by KT Morrison
Her mouth found his, bit his lips and his chin as she controlled his painful intrusion. She threw her head back, sounded out in pain as she accepted his widest girth. She lunged forward, her breasts squashed between them, she plunged her tongue into his mouth and he sucked it in. She looked into his eyes, told him she loved how big it was.
There weren’t too many girls like Kate he thought. She was stunning to look at and she knew how to fuck. Some girls had turned him down when they’d seen what was between his legs, laughed, said No way. Most complained, or were awkward about it, or had just wanted to see what it was like. Kate was one of three that took it all. Took him right to his balls. Didn’t mind her cervix being bumped. She was deep and tight, and when she was warmed up her canal stretched itself long for him letting him sink ten thick inches inside her. She was a gift; beautiful, sexy, dirty, deep. She was put on this earth for him.
He watched her, eyes closed, head tilted back, sitting up braced by Ares, swivelling her hips with him buried inside her. She was sighing and gasping, high and squeaky.
He put his hands on her, felt her moving under her soft flesh, she thrust her breasts out for him, arched her back, still fucking him. He put his hands on them, squeezed them, watched their softness give in, melt between his fingers. Kate was getting what she wanted from him, she was doing all the work, and she was loving it.
He caressed her, dug his fingers into her waist, her belly. Felt her orgasm brewing within her, felt her trembling under his touch. It was time.
He nodded to Ares. Ares stepped to her side, wrapped his hand around her neck. He guided her to his cock pointing up at her, touching her shoulder. She put her lips over it, took him as deep as she could go. Omar thrust gently against her, giving her more to to work on and he could hear her moan around the thing stretching her mouth.
Ares pulled it from her and she watched him, spit hanging from his cock and tacked to her full, pouted lips. Ares pushed her forward so that her chest pressed into Omar. She looked over her shoulder, watching him. Omar put his arms around her, held her to him. Ares got behind her. She was on her knees on the couch straddling Omar, his cock deep inside her, bent right over now. Ares put his hand on her ass, ran his thumb down her crack spread wide, and circled her anus with it.
Kate flinched, he felt her jump, she said “Oh my God, please, please don’t…”
She knew this was what she wanted the minute she threw her coat on the floor and kneeled between them and felt their long, thick cocks hard in her little fists. She knew she wanted them both inside her, she wanted them to tear her in two, stab her deep and ruin her. Tear her apart.
She struggled with Omar, putting on a show. She bit at him, turned and hissed over her shoulder at Ares, “Please, it will hurt—”
She didn’t close herself to them, she didn’t rise up off of Omar stuffed inside her. She tilted herself to Ares, presented him with her tight little hole. She fell forward onto Omar’s chest, her face buried in his neck, his stubble scratching her soft cheek. She felt the head of Ares’ cock pushing against her, probing at her anus. She said it again, Don’t.
He pushed it into her, she felt his head spread her sphincter and slide up in her. Felt the flange of it ripple against her tightness. She yelped, and cried into Omar. His hands grabbed her, brutally squeezing her waist just above her hips. He squeezed her into him, pinning her, immobilizing her, his fingers sinking deeply into the soft flesh of her rump. She cried out again, told him to stop. Ares slid himself in deeper and the pain was enormous. Omar’s thick cock, the thickest thing she had ever seen, was deep inside her, and she could feel Ares sliding in, both of them so hard she could feel them grinding into each other inside her, tearing at the membrane that separated her passages down there. She screamed out in pain, high and sharp. She wanted to be heard. Her yell was sexual, animal. She didn’t want help to come, she wanted to proclaim to everyone the depths of her dark pleasures.
Her arms battled the restraints and she wriggled, but she was pinned, both of them so strong, and she was skewered by their huge cocks inside her. She couldn’t get away from them even if she wanted. She felt the pleasure come then, knowing that she was free, absolved. She had to surrender to these two well-hung muscular men, it was beyond her control. Ares got himself deeper, and she cried out again. Ares’ thumbs dug deep into the biggest part of her cheeks, the tips digging into her muscles. He peeled her wide, spreading her crack out flat. He pulled out a bit and pushed himself in deeper. Air escaped from her, belched around his thick cock. She bit Omar’s neck and he growled at her, pulled away. Ares slid deep inside her, she felt it pulse and flex inside her pumping his lubricant into her, greasing her so she could accept his size.
“Push it all the way in,” she said, her voice strained, her throat bent, twisted and pushed into Omar’s collar. Ares did it. It felt like he did, getting himself right up into her, she could feel how hard they both were, driven out of their minds by the little slut that she was, opening her legs for them, letting them do the things that were forbidden. She could feel the heads of their cocks, engorged, round and hard, like two big knots buried in her guts. She could feel them move inside her as they both began to gently find a way to thrust.
“Fuck me,” she said.
They were slow and easy, knowing how precarious this was, knowing how large they were and how they’d stretched her. One wrong move and she could be destroyed. It hurt so much, and they felt so wrong inside her, too large, too deep. Her membranes splitting and aching, and the unnatural feeling of a large object, two of them, imbedded inside her, perversely deep into her guts.
She saw movement through her squinted eyes, across the room and down from the couch. Knew what it was, a mirror, knew from the movement in sync with the thrusts she felt inside her. She saw herself in the tall, narrow standing mirror, with the elaborate dark wooden trim. Saw herself bent over, her white thighs drawn up, knees on the couch, her dirty sex exposed and lanced. Her face was pushed into Omar, she saw herself, bleary-eyed and messed, her sweaty hair in her face. Saw her arms bound behind her back. She could see Ares’ rump flexing through his tight suit pants, driving himself carefully inside her. She felt him and Omar too, mostly keeping himself still, letting her impale herself on him while Ares did his work. She squeezed on Omar, ground her hips gently, trying to find a rhythm with Ares. One errant thrust and she could be punctured. He worked with her, felt her wanting to move and he followed her lead. She started to moan as she got it, feeling Omar so hard inside her.
“Touch me,” she said to Omar.
Omar slid a hand from her hip, down in between them, she felt his hand turn and the tip of his finger curl up into her ruptured pussy, her creases spread wide, her clit swollen and thrust forward. She cried out when he touched it.
That was how the dirtiest, most incredible orgasm of her life began. She watched it happen in the mirror, saw herself bent on a couch like a whore, spread out to save her husband. Two men, dirty, mean, deep inside her, their tremendous manhood too much for her to bear. She ground into them, she squeezed them. She felt her insides gripping Omar’s thickness, clutching at him, she heard him groan into her ear. She gasped, milking him with her insides, she clamped down on Ares. She was tearing she knew it, giving them resistance, something for their size to fight against. She cried out, but she had them too hot to stop now. She’d turned them into animals, taken away their compassion. She’d presented them with her insides, shown she wanted it, and now they both were working to fill her up with their seed, to plant their hot, thick loads deep inside her. She wanted to feel that, to feel them pulse and flex within her, to feel their hot jets set off inside, spraying her walls, coating her with their semen. She cried out again, loud. She cried and moaned like she was being murdered. Ares covered her mouth, put his hand over her lips and her nose and pulled her head back painfully. She started to come, knew it was going to be too much for her right away. Ares was so hard inside her, wrestling with her as she struggled to breat
he around his hands. She moaned, and grunted, spitting into his hand, exploding air through his clamped fingers. Tears were squinted from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She fucked them recklessly, throwing everyone’s thrusts off. Ares stabbed into her awkwardly, punching into her bowels, she yelped and bucked against them, still coming, bringing her closer to something far too gargantuan for her to contain. Omar growled in her ear again, his fingers rubbing her exposed sex furiously. It wouldn’t end, wave after wave, and no matter how hard she thrust herself against them, how deep she got them it wouldn’t stop, it kept rising and swelling within her, pushing her against a wall, squeezing the air out of her, the life out of her. She cried into Ares hand, she bit at his fingers. She needed to breathe. He parted for her and she inhaled deeply, she saw something on the horizon, reached for it, stretching. She screamed out, loud, warbling with her own thrusts. They let her, let her scream and gasp for air, let her yelp, let her succumb, find that high wall and pull herself over, tumble across to the other side and fall into infinite darkness.
In the darkness, floating off somewhere, high and distant, way up in the deepest part of her mind, she felt Ares coming inside her. She was aware from outside of her body that he was injecting his seed deeply into her ass. She was happy for him, glad to see his release, to hear him roar over and over, squeezing her hips and driving into her, to know that she had done well for him. He came forever and she smiled somewhere, maybe in another room. She felt him slide that big beautiful thing out of her and it felt like it had been replaced by a cherry popsicle. Cold air, a breeze, up inside her asshole. She felt Omar turn her over, pull her off of his cock, and she played dead, laughing inside at him, heard Ares as he asked Omar if she was alright. Omar laid her out on the couch and she was shocked at how lifeless she looked. Her arms and legs rubbery. She watched Omar from above lay her flat on her back, her arms twisted up and locked behind her, her shoulders up to her ears, her head stuffed to one side against the back of the couch. He pulled her sleeping legs apart, she giggled how one leg bent out at a weird angle, the heel of her boot catching on the edge of a rug. She watched him slide that monstrous pipe inside her. Watched his foreskin peel back as he pushed that ridiculous head into her. She wondered how that must feel. She saw that girl get fucked, how good it looked, how strangely quiet the room had got. Her big tits swung with his thrusts, going in circles up to her neck and back around, her lifeless body getting stabbed over and over by that huge weapon. She saw him collapse over her and she was vaguely aware of feeling wet inside, like someone had knocked over a pitcher of milk—who’s going to clean this up, Kate?—and she felt a little queasy like she’d just watched some gory video, maybe like war-time Croatia, of a twisted man fucking a corpse.
She opened her eyes, tried to focus, saw nothing but a blurry geometric pattern. The floorcloth, Persian, antique, Sherlock Holmes’ office. She blinked, trying to get herself together. Her hands were still locked at the small of her back. Her shoulders ached, her neck felt strained. She was face down on the floor at the foot of the couch. She could hear and feel footsteps on the parquet floor. Two men behind her, dress shoes. She rolled to her side, looked over her shoulder at them. Omar and Ares, zipping up, adjusting, preening hair in the mirror. They were leaving.
“Where are you going?”
“I have things to do in London,” Omar said, still watching the mirror.
Kate struggled to turn herself over, but she couldn’t get on her back with her arms bent up. She tried to sit but couldn’t, she felt too weak. She heard it, and felt it, a bubbling between her legs. Semen surging out of her folds and running down between her cheeks. She felt a slippery puddle already thickly pooled under her rump.
“Ow, oh—“ she said. She felt torn wide between her legs, her tailbone throbbing. No sympathy from them.
Omar turned and stood over her. He watched her struggle on the floor, dirty and in pain. “I wish I had a camera right now,” he said.
Ares came and stood next to him, put his hand up politely liked he hated interrupting them.
“I’ve got to run,” he said, “It was very nice meeting you, Kate.” Then he turned and he was gone, out the door, down the hall.
“Can you unlock me, please. My shoulders are killing me.”
“I would, but I don’t have a key for that lock.”
“Please, Omar.”
He squat down next to her, he touched her cheek, but she turned it from him. His hand went down her body, caressed her breast, and stroked a nipple.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Omar, please, it hurts. It’s over now. Just let me go.”
He laughed, said “I thought you believed me.”
Kate stiffened. She looked for him, where he’d moved to, wanting to see his face. He was standing at the archway, ready to leave. The sun was coming in the window, lower now, and he was lit up, handsome, sparkling eyes.
“Omar, it’s over,” she said. She heard the tremble in her own voice.
“Kate, this will never be over. I’m going to destroy you. I’m going to turn your insides out, make you beg for me, and you’re going to pay me to do it. You’re going to tell yourself you’ll do it to save your husband, save your marriage. But we both know you do it because you love every filthy inch of it.”
She held it in. Looked at him, knew what she had to do. Not today, but she would do it. Knew she would do it. She watched him smile, arrogant piece of shit, and he stepped over and picked up her coat and walked away with it.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Kate.”
She could endure, she could take anything and smile. He couldn’t ruin her. But he didn’t know what she would do to save her husband. He was going to find out.
She heard the door close behind him as he left.
Bullfight
1
A Video
Mitch watched the video again. He watched Kate laying on the floor of the little apartment in the Fairway Manor with her hands shackled behind her back. The leather harness he’d had made dug into her beautiful flesh, her breasts spilling off her chest over her arms. She lay like that for a quarter of an hour and he watched it in real time. He could see her breathing, her eyes blinking. Finally she stirred, knowing precisely the moment she would do it, he’d seen this video so many times.
She rolled to her side, completely naked but for the straps, riding boots, and leather bracers locking her arms behind her to a brass ring looped in the harness. She got herself to her knees with tremendous effort, stayed like that for a moment with her forehead pressed into the floor. Finally, she leaned herself against the couch and got a leg out in front of her, was able to stand. She walked herself to the vestibule, leaned against the wall, slid her back down braced against it and squat down next to a potted palm. She stood again, her legs shoulder width apart, her breasts swinging gently as she struggled with something behind her back. The leather straps that were buckled around her thighs, crossing her hips, were pulled into her, creasing her flesh as she pulled at them behind her back. Then he saw them give way, first the left then the right, the leather straps falling free, swinging the brass buckles against her thigh. She put her head back, and the straps over her shoulders cut in. She struggled this time, a much greater effort to free them. Then they let loose, making her breasts jump. Straps still wrapped over her shoulders now but loose.
She backed herself to the couch and dropped something on to the seat. A shining blade, a dull green metal handle. A combat knife with a long steel edge that shone in the daylight filling up the room through the lace curtains.
The first time he’d seen this revealed to him he struggled to understand what he was looking at. Where did she find a knife? Where did the knife come from?
Mitch had carefully planned this afternoon for her. He had rented the apartment for a year just to get this done. Paying a year’s worth in full to one of Jahangir’s nephews who lived in Iran and rarely used the place any way. He’d arranged for all parties involved to
arrive there at the same time and to engage in the heinous act he wanted to commit to film for himself. He had five HD cameras installed in the apartment, placed very carefully so that no sinful moment would be missed.
Did Omar leave her a knife? Was Mitch’s instruction to leave her shackled and naked in the apartment too coarse for him? He’d said to leave her purse, make sure she had her phone, her car keys. But had Omar felt for her? After what those two had done to her that was unlikely. Omar had been a willing partner of Mitch’s in this. So Mitch had rewound the video in all the cameras. Watched them all over from the beginning.
It hadn’t been easy to spot the first time, but once he’d seen it it was very apparent, very obvious. Kate at the archway, passing into the room, standing before the two men wearing only a tight harness under a raincoat. Then a flash, or more a dull glint as she put her hands in her pocket. Something reflecting light, something shining, metal, behind her back—winking, then gone.
She’d brought the knife.
He reeled the first time he’d realized it. Sitting in the dark of his office, one in the morning. He’d witnessed the events unfold live, sitting in the parking garage at work behind the tinted glass of the Range Rover. He’d seen it as it happened, two handsome and obscenely endowed men take his wife. His neck tight, his breaths short and difficult. It wasn’t until the middle of the night that this revelation came to him after careful observation. He was frozen when it was revealed to him. His skin crawled at the thought. She brought a knife, a truly deadly blade, to meet Omar. Her intention was clear. Mitch could try and come up with an explanation, rationalize that action in some other way. But it was plain. Clear.
Kate had been prepared to kill for him.
He’d cried that night. Cried for the first time he felt like. He didn’t cry when his mum died and he couldn’t think of another time where it might have happened. What the fuck had he done to her? How could he have been so cruel to bring her to this? The thought of what could have transpired gripped him, choked him.