28. Karma #4
His eyes go wide. “Your pussy already did that, baby.”
“Again,” I bark, jumping and trying to claw my way out of Micha’s arms. He grunts but manages to hold me and ignore my protests.
“Come on,” he shouts, dragging me out of the tent. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”
“I have an idea, but you won’t like it,” Soren says quietly to Arlo, thinking I can’t hear them, whilst Micha drags me further away.
Micha doesn’t let go of me, pressing his mouth to my ear. “Smell the fresh air, Stitches. You don’t need more cock. You need to calm down.”
“I do need more cock,” I cry, shifting to press my ass into his groin. I grind against him, and his low exhale passes over my ear. His heart rate is slowly speeding up, and I can smell his distant arousal. “You want me too.”
“Of course I do. But not right now, Karma. You need to have a break. It’s healthy or you’ll become obsessed,” he growls.
“I’m already obsessed.” I arch back into him, and he hooks his leg around my ankle, parting my legs to force me still.
My attention is drawn to Soren’s colossal, naked form as he exits my tent.
A shirtless Arlo is quick to run out after him, darting towards the show tent on rapid feet.
The sight of him running makes me salivate and pushes the urge to chase after, but Soren stops halfway between me and the entrance, his tentacle cock on proud display, making me leak more drool.
What are they up to?
He presses his fingers into his mouth and whistles loudly. “Hey, Karma? Arlo’s cock is waiting for you in there.”
It feels like I’m being goaded, led into a trap, but expectant arousal overpowers my rational brain.
I dash. Micha releases me without argument, and I chase after Arlo, my bare feet landing on long, dry grass.
There’s silence as I barrel through the tent flaps and run into the show ring. The red and green spotlights high up in the ceiling barely illuminate the room, but I see Arlo standing in the centre, arms innocently behind his back. There’s a soft smile on his face.
Behind him are long lines of silk hanging from the tent’s peak. My silk that I use for shows. Bright green and pink to match my hair.
“Come on, pretty girl. You want to bite my cock? Make me bleed?”
I nod mindlessly, the world around me hazing with desperation, blurring at the edges so I can focus on the man in front of me.
I slowly descend on him, dropping to my hands to crawl forward. My stomach feels tight with the need for more release, more filling. I can still feel Soren’s cum smudging around my thighs.
When I reach his feet, my hands slide up his body. They skim the panes of his stomach, across his ribs that are visible beneath his skin. Skin that I want to mar, bite, eat.
No, not eat, remember? We don’t eat this one.
He grabs my wrists and pulls me up to stand. “Can I kiss you?”
Eagerly, I nod again, and he wraps his arms around me, tugging me close. His mouth crashes onto mine, and I devour him. I don’t think I’ve totally convinced my horny brain that he’s off limits in that capacity now. I like him too much to eat him; I want to keep him around.
He spins me, walking me backwards a step, tongue exploring my mouth.
Before I know it, something smooth wraps around my calves, biceps, and waist. Arlo smiles against my mouth, like he knows what’s happening, and I tug away before I convince myself to let it happen so I can taste Arlo a moment longer.
My body is suddenly hoisted into the air. Arlo is ripped away from me, my arms lifted above my head. No noise comes out of my mouth as I try to focus on what’s happening.
The silk around my wrists has them hanging overhead.
I quickly wrap my palms around the fabric so the stitches in my wrists don’t pull apart with the pressure of holding up the rest of my body.
There’s silk around my stomach to create an anchor, and there are another two pieces wrapped around my thighs, forcing them to suspend in the air.
I’m barely two feet off the ground, but I can’t move anywhere.
What the fuck?
I fight, trying to wiggle out, but one of these traitors has tied the knots keeping me up with incredible precision.
The red and green glow of the lights above me shields me from seeing too far into the otherwise dark tent, but I spot Soren, grinning smugly beside the rope-pulley system usually operated by one of the fire-eaters.
“Let me go,” I say in a low tone of warning.
Micha hooks his arm around Arlo in front of me, less than a metre away from my feet, and holds him to his side. They both look at me, strapped up in silk, with prideful glee.
“No can do, Stitches.”
I don’t miss Soren sneaking out of the tent, but I’m too preoccupied with attempting to shake away the silk.
“Why?”
“Because you’re uncontrollable,” Micha responds, as if it’s obvious. “Now, are you going to calm down so we can let you out of there?”
“Yes.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“…Yes.”
Arlo snickers, and Micha slaps him lightly around the arm.
“Then I’m afraid we’ve had to call in further measures, ones I’m not sure you’ll like.”