Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
SIERRA
Of course, those prove to be famous last words - or thoughts in my case. No sooner have they lulled me into what turns out to be a false sense of security - or maybe I did that to myself - then things get real.
Waaay too real!
“Fuck! We need to move this on before my cock is strangled. Where’s the rope?” Gray asks, his hand rubbing against the huge bulge in his jeans.
Erik stretches his arms above his head, showing a sliver of rock-hard abs, his face wreathed in a wide grin, before he digs around in a bag near his feet and passes it over.
I’m already bound, both hand and foot. What the hell do they need more rope for? The thought sends a bolt of apprehension arrowing through my nerve endings.
I stare at the rope as Gray concentrates on unravelling some of it. It’s purple, and somehow that seems incongruous. Then it dawns on me. Play rope… but where the heck are they going to use it?
I find out soon enough.
“Sit her up,” Gray commands, and Erik and Cain each grab one of my arms and maneuver me so I’m kneeling up on the bed, the position thrusting my breasts out, whether I like it or not.
But it’s obviously something these guys do like.
“Jeez! Look at those perfect perky tits,” Gray mutters. “She almost doesn’t need the rope.”
“Use it anyway,” Cain growls. “I want to see them bound and plump while you use your flogger on them.”
His… what?
The words don’t make sense for the longest time, and my mind reels as I try to process them. Flogger? On my breasts? Panic rises in my throat as I finally comprehend just how dark their intentions truly are.
"No, please," I whimper, struggling against Erik and Cain's grip. Even though I’m starting to sound like a broken record, I have to make them realize their mistake. “You don't understand. I'm not part of this. I don't want—"
Once again, it’s to no avail and my protests are cut short as Gray begins winding the soft purple rope around my chest, just below my breasts.
He works quickly and efficiently, clearly experienced in this particular art.
The rope tightens, squeezing my flesh, making my breasts swell and push outward even more prominently.
I can feel the blood flow restricting as they start to tingle and my nipples peak and pout like they’re reaching for what’s about to happen, whether I like it or not.
"Perfect," Gray murmurs, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "They look even more delicious now."
I look down at my bound chest, horrified and strangely fascinated by the intricate pattern of knots and loops. The pressure is intense but not painful – at least not yet.
“Get my whip… and a butt plug,” Gray grunts, his intense eyes never leaving my chest. The words send a jolt through me, and I’m ashamed I don’t know whether it’s fear or lust that fuels it.
I’m a normal, red-blooded woman. Of course I have fantasies of my own…
even if I never imagined having them played out.
Erik releases my arm and moves to a large duffel bag in the corner of the room. He rummages through it for a moment before pulling out a long, multi-tailed leather implement. My eyes widen as I register the flogger they mentioned. It looks far more intimidating than I ever imagined.
Erik hands it to Gray, who tests the weight in his hand, a look of uninhibited anticipation on his face. I can't tear my eyes away, watching as he slowly drags the tails across his palm.
"Please," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I've never done anything like this before. I'm not who you think I am."
Gray pauses, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of doubt cross his face. But then Cain speaks up.
"She's good," he says with a chuckle. "Almost had me believing her for a second there. But remember, boys, this is all part of the fantasy. The more she begs, the more we're supposed to push her limits."
My heart sinks as I grasp the reality that my pleas are only encouraging them, possibly even making them more brash and determined.
“First things first,” Erik interrupts, tearing open a sealed package. “Let’s start the prep before we get carried away.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m clued in as soon as he brandishes what looks like a freaking enormous butt plug and waves it in front of me.
I have such a physical reaction to the toy, it literally feels like all the blood drains out of my face, leaving a cold sensation in its place. I shake my head frantically, not even able to form words.
Then, before I can properly get my head around what’s about to happen, strong, purposeful hands are bending me forward at the waist, so I’m ass up and my face is buried in the mattress.
I manage a muffled protest, but it’s lost on my captors.
Hands massage my buttocks, and I hear the distinctive slurping sound of viscous gel being squirted moments before it lands with a cold splat on my upturned back hole.
All my muscles contract as I feel fingers poking and prodding in that forbidden place. I wiggle my hips, but all that gains me is another pair of hands holding me still while simultaneously spreading me open.
A whimper falls from my lips as a thick finger breaches my virgin asshole, and I squeeze my eyes closed and clench against the intrusion. That just earns me a swift slap to the back of my thigh.
“Stop making this more difficult on yourself,” a voice commands. “It’s going in one way or another. It’s up to you how painful it will be.”
Seriously?
“Now do us all a favor and relax.”
Yeah right. Easy for him to say when he’s not on the receiving end.
I’ve read enough smutty books to understand what he’s saying, and while a healthy dose of fear invades my mind, I don’t want this to be any harder than I know it’s going to be, since it appears I don’t have any choice in the matter.
Fucking hell! This is insane.
I relax as best I can as hot tears seep from the corners of my eyes to be absorbed by the fabric beneath me. Is this how abuse victims feel? Do the same thoughts go through the victims’ heads in those court cases where they’re accused of not putting up enough of a fight?
Being in this position myself, I can fully empathize with the option of not being hurt any more than necessary. I don’t know what these men are capable of, so with that in mind, I relax as much as physically possible.
However, when I feel a thick, solid finger breaching the tight ring of muscle and the accompanying burn, I almost pop up like a jack in the box… or I would have if I wasn’t being held down. Instead, it just earns me another slap to the thigh.
I take a deep breath and try to get myself together. Regardless of what’s happening here, I don’t want to break down into a blubbering mess. Becoming a victim is not something I want to manifest, so I grit my teeth and stubbornly tell myself everything is okay.
One finger becomes two and I can’t help the howl I let out as the fingers inside me scissor in an attempt to loosen me up.
“Jesus Christ, she’s tight!” Gray exclaims. “Unbelievably so.”
The snark inside me wants to point out that’s because he’s boldly going where no man, woman or toy has gone before, but apparently that’s unbelievable too, so I save my breath and concentrate on absorbing and assimilating the smarting pain.
When he finally withdraws his probing fingers, the breath whooshes out of me in a rush, but my relief is short lived as the unmistakable probe of a cold, plastic crest presses against my pucker.
I pant as it’s slowly, irrevocably inserted inside my butt, finally popping past the achingly tight ring of muscle to settle in its new home, thankful when it’s situated, and my body works to accommodate the intrusion.
Not that I get long to adjust. Seconds later, rough hands pull me back into a kneeling position, and Gray, a lusty expression on his undeniably handsome face, raises the flogger.
"Ready, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
My stomach bottoms out. The way this is playing out, it doesn’t really matter whether I am or not.
Before I can respond, he brings the flogger down across my bound breasts. The impact is sharp and stinging, sending shockwaves of sensation through my chest. I gasp, my back arching involuntarily.
"Oh God," I whimper, tears springing to my eyes. The pain is intense, and I breathe in through my nose, and exhale in a measured puff through my mouth as I try my best to assimilate the sensation and control my response to it. That’s when I realize there's something else starting to happen too - a warmth spreading through me, a tingling that makes my nipples tighten even further. It confuses me.
Gray doesn't wait for me to recover. He strikes again, and again, alternating between my breasts. Each lash of the flogger sends the same juxtaposed jolts of pain and pleasure coursing through my body. I cry out, my voice a mix of protest and something dangerously close to need.
“I love how responsive she is," Erik murmurs appreciatively. His hand slides down to unbutton his jeans. “Those perfect tits are going to feel awesome wrapped around my cock."
Cain groans, his grip on my arm tightens, then loosens, almost like he’s kneading.
I can feel the heat of him down the length of my spine and the hard evidence of his desire digging against my butt as he presses close, ensuring I can’t sway away from Gray’s well-placed blows.
“We’ll get to that,” he says, his own voice strained with desire.
“And all the other filthy things we’ve ever dreamed of. ”
I don’t know what all those filthy things might be, but I’m beginning to get a pretty good impression of where this is inevitably heading. There just doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it since my protests are viewed as some kind of deliberate act of denials, and a flag to forge ahead.
It’s clear now this is an extreme case of mistaken identity. These men aren’t the vicious animals I first imagined. They obviously think I’m someone else. Someone who consented in advance to everything happening here. I don’t know why, but that alone is an odd source of comfort.
The problem is, if there are any code words - or what is it they call them in kink books? I can’t remember. I’ve read enough of them, furtively rendering my fantasies to between the pages, but with everything going on, my mind is blank.
I grab hold of what I’m trying to remember and focus on it, as a way to alleviate the sensations, both physical and mental, that are bombarding me.
Safe word!
The phrase comes to me, and I feel a moment of victory that I remembered.
Until I realize how it impacts the rest of that half-formed thought… that if there are any safe words at play here, then I don’t know what they are.
I try not to let it get me down, even though, if I had a safe word, I might start thinking about using it just about now.
But then, when I’m finally at the end of my tether, Gray finally throws down the flogger like he already knows, and steps forward.
Just the brush of his fingers over my super-sensitized nipples makes me gasp and flinch in reaction.
One that seems to spur all three men on.
Behind me, Cain palms the full, pouting globes of my breasts, which have darkened to an almost purple blush due to the way they’re bound. Never mind the flogging.
Gray drops to his knees, sucking one of the stiff peaks into his mouth, and that in itself is almost too much sensation.
But then Erik simultaneously pinches and twists the other, causing me to throw my head back and scream at the sensory overload.
My head is well and truly messed up. There’s pleasure and pain and it’s all mixed up together, so I no longer know whether I love it or hate it.
Whether to rebel against it and make them understand their mistake - which, let’s be honest, hasn’t been working out for me so far - or to embrace it.
I’m already screwed - soon to be literally, if I’m reading this right.
And I’m pretty sure I am.
What I need to do - fast - is somehow work out how I handle all this, so I come out the other side with my mind and my sanity still intact.