(A/N: This fic has been a nuisance to me since I first thought it up, and I can't tell you guys how glad I am to finally get it out of my head. Enjoy.)
Disclaimer: The author of this fic does not make any claim of ownership to "Kick-Ass," yadda-yadda-yadda, you know the drill. Riley O'Dwyer is the intellectual property of Makokam, used with permission.
6 Months Ago
"I still can't believe I'm moving in with you guys."
"What's not to believe?"
"You and Mindy have been married for less than a year, and you just bought this house a few months ago. Don't you want, you know, some time to yourselves?"
"There are certain benefits to having you around."
"Very true. How about we go inside and . . . partake of some of those benefits?"
"Down, girl. Not until Mindy gets home."
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2 Weeks Ago
"You're crazy."
"What? It's a good idea, and Mindy's been wanting to try this sort of thing for a while. I think she'd be GGG for more than you give her credit for."
"Maybe for some things, but this? Riley, this goes way beyond SSC, or even RACK play, for God's sake."
"You're exaggerating."
"Not really; remember the last time you broke our threesome code of ethics? She literally kicked you out of the bed!"
"This will be completely different."
"Yeah, it's about a thousand times worse than what you did then!"
"Dave, stop freaking out and listen to me for a second . . ."
". . . Wow. Okay, I have to admit, that might actually work."
"It WILL work. Now, I ordered the gear a while back, so it should arrive in time for your anniversary."
"After this, I hope it won't be our last."
Present Day
Riley hummed softly to herself as she put the finishing touches on their dinner. Beef Wellington, served à point just like it had been at Dave and Mindy's wedding; salmon roe on toast, which they'd all eaten the night they celebrated their becoming a true ménage à trois; a nice South African Cabernet Sauvignon, the wine that Dave and Mindy had drunk from Chris D'Amico's hollowed-out skull the night they killed him; and for dessert, the chocolate éclairs that Dave had brought the first time he'd joined Marcus' family for dinner as Mindy's official boyfriend. Riley couldn't help but smirk at her own brilliance. How fitting it was to have all these foods from important nights past, this night promising to be one of their most important ever.
A door slammed, and a familiar voice called out, "Sorry I'm late, I had a client today that couldn't comprehend the meaning of the phrase 'our time is up, now get the fuck out of my studio.'" Mindy was a personal trainer, and her reputation as an almost military-grade hard-ass who constantly brought results had made it so her clients usually had to book her a week or two in advance.
"Was it that fat girl you told us about?" asked Dave from their bedroom.
"No," said Mindy, throwing her gym bag to the floor and sitting down in the kitchen, "And anyway, she's not really fat, she just has a weight problem. I've told her parents repeatedly that this isn't something you can fix with just diet and exercise, yet they still call me every week and bitch about 'not seeing any results' even though she's gone from running a 15 to an eight minute mile."
Mindy poured some wine into a glass, chugged the contents, and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm totally ruining the mood, aren't I?"
"It's fine," said Riley, "just shower and dress so we can eat."
Mindy did so and they all sat down. If Mindy noticed the significance of the food, she betrayed no sign of doing so, or of any emotion other than complete enjoyment.
"My God, this is delicious," said Mindy between bites of the Wellington, "Riley, when did you learn how to cook like this?"
"A while back," she said vaguely, "I've been planning this night for a while." She gave Dave a knowing glance.
"Is there something I should know?" Mindy asked, finishing the last of the roe.
"Just a little surprise I cooked up for your anniversary," said Riley innocently, "We'll have it after dessert."
The éclairs were served with Turkish coffee as the three moved to the living room. Riley had introduced Mindy to the traditional method of making Turkish coffee, and her skill at preparing it was one of the (jokingly cited) reasons Mindy and Dave had asked her to live with them.
"So what is this surprise you have for us?" asked Mindy, sipping her drink.
"You'll see in a minute," said Dave, sitting next to Riley and casually putting his arm around her.
"I think the saffron you used is going rancid," said Mindy, finishing her cup, "the flavor seems a little . . . off."
"There's nothing wrong with the saffron," said Riley, "I just added an extra ingredient."
Mindy was starting to feel very drowsy and found it difficult to keep her eyes open. "What - what's the ingredient?"
Riley held up a bottle of small white tablets. "Rohypnol."
"Wha - whathefuuu . . ."
Mindy's eyes closed as she drifted into unconsciousness.
First, there was darkness. Then, gradually, the darkness began to lighten into a fog, and Mindy slowly started to pull herself back to consciousness.
"She's waking up," said Riley, "Give her the EpiPen."
Mindy felt a slight prick in her upper arm, followed by her suddenly roaring back to full consciousness. They were in her and Dave's bedroom. Riley was standing in front of her, wearing a pink and black latex corset, black elbow-length latex gloves, and black leather thigh-high boots. She held a riding crop in her left hand. Behind her, Dave lay on the bed naked, his penis fully erect. He twitched it slightly toward Mindy as if in salute, but said nothing.
"Rise and shine, Mindy," said Riley, running the head of the crop along her chin, "It's time for your punishment."
Mindy instinctively tried to throw a punch, but found that both of her arms were handcuffed tightly to the chair she was sitting in, tightly enough to restrict the flow of blood to her hands and prevent her from working her way out of them. Her ankles were similarly chained to the chair legs, and her mouth had been stuffed with a large ball gag. A head harness and posture collar prevented her from looking anywhere but forward, but she was vaguely aware of something in her vagina.
"You've been very selfish, Mindy," said Riley, strutting back and forth, tapping the crop against her palm, "Many's the time I worked myself to exhaustion to please both you and Dave, and I've done so happily, considering that, even without our long personal history, you're two of the most gorgeous people I know and you let me live here rent-free. But you've been stingy in returning those favors, forcing me to abide by a 'threesome code of ethics' that limits my own pleasure while maximizing your own."
Mindy made a noise of protest, but it was a half-hearted one. In truth, she really couldn't deny Riley's accusation. The first rule of the aforementioned code was that Riley was forbidden from having sex with Dave unless Mindy was actively participating. The second rule was that Riley was not allowed to even kiss Dave, ever, under any circumstances. Mindy had, perhaps unsurprisingly, become more possessive of Dave after their wedding, claiming solo sex and kisses exclusively for herself as a form of wife's privileges.
"Well, I've had enough of your bad attitude," said Riley. She set down the riding crop, lay down on the bed next to Dave, and started kissing him passionately.
Dave pulled away after about a minute and said, "I think we forgot something."
"Ah, yes," said Riley with a wicked grin, "I do believe we did."
Standing, Riley crossed the room, grabbed Mindy's left hand, and roughly pulled off her engagement ring. She then slid it on her own third finger.
"A perfect fit," she said, admiring the large stone, "And it looks so much better on a grown woman than a little girl, don't you agree, Dave?"
"Definitely," he said, his voice growing thicker with arousal.
"Oo futha bith," snapped Mindy from behind her gag.
"Don't talk," said Riley, lightly slapping her with the crop, "You'll just drool all over yourself, and I don't want you doing that until later. Oh, and that reminds me."
Riley took a small remote from the bedside table and pressed a button on it. The object inside Mindy began to vibrate intensely, causing her to moan in spite of herself. Just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
"This is a very special kind of vibrator," said Riley, "Once it's activated, it will go off at random intervals for varying lengths of time."
She grabbed Mindy by the hair (which she only just noticed had been tied into pigtails) and pulled her face toward her own until their noses were almost touching.
"I'm going to fuck your husband," Riley snarled, "I'm going to fuck him for as long as it pleases me to do so, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."
She let Mindy go and began to tie her own hair up into a tight bun.
"The things you're about to see will make you horny," she continued, "and the closest you'll get to being able to masturbate will be the occasional activity of that vibrator."
She took a spare Hit-Girl wig and mask out of the secret compartment in their closet.
"When I am finished with Dave, you will become the next instrument of my gratification, assuming that you have learned your lesson and are willing to play nicely. If not, you will stay like this until you are, and Dave will continue to be my husband in the meantime."
Riley put on the mask and carefully fit the wig over her hair. She looked, in all respects, like a taller, bustier Hit-Girl. Dave, meanwhile, had donned his Kick-Ass mask.
"Now, my love," said Riley, her voice becoming more low-pitched, "Shall we give our sweet little fuck-pet a show?"
(A/N: This fic was written partly as a wager with Makokam, but mostly to get it out of my head so I can finally finish "Impending Nuptials." Next chapter coming soon . . .ish. Please Review.)