by Lana Hartley
Not yet, I think, not quite yet. I need to come just once more time. My wish is granted as the pressure mounts. Derek’s fucks my ass so hard it damn near feels inhuman. I feel full and satisfied with Lucien’s cock filling my pussy. I let it go and as I do my throat swallows up even more of Tyler.
My head is so dizzy and light feeling. I’m floating now out of my body, and they get it and they go harder and faster. The thought of being had like this all at once from my three handsome men turns me on so much and body is on fire.
Derek goes first because the life is being squeezed out of his cock and he probably can’t take it anymore. He fires his cum into me and it drips down into my pussy to accumulate and mix with Lucien’s juices. Oh fuck, that turns me on. The sight is just too erotic and makes me whimper. Derek relaxes and pulls out of me, giving Lucien ample space to mark his territory. He hammers into my pussy as fast as he can with Tyler riding me up top.
“Oh fuck Snow, you are incredible.”
I clamp down around his cock as he comes deep inside of me. It’s enough to bring me down from the clouds and to make me cum again. The idea of Lucien’s cum commingling with Derek’s cum that’s dripping out of my ass just gets me going wild. It’s a good thing I have one man left. Tyler has been consistently fucking my mouth and it’s oh so good. Right now there’s nothing I want more in the world than to suck Tyler’s cock while Lucien and Derek mark me with their cum. I swallow him up and I can feel his cock twitch, so I get ready to take his cum down my throat. I feel the hot jets of cum shoot down my throat and I swallow what I can and let everything else drip down my chin. He pulls out and I scoop up some of the cum on my chin, tasting him, and scooping up more cum to taste them all together.
“Mmmm, damn that was good,” I moan.
Derek’s moved up to my side and he got the tap going so more warm water can heat up the tub. We got a little distracted and we can always do with more heat.
Tyler climbs in the tub behind me, his hands at my back, as if there’s any tension in me to work out. Derek and Lucien’s hands are on my body, too, and I let myself drift off between them in total post-orgasmic bliss.
Richard
“A kiss for good luck?” I ask Snow, and she reaches for me and places her hand on top of mine.
“Please, be careful,” she tells me, her voice cracking.
“As careful as I can,” I promise her, even though I know this might be it for me. What I’m about to do might mean this is the last time I’m looking at Snow. And the last time I’ll taste her lips.
Leaning in, I close my eyes and crush my mouth against hers. By the time we break apart, there’s a sad smile on her face.
“Good luck,” she whispers, her eyes brimming with tears. God, I gotta get out of the car right now or I’ll be the one crying soon enough. Gritting my teeth, I look around the back of the van and give Derek and Lucien a nod as they hand me my backpack. They open the back doors for me and, placing a black handkerchief over my mouth and tying it behind my head, I step into the street.
The moment I’m out of the van, the first thing I notice is the scent of smoke in the air. And, even though it’s already past midnight, the streets are alive with raised voices. Fastening my jacket, I head down the alley where we parked the van, making my way toward the Main Square in the centre of the city.
Thousands of people have gathered there, protesting against Moira’s rule, and now it’s time to turn their anger into something more tangible. Right now they’re just an angry mob, despite the efforts of some well-intentioned rebels.
Apparently, Moira has ordered all power to be shut down in the Main Square; still, despite the absence of electricity, the glow of lit torches paints the ample square with a warm red. Chants of Mad Moira!, and Out with the Usurper!, echo in the air, and the atmosphere is so intense that I can almost reach out and touch it.
Most of the protesters are wearing masks, and I thank God for that. There’s no doubt in my mind that Moira is doing her best to identify everyone involved in these riots. And once she has their identities...Well, let’s just say Moira really enjoys the old times. There was always a rumor around the palace that she wanted to bring back public executions, but no one really took it seriously — I guess we were all fools back then.
Pushing my way through the protesters, I finally manage to emerge at the center, right at the foot at the statue of King Alphonse, St. Carlta’s founder. Towering over the mass of protesters surrounding them, he seems to be looking straight at the palace with a determined expression, the raised sword in his hand an omen of what’s to come.
“Alright, let’s get it done,” I mutter, rubbing my hands together. Placing the palm of my hands over the stone, I start climbing up King Alphonse’s statue, only stopping when I’m standing atop the massive stone block where he sits.
A few of the protesters surrounding the statue start clapping as they finally realize there’s someone atop the statue, and that’s when I take one hand behind my head and undo the knot on the handkerchief. Allowing it to fall at my feet, I then look down at the protesters. I know that some between them are Moira’s agents, relaying all kinds of information to her, and so I’ve just became an enemy of the state.
And I haven’t said a word yet.
Reaching for the backpack I brought, I take a megaphone from the inside and turn it on with a flick from my thumb.
“EVERYONE!” I start, and my voice echoes through the whole square. It takes a few seconds, but eventually all the chatter dies down, and I feel thousands of eyeballs on me. I’ve never been the kind of guy that enjoyed the spotlight, but this has to be done.
“I know you’re tired, I know you’re hungry,” I start, taking a deep breath to try and muster some confidence. Easier said than done. “And I also know you’re afraid. We all are. But we’re also angry.”
“Fucking right we are!” Someone in the middle of the crowd shouts, and dozens of people start shouting their agreement.
“Together we’ll put an end to this,” I continue. “Moira’s days as Queen will be over soon. The people have spoken, and she now has one of two choices to make — either she resigns, or the people will topple her!”
I don’t know if it’s my delivery or my words, but everyone’s losing it. People are shouting, whistling, and clapping their hands. The atmosphere has become ecstatic, and I can almost feel the electricity crackling in the air around me.
“TO THE PALACE! TO THE PALACE!” Some of them start chanting, but that’s when three armored vehicles stop close to edge of the square. They’re black and nondescript, and it’s pretty obvious they’re packed with the Queen’s men.
Around fifteen men climb out of the SUVs, wearing automatic rifles and tactical uniforms, and they’re looking straight at me. Some of the supporters start banging their fists against the SUVs, but they take a step back the moment some of these men brandish their rifles at them.
Pushing into the crowd, they manage to make their way toward the base of the statue. I remain there, ready to be sacrificed to the cause — I wasn’t sure if it’d come to this, but the people of St. Carlta need to see a public arrest like this. They need to understand we’re no longer living in a democracy.
That’s when I see him.
Flanked by the riflemen, there’s Prince Gladrell. Wearing one of these fancy tailored suits he always had a penchant for, he’s looking at me in such a way that I can tell he’s imagining my head on a spike. Fuck, I knew he was sleazy...But I never actually expected him to do the Queen’s dirty work like this.
“This is the end of the road for you,” he tells me with a grin, and I simply stare at him while his cronies push me down from the statue. Even when they handcuff me, I keep on looking straight at Gladrell.
“No, you’re the one running out of road, Prince,” I tell them as his henchmen drag me toward their SUVs, and I smile as I notice the terror in his eyes.
Yes, be afraid, Prince. Be very afraid.
We’re coming for t
he Queen.
Snow
“NO!” I shout as I watch Gladrell walk through the crowd, trailing after the men that slapped handcuffs on Richard.
“Snow!” Lucien cries out, grabbing me by the hand before I dash into the crowd. Swear to God, if he hadn’t stopped me right now, I’d chase after Gladrell and give him the beating of a lifetime. Forget about all his henchmen — I’d rip them all apart just to get to Richard.
“We have to do something!” I plead, looking from Lucien to Derek. They just stare at me in completely silence, their lips a straight line. They’re pale, their eyes downcast, and I know there’s nothing we can do right now. “We have to do something...” I repeat, weakly this time, but I’ve already resigned to the fact that our hands are tied behind our backs. If we try to help Richard now, we’ll just end up arrested as well.
“Fuck,” Lucien mutters, running one hand through his hair. “Fuck, fuck!”
“We gotta get out there,” Derek tells him, throwing the van’s keys toward Lucien. Grabbing them mid-air, he then starts heading toward the van and we trail after him, the angry chorus of the mob behind us slowly fading away into a distant whisper.
“I can’t believe Gladrell did this...” I hiss as Lucien revs up the engine. He drives us through secondary roads, always circling back to make sure we’re not being followed.
“That motherfucker will pay,” Lucien tells me, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles have turned white.
“We’ll make him pay, don’t worry about that,” Derek assures me, resting one hand on my shoulder. “Gladrell just topped my blacklist right now.”
“Here,” Lucien says, stopping the van in front of the safehouse we’re currently in. “I’ll circle back to make sure there isn’t anything suspicious around here, but you guys head right up.”
“Got it,” Derek nods, opening the side door of the van and leading me outside. We cross the sidewalk in an hurried step and, after entering the building, we go up the stairs as silently as we can. Malcolm’s already waiting for us at the door, and he nods at us anxiously.
“So? How did it go?” He asks, looking from me to Derek.
“They got Richard,” Derek simply says as we step inside the safehouse, bolting the door behind us.
“Jesus...”
“And Gladrell was the one coordinating the arrest,” Derek continues, taking his gun off and placing it on the table. He sits down on the couch, the palm of his hand on his forehead, and throws his head back. “Fuck,” he sighs heavily, vacantly staring at the ceiling.
“Turn the volume up!” I cry out suddenly, racing toward Derek’s side. My eyes are glued to the TV screen, where a video of Richard being dragged out of the main square is showing.
“Holy shit,” Malcolm whispers, grabbing the remote and turning the volume up.
“...the traitor has been rushed out for judgement, and now we’re awaiting to hear his sentence,” a reporter says, clearly distressed. She’s a young woman, one I used to see presenting the morning news, and she looks like she never expected to be covering a story like this. Right now, she’s standing on the steps of the capital’s courthouse, where a crowd of confused journalists and onlookers has already started to gather. “Queen Moira has signed off on new legislative measures, ones that are intended to speed up justice when it comes to high-treason. This man, of whom we still know almost nothing, has been arrested on charges of treason and conspiring to bring down the government, so we can expect this to be a quick ruling, according to the Queen’s new legislative package.”
“They gotta be kidding...They’ve already hauled him into a court?” Derek says, balling both his hands into fists. He’s burying his fingernails so deep into the palm of his hands that I expect to see blood any second now.
“And there’s someone leaving the courthouse,” the journalist suddenly cries out, and the three of us just sit on the couch, taking in each of her words. In the screen, a balding man in a suit is walking down the stairs, carrying a briefcase under his arm and heading toward the crowding journalists.
“My name is Andrew Laurence, and I’m representing Queen Moira’s government in this trial,” he announces, a smugness to the way he’s looking down at the journalists. One of the Queen’s men, that much is for sure. “The court has ruled that Richard Remington is guilty of espionage and, as such, he has been sentenced to death. He’ll be executed tomorrow morning in the Main Square. That’s all,” he finishes off, walking off as if he had just read the weather forecast for tomorrow.
“This is fucking bullshit!” Malcolm suddenly stands up, gripping the remote so tightly that I hear the plastic snapping under his fingers.
Feeling dazed, I slowly go up to my feet and, without a word to either Derek or Malcolm, I simply amble down to my room. There, I close the door behind me and, with my back against it, I slide down onto the floor.
Richard is going to be executed tomorrow.
I know that what we’re doing is dangerous, but the thought of losing just one of them...No, no. This can’t be happening. “Please, God, no,” I mutter, feeling a sob climb up my throat. Tears stream down from my eyes, and I bury my face into my hands.
This hurts too much. And I have no idea on how to deal with this kind of pain.
I can’t lose one of the men I love. I simply can’t. And that’s right — I love them, I really do. I never knew how to put it into words, but there’s no doubt in mind about what I’m feeling — it’s love.
“Snow?” I hear Malcolm’s voice as he raps his knuckles against my door; taking a deep breath, I rise up from the floor. I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand, and then open up the door and let him and Derek in.
“You okay, Snow?” Derek asks me, cupping my face with one hand.
“No, not at all,” I reply, the words stabbing at my lips on the way out.
“That’s okay,” he continues, looking straight into my eyes. “There’s no way in hell we’re going to let that bitch get away with this. We’ve made you a promise — the seven of us will never leave your side...And that’s a promise we intend to keep. No one’s going to lay a finger on Richard.”
Nodding, I purse my lips and try to hold back the tears. Derek’s right — this isn’t the time for tears.
“Then we need a plan.”
Snow
“We’ll make a plan, baby, right now, I think you need to get your mind off of all of this and let us calm you down," Derek purrs at me and then shares a glance with Malcolm.
Whatever these two have in store for me, I’m excited.
In fact, I have a few things in mind for them, too.
Closing my eyes for just a second, I take a deep breath and allow all the anxiety from before to simply wash away. Derek’s right, you know? Sometimes, you need to relax before you can tackle the big issues.
Now let’s show them what I’m capable of.
I step back to stand in front of them, and I start to strip. They deserve a little show. I move and sway my hips, smiling all the while, not caring that I don't have any actual music to accompany me because lust has its own rhythm. I've taken pole-dancing classes before, so I know what I'm doing, even if the only poles here are theirs that they are going pump into me. With that though, I take my shirt off and swing it around. I throw it at Derek's face. They seem extremely happy about my performance so far. As I'm dancing, I unbutton my pants and coolly take them off and step out of them.
Then I dance for awhile, building up anticipation before I unhook my bra and kiss them both before taking it off, and I see their satisfied expressions before I throw my bra at Malcolm. Now I'm half naked, and I bend and sway to the 'music' that’s really only playing in my head, but I don’t think my men are about to complain.
Grabbing Malcolm by the hand, I lead them toward the bed and then, with a push, I force him to sit down. Then, I climb upon his lap and grind on him. I can feel his cock getting so hard, and it makes me get even wetter. He takes my nipple in his fingers and pul
ls and twists and stretches it out so it's sitting at his full attention. I kiss Malcolm intensely, only coming up for air and then looking to Derek, planning to do the same with him.
He's coming over to us and takes my hand and pulls me off of Malcolm. He brings me to my little performance area and starts to dance with me, tearing off his clothes and rubbing our bodies together until I’m panting. I look to Malcolm, and I see he’s tearing off his clothes, too.
My mouth is like actually watering right now, and pretty much any stress I might have had is totally evaporated, because now I’m sopping with lust. I do mean sopping — my thighs are actually sticky from how much I want Malcolm and Derek.
Derek bends to his knees, and he slides off my panties with his teeth. His lips are grazing my legs, and I get goosebumps. My panties are off, and I'm fully naked, my toned and curvaceous body on display, and I feel like a goddess of fucking, ready for the sacrifice of two incredible men ready to wrack my body with pleasure until I’m totally spent. At least, those are the promises their incredible erections are making.
Derek sits down again and he says, "dance." His words are laced with so much lust that I feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Obeying him fast, I do as he says. I can see they both want me like this, parading my body around as they take in my moving figure.
I'm their own personal stripper and it gets me hot to think of them objectifying me in this way, even if I am a badass princess, it is sorta freeing to go from alpha female to fuck toy...because I can always go back and all that really matters is I am completely getting what I want. So I dance and give them my best moves, and the fire in their eyes is happening and they keep commanding me, building up my lust so that I want to give them more and more.