CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I scream. Try to. It’s a hoarse sound of pain.
He’s in me to the wrist. His knuckles graze the tree in the other channel. He moves. Thrusts. Sucks my nipples and tells me I’m such a tight little whore, a good girl.
I know I wondered what it would feel like back at Aunt Laura’s house when I was frozen and he put his whole hand in, but feeling it, feeling every wiggle of his fingers, feeling each scrape of his knuckles...
Still nothing compared to when he slips out, claps his sticky fingers around my throat and replaces it with his cock.
Full in.
No hesitation or ease.
He feeds every veiny inch with a single thrust that breaks my capacity to function. It destroys my sanity, the very air in my lungs with the hard clamp of his fingers. My lips tingle. My eyes roll back.
And he keeps whispering what a pretty girl I am taking him like this. How good and tight I feel after getting filled by his brothers.
It’s such a mind fuck, the soft, sweet words contradicting the punishing slams of his hips. The firm grip of his fingers. It’s confusing my senses, throwing my head and body into conflict. Tossed in with the blinding need to cum, to submit to the gnawing hunger
Behind him, Malakar is on all fours between Vaelith’s knees. Throat full with my husband’s beautiful cock, his hand between Vaelith’s spread thighs, working his back entrance with matching pumps.
At the foot of the bed, one hand braced behind him on the mattress, Aamon watches them, watches his Father get his dick sucked while palming his own with long, languid pumps to match.
The entire time though, Vaelith never takes his eyes off me. Never so much as blinks. His entire focus is watching me get used. Filled and stretched. The unwavering focus has Ciaran groaning into my ear when I tighten around him.
“Like that?” he teases against the sensitive skin of my jaw.
He gives me no chance to respond when I feel his cock twitch and shudder. The spray of his seed joining the others.
Breathing hard, he brushes my cheek with his lips and pulls back. Pulls out. The loss of all that girth has my channel throbbing between pain and pleasure.
I’m empty for a second before vines find their way home. They bunch into a knot to cork me. Between their twisting and the tree still in my ass, I’m so full. My clit is a swollen nub protruding from between my lips and so tender I shudder with the faint hint of air brushing over it.
I don’t understand how I can be so sensitive, so on the cusp and still can’t reach release.
It makes no sense when it’s pulsing, practically humming with a relentless pressure that has me shifting.
Writhing uselessly against the binds. It does nothing, solves nothing, but my body is too primed for stillness.
“I think our little whore needs to see what a filthy mess she is right now,” Vaelith decides, settling back against his chair, hands dropping down the braided vines along the armrests.
Malakar and Aamon make no move to stop what they’re doing. Malakar has Vaelith’s balls in his mouth, sucking both while he jerks the shiny length with the hand not still deep inside Vaelith’s cavity.
But Ciaran steps out of view and returns a second later holding a medium sized mirror.
Oval with a gold frame and a swiveling base that he sets on the floor beneath me and tilts just high enough so I can see the destruction of my pussy.
The dripping cum spilling from my gaping hole.
From around the blockage. The opening is raw and tender, and slick.
But I’m fixated on the polished curve of wood arching out of the tree and filling my back entrance.
The rest of my body is a crosswire of vines and roots.
My cheeks are blotchy with tears and flushed with arousal.
There are pine needles in my hair and sweat glistening across my skin.
In my mouth, a sizable chunk of wood is caught between my teeth.
Drool and spittle coat my chin and drop across my chest. Down between my breasts.
It’s degrading.
A humiliation tactic that warms my cheeks even as the sight only amplifies my arousal.
But it’s nothing to the sight of Ciaran moving to stand in front of Vaelith, his thick, glossy cock gripped at the base.
The sight of myself is overshadowed by the view of Vaelith running his tongue up the shaft.
Over the rigid length. Cleaning from cap to base.
No hesitation.
Not a single flicker of uncertainty.
He laps at the cock before tucking the head between his lips and sucking.
I groan at the sight. My channel flexes visibly in the mirror and releases a fresh glob that runs down the vines.
Vaelith smirks. “I think our dirty whore is feeling left out, despite having all that cum in her. Aamon.”
I watch as Aamon hurries off the bed. Ciaran steps back and lets the other man climb into their father’s lap with his back to Vaelith’s chest. I hold my breath with anticipation. Soaked at the thought of my husband’s cock filling Aamon. Of watching him fuck my boys with that beast.
But his dick comes up between Aamon’s legs, aligning them. Vaelith grips both and pumps them together with a single, white knuckled fist.
Aamon whines. His head falls back on the other man’s shoulder, eyes closed in ecstasy. His hips lift in time with every jerk.
“Father, please...” he pleads.
“Did you fuck my wife’s tight cunt?”
He’s watching me. Watching me while jerking him. Punishing him.
“Yes. She’s such a needy whore. Can’t keep her legs closed when there’s a cock nearby.”
Vaelith turns his face into the side of Aamon’s neck, fist pumping, eyes on me.
“Did she cum on your cock?”
“She soaked the bed and begged for more. Railed her until she begged me to stop.”
“Good. Ciaran.”
To my surprise, Ciaran straddles both men’s legs. Like Aamon, he keeps his back to them and lowers his hips.
On both cocks.
Takes them with unhurried bounces until he hits the bottom with a deep groan of pleasure. Even from my place, I can see the wide stretch of his hole and the sight...
My clit pangs and I wish I could reach it. I wish I could be on the bed, fingering my pussy while watching my boys fuck.
Vaelith fists Ciaran’s cock.
“Did my queen spread her legs for this?”
Ciaran gives a brittle laugh. “She begged me not to. Begged that her little hole was too small but squirted like a seasoned whore when I forced her on it. When I pulled her down on every inch and ripped her pretty cunt wide.”
The backing of his chair unravels and becomes a recliner that Vaelith drops back on with Aamon across his chest. Ciaran stays upright, rocking.
But it’s Malakar who steps forward. I watch, whining in my throat as he bends his knees, cock firmly in hand and sinks it in Vaelith.
My husband groans. His hips lift to take more. His knees widen to get Malakar closer.
“I used your whore like a fucking glory hole,” Malakar growls, fucking him hard. Harder. “Bent her over and picked one of her filthy slits still stuffed and warm from all the men she went through before me.”
The words ... the filthy, dehumanizing taunts as they fuck my king. As he pants and looks into my eyes with such fucking pleasure.
He would never let other men have me, but the thought of me used has him feral and I love it.
Love the vine he stuffs into Malakar’s back channel. Then two. He gets four in before the man roars and rails his hips.
More vines.
More.
Filling Aamon.
Coiling around Ciaran’s purple cock.
All four buck and thrash and make the most beautiful sounds. I never want them to stop.
At one point, the boys lose their substance.
Their solid matter wavers and they resort to their ghostly apparition.
Flickering between visible and none. The transition almost makes me think Vaelith is having a ghost orgy, which almost makes me laugh, but also I want to try it.
Want them to sneak up on me in my sleep and take me when I can’t see them.
Thoughts for later when they become solid again.
But Ciaran sprays into the tentacles milking him.
Aamon whimpers, “Father!” and cums with a shudder.
Done, Ciaran climbs off and drags Aamon with him.
Then it’s just Malakar and my demon. They seem angry the way they move against each other. But I don’t get a chance to think about it when Ciaran appears before me. The cork is torn free and replaced with his fist.
“Look at your whore, Father,” Malakar mocks over my shredded scream. “Look how fucking wide we’ve stretched her hole and her taking it like she’s meant to.”
Ciaran pumps harder, faster. Pulls out, grabs my hips and fucks me.
“Washed,” Aamon says, coming up next to Ciaran.
Without a word, Ciaran pulls out. But rather than stop, he directs the other man into his place. He wraps a fist around Aamon’s dick and gives it a few strokes.
I think he’s going to guide Aamon to take me again, and he does ... with his fist still curled around him.
Both are pushed in. Cock and fist, and Vaelith snarls. Not anger but pleasure as the bit is torn out of my mouth and my mindless wail rips through the room. My entire body heaves against the binds as the blinding pain sears my opening and invades my channel.
With the tree still firmly in my ass, there already isn’t room, but Ciaran forces me to make space for all five fingers and Aamon’s fully erect cock.
He kisses me, swallowing my plea for no more as he simultaneously pushes Aamon closer. Deeper.
“It’s too much,” I whine, finally able to speak. “Ciaran, please...”
“But look how well you’re taking us,” Ciaran croons, flexing his fingers. Rubbing.
I choke on a gasp as I realize he’s stroking the other man. Inside me.
“It has to be done, baby,” Aamon adds, finding my breasts. Palming the mounds. Squeezing and plumping them together to bury his face into. “Have to get these fat with milk.” He takes a nipple into his mouth. Pinches the other. “Have to put a baby in your cunt now that you’re open for business.”