I knelt on the thick rug, the apron’s strings cutting slightly into the small of my back, while the dim lamplight painted long gold slashes across the floorboards. Across from me, Kate lounged against Kris’s chest, her robe parted just enough that I could see one rose-tipped breast swell with each slow breath. Kris’s hand was buried in her dark hair; I watched his knuckles flex as he gathered a fistful, tugging her head back until her throat formed an elegant arc. They did not look at me— they never had to— but I felt my pulse thrum beneath the starched fabric as though the apron itself were warning me to stay still.
Their mouths met with a soft, wet sound. Kate’s lips opened instantly, and Kris pushed his tongue between them, the kiss raw and deliberate, the kind of kiss that says we can take whatever we want. I swallowed, my own tongue suddenly heavy, useless. Air snagged in my throat. The scent of leather from Kris’s boots and the faint sweetness of Kate’s perfume drifted over, making my stomach clench with that familiar blend of hunger and dread.
When they parted, Kris’s grin tipped sideways. “Boots,” he said simply, eyes flicking toward me.
The single syllable cracked like a whip. I dropped forward, palms to the rug, crawling the short distance until the polished toes of Kris’s boots filled my vision. I smelled saddle soap and a trace of dust from the walk we’d taken earlier. My fingers trembled as I slid the soft cloth over the scuffed leather, working in slow circles the way he’d taught me the first night he stayed here. A smear of dirt clung to the welt; I buffed it away, heart hammering so loudly I was certain they could hear.
Above me, Kate murmured, “Slower, pet. Show gratitude.”
I slowed, pressing my lips to the boot’s cool curve, holding them there while heat flushed my cheeks and pooled lower. A faint, amused hum from Kris rewarded the gesture. I fought the urge to rut against the rug— he’d forbidden me release without permission weeks ago— and forced myself to breathe through my nose, tasting leather every time I inhaled.
Kate’s fingers trailed down Kris’s sternum, popping buttons in their wake. The shirt fell open, revealing the hard ridges of muscle I’d secretly admired the first time I saw him shirtless at the lake. She spread her palm over his pec, circling a flat nipple until it stiffened. “He’s been such a helpful little house boy,” she cooed, voice syrupy. “Making our coffee, warming your towel, holding the door. Haven’t you, Mark?”
“Y-yes, Ma’am,” I managed against the boot. My voice sounded small, foreign.
Kris pinched Kate’s chin, tilting her face back so their eyes locked. “He earns a reward only when we say.” Kate smiled, wicked, and my insides twisted. Something about that smile always warned me I was balanced on a cliff edge— one push from falling into exquisite ruin.
Kris leaned forward, the boot under my mouth shifting slightly. I froze. He spoke, low and even, each word slamming into my gut. “Stand. Lose the apron. Bend over the arm of the sofa and display that pretty backside for Kate.”
I rose on shaking legs, fingers fumbling the knot. The apron slipped away, leaving me bare, skin pebbling under their combined gaze. The sofa’s velvet brushed my thighs as I draped myself over, knees on the cushion, palms flat on the seat. Cold air kissed the exposed crease of my ass. A whimper escaped before I could stop it; Kate’s answering chuckle skittered down my spine like ice water.
The first slap cracked through the room, sharp, precise heat blooming across my right cheek. I gasped. Kate followed with two more in quick succession, alternating sides, her palm strong from years of climbing and rowing. Each impact jerked me forward, the sofa’s nap rasping my nipples, sending electric jolts straight to my groin. Tears prickled, but I blinked them back; I wanted to take everything she would give, prove I could be their perfect toy. After the sixth smack, she paused, tracing a fingernail over the warm skin, inspecting the rising blush. “Color?” she asked softly.
“Green,” I breathed, voice thick.
She laughed, a bright, delighted sound. “Greedy boy.”
Behind me, leather creaked: Kris shifting. I heard his zipper, slow, deliberate. My cock dripped, tapping my belly with every heartbeat. I closed my eyes, breathing through the sting that still pulsed over my flesh.
Kris spoke, velvet over steel. “Reach back. Spread yourself. I’m going to fuck that tight hole until you remember whose house this is.”
Pulse roaring in my ears, I obeyed, palms sliding to my buttocks, pulling them apart. Lube clicked open— a cool drizzle trickled down my cleft, followed by Kris’s thick finger circling my rim, massaging until I rocked back instinctively. A second finger pushed in, stretching, curling, finding the bundle of nerves that made my knees buckle. I fought to stay open, fought the moan crawling up my throat.
He withdrew; a heartbeat of emptiness, then the blunt, blunt pressure of his cock. I exhaled hard, trying to unclench as he fed inch after inch into me, the burn blinding and perfect. When his hips met my battered cheeks, he paused, a silent reminder of who set the pace. I felt full, owned, stripped of everything but this connection.
“That mouth isn’t idle,” Kate said, amused. Fingers threaded through my hair; she tugged my head up. The pink silicone dildo jutted from her harness, glistening with lube. She tapped it against my lips. “Show us how you’d like to be treated if you were in charge— not that you’ll ever be.” She laughed, softly.
I opened, the shaft sliding deep until the flared head nudged the back of my throat. My gag reflex fluttered, but I swallowed, relaxing, letting her push further until my nose brushed the soft skin of her belly. She held me there, tethered between them— Kris buried in my ass, Kate clogging my airway— a living bridge they used without hesitation.
Kris started to thrust, long, powerful strokes that drove me forward onto Kate’s cock. She set her own rhythm, pulling nearly out then sliding back in, covering my drool-slick chin. My world shrank to their twin beats: grind back, swallow forward; stretch, gasp, stretch again. Sweat sealed chest to velvet, my pulse roaring in my ears.
His hand clamped my hip, thumb digging into tender flesh. “You close?” he growled.
“Mmmph!” I tried to nod with my mouth stuffed. God, I was right there, hovering, every muscle coiled.
“Hold it,” he snarled, pounding faster, balls slapping, the sofa squealing in protest. “Remember— no release until I say.”
I clenched around him, fighting the surge, desperate to obey even as fire licked through my veins. My thighs quaked; tears blurred the rug patterns beneath my fists. Kate’s fingers tightened painfully in my hair, holding me deep as her hips snapped forward, fucking my throat as ruthlessly as Kris claimed my rear.
“Now,” Kris barked, “Cum—” but his next sentence clipped short as he yanked out of me, and hot stripes of his release lashed across my back, pooling at the dip of my spine. The lack of contact threw my body into confusion; my climax, ready to explode, hung suspended, throbbing, my cock jerking uselessly.
Kate pulled out next, dildo popping free, strings of saliva bridging us. She scooped a glob of Kris’s cum from my skin and smeared it across my cheek, painting crude streaks. “Wear him while we relax,” she whispered, eyes shining.
I collapsed against the sofa arm, heart jackhammering, ass aflame, back sticky. The denied orgasm pulsed between my legs, a dull ache that rooted me firmly in my place. Above, fabric rustled: shirt slid off shoulders, robe pooled on floorboards. They settled together again, two bodies molding into one silhouette against the lamplight.
Kris’s voice floated down, lazy. “You pleased us, servant. Clean yourself up, and keep quiet while we enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“Yes, Sir,” I croaked, the words tasting of rubber and salt.
A soft, indrawn breath— then the wet, familiar sound of mouths meeting, tongues twining. My chest tightened, but not from pain; it was something gentler, an ache that throbbed alongside the ache in my groin— love for them both, and gratitude that, somehow, I still belonged inside their orbit even if only as a shadow at their feet.
I eased to the floorboards, kneeling, cum cooling on my skin. The room smelled of leather, sex, and satisfaction. Their low laughter fluttered overhead, interspersed with murmured endearments meant for each other, not me. I let the cadence wash through, calming the drum in my temples, accepting exactly what I was in this life we’d built— property, witness, keeper of secrets.
Much later, after the candles had guttered and the city outside surrendered to rain, Kris lifted Kate into his arms and carried her down the hallway. Their silhouettes paused at the threshold, two bodies fused by moonlight. Kate looked back once, eyes finding mine across the dimness. “Sleep on the rug tonight,” she said softly, “and when you wake, make breakfast— we’ll want strong coffee and something sweet.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, the words steady now, certain.
The door clicked shut. I stretched on the rug, spreading arms wide, surrendering every inch to their claim. Rain patterned against glass; my back stung, my hole throbbed, unsatisfied cock nestled against my thigh. Yet, under the steady percussion, I felt the strangest peace unfurl, a sense that the fragile shape of us— Kate and Kris entwined, me the orbit they permitted— might hold.
Tomorrow would bring new tests: chores, public smiles, their casual touches in front of neighbors who saw only a happy couple and their live-in “friend.” I would endure the small humiliations, carry their coffees, answer to names not mine, and thank them with every breath.
Because this was the price of staying, and the gift— to love Kate without demanding her heart be split evenly, to feel Kris’s mastery without needing to rival it. Somewhere between service and surrender, I’d found a place that felt, at last, like home. The ache of denial settled low in my belly, and I closed my eyes, letting it anchor me, letting the sound of their muffled laughter from the bedroom wash over my skin like a blessing. I belonged here— on the floor, between their worlds— and as sleep finally tugged me under, I knew I would choose this life again, every dawn, every breath, every trembling, denied, ecstatic moment.
