I scream obscenities as I’m cuffed again. Then the belt slaps cleanly against my flesh and the end of the root, pressing it into me, and I wail. The whipping continues, lines of fire rising in my ass as my ring burns unbearably.
Finally, I can’t scream. I can’t fight the restraints. It’s all I can do to drag the breath into my lungs. I break down, sobbing into the sheets. The belt stops thrashing my unprotected ass, but the throbbing burn continues.
I cry desperately, not caring anymore what any of them think.
Finally, the ginger is taken gently from my cringing hole. The pain subsides, but I’m still incredibly aware of my exposed body, so vulnerable to everything.
Cool gel is dripped onto my ring. I whimper a protest.
A vibrator’s hum fills the air just before it’s applied to my clit. Still crying, I beg them to stop, but the sexual stimulation continues.
I keep my eyes closed, unbearably embarrassed even as I start to feel aroused. This dark and dirty punishment is part of being owned by Connor McCann and of being indebted to his partners.
My traitorous hips begin to move. “Don’t. Please don’t!” I rasp.
My wrists are unrestrained and I try to escape as fingers push into my ass.
“Be still,” Connor husks. “And keep your eyes closed.”
Something silky is tied around my eyes, and then the sensations all crash into each other. Fingers pinching my nipples, cupping my breasts, stroking my slit, delving into my pussy, buzzing my clit.
My words are incoherent as I’m pressed down onto a mound of pillows.
“Please,” I cry raggedly. “I need to come. Please.”
A cock drives into my punished ass, and I shake against the mattress, whimpering. The hard thrusts grind my clit against the vibrator and mattress.
I’m still crying when I come, pleasure and pain fused together, searing my mind into complete submission.
My body is splattered and filled with seed. They own me.
All of them. All of me.
My mind drifts, disengaged from anything but the connection I feel to these dark masters.
* * *
Zoe
I’m being cradled against Trick’s chest as he carries me upstairs. I’m not hurt, but maybe my legs would be too shaky to hold me. He carries me into the master bathroom.
“Here,” C says, standing naked in the milky water that’s filling the Jacuzzi tub.
Trick hands me to him, and I’m lowered into warm, silky water. Trick lowers himself to the marble and grabs a loofah sponge. He dips it and rubs it over my spine.
“Nah, not yet,” C says, pushing his hand away. Instead he pulls me onto his lap and cradles me tight against his chest, kissing my temple. “You’re all right. That was intense. I’ve got you.” He strokes my back. “You’re so fierce, so beautiful. I love you so much.”
Trick rises, unzips his jeans and shoves them off. He sits on the side of the tub with his calves in the water.
My vision clears, and I look up at him.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a voice that’s slightly raspy.
“What I’m always doing. Hanging with my crue.”
Trick and I lock eyes for a moment, and understanding passes between us. I’ve been with them, raw and unfiltered. I’ve been held to the same standard as any of them, made to pay my own debts to the crue. There are no secrets of any worth that I don’t know. I’ve seen their wild sexual appetites, and I’ve seen them kill to protect their own.
“I need to wash my hair, but I’m so damned tired.”
