Title

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Title Copyright 2011 ISBN: Cover Artist: Editor: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Cobblestone Press, LLC www.cobblestone-press.com

Dear Ms. Bromenski, Were pleased to welcome you to The Pleasure Club. As you have already signed and returned the contract and filled out all the necessary forms to ensure you receive your every wish, we will be in touch with you shortly with the details of your first Pleasure Night. Your Wish List and Pleasure Forms have been turned over to our staff of highly trained Pleasure Guardians, and they are hard at work finding your perfect match. We will endeavor to meet your personal fantasy. When you are contacted again, you will be given a location where your Pleasure Night will begin, and you will also be given a safe word to use should you at any time become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. Were here for your pleasure, and should your safe word be used, your match for the evening will cease all activity, and the game will be put on hold until a mutual agreement between you and your Pleasure Master(s) can be reached. Once again, welcome to The Pleasure Club. Please feel free to contact the office at any time should you have any questions. Yours truly, The Pleasure Club Management *****

Ms. Bromenski, Your Pleasure Night will begin Friday the 5th at 6:00 PM in the Montebello Castle Winery, located at 1800 Mangrove Lane. Your safe word is Merlin. Sincerely, The Pleasure Guardians ***** Gwen Bromenski stared at the monstrous mansion and its gray stone walls, and a shiver of excitement raced through her, making her tingle all over. Her mother named her after the Guenevere of the King Arthur legends, and she grew up to the music of the Broadway cast recording of Camelot on LP, and the double VHS tapeor rather several copies of them, because her mother wore them outof the movie. To this day, she knew every one of those songs by heart. Every word of the movie permanently ingrained in her brain. Of course, her mothera single mother who wasnt quite sure which of the three men shed been seeing at the time was Gwens fatherlived in a fantasy world, waiting for her prince to come and sweep her off her feet. Gwen lived no such lie. Why her mother never saw that Camelot was not a feel-good, happy-ending movie was beyond her. The wife cheated on her husband and was damned near put to death because of it. There were no winners there that Gwen could see. As soon as she turned twelve, she started babysitting. By fifteen she worked on the boardwalk selling hot dogs and fries. And the day she graduated high school, she took an unpaid internship at a local law firm specializing in immigration and tax law. Shed been such an asset to them, the senior partner said at the end of the summer, they were going to pay her tuition to college, then to the university, so she could get her law degree. Three weeks ago shed been made a junior partner in that firm.

She hadnt wiled away her life waiting for a man to sweep her off her feet and make everything okay, the way her mother had. Her mother had died two years ago. Shed never been one to make close friends, because shed worked so hard to make and save money since she was a young teen. She hadnt had time for friends. And now she had no family. Theyd had champagne and a cake as a small, congratulatory party at the law firm for her when they gave her the promotion, but shed gone home to an empty house that night. In that moment, Gwen thought perhaps her mother hadnt been completely off base in her fantasies. That night, Gwen realized shed let the first thirty-one years of her life slip by with nothing to show for it except a couple of degrees, a two-bedroom condo in a nice neighborhood, a BMW in the garage, and a spot on the roster of a well-established law firm. It was everything shed ever wanted. It did nothing to fill a yawning hole in her middle that said shed missed out on a lot of wonderful things that could have happened if shed stopped, or even slowed down, for a few moments. Raised her head from her books and law journals for a second or two. Sure, thered been a few fumbled dates in college. Even a couple of one-night stands. Who wanted to get all the way through college a virgin? Shed seen it as a rite of passage, and it had been tremendously disappointing. She experienced lust. In the dark of the night, in the quiet of her bedroom, she had vague ideas of a man who could fulfill her needs, both in and out of bed. She had a nightstand drawer half full of graphic erotica and buzzing, pulsing sex toys. But who had the time to find a man who could actually do all the things she imagined, give her the releases she received by her own hand? Gwen ran her hands over the rough silk of her gown and marveled as the gray stones of the mansionher castle tonightturned a burnished pink in the glow of the setting sun. As if fatewhich shed never believed in because everyone makes their own fatehad dropped into her lap, the morning after her great

revelation, shed found a business card lying on the sidewalk just outside her condo. The Pleasure Club it had read, on a beautifully embossed, cream-colored, textured hundred-pound card stock with the lightest matte finish. Yes, she knew her business cards, and this one was classy. Professionally printed, and not by a discount store, either. But it was the handwritten note on the back that intrigued and thrilled her, even though it hadnt been meant for her. You can teach this cowboy to ride anytime. I wont forget you. Jeb. Cowboys and pleasure clubs. Her heart had raced as her mind skipped off into forbidden territoryfantasy. She refused to fantasize. Lie to herself. That was what fantasies were; believing in something that absolutely could and would never happen. As her mother had fantasized about that white knight riding in on his steed, sweeping her off her feet, and riding into the sunset. Yeah, right. Gwens fantasy was a little less complicated than a happily ever after. It involved hands and tongue and a long, thick cock pounding into her cunt. A hard, muscle-bound male body, sculpted to perfection, that she could curl her nails into and leave her mark. Her fantasy was about hot, sweaty bodies writhing in ecstasy, hearing her own screams of pleasuresomething shed never actually heard beforeand having one of those orgasms she read about in that smutty erotica she read. The kind that kills brain cells, releases all inhibitions, and would make her know for certain that sex is worth the effort. So, shed tracked down The Pleasure Club, finding them not with a splashy ad in the Yellow Pages, but as a small listing in the White Pages. When she did an Internet search on the address, she came up with the Montebello Castle Winery. Their Web site was about the vineyard, and the cute little chapel where one could book a wedding. They rented space for

company parties and family reunions, and even had a couple of cabins to rent for honeymooners in the deep forest behind the castle. She hadnt been to Europe, and hadnt seen any castles up close and personal, but she thought calling this place one was a bit over the top, though it was beautiful, and she could force herself to imagine, for the evening, that it was. After a week of pondering, imagining, and letting herself fantasize all manner of hot scenarios, shed called the number listed in the phonebooka different number than calling the wineryand set up an appointment to meet with a Pleasure Guardian. Shed gone after work, and kept her hand firmly on the canister of pepper spray tucked in her suit jacket pocket. She had no idea what to expect. The receptionist shed spoken to had been very nice but wouldnt answer any questions over the phonefor legal purposes, shed said. The office had been downtown, not far from where she worked. The Pleasure Guardian had been a woman in her late forties, beautiful, soft-spoken, and very informative. Gwen had left the meeting with a thick sheaf of papers to fill out, and she hadnt been able to sleep that night until she pulled herself out of bed and answered every single one of the hundred or so questions. She dropped the questionnaire in the mail with her membership check the next morning on her way to work, and then waited. The letter had arrived a week ago. And here she was. Her mother must be rolling in her grave, because the only scenario Gwen could come up with was Camelot. Her very own knight. Two men battling for her favor. Shed grown up memorizing the movie, every song, every word. Saint Genevieve, Gwen whispered. Im over here, remember me? Gwen had gone in to take the bar exam with less trepidation than she had right now. Sucking in a deep breath, she turned and looked out at the manicured lawn, the overflowing flowerbeds, and the acres and acres of vineyard beyond. Then she walked up the cobblestone path to the steps,

her soft-soled slippers making not a sound. She did love this outfit with its long, flowing skirt and off-the-shoulders top. Not often did she dress like a woman. A woman of pleasure, not the uptight, navy suit, hair-in-a-bun woman who showed up to work five days a week. The right side of the double doors stood open just a crack, and she pushed it open. Ahh, there she is, my beautiful queen, a masculine voice said, laced with the soft lull of not an English accent but more likely Irish. Interesting. As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of her castle, Gwens lips turned up into a small smile. The foyer was lit with dancing candles in sconces along the stonework walls. The scent of beeswax was strong, and in the middle of the wide hallway in front of her stood two gorgeous, tall, muscle-bound men. Good evening, she said with a small curtsy after she shut the heavy wooden door behind her. We have a guest? Shed taken one acting class in collegemandatory for one of her degreesand shed been pretty good. Tonight might turn out to be a little fun. Gwen, darling, the one on the right said, stepping forward and holding out his hand to her, Id like you to meet Sir Lancelot. He has come to join the round table. Her husband, whom she assumed was the one and only King Arthur, had short-cropped blond hair with a very modern, military-type look to it, but Lancelotbe still my hearthad long black locks that flowed over his shoulders. These two sure looked better than Richard Harris and Franco Nero from the 1967 movie shed watched about a million times in her childhood. The clothing could have been straight out of the movie. They wore snug leggings that showed off every rippling muscle of their calves and thighs, and the jackets, or doublets, or whatever they were called, fell just above their hips, so their very nicely formed packages were practically on display. And they wore sword scabbards with big, ornate handles sticking out of them. And daggers. Arthur wore off white; Lancelot, bless him, wore all black. Okay, so Gwen had a few fantasies she didnt like to admit to. Bad

boys. She never wished to be swept off her feet by the white knight as her mother had. Nope. She wanted the guy with the long hair, black leather jacket, and a huge, loud, rumbling, vibrating black motorcycle. She had no idea what Lancelot did on his days off, but she could sure picture him with a big ol hog vibrating between those mouth-watering thighs. Gwen, darling, Arthur said, placing a gentle hand on her back. Please meet Lancelot. Shed been daydreaming, Gwen realized, and nearly laughed. Of course, Arthur, she said softly, not bothering with an accent because shed never be able to pull it off. She walked forward and held out her hand to the black knight. How very pleased I am to meet you, sir. Lancelot took her hand and bowed over it, touching it lightly with his forehead. The honor is mine, my queen. Her pussy clenched. He was French. Or at least he was damn good at pretending he was. His accent was thick, and his fingers were slightly calloused as if he worked with horses, leather, and swords all day. A Frenchman? she queried her husband. Weve not had any Frenchmen join the table, have we, darling? Lancelot released her fingers and stood up. I felt a calling, my queen. I am here to serve Camelot, the king He bowed his head slightly toward Arthur, and then to her. and you, my queen. She smiled and raised an eyebrow. Really. Well, welcome to Camelot, Lancelot. Im sure you will find us She smiled wickedly. most accommodating. Lancelots lips parted as if in surprise, and Gwen laughed. This was fun! Shed read about role-play in the erotic books she had in her nightstand, but shed never really understood the fascination behind it. Now she knew. It was just fun. Come, my darling, Arthur said, again touching her back with a gentle hand. We will retire to our chamber until supper. He looked at Lancelot. You may join the men in the barracks, but we eat together in the great hall. Lancelot placed his hand over his heart and bowed. Thank you, Your Majesty.

He went out the front door, and the heavy wood thudded closed behind him. As soon as it did, Arthur swept Gwen into his arms and buried his face against in her hair. Ahh, Ive missed you, Gwen. He spun her in a circle then set her to her feet. I know you were only with your ladies today, but being away from you is like having a part of my soul missing. His accent was beautiful, his face like an angels, his words a little mushy, but she could overlook that. And I, you, my king. He took her hand and headed for the stairs on the side of the foyer that led up to a landing. She glanced down at the marble, starburst pattern of the floor, but didnt have time to study it as he tugged her into the first room along the landing. When she got a glimpse, she gasped. Red and gold velvet tapestries on the wall, a bed bigger than shed ever seen draped in more velvet. Dark wood posters on the bed held up more velvet that formed curtains that could be pulled closed to make a cocoon. The stone floor had red and gold oriental rugs, and a massive fireplace against one wall flickered with dancing flames. Shed stepped into an Arthurian-era bedchamber She just hoped there were flushing toilets. Arthur spun her into his arms and gazed into her eyes. His were blue with flecks of green. Rather pretty. And he had long lashes, the kind women would kill for. You are the sunshine in my sky, the moon that lights my way in the dark. He nuzzled her neck with his nose and lips. You are my everything. Gwen groaned, only half from the tingling pleasure racing down her arms to her fingertips because of his warm lips against her. The other half was the corny dialogue. She wondered who wrote it. And you are mine, she responded as she wound her arms around his neck, lolling her head back so he could suckle her skin. He nibbled, licked, sucked along a tendon in her neck she had no idea could do such amazing things to the rest of her body. Her pussy clenched, her fingers tingled, and her thighs quivered. His big hands

splayed over her back, slowly moving up and down against the thin material of her bodice, warming her, making her melt a little. She focused on the new sensations streaming through her, and found each of them desirable. Up until now, shed never thought much of foreplay. Those shed experienced it with had been clumsy and none too gentle. It was easier to grab a vibrator and get it over with. She moaned as Arthur tugged her earlobe between his teeth and a streak of heat shot straight to her cunt. My sweet Gwen is in need of some love, he murmured in her ear. Sex, she silently corrected. Tonight was about sex, and oh, yeah, she was in need of some, especially if this went on for a while with the tingling and throbbing and clenching. Arthur slowly walked her backward as he switched sides and nibbled on her other earlobe. While he did this, his fingers worked the back of her dress up, up, up, until she felt the warm air from the fireplace caress the backs of her thighs. Then his hands were on her bare bottom, cupping and caressing her buttocks. Gwen groaned and pulled him tighter against her as her body temperature rose with the arousal. He nibbled the side of her neck, then licked a spot behind her ear that made her cry out in surprise. That one little spot made her whole body tense, and when he repeated the caress with his tongue, she nearly sobbed as her nipples tightened to painful little points. Do it again, she demanded. So he did, and she wondered how shed lived so long and not experienced this rush of sensation brought on by a small lick. His hands molded her butt cheeks until she was against the wall, the soft pile of the velvet tapestry another new sensation against her back, touching her bare shoulders, making her shiver with pleasure. My beautiful queen, Arthur murmured as he raised his head and looked into her eyes. He raised his hands to the bodice of her dress, the material of her skirt falling from his fingers and brushing the backs of her legs. Her knees damn near gave way. The sensations were almost too much. Never in her life had her nerve endings been so sensitive. He

skimmed the tips of his fingers along the elastic ribbing, dipping down behind it just enough to tease the top swells of her breasts. Skin like the finest silk, he whispered, then bent his head and kissed first the top of one breast, then the other. He tugged at the elastic until her small breasts were bared, and Gwen closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. She hadnt thought about being bared before a stranger in the light of day. The fading sunset glowed through the west-facing windows, the firelight danced against her skin, and the candles in the wall sconces burned brightly. There was no hiding. Every other fumble with a manboys, really, in collegehad been in the dark. A backseat of a carnot a good place for anyone to have sex as far as she was concerned. A dorm room lit only by the glow of the digital alarm clock. And the lastand by far the worst sexual experience of her lifeunder the bleachers at a homecoming football game. It had taken her a week to get the gum out of her hair, and she didnt even want to think what else theyd rolled around in. All thoughts of other men, other sexual encounters, flew from her mind as Arthurs warm, soft, moist lips closed around one aching nipple and gently drew it into his mouth. She gripped his head and opened her eyes to watch. He made love to her breast, her nipple, cupping the soft flesh with one hand, holding it steady as he licked the dusky tip. He flicked it with his tongue until her pussy throbbed in time to the gentle lashes, then sucked it deeply until moisture dampened her pussy and she thought, if she had a vibrator handy, shed come with one quick touch of the buzzing toy. He moved to the other breast then, and her insides quivered, her cunt throbbed, and her clit needed attention. She must come. She must! But when she let go of his head with one hand and reached for her pussy, he snatched her hand away. It is a sin to touch oneself, he murmured as he slid her bodice lower until it hung from her hips. His big, warm hands caressed her belly, making her muscles tighten. She tried to concentrate her thoughts and remember when the

Catholic Church decided self-love was a sin, but she couldnt think. His fingers were so warm, so soft, like being kissed by butterflies. His gaze burned into her, and she had no problem believing he found her beautiful, small breasts, slightly pouched belly, and all. Let me, Arthur said, and pushed the dress over her hips so it flounced to the floor at her feet. She blinked slowly, waiting for the final verdict. Shed gone without underwear. Damned if shed be caught dead in a corset, so if she was going with the time of King Arthur, panties and bras were out of the question. His nostrils flared as he looked down her body, his hands settled on her hips. And then his mouth was on hers, his tongue gentle and probing, and she opened for him. She gasped when he pulled her into his arms and his coarse clothing abraded her breasts, belly, and thighs. Damned if his top wasnt made of real wool. And damned if his tongue didnt ignite more little flames in her body as it thrust into her mouth, teasing her own, grazing her teeth. That was when she gave up trying to keep control of her thoughts, to analyze every motion, every sensation. She closed her eyes and turned herself over to this stranger, this actor, her lover for the night. Thats it, he murmured against her lips. Give yourself to me, Gwen. She nodded and nuzzled his lips with hers, breathed in his crisp, clean scent, and moaned as he nibbled her bottom lip. His hands roamed her body. Her back, her sides, her thighs, her bottom. With each pass, her temperature rose a notch. With each tantalizing foray between her butt cheeks, against the crease of thigh and cheek, each time he skimmed short nails up her sides, she grew closer and closer to the flame that would burn her. She wanted it. Needed it. To writhe in ecstasy. To scream. To cry. Kill my brain cells, she murmured as he moved from her lips and sank to his knees in front of her. He looked up at her in question, but she smiled and touched his cheek. Love me tonight, my king. With pleasure, my queen.

He leaned forward, pressed his face against her mons and inhaled deeply. She groaned right along with him when he brushed his lips over her pelvis. But when he used his fingers to spread her pussy lips, she fell back against the wall, the soft velvet another kind of caress against her back. She spread her legs. His breath was warm against her damp flesh, and the first stroke of his tongue made her quiver. The second time his tongue nudged her clit, her muscles clenched. But when he buried his face in her pussy and pressed his tongue into her core, she literally lost all strength in her legs and melted down the wall. He guided her to the floor with strong, gentle hands. Her back propped against the wall, he made sure she was comfortable, then spread her knees wide and went down on his stomach and buried his face in her pussy once again. He licked, he slurped, he nudged into her cunt, he suckled her clit, always moving, building her higher and higher but not letting her get too close to the precipice. Even when she got frustrated and grabbed his head to steady him, he was too strong to be forced to do what he didnt want to do. And letting her come seemed to be something he didnt want to do! The pleasure was too much, almost painful. She moaned, she sobbed, she even begged with a, Please, please, please, as her head rolled from side to side against the wall in frustration. Still he kept torturing her, kept her on the knifes edge. Reaching down, she tried to get her fingers into her cunt to finish what hed started, but he grabbed her hands and held her wrists away, pinned to the floor on the outside of her thighs. She bucked against his face. His chuckle reverberated through her, making her sizzle. Sweat beaded her brow, and she tried to pull from his grasp, but he held her firm. He was strong. So strong. And his butt in those legging/tights things looked hard and round. She licked her lips, wanting to take a bite. She was lightheaded, a little dizzy. His thighs were so thick and gorgeous. She wanted to score them with her fingernails. She clenched her abdomen and cunt muscles, something that always help to send her over the edge when she pleasured herself, but he

changed position and buried his tongue deep inside of her. Too gentle, too soft, too wonderful. I have to come! she cried, thrusting her hips up. The heavy wooden door crashed open with the force of thunder, and she gasped as Lancelot barged into the room, sword swinging up, raised over his head, as he ran across the room toward them. Look out! she cried, yanking out of Arthurs grasp. Arthur rolled to the side, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her with him. Lancelots sword hit the stone floor where Arthur had been only a moment before, and it rang like a bell. Lancelot shouted in frustration. Arthur jumped to his feet and pulled his rapier from its scabbard at his side. And then their swords clashed together with a deafening ring. Arthur gave a warriors cry and attacked the slightly larger man. Gwen grabbed her dress, pulled herself out of the way, over near the fire, and sat there covering her breasts with the thin silk, mesmerized by the battle. It looked so real, yet she knew it was playacting. They growled, they shouted, their swords clanked. It was a scene out of an Errol Flynn movie. Even the shadows on the wall cast by the firelight were magical. Lancelots long black hair, dark eyes, and bad-boy goatee made him look so sinister, so darned sexy. Her hero, her king, her husband, fought valiantly, but she could see him faltering, tiring. A misstep, a fumble. He was on the defensive now, doing what he could to stay on his feet. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her breaths grew shallow. Lancelot. She wanted Lancelot between her thighs. She wanted that dark glare aimed at her. Those big, rough hands holding her down while he ravished her. Shed never fantasized about ravishment before, but in that moment, she wanted nothing so much as to be forced by the black knight. Arthur fell to his knees, their swords locked, Lancelot leaning over her husband, his teeth bared in a fierce snarl. Then he glanced in her direction. Do it, she said, the words shocking her.

And obviously surprising Arthur as well, because he turned his head and shouted, Gwen, in a tone of disbelief. Lancelot disengaged, but before Arthur could regain his senses and attack, Lancelot struck him in the head with the butt of his sword. Arthur collapsed to the floor and fell still. Lancelot walked toward her, his sword still in hand, a sneer on that bad-boy face. He professed his undying love to his bride. He scoffed and threw his sword to the floor next to her. The love of a woman is a fickle thing. His accent had to be real. No one could fake it that well. He pulled his vest and shirt over his head in one swoop, and Gwen nearly swooned. All hard, rippling muscle. Midnight-black whorls of hair over his pecs, narrowing to a thin strip that disappeared into his leggings. I will prove to him what the love of a woman is. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet. She still clutched her dress to her chest with her free hand, and he ripped it from her fingers, threw it onto the floor, and looked her up and down. This was so not the Lancelot of Camelot falling into unrequited, undying love with Guinevere. Nu-uh. This was take-what-I-want-and-damn-the-consequences Lancelot of someones deep, dark fantasy. Her fantasy now. Fuck me, she said. She glanced at Arthur still on the floor. Prove your point. He turned her toward the bed and gave her a gentle shove. She stumbled a bit and landed against the high, soft mattress. She looked at him over her shoulder, daring him to do it. Youll be put to death for this, Lancelot warned even as he shoved his leggings down, revealing a semi-erect cock and thighs covered in crisp black hair. You will too, she said, watching as his penis grew. This little play aroused him almost as much as it did her. That thought made her breaths speed even more, and her cunt clenched. She was hot, and wet, and that big cock was going to feel soooo good inside of her. Lancelot came up behind her, grabbing her ass with one hand and a fistful of hair in the other. I did not come here to serve the king or his

damn round table. I came to fuck his queen. The woman who inspired love sonnets and poems to her innocence and beauty. His middle finger slid between her butt cheeks and invaded her anus, shocking her yet filling her with such bliss she gasped in awe. She saw stars behind her eyelids, and the slight pain of him pulling her hair seemed to heighten every other sensation coursing through her body. She pressed back against his hand, welcoming the intrusion in her virgin hole. The slut queen, he said with a sneer in his voice. Gwen groaned as he finger fucked her anus. Shed never thought it would be so good. Never dreamed shed enjoy it so much. Wondered how shed live without it from now on. The kingdom thought you so pure, so innocent. Ha! The slut queen shows her true colors. No innocent woman accepts a mans invasion in her ass with sounds of pleasure. His voice was so deep, his accent luscious. He could call her anything he wanted as long as he kept doing what he did and kept talking. Her fingers curled into the velvety soft bedspread. When the tip of his cock slid between her thighs, teasing her slick pussy, she shivered and tensed. Yes, she hissed. God, Lance, do it. Please. A deep, sinister laugh came out of him, and her nipples tingled in response. She pressed them into the mattress to ease the ache. He slid into her cunt, deep, hard. With the added pressure of his thick, long finger in her ass, she was full to brimming. Her breath whooshed out of her, and she buried her face in the soft comforter. When he withdrew then pressed back into her, she moaned and tensed, the orgasm so close she could almost taste it. She reached for it, strived toward it, but Lancelot didnt move, just held her pinned facedown, buried as deep within her body as humanly possible, the crinkly hairs of his thighs tickling the backs of her legs. Please! she cried, turning her head, trying to see him. He laughed, a menacing sound, while he kept his hold on her hair, preventing her from turning far enough for a glimpse. Then he ground his hips against her, pressing even deeper, his balls teasing her clit.

Gwen squealed, a sound she couldnt remember making before, and went up on her tiptoes to enjoy every millimeter of him. He withdrew and slammed into her. She shouted in shock and need as her muscles tensed, squeezing his cock tight enough to make him groan. He did it again, and she gripped the blanket so hard her fingers ached. She tried to move against him, to offer more, but she was pinned, couldnt move anything except her head and hands. He withdrew again, and then he released her and was gone. Hey! she cried in agony, needing to come so badly she physically hurt. Then, Nooo as she turned to see Arthur holding Lancelot in a headlock, his dagger laid against Lancelots throat. She could barely breathe. The intense sexual pleasures shed never before experienced, combined with two gorgeous men fighting over her She groaned and pushed herself to her feet, but stumbled back and used the bed for support. Her pussy had never ached so with unfulfilled need. She was the queen all right. The queen of the speedy orgasm. She could go from first thought to slipping her vibrator in the nightstand drawer after completion in ten minutes flat. This prolonged buildup was agonizing, yet so very, very fulfilling in itself. How dare you touch my wife, you French beast! Arthur shouted, dragging Lancelot backwards a few feet, putting distance between her and them. Your wife is a whore, Lancelot growled as he struggled against Arthurs hold. His cock, though, was still hard. Still shiny with her slick juices. The realization made her groan and her cunt clench, so empty now without him inside of her. You raped her! She begged for it. Gwen licked her lips and pushed to her feet once again, then made her way across the soft oriental carpet to where they stood. Wait, Arthur, she said, reaching up to touch his hand that held the dagger at Lancelots throat. Both men watched her. Lancelot with a look of disgust that made her hot as hell. Arthur with love and anger. Damn, they were good actors.

And here she was, naked as the day she was born, playing right along with them. It was liberating. Titillating. Arthur, my love, put down the knife. Ill kill the son of a whore for touching you! He pressed the edge of the blade against Lancelots throat, but there was no blood. The thing was as dull as a butter knife, as she could see now that she was so close. She smiled sweetly at her husband and wrapped her fingers around the blade, pulling it away from Lancelots throat. Dont hurt him. Hes right. I asked for it. Arthur let go of Lancelot so fast, the darker man stumbled a bit before catching his balance, and she was left holding the dagger. Lancelot turned, as if to attack Arthur, but Gwen shouted, Enough! and they both turned to face her, Arthur with eyes wide with confusion, Lancelot glaring. The slut queen has proven my words, Lancelot said, slapping Arthur across the chest with the back of his hand in what looked like almost a brotherly swat. Arthur shoved Lancelot out of his way and moved in front of her. Gwen, tell me. Tell me you do not want this French beast in your bed. In your body. She reached up with her empty hand and touched his cheek. Arthur, my love. She licked her lips and glanced at Lancelot standing behind Arthur. This was her night, her fantasy, her time to be anyone she wanted to be. I want you both. I will not share my wife with thatthatthat Gwen went up on tiptoe and kissed him. He grabbed her around the waist, dragging her against his body, and sank his tongue into her mouth. She moaned at the musky taste of herself mingled with his masculine flavor and wound her arms around his neck, letting the dagger fall from her fingers. Gwen, he murmured when he lifted his head. You love me, dont you, Arthur? Oh, yes, my queen, he said so fervently she could almost believe he meant forever, for real. Then give me this one night to experience the bliss of two men in

my bedin my body. Lancelot grabbed her up, literally ripping her from Arthur, and lifted her into his arms. Gwen yelped in surprise, but almost as suddenly as she was lifted, she was dropped onto the feather bed, its mattress softer than she thought. Lancelot climbed onto the bed next to her, sprawled onto his back, and then manhandled her over him, using his hands to spread her legs so she straddled his waist. Uh Shut up, woman. You make me share you with your pissant, peace-loving husband. I will not listen to your prattle. A gusty laugh slipped out of her, and she turned to see Arthur at the edge of the bed, disrobing. He was beautiful. His chest was hairless and smooth, his abs rippled, his hips narrow, and his cock long and hard. Her pussy clenched repeatedly. Two men. She barely thought of being with one, let alone two. She cried out in shocked delight as two thick fingers thrust into her cunt. She jerked her head around to stare at Lancelot with wide eyes as he pumped his fingers into her. The slut queen is wet, he stated, reaching deep and skimming his fingers over her G-spot. Dropping her head back, she rode his fingers like the slut he accused of her of being, but just as her muscles began to clench with the impending climax, he withdrew. No! she shouted and reached down to finish herself off. Arthur grabbed her hands and jerked them behind her back. If you wish to have two men fulfill your needs, you will stop trying to control the situation. Her body sizzled with heat, and she ground her pussy against Lancelots pelvis. Lancelot hissed and then, in a motion so quick she barely knew how it happened, he lifted her and brought her down over his cock, burying himself deep within her. Yessss, she hissed, grinding against him, trying to get that perfect

angle that would tip her over the edge, but then Arthur shoved her forward, so she fell against Lancelots chest. Lancelot wrapped his arms around her, keeping her pinned down, and wrapped his hands around her wrists, replacing Arthurs grip. Fingers toyed with her clit for an instant, and she jerked in reaction to the overwhelming sensation of fingers and cock at the same time. Arthur teased her folds, and she realized he was gathering her silky juices when he ran his fingers up until he reached her anus. Oh, God, she cried when he slid two fingers into her ass. You pray to your god now, do you, slut? Lancelot mocked. You betray your king, your countrymen, with your body, yet you have the nerve to pray to your god? She couldnt answer, couldnt even come up with a reply, because every brain cell was focused on every nerve ending between her legs. Arthurs slick fingers slid easily in and out of her, and when he added a third and stretched her, the pleasure-pain was unbearable, and she squealed into Lancelots shoulder, then bit down in frustration and need. His bark of surprise and jerky movement lodged his cock even deeper within her, and tears dampened her cheeks. His fingers tightened around her wrists, practically cutting off her circulation. Please, she begged. Please let me come or I will die. You heard your slut queen, Lancelot said. Fuck her ass and give her what she needs. The bed moved slightly and then fingers pulled from her anus, replaced by the soft, spongy head of Arthurs cock. She clenched in fear and need. Arthur slapped her right butt cheek hard enough to make her jump and cry out in shock. And then he spread her cheeks wide with his hand and slid into her. Ohgodohgodohgod, she chanted as the pleasure-pain intensified. She wiggled her hips against Lancelot, needing more of him, needing that nudging against her G-spot in order to relax enough to let Arthur inside of her. And then Arthur was there, his cock buried deep within her, filling

her, stuffing her. His hands held her ass cheeks in his palms, squeezing them together around his dick, and she wept with the sheer magnitude of pleasure the likes of which shed never known. Until they moved. In unison they withdrew, just a little, and then shoved back in. She screamed at the intensity, her entire body clenching, inside and out, every muscle. Every nerve tingled. She was so hot she thought shed burst into flames. When she jerked her right hand, Lancelot let go, and she wound it around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. He released her other hand, and she did the same, holding on to him because she needed something to ground her. She was sure shed fly away. They fucked her slowly, withdrawing just a little, then pressing deep, for several long minutes until, it seemed, her body adjusted to the dual intrusion, and she began to relax and enjoy the fullness, the friction of their cocks sliding in and out of her. Then, just as she thought she could breathe again, they sped, deepened, and slammed into her with such force that if she hadnt been grasping Lancelots neck, she would have been shoved right off the bed. She lost all control over her body, her will. She cried out with each thrust of their cocks, and when the orgasm hit, she screamed and screamed, but they didnt relent. No, one of them reached between her and Lancelot and tugged at her clit, sending her into another round of pulsating releases that seemed to go on forever. That went on until her voice cracked, and she sobbed into Lancelots shoulder because her body just couldnt take any more. ***** Gwen awoke snuggled deep under the velvety comforter on the soft-as-a-cloud down mattress. She was warm, naked, and achy. With a grin, she opened her eyes to see the room dark except for the firelight throwing dancing shadows against the tapestry-covered walls. The bed was empty, except for her. The room felt empty, too. It was

okay, though, because shed gotten more than shed ever expected. A night she would never forget. Sensible Gwen sat up, pushing the covers out of her way, and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. She stretched, grinning again at the sore muscles. Her arms, her legs, and especially in her groin. So, that was what all the fuss was about! Out of nowhere the song Simple Joys of Maidenhood came to mind, and she hummed the tune as she slid off the bed and went to the chair near the fire where her dress hung neatly over the back. When she lifted it, she found Arthurs rhinestone-encrusted dagger and a business card on the seat of the chair. After slipping her dress on and adjusting it in all the right places, she lifted the business card. It was identical to the one shed found on the sidewalk outside her condo that fateful day that eventually led her here. She ran her fingers over the embossed The Pleasure Club on the front then flipped it over. Scrawled in a mans nearly unintelligible scrawl, it said: You have made us better men by teaching us to share the fine things in life, dear Gwen. Yours forever, Lance & Arthur Gwen ducked her head as she envisioned as an outsider what the three of them must have looked like on that bed just hours earlier. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, but only a little out of embarrassment. Mostly, she wanted to do it again. And again. And again She picked up the dagger and headed for the door. When shed paid her fees to The Pleasure Club, shed expected to use the service only once and be done with it. Now, she was sure, shed need to come up with a new fantasy to try. If the other Pleasure Masters were as skilled as Lance and Arthur, shed love to try them all. The End

Author Bio
Anna Leigh has been reading and penning romances for as long as she can remember. After she met and married her very own real-life hero, romance took on a whole new meaning. She now knows married life can sizzle and romance can be eroticeven in her own home. She loves to hear from her readers. You can email her at AnnaLeighKeaton@gmail.com and find her online home at www.AnnaLeighKeaton.com. Also read her blog updates along with her co-author Madison Layle at www.LayleKeaton.com.