“Stop!” I cry. “I can’t take it!”
“One,” Killian counts. He pushes the dog bowl aside, climbs over me, and shoves his hand into my line of sight, counting my words on his fingers. “Two, three, four, five words.” He wraps his latex-clad hand around my nape, pinning me to the floor. “Five extra words, Jenna. That brings you to twenty-two. Not good.”
He leans close, his hot breath fanning the shell of my ear. He’s so close I inhale his scent with each panted breath. It swamps my senses—his scent, his heat, and his unwavering dominance. I feel every bit the animal they have reduced me to. Base and defenseless. I want to fight it, and I want to let it consume me. And feeling Killian like this makes me come dangerously close to doing the latter.
“I want you to beg us to fuck both your holes at the same time,” Killian snarls into my ear. “I want to hear how much you want the disgusting, delicious depravity. It’s going to add to your tally, but you’ll do it anyway. Because I want you to.”
I shake my head wildly, and the pressing tears break loose, quiet and slow.
Ian settles a warm hand on my hip, drawing my attention to him. “It’s not just you, Jenna. We’re all in this, enjoying it. We’re all depraved—for doing this to you and for doing it together. The only difference is that we’re in control; you’re not. Since we’re the ones doing this, it’s obvious that we want it. We want to hear that you feel the same.”
“I do,” I croak. “So much.” I can’t believe I’m saying it, but Ian’s words have wiped away all doubt and left me a needy little creature that craves the attention of my masters anyway I can get it—and especially in the ways that cement my position beneath them. Because I don’t want to belong to myself anymore. I don’t want to bear the responsibility of being a sweet girl living up to the prim and proper picture society has painted when I know I’m anything but.
Killian holds his fingers in front of my face again. “One, two, three, four. Twenty-six strikes.” He presses a swift kiss to my cheek. “I can’t wait.”
I whimper. It’s the only reaction I can manage. At that moment, I barely even care. All I can focus on is this?them.
“Good girl,” Ian croons, rewarding me with a slow stroke of his finger along my inner walls. “Now lift your ass in the air and show us just how much you want Killian inside it.”
More lube drips between my cheeks, making me shudder with the helplessness of it all. I shake my head repeatedly, but I obey, arching my back to jut my ass up. They truly have reduced me to a mindless beast. All I know is their command.
A latex-clad finger connects with my opening, smearing the lube around, awakening a new area with buzzing bursts of sensation.
“Do you like it, Jenna?” he asks. “My finger inside your ass, Dad’s in your pussy.”
I keep shaking my head, but the staccato rhythm of my breath reveals just how badly I want this. It doesn’t make sense because part of me truly hates it, yet another part craves it. I try to reason my way through the chaos raging in my mind, but there’s no reasoning. There’s only the burning need, and it wipes out everything else as Killian claims my body with one long push of his finger that brings him deep inside my ass.
Ian pulls out, drawing more moans from me at the maddening sensation of finally having something in that hole and now losing it. My pussy clamps and contracts, begging for something to hold on to. I groan in frustration, expecting him toretract completely, but just when he reaches the edge, he adds another finger and sinks deep.
“Ah,” I moan, bucking off the floor, clawing at the air behind me, wriggling wildly. The size of his two big fingers fills me out and presses against the intrusion of Killian’s digit inside my ass. The friction buzzes in my rear opening, and electricity sparks alive in my pussy. I almost can’t breathe, overcome by a burning need. When Ian sinks in place, I’m hovering right on the edge, my core vibrating with the need to come, my muscles working in greedy pleas for more. Just a little more. I try to move my hips—to fuck myself on their fingers—but Ian clamps a hand onto my hip, fingers biting into my skin.
“Be still,” he admonishes.
With a mewl of defeat, I go slack, accepting their utter control.
Leaning over, Killian pushes the dog bowl in front of me. “You won’t get to come until the bowl is empty—every last drop of sauce licked clean.” Gripping my hair, he lifts my head above the bowl.
With my dignity washed away by my crazed need, I dig in, lapping up the food, not caring to try and muster any grace. My scalp stings beneath Killian’s grip, but I welcome it. It’s a testament to his power, and my muscles are tired from having held myself suspended above the bowl, shaky from the pleasure shuddering in every fiber and cell of my body. So I let him control my movements. I barely even protest when he gives my head a push or jerks it to the side to dip my face into the bowl.
“Such a dirty, dirty little dog,” he tuts. Once the bowl is finally empty, he turns my head toward Ian, making it strain at an awkward angle. “Did she make a mess?”
It takes everything I have not to shy away from Ian’s scrutiny as he leans to the side to get a full view of my sauce-stained face.The humiliation burns hot when he sighs and shakes his head, but the power in those eyes keeps me steady.
“You have sauce all over your face,” he says. “We’ll have to add three extra strikes to your tally for making such a mess.”
“No,” I whimper.
“That’s thirty,” Killian says, kicks the bowl away, and places his foot below my head. “That’s where you belong, at our feet. Kiss it, and then maybe you’ll get to come.”
The leather of his shoe feels smooth and soft against my cheek. When he releases my hair, I turn to place a long, reverent kiss against the material. I’m not sure what happens at that moment. It’s a rush through my whole body. It drags me deep. Into a place where I can’t think—where nothing matters beyond the sensations in my body and the utter, mind-numbing loss of control that leaves me blissfully free to just float and obey.
Fingers start moving. I don’t know which one goes first. I can’t tell anything apart. All I know is the sensations that fire off at my core, deep in my pussy, deep in my ass, making me buck and yelp. They fuck me with merciless brutality. It hurts, yet it feels so good.
Tension coils, twisting and turning, drawing a dizzying veil over my eyes.
“Come for us,” a deep voice commands. Fingers press to my clit, stroking and circling, and that’s it. A raw scream tears from my throat, and I shatter into a thousand little pieces.
“I’m yours,” I cry with the full force of the orgasm.
