by Skye Warren
“Tongue out. Let me see the tongue, sweetheart. Look at me. Eyes on me.”
She looked up. Michael held her on his cock, forcing her head to his groin, keeping her there. The pressure built behind her watering eyes, and she felt a tear spilling down her cheek. She blinked hard but kept her eyes wide, looking up at him, despite the sting of running mascara. In a moment she felt she would pass out if he didn’t allow her to breathe. Somehow she managed to move her tongue past her lower lip while he pushed in deeper.
“Ahhh, fuck yes. That’s it, girl…” He moaned as his grip tightened again, twisting her hair, controlling her movement, holding her in place on his cock…ten seconds, fifteen, twenty, thirty. He released her with a loud grunt and a jerk. She saw his cock, coated with glistening strings of her saliva, pulling away from her gasping mouth. She realized that the mess—two cocks hard for her attention—was turning her on too.
“I figured she could take a good face fucking, but damn, Cade…” Michael’s voice was heavy with lust, admiration.
In the next moment, before she’d been allowed a full breath, Cade fisted a handful of her hair and jerked her head toward his cock, his black jeans bunched just below his groin, the urgency of need for the ministrations of her mouth too much for him to bother with disrobing completely.
“Suck! Go on. Take it down.” She knew any protest would be futile. Her wrists strained at her back, locked in the unforgiving steel that cut into her skin. Something about the tone Cade was using, the glint in his eyes, scared her, even as she already felt a betraying wetness between her legs. He stuffed his hard cock into her open mouth and pushed in smoothly. A fresh pool of spit slipped from her lips and ran down her chin as his hardness reached for the back of her throat.
She tried to keep her eyes open and look up at Cade. She saw Michael too, standing just inches away as Cade continued fucking her mouth. He’d stepped out of his jeans and was stroking his cock, watching, breathing. He leaned in suddenly and, with both hands, yanked the fabric that loosely covered her shoulders, pulling her white dress down so her breasts were exposed, vulnerable. He gave one breast a particularly vicious smack; she felt it wobbling back and forth even as her busy mouth, still full of Cade’s cock, muffled her own cry at the pain of the blow. Saliva dripped in long strands, forming rivers that ran down her now reddened breasts. The fabric of her dress bunched at her hips. At the small of her back it provided a resting place for her cuffed hands, some small comfort in an otherwise painful and awkward position, kneeling as she was before the two lustful men intent on using her to satisfy their urges.
Michael’s husky voice took on a dark, accusing tone. “And what kind of slut comes into my store with a sheer white dress and no bra or panties on, huh?” She felt a sharp, stinging smack on her breast and moaned with Cade’s cock still deep in her mouth. Michael punctuated his question with additional staccato slaps at her breasts, some of the slaps landing on her stiffened nipples, making her wince as she sucked cock and tried to keep looking up at Cade. As she’d been told.
Cade fucked her face while Michael continued his rant and slapped at her breasts even harder.
“…bending over every goddamned minute, pretending to look at shit, with your ass sticking out at me? Those fucking hard-ass nipples—” Michael smacked each tit harder again, his other hand still stroking his cock, keeping it ready for her mouth.
Cade pulled free of her mouth with a popping sound, slapping her cheek with his cock. She felt her own slick saliva leaving traces as he rubbed her skin, marking her, claiming her flesh as his to use.
“This little cock slut likes being used, I told you. Just look at her messy little face.” Cade grunted and yanked Mia’s head back, forcing her to look up into his eyes as he spoke.
His tone darkened. “I say we strap this bitch to the bench, cane her, and fuck the shit out of her.”
* * *
In her mind’s eye she could almost see herself, as if floating just above, looking down at the scene. She could imagine how she must look, bent over the bench, her belly pressing down into the leather padding atop the cross plank, blood rushing to her face, head dropped, wrists and ankles captured inside thick metal cuffs attached to the posts, held motionless almost at floor level. Forced onto her toes by the height of the plank, her calves strained, her ass stuck out. Her bare pussy was exposed and vulnerable. And ready to be caned and fucked by two men.
Cade’s voice, behind her again. “Fuck, Mia, you look incredible. I almost hate to do this.”
She heard a high-pitched whoosh slice through the air behind her. Twice. Three times. Was he warming up his aim, centering? Tormenting? Teasing? The anticipation of the cane had always made her pussy drip. She clenched her ass cheeks in anticipation of impact, in spite of herself. She knew better, yes, but this was different though. Two men forcing this on her…
“Unh unh. No tensing up. Relax your ass or we start over.” Michael’s command was coming from just above. She opened her eyes slowly and saw his black boots, his lower legs still in his black jeans, which were unzipped but not removed. She felt his cock tapping lightly on her lowered head.
“No dozing, either. Suck my dick.” Michael’s fist was in her hair again, yanking her head up, forcing his cock at her mouth. Rough. Merciless. His grip tightened, and her scalp burned. He had her attention.
“Open. Wider.” She took him in again, and he pushed for the back of her throat. “Yeah, that’s it. Take it deep. You love it deep,” he rasped, pumping slowly in again. Then all the way out. With each new thrust she struggled to breathe, felt her wrists tensing in the metal cuffs, cuffs that reminded her that she was utterly powerless to do anything about this. She couldn’t reach for his cock and use her hands on it, pull it out of her mouth if it was too much. She realized that, if he’d wanted to, he could have held his cock in her throat longer, too long. He would decide when she breathed, how deep she took him. Everything.
At her back, Cade paused, giving her ass a moment to recover from the cane strokes he applied with increasing force. She tried to relax, give in to the inevitable. Accept.
“Five more, I think. Maybe ten. Haven’t decided yet. Then I fuck this wet little pussy. Jesus, look at you, dripping. Keep sucking him, Mia. Don’t you dare fucking stop. Suck his cock while I cane this ass.”
Mia felt her juices beginning to run down the inside of her thigh, while the stripes of fire Cade was giving her ass kept coming. Her strangled yelps were muffled only by Michael’s cock.
“And I better not feel even a fucking hint of teeth when he hits your ass with that thing, either.” Michael’s warning came rumbling at her as he played the head of his thick cock over her lower lip. She breathed while she was allowed to, watching another long string of her drool head toward the floor. She felt his hard length plunge back into her mouth, going deep into her throat, all the way back. Her gag reflex came up again, and it took everything she had to quell it and do as they required.
Don’t fight. Relax. You can’t do anything about this. They’re going to do as they wish.
Michael’s guiding fist in her hair kept her speed and depth exactly as he wanted it, while another searing flash of pain erupted on her ass. She kept her mouth open and felt mascara stringing her eyes. She squeezed her eyelids together, hard, concentrating on breathing through the pain Cade was giving her, trying to be open for Michael’s cock, an overwhelming confusion of sensations flooded in all at once.
Too much. Too much.
Two rough hands were on her ass now, smoothing over the fleshy cheeks, squeezing gently. She swayed a little—as much as the bench allowed her belly to move at all—under the coolness of Cade’s hands, her hips rising a little to meet them, craving their soothing caress, and in the next moment felt Cade’s cock at her pussy. He pushed inside slowly through the slick lips of her sex, seating himself deep inside her with a low moan.
The pain of the caning had mostly receded, and she was aware only of Michael’s cock, stuffed in
to her mouth, pumping, and Cade’s cock stuffed into her pussy, also pumping. The rhythm sent her into a surreal blissful state, aware of every inch in her pussy and in her mouth.
The continuous motion of both men, the force they exerted on, and into, her body, was making the bench sway a little under her belly. She felt herself rocking between the two of them. Pushed, pulled, but mostly used—as holes for their cocks. Objectified but desired as the center of everything. She allowed herself to let go completely, more than she ever had, and became aware only of the raw sensation as she surrendered to their control. Her delicate wrists and ankles had just enough wiggle room in the heavy metal of the shackles to rub and hurt, reminding her of her predicament, how helpless she was, how utterly at their mercy she was.
And she loved it. She had to admit.
The two men pounded into her relentlessly, their groans deepening as they neared release. She felt Michael’s grip tighten on her head, and his cock plunged forward in a powerful thrust. A low moan escaped his lips as his warm seed erupted in spurts in her mouth. She felt him shuddering, holding her on his hardness while Cade pumped in and out of her pussy and smacked her ass, the sting blooming on her plump cheeks.
“Fuck yes.” Michael’s satisfied growl came from above her as he withdrew his cock from her mouth. She tasted, swallowed, savored the warm saltiness and then watched his lean frame back away slowly from her to shadows. She dropped her head again, all feeling now centered in her pussy as Cade’s thick shaft slipped in and out of her slickened sex.
Oh God. I’m going to come.
Cade’s thrusts were coming faster, and she knew he was close. His fingers stroked at her swollen clit, and she ground her hips back at him, her orgasm shaking her with rolling deep waves of sensation, making her unable to breathe. When his cock finally slipped out of her, she was surprised, felt the emptiness, the need still there…the loss. But in a moment he was at her face, lifting her head with a rough grip pulling at the nape of her neck, thick fingers twisting in her hair. His cock pressed through her parted lips and into her waiting mouth.
“Open…more…eyes on me now. Good girl.”
She did as he demanded and looked up to see his jaw tightening, a strong hand grasping the base of his cock, squeezing, preparing for release.
“Tongue,” he rumbled, stroking faster, leaning into her slightly. Her gaze stayed locked into his as she made her tongue wide and flat for him as she waited, her chest heaving, still catching her breath from the pounding she’d taken from both men. She wanted to taste him as much as she wanted to obey him.
With a low groan Cade began to let go, and she felt his warm seed spurting, coating her outstretched tongue, easily overflowing its surface, rolling outward to the corners of her open mouth. Still, she stayed wide open for him, feeling the heaviness of his cock as he tapped her tongue with it. She swallowed, once, twice, and licked her lips as best she could.
Cade pulled away slightly, and her cheek tingled as he stroked it lightly with the back of his hand. She felt him pressing his lips to her forehead.
Michael’s deep rumble came from the shadows nearby. “Fuck, Cade, one hell of an idea, I gotta say. I didn’t think she’d really go for it.”
“Told you she’d love it. She’s done nothing but talk about this idea for months. I know how to give my girl what she needs, don’t I?” Cade’s eyes glittered, crinkling at the corners. Mia smiled up at him.
“Yes, Sir. That was…just amazing.” She took in a deep breath and released it, her body going limp over the bench as Cade worked to release her ankles and wrists from the cuffs.
“Happy anniversary, Mia.”
Captivated
By Cynthia Rayne
“You never told me your name.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror to see my prisoner, Jonathan Royal, studying my reflection from behind the metal bars that separated us. Despite the orange jumpsuit, he was a looker. Thick black hair, soulful brown eyes, a full sensual mouth, and a squared jaw. Born and raised in Alabama, he had impeccable manners and exuded charm by the bucket load.
Well, as much a killer could.
I focused on the road once more. It was truly a bone-chilling January night and I had to watch for patches of slick black ice on the overpasses. “As far as you’re concerned, my name is Deputy Marshal or ma’am. Take your pick.”
“Just figured we could get more familiar since we are on a road trip and all, ma’am.”
“We aren’t going on a ski trip, Royal. This is a prison transport.” Prisoners always underestimated me, particularly men. I could see why. At five-two with a curvy build, long red hair and wide blue eyes, I looked more like a Sunday school teacher than a threat. But he should know appearances could be deceiving. I’d taken on guys nearly twice my size and won.
“All I want to know is your name. That’s all. Hardly seems fair, since you know everything about me from my jacket. Why,” he drawled, “I bet you know my height, weight, birthday, and exact locations and detailed descriptions of each and every single one of my tattoos.” He whispered that last part, a husky little vocal caress that felt like it had been purred into my ear.
I shivered, and not from the cold seeping in my windowpane either.
Damn it. Why couldn’t he be some ugly old guy? I shouldn’t even be alone with him. Since the recession the marshal service had gone through a series of debilitating cutbacks. Normally two marshals would be transporting someone as dangerous as Royal and he’d be stuffed and cuffed in the back of a gas-guzzling van, so I’d only have to see him at the beginning and end of the trip. Now only a few thin bars separated us, and I didn’t have a partner with me. Someone else I could talk to. So much easier to pretend the prisoner didn’t exist when I could bullshit about weather and bad coffee on the road with a fellow officer.
“If I were you? I would keep my mouth closed and quit while I was ahead. Looks to me like you got a pretty sweet deal, transferring from a maximum security prison to minimum for being such a good boy. Going to be like Club Fed for you. I hear at McCreary they have a prisoner-run garden and even a recue dog program. It’s going to be like going to college. Why do you want to risk your oh so exemplary record by harassing me?”
“Now that is a conundrum worth pondering. Perhaps you make me lose control, Ms. Marshal.”
I scowled at him in the mirror.
Royal cocked a brow at me. “Have to admit, I wouldn’t mind your hands on me once more. I’ve been in prison ten long and lonely years. No conjugal visits. No female visitors that weren’t related to me. Been a long time since I’ve even been in the same room with a woman. And here we are, just the two of us. Intimate quarters. ” He strained in his steel bonds, getting closer to me, closing his eyes as he breathed me in. “Even the smell of your perfume tempts me.”
Jesus. He did have a way with words. Evidently my body had just taken a vacation from sanity, because I began to respond to his sweet talk, a treacherous warmth spreading through me. I bit down on my lower lip viciously, trying to drag my thoughts in another direction. I needed to get it together, pronto.
This whole evening was a bit of a shit show. I’d been out on a date with Tim, a high school math teacher I couldn’t quite decide if I liked or not, when I’d been called in. The marshal who had been scheduled to take Royal had come down with the flu, and I had the misfortune to answer my cell. I’d made my excuses, changed out my low-cut red sweater and tight jeans for a respectable pair of khakis and a white button-down, though I still wore makeup and perfume. On the job I made an effort to appear androgynous so I didn’t attract any more attention than I already did.
Time to put this guy in his place.
“If you don’t shut the fuck up, Royal, I’m going to gag you. Or throw your sorry ass in the trunk,” I threatened. That would so be worth having a letter in my file over.
Due to being pissed off, I turned a curve a little too fast, and the car swerved. Goddamn black ice. I immediately stepped off the gas and turn
ed into the skid, the quickest way to regain control.
But it didn’t work.
The car began to spin, doing a slow one eighty, circling round and round until we rammed headfirst into the concrete wall in the median.
I was lucky enough to be thrown into the airbag, but Royal’s head banged into the steel bars. Thankfully we weren’t going very fast because I’d stepped off the gas.
“You okay?” I asked Royal, glancing in the rearview.
He blinked a few times and shook his head. “Rung my bell pretty good, but I’m fine. Though I’m gonna have a pounding headache tomorrow.” Didn’t have a mark on him. Good. We were both okay, but the car had been crunched up by the concrete pretty good. We weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
I picked up my cell and dialed the boss. “Sir? It’s Blake. Got into an accident on the highway.”
“Shit. You okay?” I liked my boss, Harry Walters. Efficient, loved the job, and no nonsense.
“Yes. Prisoner and I are just fine. Going to call the highway patrol and report the accident, then haul his ass to the county jail for the night. Maybe we could requisition a car from the troopers so I can finish the job?”
“I’ll cut through the red tape and give you a call in about thirty. Keep me updated.” He paused. “Blake, if he tries anything, you put him down and you put him down hard. Don’t trust him for a second.”
“Got it, sir. I’ll keep you updated.” I hung up and dialed the staties. Told them what mile marker we were located at.
Then I turned to actually face Royal. It was unnerving. Even after the accident, he didn’t seem flustered. Just calm. Those dark eyes of his drank me in. Missed nothing.
“Hold tight. They will be here in a few to get us. We got top priority.”