31 - Fallon
~ 31 ~
FALLON
The game was won in spectacular fashion, the trophy carried to an outdoor party where the beer would flow and the fans would cheer, and the players would be reviled as heroes, deep into the night.
We stayed for only an hour or two. There were a round of quick showers, followed by a steak dinner at a fancy restaurant, and then we were back at the house with Dalton’s family, gathering up their things. Everyone said their goodbyes, with hugs all around, until they piled into the Uber that would take them to the airport.
The sun was setting, as we watched them go. We waved until they were no longer in sight, then filed back into the house, just the four of us.
The door closed with a heavy click, and the ensuing silence was deafening against the chaos of the past week. All three of the boys turned to face me. They looked like ravenous wolves, eying a helpless sheep.
“You’re in trouble,” said Dalton, folding his arms across his chest.
My pulse had been racing with anticipation of this moment all day. Right now though, my heart was damn near pounding out of my chest.
“I am, huh?” I asked innocently.
“Oh yeah,” Trey confirmed. “Way more than you know.”
My eyes shifted to each of them in turn, waiting to see which of them would pounce. Instead, Emerson merely pointed upstairs.
“Go to your room,” he said coldly. “And get dressed.”
I shrugged. “But I am dressed.”
He took a menacing step forward, and a sudden fear gripped me. It was an irrational fear, of course. I loved and trusted these men, and would do anything for them. But there was something in their eyes now that told me they meant business. That in my conversation with Emerson last week, I’d flung open some twisted, sexual version of Pandora’s box.
“This is about getting rough with me, isn’t it?” I said weakly.
They nodded in unison, and my stomach erupted with a thousand butterflies.
“O—Okay.”
I marched up the stairs, feeling the heaviness of their eyes crawling over various parts of my body. I reached the hallway, just as they began to follow.
Holy shit.
I felt like helpless prey, being stalked by a hunter. Or rather, three hunters. And big, powerful ones, too.
Holy fucking shit.
Down the hall I ran, straight into my room, where by instinct I flung the door closed behind me. There, on my bed, was a pile of lacy black lingerie. And a very small pile at that.
My heart pounded as I shed my dinner clothes, and began dressing in whatever the guys had in store to ravage me in. There were black fishnet stockings that went all the way up to my waist. Knee-high leather boots with spiked heels. A seriously sexy leather bra…
But no panties.
I finished dressing, fluffed out my hair, and looked at myself in the mirror. In the boots and fishnets, I looked hotter than hell. In every possible way, I exuded sex.
The door opened, almost like they knew I was finished. Boldly I turned to face them, and set my hands on my hips.
“Is this what you boys want?”
No one said anything. Eventually, Dalton shook his head.
“That’s not even half of what we want.”
He walked forward and I stiffened, but he moved right past me. When he pulled the comforter back from my bed and removed it completely, my eyes narrowed in confusion.
Two black elastic straps wrapped my mattress horizontally, one near the top, and one near the bottom. A dozen or more steel rings were attached to each, at different intervals.
“What are those?” I croaked.
Emerson and Trey stepped forward on either side of me. Rather than answer, they produced two thick, fur-lined cuffs, and fixed them comfortably but snugly to each of my wrists. When they bent to do my ankles with two more cuffs, I knew what I was in for. My skin went flush. I could feel myself getting wetter by the second.
“Get her on the bed.”
I was repositioned and then shoved, face-down, against the cool, silk-like sheets. The cuffs had clips that attached to the rings. Dalton and Emerson clipped my wrists to the far corners at the top of the bed, and Trey clipped both ankles to the corners at the bottom.
I was face down, ass up, spread eagle in an ‘X’ configuration across my king-sized mattress. Totally immobile, except for being able to shift up and down on my knees. The anticipation of what came next had me dripping with excitement, but I could feel their own arousal as well. It hung heavily in the air between us, like some unstoppable magnetic force, drawing the four of us together.
Long seconds ticked by. Silently, I willed them to take out every one of their pent-up sexual frustrations on my now helpless body. Thankfully someone shuffled forward, and I felt two hands on my fishnet-covered ass.
Emerson.
I felt his fingers curl, as his hands ripped violently in opposite directions. There was a rending sound, and when I looked back I could see a fist-sized hole in the stockings, strategically located right at my crotch.
Two more hands began kneading both globes of my ass, working me over, working me up. And then suddenly I was gasping, as three firm fingers dipped downward. They glided straight through my wetness, like branding irons through butter. I bit my lip with a whimper as they continued exploring, teasing, pressing their fingers inward. Multiple men were dragging my juices up and down, spreading them all along my swollen entrance and through the crack of my ass.
I nearly came right then and there, that’s how excited I was. I was grinding myself desperately into the mattress when Trey and Emerson dropped to the bed, kneeling on either side of my face. I turned my head to take them on, moaning as they took turns holding my chin and pushing themselves deep into my throat.
Something sharp cracked against my ass, causing me to jump. I looked back to find Dalton standing over me, holding a small black baton with a leather strap. He brought the strap down on my ass again, and the sound it made was so sharp, so crisp, I actually squealed.
All my life, I’d never been spanked. I’d always wanted to be, but never had a guy adventurous enough to bend me over his knee and just do it. Right now I was being spanked playfully but firmly, with the strap at the end of Dalton’s baton. Again and again he brought it down, until bright red welts began forming beneath my torn fishnets.
The heat came next, and as it rose up to the surface of my skin it felt strangely good. I tested my bonds, both hands and feet, but they were tight and secure. I could only twist helplessly, my skin on fire, enjoying the pain mixed with pleasure as the baton was handed to Emerson, then Trey, then back to Dalton again.
By now my pussy was dripping and throbbing, desperate for contact. I whimpered even more loudly, grinding myself downward, twisting into the mattress for any kind of pressure. That’s when Dalton held the baton up so that I could see it within the direct scope of my vision. He pressed a small button hidden within its base…
… and the whole thing began to vibrate.