Page 14 of Playing By Their Rules

I imagine her shocked, indignant squeals of pain transforming to moans of pleasure as Ethan and I give her the discipline she so obviously needs.

My come spills white and hot from my cock. My free hand is full of her underwear, so that’s what I use to catch my load. It seems fitting to mark this part of her.

Five years ago, we couldn’t touch her.

Baby girl’s all grown up, now.

But she found someone else.

* * *

Ethan

Saturday nights, our routine has been the same for the past five years. Chance and I go to Low Vice to watch everyone else get their rocks off while we remain frustrated.

We’ve tried. We’ve fucking tried so many times to get interested in a new sub. One problem is we can’t agree on anyone. If I suggest a woman to scene with, he disapproves for one reason or another. If he suggests someone, I disapprove.

What it comes down to is neither of us truly wants to engage.

We’re both too hung up on Maisie.

Like masochists, though, we keep returning to this place. Here, we can be reminded of all the kinky shit we wish we could do with Maisie.

We bypass the chaos of Vice itself, the “cover” club open to the public, and head around the back of the building. There are two guards at the entrance to Low Vice, one to check IDs and membership, and one to look menacing and scare off the people who aren’t members. Once through, we walk down a dimly-lit corridor and pull open the door to what used to be our paradise and is now our purgatory.

“Oh, hey,” a man says from a table near the bar. He has sandy blond hair and his arms are covered in tattoos.

“Roman,” Chance says. “Good to see you. How’s work?”

“They’re keeping me busy, but I don’t mind as long as I have time to play after.”

“Are you running a scene tonight?” Chance asks.

Roman grins. “If I find the right sub and group dynamic. You two want to go in with me?”

“Thanks, but no,” I say. “When we find someone, you know we want her all to ourselves.”

“Never hurts to ask.” He tilts his drink in our direction in a cheers gesture. “Have fun tonight.”

“You, too,” Chance says as we walk past him.

Saturday night at Low Vice is always an experience. Usually it cheers Chance right up to see random people—strangers and acquaintances, alike—fucking around in full view. A man leads a woman around by a leash. She’s wearing only a thong, and she walks two paces behind him, her gaze on the floor, her tits in full view. As they go past us, I can see that her ass bears harsh pink lines, probably from a switch. Another sub sits on the floor beneath a table, resting his head on his Domme’s lap, an expression of bliss on his face.

I want to give someone the same pleasure he’s feeling right now. But when I picture doing it, there’s only one person I can imagine.

Chance and I find a table across from one of the private rooms. The curtain inside is open and the lights are on, but faint, allowing us to get glimpses of the two women inside. One is tied up, and the other is trailing what looks to be an ice cube up and down her partner’s body, licking the skin in its wake. I think about doing something like that to Maisie, and my cock thickens.

We order coffees because alcohol isn’t served in Low Vice. Once Betty, the pink-haired bartender, brings them by, we sip our drinks.

“Imagine if she were here,” I say.

“We have to stop thinking like that,” Chance says, his voice harsh. “We have to move the fuck on.”

“Move on?” I shake my head. It’s impossible, and he knows it.

“Yeah. She hasn’t been hung up on us for five years, I guarantee it.”

Logically, I know he’s right. But a possessive, dark part of me wants it to not be the case. I want her to have spent her nights fantasizing about us the same way I’ve been fantasizing about her. I want us to give her virgin pussy its first orgasm with a man. It’s an unhealthy impulse. Normally I don’t give a fuck whether a woman has slept with ten men or a thousand men or no men at all—or women—but I want Maisie to be just for Chance and me.

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