Those idle musings that I mentioned at the beginning of Chapter 5...this is where they led us...
The mundane bit:
We own no part of Sons of Anarchy.
Parental Advisory Warning: Contains activities of an adult nature, only to be performed between consenting adults.
The interesting bit: Chapter 6.
Tig took a deep lungful of the warm evening air. The sun was low in the sky, a molten orange ball. There were no clouds, just a play of vivid colours as the sky began to bleed into the inky night. It had been a hot day, almost unbearably so, and Tig could still almost taste the heat. The scent of the heated blacktop and the lingering exhaust fumes of the cages driven by the khaki set wrapped around him like an embrace.
He shrugged his cut a little more comfortably onto his shoulders and patted his pockets for his smokes, before he realised it probably wasn't a good time to light up. Tig wasn't uncomfortable about this mission, but he couldn't see the outcome of it yet. He hated walking into things blind, and there were a lot of unknowns in this scenario.
Fuck it! Just get over and done with. Go home; grab a cold beer, feet up and TV on. With those thoughts in his mind he raised his hand and rapped out a succinct tattoo on the door.
As he listened for the footsteps on the other side that would herald a response, he thought about the contents of the box he'd left in the cellar of the clubhouse. He'd left it there so that everything didn't end up being thrown around on a Friday night by his drunken brethren. He didn't give a shit if they knew he owned a spreader bar or a flogger, but he'd be damned if he was using them once they'd gotten all sticky with beer and collected the gummy residue of crumbs of food and cigarette ash. He'd never be able to feel as if he'd gotten them properly clean; so he'd put them in the basement, what they don't know and all that shit.
He heard steps approaching the door and his mind worked over several thoughts very quickly. The steps were light and there had been a delay. That meant it was Tara that was going to answer the door and that Jax wasn't home. He hadn't seen a bike when he'd pulled up, but it could have been in the garage. He thought about what he'd heard earlier that day, the sounds of the cane and the cries. Damn but he hadn't been able to get Jax alone all day to have a word with him instead of just turning up unannounced.
The door opened smoothly, without a sound, the hinges very obviously well oiled. The errant notion that Jax wasn't ignoring his duties as man-of-the-house flitted through Tig's brain. That brief concept of his President taking care of business in all aspects of his life eased Tig a little. He registered the surprise followed by caution flowing across Tara's face. That was all perfectly natural, she wasn't expecting him. He didn't usually just call round off-hand, and if he was there it probably meant serious news from the club.
He couldn't help himself, it was almost a reflex when it came to women, he ran his eyes over her, assessing her. She was dressed in a little grey satin dressing gown that came to about mid-thigh. Tig wasn't one for Fashion Police, but what should have been denim-tentingly sexy was relegated to the realm of trailor-park grandmothers by a colour that was usually only seen on old corpses. Tig could appreciate a good corpse, but there was no need for living, breathing women to dress like one. Tara's hair was wet, turning the robe almost black at her shoulders. Hmmm, not long out of the shower then. Tig's overactive imagination ran to thoughts of water beading on pale skin and it was only Tara clearing her throat that brought him back to the present.
Tig coughed into his fist before asking. "Hey. Is Jax home?"
"Not yet. Is there a problem?" She was still standing in the middle of the doorway, one arm outstretched as she held the door, yep she was blocking him. He got on with Tara just fine, but him turning up like this had her hackles up.
"Nah doll. Just need to pick some shit up."
"Ahh. Come in." Tara stepped aside, motioning him into the house. Interesting, she hadn't asked any more questions.
Tig stepped over the threshold enough for Tara to close the door behind him, but waited for her to precede him into the house. He knew that would make her more comfortable.
As she turned and walked down the hall Tig nearly went to his knees. Underneath the hem of that godawful robe was a linear bruise cutting across the backs of both thighs. It was fresh, he could tell. It was just turning blue and purple, but the edges were still a vivid red. He'd seen bruises like this before, it was from a cane. That just reinforced the conclusions he'd come to standing outside of the apartment door in the clubhouse. These two kids had started playing and Tara had gotten hurt. Tig hoped it wasn't too serious. It would be nice to think they knew what they were doing, but that vibrant bruise told him otherwise.
Once Tara had realise he wasn't the bearer of bad news, she had visibly relaxed. She was at ease and had a smile for him. He'd seen his fair share of frightened women, so whatever they were doing she was on board with it; but he'd bet his left nut a bruise like that hadn't been in the plan.
Tara waved him over to the sofa as she walked into the kitchen. Tig sank into the sofa, hearing her open the fridge. He heard the sound of Jax' bike outside and the noises from the kitchen let him know that Tara had been getting a beer for him and that she'd heard the bike too and was re-opening the fridge to get another beer for her husband. Tig accepted the bottle of Budweiser that he was offered and took a swig as Jax walked into the room. Tara handed the other bottle to Jax and gave him a peck on the cheek before retreating back into the kitchen. Tig watched it all, looking for any sign that something was off and finding nothing.
Jax sank into the chair without asking Tig what he was doing there. Tig took that as a sign that Jax knew damn well what he was doing there. Might as well get straight to it. "So, the basement flooded?"
"Yeah." Jax took a drink of his beer and didn't elaborate.
"I had a box of stuff down there. Wondered if it survived?" Tig didn't miss the spark that lit in Jax' eyes. Oh yeah, the boy knew where his gear was. "Any chance I can get it back?"
Tig didn't realise Tara had been paying any attention to their conversation, but when Jax' gaze shifted and he looked up to follow it he saw Tara walking in with the box in her hands. It was taped shut. He hadn't taped it. What was the point in cutting the seal every time he wanted to dip into it?
"Thanks doll." Tig smiled as he shifted forward to take the box from Tara.
"I didn't want the little guys getting into it." She offered with a half smile, nodding at the box, obviously referring to the tape.
"Appreciate you keeping it safe." He was going to take the box, finish his beer and leave, really he was; but then his mouth opened and sound came out before his filter kicked in. "You two been into it?"
"Huh? What?" Tara almost stumbled back, whipping round to look at Jax. Jax stayed immobile in the chair, stoic and expressionless.
Tig grinned. "Don't bluff me. I know you two have been into it. You got 'guilty' written all over you. I also know there's nothing in there that put that bruise on the back of your legs doll."
Tara's face was a mask of pure horrified embarrassment. Jax absently dropped one hand off the side of the chair to touch Tara's leg behind her knee. She jumped a little at the contact, but then leant into it a little.
"Hey kids." Tig held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Jax wasn't giving anything away but common sense put the money on him wanting to land a good right-left combo. "Don't mean no disrespect. If you like to play I ain't gonna throw rocks from my glass cabin. No way, no how. But you look like maybe you could use a couple'o' pointers. Just sayin' is all."
Jax just stared, and Tig started to sweat. He was talking to his president, after all, and he and Jax had a complicated, often acrimonious history. Tig had just taken a monumental risk even mentioning Tara's bruise. There was a chance that right-left combo would be followed by a bullet, or at least a gun butt.
But it was a nasty bruise, and, well, Tig really liked Tara. She was sweet. Still a little innocent, even, especially where the club was concerned. But she stood up to Gemma, and that took a strong spine. Tig understood why Jax loved her. He had a little crush himself. The thought that there was some freak in that cute, curvy body . . . that was a nice thought.
It bothered him a lot that she'd gotten hurt, and he took some responsibility for it. If it was his box that got them playing, and that had gotten them to caning, then he felt a duty of some kind to get them straightened out. Caning was not for beginners. Caning was edgeplay. Looked like they knew that now.
Finally, Jax spoke. "What the fuck do you think you're suggesting, asshole?" Tara looked down at her old man, and Tig thought he caught something in her attitude—the way she was standing, or the speed with which she turned her head—something that suggested maybe she was interested in what ol' Tiggy had to say. She didn't say anything, however. She simply turned back and met Tig's eyes.
Tig held up his hands again. "I said I don't mean disrespect, brother. I'm offerin' some help. I know some things. You know I know some things. If you were in this box, there's some pretty advanced shit in there, but none of it is as hardcore as a cane. That's what made that mark, right? A cane? Big one, by the looks of it.
"Get the fuck out of my house, Tig. Now. Take your box of perverted sex shit and get out before I beat you to death." Jax was still sitting, but the menace and intent in his voice made that no disadvantage.
Tig saw Tara react to the way Jax had described his toys. She didn't like that. "Jax, wait." She put her hand on her old man's shoulder, and Jax jerked his head to look up at her.
"Babe, no way."
Tara sent a look to Jax that Tig read as determined. Interesting. Then she looked at Tig. "Tig, why don't you stay and have a drink?" Jax moved his hand from her leg and crossed his arms, but he stayed quiet.
Tig nodded. "Sure. No big plans tonight."
Smiling sweetly, Tara said, "Good. Jax'll get you one. I'm going to go quick and change."
Tara walked out of the room, towards the bedroom Tig supposed. He wasn't paying much attention because his president was currently staring daggers at him. Jesus, if the phrase "A look that could kill" was true, then Tig knew he'd be six feet under. He had absolutely no idea how to play this. These two were obviously exploring some boundaries, but the dynamic was off. There was no way Jax was the sub, it simply wasn't any part of his nature, but he was going against his gut feelings for his wife.
This was going to get very messy unless someone gave Jax the power back in this situation. Tig had no idea how to do that. He had the knowledge, which gave him some power, and Tara had the desire to learn, which gave her leverage over Jax. Jax was doing something against his will and potentially having his ignorance highlighted, no wonder he was in a shitty mood. Plus he'd obviously just massively insulted his wife by referring to the toys as 'perverted'. Tig was sure Jax was going to pay for that little slip several times over.
Tig was still wondering how in the hell to negotiate the minefield before him when Jax' demeanour changed. He stopped staring at Tig and started concentrating on a random point on the wall behind the sofa. It was a 'thousand yard' stare. Jax wasn't wholly in the room. He was unconsciously stroking his beard, something Tig had noticed as a nervous tic. There were still lines of anger etched into his President's brow, but he really seemed to be conflicted.
Jax looked back to Tig and regarded him for long moments through narrowed eyes.
"You don't touch her. Understand?"
"Sure man, of course." Tig couldn't put his hand on his heart and say he wasn't disappointed about the request, but ultimately if it meant Tara wasn't going to be walking around with any more marks like the ones he'd seen, he would comply.
"I mean it. You don't fucking touch her. She's mine. Whatever you think is going to happen tonight ain't. Hands Off!"
Tig supposed his reputation warranted the extra threat. "I hear you loud and clear Prez. Jax honestly, I ain't gonna touch her, but if you two wanna play without one of ya getting' hurt then you need a little help."
Jax scowled, but didn't answer. Tig could see the muscles in his jaw twitch, and almost, but only almost, flinched when Jax pushed himself out of his chair. He turned slowly, keeping Jax in his line of sight, as the younger man went into the kitchen for the drinks that his wife had instructed him to get.
The situation was so utterly bizarre and unexpected that Tig still wasn't quite sure just how they'd all progressed from the living room to this point. He was currently stood next to Jax and Tara's California King. Tara was laid out like a wet dream. She was on her stomach, her cheek resting on her folded hands, wearing a silky, short, midnight blue negligee. Several bruises marred the backs of her thighs and peeked from under the hem of the shift.
Tig took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Okay boys and girls. I ain't plannin' on usin' the cane, but I want you to show me what you did with it."
Jax walked over to a set of drawers on the far side of the room. "I tried it on my hand, it didn't hurt that much. I expected it to sting but it didn't."
Tig watched as Jax opened a drawer and rooted for the cane at the back before bringing it over. "On your palm? Show me."
Jax hefted the cane and brought it down against his outstretched palm with a thwack. Tig noticed Tara jump out of the corner of his eye, but he was concentrating on Jax and couldn't make out her facial expression to gauge her reaction.
"Okay." Tig nodded. "Now hit it against the end of the bed. Imagine Tara's lying there."
Jax hesitated. Tig could tell that something about this unnerved him. Either he'd enjoyed marking his wife more than he cared to admit, or he was seriously upset that he'd caused her hurt. Tig was going to bet his money on the latter. He knew he was right when he saw the caution with which Jax raised his arm, but the boy brought the cane down on the comforter with a solid stroke. It whistled through the air and landed with a muffled thump.
"Mmhmmm. It's OK. You made a rookie mistake, but it's OK. When you hit your palm you caught it with this part of the cane." Tig stepped forward and laid his fingers on the half of the cane from the handle to mid-way.
"A blow from that part doesn't sting, it feels sorta blunt. But you hit Tara with this part." He indicated the other half of the cane from the middle to the tip. "You've got to be careful how much force you use with this part. You can do some serious damage if you hit too hard, especially if you hit bone. You can chip bone, crush vertebrae. That's how they do punishment. Pure punishment. Pain without the fun."
Tig wasn't surprised at the looks on Tara and Jax' faces, fear mixed with curiosity. He got that look from people a lot when he went into details about the really kinky stuff. Well, everyone except Hap, but that guy set a whole new level on freakery, especially punishment freakery. Tig had seen Hap use a cane extremely effectively, and not in the good way that Tig liked to use one.
Jax dropped his head, shaking it. When he looked back up he looked first at Tara, his face full of sad remorse. By the time he looked back at Tig it was fixed with determination. Tig knew that Jax wanted to learn whatever he was able to teach him. He was horrified by the thought of causing such permanent damage to his wife. Jax had a reputation for being impulsive and out of control, but Tig knew that was just the exterior. Underneath Jax was a control freak, determined that everything should go his way, be perfect in his vision, and this would be no different. He'd known it from the first days that Jax had trained in the garage. The young man had had an obsessive compulsion to get everything just so, and that force still drove him during all the following years, evident in the way he manipulated the club to bend to his will.
Tig put his hand on his President's shoulder. "Try it with the bottom half, and across the sweet spot of her ass, just above her thighs. More meat there, and it just . . ." he paused, feeling suddenly in dangerous territory, talking about his President's old lady's ass and how its sweet spot was so closely tied to the nerves in her pussy. Jax had a look, too, like Tig was crossing a line. "It just feels better there. And she's not bruised there. Stay away from her bruises."
He'd given Jax a fairly tall order. The bruises striping Tara's ass didn't leave a lot of room for error. Jax would have to be precise. He nodded and, with a last glance at Tig, raised his arm.
Tara's head was turned to the side Jax was on, and she'd been watching. Now, her whole body tensed. "Wait! Wait, wait!"
Jax dropped his arm. "Okay, babe. We don't have to do this. It's a bad idea anyway."
Tara rose up onto her elbows. "No, it's just—I"—she looked down at the comforter, away from Jax, as if she were nervous or ashamed to finish her sentence. The tension in the room increased suddenly, as Tig, and apparently Jax, too, predicted what she would say.
She took a deep breath and blew it out quickly, as if she'd drawn courage from it and was casting away what was left. "I think Tig should do it first, show you how."
Yep. That's what Tig had thought. His cock pulsed at the idea, but his sphincter clenched at the thought. Jax would have his head. Both of them. Suddenly, offering his tutelage seemed like one of his least wonderful notions. He couldn't imagine getting out of this room alive if he laid hands—or cane—on Tara.
Jax dropped the cane to the floor. "No, Tara. Absolutely not. He's not fucking touching you." He turned to Tig. "Get out."
Right. Tig nodded and moved toward the door. But Tara sat up suddenly, and almost shouted, "No!" It stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to face her and Jax. Tara was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, her hands primly pulling on the hem of her filmy negligee so that it covered the dark space between her thighs. She was staring a Jax, her eyes full of meaning and intent.
Jax was staring back at her, and though Tig couldn't see his face clearly, he got all the information he needed from the rigidity of Jax's stance and the shake in his tightly coiled fists. When he spoke, his voice was low, a menacing snarl, the words directed at Tig even as they were addressed to his wife. "I will kill him if he touches you."
Tara didn't even blink. "No, you won't. He's helping us. I want this, but I don't want to get hurt like before." She paused, and then Tig saw a look flash across her eyes. He didn't recognize it, and then he did: shrewd. She was about to play her hole card. "I don't want you to hurt me again."
Holy fuck. Tig was stunned, and he felt incredibly awkward, as if he were eavesdropping on the private workings of this couple—because that's exactly what he was doing. Tara fought dirty. It turned him on even more, sharpened the edge of his little crush. She might be a bottom, but she wielded real power in this marriage. Tig had known that, of course. It was obvious—Jax spent a lot of time twisted up over his home life. Tig wondered what Tara would think if someone confronted her with the fact that she was every bit as manipulative as Gemma.
Jax actually took a step back, and his fists uncoiled. "Tara, don't. Please." That "please" spoke volumes, as did the resolute expression with which Tara met it.
She was undeterred. "I want you to know how to do it right, Jax."
Even before Jax responded, Tig knew what the immediate future held. He should beg off. He should get the fuck out right now. Jax—his President—didn't want this. There was nothing good that could come from playing this scenario out. But he was almost vibrating with excitement. Of all the freaky scenarios he'd thought up and played out in his long, adventuresome sexual life, this one, this one right here, topped the cake. Caning the Queen of the club while her old man watched? For starters?
Dear Penthouse, I never thought this could happen to me.
It took him awhile. For several long, fraught heartbeats, Jax and Tara merely stared at each other. Tig wished he could see Jax's expression. Tara's was steady. Unwavering. But finally, Jax nodded. "Okay, babe." He turned on Tig with a look of undiluted loathing. "You hurt her, you die."
Well, that was a problem. Caning was about pain. "Jax, it's gonna hurt, no matter what."
"You know what I mean. Do it right." Jax bent down and picked the cane up from the floor where he'd dropped it. He handed it to Tig, but didn't let it go right away. They both held on, their eyes locked. "Short leash, asshole. I mean it."
The wee little voice of reason, so hoarse from screaming unheeded for all of Tig's life, tried one last time: Get the fuck out of here. Instead, Tig nodded, and pulled the cane out of Jax's hand.
Since Jax was scowling at Tig, he didn't see the small smirk of triumph that crossed Tara's face, but Tig didn't miss it. He was going to be very, very careful around this lady from now on. He'd known she was smart, but now he could add dangerously manipulative to her stellar list of qualities. Her movement caught Jax eye as she turned and lay back down on the bed, fidgeting with the shift to ensure it preserved at least a little modesty that Tig thought might be an effort to save him from a painful death. She stopped though, resting on her front, supported by her elbows. She bit her lower lip as if hesitating to ask something, but her eyes were glowing. Tig's inner sense of self-preservation shrugged its shoulders, threw up its hands and stalked off in disgusted defeat.
"Jax... I...I... want to be... bound."
She might have stuttered but she hadn't taken her eyes off Jax once whilst she made her request. Jax looked as though he was about to have an aneurism. Tig thought he might spontaneously come in his pants.
With another hard look of warning at Tig, Jax stalked over to the drawers, returning with a roll of tape. Once Tara was assured of his complicity she stretched out fully with her arms over her head, crossed at the wrists. Jax knelt one knee on the bed to reach over her, but with an angry huff pushed off and set the tape on the cover. Tara's brows drew together until she realised his intention. Jax stripped out of his cut, laying it over the back of a chair already laden with discarded clothing, then he reached down and grasped the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth move. He dropped it on the seat of the chair before returning to the bed. Without looking at Tig he picked up the tape and efficiently bound his wife's wrists. The boy had skills, but since binding someone was a transferable skill in their line of business it was only to be expected.
Jax stepped back away from the bed. Tig swished the cane through the air a couple of times, just testing the weight of it, and came to the same conclusion that Jax had. He laid the can carefully on the floor at his feet and straightened, holding his hands palm out towards his President.
"Don't go nuclear man, just need some range of movement is all."
Jax looked a little confounded until Tig shrugged out of his cut, then he looked murderous; but after a glance at Tara, chose to remain silent. Tig folded his cut and laid it on the floor away from the bed, then quickly unbuttoned and stripped out of his shirt, folding that too and laying it on top of his cut. He didn't swing that particular way, so the idea of being half-naked with Jax did nothing for him. However, the idea of Tara being bound on a bed with two half-naked men about to punish her in turn did all sorts of things to his libido, most of which were sure to get him killed.
He picked up the cane and tested it again; giving it a few leisurely strokes through the air and couple of firm ones that resulted in a thwack even though the cane didn't connect with anything. He stepped up to the bed and half turned to face Jax who was still several feet away.
"You're gonna havta get closer bro." Jax didn't look happy about it but he stepped up anyway.
"Right. I'm gonna aim for a medium blow, like I said, just underneath the cheeks, and I'm gonna use the thicker end of the cane."
Jax nodded, jaw obviously clenched. Tig figured that was all the go ahead he was going to get. He turned to Tara. "You ready doll?"
"Yes." Tara barely breathed the word and buried her face in the pillow.
"Nuh huh doll." He waited until she'd turned back to face him. "Keep your face to me, I need to see what you're feelin'."
She flushed a pale pink, but obediently laid her head down with her face towards them.
Tig turned to Jax but made no further movement. "I'm gonna need to move that shift. I need to see where I'm aiming." As he'd hoped, Jax moved forward and gently lifted the deep blue silk, folding it back on itself to reveal the curve of Tara's ass. There were five bruises showing vividly against her milky white skin
Tig waited until Jax was clear before circling his wrist to loosen it, then he lifted the cane and brought it down on high on Tara's thighs, perfectly between two of the bruises. He was assured that he'd hit the mark he was aiming for when a breathless moan escaped from Tara's lips. Tig turned to Jax, mainly to check he hadn't drawn a gun on him yet, and was both surprised and gladdened by the look of revelation on Jax' face. When he turned back to Tara her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted. A few more bad thoughts ran across his brain, but he managed to rein them in. At least until she gasped "Again."
Tig turned back to Jax, thinking that this was why he never played with more than one other person unless he was the assured dominant; getting the OK from everyone involved was downright exhausting. Jax nodded his assent.
"OK, but I'm only gonna do one more, and then Jax can do two. No matter what you ask, otherwise you're really not gonna be able to sit down tomorrow."
Tara nodded and opened her eyes. This time her burning gaze was directed at him. Tig decided to just ignore that for the time being. Instead he concentrated on the specific portion of flesh available to him and brought the cane down firmly. The moan that followed was playing serious havoc with his self control, but he was here for a specific task. He handed the cane to Jax. "Your turn boss. Count to ten between them."
Jax moved into Tig's place beside the bed as Tig stepped aside. He laid the cane gently over the spot that Tig had aimed for, lining up his shot, then he raised his arm and delivered the blow.
Jax looked to Tig and Tig nodded his approval. Tara had signalled hers with another moan. Jax turned back, paused and then brought the cane down for the fourth time. It was another good shot. Tara moaned more loudly this time and ground her hips in little movements against the bed. Rational thought pretty much left Tig's head. He'd seen a lot, but this was beyond erotic, especially knowing the power play that was going on between the two of them. Tara had Jax twisted round her little finger, but she obviously also craved dominance from him, severe dominance at that.
"Jax...?" Tara's breathy plea had her husband by her side instantly, the cane lying forgotten on the floor. Tig hated to be the one to interrupt a free show, but there was a vital step they were ignoring. He cleared his throat causing both heads to whip round towards him.
"Jax, you got any lotion around." Jax didn't look quite as angry as Tig had expected him to.
"Sure." When he walked back over to that damn drawer Tig followed him. Yeah curiosity killed the cat, but cats had nine lives baby.
Jax didn't seem to realise Tig had followed him until he'd pulled the drawer out and lifted a bottle of aloe lotion from it; but when he realised Tig was there, instead of slamming the drawer shut, he moved out of the way and allowed him to take a look.
The contents were fairly standard as far as Tig was concerned, and some were pretty much exact replicas of the items in his box, but one caught his attention.
"You used this yet?" Tig motioned at the one he'd found particularly interesting.
"No." Jax answer was curt, but his voice unsure. Tig figured this was another area that they hadn't fully explored yet and could probably use a little guidance in.
"It got batteries in it?"
Jax lifted the piece of purple plastic out of the drawer. It was attached by a thin wire to a remote with a wheel-control for the speed. The toy itself was straight, thinner at the tip and wider at the base, with five bulges along it that graduated in size in accordance with the shaft itself. Jax turned the semi-transparent remote over and turned the wheel a little with his thumb. The main part of toy emitted a low buzz as it started to vibrate.
"Guess so." Again the short answer with the hesitant tone.
"Hey man. Tell me to leave if you want to, but I can help you with this. This is one you don't wanna mess up either. First tip, you don't start off putting the whole thing in." Tig's little inner-self was giddily clapping its hands at the possible compromise it had just been presented with. A way to play without actually getting hands on. Of course, it would probably mean a couple of 'Eaters would bear the brunt of his lust when he got back to the clubhouse, but Tig knew he'd make it worth their while after this little excursion.
"Okay, but you lay one hand on her skin and I will shoot you right here in this room so help me God. And your pants stay the fuck on." Jax hissed the command.
"Got it boss." Tig nodded. "You got any lube?"
Jax fished around in the drawer a little and pulled out a small bottle of lubricant out from underneath a leather restraint that Tig recognised as a copy of one of his own.
"Hey, what're you boys whispering about?" Tara called from the bed.
They both looked over their shoulders at her, but neither answered her. "You got a blindfold too?" Tig asked Jax in a low voice.
Jax simply nodded, fished a length of black jersey out of the drawer, and pushed it shut. When they returned to the bed and laid the blindfold, lube and anal slider next to Tara her eyes widened. She looked at them both with complete shock and Tig felt disappointment flood him, it was obviously a step too far for her. Then her expression changed to one of what could only be described as pure delight. Well, well, it looked like the night was about to get very interesting indeed!
Tig turned back to the dresser and grabbed the bottle of lotion. He handed it to Jax. "First things first, boss. Use this where the cane was." Jax nodded and flipped open the lid. He squirted lotion into his hand and set the bottle down, then rubbed his hands together to warm it.
Tig watched, feeling rapacious, as Jax pushed Tara's negligee away and put his hands gently on her ass, caressing her, working the lotion into the skin of her cheeks, her thighs, her hips. Tara gasped and moaned at his touch, shifting her legs and shimmying her hips slightly, absorbing the cooling soothe of the aloe. It was so sensual and sexy Tig thought he might pass out.
Jax was certainly into it. "That feel good, babe?" It almost seemed to Tig as if Jax had forgotten he and Tara had an audience. When Tara purred, "Mmm-hmmm," and lifted her hips toward her old man's touch, Tig put his hand on his crotch and squeezed the rock hard length of his cock, glancing at Jax to make sure he didn't notice. Tig had a feeling Jax would take it ill to see him so turned on by this display. But Christ, how could he not be? He couldn't believe he'd managed to restrain himself from joining in. His sense of self-preservation must not have gone too far—probably hanging around to watch from the back.
Tig watched, agonized, as Jax untied the string at Tara's nape, the one holding the negligee up over her chest, and slid it down slowly, letting the blue silk caress her as it moved over her back, her ass, her thighs. She raised her hips to help him and moaned again. When Jax picked up the strip of black fabric and tied it around Tara's head, covering her eyes, Tig felt dizzy. Then Jax went back for another palmful of lotion.
He kicked off his sneakers and knelt on the bed, massaging and stroking Tara all over. Tara continued to moan and writhe, and Jax straddled her and began kissing her back and shoulders as he caressed her. Tig was beginning to feel tortured, all this touching and moaning and him standing off in a corner squeezing his cock from outside his jeans. He groaned in frustration before he'd realized he'd made a sound.
The dance on the bed stopped, and Jax turned a venomous look on him. Without taking his eyes from Tig, he pressed a kiss to Tara's shoulder and came off the bed. Standing in front of Tig, he growled, "Show me."
He was in this far. Leaving now, and refusing them, would be as dangerous as staying and giving them what they wanted. Tig was walking a tightrope, and forward was the only option—that or a fall to his doom. He cleared his throat. Still looking at Jax, he said, "Tara, doll, you should come up on your knees." He heard the rustle and swish of a body moving on linens that told him she had complied.
To Jax, he said, "Use the lube on her and on the slider. Not so much that it's dripping. Just slick." Jax nodded and did as instructed. Tig watched, taking pains to breathe steadily and stay quiet, as Jax circled his lubed finger around Tara's tight, pale, lovely anus. With her pretty, round ass in the air, Tig caught a glimpse of her pussy, swollen with want. She was shaved, at least partially. Jesus, he couldn't believe he was seeing this. He averted his eyes before Jax noticed him looking, but the image was burned on his retinas as if he'd been staring too long at the sun.
"Okay." Jax said just that one word, but he made it count. Tig could hear violence, anger, uncertainty—and arousal, powerful arousal—in those two syllables.
"Use your finger first, help her get loose. Then ease it in, slow and gentle. No farther than the third bead." Don't look, don't look; fuck, don't get caught looking. He tried; he really did. But Tara gasped, and the sound was so rich with delight and desire his eyes told his brain to fuck off and forced him to turn and watch that pretty purple slider move into Tara's ass.
Every muscle in Tig's body felt taut with need. He bent to pick the remote off the bed, but Jax's hand clamped around his wrist. Tig cleared his throat and said, "It would be better for you both if I ran the remote." Tara gasped at that, and when Tig looked over at her, she was smiling.
Jax saw it, too. "Why?"
"If you're inside her, you'll feel it. It'll be better if you don't know exactly when things change."
"I'm not having sex with her while you watch, you fucking pervert."
That seem a pretty small nit to pick at this point, but Tig held his tongue. He didn't need to say anything, anyway; Tara had this.
"Jax, I want it."
The torment was vivid on Jax's face, and Tig felt sorry for him. Things were going far out of his control, and he was lost. Tig stood and waited for his President to make his call.
He let go of Tig's wrist. "Fuck. What are you gonna do?"
Palming the remote, Tig checked it out closely, careful not to start the motor just yet, since the slider was already in Tara. Talk first. Get permission. "This model doesn't have set speeds. The dial just spins. What I'll do is vary the speed. That's all I'll do. And when the time is right, I'll tell you to pull on it. The beads pulling out one at a time at the right time will be good for her. The vibrations you'll both feel."
Jax sighed. "Jesus Christ." He opened his jeans and dropped them and his boxers to the floor. It did not escape Tig's notice that for all his protesting, he was every bit as hard as Tig was. But he was going to get to do something about it.
Taking yet another risk, Tig said, "It would be better if she was face up. The weight would—"
Jax cut him off. "No way. You're not seeing her like that."
Now it was Tara's turn. "Jax—enough!" Holy shit. Now Tig was starting to worry he was going to die not because of the sex but because he was seeing far, far too much of the seamy underside of this marriage. These two had a real tug-of-war going.
Jax ran his hand down his face and over his beard. Then he turned sharply back to the bed and flipped Tara over with a force that ran right up to the edge of violence. She bounced and gasped as the slider shifted inside her.
Her arms were still over her head, bound with the tape. And there were her tits, still moving from the force of Jax flipping her. Nice tits. Firm despite the kid. Her belly was soft but lovely, and she was indeed completely shaved. Jax spread her legs and moved between them. Grabbing her around her knees and pressing her legs to her chest, he shoved into her roughly, and she cried out. He leaned down and growled at her, "Later, I'm gonna make you pay for this, babe."
He probably thought he'd spoken too low for Tig to hear, but Tig was paying keen attention, and his senses right now were sharpened to a laser edge. He heard Tara's sharp intake of breath that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire.
Under his influence, both passive and active, these two were becoming quiet the baby freaks. Tig felt pride. He was so puffed up with it he almost forgot he had a role here.
Jax was going at it pretty hard. Tig knew he'd better get the vibe working or the opportunity would be lost. "Okay, I'm going to turn on the slider. You kids do your thing. He thumbed the dial slowly, stopping about halfway.
Tara arched her neck backwards with a long, moaning gasp. Jax muttered, "Jesus Christ!" and shot a look over at Tig as picked up the pace of his thrusts.
Tig couldn't help but notice that Jax had a really fine ass himself. He shook that thought off quickly and turned the dial down on the vibe.
He played with them like that for a surprisingly long time, moving the dial randomly, eventually realizing that he was controlling both of their orgasms with the speed of the vibe inside Tara. And Christ, she was into it. She was a fiery fuck, responsive and emotive, moving fiercely under Jax even as she was bound and blindfolded. Jax was all business, almost grim in his determination, but every time Tig upped the vibe, his whole body went rigid and his head pulled up.
Tig himself felt miserable with the need for release. They'd been playing at this for a lifetime, it seemed, and his balls must be almost purple by now. He needed to put an end to this torturous lesson and get himself back to the clubhouse. He turned the vibe all the way up.
Tara responded wildly, immediately. "Fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, Jax, fuck!"
It was time. Tig took a step closer to the bed, "Now, boss, reach down and pull the slider. One bead. You'll feel it."
Jax was thrusting laboriously, sweat running down his face and chest. He couldn't find the end of the slider and keep moving, and he looked at Tig, confused and too far gone to show anything in his expression but a need for help.
His sense of self-preservation shrieked "NO!" from way back by the exit as Tig said, "Okay. I got it," and reached behind Jax, between his legs and Tara's, and wrapped a hand around the end of the slider. As Tara hit another peak on her rolling path to orgasm, he pulled until a bead, the largest that had been inside her, came out.
She came immediately, screaming almost operatically, her legs popping out from between their chests and splaying wide. Jax came then, too, with a groan as if from a searing pain, and Tig pulled the slider the rest of the way out as Tara jerked spastically. He turned the remote off.
He was surprised he hadn't come in his jeans. He stepped to the far end of the room, needing a moment to collect himself and knowing they needed some privacy. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. As he was buttoning, Jax stood and grabbed an afghan from the end of the bed. He tossed it over Tara's gasping, glistening body. "Stay put," he ordered his wife.
Then he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on. Thus dressed, he walked up to Tig and puffed up his chest. "Not a word."
Tig shook his head. It was more than self-preservation that would still his tongue. Tig wasn't a gossip—but it was more than that, too. What had happened here was special, somehow. Private. For him as well as for them. "'Course not, Jax. It dies with me."
"Yes, it does. Get out."
Nodding, Tig grabbed his cut and glanced at Tara. He felt like he should say . . . something. Anything he could think of seemed dangerous, though. So he simply said, "See ya, doll," and left the bedroom.
On his way out, he picked up his box. It would be awkward to ride with it, but he had bungees in his saddlebags. He strapped it down as securely as he could and mounted his bike.
There had damn well better be 'Eaters around the clubhouse. Several of them. He had some shit to work out.
And that is the end for Pandora's Box. As much as Laughing Warrior and I have had an absolute scream writing it, we don't feel we can top this chapter. We hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as we have enjoyed writing it.
Thank you for all the follows and favourites and all the wonderful reviews. :-x