felt, the sound of my dragging heel echoing through a dungeon, my captive’s desperation pulsing through me.

“Gemma!”

I spun back on the stiletto at the harshness in her voice.

She held my phone towards me, the podcast still lighting up my screen. “Since when are you a masochist?”

I stormed back to my chair, unzipping the boots and throwing them across the desk at her.

“This is why Lexa’s right!” she fired back, dodging the pointed heels.

The treasonous words sliced through the numbness, rage seeping through the wound. “I think my next act as Cole’s official trainer will be to stick that giant cock you want so much into the biggest cock cage I can find.”

“I’m not taking it back, Gemma. Threaten all you want.” Her arms crossed over her chest, her hand still grasping my phone. “You. Are. A. Domme. Arlo was never a slave. Never a submissive. He was nothing! Nothing but a weak, pathetic beta who needed to destroy everything you are so you would be as weak and pathetic as him.”

“You don’t know anything about him–“

“I don’t need to! I know you! You are kink! Kink drowning in his vanilla!” She tossed my phone onto the desk, staring at it as she inhaled. “Do you think she asks for control, or does she take it?”

“Lexa?”

She shook her head, gesturing towards the phone but she wouldn’t speak the devil’s name. “You never used to question yourself. You’d take what you wanted because you trusted yourself with it. Stop letting this murderess you’ve never met dominate your life.”

****

I ignored Cole when he walked into my house, unsurprised by his arrival. Another Lexa tactic to shove him in my face, remind me she was in control. I continued to stare at my TV, watching the news anchor’s beaming face as she celebrated the Siren’s name.

“The underground militia took quite a hit today, and authorities believe the headquarters attacked served as a possible prison. They’ve released information stating they found evidence captives were held in the area, including entire rooms enclosed with concrete walls.”

I leaned forward, scanning the faces of the swarming police and military officials. None were familiar.

“Authorities stated they haven’t recovered any evidence of who, or what, may have been held in the rooms. Dan O’Connell is at the scene with further information.”

A noise behind me broke my trance. I glanced over my shoulder as Cole grabbed the cleaning supplies from under the sink.

“While I do know it’s been confirmed the Siren’s militia is involved in the attack,” O’Connell started, glancing over his shoulder, “authorities aren’t releasing any other information. They did state no captives were found inside the headquarters, which leaves us with more questions than–“

I hit mute, chewing into my lip while O’Connell’s smile mocked. There was no escaping her name. No hiding from their worship of her. Plastic crashing against tile brought my attention back to the kitchen. Cole reached down, the word scrawled across the back of his black shirt pausing my thoughts. I squinted, making sure I saw it correctly. “You’re cleaning my house in a Disneyland spirit jersey?”

He put the bottle he had dropped back on the counter before pulling the bottom of the shirt taut, pointing to a stain.

I twisted around, propping myself up on my knees to watch him over the back of the couch. The bold white print moved with him, shifting and straightening as he wiped down my kitchen. “Do you go often?”

He paused, nodding before continuing his task.

I wasn’t sure if he was trying too hard to please or if his silence was arrogant sarcasm. “We’re not at the Château. There’s no cage here for me to lock you in if you speak.”

He shrugged, his lips not parting.

I grabbed the remote, turning off the TV. “You have permission to speak.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” He reached for the Pledge, spraying down the cabinets. “It’s been difficult to navigate my days without speaking.”

My stomach twisted, his sarcasm unable to break the weight of what I had become. “You don’t seem like the Disneyland type.”

“I’m a Magic Keyholder.”

“Oh, you’re one of those… keyholes.” I pressed my lips together, looking away from his smile. “I used to go all the time but haven’t in awhile.”

“We could be there by seven if we leave now. Eat dinner at the Blue Bayou.”

Words froze on my tongue, unable to read the curve of his lips.

“It’ll be fun. You can boss me around the entire time.”

The offer tore at the numbness, stirring the darkness. “I’m beginning to remember why I prefer you silent.”

He pressed his lips together, going back to wiping down the cabinets.

I folded my arms, resting them on the back of the couch as I watched him. Two years ago he would’ve been exactly what I wanted. Lean and strong, the perfect body to torment. Confident and resilient, the perfect mind to push to its limits. “What do you do for a living?”

“Real estate.” He didn’t miss a beat. Didn’t take a breath. The words just came from his mouth, uninhibited.

“I hear you’ve done well.”

He shrugged, wiping off the dark granite countertop.

“Family?”

“Only child. Parents live in Santa Clarita.” He paused, lowering his voice. “They’re keyholes, too.”

The smile tore at my lips, seeping through the dark haze of my mind. “Why are you up here?”

“The Château and Bay Area real estate.”

“Religion?”

“Live and let live.”

“Anything else important I should know?”

He paused, his fingers drumming against the counter as his teeth bit into his lip. “I’m more than just a big cock, Mistress.”

***

Cole

***

Mistress Mia’s blue eyes taunted as she straddled me, her breasts pushing up over the black corset barely containing them. She could handle all of me, her body covering mine without faltering, a rarity in my life. I thrust up when she pushed down, trying to focus on the slick heat of her body, but my frustration was reaching the point of shattering my obedience.

My gaze shifted away from where her nipple was escaping its leather prison to where Mistress Gemini watched from her chair, motionless. Her eyes were a dull blue, lifeless as they stared, reminding me I had finally reached the limit on what my money could buy me. It bought me nice houses. Nice cars. Nice suits and watches. Girlfriends who could never fulfill my needs. It brought me closer to the white card I wondered would change my life, but maybe I had misunderstood what I was hunting.

I grabbed Mistress Mia’s hips, thrusting as hard as I could. If this was what they wanted, they could take it. All of it. Moans of encouragement slipped from her lips, her body relaxing as she gave me the control. I couldn’t deny she felt good. They all the time felt good. I sped up my stroke, seeking comfort in the shallow pleasure, reminding myself how lucky I was.