“That looks like fun.” Sebastian grins, looking across at me as he fucks a lean blonde woman. Dude barely looks out of breath, despite the trickle of sweat trailing down the side of his face. “I mean, seriously, don’t stop. That shit is hot. Next time, do it harder,” he continues talking as he thrusts into her, watching me the entire time like it isn’t weird as fuck. Scowling, I ignore his laughter and give my attention back to Courtney.
I drop the paddle and use my hand to smooth over her hot skin before slapping my palm down. Her muscles clench, and my nostrils flare in desire for her. I run my hand up across her pussy, sliding a finger inside, then back out before I slap my hand across her again. She lets out a strangled cry of pleasure. I repeat the process—soothing her tender flesh, strumming her cunt to the edge of orgasm, then slapping my hand across her ass, over and over, enjoying each stroke of my hand on her. The way small welts appear on her reddening skin and a bright red handprint is left behind from my abuse, and the way her muscles tighten around my fingers as I plunge inside her.
She still hasn’t moved from her position, but she wants to. She’s a simpering wreck, her body quaking with need and pain. My dick is painfully hard. If I don’t fuck her soon, my balls are going to explode.
Tearing open the condom, I roll it down my thick cock before lining myself up with her entrance. Gripping her hair like reigns on a pony, I stroke the smooth skin of her back, calming her over-sensitized body, before abruptly slamming into her.
My cock surges forward, filling her as I pull her hair back. Her body is being pulled and pushed in two different directions as she moans something into the air around her. She cries out, her eyes watering as she tries to look back over her shoulder at me. This woman—whoever the fuck she is—is a pro at taking cock. Her body quickly adjusts to my size as I slide out of her tight cunt before sliding back in.
Fuck, this feels good.
She feels good.
So good, I can ignore Sebastian still talking to me while he fucks his girl.
So good, I can ignore the dizziness in my head.
So good, I hold back my own orgasm because I refuse to let this be over yet.
This sex is dark, dirty, and sinful. It’s everything I like.
I know her name’s not really Courtney, and I know this is a job for her. But right now, I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I don’t care that all the women are wearing masks and we’re not. I don’t care that there’s some darker motive to this evening. Whether it’s the drugs, the atmosphere, our brotherhood bonding—right now, all I care about is fucking Courtney until I can’t see straight.
I hold on to her hips tightly, but unlike others, my touch isn’t bruising. It’s controlling and forcible enough to mold her body, keeping it in the exact position I want without harming her. Because when I hurt a woman, mark her flesh with my touch, there’s nothing accidental or needy about it.
And just like when I fight, my anger and rage begins to slide away. I get lost in the sensations of sex. Of desire and lust. Of giving and taking. Of fucking someone and taking their control away because we both know I have all the power in this situation. That they are completely at my mercy.
They’ll come if I let them.
They fuck how I tell them.
They’ll stand or kneel—suck or fuck.
They’ll submit to my every punishment and desire.
I am the master of this situation, and it’s my favorite place to be.
At some point in the night, I come, hard. And then I take my seat like I’m king of the fucking room while we swap partners and I fuck the next girl in line, submitting her to the same ritual as Courtney. Only…instead of a paddle, I use a rider’s crop.
The night is a blur of sex.
Of naked bodies.
Of groaning men and women.
Of pleasure and pain.
Of coming so hard, I see stars.
Of comradery, brotherhood, and bonding.
Somewhere in it all, there’s a camera. But in this moment, I just don’t give a fuck.
Itake another toke on the blunt, inhaling and holding the smoke in my mouth for several seconds, feeling the heaviness float over my tongue before letting it out slowly. The bitter aftertaste is the most delicious thing I’ve tasted in weeks. Fuck, this shit is strong. I’m beginning to see why Sloth’s always so chill about everything. It’s hard to feel anything when you’re stoned all the time.
Sebastian runs and jumps into my pool, splashing everything with water. Normally, I would have lost my shit at something like that, the red mist dropping down like a blanket over me, but today, I laugh hysterically. And fuck, it feels good to laugh like this.
Life is fucking good.
