People think I’m crazy. Ok, maybe not crazy but they think something is definitely wrong with uh guy who lets a woman treat him like Ame treats me – in public, no less.

She tones it down when we’re around the family – her active ordering me around, at least. I still have to follow the rules of behavior when she’s there. And she won’t go to church with us because she is not a believer an’ won’t be disrespectful. But if you catch us at home, and I’m naked, that’s your lookout.

That’s not everyday – Ame’s not completely insensitive to Granddad so on days when he’s actually up, I stay dressed – but so long as this is her home, I follow orders.

I sleep on the floor. Two years ago, she gave me a dog bed for Christmas. Everybody figured we’d be getting a big dog soon. I still laugh when someone asks about it. Ame gets the whole queen-sized to herself most nights. Once every other month or so, the occasional holiday, my birthday, other ‘special’ special occasions, I get to sleep with her. I get to be Dom and she submits to any filthy, disgusting thing I want. Of course, usually all I want is to eat her out and fuck her hard, but we don’t do that often. Normally, it’s whips and muzzles and electrical charges up my dick.

Pain. In as many ways as she can think of without out leaving traces that get the police involved.

So, people think I’m crazy but mostly, I think they’re jealous. I have the perfect life. I have a job I love, a home near a close family I adore, plenty of money and a woman who makes me believe that God is good and thank him every day for bringing her to me.

This is not to say that it’s flawless. Working the fishing dock even for the family business can be hard and stressful. And Granddad has reached the final stages of Alzheimer’s. We’ve had a live-in nurse for years but now the family has to decide if we want to put him away. I hate living with him like this but I can’t stand the thought of his last years being with a bunch of strangers. Ame, gracefully, has left the matter in my hands – although that may be because it causes me emotional pain and any pain is a good thing to her.

But on balance, my life is good. I think about all this on my way home one summer afternoon. The business is doing well and the family is doing well. The only thing I don’t have is what the evening mail reminds me of.

A wife.

A wedding invitation from one of my high school buddies. Not a big deal. But it reminds me that Ame has said no for four years straight. No marriage, no kids, no ties. She wants to be available to walk out as soon as she gets bored. But she’s not bored. And she makes just as many long term plans as I do. She’s the one who wants to remodel the basement and install a pool out back. Those are not temporary or cheap. We argue about who forgot to pick up the dry cleaning and who goes to the ATM too often and other married stuff. Hell, we have a joint bank account. All I want is a ring and a photo to go with it. And a son.

I get to spend the first hour of my nights with Granddad. I’m rarely alone – my family drops by often and without warning – but Ame again is very gracious about the whole thing. I won’t bore you with the details of my visits with Granddad but imagine watching the strongest man you have ever known slowly wasting away to less than nothing and you pretty much can fill in the details. If I didn’t have to pull myself together and do things for Ame, I don’t know how I would keep from curling up into a fetal ball and crying every night.

But, I do have to. So. I undress. And put on something house appropriate – leather collar and leash, ball-gag, anything that leaves most of my body bare but shows that I am someone else’s property. Then I cook dinner. We eat together and discuss our day. Then, after I clean the kitchen, I do something to pamper her. I went to cosmetology school for like two semesters – on the very QT – to learn how to give her a manicure and a pedicure. She likes me to paint my toenails the same color as hers (which is a fucked up thing to explain at family outings). I also give her deep tissue massages, wash and condition her hair, give her facials and – very, very rarely – enemas to keep her clean and happy and comfortable. And lovely – which she would be even if neither of us did a damn thing.

Then later, after we watch a little TV or whatever else needs to be done in the evening, we go upstairs and she causes me pain. I came so hard once, I threw my back out.

Tonight, as I lie in my dog bed and revel in the aches and pains still lingering down my body, I have to ask again. “Ma’am?”

She doesn’t respond at first. I’m not actually supposed to speak at this time. “Yes?”

I sit up. “I want to marry you.”

“We have discussed this and…”

“I know, I know. You keep sayin’ no. But, I don’t want Granddad ta pass without a great grand son. I don’t want Mom ta keep sayin’ ‘I won’t ask, I promise’ when I know she really just wanna know if we ever getting’ hitched…”

“…we’re not…”

“I know. You say that and I know but please, Amelia, do this for me. Marry me. Have one kid. I will never ask another sacrifice of you again. You can use me as a toilet from the second you say yes ‘til they put me in the ground. I will do anything, to be your husband. You’d actually have paperwork that say you own me.”

“No, you’d have paperwork to own me. Marriage enslaves the bride not the groom.”

“We’ll rewrite the vows. I’ll love, honor, cherish, and obey. Hell, I do it anyway. I just wanna do it publicly; I wanna do it so that everybody in the world know how we feel about each other.”

She looks thoughtful – which was a first for this conversation. “And would I finally be your only mistress?”

“You already are. Unless you mean God.”

“You know who I mean.” She sits down at her dresser and starts combing her hair – a stress habit despite how relaxed she looks. “Would I finally out rank Peter?”

The world goes silent as that name echoes out of my ears and across the state.

“Peter was never my…” I start but I cannot look in her direction and finish that sentence. She has never asked me directly. I wonder how long she’s known. “You always have.” I lie softly.

“Really?” She pulls a few more strokes. “What’s rule number one?”

I pause then say, “Don’t be late.” Her reflection stares at me and I break quickly. “No running, no jumping, no swimming.”

“Because…”

“Because it was the rule Peter set the day after he saved me.” I whisper it.

“I will not marry you, because I will always be second. I cannot compete with someone who owns not simply your body but your actual soul.” She counts another ten strokes. “Now, if he gave you to me that would be another matter. But it’s taken you five years to admit it was him. I sincerely doubt he or little miss priss would ever hand you over completely.”

“He would – he will.” I rush, crawling halfway to her. “Far as he concerned, he gave me ta you back in college.” I take a breath and control myself. “He has not taken advantage of my lingering issues. And Gwen has never had any authority. Hell, she lived with us for two years an’ never figured it out.”

“Did you cheat on me?” She asks, her hand pausing in mid-stroke.

“The night you meet Peter, the four of us went to dinner. You remember that?”

“Vaguely.”

“You told me you ain’t want me seein’ any one else. Well, that night, me an’ Peter had our last session. He said, I couldn’t have two so I had ta pick one of you. And I picked you, Ame. It’s been you since we meet.”

I can see her considering this. She puts down her brush. “Braid.” I crawl behind her and braid her hair into one thick loose braid to sleep in. I’m almost finished when she says. “I didn’t know. I suspected. For a while, I mean. But at school, I really didn’t know.” I don’t say any thing; my mouth is my weak spot she often reminds me. “You were just insubordinate enough to look like siblings not lovers. Beth, I suspected about and you as much let slip once when you were entirely too drunk. But Peter…I couldn’t quite confirm it.” She got up and climbed in to bed. I did like wise as she turned out the light.

Then, in the darkness, she says, “Tell me about him. Everything.”

There isn’t much to tell. Peter was the Dom, I was sub. He said it, I did it. “He rarely do more-n spank me because he ain’t into pain. But, I don’t know, something ‘bout the way he would look at me when he gave me an order. I just knew, if he wanted, he’d make me pay if I didn’t do it. I fucked this married girl once – teacher – he ‘bout killed me. Once uh year or so, we’d take uh boat and go out, just the two of us.” I find myself unconsciously fingering the scar on my scrotum. “That’s where he’d extract any real pain. You the only one ever made me scream like that. ‘Course, you only one ever done uh whole lotta shit ta me.”

She doesn’t respond. I’m awake most of the night trying to figure out which of them I’ve just been more disloyal to. The next morning, I’m up and out by 5am. I’m just a touch grouchy, which most people presume is due to trouble with Granddad. I was the same way just before Grandma died.

At lunch, my phone rings. “I want to meet him.” Ame says.

“You already know him. We have dinner like once a week.”

She’s silent and suddenly, I realize what she means. She doesn’t want to meet Peter, she want to met My Dominant. She wants to see him run me through my paces and humiliate me in front of her for his own amusement.

“We don’t…” I start but I don’t finish. It’s true, we don’t but even a look from him still gets me. “Gwen.”

She hangs up.

After dinner, she goes to bed. I find my dog bed at the top of the stairs. I’ll be honest; I can take this treatment from her for about two days. Then I will literally beg her to take me back. It’s happened on rare occasion before. There is no point in me trying to prove I’m a man. With her, I’m not. I’m a pussy-whipped little punk who will take whatever shit she gives me and thank her for it.

The next night, I don’t go home. I go to Peter’s.

“Hey, what up?” He greets me at the door, still in his swim trunks. I can’t help but take a glance around for Gwen then feel him up. He smacks my hand away, “Come on, dude,” He laughs, “my wife’s around here somewhere. Go on out back. I’ll grab uh couple beers.” He smacks my ass hard as I go past him. How Gwen doesn’t know we used to fuck, I have not a clue.

I’m there for about an hour before I finally blurt it out. “Ame knows about us.”

He chokes. “Come again?” he coughs out.

“I asked her to marry me and she asked if she would out rank you if she said yes.”

He gets that hard, cold closed look. The one that made me start callin’ him ‘Sir’ in the first place.

“What did you say?”

“Sir-” It slipped out and he glares at me. I gesture helplessly, “Peter, what could I say? She wants to meet you. I mean, ‘you’ you. Y’know…”

“I know what she means.” He stops me before I get too wound up. He sits still for about another minute then he picks up the phone. “Ame. I guess we need to talk.” He quiet for a long time. Then he looks at me. “Yeah, ok.” He says. “I can do that. Let me check my calendar and get back to you.” He hangs up and takes a deep breath. “Go home, Alex. She and I will handle this.”

It’s ok, little boy, mommy and daddy will make it all better. Run along and play.

I want to break something.

I have one trump card in my house. When I get home, I play it. “Get dressed.” I tell Ame. “We’re going out.” When I’m mad – really, truly, utterly, pissed off – we go dancing. I lead, she follows and we stay on the dance floor until I say we sit down. I take her to my favorite club and we salsa for a good two hours before I yield.

“Do you want to discuss it, now?” she asks as we find a table and catch our breaths.

“I don’t appreciate you an’ Peter treatin’ me like I’m ten.”

“But that’s what you are.” She states plainly. “A child being taken care of by a Dominant and a Mistress. You make no decisions for yourself. I do. Or Peter does. I don’t know how often you turn to him instead of me.”

“Never.” I hit the table then pull my hand in before I go too far. “You are it now. Only you.”

“But you never really stopped obeying Peter, did you? He just stopped giving you orders.” I could claim that those are the same thing but they’re not and I know they’re not. “I can’t marry you if he could countermand at any time. If I become your wife – if I give you that kind of authority – I want to know that I am the only one.”

“Ame, what’s the difference? Why are you making this so damn hard?”

“Once we are married, people will make assumptions. Man and wife. He finally won her. You will become publicly, the master. I don’t want to place myself in a position where you might think you have some power.”

“Ame,” I laugh, “I have so little power. If you told me ta slit my wrist, I’d likely do it. All I want is to be able to show publicly that you love me as much as I love you. Give me that ring, and I’ll do what ever you want ‘til hell freeze over.”

“I want to watch you and Peter together. I want to see what his hold over you is and I want him to give you to me.” She looks away from me. “Do that and I might say yes.”

“You will?”

“But I plan the service…”

“…of course…”

“…and I will not say traditional vows…”

“…say anything you want so long it end with ‘I do’…”

“…And you will be collared.”

I trip on that one. “At my wedding?” Then I let it go. “OK, sure. Whatever. You sayin’ yes?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“If Peter give me to you and I do all the rest, will you marry me?”

“If. I am not making any promises.”

“If. Ok, if. Amelia,” I get on my knee beside her and take her hand. She hates these kinds of public displays but I can’t help myself. “Amelia Da’o Wilson, if I promise to be a good slave and love and honor and cherish and obey you, will you marry me?”

She actually blushes. She looks at everything around us. She tries to pull her hands away but I won’t let them go. “Yes.” She finally whispers.

I don’t stop grinning for two days.

Despite herself, I keep catching Ame grinning too.

She won’t let me make a big public announcement but a couple days later, she mails out very tasteful announcement cards. I know the family starts receiving them when my Mother jumps me on the dock as the boats are coming in. She’s waving the card and yelling. “Why didn’t you tell me!” She hits me hard after she kisses me.

“Mom! We on the dock –“

“I don’t care! Oh, Baby, I’m so happy! When are you having the service?” She takes a breath and comes up short. “Or is this another of Ame’s ‘things’. Does she not want to have a service?”

“We’re having a service.” I grab the rope tossed at me. “Mom. Let me finish up here, ok? Ame and I will come by later tonight, ok? You two can figure out all the details. Ok?”

It was useless. In the next half hour, all of my aunts show up at the dock house pestering me and half the rest of the family calls.

I had to call Ame. “We gotta go to Uncle Julius’ house tonight.”

“We have to?”

“If Ima get any more work done here today, yeah.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Fine. I’ll meet you there.” She hangs up.

Since I was a ten-minute walk from the house, I beat her there by a couple hours and relate the edited version of how I proposed a good fifty times. All my cousins show up. A couple of them know how things really are with Ame and I and ask what Peter thinks of all this. I tell them if Peter doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself. I almost believe it.

Beth, Peter, Gwen and Darrell arrive together. Beth, Peter and I slip upstairs for a couple minutes.

“I owe you guy everything.” I say. It was the only thing I could say. They just hold me.

By the time we make it back downstairs, everyone but Ame is there. “Don’t make a big deal about it.” I keep saying. They get some of Caesar and Willow’s construction paper and put up a big congratulations poster.

Willow and Caesar are actually the ones who greet Ame at the door. Even she can’t resist hugging them. “You two are wrinkling my suit.” She complains but she doesn’t push them away, I notice. “All of this is really unnecessary. I would hardly think this is unexpected. Honestly, how long can anyone live with him pestering them on a daily basis?”

“Not long.” Peter agrees. “But still, congratulations.” He kisses her cheek and whispers something to her.

Over dinner, the conversation never strays from where, when and how the ceremony will take place. Aunt Rachael offers the front yard and to my shock, Ame accepts. I’m getting’ married under the traditional family willow tree. The colors will be peach and lavender. One bride’s maid, one groom’s man.

“Dude?” I say.

“On it.” Peter answered.

As if there was any question.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you all that I do not intend to have a traditional service or say traditional vows?” Ame asks.

“This is a family wedding.” My mother starts but Dad cuts in.

“Ame, I think so long as you keep in mind that the children will be present, we can be very flexible.”

“George!” Mom snaps, “Don’t you men have something to do with yourselves?”

“Not if I’m cuttin’ the check for this I don’t.”

“Dad, it’s cool.” I hadn’t even thought about cost. “We got this. Right, Hon?”

“Of course.” Ame looks annoyed – she always is by money. “The bride’s family pays for the wedding traditionally. I would never dream of asking you to pay for it.”

“Yeah, but yo’ Daddy ain’t here.” Uncle Julius spoke up. “So we’d be please ta fill that roll in this case. An’ although, I hate ta bring up such things, but ya’ll need ta have yo’ attorneys draw up pre-nuptials an’ what not.”

“Daddy!” Aunt Elizabeth got up and took his empty plate. “Now, you hush up all that foolishness! This is uh celebration. Thay can talk ‘bout all that non-sense later. You just let them enjoy bein’ in love fo’ just un minute.”

“He can’t help it.” Aunt Rachael laughs. “If there isn’t a contract, it isn’t true love.”

“Hush up, woman.” He grouses.

“Uncle Julius, I appreciate your offer,” Ame wipes her mouth delicately. As soon as her napkin, fork and knife hit her plate, I’m up and clearing her dishes. “But he and I are quite able to afford what I have in mind.”

“Ya’ll can hush up with that foolishness as well.” Uncle Julius booms over her. “Marcus an’ Candice ain’t here ta give ya’ll uh proper send off. Least I can do for my brother is see his grandson get uh proper weddin’ an’ honeymoon. Now I’m not hearin’ unother word on who payin’ fo’ what, you jus’ best get with George an’ Charles an’ yo’ personal attorney an’ see ta them legal details. Hear?”

I go into the kitchen. Ame is stubborn but Uncle Julius always wins. He is not above playing dirty to get his way. By the time I return, Ame is thanking him for his generosity and Julius is looking smug.

“Thug.” Aunt Rachael kisses him as she finishes clearing the table.

“My house, my rules.” He says, settling back comfortably. “Now, you got any idea when you wanna have this here weddin’ or you still workin’ that out?”

“September.” Ame doesn’t even hesitate.

“Oh, the fall will be lovely.” Mom’s eyes light up. “But why so soon?”

“We met in fall. It seems appropriate.” She sees the look on Mom’s face. “Oh. No, there’s only one announcement here – we’re not with child.”

“I never even thought that.” Mom denies and snickers pass around the table.

“Oh, you so did.” Aunt Elizabeth teases. The rest of the evening is taken up with discussions of proposals and short engagements – in my parent’s case one week – and past weddings.

We are on our way home when it hits me. I actually stop the car in the middle of the street – there’s no traffic but Ame stares at me like I’m crazy.

“You ain’t seen Peter an’ me yet.”

“No. So?”

“But you send out the announcements. You started planning.”

“Yes.” I stare at her, grinning ‘cause for once, I think I won. “Peter stopped by my office a few days ago. We had lunch and discussed a few things. We will still have our private ceremony but Peter was able to convince me that his interest in you is…familial.”

“Private ceremony?”

“Yes. Sunday.” She looks away; Ame’s not good with emotional stuff. “We’ll have a public service to satisfy your family in September. I’m sure that will keep your mother and my sister happy. But our wedding will be Sunday. Just those who need to be involved.”

“You, me, Peter.” I’m shaking. I’m getting married on Sunday.

The rest of the week is a fog. I’m getting married on Sunday. But I can’t tell anyone that. The crews all give me shit about having cold feet three months before the wedding being understandable if you about to marry the wicked witch of the fuckin’ east.

Sunday, after church, Peter goes home with me. Ame is reading to Granddad when we get there. He doesn’t seem to know who reading or what but we all take turns doing it anyway. She joins us in the living room when she finishes the chapter.

“How do you want to do this?” Peter asks her.

“I want to understand. I can never replace you. You’ll always be right there. But if I understand what he gets from you, then maybe I can provide it.” She looks thoughtful. “Part of it. I suspect some of it is the masculinity; I can never provide that.”

“You could find him a boyfriend.” Peter suggests. He’s joking. I think.

“Or I could let him play with you once in a while.”

“Me?” Peter looks at me. I don’t say anything; she came out of left field with that one. “Gwen would never go along with that.”

“Does she approve of today?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Then why tell her about anything else?”

“She’s my wife. Look, Ame, I’m only here because marrying you is Alex’s favorite subject. If this is what it takes, then fine. But I’m not endangering my relationship with Gwen just ‘cause you wanna watch two guys fuck.”

“Eloquent.” Ame purses her lips.

Peter’s face gets that set look. Oddly enough, I realize that Ame has almost the identical expression. “Alex.” He goes straight to ‘command form’ like he’s never stopped. “Do you still have your collar and cuffs?”

“Yeah.” They cost too much to toss but I have no idea where they are. “Somewhere.”

“Get them.” I head upstairs. “And your leash.” I start with the most likely place and get lucky. All three are wrapped neatly in a protective case. I look at them for a moment. The leash we bought at Petco. But the leather collar and cuffs were handmade in Bangkok. They’re beautiful. I hope to God they still fit – Peter will have no qualms at all with choking me today. I’m almost out the bedroom door when it dawns on my that I’d better get the metal collar, cuffs and chains that Ame lets me wear on special occasions. And I remember to grab her purse – she’ll want that if we go out today.

In the living room, Ame and Peter seem to have worked out the initial tension. Peter shows her the leather pieces and tells her about the day we got them. He shows her my tattoo – which she’d already seen – and explains why the St. Andrew design and why on my spine. He puts on the collar and cuffs. They’re a bit tight but I’ll live.

“I never made him wear the leash in public, but I threatened to.” Peter smiles. “It’s amazing how well behaved he can be when he’s got uh boner.”

“Yes. I’ve found that too.” Ame strokes the collar. “It’s beautiful work. Do you mind if he keeps it?”

“Not at all. I’d planned to hand delivery them to his new master or mistress but, well, things didn’t quite work out that way.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

“Incest is a touchy subject at best.” He shrugs. “And when it became apparent that you were in it for the long haul, it just seemed better ta let it die.” Peter sits down. “Did he tell you how it all started?”

“That you rescued him from drowning and one thing led to another.” She looks at me. “He was a bit vague about the details.”

Peter tells her everything. In minute detail. Lisa. My suicide attempt. The very first beating. I sit and listen. It all sounds sort of unreal; no one’s life is that jacked up. Ame leaves the room.

She returns with a wooden spoon. My dick jumps. I can’t help it. I can’t even cook with wooden spoons without thinking about getting beat with one.

“You never mentioned that to me.” She strokes my cheek with the head of it.

“No, Ma’am.” I manage to keep my voice level.

“I think I’ll save this for later.”

I swallow hard. I cannot wait for later. Peter goes on with my life story. Jessie. Brandon. Carol.

“He had this aggressive streak. It became apparent real fast that he didn’t know what consent meant.” Peter looks at me. “My biggest fear still is that one day you’ll just forget. You’ll get drunk or angry and rape someone. I worried about you, Ame, for a long time. I don’t know how you’ve kept that demon of his in check for so long…”

“I haven’t.” she says simply. “I let him unleash it on me occasionally.”

“…Oh.” Peter stays quiet for a few minutes absorbing that one.

I open my mouth then shut it. If they want my contribution to this, they’ll ask. I’m uh sub, be uh sub.

“You thought I’d castrated him completely.”

He starts to deny it then nods. “Yeah. Whole family does. Most of ‘em pretty upset over it.”

“What would I do with a tiger with no teeth?” Ame looks at me almost fondly. “The whole fun of it is that if I lose control of him, he’ll win. If I actually break him, there’s no sport.”

“So what if you do manage ta break him?” Peter’s voice goes quiet. I open my mouth again but, again, my input is not required. It’s maddening sitting like a piece of furniture but I should be used to it. I’m not, but I should be. “Will you just walk out on him?”

She seems surprised by the question. “Of course. I told him I didn’t want to make this permanent. He’s the one who wants the marriage. He’ll have to take the emotional risk that I’ll leave.”

“You sure ‘bout this, Alex?” Peter suddenly asks.

“Yes, Sir.” I look at Ame and smile. “I’ve never been more sure about anything. I love her.”

“He loves anything that hurts him.” She shakes her head. “It’s a wonder he’s not more self destructive.”

“He used to be.”

She frowns. “I haven’t eaten yet. Make us all lunch.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “Yes, Ma’am.” I check on Granddad; he’s asleep. I make something quick for him and his nurse and something nice for Ame and Peter. I set the table; they’re still talking softly. I come stand at the door ‘til she acknowledges me. Sometimes I feel like such uh pussy. I used to have balls.

“Yes?” She finally says impatiently.

“You want lunch or what?” I snap back. Internally, I wince. Peter never minded if I broke a little discipline so long as I didn’t break a rule. Ame is considerably more strict.

She gives me that arched look and I wait for it.

“The holster.” I bite my lip not to swear. “Go put it on now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

One leather strap goes around my waist. Another, thicker one goes down my ass crack and splits my nuts. Between them, a leather cup holds my dick against my stomach. It’s barely noticeable if I’m soft but if I get hard, it hurts like all hell because the damn thing doesn’t give so I just get crushed. I get hard half the time puttin’ the damn thing on. Today is no exception.

I come down stairs and find them having lunch.

“Join us.” She points to my seat.

“Thing is, Ame,” I serve myself and wonder which of them actually brought the food out. “Peter, knows me real well but he won’t do the things I want. Not like you do. He can never win me back, you know.”

“I’m sure that thought is keeping him up nights.”

“Oh yeah.” Peter chuckles.

“Look, seriously, Ame, I love you. I can’t deny – I don’t want to deny – that Peter has been an important part of my life but you’re who I want now, right? Future ain’t promised to nobody, right? I could fall off the dock an’ die tomorrow. You could get hit by uh car. I’m not tryin’ ta worry about one uh us gettin’ bored in the future, I just want us ta be together now.”

“We are together. How much more together could we be? We don’t need to be married.”

“Sorry, Ame.” Peter says. “McElroy men just the marryin’ kind. Not uh whole lotta single men in the family, you mighta noticed.”

“And children. You might as well tell your mother now that I’m not having any.”

“So we’ll adopt. One son won’t kill you.”

“What you got against kids, Ame?” Peter asks.

“Nothing. But could you imagine what sort of children I’d raise?”

“You seem alright with Willow an’ Caesar.”

“It was one week while their parents were away. I didn’t kill or corrupt them.” She got a funny look across her face. “Not that Caesar is corruptible.”

“Still. You’d do fine an’ anyway ain’t like half the family wouldn’t raise it for you come to that. Make Alex do all the work.”

“I have no problem if Alex wants to carry and deliver a child. But I don’t want one. Clean the kitchen quickly; we’re going out as soon as you finish.” She stands up. “Peter, would you join me upstairs for a moment?”

When I finish in the kitchen, Peter and Ame are waiting in the living room. Ame is wearing her leather bustier and mini skirt with the thigh-high boots. All of which needs some assistance for her to get into. She’s the Mistress, he’s the Dom. They can both sleep with who they want to. I fight back the wave of jealousy.

Peter drives to our old spot in the river. The chain’s been replaced and a ‘No Trespassing’ sign has been put up but we ignore all that. Then we go to Lisa’s gravesite. It’s almost dark by the time we get home.

“I never knew what I should do.” Peter fixes himself a drink. “So I made Alex set up everything. Get whatever toys he wanted me to use, strip himself, put on the cuffs and wait ‘til I was ready.”

“He does all the labor and takes all the punishment. Efficient.”

“I tried to be. Alex. Ame tells me you got quite uh collection uh toys these days. I’m not whippin’ you and I’m not using electricity. You come back down when you ready.” He took his drink, sat down on the couch and put his feet up. Ame pursed her lips then sat beside him.

“I trust everything is going well at the center?” She asks him. They start talking about his job.

The holster feels like its cutting into me as I go up the stairs to set up a playroom for Peter. It doesn’t take long. We only have a couple paddles or claps that Peter would even touch, let alone use on me. I strip except for the collar and cuffs but I add the leash.

I go down stairs and wait for Peter to acknowledge me.

“Y’know Ame,” he says after ignoring me for I don’t know how long. “The easiest way to make him crazy is to make him wait. He hates being ignored. Right now he’s likely seething but too well trained to say it.

“Really? Are you seething?”

Peter expects me to say no. Ame wants the truth. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Would you be upset if I said stay here while Peter and I went upstairs and indulged in something carnal?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Would you stay here?”

Peter and Ame. I open my mouth and stop. I think I would. I don’t know. Peter and Ame without me. I close my mouth. I don’t know. Ame didn’t say anything about her and Peter without me.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that’s not in my plan.” Peter says standing and stretching. “I’m not sure he’d follow that order.” He gestures me up stairs.

In the bedroom, he says “Down.” I kneel in front of him with my head down and my hand behind me. Then I remember this is Peter and change positions – edge of the bed, ass up, hands visible. They let me suffer while Ame points out the features of the various crops and paddles I’ve laid out.

Then without warning, something smacks me ass hard and sharp. Peter is all fucking hell kinds of stronger than Ame is and the strike reminds me of this. “God damn!” I gasp as my eyes actually water. Peter beats me for a few minutes. That’s all it takes. “Please, Sir, may I cum?” It’s a struggle to hold back after years of Ame allowing me to cum at will.

“No.” He says flatly. “What’s rule number 1?”

“No running, no jumping, no swimming.” I gasp out. “Please, Sir, may I cum?”

“No, wrong answer, try again.” I think hard. That’s always been rule #1 – even before I had rules. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back. “You sayin’ five years and she ain’t set uh rule yet?”

“Oh!” I try and get my breath back. “No, Sir, she has. Rule #1, don’t be late.”

He pops me. “Good. Number two.”

“No sleepin’ around.” He pops me again. “No vulgar language.”

“I’ve always liked that one.” He pops me twice.

I shudder and try to hold back just a bit longer. “No touching the Mistress.” Pop. “I am responsible for the house.” Pop. “I may not wear clothes in the Mistress’ presence.” Double-pop. “Oh, god, please sir, may I cum? There are uh whole lotta little rules ‘bout me bein’ uh gentleman an’ openin’ doors an’ doin’ her nails an’ please I can’t name ‘em all. Oh, God, please just let me cum.” Pop. “Oh, shit I can’t do this any more.” Pop.

I can feel the sensation in my balls and know I’m not gonna be able to hold it back much longer. I try to remember, kinda in the back of my mind, the last time I did that dry cum thing. Ame likes making me clean up my own jizz so she likes me to cum hard and often. I’m getting’ old – I used to be able to cum ten times a night. Now, I’m maybe three times – maybe.

Of course, this is in the back of my brain. Most of me doesn’t care how often I get relieved so long as I can cum now. Right now. Please God. Now.

The next strike never lands and I realize that Peter’s just giving me time to pull myself back off the edge. Relax. Take it easy. Plenty of time; it will all feel good in the end.

The riding crop lands hard across the back of my legs. I blow hard. Just like that. For a moment, I’m not even sure I’m conscious.

I fade back to reality with the startled realization that I’m still hard. “Oh, fuck.” I mutter. I’m going to be so sore in the morning it won’t even be funny.

“I can never get him to do that.” Ame observes.

“It’s in the timing.” Peter’s so fucking arrogant, I find myself thinking. I laugh because I know it’s only frustration speaking. “Let him build then give him time to back off before building again. Eventually, he’s so torn between coming and not coming, he literally bursts. I’ve never been able to do it myself but this one,” he runs his fingers through my hair, “this one has always been lucky.”

Lucky he says.

“Usually, I’ve pretty much exhausted my tolerance for pain by this time.” Peter goes on.

“Really? That looked like a simple warm-up to me.” Ame replies. “That was actually one of the hard parts connecting you two. You don’t seem like the Sadistic type.”

“I’m not. But Alex needed someone to do this and I’m incapable of saying no.”

“Hence the reason you’re here tonight.”

“Hence the reason I’m here tonight.” His fingers stroke my back. Ame would have use nails – carpenter not finger. “He calls and I come running. Sometimes I wonder who the sub actually is. Well, was.”

“Oh, these relationships are always mutual. Masters need slaves as much as a good slave need his Master. Just not in the same way.”

“True, I guess. Anyway, by now, I’m tired of just hurting him and want to get some pleasure myself out of this.”

“Why should he have all the fun?”

“Why, indeed?” He sits on the bed beside me. “Alex, you know what’s next.”

I do. My mouth waters as I rush to open Peter’s pants and blow him. I’m moaning at the taste of him. How long has it been since I blew Peter? He’s still talking to Ame but I’m lost in the moment and the taste and the sensation of his dick in my mouth and his fingers tangled in my hair. It takes me right back to high school. That’s got to be fucked up – blowin’ uh guy reminds me of high school.

Unexpectedly, he yanks my head back. “Not yet. Ladies first.”

He’s gonna make me eat Ame. I can feel the smile growing across my face. “Oh, fuck yeah, Sir.”

“What?” Ame’s behind me but I bet she just jumped through her skin. “Oh, no. I’m just an observer for now.”

Ame hates it when I do her. It makes her crazy. She loses any semblance of control. She sweats, she’s loud, she shakes. Her body absolutely betrays the cool, calm exterior she has spent years cultivating. She can whip me and cum and not make a peep. But if I get in there, she loses it.

“Ah. You still don’t understand the nature of this.” Peter may look like a saint but he’s fuckin’ Satan when he wants something. He does not take ‘no’ for an answer. Then again, neither does Ame. I watch Peter cross to her, wondering who is gonna win this one. “I make Alex do things. I used to control what chores he did, what girls he dated, what hobbies he had. We had a rule – if a girl could walk when we stopped, we weren’t done yet.”

“He never mentioned that.”

“I imagine he couldn’t without telling you it was me.” Peter’s fingers are lightly tracing the line of Ame’s neck. I would get smacked for that but she’s closing her eyes and arching her neck for him. I wish I had a video camera.

He kisses her neck softly. “Won’t your wife disapprove of this?” She sighs.

“I won’t tell her.” He catches my eye and looks down. ‘Get her feet.’ I’ll wager.

I crawl across the floor and unzip her boot.

“No, wait. Stop.” She almost too swept away to speak.

“Ah-ah. He’s still under my orders, right? You can have him back.” He kisses her neck again. “Soon.”

I pull off her boots. She has tiny delicate feet. Sensitive feet the few times I’ve been able to touch them. Kiss them. Suck her toes and lick her arches. Peter pulls her away from me long enough to pick her up and put her on the bed. I think I’m gonna cum just listening to her groan. Slowly, I work my way up as Peter works his way down. The skirt laces up the side, so as I make my way up her legs, I don’t take it off, I just undo the lacings. The back of the skirt is damp. I get it unlaced and off her; I hope it isn’t permanently stained ‘cause it’s one of her favorites and it’s gonna be uh bitch getting’ it cleaned.

The insides of her thighs are wet. I lick them. Her pussy is sweet. She makes a hooting sound when I lick it. She makes an even more animal sound when I lift her legs apart and lick her asshole. She squirms and I can hear her incoherent protests. Peter probably has her mouth covered. I stick my tongue up her ass until she convulses. I pull back for air and Peter is grinning fiendishly at me.

“Make her do that again.” He says.

“Yes, Sir.” I respond. Yeah, I needed an order to do that. Normally, she won’t let me make her cum like that because she hates being at my mercy. Today, she’s at Peter’s. When it comes to sex, he has none.

I go back down, this time focusing on her pussy. The outer lips. The inner lips. The clit. The slit. They’re all soaked in her cream and I happily suck them all clean. My dick jumps when she wraps her legs around my head and rubs against my face. I blow when she pulls my hair trying to pull me deeper inside herself. I can feel myself getting a little lightheaded and I realized that I really am smothering here. I can’t quite bring myself to care. I can feel her muscles clinching around my tongue and I open my mouth just a bit wider to scratch my teeth against her clit. She floods my open mouth.

Then I feel Peter’s dick jam up my ass. He’s dry and I haven’t had anything that big shoved up there in years. I scream into Ame’s pussy. Ame cums again. ‘They are trying to kill me’ I think. Peter rides my ass, Ame rides my face; I have no choice at the moment but to take it.

I realize that the aching I’m feeling is my dick throbbing. I think I may cum before either of them. Peter’s hand reaches under me and squeezes the head of my dick hard, preventing me from cuming. I can’t take it any longer and struggle to either push Ame back or untie her legs but she’s locked in place. Peter’s reaming is shoving me against her, so even if I could disengage her, I have no place to go.

The whole thing starts to have a disconnected feel like I’m there but not really. Peter and Ame are fucking the hell out of me but I can’t even contain it all. This moment is better than winning MVP. Better than getting drafted by Phoenix. Better than damn near every sexual experience of my life – and I’ve had some good ones. Not better than the first time she beat me. But better than the first time I banged her. I start becoming aware than something’s about to happen, like my body’s response is so strong it can reach me even here on this disconnected plane somewhere. Ame’s coming again, hard. I’m going to miss it because I think I’m falling asleep.

Then Peter lets my dick go. Full sensation floods my nerves. Everything flares as the three of us climax is perfect sync.

Then everything goes dark.

My first thought when I wake up is ‘Rebirth.’ I don’t know why I think that, it doesn’t seem to connect to anything but, lying in the dark, that’s what I think. Then I realize, it’s not just dark – I’m wearing my mask.

Sensations occur to me slowly and I begin to piece parts of my world together. My wrists are cuffed, as are my ankles. A slight shift tells me that the chain runs from the back of my collar, through the wrists, to the ankles. I moan as much from the stiffness of waking up in this position and the ecstatic joy of being chained.

Ame’s voice is muffled; she must have covered my ears. I cannot see, speak clearly, hear or touch. I can only feel. I feel the clamp around my nipples when it gets attached and again when it gets twisted. I know I made a sound – a whimper, a groan, I’m too overwhelmed to know anymore. I know I screamed when she added the weights. I thought she was actually trying to pull them off. When she pierced them, I came. I cried, but I came.

The weights are removed almost immediately and something cool and soothing is placed against my chest. Peter must still be there, I think, ‘cause Ame would never let me off that easy. One of them begins stroking my dick – has got to be Peter, I think. He strokes me like he wants me hard fast which he gets. Then, I feel the hard, metal ring slip into place.

I knew that was too easy.

I have no idea what to expect next. Ame loves cock and ball torture – it’s a wonder I still have a working set. But all this metal makes me wonder if she’s pulled out the electrical set. It’s neither, I learn quickly. Pins being poking my genitals. Acupuncture.

Some them merely hurt when she twists them. I can whimper my way through that. Some of them, however, feel like she’s actually ripping my skin off. After the second time if feels like she’s pushing a knitting needle through my dick, I start begging her to stop. I’m not at the ‘peanut butter’ stage yet. In all honest, I can’t tell if one more would make me cum or not. I just don’t know if I want to find out.

There is one more despite my pleas – in my scrotum. It doesn’t hurt quite as much as some of the others but it’s enough to set me off. I can’t believe that I am crying and moaning and begging her to hurt me again. Or at least trying to. Between the mask and the fact that I can’t form a coherent thought, I doubt I’ve said anything intelligable in hours.

Again, something cool is wrapped around my injured flesh. Mask is taken off. In the low light of the bedroom, I can see Ame’s tear stained face smiling down at me. Peter looks confused more than anything.

I reach out to Ame. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” I can help it – I get all mushy when she abuses me.

She actually kneels down beside me and kisses me. It’s a rare treat. “Can you stand?” she asks.

I stand. I’m shaky and I feel like I want to fall down, but I stand.

In the mirror I see what all happened. Barbell diamond and steel studs are piercing my nipples. “Oh, baby. That’s hot.”

“Look down.” Peter says, amused.

He moves the bandage loosely wrapped around me and I see three bead-hoop piercing on my dick. One just below the head, the second at the base and the third beside where Peter’s fish hook caught me.

“Once they heal,” Ame says softly, tugging each one painfully, “I can run your chains through a series of loops. And I’ve already bought the cock rings for these two.” She twists the first two hoops causing me to shake. “For our honeymoon.”

I feel my eyes tearing up. Not because of the pain – that’s nominal at this stage. But the piercing are Ame’s. She has marked me permanently. Even if I took them out right now, I would carry the scars for the rest of my life. “They’re beautiful.” My voice cracks. “Amelia. Thank you.”

“You’ve been a good slave.” Her fingers tease the barbells. “You deserve something special.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” I whisper. She slides her arms around me. I hold my sweet, delicate, evil wife in my arms and kiss her deeply.

Until death do us part.