She truly did want him. She wanted them both. It hadn't been a rejection to go back to Lindsay and the house. She just hadn't been willing to let the doctor go.
“Are you hungry?”
She was starving, but she'd been too nervous to think about food. She'd been nervous all day in fact, wondering how all of this was going to go down—if it could even work. One master felt precarious. What if he turned dark and violent? What if he lost interest and abandoned her? But two? It felt like double the risk. Double the potential pain. The balance of it all felt so very delicate. It was part of why she hadn't asked questions.
She wanted to berate herself for feeling this way. Even though she hadn't known it, Shannon had already been in this relationship with the two men. She just hadn't fully realized what Lindsay was orchestrating behind the scenes.
Lindsay had already taken off his jacket. He stood at the table, fixing all three of their plates. Damian had made a roast that had been simmering in a crock pot with carrots and potatoes. There were also green peas and rolls. A red wine sat breathing on the table, the cork lying on the glass tabletop in a small pool of the dark-colored liquid. Each place setting held a goblet filled with water and a wine glass.
Damian pulled out a chair for Shannon and she sat and took a sip of her water. Her chair was alone on one side of the table. Damian and Lindsay's chairs were together on the other. The power imbalance couldn't have been more clear.
The two men shared a look Shannon couldn't decode, but it was about her. Dinner was a silent affair composed of shy looks from her and answering possession from the two men across from her.
After they'd eaten, Lindsay cleared the dishes away as Damian came around once again, pulled her chair out, and guided her to the basement door. Lindsay was with them a few moments later, and they all went down the stairs together.
There were two chairs in the center of the room facing one another. Lindsay sat in one. Damian flipped a switch on the wall which turned on a light that shone down and spotlighted the large space between the two chairs, then he sat in the vacant chair.
“Go retrieve the package from the bed,” Lindsay said, his eyes never leaving her.
She crossed the floor, her heels echoing over the concrete, the sound bouncing off the walls. She picked up a black velvet box with a red bow on the top and brought it back, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn't want to let herself hope that what she thought was in the box was in the box.
“Open it,” Damian said, when she was standing once again under the spotlight between them.
She untied the ribbon and opened the box. She could barely breathe. It was her collar. Not a collar, her collar. The same one.
“Read the inscription,” Lindsay said.
Shannon took the jewelry out and held it up to the light to read the inscription on the underside of the band. It read, “Property of Dr. Lindsay Smith and Damian Brand.”
“From now on, you aren't wearing my collar, you're wearing our collar. Whichever one of us you spend more time with, you belong to both of us equally. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Master,” Shannon said, unlatching it and putting the collar back on.
“And if you try to play us against one another, you will regret it,” Damian added.
She met his serious gaze and nodded.
“Title,” Damian demanded.
“Yes, Master,” she said to Damian.
“Good girl.”
“Now, undress. It's time for your punishment,” Lindsay said.
Shannon's hands trembled as she kicked off the wedge sandals and removed the jeans and T-shirt she'd worn in the city during her free afternoon. Both of them watched as if they'd never seen her undress before. She'd worn sexy underwear, a black cup-less bustier that had made her nipples poke out through the T-shirt, and a matching black thong.
“Nice,” Damian said. “Is this a ploy to earn a lighter punishment?”
“N-no, Master. I-I just wore it to please you.”
He chuckled at that and crooked a finger at her. She walked over to Damian. When she reached him, his hands spanned her waist, then he slipped the panties down over her hips and to the floor.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
She turned and he unhooked each little hook that held the bustier tight against her body. When she was free of it, he stroked her back. She knew he was inspecting it, to see if she'd healed properly from Brian's bullwhip earlier in the week.
“All healed. Good,” he said. “That means I get to punish you.”
Shannon felt her lip begin to quiver again.
“Tell me, baby, what are you being punished for?”
“For putting myself in danger,” she said.
Lindsay rose from his own chair and came to stand in front of her. He brought the familiar tube of arousal cream out of his pocket and rubbed a generous amount into her pussy. She blushed, wondering if he'd explained the cream's effects to Damian.
“You want her to like her punishment?” Damian asked with a chuckle.
Lindsay shrugged. “It makes things more interesting.” Then he turned back to Shannon, his expression more serious. “Kitten, we're going to tie you to the St. Andrew's cross. Damian is going to use the bullwhip.”
Her eyes widened. “No!” She tried to get away, but Damian held her firm. Lindsay blocked her escape from the other side. She started to cry. “Please, Master, no, not that. You promised you'd never use those things. You promised.” The last words came out in a hurt whisper.
Lindsay brushed his fingers gently through her hair. “That was when I thought you were broken. That was before Brian tried to create a re-enactment of your destruction and you still came back to the house. And you know, exposure is the best therapy. I've always thought so.”
She shook her head, the tears streaming down in earnest now. “Please, please, anything but that. Please don't let him...”
Damian was behind her, rubbing her lower back in slow, soothing circles, as if he wasn't planning to whip her with the one kind of whip she couldn't take.
“Please,” she pleaded again. “Please... mercy.”
Lindsay pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Damian knows how to use a bullwhip properly. He's spent a lot of time learning. He's used it in play on many people. He will not hurt you. It will hurt, but he won't break the skin. Trust us. Your story started with the bullwhip. I really think it has to end in the same place. Don't you?”
“End?”
“Yes, kitten. You have to end one story before you can start a new one. Aren't you ready for a new story?”
“Yes, but...” The words died on her lips as he bent to kiss her, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, pulling her into him.
He took her hands and led her over to equipment.
“Spread your arms and legs out for us like a good girl.”
Shannon did as she was told. Damian secured her ankles and wrists while Lindsay stroked her back.
“Just breathe,” he said.
She tried to focus on breathing. She turned to Damian. “Master, how many lashes?”
“Five,” he said. “You will count them.”
She turned to Lindsay, the fear and panic beginning to fade as anger started to rise up in its place. “Are you going to let him cut me, too? Where's the knife? Brian used a knife.”