are all alone.” El-Mudad leaned back in his chair with a relieved sigh.
I shook my head with a rueful smile to myself. Neither of my guys would survive parenting without a full-time support staff of tutors and nannies.
The silence that followed the girls’ departures always seemed to make Neil a little bit wistful. Of course, he missed his own daughter, but long ago, he’d mentioned that he would have liked to have had more children in his younger years. By the time he married his ex-wife, he’d already set the idea aside; chemotherapy and my staunch no baby policy had sealed the deal. Having custody of Olivia had changed our plans somewhat, and now, with El-Mudad’s girls, Neil had embraced the fatherhood role again.
For me, it took a lot more adjustment. Finding a happy medium between being a female parental-ish figure and not being a mom was a near-constant balancing act. I couldn’t be their cool grown-up friend because Emma had entrusted me with raising her child.
Also, Rashida and Amal definitely didn’t think I was cool.
“Finish up breakfast, the two of you. I’ll leave the dishes to Julia this morning,” Neil said, washing his hands and methodically drying them before looking to both of us. “Because I have plans for you.”
El-Mudad and I waited impatiently on the recamier in the bedroom of the private sex retreat we kept tucked away in a secluded area on the grounds. Face-to-face, straddling the seat, our legs spread wide and bound expertly together with soft, natural fiber rope, we couldn’t move away from each other. With our wrists tethered behind us by the cuffs attached to the rolled arms of the bench, we couldn’t get any closer, either.
“One for you,” Neil—now in the role of my Sir—said before placing a ball gag into my obediently open mouth. He pulled the strap over my head and pushed me slightly forward, extending my arms behind me. A matching strap hung from the other side of the gag. He fitted it over El-Mudad’s head, bringing our mouths together on the dual rubber ball. “And for you.”
Stepping back to survey his work, Sir put his hands in the pockets of his bespoke Ermenegildo Zegna trousers. The motion pushed the matching navy-blue jacket back and gave him a deceptively relaxed look. He was anything but. In this space, he was always in control, always planning his next move.
I was always at his mercy. El-Mudad sometimes took on a dominant role, but I’ve grown less protective of my submission to my Sir. Today, El-Mudad was as under Neil’s power as I was.
The cold air teased my clit as I waited, already wet with anticipation from his methodical application of our restraints. I wanted to wriggle, to feel any stimulation at all. A heavy glass plug filled my ass, and it would have been so easy to rock my hips and feel the pull of it deep inside me, but Sir would punish me for that. One of Sir’s favorite punishments was ruined orgasms. I certainly didn’t want to endure that today.
“Don’t look at me,” he warned, running the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “Look at him.”
My eyes met El-Mudad’s; this close, I could only focus on one at a time. His pupils flared with each rapid heartbeat. Though I couldn’t feel it, I knew his cock was painfully hard, bobbing in the air between us, constricted by the ring Neil had cinched around him. The plug El-Mudad wore was velvety silicone and equipped with vibration; I loved to watch Neil use it on him because the stimulation caused copious amounts of pre-cum to slide down his shaft. Just like now.
“We’re going to have a competition,” Sir announced, pacing a circle around us. “A contest, to see who can endure the most pleasure.”
The doors on the toy cabinet opened.
“You’ll both come. And you’ll come again. On and on, until one of you signals for me to stop.” He paused. “Not your safe signal. But let’s review that.”
El-Mudad and I both obediently snapped our fingers; Neil always made sure we were on the same page, though our safe words and signals never changed. His history made him overcautious. I would take too-careful any day, especially since our scenes had become so intense.
The cabinet closed, and Sir returned to us. Not knowing what he held made his slow pace and edict not break eye contact even more unnerving. Did I see trepidation in El-Mudad’s eyes? Or was that my own anticipation