“Don’t move,” he commands.
I brace myself. I know what’s coming next, and he doesn’t hesitate to deliver.
He takes three fingers and slams them inside me, moves them in and out of me a good few times before he takes them out and I can hear him licking his fingers, and he does it again. I struggle not to move, not to make a sound. The inside of my kitty pulsates, clenching and releasing from feeling pleasure and pain.
“Apologize,” he commands.
“I’m sorry, Christopher,” I say.
He takes his fingers out of me and swiftly slaps my slit. My body automatically jerks forward. He licks his hand as if it’s covered in guava juice, slaps my slit again, then parts it, rubs it up and down, leans up and puts his tongue inside of me, moves it in nice and slow, making me wetter. He rolls his tongue downward, licks my clit over and over again as Candice watches us, transfixed, too afraid to move.
“Are you going to be a good girl now?” He asks me as he rubs my slit with pressure, up and down, letting his finger slide inside me every other rub, spreading my juices that have mixed with his saliva, making a slippery mess, making me feel as if I could take more than one cock inside me right now, making me hornier than I’ve been in a long while.
“Yes, I promise, Christopher,” I tell him in agony, in a state of famine. My kitty is starving, a beggar, but not a position to ask for what she needs.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he says to me and then he uses both his hands to slap my ass, both cheeks, then he grabs them both, squeezes them, then releases them, and then smacks them both again. Pain. I’m on fire. My skin feels raw as he continues to penetrate me with his fingers with every other rub over my soaking wet slit. “Now thank me for being merciful. You know this could have been a lot worse for you.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you, Christopher.”
“Both of you,” he looks at us, back and forth between our faces. “Get that fake cock. Take a side, each of you. Ride it. Fuck it. Make me hard again so I can fuck the both of you.”
“Yes, Christopher,” we say in unison as I get the dong. We are poised over him, our legs in positions that make it look like we are playing some complicated game of twister. We are human bridges joined by silver at our wrists, hovering over a man we were willing to give our service to, willing to please in any and every way he wanted.
I look into Candice’s pretty face, as I try to get a read on her. Her beautiful brown doe shaped eyes are big and nervous. Seeing that look on another girl’s face would’ve given me pause, would’ve made me break protocol and ask her if she was okay. Not Candice. Her look of nervousness seems to be asking for it. Daring me. Her look taunting me, testing me, seeing if I was going to be fooled by it. I wasn’t.
I slide her end of the eighteen inch dong inside of her. The way she tilts her head back, the way her lips part in that “O” shape, the way her eyes go dreamy, I can tell that the end of the dong I’ve stretched her kitty with, the end that’s invading her hot wet little hole, is much needed company. Girls like her only look scared, but they were the ones aching to be fucked, needed a hard cock in them at all times. They were the girls you’d never expect would love to have two or three men at once. The kind of girl you had a hard time picturing laying on her back as one guy pumped away between her legs as she sucked another one off. It would be the guys who’d end up on the floor panting, sweating, muscles aching, cum dripping from their shrinking penises as she laid back on the bed rubbing her clit, running her fingers over her slit, wanting more, craving more hard dick, kitty so hungry she’d loved to be fucked until she were sore.
I slid the other side of the done in my own kitty. Made mine purr on the inside. Stretched my walls. I needed to cum again just as badly as Candice did. The private parking garage seemed to have been eons ago. But our master gave specific instructions. I was listening, caught his every word, but I wasn’t sure Candice had done the same. Our hips rolled in alternating rhythms. Our moans are nice and easy, they go with the way our hips are rotating.
Chris leans up, starts playing with both our kitties, our sweet spots filled with the long thick toy. I see Chris rubbing her clit, see how her opening swallows that fake cock over and over, see how she bites her bottom lip, the grimace on her face, the way her mouth opens and closes in ecstasy, the way her eyes do the same. Her eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings, her breasts have a sheen of sweat over them even though the room is cool. There is a thin layer of Chris’s cum still on her that was never wiped off, soaking into her beautiful skin.
Chris is watching her more than he’s watching me. I find myself feeling a wee bit green. Find myself wanting some of that same attentiveness.
“I beg you master,” I address him. “Fuck me.”
Chris turns towards me, eyes all steel.
“No. Suffer,” is his response. He turns his attention back to Candice. He seems mesmerized by her. I want to break that trance, I don’t care what the punishment is going to be.
I thrust my hips forward, push her back onto the bed, back onto her back, hope all the anger and annoyance I feel is in my eyes, written all over my face, hoping she can’t see the jealousy as well. Hoping Chris doesn’t see it even though he knows me better than myself sometimes. I get her on her back easy with the just the strength of my kitty and the dong. I nearly go down with her because of the cuffs. I don’t hesitate. I squeeze my PC muscles, start riding my end of the dong, pushing her end inside her deeper, harder, see her eyes widen as I start pumping her end of the dong inside of her. Her legs are gapped open, she starts to scream, grabbing at the bed covers, a look of anguish in her eyes.
I reach down with the hand I’m cuffed to her with and rub her little clit. Rub it as I penetrate her faster and harder, as I speed up the rotation of my fingers on that little button that’s pushing her over the edge.
Her orgasm takes her by surprise, I see it written all over face. She gushes, squirts all over my thighs and the dong. Squirts and screams as tears roll down the side of her face.
I feel Chris grab me, move me away from the dong just enough so I can’t ride it anymore. After he’s removed my end of the pleasure toy from inside me, he takes the rest of it out of Candice as well. He unfastens the cuffs from our wrists just as quickly as he came upon us.
He slaps my ass hard, one good time, like an upset authoritarian with an unruly pupil.
“You know better!” He shouts at me, his eyes filled with so much anger towards me as he points to the far end of the bed. “Go! Sit! Now!”
I do as I’m told. I retreat. I go over to the end of the bed as he instructed and lick my wounds, all the while trying to suppress a smirk.
He’s positioned himself at Candice’s head, his penis aimed at her face as he moves his semi-hard cock up to Candice’s lips who takes to it instantly, sucking away. Chris leans over, rubs her soaking slit, her lips are wet and dripping, there’s a wet spot on the bed underneath her, her thighs are wet. She’s made an absolute mess because of me and I can’t help but be proud. He rubs her slit, penetrates her nice and slow with two of his fingers, then three. He looks like he’s grabbing her with those three fingers, squeezing her snatch, takes those three fingers in and out of her, taking his time.
“You didn’t mean to cum,” he tells her softly. “I know it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t help it. But you weren’t instructed to cum, baby. I’m sorry.”
He stops massaging her slit, stops sliding his fingers in and out of her sweet spot, and slaps her sex. Slaps her slit, making her squeal, and there’s a look of astonishment on her face.
“Leila will be punished,” he tells her. “But so will you. Only not as severely. You’re going to get off with a few warnings. Be grateful.”
He slaps her slit again, rubs it, spreads her lips and shows me her pink inner walls and then slides two of his fingers inside of her. He takes them out, keeps her lips parted with one hand, exposing her tiny little hole that’s been stretched somewhat af
ter all that’s been done to it since she got into the car with us at the club along with her clit, and with his other hand he slaps her opening. Slaps her pink walls that he can get to along with her clit. He snaps his wrist back, giving that area four harsh thwacks. She moans and gives sexy little screams as he does it, all the while holding onto his arm, her face screwed up in anguish/pain. Her legs are wide open. I can see everything. With every thwack she’s getting wetter, I could hear it start to splash by the time Chris had smacked it the fourth time. When he moves his hand away I can actually see her juices flowing out of her, clear and sweet. I know because I’ve tasted it. I see it all before Chris puts his fingers back in and strokes her hot little hole as if he’s playing inside his favorite little toy, his favorite little fuck box.
He’s rubbing her, soothing her little snatch, patting now as if it’s delicate.
Then he leans down, kisses her softly, slowly, let’s me see him sucking her tongue and then savoring her lips. He takes his hand out of her kitty and puts it up to her lips, traces her juices over the top one and then the bottom one, sucks her juices off of her. He puts those same two fingers into her mouth, makes her suck them, then he puts them into his mouth and sucks off her kitty juice and her saliva.
He puts his fully erect dick back up to her mouth and she sucks him nice and slow.
All I’m allowed to do right now is watch. And be tortured. Tormented. Chris looks back at me and gives me a fiendish smile. He looks like a naughty little boy bent on hovering over a colony of ants with a magnifying glass. His goal right now is torment; he intends to torment me. I want to hate him, but I know I deserve it.
As she sucks him she plays with her beautiful breasts, pinches her succulently hard nipples. Nipples I want to suck again. Nipples I want to taste that have a layer of Chris’s cum on them and sweat and saliva. I want to taste it all.
Chris moans as she sucks him. He thrusts his cock into her mouth a little rougher as if it’s her kitty, that stretchy juicy hole between her thighs, and she looks up at him with big innocent brown eyes that would make anyone melt as she swallows him deeper, sucking him with more passion.
He reaches down and grabs one of her tits. Rubs that fat breast, then smacks it, makes it jiggle. He massages that same breast, takes his cock out of her mouth and leans down and kisses her, tongues her deep, then sucks the nipple of that same breast he’d just been toying with.
She looks as if she wants both her mouth and her snatch stuffed with cock. I want to see her that way. I want to see her on her back being fucked in every hole. I want to get fucked as she gets penetrated to the point where she has no hole that isn’t being slammed with hard dick.
She’s driving me fucking nuts, but I know I can’t do anything. I know I can’t jump in. That would be breaking too many rules. I can’t disobey Christopher. He’s my master. I must wait for his instruction, his punishment to be issued. All I can do is watch, be the voyeur. The tortured voyeur.
Then I see Chris’s face. He looks as if he has tunnel vision. He looks just as tortured as I feel.
He looks down at her with eyes filled with confusion and suffering and then says to her barely above a whisper, “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
Before he finishes the question completely he lifts her up from where she’s been laying. He lifts her as if she’s weightless. He’s kneeling on the bed, his cock so hard it looks like it has a mind of its own, as if it has an idea of the destination it wants to go as it bounces as he moves.
He doesn’t hesitate before he impales her with that stiff appendage. He goes inside her deep every single time. Every single time it seems he pounds into her with more and more force. His hard on disappears completely every single time he enters her. Ten inches. He has a ten inch cock. A ten inch dick. She’s taking nearly a foot of a solid pole of flesh inside her tight little twat every second. Her hair is flying. Her tits go up and down. Her mouth is open, but she can’t even scream. He’s slamming into her so hard, so deep, I can hear their skin slapping every single time he brings her cute tiny little body back in toward him.
He’s fucking her viciously. Savagely. With no condom.
I’ve never seen him so reckless. Never seen him play Russian roulette this way before. Not with his health, his life. He doesn’t even look like himself. I’ve never seen him fuck the way he’s fucking her before.
Suddenly he sits on the bed and she’s on top of him, legs spread over his lap. He doesn’t break his vicious rhythm. Doesn’t slow. He fucks her like he’s trying to kill her. He’s below her, but he’s still in control. She’s not riding him, he’s simply lifting her up and down as if she’s a beautiful five foot two doll, bouncing her on his pole of pain. Making her scream. She’s begging for mercy. He doesn’t listen to her pleas.
I’m watching him. I’ve seen all this before. I’ve seen the look on his face at least a hundred times before. He’s about to cum and he’s about to cum hard. Harder than he did earlier when she was sucking him, deep throating him, and he was shooting his load in her mouth.
He leans back against the overstuffed feather filled pillows on the bed. He holds her down by her waist. Holds her down, raises his own hips toward her as he pushes into her with all his might, with strength, with his massive cock that’s about to explode. She can’t move, and he’s as deep inside of her as he can get. He growls and grunts like an animal. I’ve never seen him cum like this before. It’s primal. He’s a cave man. He’s marking his territory.
He cums inside of her and the world stops. At least my world stops, and for me, right now, that’s the only world that matters. He’s cum inside of her and has broken our most cardinal rule. He’s cum and I don’t recognize this man, this Chris that’s looking at this girl, this stranger, as if she’s his salvation. He’s looking at her with hearts in his eyes.
She moans and rises off of his cock that’s still twitching, that’s still spewing cum inside of her walls. She raises herself, gyrates her hips just a little as if she’s trying to get every bit of his semen to come out and play inside of her. She’s smiling and riding him slowly. She leans in and kisses him. They kiss as if they’ve just made love. They kiss as if they’ve known one another forever. Jealous isn’t the word to describe what I’m feeling. They’re tonguing one another with a passion that excludes the rest of the world from their own little corner in it. They kiss with a passion as if they’ve totally forgotten about me.
I watch them.
I don’t know what’s happening.
I don’t know if I want to know what’s going on.
The only thing I really truly know is there aren’t anymore rules in our game.
***
I wake up and it’s 1:45AM. I’m disoriented at first and can’t figure out where I am.
I’m surrounded by walls painted in black and red, in some places white.
Can’t be.
The walls of my bedroom are a dusky rose color with framed paintings of flowers with beautiful petals that seem to leap out at the viewer.
I don’t sleep on black sheets the color of ink.
My sheets are white with lavender and pale pink embroidery that was custom made for me in Madrid.
Then slowly, like the events of the evening before start coming back to me. The fog in my head begins to peel away, revealing clearer mental photos, clear dialog that had begun to rush to the surface of my memory as I remembered everything slowly and with a clarity that nearly sent me hurling into the bathroom and starting a deep transaction between myself and the porcelain well of waste.
I hadn’t thought I’d drunk as much as the feeling of a hangover that’s bothering me right now.
I lick my lips, take another look at my surroundings since I know where I am now.
There’s Chris, who looks as if he’s had better nights of sleep with a girl lying close beside him.
A girl. That girl. The mystery girl named Candice. She’s a mystery despite the fact that she’s lying there beside him naked. We�
�ve both seen her orgasm, we’ve both been inside of her, and yet we hardly know a thing about her.
That girl.
She did something to us earlier and now that I’m thinking about it my imagination is running wild with possibilities. Did she slip us both something? Was she just waiting for us to approach her all along? Chris and I thought we’d chosen her, but it could’ve been that she’d chosen the two of us.
I shake my head. My newest theory doesn’t make any sense. My newest theory sucks.
I’d had that panicked feeling when I first woke up and wasn’t sure of anything, but now I wish I hadn’t recalled, that I wasn’t fitting pieces of this crazy puzzle together. I wish I could un-know what I now knew.
Chris had cum in her. Cum in a stranger. Went inside her deep and raw. Looked at her like she was his forever, as if they’d known one another for just as long as I knew him.
After he’d drilled her half to death and done something out of control, he’d looked over at me with a hollow look in his eyes that I’d never seen before. That look he’d given me made me wonder just how well I knew certain parts of him when he was one person who I’d always believed I knew every part, or at least nearly every part, of him.
Chris and I were in kindergarten together. We hadn’t played much together, hadn’t really noticed one another since he was a boy and boys were yucky to me back then and I was a girl and had an invisible gaggle of fictional cooties infestation on me since every girl had them as far as every little boy had been concerned, not until the day he came to school with a broken finger. He’d looked so sad, sitting away from the other boys when it was time to play kickball out on the playground. He couldn’t participate since our teacher had been afraid that he’d hurt his finger even worse than it had been hurt already. My heart broke just watching as his fell apart piece by piece, not being able to participate in the raucous activities that were a mere few feet away from him. I sucked up my pride. None of the other kids were taking his obvious sadness into account as most kids tend to do. Let the adults handle it, had to be the theme of nearly every five year old on that playground, but I couldn’t ignore his broken heart. I hardly ever could.
Decadence Page 6