The Kept

The Kept

Sommer Marsden

I wanted to work at the Rectory because it was a natural power source for magic. And I was trying to escape. I needed to be near an accessible magic portal just in case. In case my magic got out of control from grief or just in case I A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 1

wanted to turn Todd into a frog or something. I am totally joking. Okay, sort of joking. “And what do you think you can bring to Father Joseph, Ms. Pierce?” “Shelly, please,” I said to Mrs. Francis. She was round and stout and had severe gray hair that made me think of Sister Francis from grade school. If the secretary had taken out a ruler and smacked me with it, I don’t think I would have been a bit surprised. She frowned at me and I twisted my fingers into the hem of my thin, gray dress. “Sorry. Um. I think I can bring…a good attitude to the Rectory. To Father Joseph. To the place,” I stammered. Damn. The woman was making me a nervous wreck. “Well, we can all do that, now can’t we?” Mrs. Francis said. Not you, sister. A good attitude isn’t in your bag of tricks. I almost laughed but swallowed it. Something passed by the low window outside. Mrs. Francis’s window overlooked an old cemetery. Her office and the grounds outside were part of the original church, or so she had told me. I blinked but whatever had passed by the window was gone. She turned and glared at the glass and then back at me. I blinked again, feeling slow and stupid. “Yes, of course. It’s really just an assistant position. At least that’s what the ad said. I would be assisting him in thank you notes, menus, decorating, cleaning. All the stuff you don’t…” Her eyebrows went up and her fat, freckled A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 2

fingers steepled under her pursed lips. Oh, she was just waiting for me to step in it. “All of the things that you are too busy to do. I imagine it is a lot of work to singlehandedly handle the affairs of a church and its grounds. Goodness me,” I said, affected my best doe-eyed, naïve voice, “births, deaths, weddings, charity events. It’s so much. You must be swamped.” For the first time, Mrs. Marie Francis looked at me kindly. She even blushed a bit, a red stain spreading over her pale freckled cheeks. She had to be at least sixty, but no wrinkles dared mar her pale Irish skin. No wedding ring dared dimple her fat little finger either. Shocking. “Well, it is. It really is. Making sure Father has all he needs and everything his handled and runs smoothly. Some days we have a wedding and then a funeral. Really, what a mess it would be if everything wasn’t just so.” I nodded, going along with her prideful boasting. “Of course.” “I supposed I could introduce you to Father Joseph so he can form his own opinion of your character. I was skeptical at first, but now I think you’re a lovely young woman. Married?” she asked, rising from her office chair. She gathered my resume and application and shuffled my paperwork into a neat pile. “No, ma’am.” Contemplating homicide. Recently left. Old maid… “Um, I just recently got out of a relationship.” “Couldn’t commit?” she asked. The flash of cold anger in her eyes told me why no gold band adorned her ring finger. Do you call fucking anything that can’t get away fast A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 3

enough a fear of commitment? “Pretty much. It just didn’t work out.” I felt a tingle along my spine and my nipples went hard. Thankfully, I wore a bulky sweater. Ms. Francis struck me as the type who would view hard nipples as wanton and blame me for the involuntary physical reaction to a chill. That half shadow passed by the window again and this time I caught site of a bit of blondish hair. A short person? Dog? Child? Ms. Francis spun and glanced out the window again. Her gaze followed mine and she stared hard before giving a soft humph. “I’ll have to give you a tour outside later. You seem captivated with the cemetery. The original priest and his secretary are buried out there. Can you believe it? My goodness. That’s dedication. To be buried where you work.” I smiled. Something told me she would be volunteering the same damn thing if they still did burials on the grounds. “Imagine that.” “Come on, Shelly, let’s go find Father. You’ll love him.” The pep in her step indicated she might have beaten me to it. She might already love Father. *** Oh baby, baby. No wonder she loved him. Father Joseph was about six three and broad. His shoulders reminded me of the football team in high school. He had dark brown hair and sparking blue eyes. And stubble. The stubble did me in, and twisted my tongue in horrible knots when I tried to speak. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 4

“Shelly, so good to meet you. If you’ve made it this far, you are impressive to be sure. Edna does not suffer fools gladly. Or non-gladly for that matter.” He took both of my hand in his and I felt electricity shoot from my hands to my pussy. I shifted and squeezed my thighs together. It was not good to lust in a church, let alone lust after the man. The head honcho. The Father. I was blushing. My cheeks were hot, and I swallowed. “Nice to meet you too, Father.” “Joseph, please.” “Oh no,” I yelped. “I couldn’t.” “You won’t burn in hell for it,” he said, still holding my hands. The electrical current zigged and zagged under my skin and, on top of the attraction, I felt a skitter of magic in the mix. The Father was magical. Not just magical; he had practiced magic. Shocking. “Father Joseph it will have to be,” I said firmly. “My mother would have my head if I called you anything else.” “And you are here to escape,” he said softly. When he looked at me warmth spread over my skin like warm honey. Strike first impression. Father was not just magical. Father was magical and a bit psychic. Peeking in my head. No fair. “What did he do?” He gazed out the window and my gaze followed. Together we watched a murder of crows gathered in the cemetery. A particularly large one landed on a A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 5

stained, stone angel. I swore it was staring at me. “He was unfaithful,” I said softly. I was talking to the crow. Or that’s how I felt. It was so silent in his office, like a small womb in the large stone building. “And you can’t share?” The question was both startling and completely normal. A second crow joined the first. “He never asked me to share. Not to begin with. It’s the lying that does it. Besides, he doesn’t want to share. It’s not about that. It’s about getting away with something. Stealing. Stealing time away from me, sex without me. It’s only good if it’s not good. It’s only exciting if there’s pain involved.” Now that the good Father had asked, I really thought I could have shared. I could have suffered other women had I been asked; had I been involved. Women. Men. It wasn’t about me being selfish; it was about him inflicting pain. That was what hurt, the deliberate cruelty. “We are supposed to love all, love many. But you’re right. His unkindness is not acceptable.” Father Joseph ran his hand up my back and my whole body reacted with a wash of pleasure. I liked his touch. Very much. “So what’s out there? I kept seeing shadows but didn’t say anything. Ms. Francis did not look like she’d take kindly to me saying anything about anything other than you and this job.” I smiled. The smile stayed on my face when his hand dipped lower on my spine. I didn’t fight the images that rose up in my mind, me bent over a pew while the good Father fucked me to merry hell and back. Figuratively speaking of course. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 6

He was peeking in my head again because he smiled, his eyes bright. What sounded like a low growl sounded in the back of his throat. “Dogs. My dogs. I have three. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.” “The Three Musketeers,” I laughed. “Very good. What can I say? I’m a classical kind of guy.” “No Larry, Moe and Curly for you, eh?” “No. And shh,” he said. Before I could ask what he was shushing me for, he pulled me in and kissed me. Hard. His tongue was hot and demanding. I kissed him back and pushed all rational thought out of my head, especially the part where I imagined Ms. Francis barging in to find me smooching the priest. I could feel the rigid length of his cock pressing against me. I shifted my hips slightly to feel more of him. He felt good. Solid and ready. And that was what I wanted. Very much. That hard cock inside of me, making me forget about Todd or the dogs outside or the eavesdropping crows, making me forget that Ms. Francis made me feel small and stupid and lazy for some reason. Fuck. I wanted to fuck. And I sort of liked him. Already. I wouldn’t think about that part. “Let’s go see my dogs,” he said against my throat. He bit me, right along the thumping vein, not too hard, not too soft. Just enough sting in the bite to slide along my nerve endings and make me want him that much more. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 7

“They must be very special dogs,” I said, rubbing against his cock harder. If I rubbed and wished, could I get him to sweep his huge oak desk clean like in the movies. Get him to hoist me up there on the glass desk blotter and drive his dick into me balls deep until I screamed and quoted scripture? “You are a dirty girl,” he said. Peeking again. I blushed fiercely. “I know.” “We’ll revisit that particular fantasy later,” he said. For whatever reason I sensed no guilt on his part, felt no guilt on mine, even though these priestly types were supposed to be virginal and pure. “Sex is not evil,” he said. I had to get him to stop reading my thoughts, or at least act as if it bothered me, on principal. “Sex is actually quite healthy and spiritual, and when I took my vows I worked all of that out with the Man.” His eyes shot heavenward. Then he looked at me and winked, a humorous grin on his handsome face. His lips were the same color as my mother’s favorite roses, a pink so deep it verged on red. “The Man is God, I take it.” “Of course he is. Now, let’s get you out to meet the boys before I take you on the desk while my secretary is still here.” “Let’s go.” I followed through the hallways. The arched ceilings made me feel tiny, and the skylights let in weak gray light from A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 8

the outside. The weatherman had promised sleet and snow and freezing rain. I shivered. “You have the job, by the way,” Father Joseph said. “If you still want it, that is.” “Why wouldn’t I?” But I knew the reasoning as soon as I said it. My boots clicked noisily on the ancient tile and I tried to quiet my steps by walking on the balls of my feet. “Because of the chemistry between us.” He opened a red door that led to yet another hallway. The church was a stone behemoth. “That doesn’t bother me. I like it actually,” I said. Plus, I can always say a stifling spell if it gets to be too much. “Magic is fine outside but not in the church. The mystical energy is too intense inside. Bad things could happen. The energy can get out of control very easily with all the stone work to conduct.” “How did you--” “How did you know about me?” he interrupted. “You felt it, right?” I nodded. We went up four busted stone steps and to another door. This one was yellow. When he opened it, cold air rushed in. So did a flurry of dead leaves and a snapped branch from a pussy willow tree. I picked up the twig and ran my finger over the furry gray-pink buds. “Wonder how this snapped off?” “Wind?” He shrugged. “You never answered me.” A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 9

“Yes. I felt it. The first time you touched me, I felt your magic under my skin like a mild electrocution.” Another nod. “Good. That’s my one rule. Outside only.” “Do you ever…do it?” Then I blushed again because it sounded like I meant something else. “Oh sure, but never inside. The cemetery is almost as good a conductor but safer. Got it?” “Of course. Never inside. The entire area is charged. You can feel it.” And I could. I could feel the heady mix of crackling energy and nature’s magic. Mix them together and it’s a powerful feeling. Father Joseph let out a short, staccato whistle and around the corner bounded three large dogs. Two of them were clearly Great Danes marked much like Dalmatians with white backgrounds speckled with black. In some spots, the black markings were so dark they looked almost bluish. The third dog was a shaggy reddish-blond monstrosity. Crystalline green eyes shone out from a tangle of hair along its brow. Its paws made the Great Dane’s paws look dainty. “What is he?” I breathed, immediately drawn to the odd man out. Or dog, in this case. I dropped to my knees and felt moisture from the cold earth seep through my dress and tights. Damn. “That is Aramis, and he is an unknown. New to my pets.” He smiled with genuine affection and patted the shaggy dog on the head. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 10

“He’s beautiful.” At my compliment, Aramis shoved his giant reddish snout against my pussy and snuffled. A gorgeous warm gush escaped me as I was instantly aroused. Then the shame flooded through me and my face grew hot with another blush. I shook my head and started to sing Delta Dawn in my head to shield my naughty thoughts from the Father. It was involuntary, a flood of arousal when I was stimulated, but still. We’re taught over and over that animals are off limits. So even when their affections are intrusive, we feel guilt. Or I did, at least. I lost my balance and fell on my ass in the dried grass and leaves. Aramis bounded over me, snuffling along my breasts and belly making the fluttery muscles there gallop from the ticklish stimulation. “Geez.” “Sorry, sorry. He smells a pretty, horny girl. And there’s no shame in it. He shoved his face into your sex not vice versa.” I coughed to cover the cry of dismay that wanted to escape me. The bastard was way too fast with the mind reading. No amount of Helen Reddy was going to keep him out of my thoughts, it seemed. Not in this lifetime, anyway…I heard it in my head but it wasn’t my thought. That scared me a bit and I glanced around. My probing inspection of Father Joseph told me it was not him. He didn’t react at all to my steady stare other than to smile and help me up. When I looked at Aramis, he grinned. Had he been the source of the stray thought? Surely not. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 11

On my feet again, I surveyed the angel. “Still, he’s a dog.” “So he appears to be.” Joseph laughed and I laughed with him. Aramis seemed to smile and he wagged his tail so hard I would not have been surprised to see him levitate. “Let me show you the cemetery.” I followed, and the dry leaves crunched under our feet noisily. A wind stirred up a circle of debris and the crows protested by taking flight but not before they cawed angrily at us for disturbing their noisy chat by the winged statue of Michael the Archangel. “Does Ms. Francis come out here often?” I asked. I would need to do magic. I would need it for relaxation and for healing. The only thing that would get me past this mess with Todd was some time to reconnect to myself, and what I wanted. I would obviously honor the law of the church. No magic inside, which was wise if the mystical energy was that intense. Nothing should be done to weaken the membrane between this realm and others. “No. And she would not disturb you even if she did.” I put my hands on a marker chiseled Franklin Samuel Cole 1874-1952. “She isn’t magical. Nor is she supportive,” I said, speaking from intuition. Father Joseph’s hands covered my mine and I bent forward under his wide, warm body. His cock was hard. I could feel it push against my bottom as his teeth came down on the back of my neck; gently at first, then harder when I didn’t protest but panted greedily in the near silence. My breath plumed out in front of me, cottony air drifting from my lips. He rocked against me and I closed my eyes. The wind whistled high in the tall, old oaks. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 12

“I can make the pain better, Shelly. Make you forget it for just a few moments if you like,” he said, as if offering me absolution or council. Maybe he was. I nodded and pushed my ass back against him in welcome. “I would like that,” I managed. “I would like to feel good.” His pressure increased and it forced my pelvis against the cold gray granite. The jagged edges, bit by the elements and constant freezing and thawing, pushed my soaked panties against my swollen clit. My body impatient, my heart beat erratic, I moaned. He ground against me and I let my head hang down. I didn’t move my hands even when his left mine and his zipper sounded. His fingers slid up under my dress, gathering it to my waist like an apron. He shoved my tights down and pushed my panties with them. They tethered me right above my boot tops, keeping me from spreading my stance any wider. He circled my cunt with the warm tip of his cock, and I wanted to push back. I wanted to be insistent and greedy and force him to go faster, but I didn’t. I waited like a good girl as the cold wind bit at my naked bottom. “Good girl. Patience is a virtue,” he praised me with a smile in his voice. Then he slid into me deep and it was good. “Right there.” I clutched the back of the headstone as he rocked against me. His arms came around me, spreading his black sports jacket and draping me in priestly wings of fabric. His hands covered mine and he pounded into me as the cold stone bit at my swollen clit again. I shifted my hips A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 13

to rub harder and his tempo slowed a bit. He was enjoying me and relishing the fact that I teetered on the edge somewhere between pain and a mind melting pleasure. It was Father Joseph who moved my hand to my clit and strummed me to the orgasm I so desperately wanted. I heard a soft whining and when he emptied into me with a low cry, an extra sense of weight carried me forward. When I turned to look, Aramis was standing behind the father, his big paws on Joseph’s shoulders, his green eyes glittering. I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Down boy,” Joseph said with a sigh, “Bad dog.” “Naughty canine.” I laughed. My hair hung in my face and my cheeks were hot. The rest of me was cold, though. The bitter bite of the granite into the tops of my thighs forced me back into the circle of his arms. The wind kicked up higher, and somewhere close a crow let out its disgruntled caw. “Let’s get you inside. Paperwork and all that. Plus, the longer we’re out here, the greater our chances of being discovered by my handler.” “The lovely Miss Francis?” I yanked up my panties and my tights. Father Joseph smoothed my dress down over my ass like a gentleman. “You know it. Let’s get you processed. Tomorrow will be a big day. Edna is planning a big charity event and you are going to be called upon to help.” “You mean ordered?” I teased. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 14

“Yes. I mean ordered,” he said and rubbed his big hand along my back. When we went inside, the dogs watched us go. Aramis seemed to smile when I glanced his way. Such a pretty boy. *** I wandered outside on my break. Edna Francis was a monster. A monster disguised in a no-nonsense gray herringbone skirt and seashell pink fingernails and white, well maintained teeth, but a monster nonetheless. Keeping in mind the warning from Father Joseph, I waited until I had my own time and then went out to the cemetery. I said a patience spell, and then for good measure, I said it again. There was no such thing as too much patience when it came to my new supervisor. A week was not enough to adjust me to her ways, even with intimate contact with the good Father for stress relief. As the days passed I felt more and more in tune with Joseph, more protected and loved and cherished. It still did not help the urge to strangle Edna. The worst part was Father Joseph wasn’t here to save me. He had gone off to visit a grieving family and left me with Edna the Hun. I heard a car engine and saw her pulling out in her blue Crown Victoria. Probably off to get lunch: fresh blood or small babies or kittens, whatever it was that monsters ate. I finished my apple and walked the perimeter of the cemetery fence. Small oaks sprouted here and there and bright green ivy climbed the chain link. Inside the fence, the dogs circled. Aramis came to me, whining but smiling with his eyes. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 15

“Look who it is, the horny boy,” I cooed and leaned against the fence to pet him. I reached over, a rough link catching my sweater. Aramis shoved his snout through an opening and sniffed at my pussy. He nudged my sex with his nose and hit my clit. I oohed softly. No one to hear me, but still. “Stop that, you bad mutt,” I whispered. I tugged but my sweater started to unravel with the pressure. “Damn it. And this thing is brand new. See, I go to pet you and you sexually assault me and ruin my sweater.” I snorted. The dog chuffed and it almost sounded like a laugh. I reached down and pushed back the reddish blond mass of hair over his eyes. Human eyes stared up at me. “Son of a bitch.” He chuffed again, nudging me with his nose and hitting my clit expertly. I looked again, convinced that the stress of a break up and the new job had pushed me over the edge. But the eyes that looked up at me were human. I recited the words, the Latin incantation, as I had been taught. I felt the ground sway and tilt as if the earth had just spun off its axis. I saw the green fairy lights blossom behind my eyes the way I always did. When I opened my eyes, I saw him. Nude. On his knees. His face still pressed to the chain links. To my sex. “You can stand up now,” I said softly. I was startled but not frightened. I was mostly surprised that I had not picked up on it before, the fact that he was under a spell. “No,” he said. That was all he said. He pushed his face against the fence again, his human nose not as effective as his canine snout. My skirt was thin and short. Under it, I A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 16

was protected only by thigh highs and a pair of black panties, panties that were increasingly wet from seeing a man nude on his knees. “Please get up,” I said. If he didn’t get up, I would forget myself and press against the fence. I was sure of it. “I can smell him on you,” he said and pressed his face more firmly through the fence. His tongue licked against the fabric of my skirt, heat and moisture invading me through the thin barrier. My head fell back and I made a small sound. “Who?” “My master. My keeper. Father,” he said and licked again. I had showered since I had been with Joseph, but I guessed his canine senses remained to a degree in his human body. “He put the spell on you?” I asked. I bunched my skirt in my fists, dragging it higher. My brain told me to stop but my body demanded that I not. I yanked the top of my panties, tugging until the fabric slid sideways. My throbbing clit was exposed to the cold winter air for just a second before his soft tongue slid over me. He suckled and I grasped the fence to stay upright. “Yes, it’s for protection. I am one of the Kept,” he said and licked harder. I mashed my hips against the chain link. All I could think was that I was up on my tetanus and hope he was and then my brain dissolved from the pleasure given by his mouth, a nice full mouth surrounded by stubble that rasped against my skin as he ate me. “You can get up. Really. I won’t tell,” I said, praying he wouldn’t. I squeezed the cool metal A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 17

fence with one hand and clutched my skirt with the other. His tongue worked farther back, dipping into my wet ready cunt. “Oh God, your name? Your name is?” “I like it down here, and my name is Edward,” he muttered. He shoved his face more firmly into the metal and the fence crosshatched his pale skin with diamond marks. His tongue was a deep petal pink, and made wet sounds against my wetter cunt. “I’m gong to come, Edward.” My breath blossomed in the cold gray air. Ghostly poppies. “Good. Come closer. I can smell him. I can taste him. My master mixed with you is wonderful.” His voice was soft and somewhat surreal. I pushed forward harder and he took just one hand off the ground and ran it along my skirt. Then he shoved it under my skirt and slid his wide, blunt fingers home. He curled them once, twice, three times and I came around his slippery digits with a soft sigh. I let my head fall against the cool metal and wondered if someone had put a hormone spell on the fucking cemetery. I seemed to be getting a lot of action around its hallowed grounds. “I see you two have met.” Edward, still kneeling on the ground turned with a soft chuff, though his body was human. I met Joseph’s eyes, expecting to see anger. Instead, I saw interest, humor and if I wasn’t mistaken, a bit of excitement. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 18

“He said he’s kept,” I said. “And so he is. I take it you get along.” My pussy thumped at the memory of just how well Edward and I got along. I nodded and had the good grace to blush. “Good. I’m glad. Come around here, Shelly. Get on your knees for Edward. Edward, darling, you stand.” Edward finally stood and grinned at me. Dog, man, no matter what, his green eyes were gorgeous and always smiling. *** Cloak us, shield us behind magic’s wall from prying eyes and minds so small…I muttered and heard both men softly repeat my words. That should work for Edna. It wasn’t a guarantee since I had just pulled it out of my ass so to speak. I went to kneel but Joseph pulled me in and kissed me. He gasped in my mouth and I saw Edward licking lazy circles along his neck. I worked at buttons, tugging the priestly garb out of the way, and Edward assisted me. My body still hummed with pleasure from my orgasm. I could still feel the ghostly touch of Edward’s big fingers pushing against my G-spot. I clenched my thighs and my internal muscles until little flickers worked through me. I met Edward’s bright green eyes and saw the pale purple mark along his throat. “You’re marked,” I marveled and a thrill went through me. “You will be, too,” he said and pulled me in so that we too could share a kiss. His tongue tasted like me. Musky and A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 19

sweet, the excitement I felt tasted like edible flowers from an expensive salad. I kissed the mark just as Joseph put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. Edward’s cock was long and very hard. His skin flushed a raspberry red there, whereas on the rest of his body it was as pale as milk. Ginger blond hair covered his groin and I buried my nose in it, inhaling deeply. He smelled dark and secret. I rubbed my cheek against his hard-on and he bucked a bit against my face, an involuntary reaction it seemed. His hands shoved into my hair and tugged just enough to make me wince. Just the way I liked it. I opened my mouth and slid my tongue along his shaft with exaggerated care. He tasted salty and nice. I licked the velvety head that was turning a nice shade of violet, just waiting for me to release it. Give it pleasure. “You taste very good Edward. Wild. He won’t turn me into a dog if I don’t want him to, will he?” I whispered, and both men laughed. I took that to mean no. I knew there had to be a good reason. Father Joseph had a soft way and a good heart; no way was this some fairy tale spell of darkness and cruelty. I heard Joseph come to me and stand, watching as I licked along Edward’s cock, cradling his balls with my hand, hefting him in my palm and running my other hand up the inside of his thigh the way I liked. I knew how sensitive that skin was, how many nerve endings would dance under my touch. “Make me wet, Shelly. Make me wet for him,” Joseph said, and without thinking I broke from one man and attended to A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 20

the other. Joseph smelled different, sharper and more intense. Crazy, but I swore I smelled a hint of me on his cock. He tasted richer like coffee and earth. I sucked hard, his cock wider and longer than Edward’s. I took his thighs in my hands and slid him the length of my throat, taking him as deep as I could. He did not tug my hair, but wound the long brown locks around his hand like a rein. He guided me faster, fucking my mouth in slow even strokes until suddenly pulling free of me. “Lay back,” he said. His voice was soft but sure. I lay back, lifting my skirt and wiggling out of my panties. My thigh high stockings, now snagged and dirty, were my only defense against the cold. My black coat bunched around my shoulders and head. “Edward, mount her,” Joseph said. I spread my legs farther open, and Edward came toward me. He looked excited and uncertain. When his skin touched mine, his face changed and he took my ankles in his big freckled hands, pushing my knees almost to my shoulders as he slid into me effortlessly. “I want to go deep,” he said into my ear and started to fuck. I fucked back, rising up to meet him, my hips doing a jerky dance. Joseph’s hands entered the fray, dancing around my slippery hole as Edward fucked me. His fingers brushed my clit and I cried out. Then the fingers were gone. By the way Edward slowed, I knew that Joseph’s attention had turned to him. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 21

“What’s he doing?” I asked, beyond curious. Beyond turned on. I wanted to know. “His fingers are in my ass. He’s opening me.” “For what?” My cunt flickered, and I was ready to come just from his explanation. “He’s going to fuck me. He’s going to fuck me while I fuck you.” Then his hips slowly moved and he buried his cock into me as deep as he could go. “Oh,” he said and his eyes went wide. Then Joseph was moving over his shoulder and Edward was moving into me. I could see Joseph’s big hands on Edward’s shoulders. Edward’s hands were on my hips. My hands clasped at dry brittle leaves, dirt and tiny cemetery rocks. “Such a good girl. Such a good child,” Father Joseph said and I came. As quick and simple as a dry twig snapping under a boot, my orgasm snapped deep inside of me, quick but intense. I watched Joseph’s fingers dance along Edward’s shoulders. His fingertips dipped against the other man’s clavicle and he whispered, “My good, good boy. My good pet.” Edward’s eyes were far away, his cheeks ruddy. ”Oh, not yet. Not yet, Master.” “This is only the beginning. You’re not going anywhere are you, angel?” he asked me. I shook my head, but Edward had his eyes squinched closed. “Not yet, not yet,” he whispered, but Joseph was fucking A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 22

him faster, and Edward bucked against me in a frenzy. “Come for me,” Joseph said, and I sensed a beautiful cruelty to him. He pushed Edward because he could, but not to break him, just to prove his power. Edward was his dog, in canine or human form. Joseph leaned in and buried his teeth at the nape of Edward’s neck. Edward let out a cry and jerked against me. I felt another hot orgasm well up in me and, without thinking, I leaned up and bit him where his gorgeous throat met his gorgeous shoulder. Joseph would have to share. We would all share. Edward came with a roar, and I came with him. Not Joseph. Not the master. Joseph continued to fuck Edward with long even strokes, the same way he had fucked my mouth. When he came, he leaned in so that each thrust echoed through Edward into me. He fucked me through Edward. Such a marvel. Something I had never felt. Over Edward’s shoulder, Joseph said, “We are supposed to love all, love many.” The same thing he had told me in our first conversation. I nodded and traced the marks on Edward’s thick neck. One set tiny and set close together, the other broader and larger. He hummed softly under my touch. “Say the words,” he said after kissing me. He leaned back and allowed Joseph to kiss him tenderly on the lips. His face flushed brighter red and then he shivered. “Say the words, Shelly. Joseph. Someone.” “Back?” I asked confused. A Torquere Press Menage Sip - 23

Joseph recited a counter spell to mine and once again the reddish-blond, bumbling mutt was back. Human green eyes twinkling before he bounded off into the piles of fall leaves. “But…I don’t get it.” I watched him go. “He’s happy that way,” Joseph said, pulling my skirt down to cover me. “I worked the spell to protect him. He refused the church’s refuge but took mine in respect that he only stayed on the property. Not in God’s house.” “What are you protecting him from?” He frowned, considering giving met he knowledge. “Abusive partner. That’s all I’ll say. It’s not my place--” “Of course. I’m sorry. He said he is one of the Kept. And the others?” “That is a story for another day,” he said, smiling. He muttered a key phrase in Latin and my protection shield shimmered and winked out of existence. Now that there was nothing to see we were perfectly visible. “Do you think he’ll ever change his mind?” I asked. “Maybe now. Now that he belongs to both of us, he’ll change his mind.” I nodded. That was good enough for me.

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The Kept Copyright © 2008 by Sommer Marsden All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / May 2008 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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