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Sydney's Dogs Ch. 01

By: ScarletFrost



Sydney hated dating. Abhorred it. Loathed it. Sydney couldn't stand men or their egos or mood swings or shallow attitudes. Never mind that the walking dick she had thought was her boyfriend had called her at 3 am from Tokyo to say sorry, but he wasn't going to make it to their concert date that night, even though she'd been planning for weeks in advance, because he was spending the next 8 months overseas. To add salty insult to injury, he suggested that she not wait for him, as he'd already found someone on his side of the pond. 

Furious, Sydney had torn the tickets into shreds and plunged into a bottle of Glenlivet. Was it too much to ask for a little consistency? Maybe some consideration? Or even just a refreshing dose of honesty—it wouldn't matter if he was a jerk, if only he was honest about it and not making her empty promises. She was more upset with herself for letting him close enough to hurt her like this, for buying into those promises and ignoring the warning signs. So he worked late. She did too. So they met up only on weekends. Most couples did. Yeah, she'd slept with him, and it had been alright...ish. Didn't that earn her just a little courtesy when it came time to breakup?

When she'd woken up with a hangover, she managed to drag herself to the nearest coffee shop. Being in public gave her the excuse she needed not to collapse into angry tears again. After ordering her drink, she curled up in a corner booth and called her best friend Brenna. She'd spent the next hour alternatively ranting and demanding what was wrong with her. Brenna listened faithfully, soothing Sydney's ruffled feathers.

"Maybe you need a home-body," Brenna suggested. "Someone who doesn't have an addendum outside of you."

"Maybe I need a dog," Sydney grumbled. "Dogs are unconditionally loyal and loving."

"Yeah, but sex with them is generally frowned upon in popular society," Brenna teased gently.

"Honey, with what experiences I've had regarding sex, I think I might swear off it for good," Sydney retorted. "It's just not worth the man attached."

Someone passed by her and had dropped a card on her table before walking away. They disappeared out the door and Sydney never got a good look at their face. She didn't even know if it was a man or woman. Shrugging to herself, she picked up the card.

Performance Personal Attendants

Any need filled

Sydney flipped the card over, but it only had a simple phone number.

"You stress way too much. Maybe you should get an assistant or something to help take the load off, at least until you've gotten over this scumbag," Brenna was saying. "You know I'd be out there in a heartbeat if I wasn't nine-and-a-half months pregnant. Or maybe you could take a vacation—come visit Colorado and me in all of my pot-bellied glory!"

"Hey, Bren, have you ever heard of Performance Personal Attendants?" Sydney asked.

"No, why?"

"Because I just picked up their card." She was still wary, although she couldn't explain why.

"Sounds like exactly what you need," observed Brenna. "Want me to google it?"

"No...I think I'll just call them," she replied. "It's worth a shot, right?"

After she hung up with Brenna, she called the number on the card.

"Yes, Miss Sydney Tobin," cooed a calm and professional voice over the phone. They must have caller ID, Sydney reasoned.

"Hi. Um, your card was dropped on my table and-"

"Yes, you are part of a select group of refered individuals eligible to receive the services of one or more of our personal attendants," the voice continued. "We've already done a background and credit check, although they were mere formalities. All we need is your confirmation so we can access your international bank accounts if and when you choose to commission an attendant. Then you can visit our offices and meet the candidates."

"Wait—how did you get my banking information?" she demanded.

"We operate within a very select circle of society, Miss Tobin," the voice replied reasonably. "It's a small world."

Sydney had heard that before. Mostly from her late father, a millionaire who had circulated in the highest social classes. And what the voice on the other end of the phone said was true—in those select circles, the world was very small.

Before disconnecting, Sydney reluctantly gave her confirmation and in return was given a time and location for the meeting.

The next day, here she was. She wasn't even sure why she had agreed to the meeting, but her curiosity was overpowering and she was still aching from heartbreak. She was in the middle of the desert, off the 395 highway, 10 miles down a dirt road. After parking her car in the conspicuously empty hanger, she'd found a waiting elevator and entered. It was 115 degrees on the surface, but cool and comfortable in the facility. Now she was traveling deep under ground, if the smooth motion and the time of decent were anything to go by. The elevator doors parted and she met the representative for PPA.

The rep was platinum blond in a tight fitting mini-dress with high heals, fishnets, and a killer boob-job. She smiled so dazzlingly that it made Sydney's teeth ache in sympathy for the bleach treatments.

"My name is Ann. I'll be your host today," she said brightly as she gestured for Sydney to accompany her down a long, immaculate hallway. "I understand you are in the market for a personal attendant."

"Actually, I'm not sure what I'm looking for," Sydney replied cautiously.

"Keeping an open mind," Ann nodded. "A wonderful habit. We have quite a few attendants for you to choose from, male and female, all fetishes and preferences are serviced here."

"I beg your pardon? Are you saying this is a brothel?" Sydney blinked in disbelief. She had half-expected some sort of escort service, but she didn't drive this far to just jump into bed with a jigalo.

"No!" Ann cried, aghast. "While some of our attendants do rent out for special circumstances, most of them are only for sale. We have to protect our interests, and trading in used goods is not a profitable practice."

A slavery ring. In this day and age. Sydney could hardly believe it. She felt like she should run back to the elevator. Call 911. The government. The armed forces. Someone should know about this. It was unconscionable that slavery still existed in the United States.

But, a little voice whispered. But...what could you really do? One person with only vague information going against an organisation that is obviously well funded, well connected, and well established was insane even under the best circumstances. No, if she betrayed the PPA, she'd be lucky if she ended up as a brainwashed attendant for special occasion rentals. As it was, they probably had enough to black-mail her and ruin her entire life. That's the sort of thing these people specialized in, right? She was in too deep before she knew it, and now that she knew it, there was no backing out. Worst-case-scenario, if this was the beginning of the end of her life, she should at least gain enough information about the PPA to make her sacrifice worthwhile.

"I see," Sydney murmured as she reviewed her options.

"Now, let's go down this way and see if we can find anything you like," Ann opened a door into another hallway.

This hallway was lined with rooms that had one glass wall so that Sydney could see the people inside much like the reptile exhibits at the zoo. Each room held one or two women. The women were scantily clothed, and might as well have been naked. As soon as the women saw Ann and Sydney, they all started to pose and preen, some openly fingering themselves to display their sexual appetite.

"Your file mentioned that you had problems with men. These women have never known a man's hand; many of them still have their hymens intact. They are also extremely gifted in the art of feminine pleasure," Ann said.

Sydney hid her disgust behind a cold, aloof expression. "It's not so much I have problems with men—I do enjoy the masculine physique. I just have problems with those men I date. I'm afraid I find no appeal in these...ah, attendants."

"Of course, back this way," Ann replied smoothly as she ushered Sydney out of the women's hall. "Down here is where we keep our men. They have all been trained for stamina and performance."

Ann and Sydney entered another door, and again there was the hallway lined with exhibit rooms. Just like the last area, every room held one or two men, each dressed in even smaller scraps of clothing than the women. The men acted much the same as the women, flexing, stroking themselves, displaying anything they thought might be advantageous to their sale.

"They remind me of lost puppies in the pound, giving me sad eyes so I'll take one home," Sydney commented coolly.

Ann smiled agreeably. "Yes, they are rather doglike. As you can see, we have a variety of builds, colors, and skill sets. What breed do you have in mind?"

"Actually, I was never much for pure-breds," Sydney said absently as she let her eyes feast on the display of perfect male anatomy before her. Men of all physiques and races were vying for her attention, and the power rush was dangerously satisfying. The thought was there, tickling in the back of her mind. If she bought a man—and she certainly had more than enough money to do so—he would never be able to leave her. He wouldn't hurt her. He wouldn't demand commitment or money or time or drugs. And when she got tired of him, there wouldn't be a messy breakup. "I always preferred mutts. They are always unique, where purebreds are a dime a dozen."

"Discerning tastes," Ann commented patronizingly.

"Do you have anyone with medium-to-dark skin—Asian or perhaps Native American? And I'd like toned muscles, longish hair, and maybe he could play the guitar?" Sydney felt a little silly, being so specific, outlining her secret fantasy.

"We have one down this way," Ann gestured. "Number 178, predominantly of Japanese heritage, but I daresay he might have a little of that Native American you like as well. He plays piano and guitar. He is also particularly gifted in poetry. He does have a classic education, as most of our attendants do."

Sydney looked over Number 178 with hunger in her eyes. He had beautiful bronzed skin, sculpted muscles that weren't too bulky, a tapered waist and long limbs. His blue-black hair was cut just above the jawline, and his slightly slanted dark-chocolate eyes looked at her seductively through his long bangs. He licked his lips and flexed his muscles. He was only wearing a small, black thong, so there was quite a bit to watch flex.

"Beautiful," Sydney whispered.

"He is delicious, isn't he," Ann said proudly. "One of our finest."

Then Sydney shook her head. What the hell was she doing? She was thinking about buying a man-slave for a sex toy, that's what. Was she that desperate? Yes, she decided. Yes she was.

"Of course, if you'd like something a little more exotic-"Ann quickly interjected, worried that she was loosing the sale.

"No, no," Sydney replied, clearing her throat. "I was just thinking that an attendant that...delicious, to use your word, must be worth a small fortune."

"Actually," Ann said softly, confidentially, "I've been instructed to offer special rates to our premium members—which you certainly could become a part of."

"How is that?" Sydney asked skeptically.

"Simply buy two attendants today, and I can give you a deal," Ann said with a wink.

"What would I do with two attendants?" Sydney wanted to know. Then she blushed.

"I could throw in a manual describing exactly that," Ann offered. "And besides, sometimes two are advantageous. If one becomes ill or otherwise incapacitated, you always have a backup."

Some little moral part of her mind traitorously shrieked that if she could get two hunks out of this hell-hole, that would justify the heinous crime of purchasing human flesh. She looked around at the other attendants, all trying to catch her attention. One was on his knees licking the glass provocatively.

"Who is this puppy?" Sydney asked. The male attendant was shaved completely from head to toe, his only clothing was a studded chest harness. His skin was not as dark as 178's, but still tanned to a golden-honey hue. He had a tribal tattoo around his left bicep. His build was bulkier than 178, definitely a muscular rottweiler to 178's greyhound physique.

"Lucky 219," Ann said. "He is remarkable with his tongue—which is actually almost an inch longer than average. He doesn't have any musical skills, however. I'm afraid he's completely tone-deaf. To make up for that, we went out of our way to give him cooking lessons. His specialty is a braised quail that just melts in your mouth, but he can also expertly serve everything from sushi to flambe to a variety of alcoholic drinks."

"I hate cooking almost as much as I hate dating," Sydney said. "I'll take him and 178."

"Very good. Now if you'll come this way," Ann directed her out of the hall and into a room at the other end. It was clearly an office, but very utilitarian. Ann pulled out some paperwork from a filing cabinet. "Now, these are the agreements. You will be responsible for 178 and 219 until they die. If you become dissatisfied with them between now and this point, you do have the option of returning them for euthanizing—no refunds."

"Euthanizing?" Sydney asked, all sexual fantasies chased from her mind with that one word.

"Of course. We can't have attendants running around—not attending," Ann explained logically. "Should you fail to return them to us for euthanizing, the penalties will be steep. If they run away, you must report it immediately. However, our training is so thorough that we have never had difficulty with that."

"Good to know," Sydney murmured. "Anything else?"

"Yes, do you want them whole, half-, or totally castrated before they leave here?" Ann asked without batting an eyelash.

"I'm sorry, whole—or what?"

"We can leave their testicles intact, remove one for decreased fertility or both for sterility. As you are a woman purchasing male attendants, we are required to give you the option to avoid unwanted pregnancy. If you decide to leave them whole, we do require you to sign a waver that any resulting offspring are completely your responsibility," she explained mechanically. "Some people prefer men left whole, as it increases their libido and metabolism. Others do not want to take the risk."

"Leave them whole," Sydney replied. "I have other contraceptives in place."

"Very good. And how do you want them clothed for the trip home?"

"Jeans and a t-shirt for each," she said quickly.

"Excellent." Ann flipped the contract around. "Sign here, here, initial here, sign here and once more here."

Sydney followed all the instructions.

"Perfect. Now the funds have been deducted from your Swiss bank account, and you are the proud owner of two Performance Personal Attendants," Ann announced with another blindingly bleached smile. She stood and offered her hand to shake. Sydney stood with her and accepted the hand. "Now, if you'll follow me through here, your attendants will be ready to go."

Ann lead the way through yet another hallway. Sydney was beginning to feel like a mouse lost in a maze. Then her eye caught sight of something—a naked man huddled in a low cage.

"What's that?" she asked out of curiosity.

"What? Oh, that's nothing," Ann brushed off the inquiry.

"He's so exotic," she said as she went closer to inspect him. The man looked up at Sydney with piercing blue eyes—a strange combination with his naturally flaming red hair. His physique was a little on the skinny side, as if he'd been starved. Sydney's heart went out to him. "I have never seen natural coloring like his—ginger and auburn hair with grey or hazel eyes—but he is so striking!"

"He was, quite. We had high hopes for him, but unfortunately, he cracked under the pressure of training. He's little more than an animal now. He is scheduled to be euthanized tomorrow," Ann explained in a bored tone.

"I'll take him," Sydney said instantly.

"You can't," Ann replied. "He never made it through the training—we can't guarantee his behavior. He's shown signs of violence and even now, like this, he's nearly impossible to work with."

"I said I'll take him," Sydney repeated. "Lets just say I want to try out some sadistic fantasies of mine, and why should I waste two perfectly good attendants on experimenting? Besides, if something goes wrong, I just bring him back to be euthanized. No harm, no foul."

"He may try to run," Ann warned.

"I'll chain him in my basement. I promise," Sydney emphasized. Sydney looked again at the strange, naked man in the cage. She couldn't let him just die. "You won't loose anything if you let me take him. You won't gain anything if you keep him."

"Fine, but just so we're clear, he is NOT an Attendant. He's a toy—a plaything. A pet, even. And you didn't get him from us," Ann snapped. "I'll have him loaded into your SUV."

After a few more twists down the hallways, she was escorted to the elevator. The two men, number 178 and 219 joined her there, dressed in faded blue jeans and white cotton t-shirts. They looked smoking hot even with the simple clothes.

"Thank you for your patronage," Ann said finally, shaking Sydney's hand again. "If you have troubles with your two purchases, please don't hesitate to call us."

"I'm sure they'll be wonderful," Sydney replied. Then she stepped into the elevator and her two attendants stepped in behind her. Number 178 punched the only button on the panel and the elevator doors closed and the car ascended.

The doors opened again into the small, vacant warehouse that was the only above-ground structure for miles around. A little self-consciously, Sydney led the way to her SUV. Using her remote, she unlocked the doors. Number 178 and 219 got into the back seat as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Sydney peaked into the cargo area, and saw the broken, nameless redhead huddled in a steel cage crate, like a dog in a kennel. They hadn't bothered to give him clothes.

Sydney sighed and got into the driver's seat. As she drove out of the warehouse, the enormity of what she had just done hit her like a sledgehammer to the gut. She owned three men—one of whom was obviously traumatized. She was like the anti-american. The she-Hitler. The harlot of Revelation. She had perpetuated a crime against all of humanity. What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a deep breath and concentrated on the dirt road. Just because she'd paid for them didn't mean she was evil. Maybe it was like sponsoring immigrants or adopting. Yeah right, she rolled her eyes. Adopting full grown immigrants trained in sex. That was totally fine—NOT! She felt stuck, on the verge of panic. If anyone found out, she'd be locked up for the rest of her life—and that was if she was lucky. She couldn't let them go—Ann had hinted at dire consequences—but how could she keep them?

She had to keep them—there was no pleasant alternative. They could be legally registered as hired help; a gardener, a cook, a housekeeper. Just because the PPA thought she was using them for carnal pleasure didn't mean she had to. She could just take care of them, help them become individuals not defined by rigorous brainwashing. And if people started to whisper, well, at least she wouldn't need to date anymore.

They drove into Boron, a tiny little city that looked more like pre-built lego buildings plopped in the middle of the desert. She pulled up to Target. She had to get her third man some clothes and some water for everyone. And some chocolate wouldn't hurt right now.

"So, I need to shop. Who wants to come with me?" she asked her two attendants.

"I am always at your service," Number 178 said softly and respectfully.

"Your slightest whim is my life's calling," Number 219 replied, equally soft and respectful.


Sydney's Dogs Ch. 01



"Oh great blistering cabbages, you're not going to patronize me like that to me forever, are you?" Sydney groaned. "Look, whatever they told you in there, I'm not going to hurt you or force you do to anything you don't want to. Just give me a strait answer."

The two men glanced at each other. They'd been warned about this sort of thing in their training. No matter a buyer's apparent lenience, their submissive behavior was not to change. They were trained to satisfy in almost every situation.

"Oh, fine, if you both are going to be all stoic and servile, you-" she pointed at Number 219, "Come with me and you-" she pointed at Number 178, "stay here with...him. Just keep him from spontaneously combusting."

She got out of the car, leaving the windows open, and Number 219 fell into step behind her. She grabbed his hand.

"If we're going to do this right, I don't want you looking like a whipped lackey. I'd rather you look like my whipped boyfriend," she snapped. He nodded with a sexy smile and Sydney's heart fluttered. She couldn't possibly be mad at such a gorgeous face. She wasn't mad at him; she was mad at herself, and it wasn't fair to take it out on him.

They walked into Target. Sydney let go of his hand so Number 219 could grab a cart and expertly guided it down the aisle. She lead the way to the Men's Clothing department. She grabbed nine packs of boxers and nine packs of undershirts. Socks, she remembered, and threw another nine packages Then she rifled through the shirt racks and pulled out a selection of graphic t-shirts in large and extra large. She grabbed six sets of pajama pants with matching robes and tossed them in the cart. Passing by the shoe section, she grabed a large pair of flip-flops for the man in the back of the SUV.

Then they went to the personal hygiene section, and Sydney picked out 3 coordinated sets of masculine shampoo, body wash, deodorant, and cologne. She also grabbed shaving cream, several packs of razors, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and three travel hygiene kits with combs, nail clippers, etc. After that, it was off to the snack section. She grabbed 4 large bottles of water, and then turned to 219.

"What do you like to eat?" she asked.

Number 219 smirked, his eyes sweeping up and down her figure, and opened his mouth to reply.

"I MEAN ON THE SHELF HERE!" Sydney almost yelled.

"Peaches," 219 said innocently.

"There arn't any peaches here," she retorted.

"There is you," he replied, his voice low and seductive.

"Stop it," she snapped, even as a blush crept up her face. He didn't act like a slave. He acted like a normal guy who was interested in her. Lots of men were. She had a perfect figure, lush chestnut hair, large hazel eyes, and a sassy mouth. Men were always trying to get in her pants or into her wallet. It was a 50/50 crap shoot as to which attracted them more. "Seriously though, if you're hungry, just tell me. What do you think the others would like?"

"Perhaps some jerky and crackers," 219 said with a shrug.

Sydney grabbed the appropriate packages and tossed them into the cart. Then with a quick stop in the bedding department to grab some blankets, they checked out. Her accountant was going to have a fit when he saw her credit card bill. She'd just tell him that it all went to charity. It didn't matter anyway.

Back a the car, 219 helped her by blocking outsiders' view interior of her cargo space. Sydney was worried about her third passenger. He had been absolutely silent so far, and she was a little afraid that what Ann said about him was true; that he was little more than an animal.

"Are you doing alright?" she asked. He just looked at her, afraid and tired and naked. Sydney unlatched the door of the cage slowly, watching him for any motion. "I got some things for you. Underwear and pants and a shirt." Dutifully, 219 passed her the articles of clothing. "You could get dressed and sit up in front with the rest of us," she added hopefully as she set the clothing in front of the man. He didn't touch it. "We also got you some blankets to sit on. We could drape one over you to give you some privacy." He still didn't move. Sydney sighed and spread the second blanket over the cage. "Here's some water and some crackers. It should tide you over until we get home—it'll be a few hours yet."

He moved for the first time, tentatively taking the water and crackers, hunger etched deeply in his face.

Encouraged, Sydney reached out to brush his curly red hair behind one ear. He shivered under her touch, but was too afraid to jerk back. "If you get dressed before our next stop, we can all go out to dinner? How does that sound?"

Number 219 put the rest of the bags in the back and got back in his seat. Sydney started the car and they pulled out to the highway again.

"So, pass around the water and food," Sydney instructed. "And tell me about yourselves. Names, favorite things, all that jazz."

"Our names are whatever you want them to be," 178 replied softly.

Of course, Sydney thought. Why emancipate them with as something as simple as a name? "Well,that changes right now. Names—what would you like?"

"It matters not to us, mistress, what you call us," 219 explained. "Only that you call us."

"I have to call you something," she argued. "I can't just say 'hey you' to all three of you. And please don't call me 'mistress.' It makes me think of a catholic boarding school."

"Our names are yours to choose," 178 repeated.

"Mistress is only a title of respect," 219 muttered, a little down at being reprimanded.

"And I bet all that has been integrated into your DNA," she sighed. "Fine. I'll pick your names—and I'll pick my own, thank you very much." She was quiet for a moment, then said, "Number 178, your name from this moment on is Talon. 219, your name is Zaide, and you in the back? I don't know what number they gave you but your new name is Brant. I expect you all to answer to your names and you may respectfully call me Miss Sydney. I'm sure they trained you on how to keep a low profile? Well using 'mistress' is definitely not low profile."

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Talon and Zaide chorused. There was no sound from Brant.

"Now, tell me some of your favorite things," Sydney prompted.

Zaide went first. "My favorite things all have to do with my mouth," he said. She rolled her eyes at the smile she could hear in his voice. "I like anything I can taste, which is why I love cooking so much and why I love to lick your body from head to toe."

"You've never licked my body, Zaide," Sydney retorted, even though she was blushing. "So how do you know if it's one of your favorite things?"

"Because I will make it my favorite thing," he assured her.

"And you, Talon?" Sydney asked, trying to change the subject as she changed lanes.

"I love sound. Music. Poetry," he said, his voice even more seductive than Zaide's. "My joy lies in the sounds I create when I caress an instrument. Or you."

"Again, never happened before," she admonished, even as her heart quickened at the idea of his hands on her body, arousing every pressure point.

"I am certain we will make beautiful music together," he replied.

Sydney shivered. "Guys, take it easy on me," she ordered hoarsely. "I'm not exactly used to this sort of thing. Most of the men I know are complete assholes or gay or completely gay assholes."

"That's why we are here," Talon concluded.

Sydney shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, I suppose so. But just because I had a serious lapse in judgment doesn't mean you have to do anything you don't want to."

"But we want to do you," Zaide protested. He was directly behind her and he leaned forward to breathe in her ear. "You have no idea how much I want to do you."

Sydney swerved to avoid drifting into another car. This was getting too hot too fast. "Alright, brush with death—check. Let's stop with seducing the driver please."

"I'll drive," Talon offered. "You should relax. You've driven too much today."

Sydney believed him. "But do you have a driver's license?"

"I have been trained in precision driving. We will not be pulled over," he assured her. "Let me drive, and you can relax. You deserve to relax after such a long day."

His voice was so convincing that Sydney found herself pulling over to the right shoulder almost before she made the decision. She needed a nap, she decided. She stopped the car and got out. She climbed into the shotgun seat and leaned it back. Talon took the driver's seat and they were on the freeway again.

"I meant it when I said I wanted you," Zaide murmured close to her ear. "I want to taste you. I have since I saw you looking for an attendant."

"You've probably wanted to taste every prospective buyer," Sydney shot back, trying to keep a tight rein on her rising hormones. Despite her efforts, the image of Zaide licking the glass flashed through her head and liquid heat pooled between her legs.

"No," he replied honestly. "There have been many prospective buyers that I would have rather died than licked. But you smell so delicious. Will you grant me a taste, Miss Sydney? Just one small taste to show my appreciation?" His long tongue snaked out and grazed her earlobe ever so delicately.

Sydney gasped. She couldn't help it. The touch was just too erotic.

"What-" her throat dried up unexpectedly and she had to swallow and start again. "What is up with you? You don't even know me. Yes—I bought you. I'm sorry. I'm totally embarrassed about that. It never should have happened, but you don't owe me anything." 

"Don't be sorry—I'm not. I owe you everything," Zaide protested.

"No, you don't get it," Sydney shook her head in denial. "If I wasn't afraid for all our lives, I would insist on you going to the FBI or CIA so we could bring down the slave ring. I only was curious about the whole thing because I hate dating—I hate men trying to take advantage of me—and that's exactly what I've done to you. So, I appreciate the compliments, but I refuse to act like I own you because I don't." She tried to be firm, despite the heat pooling between her legs.

"Let me ask you this question," Talon calmly responded. "If heart surgery was considered barbaric and therefore made illegal, and you had a heart condition, and you managed to find two of the greatest underground heart surgeons money could entice, would it be wrong to accept their medical ministrations?"

"That is completely different. Heart surgeons save lives," she protested.

"A great heart surgeon does not become a great heart surgeon unless they truly want it. No matter how many parents try, you cannot force greatness," he explained. "We did not become what we are unless we choose to embrace the training."

"But they kill you if you don't—that's the deal, right? What kind of choice is that?" she demanded indignantly, all the while thinking of Brant in his cage.

"Everyone dies," Talon said with a shrug. "And there are far worse fates than dedicating your life to one person."

Sydney shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."

"What makes sense to me," Zaide said, gently tailing his hands down her left arm. "Is that my entire life has been built around pleasing you. If you say I cannot do this, then I shall die of a broken heart."

"Do you listen to yourself?" Sydney cried. She scrubbed her arm to get rid of the silly tingling sparks his fingers had left behind.

"You smell so pure, so innocent. So delicious. I only want a small taste. One tiny lick and then you can tell me to stop."

"I-" She didn't know what to say.

"Miss Sydney, if I may speak freely," Talon interjected softly.

"Always," she replied.

"He will not stop begging you until you either punish him for impudence or allow him to service you," Talon said. "His persistence is legendary."

"Um..." Sydney was still embarrassed at the idea of allowing a man to eat her out in front of two other men.

"Please," Zaide begged, gently tugging her arms as he drew her to the back seat. Sydney hadn't even fastened her seat belt yet and found herself being pulled to the bench seat. "Just a little lick."

"Maybe just one," she consented as she sat down. Her own heartbeat roared in her ears.

Delighted, Zaide deftly unbuttoned her slacks and drew them down her legs. He slid the pants over her designer high-heels without removing the shoes. Then he pulled her panties down, the tips of his fingers gently scratching down her legs. Sydney shivered as the tension built in her body. Already she was dripping wet. Zaide's tongue danced along in inner left thigh and she moaned with the sparks it created.

Then his long tongue reached her swollen lips and parted them with one firm stroke. She gasped at how good it felt. Men had gone down on her before, but they'd always attacked her sensitive parts with the same finesse as if they were in a watermelon eating contest. With one lick, Zaide put them all to shame.

"Another? Please?" he pleaded. Sydney didn't realize she had nodded until he bowed his head for another taste. "You are so delicious," he purred. "Please, more. Let me taste more."

Sydney's heart was racing, her breathing shallow as Zaide explored every fold of her lips with long, slow strokes. His strong arms wrapped around her thighs to keep her sweet honeypot stationary as he lapped at her. Her ankles locked behind his head. She gasped when his tongue speared her. She never knew a tongue could reach that deeply. His lips were still working, stimulating her clitoris as his tongue thrummed inside her body. Her manicured nails clawed at the upholstery as she tried to anchor herself. It didn't work. A perfect storm of pleasure built, boiling her blood until she was whimpering for release. The orgasm was fast and hard. She cried out through gritted teeth and her back arched. She felt like she was dissolving with the sheer pleasure. Slowly, she came down from the dizzying high as Zaide gently licked up the orgasmic juices.

"Sweet winking jellyfish," she panted.

"More?" he asked, almost pleaded.

"No!" she cried. "No, thank you. That was plenty." She fumbled for her underwear and pants. Zaide helped her get the pants over her high-heels and he even buttoned them for her. Then his arms circled her waist and he laid his head in her lap.

"You are so good, more delicious than anything I could ever cook," he told her.

"I'm glad you enjoyed that," she said huskily. "I know I did." She couldn't believe he was cuddling her after her orgasm. She blushed as she asked her next question, "Um, I'm not sure how to say this, but do you...?"

"Pleasing you is all I ever need," Zaide replied as he nuzzled her. She stroked his bald head affectionately. This was certainly shaping up to be an unusual—but extremely pleasurable—investment.

Sydney eventually fell asleep in the car, after telling Talon to wake her when they got close to Salinas or if they got hungry on the way. She slept soundly after such a complete orgasm. Soon, Zaide was stroking her face to wake her up.

"Miss Sydney," he said softly. "It's almost supper time and we're getting close."

"Hmm?" Sydney rubbed her eyes as she came too. Zaide was looking at her, a crooked smile on his face. He was the sexiest bald man she had ever seen. Where Talon was more angular, Zaide bulged with strength. The mischievous, puppy-dog look on his face didn't hurt, either. "Oh, ok. Let's stop for dinner. I don't feel like cooking—and I don't think I have anything in my kitchen to feed all four of us."

"There's a Black Angus Steakhouse up ahead," Talon called out.

"Sounds good to me," Sydney declared as she stretched. Talon expertly maneuvered the car into the parking-lot and found a spot. She leaned over the back of the seat to check on Brant. "You got dressed—that's wonderful," she cried delightedly. She jumped out of the car, ran around to the back and opened the cage door. She coaxed, "Come on, stretch your legs. It's ok."

Brant very hesitantly unfolded himself from the cage. Standing upright on uncertain legs, Brant was an impressive sight to behold. Out of the three, he had the broadest shoulders. Even though he was under-fed, Grey would envy this perfect anatomy for his medical book. His curly carrot-red hair fell in uneven ringlets almost to his shoulders. In the black shirt, black pajama pants, and flip-flops, he looked almost like a ninja. 

Sydney clapped her hands delightedly and gave him a genuine smile. "I'm so glad you're feeling better. Come on, let's go get dinner," she said and she wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him as they walked together into the restaurant, Talon and Zaide flanking them.

Sydney was glad that Brant could walk. She had been afraid that he wasn't just boxed up, but was handicapped. Fortunately that fear had been laid to rest. He was a little unsteady, but that was expected after so many hours in the car.

They were seated almost immediately. Brant sat on one side of Sydney and Talon on the other. Zaide took the other side of Brant. Both attendants were wary of the unfinished man. Every instinct told them that Brant could not be trusted, and their training demanded that they protect Sydney at all costs.

Brant stared mutely at the menu and didn't respond to Sydney's prompting. When the waiter came to take their orders, Sydney chose a small meal for him. No sooner had the waiter left than Zaide casually draped his arm around Brant's shoulders. Brant shuddered, but didn't pull away. He just stared at the table in front of him.

"Zaide, what are you doing?" Sydney asked suspiciously. If Zaide wanted to "taste" Brant too, she wasn't about to let it happen in a restaurant or without Brant's consent. Brant didn't seem to be giving any reaction.

"Just checking out the broken guy," Zaide replied amiably.

"Don't call him that," she snapped.

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Zaide replied dutifully. He shook his head but didn't say anything. Talon's eyes narrowed slightly. Sydney ignored their disapproval. Zaide hugged Brant's shoulders and let him go. Brant didn't move.

Sydney stroked Brant's other shoulder encouragingly. Obviously, having three extremely sexy guys living with her was going to be touchy—and not in a good way. "Now, when we get to my place, you each can pick out your own room and divide the Target spoils fairly among yourselves. It's not much, but at least you won't be naked for the next couple of days," she said.

"Aww," Zaide pouted.

"Gah—you're such a—a—I don't know what!" Sydney exclaimed, throwing her hands up hopelessly. "Look, all I want is to forget the millions that used to be in my bank account and find a way for the four of us to live out our days in relative peace and obscurity. So cut it out."

"It is part of who we are to flirt shamelessly," Zaide said with a shrug. "Besides, we can live in peace and flirt shamelessly. And more."

Sydney rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she continued, "I have a lot of work to catch up on when we get home—and the place is a mess anyway—so don't expect much."

"If I may ask, Miss Sydney, what do you do?" Talon wanted to know.

Sydney blushed. "I inherited the family business. Most of it is pretty self-sufficient. I just make decisions now and then."

"What is the family business?" Zaide asked.

"Um...owning things..." Sydney mumbled. "Mostly stocks and properties."

Zaide and Talon exchanged the briefest of glances, but she knew what they were thinking. She was a complete hypocrite. She owned parts of businesses and properties all over the world, controlled hundreds of lives directly, and influenced hundreds more. But she didn't want to own two men who would do anything for her. Or so she said.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the waiter returning with the food. Even though everyone was eating, no one felt much like talking, and everyone left without dessert.

Sydney reclaimed the driver's seat and Brant was coaxed into shotgun. She turned on the radio to fill the silence as they drove home. Zaide was a little suspicious that their new mistress was playing mind games with them. It wasn't uncommon for new buyers to "test" their attendants with promises of leniency or freedom, only to snatch it away at the last moment. Zaide felt ridiculous for being so enthusiastic about being purchased by her at first. Now, he decided, that he would watch and wait for a little while before laying his heart at her feet.




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 01



Talon, on the other hand, finally had a spark of hope for this mistress. When she had first talked of humanity and rights, he had been afraid—selfishly and against all his training—that his desire for domination would go unfulfilled because she was so pure of heart. A foolish wish, really, as his life was dedicated to her happiness one way or another, but if she owned property and stocks, perhaps he could convince her to own him.

They finally reached the house around 8 o'clock. Sydney was exhausted and conflicted. Still, she proceeded as if nothing was wrong and led all three men carrying Target bags into her large house overlooking the coast of Monterrey Bay. The furnishings were old and mostly upholstered wood, the floors polished dark walnut. The inside of the house had an air of disuse, which Sydney ignored out of habit.

"We have the kitchen, dining room, parlor and living room on the ground floor. There's not much in the fridge, but you're welcome to whatever is there. There's also a solarium out back. Second floor will be your floor—pick any room you like, we'll put locks on all of them from the inside for privacy. There are fresh towels in the bathroom and soap in the bags your carrying. My room is on the third floor along with the library. The basement used to be a rec-room, but I haven't been down there in ages, so I'm not sure what still works. Just make yourselves at home, guys, and I'll see you in the morning." With that, Sydney raced upstairs, taking them two at a time and disappeared into her 3rd floor bedroom.

Zaide turned to Talon and Brant. He nodded to Talon. "You take care of her, I'll deal with Brant."

Talon nodded his agreement and slowly followed Sydney up the stairs.

"Now, me buck-o," Zaide addressed Brant amiably as he threw his arm around Brant's shoulders. "We're going to have a little chat. See, Talon and I don't much care for how you snub Miss Sydney at every turn. Your silence just makes me sick. Why she tries help you, I'll never understand. You are broken. You failed the training; you're not good enough to lick her feet. You should have been put out of your misery, but Miss Sydney found some strange attraction in you and rescued you. So I'll put this simply for your broken little mind: Put one toe out of line, and I'll finish the agency's work with you."

Brant looked away, uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, bub. I'll make sure she won't even miss you," Zaide promised with a cruel smile.

Behind the safety of her door, with her head firmly tucked under a pillow, Sydney finally let her true emotions surface. Despair and anxiety warred with each other, while guilt gnawed at her insides. It wasn't even just about the "buying human flesh" thing. She was slowly coming to terms with that. She may have enabled the slave ring more by giving them money, but she'd rescued two men from service and one from certain death. Not bad for a day's unethical work.

The problem now was that Sydney normally loved her solitude. Sure, she liked to have a guy around once in a while for a romp in the hay, but her usual silent house was now filled with men. She'd never be left alone again. She would go insane. And there was nothing she could do about it without risking all their lives.

A light tap came from the door. Sydney ignored it.

"Miss Sydney?" Talon's voice called.

"Go away. I'm tired," she lied. She was wide awake from her nap in the car, but she was physically too stressed to deal with anyone.

"Please, Miss Sydney, I need to speak with you," Talon insisted.

With a frustrated sigh, she jerked the door open. "What?" she snapped. Then she inhaled her breath sharply. Talon was only wearing a pair of the black pajama pants. His bare chest was unbelievably sexy in the golden light spilling from Sydney's room. His hands were behind his back, his shoulders square, his gaze level with hers.

"I realize that this is very inappropriate," he started.

"The hell it is," she muttered angrily.

Talon closed his eyes to savor the heat in those words before he continued. "Please, may I come in?"

"No," she growled.

"If I could be so bold as to make some observations about our purchase—"

"This can't wait until morning?" she sighed.

"No," he replied. "I only meant to say that you need not be so...put out over our comfort. We are quite satisfied with the bare minimum."

"Maybe that's what they told you to expect, but I wouldn't trust them with a dog I didn't like," she retorted. "And I'm certainly not stooping to their standards in my own home. So just go to bed and forget about it."

"I cannot do that, Mistress," Talon said, deliberately emphasizing the forbidden title.

"I told you not to call me that," she snarled angrily.

"Yes, Mistress," Talon said, enjoying her fury.

"Stop it!" she snapped.

"Yes, Mistress," Talon repeated.

Sydney slapped him across the face. She didn't realize what she had done until she felt her own palm stinging. Talon licked his lips as if he could taste the pain beautifully blooming on the left side of his face. She was stronger than he had expected.

"Sorry," she muttered, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment at her lack of control. "Just don't call me that, ok?"

Talon knelt in front of her. "I am yours to command, Mistress."

She took his face between her hands and looked deep into his dark eyes. "Do you want me to slap you again?"

"Yes," he breathed.

Shock registered in her eyes and she snatched her hands away from him as if she'd been burned. "Why? Are you a masochist or something?"

Talon bowed his head. "I want to belong to you," he said simply.

"Belonging and getting abused are two totally different things," she cried.

Talon shook his head. "I want to absorb every negative emotion you have. I want to drink in your anger, your wrath. Every time you hurt, I want to feel it. Every time you shed a tear, I want to shed blood. This is who I am."

Sydney's mouth gaped. "Talon—you—you're worth so much more than just a whipping boy! Don't let their brainwashing rob you of your basic human dignity."

He smiled and shook his head again. "I know the value of a human life, both inside and outside the agency. I have read the works of all the great philosophers. I know the details of all the bloody battles for freedom. It seems to me that every time someone becomes free, they give themselves over to something else. Drugs, money, foreign trade, power—all a person gains by fighting for freedom is the right to choose their next master. I do not need to fight to choose you...Mistress." It was a unlikely that the forbidden name would have any effect on her, now that she had so many more shocking revelations to take in, but he loved using that word, loved the way her eyes flashed when she heard it.

Sydney felt as if the world had somehow fallen out from under her. She was not a sadist by nature. A bitch, perhaps, when the occasion called for it, but she didn't get her jollies from intentionally causing pain. Then again, if that was true, why did heat pool in her stomach every time she looked at the red hand mark on Talon's face?

"I think you should go," she finally whispered hoarsely.

"I cannot," Talon replied, looking up at her earnestly. "You are troubled—distressed. I want to help you. I need to."

Sydney was backing away from him now, looking disgusted and angry and a little fearful. He couldn't bear her displeasure with him. Her anger, yes, but she was looking at him like he was insane, foaming at the mouth, a rabid dog she couldn't touch. He craved her harsh touch. Talon crawled after her.

"Please, mistress. Do not turn me away," he begged. "You know I will do anything for you."

"Does anything include leaving me alone right now?" she whispered.

Talon stopped crawling and bowed his head to he floor. "If it is what you command of me, but I beg you, give me this one chance to prove myself."

"What do you want?" she finally asked.

"Collar me. Claim me. Let me follow your every footstep and worship you with my body," he said, looking up imploringly.

She knew she was already out on a limb, entertaining the idea of giving Talon what he so obviously craved. Would she be totally off the deep end if she did? Sex used to be a social exchange; he cums, she cums, roll over, take a shower and move on. Now, it was a succulent offering and she was having trouble resisting. The longer she looked at Talon's sculpted physique, the more she wanted to touch it, explore it. She felt her logical, rational reasons for denying him slipping away as he gazed hungrily at her.

"I don't even have a pair of handcuffs," she warned.

Talon drew out a thick cotton band from his pocket. It was the sash of one of the robes she'd bought. "I brought this."

She gave a little sigh and walked forward to take it. Deftly, she fashioned a slip-knot in one end and dropped it around his head. With a quick jerk, she tightened the knot so that it was snug around his throat. He swallowed convulsively against thick knot pressing against his windpipe.

"You really want this?" she demanded between clenched teeth.

"Yes, Mistress," he whispered.

She backhanded him with all her strength. He was caught off guard and fell to the side. "I told you never to call me that."

Talon was seeing stars, his face numb. Then the pain seeped in, sweet and achy.

"What do you call me?" She demanded, poking his shoulder contemptuously with her toe.

"Miss Sydney," he gasped.

She jerked on the makeshift collar and leash, drawing his face to her feet. "I can't hear you."

"Miss Sydney," he said louder. He grabbed her ankle like a drowning man grabs a life raft and kissed each of her feet reverently.

"What is my name?" she demanded, pulling on the leash so that he would look up at her.

"Miss Sydney!" he cried.

"See that you don't forget again," she snapped. "Now, undress me."

Talon obliged. He knelt and reached up for her pants, undoing the buttons and zipper while looking up at Sydney. Her features had hardened with resolve. She stood while he pealed the pants from her legs and then her underwear. She stepped out of the discarded clothes and walked briskly over to the bed. She sat on the edge and leaned back, proping herself up on one arm, the other holding the leash outstretched as Talon caught up to her.

"Eat me," she ordered.

Eagerly, he obliged. He licked her sweet lips, already moist with her desire to dominate him. He lapped at her, intent on pleasing her. Sydney threw back her head in the sheer pleasure of his tongue. While his tongue wasn't as long as Zaide's, it was just as skilled.

"Fingers too," she demanded huskily with a tug on the leash.

Talon sank two fingers between her feminine folds. She let out a moan and her hips thrust towards him involuntarily. He added a third finger, stretching her as his tongue lavished attention on her clit. Sydney groaned as she tried not to show Talon how much pleasure she really was experiencing. She inserted a knee between them and pushed him back.

"Good boy," she said condescendingly. "You've earned the privilege to be in my bed. Up."

Talon climbed into the bed and followed Sydney as she looped the leash through the woodwork of her headboard. He lay on his back as she tied his wrists together, so that if he tugged, he would put pressure on his own throat. It wasn't a perfect knot. Talon could have escaped if he wanted to, but he didn't want to.

After securing his hands, Sydney leaned down and caught his earlobe between her teeth. She tugged on it once, twice, before letting it go to kiss and nip her way down his neck and over his chest. She loved his muscles, all hard and soft at the same time. Her clawed fingers pulled down his pants, unleashing him. His engorged cock slapped against her still-clothed breasts as her tongue explored his chiseled abs before venturing further down his body to kiss the tip of his swollen member.

She heard him gasp and with a wicked smile, she took the head between her teeth to scape the sensitive skin gently. Her manicured nails traced sharp, erotic patterns over his hips as she teased him even more with her tongue.

"Miss Sydney-" he called softly.

To silence him, she slid her mouth over as much of him as would fit while digging her nails into the toned muscle of his gluts. He let out a strangled cry of surprise and pleasure. She couldn't help but smile. It was oddly gratifying to have an attendant—who was trained for sex—crying out from her administrations.

She let him slide from her lips and slowly crawled up his body. She settled with her knees on either side of his hips, leaning forward with her fists on either side of his ribcage. She positioned herself directly over his throbbing penis. Slowly, she eased back onto him, taking him in inch by inch. His exquisite girth stretched her as nothing ever had before—and he was incredibly long. When he was fully sheathed inside her, she sat up straight and unbuttoned her blouse slowly, watching his face carefully.

Talon was in sweet agony. His mistress was taking him to heights he had never dreamed of. Somehow her callous strikes combined with her tender touch and sharp teeth inflamed him more than any fantasy. He had been prepared for a life of more pain than pleasure, but she was turning pleasure into pain and tormented him without mercy. Now she slipped out of her clothes, and he saw her for the first time completely naked. He thanked whatever god had put his life in her hands with a heart weeping for joy. She was beautiful, her face intense, her body supple, her will implacable.

She reached forward and unbound his hands. Using the leash, she gently pulled his head to her full breast. Without more encouragement, he took her nipple in his mouth. He teased it with his tongue and teeth, suckling as if he was a child. She arched her back in pleasure, pushing her breasts closer to his face while her hips started to thrust on his hips. One of his hands caught the small of her back to keep her close to him while the other kneaded the breast he wasn't ravishing with his tongue. He gradually sat up as he followed that perfect breast.

Sydney was now in his lap, her legs wrapping around him to keep them together. One arm propped her up so she could keep her breasts near Talon's wonderful mouth. The other hand held the leash, keeping her control tight.

She felt the orgasm coming, the pressure building all through her body as every muscle tensed. Then it crashed over her and she cried out, her hips breaking their rhythmic humping and just bucking wildly as pleasure rolled through her. The arm holding her up gave out and she fell backwards. Talon followed her, now kneeling between her legs, taking up the quick rhythm without breaking his attention on her breasts. His speed increased as he neared his own limits. Her orgasm continued ripping her body apart until she desperately clawed at his back, looking for something solid in the storm of pure physical elation. With a muffled grunt against her cleavage, he finally spilled his seed deep inside her.

Talon had ejaculated countless times in his life, but Sydney seemed to draw every drop of semen from him. His orgasm was impossibly long, impossibly powerful. When his muscles finally relaxed, he didn't have the strength to move. He just collapsed on top of her.

"Oof," she whispered.

"I'm...sorry, Mist—Miss Sydney," he panted, barely stopping himself from calling her Mistress.

"I wasn't oof-ing you," she said softly, her voice husky with afterglow. She ran her fingers lovingly through his long dark hair. "Just, the whole thing. I mean, that was crazy."

"Did you not like...?" Talon whispered, fear shadowing the edges of his thoughts.

"No, I liked," she hastily affirmed. "I liked a lot. It was intoxicating, being that much in power over you. But...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I would be lying if I said no, but I assure you, I enjoyed every second of it," he replied with a kiss to her collar bone.

"You're going to have to help me out, you know," Sydney said absently as her eyelashes fluttered with fatigue. "I don't know a thing about how to treat you or Zaide or Brant. Sure, I boss people around at work, but you are totally different."

"I will always be here to serve you...mistress," he whispered in her ear as he slid to one side of her body.

"I'm going to clobber you when I wake up," she grumbled.

"I look forward to it."



Sydney's Dogs Ch. 02



Sydney woke up to respectful tapping on her door. She looked around to discover that Talon had left her alone in bed, after carefully tucking her in—and she was still completely naked. She looked around frantically for the pajamas she usually had lying on the floor, but none were to be found.

"Miss Sydney," Zaide called softly. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, just a moment," she called.

Zaide's standard for "moment" must have been extremely short, because he just walked in. Sydney squeaked and hugged the blankets to her chest. He didn't seem to notice as he waltzed to her bed with a breakfast tray. On the tray was a steaming waffle with butter and strawberries, beside which was a cup of coffee with creamer in a small pitcher.

"Hungry?" he asked with a boyish smile.

"Where did you get the waffle?" she asked suspiciously.

"I made it from you had in your cupboards—pancake mix with a little milk and sour cream. You had a waffle iron tucked away in the pantry. And of course, you already had the coffee and creamer. I just put it all together," he replied.

"And where did the strawberries come from?" she wanted to know.

"From your garden," Zaide said as he set the tray on her lap.

"I have strawberries in my garden?" She asked unbelieving. "I have a garden?"

"Outside the solarium, you have several ornamental potted herb gardens, and the strawberries were in one of those," he explained.

"I'll take your word for it," she said. "In the meantime, would you get me a pajama shirt from my top drawer?"

"But you look so good the way you are," he protested teasingly, even as he went to the dresser and pulled out the garment she wanted. He brought it over to her, but refrained from placing it in her outstretched hand. "May I have a kiss for it?"

Sydney's eyes narrowed. "I have horrible morning breath," she warned ominously.

"I'd still like a kiss," Zaide replied. He leaned forward so that his lips were a scant inch from hers. With a small sigh of resignation, she closed the inch, gave him a small peck on the lips and snatched her pajama shirt away from him.

"There, now leave me in peace so I can get dressed. I have a lot of work to do today," she scolded.

"Talon has already taken care of most of that," Zaide said casually as he walked out the door.

"WHAT?" she cried.

"He's spent most of the morning in your office, arranging things and taking care of mundane tasks for you," he explained, leaning against her door way.

"He—he—" she spluttered, trying to think of a name bad enough for Talon. "He had no right to go through my work!"

"But didn't you ask him for help?"Zaide asked, arching his eyebrow skeptically.

"With him and you and Brandt! Not with—everything else!"

"We live to serve," Zaide replied with a bow. "In every capacity."

He left Sydney to brood over her breakfast. She scarfed down her waffle and then shoved on a pair of track pants. Taking her coffee to go, she padded down the two flights of stairs to the bottom floor and almost ran to her office. Talon stood in the middle of a disaster—her office was clean.

Never in the last 7 years since she'd inherited her father's properties had the office been even remotely tidy. One morning with Talon and everything was filed away properly. There was even a fresh rosebud on her desk.

"What is all this?" She asked in a peeved voice as she pushed back her unruly hair.

"Is this not the sort of thing personal assistants do?" he asked, his face betraying no guilt, shame, or even pride in his ability to tame the epic mess.

"You're an attendant, not an assistant," she argued.

"We assist, we attend. We do everything," Talon replied with a shrug.

"How did you know where to put things? Did you throw anything away? Will I be able to find anything without your help?" she demanded.

"Everything is easy to find," he assured her. "And I will always be here to help you."

"GAH! That's just the problem. I don't want you here all the time," she cried.

"Have I done something wrong...mistress?" he said, whispering her forbidden name.

"Don't you dare start on that!" she yelled at him.

Talon fought the impulse to smile at her anger. It just felt so...electric. "As you wish."

"I don't need you getting into my stuff. You had no right to come in here and rearrange everything. I was doing quite well before you arrived, so fuck off!" she continued yelling.

Talon nodded his head humbly. "I'm very sorry for my intrusion, Miss Sydney. I should have known that you would have everything under control. Should I assume, then, that you are prepared for your meeting with Mr. Koji in a hour?"

"WHAT?" she shrieked, her anger replaced by panic. "That's today?"

"According to this post-it note," Talon indicated a green square stuck on her large wall calendar, "you have a lunch date set at the Red House Cafe."

"Giant belching hippos," she cursed in her curious way. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," Talon replied.

Sydney turned and ran upstairs. She stripped the moment she got in her room and ran to her shower. She scrubbed with her lofa from top to bottom in record time and then got out. Letting her skin airdry, she used a large toothed comb to get the worst snarles out of her hair before she swept it up in a bun and secured it with two lacquered chopsticks. Deodorant, body spray, and mascara were applied next. Then she dug in her underwear drawer amd pulled out a matching black cotton bra and panty set. While she struggled to put them on while her skin was still wet, she hopped over to the walk-closet.

Out of nowhere, Talon emerged from her closet with a professionally modest knee-length skirt, a flatteringly cut red blouse, a pair of thigh-high stockings, and a pair of red leather high-heels. Sydney squeaked and tried to cover herself modestly. Talon acted like nothing was wrong as he laid her clothes out on the bed. Then he went to her dresser and opened her jewelry.

"Hey!" she cried indignantly. "Get out of there. That's my mother's jewelry."

"I apologize," he murmured. "I was only trying to find the right accessories."

"Where do you get off dressing me like I'm some sort of doll?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.

"I am an attendant. It's what I do," he replied evenly.

With a furious growl, Sydney turned on her heal and roughly put on everything that Talon had picked out for her. She would have refused on principal, except that she was running late. Finally ready, she grabbed her purse and rushed downstairs. Talon followed her down to the garage.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked when he climbed into the passenger's seat.

"With you."

"What makes you think I'll allow that?" she demanded tartly.

"I brought all the business documents and notes, Miss Sydney," he replied, holding up a professional looking file, thick with paper.

"Bald monkey balls," she slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. How could she have forgotten all that? "Fine, but you're my personal assistant, a new hire, and you're not to say anything to Mr. Koji."

Talon nodded his head in agreement. Sydney put the car in gear and tore off into town to her meeting.

The meeting went smoothly. Mr. Koji seemed impressed by Talon, and Sydney had to admit that having a personal assistant tag along with her did give her a very exclusive appearance. Talon was very professional, especially considering he was wearing a silver-foil graphic t-shirt and jeans. By the end of the afternoon, Mr. Koji enthusiastically signed the 10-year contract.

Sydney was ecstatic as she drove home. Popping in her favorite CD, she sang along at the top of her voice. Talon refrained from adding his, but looked very happy with the outcome of the day. When they got home, Sydney literally danced through the door. Zaide greeted them, and she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Good day?" Zaide asked.

"Fabulous!" Sydney sang dramatically. "Where's Brandt? We're going out for a celebratory dinner!"

"He hasn't been out of his room all day," Zaide replied casually.

Sydney ran upstairs and found the one door that was still closed. Knocking gently, she called out, "Brandt, do you want to get some dinner?"

There was no answer. Sydney put her ear to the door, but she couldn't hear any sounds from the other side of the door. She knocked again and listened for even the soft rustling of sheets if he rolled over in bed. Nothing. She tried the door knob—it turned easily. She pushed the door open and screamed.

Brant was hanging partially off the side of the bed, one ankle tied to the bedpost on the footboard, and his neck secured in a noose made with torn bedsheets to a bedpost on the headboard. His face was purple with suffocation.

Panic send adrenalin rushing through her body. She ran over to Brandt's limp body, half-on/half-off the bed, and shoved him all the way onto the bed.

Talon and Zaide were standing at the door, looking at Brandt's body with confusion.

"Call nine - one - one!" Sydney yelled.

"Already did," Talon assured her.

She tugged at the fabric around his neck, trying to loosen it enough to search for a pulse, but it was too tight. Zaide put a calming hand on her arm. He carefully maneuvered in front of her and cut the noose away with a kitchen knife he had brought up with him. Sydney pushed Zaide aside felt for Brandt's pulse. It was there, extremely weak and slow, but he was still alive.

"You idiot," she muttered, emotion clogging her throat. Tears burned in her eyes as she took Brandt's cold, limp hand and held it tightly to her heart, as if she could transfer life from her thrumming heartbeat to his sluggish one.

Talon had barely been with his mistress for 24 hours, but her tears caused a tangible ache in his chest. Her pain and sorrow was unacceptable to him. He rested a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off and hunched closer to Brandt. Her rejection of his comfort caused his heart to stutter. Why she cared so much about that broken animal, he didn't know, but if seeing this dog recover would make her happy, he was willing to do everything in his power to ensure that outcome.

Zaide was numb. Sure, he had threatened Brandt the night before, but he didn't actually bear the man any ill will. Zaide had grown up on horror stories, whispered after lights out between the young trainees, of broken attendants harming their owners and then being hunted down like beasts. His threat to Brandt wasn't empty, but so long as Miss Sydney was not harmed, Zaide could care less about the comatose man—but for Miss Sydney's sake, he didn't wish him dead.

Sydney was kicking herself for not checking on him in the morning. She shouldn't have got up so late—then she wouldn't have been in such a rush to get out of the house. She shouldn't have slept with Talon last night—then she wouldn't have got up so late. Maybe she should have taken extra time to reassure the traumatized man. Something. Anything.

Their thoughts were interrupted by the wail of sirens. Zaide ran downstairs to let the paramedics in and guide them upstairs. Sydney heard him as he quickly explained that Brandt was the friend of a friend, taking a vacation after a family tragedy. She mentally cataloged the story—it was plausible, and if Brandt kept up his mute act, difficult to disprove. She would offer to pay all the medical bills in cash with the excuse that he didn't have medical insurance, which was true enough. He'd be alright, so long as he didn't sustain any lasting brain damage—but how could they even know that? He hadn't spoken a single word in Sydney's hearing, much less given her any indication that he was of average intelligence. It could be that the PPA had damaged him beyond repair and this was just another manifestation of that.

The paramedics were all business, and Sydney stepped back against the wall to give them space. They checked Brandt's vitals, settled an oxygen mask over his face, and hefted him onto a stretcher. Sydney followed them downstairs. Talon was a step behind her. At the entry-way, he scooped up her purse and keys. He passed her the purse as she climbed into the ambulance.

"We'll follow you in the car," he assured her. She nodded numbly and the paramedics closed the ambulance doors.

At the hospital, Talon and Zaide found Sydney sitting beside an unconscious, oxygen-masked, and wired up Brandt. Zaide went instantly to sit beside her. He wrapped one muscular arm around her shoulders.

"He was broken, Miss Sydney," Zaide said gently. "No one could predict what he would do."

"I know," she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "I just wanted to help him so badly, and I failed."

"You haven't failed yet," he reminded her.

"Maybe not, but I'm close to it," she said. "Part of me says I'm not equipped to handle someone so traumatized—that I'm stupid to try. But I couldn't leave him there, knowing he'd die all alone."

"Everyone dies alone," Zaide murmured almost absently.

"I don't believe that," she claimed. "My grandfather died peacefully with his family in attendance. I remember it, even though I was eight. He'd had a farm accident, and convinced the doctor he didn't want to spend weeks clinging to life in a hospital. Instead, every one of his relatives came to his home, and we had the memorial service while he was still alive. Everyone said goodbye. He drank his last Guiness, and passed peacefully from the world. My grandfather always knew how to live it up, even when he died."

Zaide didn't have a response. He was speechless, considering the serenity of such a death. While training with the PPA, he had been prepared for violent deaths, death by starvation and neglect, clinical euthanasia—but never had he considered dying the way she described. The PPA taught that death was inevitable, and the only comfort was if one had served well.

"I'm sorry. You and Talon are probably starving," Sydney roused herself and pulled her wallet out of her purse. She pressed a few $20 bills into Zaide's hand. "Look, go get something to eat. I'll stay here with Brandt."

"What can I bring you?" he asked softly.

"Just a cup of coffee," she replied absently.

Zaide left the hospital room, his mind slowly processing Miss Sydney's views on death. He met Talon outside the hospital room.

"She gave me money to get dinner," Zaide informed his co-attendant.

"What does she want?" Talon asked.

"Coffee," Zaide sighed.

"She barely touched her lunch," Talon remembered.

"And now with this weighing on her conscious, she'll probably not want to eat much for a week," Zaide commented.

"How can you tell?" Talon wanted to know.

"The unopened jar of grape jelly in her cupboard expired last month, which suggests she doesn't shop unless there's something specific she wants," Zaide replied.

"And with all the work piled on her desk, I'm guessing most of the time she's too stressed out to eat," Talon mused. "We cannot allow Brandt's tragedy to harm Miss Sydney's health."

"That idiot," growled Zaide. "Any fool can see that Miss Sydney wears her heart on her sleeve; she would have done anything to help that broken dog. I would kill him for betraying her kindness if he weren't already near death."

"Only if I didn't get to him first," Talon agreed.

"I'll go get some dinner for all of us if you want to keep an eye on her," Zaide offered.

Talon nodded and took a seat right outside Brandt's hospital room door. Zaide disappeared down the hall.

Sydney held Brandt's hand, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt so helpless and stupid. Brandt must have thought that she was a horrible person if he would rather die that live with her. And who knew, maybe she was. After all, she had purchased three sex slaves yesterday. Maybe something dark and evil was buried deep inside her. Images from the previous night with Talon flashed into her mind, and the tears spilled over her face. She was a horrible person after all.

Brandt grunted. Sydney looked up, eyes wide with hope and fear. That was the first noise she had ever heard from him. Brandt opened his eyes a little and looked around. He groaned again, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sydney apologized, holding his hand tighter. "I should have been there for you. I want to help you."

Brandt just shook his head. His throat worked and he winced with pain. Sydney's eyes searched his face, looking for some indication he understood her.

"I can't-" he whispered hoarsely.

"Can't what?" she asked softly, holding his hand encouragingly.

"Attend," he managed to get out before he started coughing. When the fit subsided, Sydney soothingly tucked a few bright red ringlets behind his ear. He trembled at her touch, afraid of her judgment.

"I don't want you to attend. That's not why I took you out of that place. I wanted to save your life, give you a second chance. I don't need you to repay me with sex. Frankly I've got all I can handle with Talon and Zaide. And even then, I don't want them doing anything they're uncomfortable with, just like I don't want you doing things you can't handle," she replied softly. "In a few days, when you're feeling stronger, you and I will sit down and talk. Just talk. I want to know all about you. I want to be your friend."

Brandt squeezed his eyes closed and tears streamed down his temples from the corners of his eyes. Sydney quickly wiped them away with the soft pads of her fingertips.

"Just get better. Nothing can harm you here," she assured him. "And then, later, you can tell me what you'd like to do with your life, were you'd like to live. That is, if you don't want to live with me and the boys for a while. You don't have to, you know. I own several apartment properties I'd be happy to let you stay there or I can arrange a house for you anywhere you like. But we'll sort that all out later. Just rest."

Brandt nodded slightly. Sydney kissed his forehead gently, almost motheringly, as he fell into a healing sleep instead of just being unconscious. Finally, she felt like she could leave his side. As soon as she went out the door, Talon was there. Sydney was still a little uncomfortable—after all, if she hadn't slept with him, Brandt might not be in the hospital now.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked, falling into step beside her.

"No," she snapped.

"Then whom are you angry with?" he persisted.

"Myself," she growled.

"You know this is not your fault," Talon murmured.

"I'm responsible for him, regardless," she retorted.

"Blaming yourself for the actions of someone else is counterproductive," he observed. "You hurt yourself and you do not help the one who is hurting."

"Well, what would you do?" she cried as she spun around. She saw the smoldering look in his eyes and instantly regretted her question.

"I would leave him here, for the moment," Talon replied. "I would take you home, and do everything in my power to make you feel better."

"Don't take this in the wrong way," she argued spitefully, "but beating the crap out of you won't make me feel like a better person."

"What if I drew you a bath, with bubbles or salts or both?" he suggested, non-pulsed.

"I can work my own bathtub, thank you very much," she snapped. "I don't need you or Zaide. I was fine before you came and I'll be fine after you leave."

"We cannot leave," Talon said, his eyes hard with concern. "You know that."

"I...know," she growled. She wanted to punch him in the gut but knew he would only enjoy it. She hated feeling so trapped. "I just need to be alone."

"That is not the answer either," Talon murmured.

"Is sex the only answer with you?" she demanded hotly.

Talon loved looking at her when her emotions were so close to the surface. "It is not an answer, but a distraction from stress. There is nothing more you can do for Brandt for the rest of the night; he is in the safest, most capable hands he could possibly be in. You need to relax, and Zaide and I will try to help you do this."




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 02



"GAH!" she cried and threw her hands up in the air in disgust. Turning on her heal, she ran right into Zaide's well-muscled chest.

"I have dinner," Zaide said proudly, holding up two grocery bags. "Let's go home and relax."

"Fine. You're both impossible anyway," she finally gave in. She marched to her car without looking at them. Unfazed, they followed her. Talon quickly intercepted the driver's seat with minimal grumbling from Sydney, and they drove home.

The car pulled into the driveway and before Talon could turn off the engine, Sydney jumped out and slammed the car door behind her. She didn't wait for Talon and Zaide, but made the escape up to her room as quickly as possible. She felt like a petulant child, hiding from these men in her own house, but she felt that if she let herself be seduced, she was somehow betraying Brandt's efforts to get better.

Zaide and Talon went to the kitchen to put together dinner for Sydney. Zaide prepared and arranged a several hot Panini sandwiches on a tray, as Talon uncorked a bottle of wine and collected three glasses. Then they both ascended the stairs to her sanctuary. Without preamble, they entered her room. She was stretched out on her bed, her head under a pillow.

"Miss Sydney," Zaide said softly, "You need to eat."

"I need to put a lock on that door," came the muted grumble from under the pillow. "Go away."

"Let us help you," insisted Talon.

"I don't need help feeling crummy," she replied. "I can do that on my own." Zaide's cooking did smell good though, even from under the pillow. Her stomach growled its desire.

"Just a little bite?" Zaide suggested.

"Fine," Sydney said as she pulled her head out. Her eyes were red with weeping and streaked with running mascara, and her hair was messy. Just let them try to find her sexy now. They both looked cool and charming, as usual.

Zaide sat down on one side of her and placed the tray in her lap. Reluctantly, she picked up half a sandwich and nibbled at a corner. It was delicious and savory and warm. Talon poured her a glass of wine and set the bottle and the two empty glasses on the night stand. Then he sat on her other side to offer the full glass to her.

"You wouldn't be trying to get me drunk, would you?" she asked suspiciously.

"No. I only want you to relax," Talon assured her. "You work so hard, and now you are working to accommodate us, even when you don't need to."

"Don't worry about it," she grumbled dismissively as she took a drink.

"You were very brave to even take Brandt out of the PPA," Zaide ventured. "Most people wouldn't get involved with that sort of thing."

"Bravery had nothing to do with it," Sydney denied. "I just felt sorry for him. He was going to be killed for not being what they wanted. I just wanted to give him a chance at a normal life."

"You have such amazing compassion," Talon said admiringly, brushing a stray lock of hair over one ear.

"Hey!" she protested sharply. "None of that."

"You are just so beautiful, on the inside and the outside," he defended himself.

"What part of 'I don't want sex tonight' are you not getting?" she demanded.

"The part where you blush every time you look at us," Zaide replied. "And the part where I can feel your temperature rise when I do this." He leaned down and kissed her earlobe, barely scraping it with his teeth before kissing his way down her neck to her collarbone.

"S-s-stop it!" she moaned huskily. "I'm really not in the mood."

Talon moved behind her and massaged her shoulders while Zaide continued to lavish attention on the contours of her throat. "You think to punish yourself for Brandt's foolishness," Talon said bluntly. "When really, it wasn't your fault. Don't let him influence your choice to enjoy life. Just because he tried to throw his away doesn't mean you should stop enjoying yours."

"Didn't they teach you that when a woman says 'no' it means NO?" she asked as she closed her eyes against the sweet sensations both men were raining on her body. Zaide unbuttoned her blouse and explored the tops of her breasts with his burning lips and probing tongue.

"Are you truly telling us no?" Zaide asked, his voice slightly muffled in her cleavage. He pealed down one cup of her bra to expose the hardened nipple. Without hesitation, his tongue attacked it. She gasped and her breasts thrust towards him invitingly.

No, she wasn't saying no. She was so stressed out, all she wanted was to be turned inside out by the pleasure these two men were capable of dealing her. They were going to become a drug to her, she knew it. An addiction. An escape. And to hell with them all, she didn't care right now.

Zaide and Talon worked together to undress her and themselves. They slipped her out of her work clothes and undergarments with smooth caresses that only heightened her arousal. They also set the tray of food aside. Somehow, Sydney retained possession of her wine glass through the entire disrobing.

Talon returned to his kneeling position behind her on the bed and massaged the tension out of her neck and shoulders, his hands working in soothing patterns even as his touch sparked a smoldering craving in her blood, his hard erection pressing against the small of her back. She leaned back into him as Zaide returned his attentions to her breasts for a moment before kissing his way down her body. When that remarkable tongue of his slipped through her moist and swollen lips, she cried out and jerked. Wine spilled across her torso, the garnet beads complimenting her flushed skin. Talon bent forward from behind her to lap up the spill, taking care to collect every drop with a sensual caress of his tongue.

Mischief twinkled in her eyes, and Sydney purposefully and erotically poured her glass of wine all over herself, drizzling the liquid from her throat to her hips. Tiny rivulets of alcohol decorated her body as Talon and Zaide worked to clean up the mess with their mouths. Their combined efforts felt amazing, and succeeded in driving out all thoughts of guilt from her mind.

With the last of the wine lapped up, Zaide returned his attention to her sweet, feminine folds between her legs. He licked hard, enjoying the mingled taste of her natural juices and the aged wine on his tongue. She tasted better than he remembered. He licked her over and over again, while Talon held her still and alternated between nibbling on her neck and kissing her face. Zaide used his powerful arms wrapped around her satiny thighs to bring her closer to him, and then, with agonizing slowness, pierced her with his tongue.

Sydney almost exploded right then. Zaide began to move his tongue, feeling around inside her while his hot mouth and lips continued to stimulate her lips. Talon was enjoying the sweet torture of being behind her, almost ignored in the face of Zaide's tongue's legendary performance, which only pushed her back into his own painful erection. Talon moved from massaging her neck to massaging her breasts and synchronized his motions with Zaide's.

Pleasure was winding tightly inside Sydney, ready to burst when Zaide found some mysterious pressure point within her. He caressed it once with his tongue, and the pleasure exploded deep in her womb, radiating outward until the tips of her fingers tingled. She cried out, arching her hips into Zaide, even as Talon swept in to kiss her hotly on the mouth, unwilling to be completely forgotten by his mistress.

The two men let her down gently from the orgasm, taking care not to over stimulate her. Zaide moved up her body so that his engorged member sat outside her drenched entrance.

"May I, Miss Sydney?" he pleaded. "I want you so badly I could cry."

"oh...kay..." she gasped.

Gratefully, gleefully, Zaide gripped her hips firmly and pressed forward to gently slid into her slick channel. Sydney gulped as his sheer girth filled her and stretched her as nothing had before—not even Talon. He felt so good, so satisfying, until he began to move, and then she moaned in ecstasy with every stroke. Talon still sat behind her, propping her up, kissing her, massaging her breasts gently and toying with her nipples. His expert ministrations compounded the sensations racing through her body.

Zaide gasped with the initial pleasure. She was a paradise, just as Zaide knew she would be. Then he withdrew partway, pulling a small moan from her at the same time. Then he thrust deeply into her. She was tight and hot and so slick that he could drive himself so far into her. His mouth captured her whimper at his delightful invasion. His own grunts of pleasure harmonized with her moans of rapture as he increased his rhythm.

Sydney gently rolled her wineglass away on the bedspread to a safe distance, and then proving that she hadn't forgotten about him, she reached back with both hands to grip Talon's swollen and weeping erection. She couldn't do much in the awkward position, but using his own pre-cum as lubrication, one hand's fingers danced around the delicate head while the other massaged his balls and the hidden vein of pleasure between them, caressing it until Talon's hips strained as he thrust into her hands and the small of her back.

The three of them built a rolling rhythm together, Talon pushing up into Sydney while Zaide pressed down, Sydney providing what friction she could. Talon squeezed and kneaded her breasts while Zaide gave the same treatment to her butt.

Then her orgasm barreled through her, taking her by surprise. Sydney screamed as she lost control. It was too much. Her body convulsed under wave after wave of pure pleasure. She arched against both of them, convulsing in thundering waves of pleasure. Zaide managed two more deep strokes before his own climax seized hold of him, burst in every blood vessel in his body, and he spilled his seed deep inside her. Talon strained behind her and she felt his warm semen shooting up her back and between her shoulder blades.

Zaide reluctantly released his grip on her ass to lean on balled fists, holding up most of his weight as he tried vainly to regain his breath. Talon had to release one of her breasts to catch himself before he fell backwards, and slowly lowered himself onto the pillows at the head of the bed. Sydney followed him, leaning on the hard, heaving muscles of his chest. She was seeing white spots, and highly suspected she was hyperventilating, but couldn't stop panting with post-orgasmic exhaustion. Talon was still kissing her softly and brushing her excruciatingly sensitive nipples with one hand, sending aftershocks of pleasure through her body.

Sydney felt oddly euphoric in this state, like she could be queen of the world or maybe she had somehow ascended to Nirvana. She thought of poor Brandt lying helpless and hopeless in the hospital, and instead of feeling guilty, she felt sad. He would never—could never—experience the joy the three of them had just shared. Whatever the PPA had done to him, they had ruined even the thought of sex for him; even the merest physical contact made him shaky and frightened. She felt more determined than ever to make him whole again. She couldn't force anything on him—even suggesting some things in casual conversation was out of the question—but she was not going to let him wallow in misery alone for the rest of his life.

"Miss Sydney?" Zaide said, concern in his expression overriding his post-orgasmic exhaustion. "You look sad. Did I not-"

"No—Heavens, no, Zaide, you were fantastic," she quickly reassured him. "I just had a thought pass through my mind. But it's gone now, don't worry."

Zaide wrapped his arms around Sydney's waist and nuzzled her stomach like he had done in the car. Talon wrapped his arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her hair. Sydney put a comforting hand on each of them while they all caught their breath. This felt so strange, but in a good way. She'd never been in a serious relationship, and all the non-serious ones had fallen apart at just about this point. But with these two men—two men she had bought and paid for—who had no reason to feel any real affection for her—if she didn't know better, she'd say they loved her. And she was dangerously close to loving them back.

Shying away from amorous thoughts, she patted Zaide an Talon encouragingly. "Come on, boys. Time to clean up."

Reluctantly, Zaide and Talon released her and let her wiggle out from between them. Sydney led the way to her large bathroom. It was a work of art—something Sydney had renovated the instant she had inherited her father's house. She had designed her bathroom to be like a Japanese hot-springs resort. The walls were styled with crisscrossing thin strips of dark-stained bamboo to look like the paper screens. Similar bamboo, lacquered against moisture, constructed a linen cabinet and hamper by the door. Her counter tops were dark slate, and bamboo mats provided traction on the floors. Scenic traditional brush paintings adorned the walls and plush red towels hung on every dark bamboo towel rack. The bath tub was a large, 4-person whirl-pool Jacuzzi that Sydney had specially ordered for deep relaxation. It wasn't quite big enough to do laps, but when she was by herself she could float freely without touching the sides or the bottom.

Sydney turned to her two companions with a mischievous look in her eye. "Zaide, would you please fill the bath tub? Talon...get in the shower."

Something about her tone made the command deliciously sinister. Obediently, Talon went to stand in her large, bamboo-paneled shower. Sydney reached past him and pulled out the detachable shower head while deftly turning on the water. Cold.

Without warning she sprayed Talon with the icy water. He cried out in shock, holding his hands against the bitter barrage. She flicked the showerhead to spray up and down his body, from shoulders to hips. It was the kind of prank she always wanted to play, but didn't dare for the possible repercussions. Talon, however, was a safe victim.

"Mistress," he spluttered against the spray. "What have I done?"

"You didn't wait your turn," she replied sweetly. "You came all over my back and yourself. Did you think that I would forget you? That I wouldn't consider your needs?"

"It was the heat of the moment, Mistress," he replied, still desperately trying to fend off the chilly water. "I beg your forgiveness. I promise I will be more patient in future."

Sydney reached in the shower and turned off the water. She turned to Talon and took his face between both her hands. "Never think that I will forget about you," she said softly. "Let your body do what it must, but never assume that I do not care for your needs." She kissed him then, her hot lips colliding with his cold ones.

Her warm hands on his chilled skin felt wonderful, her lips even better. As she pressed her body into him, it was like a brand on his icy flesh. The pain from the cold and the heat from her lustful body burned pleasantly and stirred his passions all over again. It was another example of her unique tortures.

"Now, come clean your handy-work from my back," she purred. She led the way to the steaming bath Zaide had filled and gingerly slipped into the hot, fragrant waters. Zaide slipped in right behind her, but Talon was not far behind him. The hot water sweetly burned his cold skin, but it only focused his attention on Sydney. He actually pushed Zaide away and took the seat closest to her. Talon then poured water and rubbed Sydney's back to remove the slick evidence of his lust for his mistress. Somehow, her mistreatment of him—as mild as it was compared to the sort of mistress (or master) he had expected—only made him want her more, almost childishly.

"Why does he get to call you that?" Zaide asked, pouting a little, upset at being shoved by his co-attendant.

Sydney smiled at him. "Because he wants to get the snot knocked out of him. But if it will make you feel better, I'll let you pick out a special name for me."

"It is not my place," Zaide automatically said.

"Come on. Look, I'm never going to be the tyrant you two seem to expect, so just go with it. Enjoy life. Zaide, you could call me anything you want, right now, and I wouldn't care," she insisted, leaning into Talon's massaging hands.

"I'll think about it," Zaide replied diplomatically. 

Sydney broke away from Talon for a minute and reached over to grab Zaide's arm. Her other hand reached back to tug Talon to her. Holding them both closely, she confided softly, "Thank you. For getting me out of the hospital, for shaking my funk, for taking good care of me."

"We live to-" Talon started to say.

"I'm not finished yet," she interjected. "I know—or rather, I think I know—that you were prepared for certain things, and I'm really not the person they were expecting to sell you too. I was just in the right place at the right time, and I had a moment of weakness. That being said, I'm also grateful that you are not the scum the male gender is usually comprised of. You two could easily over power me, steal valuables and money, and live comfortably in Mexico for the rest of your lives."

Talon and Zaide shook their heads, emphatically denying such heinous behavior.

"Still, it is much appreciated," she reiterated. Hugging their arms close again, she went on, "I'm feeling all warm and a little buzzed from the endorphins, so don't expect me to repeat this later. I really like you guys, and I want to make the best of this whole thing. The three of us. Together. For a long, long while. And I really want to help Brandt."

She felt them shift uncomfortably.

"I know you don't like him. He'll never be a part of what we have—he might never have consensual sex in his entire life—but we're the only ones who can help him have anything like a normal life," she insisted. "That's all I want for him."

Reluctantly, Zaide and Talon nodded. If it would make Sydney happy, they would do anything, even put up with a broken stray like Brandt.

She smiled at them, a brilliant 1000 watt smile that lit up the bathroom. In that smile were all the reasons why Zaide and Talon were falling for her so quickly. It was part of their training to be conditioned to love their owner, but it was dangerously easy to love Miss Sydney.

"Alright, now. What time is it?" she asked, craning around Zaide's broad shoulders to see the clock on the countertop.

"Almost nine pm," Talon supplied.

"Oh well, that means the malls are closed," she sighed. "We'll just have to go shopping tomorrow."

"We do need groceries," Zaide said. "I can make up a list tonight."

"That too, but I was thinking about going shopping for you guys. You know, more clothes and shoes and things for you," she explained.

"We have plenty," Talon assured her.

"Maybe if you're starving students, but if you're going to be my personal assistants for work, you're going to need suits, ties, and things. I'm running a high-class joint, here, and I'm not going to let you run around in t-shirts and sweats all the time," she mock-scolded. "Besides, there is this other little store I'd like to take a look at." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Oh," Zaide and Talon said simultaneously. It was part of their training to insist upon (as much as possible while maintaining submission and compliance) and to make do with the bare minimum, but as they were now assets of Miss Sydney, and should be attired so as not to be an embarrassment for her. And if they were reading her hints right, she was planning to take them to a sex shop. It had always been spoken of as a rare honor to help a mistress or master choose the implements of their pleasure, and both men were looking forward to finding out more about Miss Sydney's desires and fantasies.

"Just remember, you are both allowed to tell me when you don't like or want something. I couldn't bear it if...if something I did drove you to..." Her voice was choked off as a stone of fear at the thought of finding either of them in the same state as Brandt lodged in her throat. "Just...let me know. OK? I promise I won't be mad or anything. Honestly I won't."




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 02



"We would never do anything to harm or disappoint you in any way," Talon assured her. "It is impossible even to contemplate."

"We are not broken," Zaide insisted. "We live and breathe for you. Nothing will happen to us without your consent."

"Cut it out," she said with a shy smile. "Seriously. Consensual stuff only—don't try to impress me with your kinkiness or anything. I just want a peaceful life with no more close calls."

Her aching heart was bringing tears to Talon's eyes and causing Zaide's gut to clench. She was all too vulnerable to Brandt's betrayal. Her concern for them was overwhelming—their training did not prepare them for their mistress's pain affecting them this way. Yes, they were conditioned to have affection for only one person—their owner—but they had no instruction on what to do when their owner became more in their eyes. A woman. A queen. A goddess.

"Anyway," she said, bringing their immediate attention back to her, "I have a favor to ask..."

"Name it and it is yours," Talon said instantly.

She blushed. "Would...would you two mind...sleeping with me tonight? I don't mean sex—I mean, I like that—but I mean—just it has been a really long day and all..."

"We would love to spend the night resting beside you," Zaide said, correctly interpreting her babble.

Carefully, the two men helped her out of the bath, taking care that she wouldn't slip, and then they also exited the tub. Sydney walked over to the bamboo linen cabinet and pulled out three plush red towels. She tossed one to Zaide and one to Talon, before wrapping herself modestly and exiting the bathroom. Following her lead, as always, they wrapped the towels around their waists.

They found Sydney rifling through her pajama drawer looking for something to wear. Exchanging a smile, they came up behind her and kissed her cheeks—one on each side at the same time. Then they wrapped their arms around her and gently tugged her away from the dresser.

"Guys!" she cried indignantly. "Can't you let a girl put on some pj's before bed?"

"We like you just the way you are," Zaide assured her.

They pulled her to the bed and Talon turned down the covers. The three of them snuggled together in her king-sized bed, sharing warmth. Talon and Zaide shamelessly caressed Sydney's curves and hollows, as if memorizing the feel of her entire body.

"Guys, we're supposed to be sleeping," she mumbled, trying not to writhe in pleasure under their hands.

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Zaide crooned, but he didn't stop.

"Seriously, you can't possibly want more," she scolded.

"I will never get enough of you...mistress," Talon whispered.

"Talon, don't start with me tonight," she warned.

"You said you would never forget my needs...mistress," he reminded her.

"Should I punch him, Miss Sydney?" Zaide asked, his voice eager for the violence.

"Not just yet," Sydney replied. Addressing Talon again, she ordered in a low voice, "Talon, I told you before, I'm not in the mood to hurt you. If you push me—"

"I am yours to command, mistress," Talon replied, closing his eyes in acceptance of the consequences. He just loved using the forbidden name—it never tasted sweeter on his tongue than when painful consequences loomed.

Sydney's hand fell on his face with a loud smack. The entire side of his face stung sweetly with her strike.

"Let it go, got it?" she growled. She turned as far away from him as she could and snuggled with Zaide.

Talon pressed himself closer to her, his rising erection pushing hotly against her thigh. For the first time, Sydney found herself disgusted with his attentions. She was sated, she was tired, she'd had a long and exhausting day. If he were any other man, she would have kicked him out of bed right then and there.

"Talon," she warned. "If you can't behave yourself..."

"Only tell me how to behave, and I shall do it, Mistress," he murmured in her ear, his hot breath sending prickles of anticipation down her spine.

Sparks of anger blazed behind her eyes. Fine. If he needed the snot beat out of him to act civilly, she would do it. She'd make him regret pushing her too far this night.

"Zaide," she said, her voice serious and cold but excited at the same time. "I need you to tie him to the post of the bed. Use one of the sashes of my robes in the closet. He deserves a whipping for going against my orders."

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Zaide replied, eagerness in his voice at usurping Talon's favored position.

Talon let Zaide jerk him to his feet and tie his hands securely to the tall post of the bed. The satin band bit into his wrists, and unlike Sydney's work the night before, there was no escaping from these knots.

Suddenly something lashed across his back, and he felt the cold-then-hot sensation of the stripe bloom like rose. He could tell by the width of the lash that she was using a leather belt to discipline him.

"Count!" she ordered sharply.

"One," he said through teeth clenched in pleasure. He tensed for a moment, and then the second lash hit his back, crossing the first. "Two."

Sydney felt odd; she was angry at Talon for using "mistress" when she asked him not to, but she was also mad at Brandt. How dare he try to kill himself when all she wanted was to give him a better life.

"Three!" Talon grunted as the belt licked his lower back.

She had given Brandt food and clothing and a private room.

"Four!" Talon cried as the belt lashed over his buttocks.

Tears pricked her eyes when she thought of how she had gone out on a limb for Brant—rescuing him from certain death, and he had just thrown it back in her face.

"Five!" His right thigh stung with the beautiful pain of her wrath.

She was really crying now, tears streaking down her face. Brant was like every other man she'd ever known—only more pitiful. She could have given him everything she had and he would still walk all over her.

"Six!" he almost screamed as his left thigh was lashed.

A sob was threatening to choke her. Why were men such scum bags? She would give her heart away and then they would demand more. So she would give it to them. Then they always broke her heart and ran off with everything else. Tears threatened to blind her as she swung the belt again

"Seven," he grunted as the belt scored a mark on his neck and right cheek.

Zaide caught her from behind, preventing her from lashing Talon anymore. Sydney collapsed into his arms, and bawled on his shoulder. Talon sagged against the bed post, his mission accomplished. This wasn't the worst beating he had received—nor the worst he expected during his service with Miss Sydney. He had known that she was hurting, deep down, from Brant's betrayal and from the betrayal of every other man in her life. She couldn't help Brandt if her anger made her bitter and cold. She couldn't even be happy with herself if she kept her anger inside.

This was the role Talon had chosen. Zaide would be her shield and at the same time take down her walls, while Talon would be her outlet, taking the spear into himself so she could not harm others who could not handle it. Together, they would see to her every need, physical, mental, and emotional. It was their job—their calling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered behind Talon's ear. Her hot breath made his gut clench even as his face burned. Her tongue flicked out to trace the ruby edges of the weal.

"You should not apologize," he insisted. "It is what I live for."

In response, she kissed the welts left by the belt. He could feel the dampness left by her tears, and the spots where the salt water brushed his abused skin stung like fiery needles. It was achy and erotic at the same time, as she gently kissed every inch of angry red skin from his shoulders to his gluts. Then, resting on her knees, she continued kissing over his hips until she came to his aching hard on. She kissed the length of it and then took the tip in her mouth.

Talon's knees trembled with the sensation of her tongue circling his tip in her hot mouth. He had not expected her to replace his pain with pleasure, but he should have known better. She had promised to always attend to his needs, whether they were for agony or ecstasy.

Zaide, not wanting to be left out, crawled on the floor and nuzzled her thighs, whimpering his petition softly. She open her legs wide even while Talon was still in her mouth. Delighted by the offering, Zaide licked and played with Sydney's most sensitive parts. She was just as delicious as before.

With one hand, Sydney gripped Talon's hip to keep him from moving. With the other, she reached down and pushed one finger inside herself, feeding the aching need Zaide's tongue created as he toyed with her clitoris. Zaide's hand stilled hers and he gently withdrew her fingers to as to replace them with his own. Riding his hands and mouth Sydney tried to focus on lavishing attention on Talon.

She became aware of the bedpost was right behind her ear, and if he started thrusting—however involuntarily—it would probably give her an instant headache. She paused in her ministrations.

"Zaide, back up please, I need to adjust a few things," she instructed. Zaide reluctantly backed off. Sydney got on the bed and pulled Talon around the bedpost so that she could still suck on his long erect cock but if he did move, the inside of his hip would only rub against the wood and not her skull. "Now, Zaide, take me from behind," she ordered.

More than delighted, Zaide positioned himself behind her and let his engorged member sit at her entrance, waiting for permission. She moaned encouragingly and wiggled so that her wet heat coated his tip. Not needing any more cues, Zaide pushed into her even as Sydney sucked Talon into her mouth.

Sydney had always wondered how it would feel to be taken doggy-style by one man while giving another fellatio. Now, she decided that she really liked it. She redoubled her efforts with Talon, her lips and tongue teasing as he slid out of her mouth, and then Zaide would push into her and she would swallow Talon to the hilt.

Talon groaned as he leaned against the bedpost, his pounding pulse making the whip marks throb beautifully, only adding to his rapture. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Mistress, I—I'm going to—" he gasped.

Sydney just hummed delightedly. Shuddering with the power of his pleasure, he came in her mouth, firing shot after shot of seamen down her throat. She swallowed every drop, the rippling movements of her throat only prolonging his ecstasy. His knees gave out and the satin bonds bit deeper into his wrists as he sagged against them. Finally Sydney pulled away to lick her lips, her eyes slumberous and sexy. Then her own orgasm took her over and she collapsed on the bed, crying out as pleasure shattered her insides. Zaide grunted and gasped as her smoldering sheath convulsed around him, and he too spilled his seed deep inside her.

Lazily, Sydney rolled over and wrapped her legs around Zaide, pulling him to her to snuggle as they both recovered. 

"I think," she said as she stretched and wriggled comfortably into Zaide, "That I'm a closet nymphomaniac and sadist."

"Your secret is safe with us," Zaide assured her. Then, after a moment, he asked, "Should I let him down?"

"Yes, I think so," she sighed with a smile. "He probably has not learned his lesson, but he has endured enough torment for the night."

Without protest, Zaide pushed himself up and let Talon loose. Talon fell against the bedpost before pulling himself to Sydney's side. She had repositioned herself in the center of the bed, and he curled beside her, one of his thighs covering hers as he nuzzled her sweet smelling hair. Zaide took up a similar position on her other side as he drew up the covers. Sydney sighed happily with one arm around each of her attendants. Who would have guessed that such an unethical act would have such delightful repercussions.



Sydney's Dogs Ch. 03



The next morning, Sydney woke up feeling exceptionally warm and a little achy. As she became aware of her surroundings, she felt Zaide and Talon's limbs tangled around her. Their bodies snuggled close accounted for the warm feeling. She shifted slightly and then stretched, pointing her toes and reaching to the top of the headboard with her hands. Half awake, Zaide and Talon both tightened their grip on her as if they were afraid she would escape them. She smiled, feeling special.

It was Friday, the national day of slacking off. Thanks to Talon's organizational efforts the previous day, she should be able to finish her office work in no time at all. Then she could check on Brandt in the hospital, maybe even get a date for bringing him home, before they went to the mall. She looked out the window and saw that the light was gray; they were in for some rain this weekend.

She stretched again, and this time she managed to push Talon and Zaide's arms off her body long enough to roll over Zaide and off the bed.

"Miss Sydney," Zaide groaned in protest. "Stay with us."

"Zaide, why don't you go make us some breakfast," She suggested. "I need to see Talon in the bathroom."

Talon smiled sleepily and stretched his long, dark limbs. Zaide pouted but obediently got up. He also stretched and flexed, showing off his impressive muscles.

"You two are incorrigible!" she cried from the bathroom door. "I don't intend to have sex this morning. I was going to put some greasy, stinging ointment on Talon's welts so they won't scar."

That helped Zaide feel better and Talon's smug look dimmed significantly.

"I'll have breakfast ready right away," Zaide promised and left the room.

"Good. Talon, get your cute little butt in her," she ordered.

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Talon said and obediently followed her in.

Sydney dug in her bathroom counter drawers until she found the jar of salve she was looking for. She usually used it when she burned herself on the stove the rare times she tried to cook or when she was out in the sun too long. She looked up and saw Talon standing in the doorway, still naked, and painfully sexy. Giving herself a mental shake, she told him to turn around by twirling her finger. Dutifully, he turned his back to her.

With a smirk of mischief, she dug out a large glob of cold ointment and dropped it on the reddest welt. Talon's shoulders jerked in shock, but he managed not to make a sound. Her momentary vengeance past, she focused on efficiently and thoroughly covering every mark on his shoulders, back, and butt.

"There. Now, go get dressed," she ordered firmly. She was sure that if she did not make the order as strict as possible, Talon would try to seduce her. She was proven right when he looked over his shoulder with a pouty, puppy dog look. She pointed out of the room and gave him her sternest look. "Go!"

Talon obeyed.

Finally alone, she felt a little strange—and naked. She realized she wasn't wearing any pajamas. At least that made it that much easier to walk into her shower and get ready for the day.

When she came down stairs after dressing in a comfortable jean skirt, red t-shirt and matching red flat slippers, pulling her hair back in a claw clip, she smiled when she found Zaide, wearing one of her aprons—the one she'd gotten in a faux-Oktober-Fest drinking game at a bar when she was 22 with the buxom bodice of a serving wench printed on the front—and just sliding the last pancake out of the pan and onto a serving plate. It smelled delicious.

"You certainly believe in carbs," Sydney commented as she sat down at the breakfast table. Zaide had set the table beautifully, and she felt like she was in a fancy restaurant; she usually ate microwaved dinners or leftovers with a single fork and standing up or at her desk.

"They provide energy for all kinds of physical activities," Zaide said with a debonair wink. He settled in the seat next to her and served her a pancake. Then he poured her a cup of fresh coffee and nudged the creamer towards her.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. As she was adding creamer to her coffee, Talon came in and sat down across from her. He offered her honey and butter for her pancake. She accepted the honey, refused the butter politely, and outlined her plan for the day. "So, I need to do a little work this morning—no more than an hour of checking email. Then we'll pay a visit to Brandt. After that, we have the entire day to waste at the mall. We might even go check out a movie together. How does that sound?"

"We will follow you wherever you lead," Talon assured her.

"Ok, new rule: When I ask your opinion, I want your honest opinion," she replied. "None of this 'your wish is my command' bullshit. From now on, all patronizing responses will be taken as insults. Clear?"

"Crystal," Zaide piped up with a boyish grin. "And, in my honest opinion, it sounds like a perfect day."

"Good," she said, returning the smile. She took a bite of pancake and hummed her appreciation. She quickly ate half the pancake before she set down he fork. "That was absolutely delicious, but I'm full. Let me get to my work and we'll get going soon."

Leaving the two men at the table, she quickly retreated to her office. She was starting to feel like she was in a bad porn movie where the script took every possible opportunity to have vigorous and kinky sex. That was why she had cut her breakfast short; she didn't want to give Zaide or Talon the opportunity to take her on the kitchen table. She blushed as the fantasy rushed through her mind, but reminded herself of their plans for the day. Spending it sexually exhausted was not on the agenda.

Besides, she told herself, eventually, these attendants would break free of their conditioning. That was her greater purpose after all, the only reason she consented to playing their "owner" game. She would show them the real world—a world without egotistical maniacs forcing them to live like horny dogs for their short lives. The first step was not letting herself fall into the seductively pleasurable trap of seeing them only as sex objects—that's part of what she wanted to do today; outfit them as men.

In her office, she quickly went through her emails and phone messages, returning calls, making decisions, scheduling meetings and putting out fires. Most of her work was pretty self-sufficient. Her father had set it up that way during his semi-retirement and Sydney hadn't seen any reason to change it after his death. After Talon's filing job, it was even faster and easier to find what she needed.

When she finally left her office, she found Talon and Zaide waiting for her just outside the door. Zaide respectfully held her purse and Talon held the keys.

"I take it you're going to drive?" she asked a little skeptically.

"Do you know the way to the hospital?" he countered.

"Just follow the blue 'H' signs," she replied. Then she sighed. "Fine, you can drive." To keep them from following her like brainless puppies, she hooked one arm around each's elbow and they went to the garage together.

At the hospital, Brandt was looking better. His neck was still bruised, but he was awake.

"He hasn't said anything to anyone," the nurse told her. "We're trying to get a counselor in here, but he seems borderline catatonic. Do you know if he went through any trauma or abuse before the suicide attempt?"

"I honestly have no idea," Sydney replied. "But I can't imagine anything but the worst would send him over the edge like that."

"Well, since he knows you, he might be more responsive. If you could get him to talk, it would be a huge step forward."

"I'll do what I can," she promised.

When she entered the room, Brant's eyes flickered to her and then skittered away. She sat on a stool beside him and absently tucked a stray lock of curly red hair behind his ear. He shuddered at her touch.

"I hope you remember what we talked about last night," she started. "First, that I don't want you doing anything you are not one hundred percent comfortable with. And second, that I will do anything and everything to help you."

He still didn't look at her, afraid of the hand she was offering.

"The boys and I are going shopping today," she continued. "Is there anything you would like? Maybe some clothes and shoes?"

He glanced at her furtively under the cover of his long eyelashes.

"I also had an idea for a special outing just for the two of us when you're feeling better. And, if you're up to it, I was going to plan a two-week vacation to someplace tropical. Stress has been mounting for me—even before you three came to live with me—and I think we all need to get away," she continued.

Slowly, as she spoke, he turned his head to watch her mouth, as if cataloging the movements of her lips as they made promises.

"Finally, I think it might do you some good to talk to a trauma counselor," she suggested.

Brandt immediately looked away, afraid.

"If you want to tell them about everything, the PPA, me, and the boys, you have every right to do that," she said softly, correctly guessing that he was afraid to say the wrong thing and incur her wrath or the wrath of the PPA. "I won't stop you, I won't be mad at you. I'll corroborate your story, even. Brant, nothing is more important to me than your recovery. If I have to spend the rest of my life rotting in solitary confinement so that you can smile again, so be it."

He looked at her, his jaw dropping in disbelief. "W—w—why?" he finally managed to whisper.

"Because you are a human being. Because I feel like shit for enabling the PPA. Because you are an American citizen, with certain unalienable rights, including life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," she replied, her smile glowing radiantly.

"But...but I'm broken," he protested hoarsely.

"Who says broken things can't be fixed? I've fixed my broken heart several times. My father fixed his broken body after a boating accident left him partially paralyzed. Broken china can be glued back together. Broken castles and historic landmarks are rebuilt all the time—not to mention classic cars and airplanes," she insisted encouragingly.

"I...you...won't hurt me?" he asked, his eyes searching her face for honesty.

"Not if I can help it. I mean, I will insist on a few things that push your boundaries, but if you tell me 'no,' I will respect that," she explained.

"I...am not...allowed...to say...that word," he whispered, tears in his eyes.

"As of this moment, you are," she declared. "Come on, let's practice. Say it."

He hesitantly shook his head.

"I want you to speak the word—like you mean it," she coaxed.

"N-no?" he mumbled.

She grinned at him. "Louder."

"No," he said with more confidence.

"Louder!"

"NO!" he shouted.

Talon poked his head into the room, his dark eyes looking for danger. They found Brandt and their glare bore twin holes in him until he looked away. "Miss Sydney?" Talon inquired simply.

She turned and smiled. "We're fine," she assured him.

He nodded and left. Turning back to Brandt, she clapped her hands excitedly. "You did it! That sounded great."

"Just a word," he murmured softly, a blush blooming on his cheeks. He glanced at her through his light eyelashes again.

"But it's a powerful word. You know that, or you wouldn't have been forbidden to say it before. Now you are free to use it at any time. Even with me—ESPECIALLY with me," she clarified firmly. "Oh, and one more thing, when you get better, I'm going to set up an allowance for you so you can have your own money to buy things."

"Too generous," he croaked, tears sparkling in his eyes as he looked away from her.

"Brandt, look at me," she ordered.

"N...no," he tested the word.

She smiled broadly. "Ok, then you don't have to."

He looked up at her with disbelief and, for the first time, hope peeking through the lines of his face.

She locked eyes with him. "Do you think someone working minimum wage would be able to afford what I did? No, they wouldn't. I am very wealthy, Brandt. Giving you a little money is hardly anything to my budget. But if it helps you recover, then it is literally the least I can do for you. And I want to do so much for you."

He nodded, his throat trying to work out the lump of emotion.

"And remember what I said about the counselors. You are free to talk. About ANYTHING. You are also free to refuse them. If you don't feel safe or comfortable, use that new word we practiced. Got it?"

He nodded again.

She beamed. "Good. I'll ask the nurse when you can come home. That is if you want to stay with me. I meant what I said before: you don't have to stay at my house."

"I...I would like to ...at least...be near...you," he said, uncertainty about the request and his motives behind it evident in his voice.

"Alright, you can start out at my place and we'll go from there." She got up to leave and then paused. "You still didn't answer my question earlier. Is there anything you would like me to get for you today? Jeans? Sneakers? A book?"

"I..I don't know my size...I haven't..." he managed to say before his voice gave out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I haven't been allowed...luxuries..."

"Then consider me the luxury fairy god mother," she said encouragingly.

"Um...could I have...a chocolate bar?" he asked tentatively.

She grinned. "Definitely."

He sighed and relaxed, leaning back into the pillows behind him. Sydney waved as she left the room. She passed Talon and Zaide and found the nurse.

"He's talking a little bit," she told her.

"What a relief," cried the nurse. "Do you have any idea where he came from? Before you took him in, I mean."

"Not really," Sydney said truthfully. After all, she didn't know where he was from before the PPA got a hold of him or even what the PPA did with their attendants in training. "I really just took him on as a favor to a friend of a friend. I thought some time away would do him some good, but obviously not."

"It's nothing you did. It's common with trauma and abuse victims to not to trust new surroundings. He was probably going to attempt suicide regardless of where he was," the nurse told her comfortingly. "Do you know much about his old home?"

"From what I've gathered, his previous living arrangements were very...authoritarian. Tyrannical even. He might not talk about that, or about much at all, but I managed to get a little out of him. I would like to get him home as soon as possible. When can he be released?" Sydney asked.

"We'd like to keep him one more night for observation, but he should be pgdfhysically able to leave tomorrow morning," the nurse replied.

"Great. I'll pick him up then," Sydney said.

"Are you sure?" the nurse asked, guardedly. "He could still be very traumatized, and he might attempt suicide again. Sometimes, people in that much emotional pain will say anything to get a chance to take their lives."

"I can't leave him here," Sydney explained. "I don't think putting him in an institution will help. I like to think that I'm winning his trust, giving him options he didn't know he had. If he wants to talk to a counselor, I will definitely bring in the best."

"At least you're willing to do what you can," the nurse conceded. "That's more than some people are willing to do. We'll have him ready to go—could you bring some clothes for him?"

"Absolutely," she agreed. She turned back to Zaide and Talon. "Let's go. We have a lot to do today."

Back in the car, Sydney reclaimed her keys and the driver's seat, and drove them to the nearest mall.

"Alright, my freaky darlings. Today is about you!" she told them. "Let's get this party started. First, we'll hit the Men's Warehouse and get you two some suits." She lead the way through the mall, holding both their hands as if she was Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. At the store, she walked up to the nearest sales clerk, and declared, "I am here to buy at least six suits, maybe ten, with shirts and ties, and all the accoutrements that go with that."

Almost falling over himself to accommodate her sizeable request, he called out to the other associate and they quickly got to work measuring Talon and Zaide. Sydney sat down in one of the luxurious chairs provided by the changing rooms and had a great deal of fun making the two men try on various suits and model for her. 

Sydney realized it was a mistake when Zaide tried on a beautifully cut charcoal pinstripe suit, making him look like a sexy 20's gangster or corporate shark. While the suits were supposed to empower them and professionally dress them in the event they started working in one of her companies, she had forgotten one important detail: A good suit could make anyone look good. When they were tailored to a hunk like Talon or Zaide, 

"You look amazing," she told Zaide. 

"Thank you, Miss Sydney," he grinned. "But I can't wait to see what you will wear when we have an occasion to dress like this."

"Oh, I have one or two old things in my closet that will work," she replied. 

"Please, Miss Sydney, you should treat yourself. I couldn't bear it if I wore something new and you didn't. I would rather be naked," he insisted.

"You would rather be naked regardless," she accused, but she couldn't help but smile. He smiled back his agreement, but his eyes kept pleading with her. "Alright," she finally agreed. "I'll buy a swanky new dress, just so we match."

His grin broadened. Somewhat frazzled by his persistence, Sydney grabbed a pinstriped fedora and crammed it on his face, finally cutting off his sultry gaze. He caught the hat before it could fall off and expertly adjusted it. He looked like a sexy mafia hit man and he winked at her under the brim of the hat. Unable to take his raw sexuality, she left him to the tailor.

Then she picked out ties, vests, and shirts in a variety of colors and patterns for both men. After briskly approving the suit choices on Talon, she left specific directions and a sizeable tip to ensure prompt delivery once the suits were tailored to perfection. With Talon and Zaide each carrying a bag with shirts, ties, belts, handkerchiefs, tie pins, cufflinks, and a beautiful pair of dress shoes for each, they left the suit store and went to the next.

Sydney had never been a huge fan of retail therapy. She preferred shopping online or in catalogues, where she could find organic cotton and specialty items that weren't mass produced, and where she didn't feel pressured to spend her money. But somehow shopping for others made it more enjoyable. In addition to their dress shoes, she also got them both quality pairs of sneakers to replace the flimsy canvas shoes the PPA had sent them home in. At the department store, they got multiple pairs of jeans and slacks, several nice shirts, jackets, sweaters, scarves, and hats. 

"How does this combo look?" Zaide asked, exiting the changing room in a pair of designer jeans and a tight athletic shirt. Sydney could count the muscles on his washboard abs through the stretched material. 

"You look like you should be working at Chip and Dales," she teased. 

"That's a good thing, right?" he replied, stretching and flexing his muscles. 

"For me," she agreed, her voice suddenly husky. Embarrassment at her own vulnerability made her turn away.

"Do you like this outfit?" Talon asked, coming out of the next changing room. 

"You look fine," she said and quickly went back to the clothing stacks to find some sort of distraction.

Keeping Brandt in her thoughts, she picked up a pair of jeans that should fit and a belt to adjust them. Remembering the flip flops she had bought, she also grabbed a better pair of sandals that should fit Brandt's feet. She finally picked out a comfortable cotton t-shirt with a red guitar on it. The color of the guitar reminded her of Brandt's hair. She piled everything into Talon's arms, and when they finally left the cash register both men were weighed down by bags.




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 03



"Miss Sydney," Zaide called as they passed a dress shop. "You promised."

She sighed and dutifully led them into Zina's Formals. She roughly pushed through a couple of racks and then threw up her arms. "I don't see anything here that will work for me. Oh well."

"There is this," Zaide suggested, pulling out a slinky red and gold ombre dress. 

"No way will I fit that," she protested. But it was a beautiful dress, and it looked almost her size.

"Try it on for me?" he asked. With a dramatic huff, she took the dress into the changing room and shimmied into the silky sheath. It fit perfectly. The hem was deep pomegranate red which faded into Champaign gold at the top. The cowl neckline offered the barest peak of her cleavage. The back plunged well below her shoulder blades, held together by crisscrossing ribbons in the back. 

She stepped out of the room and Zaide's face lit up. She looked like shapely flame sending his temperature through the roof.

"Alright, I know I don't have to ask," she said, her cheeks almost matching her dress. "But how do I look?"

"Beautiful," he whispered.

"Miss Sydney, would you like to try either of these on as well?" Talon interrupted, holding up a black party dress and a silver sequined gown. Sydney looked at them, but couldn't fall in love with either of them. 

"Sorry, Talon, neither is speaking to me," she shrugged. Then she ran her hands over the fabric covering her hips and thighs. It felt sexy. It felt good. Finally, she sighed. "Alright, I get this one—and only this one. I'm not really a dress kind of girl." 

Talon replaced the dresses on the rack. Her smile betrayed the truth of her statement, and he couldn't help but feel snubbed. He watched sullenly as she went back into the changing room and then took the dress to the cashier.

"Alright," she said, coming out of the boutique swing her black bag victoriously. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I think we have been thoroughly spoiled," Zaide teased.

"Glad to hear it," Sydney grinned. "Let's go to lunch. I'm craving Chinese."

"I was hoping for something spicy," Talon muttered.

"Chinese can be spicy," she said, looking closer at him. He had been very quiet during their escapades in the mall, only giving answers when he was directly asked. "Or do you want Mexican? I could definitely go for some enchiladas."

"Chinese is fine," he replied stoically.

"Chinese it is, then." She took them back to the car where they stowed their purchases. Then they drove to a little Chinese restaurant that Sydney loved. It was a traditional, family owned restaurant, very small and very private. They ordered family style, Almond Chicken, Kung Pao Beef and fried rice. As they waited for their food to arrive, Sydney made idle chatter. "I was thinking that our next stop could be the grocery store. Zaide, did you bring your list?"

"Yes I did, Miss Sydney," he replied pulling out a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket.

"Then that's the next stop. Afterward, we can rush home and put everything away before the last store, and after that we can go to a movie and get some ice-cream for dinner," she said.

"Ice-cream makes a horrible dinner," Talon replied.

"Then what do you suggest?" she wanted to know, fixing her intense hazel gaze on him, giving him her undivided attention.

Talon just shrugged.

Sydney felt like reaching across the table and slapping him, but she held herself in check. She was in public for one thing. For another, she didn't want to get into abusive habits. Maybe this was Talon's way of calling her 'Mistress' outside the privacy of the bedroom, but she suspected that something was bothering him.

Soon the meal was served and they ate quickly, without a lot of chatter. After lunch was over, they drove to the grocery store.

Just inside the doors, Sydney stopped and pulled her wallet out of her purse. She passed Zaide over two hundred dollars in cash.

"I think you'll be faster if you are alone," she said. "I need to talk with Talon for a moment. We'll be at the coffee shop next door."

Zaide looked torn between pride at being trusted and trepidation that Miss Sydney was going somewhere without him. She didn't give him a chance to protest. She just grabbed Talon's arm and dragged him to the coffee shop. After ordering a latte, they sat down at a small table to wait for the coffee. She once again pinned the dark olive skinned man with her most penetrating gaze.

"What is up?" she asked. "Did I hurt you last night? Was it something I said? What?"

Talon shook his head and tried to look away, but he could feel her stare drilling holes in his temple.

"Talk to me," she begged softly. She picked up his hand and intertwined their fingers. "Tell me what is going on."

Talon shook his head again and sighed. "I...I am jealous," he finally admitted. He seemed embarrassed by the whole thing.

"Jealous of what? Of whom?" she wanted to know, her tone void of the sarcasm and disdain he had feared.

"It is merely harem dynamics," he explained. "I will...get over it...eventually."

"Harem what?" she cried softly, surprised. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Talon searched for the right words. "Even though attendants are trained to be submissive to you in all things, it is difficult for us to submit to one another. We were equals at the agency, but also competitors."

"So now you feel like I'm giving Zaide too much attention?" she asked.

"Partially," he admitted. "And I'm also jealous of Brandt." 

"Why him?"

"You have made it clear that you will do anything for him and he has done nothing to earn your favor," he almost snarled. "He is unworthy of your attentions, and yet you dote on him like...like an inbred spaniel."

"Brant will never share what we have shared," she insisted. "I just want to get him back on his feet—help him reclaim his humanity." 

"He broke your heart, and you just went back for seconds," Talon accused starkly.

Sydney jerked away and dropped his hand as if it had burned her. She dropped her eyes to the table and hugged herself as if she was cold. "He needs someone, and I was the only one who would give him a chance," she whispered.

Talon winced. He had crossed a line and knew it. His training demanded he make reparations. Spreading his hands in open submission, he replied, "We need you as well—I need you. I would move the stars for the same attention you give Brandt freely."

"Talon, I have given you far more attention than Brandt. Of the three of you, you were the first I took into my bed. The first I drank. I would do just as much for you as I would Brandt—more even. If you want money, it's yours. Freedom? As much as I can safely allow without the PPA getting suspicious that you ran away and coming to euthanize you. What else can I give you?" she demanded.

Your love, Talon wanted to cry. That thought made him feel wretched and guilty. He had woken next to her, in her bed—an honor by all accounts—and she had tended the welts she had made—a kindness he didn't deserve. But when she hadn't allowed him to seduce her (his only way of expressing gratitude) that morning, he had taken it as a personal rebuff. Last night, he had been amiable to working with Zaide for Miss Sydney's best interests, but when she had enjoyed Zaide's breakfast so obviously, he had felt excluded. All day he had watched as Miss Sydney and Zaide had laughed and joked and it irritated him irrationally. Attendants were not supposed to be friends with their owners. It wasn't part of the training at all! Yet Zaide did it so effortlessly that it made Talon feel...inadequate.

His training had, for the first time, failed him. He had only seen his inability to fill the most rudimentary need and reacted emotionally, not logically, not as he was trained. Besides, owners were not supposed to love their property, at least, not over much. Was there a shred of natural alpha male in him to try to claim his mistress for his own? Could a person fall this madly in love in only two days?

"Mis—Miss Sydney, I am sorry for my attitude," he apologized in a rush. "If you had not ordered me to keep a low profile in public, I would kiss your feet in penance."

"Calm down," she reached out to him again, putting a soothing hand on his arm. He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, unable to endure another moment without tasting her skin. "Look, it's like I told you last night," she continued. "I want to help Brandt. Not sleep with him. Think of him as my adopted brother or nephew—off-limits sexually but still within the realm of people I care about. This is all pretty crazy for me too; I haven't had a family in years and now I'm on the leading edge of alternative lifestyles." She smiled wryly at herself.

"Still, I was not acting appropriately," Talon insisted. He cursed himself for not keeping better control of his emotions. He should be punished. If he were back at the agency, such an outburst would not have been tolerated.

"Honestly, it's only the threat of death and the fabulous sex that are keeping us together," she lied. "So let's just make the most of it."

He sighed. He shouldn't expect her to feel the same way, but he would accept what she gave him without any more jealousy of the others. Or at least as little as possible. He knew he was lucky to have her in what ways she allowed.

The latte came in a chic paper cup delivered by a young and earnest waitress, and Sydney wrapped her fingers around it to warm them up but didn't drink. She was lost in thought. At first, she'd expected the three men living in her home would behave like rowdy brothers. (Or what she guessed rowdy brothers would be like, considering she was an only child.) She had not anticipated any jealousy over her. Sure, she qualified as beautiful, but she never considered herself as something to fight for. No previous boyfriend or romantic fling had felt the need to. Maybe that was because she had the bad habit of throwing herself, heart and soul, into a relationship, which almost always ended in devastation, and she had just never given anyone any incentive to be jealous.

"Perhaps we should join Zaide in the grocery store?" Talon suggested after a long awkward moment.

"You're right," she agreed. She picked up her latte and left the table.

Talon followed close behind her, his mind turning over different ways he could make up for his blunder. They found Zaide in the produce section, picking out melons. Sydney looked over the items in his cart.

"Swiss beef! You're really going to spoil me," she teased.

"Naturally," Zaide agreed.

"Just one thing," she mentioned as she looked over his meat selections. "I don't eat pork." Talon raised an eyebrow at the innuendo and she blushed. "It's just that my mother was from a Jewish background, and so we never had pork when I was growing up. Now, I can't seem to stomach the stuff."

"Say no more, the bacon is banished," Zaide complied.

"I'll take it back," Talon volunteered. He grabbed the neatly bagged portions of pork and hurried away to the meat section.

"I also don't really eat shellfish," she informed Zaide. "I've been ridiculed for it before but-"

"But you'll never have to worry about red tide or heavy metals," Zaide interjected, optimistically. "To tell you the truth, I cannot stand the smell of cooking shrimp. Once they're perfectly grilled, they're fine, but the transition between their raw fishy odor and their cooked odor is not something I enjoy."

Sydney smiled. She felt like Zaide was opening up to her, and she was very grateful for that. Talon was back as quickly as he had left, and the three of them promptly went to the register. Zaide paid with the money she had entrusted him with. All of them grabbed several bags of groceries and headed out to the parking lot. With all the foodstuffs stored safely in her SUV, Sydney drove home. When they got to her house, they worked together to bring in all the groceries and purchases. 

"You can put the groceries wherever you like," she told Zaide. "The kitchen is totally your domain, now."

"Thank you, Miss Sydney," Zaide replied with a gracious nod. He was quickly putting away all the food as if he already knew where it belonged.

"Talon and I will get the other things to your rooms. Then we'll embark on our last shopping escapade." She smiled mischievously and grabbed Zaide's shopping bags. Talon followed, carrying his own bags. She ran them up to Zaide's room and left them on his bed. As she was leaving his room, she ran into Talon.

Summoning all his courage, Talon dropped to his knees in front of her and wrapped his arms around her legs. His head was level with her hips, and he pressed his face into the apex of her thighs. Her hands settled on his shoulders, but she couldn't push him away without unbalancing herself.

"Mistress, please let me make you happy," he begged, his voice slightly muffled. 

"No starting anything," she tried to scold. In truth, his hot breath was somehow sending heat curling deep in her womb. It was a strange but exciting thrill to see him abase himself for her. She'd never thought of herself as particularly dominant in the bedroom, but Talon was making the prospect very attractive.

"Things started the moment you brought me into your home," Talon replied, looking up at her with his dark brown puppy-dog eyes. "I merely wanted to show my appreciation. You are kind and generous and far greater than a lowly attendant such as I could ever deserve. I can only repay you by giving you myself, unconditionally."

"Oh, Talon, you don't need to give me anything," she sighed, wrapping her hands around his head. Then she shook herself, trying to break his seductive spell. "But maybe we should just slow down for a moment. You know, let the hormones cool a little." She patted his shoulders gently to indicate she wanted to be let go. "Come on, we still have the entire evening ahead of us." 

Talon unwound his arms reluctantly. She flashed him a smile breezed out of the hallway, leaving the attendant broken hearted. Still, he composed himself and promised silently that he would do whatever it took to win her love. After all, he'd only been her property for a few days. He had the rest of his life to prove his devotion, starting now.

Downstairs, Zaide was finished putting away the groceries and waiting for Miss Sydney. 

She led the way out to the car. They drove through the town to a discreetly located shop with a beautiful purple sign proclaiming the nature of the wares inside. Sydney found a parking spot and nervously grinned at her male companions.

"We're here," she announced. "Now, I've always wanted to do this, but I never had the courage. Get whatever you want. Seriously, anything that strikes your fancy. I don't know what you want—I'm not even sure what I want, but I'm definitely willing to try things if you help me out. No trying to impress me with super kinky things or dangerous things. Just...be yourselves," she finished lamely.

Talon and Zaide exchanged a look and a smile.

"We will be more than happy to help you in this," Talon said. Zaide just grinned.

The three of them got out and walked into the Love Chest. It was a very large sex store, with so many toys, bachelorette party novelties, videos, books, lotions and costumes that Sydney felt instantly overwhelmed.

Zaide and Talon each grabbed one of the canvas shopping totes and steered Miss Sydney towards the left hand side of the store.

"We'll start here and look at everything," Zaide suggested encouragingly.

"Ok," Sydney squeaked and blushed with her nervousness.

The first aisle was full of magazines and books, Sydney tried to glance at the titles without staring or feeling self-conscious. This had been her idea after all. Just to prove to herself that she wasn't going to chicken out, she picked out an instructional book of rope bondage. Flipping through the pages, she tried to think critically. It would be good to learn some of these knots, and there were some other designs that looked positively delectable. Imagining Talon bound in this way made her salivate. She put it in Talon's bag. He smiled appreciatively.

The next aisle was lotions, oils and lubricants. Turning to Zaide, she asked, "What flavors do you like?"

"Peaches," he replied mischievously.

Sydney rolled her eyes but picked out peach flavored lubricant. She also grabbed a watermelon for herself.

"Talon?" she indicated the shelf.

"Bitter apple," he replied.

She grabbed that one too. A little ways down, she found some candles. Unable to resist, she grabbed one and inhaled deeply, enjoying the fragrance. Tropical Vanilla. It smelled delicious. She read the tin and discovered that the wax melted at a lower temperature than normal candles and could be used as hot massage oil.

"What do you think?" she asked as she passed Talon and Zaide each a tin.

"This sounds most enjoyable," Talon said, eagerness lighting up his face.

"I am definitely interested," Zaide replied after smelling the candle.

"Ok, so we'll get those too," she smiled. Each man put the candle into his bag.

"What about this?" Zaide asked, holding up a boxed set of edible body paints. "If you liked the wine the other night, I'm sure you would enjoy this."

Sydney couldn't help but laugh. "Ok, you've convinced me," she smiled. He put the paints in his bag.

Next were the costumes. "Do you guys want anything?" she asked them.

"For us...or for you?" Talon asked suggestively. Sydney couldn't help but blush.

"Either," she mumbled as nonchalantly as she could. She fingered a teal lace teddy. She had always wanted to wear such things, but never had the courage to face a man with it.

Zaide picked out a super skimpy red riding hood costume for women. "I'm a sucker for the classics," he said with a smile. Sydney giggled and nodded her approval. She added wolf ears, a man-thong with a tail, and a pair of black gloves to the set and put it in his bag.

Talon fingered a black embroidered strapless bodice. "I think you would look stunning in this," he said devilishly.

"That's going to call for some major bitch boots," she warned. She was already looking at the high healed, pointy toed, knee high black leather boots with several silver buckles. She had always wanted a pair, but could never justify it with an occasion.

"By all means," Talon replied delightedly. He looked through the boxes and chose Sydney's size. He pulled out one boot for her to try on. Sydney sat on the chair provided by the store, took off her red slipper, and Talon helped her slide the boot on to her stocking foot. It fit perfectly, and she loved how feminine it made her calves look.

"How about these to go with the red riding hood costume?" Zaide asked, pointing out an adorable set of red Mary-Jane heels. Talon reluctantly slid the boot off her foot so Zaide could slide the other shoe on.

Feeling like Cinderella, Sydney cheered, "I'm in love with both!" The men smiled and bagged the shoes. Talon grabbed the bodice, a matching thong, and lacy garter with a ruby teardrop charm.

"Well if we're getting all that," Sydney rolled her eyes as she grabbed a pair of thigh-high fishnet stockings and a pair of fishnet fingerless gloves, and passed them to him to put in his bag. Then something else caught her eye. It was a collar and bowtie and cuffs with black cufflinks but no shirt in between them. With a wicked smile she got two sets; it pleased her to think of them with matching bare chests and a token of formal wear.

They turned to the next section, which brought them to the carefully arranged aisles of various toys and vibrates. Sydney glanced at the unusual shapes and colors, but given that she had two human toys that were far more effective than any battery powered accessory, she didn't examine them too closely.




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 03



Zaide, however, paused to inspect some of the smaller devices. "What about these?" he asked her.

There was a small buzzing bullet attached to a rubbery ring that could be worn on the cock, around two fingers, or even on his tongue, and he knew it would drive Miss Sydney wild, and several sets of Ben-Wa balls, different sizes and shapes.

"I really wouldn't know what to do with them," she confessed after reading the packaging. "But if you want to teach me, by all means, get them."

Smiling to himself as he thought up different ways to stimulate her with those small things, he selected a variety of small toys and added them to his basket.

The next area of the store contained a wide variety of BDSM accessories. Zaide stood back, letting his co-attendant take the lead in his specialty. Talon quickly picked out a studded collar and held it up for Sydney's approval.

"Better than the bathrobe sashes we've been using," she replied.

Talon nodded and added a leash to the set. Next pulled out a wide riding crop. "You might like this, as it does not leave significant damage like a belt or a whip."

"Are you sure? I know that they used to abuse horses with these things," Sydney commented skeptically.

"Usually in cases of abuse, the horses were hit in the face or with something much more brutal than a crop," he explained. "Crops are designed to create pressure and noise, not pain."

"Point," she consented. "But how does that satisfy your...desires?"

"Just because they create more noise than pain does not mean that they cannot create pain at all," Talon said with a small smile. "And as always, my first priority is to your comfort. I know you are opposed to the idea of drawing blood and leaving scars. This will do neither."

"Makes sense. Ok, I'm game." she nodded. Talon slid the crop into his almost full bag.

"Should we also get some real rope?" Zaide asked. "They have a selection of Japanese rope right here." He indicated a shelf with knotted cuffs and lengths of thick, silky rope coiled and ready for use.

"You're right," Sydney agreed. "How much do you think we need?"

"Two at least," Zaide suggested.

"Probably four," Talon advised.

"Six it is," she decided. Zaide dutifully selected the lengths of rope.

"Cuffs too?" he asked.

"I was kinda hoping for the leather cuffs," she replied with a small blush. "I just think they look cooler."

"They're right here," Talon offered, selecting two pair of studded wide bands of leather connected by two D-rings and a carabineer clip. "These you can use just as cuffs or secure a rope to the D-rings for a variety of options."

"Sexy and creative," she smiled. Talon stowed the cuffs in his shopping bag.

"While we're here," Zaide interjected, caught between irritation that Talon was getting more goodies and a slightly sadistic desire to be Miss Sydney's minion as she tormented Talon, "Do you want to blindfold him or gag him?"

"I don't know. Do you like that sort of thing, Talon?" she wanted to know.

"They would be devices of sweet torment," he replied, his voice low with lust and seduction.

Sydney blushed again. "Ok, let's pick out some." Together, the three of them chose two blind folds, one red and one black, and a solid rubber ball gag. Both shopping bags were now full. "Anything else you can think of while we're here?"

Both men thought for a moment before shaking their heads. Already, the scope of what they had chosen for pleasure with Miss Sydney was making them lightheaded as all the blood in their bodies pooled in their groins.

"Nothing? Well, then let's get going." she lead the way to the cash register. Even though the woman at the counter had been working at the shop for several years, it was rare to ring up a purchase of such scope for a beautiful woman and two extremely hansom men.

"Have fun," the cashier said meaningfully as they left the store.

Back in the car, Sydney broached the all-important question of the night. "So, what do we do first?"

Talon and Zaide exchange a competitive glance. They had both interpreted the question as "who does she do first?" and both wanted to be the first.

"What strikes your fancy this night?" Zaide asked diplomatically.

"Well, I was thinking about those massage oil candles," she replied, her voice giddy with excitement.

Zaide felt a pang of disappointment. He had been trained in receiving pain in the sexual arena, of course, all attendants were, but it was not his preference; it was Talon's. Hot wax would probably mean that Talon would be the first, perhaps even the only lucky one tonight.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Talon said, thrilled with anticipation.

"I was also thinking that those edible body paints would be fun to try," she suggested. Now it was Zaide's turn to feel a thrill. She continued, "I know we got a lot of bondage type stuff, but I was thinking about holding off on that—at least the hard core bits—until things are a little more settled. I mean, I'm bringing Brandt home tomorrow, and trying to help him recover more. I just don't want a blood-curdling scream from my bedroom to send him into remission."

"Then wouldn't tonight, before he comes back, be the perfect time to experiment with that?" Talon pressed.

"It would be if I wasn't so darned tired," she sighed. "Seriously, it's been one orgasm after another for two days in a row. Normally I'm lucky if I get one good orgasm a month!"

"We can take it easy tonight," Zaide promised, pleased.

"OH! I almost forgot!" Sydney cried. "Dinner!"

"I can make dinner at home," Zaide reminded her.

"Aren't you tired?" she asked concerned.

"Cooking refreshes me," he replied confidently. 

"Then let's go home," she decided. "I know I promised a movie, but it's getting late, and all this shopping has actually made me hungry."

"Me too," Zaide growled with a wink. 

Sydney blushed and drove home, trying not to rush. Back at the house, she instructed Talon to take all the bags to her room. Zaide quickly worked magic in the kitchen, grilling thin strips of steak and veggies to make fresh and festive fajitas. 

"You're a wizard," Sydney complimented him, watching him work in awe. 

He grinned and casually lined up another pepper. Showing off his speed, he diced it in a few seconds. "I could show you how, if you like."

"I got that set of knives as a Christmas gift from a coworker. I've only used them three times, and each time I cut myself," she explained. "You handle them like a samarai. There's no way I can compete."

"It's not about competition," he replied, pulling out a tomato. "It's about technique. Please, let me show you."

Reluctantly she drew near. Zaide wrapped his arms around her. One of his large hands folded over hers and around the handle of the blade, and the other wrapped around the hand that held the strips of yellow bell pepper.

"Now, you start with the tip down, like this." He guided her hands. "The first rule is to only move one thing. Either move the knife or the vegetable. Never both at the same time. See?"

Sydney tried to focus on the cutting but with every little move, she could feel Zaide's muscles through his shirt. His strong arms were setting her on fire. She had never felt this way before. She should be trying to learn without cutting herself, but all she wanted to do was turn around and tear his shirt off.

Her attention was quickly brought back to the present as Zaide suddenly sucked in his breath and let go of her. 

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Nothing, I'm fine," he assured her, running his left hand under cold tap water. 

"Oh hagfish, I cut you, didn't I?" She ran to the bathroom without waiting for an answer and brought back the first aid kit. His finger was wrapped in a paper towel as he tried to staunch the bleeding. "Give."

He handed over his wounded appendage obediently. Sydney might not have any talent for cooking or cleaning or anything particularly domestic, but she was pretty handy at triage. As fast as Zaide had sliced the pepper, she cleaned, anointed, and bandaged the small but deep slice in his finger.

"There. I'm so sorry. This was all my fault. I wasn't even thinking about slicing peppers," she admitted. 

"What were you thinking about, then?" Zaide asked, even though he could easily guess.

"You," she whispered. Finally, dared to look into his eyes and was instantly lost in their intensity. Zaide wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. Her hands explored his chiseled muscles as she kissed back with as much passion. He walked her backwards to the kitchen table and gently pushed her onto the cool surface. Her legs naturally opened and wrapped around his hips. They ground into each other, seeking friction even through their clothes. 

When Sydney came up for air, she remembered that Talon should be back from dropping their purchases in her room any second. He was probably listening to them in the hallway, waiting for them to finish. Embarrassment washed away enough of the hormones that she could think again. Zaide felt the shift in her and chivalrously allowed her to sit up. 

"Um...maybe the kitchen table isn't the best place for this," she offered, lamely. 

"What are you comparing it to?" he asked, his breathing heavy and his eyes begging for more. "Because I think the kitchen table is the perfect place to dine on your sweetness."

The lure of his lips was too much and soon she was kissing him again. 

Talon peaked around the corner again and sighed resignedly. He could not fault Zaide for wanting Miss Sydney all to himself, but he couldn't help but feel just a little left out. Still, he reminded himself briskly, Zaide had given him the first night with Miss Sydney—a coveted thing among competing attendants—so it was only fair that he allow his co-attendant this night without objection. But he would be sure to be close at hand, should Miss Sidney need him.

Zaide's lips trailed over every inch of skin as he slowly disrobed her. Everywhere his lips touched, it felt like he left a glowing ember of desire until her whole body was on fire. He removed her blouse and kissed his way down her stomach, taking a moment to kiss around her navel. Then he left her mid-section and paused in his ministrations to unzip her denim skirt and slide it over her legs. Then he caught one leg and stretched it up high so he could bring her ankle to his lips, pinning her to the table top in the process. Then he kissed down her calf, over her knee, and up her thigh.

Her scent called to him and he continued kissing his way towards the source of the scent, barely covered by a lacy black thong. He clawed at it, pulled it away from her sensitive parts. She smelled so delicious, like creamy honey and spice. His tongue darted between her sensitive folds and she instantly cried out in ecstasy. He lapped at her wet channel, savoring her unique and maddening flavor. He couldn't get enough of it. Zaide buried his face between her folds as he quickly discarded his pants and undergarments. She writhed with excitement and rapture, her fingers playing over his smoothed shaved scalp, urging him on.

Finally he paused to pull his t-shirt over his head. Then he kissed his way back up her body. With one hand holding his weight off of her, he stroked her body with the other. When he reached her thighs, his hand slipped to caress the soft inner thigh, and he slowly inserted one finger deep into her, testing her readiness. She moaned with pleasure. He stroked gently before adding a second finger, scissoring them to stretch her and bring her even more pleasure. She ground her hips against his hand, little mewing noises indicating her desire. He withdrew his fingers and positioned his hips so that his erection nudged the entrance to her secret haven. Instantly, it was slick with her arousal.

Watching her face, still amazed that he belonged to her, he eased into her part way. She gasped and held her breath while she adjusted to his girth. Her tight heat sucked all coherent thought from his mind. He was only aware of the desperate need to please her in every way possible. He pushed forward, impaling her slowly. Her hips moved and bucked under him. He pushed deeper still while nuzzling her breast, teasing the nipple with tongue and teeth.

He started a slow rhythm, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to better accommodate him. She was drowning in pleasure as he withdrew and pushed forward, almost crushing her into the hard table, but that somehow made it all the more exciting. Delicious friction spurred them both forward towards orgasm, beyond all sense and reason. They clung to each other as she screamed and arched against him, her muscles squeezing him until he shuddered with release.

Sydney felt frozen, her back permanently bowed by pleasure. Zaide panted and gasped before pulling himself upright. After a long moment, he found the strength to leave the sanctuary of her body. After a few more moments, she found the energy to unwind her muscles drape her legs over the edge of the table. He pulled her upright and rained kisses on her face.

This was his treasure, his meaning in life, more precious than anything else on the face of the earth.

"I apologize, Miss Sydney," he panted. "We did not get to use any of the new purchases."

"That's ok, I don't mind," she sighed contentedly. "But eating at this table will never be the same."

Zaide just smiled and kissed her again. Finally, they parted and recovered their clothes. Zaide washed his hands, taking care not to get the bandaged finger wet, and went back to cooking. Sydney knew she was blushing, but every time she glanced at the table, the heat rose in her again. 

"Zaide? Do you think maybe we could have dinner in bed tonight?" she suggested. 

"I don't see why not," he replied with a grin. 

"I'll meet you in my room in ten minutes," she said and she ran upstairs. She quickly rinsed away the evidence of their lovemaking and debated wearing the little-red-riding-hood costume, but cowardice got the better of her. Then she forcefully reminded herself that Zaide had picked it out so it stood to reason that he wanted to see her in it. She forced herself to put it on. Her hands trembled as she hooked the skirt behind her and shrugged into the tiny off-the-shoulder blouse. She had just swirled the short cape around her shoulders when Zaide entered. 

"Oh my," he said. He put the two plates of food down on the dresser before he dropped them. Then he turned back to her, looking very wolfish. "Where are you going, little girl?"

"Um..." she giggled before she remembered who she was pretending to be. "Well, I suppose I'm going to grandmother's house."

"I don't think so," he replied, gliding close to her. "I think you're coming with me."

"Oh mister wolf!" she cried in mock drama. "Are you going to eat me up?"

"Count on it," he growled and then threw her onto the bed. He leapt on top of her and kissed her ravenously. She wouldn't have known from his ardor that they had been intimate not even fifteen minutes before. 

Zaide took his time as he played the aggressive wolf. He gently nibbled her neck, pulled down her peasant's blouse to suckle her nipples, and kissed his way down her exposed stomach. Finally, he dove under her skirt and she lost sight of his head. He lapped at her wet folds, playing her like an instrument until she writhed and screamed. He took his time, nipping at her thighs when she threatened to close them against his insatiable mouth. Finally, after her second shuddering orgasm, he took the time to remove his clothes and then positioned himself once again to plunder her secret places.

She looked up at him dazed and glowing, her costume attractively disheveled, and he sank into her with a cry of victory. She moaned as he filled her so perfectly. She couldn't do anything but accept new waves of pleasure as he thrust hard and fast. Yet another orgasm seized hold of her and her core muscles gripped him tightly. He howled wolf-like in her ear as he exploded inside her. 

When it was over, he dropped to her side and pulled her close. They snuggled together for a moment while they recovered.

"So," Sydney asked after her breath returned. "Why is it that you and Talon aren't all pathetic?"

"That's an unexpected question," Zaide chuckled.

She poked him in the ribs, but then clarified, "In all the sex-slave erotica I've read, the slaves are pathetic masochists. The master or mistress is either a cold hedonist or trying to bring the slave to a new understanding of their individuality as a human being. But you and Talon are both so...normal. I mean, we just...you were so passionate," she offered, pathetically. She wanted to say he had just fucked her faster and harder and better than any other man in her entire life, but that seemed like an inappropriate thing to say.

"The PPA does not intentionally break the spirits of beautiful people. Their training is rigorous and difficult, but they only accept select individuals to be attendants," he explained.

"What does the training involve?" she asked.

"Standard training includes sexual mechanics, anatomy, acupressure and reflexology—for pleasure and relaxation purposes only, you understand—stamina and strength, first aid training for ourselves or co-attendants or older masters with weak hearts, that sort of thing," he replied. "Even basic psychology and profiling. And of course acting and roll playing."

"Roll playing?" she repeated, surprised. She shouldn't be, considering, but it seemed weird that they were trained in that.

"A great deal of what an attendant does is putting on the right face and the right manors for the situation. It might be the stoic butler or simpering slave or intimidating body guard."

"Or romantic, wolfish lover?" she teased.

"Yes, that too," he smiled, a little self-conscious. "As attendants, it's our job to know what roll to take and when. It's not an easy job, which is why the training is so difficult and why candidates are so heavily screened and thoroughly tested."

"So what makes a good candidate?" she wondered.

"For starters, attendants have naturally submissive B-type personalities. They must be physically appealing, naturally intuitive, raised without much spirituality, and the sort no one will miss when they disappear," he said. "Most of the attendants were homeless orphans in bad neighborhoods, third world countries, or straight up refugees without a place to call home. The rest were young children sold to the agency by their families."

"Who would sell their own child?!?" Sydney cried, appalled.

"My parents would," he replied softly.

"Oh, Zaide, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be," he comforted her, hugging her close. "My baby sister was ill—disfigured from birth. My parents had no money, less food, and when the agency approached them for my sale, it was either giving me up or all four of us would starve to death."

"What a horrible choice," she murmured, tears pricking in her eyes.

"It turned out alright," he insisted. "My parents received enough money to better their situation and help my baby sister, and I ended up here, with you. I wouldn't wish it to be any different."

"What about Talon?" she whispered. "Do you know his story?"

"I know the stories of most of the attendants. I believe he was an orphan in an opium den when the agency picked him up."

"And Brandt?"

"Orphaned by a terrorist bombing in Ireland," he replied. "I think he's legally dead in that country."

"I had no idea." The morality of her technical ownership was turning out to be more gray than black-and-white. Sure, it was easy to say slavery was heinous, but without the PPA, all three men would almost surely have died horrible deaths as children. Suddenly, she was glad of her decision to purchase all three men, and not just for lustful reasons. "But still," she persisted. "How is it that you're so...happy with your situation."




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 04



Sydney woke the next morning still spooned against Zaide's warm body. She loved the sensation of waking up beside someone. It took away the loneliness so familiar that she'd forgotten it wasn't just a natural part of life.

"Good morning, butterfly," Zaide whispered against her ear.

"Mmmm, morning," she stretched, and her bottom came in contact with his already hard member. "Hey! It's too early."

"It's called 'morning wood' for a reason," he teased, tweaking her nipples. "It will go away by itself."

"Good, because I'm not even awake yet," she replied.

"What would you like for breakfast?" he asked, gently stroking her curves.

"Coffee," she answered automatically.

"Besides coffee," he insisted.

"Creamer?" she added innocently.

"Is that your usual breakfast?"

"Yep. It gets me to about 10 o'clock when I have a spoonful of peanut butter or a piece of cheese, which gets me to lunch, which is most often an apple or a bag of baby carrots. Dinner, I go wild and I might have a whole sandwich," she outlined her typical menu with a teasing twinkle in her eye.

"If you had to order room service, what would it be?" he tried again.

"Pfft, I don't know. I never get room service," she replied flippantly.

"How do chocolate-cherry crepes sound?" he suggested.

"Very sweet, just don't go overboard." She sat up and stretched. "Shower time."

"Would you like me to accompany you?" Zaide tentatively asked.

She tossed her hair and look at him over her shoulder in an incredibly sexy way. "You could do with a good scrubbing," she teased.

"Only because you made me so dirty," he joked.

"It takes two to tango, me bucko," she shot back with a grin as she scrambled out of bed. She walked quickly towards the bathroom, taking it on faith that he would follow her. He couldn't help but do so. She grabbed a claw-clip from the counter and twisted her rich brown hair into a messy bun to prevent it from getting wet. In the shower, Sydney turned the water to her regular almost-scalding hot temperature, soaped up a loofa with cherry-sandalwood body-wash and proceeded to wash herself.

She caught Zaide's eye as he watched the trails of suds flowing down her curves and decided to ramp up the show. She felt a little silly, but still stretched and scrubbed in slow motion, squeezing the loofa over her shoulder so that long trails of white foam rolled down her back and over her round bottom.

"Do you want to wash my back for me?" she asked with a coy flutter of her eyelashes.

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Zaide nodded eagerly. He took the loofa and gently scrubbed in circular motions across her back and down her spine, working his way to caress her butt with the textured netting.

"I thought that was supposed to go away," she teased, her eyes sweeping down to his engorged member.

"It will...as soon as you stop being so sexy," he replied with a sheepish grin. "So maybe in 80 years?"

She laughed, and then wrapped her fingers around his heavy girth. His eyes closed for a second with the pleasure of her hand slowly stroking him in the hot shower. With the other hand, she reclaimed the loofa and gently scrubbed his shoulders and chest.

"Oh, now it will never go away," he whispered.

"There is...one way," she suggested, arching one eyebrow suggestively.

"But wouldn't that make us dirty all over again?" he pointed out, his roguish smile letting her know that if she was willing, he wouldn't mind being "dirty."

He kissed her as the water swept away the bubbles. One finger slipped inside her hot core, and she moaned into his mouth. Her knees trembled, and she had to lean against the wall to keep from falling.

"Are you awake enough now?" he murmured into her ear.

"Yes," she hissed as his fingers slipped away, leaving her feeling empty and achy.

He braced his feet against the sides of the bathtub and her shower's suction mats gave him secure traction even in the water and remnants of bubbles. Easily, Zaide lifted her up by her waist and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Sydney reached up and grabbed the sturdy shower curtain bar as he stroked her sensitive parts. Then he slowly lowered her on to his ridged manhood, piercing her with exquisite pleasure. Then he began grinding his hips into hers. She moaned and whimpered as he continued to casually, slowly make love it her. The water droplets splashing on her skin only heightened her pleasure and excitement. He bent his head to take one peaked nipple in his mouth. She cried out as his teeth scraped over and over her breast.

Time stretched on as the pleasure mounted in both of them. Like slow moving but glowing lava, molten delight piled, pooled, and swelled until with a final scream the orgasm overtook Sydney. Her muscles clenched hard, and Zaide thrust one last time, letting her weight push him deeply into her, before he also succumbed to the pinnacle of their love. His legs were weak. He leaned against the shower wall for support, and it took most of his strength to stay upright as pleasure rippled through them both, the aftershocks feeding off of one another.

She unwound her legs, her knuckles white with her grip on the shower curtain bar. She gave herself a few more minutes to let the running water take away the new evidence of their lust. Then she turned off the water and very carefully exited the shower. Fortunately there were plenty of bamboo matts on the slate tile floors, so she was not in much danger of slipping, but she was unused to that much pleasure that early in the morning. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. She also handed one to Zaide. Obligingly he accepted it.

"You should go get dressed. I'll be ready in a few more minutes," she told him. He nodded, took off the towel and set it on the bed. Smiling to himself at her adorable blush, he walked out of the room completely naked.

Sydney sighed at herself for being so susceptible to his blatant sex appeal and then went into her closet to get clothes for today. As she slipped on a pair of lacy green underwear, she became acutely aware of how turned on she was. Her feminine parts were swollen and sensitive, so much so that just the gentle friction lace sent shivers of pleasure through her body. She blushed again; never before in her life had she responded to any man the way she responded to Zaide and Talon.

Zaide jumped in his shower for a cold, quick rinse and took the time to shave the stubble on his chin and head. Then he put on a pair of the black jeans Miss Sydney had bought the day before and a blue button-down shirt. He rolled up the sleeves since he would be working in the kitchen, but left the tails untucked.

When he got downstairs, Talon had already made fresh coffee and was enjoying a mug himself.

"You look satisfied," he said, his eyes sweeping over Zaide's outfit.

Zaide shrugged and grinned. "How did you guess?"

"She's not the quietest lover," Talon replied with a humorless smirk. He was still a little jealous; Miss Sydney hadn't let him seduce her yesterday morning. But he squashed the emotion immediately.

Zaide busied himself with collecting the ingredients and utensils for chocolate-raspberry crepes. "So, are we going to be rivals?" he asked casually as he worked.

"Too early to tell," Talon admitted.

"You know she intends to find herself another, normal man as soon as she sets us up with new lives," Zaide informed his co-attendant, carefully concealing any emotional reaction.

"She told you that?" Talon asked, surprised.

"Not in so many words, but she nearly kicked me out of bed 'for my own good' last night," Zaide explained. "She wants us to choose 'normal' lives, which leads me to conclude that that is what she wants for herself."

Talon considered this for a moment. "If she want's a normal life, why did she bring us home?"

Zaide shrugged as he whipped the crepe batter together while the skillet heated up. Talon returned to contemplate his coffee. At this point it didn't matter to either of them what Miss Sydney did to them. They had a chance for happiness, so long as she did not return them to the Agency. That would mean that they had failed, and the punishment for failure was simple, sterile death. It was unlikely that Miss Sydney would ever condemn them to that—she was far too soft-hearted—but there were fates worse than death she could inflict without even realizing how painful they were. Like being completely, totally, miserably alone.

Just then, Sydney almost flew down the stairs. She was dressed in a soft blue t-shirt printed with the Studio Ghibli logo, dark boot-cut jeans and black converse shoes. Her hair was even pulled into pigtails. She looked like an extremely tall and well-proportioned 12-year-old; happy and harmless. She was carrying a canvas tote stuffed with something lumpy.

"Good morning everyone," she greeted them with one of her high-beam smiles.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Zaide informed her as he poured the batter into the pan for the first crepe.

"Wonderful." She came around the breakfast bar on the other side of the kitchen island where Talon was sitting and swooped in to give him a kiss on the cheek before grabbing the cup he had thoughtfully set out by her coffee pot. "Ooh, this is so nice," she praised him. She poured creamer and then hot black coffee into her cup. She inhaled the fragrant steam and took a sip. She closed her eyes as she savored the bittersweet brew. "You make a great cup of joe!"

"Thank you, Miss Sydney," Talon beamed.

"So, I'm going to pick up Brant from the hospital today, and we'll be out for a few hours," she said briskly. "Hopefully, we'll be back for lunch."

"You are not taking one of us with you?" Talon asked, rasing an eyebrow. She saw the concern that flashed in his eyes, even if he didn't voice his protests.

"I really think Brandt would be more comfortable without you two looming over him like a cloud of doom ready to smite him on my behalf," she replied with a smile. "Besides, I did take a little Tai Kwan Do in high school. I think I can take care of myself."

Talon and Zaide exchanged a look. They were uncomfortable with letting her be alone with an emotionally unstable and possibly violent man. There was a 50/50 chance that their presence would aggravate his condition more than guard her person. They understood her approach, but were still uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Zaide asked as he flipped the crepe onto a plate and began arranging the cherries on top.

"First, we'll head to a department store for basic outfitting—I don't think he's ready to deal with a mall, yet—and then we'll be hitting the humane society," she explained.

"The humane society?" Talon and Zaide chorused in unison.

"That's right. Neither of you are allergic to animals, right?" she inquired innocently.

"No..." the said slowly, still in unison.

"Good. This crepe looks delicious. Is it ready?" she turned the focus of conversation.

"Almost." Zaide drizzled chocolate syrup over the crepe and cherries, and then presented the plate to Miss Sydney.

She quickly grabbed a fork and used it to cut off a one third of the crepe. Then she shoved the entire third in her mouth, chocolate sauce dripping over her lips and down her chin.

"Mmm!" she exclaimed through a full mouth. When she had chewed enough to speak, she added, "I am officially spoiled rotten. This is fabulous!"

"I'm glad you like it." Zaide watched as she licked her lips and used her finger to catch the runaway drop of chocolate down her chin. He remembered the way that mouth had felt on him the night before and had to turn back to his hot frying pan before he got any harder.

"Anyway, you guys have the run of the house this morning. If you want to explore my basement—it's nothing like what you would expect," she hastily assured them, "But I think I have a pool table and a treadmill down there. I'm going to need that treadmill soon if you keep feeding me like this." She scarfed down another third of her crepe. "Oh, and where are those chocolate bars I bought the other day?"

"In the refrigerator," he replied.

"Perfect."

Wolfing down the last piece of crepe, she went to the fridge and pulled out the small stack of chocolate bars she had bought for Brandt the day before. She put them in the bag on top of the clothing. Then she guzzled the rest of her coffee and put her cup and plate in the sink. Turning back to the guys, she stood on tiptoes to kiss Zaide's jawline and gave Talon another peck on the cheek.

"I'm off," she announced. "See you in a while!"

Flashing another high-watt smile, she grabbed her purse and keys and slipped out the door.

Sydney's first stop wasn't the hospital. It was the pet store. She only ducked in for a minute to grab a safety harness, collar, and leash. She fully intended to get a dog for Brandt, and even though she didn't know what sort it would be, she sensed that Brandt wouldn't want to cage the dog. So a safety harness for the dog to ride in the back seat would be necessary in order to bring it home. Back in her car, she hid the harness, collar and leash under the passenger's seat.

At the hospital, she found Brandt, sitting upright, just finishing his own breakfast.

"Good morning," she called with a knock on the door frame.

Brandt's face lit up for a brief second. Then he quickly looked down and mumbled."M-morning, mistress."

"Hey, now," she warned. "None of that 'mistress' stuff. Call me Sydney, or if you absolutely must assign an honorific, Miss Sydney."

"Yes, m-Miss Sydney," he murmured.

"And don't look so glum. This is the first day of the rest of your life," she told him. "Besides, I brought you chocolate!"

Brandt looked up at her, his face cautiously hopeful. Sydney reached into the canvas tote and pulled out the bars. Gently she spread them out on his lap.

"I didn't know if you liked regular or dark chocolate, or if you wanted nuts or caramel—and then I saw this new combination of chocolate and sea salt—well, I guess the point is that I got a little carried away and brought you everything I could think of," she explained.

Brant's hands trembled over the offering, as if he was afraid to touch it. He couldn't seem to say anything, but soft, strangled pants escaped his throat.

Sydney took one of his hands firmly in hers. His eyes locked onto to her face, full of panic and anxiety.

"It's ok," she whispered. "It's just chocolate. Have you managed to talk to a counselor yet?"

"N-not yet," he replied. His free hand descended almost possessively on the chocolate bars, as if he was afraid she would take it away for failing in this area.

"That's ok too. Remember what we talked about yesterday?" she prompted.

He nodded.

"Good. Now, do you want to talk to a counselor? It doesn't have to be one here. I can get plenty of recommendations for trauma counselors and psychologists in the area. We could even have one visit us at the house. It's up to you."

"They...wouldn't understand," he sighed.

Sydney nodded. "Probably not. In fact, almost certainly not. But I think you do need someone to talk to."

"Could...couldn't that be you?" he tentatively asked, looking at her fearfully through his eyelashes.

"I would certainly like to be someone you can talk to. But I was also thinking about someone who understands something of what you went through," she explained. "I have an idea, if you're willing to trust me."

Brandt looked at her, weighing her words. Then he nodded. She smiled at him, her high-powered smile that seemed to warm up the room.

"Good. Now, I also brought you some clothes. I hope they fit well enough to last until we get to a department store," she said as she plopped the tote beside the candy.

"A store?" Brandt questioned, his voice still warbling from previous disuse.

"Absolutely. I want you to have everything you need for a normal life. We'll just grab some jeans, maybe some slacks and a button down shirt or two. Definitely some shoes—and autumn is just around the corner so you'll need a good jacket," she casually listed the potential purchases.

"I...I..." he stammered, overwhelmed.

"Don't worry about a thing," she kindly ordered. "Just get dressed. I'm going to sign your release papers, and then we'll be off and running. We can talk more in the car."

She flashed him another smile and left the room to give him some privacy. She flagged down a nurse and got all the appropriate paperwork in order. She listened to the doctor give his professional disclaimer that he didn't think Brandt should be sent home without professional supervision, blah blah blah. Sydney smiled, assured him she would do everything in her power and alert the appropriate establishments if Brandt showed any signes of a relapse.

When she got back to his room, he was dressed and ready to go. He looked down at his toes sheepishly, waiting for her judgement.

Sydney took a moment to take him in. Part of her intention was to replace the horrible mental image of his purple face and limp body, and part of it was to reassure him that she actually appreciated him. He was tall and broad and very handsome, even in his simple jeans, sandals, and Guinness shirt. She could see the same desire to please that was in Talon and Zaide, but there was something blocking any self expression. His courage was at its max right now and was still almost non-existent. Whatever the PPA had expected, they had planned to put him down for not meeting those expectations and then brainwashed him enough to want to die instead of live a different life.

She didn't know why it was so important to make Brandt better. Usually she was all for letting the professionals do their work. Maybe it would absolve her previous sins. Maybe it would make up for using Talon and Zaide the way she was. Maybe the part of her that had been emotionally used and neglected by men her entire life was reflected in his trauma and somehow by helping him she could help herself. That sounded like bullshit even to her ears.

Maybe she really was just a save-the-otters kind of person, no matter which way you sliced it.

"You look really nice," she said softly.

He looked up and blushed a little bit. "Thanks."

"Come on, now, we have a lot to do!" She reached out, grabbed his hand, and led him out of the hospital to her car.

As they drove away from the hospital, Sydney started talking.

"So, ground rules. Numero uno: you are never ever to touch me sexually," she stated clearly. "That's not to say you can't touch me. If you need to hold my hand or you want a hug or something like that, that's fine. There are plenty of other ways to express your emotions besides sex. I don't expect sex from you and I don't want sex from you."

She glanced over at him. He looked so forlorn and withdrawn that her heart ached for him.

"It's not because you aren't physically attractive," she assured him. "Trust me, you are. But I get the impression that sex is what caused a lot of problems at the PPA. Am I right?"

Brandt nodded.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to—but you are always free to talk to me. That's rule two. Even if I'm in the middle of something. If you're having a panic attack or you're unsure of something, interrupt me. Worst case scenario, I might have you hold for a minute or two while I get things to a stopping point, but don't make excuses for not talking to me when you want to. Got it?"

Brandt nodded again.

"Good. Now, do you have any questions for me?"

"Will...that is do I...um...the others," he stumbled over his words.

"Talon and Zaide? What about them," she prompted gently.

"Are they going to be...in charge of me?" he asked with a wince.

"No," she replied sternly. "You might have to follow Zaide's direction in the kitchen since he will be cooking for all of us, and Talon is probably going to take over domestic chores, but they have no direct power over you. You are their equal and have equal free run of the house and grounds. If they tell you to do something, and you're uncomfortable with it, come straight to me. I'll tell them to back off. Even if they don't listen to you, they'll listen to me. And if they ever stop listening to me, well, I took Tai Kwan Do in high school, so I'll send them sailing through a window."




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 04



She saw the beginnings of a small smile just before his head dropped to hide his expression.

"Anyway, we're here," she announced, pulling her SUV into the department store parking lot. They got out and went inside. She had him try on a few pairs of pants to find the right size—the jeans she had gotten him were a little too big—and then she bought him a full wardrobe. It wasn't quite as elaborate as Talon and Zaide's (there were no suits for starters) but it was serviceable and comfortable. That's what she had intended.

They left the department store with several large bags of necessities and a little extra courage for Brandt.

"Ok, our next stop is something special," she warned with a secretive smile. "And I want you to be completely honest with me. Even though you can talk to me, I actually have no idea what you went through. I can imagine it and sympathize until Kingdom come, but I will never totally understand. Where we're going next, I hope we can find someone who understands and who will give you a little perspective."

"Where are we going?" he asked, curiosity in his voice. Sydney silently cheered a the small victory—he hadn't stuttered or second guessed his words one bit!

"The humane society," she told him. She pulled into the parking lot, found an open space, and turned the car off. "Now, I want you to look at the animals here and see if you can find a kindred spirit. You will be in charge of cleaning up after it—that will be exclusively your chore, the only thing you will be required to do while you live with me. Understand?"

He nodded nervously.

"And if you don't find the right companion for you, that's fine too. Don't feel like you HAVE to take on any responsibility you're not ready for," she insisted. She was kicking herself now for sounding totally wishy-washy on the whole thing. "Lets go inside and see."

He nodded again and, holding his hand for emotional support, they walked into the doors of the humane society.

"Morning!" said the woman behind the desk. She was a comfortably plump brunet in a grey t-shirt and jeans. "Looking to adopt?"

"Yes, we are. I'm actually getting a pet for my...cousin," she replied.

"Oh my goodness, you're Sydney Tobin, arn't you?" the woman suddenly gushed. "You donate so much money to us every year! My name is Maria Hamlin and if there's anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Yeah, that's me," she sighed. "Can we just see the animals?"

"Are you looking for a cat or a dog?" Maria asked.

Sydney looked expectantly at Brandt.

"Um...Dog," he said.

"This way to the kennels," Maria motioned them to follow her.

When they entered the kennels, dog-filled cages lined the hallway, much like the exhibit rooms at the PPA. Sydney watched Brandt closely, ready to hustle him out of the building if he couldn't handle this. He looked a little shaky, but he kept moving forward. His grip on her hand was so tight it was almost painful, but Sydney didn't pull away.

"We have all breeds. So take a look and see if you can find a best friend," invited Maria, waving her hands to the occupied cages.

Slowly, Brandt and Sydney walked up the row, looking at the different dogs in the cages. Sydney momentarily had the wild idea of adopting them all and bringing them home. The four of them could handle a pack of mutts, right? But she reminded herself that taking care of one dog was going to be a challenge, even if Brandt was going to be the principal care giver. And she'd never really had a dog of her own before. She had been a pet sitter in high school, but she had never had enough space for a dog until she had inherited her father's house, and after that she'd been too busy.

Brandt looked at the dogs, all different breeds and sizes, and his grip on Miss Sydney's hand loosened. Then he came to the last cage. Inside was a dark grey pit bull with a lopsided squint, huge paws, and her tongue hanging out happily. He stared into the dog's one good eye for a long time.

"This one," he finally declared.

"That's Lucky Lucy," Maria told him. "She came to us right after her first fight—just dumped on our back door with her face all bloodied up. Our veterinarian was good enough to save her life, but she lost one eye."

"She's the one," Brandt said with firmness that Sydney hadn't heard before. She knew then that it was a good idea for Brandt to have a companion like this. Someone who would love him unconditionally, who had ben hurt, who he could help and who could help him. They were perfect for each other.

"We'll take her," Sydney confirmed. Brandt glanced at her, gratitude shining in his eyes.

"Do you want to take her for a walk first. Get to know her a bit?" Maria asked.

"I'll trust my cousin's instincts," Sydney assured her.

Maria got a leash and opened the door. Lucy lunged at the opportunity to escape, but Maria was too quick and managed to snap the leash on her collar and restrain her. Lucy pulled and looked towards Brandt. He dropped to one knee and held out his hand. Lucy nosed it, smelled it, and then licked it vigorously.

"Well, it's obvious she likes you. You can walk her out to the front desk and get to know her a little while I get the paperwork together," Maria suggested and handed over the leash. "Since you're a regular and generous donor, I'll wave the adoption fees for you."

Sydney smiled encouragingly at Brandt and they followed Maria out to the main lobby.

"If you want to give Lucy to me for a minute, there's something under the front seat you might like," she suggested. He hesitantly nodded and handed over the leash. Sydney gave him the car keys to unlock the car door.

Taking a deep breath, Brandt left the lobby. Sydney held tight to the leash while Lucy lunged after him.

"Oof! Strong dog!"

"She's only eight months old," Maria told her. "So she's still got some growing to do."

"Good thing Brandt is so big," Sydney replied with a smile.

"Is...there something wrong with him?" Maria asked in a gossip's hushed tones as she pushed the packet of standard adoption papers towards Sydney. "He's kinda out of it, if you know what I mean."

"His last girlfriend was a manipulative bitch," Sydney lied easily. "She basically ground him into the dirt and kept him there for years. That's why he moved out here with me—to get away from the she-dragon. I'd rip her heart out if I could get close enough."

"I don't understand women like that," Maria agreed. "They just use feminism as an excuse to hurt people. He seems like a nice boy."

"He's really a sweetheart. I hope Lucky Lucy can bring out the best in him," she smiled.

"Just get them both into a training program as soon as possible, and you'll be fine," Maria assured her. "Remember, 'Untrained is Unloved.'" She gestured to the sign behind her advocating obedience school.

"Absolutely," Sydney replied patronizingly.

Just then Brandt came back in holding the harness she had bought earlier. "I don't understand," he said as he returned the car keys.

"The harness is for Lucy," Sydney explained. She was grateful he hadn't stolen her car or just run away. It had been a test, of sorts, to see if he could be trusted out of her sight for a minute, and she was glad he had passed it. "That way she can safely ride in the back seat instead of a crate."

Brandt actually smiled at the idea, relief visibly relaxing his shoulders.

"Well, we've just finished the paperwork," Sydney said as she signed the last line. "Congratulations, Brandt. Lucy is all yours. Why don't you put the collar and harness on her so we can give Maria back hers."

Brandt, still smiling, knelt beside Lucy and buckled the harness and collar around her thick chest and neck before removing the old collar. Then he clipped on the new leash and stood, looking to Miss Sydney for direction.

"Thank you, Maria," Sydney said to their hostess as she took hold of Brandt's elbow and walked out the door.

"You're welcome! Good luck with everything!" Maria called back.

Sydney unlocked the car with a click of her remote. "Buckle her in—we're off to the pet store."

Brandt complied and then buckled himself beside her in the back seat. Sydney smiled at them from the driver's seat; they were so cute! Brandt could have been 10-years-old again with his first stray dog. She liked seeing the hope in his face.

They drove to the pet store. She instructed him to keep a tight hold on Lucy, who was eager for any adventure, and she pushed the cart around the store. Sydney had fun selecting the various supplies needed for a dog. Brandt was obviously overwhelmed; every-time she suggested something, he would just nod his head with a little smile.

They got food and water dishes, a large bag of dog food, a kit for a dog house that looked like a log cabin, a fleecy bed, treats, toys, poop bags and flea treatments. She picked out a book about basic dog care for Brandt to study and they also signed up for the weekly dog obedience classes.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "I'll be here with you every time."

They checked out and a sales associate helped carry their purchases to the car. Brandt sat with Lucy on the way home.

"M-Miss Sydney, I can't—thank you enough—for everything," Brandt tried to express himself.

"No worries, you're very welcome. This is fun for me," she told him. "Besides, it seems like you and Lucy are already best friends."

Lucy licked Brandt's face as if to prove Sydney's point.

"In one day, you have given me more than I have ever hoped for in my entire life," Brandt continued, sounding awed.

"If you want to show your appreciation, make me a promise," she said in her most serious voice. "I want you to promise me that you will never, ever, under any circumstances, try to take your life again."

Brandt buried his face in Lucy's neck. "I...you said...at the agency...you said you were...going to use me," he reminded her, his voice muffled by dog fur. "I...I just can't...attend."

Sydney sighed. "You thought I was telling the agency the truth?" He was silent. "Honey, I would have said anything to get you out of there. I tried to show you my true colors after that. I hope you know now how I really feel."

"I...I think so," he ventured. "But I can't—I can't attend!"

"I believe you," she said softly.

"They tried to make me, but I just couldn't. They tried everything but nothing worked," he babbled. "And I tried—I tried to respond the way they wanted me to. But I can't."

"Brandt, it's ok. I understand," she insisted, worried by his sudden confession.

"They tried drugs," he whispered.

"Like what? Cocaine? Ecstasy?"

"Viagra. And others like that. So many doctors...but none of them could explain why I just couldn't...preform," he continued.

"How old were you when this started?" she wanted to know.

"Fourteen. All the others...they figured out things much earlier that I did...there was nothing wrong with them." He sounded close to tears.

That did it. Sydney pulled over to the side of the road, put the car in park, and turned around in her seat to take his hand and look him in the eye. "Listen to me very carefully. There is nothing wrong with you. If you have some physical or hormonal defect that makes sex impossible for you, that's not because you are an inferior human being. It's just the way things are. Maybe it can be fixed. Maybe it can't. It's not the end of the world. It will not change how I value you. And Lucy doesn't care. Who else matters?"

He let out a shaky sigh and nodded. Lucy licked his shoulder encouragingly.

"Now, both Lucy and I are depending on you, so I need you to promise to never attempt suicide again. Ok?"

"Ok," he murmured.

"I want to hear you say the words," she insisted.

"I promise...never to attempt suicide again," he repeated dutifully.

"Good. Are you going to be ok for now?" she asked. He nodded again. "Double good. Time for lunch!"

She pulled into traffic again and in a few minutes they were back at her house. She pulled into the garage and turned off the engine.

"One more question before we go inside," she cautioned. She turned to look at him. "And I need a truthful answer."

He waited patiently, one hand absently stroking Lucy's back.

"I probably shouldn't say this, but I know that if I don't it will be worse. I mean, I'm trying not to be a nymphomaniac, but it's just..." She sighed and collected herself. Then finally asked, "Will it bother you if Zaide and Talon and I are having sex on a regular basis?"

Brandt blushed and looked away for a moment. "No," he finally said. "I...I can handle that, so long as I'm not expected to join in...and so long as no one tries to...arouse me."

"I will definitely explain to them that you are off limits," she assured him. "But are you sure it's going to be ok?"

He gave her a brave, lopsided smile that looked just like Lucy's. "Sex isn't going to drop off the face of the earth just because I'm uncomfortable," he stated. "So I may as well get used to the idea, even if I never participate."

Sydney gave him her biggest smile. She was so proud of him—and not just because she had official clearance to get sticky with the other two men in her house. He had come so far in just one day. It was almost too good to be true, but she hoped that Lucy would keep things moving forward. "Fabulous. Now, let's get all this stuff inside and see what Zaide has made us for lunch!"

Brandt wasn't much help getting the purchases inside since he was occupied with holding Lucy, but Talon and Zaide were more than happy to help move things inside. Lucy didn't lunge at the two men the way she had enthusiastically charged everything else. She regarded them with her one good eye, as if they were peculiarities. Then she started sniffing around the house.

"You might want to take her for a walk outside," Sydney warned him. "She probably has to go to the bathroom—take a poop bag with you! I don't want to step in any unfortunate presents!"

Brandt nodded and escorted Lucy to the back lawn.

"That dog is a beast," Talon commented not unkindly.

"Maybe, but she has a heart of gold. And they bonded almost instantly," Sydney replied.

"He seems...happy," Zaide observed.

"I like to think so. Anyway, you guys should know that he's off limits. Don't harass him or tell him dirty jokes or even touch him—I mean, if it's a life or death situation, that's one thing, but please, for the most part, just leave him alone. He's already been through so much," she begged, her hazel eyes shining up at them so that they had no hope of resisting her request even if they wanted to.

Zaide shrugged. "I don't care one way or another, but if it's important to you, I'll be as gentle as a lamb," he said. But, he added silently to himself, if Brandt ever hurt Miss Sydney again...

"I won't interfere," Talon promised, but he caught the hard glint in Zaide's eye as he looked away from Miss Sydney. As long as Brandt behaved, he had nothing to fear.

"Thanks, both of you," she beamed. "Now, I'm starving. Please tell me you made something yummy for lunch?" she asked Zaide, batting her eyelashes.

"Vegetarian soft tacos sound yummy enough?" he asked.

"De-lish," she cried. She ran out back to call Brandt in for lunch. As soon as she was gone, Talon and Zaide exchanged a knowing look and a mutual nod before going to the kitchen to set the table.

Sydney was excited—this was their first meal together as a family. She hadn't been a part of family-style meals in years. They had been common place when her mother was still alive, but her father had not been the breaking-bread-together type, so she'd only ever felt like a family when she was with her best friend Brenna and her parents. After Brenna had moved to Colorado to get married, Sydney had made do with microwave dinners and takeout in between awkward dates.

Brandt was quiet during the meal, but that was expected. Lucy sat at his feet, waiting for scraps to fall. Talon and Zaide doted on Sydney, passing her the tortillas, re-fried beans, tomatoes, cheese and everything else she could possibly want in a taco.

"Miss Sydney," Talon interjected as soon as everyone was served. "I took the liberty of investigating your basement while you were out."

"Find any skeletons or boogie monsters?" she teased.

"No, but I did find killer dust bunnies," he teased back with an easy smile. She laughed. He felt a unique flush of satisfaction that she'd liked his joke. He continued, "I did as much as I could, but there was one door I could not open."

"Oh, that," she sighed. "That would be the door to my father's private study. I have no idea what's in there, but the key should be in my office somewhere."

"Would it be alright if I cleaned it up someday?" he wanted to know.

"I don't see why not. It's probably got a bunch of old books and papers squirreled away in there. It's probably a fire hazard," she guessed.

"There are a few other things down there I'd like to show you," he said.

"Like what?" she asked as she took a gigantic bite of her soft taco.

As Talon watched her eat, he remembered the way she had deep-throated him. Did she know that the way she her mouth moved was so sexy? He gave himself a mental shake and replied, "Like an electric keyboard, for starters."

"That's right, you know how to play piano. You could totally play some moody jazz while we shoot pool. It'd be like a mini-club in my basement," she giggled.

"You could sing along," Talon suggested.

"I'm no good at singing," she protested.

"You sounded fine in the car," he argued.

"You could barely hear me over the volume of the real music," she reminded him.

"I'm entitled to my opinions," he stubbornly persisted.

She just grinned and bit off more taco. After lunch was over, Brandt took Lucy outside to try to construct her dog house. Sydney was glad he had something to do.

She leaned out the back door to call after him, "When you're done with that, I'd like you to straighten up your room—Heliotrope hyenas! Did that actually come out of my mouth?"

Brandt made a noise that was almost a giggle.

"Just put your clothes and stuff where you can find it," she amended.

He nodded. "I will."

Sydney went back inside. She looked around her familiar home. Something was different. Even though it was as clean as ever—maybe even cleaner—it felt totally different. She had assumed that solitude was preferable to male company, but that might be because so many men had deserted her in her life. Now that she had three (well, maybe two and a half) men who in fact depended on her and would not leave her (at least for a while), they sort of filled up the house.

"Miss Sydney," Talon called from the stairs. "Would you like to see the rec room now?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "A round of pool sounds great for a Saturday afternoon."

She followed him downstairs. The rec room had been completely transformed. She hadn't visited this part of her house in months. The last time she was here, sheets had covered all the furniture to protect them from dust. Talon had removed them, dusted and polished every surface until everything glistened like new.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I think it's amazing," she replied. "I have a TV down here? And a stereo system?"

"And a real bar," Talon pointed out. "I threw out the alcohol, because the fumes alone would have pealed your paint, but the glassware is in good condition."

"Now if I only had enough friends to have at a party," she sighed wistfully.

"Surely you have plenty of friends," Talon protested.

"Not really," she shrugged. "I mean, there's Brenna, but she's in Colorado. She's been my best friend since forever. I have lots of acquaintances and fair-weather-fiends, but most of them are business contacts or they want the social status of knowing Jacob Tobin's Daughter. Or both. My ex-boyfriends had friends, but I didn't get along with most of them."




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 04



"Sounds lonely," Talon murmured. No wonder she threw herself into what little work she had.

"It wasn't until about two years ago, when Brenna moved away. When it was just me and her, we did alright," she sighed wistfully. "Now she's got a husband, an organic beef ranch, and a baby due any day now."

"At least you have us," he said softly. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned his head close to hers so he could smell her hair.

She laughed and leaned back into his embrace. "Yeah, I do. It's kinda weird, but so far I can't complain."

"I remember you complaining quite a bit," he teased. "Something about me being too sexy and too submissive."

"Oh yeah. I remember now," she smiled. "Silly me. What was I thinking?"

"Do you approve of me now?" he asked as one hand pushed her hair aside so he could kiss her neck.

"No, I do not!" she cried, turning in his arms to glare at him. "You want me to have my wicked way with you right here on the pool table—with Brandt right outside!"

"He's occupied with that beast of his," he reminded her softly. "And I've missed you...mistress."

She pursed her lips and scowled at him. "Why do you insist?"

"Because I am what I am," he replied simply.

"Sometimes I just want to throttle you!" she exclaimed as she reached up and encircled his neck with long, slender fingers. He gulped with excitement, his adam's apple bobbing against her thumbs.

"If it would make you happy," he whispered.

Sydney released her grip to slide her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. "Go get the ropes," she ordered softly.

Talon's heart skipped a beat and then started pounding. "Yes, mistress," he replied and almost ran out of the basement.

She took a moment before leaving the basement herself, but instead of going to her room, she went to the kitchen. Zaide had just finished cleaning up and was hanging up his dishtowel when she came in.

"I need ice," she said.

"No problem," Zaide replied, grabbing a Ziploc baggy from a drawer and then holding it open under the automatic ice dispenser in her fridge. "Any particular reason?"

"Talon!" she huffed.

"Oh."

"Would you like to help me torment him?" she offered.

"I would be delighted," he accepted with a wicked smile, hefting the bag of ice.

"Just give me a minute." She went to the window to check on Brandt again. He had abandoned the half-finished dog house and was playing catch-and-chase with Lucy; he would toss the toy, she would catch it, and then he would chase her down to wrestle it out of her jaws. He seemed quite content to roughhouse with Lucy for the rest of the day. She went back to Zaide. "Ok, I think Brandt will be fine. Good thing there's a lock on the basement door too."

Just then Talon came down from his room carrying several lengths of rope and the book on bondage knots. Sydney calmly led the way downstairs, both men following her without a word. She paused long enough to lock the basement door, just as a precaution against Brandt getting curious and walking in on them by accident.

Then she turned back to them and with a mischievous glint in her eye, ordered, "Talon, go sit on the pool table."

With a shiver of delightful trepidation, Talon obeyed. He sat on the end, his legs hanging over the edge. Sydney took one of the lengths of rope and tied one end snugly around his left ankle. Then she looped the rope behind the two legs of the pool table and tied the other end of the rope to his right ankle, so that his legs were held apart, but he could move them a little bit for comfort.

Then she stood between his legs, grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close for a burning kiss. Her teeth nibbled on his lower lip. Her tongue flicked over his, teasing him into a hot, sensuous duel. Then she broke the kiss and with one finger pushed him back until he was lying flat on the pool table, calves still dangling off the end of the table. Then she took another length of rope and bound his left wrist. She passed the other end to Zaide, who obligingly ducked under the table to hand her the rope on the other side, where she securely tied Talons right wrist.

"Comfy?" she asked sweetly.

Talon tested his bonds and nodded. Sydney returned to stand between his legs. She pushed up his t-shirt to his armpits to expose his washboard stomach. Then she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and tugged everything down, letting his throbing erection spring free.

"Zaide, an ice cube please," she held out her hand. Zaide passed her one of the cubes from his bag. Sydney used the sharp edge to lazily draw chilling, twisting patterns on Talon's body. She traced every ab, every rib, and finally spent time circling and then crossing each nipple with ice. She left the cube to melt sitting in the hollow of his sternum and held her hand out for another one, which Zaide quickly supplied.

She used this ice cube to outline his hips, doodling zigzags over his love-handles. She swirled the ice cube through his silky black pubic hair and around the base of his cock—without actually touching it. Then she left the second ice cube to melt into his belly button. She took a handful of ice cubes and arranged them in a circle on his chest and abdomen, letting them melt and the tiny rivulets of cold water streaking down his sides to darken the groomed green surface of the pool table.

By this point, Talon was almost shivering with contradictory feelings. His skin was icy, his blood was burning with desire. He wanted to beg his mistress for some sort of satisfaction, but at the same time he was enjoying the sweet torture.

Then she just walked away. Literally. She left him tied to the pool table and went over to stand by the plush couch—too far away to do anything but watch her.

"Zaide, come here," she ordered in a sultry voice. "Undress me."

Zaide obliged, crowing her close. His body was also inflamed by watching her work on Talon. He slipped his hands under her t-shirt, caressing her soft skin as he worked the jersey fabric over her head. Then he unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her hips. She kicked them off along with her shoes. Then she turned her back to Zaide. He unhooked her bra and let the straps slide down her arms. She tossed it to one side. Then he knelt behind her to slowly slide off her lacy green panties, his fingers pressing the lace down the entire length of her legs. When his hands reached her ankles and the panties reached the floor, she stepped out of them. Finally completely naked, Sydney sprawled on the couch, opening her legs wide. She crooked a finger, becoming Zaide closer.

She looked so confidant and sexy that it was impossible to resist her, even if he wanted to, which he certainly did not. He crawled towards her and knelt between her legs. Without any more prompting, he leaned forward and licked her folds, swollen with arousal. He was rewarded by a hot rush of her creamy taste.

She looked up at Talon. He was watching her and Zaide with hungry eyes. His erection stood as straight and hard as a stone pillar. She discovered that she was perversely delighted with the torment of making him watch while he was unable to even achieve the smallest friction. And with the ice cubes melting on his hot body—he must be going crazy right now. One of her hands caressed the back of Zaide's head, encouraging him. Zaide plunged his tongue deep into her and she moaned with delight.

Zaide's tongue always felt spectacular. It was soft, yet it had definite form as it stroked her, invaded her, and curled inside her to delight undiscovered pressure points. His breath was hot against her clitoris, his lips meeting hers with very enjoyable results. His tongue toyed with every crease, every inch of flushed flesh. She moaned with pleasure, her fingernails biting into the couch as she arched her back with the surging orgasm. She wanted to savor every sensation, and yet she feared if she indulged too long, it would send her over the crest of insanity.

"That's enough," she whispered, her whole body tingling from the orgasm.

Reluctantly, he moved his mouth away from her, licking his lips and savoring the last of her juices.

"I'm sure you're uncomfortable in those jeans," she murmured, her eyes wandering down to the tight crotch of his pants. "Why don't you slip into something more comfortable?" she trailed one hand down her body to finger herself provocatively.

Zaide smiled wolfishly and quickly stripped his pants and shirt off. Sydney, grinning wickedly in anticipation, pushed herself up from the couch to push Zaide into the seat she had just left. With a knee on either side of his thighs, she slowly lowered herself onto his iron-hard member. She hummed with delight as he filled her insides, her own hot juices coating him as he speared her deep secret places. He gently gripped her hips as pleasure washed over him.

When she had finally engulfed him to the hilt and he could think above the buzz of pleasure in his body, he lowered his head to take one perky nipple in his mouth. She rose up to meet his marauding lips and tongue. He caught his breath as she began to ride him. Together they built a rhythm as her body stroked his, as he lavished attention on both of her beautiful, creamy breasts. One of her arms circled his shoulders to use as an anchor while the other wrapped around his head, keeping him close. It wasn't fast or hard, but slow and lazy. Carnal lust seemed to replace the air they breathed as pleasure built inside them until it blocked out every other sensation.

Sydney felt her orgasm approach like a giant wave, swelling as it crashed over her. A tsunami of sensation roared through her entire body and she cried out in ecstasy, her back arching, pushing her breasts closer to Zaide. He took a firmer grip on her hips and encouraged her to continue riding through the orgasm. His breath rushed out of him as he felt her insides ripple and convulse around him, pulling and squeezing him until finally he erupted inside her. He threw his head back with a grunt, his hips straining to burry himself deeper still as he fired over and over, filling her deepest darkest crevices with his seed.

Sydney leaned down and kissed him, her tongue flickering into his mouth to draw his tongue into hers. She wanted to show her appreciation in the kiss, and Zaide kissed right back with just as much adore.

"That was nice," she whispered.

"Mmm-hmm," he agreed, kissing a path along her jawline to nibble at her ear.

"Talon," she called. "Would you like a little sugar?"

"Yes, mistress," he replied, his voice husky with desire. Watching her scream and writhe on another man had sparked his competitive nature. He wanted to give her more pleasure than Zaide. He wanted her to use him until she couldn't move from post-orgasmic exhaustion. He didn't care if she drained every drop of fluid from his body, so long as she was completely satisfied.

She stood between his legs again and wrapped her fingers around his ridged length. He groaned softly as pleasure radiated from her touch. She stroked him a few times, just enough to coax a pearl of pre-cum to the tip. Her tongue flicked out to taste it and his heart skipped a beat. Then she climbed onto the pool table, letting his member slowly trace her curves from her throat down between the valley of her breasts and across her flat stomach. Sydney straddled his thighs, letting his member rest against her stomach and pelvis.

"Do you really like pleasing me?" she asked softly, seductively.

"More than anything else," he affirmed.

She used one palm to gently press his erection into her skin, and rub it back and forth, up and down. She could feel the combination of her fluids and Zaide's semen dripping from her. She wondered for a moment if she'd ever get the stains out of the pool table's velvet or if she'd have to replace the whole thing.

Then she reached for a length of rope that was lying, unused, on the side of the pool table. With a crafty smirk, she looped it around his head and through his mouth, so that it was like a gag and reins. Then, she rose up on her knees and quickly turned around. Repositioning herself so that her juicy core was just above his eager rod, she looked over his shoulder to watch his face as she impaled herself upon him. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped like a goldfish's as her hot, slippery sheath encased him. Since she was so slick, he slid in easily, but with shocking pleasure.

Sydney looked over at Zaide who was still sitting on the couch, enjoying the show. She flashed him a smile as she adjusted herself on top of Talon. She brought her legs together between Talon's and used the lip of the pool table to give her additional leverage, forcing him deep into her. Talon groaned even as he pushed up into her, knowing he was touching places inside of her no other man had explored.

She started to move forwards and backwards, each time grinding her pelvis into his so that she cried out with how far he reached inside her. There were moments where she thought he must be right behind her bellybutton. She kept a tight grip on the makeshift reigns as she rode.

Talon strained against his bonds to please his mistress. It didn't matter to him that she was already filled with Zaide's seed, that their combined fluids were coating his sac, saturating his pubic hair. He bit down hard on the rope in his mouth and tried to relax his neck as she pulled on the ropes while she moved. He couldn't form any coherent words, but neither did the gag stifle his grunts of exertion.

Sydney couldn't maintain a steady rhythm now, as her already sensitive insides were alive with what felt like massive bolts of static electricity. Her whole body could have been a plasma ball, with the point of friction between her and Talon being the center electrode where all the arcs of pleasure originated. She jerked and cried out as her insides contracted and spasmed around Talon. Unfortunately for her, the position that she had gotten herself in made it far easier to ride out the rolling orgasm than to dismount and find relief.

With a convulsion of pleasure, she pushed her head against her knees to muffle her moan as she gripped Talon's legs to keep from falling off the pool table. Immediately, Zaide was up and in front of her, ready to catch her. Talon strained and burst inside her. His whole body shivered violently as he emptied himself deep inside her. She groaned again as his firing sent tiny micro-gasms through her whole body like bright sparks.

When she regained enough control over her extremities, Zaide helped Sydney dismount, holding her up while she found her feet and put all her concentration into standing up.

"Crap. Now I gotta take a shower," she mumbled.

"We all do," Zaide agreed.

"Would you guys mind if..." she swayed for a moment, but Zaide was a rock for her to lean against until she balanced again. "...If I ran upstairs to take a bath and left you two to...clean up here?"

Talon, still gagged, nodded.

"That would be fine, Miss Sydney," Zaide translated.

"K...see you guys...later," she said as she fumbled for her clothes. She managed to put her jeans and shirt on without undergarments and with only a little help from Zaide. Then she stumbled upstairs barefoot.

After she left, Zaide set about untying Talon. Talon rubbed his wrists and ankles as regular blood-flow was established. Then he took off his shirt and used it to clean the mess of combined fluids from his lower body and thighs.

"I don't think we'll be rivals," he said, still a little out of breath.

"You're right," agreed Zaide. "She's not the sort to play favorites, or enjoy watching us squabble over her attentions. She'll be happiest if we work together for her pleasure, and she will reward us for it. I, for one, am looking forward to all the rewards."

"Me too." Talon stood and clasped Zaide on the shoulder, partly as a gesture of comradely, partly to stay upright. 

Sydney rushed upstairs as fast as her pleasure-numbed body could take her, embarrassed by her post-orgasmic state now that Brant was home. She was feeling a little calmer and steadier when she got to her room, so she opted for a shower instead of a bath. It was difficult cleaning between her legs, however, because even just a gentle trickle of water over her over-sensitized flesh sent fresh sensations shooting through her body.

Out of the shower and in the closet, she grabbed a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a matching workout tank. Her "cover" for changing clothes would be that she had decided to work out, which was true in its own way; she had certainly burned a lot of calories with that many orgasms.

She ran into Talon just as she was about to descend the last flight of stairs.

"Oh, hi," she said, a blush creeping up her face.

"Hi," he replied, a slightly rakish smile curling his perfectly formed lips.

Sydney's blush darkened as she realized that she still had no idea what to say to him. What did one say after such kinky sex? All the usual lines sounded trite in her head. Did she say thank you? Did she compliment him on a job well done? After only 4 days, she still felt exceedingly awkward when the hormones weren't flying around like crazed killer bees.

She was saved by the phone. She heard the ring of her cell phone in her purse down stairs and without looking back at Talon, ran to pick it up. She'd left her purse on the sofa in the living room and dived over the back of the sofa to reach her phone in time. The caller id reported that Brenna was on the other line.

"Hey, Bren, how's the baby?" Sydney asked right away, leaning against the sofa.

"Eight pounds, fourteen point six ounces and twenty one inches long!" Brenna replied excitedly.

"NO!" Sydney cried. "You were supposed to call me the moment you went into labor!"

"I didn't have time," Brenna defended herself. "This turned out to be one of those fantasy-labors and only lasted 3 hours! Good thing too, because it hurt like HELL! The midwife hardly got to my house in time to snip the umbilical."

"No way, that is so cool!" Sydney felt a new flush of exhilaration, this time joy for her best friend. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy. Tony wants to name him Jack, but I'm fighting for Dominic."

"When are you accepting visitors?"

"Don't go out of your way-" Brenna started.

"Bren, I've been looking for an excuse to get out of here. I was going to head out to Hawaii or Bora Bora if Jr. didn't make an appearance soon. So we'll be on the next plane to Colorado—as long as the doctor has cleared you for visitors," Sydney insisted.

"We?" Brenna repeated. "Who is this 'we' you mentioned?"

"Oh...um..." Crap.

"Did you get another boyfriend so quickly?" Brenna pressed. "Or have I been replaced, finally?"

"No, um...You know that attendant service I mentioned last week? I sorta...hired two...and a...trainee..." she fumbled, trying to come up with something that wasn't a bald-faced lie but was still convincing and not shocking. She should have known better. Brenna saw through her impromptu cover up instantly.

"Uh huh," she replied, those two syllables dripping with sarcasm. "Well, whenever the four of you can make it, I'd love to see you all."

"Ok," Sydney squeaked.

After saying goodbye, she rushed from the living room to her office and started looking for tickets. As she browsed the deals, she wondered at how easily she thought of the three almost-strangers in her home as family. She considered leaving one or two of them behind, but there was no way to sentence any of them to a week or more of loneliness. Certainly not Brandt. And Zaide would probably be the most helpful with his fabulous cooking. And Talon was always wonderful at taking care of the details.

There was nothing for it. Time to go tell the others.

Talon and Zaide were already in the kitchen, each with a large glass of water to replace the fluids they had recently lost. They both smiled at her as she went to the back door and called Brandt and Lucy inside.




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 05



"Wake up, Butterfly," Zaide softly called Sydney from her strange dreams. "Checkout is in an hour, and I'm sure Brenna is anxiously awaiting us."

"Ugh," she moaned as she rolled over. She felt Zaide beside her, his hardened muscles covered by clothes already. The other side of her was noticeably cool. "Where's Talon?"

"He went questing for your morning coffee," Zaide declared.

"How chivalrous of him," she grumbled appreciatively. "Ok, shower time."

"I'd offer to scrub your back, but the shower stall is hardly big enough for one person," he commented.

"You know, I got along just fine before you came along," she interjected as she stood and stretched. "You don't need to dote on me quite so much."

"But it's fun!" he called as she slipped into the bathroom.

Sydney took a quick hot shower to wake herself up. She held her hair up with one hand and just let the steaming water run over her back. She got out when she started to feel light headed. Wrapping herself in a towel, she went to get her clothes.

Talon was back with a large paper cup that smelled divine.

"You're an angel," she murmured as she accepted the cup and savored the aroma. She sipped and smiled. "Double-shot-Macadamia latte—purrrrrrfect."

He smiled at the praise.

"Ok, I need to get dressed—has anyone woken up Brandt yet?" she said as she set the coffee down on the table and boldly whipped off her towel.

"I knocked on his door while you were in the shower," Zaide said as his eyes drank in Miss Sydney's naked curves. "It took him a couple of minutes, but he answered it."

"Good. We'll call another taxi to take us to the car rental office, and from there we'll head out to Brenna's ranch." She dug in her suitcase for undergarments and clothes. She found them and quickly put them on. She could tell that Zaide and Talon were both looking at her with hungry eyes, but she didn't have time to get distracted right now. "Is everything packed and ready to go?"

They nodded.

She grabbed her brush and jerked it through her hair a few times before yanking it up into a ponytail. Then she called the cab company and announced, "Then let's get moving."

She zipped her bag closed and grabbed her purse and her coffee, and they left the hotel room. Brand was waiting in the hall, taking advantage of the continental breakfast. Sydney smiled at him.

"We'll grab a better breakfast for us and Lucy as soon as we get our car," she informed him. Then impulsively she kissed the top of his head. Without waiting for a response, she went to the counter and checked out. The taxi was waiting outside and they piled in.

At the rental office, the lady behind the desk regrettably announced that they were all out of SUVs.

"How can you be out of SUVs?" Sydney demanded. "This is Colorado!"

"They're in for annual maintenance before the ski season," the lady replied. "But I can give you a truck with an extended cab for a discount."

"Fine," Sydney relented. She accepted the keys and the four of them went out to the yard to find the truck. It was a big red Chevy. Sydney sighed but got in the cab. The boys loaded the luggage and Lucy in her crate into the bed of the truck before joining her. Then they drove to the nearest pet store, where she got a bag of food for Lucy. Then they went to a diner nearby, and left Lucy in her crate with her breakfast.

This time, Brandt ordered his own mean with only a little hesitation. They ate quickly and soon they were back in the truck.

"Here," Sydney handed her smart-phone to Talon. "Give me the directions to Brenna's."

Using the phone's GPS, they made their way down the interstate to the highway to the rural road to the dirt and gravel track that was Brenna's driveway. Finally, they pulled up to a cabin that looked like it was made out of Lincoln Logs. Hanging pots of blooming geraniums hung from cedar-shingle pots along the edge of the roof. The heavily mulched gardens were cared for, but not overly dressy. There was no lawn to speak of—only acres and acres of rolling pasture dotted with the black shapes of large beef cattle.

Sydney took a deep breath and got out of the car. She left the boys alone for a moment and walked up to the door. Before she could knock it was yanked open and she was staring straight into the chest of Ty Matthews, the man who had stolen Brenna's heart.

"Syd!" he cried and swept her into a bone-cracking bear hug. "Good to see you!"

"You...too" she wheezed. He took the hint and released her.

"Bren is still in bed—she's a little sore from pushing my kid out—but she's excited that you're here. Why don't you go in and see her and I'll get your...luggage..." he trailed off as he glanced up and saw the three men and pit-bull waiting patiently to be introduced.

"Oh, um, Ty, this is Talon, Zaide, and Brandt, my...assistants...So you can get to know each other and I'll go see Brenna!" She rushed past him, leaving the four men staring at each other, all a little confused. She had never been in the house before, but it was pretty easy to navigate—it wasn't as large as hers, having only two stories. She knocked on the bedroom door and peaked inside. "Brenna?"

"Sydney? That you? Come on in!" Brenna called.

Sydney entered the room and saw Brenna propped up in bed. "Hey, Bren. Long time."

"Too long—come give me a hug, you silly lily!" Brenna ordered, her arms outstretched. They embraced and Sydney could feel her fears start to melt away. This was Brenna, after all; her heart's sister, her soul's twin. She looked tired but there was a glow in her face and a twinkle in her eyes.

"You look good for a new mom," Sydney observed.

"I feel good for a new mom," she replied. "I'm still achy in places, and I have to waddle like a penguin to the bathroom every time my poor repressed bladder hears the call of nature, but I'm doing pretty good, on the whole. So how are you, Miss Big Business?"

"Um...that's complicated..." Sydney murmured.

"How could it be complicated?" Brenna demanded frankly.

"Well, I'm totally over my last boyfriend dumping me like that, so that's good. And I made the business-deal of the year, so my accountants are happy," she started.

"Ok, so what's on the scale's other pan?" the reclined woman asked.

"The...um...assistants I brought with me," she offered lamely.

"You didn't have to bring all three if it was that much of an inconvenience for you," Brenna teased.

"Actually I did...because they're not really assistants. I mean they are, in that they can assist me in just about everything but...well, I should probably just get it over with so you can kick me out...they're...pleasure...people...well, two of them are, the third has issues but—"

"Are you telling me that Sarah Riley's daughter brought two and a half jigalos to my ranch?" Brenna summarized with a tinge of ice in her voice.

"Worse," Sydney groaned. "They're...sex...slaves."

Brenna leveled the coldest look at her. Then she pushed the covers back and got out of bed, waddling side to side as her body allowed until she went to the door. "Ty!" she yelled downstairs. "Put them all up in the guest rooms—no one is leaving any time soon!"

"Yes dear!" he called back.

Brenna turned back to Sydney. "Now, spill it."

And she did. Sydney told her of the PPA, Brandt's attempted suicide and recovery, and even all the kinky, wonderful sex she had shared with Talon and Zaide.

"You know I have to ask," Brenna said when Sydney was done. "Why would you buy men when you could have had any guy on the west coast?"

"That's the thing, I can't!" Sydney cried. "For some reason, normal men hate me. They either treat me like their kid sister who will never be old enough to date, or like their sugar-mama-meal-ticket. I don't know how to find a good guy—all my efforts have ended in disaster and I thought maybe just this once I might not get my heart broken."

"But you did!" Brenna pounced. "On the second day when Brant tried to kill himself—your heart broke right then, didn't it? Don't lie to me!"

"But he promised never to do it again!" Sydney protested. It hurt that Brenna and Talon had been right about that incident, but that didn't mean she'd admit it.

Brenna scowled. "Do you even know how this is going to end? Have you thought about where you'll be in a year? Five? Ten?"

"Not yet," Sydney admitted, looking away. As much as she might hope the good times would never end, life experience had taught her that it was pretty much a certainty. She was so wrapped up in these guys, could she take it when something finally did take them away from her?

"Oh no," Brenna moaned.

"What?" Sydney asked.

"You're smitten."

"No!" she denied.

"Yes."

"NO!"

"You absolutely are! With all of them!" she accused.

"You don't even know them," snapped Sydney.

"I don't have to. I know you," Brenna replied. "And just then you had that look in your eye."

"What look?"

"THAT look."

"What look?"

"The same look you had when you told me that Nate Phillips had asked Trudy Miller to the senior prom instead of you."

"That was eons ago!"

"Same look."

"Different guy—guys!"

"Honey, you have got to settle down," advised Brenna. "If you have to, pick one and send the other's back."

"I can't—they'll be killed," Sydney claimed.

"No way--"

"Yes, way!" Sydney interrupted. "You didn't see it, Bren, but the PPA is not in the business of used merchandize. Brandt was on the red list—he was less than 24 hours from death when I insisted on bringing him home. And then he tried to kill himself because he thought I was some manipulative sadist or something. These guys don't dick around!"

"No pun intended?" Brenna added as she considered Sydney's reaction. Sydney just glared. "Ok, then, I get it. So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm just taking it one day at a time," Sydney sighed.

"And...are you using protection?" Brenna pressed.

"It's not like they have any STDs or anything," Sydney blushed.

"But what if you get pregnant?"

"Not going to happen."

"How do you know? Did you get your tubes tide sometime recently?"

"No," Sydney snapped. "But I'm just like my mom—she was barely able to get pregnant with me, and that was after two miscarriages."

"And you don't want to avoid miscarriages?"

"I'm fine!" she insisted. "I checked with my gynecologist a few years ago and he said that the chances of me getting pregnant naturally were next to zero."

"Still...." Brenna was uneasy.

Sydney sighed. "I'm sorry, Bren. I guess it's just been too long. I'll get the guys and we'll get out of your hair."

"You will do no such thing!" Brenna proclaimed. "You are going to stay here until you're sick of changing diapers and cleaning burp cloths. Your boys can help too. I'm not going to let you run out on me after only a few hours of tense conversation! It's been two-freekin'-years! Who knows when I'll see you again!"

Sydney gave her best friend a look that was equal parts pain and hope. "But...don't you hate me now?"

Brenna reached out and held her hand. "No stupid decision on your part could make me hate you. I'm a little upset, yes, because you just told me that you OWN three people. That sort of concept is hard to wrap my head around. But how could I hate you for reaching out to someone when there was no one else around? Mostly, I'm upset with myself for not being closer to you."

"Don't you try to make this your fault," Sydney insisted, but there were tears of relief in her eyes.

"My fault, maybe not. Simple lack of me in your life...probably," she consented.

"You're so full of it!" Sydney teased.

"You are too!" Brenna teased back.

Then there was a knock on the door. "Honey, Baby Jackie wants a snack," Ty said, bringing in a whimpering bundle.

"Aww, is Baby Dominic hungry?" Brenna cooed. Sydney smiled at the familiar marital ribbing.

"Honestly, why don't you just compromise and call him Dominic Jaxxon? Then he can be what he chooses—Dominic, Jack, or even DJ," Sydney suggested.

"Hey, that sounds good—DJ Matthews, rockin' da houuu-se!" Ty cheered as he passed the tiny boy to his wife.

Brenna sent him a mini-look for the corny joke and then grinned as she tucked the baby under her extra-large t-shirt. "Then let's make it official. You're so good with names, Syd."

"So I've heard," she muttered.

"What's for dinner, cowboy?" Brenna asked her husband sweetly.

"Bacon and beans, just like every other night," he teased. "Truly, hon, I don't know. I'm almost as pooped as you are."

"Don't talk to me about poop," Brenna grumbled not quite as sweetly.

"You know, Zaide trained at Le Cordon Bleu," Sydney interjected. "I could ask him to cook for us tonight."

"Ask, not tell?" Brenna retorted.

"Just because he works for me doesn't mean I'm a slave driver," Sydney snapped back, trying to emphasize that even though she technically owned the guys, that was no reason to assume the worst as far as their relationship went.

"Sorry, Syd. That sounds really nice—I know it would give Ty a break. Would you ask him for us?" Brenna amended.

"You got it," Sydney instantly forgave her friend. She'd just chalk up the mood swings to motherly horror-mones and leave it at that. If she was still that snappy when baby DJ was sleeping through the night, well, then they might have a problem. But until then, Brenna had given her the official "all clear" as far as their friendship went. She got up and left the new parents to their proud cooing.

Down stairs, Talon, Zaide, Brandt and Lucy were all sitting stiffly in the rustic couch and recliners.

"Having fun, boys?" she asked coyly.

"As much as possible," Zaide replied with a straight face.

"Well, I have a request from our host and hostess for you, Zaide," she replied. "Would you mind raiding the kitchen and whipping up a fabulous dinner for all of us?"

"Finally, something to do!" he cried excitedly and sprang to his feet. "Any special dietary considerations?"

"Um...I think Brenna might be having some bowel trouble—which I've heard is common right after giving birth," Sydney guessed, remembering the "poop" comment.

"Got it. Dinner is on the way!" Zaide almost sprinted into the kitchen.

"Is there anything we can do it help?" Talon asked. "I've heard that sometimes having a baby can...disrupt the regular flow of house-hold chores."

"You'll have to ask Ty about that; it's his ranch," Sydney said with a shrug.

"Ask me what?" Ty repeated as he came down the stairs.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Talon repeated. "I'm not a fan of sitting on my hands."

"Well, there's not much to do, honestly," Ty replied. "I've scheduled just about everything farm related around Bea's delivery date. So all that's left is feeding the cows and doing the laundry."

"We're willing to help any way we can," Sydney assured him.

"I'm too tired to refuse," Ty laughed. "So, Brandt, you and Lucy want to come wrangle some hay bales?"

Brandt glanced at Sydney and she smiled encouragingly. "Sure."

"I'll take the laundry," Talon volunteered. "Just point me in the right direction."

"The laundry room is through there," Ty replied, indicating a doorway. "Come on, Brandt, we've got some hungry mouths to feed."

Brandt and Lucy excitedly got up and followed the large cowboy. Talon disappeared into the back of the house. And Sydney was left on her own, for the first time in what seemed like ages. She took a deep breath, savoring the familiar smell of her friend's home. Then, gathering her courage, she went back upstairs to Brenna's room. She knocked softly at the door.

"Come in," called the new mom.

"It's just me," Sydney said as she walked in. Brenna was cuddling a sleepy little DJ.

"So," Brenna said with a sigh. "Have the troops received their marching orders?"

"They have been helpfully assigned. Talon should be going through your undergarments as we speak," Sydney teased.

"What?"

"He volunteered to help with laundry. He's really a house-keeping wiz. You should see what he's done with my basement," she bragged.

"Syd, he didn't have to--"

"I didn't tell him too. He volunteered."

"Really? I didn't think...those kinds of people were allowed to choose things," Brenna confessed.

"All three have their own personalities," Sydney explained. "You really should meet them before you start assuming things."

"You came in here and told me you owned sex slaves—what am I supposed to think? It's so weird that all I have are my assumptions!" she chuckled self-consciously.

Sydney smiled. "Well, I'll make sure you get to know my boys before we leave."

"What's it like?" Brenna asked suddenly.

"What's what like—the sex? I told you some of that," Sydney replied.

"No, I mean, what's it like...owning people?"

"The way I think about it, Talon and Zaide are like my boyfriends and Brandt is like a nephew or little brother. I've decided to make them family, so they're mine in that I'm responsible for them and I care about them, but I certainly take better care of them than I do my furniture. More polishing, you know," she added wickedly.

"Crazy family."

"Don't I know it." There was a pause, then Sydney asked, "What's it like? Being a mom, I mean."

"I don't think I have enough experience to say," Brenna confessed. "Pregnancy was equal parts nightmare and excitement. The birth was painful as hell, and now I'm so tired most of the time that I can't take stock of my emotions. But I do have to say that the cuddling and nursing thing is like all fuzzy warm feelings you've ever had rolled up into one golden, sun-beamed, sparkling moment."

"Wow."

"Don't I know it." They laughed together. Then Brenna handed the baby to Sydney. "Would you mind putting him in his bassinet over there? With Ty out and about, I want to have Dominic close in case he needs me, but I think I'm going to take a nap before dinner."

Sydney froze with the tiny child in her arms. She'd never held a baby before, and she was half afraid that she would drop him. He yawned and blew a spit bubble, and closed his eyes. He looked like a hand-sculpted doll. An unfamiliar pang hit her just below the heart.

"He's not going to turn into a wolf or anything," Brenna teased, her eyes drooping.

"He's just so cute," Sydney explained lamely. She got up slowly and walked over to the small bed.

"Put him on his back," Brenna instructed from the bed. "You don't need to unwrap him or anything."

Sydney followed her instructions and baby DJ didn't even crack an eyelid as she set him down.

"I'll come up when dinner is ready," she told her friend as she slipped out.

"Mm-kay," Brenna sighed. "Oh, and Syd? I'm glad you're here—no matter who or what you brought with you."

Sydney smiled and closed the door. Still smiling, she went downstairs to the kitchen to check up on Zaide. He was slicing up vegetables while some frozen chicken was thawing in the sink.

"How's it going?" she asked him.

"Good," he replied with one of his friendly, slightly lop-sided smiles. "They're actually pretty well stocked, so we'll have a good, healthy, fibrous dinner in about an hour."

"Perfect," she sighed. She leaned up against a wall as she watched him work.

"So, how was your talk?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Good," she said.

"What did you tell her?" he probed.

"Everything," she replied.

Zaide's lips tightened only for a moment.

"Was that wrong?" Sydney demanded.

"It's your business who you tell," he said diplomatically.

"But?"

"But...you know a little bit of what the PPA is like. I just don't want your friends to be in danger because of us," he explained.

"What do you mean? How could Brenna be in danger?" she cried, panicked.

"There's nothing to worry about as long as she doesn't report you to the police or try to inform the media," Zaide said, studiously keeping his eyes on the vegetables he was slicing into paper-thin coins.




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 05



"And if...hypothetically...someone went to the police or media?"

"Talon, Brandt and I would be collected and euthanized, and you and Brenna would lose everything—jobs, money, property, reputation...even your lives if you persisted in trying to expose the PPA," he replied softly.

"Holey licorice Labradors," Sydney whispered, one hand going to her forehead as she visibly swayed with shock. "Has this ever happened before?"

"Not for the last 25 years," he tried to reassure her. "But it would be better if you didn't test them."

"I know Brenna won't say anything...and I don't think Ty knows the specifics of our situation...so I think we'll be ok," she quickly reasoned. "Do they follow people like me? Tap phones? Track by satellite?"

"I don't know," Zaide said honestly, setting down the knife. "I imagine they would for a time, but there's no point in invading privacy and risking offence; all their clients are wealthy and powerful people."

"Gah—this whole thing just gets stickier and stickier. I wish I knew who had referred me to them—I'd ring their neck!" she cried, frustrated.

Zaide shrugged. "Do you regret bringing us home, then?"

Sydney looked up and saw how tense he was, and no wonder—they were talking about his hypothetical death. With two long strides, she was at his side. She wrapped her arms around his muscular torso and rested her head on his chest.

"No. I'll never regret it," she told him firmly. "And I won't let anyone hurt you—ever!"

Zaide returned the hug and she could feel some of the tension drain away. After a moment, they stepped apart and he went back to work.

"So, what exactly is for dinner?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Beer brazed chicken with roasted vegetable and rice pilaf," he replied with his familiar smile.

"Much better than beans and bacon!" she cheered.

"And now the laundry is going," Talon said as he came into the kitchen. "It seems our arrival was perfectly timed."

"I think your right," Sydney agreed, smiling at the tall, dark, and hansom man.

"So dinner will be ready in an hour..." he started, giving her a wicked look.

"Oh, no!" she cried. "No way. Not now, definitely not right here. I don't care what passive-seductive methodology you use, you ain't gettin' nothin'!"

"Ty was thoughtful to arrange all the men in the larger guest room downstairs and put you in a smaller guest room upstairs," Zaide added teasingly. He knew his co-attendant was chaffing to feel Sydney's lash again. In all honesty, Zaide also wanted to service her. She was just so darn sexy. Back at the agency, he had been prepared for a shallow and ugly owner, and somehow he'd ended up with her. He had only spent five days in her service, but he never wanted to stop showing his appreciation.

"Good!" Sydney declared. "You guys need to let your cannons cool or they'll melt!"

"Mine is already burning for you," Talon whispered behind her. "You know I crave you, Mistress."

Sydney whirled around to glare. "Nothin-doin'! We're guests here, and our hosts may be exhausted, but I'm pretty sure they'll notice belts cracking and tormented screams coming from my room. I'm already in trouble with Brenna—you're not making it worse!"

Talon looked down, duly chastised.

"What is it with you guys, anyway?" she continued. "Why are both of you so insatiably horny? I mean, I've met horny guys before—but you two are insane!"

"Isn't this the way most men feel with their first woman?" Zaide replied, his tone innocent and conversational, as he slid the sliced vegetables into the frying pan.

"Wait—first? I'm your—no way. You're leading me on," she cried.

"No attendant has previous sexual experience—even fraternization between attendants within the agency is strictly forbidden," Talon explained. "We are trained intellectually, athletically, and technically with toys, but you are the one and only person we've truly been intimate with."

Sydney was speechless. First she found out they were all younger than her, and now she discovered that before her they were cherries! A wave of confusion and shame and guilt swept over her. To be a sex slave, forced to give your virginity away—it wasn't so stigmatized for men as it was for women, but still—no wonder they were desperate to please her! It was slightly sickening to think of how the PPA had set them up to be totally owned and how willingly she had lapped up the offered male flesh. She must truly be a selfish and horrible person.

"Miss Sydney, are you alright?" Zaide asked, pausing in his dinner preparations to watch her, concern in his eyes.

"I'm...fine," she lied softly. "I just need some time to process all this. Talon, stay and help Zaide with dinner. I'll be on the porch."

She left them standing in the kitchen and almost ran outside. She felt close to tears. Before, she had assumed that they had both slept with many women to become such amazing lovers, but then she remembered Anne's comments about "used goods." The PPA doesn't sell used goods. Used goods were dead goods.

Before she realized what she was doing, she was at the truck, yanking open the door, jamming the key in the ignition and turning around in the driveway. She didn't know where she was going, but she needed distance from them. They were overwhelming her.

It's your own damn fault for buying them in the first place, a snide little voice inside her head chided. And then you wanted to know about their training. What did you expect sex slaves to be like?

Not like them.

Tears were blurring her vision and she pulled off to one side of the long gravel driveway. She didn't even know why she was crying, except that she hated herself at that moment. She must have inherited more from her father than his money. She must have some sociopathic genes or maybe just the blinding narcissistic streak. She should send them away; get them out of the country—something. Maybe if she put them in high-profile jobs in her company, that way she could say they were still attending, still in her service...only not. The PPA only said she would be responsible for them until they died, not that she had to keep them under lock and key until they died.

And Brenna would know something was wrong—AGAIN! Sydney just couldn't seem to get this family thing right. She was better off alone, not hurting anyone. Sure it was miserable, but it couldn't be as miserable as watching the men's faces light up whenever she came in a room, knowing she had carelessly deflowered them, beaten Talon—taken two cocks at a time! She was a kinky, perverted, slutty freak. She screamed at the steering wheel, a wordless expression of rage and grief and frustration. She didn't deserve family. She didn't deserve anyone!

So...time to plan...how did she get rid of them without endangering them? Maybe if she went on vacation to some small, out of the way tropical island and bought it—she had the money—then she could leave the boys in charge of her assets there. They'd be happy, they'd have their pick of the tourists, Lucy would have ample room to run, and Sydney could go back to her regular life.

That was it. That was the only way to do it. But when? Brenna expected her to stay for a week at least—and there was no way Sydney could resist those two for that long. She knew that already. Maybe she could leave them on the ranch. Ty could certainly use the help and he wouldn't have to pay them. Sydney could just keep driving and not look back.

Except that she couldn't do it. Brenna really would hate her for that. She wouldn't even let Sydney explain. This whole thing was a mess.

Someone tapped on the passenger side window. She looked up, expecting Talon or Zaide to have followed her, and instead saw Brandt's worried face. Fresh tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she tried to wave him away. He looked uncertainly over his shoulder, and then in a burst of courage opened the cab door and slid into the passenger's seat.

"Go away," she croaked, trying not to openly sob.

"Please, Miss Sydney," Brandt pleaded. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," she stated flatly, staring directly at the steering wheel. "No one can do anything."

"I know I'm not good at much," he said, and she could hear in his voice how difficult it was to stand up to her emotional display. "But there has to be something—some tiny thing I can do to help. Please, Miss Sydney. I—I need to help you."

She gave a shuddering sigh. "Brandt, you are probably the only redeeming factor in this whole bloody mess. If it wasn't for you, I'd really feel like a self-serving bitch."

He just stared at her, his deep blue eyes dark with concern.

She sighed again. "I'm in way over my head. I'm not slave-owner material, not by a long shot! I can hardly take care of myself and I have you three to look after. I'm scared to death that I'm going to do something wrong and the PPA will take you away and I'll have to live the rest of my miserable life knowing that I destroyed you."

"You haven't destroyed anyone," Brandt protested. "You saved me. I'd be dead, right now, if it wasn't for you. I would never have seen Colorado or tasted chocolate or touched a cow. Lucy would still be in the shelter. I know that the lady at the PPA tried to convince you not to take me home—she said I'd hurt you or run away."

"You did," Sydney whispered.

Brant winced. "I know. But I promised never to do it again—and I won't. You've given me so much to live for that all I want to do is spend the rest of my life making you happy."

"Can't you think of something better to do with your life?" she demanded roughly.

He looked down, unsure and a little afraid. Then he looked up and met her eyes. With unshakeable conviction, he answered, "No."

Without thinking, Sydney threw her arms around him and started to sob. She still wasn't sure why she was crying, except that this broken child was turning into a young man, and for all the pain and cruelty he had seen in his short life, he still found something redeemable in her. He really was her saving grace.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. It was the first time he had held a woman and it felt good and warm. Of course, that might be the tears she was wiping on his shoulder, but he didn't mind. He held her until the crying subsided and she finally drew back.

"Sorry," she muttered, scrubbing her face. "I don't know what came over me."

"You just needed a hug," he said with a shrug and a small smile.

"I guess I did," she smiled back.

"Let's get back—dinner will be ready soon," he suggested.

"Where's Lucy?"

"Ty took her back up to the house for me. We saw the truck and he told me to see what the matter was," he explained.

"Ok, let's get going then," she agreed and started the truck. They drove back in silence, but things felt...better.

Back at the house, Talon and Zaide were on the porch, looking worried. Sydney took a deep, fortifying breath before getting out of the truck. As soon as the cab door closed, the two men were at her side.

"Miss Sydney, are you alright?" Zaide asked.

"If it was something we said..." Talon started, looking worried. She got the impression that he would have dropped to his knees in penance if they were alone.

"Guys, I'm fine. I just had a moment of weakness. Brandt took care of me," she explained. Both men glanced disbelieving at the redhead who was exiting the other side of the truck. Brandt smiled sheepishly. "Now," Sydney continued, "Isn't it just about dinner time?"

All four of them filed back into the house. Brenna and Ty were just coming down the stairs. Brenna saw Sydney's red eyes and gave her a warning look—if something was wrong, she expected to hear every detail. Sydney just smiled.

At the dinner table, Benna set up a baby monitor while Zaide served everyone.

"This smells delicious!" Ty exclaimed.

"Thanks, I hope you like it," Zaide replied.

A hush descended on the diners as everyone took their first bite, and then proceeded to shovel the rest of the food in their mouths.

"You know it's good food," Brenna commented while using a slice of zucchini to mop up the last grains of rice, "when everyone is too busy eating to compliment you."

"One of my favorite sounds is chewing in silence," Zaide said with a nod of thanks.

"Can we keep him?" Ty asked.

Sydney looked over at her bald, buff lover. "Nah. He's all mine."

Zaide beamed.

"So Zaide, when did you get that tattoo?" Brenna asked casually.

Zaide looked over at his left arm and the tribal tattoo that circled the bicep. "Oh, that. That was from my senior prom."

"Really? Tell me the story," Brenna probed.

"Well, my date, I'll call her Alison for the sake of the story, was the daughter of a really, really wealthy business tycoon. Alison wanted someone who would make all the other boys jealous and her father wanted someone safe around his daughter. I was working at a body guard service at the time, and so I was assigned to be Alison's escort for the night. She had fought with her father earlier that day about something—credit card limits, I think—and so she was feeling extra rebellious that night. She wanted to go get a tattoo herself, something big and gaudy that her father would hate. When we got to the tattoo parlor, she started getting a little nervous and to calm herself, she took a few quick swigs from a purloined hip flask. I knew this was a disaster in the making—her father would literally murder me if she came home tattooed and would probably strangle me for letting her drink underage. So I convinced her to watch me get a tattoo first, and then she could decide if it was worth it to get one herself. I sat down in the chair and went under the gun, so to speak. I made a point of complaining loud and long about how much it hurt—but I didn't really need to since at the first sight of blood, she almost passed out. After my tattoo was finished, I carried her back to the limo and got her home. Her father noticed my new tattoo and grilled me on what happened, and was very thankful that I had prevented her from being permanently marked. He actually gave me a very nice tip for that. Plus I'd gotten the tattoo for free. My boss wasn't too thrilled—there would be workers comp and insurance issues if my arm got infected—but it all worked out in the end."

"Wow, that's so cool," Brenna praised.

Sydney wasn't sure what to think. Was it a cover story or was part of it true? She decided to ask him later in private.

Talon stood and started clearing the plates. "I'll do the dishes if everyone else wants to watch TV in the living room," he offered.

"What service!" Brenna cried with an appreciative smile.

"Thank you, Talon," Sydney seconded.

Ty checked his watch. "Nothing on TV at this hour, but we could watch a movie. I just got a new one last week, and we've been too busy with the baby to watch it."

"Sounds good to me," Sydney said.

"Me too," Brenna agreed.

"I'm game," Zaide smiled.

Brandt nodded.

The five of them left the dinner table, Brenna grabbed the baby monitor as she passed, and went into the living room. Ty set up the movie and then flopped on the couch to cuddle with his wife. Sydney curled into Zaide, enjoying his solid bulk. Brandt took Sydney's other side, but didn't touch her. Lucy was at his feet.

The movie started and after 10 minutes, Sydney started drifting off to sleep. She tried to stay awake, but she was jet-lagged and the crying had only tapped the last of her reserve strength. It felt so good to be nestled against Zaide—although anyone probably would have felt just as good, said that evil voice in her head. She did her best to ignore it as she fell into a light doze.

Talon came from the kitchen and wedged himself between Sydney and Brandt. He noticed that Sydney and Brenna were both asleep. The men-folk watched the movie with the volume low so as not to disturb the women. It took something away from the car chases and explosions, but no one seemed to mind. When it was over, Ty gently scooped Brenna into his arms and, with a nod goodnight to the other men, carried her up the stairs to the bed.

Talon, Zaide and Brandt were left down stairs. They all exchanged a look.

Finally Talon said, "Brandt, why don't you take your stuff up to Miss Sydney's room and bring her luggage down so she can sleep here tonight."

"Why?" Brandt challenged. "Haven't you worn her out enough?"

Talon gave him a warning look, but to his surprise, Brandt didn't flinch. 

"She sleeps better with someone next to her," Zaide interceded. The mountain air must be swelling Brandt's balls to challenge Talon over Miss Sydney. "Besides, the down-stairs guest room has a king-sized bed, and the upstairs bedroom has a full-sized bed. So unless you're volunteering to sleep between us for the night, you might want to take the smaller bed."

Brandt blushed and hurried out of the room.

"Well, that was sly," Talon commented.

"If you two started to fight, Lucy would probably bite you, and that would wake up Miss Sydney," Zaide explained. Then he gathered Sydney into his arms and stood. She was still so thin that he imagined he might be carrying a sylph—an air sprite—instead of a full grown woman. 

Brandt came out of the hallway with his suitcase and tiptoed upstairs. Lucy followed him, very light-pawed for such a large dog. Zaide carried Miss Sydney into the guest room. Talon preceded them and turned down the covers so Zaide could lay her close to the center. The cool sheets woke her.

"Hey, is the movie over?" she said with a yawn.

"Yes, butterfly. We're just getting you ready for bed," Zaide explained.

"But this isn't my room," she protested. "I thought I got the smaller room all to myself."

"We gave that to Brandt since he didn't want to share the bed with us," Talon explained.

"Uh huh, I'll bet," she grumbled and pushed herself up.

Just then Brandt poked his head in the room and set Sydney's suitcase and purse down by the door. With a wave he backed out.

"Come on you guys," she pleaded. "Give a girl a break."

"Anything you say, Miss Sydney," Zaide agreed somberly. Talon nodded.

She looked at them suspiciously. Then she just rolled her eyes and started to quickly undress. She shucked her jeans and t-shirt. She also discarded her bra and pulled the hairband out of her hair, letting the pony-tail fall apart, her hair cascading over her shoulders, the ends curling just above her full breasts. Both men held their breath—she looked so sexy with her slumberous eyes and tousled hair. "What?" she demanded. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Not yet," Zaide murmured.

Sydney threw him a squinty smile at his crass implication. Then she grabbed the covers and pulled them over her, turning her back on the men. They quickly undressed as well and slipped under the covers, one on either side. Their arms reached out under the covers to embrace her between them. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the two erections pressing into her thigh. Every erotic memory they shared just played behind her eyelids until she wanted them as much as they wanted her. She sighed and rolled onto her back.

Talon and Zaide looked at her, a little concerned and ready to do anything to make her happy.

"Fine," she said aloud. She reached for both of their hands and guided them to her wet core. They didn't need further encouragement. Their greedy fingers plunged under her panties and between her folds to make her gasp with the invasion. They played with her, stroking inside and out, taking turns toying with her nib. Each man took the closest nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling.

Sydney squirmed in pleasure under their onslaught. The pleasure was mind-numbing and delicious, better than any dessert. They seemed content to play with her all night long, but she could feel their throbbing hard members pushing into her, and just the thought of being impaled on one of them made her salivate. Finally, she found the willpower to push their hands away. She struggled for a moment to get out of her panties and throw them across the room. Then she sat up.




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 05



With one crooked finger, she beckoned Talon to her. He eagerly pushed himself up, ready to meet any of her needs. She went down on all fours and then pointed behind her. Talon didn't need another cue—he moved into position, ready to take her at her signal. Then Sydney adjusted herself so that her mouth was over Zaide's weeping member. Her tongue darted out to taste his pre-cum. Then she leaned back into Talon, pressing her slick, fevered nether-lips to his velvet tip. Talon surged forward, the momentum carrying through as Sydney's mouth engulfed Zaide. Both men groaned with ecstasy.

Sydney focused on them, ignoring her own pleasure for a while. Her buttocks met Talon's hips as he plunged over and over into her. She slid her mouth over Zaide's entire length, pressing his head to the back of her throat. Zaide came first, erupting in her mouth. She drank him down, swallowing every squirt and massaging out the last drop. Talon was still going strong, and Sydney shifted forward to press her breasts around Zaide's member. Then Talon came, spilling his seed deep inside her. She loved that hot rush almost more than an orgasm.

Talon collapsed to one side, momentarily exhausted. Sydney just grinned at them.

"I beg your forgiveness, Mistress; I did not fulfill your needs," he panted.

"No worries, my sweet stud," she teased softly.

"We cannot leave you unsatisfied," Zaide declared.

"I'm fine, really guys. Let's just get some sleep," she reasoned as she settled back into the mattress.

Without a word, Zaide scrambled out of bed and started digging in his suitcase. He came back with a something hidden in his fist.

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

"I packed a few things," he whispered as he slid between the sheets beside her. Something started to buzz in his palm as he brought it to her lower lips. She gasped and almost cried out as it vibrated against her woman's mound. His fingers toyed with her folds while keeping the small device directly on her nib. Talon scooted closer to take one breast in his mouth.

Already sensitized, she writhed as the men stimulated her even more. The orgasm hit her fast and hard, like a spear of pleasure shooting through her entire body. Her back arched, her hips bucked spasmodically, and she clamped her jaw shut to keep from crying out and waking the baby. But the buzzing just continued, stringing out her orgasm indefinitely.

"Ok!" she finally rasped between clenched teeth. "Ok-ok-okokokokaaaaaay!"

Zaide mercifully pulled the vibrator away. Even in the dark, she could see he was happy with her response.

"What in the name of toffee-covered tapirs was that?" she whispered, still trying to catch her breath.

He held up two of his fingers which were attached by an elastic jelly ring to a small blue thing, also wrapped in studded silicon, about the size and shape of a baby carrot. "It's one of the toys we bought. You said you wanted to learn how to use them—and this is one of the ways."

"Well, warn me next time, if you please," she replied huskily, squirming a little as her whole body rocked with after-quakes of pleasure.

"I will, Butterfly," he murmured against her temple. "I promise."

Snuggled between her two lovers, Sydney sighed and started to drift off to sleep. She wondered, in her last moments of consciousness why she was so susceptible to these two. She meant well—she wanted to liberate them, help them achieve normal lives—but when her intentions were at their best, that's when they overpowered her with sheer sexuality, and she fell for it. Every. Single. Damn. Time.



Sydney's Dogs Ch. 06



Sydney woke up early. She could tell because the air outside of her warm pocket between Zaide and Talon was quite brisk. Still, she knew that she couldn't go back to sleep so she tried to wriggle out from between the two men. As soon as the felt her escaping, they tightened their grips.

"Relax," she crooned softly. "Just going to the little girl's room. Go back to sleep."

With some exasperated sighs, they rolled back in bed. They really were tired. Sydney took a moment to watch them sleep and smiled to herself. They were so hansom with their faces composed in perfect peace.

Then she tiptoed across the cold wood floor to the bathroom. She didn't want to wake them by taking a shower, so she just brushed her teeth and spritsed a little body spray. That would be good enough for morning coffee, and she could take a hot shower later. She tiptoed out of the bathroom to quickly put on some clothes, and then with her footsteps muffled by thick socks, she slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

"I saw that," teased a familiar whisper. Sydney guiltily spun around to find Brenna was sitting on the living room sofa, enjoying a mug of hot cocoa.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Sydney claimed, holding up her hands in surrender.

"Sure you did. Come over here and tell me all about it," Brenna invited with a grin, patting the cushion next to her.

"Just your average, ordinary, every-day threesome," Sydney replied, heat stealing up her cheeks.

"Well, it's good to know you can still blush."

"You haven't told Ty about any of this...have you?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"It's not mine to tell. Besides, right now he's too tired and too grateful for the extra help to care," Brenna assured her.

"Whew," she sighed as she sank onto the couch beside Brenna.

"So come on—details!" Brenna insisted, elbowing Sydney gently.

"Like what?"

"Like are they any good!" Brenna demanded. 

"No, they were only trained in sex by some of the kinkiest minds on the planet!" Sydney rolled her eyes sarcastically.

"And did they make you cry yesterday?" Brenna asked, all laughter gone.

"No," Sydney replied after a moment. "I made me cry, all on my own. Bren, these guys are unlike any guy I've ever met. They're sweet, considerate, patient, and they can actually communicate. And here I am, selfish, greedy, narcissistic, and old!"

"You're not old!"

"Zaide is a year younger than me and Talon is three!" she retorted. "And they were virgins before I got my grubby mitts on them."

"No way!" gasped Brenna.

"Way. Totally way. And yet despite my age and experience...they're the ones taking care of me." Sydney held her hands up in a helpless gesture. "The longer I spend with them, the more I need them just to get through the day. Soon, I won't be able to survive without them. And that feels wrong, somehow."

"Far be it from me to judge your fetishes, you cougar," she teased. "But I was thinking about you during DJ's four feedings this morning and I've concluded that if you're happy with this...arrangement, then you shouldn't try to fix it."

"But it's not normal!" Sydney wailed.

"Normal is a setting on a washing machine," Brenna quipped. "Besides, like you were saying, you're stuck with them now. You can't undo the past, so make the best of your unbelievably stupid lapse in judgment."

Sydney winced. "You think it's that bad?"

"You own three people," Brenna reminded her friend. "And even if the U.S. government doesn't acknowledge that claim, all three of them look at you like you're the sun, moon and stars. They'd gladly leap in front of a bullet for you. They are past the point of no return, and they're your responsibility from her on out. So whatever happens, if you live happily ever or have a horrible falling out in the years to come—I am always here for you."

"Thanks, but you sound like you're kicking me out," Sydney speculated. 

"That's because I am," Brenna confirmed. "You have to work this out with them and not with spectators."

"What? Why?" Sydney cried. 

"Let me put it this way," Brenna said, looking Sydney directly in the eye. "You have entered into an arrangement with these men—a contractual agreement that can only be nullified by death. With the consummation of the relationship, you are essentially married."

Sydney's breath rushed out of her and she couldn't seem to refill her lungs. She couldn't have protested if she wanted to as Brenna continued. 

"So you guys need to go on your honeymoon and work out the kinks in daily living. And as much as I love you and want to spend time with you, the last thing you need is post-preggers me being the moody 5-th wheel," she explained. "And when things have simmered down and you're not ready to collapse with every new revelation, you are welcome to come back and we'll have a proper visit."

"But...but don't you need the help...with new baby and all?" Sydney grasped at any straw she could reach.

"Not as much as you need space and time. I love you, silly lily, but I can't help you right now, and so I'm doing the only thing I can — sending you on vacation!"

"But...but...you said I could stay until I was sick of changing diapers and stuff," Sydney stammered. Her brain—still without the lubricating effects of coffee—was stripping its own gears trying to process her friend's change of heart.

"Trust me, Sydney Moira Riley Tobin, you need a real break—not a distraction, not a pity party. You need to stand on your big, womanly feet and figure out your own life. 

"Oh, sure, bring my shoe size into this."

Brenna just grinned, unrepentant, and ignored the interruption, "You've been avoiding it for years by taking on your father's business—his business, not your own—and stressing yourself to the brink of anorexia. Now my hormones have stripped me of all tender propriety, so I can tell you honestly what I saw during our years of friendship. Ever since your mother died, you have been putting your heart on the sidelines while you try to live up to everyone else's expectations. You need to start making your own dreams for yourself, or you will wind up a withered old bitter woman."

"That's so encouraging," Sydney said, her voice thin.

"You have your adoring fans, now, so you don't need me to sugar coating everything. Besides, you already said you were going to treat them like your family, and a family needs time to get to know each other and get used to each other. You can use my computer to book your flight—and I want to see pictures of you on a beach or by a camp fire or something as proof! But you should leave this afternoon."

"Fine, you want me to leave, I'll leave!" Sydney declared, her face defiant with righteous indignation.

"I don't want you to leave," Brenna replied, trying to sooth her friend's ruffled feathers. "But you need to. For your sake. I want you to be happy, Syd. And these guys make you happy. I also want you to get your head on straight and make some headway in your life instead of following in your father's shadow."

"I am not!" she denied. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Brenna asked, conversationally. Sydney just scowled. She had always hated that question and never had a good answer for it. "See? Take a real vacation. Go get a tan. Do your boys. Have fun. And I'll be here when you get back."

Sydney put one hand to her head. "My accountant is going to hate this."

"Your accountant has been griping at you to spend some money so he can stop paying taxes on your savings," Brenna called her bluff. "Stop it with the excuses and just go."

Sydney looked at Brenna, trying to find the rational in all this. Her friend was genuinely concerned for her. She wanted the best and Sydney knew she couldn't take care of the boys and herself—sexually as well as mentally and physically—if she kept trapping herself in situations where she had to put on her happy-face and pretend she wasn't tied up in knots on the inside. Bren was right—as usual. Sydney needed to get away.

But married? They weren't married. They couldn't possibly be. No proposal—no consent! Except she tried to give them free choice in everything after her initial spur-of-the-moment decision to buy them. Sure they slept together, but as soon as Zaide and Talon got over their cherry-influenced puppy-love, Sydney was sure they could find girlfriends all their own. She felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought but ignored it. They weren't married—she just wasn't a polygamist.

"Alright," she sighed. "We'll go."

"Go where?" Brant's voice asked worriedly. Sydney spun around guiltily and saw him and Lucy descending the stairs. 

"Somewhere exciting, I'm sure," Brenna supplied her tone so conversational that anyone walking in on the discussion wouldn't have known that she had just evicted her best friend.

Brandt looked as if he wanted to question further, but wasn't sure if he was allowed to. He looked beseechingly into Sydney's eyes. She wanted to scream like a vampire splashed with holy water, his look was that pure and trusting.

"I don't know yet. Probably somewhere in the U.S. since I don't have passports for you three," Sydney mumbled, part of her brain working on the practical problem of what to do next, part still denying the marriage comment, and part wishing Brandt would get that look off his face. She couldn't take it. That look was too full of things she wasn't ready to confront yet.

"You used to talk about going to Hawaii and learning to scuba dive. And it's a classic destination," Brenna suggested with a wicked glint in her eye. 

"But we were going to do that together," Sydney protested. "We were going to pick up hot surfer guys and drink mai-tai's and dance the hula until sunrise!"

"Do I look like I'm in any condition to pick up a surfer and hula?" Brenna returned. "I hereby release you of your obligation to our teenage fantasy. Seriously, take a vacation."

"Then I guess we're going to Hawaii—but not until I've had my morning coffee!" Sydney insisted.

"I wouldn't dream of inflicting those poor island people with your pre-coffee incarnation," Brenna said with the deepest gravity. Then she ruined it by smiling. "You know where the espresso machine is."

"I'll get it!" Brandt volunteered and dashed into the kitchen before Sydney could even get up off the couch. 

"He's definitely a morning person," Brenna mused. 

"Don't even start with me," Sydney snapped. "It's bad enough you're kicking us out after only one night, you don't have to make snide comments."

Brenna gave Sydney a reproving glance, and Sydney looked away. Just because Brenna was right didn't mean she had to admit it out loud. 

"I'll book the flights," she mumbled and got up. She went to the kitchen where Brandt was happily grinding coffee beans, and sat down at the community computer. She choked back a cry at the exorbitant cost of last-minute non-stop flights to Honolulu, and just booked them as quickly as possible. 

The hotel was a bit stickier. If this was where she was finally going to lay down the law about personal space, she needed the space to do it. Renting 4 hotel rooms seemed too much and not enough—too much product, not enough privacy. She finally settled on a rental house. It had 3 bedrooms, 2 ½ bathrooms, a small pool, and it was walking distance to the beach. Just the thought of sea breezes again calmed her, and she realized that she missed Monterey already. 

As soon as she closed the window, Brandt slipped her a mug of coffee. 

"I'm not sure how you like it, but I heard that Talon got you a macadamia-nut latte, so I made the coffee strong, put in steamed milk, and added a tea-spoon of almond extract. I know almond isn't the same thing, but I thought it might be close enough that you'd still like it," he explained in a nervous rush.

Sydney took a sip and smiled. "It's delicious," she assured him. It was, actually. Even though it wasn't quite as strong as she usually drank it—Brandt had put in a lot of milk—the almond extract didn't over-sweeten the coffee and actually complimented the flavor nicely. 

Brandt glowed at her praise. 

"You never came back to bed," Zaide said as he stumbled through the kitchen doorway. 

"Too much to do," she replied.

"Should I start breakfast?" he asked, already scanning the insides of the refrigerator for raw materials. 

"Might as well, but we'll be leaving right after," she sighed. 

"Leaving?"

"Leaving?" echoed Talon, who was only a few seconds behind Zaide. 

"That's right; I'm kicking you all out! After breakfast," Brenna declared with a friendly grin and a wink at Zaide.

Zaide and Talon both sent a worried glance at Sydney. She shook her head slightly. It wasn't their fault. They'd probably be all subservient to make up for it, though. Perhaps Hawaii was the best thing—they could both find at another woman to lavish their attentions on. And maybe she could get a sane and normal surfer to dote on her just a bit.

"We're taking a real vacation," Sydney amended. "Right now we're just a little too much for Bren and Ty, but they'll have us back when junior gets on a regular sleep schedule."

Talon and Zaide nodded, as if it was really that simple. Zaide got busy making breakfast and Talon offered to make more hot cocoa and coffee for everyone. Stripped of his job, Brandt announced he was going to take Lucy for a walk. Slowly, the kitchen filled with the sounds of people doing things, but there wasn't much in the way of conversation. 

Sydney knew it was her fault. Unable to take more than a few minutes of it, she got up and left the kitchen without a word. She went to the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and took a shower in the adjacent bathroom. She washed her hair and face. She scrubbed her skin under scalding water until it was bright red, but she still felt somehow wrong. She got out of the shower and almost ran into Talon, again, waiting for her in the room.

"No," she said firmly, as if she was speaking to a wayward puppy. Then she marched over to her suitcase and pulled out clothes for her daily wear.

Talon knelt on one knee and held up his hands beseechingly to her. "Mistress, if there is anything I have done—" 

She whirled on him. "Don't you fucking start with me!" she cut him off. "Don't 'mistress' me! Don't beg forgiveness. Don't try to solve my problems. Don't even think about using your good looks and sexuality to fucking smooth things over. I'm in a bad mood—hell, I think I'm PMS-ing too. So your cutesy slave tricks will not get you any brownie points. Just do what I tell you and leave me the fuck alone!"

Talon looked surprised by this outburst—he certainly had never heard her curse like this—but in just a few seconds, a calm and schooled look came over his features. Part of her heart sank as she knew he was regressing into his trained responses.

"As you wish, Miss Sydney," he bowed his head. "I shall get things ready for our departure."

"Good for you," she growled as she turned back to her suitcase and zipped it closed. She took her clothes for the day and went to change in the bathroom. When she came out, Talon was wheeling the baggage out to the rental truck.

Sydney went back to the kitchen. Ty had come to breakfast and was sitting beside Brenna, wolfing down Zaide's brilliant pancakes. Brandt had just finished his and was putting his dishes in the dishwasher. Sydney was too mad to eat, so she drained her coffee. 

"Alright, Bren, we're leaving," she declared. 

"Leaving?" Ty mumbled loudly through a mouthful of pancake. 

"Have a good trip," Brenna said, meaning it. "And call me when you get to Hawaii."

"Sure," Sydney half-promised, but with no intention of following through. "I'll wait in the car for everyone."

"Don't be a stranger, Syd!" Ty called, raising his fork. "And you're welcome to bring back these guys to cook and clean!!"

That got a small smile out of Sydney. She waved and left. 

In the cab of the truck she sat, moodily refusing to think. She clung to the idea that she wasn't married—she wasn't a polygamist. Sure, having two guys in bed was beyond awesome, but it was just sex. JUST sex! And, sure, she had to take care of them until she either got callous enough to send them back to the PPA to be killed or until they all just died of natural causes, but she could still unload them somewhere—just like she had been planning yesterday—and everything would be fine. She was sure of it.

The boys quickly piled into the car, Brandt climbing into the back seat last after securing Lucy in her crate. Sydney turned the key and started down the driveway.

She didn't say a word while they were driving, and just when it seemed that Zaide had almost worked up the courage to break the silence, she flipped on the radio and cranked the volume. Since they were in Colorado it was country music, but at least it drowned out coherent thought. At the airport, Sydney turned over the rental keys to the desk clerk, using the shortest sentences possible. The three men trialed after her as she checked in and received their tickets. They went through security—again without any problems from the fake ID's—and now they just had to wait an hour before the flight boarded. 

Sydney glanced at her phone to check the time; it was almost noon. 

"Do you guys still have the 20's I gave you back home?" she asked briskly. All three of them nodded. "If you guys want to go get lunch, be my guest. I'll be waiting right here." 

She sat down resolutely and pulled out her novel. Hesitantly, Talon sat beside her. 

"I strongly suggest you get something to eat. It's a long ways to Hawaii," Sydney said without looking up. 

All three men exchanged a glance. 

"We'll be back shortly," Zaide promised. 

"Take your time, I don't care," she shrugged, still without tearing her eyes away from the book. She watched from under her eyelashes as they move away, cautiously, as if she might call them back at any moment. She sighed and settled deeper into her chair. This is what she was used to—burying her loneliness under a mask of cool indifference. 

Her stomach growled. After nearly a week of Zaide's fabulous cooking and almost regular meals, her stomach was protesting the lack of breakfast and lunch. She did her best to block it out. Food didn't solve problems.

As soon as the men were out of earshot, Talon turned to Zaide accusingly. "What did you say to her before I got to the kitchen?" he demanded. 

"Nothing!" Zaide snapped. "Brandt was up before I was."

Both men loomed over Brandt. Brandt cowered. 

"I didn't say anything—she was talking with Miss Brenna when I came down from the room," he squeaked.

Zaide still glared a little, but Talon's look turned inward. 

"Brenna did say she was kicking us out—do you think she took offence to Miss Sydney's relationship with us?"

Zaide finally turned away from Brandt. "Maybe it was our presumptuous action of changing the sleeping arrangements. I honestly didn't think anyone would mind."

"I would not guess that any friend of Miss Sydney's was a vindictive prude in that way," Talon mused. "But something is definitely wrong."

"And she won't let us help," Zaide agreed, remembering the music incident in the car. 

"But...she wouldn't be mad at us, right?" Brandt asked, looking lost. "She wouldn't blame us if something went wrong...she just wouldn't."

Talon and Zaide gave Brandt a pitying look, but didn't enlighten him. It was an owner's prerogative to blame the owned for anything and everything, from unfavorable turns in the stock market to natural disasters to personal trouble. The owned just accepted whatever was given them without complaint.

Still, despite their training, they were all worried about her. Talon remembered the way she had promised to always look out for his needs. Had that truly been empty pillow talk? Zaide thought back to the way she cuddled in her sleep, as if she was afraid of losing the thing she clung to. Brandt remembered Lucy, and how Miss Sydney had saved him and the dog, no questions asked, no repayment demanded. 




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 06



Each knew, in his own way, that Miss Sydney's heart wasn't the kind of heart that could survive long cold spells. Her heart was meant for warmth and care and great feats of love. Something had made her shut down—almost defensively—and it was up to them to figure out what had happened, if only so they could serve her better.

"Come on," Zaide said, moving towards the food court again. "Let's get some lunch."

After being alone for a few minutes, Sydney had read the same paragraph four times and was reading it for a fifth when someone sat down beside her. 

"That was a fast lunch," she commented absently, assuming it was one of the boys and refusing to look up.

"I actually haven't had lunch yet, but I heard your stomach growl and I was wondering if you would join me at least for a drink," said an unfamiliar voice. 

Startled, she looked up into the hazel eyes of a complete stranger. He was tall—not as tall as Talon or Zaide, but he certainly had a few inches on her—with short blond hair and a well-groomed matching goatee. He was dressed in a designer polo shirt and kakis, exactly like a businessman on company retreat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "I thought you were someone else."

"I'm Mason Kirk," he said holding out his hand. "You know, like the captain."

"Captain?"

"Kirk. James T? Star Trek? The original series?" he clarified with a crooked smile. "Wow, that's the first time I've had to explain the reference."

"Sorry, I don't watch a lot of TV," she apologized again and quickly shook his hand. "I'm Sydney Tobin."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tobin. Now, pardon the rude question, but has your boyfriend left you here or is he waiting for you in Hawaii?"

"I—I don't have a boyfriend," she quickly assured him. Talon and Zaide didn't count—they were just...boy toys. Internally, she winced at the name. They were more than that, but they were not boyfriends.

"I see luck is with me today!" Mason Kirk crowed with a self-assured smile. "I assume you are also traveling to Hawaii on this flight. Could I get you a pre-flight piña colada?"

"That sounds really nice. I think I'd like that, Mr. Kirk. Or should I call you captain?" she smiled. This was dating. This was how male-female relationships were supposed to be. This was normal. 

"Captain has a nice ring to it," he admitted as he stood up and held out his hand in a very gentlemanly way to pull her out of her chair. "But you can call me Mason."

"Thank you very much for your generosity, Mason," Sydney took his hand with a glowing grin.

They walked to one of the restaurant bars in the terminal and Mason ordered two piña coladas. While they waited for their drinks to be made, Mason and Sydney chatted about their plans for Hawaii.

"I'm going for the swimming," she said. "I've always wanted to free-dive some of the reefs, and I might try to get my Scuba Certification while I'm at it."

"Ambitious," he praised her and held up his just-delivered drink in salute. "But aren't you afraid a shark might take a bite out of you?"

"I doubt any sharks would be interested in me. There are more tender things in the sea than my tuff old hide," she replied. 

"I don't believe you," he replied, his free hand gently stroking her arm, a wicked glint in his eye. "If I were a shark, I would eat you up."

Sydney giggled. Maybe she wasn't so inept at dating as she thought she was. "It's a big ocean; you'd have to find me first."

"Where are you staying?" he asked. 

Warning bells went off in her head—more than once she had answered that innocent question on vacation and wound up with a freeloader and an empty mini-bar. She took a sip of her drink to stall, and finally answered. "I haven't decided yet. I was going to just cruise the coastline and see what I could find."

"I don't want to be too forward," he started, and she braced herself for the worst, "but if you can't find a place, you're welcome to share my suite at the Embassy."

He was offering her a room? Maybe she had misjudged him. Maybe this was the first decent man to take interest in her. Maybe this could also be a way to escape the boys, if just for a night or two. Her heart pounded with excitement, and she flashed her most winning smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Miss Sydney?" interrupted an all-too familiar voice. Sydney turned to see Brandt anxiously waiting for her just outside the entrance to the bar. "They're going to start boarding the flight soon."

"I'll be right there," she assured him, holding back a sigh.

"Is that your little brother?" Mason inquired kindly, if somewhat stiffly.

"No—Heavens no, I have no siblings. He's an intern with my company—a favor to a friend—we're meeting with some business associates on the Big Island," she explained, trying to add enough lacy fabrication to the truth that he wouldn't assume anything detrimental to a first date. "He's a bit of an over-achiever when it comes to coordinating my schedule."

"Well, I had better let him have you," he teasingly agreed. "Wouldn't want to upset the carefully laid plans of mice and men, now would we?"

Sydney smiled back again. Then she drained her drink—which was still mostly full. "It was good meeting you, Mason. Aloha!"

"A-looooo-ha!' he replied, giving her an appreciative once-over. She could tell he meant it in the "hello [hotstuff]" sort of way. Maybe it was the piña colada clouding her judgment, but she kinda liked that sort of attention. She waved as she left to join Brandt and the others. 

Talon and Zaide looked politely concerned, but didn't comment on her impromptu drink-date. Still, for some reason she felt the need to apologize for not staying where she said she would, and that made her angry. She was not accountable to them—responsible for them, yes, but she did not need to answer to them like she was some wayward teenager. So she clamped her lips shut against any excuses that might slip out and lead the way to the boarding line. 

They found their seats in the first class section and Sydney took the window seat this time, pulling Brandt after her to provide a barrier between her and the other two. Brandt was safe, she decided. Brandt was only in it for the basic life necessities. 

The plane seemed to take forever to board, and then even longer to get up to the air. Once they got to cruising altitude, Sydney ordered another piña colada from the drink cart. Finally sauced, she could settle down to read her romance novel in peace. She got through several chapters before she dozed off, lulled to sleep by the warmth of the alcohol and buzz of the airplane's engines. 

Brandt woke her with a tentative touch on her forearm. 

"We're making our decent," he said softly. 

Sydney smiled for a moment and stretched. She was still a little groggy and a little buzzed from the drinks, but she felt relaxed. Hawaii with her boys. She liked the sound of it. 

Then she remembered that Brenna had pushed her here so they could take their "honeymoon," and her good mood faded again. 

"Well, I guess I should at least start figuring out what we'll do once we land," she sighed. Then her stomach growled again. "I guess we should get dinner. And I need to go shopping for a swimsuit. And then we need to check into our hotel—do you know the local time?"

"It's about three-thirty in the afternoon," he said.

"But we flew for seven hours—Oh, right, that time change! Perfect!" she cried delightedly. "I need to get a few things since we didn't repack."

Brandt smiled, happy that Miss Sydney's mood had turned around with the nap. "Shopping again?"

"'Fraid so. It'll be just a quick trip before dinner, and then we'll pick up the keys to the house," she rambled, thinking out loud. "Did you get any sleep on the way here?"

Brandt shook his head. He had been admiring her while she was sleeping, but he wasn't about to admit it. 

He was secretly excited. Miss Sydney was so generous, giving him more than he'd ever dreamed. He knew he couldn't repay her with sex—that was forbidden—but there still had to be some way to show his gratitude. He could cook, but not as well as Zaide, and he wasn't talented with music or organizational skills like Talon. Like all attendants, he'd been trained in every kind of physical contact, from the pleasurable to the painful. 

"Could...would it be alright if...Igaveyouabackmassageafterwesettledinthehouse?" he asked in a rush. 

Sydney blinked in surprise. "What for?"

"You look stressed," he mumbled, his face coloring with embarrassment.

She considered for a moment. It was awfully forward of him to suggest something as intimate as a massage, but given his training, he could probably do little else. It was probably ingrained in him to offer such personal services when sex wasn't an option. Well, she could certainly do with fewer knots in her shoulders, and if it helped him along the path of becoming an independent individual, then it was all for the good.

"As long as you remember our first rule, I would enjoy that very much. Thank you," she said with a gracious smile. Brandt looked very pleased. Then the "fasten seatbelts" sign dinged and the stewardess announced that they'd be landing in Honolulu International Airport momentarily.

The plane landed and Sydney rushed out of the airplane without waiting for the boys. They would undoubtedly be hot on her tail. She was right; they all met up at the baggage claim. Then she rented another car—this time a swank convertible—and they drove into Honolulu city.

It was easy enough to find tourist traps full of all the things vacationers would need to survive island life. She pulled into a parking spot and everyone but Lucy got out. Lucy was still in her carrier, but seemed happy to snooze the afternoon away. In front of the car, Sydney motioned for all of them to gather around her. 

"Alright, this is going to be priority one shopping—find swimsuits and island wear, even a few accessories we've forgotten so far, like wallets. Don't get any souvenirs—we'll have time for those later," she instructed. "Ready?"

They all nodded. Talon and Zaide looked moderately pleased, and Brandt was grinning. Sydney hooked arms with Brandt and lead the way into the first shop. She knew she was avoiding the two older men, but she was not going to sleep with them tonight and she didn't want to give them any encouragement to try anything that would make her change her mind. 

They browsed racks and Sydney found a bright red hibiscus bikini right away. She bought the matching sarong too. Brandt found a pair of green board shorts to add to the purchase. In the next shop, she found a pair of cork wedge sandals and a tropical print sundress. She also insisted Brandt get several Hawaiian button-down shirts. Two shops down, Sydney found a coffee shop and got her espresso fix for the afternoon. It would tide her over for dinner. She hummed after her first sip of Kona coffee and felt some of the tension in her shoulders lessen. With coffee in her hand, all was right in the world. 

After a few more shops, they went back to the car and followed her cellphone's GPS directions to the rental office. They arrived just before 5pm and the office was just closing up when they pulled up. The real-estate agent gave them the key without any protest, although she did give Sydney more than one odd look. After all, she was a woman in the company of three men and a large dog—and anyone could see she was the one in control, just as much as anyone could see that these men weren't her blood relatives. Her little group stuck out like a sore thumb, and left the real estate agent wondering which one she was banging.

Ignoring the odd looks, Sydney accepted the keys and ran back to the car. Her phone provided better directions than the printout the agent had given her and in 10 minutes of slightly awkward ukulele-music-filled driving later, they were at the house. 

It was a beautiful house. The front stairs weaved up a slight hill and between patches of tropical plants. Inside the door, the house was filled with light earthen tones and teak paneling. Sydney closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She was here to relax. Not to get her brains screwed out. Relax.

She turned to the boys with a military-click of her heels. "Alright, there are only three bedrooms—sorry guys, but two of you are going to have to share. I will take the upstairs bedroom and I'll be sleeping alone. So pick your sleeping arrangements and unpack. After that, we'll order take out or something.

Then she turned and ran up the stairs as quickly as she could while hauling her suitcase behind her. She closed the door and sat down on the floor with her back against it, her heart racing and her chest heaving. 

This was it, she told herself. She would force herself to stay away from them—and prove that their previous intimacies were purely superficial exchanges. They were all adults after all. Sex didn't have to mean anything. 

Then why did her heart twist at the idea of never kissing Talon again? Why did she feel like crying when she thought of the lonely nights without Zaide's muscular body keeping her warm?

No, it was just her hormones getting the better of her. Logically, they could not continue like this, she reminded herself. There was no future for her with either of them. They were victims of brainwashing and behavioral conditioning and she was doing the right thing by refusing their attentions. She had to be. 

After a few deep breaths, she got up and unpacked her bags. It seemed silly, now that she was in Hawaii, to put away all these jeans and flannel pajamas in the drawers. She'd never wear them in the 78 degree weather. She smiled as she unpacked her shopping bags. She knew the bikini would look great on her, and the dress was super-cute! For the first time in her life, she had really enjoyed picking out all kinds of over-priced island wear. When had shopping become so much fun? 

Oh, right. When the boys had gone with her. Somehow, twirling in the fitting-room mirror felt different when she knew that Talon or Zaide would soon see how wonderful she looked.

Annoyed with herself all over again, she decided she needed a swim. She pulled out her new bikini and put it on. The warm evening air felt good on her skin and she had been right about buying this suit—she was dynamite! 

She opened the bedroom door just a crack and looked out. No one was in the hall or in what part of the living room she could see at the end of the stairs. She listened, but she couldn't hear anything. Relieved that the boys were otherwise occupied (probably unpacking, and maybe even avoiding her), she crept out of her room in her underwear. She tiptoed down the stairs and out the back door without seeing anyone else. She reached the pool and smiled to herself. The pale blue water looked so inviting.

Without any hesitation, she jumped off the edge of the pool, tucked her legs under her, and plunged into the warm water. She let herself float for a minute near the bottom of the pool. She loved the weightless feeling. Then she extended her limbs and leisurely kicked to the surface. She grabbed a fresh lungful of air before slipping again under the water and dolphin-kicked her way to the shallow end. She rested against the wall and wiped the water out of her eyes, just in time to see Talon descending the pool stairs. 

Sydney rolled her eyes and sank under the water. Talon was in a new pair of black and white board shorts, and he looked smoking hot in them too. She pushed off the wall and swam to the other end of the pool. She should just get out of the pool and go back to her room, but she hadn't even started her swim and she was still full of negative feelings. She pushed off the wall, turned over and drifted on her back staring up at the early evening sky while she thought. Maybe if she didn't talk to him...

Her head hit something semi hard and startled, she rolled under the water and stood up. She flipped her hair and wiped the water and hair out of her eyes to see what she had hit. It was Talon. He had deliberately waded right into her path. She glared at him. He looked at her with wide and sad eyes, and she could feel it plucking at her heartstrings. 

"What's your problem?" she demanded. 

Talon looked down and softly replied, "Please, Miss Sydney. Please tell me what I can do to make you happy."

He sounded so forlorn that her first impulse was to hug him. She instead held back by hugging herself. 

"Nothing. It's not you," she tried to convince him. "I just...don't want anything...from you...right now."

"Are you going to return me then?" he asked, sounding defensive and desperate. 

"NO!" she cried, waving her hands in front of her in denial. "I'm not going to send you back. Not ever!"

"But...if I can't serve you, I don't belong by your side...I don't belong in your house," he protested. 

"What a load of—you're great at the office administration stuff. Why can't you just do that?" she offered.

"Is that all I am to you?" he whispered, his throat croaked up with emotion. "A secretary?" He looked about to cry. She couldn't resist putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He seemed to melt slightly at her touch.

"What? No! Not all. I'd like to think of you as my friend—even part of my family eventually," she assured him. It was so odd to see him so out of sorts. 

"I have only one purpose in my life. I accepted that a long time ago. If you have no need of me, I will accept that, too, in the only way I can," he retorted. "Send me back, if you refuse to use me."

"How can you ask me to do that? To sign your death warrant?" Sydney hissed, horrified. She gripped both his shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes.

"I am nothing without you," he said simply. 

"You are so much without me—you don't need me to define your existence—to give your life meaning! You are a wonderful man, Talon. A beautiful, intelligent, strong, compassionate man. I refuse to send you back to certain death. I would never do anything to hurt you," she vowed. I would like to do a lot of other things, she thought to herself. 

"You can chain me, whip me, cut me, beat me and starve me, but the only way you will truly hurt me is if you deny me your company," he insisted.

Sydney jerked her hands away from his shoulders as if they burned her palms. She plunged them under the water to cool them, but the shape of his muscles was imprinted on her fingertips. How could he be so...intense? So potent? She backpedalled franticly, trying to find more fuel for her anger. Anger was good at keeping people at a distance. 

"So is this what it comes down to? Is sex the be all and end all of your life?"

"You are the be all and end all of my life," he replied. "You are unhappy now. I can feel it in my bones."

"And one bad day is enough to determine your failure in...in attending me?" she snapped. "How do you know I'm not just in a bad mood? Or that I don't have cramps that would kill a wallaby? Or that I'm not more fed up with myself, wrestling with my conscious, and lashing out at you?"

"I wish you really would lash out at me because the pain would be easier to bear than this emptiness. Every time you've looked at me today, your mouth puckers in a disgusted snarl." Talon said. "You haven't talked to me or given me any hints. You've been blocking me and Zaide all day. What can I conclude but something about me is repugnant?"

Sydney looked up at him guiltily. "I haven't really been snarling at you all day...have I?" She knew she had. She hadn't meant to, but every time she'd glanced at Talon or Zaide, she'd heard Brenna's distressing observation. Married. 

"It breaks my heart every time I see it," he whispered. 

"Talon, can't you just find someone else to dote on?" she moaned, close to defeat. He was so lost and she wanted to wrap her arms around him. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her. She had been lonely without their touching all day, and even though she was lavishing attention on Brandt, it just wasn't the same. 




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 06



"I don't want anyone but you," he replied simply. She wanted to believe it was just his training that made him say that, but she could see the conviction in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. Brenna had been right; he would willingly dive in front of a bullet for her. He was smitten.

Sydney threw her arms around him and buried her face between his throat and his collar bone. "Do you know how many women would kill to have a guy like you?"

"Then why don't you want me?" he wanted to know, as his own arms wrapped around her small waist and held her close.

"I DO want you—I want you too much and I shouldn't be allowed to have you," she tried to explain. His warm hands were stroking her back, leaving a burning wake on her cool skin. 

"Don't deny yourself," he insisted, lowering his head to kiss her shoulder. "I live for your pleasure."

"You should live for yourself," she protested, kissing him back on the cheek, neck, anything she could reach. "You should be an individual." Her hormones had broken through the barrios she'd held up against them all day, and now were raging beyond all control. Talon knew where to touch her to make her crazy, where to plant kisses designed to drive her insane. He was feeding on her now, kissing and sucking her shoulder and throat, and she had no chance of backing off. 

"I am nothing without you," he repeated, his voice muffled against her neck as he kissed his way to her earlobe.

She didn't try correcting him. Instead she wrapped one leg around his hips as she tried to pull herself closer. Her whole body was suddenly aching with need. A part of her mind knew it shouldn't be since they had had sex the previous night, but for some reason she couldn't get enough of the feel of his muscles or the taste of his skin.

His hands cupped her butt cheeks and held her against his erection. She shivered with the pleasure of knowing how much he wanted her. A man can't fake it, she told herself. They can be easy to please, but they can't fake it when they don't want it. 

With that thought to comfort her, she leaned harder into him, sucking and biting his neck, knowing she would leave a hickey. She didn't care. His grunting and moaning encouraged her like nothing else. She wanted him to want her. She wanted to drive him as crazy as he drove her. She wanted to repay him in all the worst ways for all the trouble she'd been through since Brenna had started meddling in her affairs. 

Talon's hands, still on her butt, lifted her off of the pool floor and she willingly wrapped both legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together behind him. His fingers squeezed and massaged, sending shivers of pleasure all the way up her body. One of Sydney's hands was buried in his long silky hair, holding his head in place while she crafted the hickey. The other hand absently fingered his throat, tracing his jugular, trachea, and Adam's apple with her fingernails.

"We need a flat surface," she whispered against his neck. He nodded slightly and waded back to the steps of the pool. She could feel his whole body tremble with the strain of holding her up while being so stimulated by her mouth and hands, by knowing how close he was to plunging deep into the sanctuary of her body only to be thwarted by some cheap souvenir clothing. 

He made it to the sturdy sunbathing chair, crafted from rich wood with lush green pillows for padding. He gently laid her down before he half fell on top of her. He kissed her chest along the edges of her bikini. Then he grazed his teeth over her hard nipples through the cloth as his hands stroked her waist and hips. Sydney rained kisses on his head as both hands circled and caressed his neck. She was tempted to strangle him, but he might like that. As it was, his erection was liable to rip through his board shorts. She pressed her hips close to him, encouraging him with a gentle squeeze on the back of his neck. 

He took her meaning; one hand shoved down his shorts and released his throbbing member. Then, he cupped her mound, rubbing her gently through the crotch of the bikini. She was so wet, and not only with pool water. He could smell her sweet juices calling to him. Because trying to remove her bikini bottom would require her to unwrap her legs from his waist, he simply pulled aside the fabric of her swimsuit and drove himself deep inside her. 

Sydney gasped at his invasion, but welcomed it. She felt stretched and filled and somehow complete. Her heart raced and adrenalin flooded her system. He pulled back and surged forward again. His set a frantic pace, as if he was afraid to stop. Their breathing synchronized. She gasped and panted. He grunted. She pushed into him while he plunged into her. No words, no direction or explanation. They were just two people trying to get as close as possible. 

She felt the orgasm approaching like a freight train. It rumbled through her entire body and she had to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming. As her teeth sank into his shoulder, he gave a hoarse shout and drove every last inch of his length deep inside her, where he finally came, filling her with even more heat. She shuddered helplessly against him as she luxuriated in his unquenchable desire for her and the pleasure he was able to give her. 

Suddenly his body went ridged almost protectively over her, and she glanced up at his face. He wasn't looking at her but glaring towards the house. 

"Brandt! Get back inside," came Zaide's authoritative voice from somewhere beyond the French doors. 

A boulder of dread materialized in Sydney's stomach to drag it down as she looked to where Talon was glaring and saw Brandt running towards the house. 

"Oh no," she sighed. Guilt and humiliation rolled more rocks on her chest, making it hard to breathe. 

Brandt sprinted away from the sight of Talon buried deep in Miss Sydney. He was embarrassed for "walking in" on them—it violated Miss Sydney's privacy—but he also felt sick as memories from his training flooded back. Images, sounds, sensations, all rose to torment him. He stumbled into his room and shut the door. He leaned against it as if he could hold the flashbacks at bay, but they overtook him and he crumpled to the floor, sobbing. 

The memories were bad enough, but with them came the new fear that Miss Sydney would see his delinquency for what it was. He knew didn't deserve to be her property—not even as much as a footstool. It shouldn't hurt this much to see Miss Sydney and Talon being intimate. He knew she would be doing that with Talon and Zaide. She had even asked for his permission to do it and he had said it would be ok. Zaide had known what was going on—the fact that he had called Brandt back when he had frozen under Talon's glare was proof enough of that. But Zaide wasn't embarrassed about it. He was probably joining them right now, in the one event Brandt had no hope of competing in.

Would she hate him now, for interrupting her? He had seen her climax, watched the expressions of pure bliss fill up her face until she shone as bright as a star. He had even noticed Talon's ecstasy as he had exploded inside her. Together, they had been the perfect image of carnal pleasure and satisfaction. It had been as fascinating as it was mortifying. But somehow, with the growing affection for the woman who had saved his life over and over again, the thought that he would always be deficient made him sick to his stomach.

Talon and Zaide were right about him—he was broken. The PPA had known it, Zaide and Talon knew it: he was broken beyond repair. But Miss Sydney was his last hope—without her, he would be dead or worse. And now that he'd experienced kindness and compassion, he didn't want to die. What if Miss Sydney gave up on him? Well, that would truly be the end of his life. 

But he had to prove himself worthy. He had to do something—SOMETHING! He had to make up for the broken part of him somehow. He just didn't know how. Talon and Zaide took care of her needs better than he ever could. With them in her life, he was redundant at best, a burden at worst. He wracked his brains trying to think of something, some way he could be better, to make up for this horrible mistake. 

His miserable musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. He held his breath, waiting for the intruder to identify themselves.

"Brandt?" It was Miss Sydney. "Are you ok, hun?"

"I'm fine!" he called, his voice high pitched in an effort to keep it from cracking.

"Do you want to talk?" she pushed. 

"Nothing to talk about," he squeaked.

"Brandt, please open the door," she half-asked, half-ordered.

For a split second he considered telling her no. He almost did. But maybe it was the training or his own heart, but he didn't want to deny her anything. So he stood up, scrubbed the tears off his face, and opened the door. 

Sydney was still in her bikini, but wrapped in a towel as a token of modesty. 

"Are you really alright?" she asked, noticing his red face and puffy eyes. 

He nodded. He could tell she was worried about him, as if she really cared about him. It put a lump in his throat and he wasn't able to reply. 

"I'm really sorry we weren't more discrete," she said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"Don't apologize," Brandt protested hastily. "I invaded your privacy. I was going to take a swim, but I didn't realize the pool was occupied. I should have left sooner."

"Still. I kinda feel like it's leaving a bear trap out in the open. I mean, you can't not walk into it. Or something like that. I'm probably going off on a tangent, but I wanted to make sure you were ok," she said. 

"I am," he assured her for the third time. 

"You were crying," she pointed out gently. 

He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm broken," he said as stoically as possible. "So things leak out."

"You're not broken," she replied. "Not to me. I like you just the way you are. And I'm glad you're here. Truly."

"I'm not much use," he mumbled. 

"If that's what you think, then I'll give you something to do," she offered. "For starters, you can pick out what we're ordering for dinner."

He smiled sheepishly. She wasn't going to listen to that sort of self-depreciation talk from him—he should have known better. She wouldn't indulge him in self-pity when she could include him in her life. He was falling for her and he didn't care who knew it. 

"How about Chinese?" he suggested.

"Classic and tasty. I like it. Use the phone in the living room and order whatever you like—I only ask that you don't get shrimp or pork on everything," she replied with an encouraging grin. "I'm going to slip back in the pool. This time you're welcome to join me."

Brandt's smile widened and he nodded. "Thank you, Miss Sydney. For everything."

She left and he leaned against the doorway to catch his breath. He didn't know exactly what had just happened, but suddenly it didn't hurt so much in his heart. 

Sydney was relieved Brandt hadn't been emotionally scarred. She was still a bit embarrassed, and couldn't really look at Talon, who had decided to rest on one of the reclining chairs by the pool—the exact reclining chair they had just made love on, actually. So instead of going directly to the pool, she made a sideline into the kitchen, where Zaide was taking inventory of the cooking utensils. 

"Brandt's going to order Chinese for us," she told him. "So you don't need to worry about dinner."

"Do I need to worry about you?" he asked, his voice deep and husky. 

Sydney closed her eyes and tried to remind herself that she had to resist him, but she couldn't think of the single reason to support that goal. "I'm sorry if I was unduly snappy or harsh or neglectful today," she apologized stiffly. 

"As long as you are happy now, I am content," he replied smoothly. 

She opened her eyes and glared. "Why are you so accommodating? You just go all 'Prince-Charming' on me and I just want to drag you into the bedroom because I don't know anything else to do with you."

Zaide took a step closer so that he could tower over her and look down into her rich hazel eyes. "You don't have to drag me anywhere," he reminded her with a suggestive arch of his eyebrow. "I'm quite happy to pleasure you here."

"After Brandt just walked in on me and Talon? No way!" she hissed, shoving his chest. He didn't move. 

"I can close up all the shutters and there's a sliding door that will make the kitchen a private space," he informed her. "No one will interrupt us."

"And you just take it for granted that we're going to jump each other, right here, right now?" she demanded sarcastically. 

"I take nothing for granted—least of all you. I am merely stating the possibilities," he explained, although his voice gave her an idea of the possibilities he was considering. 

She sighed and turned away from him to look out the small window behind the sink. Her resolve had broken down with Talon, but did that mean she should give into Zaide too? He obviously wanted her—she could see that through his jeans easy enough. Would it be rude to claim she was tired? Would it be worse only to have sex with one and not the other? Would she be betraying her intentions to prove the non-marriage circumstances of their relationship if she consummated it once more? She didn't want to be married—not because she didn't like the idea—marriage to a loving and caring husband seemed like the ideal relationship—but she wasn't sure she wanted it with them and she was pretty sure that she couldn't be married to two men at once.

Zaide sensed her inner turmoil and came up behind her to encircle his arms around her middle. Suddenly, Sydney felt safe. It was silly, she told herself, because...well, because she owned him! She should be the one making him safe! But his strong arms radiated stability and security. She relaxed into his embrace. Where she would dominate Talon, Zaide encapsulated her. He was a pillar. 

"Zaide, do you think I'm odd?" she asked, even as she leaned into his broad chest. 

"Only in the most wonderful ways," he crooned into her ear. 

"How could anyone be 'wonderfully odd'?" she wanted to know, trying not to let herself get sucked into his gentle seduction.

"Your oddities include unquestioning generosity, unbounded faith, and inspiring confidence," he replied. His hands started to stroke and massage her abdomen, sides, and hips. 

"And my other oddities, like sleeping with two men at once and owning other human beings doesn't bother you at all?" she challenged, trying to keep her mind on her ethical debate and not on the way her skin prickled and her blood surged like lava through her veins.

"As long as you love me," he whispered. He wanted to say more, to utter words of complete devotion and adoration, but he was a little hurt that she had shunned him all day. Still, what he couldn't speak in words he could say in action. 

He peeled the towel away from her and draped it over the sink. Then he gathered her in his arms so that she could face him and rained kisses on her face, neck and chest. One hand untied the bikini strings behind her neck and the other pulled one side away from her soft, warm breast. He lapped at the nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. She moaned at the familiar but intense pleasure and involuntarily arched her chest towards him. He took the encouragement and filled his mouth with her sweet flesh while her hands massaged his neck and shoulders. 

Then he pulled away and respectfully retied her bikini strings. 

"What...what's wrong?" Sydney cried breathlessly. 

"Nothing," he reassured her with a kiss. "Just that Brandt is outside the kitchen doing his best not to walk in on you again."

"Oh." Sydney blushed. 

"Believe me, butterfly, I want nothing more than to worship and pleasure your body with mine. If you don't care about Brandt listening in, I'd be more than happy to—"

"No, that's ok. Thank you for being so thoughtful," she quickly interrupted him. 

He smiled as he picked up the towel and gently wrapped her up again. He sighed as he tucked the last corner between her breasts, his fingers stroking the soft, warm flesh of her cleavage.

"What?" she asked, worried.

"I just don't know when I'll get my next taste of you," he replied softly. "I...miss you."

"We were together last night," she reminded him, a little embarrassed.

He shrugged. "I still miss you." And I want you all to myself, not shared with that masochistic moron, he almost added. There must have been some undercurrent in his tone, because she glanced at him with a knowing look in her eyes. 

"I suppose I should see what Brandt is up to," Sydney changed the subject. She double checked her towel and then left the kitchen.

Brandt was fidgeting in the living room, stroking Lucy's back. He looked up as soon as she came out. 

"I ordered dinner!" he reported. "Chow mien, fried rice, sweet-and-sour chicken, Kung-pao beef, General Zao's chicken, four orders of hot and sour soup, and veggie spring rolls. Do you think that will be enough?"

"Enough and then some!" Sydney replied with a smile. "Thank you very much. It takes a load off my mind."

Brandt smiled, relieved that he had done something right. "It'll be here in half an hour."

"That's just enough time for a quick swim," she said. "You still up for it?"

Brant nodded eagerly. Sydney led the way back to the pool. Talon was still relaxing on the deck chair they had just made love on. She dropped her damp towel on his face and cannon balled into the pool. When she came up, she noticed Brant nervously entering the water. She swam near to him and splashed him playfully.

"Come on. Race you to the other side," she said teasingly. Before he could respond, she dove under the water and kicked to the other side easily. When she popped up and looked behind her, she saw Brandt flailing in the water, trying keep his head up with a bizarre version of the dog paddle. She suddenly realized he couldn't swim!

She pushed off the wall and sped towards him. As his head slipped under the water, she hooked an arm under his shoulder and dragged him back to the shallow end of the pool.

"You ok, hun?" she asked once he could stand again. "You should have told me you couldn't swim."

"You just made it look so easy," he spluttered, his face coloring in embarrassment. He tried to hide it by wiping the water off his face repeatedly.

"It is easy, after twenty-five years of doing it," she replied teasingly with a comforting hand on his arm. "I was swimming before I could walk. But are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Come on, I'll teach you the basics. First, lie on your back."

"I'll sink!" he cried in alarm.

"You won't sink. I'll be right here helping to stay afloat," she replied comfortingly. "Come on, give it a shot. Just spread your arms and legs out wide, like you're a starfish."

Brandt hesitantly let Sydney support his shoulders as he rolled onto his back. He started to sink and his arms and legs flailed as he panicked. Sydney calmly placed her palm on the small of his back, forcing his abdomen into the air.

"Bellybutton up," she ordered, parroting her old swimming instructor. "Pretend there's a string running from your spine through your bellybutton to the sky. Keep your arms and legs out. Breathe. There, you're getting it now!"

Brandt relaxed at the firm touch of her hands and followed her instructions. To his surprise, he was floating! He felt safe and excited. He was doing something right.

Sydney smiled at the elated expression on his face.

"If you move your arms and legs a bit, you'll see that you can direct where you float," she told him. "I'm going to take my hands away for a minute—I'll be right here to catch you if you start to sink, don't worry. You'll be floating on your own in three...two...one...and..."

She gently pulled back her hands and let him float on his own. He went a little ridged and his butt started to drop.




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 07



Sydney woke up promptly at 5 am, which would have been 8 am back home, so it seemed a reasonable enough hour. She peaked out her bedroom door but didn't see or hear anyone, so it seemed safe enough to take a bundle of her clothes and dash to the bathroom. 

As she took her customary scalding hot shower, she tried to plan out her day. Maybe what she really needed was to just get away from the boys. If she had any hope of resisting them, there had to be some distance between them, and physical distance was the easiest to achieve. It was settled then. She would leave them to their own devices today and explore the Island on her own. She hadn't been alone for more than a few minutes since she'd brought them home. Maybe being away from all the raging hormones would let her brain finally think!

Then she looked down at herself, and realized that while she was thinking of the boys, she had started to finger herself again. Just the thought of Zaide and Talon and what they could do to her made her unbearably horny. She pulled her hands away and tried to wash away the desire, but it had already gone too far. Last night's disappointment just made the desire worse now. 

Looking around the bathroom, she found a shampoo bottle that was the size and shape she needed. She sat down in the tub and slowly slid it inside her, imagining it was Talon. She wished she had a hot, male body to help prop her up as she set back in the tub, but firmly resolved to be as quiet as possible. With one hand working on her clit and the other rhythmically pumping the bottle inside her, she sought her own release. Like before, it was long in coming, but finally the orgasm overtook her. Her muscles clamped down on the larger bottle and she clamped her jaw shut to keep from making a single squeak. Her back arched as the climax took hold. When it passed, she pulled out the bottle, now gooey with her own juices. 

Slightly disgusted with herself and more frustrated than ever, she washed the bottle and between her legs. The shower spray sent shivers of pleasure through her body as the droplets hit her tender flesh and tempted her to try again, but she suspected she'd spend all day masturbating in the shower if she tried finding any lasting satisfaction.

She exited the shower, dried off with one of the towels hanging on the bar, and quickly got dressed. She tiptoed back to her room to slip on a pair of sandals and grab her purse. Then she softly padded down the stairs and grabbed her keys with minimal jingle. She turned to sprint out the front door and ran into a t-shirt thinly-stretched over Zaide's broad chest.

"Good morning, Butterfly." He leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek. "Are you ready for coffee?"

"That sounds great, but I'll pick some up at a drive through," she hurriedly explained, edging around him to get to the door.

"Are we going somewhere before breakfast?" he asked.

"No, I am going out for the day. Girl's day. That sort of thing," she replied, finally reaching the door. "You guys can do whatever you like. I'll try to be home for dinner. Bye!"

She slipped out and closed the door behind her. Breathing a sigh of relief, she ran to her car and tore out of the driveway. 

She was FREE! No boys to worry about, no inferiority complexes, no lingering trauma, and no surprise info on the life and training of an aspiring personal attendant. She could do anything she wanted today; shopping, swimming, pampering or just driving. 

Determined to enjoy herself, she drove to the closest tourist trap and ordered a large, sugary coffee. She was relieved that there was no pressure to eat. Zaide was just looking out for her, she knew, but sometimes food—no matter how tasty—was just tiresome. 

She walked down a row of shops that weren't open yet and just enjoyed the sea breeze. She could linger and meander as she wished. Today was hers. There was a small beauty salon that was just flipping over their "open" sign and on a whim, Sydney decided she needed a mani-peti today. 

In the shop, she picked out a bright aqua for her toes and opted for a more discreet French manicure for her fingers. She even had the beautician paint tiny white turtles on her big toes, each with a rhinestone glued onto their shells. She left a lavish tip and disposed of her coffee cup before continuing her walk. 

She wandered for a couple of hours, but the more time she spent alone, the more she resented how much she thought of her boys. It started with a beautiful guitar in a shop window, and Sydney had the sudden impulse to buy it for Talon when she realized she hadn't yet heard him play. She shook her head and forced herself to walk past the shop. 

Later, she saw a set of cooking knives, and wondered if Zaide would need them in this strange—and probably under stocked—kitchen. She deliberately left the store and continued walking. When her fingers of their own volition found a new dog toy for Brandt, she knew she needed something stronger than coffee.

Fortunately, she'd wasted the entire morning, so a lunch time piña-colada would really hit the spot. She found a perfect little tiki bar by the shore—all tourists, no locals looking down their noses at the sauced visitors—and ordered. 

"I guess it's not such a large ocean after all," called a vaguely familiar voice. 

Sydney turned towards the voice and found Mason Kirk charmingly smiling at her. "Fancy meeting you here, captain," she replied. 

"It's nice to see you, Sydney. Is your intern around?" he asked, looking through the tiki bar crowd for Brandt. 

"No, I left him back at the beach house," she explained. "It's a girl day for me."

"Sounds like fun—and I can see you're in the mood to party," he commented as her piña colada was served. 

"I just have some continental dust to knock off my feet, and these seem to make it come off easier," she smiled. 

"Would company be welcome?"

"Most welcome."

"Then let's grab a table," Mason suggested. He led the way over to a private corner where he was already nursing a beer. Sydney slid into the chair he held for her and grinned behind the umbrella of her drink. 

They talked for a while about nonsensical things, unable to keep on one topic. That might have been the alcohol or the thrill of talking to a real, emancipated man, or both. Soon they left the bar and walked down the street together, not quite touching on purpose, but accidentally bumping into each other as often as they could. 

The hours seemed to fly by and before she knew it, it was dinner time. With only the smallest twinge of guilt, Sydney accepted Mason's dinner invitation. He took her to a swanky restaurant where he cuddled up next to her in the booth. Sydney nibbled on appetizers and then a salad while listening to funny stories. She wanted to chime in, so that he didn't think she was utterly boring, but she couldn't think of anything particularly funny that didn't have to do with the boys. In fact, the more she tried to put the boys out of her head, the more they intruded. 

Finally, dinner was over. They walked together until Sydney realized that they were at the Embassy suites. They paused behind a large palm together and their eyes met. She knew what he wanted next.

"I guess this is where we part ways—I need to go find my car," she giggled coyly. 

"Why don't you come up to my room for a nightcap," Mason suggested. "Besides, you had a lot to drink at dinner—I wouldn't be a good friend if I let you drive home buzzed."

Sydney blushed, flattered and giddy. "That's sweet of you, but I really should get going...my intern will be worried."

"He's a big boy," he assured her, drawing her into his arms. "He'll be fine."

"I suppose," she agreed reluctantly as she pressed up against his almost rock hard chest. She turned her head up to his and he bent his head to kiss her. 

Instantly, she knew something was wrong. The way his mouth touched hers, the way his lips tugged, his tongue probed—he wasn't interested in giving her pleasure at all. He was taking pleasure for himself without any consideration for her. The difference between his kiss and Talon's or Zaide's kiss was so obvious, it shocked her. 

She pulled back. "I really should go," she tried to excuse herself. 

"Don't leave me, baby," he cooed, his arms locking around her.

"I have to," she said, firmly. "I'll meet you tomorrow, if you like. Same time, same place?"

"Stay with me tonight and we won't have to meet anywhere," he insisted. He pinned her against the palm trunk and kissed her roughly again. 

"Mason, please," she begged when she broke away from the kiss. "I want to go home."

"You're a long way from home, baby," he warned, his hands stroking her body even as he kept her immobile against the palm. "But you'll be in good hands with the captain here."

"No, Mason," she said clearly and loudly. "Let me go."

"Don't be like that, baby," he wheedled. "I can give you anything you want. Do you need a little spending money? Maybe a fancy new dress and jewelry? If we go up to my room, I can order you fruity drinks until you pass out."

Sydney was appalled. This classy gentleman she thought she'd spend the day with was nothing more than an oily snake trying to bribe her into bed. And she had no illusions about how utterly awful the sex would be with him—he would make love the same way he kissed: selfishly! It was men like this that made her hate dating. Her instincts had been right all along—dating wasn't worth it! In her heart, she cried out for Talon and Zaide and even Brandt to come and save her.

"No—I don't need your money or your booze. I'm leaving," she insisted as she started to struggle. 

Mason grabbed her wrists and yanked them above her head. "Enough with playing hard to get."

"I'm not playing—you are not getting me!" she yelled at him. 

His hand slapped over her mouth. She bit his palm. He yelped and pulled away. She didn't hesitate—she screamed.

"Shut the fuck up, you bitch," Mason hissed. 

"Ma'am, is this man bothering you?" a deep voice intruded. 

Sydney and Mason turned in unison to see a large native-Hawaiian security officer flexing his fingers into fists, ready to pulverize Mason. 

"Yes!" Sydney gasped. 

"No, we're just role-playing—" Mason tried to explain. 

"Yes, he's bothering me. He won't leave me alone!" she blurted desperately. 

"Sir, please step away from the lady, before I physically remove you," the security guard growled. 

Mason swore under his breath, but the security guard out-classed him by about 80 lbs. He stepped away from her, his hands held in the air in surrender. 

"Ma'am, would you like me to call the police so you can have him arrested for assault?" the security officer formally asked. "Or would you like me to beat this scum into a grease spot right here?"

"I'm not going to let him ruin my vacation by spending it at the police station," she grumbled, glaring at Mason. "But if you come near me again, I'll have a fleet of lawyers rip your ass apart in court."

Mason sneered and walked away. Sydney let out the breath she was holding. She turned to the security officer. 

"Thank you, Angel," she said, reading his name tag. "I really, really appreciate your intervention."

"No problem, Ma'am," he assured her. "Can I escort you to your room?"

"Oh, I'm not staying here—he is—but I wouldn't go with him to his room," she explained. She felt numb and raw at the same time. She knew she'd start shaking soon. 

"Then can I escort you to your car?" he asked, patient and concerned. 

"It's down the street—at a tiki bar..." she replied and turned to walk down the sidewalk. 

"The tiki bar is the other way, Ma'am," the security guard corrected her gently. 

"Damnit," she muttered. 

"Ma'am, why don't I call you a taxi? You can pick up your car tomorrow," Angel suggested. 

"Thanks, that'd probably be a good idea," she sighed. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to shiver in the warm evening air. 

"Are you cold, Ma'am?" he asked, as concerned and polite as ever. 

"My name is Sydney. Sydney Tobin," she interjected. 

"Miss Tobin, are you going to be ok?" Angel asked bluntly. 

"It's just the shock," she replied, "of having all my worst fears confirmed in one night. Not only am I a poor judge of character and lacking in basic self-preservation instincts, but I seem to attract scumbags like...like..."

"Like a beautiful, single woman?" Angel supplied. 

Sydney threw him a suspicious glance and he quickly held up his left hand, showing off a simple gold band. 

"That's why I took my girl off the market as quickly as possible," he quickly explained. "And not all guys are that, just the really smooth ones. Can I offer some advice?"

"Sure," she agreed as they walked towards the front of the hotel.

"Find a geek or a social recluse that could never get you on his own," he suggested. "Even if he'll never be a millionaire or a poet or a highland warrior from a romance novel, he will treasure you because he'd know he'd destroy the chance of a lifetime if he broke your heart."

She smiled, thinking that any one of her boys could easily be a poet or a highland warrior, and she already had the millionaire part covered. "Did your wife do that?" she asked.

"Absolutely. My wife is a gorgeous geologist with a Ph.D. that I couldn't hope to deserve in a hundred years. But she's mine anyway. I'm just working security at the Embassy while she's on maternity leave," he replied proudly. 

"Aww—first baby?"

"Second," Angel grinned. They reached the drive, and there was already a taxi waiting. Angel opened the door for her. "Have a better night, Miss Tobin."

"Thank you, Angel," she repeated as she slid onto the cheap vinyl seat. "And your name really suits you."

He smiled and waved as the taxi drove away. 

When she got home, Zaide opened the door before she had a chance to try her key. He took one look at her and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her inside the beach house. 

"What happened?" he asked softly as they walked into the living room.

"Nothing," she tried to deny, but she could tell by the grim set of his mouth that he didn't believe it. Talon and Brandt raced into the common area, looking very concerned. 

"Miss Sydney, we were worried about you," Talon informed her, trying to keep his voice calm and even. Brandt nodded his agreement.

"Nothing's to worry about, guys. I just needed a day to myself," she explained, putting an effort into keeping her voice light. She did her best not to collapse on the couch. Zaide sat close beside her, unwilling to leave her alone. Talon sat on her other side and affectionately tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Then there was a loud knock at the door. Sydney's heart leapt and her fingernails dug into the couch cushions to keep her from running away. Why was she so panicky? Talon and Zaide looked at Brandt and he dutifully went to answer it. 

"Hello, chump!" came a familiar voice. Crack! Mason's fist connected with Brandt and he fell backwards against the wall. "Your boss and I have some unfinished business."

Mason walked into the living room and stopped short. Zaide and Talon slowly stood up, their faces darkened with anger. That anyone would have the gall to threaten Miss Sydney in this way filled them with protective rage. Only the slimmest sense of propriety kept them from attacking him out right—but the smallest cue from Miss Sydney would change all that.

Mason stopped when he saw the two men baring the way to Sydney.

"Who are they?" he sneered. "More interns? Sleeping with everyone in the mailroom, then?"

"Leave, before you get hurt," Talon growled. 

"You know she's just manipulating you, right?" Mason wheedled. "She's a damned cock-tease."

"She's allowed to tease," Zaide interjected. "I don't mind in the slightest." He stepped forward, every muscle in his torso bulging against the knit of his t-shirt until Sydney was half afraid (and half hopeful) that the fabric would rip. 

Mason's fervor visibly waned as he sized up the large bald man. He wavered, his fight-or-flight instinct tipping to flight, but he wasn't going to give up that easy. "She'll throw you out when she's done with you," he warned. 

"That's her prerogative," Brandt chimed in from behind Mason. He was holding his bloody nose, but there was a violent fire in his eyes that Sydney had never seen before. 

"And it doesn't concern you," Talon agreed.

"You're just a bunch of pussy-whipped chumps!" Mason roared. 

Sydney stood up. Seeing all three men stand up for her had fueled her courage and Mason's badgering had pushed her over the edge. Instantly, all attention was on her. 

"Mason Kirk, if you do not leave immediately, I will have you arrested for trespassing and assault. Keep slinging insults and I'll sue for verbal abuse," she threatened. "And even if they are—to use your words—'pussy-whipped chumps,' they can still pound you into hamburger while we wait for the police to arrive."

"Bitch!" he spat. 

Sydney let out a small huff of frustration—it wasn't even on purpose—but Zaide took it as a cue to finally swing at Mason. His fist connected squarely with Mason's jaw and Mason dropped to the floor, knocked unconscious by one blow. 

"Talon, please call the police," Sydney said as she sat down on the couch. The thought of talking to the cops with the boys anywhere near her made her a little nervous—they were her illegal sex slaves, after all. But she also reasoned that if she didn't charge Mason with assault first, he would probably charge Zaide. Zaide didn't have a full set of papers yet, forged or otherwise, so who knew what would happen when law enforcement got him into the system. 

Zaide took up a position beside Mason, ready to knock him out again if necessary, while Talon called 911. Sydney looked up and remembered Brandt's bloody nose. 

"Come into the kitchen, Brandt. Let's get some ice on your nose." She forced herself to stand and walked to the refrigerator. 

She dispensed ice into a kitchen towel and held the makeshift icepack to Brandt's nose. He winced as the cold came in contact with his bruised face, but didn't flinch away. He bravely accepted her ministrations. 

"I'm really sorry you got hurt in all of this," she said softly. 

"I'b sorry I let hib get past be," Brandt mumbled, his swollen nose affecting his speech. "Was he da one who upset you before you cabe hobe?"

Home. For some reason, her mind caught that one word, despite Brandt's accent. Where was home?

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I thought I'd lost him after a helpful security guard chased him off, but apparently he followed me here." She sighed. "Just another epic failure in a long list of bad dating choices."

"At least you have us, dow," Brandt tried to encourage her. "I hate to thik what would have happe'ed if we were dot here for you."

That hadn't occurred to her. She felt a chill go up her spine. Without the three of them to take a stand for her, how bad would it have turned out? Rape and abuse at the least. Would he have disfigured or crippled her? Killed her even, when he found out she had enough money and connections to keep him locked up for a long, long time?

Where had she gone wrong? What warning signs had she missed? She wasn't that dense...was she? No, Mason had been polite and kind. He'd said all the right things, made all the right gestures, and he waited to make a move until the end of the night, a socially acceptable time to try such a thing. He just couldn't—or wouldn't—take rejection. 

A police siren cut through her musings. She left Brandt in the kitchen with the cold pack, and went to meet the officers. They were polite, if a bit surprised that one woman was sharing a house with so many men. 

"This the guy who attacked you?" one asked, pointing contemptuously at Mason's prone form. 




Sydney's Dogs Ch. 07



"Yes," Sydney replied with as much finality in her voice as possible. "He was verbally and physically violent to me earlier tonight, and when he followed me here, he gave my intern a bloody nose."

"And it was unprovoked?" the other asked. 

"If you include refusing his sexual advances as provocation, then no," Sydney replied icily. The light of understanding lit up in both their eyes as they realized the essence of what had happened. 

Mason woke up as the police officers were handcuffing him. 

"What the fuck?" he cried.

"Sir, you're under arrest for assault and battery," the first police officer informed him. 

"I didn't touch her!" Mason denied. 

"You almost broke my intern's nose," she replied caustically. "I told you I'd file charges if you came near me again. So now I am."

"Bitch! You won't get a dime out of me," he spat. Then he turned to the officers. "She's just doing this for the money. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Do I look like I need money?" Sydney gestured to the house around her.

"Your company pay for all this—you probably slept with your boss to get this!" he retorted. 

"I AM THE BOSS OF MY COMPANY!" she roared. "I own Tobin Corp. AND all the subsidiaries. I make more in one business meeting than you make in a lifetime."

Mason's face paled as he finally comprehended who he had messed with. "I want to talk to my lawyer."

"Hey, are you Sydney Tobin?" The second officer asked. 

"Yes, that's me. Ol' Jake Tobin's daughter," she sighed. 

"Your company donated a new lab to my cousin's marine biology research center. You kept his research going when no one else would," he explained in awe. "They've had three breakthroughs since. You really did a good thing."

"Thanks," she accepted demurely. "I do what I can to make the world a better place." Like endorsing international slave traders, that vicious voice in her head whispered.

"Thank you," the officer replied. "If there's anything you need, let me know. We'll get this scum-bag out of your house now."

Talon escorted the officers and the downcast Mason out of the house. Sydney then opened up her cellphone and called her lawyer. She went to the window as she talked. 

"I know it's late, Megan, I'm sorry. I just want you to take care of this first thing in the morning...I just had a guy arrested for assault and battery...No, not me. A friend. But it was to get to me—he made sexual passes earlier at me tonight, but wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, yadda yadda yadda, and things got out of hand. My friend got in the way and probably saved me a nose job. Yes, I'll take him to the hospital right away and get the damage verified...I don't want money. I want this guy him butchered like the chauvinistic pig that he is. I want him on parole and in therapy and counseling and working off community service. If he ever harms another woman, I want him locked up!" she insisted. She knew her lawyer thought she was being too lenient, but as much as she despised Mason at the moment, she hoped he could change with the right wakeup call. "Thanks, Megan. I'll talk to you later."

She hung up. 

"I'll take Brandt to the hospital," Talon offered. 

Sydney threw him a grateful glance and the keys to the car. "You'll need to take a taxi. The car is at a tiki bar near the coast. Do you mind brining it home?"

"Not at all," Talon replied. 

Then she went over and gave Brandt a hug. "I know the hospital sucks, but you won't even be there overnight."

"It's dot so bad," Brandt replied bravely. "This tibe, I did somethi'g good, right?"

"Very good." She gave him a peck on the cheek. Then she hugged Talon. "Thank you."

"Please, don't worry, Miss Sydney. Everything will be alright," he reassured her. Then the two left and Sydney collapsed once more onto the sofa. 

Zaide sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, tears starting to sparkle in her eyes. Zaide wrapped the other arm around her and pulled her close. That's all it took. She stated sobbing. 

"I can't win," she cried. "I try and I try to be a good person, and I know I make mistakes. But is this my punishment? I know I'm a horrible person for buying you, but do I really deserve to get raped for it? Is that really cosmic justice? Is karma that cruel? Why can't I just find a nice guy to settle down with? I hate being alone and scared and always on the defensive. I hate it, I HATE IT! I just can't take it anymore. I don't want to date again. If I never meet another guy, it'll be too soon. Maybe I should just join a monastery and spend my life eating string beans."

Zaide just held her and rocked her gently until her sobbing and babbling subsided. 

"Miss Sydney, may I speak candidly?" he finally asked when she quieted. 

"You shouldn't even have to ask that," she grumbled. "Of course you can."

"You are not a horrible person for bringing Talon and Brandt and me into your life. Yes, we were trained and conditioned for years to be dedicated to whomever our owner turned out to be. But you are a wonderful person to be with. Every night, I thank any god that is listening that I ended up with you, and not some over-weight, poodle-haired, perfume-drenched, demanding, insulting, self-absorbed hag."

Sydney giggled at the image he painted.

"And maybe," he continued, "Karma or Cosmic Justice, or whatever you want to call it, put the three of us here to prevent you from getting abused by would-be lovers. Did you think of that?"

"Well, no..." she grudgingly admitted. 

"Is it so hard to care for us? Even just a little?" he whispered. 

"But...but the dynamic is all wrong. I don't want to be an owner or mistress," she protested. 

"Then just be a lover. You are in charge of what you want to be. Just because one underground organization claims you're one thing doesn't mean you have to conform to it," he insisted. "You've been running from who you think we are ever since you brought us home. Now we're in the middle of the Pacific and there's nowhere else to run."

Sydney thought about it, and the more she did, the more comfortable it felt. Certain facts about her life were inevitable. She was bound to Talon, Zaide, and Brandt by circumstances beyond her control until they were all dead. With sex thrown into the mix for two of the boys, as much as Sydney hated to admit it, Brenna was right; for all intents and purposes, they were married. Unconventionally, perhaps. Legally, no. Religiously—better not to think about that. But joined, definitely.

But just like the PPA's definition of "owner" didn't apply to her, neither did any conventional definition of "marriage." "Life partners" sounded misleading in so many ways. "Boyfriends" sounded kinky. They were simply family. A weird family, but maybe the family she had been secretly wishing for, for years.

Sydney hugged Zaide close, pressing her whole body against him. She kissed him with all her might. He responded in kind, kissing her back with the desperation of a drowning man needing air. She could feel his erection through his jeans and just the memory of her previous encounters made something in her womb melt with delight. Her hands snaked up his shirt to trace the well-defined muscles of his torso. Soon she shoved up the offending garment so her lips could follow their path. Obligingly, Zaide shucked his shirt quickly, and tossed it in the general direction of the kitchen. His hands began a similar path under her shirt.

She loved the way he smelled as they rubbed together, each trying to stimulate the other more. Frustrated with the lack of skin-to-skin contact, she pulled off her shirt and tossed her bra. As soon as her breasts were revealed, both of his hands cupped them and he gently twisted her hard nipples between thumbs and forefingers. She groaned and leaned into him as her hands drifted down to the button of his jeans. 

"Mmm, Butterfly," Zaide groaned, obviously enjoying himself. 

"What?" she grumbled as her fingers tore at the button and then the zipper. 

"Might I suggest...something more private?" he grunted. "After what happened last night and all?"

Oh. Sydney blushed and stopped trying to disrobe him. She got up and off him and started towards the stairs. Suddenly Zaide was right behind her, literally sweeping her off her feet. He carried her up to her room, closing the door behind him with one flick of a foot, and then laid her out on the bed. He gently pealed her jeans and panties from her and, before she could protest, his fingers probed her hot core. She had no idea why his hands felt so much more amazing than her own, but for a long moment, she was speechless with pleasure as he pushed as much of his hand as would fit inside her. She writhed, unable to find satisfaction but so enraptured that she didn't care. 

Then his tongue joined his hand, lapping at her clit, and she just exploded. She must have screamed, but her hearing seemed to cut out at the exact same time and the edges of her vision blurred to white. After the pent up hornyness from the night before and earlier that morning, not to mention the relief of being saved from Mason, the first orgasm was like a hurricane of marvelous ecstasy. 

Zaide pulled his hand away and let her recover for a minute while he finished stripping. Then he curled up next to her and just massaged her breast with one hand until her breathing returned to normal.

"I can feel that, you know," she whispered, one leg rubbing his raging hard on. 

"I can't help it, Butterfly. You are so damned delicious," he growled, kissing her ear and then down her neck, over her collar bone, to take one erect nipple in his mouth. 

"Then you'd better do something about it," she whimpered. "It can't be comfortable."

"Comfortable, no. But I am enjoying it," he replied. Then he pushed himself up and over her. She spread her legs invitingly. Gently, he took her ankles and guided her legs so they could hook over his shoulders. Then, with his hands holding her hips in place, he slowly—painfully slowly—guided himself into slick channel. Sydney moaned with the sensation of being filled so completely. After all the prep work, he slid in easily and fit snuggly. He joined her vocally with a groan of his own at finally being back in the sweet sanctuary of her body. 

Then he started to move. Zaide was determined to take his time and enjoy the exclusive oneness with Miss Sydney—who knew when it would happen again—but she was too hot and too tight, her already sensitive folds milking him as he pushed deep into her before pulling almost all the way out again. He pushed forward, driving himself into her with a cry of happiness. Again and again, he pounded into her, thrusting at a furious pace. She came again, screaming out the name she had given him as the pleasure washed through her and didn't subside.

Tears pricked her eyes as he plundered her deepest secret parts. He lunged forward one last time and exploded inside her. He shuddered and heaved as burst after burst filled her up. Sydney gasped and held onto Zaide as if her life depended on it. He fell on top of her and rolled to the side, still quivering. She clutched at him, unwilling to let him go, and he held her close, equally unwilling. 

"You're...amazing," Sydney whispered. 

"You're...amazing," Zaide corrected.

She smiled, completely aglow. "Fine. We're amazing together."

"Works for me," he replied as his eyes drifted closed. Then he grumbled half way into his pillow and halfway into her shoulder, "I should give you more, though."

"How could there possibly be more than this?" she demanded, already half asleep as she snuggled into his embrace.

"I was trained for stamina as well as gusto," he pointed out. "I should be able to make love to you all night long. I want to. But I can never hold back with you. You just...drain everything."

"What, am I a sexual vampire now?" she teased as she snuggled close to him. 

"Nope, just my beautiful butterfly," he replied softly. 

She snuggled into him and felt more content than she had felt in a long time. She drifted off to sleep. She woke slightly when Talon and Brandt came back, but snuggled back into her current bed partner.