by Angel Payne
Technically, it was a question. Pointedly, Josie ignored it. She stared down at the water, grimly determined to take the treatment without earning any more of the Dom’s sadistic swats.
But Brick delivered on what he did promise. Unflinchingly. Unerringly.
Splash.
Smack.
Splash.
Smack.
A total of ten splashes.
A total of nine smacks to Josie’s dripping pussy.
An endurance test for Wyatt just as much as her. His cock was a screaming torment in his leathers even as he stroked it with force, battling to alleviate some of the pressure from watching his soaked, nude beauty struggling at her bonds every time she emerged from her glowing blue hell. Brick’s sharp spanks were another layer of erotic anguish. Wyatt knew what that kind of treatment did to his girl’s naughty pussy. The bites of pain would be just enough to reheat her tunnel, only to be refrozen with yet another dip into the tank.
But now, after that tenth dunk, Brick wasn’t back with the crop. He held something else, a device Wyatt couldn’t identify. The curiosity came as a relief. For a few blissful seconds, he wasn’t even concerned about the duress in his dick. The bulge in his friend’s leathers betrayed Brick’s own rising lust. Was there anything more stimulating to a Dom than a submissive pushing past her fear and discomfort for his pleasure? The struggle was real, and maybe Brick was about to let them all have a break.
But he’d forgotten exactly who this Dom was. Max fucking Brickham. Best friend to John Franzen. Co-owner of Bastille dungeon. A connoisseur of every BDSM flavor there was. The guy probably trolled ice cream stores just to get kinky inspirations for those names too…
A thought that couldn’t be more appropriate for Brick’s next ruthless deviation.
“You look pretty as an ice cream cone, sweetheart.” He tilted his head in, checking Jo’s hands and feet for proper circulation. Apparently satisfied she wasn’t turning blue in the wrong places, he went on, “So maybe I should just turn you into one.”
What the hell?
The words flared through Wyatt’s brain like a kinky version of the Northern Lights. Even his wildest guesses about the contraption in Brick’s grip didn’t come close to the crazy reality of the thing.
“A DJ friend turned me on to these.” Brick boosted his matter-of-fact tone to carry across to Wyatt as well. “Cryo gun. Instantly freezes shit you get it close to—like sexy drippings off a subbie’s sweet body.”
“Holy fuck.” Wyatt returned his hand to his crotch.
“Happening soon,” Brick promised. “But first…”
Josie’s high cry punched the air as he lowered the cone-shaped nozzle over one of her breasts and pulled the trigger. There was a hollow shoosh and a spray of what looked like fog—but when he pulled the cone away from her breast, a long icicle had been formed off her nipple. It gleamed in the dungeon’s lights, as did the formation Brick created from the other breast.
Wyatt jolted to his feet. With hands fisted at his sides, he called across to Brick.
“Do it to her pussy.”
Chapter Seven
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
Josie’s senses exploded with no other words—forget the possibility of thought. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be warm again and, at this point, wasn’t sure she cared. Her body and brain, stripped of all feeling with every new dunk into the hideous blue tank, were now nothing but trembling cold…and blissful numbness.
She’d even been able to tolerate the bastard—that was Brick’s name now, just Bastard—turning her nipples into icicles. Even in her half-lidded gaze, they were kind of pretty. The frozen peaks gleamed in the dungeon’s lights like sculptures at a winter festival…
That was before he got ordered to do the same thing to her sex.
Commanded by the man who was supposed to be looking out for her. The man who’d always let up on her at a point like this in the play room. He’d never push her like this. Would never order the resident bastard in the room to—
“Ohhhhh!”
To do exactly that. Making her scream as loud as she could, consequences be damned, as his evil gun fast-froze every drop of water still caught in her pubic hair. One blast, changing everything down there. It hurt. It throbbed. It stung.
She wanted to be done with this.
Damn it, she needed to be done.
But though the sobs echoed in her mind, none of them spilled out. Overcome and endure. Shove it all down. Freeze it all back. It was what she had to do, even now. It was what she’d always done.
How much more could they do to her, anyhow?
She allowed herself a relieved gulp when the answer seemed to come right away. The platform started rising and turning again, soon returned to its original position on the dais. Though she still couldn’t stop shivering, it was clear her hell in the blue tank was over.
But that didn’t mean all hell was over.
She held true to the thought, and its dread, when Brick approached again. Though he unbuckled the two middle straps, he made no move to unlock her from the wrist and ankle straps. She still lay there, exposed to his piercing blue gaze, as the ice mounds on her body began to drip and tease her chilled flesh.
“You know, glacier girl, you’re pretty damn beautiful like this.”
She only glared. She knew better than to say anything unless he asked it of her directly.
“So tell me. Do you enjoy being made of ice?”
She had to inhale in order to form words. “No, Sir.”
“Not fun? Despite being utterly stunning?” As he spoke, he started stroking one of her nipple icicles. The column wasn’t very thick, making it break off in his hand after a few swipes. Josie gasped and then sighed as her newly exposed tip hit the warmer air—but not for long. With the small spear of ice in hand, he kept her areola hard and puckered with taunting, frozen circles.
“N-No,” Josie repeated. “Not fun.”
“So you want to be warmed back up again?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“To finally melt for me? And for your Master?”
“Yes, Sir.” Now she couldn’t get it out fast enough. The feeling had started tingling again in her fingertips and toes, and it was incredible. A miracle. Her gratitude was so complete, it threatened to flood the dams of her control again. She repeated, on the brink of revealing the tears so close to her edges, “Yes, please.”
“Good.” Brick’s tone was practically professional, which intensified the jolt as he flipped the latches free on her remaining restraints and then dragged her to the bottom edge of the table until her legs hung over. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I first saw you tonight.”
“Th-This?”
But she’d barely stammered the question before the big Dom had his leathers unsnapped, his erection pulled out, and a condom halfway slipped on. Jo had all of three more seconds to glance down and gasp—holy shit, the man’s penis was magnificent, with a steel ring pierced into the head—before he grabbed her thighs, pulled them far apart, and thrust himself into her as far as he could go.
“Oh!” Josie gasped.
“Fuck,” Brick gritted. He withdrew, rolled his hips so his piercing nudged all the sensitive tissues just inside her entrance, and then clenched his hips and lunged back in even deeper than before. “Hawkins,” he yelled. “You did not tell me how incredible her cunt is.”
“Just as much a heaven as her mouth.”
Wyatt’s comeback was obviously as much a surprise to Brick as it was to her. Neither of them had heard him crossing from the other dais. But the sight of his beloved face and rugged bare torso made Josie burst with a sigh of pure joy. Normally her exclamation would bring out a gentle kiss or cheek stroke from her husband, but Wyatt had clearly been sipping on the special Brick cocktail tonight. Every plane of his face was stamped with the same rigid ferocity defining Brick’s features.
“But why take my word for it?” he commented while unlatching h
is own leathers. Josie, with her head already turned, watched in ravenous wonder as Wyatt revealed his swollen cock and straining balls. It had been too damn long since she’d gotten to say hello to them like this, and that was a shame. Her husband’s penis was a work of art, even without a piercing. He was about the same length as Brick, but his head always turned the most perfect shade of purple and his balls thrummed with such life, she was certain they shook from the force of his clamoring come. “You know what to do, girl,” he drilled, pushing in just as a bead of white appeared in the slit of his crown. “Show our guest how well you can suck me.”
Josie opened wide, letting him fill her mouth and throat to the fullest. Both men groaned at the sight, and it wasn’t long before her own needy mewls joined their soundtrack. As they heated her from the inside with their cocks, they caressed her on the outside with their bodies, hands, and tongues. All the water that had turned her into an ice cube before now formed warm, splattering rain through the cracks in the steel table, only adding to the erotic symphony of their wet suckles, thwopping thrusts, and harsh, heated kisses.
“Damn,” Brick growled.
“Yeah,” Wyatt snarled back.
Josie examined them both. While lust laced both comments, it wasn’t the full definition of their comments. They traded tight glances, as if they’d discussed a benchmark that needed to happen by now and hadn’t.
What the hell was going on?
“Time to turn on all the burners,” Brick declared.
“Ten-four.” Wyatt’s tone was gruff with approval, though he stepped away from the table and allowed Brick to do the same. But perplexity really busted in when they both pulled her off the table, each taking one of her hands.
“Wh-What’s wrong?” She darted a worried stare between them—but her only answer came from Wyatt, who moved in to scoop her off her feet as Brick turned and descended from the dais ahead of them.
“Come on, sweet one.”
“Sir. Master,” she revised when that didn’t fully pull his attention. “Why are we…”
She let it fade as Wyatt carried her toward the bondage bed. Somehow, perhaps using some crazy Dom superpower, Brick had already cleared the distance to the bed, shucked his leathers, and scooted to the middle of the vast surface. He lay there with his head propped against the headboard, his condom-covered cock still shiny with her juices, its length still erect and breathtaking.
Though Wyatt set her down gently on the leather, his voice violated the air with harsh command. “You know what to do with that cock too, don’t you?”
Her heart flipped over. Wyatt was rarely this ruthless with her, but she loved every second when he was. “Yes, Sir.” She bowed her head, pausing for just a moment to savor this moment. Was this even her reality? Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been folding laundry and preparing the farmhands’ paychecks. Now, she was only worried about all the pleasure she could give these two erotic gods, their gazes agleam with lust, their cocks erect with need.
She had to be the luckiest girl on the damn planet.
“Good girl.” The praise was thick and gruff in her husband’s throat. “Now get on and ride him well, baby. I’m going to be watching.”
If her channel wasn’t thoroughly ready for all this before, the last part of his command took care of that doubt. Holy shit. She was really going to do this. Wrap her body around another man’s cock—while her husband looked on with adoration and approval.
She wasn’t just lucky.
She was blessed.
Every inch of her pussy raced and pulsed before she even straddled Brick all the way. As she sank down, the gorgeous Dom jacked his dark head back. Her moaning gasp filled the air between them. Gravity was working its wonders, angling even more of Brick’s dick deep into her tunnel. The man himself aided the effort, anchoring her hips with fierce holds, ramming her pussy onto his length with stabbing lunges.
And yes…Wyatt watched.
At first in steam-quiet silence…but soon, with sounds that began to match Brick’s feral grunts and sexual moans. He’d never put his dick back into his leathers and began to stroke himself with defined rhythm, heavily slicking its beautiful bounty. Thwick, thwick, thwick. The sound of his pleasure inundated the air—
And bewildered Josie.
That was a lot of lubricant, even for the precome she knew her husband was capable of producing.
She glanced over to see that he’d indeed gotten some help. His cock was red and swollen…and greased from the lube he poured on it with his free hand.
“Fuck,” Brick groaned from beneath her. “Oh, fuck me. Hawkins, you ready to do this? This breathtaking cunt wants my come, man.”
The hot—hot—effect of his words aside, Josie dashed an intense stare between the two men. “Is…is he ready…for what?”
Wyatt didn’t deny her the answer. He just waited until he’d climbed on the bed with them, then knelt behind her to spread her ass cheeks, before speaking it.
“To be melted, my sweet girl. By both our cocks fucking you at once.”
Chapter Eight
As Wyatt expected, she tensed.
As he also expected—or hoped—she slackened into compliance again. His girl wasn’t some silly brat. She’d agreed to this scene tonight, complete with Brick’s involvement, and had to know that double domination might mean they’d try to fuck her at the same time. She also had to know that the odds of it happening doubled every minute she waited to give him what he really wanted from her tonight.
She was holding it back.
Her complete meltdown.
The total surrender he needed.
Sometimes—like in the pauses between each of her icy dunks—she’d come damn close. But she had sucked it all back up and in, too damn afraid to show him the emotions in her heart and fears in her soul.
And now, she’d have no choice about the matter.
He wasn’t giving up until he had it.
“Relax, sweet girl.” He gave her the direction while pushing out the perfect spheres of her ass, baring the tiny hole of her naughtiest entrance to his hot gaze. “You know what to do. I’ve been here before.”
“But he hasn’t.” It was a gritted seethe, making Brick chuckle a little. The guy stopped himself on a hiss as the lube Wyatt gave her ass crack dribbled down over his balls.
“Your Master is right,” the big Dom said, helping Wyatt out in the ass-prep duties. The man’s long fingers looked like long vines along her skin, pulling her little hole wider. “Breathe into it like you’ve done before, and push your muscles out as he seats his cock in. You can do this, little one.”
Josie let out a fuming huff. “Says the guy not being stuffed with two cocks.”
Brick glanced around at Wyatt. “She should be spanked for that.”
“No.” Wyatt lined up his throbbing head at her tiny entrance. “She should be fucked for that.”
In two determined thrusts, he was fully seated inside her ass.
She groaned hard.
Brick groaned even harder.
Wyatt made no sound at all. The bliss was too good. Her body was too perfectly puckered and tight, gripping his dick with a hundred rings of muscle, a thousand charges of heat. None of it let up as both he and Brick penetrated her, shuttling into her pussy and ass with callous force, making the woman moan and swear and cry out, her body hovering on the brink of orgasm like a storm hanging over the horizon, waiting for one good ion in the air to bust it all loose on the land.
Her hesitance ruthlessly teased his resistance. How much longer could he hold out? “Fuck,” he finally snarled. “Jesus fuck, girl.”
Had he and Brick really resolved they wouldn’t come until they’d broken her? And if so, who the hell had dictated that stupid rule?
Oh, yeah. It’d been him.
Because no matter how badly he longed to explode inside her, even right now, no orgasm was worth the sacrifice of the true burst he needed. The true breakthrough he’d flown her here to get.
She was quicksand.
She was surrender.
She was tears and sorrow and unending release.
And, as he and Brick burst too, pouring their heat and seed and passion into her, she was melted.
This time, for good.
Chapter Nine
Valentine’s Day was never one of those do-or-die things for Josie. She always figured that if she and Wyatt needed a day to show their love for each other, something was seriously wrong. Besides, a million times a day, the man gave her moments that were so much better than a preprinted card and a bouquet of flowers. The times when he made Vi laugh during their daddy-daughter tea parties. The breathtaking sight of his shirtless body at work in the field or barn. The new darkness in his eyes, telling her how he intended on kissing her deeply…
Dark facets just like the ones invading his gaze now.
Her breathing turned shallow as he moved in over her naked body, his fingers skating over her flesh before his lips hovered just inches from hers…
But not descending.
“Wyatt,” she pleaded, only to correct herself. “Sir. Please.”
The dusk in his stare turned to midnight. He pursed his lips, edging his expression on a smile. “Please…what?”
“Kiss me.” She undulated, offering up her mouth like a piece of fruit. “You’re driving me insane…”
She hitched a little higher.
He moved off, shaking his head with sultry slowness. “I’ll smudge your lipstick, love.”
“Fuck my lipstick.” She yearned for the man to move in and make a giant red murder scene of her lipstick—preferably, up and down the length of his cock.
“Just a few more shots.”