“Over my lap, Princess.”
I crawled to him and sat back on my heels. “Aren’t I supposed to have, like, a safeword?”
He shook his head. “Not with me, you don’t. Today, we’re playin’ around, which means I’ll make sure you’re enjoyin’ yourself. But, if I ever have to spank you for real? I’ll stop when I believe the message has been delivered, and not before.”
I looked at him a few seconds, and he rested his hands on the bed beside him, his face serious, his body relaxed. “It’s about trust. Do you trust me to make it good for you? If you’re worried I’ll hurt you for real, you have no business layin’ over my lap.”
I shook my head. “I know you won’t hurt me. Not for real.”
He didn’t say anything, gave me time to work it through in my head. I felt Dawg’s presence in the doorway, holding back while Bash and I worked through this. I leaned forward, put my weight on my hands, and crawled over his body, making myself vulnerable as I positioned myself with my hips over his thighs, my ass sticking up, waiting for him to spank me.
But he didn’t. Dawg stepped to the bed and leaned over me to touch Bash’s hand, and a few seconds later I realized he’d put lube on Bash’s fingers. I moaned as his finger touched my ass, and them moaned again as Dawg’s fingers teased my legs apart and then rubbed circles around my clit. I pressed my ass up, begging them both for more, my heart beating in its cage, my blood pulsing through my veins.
Bash’s finger sank into my ass as Dawg’s did the same in my pussy. I knew they were looking at each other, synchronizing, but I didn’t care about the logistics, I just wanted more.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I pushed my ass higher into the air. “I know you aren’t going to let me come yet, but I’m not sure I care at the moment. Need more. Please.”
They didn’t disappoint, and once they started moving I lost the ability to speak, to beg, to do anything but gasp for air, frozen in place with my back arched, legs spread, and ass in the air.
They both added a finger, and my moan lasted through an entire exhale. It was too much in my ass, and not enough in my pussy, but it was perfect.
They worked me until I ached with desire, and then their hands disappeared and I felt a sharp slap to my left ass check, then my right. Bash went back and forth, over and over. Hard enough I felt the heat, the shock, the smack, but I wanted more — harder, faster.
I’d been so close to coming, and now the rhythm of his hand took the place of the rhythm of their fingers. My asshole felt empty with the loss of him, my pussy craved attention, my clit throbbed and ached, and all I had was the heated strikes of Bash’s hand on my bottom. Every touch, every slap, generated more fire and more arousal until I thought I’d go crazy with need.
The strikes gradually grew harder, and harder, and I looked up as Dawg moved towards my head. He stretched out so I could get to his cock with my mouth, and then pressed forward, touching the head to my lips. “You’re just about warmed up, Girly, so he’ll be laying into you soon. Here’s a nice pacifier — give you something to do with your mouth besides scream.”
I opened and let him in, felt his hand on the back of my head, and adjusted my body as he pressed me onto his cock.
His cockhead hit the back of my mouth, pressed into my throat, and Bash’s next spank was hard enough, I’d have screamed if I could’ve.
Now, his hand came harder and faster until my bottom and the backs of my legs were a blazing inferno, and I tried to scream around Dawg’s cock but he was too far into my throat. I reached to push him away with my left arm, but Bash grabbed it and held it to the small of my back. I couldn’t get my right arm around my body to get to Dawg, and I soon realized they had me in a position I couldn’t get out of. I was seconds away from panicking when Bash stopped spanking and said, “Accept it, Angelica. Recognize that we have you, and we’re responsible for your pleasure, not you. You said you trusted me, now’s when you show it.” He caressed my bottom and his voice gentled. “This is a reward spanking, let me give it to you.”
Dawg’s cock came out of my throat enough I could get a deep breath, but not enough I could speak. I stopped fighting them, and Dawg said, “Good girl. We’ll take care of you. Let us see to you.”
He pressed into my throat again, and Bash’s hand came down on my ass again. And again. And again.
When I relaxed, I realized Dawg had thinned his cock enough I could breathe around it, even though it was deep in my throat. I had to concentrate to keep my gag reflex from kicking in, and I didn’t always succeed, but there was so much going on, and my ass was on fire, and still being struck, over and over.
Bash let go of my arm and reached under me as he spanked me with his other hand. Dawg’s cock went back to normal size, so he had to pull out of my throat to let me breathe.
I took a breath and screamed, and his cock went back into my throat, blocking my air. “Stop screaming and I’ll let you breathe, Girly. Have to keep the noise down.”
Eventually, I figured out how to keep from screaming. It was instinct to vocalize the pain, but I soon began to breathe through it and stay mostly quiet. Dawg kept his cock in my mouth, fucked me slow, encouraged me to use my tongue, but as long as I didn’t get too loud he rarely went into my throat.
My hips moved on Bash’s hand at my clit, trying to get more contact, more friction. Just a little more and I knew I’d come, but he stopped as I was once again so close I could taste it.
“Twenty strikes, Angelica. Serious ones. Gonna rearrange us ‘cause you’ll want to fight me. I know you’ll like it once I get beyond the first six or eight, but I’ve got to get you there, first.”
In minutes, I was draped over one of his thighs, and his other leg was over the top of my thighs, holding me down. The hand on my clit moved up to imprison both of my forearms at the small of my back.
And Dawg’s hand rested lightly on the back of my head, ready to push me onto his cock again.
Lightning flashed through my nervous system as Bash’s hand struck my right cheek then left cheek with barely a second between, and I came unglued. It fucking hurt, and there was no way I could take that another eighteen times. Resistance was futile, though, and when I stopped fighting he struck me two more times, and I once again fought like a captured reptile, trying to twist and roll my body to escape. One of Dawg’s fingers rested on my bottom teeth, making sure I didn’t bite his cock as he forced it down my throat and helped Bash hold me in place.
I still fought and hated it for the seventh and eighth strikes, except afterwards, the warmth on my ass spread out, and out, and out, and I wiggled as I felt the heat throb its way to my clit.
The ninth and tenth strikes weren’t so bad, and I found myself trying to lift my ass to offer it up for the eleventh and twelfth. I wasn’t thinking logically — I was only a writhing mass of sensation and arousal, and I knew if he kept hitting me I’d have an orgasm to beat all orgasms.
At twenty strikes I was a conflicted mess, disappointed it was over as relief flooded my system there’d be no more. Bash lifted me in his arms, stretched both legs out towards the foot of the bed again, and settled me on his lap with my back to his front. I felt his cock at my ass, and I gave a series of yelps as he pressed me onto it and forced my muscles to spread open and take him in.
“Take it for me, Angelica. My cock up your ass. I’ve thinned it down for now, but it’ll get thicker before we’re done.”
My ass was still slick from his playing with it earlier, and now he pressed me down on his thick length without pausing to give me time to adjust, and I gasped and squirmed as my bowels were invaded by his long, not-so-thin cock. When I was finally sitting in his lap, impaled by his dick, Dawg lifted my legs, settled my feet on his shoulders, and lowered his mouth to my clit.
I lost track of how many times they brought me to orgasm. I knew Bash’s cock was getting thicker and shorter with each climax, spreading me wider and wider. Opening me. Making me take all of him, making me want all of him. I
squirmed on his lap, groaned, begged, and screamed both of their names. Bash’s hands worked my breasts and nipples when Dawg’s mouth was on my clit, and then later Bash worked my clit when Dawg’s tongue fucked my pussy.
And through it all, I was frantic with lust, crazy with need, and unable to dictate a damned thing to them as they worked me over like a well-tuned instrument. I had no say in the tempo or the notes they played, I was just a receptacle for their ministrations and attention, and at times it was all I could do to get enough oxygen into my body to remain conscious.
When I didn’t think I could possibly come again, they moved me to all fours, with Dawg in front of me and Bash still in my ass, and Dawg’s cock once again filled my mouth.
Now, Bash didn’t hold back as he fucked my ass — this wasn’t easy or gentle, it was rough, raw, feral, and wild.
Dawg lost control as he fucked my face, too, and yet another orgasm took over my body as these two bikers used me for their pleasure, and I reveled in the depravity. It was decadent, and shameless, and debauched… and everything I’d hoped it would be, and I’m convinced my final orgasm, when the guys were coming too, would’ve killed a mere human.
When it was finally over, Dawg once again held me while Bash got a washcloth and cleaned me up. I needed to pee, but didn’t think I had enough energy to make it to the bathroom.
Eventually, I did, and when I returned, they welcomed me back to bed, between them.
No one said a thing. They surrounded me. Pet me. Held me.
Nothing needed to be said.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Angelica
Bash’s phone rang before my alarm went off the next morning, and I heard Duke’s voice telling him to turn the television on. I reached for the remote and turned it to a local station as I noted it was one minute after six.
“Authorities haven’t officially confirmed District Attorney Thomas Pickering’s arrest, but sources say he was brought in during the night hours to avoid providing images of him in handcuffs to the public. This is obviously not an option available to most who are arrested, so perhaps the rumors of his abuse of power aren’t totally unfounded.”
There wasn’t much more before they went to another story, and I changed to another local channel as I grabbed my phone to do a news search for Thomas’s name.
Nothing showed up within the past twenty-four hours, and the other stations didn’t have anything, either. The MC’s attorney had talked to me, coached me on what to say — and not say — should my name come out in the press. I didn’t know what this meant for Thomas, or me, or the MC, but I worried for all of us.
Dawg was quiet; Bash looked pissed. Then again, pissed seemed to be his default look when he wasn’t sure how to feel about something. He rarely aimed it at me, but I’d seen it aimed at just about everyone else.
I didn’t want to talk to either of them about Thomas, so I said, “If I buy a car, I’ll need to arrange for the MG to be stored somewhere out of the weather. Dad kept it in the club’s garage while I was away, and he drove it enough to keep it in good shape.”
“Have you decided what you want to buy, yet?” asked Dawg.
“Something new, and comfortable — I’m making good money and not spending a whole lot of it. I know I won’t be able to work on anything new, but I like the idea of a keyless car with an MP3 player. I’m still considering a BMW or Subaru, but I want to look around some more, too.”
Bash reached for his phone, fiddled with it, and held it to his ear. Duke answered and Bash asked, “What do we know?”
“Nothing yet, other than the fact he’s been arrested. Got a call into Drake, he should be able to get more information for us soon. I take it you’re with Angelica?”
“Yeah. I’ll follow her to work, make sure she gets into the building. Got a meeting this afternoon — if I can’t be there when she gets off, Dawg will.”
“Okay. If you need someone else to keep an eye on her, let me know.”
The guys had breakfast with me, and we discussed the possible ramifications of Thomas’s arrest. It might backfire on the MC, or it could show Thomas’s abuse of power and make him lose office.
Either way, I wasn’t going to talk to the media if they approached me. If it became necessary, the attorney would release a statement saying I’d dated the district attorney for a brief period of time, and when I’d broken up with him he’d threatened me with legal problems because of my association with the Rolling Thunder MC in Atlanta, and thus my ties to club members in Chattanooga. He would frame this as a domestic issue taken public because of the DA’s abuse of the power afforded to him by his office.
* * * *
The first hour of my workday was a useless meeting that could’ve been handled with a fifty word email, but the rest of my day flew. I was so engrossed in my work, I only realized it was five o’clock because a coworker stuck his head into my office and asked if I wanted to walk out with him. I copied some files to a USB drive and locked my computer down before putting my suit jacket on and joining him.
“Who do I talk to about erosion?” I asked him. “Even with baffles, the water on the backside of the dam is going to wreak havoc if I can pull this off.”
He shook his head. “Your job is to get the mechanics right, to get the most energy out of every square inch of water coming through. Once you do that, the environmental people have a go at making sure we don’t break any environmental laws.”
And that was a problem for me, because I needed to be sure my design didn’t cause harm. I didn’t just want to make sure it was legal, I needed to be sure it wasn’t going to destroy the riverbed for five miles. If we needed to drastically alter a couple hundred yards of the riverbed, I could work with that, but more? No. I didn’t argue the point, though. I’d just have to figure it out on my own before I submitted anything.
Dawg was across the street on his bike when I came out, and he followed me to my apartment. I hadn’t seen any media, so it was likely overkill, but it still made me feel good to know the guys were looking out for me. It wasn’t that they didn’t think I could take care of myself, they just wanted to be sure I was okay.
I called Brain on my way home, as he seemed the most likely person to help me with my technical dilemma. At work, the entire top of my workspace can be a touch monitor, and I’d gotten spoiled by basically being able to work with blueprints and other designs directly. Working from home on a twenty inch monitor with a mouse was a bitch, now, so I asked Brain if he had a source for me to buy a touchscreen desk or table.
“Next time you’re at the compound I’ll let you see what I’ve put together. I mounted a sixty inch television flat on a table, put a touch screen overlay over it, and built some wood around it so people weren’t propping their arms on the glass. It isn’t as fancy as whatever you have at work likely is, but I can put it together for you for less than two thousand dollars.”
“I have a fifty-five inch television. If I moved it lower on the wall and hooked my computer to it, that could work. I wouldn’t have to make it into a desk or table. I just need the size and the touchscreen.”
“Send me the specs on your TV and I’ll see if they make an overlay for it.”
Dawg walked me into my apartment and told me Bash would get there when he could. He hugged me goodbye, and I walked into my living room and stared at my television a few minutes.
Brain had given me a few ideas, and I moved my computer under my television and unplugged the HDMI cable from the DVR so I could connect my computer. The resolution and proportion were horrible, and I spent thirty minutes researching how to get it right.
When I finally got my schematics up on the television so I could properly read them, I sat in my big luxurious reading chair, my legs curled under me, with the wireless keyboard in my lap and the wireless mouse balanced on the chair’s arm, and I once again became engrossed in my work.
I jumped when my phone rang, and then smiled as I saw it was Bash.
“Thought
I’d hear from you when you got home,” he said, his voice cautious.
“Dawg saw me home safe, I figured ya’ll were in touch. Sorry. I came in and got absorbed in some work. I set my computer up in my living room, so I can use my TV as the monitor, and then dove back into my project.” I looked at the clock, saw it was nearly eight o’clock. “I’m not really up to going out, but I just realized I’m starving. Have you had dinner?”
“I’m free until eleven or twelve. How about I grab takeout from Sticky Fingers and come by?”
“Perfect. How has your day been?”
“Busy. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”
I didn’t ask about Thomas because I figured someone would let me know if there was news. As far as I was concerned, the less I brought him up, the better.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bash
She opened the door with a smile, but her eyes looked distant. My wolf didn’t like it, but I forced him to back off as I asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah, just kind of deep into work. I know I should leave it at the office, but I’m so close to something. I can feel it, and I really need to figure it out.”
I looked at her TV and tried to make sense of what I was seeing. She watched me a few seconds and used her finger to point as she explained, “The water comes in here, and… hang on, this is the plan view, let me switch to the elevations.”
She sat in her huge-assed chair and worked the mouse a few seconds until the view switched, then stood and went back to the television so she could point with her finger as she talked. “I need this to be a touch screen. Brain’s looking into it, but until then I’m stuck with the mouse. Anyway, the water comes in here and…” I listened to her explanation and marveled at how fucking smart she is. I’d always known it — she hadn’t really needed me to babysit her while she built her car, because what she hadn’t already known, she quickly figured out. I was able to show her shortcuts and tricks, but I didn’t have to explain much to her. I’d often worked on another car or bike in the bay beside her, checking on her every hour or so, and coming over to assist when she had a question or needed an extra hand. She’d used what she knew about motorcycles to figure the car stuff out on her own, mostly.
Bash, Volume II Page 15