by Trent Evans
Hunter could stand it no longer, needing to touch the woman once more, striding up to her, laying his palm on her cheek, her jaw cradled in his hand, tilting Lacey’s head up to look him in the eye.
“No matter what happens, you obey us,” Hunter said with an unexpected solemnity, needing to make sure she really understood how very far out to sea she now was. “No matter what. You’re safe here — you’ll never be harmed by me. Or Troy.” His fingers submerged into the silky locks just behind her ear, tugging sharply, making her hiss. “But you’ll do what you’re told. If you thought you’d found someone softer than your husband, you’re going to find you’re badly mistaken. Our little engagement at Christmas should’ve given you a clue about that.”
“Oh she had a clue, all right,” Troy said, mirth in his tone now. “I think somehow part of her knew — always knew — but she tried to convince herself otherwise. Foolish woman.”
Hunter smiled and kissed her then, just a soft brush of lips upon hers, but it was enough to fire his lust again. So beautiful, so vulnerable. And she really was theirs.
Oh, this poor girl. She has no idea what she’s gotten herself into.
As Hunter looked into her big eyes though, he wondered. In the woman’s keen gaze, he saw not fear, but determination, a subtle strength, the fires of a lust every bit as powerful as his.
Perhaps Lacey was getting exactly what she’d sought all along?
Troy stood up then, and Hunter took his place on the couch, drawing her back down to him, tucking her in between his legs, holding her snugly against his chest, her head tipped back to rest on his shoulder. He dipped fingers once more into her pussy, bringing both her juices and his own to her swollen lips, his wordless murmuring to her telling her what he demanded. She licked and sucked those fingers, while Troy dropped to a knee between her legs, easing her thighs wide apart. Collecting more of their mingled essence, Troy spread the liquid over her mound, the strong scent bringing Hunter fully erect again, his cock pressed against her lower back. Her pussy was so wet, the plump labia gleaming brightly. He wanted to be inside her again already, as if it were his cock’s proper place, his rightful home.
“You’ve never seen her come before, have you?” Troy said, sliding two fingers deep inside her cunt, making her shudder.
Hunter shook his head, watching the way Troy worked her knowingly, his thrusts far more firm than Hunter would have attempted with her. What was he doing?
“She goes off like a fucking fountain — if you know the right notes to hit.” Troy patted the inside of her thigh. “Isn’t that right, Lacey girl?”
She nuzzled her face into the hollow of Hunter’s jaw, her response more mournful moan than any intelligible words. The woman was already very far-gone, her breasts rising and falling rapidly as her breathing grew more and more labored.
Troy slicked back the pink flesh from her clit, circling that bud rapidly with fingertips, Lacey drawing a sharp breath as he did.
“I want you to come for us, Lacey. We’re going to watch you shoot your juices for us. You don’t have any choice about this, so you might as well relax and let us enjoy this. It’s going to happen whether you want to or not.” He added a third finger to her sex, accompanied by the sound of her long groan. “This cunt wants what it wants. It’s even greedier than you are, slut.”
Soon Lacey’s hips were jerking with each thrust and curl of Troy’s fingers, with each slap of her husband’s palm upon her mons, urging her to let go, to come for her Master. Lacey’s hands gripped Hunter’s thighs, harder and harder, until he took hold of her arms, pinning them behind her back, forcing her breasts into blatant display.
He nibbled at her ear lobe as he whispered to her, as the sounds of Troy’s plundering of her wet pussy grew louder, the strong scent of her arousal making Hunter’s cock swell still further.
“I want to see this. I want you to come all over Troy’s hand, soak him. He’ll lick your juices off while you bury your face against me, trying to hide your embarrassment. But you won’t succeed, Lacey. We won’t let you hide anything from us, not anymore. So, come Lacey. Let go. Your cunt wants it so badly. We can see how much it drips for us, for what Troy’s doing to it. Let go. Give this to us.”
Troy rubbed circles over her clit again even faster, Lacey’s breath coming in pants, in startled gusts as his fingers curled once more inside her.
Still holding her arms behind her back, Hunter grasped her breast, hefting the heavy globe in his palm, squeezing firmly until she gasped, twisting and pulling on her long nipple, wishing he could take it between his lips again.
You have all day, my friend. Patience.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!!” The frantic note in Lacey’s voice made Hunter smile, Troy grinning up at her, victorious.
“Do it, bad girl. Surrender to it. Let it go now. Come for us!”
And she did, her moan spiraling up to staccato cries as she went over, her muscles like steel cords against Hunter’s body, her head thrown back hard against his shoulder.
Spurt after spurt of clear fluid arced out of her sex, Troy pulling his fingers clear as another splashed up his wrist.
“Jesus Christ,” Hunter found himself whispering at the incredible sight. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so erotic as the sweet abandon that had overtaken Lacey, the way she seemed overcome with it.
“Yesss, that’s my girl. Let it happen. Good girl.” Troy cooed, rubbing her clit the entire time.
Finally, Lacey was spent, dissolving in Hunter’s arms, her breathing so exhausted she seemed to gulp for air.
“It’s okay, girl,” Hunter whispered. “You did so well. That’s right, just relax now. I’m so proud of you.”
He held her as she shuddered, pressing soft kisses over her eyes, to the bridge of her nose.
Troy wasn’t done though, sitting back on his haunches, the truncheon of his veined length stroked in his fist once again as he stared at her dripping sex, easing a thumb up and down the swollen labia.
Then he met Hunter’s gaze. It was time.
“Keep your arms clasped behind you,” Hunter whispered into her ear, reaching down and hooking a hand under each of her knees, pulling her legs up and back, spreading her wide for her husband. Troy presented the broad purple head of his cock to her pussy, rubbing the bright precome against her seam, his hand firmly grasping her mound, as if to claim it as his as he fed his cock into her again.
Her head flew up as he thrust home, her eyes wide.
“I…oh God… no more… can’t… too… sensitive!”
“Oh yes, you can. I’ve waited long enough to fuck this cunt hard, bad girl. I won’t wait another second.”
“Be a good girl.” Hunter murmured, holding her open, his cock throbbing angrily against the small of her back as Troy took up hard, punishing thrusts almost immediately. The feel of her shuddering against him, her surprised, yet lust-filled cries each time Troy slammed home, was something Hunter knew he’d never, ever forget. Holding her like this, open, vulnerable, watching her breasts move and bounce as Troy fucked her hard, listening to the wet sounds of their coupling, Lacey’s frantic pants, it held a sweetness all its own, speaking to a possessive, almost sadistic part of him he’d never had the courage to explore before.
Lacey screamed then, shuddering in forced, no doubt painful, orgasm as Troy’s thumbs stroked and squeezed her very exposed, very swollen clit, her cries intermingled with garbled pleas for mercy, promises to do anything he wanted.
Fortunately for Lacey, her husband’s fucking of her too-sensitive pussy didn’t last long, and grasping her by both inner thighs, Troy slammed into her hard, over and over, wrenching delirious cries from Lacey’s lips, her head lolling upon Hunter’s shoulder.
Troy was still coming as his spasming length slipped from her sex, a thick spurt of pearly seed arcing against the inflamed lips of her hard-used pussy, Lacey’s frantic murmuring pleasing Hunter in a way he couldn’t quite understand.
“It’s time
… for a rest,” Troy said, breathing hard, tucking himself into his pants and rising to his feet.
Rather than carry Lacey up the stairs, as Hunter expected, Troy took her by the upper arm, flicking a glance at him, indicating he wanted him to help too.
So they escorted her up the stairs — which fortunately were wide enough for three abreast — stopping several times to fondle and kiss Lacey. She turned from one man to the other, obeying the squeeze of a buttock here, the slap of a breast there, presenting her lips for ravenous kisses, throwing her head back to let them feast on the hollow of her throat, rasp her chest with the harsh brush of the scruff at their jaws.
As they made the top of the stairs, Hunter grinned, seeing the possessive glare in Troy’s eyes as he looked upon his naked, exhausted wife.
The day was just getting started for poor Lacey.
* * *
“More, Lacey, breathe in.”
Of all the things the frightened, yet incredibly aroused woman had expected upon being taken up to their bedroom, this would’ve been solidly in “you’re fucking kidding, right?” territory.
“Where did you even learn to do this?” Troy leaned against the doorjamb, watching them.
Hunter stood behind her, pulling hard, so hard, on the stays of the corset they’d poured her into.
“Let’s just say my disaster of a marriage wasn’t a total loss.” Hunter pulled harder, the leather squeezing her rib cage. “I learned a useful… skill or two.”
She pressed in as much as she could, embarrassed and turned on at the same time at the way it clasped her, the curve of her mons prominent below the lower edge, her breasts billowing over the top of it, the corset like a firm shelf, presenting her breasts in an almost obscene way, begging for a lover’s hands to caress and squeeze. Looking down, all she could see were the pale curves of her bosom, seemingly bundled up almost to her throat. Her nipples, hard as stone, projected up and out, and she longed, even for a moment to touch them, to revel in the way that stimulation made her womb squeeze, her clit sing.
“There, that should do it, I think.” Hunter clasped one of her breasts in his hand, the casual, proprietary way he held her both embarrassing and strangely erotic. Did she like being reduced to the sexual plaything of these two men? The more she thought about it though, the more the answer stared her right in the face. She’d been Troy’s plaything longer than she even remembered, so why would it be any different? The way Hunter had mastered her that night in December spoke volumes. It had been only a hint of what might lie beneath, but she’d always wondered.
Until today.
The promise he’d shown was more than confirmed. In ways she’d never imagined.
“You have any rope?” Hunter asked Troy. “We need to hoist her arms up for this.”
Jesus Lord.
Troy walked over to the dresser, squatting down to open the bottom drawer. “Oh, we have anything you need, my friend.”
Soon, Lacey found herself up on the balls of her feet, standing before the foot of their big bed. She’d always loved the exposed beams of the upper floor’s vaulted ceilings, the dark, stained wood lending a warmth and beauty she fell in love with the first moment they’d laid eyes on them.
Now, those beams took on an entirely different connotation.
He probably had this in mind all along. Evil bastard.
When it came to subjugating a woman, her husband was ever inventive, ever opportunistic — and always willing to try something new. Usually on his poor little wife.
Apparently, in Hunter, her wonderfully sadistic husband had found a kindred spirit.
Oh, fuck, Lacey. You’re in trouble here.
Though she turned her face against her inner arm, her cheeks burning, she still smiled against her skin. Being in trouble, as hard as it was to take, could be very sweet indeed. Sore bottom or not.
Her husband — and Master — saw to that nearly every night.
Both men stood before her then, looking upon her with possessive avarice, a pure satisfaction — and anticipation — in their intent gazes.
“That should do it, don’t you think?” Hunter tipped his head toward Lacey. “She seemed comfortable enough.”
“She’s about to be a lot less comfortable.” Troy produced not one but two instruments of correction.
The floggers.
She remembered opening the box that had come in the mail, exclaiming how small they were, how the falls were way too soft, the way she’d giggled as she said a person wouldn’t even be able to feel them on their ass. She’d forgotten Troy’s muttered, “Those aren’t for use on your ass.” He’d told her to put them in the bottom drawer, and leave them be. How many months ago had that been? She’d mostly forgotten they were even there.
Troy pressed one of the tiny black floggers into Hunter’s hand, the soft, supple falls swinging with a substantial weight belied by their diminutive size.
“You sure it’s okay to use this?” Hunter draped the leather tails over his palm, the falls dropping away one by one, the clean scent of the leather bringing back to Lacey fevered memories, sweet recollections, every time she smelled it.
“I had these made special for this.” Troy elbowed his friend. ‘You afraid? I’ll do the honors if you don’t have the balls to.”
“Over my dead body,” Hunter murmured, his gaze dropping to her proffered breasts.
Oh my God.
“You don’t mean to… there?” Her mouth was so dry, her voice was like a desert wind.
“Of course, there,” Troy said, gently smacking the underside of her breast with the back of his hand. “I’ve been dying to put these through their paces all day.” His gaze slipped to Hunter, then back to her. “And I don’t think I’m alone either.”
“But…”
Troy’s brow arched. “You aren’t fooling anyone. Look at these big nipples. They’re like fucking bullets. The body never lies.”
Lacey threw her head back, gasping, as the first stroke fell across her right breast. She wasn’t even sure who’d wielded the flogger, but she knew it didn’t matter anymore. Both men were intent on enjoying themselves, and her lot was to endure — and to obey as she’d been trained.
And the fact that obeying makes your clit hard has nothing to do with this?
Two strokes whisked across her breasts, the tails catching her right nipple in a sharp flash of heat that had her gritting her teeth.
“Jesus…” Hunter said, his voice thick. “Look at the marks.”
“And the way those tits of hers move,” Troy said. “Fuck, she’s incredible.”
Lines of fire caught her under one breast, making it bounce upward, a down stroke across the other one sending it bounding in the opposite direction. The blows were so much heavier than she would ever have believed looking at the tiny little floggers.
Fingers tested the welts adorning her breasts, her nipples tweaked, then twisted before another stinging spray of leather landed across the upper slopes of both globes. She closed her eyes, burying her teeth in the soft flesh of her arm as her breasts danced under repeated strokes, the painful blows only stopping when Troy’s gruff voice warned her to straighten her back, to present her tits for the whip.
Up on her toes as the floggers fell faster, she was keening almost continually until finally the flogging ended. She opened her eyes, finding both men staring at her martyred bosom, bulges at both of their crotches once more.
Dear Lord, these two are insatiable.
Which was just how she liked it.
Yes, being the subject of Troy’s — and now Hunter’s — attentions was a heavy cross to bear, but deep down it was exactly what she needed, exactly what she’d dreamed of for as long as she could remember. To find a man who wouldn’t fall prey to her guile, her excuses, her charms. A man who was strong enough to bend her will to his, no matter what, yet be that rock, that foundation, that refuge of love that she still needed. She’d found her dream man in Troy… and now it appeared she’d found anoth
er, every bit the man her husband was.
The question was: what happened now?
She hissed, a tear coursing down her cheek as her husband’s callused palm caressed the throbbing, stinging weight of her breast. She looked down to find both globes were streaked with thin pink lines, her nipples now a healthy red, the skin tight, her flesh feeling almost too full.
“Shh, it’s over now,” Troy said, stroking her cheek, his voice still tight with lust.
Hunter’s big body pressed up behind her as he reached up to release her arms. But rather than release her hands entirely, he simply unwound the rope from the rings embedded in the leather, leaving the snug manacles wrapped around her wrists.
Her legs quaked as she finally lowered her heels to the floor, looking at both men in turn. They appeared unsure what to do next, or perhaps they were momentarily paralyzed by the richness of options. In that moment, as she stood before them, naked, bound, her breasts throbbing angrily after a crisp, thorough flogging, she really did feel theirs.
Their plaything, their slave. Theirs to do with as they willed.
Thank God.
* * *
It wasn’t the first time she’d been bound like this, but it was the first time she wished, oddly enough, that she could see what they must have seen. Hunter hadn’t simply guided her over to the bed — he’d thrown her onto it, as if she weighed nothing at all.
Troy took great delight in manhandling her around, even when it wasn’t particularly necessary. And apparently, her husband wasn’t the only one who enjoyed carrying her around like a sex toy.
Bound in a very tight leather harness that immobilized her arms high up her back, they’d blindfolded her, a thin cloth gag not so much silencing her as simply reducing any attempt at speech into near gibberish.
She knew Troy liked to hear her cries — and she knew he liked to control even her ability to form speech. He’d take it away, at his whim, as was his right.
Lacey had long ago been at peace with that, even taking an illicit, dark pleasure in his control over her. Where before she worried ceaselessly about the deep need within her for his strict command of her body, she now no longer obsessed over it. He enjoyed controlling her, and she enjoyed being controlled. It didn’t matter to her anymore whether that was right, or wrong. It was simply the way both of them wanted it — and that was good enough for her.