Ménage (3 page)

check that I'm still secure. I don't think they've ever gone easy on me because of it; I don't think that would even enter their minds.

And since the two of them have been taking care of me - Brian making sure with the care of a professional pharmacist that I take a maintenance dose of asthma medication morning and evening and Drew insisting that I take about 62 different vitamins - I exaggerate, it only seems like 62. It's probably more like 10 or 12.

CRACK!!

SMACK!!

Without a word of comfort or a little pat of encouragement, the horror has begun again. I didn't get a chance to catch my breath before howling again with each meeting of soft, hot flesh with hard, unforgiving oak. By the 35th stroke, I'm sure I can stand no more, and fairly scream it to let them know that I am going to die if they continue to 50, but they know that this is not easy for me. It's not meant to be, and they pay no attention to my screams and cries, my begging for them to stop or promises of better behavior.

They've found a way to guarantee my better behavior, and,

unfortunately for me, it works, so they're going to stick with it.

When it finally, finally ends I get very little reprieve before the air whistles with the sound of the cane just before it slices across the very peak of my bottom cheeks. I cannot even scream with the pain until I have endured almost 3 strokes. They fall with the same undeniable rhythm that the others did, but there is a bit more time between strokes for me to absorb the full, painful effect before receiving another stripe across my butt. The first six are given traditionally, with the sixth falling across the first five, raising a pattern of weals that will take a long time to fade away.

The last six are all given as close as possible on or around the sweet spot just as the butt becomes the thigh, where I will be most often reminded of my misdeeds when I sit down a day or two from now.

Drew put the implements away, then the two of them

release me, helping me up as carefully and caringly as they’d just reddened my bottom. I am still senseless with the pain, but I know enough not to touch my bottom. As much as I want to try to soothe the ache away, I know from experience that if I do that, I will have to endure a repeat performance on an already blistered and swollen butt. I am guided to the corner near the television, which I am not allowed to watch on Friday nights, but where they can easily keep an eye on me and my behavior.

For the first long moments I cannot even see the pretty

wallpaper I picked out with such joy a year ago though its barely
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inches from my eyes. The pain is all consuming, and I am still snuffing and hiccoughing tears, jerking with each uneasy breath.

Even the simple act of breathing seems to hurt my bottom. The air chafes me unbearably. I am miserable. Just miserable. My feet seem to move agitatedly of their own accord. Brian's gruff, low voice from behind me.

"I see a very naughty girl fidgeting in the corner. Do you want me to come over there and give you something to fidget about, young lady?"

Fresh sobs clog my throat, but I know he expects an answer.

"N-no, S-sir."

"Then stand still, or I'll get my belt out."

"Y-es - Sir," I barely got out, tears coursing down my cheeks as I tried to stay still when what I wanted to do in the worst way was the "spanked little girl dance" - hopping around, clutching my poor abused seat. Somehow that seemed to help. Standing still was terribly, terribly hard.

After what seemed like years, they both came to put me to

bed on my tummy in the middle of the big king sized bed.

Sometimes, I was bound, even blindfolded for the night.

Occasionally, Drew liked to insert a butt plug for me to wear until they came to bed. Tonight, they tucked me in like a precious child. I was still hiccoughing sobs, and fell into an exhausted sleep very soon after they each kissed my cheek and patted my bottom none too gently.

As usual, I woke when they entered the room and sat up

drowsily. "Lie back down, Sweetheart," Drew shushed me with a kiss on the lips and I did as I was told while they stripped and got ready for bed.

"Are you warm? Cold?" Brian asked, standing at the thermostat.

"Cold," I answered.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Why do I even bother to ask?"

and bumped the heat up a little in consideration of me - ensuring that he would roast overnight.

"Do you need anything, Angel? Glass of water?" He was already on his way to get me some ice water, knowing that all that crying would dehydrate me. When we were finally settled under the covers with the lights out and I was comfortably ensconced between two walls of chest hair and muscle, they each lay a hand on the small of my back and began to rub gently.

"Are you all right? No breathing problems?"

Those two questions were always asked by one or the other

of them, and I nodded that I was fine, as I always did. Brian's hand found its way into my hair, as it always did. "You were a very naughty girl this week and your punishment was a reflection of that." I hung my head, knowing he spoke the truth. "I know I was a brat. I'm sorry."

"Close to that time of the month," Brian stated with certainty. They kept much closer track of my cycle than I ever did.

"That's no excuse. I hope you learned your lesson, young lady," Drew said sternly, although his hand continued to travel softly up my spine.

"Yes, Sir. I'm sure I did." Tears came unbidden into my eyes again.

He held out his arms and gathered me close against him,

hugging me and rocking slowly. I bawled out the pain, the fear, the helplessness of my position as I received my punishment, the sobs
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quieter but more emotionally wrenching and cleansing. Somehow -

it always happened without me even noticing it - I ended up in Brian's bear hug as he kissed the top of my head and just held me.

Neither of them ever shushed me or told me I was crying to long or too hard. They just let me get it all out, somehow knowing intuitively that it helped me come to terms both with my bad behavior and the inevitability of my punishment.

When my crying had ceased and I was simply a huddled

blob on Brian's chest, they settled me between them on my tummy to sleep. Each of them bestowed a warm, wet, sloppy, noisy kiss to my cheek to make me laugh. "I love you” was exchanged all around, and I fell asleep again - loved, cuddled, and punished.

is deep, soft growl came as expected. "Over

my knee, angel-girl. Right now."

H There was no use in trying to delay the

inevitable or even glancing in Andrew's direction. Neither of them ever interfered when the other had decided to discipline me. And it wasn't like Brian didn't have just cause.

I had wanted to go out with my friends last night. It was one of my best friend's birthdays and there was a group of us taking her out.

Of course, I had to ask permission, but, as I had been generally well behaved that weekend, they agreed, with Brian's stipulation that I take his big 4-wheel drive truck, because the weathermen were predicting snow and my light little sports car didn't handle well at all in snow. I was told to be in no later than ten, and I couldn't get them to extend it any later because they didn't want me driving a half hour home in a foot of snow, regardless of what vehicle I was taking. Pouting and whining was just going to get my seat warmed, so I settled for ten before they started backing it up to 9 p.m. or even earlier, or retracted their
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permission entirely and packed me off to bed with a thoroughly blistered butt.

I hated driving Brian's truck - it seemed about five times the size of my little "wrap-around" car, just like Brian some times seemed 5 times my size, especially when I was bottom up over his big lap getting a new set of red cheeks for some offense or other.

And I never knew where anything was - none of the knobs seemed conveniently placed. I felt like I was driving a freaking tank.

Next time I borrow this truck, I'm going to bring a booster seat, I thought, barely peering over the dashboard at the road.

The evening was fantastic - the group of women I went out with had known each other for years and we were like the 5

Musketeers. I laughed until I wheezed and the smile muscles in my face hurt. Since I was driving, I was not allowed to drink, besides, I would need all my faculties for the drive home. It had just started flurrying as I pulled into the Outback parking lot, and when I came out several hours later, there was 5-6 inches of the white stuff on the ground. I grumbled all the way to the truck -

about having to leave the party early to make a blasted curfew and about the blasted snow that made me have to leave that much earlier to make it home.

I had a sudden, unusual stroke of genius after starting the truck to let it warm some, and used the cell phone to call home.

Andrew answered, immediately alert to some sort of problem. "Are you ok? I knew we should have kept you home safe with us."

"Drew, you worry to much! I just called to say I'm on my way home."

"You drive slowly, young lady. Do you read me?"

"Yes, Drew," somewhat exasperatedly.

I knew giving him any kind of attitude would never fly with Andrew. "You had better watch your tone of voice, darlin'," he warned softly into the receiver, and I literally straightened in my seat.

"Yes, Sir," I said in a much meeker tone.

"That's better. Brian's been watching the weather and the local radio station is saying it's very slick. Don't worry about curfew, just take your time and go slow."

"I will."

"Call if you have any trouble at all."

"I will."

"Love you, baby. Be careful, now."

"Love you, too. I'll go slow." I ended the call and drove very slowly home. It was extremely slick - the roads didn't look like DPW had touched them with sand, salt or plow. I even made it with a few minutes to spare before my curfew, shutting off the engine and grabbing my purse to hurriedly slide out of the truck and make a mad dash into the house. Both men met me at the door with huge bear hugs.

"Man, are we glad you're finally home," Brian sighed, lifting me right off the floor with a hug fit to my ribs.

Drew's hug was just as enthusiastic. When he finally pulled away, he touched the tip of my upturned nose with the tip of his index finger. "No more going out for you if snow's predicted. Our nerves can't take it."

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"Jeez, guys, then I'll be shut in all winter!" I whined, not really worried about Drew's commandment. With any luck, he'd forget about it by the next time. Brian helped me out of my coat and I began to yawn, wandering toward the bedroom slowly. I yelped when Drew snuck up behind me, pulling me back hard against him with his palms gently covering my breasts. "Why, honey, you know we two horny bastards would just as soon keep you barefoot and pregnant - " I turned in his arms with a grin and quirked an eyebrow at him. He repented with a big smile, and said, "Well, barefoot and bare-bottomed, then."

I wiggled away from him to throw back over my shoulder; "Don't you do that already?"

"Not nearly enough," Brian chimed in as the two big lugs watched me walk away from them - a favorite pastime - down the hall toward our bedroom, goofy grins plastered on each of their faces.

"Another country heard from that's not on the map," I called, my voice muffled as I pulled my slinky black turtleneck over my head and wiggled out of my skirt and hose. Completely nude, I walked into the bathroom the three of us shared to find the huge garden tub already fill with hot water and bubbles, the lights down, scented candles lit, and soft music playing. I was just going to go out and thank them, when they came in through separate doors.

"Thank you, guys," I kissed each of them on the cheek, and they helped me into the just-slightly-hotter-than-comfortable water.

They each took a seat on a corner of the tub. "We had

ulterior motives," Brian confessed, wiggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly at me to make me laugh. "I know your ulterior motives, Honeys. You want to watch."

Like two eager little boys with unlimited access to a candy store, each of them nodded their head vigorously, laughing.

It was a fantastic evening of pampering and love and sex.

Worrying about me made them extremely appreciative of what we had, and they were both adept at expressing their appreciation in a multitude of ways - not all of them sexual. I fell asleep last night absolutely exhausted and sated, surrounded, protected, and bound by two large walls of muscular, masculine flesh. Each maintained a hand on me, as if I would somehow disappear in the night.

Brian slept behind me, and always cupped my left breast in his hand firmly, even in his sleep. Andrew slept in front of me, one arm behind him, his palm under my ribcage. I think if they could have thought of a way to tie me to them, that would still allow easy movement, they would have.

Unfortunately, neither the amazing sex last night nor the wonderful morning sex would save me from a trip over Brian's lap.

We had had

fast together, as usual, then I kissed Brian goodbye at the door, turning back to start the

fast dishes while Drew got ready to leave. I knew I was in deep trouble when Brian came back into the house, stomping fresh snow off his boots. When he was angry, he kept his head low, his chin tucked into his chest, like a fighter, and his already sexy, low voice got noticeably lower and softer. He wasn't the type to yell and make a scene. Sometimes I almost wished he would. But he didn't. Instead, he took his frustrations out on my poor defenseless bottom.

"Gabrielle Brianna Avery, you were the last one to use my truck, weren't you?"

Oh, crap, he used my whole name!! He never used my

whole name unless he was really pissed. What had I done to his
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precious truck? He treated that thing like a newborn baby. But I just drove it home. What could I have done?