Ménage

Ménage

By

By CFaulkner / BacksideOfLove.com

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electronic, digital or manual duplication, is permitted, except for personal use, without expressed, written consent of the author ([email protected])

Violations of this copyright can be traced digitally, and will be pursued vigorously.

This work of fiction depicts
Adoring Discipline
, which entails one adult giving another the authority to punish them physically. Neither the author, nor BacksideOfLove.com, depicts, condones, or tolerates the inclusion of involuntary physical abuse in any activity depicted here. Adoring Discipline is a healthy, often therapeutic part of intimate adult relationships for those fulfilled by it.

For more information on
Adoring Discipline
, please visit http://BacksideOfLove.com

’mere and sit on my lap, bare-bottom girl.”

“C Finally, I heard those low, soft words from

behind me that set me free. My hands unclenched

from atop my head, and I drew a sharp breath from the pain in my shoulders as I dropped my arms to my sides on the way to that welcoming embrace.

Brian always smelled wonderful to me – except when he

was sweaty from a run. Settling myself comfortably on my side with my aforementioned bare butt snuggled against the rough denim of his jeans and my forehead tucked against the side of his neck, I inhaled deeply, smelling layers of leather from his vest, sunshine, and fabric softener flavored with my – and his – favorite cologne. Two large, well-muscled arms closed around me, holding me tightly but pleasantly. I marveled, not for the first time, at how comfortable it was to be held against him like this, considering his iron hard 6’4” frame seemed at first glance given more to professional wrestling than succor.

My eyes were pressed tightly closed against the warm flesh of his neck and I sighed deeply as he delved a large paw into my hair, brushing it gently away from my face. Even the steady ka-thump-ka-thump-ka-thump of his heartbeat seemed tailor made to reassure me.

Warm, soft lips pressed a light kiss just below my jaw line, and I felt the rumble of his low growl as I heard the words. “You know why you were sent to the corner, now, don’t you?”

Not particularly anxious to respond, especially when I know I’m wrong, I squirmed within the safety of his arms, finally nodding slowly. He waited a moment, and I knew what he was listening for. “I’m sorry, Brian. I didn’t mean to be bratty like that.”

A broad, strong hand rubbed just the right spot of tension out of my back. “I know, Honey. That’s what corner time was made for – bratty little girls.”

An indelicate snort came from across the room, behind

Sunday’s sports page. “No, that’s what a session over your lap is made for, Brian. You’re too easy on her.”

As if in response, my vulnerable posterior was immediately covered by Brian’s palm. I stayed carefully still, waiting. Andrew was much more of a disciplinarian than Brian was. Together, they struck a nice balance. Had I sassed Andrew, I would have spent 30

minutes in the corner with my hands on my head and a well— blistered bottom to cry about, I had absolutely no doubt about it.

Despite the differences in their size – Andrew was of a more average height and build – they both wielded either hand or implement with wicked expertise against my two nether cheeks.

Brian’s silence was a matter of concern, as if he were

mulling over Andrew’s contention that he was too lenient with me.

I began to resign myself to the idea of a thorough spanking when I heard, “I think you have a point, Drew.”

Thick fingers contracted on my tender flesh, and I held my breath, expecting any second to be told to assume the position, face down over his lap. “Gabrielle, go make a mark in The Book.”

I did as I was told quickly, glad for the reprieve although it was simply a delay of the inevitable. Next week’s Friday session with the two of them was going to be a bad one if it was only Sunday and I’d already earned 20 strokes. Andrew caught me on my way back from the office, where my beautiful leather bound punishment book was kept in the desk the two of them shared. He pulled me against him, saying, “You’ve been out of sorts today, Love. Feeling ok?” I nodded. “It must be PMS, then.” Drew patted my bottom and ducked when I swung a playful smack at him. It amazed me – the two of them knew my body better than I did. “Is that one of the new dresses we bought?”

Of the two, Drew paid more attention to my physical

appearance than Brian did. He had surprised me when we were first dating by actually ENJOYING a shopping trip, and making helpful, constructive comments about what I looked good in. Made me wonder seriously if he was gay, except that he couldn’t color coordinate separates if his life depended on it.

With his encouragement, I tried on fashions I would never have given a second look – like the deep maroon velour swing dress I was in. It was scoop necked, revealing a healthy amount of my burgeoning cleavage, and draped elegantly from there to not quite mid-thigh. If I had my hands over my head, as I had a few minutes ago, my bare butt was pretty much hanging out.

“Turn around,” Drew commanded, and I obeyed instantly.

He squatted down and lifted the flowing skirt to my waist. “Your bottom looks fairly well healed, but I want you to continue to take the extra vitamin C.”

“Yes, Sir.” Last week’s punishment had been considerable, and, although he never let it deter him from the administration of a thorough spanking, Drew always worried about the bruises it sometimes created. He stood up and turned me, letting his hand run over my hip to cover my shaved mound possessively, then slowly stroke up to a ripe, bare nipple.

“I heard you ask Brian for permission to get up in the

middle of the night last night. Couldn’t you sleep?” Brian had denied that permission, and had assisted me to sleep by wringing several exhausting orgasms from me; his mouth planted firmly where Brian’s hand had roamed seconds ago.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“Then you need to take a nap today, don’t you?” Of the

two, Brian was also the control freak. He knew that I hated to sleep during the day, that I was afraid I’d miss the opportunity to do something exciting with either or both of them, and that I felt we didn’t spend enough time together as it was. Plus the fact that being put to bed for a nap made me feel babyish. He knew all these things but they didn’t phase him. “Dinner tonight is pizza – of course,” one of our many traditions is Sunday night pizza: no fuss, no muss before the workweek “so you can nap from one to five.

Come get me at 12:55 and I’ll put you to bed.”

I wanted desperately to sigh exasperatedly, but I didn’t want to push it.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Brian, she’s going to nap from one to five. Please don’t disturb her,” Drew announced, turning away from me with a quick kiss to wander over to the computer. Brian was now buried in the sports page.

“Good idea. She was up till all hours last night.”

It was Sunday, and, within reason, I could do whatever I wanted until the dreaded naptime. I read on the couch like a lump, getting absolutely nothing accomplished of any merit. It felt good.

The magazine section of the Sunday paper had an article on polyamory, and until I read it, I never knew there was a technical term for our little “arrangement”. What we had, we got by fate.

Accident, even. Luck. And damn good luck for me.

Drew and Brian had been friends forever. When Drew and I began to date, and I naturally saw Brian from time to time.

Eventually, we became a friendly threesome – we all had a lot of the same interests and had a lot of fun together. Drew and I moved in together and lived as a couple for a while.

When Brian’s lease was up, Drew asked if I’d mind him

moving in for a while, until he could find another place. I had no objections, although I worried some because Brian and I were just beginning to explore the idea of him disciplining me, and I didn’t think I wanted anyone else witnessing that. I figured we’d put it on the back burner until we were by ourselves again. Things settled into a natural routine.

I work at home, and ended up doing most of the typically “female” things – cooking, etc. Both men were – and still are – extremely appreciative of my cooking talents, and for clean, folded laundry. Cleaning talents have never – and will never – be my forte. Andrew tends to excel and be more concerned about general cleanliness, so he evolved into the vacuuming/dusting expert, and Brian naturally gravitated to more outdoor duties, lawn mowing, etc. The three of us together make an excellent, complimentary team.

The ménage idea was something the two of them cooked up

all by themselves one weekend when I was visiting a friend out of state. I came home and they both looked at me with a horribly expectant, hopeful expression, and I knew something was up right there.

“We want to talk to you,” Drew stated, grabbing my hand

and dragging me into the den. The two of them sat on either end of the sofa, and I sat in a recliner to one side. I figured that Brian had found someone else, and was maybe going to ask if she could move in with us. Or maybe he was moving out. I never expected what happened next. Drew’s next few words made my jaw drop as I blushed furiously.

“Remember how before Brian came we were talking about

me spanking you?”

“DREW!!” I couldn’t believe he was saying this in front of Brian.

He cut through the hysterics I was going to have. “I told him. We’ve talked about it this weekend. We both want to discipline you.”

I gulped, mouth agape. “Huh?”

Brian grinned. “A bit much to deal with all at once, huh?”

Rarely at a loss for words, I sputtered. “C-wha – how - ?” I stopped trying to be coherent, and turned to Drew. “Are you crazy?”

“No, I’m a realist. I’ve seen how he looks at you. He’s my best friend. I love both of you.”

My eyebrow shot up at this. “And you two . . . “

“Are never likely to have a physical relationship,” Brian supplied. “We’re hetero, and we both want you. I could probably try to steal you away from him, but then we’d all end up miserable.

I love the idea of spanking you.

It’s something no other woman I’ve been with has been

into, but it’s something I’ve always been aroused by.”

I was floored. I sat back and rocked in my recliner, not saying anything. “Look. We know this is a lot to take in. It’s not like there’s some kind of time line here. And we’re not forcing you into anything. If this sounds like something appealing to you, then we’ll go with it. You’re the one who would be submissive to two masters – you know how I hate that word, but for lack of a better one. I know you think I’m a sex fiend, and Brian is probably a little moreso.”

Drew was a highly sexed man. If the average American

couple was having sex 4 times a month, then we were packing a lot of months into our weeks. It was not unusual for us to have sex twice a day – morning and evening. If either of us had been away on travel, Drew would often wake me up by bringing me off then we would make love for an hour or so in the middle of the night.

Between the two of them, I would probably barely be able to walk!

I was still quiet – quite frankly, I had one foot halfway out the door.

Brian seemed to sense that. “Drew, why don’t you give me a minute alone with Gabby.”

He leaned forward, hesitating. “Are you ok?” he asked, and I knew he was genuinely concerned.

I nodded, and he left, closing the French doors behind him.

Nervously, I cleared my throat and fiddled with my hands, finally clenching them over my stomach.

Brian moved to the nearer end of the couch but didn’t try to crowd me. “Why don’t we cut to the chase, hmmm?”

I blinked.

“Doesn’t the idea of having 2 men in bed with you, both

trying their best to bring you off, sound the least bit exciting?”

I couldn’t help it. I bit. “Now that’s a man’s argument, right there.” I got up from my chair and paced to the bow window, staring out at nothing.

“It’s every man’s fantasy to have multiple women in bed.

Frankly, it’s never been my fantasy to deal with more than one man at a time.”

Brian followed me, keeping a careful distance. “I doubt

you’ll have any problem handling the two of us. I don’t mean to make you even more uncomfortable, but it’s not like this house is soundproof.”

He let that sink in, and I blushed from the roots of my red hair to the frosted pink tips of my toenails.

“And Drew and I did some talking this weekend . . .”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Don’t blame him. We were pretty drunk when we started

talking. But we sobered up when we realized how perfect this arrangement would be for the three of us.”

I snorted.

“You’ve always wanted to buy a house. We – the three of