Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Payne
“Hey, sweetheart,” Master Wylde said as he stroked my hair. “I know your safe word, but I need you to say it for me so we’re on the same page before we get started.”
“Tinsel. I hate it. It gets everywhere, especially in a rolling RV. My safe word is tinsel.”
“Good boy,” Master Wylde said. “And what are you going to say to me if you need me to pause or slow down?”
“Yellow.”
“That’s right,” Master Wylde said. “Do you have any last-minute questions for me?”
“Will I get to roll over?” I asked. “Will you touch my front the way you’re going to touch my back?”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Master Thorin said. “We’ll reposition you when we’re ready, we promise to touch you all over.”
“Thank you, Sir; that’s the only thing I needed to know.”
“Yellow is for anytime you have a new question as well,” Master Wylde said. “Though I hope you’ll be too out of your mind with pleasure to think.”
The whole time they spoke to me, they stroked my body, their firm, warm hands making it easy to nestle into the cushion beneath me.
“That’s what I want too,” I said. “I’m ready. Thank you for always taking the time to talk to me. You never make me feel rushed about anything. You never make me feel bad about anything either. I trust you both, and I really, really need this. So, I’m ready. Please start tormenting me.”
“We will, sweetheart, but only in the best of ways,” Master Wylde said, lightly skimming his fingertips up the back of my neck.
I heard him inhale, then his breath ghosted down my back as he kissed the spot he’d just rubbed.
Soft, the first sensation that wasn’t his hand was something soft and furry running down my arm.
Sighing, I just let myself feel, trusting in them implicitly.
Someone was running something soft along my left side and something rougher along my right.
Dual sensations meant my brain stopped thinking about who was using what as they massaged my body with whatever implements they had chosen.
“Look at the way his ass clenches and flexes every time we touch him,” Master Thorin murmured. “So sweet and responsive.”
Master Wylde chuckled as goosebumps cropped up along my shoulders and arms. His breath was warm, a contrast to the coolness of the room hitting my exposed skin.
Caresses and kisses, like back in their bedroom every night since I’d arrived.
They felt amazing. I felt amazing as the softness trailed up the back of my neck.
I loved how slowly they moved, even when rubbing over my bottom.
I could feel each caress through the cloth, not the fussiness of it, but the pressure and the slow glide.
I got so used to soft that when the slinky slide of something cold and wet touched my back, I hissed and jerked, startled as it snaked its way over my hip.
“Cold, cold, cold,” I hissed, shivering as I blew out a breath.
Sizzling warmth spread out along my other side, creating balance while easing the sting of the cold.
I arched into each touch before rubbing against the leather, nerve endings crackling with sensation.
Cold spread up one leg while warm wormed down the other, every shiver, every clench, every rub one of pure pleasure and excitement.
Then there was nothing but warmth and the steady drip, drip, drip of low-heat candles as wax was drizzled across my shoulders.
This was a feeling I knew. One I’d craved and positively loved.
I so totally understood the point of the Q we have all the time in the world.”
His words helped me focus on swallowing more when he offered it to me.
“That’s it, that’s my pretty kitty. You are so stunning, splayed out for us. Let’s sip some more, and then we’ll reposition you so we can have a lot more fun together. Are you still green?”
“Bright, bright green,” I huffed, struggling with the words as he caressed my face, smoothed my hair back, and repositioned the blindfold.
“I’ve got one more thing for you before we lay you back down,” he said, then I smelled chocolate and parted my lips, biting into a caramel Reese’s peanut butter cup, and felt the sticky sweetness against the roof of my mouth.
I knew they came from the stash at the cabin, because Master Wylde had brought them home days ago after he’d made a supply run for us.
He loved them too, and we’d eaten them Lady and the Tramp style, staring into each other’s eyes, the level of warmth and intensity in his gaze one of many things that was rapidly leading to me falling in love with him.
Master Thorin’s hands, steadying and sure, rubbed my shoulders, lifting my hair as he kissed the back of my neck because he knew I loved to be kissed there.
It was one of many things I was coming to love about him too.
They cared, genuinely, deeply; I knew it in my soul.
I was becoming their person. He kissed me when I finished it.
Chased the taste of chocolate around the inside of my mouth in a messy, sticky kiss that drew a groan from him.
“Are you ready for part two, sweetheart?” he asked.
I loved that nickname as much as I loved pretty kitty, and I loved it a lot.
“So ready, Sir,” I replied.
They responded by kissing me, one on my lips, the other on the back of my neck, so I melted again and remembered that we hadn’t finished playing.
They maneuvered my legs and upper body, caressing them the same way they had the first time they positioned me.
I felt the restraints on my arms and legs being reapplied, then their lips wrapped around my nipples, licking, sucking, and the sharp sting of one of them biting as I raised my hips.
My cock was the one neglected part of my body, but that was okay, because I knew they’d get there and I’d love it when they did.
This time, they didn’t start with soft and fluffy; I no longer needed it.
I needed the sting I got from what felt like a flogger but smaller, stiffer, harder, but flexible too.
Plastic, my brain suggested uncertainly.
Later I’d ask what it was. What all the implements were because I loved every last one of them and…
“Oh gods,” the sting was sharp, focused on my upper thighs.
“Is that too much, sweetheart?” Master Wylde asked.
“No, Sir. I’m all green. So green.”
“And a beautiful green you are,” Master Thorin said. “Wish you could see how hard I am for you both. When I fuck him later, it’s going to be where you can watch and see how much he likes having me inside of him, but only after we’ve fucked you until you won’t want to move from that table.”
“Please. Yes, please, Sirs, please,” I moaned, eager to see that sight.
The sting on my thighs was accompanied by the crack of something harder, only I didn’t feel any pain accompany it, just the sting radiating outward from where the plastic struck.
I heard Master Wylde groan and felt more stinging and knew without needing to see what was taking place.
Master Thorin was striking him with something much harder than Master Wylde was using on me, and the sounds he made just amplified my pleasure.
Knowing we were sharing the moment, feeling some of the same things.
That floaty feeling hit like a freight train as a stinging sensation caught me right on the nipple, and I whimpered and shuddered, so close to coming undone that I tried to rock my hips and beg with my body, but we were just getting started again.
I melted against the leather as sting after sting hit my upper thighs, then my nipple again, alternating while I squirmed, nothing but moans spilling from between my lips as I writhed.
Someone's hands gripped my hips, tugging upward until I lifted them and held them there as my shorts were finally peeled down while someone released the Velcro around one ankle so my shorts could come off, almost completely. They left them around one ankle, which might have been funny if the soft hadn’t returned, wrapping around my cock, stroking without providing enough friction to let me come.
That was just cruel. Evil. Hot as fucking hell, as it made me moan and try to buck, chasing a sensation that went on and on, without ever being quite enough to get me off.
A loud crack echoed in my ears even after it was over, but all I got was soft, and someone’s lips wrapped around my nipple, sucking away the remnants of the earlier sting.
I felt Master Wylde’s hiss, his tongue laving over my nipple before that crack came and he hissed again, but he never stopped stroking me, teasing with whatever soft implement he’d wrapped around my cock. It went on so long all I could think about was coming, like it was my sole focus in life.
Warm, wet lips kissed down the center of my chest, my nipple pebbling more than I ever thought possible when Master Wylde’s lips left it, each kiss accompanied by a loud, hard crack that sent a shudder through both of our bodies.
Then his lips replaced the softness around the head of my cock, and I bucked, mewling, chasing more sensations as he sucked.
I was all wound up, and it was still too gentle, too light, too soft.
“Waaa,” I cried when those lips left me and I realized that there was still more teasing left in store for me.
Fluff again. On my thighs this time, the barest touch, but it burned and sent another flood of need through my body.
If they brought back the cold, I’d die. I’d combust, well probably not combust, because the cold would burn out the fire and oh god, oh god, oh god, wax.
They were back with the wax. Pouring it over my nipples at the same time too.
I’d forgotten the wax and the low-melt candles.
Now it dribbled over the juncture of my hip and thighs in a long, slow pour that started to harden right away.
Like the strips I’d wound from my knees to the middle of my calves when I’d been in my fox costume, the wax crisscrossed them, drying, coating, giving me a bit of tight pressure before the soft strikes of the implement returned, right over the wax, changing what I felt so there was just more pressure over the skin they covered, and pinpricks of stinging where they touched skin.
I felt the Velcro release again and almost screamed no, no, no, until I was yanked to the end of the table, firm hands gripping my ankles, as someone’s fingertip circled my hole with cool lube that urged me to press against it and open up for them.
Cruel fingers circled the base of my cock, lightly squeezing as the blunt head of a fat cock breached me and withdrew.
Master Thorin then, fucking me first, teasingly fucking me, his groans drowning out the faint Dungeon sounds around me.
It felt so good to be filled and so awful not to be able to come with the hand acting as a cock cage, even when I loved them and wanted one but hadn’t gotten around to choosing one for myself.
I whined and rocked into every short, teasing thrust.
I felt him come without the deep fullness I’d craved, that hand still squeezing the base of my cock as he withdrew.
I got everything I wanted when Master Wylde slid inside of me, the torturous hand around my cock retreating as Master Wylde’s hands settled onto my hips, pulling me into each thrust. He had to have been the meanie then, but I didn’t care anymore, because I was right on the edge, and he must have been too, because it was short, fast, and perfect to fly apart with him inside of me, thick and spilling into the condom, pulsing as I rode out the most perfect orgasm in the universe while the world disintegrated around me.
Nothing had ever felt better.