Chains and Canes by Katie Porter

know where to take a session. Beat or kiss or fuck or force begging, breathless pleas.
    They watched his every move. Both of them.
    Fuck yeah.
    Instinct took over. Letting his higher brain do the thinking was a stupid idea. Like when he danced, Remy knew what to do when he just let go.
    He framed his hands on each side of her shoulders before lowering his face toward their mouths. He wanted them both. Man and woman. Matched set. He wanted their taste on his lips and the hit of power that would come with controlling them both.
    Not yet.
    There was no telling whether Daniel would let it happen—not without spoiling what he already offered by handing Naya into Remy’s care.
    He kissed Naya. Her lips were tender, barely tinged with salt. He liked her kiss and he liked keeping his eyes open to watch hers close. He watched Daniel’s close as well, as if he were being kissed too.
    “Your tears are drying up, sweetling.”
    “They are, Sir,” she breathed into his mouth. Her exhalation was soft as a promise. “And my giggles have stopped too.”
    “You want them both back.”
    She smiled like the angel that Daniel kept calling her. “It’s why I do this. What I get out of it. The tears come first and last. In between I fly.”
    “Then let’s go for a ride. Roll over.”
    She obeyed instantly.
    “Come here, angel,” Daniel said, his palms held up. His fingers folded over hers. Completely secure. He flashed Remy a look that was almost entirely a dare. Try to stop me. But a shiver worked up Remy’s back when he realized Daniel was waiting. It showed in the stiffness of his back and the tension around his eyes.
    “Good,” Remy said. “Just like before.”
    He knew what Naya’s reaction would be, which left him more curious about Daniel. Sure enough, the man relaxed. His body sank into the task of supporting Naya, and his gaze lost its sharp potential for disapproval. He wore that accepting, eager expression that kept tempting Remy with the possibility of more.
    He’d always been an idiot for wanting more.
    Remy started slow, as if they were back to the beginning. But he couldn’t take his time ramping them up because her skin was already tender. Marked. Claimed. During practice tomorrow, they were supposed to keep things aboveboard, but Remy knew himself. He’d spend hours in practice waiting for the opportunity to peek under her shirt and see her welts. Her bruises. Proof that he’d been given permission to fuck up a perfect girl like Naya.
    Each blow, each smack, each stroke of the belt…they reverberated up Remy’s arm in a rhythmic jolt. Over and over. Watching Naya’s expression melt, watching the tears drip down her cheeks, it got him high as a motherfucker.
    This time, when the grin started to spread over her mouth, he was looking for it. Anticipating it.
    Then the giggle came. Out of nowhere.
    “Fuck yeah,” Remy muttered. “Tell me what’s funny.”
    “Him.” Her gaze was locked on Daniel.
    The man smiled in response. “Me, huh?” He pulled loose hair forward over her shoulder. Baring her back even more. So open. They were relaxed even in the middle of this. “What about me?”
    “You’re so fucking hot.” She leaned forward to kiss him.
    Remy let loose another barrage of blows. These landed across her sweetly curved ass. Barely anything, compared to what she’d taken, but her moan seeped into her lover’s mouth. Their kiss was bound by the sound of pain.
    Want.
    He wanted that.
    And he told his head to shut the fuck up.
    Remy’s cock was an aching bar behind the trap of his jeans. He loosened his top button to relieve some pressure.
    Daniel lifted his hands from the couch and curled them around Naya’s head. She was framed between them both. Remy should’ve cared that Daniel had disobeyed, but the sight of his big, tan hands deep in her hair made up for the disobedience.
    Besides, Naya was the sub in this game.
    “It’s funny that I’m hot?” Daniel growled, but there was plenty of