Acres, Natalie - Sex Addict [Cowboy Addiction 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) by Natalie Acres

money her treasure earned her.
    Maybe that’s why she spent so much Keesling dough. She’d been taught to use her assets for benefits.
    Kit guided her forward, taking hold of her shoulders and pushing her into a slow stroll, holding her back whenever she tried to pick up the pace a notch or two.
    They reached the second floor landing, and Holly heard voices beneath them. “Damn!” she rasped. “Morgan is down there.”
    “And Morgan has been required to do some of the very things we’ll expect from you.”
    “I doubt Blake and Grant humiliated her and made her walk in front of you.”
    “Of course they didn’t. She’s our sister.”
    “My point exactly! I don’t want her to see me like this!”
    “She won’t,” Kemper assured her.
    “Morgan is a sub,” she whispered, still processing. “Are you kidding me?”
    “You’d be surprised at how many strong women are actually subs and sex slaves,” Kemper said.
    No, she wouldn’t. Kit might be shocked to learn how many strong women she’d seen at lifestyle clubs, chained and gagged one minute and toting briefcases the next. She’d watched many of them hurry off to a meeting after an afternoon of bondage and submission.
    As they walked closer to the foyer, Holly picked up her pace again. She wanted this behind her as quickly as possible. It was bad enough that her lovers’ little sister didn’t like her. The last thing she needed was to bump into Morgan as she walked the submissive’s stroll of shame.
    She lowered her eyes as if to say to those in the world of Domination and submission she was submitting to her Dom’s request. As if Morgan wouldn’t know. She often disappeared with Blake and Grant for hours at a time.
    Holly always suspected they were downstairs, but she would’ve never guessed what she might have experienced there. And she wouldn’t have thought the Keesling little sister—once a crystal meth junkie—would be stable enough to step into the role of a submissive.
    Soon, Holly would log her own hours there in that dimly lit dungeon, too. She wondered then if she’d lost her mind. What kind of woman relinquished all control to her lovers?
    She’d heard horror stories in the past which was one reason she typically didn’t become involved with Doms in the first place. In today’s world, and particularly in the strip club business she’d recently left behind, anything could happen.
    A woman entering Domination and submission had to understand the consequences. More than anything else, submissives needed complete trust and the willingness to hand over her devotion and loyalty to the Doms in charge of her pleasure and care. She took a deep breath. She wondered then—could she trust Kit and Kemper enough?
    She knew the answer without hesitation—absolutely.
    They hit the last stair, and Kit guided her off to the right. “No,” she shrieked. “The basement is left! Go left!”
    “Morgan and Mrs. Daniels are in the kitchen. We’ll walk through there first.”
    “Why?” she screeched.
    “Why not?” Kit asked.
    “Can I use a safe word at some point?”
    Kit stopped and used her body to spin her around. “What do you know about safe words?” he asked, his eyes aglow with the knowledge she’d hidden how much she understood about the lifestyle.
    “Enough,” she replied. “I’d like to use my safe word right now. It’s sexathon.”
    “I like that one,” Kemper told her, grinning at Kit. “Guess she just dropped a tit in your watering mouth, huh?”
    Kit grunted. “I’ll survive.”
    “Good,” Kemper said, taking her by the arm and leading her to the basement. As the noises from the kitchen faded behind her, Kemper whispered in her ear, “You played right into his hand, you know. He suspected you understood more about the lifestyle than you’d ever admit.”
    “He used the threat of public embarrassment so I’d come clean?”
    “His tactics worked, didn’t they?” Kemper asked, arching a brow. “You can’t knock