Chapter 3: Submissive Desires

“Uggh!” Jemima Khan huffed disgustedly, tossing her vibrator aside. Her husband, Cillian, was out on the town with the boys tonight, and Jemima was horny. More than six months had passed since her weekend with Leslie the Lezzy, Tina, and A2, AKA Angela and Ange. Jemima had stopped inviting Tina over because she’d become jealous and refused to play with Cillian anymore. Tina was fixated on Jemima leaving her husband and forming a permanent relationship with her. Something Jemima had no interest in or desire to do, so she cut ties with the masculine-looking woman despite enjoying what they did and had together.

Lesley and Angela were now living together, and although Lesley was initially happy for A2 to get her jollies with Cillian when the four played together, she, too, became jealous of Jemima’s husband and wouldn’t let Ange fuck him anymore. Therefore, Jemima stopped inviting them to play as well.

It had been twelve weeks since Jemima had felt the softness of a woman’s touch on her sublime body, and now her needs raged. She had gone to bed early to remember and fantasise, hoping to requite her burning desires with her vibrator, but it just wasn’t happening. Having gone through this many times before, Jemima knew the only relief for her burning pussy was to hunt for a young, barely legal teenage girl to seduce and bring home for her husband to enjoy.

Giving in to the inevitable, Jemima pivoted on her tight, rounded ass and swung her long, athletically-toned, shapely legs out of her bed and stood. She briefly admired her body in her walk-in robe’s door mirror. Jemima was tall at 185 cm (73 in.) with a long, lean body, 16C breasts, a narrow waist, and what Cillian’s father described as ‘child-bearing hips’.

She regretted that she hadn’t conceived yet and hoped they would soon. Cillian finally came to her one evening and tearfully confessed that he’d had himself tested. Although he wasn’t infertile, his sperm count was lower than expected, and his ‘swimmers’ were lethargic in comparison to average.

The fertility specialist gave Cillian a script that should help his sperm production and increase his sperm’s motility. She still remained without a child, but the doctor said it would be at least six months before any improvement would come, and that time was soon. Jem had noticed Cillian’s cum was now thicker than his typical watery spend, and she hoped that meant it was filled with more sperm. Time would tell if it was enough.

Turning back and forth, Jemima admired her taut body before sighing and entering her en suite. She showered, carefully avoiding wetting her hair and the forty-five minutes it would take to blow-dry it if she did, and dressed. She paired an orange, stretch-cotton, wrap-around micro-miniskirt with a daring side part that left little doubt she was pantyless with a white silk, triangular-shaped, backless, halter neck top. Once she’d tied the top’s back strings tight, her prominent nipples stood out against the silk, and it was clear that she was braless, too. Black, 7-inch pumps with slave collars completed her outfit.

After dressing, Jemima sat at her vanity and did her face. But with her milk chocolate-coloured skin, Jemima didn’t need much makeup, so other than eyeliner, mascara, and ruby-red lipstick, she eschewed everything else and ordered an Uber.

Jem had instinctively entered The Fox Hotel in Collingwood as her destination. But as she eased into the car’s back seat, she considered going there and picking up a playmate where her friend Lesley worked was crass and unnecessarily hurtful to her ex-lover. She told the driver she’d changed her mind and asked to be taken to Sircuit Bar in Smith St, Fitzroy. That was a slightly longer journey than to Collingwood, so Jemima had to wait for the Uber driver to get a new price for the trip. After she’d paid the difference, they were off.

Forty-five minutes later, Jemima strolled into Sircuit and found a seat at the bar. Men almost instantly surrounded her, but she flashed her wedding and engagement rings and pointedly told them she wasn’t interested in male company. After a few attempts, she was mostly left alone. Jemima waited, knowing the bisexual and lesbian women in the bar were more circumspect than the men, and they’d wait to size her up before approaching her.

She sparingly sipped her frozen strawberry margarita and tuned out the conversations around her. Instead, she concentrated on the music and let it sweep her away. Jem’s toe tapped as she nodded her head to the strident hip-hop beat. She was drifting on the music when a deep female voice asked, “Care to dance?”

Jemima opened her eyes and smiled at the masculine-looking woman before her. “I’d love to, but only as long as you understand that it’s only a dance. I am hunting tonight, but not for someone who is butch. I’m sorry to be blunt, but I don’t want to lead you on and then turn you down.”

“Your rings indicate that you’re married. Are you looking for some stray pussy on the side?” The woman asked.

“I am married,” Jemima admitted as she ran her fingers seductively up and down the butch woman’s muscular forearms. “I’m not looking for something on the side, though. Instead, I’m looking for someone bisexual to take home for my husband to share.”

“He makes you do that?” Came the standard question.

“No,” Jemima denied. “I’m very submissive and love being restrained and made to watch my husband fuck other women. My husband, Cillian, is out on the town with his mates, and he probably thinks that I’m still at home in bed.”

“So, if I came home with you, I’d have to fuck your husband, too?”

“Yes,” Jemima said firmly. “If you pretend to be bisexual and then won’t let Cillian fuck you, I’ll dump your ass on the street so fast your head will spin.”

“I don’t like cock,” the woman stated. “Can’t stand the sight of one. Ugly damned things that they are. However, my girlfriend, who is here with me tonight, loves dick as much as she loves pussy. Perhaps I could offer her to your husband as a swap for you?”

“I’m interested,” Jemima purred, allowing the masculine-looking woman to pull her off her stool and onto the dance floor.

The new friends danced through several songs, and Jem allowed her prospective lover to play with her nipples unobtrusively as they did. Jemima’s pussy reacted to the deft, delicate touches, and she pressed her heat against the other woman. Eventually, the woman manoeuvred Jemima across the dance floor and into a seat inside the attached Mollie’s Bar and Restaurant.

Sitting at the table was a stunningly beautiful blonde woman. Jemima gaped at the beauty, wondering if she was old enough to be in the bar. The butch woman sat beside the blonde and kissed her fervently. The blonde wasn’t the singlest bit averse to being so passionately kissed in public. In fact, she moaned and increased the kiss’ passion. Eventually, the masculine woman broke the kiss. She grinned at Jemima’s wide-eyed gaze. “This is my girlfriend, Summer. She turned eighteen today, and this is her first time going to a bar legally and without a fake ID. I’m Rhys. Sorry, but I probably should have introduced myself earlier.”

“All good,” Jemima gushed, fixated on the gorgeous young thing before her. “I’m Jemima. Jemima Khan.”

“Oh,” Summer said, pouting with disappointment. “You look like my favourite lesbian PornHub star, Jemima Starr.”

“That’d be me,” Jem giggled as the two women’s eyes widened. “Starr is my porn name.”

“But you said you were married,” Rhys protested.

“I am, which is why I only do soft porn,” Jemima explained. It wasn’t really the reason. Jem had started doing soft porn for cash after her father had banished her from his home and refused to pay for her uni degree. She currently has more than five thousand subscribers who pay a monthly fee to access her videos. Jem had roped Tina, who has her own page under the name of Anna Wett, into doing several ten-minute clips with her. Those clips earned the stars $4.99 each per view. They’d been viewed over two thousand times each.

“Do you think I could do one with you?” Summer asked.

Tuned into the nuances around her, Jemima said, “If your Mistress permits you to, then yes. It’s difficult to find volunteers prepared to show their faces,” Jem continued. “I usually have to run an ad and pay someone to star with me.”

They talked about how PornHub’s payment system worked, and Jemima explained how you could make an amateur porn flic and offer it to PornHub to publish. Payment for the flic depended on the value the PornHub scrutineers put on it, but typically the minimum payment was $15,000, although it could be lower if the quality was low or the duration was short. However, you could open your own channel on the site for a reasonable monthly fee and then sell your movies through it for as much as the paying viewers were prepared to spend.

Jemima kept her prices low because she didn’t offer any hardcore porn. Jem’s movies showed her trimmed bush but not her clitoris or entrance. The shots of Jemima eating her ‘lover’s’ pussy or her ‘lover’ eating hers were always filmed from behind, with the back of the woman’s head obscuring the other woman’s pussy. Naked breast shots abounded, but the massager’s hands always hid their ‘lover’s’ nipples when they were being played with. Also, Jemima’s and her ‘lover’s’ rosebuds were never displayed.

The money she made from these soft porn films enabled herself and Cillian to make the payments on their three-million-dollar house, which they wouldn’t have otherwise been able to afford after Cillian was delisted.

Rhys took Summer to the dance floor before returning to do the same with Jemima. Then, Rhys encouraged Jem and Summer to dance together while she got them another round of drinks. Summer was all over Jemima, which Jemima didn’t mind. With Angela’s disappearance from her life, it had been some time since Jem had been with a soft, feminine woman.

Although Jemima adored being the centre of a bull dyke’s attention, she liked being with a feminine lesbian, too. Her preference depended on her wants and needs at the time. Tonight, she was more attuned to Summer than Rhys.

Summer groped Jemima’s splendid ass as she pressed her lithesome body to the older woman’s. Groping Jem’s ass confirmed she was pantyless, and Summer’s fingers shifted to caress Jemima’s vulva.

Summer wore a dress that was equally as revealing as Jemima’s. It was made of a silver/purple material that clung to Summer’s every divine curve. It had a side split to match Jem’s, and if it weren’t stitched to hold it against Summer’s shapely, rounded bottom, it would pop over that superb asset and show her ass and pussy to the world.

Jemima gave herself to the young woman, returning Summer’s caresses with equal fervour. The two beautiful women danced in their own little world until the Emcee came on and announced there’d be a short break before the night’s first drag show was on. Jemima and Summer regretfully left the dance floor, their arms around each other’s shoulders. They rejoined Rhys at their table and sipped their drinks appreciatively.

“Tell me about your husband and how bringing someone home for him to share typically works,” Rhys demanded as she possessively hugged Summer to her.

Jemima smiled as she thought about her husband. Despite being five years older than the huge lunk she’d married, Jemima felt safe with the hulking ex-AFL player. Something she’d only ever felt with her oldest brother, Jaspirit. Being cast aside by her father and having her brothers, except for Jaspirit, join her father’s condemnation of her lesbian lifestyle nearly destroyed Jem’s psyche. If Jaspirit and her mother hadn’t secretly defied their father and supported her through her banishment and subsequent marriage to Cillian, Jemima feared where she’d be.

She smiled proudly before saying, “Cillian’s good people, you know? He’s as dumb as a wheelbarrow full of rocks but has a good heart. He knows right from wrong and would never wrong you because he does what’s right. Cillian would stand before the hordes of Hell to protect you just because you’re his friend. Give you his last penny because you need it more than him, and give you the shirt from his back because he’d rather be cold himself than let you be chilly.”

Her two new friends smiled at the faraway expression in Jemima’s eyes. She continued, “I’m a bisexual woman with a strong preference for women. However, I met Cillian in a student bar near MIT seven years ago, and it was love at first sight, you know? I let him take me home and fuck me that night, and we haven’t been apart since.”

Jemima hesitated as memories of their early years flowed through her mind. She smiled wistfully. “We’d been married for about four years when I bumped into a gorgeous woman in our local supermarket. I had been denying and ignoring my submissive and lesbian desires for all that time, believing Cillian should be enough for me. But after encountering Anna in the supermarket, I knew I needed women in my sex life or my marriage was doomed.”

Jemima hesitated again, unsure how to express her desires in a way the other women could understand and not be judgemental about. “I guess that having my family disown me made me feel unworthy of my husband. Then, needing a woman’s touch proved I was undeserving of Cillian’s love. I believed that if I brought the young woman home to offer to my husband, he would be pleased and would want to remain being married to me.”

Jemima laughed deprecatingly. “Of course, Cillian wouldn’t touch her because of his moral compass. Fucking her would break his marriage vows, something he was unwilling to do. But then, Anna pulled the covers back, revealing she’d trussed me like a chicken for the roasting pan, and Cillian demanded to know what was happening. I confessed that I was mostly a lesbian who had somehow fallen in love with him and that I needed this, and, of course, Cillian did what I needed and fucked the shit out of Anna as I watched.”

Her new friends joined her laughter before Jemima concluded. “Since then, when my need for a woman’s touch overwhelms me, I go out, hunting for someone to take home to play with Cillian and me.”

“Which is what brought you here tonight,” Rhys finished. She looked searchingly at Summer, who looked back expressionlessly. Rhys squeezed Summer’s wrist before saying, “Summer’s into you and into cock. I’m into you, but I cannot stand even the thought of having sex with a man. If I offered your husband a swap—you for Summer and Summer for you, would he be into it?”

“I don’t know,” Jemima honestly admitted. “We were playing with a young woman, her butch lover and another masculine woman, but the two butch women became jealous of my husband. They wanted me to themselves without him, which is not something I’m prepared to do. So, I don’t know how he will react if I bring another butch woman home. However,” Jemima confessed. “Cillian rarely denies me my desires, and Summer is stunningly beautiful, so I doubt he’ll object to the swap but he will want it to be in the same room, at least initially.”

“Will Cillian insist that I’m part of the swap?” Rhys queried.

Jemima shook her head. “My husband is very good at respecting hard limits. If you say ‘no touching’, then he won’t touch.”

Rhys and Summer exchanged a long look before Summer nodded. “Summer wants to have sex with you,” Rhys explained. “However, she’s prepared to meet Cillian, and if she finds him attractive, she will make love with him as long as she gets to have sex with you, too. I’m prepared to swap my girlfriend for you, so long as your husband treats my slave well and obeys her limits. Do we have a deal?”

“With me?” Jemima enquired. “Yes. Cillian will decide if it’s something he wants. I have no say, nor do I want to have a say in that. I doubt he’ll refuse, but it remains a possibility. Are you happy to come home with me and find out?”

“How are you getting home?” Rhys asked.

“The same way I got here,” Jemima explained. “By an Uber. I can give you some money to catch an Uber or a cab home if you wish.”

Summer and Rhys exchanged another long look before Summer almost imperceptibly nodded. Rhys turned back to Jemima. “We’re in. But if your husband even tries to touch me, I’ll scream rape.”

“He won’t,” Jem giggled as she opened her Uber app and ordered a car to take them home.

Cillian wasn’t home yet, but beginning without him was common for Jemima to do, so she led the young couple inside and upstairs to Cillian’s ‘slave dungeon’. Rhys walked around the room, examining the various apparatuses. What most were used for was self-evident, but Rhys had never seen so many items gathered in one place. She took down a broad leather flogger and hefted it experimentally.

“Do we need to wait for your husband to come home?” Rhys enquired, lust and the desire to use the object in her hand evident in her growly voice.

“You’re the Mistress, and we the slaves,” Jemima demurred. “Do we tell you?”

Rhys’ eyes flashed with desire. “You like being tied up and made to watch, right? Jemima nodded. And Rhys took several lengths of rope from a drawer conveniently labelled ‘rope’. Then, she casually stripped the gorgeous Indian woman bare. Rhys was only marginally surprised when she discovered that all Jemima wore was the tiny micro-miniskirt and the minuscule silk top. However, she was stunned by how wet Jem’s pussy and inner thighs were. ‘The woman’s literally gagging for it,’ Rhys realised.

Moving confidently, Rhys tied Jemima over a leather-covered, square box close to the room’s centre. Then, she dragged over a low bench and made Summer sit on it facing Jemima. Next, Rhys sat on a stool behind Summer. She looked over her girlfriend’s shoulder as she slowly and seductively undid Summer’s dress zip and eased her left hand inside.

Jemima’s arousal soared as she watched Rhys’ hand cup and play with the young woman’s breasts. She watched Rhys stoke her girlfriend’s fires enviously, wishing it was her playing with the eighteen-year-old’s breasts. Jem could almost taste the young woman’s salty skin and feel the rubbery protuberance of Summer’s nipples on her lips and between her teeth.

The gorgeous young woman closed her eyes and moaned as she felt Rhys’ hand slide up her inner thigh, forcing her knees apart and displaying her wet slit to the older woman bound to the chest before her. Jemima’s answering moan added to her desire, and Summer turned her head, hoping Rhys would kiss her. She did, and Jemima’s need climbed higher. It was almost as if she could taste the young woman. Feel her lips on hers and the slight aftertaste of the vodka cocktail Summer had drunk before leaving the bar. Jemima moaned deep back in her throat.

But this is what she needed. Jemima knew that. She needed to be restrained and denied relief whilst being tortured with visual delights that were unobtainable for her in her current predicament. She moaned again as Rhys slowly lowered her girlfriend’s dress. “Nooooo,” Jemima moaningly protested when Summer’s breasts came into view but were hidden by Rhy’s hands. Rhys grinned maliciously at the bound older woman and massaged her girlfriend’s breasts showily, tormenting Jemima.

“Would you like to see my slave’s tits?” Rhys teased.

“Yes, I would,” Jemima said breathily as her arousal flowed like a faucet from her overheated pussy.

“Call me Mistress Rhys, and I might consider it,”

Jemima shook her head, “I call only my husband Master. No one else shall be acknowledged as such by me.”

“You called me Mistress earlier,” Rhys pointed out.

“Did I?” Jemima countered. “I recall saying that you were the Mistress, not my Mistress.”

“True,” Rhys acknowledged. “But what if I insist?”

“Then I will toss your asses out on the street,” Cillian grinned as he entered the room.

Rhys squealed in fright at Jemima’s husband’s sudden entrance. Summer, however, growled deep back in her throat, and she hungrily examined Cillian’s tall, muscular body.

“I want, Mistress,” Summer demanded.

Cillian temporarily ignored the two interlopers as he examined his wife’s naked and bound state. “Been hunting again, Jem?” He amusedly asked despite knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Jemima admitted. “This is Mistress Rhys and her girlfriend/slave, Summer. Girls, my husband, Cillian.”

“What is the plan?” Cillian noncommittedly asked. He wasn’t against playing with the two young women, but he wanted them to explain why they were there and what they wanted. That way, there could be no later disagreements and arguments about who was allowed to do what and to whom.

“Your wife told me she was hunting for a bisexual woman to take home and share with you,” Rhys boldly replied, knowing Cillian would respect strength more than acquiescence. “My slave is bisexual, so I like to ensure she gets enough cock to keep her satisfied. Therefore, I offered to swap my girlfriend for your wife with the proviso that Jemima got to play with Summer, too.”

“Jem?” Cillian asked.

“I haven’t been restrained and made to watch for so long, baby,” Jemima panted. “Because Tina wasn’t genuinely bisexual, she wouldn’t play with you alone, and I had always to be included in our play. I miss being restrained and disciplined and then being made to watch you fuck some young slut into oblivion.”

“Gaaaawwwwdddddddd!!!!!” Summer growled. “Mistress, please. I need this!”

Cillian turned to Rhys with one eyebrow raised, indicating he wanted her input. Rhys answered his challenge. “Although I want time with your slut alone, I think we should put this one,” she patted Summer’s head, “through its paces and torment your wife in the process.”

Cillian smiled and replied, “I’m happy to take a background seat and let you play out whatever you’ve started here. Then, when you’re ready, I’ll use your slave harder than she’s ever been used before as you endeavour to do the same with mine.”

“Deal,” Rhys said, holding out her hand.

The pair shook, and Cillian sat on a bench against the wall and leant back to watch.

Rhys turned and retook her seat behind Summer. Jemima had almost drooled, admiring Summer’s exposed upper body and her enormous, Double-D breasts while her husband and Rhys negotiated. Now, she had to bite her lip to contain a moan of denial when Rhys’ hands covered them again. Arousal flowed from Jemima’s pussy like spring water coming to the surface after heavy rain. Her clit and nipples throbbed and ached with need, and her mind was melting with unrequited desire.

Cillian’s smug smile didn’t help, either. Jem knew her husband adored it when she was this sexually frustrated because it meant that she was ready and willing to do anything to get off. He winked at Rhys and moved close enough to touch his wife. Then, Cillian stroked Jemima’s back and let his fingers roam over her taut, rounded ass, and he softly rimmed her rosebud.

“Summer is so beautiful,” he teased. “To think her full, pouting lips will soon be wrapped around my glans, and she’ll be sucking my cock, and all you can do is watch and wish it was you who was sucking me. Then, as Summer is on her knees sucking me, Rhys will lie on the ground and slide between Summer’s parted thighs until she can lick Summer’s pussy. And still, all you can do is watch.”

“Gawd, Mistress, please!” Summer moaned gutturally. “Make him stop talking about it, or make him do those things to me. I can’t stand this teasing.”

“Does the slave tell the Mistress now, does she?” Rhys rhetorically asked. “No! Instead, the slave gets punished for her temerity.” Rhys grabbed a handful of Summer’s hair at the back of her head and dragged her across the room to Cillian’s St Andrew’s slave cross. She quickly bound her slave to it and then used the various ratchets to stretch Summer painfully.

Jemima mewled protestingly because she was unable to see. Cillian chuckled and moved her box so Jem could watch Rhys punish Summer. After settling his wife so she could watch, Cillian grabbed the stool Rhys had used and placed it beside his wife. His big hand stroked down Jemima’s back before he used his fingers to spread her ass cheeks, and then he dipped his middle finger into Jem’s pussy as he rimmed her rosebud with his thumb. Although Cillian watched Rhys and Summer, most of his attention was on ensuring he stoked his wife’s arousal to a fever pitch but did not allow her to reach her pinnacle and leap off into an orgasm.

After ensuring her slave was tied tightly, Rhys walked to the wall holding the various whips, paddles and floggers Cillian had bought to use on his wife. She chose two. The first was a basic riding crop with large leather pieces on its tip, ensuring the crop wouldn’t break the receiver’s skin. The second was a steel ring studded leather paddle.

Rhys took them back to the cross and showed them to Summer. “This is for your back, ass and legs,” she said, showing Summer the leather flogger. She changed to the crop. “And this is for your saggy tits and flabby belly when I turn you around.”

Cillian snorted as he unsuccessfully forced down a laugh. Summer was anything but saggy and flabby. Instead, she was at least as toned and firm as Jemima herself was. But her moan of desire indicated that Summer wasn’t averse to being demeaned. The words, if anything, seemed to arouse her more.

“You will count and thank me for each strike,” Rhys said with strict finality, knowing she would be obeyed. Rhys had no sooner finished speaking than she reared back and belted Summer across her back, just below her shoulders.

Summer hummed and said, “One, thank you, Mistress.” Rhys hit with the same force beneath the first strike, with Summer humming louder before saying, “Two, thank you, Mistress.”

Jemima and Cillian exchanged wondering looks. Cillian used the paddles, floggers and whips on Jemima to add sensation to her pleasure. This was the first time they’d seen pain that was accepted as pleasure. It seemed a strange concept to the married couple but one that their new friends seemed to revel in.

Strikes three, four and five followed and were spaced down Summer’s back to just above her tailbone. By now, everyone in the room could see and smell Summer’s arousal pouring from her gushing pussy. It seemed the young woman was quite the pain slut, and the harder Rhys hit her, the louder her cries of approval became.

Rhys paused as she rubbed the raised welts into Summer’s back. She bit the young woman’s ear before growling, “Five more on your fat arse. Do you think you’ll even feel the strikes through the blubber you carry there?”

“Only if you’re mean enough to hit me properly and not like a wuss as you usually do,” Summer answered daringly.

“Such brave words from a blubbering, fatty whale,” Rhys disparagingly said. “I bet you cry ‘red’ after just one strike.”

“You talk, and yet my ass remains welt-free,” Summer dared.

It was an act that Jemima and Cillian were familiar with but didn’t like. Summer was a brat or, as Cillian referred to them, a SAM (Smart Assed Masochist). Cillian saw no point in disciplining a SAM because they welcomed the pain. Instead, if Jemima brought home a woman who was like that, Cillian would plug her ears, blindfold her, tie her so she couldn’t escape, and leave her in the playroom. He wouldn’t return for several hours because he found that the most effective way to bring a brat to heel was to withdraw your affection and attention from them.

However, Summer was Rhys’ slave, and this was her show, so Cillian continued to stir Jemima’s arousal as the married pair watched Rhys deal with her brat.

Rhys responded by ratcheting Summer’s binds even tighter. Summer had to be stretched to the point of severe pain by the time Rhys stopped, but you couldn’t have known from her low, excited pants, her rigid nipples and the arousal pouring down her inner thighs.

Satisfied she had her girlfriend as she wanted, Rhys stood back, grinning maliciously. Then, holding the flogger in a double-handed grip, Rhys lashed it across Summer’s ass. The strike was so vicious that the married couple winced even though it hadn’t been done by or happened to them. However, Summer moaned before shaking her sexy, taut ass, daring her owner to hit her again. Rhys complied, and another wide welt opened across Summer’s muscular ass.

“I assume those two strikes weren’t powerful enough to count?” Rhys amusedly asked.

“I will count them when they’re deserved,” Summer dismissed.

Jemima was horrified that someone would encourage this kind of abuse. She’d played with various Bdsm Mistresses before, but never one willing to inflict this level of pain. Cillian, however, seemed fascinated with the action before him. He’d never encountered a genuine pain slut before. Although he and Jem had played with several women who enjoyed some pain with their play, he’d never seen a masochist playing. It seemed that young Summer was one such woman.

“As you wish,” Rhys stated before lashing her young slave again.

Finally acknowledging the strike, Summer said, “One, thank you, Mistress.”

Jemima felt a frisson of fear because she knew her husband would insist on something similar the next time he decided to take her to his dungeon.