11. Dove
eleven
Dove
Three weeks ago
I lie awake on the couch with my head in Rowan’s lap and my lower body in another man’s. He called his friend over again. Leon.
The man who licked my pussy while Rowan held me down and whispered praise into my ear. The man who made me come on his tongue, then said he’d like to feel me around his cock. I voiced my safe word then, because I didn’t know what else to do. I thought it was wrong—so wrong, so obscene, so out of line. But Rowan showed me it wasn’t.
How can I possibly want him even more than I already do, now that another man is fingering my pussy with his bare hands? But that’s just it—this man, Leon… He feels like nothing more than a ghost, as if he’s just another puppet, same as I am. And Rowan’s strings pull our limbs together, making us do things and having the power to take it all away. Still, I hide my face into Rowan’s body because I can’t believe how wet I am for the two of them.
I can’t believe what they’re doing to me.
I whimper and wiggle in their grasp, well aware that my nakedness is in full view. They’re both fully dressed, and here I am, open and needy for whatever they’re willing to give me.
“Don’t mind her,” Rowan tells him while caressing my hair, as if I’m not able to understand them. As if I’m their pet and nothing more. “She’s being fussy. I edged her pretty much all day.”
He did.
My pussy jolts from the pleasure bolting through me when Leon’s finger puts more pressure on my soaked clit. Then he takes it away, and the sensation disperses like smoke into a gust of air. I have tears in my eyes from the way they’ve been playing with me. They’re the wolves and I’m the sweet little lamb they caught today.
Leon’s voice takes on a light, teasing lilt as he coos, “Ah, is your pretty pussy too overstimulated, little bird? Should we make her come?”
“P-Please,” I say, hissing and on the verge of sobbing from the lack of self-control I have left. I want to come, and come, and come, and never stop. That’s what I imagine my orgasm will be like when they finally let me have it.
“Just a bit longer, angel,” Rowan says, his voice cruel, and lovely, and carnal while he unbuttons his pants. His cock comes out, hard and thick and veiny from the strain, like a monster I’m somehow supposed to defend myself from when I’m all but a sloppy mess. “Open your mouth. Don’t suck, just keep my cock nice and warm until we’re ready to fuck you. Is that understood?”
I nod with his cock in my mouth, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. Leon does something to my pussy, but I have no idea what. All I know is it feels good and I’m on the brink of coming again. I take in a breath of air through my nose, preparing myself for it. But despair hits me once again when he removes his hand, and Rowan hushes me into submission while I cry, my sobs muffled by the size of his cock. My safe word is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold on for a bit longer, hoping they’ll take mercy on me and let me have my release.
“Look at her,” Leon says. “She’s doing so well. She’s got to be the sweetest girl I’ve ever played with.”
Rowan pets my hair. “Why do you think I’m so addicted to her?”
They’re having a conversation, as if… as if I’m not holding Rowan’s cock between my lips… as if I’m not showing Leon my pussy and wetting his fingers while he plays with it. I look up at Rowan, confused, but he isn’t paying attention to me. Or, at least, I don’t think he is.
It makes me that much wetter, feeling like their toy, feeling like they could do anything they want to me. And that I have the power to shut it down if I wanted to.
“You sure you don’t want to share this one?” he asks.
What does he mean by that? Isn’t he sharing me right now?
“No,” Rowan deadpans, his cock twitching in my mouth. “I told you from the beginning. She’s all mine, and all of this is for her. Look how fucking wet she is right now. Christ…”
Leon sighs and inserts a finger into my pussy, idly, and without looking at it this time. “Fair enough.”
I moan and whimper around Rowan’s cock as Leon accidentally forgets to release the pressure on my clit for a second too long. I’m not coming yet, but I am so close.
So close. So close. So close.
A sharp slap lands on my thigh. Rowan looks down at me and says, “I’m so sorry, angel, but no one told you it’s okay to come. You don’t want us to have to start all over again, do you?”
I shake my head, pleading with my eyes. My pussy throbs and begs— begs them for mercy.
But the mercy never comes.
The two of them have wine and talk politics, each holding a piece of me and teasing me until my sobbing distracts them. Then I’m up on shaky legs, and Rowan bends me over the table in front of us with my arms sprawled above my head. He holds me in place, shoving his cock back into my mouth as Leon’s cock pierces through the entrance of my tight and very little-used ass. It’s the only hole Rowan allowed him to enter.
“Good girl, angel. You’re making me so very proud in front of my friend,” Rowan says while slowly fucking my mouth. Drool and tears fall down my face, my jaw hurting from trying to accommodate his length and thickness.
Leon inches himself forward, his fingers digging into my hips as he hisses through his own pleasure. He’s thick—just as thick as Rowan, and I’m scared it will hurt, but Rowan anticipates that, too.
“Easy. She’s very sensitive down there. I’ve only fucked her once.”
“Fuck,” Leon groans, and his cock stops midway while he brings his hand to my pussy and rubs it some more. I relax into their touch, the throb of my clit resuming with the force of a fucking grenade. And I just know I’m going to come with this man’s cock in my ass… while Rowan tells me how sweet I am and how much he loves fucking my little mouth.
I wake up thrashing in my sheets, sweat coating my forehead and running down my spine. My pussy throbs as I gasp, fighting for air as the memory—the dream—vanishes as quickly as it enveloped me. I open my eyes, and I see it—the same room with the same four walls I’ve been locked in for days.
My prison.
I fall back on the mattress and curl into myself, trying my hardest not to lose myself in my memories again. I once read this book where the main character survived a prison much worse than this. He said the others lost their minds while being there because… because all they did when they were alone was think of the life they had back at home. The life that was stolen from them.
My memories are the only safe space I have left. But if I do that… if I make the mistake of hiding in them… I know damn well I’m going to lose my mind. So I settle on imagining all the ways in which I’ll get my revenge. Living in the past might be a dangerous thing, but living in the future? At this point, that’s just being one step ahead.