42. Ophelia #2
A body slams into mine from behind, and I hit the ground hard.
The air explodes from my lungs, and I’m unable to draw in another.
What if I can’t say the safe word because I’m unable to speak?
I won’t be able to make them stop, even if they’re hurting me.
No one talked about what to do then. Oh no, we didn’t cover all the bases.
Not at all. This could go so sideways for me so fast. Now I am really trying to get away because genuine fear grips me hard.
I wriggle and squirm under the body pressing me down.
Hot breath against my ear. A hard cock jammed up against my ass.
Hands reach under my dress, finding my thighs.
Because I’m not wearing any panties, fingers press between my legs, finding me wet.
It seems like fear makes me horny, too. They push roughly inside me, and the band around my chest loosens, and I’m able to draw air.
Fingers slide in and out of me, and teeth nip at the top of my ear.
Whoever is on top of me must have lifted their mask enough to use their mouth.
Malachi? He’s the only one I’ve seen do that.
I’m face down in the dirt, but those fingers feel good inside me, and I whimper.
I’m not going to safe word my way out of this yet.
Suddenly, the fingers withdraw, and the weight lifts off my body.
I’m still lying there, my dress hooked up to expose my bare ass to the night, breathing hard.
I wait for the briefest moment, wondering what I’m supposed to do next, then I reach back to yank my dress down.
I scramble to my feet, brushing dried leaves and dirt from my front.
I’m wet and swollen between my thighs, and I’m conscious of that as I force myself to get going again.
I’m growing tired, my muscles burning and fatigue starting to set in. It weakens me, makes me less able to fight back. Is that what they want? They’re like a pack of wolves, running their prey to exhaustion.
So when they catch me, they can do whatever they want to me, and I’ll be too weak to fight back. Too weak to use my safe word. My body will just be a vessel for them to fuck however they want, as many times as they want. To use and take.
My pace has slowed, and I have to stop. I stagger to a halt and pause, bent over, my hands on my knees as I gasp.
I’m in a small clearing, the moonlight allowing me to see my surroundings almost as well as I would in the daylight.
The only difference is the places between the trees where the canopy prevents the moonlight from reaching.
These are thick, black pockets of darkness that could be hiding anything.
Like something out of a horror film, three masked figures emerge almost silently from the dark.
I straighten, trying to face them, but they surround me.
Roman with his skeleton mask, his blond hair pale in the eerie light, is directly ahead of me.
Cain in his black hood stalks me from behind, and Malachi in the white mask, now pulled down fully to hide his face, emerges from between the trees to my right.
At least it’s them. I recognize their builds and hair.
All three remain quiet, and my pussy clenches, my nipples hardening. This is it. This is where it’s going to happen.
I dart to one side, but Malachi steps into place, blocking me. They get closer, pressing me in from all sides. I know there’s no chance of escape this time. Not that I’d escaped before—they’d let me go because they enjoyed the chase.
Cain grabs me from behind, and Roman steps forward and lifts the hem of my dress. I wriggle and kick, but there’s no way I’m stronger than they are.
“You’re ours now,” Roman growls. “Our willing sacrifice.”
He lifts the dress high, exposing my legs and pussy and stomach and breasts. Then he pulls it over my head and tosses it to one side. I’m completely naked, surrounded by three fully clothed masked men.
I wriggle in Cain’s grasp. “No, please.” I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.
Roman studies me while Cain holds me in place.
His gaze roams across my body, and he lifts his hands to touch me.
He starts at my face, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my head from side to side, like he’s appraising me for auction.
Then he releases my face and runs the backs of his fingers down my throat.
Cain takes my hair in one fist, yanking on it so pain spikes deliciously through my scalp, heightening everything.
I’ve never been so aware of my skin, every nerve ending lighting up with the anticipation of pleasure.
Roman palms my breasts, and his thumbs brush across my nipples. Arousal shoots straight between my thighs, and I bet I’m soaked.
Still paying attention to my breasts, he rolls my nipples between his fingers and then pinches hard enough to hurt. I squeal and buck in Cain’s grip.
“No, get off me!”
Cain presses his face closer to my ear. “That’s right, Angel. Fight him.”
I try again, bucking and kicking. At some point, I’ve lost my shoes, so I’m barefooted, but I don’t even know where. My kicks are ineffectual, and Roman gives a guttural laugh.
“Keep her still, Cain.”
Cain uses his legs to hold mine in place, so I’m completely pinned to his body.
His erection is thick and hard, and he grinds against me.
How can this be the same boy from my childhood—the one who used to sleep on my bedroom floor each night, afraid of his father.
This man doesn’t seem like he’d be afraid of anyone.
Roman drops to his knees. “Keep her legs spread.”
I remember what he’d said about being a virgin. Is this the first time he’s tasted a woman? He adjusts his mask to free his mouth and nose, moves in closer, and presses his lips to my pussy.
“Oh!” I cry.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Malachi, standing in the shadows, watching.
He’s freed his cock and has it in hand, masturbating as he watches Roman eat me out, while Cain holds me still.
He still has his mask fully covering his face, but his chest is bare—he must have stripped off his shirt—revealing his multitude of tattoos.
The sight is deeply dark and erotic, and it only heightens my arousal.
Roman’s mouth latches over my clit, and he sucks.
I cry out in pleasure and pain. So many sensations grip me.
He suckles and then licks, flicking his tongue over me.
He groans his pleasure, sending vibrations through me, and uses his hand to hold my pussy lips wider.
He covers me with his whole mouth. His tongue spears inside me as he fucks me that way, sliding his tongue in and out.
My stomach and thigh muscles tense and quiver, and I can feel my orgasm building.
I’m going to come, and it feels so wrong. I try to hold it off. I wait for the sneering voice of the Prophet, but it never arrives. Instead, in its place, there is nothing but pleasure as the waves crash over me, and I come all over Roman’s face, crying out into the dark.