“Thank you, Sir.” I said, my eyes locking on Christian’s, thanking him for so much more than just the privilege of breathing.
Dexter got on the bed with us, reaching for me, and I could feel Sir relax a little. This was what he wanted. They smiled at each other, and there was such intimacy in it, a thousand scenes, hundreds of nights of shared enjoyment. They had missed each other. It was palpable in the room, this aching hurt in their throats. Together again, after seven years, able to connect again. I was one of the conduits of that connection, I could feel it. I was being offered, and with me came new possibilities.
When Dexter’s knees came to rest on my thighs, spreading them even wider, I gasped. Then I felt his mouth on my nipple, subtle, precise, a dozen points of pleasure concentrated together, and I began to writhe. His hand gripped the other nipple, thumbing it gently, and I could not be still. My nipples are very sensitive, gentle touch is intense, and firm touch hurts. He was being gentle, and it made my cunt grab for something, aching to be filled. I was spread wide, writhing and empty, and it was overwhelming, this pleasure so close to my heart. I began to cry.
He moaned around my nipple, and Sir began to stroke my hair, forcing gentleness upon me, making me stay with it. My ass was so full and my cunt so greedy, my mouth formed this O of ache, tears streaming down my cheeks. Sir told me that I could come, as many times as I wanted, as long as Dexter was touching my nipples, and I sobbed, looking up at him, devastated by this. Dexter’s hand left my nipple, and instead I felt Sir’s gloved hand on my chest, pressing into my breast, just holding it firmly. I came, moaning, begging them to stop; it was too much.
They knew better, and made me take it, as Dexter’s tongue wrote pleasure on my skin, and Sir’s hand held me. Dexter’s hand pressed down onto my cunt, cupping me, the heel of his palm pressing onto me, firmly, and I came again, shuddering, whimpering. He began to suck my nipple, and I begged him to stop making me come, I couldn’t take it, it was too much. He didn’t stop; I knew he wouldn’t, and I couldn’t stop sobbing.
Sir began to stroke my throat, Dexter licked a line across my chest to the other nipple, and it undid me. I couldn’t do it anymore. Anything but this. Give me pain, force me to take it for your pleasure, fuck me ruthlessly, don’t just give and give like this. I began to try to fight my way free, Sir’s thigh holding me down, Dexter’s weight sinking into me, not letting me free, as he tongued and sucked and tortured my nipple with gentleness, his finger reaching down to stroke along the side of my clit. I held on to the bed as tight as I could, coming, begging them to hurt me, to fuck me, to stop doing this to me, the pain in my thighs from Dexter’s knees anchoring me.
“Please, Sir. Please hurt me. Please. I will do anything. Please. Please hurt me. I need it. Please. I can’t stand it. Please hurt me.”
Finally, he did. His teeth sunk into my nipple, and it was so good. He had me tight between his molars, and ground my nipple between them, and the pain was lightning intense, and exactly what I needed.
“Please don’t stop. Please, Sir. Please don’t stop.”
Sir’s hand gripped my other nipple and twisted it between his thumb and finger, and I screamed, so grateful, begging them not to stop.
“Come for me,” Sir said.
As I came, I felt the baton sliding between my thighs, entering my cunt. It was hard and cold and slippery and I wanted it deep inside me now. My cunt grabbed on to it, my ass contracted around the plug and my breath caught in my throat as I realized how full I was going to be. I began to beg louder for him to fuck me, now, hard, fill me, thrust it into me. I needed it. He kept it right there at the entrance, teasing me with it, as Sir began to run his nails along my nipples, smiling down at me.
They felt good at first, sharp intense sweetness. But soon they began to just hurt in a tormenting stomach-constricting way. They made my ass grab on to the plug and my skin shiver and I could not stop my toes from clenching over and over, my eyes locked to his, begging him to stop. The baton burrowed into me, and it was so hard. My cunt grabbed for it, spasming around it, and I started to cry. It was too much, too overwhelming, and I begged them to stop. The baton went still inside me, and it was too fucking much to have it there, insistent, the hardest thing imaginable. My ass was full, my cunt stuffed, my legs spread wide, my arms held down, and I could not take it, and yet I had to. They were giving me exactly what I needed, what I had begged for, and I didn’t want it anymore, but I still took it. Tears were sliding along my neck, and I couldn’t even form words anymore, just whimpers.
Sir smiled down at me, put his hands round my throat, and ordered me to come for him. My body responded before I even thought it, just began to move, wracked with pleasure so intense it hurt, my hands clasping on to the bed as hard as I could. As I came, Dexter held the baton there, not letting my spasms push it out. It was relentlessly wooden and stiff inside me, and I ached to be impaled upon it. He pulled it back just a bit, and pressed up with it, in that perfect spot, twisting it inside me, and I sobbed, begging to come, not sure I could stop it from happening. Sir gave me permission, and I spurted all over that baton, my entire body shaking.
Dexter slid it out of me, smiling into my eyes, and stroked my skin, feeling me tremble. I whimpered for him, eyes begging, lost. Sir fed me water, smiling down at me. Dexter lifted his head to look at Christian, raising his brow and gesturing. Sir nodded, and Dexter gave him a wicked grin.
“That kind of girl, eh?”
“She’s very good,” Sir said, and the words sunk into my skin, calming me just a bit. “She will do it, for me.”
Dexter pulled out his cock and told me he was going to fuck me now, that he hoped it would make me cry, because he loved nothing better than to fuck girls as they were crying. Sir hooked his boots around my thighs, spreading me so wide I could feel the muscles pulled taut. He attached clover clamps to my nipples, and gripped the chain tight, pulling on it so I could feel it tighten the clamps. I stopped breathing, staring at Dexter’s cock, not sure I could do it. He scared me, the way he wanted my tears.
Sir told me that I could come as much as I wanted to with Dexter’s cock inside me, and that I had to take it for him, for as long as Dexter wanted; that I was his to offer, and I needed to make him proud. He said he would help me, give me pain, hold me down, spread my legs, keep me in his arms. It was my job to take it.
I didn’t think I could do it. The slightest touch felt so intense. The steady pull of my thigh muscles, the twisting pain in my nipples after all that, and I could barely breathe. I could feel my eyes go wild, could sense the panic brewing.
He took me. He just rammed his way home, hilt deep, and it felt so right. My cunt needed him. His eyes grabbed mine, his weight pressing me into the bed, my head shifting until I felt Sir’s cock curve around my neck.
I was surrounded by them, covered in them; it all blended together, swirling into a maelstrom of sex and need and pain and helplessness and pleasure, as he pounded into me, his eyes holding mine captive. All I could do was let go, give myself over to it. The lightning pain in my nipples, the cock slamming into my cervix, the plug so thick in my ass, the bruises on my thighs and ass aching, Sir’s cock sliding along my neck as he began to pant just a bit.
It was a storm of sensation and I finally found my calm in it, letting go of everything, my body limp, feeling myself filled again and again, the center of connection between them; feeling them squeezing into every crevice of me. Sir reached for Dexter, resting his hand in the center of Dexter’s back, and the electricity shot through me, slamming me as I screamed.