Ménage (2 page)

us – with our pooled resources, we could buy a gorgeous house.

There’d always be someone around –

I know how you hate to be alone when Drew’s traveling.”

“I have that now, with you living with us.”

Brian caught my arm. “I can’t live here anymore without

wanting to hear you moan for me like you do for him.”

I jerked my arm away. “Don’t touch me, Brian. I can’t

handle it.”

“Why?” he pressed. “Do you find my touch distasteful? Am I ugly to you?”

“No, I never said that.”

He drew a deep breath. “Have you ever thought about being with me?”

“No,” I told the lie with a completely straight face. “But you’ve obviously been doing some thinking about me.”

“Yeah, I have,” he admitted baldly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so jealous in my life. What you and Drew have sexually is something anyone would envy.” “Jesus, has he ever got a freaking big mouth.”

Brian grinned. “He never said a thing to me until this

weekend about your sex life, Honey. But dammit, sometimes that man can barely walk in the morning. And, like I said, this house isn’t soundproof by any means.”

“Lovely.” I curled up in my favorite chair, comforting

myself.

His big face, with its neatly trimmed goatee, appeared

directly in front of me as he squatted down. “I told Drew while we were drinking that I was going to move out. That’s how this whole thing got started. He asked why, and I told him it was because I loved and wanted you, but I didn’t want to hurt either of you. This is what we came up with to keep us together. It’s your decision, because – especially if we get into a discipline situation – you are going to be center stage. We are both firmly heterosexual, so don’t worry any on that score. And we would both be completely faithful to you.

All of our attention would be on you, and you would be

subject to those attentions. If you decide to go along with this, I think we need some time to get used to each other before we get into a discipline scene, but I do love the idea of tanning your bottom when you get bratty, which you do frequently.” A big, meaty hand patted my knee in a kindly fashion. “Let us know what you decide.”

It took a long time for me to decide. Several months. I know both men were pretty on edge about it, and I know I was doing my level best each time Drew and I made love to be completely quiet, which he, of course, took as a challenge to make me cry out. My relationship with Brian, which had had almost brotherly overtones at first, had taken a different turn. Every look he sent me was sexually charged. He would deliberately place himself in my way, so I had to brush against him to get by. He began kissing me hello and goodbye like Andrew did – at first mere pecks on the cheek, then more serious kisses, testing the waters – oh, God, I had a hard time with the idea, but when he held me against him, I couldn’t help but respond. I could see how it affected him when Drew and I went into our room together and he went to his lonely bed.

That was how I let it begin – I felt so sorry for Brian being alone at night that I let him sleep on the other side of me one night – with the firm understanding that I this was not an invitation to have sex with me, at least not at this point. I think the sigh of relief was audible between the two men. I loved sleeping with them from that first night. It was like having two organic furnaces – one on either side of me. For someone who lives in a cold climate who is always cold, it was a dream come true. I woke up that first morning on my side, sandwiched firmly between the two of them, Drew against my back and Brian’s back against my cheek.

We all slept together from that point on, but the physical side was very gradual, and I was thankful that Brian set a very slow
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pace. It was several more months before, while Drew was away on travel, Brian and I made love for the first time. It was fantastic. I have been very selective in my sexual partners – although I’m extremely responsive once I get there, I tend to be a sexually reticent person in general. But these two I have lucked out on. We just gelled nicely.

The discipline/submission elements that have now become

firmly entrenched in our relationship were entered into gradually, and with my complete cooperation. I am a spoiled brat, admittedly.

I like to have my own way, and I can be irresponsible about my health and money, particularly. I have always felt a distinct lack of discipline in my life – which the two of them were more than eager to provide. To me there were two advantages to it – rules and a certain amount of structure helped me keep an even keel emotionally. Brian and Drew set down specific rules for my behavior, and breaking those rules results in a spanking, or corner time, or early bedtime, etc. The second advantage was that all three of us found the disciplinary element almost unbearably exciting.

At first, my spankings were much less disciplinary than

they were a prelude to exhausting sexual marathons. As we settled more into it, they got stricter, which was what I preferred. I wanted a punishment spanking to be a punishment spanking, not some pretend swats and then a roll in the hay. Each of them took this idea to heart in their own way.

Drew is the type of person who takes his responsibilities very seriously, and this was no exception. His spankings became very purposeful and almost frighteningly thorough. He is a no-nonsense disciplinarian and can be very creative, coming up with punishments that are not always spankings but manage to teach me a lesson anyway.

Brian is very comfortable with being a father figure to me, and fathers naturally discipline their daughters. He is really no less strict with me than Drew, but his approach is different. He thinks of me as “daddy’s little girl”, and there are some aspects of that that I am more comfortable with and some less.

Both of them tend to baby me, and even spoil me in some

ways. Christmas and my birthday are times when I am showered with presents. If I am seriously ill or hurt, I have two worried people dancing attendance on me. They are both very physical – in sexual and non-sexual ways. It’s very rare for me not to be touching or touched by someone almost all the time. Their favorite rule is that I must be accessible to either of them at any time, and thus, unless I’m going out, I may never wear underwear of any kind. And, of course, unless I am sick or have another very good reason, I am never allowed to deny them access to any part of my body. As a result of this rule, almost every room or piece of furniture in the house has been “christened”, including the dining room table.

“Gabby.”

“Gabby.”

I jerked awake, as if out of a dream.

“I’ve been calling you for a half an hour,” Drew was not known for his patience. He tapped his foot. “It’s time to tuck you into bed for your nap, but you were supposed to find me, weren’t you?”

I knew that tone. I was in for it. “Yes, Sir.”

Andrew pushed my legs off the couch and reached to his

left, opening the top drawer of the end table to take out the wooden paddle that was always there, ready for use on me for any little indiscretion. In consideration for my comfort, he put a throw pillow over his lap, then carefully positioned me over it. I was not going to be very comfortable regardless of the pillow in a few
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minutes. I felt the cool air touch my bottom as he bunched the pretty red velvet at my waist, then began to spank me with a solid, inexorable rhythm. That solid oak paddled had holes in it designed to increase the sting, and, believe me, they worked!! It was Andrew’s implement of choice and he wielded it with terrible accuracy. I was bawling from the fifth stroke on, barely registering Brian’s tsk tsk as he came in and sat in his favorite chair.

“Someone’s been a naughty girl, I see.” He went on reading his paper while my bottom was tanned thoroughly.

“When I tell you –“ *SNAP*SMACK*SWAT* “- to come

and get me –“

STING*SLAP*WHAP* “- at a certain time –“

*SPANK*SMACK*SWAT* “ - I mean then, not when you get

around to it! Do –“ *SMACK* “ – you – “ *SLAP* “ –

understand –“ *STING* “ – me?” He didn’t give me time to reply - not that I could have really, I was crying much too hard – just kept right on paddling until his arm got tired, I guess.

Finally, I felt him lean over and put away the paddle, but he kept me in place for a moment, with his big hand over my poor swollen bottom. “Now, young lady, you’re going to march into your bedroom and get into your pajamas. But don’t bother pulling the bottoms up past your knees, because I’m going to come in there in a minute and give you a good hand spanking for sassing Brian.

I’m getting sick and tired of your bratty attitude and neither one of us will take any more of it.”

He helped me up as I tried to choke back fresh sobs at the idea that he was going to hand-spank my tender butt in a few minutes. “Go. And you’d better be in position when I get in there, or I’ll get my belt.”

“In position” meant lying on my tummy with my pajama

bottoms at my knees, on top of the covers. I just made it when I heard him turn the doorknob. He wasn’t giving my nates much of a chance to cool down. I was still hiccoughing irregularly. Drew bent and gave my bottom a cursory inspection, then began spanking me.

He blistered me from the top of my butt, down both legs, concentrating most of the smacks right at the crease where my bottom met my thighs. I was literally wailing before he was through.

As I slowly came to my senses, he offered me a cool glass of water then slipped my pajama bottoms off entirely, leaving my mottled and swollen butt exposed beneath the short top. He pulled a sheet over me, put a sleeping mask on me and kissed my cheek again. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Sweetie.”

“Yes, Sir,” I snuffled, knowing I wouldn’t have any trouble getting to sleep after crying so exhaustively from my punishment.

“That’s my girl. Sleep. I’ll come and get you when you can get up.”

I was asleep before he left the room.

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RRRRRAAAACKKK!!

"YEOOOOWWWOHHHHTHAATTTHU

C RRRRTSSSSSS!”

SMMMAAAACCKKK!!

"AHHHHHHOWWWNOOOOOOPLEEEEEASSE!"

CRACK!!

SMACK!!

CRACK!!

SMACK!!

Their rhythm was as dependable as a metronome. And

as painful as if someone had set fire to my butt - and they were trying their best to do just that. It was just my luck that Drew was right handed, but Brian was ambidextrous, leaning toward left-handedness. So, at this point, there was one on either side of me, swinging away at my poor defenseless bottom.

I knew it was going to be a bad Friday night session. It

ended up that I'd earned 50 strokes from the "implement du jour" -

the solid oak paddle with holes - after a joint hand spanking from the top of my cheeks to just above the back of my knees that was de rigueur for a weekly punishment. It was hard for me to remember at a time like this that they used barely touch me at all at first. They'd come a loooooong way. Now I was routinely crying before they'd picked up whatever it was they were going to use on me - strap, tawse, paddle, belt, switch, cane, etc. Hand spankings that used to be just warm ups were now a true and sound part of the punishment. They are still the only time I am spoken to - as each of them lecture me like a naughty little girl about my transgressions and tell me how sorry I am going to be for being bad.

Besides the 50 strokes that were now being applied with

vigor and enthusiasm as I wailed like a banshee, Drew had

announced that I would also be receiving 12 strokes of the cane on top of my well-paddled derriere, before I was allowed to stand in the corner for the required half hour. I was absolutely miserable well before they'd hit even the halfway point, with no possible hope of any reprieve, or of even moving to dodge the blows. They were much too creative for that.

Regular, normal misbehavior during the week was usually

dealt with immediately over someone’s - or both of their - lap. But they decided early on that a weekly punishment was quite suitable to my needs, and decided that Friday nights were a good idea. First, it was a punishment in itself that I was never allowed to go out on a Friday night with my friends, or even Brian or Drew. I had to cook dinner for them, but was always going to be put to bed without mine, and extremely early - like almost right after I was disciplined, which happened at six p.m. sharp.

Then Brian bought a new weight bench, and began fiddling

with his old one, modifying it into a spanking bench that kept me entirely immobile. It was slanted slightly downward and raised at the end, specifically to raise my end to the perfect spankable height. My wrists were bound, my waist was bound, straps held my
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knees and ankles firmly in place. As required, my long hair was in a bun at the back of my neck so that when I began to pant and scream, I wouldn't breathe in and choke on my own hair. Pajama tops but no bottoms, completely exposed from the waist down to whatever punishment they deemed necessary to correct my behavior.

This was my current position, on the receiving end of the

unerring disciplinary efforts of one good-sized man and one man with muscles on his muscles. I was close to senseless with the unending pain, but nothing broke their rhythm until, precisely at 25

strokes, Brian bent down to check that my bonds were secure. I couldn't say anything - I did have a safe word, which I would never use unless it were an emergency because I was crying so hard, but I knew he was listening to my breathing.

One of the early sessions scared them to death because I

cried myself into an asthma attack. I've always found it interesting that the two of them beat my butt on a very regular basis without so much as a by-your-leave, but the mention of the fact that they missed the signs of an impending attack during a session was enough to make both of them look sheepish with guilt.

I noticed that since then, they stop midway, ostensibly to