Page 25 of The Knucklebone Brothers

He looked at Maverick, who was standing near the head of the table, his mask locked on me. Maverick nodded, a slow, deliberate motion. "Yeah," he chimed in, his voice a low, teasing purr. "I wanna see what your insides look like."

Blythe picked up a small bottle of lube and squeezed a generous amount onto his gloved fingers. He rubbed his hands together, warming the liquid. "You’re gonna feel a little pressure," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "But it won't hurt. I'm gonna try to be gentle."

He positioned himself between my legs, sitting on a stool. I watched him, my heart hammering in my chest. He spread my legs wider, exposing me to the air and their gaze. He took one gloved finger and pressed it against my opening, circling it gently. I felt the pressure, a small, uncomfortable stretch, but it didn't hurt. He pushed inside me, his finger sliding in easily, the lube making it slick.

He worked it in and out, stretching me, preparing me for the instrument. "Just relax," he murmured, his voice a low hum. "Let me in."

He picked up the metal instrument. It was smooth and cool. He coated it thoroughly in the lube, working it around the edges. He pressed the tip against my opening, and I felt the pressure building. It was bigger than his finger, a solid, unyielding shape. He pushed it in slowly, inch by inch, the resistance giving way to a full, stretching sensation. It was uncomfortable, a bit of a stretch. He worked it all the way in, the base of the instrument resting against my outer lips.

I gasped, I never enjoyed these examinations. I could feel the fullness, the pressure against my inner walls. It was weird, but also... kind of sexy. I watched Maverick taking in every detail of my face and my body.

Blythe looked at Maverick, and for a second, it was like they were sharing a silent exchange, a quiet understanding between two predators. Then he looked back at me. "This isn't going to work for us, Rory," Blythe said, his voice low and serious. "The IUD."

Maverick walked over from the head of the table, his boots scuffing the floor as he moved to stand beside Blythe. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Yeah," he said. "This won’t do."

Blythe looked at Maverick. "We're gonna have to get that out," he said, his voice low.

"There's absolutely no reason for that," I snapped, my voice tight with panic. "And I don't know if it'll hurt. I'm not letting you just... dig around in there."

Blythe's voice was a low, steady rumble, meant to be calming but only making me more on edge. "It won't hurt, Rory. And if it does, it'll only be for a quick second. Just a little cramp."

Maverick chimed in, leaning over Blythe's shoulder, his painted grin too close to my exposed body. "I promise," he purred, his voice a low, intimate murmur that sent a shiver down my spine. "We are good with our hands and tools."

I wasn't convinced. Not even close. How the fuck do they even know how to do this? I stared at Blythe, trying to find some hint of deception in his masked face, but there was nothing. "Good thing I scrubbed this down and boiled the water," he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he picked up a long, thin pair of stainless steel forceps from the tray. "Sterile as can be."

He moved back between my legs, his focus entirely on my forced open cunt. "Alright, now," he said, his voice low and instructional. "I'm just gonna use these forceps to gently pull this out by its strings."

Maverick moved to my side, his hand coming to rest on my lower stomach, right above my pubic bone. He started to rub small, firm circles with his thumb. "Just relax, Aurora," he murmured, his eyes locked on Blythe's hands. "Let him work."

I felt a slight pressure as Blythe maneuvered the forceps inside me, a cold, metallic touch. Then, he grasped the string. "Okay," he said. "Got it."

He pulled. It wasn't a sharp yank, but a firm, steady tug. I felt a strange, internal pinching sensation, followed by a deep, intense cramp that radiated through my pelvis. I gasped, my back arching off the table. "Ah, fuck," I breathed out, my eyes squeezing shut. "That hurt a little."

As soon as the words left my mouth, Maverick's hand on my stomach pressed down a little harder, his thumb stilling. "We'll take the pain away," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper.

The cramp was already subsiding, but his words hung in the air, heavy with a meaning I couldn't decipher. I opened my eyes and looked at him, really looked at him, wondering exactly what he meant by that. "Better be a pain killer or a shot of that moonshine," I said, my voice shaky. "Or five."

Blythe looked over at Maverick, giving a sharp, decisive nod. It was a silent communication, a quick exchange of plans that had me staring, confused, like a deer in the headlights. What the hell was that about? Maverick walked over and sat down on the stool Blythe had just vacated, his boots scraping the floor, while Blythe began gathering his tools, bagging up the forceps and the lube with practiced efficiency. It was like they were switching shifts.

Maverick leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and picked up a clean cloth. He started to wipe me down, his large hands moving over my skin with a tenderness that was confusing as hell. One minute they're violating me, the next they're cleaning me up like I'm some precious thing. Then, suddenly, I felt a wetness against my inner thigh that wasn't from the cloth. It was too warm, too deliberate.

"What the fuck?" I gasped, my eyes darting down as much as the restraints would allow. I saw Maverick had pushed his painted mask up onto his head, revealing a mouth full of teeth and a tongue that was already trailing a wet, open path up my inner thigh, moving closer to my sex.

"Maverick, what are you doing?" I choked out, my voice breathless and terrified.

"Just relax," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly purr that vibrated against my skin. "I'm making you feel better."

His tongue traced a slow circle around my clit, the sensation electric and overwhelming. A jolt shot through me, sharp and undeniable. I let out a whimper, my back arching off the table. "Maverick, don't," I breathed out, my voice trembling. "What is happening? This isn't right."

My mind was screaming at me, telling me to fight, to struggle, to do something, but my body was a traitor. It was responding, warming to his touch, a sickening coil of pleasure tightening in my stomach.

Blythe walked over, his large body leaning over mine. He didn't look annoyed; instead, he looked curious, almost impressed. "But doesn't it feel good?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate deep in my bones. "Maybe it is right?"

He reached out, his bare fingers wrapping around one of my pierced nipples, twisting it just enough to make me gasp. The roughness of his skin contrasted with the slick heat between my legs. I was torn, my body betraying me, the pleasure mixing with the confusion and the sheer depravity of the situation. I closed my eyes, my head falling back against the table, unable to fight it anymore. A soft moan escaped my lips, and I couldn't stop it. It was a sound of surrender, and I hated myself for it.

Then, Blythe pulled his burlap mask off completely, tossing it aside onto a nearby counter. His jaw was tense, his eyes dark and taking me in. He leaned down, his breath fanning over my breast, and started to twirl his tongue around my nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through me that made my toes curl. The dual sensations were too much. Maverick's tongue working between my legs, Blythe's mouth on my breast. It was a sensory overload.

I was drowning in it. The internal war I was waging was lost. The tension finally snapped. The orgasm crashed over me, intense and overwhelming, my body shaking uncontrollably as I rode the wave of pleasure. It ripped through me, leaving me breathless and spent.