“Dirty fuck bunny, clean up your mess,” he ordered. “Such a greedy cunt, wet and waiting for some sliver of mercy.”
Zack removed his fingers from her mouth, and Sophie gasped, coughing and catching her breath.
“She’s close,” Aiden observed, his voice thick with his own arousal. He was watching her face, reading every flinch, every suppressed moan.
“She knows the reward waiting for her,” Zack said, circling her like a shark. He stopped behind her, his voice dropping. “Soon she will be begging us to fuck her.”
The words were a promise that coiled tight in her belly. The mix of stinging pain and the relentless, throbbing ache fromthe clamps was pushing her toward a precipice she wasn’t given permission to jump from.
Aiden moved in front of her again, his expression shifting, the softness hardening into something more aggressive, more demanding. It was a side of him she saw less often, and it made her breath catch. “Open.”
“Daddy?”
“Show us how wet you are. Be our good girl.” She shuddered, whining her need. He knew how to pull all the right notes from her heart.
Trembling, the bell on her clit giving a frantic little ring, she bent her free knee, shifting her weight. She tilted her hips forward, pushing them out toward where Zack stood, making her swollen, soaked folds, barely covered by torn lace, the center of attention. The movement stretched her torso, pulling at the clamps on her nipples, and she let out a broken sob that was pure need.
“Please,” she whispered, the word directed at Zack, her eyes locked on Aiden’s. “It’s… I’m yours. I need you to use me in a way only you know how.”
“That’s right. You come harder when you bend beneath us.” Zack landed his palm on her exposed pussy, hitting her swollen sex and tugging the clamp.
“Thank you, Sir!”
Aiden stood in front of Sophie, tugging the chain to the nipple clamps while Zack moved behind her and continued to open palm smack between her thighs.
Her chest heaved, swirling in euphoria and pain. She began a soft, whispered mantra for mercy. “I’m going to come, p-please, Sir! Daddy! Please.”
They circled her, trailing their fingers over the heated marks on her skin.
“Please, what, Sophie?”
“I need you inside me.”
“Good girl, better fuck toy.” Zack’s heated words rolled through her. “If I weren’t such a selfish bastard, I would have Madame Scarlett put you in the Dollhouse until your ass and back were full of tally marks.”
He roughly kissed her, sinking his fingers into her hair, tugging and anchoring her to him. Zack’s kiss was a possession deep in her core.
“You’ve slipped in and entangled yourself in my bones.” His whispered words were lost against the sigh of her lips. “You belong to me, to us.”
“Yours,” she sobbed. Her entire world had narrowed to the three of them, to the space between aching blows and grounding touches. The sounds of the club, the distant music, the murmur of other scenes—it had all faded into a distant roar, like being underwater. All that was real was the sharp sting of Zack’s palm, the solid presence of Aiden’s gaze, and the relentless, humiliating jingle of the bell with every shudder that wracked her body.
Zack moved behind her again, and she braced for the impact, the familiar, welcome shock of pain that would push her higher. But as he raised his hand, a different sound cut through the haze of her focus. A crash, not of leather on skin, but of glass on hardwood. It was followed by a collective gasp from across the room, a sudden, sharp intake of breath that was out of place in the club’s controlled atmosphere.
Zack’s hand froze in mid-air. Aiden’s head snapped toward the sound.
Sophie’s own body went rigid, her trance broken. The world rushed back in all its jarring, chaotic detail. The thumping bass of the music was no longer a heartbeat but a jarring, external noise. The lights were too bright. The scent of sweat and perfume was suddenly acrid in her nose.
The euphoria that had been building in her, the precious, fragile thing, shattered like the glass on the floor. The heat in her veins turned to ice. The pain was no longer a gateway to pleasure; it was just pain.
Her breath hitched. The bell on her clit, which had been a symbol of her delicious submission, now felt like a brand of public shame. Every minute twitch, every shiver of her overstimulated body, was a tattletale. Her safe word, a word she’d only ever practiced in her head, rose to her lips, a life raft in a sea of rising panic.
“Red.”
It wasn’t a shout. It was a broken, choked whisper, barely audible over the thrum of the club. But for Zack and Aiden, it was a gunshot in a cathedral.
The change in them was instantaneous and absolute.
Zack’s hand, which had been raised to strike again, dropped to his side. His entire demeanor shifted, the dominant, predatory energy dissolving in an instant, replaced by a focused, protective stillness that was, in its own way, just as formidable. Aiden, who had been watching her with an intensity that bordered on reverence, was moving before the last syllable had fully left her lips.
