Chapter Eleven
Mercedes honestly had no idea what she was doing anymore. Wanting to lose her virginity was one thing; begging her brother’s best friends to fuck her was quite, quite another.
Was this really desperation speaking on her part or something else?
Before her mind conjured up some emotional, romantic crap, she pulled herself together. This was just sex. They were going to help her out of a tight spot, quite literally. She had to remember they only agreed if she ceased to exist for them afterward. That was fine.
Whatever her heart was doing was not her business. It wasn’t an organ invited to this party. The only organ allowed in was what they had between their legs, whoever they voted in as the candidate to take one for the team.
But wait, did she hear correctly?
“I’m taking her mouth,” Waylan said.
“Her ass is mine,” Myles added.
Did that mean Holden was taking her pussy? Did that mean they all three were going to touch her? Her body broke out in flames, everything inside her clenched, including the walls of her pussy. A trickle of wetness coated the thin strip of her panties. Oh boy.
She watched as Waylan perused the toys she had brought with her. He picked up the edible nipple clamps, the metal painted in neon Christmas colors, and dangling from each clamp was a vial.
Myles picked up the clit clamps, which were essentially two halves of a star that would click together, with her clit between them.
Mercedes swallowed. It had all been good and well when she went on her shopping spree at Santa Triple X, but now with those toys in these men’s hands, suddenly, a delicious tug of fear pulled at her stomach, making her wetter and breathless.
She knew without a shadow of a doubt Todd would not have made her feel this way, but then again, that had not been his purpose.
Waylan came toward her. Her body was quivering visibly now. She gazed skittishly at Holden. He sat like a king, legs wide open, fingers steepled, his eyes so intently on her, she combusted.
She watched as Myles brought a chair and placed it in the middle of the living room area, in line with the fire gently keeping the cabin comfortably warm.
Waylan stood in front of her now. She stopped breathing as he reached out and dragged the flimsy fabric away from her breasts, exposing her completely.
He bent his head, and not severing his eye contact with her, he opened his mouth, took her nipple between his lips, and sucked. She nearly fell over backward. And would have, if Waylan hadn’t caught her with his arm around her waist, holding her in place while he sucked on her nipple, licking and biting and making her writhe against him.
Dear god.
She was completely out of breath when he lifted his head and then proceeded to clamp her nipple.
“Oh. Oh, oh,” she whimpered as he tightened the clamp over her swollen, wet nipple. She was going to die. Nothing would matter. The restriction in her blood flow made her crazy wet. Who was she even?
Waylan did the same to her other nipple, sucking, laving, biting, and then clamping her. She wanted to call a time-out so she could get her breathing under control.
“Now, get on your hands and knees and crawl to Myles.”
Oh god. Oh god. This was happening. She opened her mouth to ask a question; she had no idea what, but she needed to talk.
“We really prefer to hear you scream, but if you’re going to question us, we’ll gag you, little Hades.”
Okay, then.
Mercedes got onto her hands and knees and did as she was told. The weight of the clamps with the vials dangling from them created a vortex of pain and pleasure, and she didn’t know if she was flying or dying.
She reached Myles, sitting up on her heels now. He touched her cheek so deceptively gently before he tugged at the vial of one of the clamps until she hissed in a sharp breath. The devil smiled at her.
She wasn’t going to make it. Did she honestly think purchasing a couple of clamps was going to turn her into a seasoned submissive? She was way in over her head here, but dear god, she was soaking wet already.
“Onto the chair,” he ordered her. She did as she was told again. God knows she needed to catch her breath, and a nice sit down would definitely help.
Did she forget who she was dealing with? Myles came to stand in front of her. Using his leg, he nudged hers apart. So wide she immediately wanted to shut them closed again. Her panties were so irrelevant at this point. The transparent fabric had darkened with her wetness, and with legs spread that wide, she could smell the perfume on her thighs, the scent of her arousal.
Myles lowered himself between her legs. Without taking his eyes off her, he brushed his thumb over her clit.
“Oh,” she squeaked as a jolt of lightning passed through her, all her nerves singed at that one touch. Her cheeks turned a crimson red as Myles licked his thumb before going back for more. He dipped his fingers between her folds, just there at the entrance, and already it felt as if she were being impaled with his cock.
He stroked her, faster, slower, teasing her. She was a novice with zero self-control. Anorgasm started to gather in the depths of her soul. So close.
Until Myles pinched her clit and clamped it.
“You… bastard,” she managed to say, struggling to control the conflicting sensation in her body. In answer, Myles just chuckled and clamped her a little tighter.
“Don’t I get a safe word? I want a safe word, and I want it to be bastard.” She couldn’t put into words the sensation raking through her body now. It was all so chaotic and yet so perfect. The clamp between her thighs meant she needed to keep her legs slightly open.
“No, you can just say no whenever you want.”
“Bastard,” she said again as he deliberately fiddled with the clit clamp again before he rose, deserting her.
She watched as they went into the kitchen and helped themselves to food. What was going on? Was this a joke? They clamped her nipples and her clit and then went and ate her lasagna.
“Um, hello?” she called.
“Right, sorry,” Myles said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“You make that lasagna yourself?” he asked conversationally as he picked up a gag ball, where the ball was actually a piece of candy, and then proceeded to gag her with it.
“Fucking perfection. The lasagna, I mean. And you.”
He then used the fluffy restraints on her ankles, binding her to the legs of the chair.
“We want your legs nice and wide,” he said before he resumed his meal with his two other friends.
What?
After a while, she tired of trying to say something with the gag between her lips, and now hints of strawberry teased her mouth.
She watched them eat, turning even redder every time their gazes slid over her so intently she thought she was going to come just like that. Then they used the two bathrooms, took showers, and emerged in nothing but gray sweatpants, their cologne fresh and mind-altering.
Their bodies were a craftsmanship of perfection. She gulped. The outline of their cocks? Mammoth.