Chapter 4
The world outside was a howling, white void, but inside the cabin, the only thing screaming was my body.
I retreated several steps until my back hit the rustic wooden wall, grain biting into my shoulders. The three figures closed in, their masks gleaming in the low firelight.
I didn’t know their names, knew nothing about them but the fact that they were all terrifying, and they turned me on like nothing else ever had.
The Stag was before me first, his antlers casting jagged shadows on the ceiling. The Skull stood to my right, a hollow-eyed promise of oblivion. And to my left, The Black Mask, with this cold and apathetic demeanor, had my body feeling terror, anxiety, but most of all… arousal.
“Scared little thing,” The Stag murmured, his voice a low, muffled rumble that vibrated deep into my bones. A thick, leather-gloved hand came up to cup my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Did you really think you could fight us? Fight this?”
I shook my head but didn’t know what I was trying to deny.
In reality, it was a pathetic jerk of movement.
My heart was a wild drum against my ribs.
This was wrong. I should be fighting, screaming for help that would never come.
But my limbs felt heavy, like liquid. The fear was a potent drug, but swirling beneath it was something darker and headier.
It was a thrilling current of anticipation I was too ashamed to name.
The Skull’s fingers, which were surprisingly bare and warm, trailed down my arm.
“Look at her,” he murmured to his accomplices.
“Poor little thing is shaking. Like a tiny, pretty bird in a cage.” His fingers lowered until I felt his touch dip to the collar of my sweater, and with a sharp tug, he ripped it open.
I gasped and instantly reached for the two halves, trying to pull them together. I was braless, and the cold air hit my breasts, my nipples hardening into tight, sensitive peaks instantly. I gasped again, the sound swallowed by the storm.
“Fucking beautiful,” The Skull said, his voice dripping with a hunger that was entirely primal. He didn’t touch me. He just watched, and that felt more invasive than anything else.
The air had hummed, thick with tension, fear, and something dark and forbidden. My breath came fast and hard, my pulse pounding as the three masked figures closed in.
The Skull, The Stag, and The Black Mask.
They surrounded me like it was a ritual, the flickering tree lights, the wintery storm raging outside, and the firelight catching on their masks making them seem even more ominous.
The Black Mask touched me next, his gloved finger tracing along my jaw, sliding down to my throat, and pressing in just enough to make me swallow. “She’s trembling,” he murmured, voice muffled and low. Reverent.
The Stag leaned close and said in a deep and dark voice, “Not from fear,” and the words sank straight into me. Their presence alone stole my breath.
And when The Black Mask lifted his hand, I held in my breath when I saw the knife in his hand. The blade whispered against the skin of my collarbone, I let out a squeak of fear. It was cold, the touch teasing and taunting me before it bit shallowly at my skin.
Pain bloomed, sharp and intimate, and when I looked down and saw a bead of blood rise, I felt all three of them still, as if my body had just spoken for me.
“Red is pretty on you.” I wasn’t clear who spoke or if all of them said it at the same time.
The Stag roughly palmed my breast, his thumb circling my nipple with a crude, possessive pressure. “You want to be good for us, don’t you, Gwen? You want to show us how a good girl listens.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command woven into my unraveling mind.
A tear escaped my eye, tracing a hot path down my cheek.
Yes. No. I don’t know. The corruption of what they silently promised was a whisper, seductive yet vile all in the same breath.
These three men promised warmth far greater than the fireplace could provide.
So suddenly that my head spun, The Skull dropped to his knees, his bony mask level with my stomach.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and the flimsy cotton panties beneath them, and I held my breath as he stared up at me.
I looked at the other two, both of them staring back at me, although their expressions were hidden beneath their masks.
When I didn’t say anything, just looked back down at The Skull, his deep chuckle filled the small space.
With one brutal yank, he stripped my leggings and panties down to my knees, baring my pussy to the hot, thick air.
I cried out on instinct, a strangled sound of protest and excitement that died in my throat the moment he leaned in.
“Let’s see if we can make her scream for another reason,” he growled, tearing away my clothing, and hiking one of my legs up and out, placing it on his shoulder, and pushing just the bottom of his mask up to drag his tongue, hot and insistent, in a long, wet stripe up my slit.
My head kicked back against the wall, my palms flat on the wood to balance myself.
Oh God. His mouth was a brand, searing away the last fragments of my resistance.
His fingers dug into my thigh as he ate me like a man starved, his tongue fucking into me, lapping at my clit, his nose buried in my flesh.
The vulgar, wet sounds echoed in the cabin, a lewd counterpoint to the storm. I was moaning, high and desperate, my hands now tangling in his hair, not to push him away but to hold him tight against me.
This was wrong. This was crazy. Yet I was letting it happen. I was supposed to hate this. I did hate it. So why was my pussy clenching around nothing, aching for more, and getting wetter?
“She tastes so fucking sweet,” The Skull moaned against my flesh, his voice muffled as he groaned, “A perfect, tiny little cunt. Look at you… getting all sloppy for us.”
“Born to be used,” The Stag agreed, his hand still working my breast, pinching my nipple just shy of pain.
The praise wrapped in such degradation sent a fresh jolt of lightning through me.
I was their thing, their beautiful, filthy toy.
The thought should have revolted me. But it made me drip onto The Skull’s chin.
I looked at The Black Mask, the metallic sheen catching the firelight. He was silent and steady as he watched the other two destroy me in the best of ways.
The sound of metal drew me to The Stag. He unbuckled his pants, freeing a thick, heavy cock that stood proud and long and already showing a glossy sheen of pre-cum at the crown.
The Skull gave my pussy one more long lick and stood. I exhaled a shuddering breath. His mask was still slightly pushed up, his mouth glistening with my arousal. He pulled me away from the wall, and I felt like a doll being used for their pleasure. And why was I okay with that?
Before I could utter a word or even think, I was spun around, and The Skull moved behind me, his body pressed against my back, his own erection a hard line pressing against his dark pants and digging against my ass.
His hands came around to my front, roughly squeezing my other breast, his fingers coarse against my feverish skin.
And then he slid it up to curl around my throat, squeezing lightly until I made a startled sound.
The Stag gripped my hips, spinning me around to face The Skull again, moving me forcefully until I was bent over the couch.
The Stag positioned himself behind me, and I suddenly felt the broad, hot head of his cock nudge against my soaked pussy hole.
I held my breath when The Black Mask and The Skull moved to the other side of the couch so I could see them with their cocks out, their thick, enormous hands wrapped around their massive lengths.
And then The Stag grunted, pushing forward. He tunneled all that hard, big girthy dick into my body, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I knew there’d be bruises in the morning.
“Fuck, feel that,” The Stag groaned. “Your fucking pussy is hugging my cock, Gwen. Trying to keep me out of your greedy little hole.”
He pulled back slightly, dragging out the exquisite friction that made me whimper. Then he pushed in again, gaining another fraction of an inch.
In. Out. Deeper.
Each time my pussy stretched further for his penetration, the pleasure-pain on my clit rubbing against the couch built to a maddening peak.
I was panting, pushing back against him, my entire world narrowed to that slow, fucking tease.
I was utterly exposed, bent over and held in place, my cunt being claimed inch by inch.
“You’re taking my cock so well, you dirty slut,” The Stag rasped, his hands digging harder into my hips.
I screamed, the fullness unbelievable, stretching me, owning me. I couldn’t pry my gaze off The Skull and The Black Mask as they jerked off, their crowns slick and dripping clear fluid.
He didn’t give me a second to adjust. He set a punishing rhythm, fucking into me with deep, powerful strokes. The Black Mask moved closer until he could fist my hair in one hand. I gasped in pain at the same time The Stag reached around to find my clit, circling it with a cruel, precise pressure.
“Look at you,” The Skull finally said, his mask now in place. “Taking his cock like you were made for it.”
“You’re nothing now,” The Stag said. “Just a warm, wet hole for us to use.” His degradation made me hotter, made me gush around The Stag’s cock pistoning back and forth inside of me.
The Skull appeared beside The Black Mask, his cock still in hand, stroking himself as he watched me get railed. And then The Skull and The Black Mask were standing on the couch, their cocks now face-level with me.
“Open that pretty mouth,” The Skull demanded. “You’re not nearly full enough. Show us what a pretty little slut you are.”
Tears streamed down my face freely now, my arousal and emotions too high to control.
I didn’t know why I wasn’t stopping this, why I wasn’t killing all three of them.
They had broken into my home, were threatening me, and look at me now?
Getting fucked by one while the other two wanted to shove their dicks in my other available holes.
I obeyed, parting my lips. The Skull shoved his cock into my mouth without warning, gripping my hair, and then fucking my face with the same relentless pace The Stag used on my cunt.
I gagged, saliva dripping down my chin, my eyes rolling back in my head.
I was packed, filled, a vessel for their pleasure, and the shame of my own building orgasm was a fire in my veins.
The Stag’s pace became frantic, and I knew it was because seeing my mouth getting fucked turned him on like a deviant. His thrusts lost all rhythm until it was just a frantic, hard pounding.
“Gonna fill this cunt up,” he grunted, animalistic in tone. “Gonna pump my fucking cum so deep inside you, it’ll be slipping out of your tight little pussy for days afterward.”
And then his orgasm hit him like a convulsion.
I felt his cock swell and pulse inside me, knew he was pumping jet after hot jet of cum filling my cunt.
The raw, claiming heat of it coupled with the enormous dick shoved in my mouth and making me gag tipped me over the edge.
My climax ripped through me, a silent scream that clamped my cunt down around his still-spurting cock, milking him for every drop.
When he was spent, he stayed buried inside me, both of us shuddering. The Skull pulled his hard, wet cock from my mouth with a pop. The Stag refused to pull his softening length from my pussy, his thickness keeping his release trapped deep within my well-fucked cunt.
When The Stag finally did pull out, a trickle of his cum escaped down my thigh. I was pulled away from the back of the couch, walked to the other side, and stood there with my leggings and panties tugging around my ankles as I stared at the three masked intruders.
The Skull stepped forward and wrapped his hand around my throat, his grip firm and unyielding.
“One down,” he said in that deep, muffled voice of his. “On your knees. And suck my cock like your life depends on it.”