Chapter 6

“ L ook at the filthy slut. Dripping wet at the thought of two strangers fucking her.” The voice of Copper Mask has moved around somewhere behind me as he speaks. “She probably likes getting fucked in her sleep, waking up soaked and aching, wearing nothing more than little black panties and a t-shirt.”

My arms are instantly coated in goosebumps. Those words of his are crass and shouldn’t be making my pussy throb… but more than that… he’s just described exactly how I sleep at night, including the exact items I usually wear to bed.

That can’t be anything more than a coincidence. Right? How could this possible murderer, and confirmed member of some exclusive secret society, possibly know that’s the exact type of outfit I more often than not sleep in?

A shudder—a thrill—runs through me that I can’t fight off. Far too easily I’m swept into flashes of imaginings, of these men playing with my body while I’m sleeping. How I’ve so often in the past few months woken up aching and wet and blaming it all on the horny dreams that have been frequenting my sleep. Ones where I’m surrounded by dark men in the shadows, and I let each of them play with my body.

It’s ten ways to fucked up, but there’s no denying it turns me on.

Any further thoughts about coincidences, or whether they are something else, are erased when Copper Mask starts running his mouth again.

“What a slutty little flower.” The stranger scolds me. “Your cunt is begging. Just look at how fucking soaked you are spread out like this.”

There’s a noise, one that sounds as if he’s shifted down closer, and I feel a gust of air against my entrance.

Jesus, I don’t know how I feel about them looking at me like this. But that quickly becomes the least of my worries.

“I think it’s about time we saw how well the slut handles being on her knees.”

Oh, god. They’re really not going to touch me or do anything to ease the tension building in my core. That realization burns hot across my chest, my neck heating with how demeaning this entire scenario is.

But there’s no ignoring the reality racing heated laps up and down my veins—that my body is responding to the way these two powerful men are treating me.

My pussy has a lot to answer for, it would seem.

Of course, there’s nothing gentle in what comes next. I am their captive, after all. One strong hand wraps itself tight in my hair, and I’m hauled upright by the forceful grip. The sting whips around my scalp, but it’s quickly replaced by the feeling of my knees roughly meeting the carpet as my body is shoved to the floor.

Trying my best to stop from wincing, I’m disoriented as fuck after being upside down for such a prolonged period and now being forced into this uncomfortable position. Blood rushes away from my head, and my heart is hammering as if it were trying to bash its way through my rib cage with a sledgehammer, leaving me woozy and bleary-eyed.

“Told you there would be consequences if we caught you.”

My head is forced to tilt back by the fingers still twisted in my hair, and my eyes meet the shadowy irises peering down at me from behind the bloodied-looking skull face. It’s not him speaking, yet he commands me to kneel before them.

His big frame looms over me, and I gulp down a heavy swallow. He’s close enough I can make out the outline of his hard cock in his trousers… and goddamn, from the unavoidable evidence at eye level, he’s extremely well endowed.

A subtle tilt of his head to one side makes my body turn molten. There’s a glittering reflection of the firelight, a silver ring I didn’t notice before on his thumb, and suddenly, I want to know how good those fingers might feel touching me.

I’m unbelievably fucked up for even allowing the thought to catch alight in my brain, but it screams for attention.

I want to taste him.

I want to taste both of them.

Except, I’m at their mercy, and this game is being played by their rules.

For all I know, they might not touch me at all.

But shit, I hope to all things holy that isn’t the case.

“Choke her with your cock. I want to see the slut’s tears when you’re down her throat.”

There’s a clank of a belt buckle as those strong fingers slowly begin to unfasten his trousers. It might as well be a calling card to my clit because the junction between my thighs develops a heartbeat of its own, pulsing enthusiastically with need.

He frees his cock, and fuck, I can’t help but bite down on my bottom lip as I’m hypnotized by the sight of his strong hand wrapped around his length. As he steps closer, his strokes along the length reveal thick veins and a swollen head glistening with pre-cum.

Not only that, but holy shit, he’s pierced.

Several shiny bars of metal grace the underside of his dick, forming a row that should absolutely terrify me.

Instead, my pussy hums with anticipation.

My fingers itch to reach out, eager to touch his powerful thighs, but I’m dutifully staying right here, still, as a goddamn statue, until they tell me I can move. There’s no way I’m going to give them any reason to punish me more than what they already seem to have in store.

“Christ, you look so fucking hot right now.” Copper Mask’s voice comes from behind me, but he’s speaking only to the other man. His attention fixed on the movements of the stranger in front of me, fisting his length. The one who keeps my hair in a vice grip.

I feel, more than hear, the groan of pleasure running through him while standing at my back, as we both take in the sight of the magnificent cock on display.

There’s a huskiness to his voice as he speaks over my head to the other man, and that does something completely indecent to my insides. I can feel myself getting wetter while I’m down here, and there’s no doubt in my mind I’m going to be drenched after taking his cock, and those piercings, into my mouth.

Scared and horny. Rita knew exactly how tonight was going to go.

“Open up, love, or he’ll make you.”

Upon that command, I don’t give myself a second to feel ashamed of how quickly I immediately rush to follow his order. Sticking out my tongue, gazing up at the bloodstained, eerie, violent mask, I’m his perfect obedient creature.

Before he shoves into my mouth, he does something that catches me off guard. Using two thick fingers, he shoves inside, exploring the wetness of my mouth. His dark eyes narrow on me—an unmistakable order hanging in the air that he accentuates with the simultaneous action of pressing down on my tongue.

He’s giving me the silent instruction that I’m going to have to open up wide enough to accommodate both him and his piercings.

A silent shudder races through my limbs.

“Such a desperate whore.” More filth comes from behind me.

Bloodied Mask presses harder, deeper, causing me to gag. Yet, he still studies me with a completely disaffected air.

See what I’m going to do to you?

His silence says it all.

Seemingly satisfied his message has been communicated loud and clear, his fingers are removed, leaving a track of saliva dripping down my chin. Then, that same hand finds my head.

The man, now digging his wet fingers in, roughly gripping my hair, doesn’t ease me into it. Just thrusts between my parted lips and fills my mouth with a forceful glide. I’m gagging almost straight away to try and adjust to the weight and size of him, to figure the fuck out how I’m supposed to handle those metal bars without losing a tooth, which leaves tears gathering at the corner of my eyes.

They glide across my tongue, dragging a trail that sends a shudder running straight through me. His taste is musky and fills my senses, so much so, that it’s tempting to forget there’s someone else right there watching the way my jaw and lips work to relax and accommodate the size of him.

God, I’ve never blown someone with these kinds of piercings, several rows all lined up along the base, and it unlocks something in me. My body hums to life as they add an intensity to the experience, winding the coil inside me tighter and tighter with each rub of metal against my tongue.

In another time, another version of these events, I just want to explore them. Are they sensitive if you tug them gently between your teeth like a nipple would feel? Does he like it when a tongue swirls around the sensitive patches of skin between each one.

My mind tries to wander, but he knows.

He knows, and drags me back to servicing him in the here and now.

His other hand sinks into my hair, now really and truly holding me still for his pleasure, as he pumps his hips and begins to fuck my mouth relentlessly. The mask covering his face gives nothing away, of course, but the darkness in his eyes tells me there is almost definitely a gritted expression on his features. He doesn’t say a word. Just takes and takes.

The way he’s using me sends sparks flying wild and free through my blood. His salty taste, the silky feel of his cock, the rounded fixtures of his piercings dragging heavy over my tongue is so erotic I’m tugged under by waves of pleasure straight away.

He hits the back of my throat over and over, as I become a mess of drool and tears, until one palm glides down, finding a firm hold over my neck. Now, he massages below my jaw each time, as if he’s approving or judging how deep his cock can go. Then I feel him throb against my tongue, and almost as if both men are fully intertwined, the man at my back with the copper mask hisses out a feral noise, echoing what the man filling my mouth must be feeling.

I’m so consumed by his ruthless fucking that my brain can’t keep up with what happens next. From behind me, something is grunted that I can’t hear over the heartbeat pounding in my ears, and it all happens so fast. The man owning my mouth pulls out, and the other reaches around to yank my top down.

Bloodied Mask fists his cock, gliding over those silver barbells. He gives it a rough stroke before he stripes cum all over my exposed tits.

My mouth hangs open while I’m panting and trying to reorient myself. With an unbearable ache between my thighs and sticky cum all over my hard nipples, I’ve been turned inside out within moments by these men.

“Now you can look like the whore you really are while getting fucked.” Copper Mask hardly sounds affected by what just happened.

But my mind stalls on his words.

While getting fucked.

Oh, god. Oh, shit. This is really happening.

“ Mmm , your cum looks good dripping off her tits.” Copper Mask hooks a tattooed palm beneath my chin and drags me backward so that my head tilts beneath his hold. My back arches, and the movement only serves to thrust my breasts high, exposing how filthy I look, and unbelievably turned on I am, when I moan involuntarily.

He laughs. Of course.

My nipples are begging, pleading to be touched.

Although I should really know by now, these strangers aren’t in the business of caring about what I want. Nor are they likely to ask. This is their fucked up game, and I’m here playing a part that I consented to. It’s all on me that a twisted-up part of my brain is enjoying being used like I’m nothing more than their plaything.

Still fisting his cock and stroking it leisurely, the man in front of me nods toward the front side of the couch, which faces the front of the huge fireplace.

Put her over there.

He’s clearly still hard, making my body clench that this man just marked my flesh with his cum, and is seemingly ready for more.

Letting go of my chin, the hot touch of Copper Mask wraps my upper arm to haul me up off the floor. My legs are rubber bands, and I’m glad for those insanely strong muscles he’s packing beneath his shirt because I don’t think I could stand without assistance right now.

Between the two of them, they move me around to the front side of the couch. Turning me and manipulating my body so that I’m somehow draped on my back, lying across the leather cushions. My head hangs off the front, and my feet are laid diagonally over the armrest.

To add to the depravity of how they’ve manipulated my body, my skirt is still hitched up around my waist, exposing my pussy, and my cum-covered breasts remain bared.

It’s awkward, and crass, and I suspect that’s exactly the point of this.

From my upside-down position, I watch as Copper Mask looms in front of me like a deep shadow. The hollow look to his skull mask is even more terrifying with the flames dancing behind him.

Right now, he looks every inch the devil himself.

He surveys me. Studying every inch of my figure as his tattooed fingers undo his pants and shove his briefs down far enough to expose his thick, erect cock. Hazel eyes dance all over the soft flesh and exposed pieces of me that I, by all rights, shouldn’t have given up so easily. Yet, here I am. Willingly laid out in front of two strangers.

I nervously lick my lips, knowing exactly what is to come next.

“I bet her throat’s nice and loose to take me now you’ve had her with that fucking weapon.” The broad head of him crowns my slightly parted mouth. Pushing forward on a slow, measured entry all the way to the back of my throat.

From this upside-down angle, he can get so much deeper than my other stranger could, and he makes a low noise of pleasure. He tastes slightly different from the other man, clean and masculine, and that draws a moan from somewhere deep in my chest while welcoming him as far back as he can go. I’m able to take him deep with relative ease, and swallow around his tip, which has him thrusting to chase the feeling.

Holy crap, that does something electric to my body. My fingers clutch and dig into the rucked-up material of my skirt, hovering only inches from my throbbing clit, and I want to touch myself. So. Fucking. Bad.

Tears still soak my face, and the residue of drying cum feels cold on my tight nipples.

My pulse roars in my ears while I suck cock like a woman possessed and thoroughly owned.

Well, shit. A key turns somewhere deep and recessed inside my mind. I’m enjoying this, and I don’t know what to make of that information.

Copper Mask fucks my mouth repeatedly, not going easy on me, with one hand braced on the back of the couch to steady his weight. I have nothing in my mind except the desperate need for friction, release, anything… a gust of wind against my clit could no doubt make me come.

That’s when a rough touch between my thighs reminds me, this illicit moment doesn’t just belong to the two of us.

I feel my legs being nudged apart where they’re draped over the armrest, but I’m too lost in the sensation of the thick cock gliding perfectly deep into my throat. All too soon, just as I’m finding an addictive rhythm, he’s shifting, pulling out, hissing a noise of pleasure.

“Flip her over. I want to watch you pound into her while she takes me down her throat.”

Sweet mother of all things unholy. My pussy spasms with eager anticipation.

They’re quick to act, manhandling me into position with a certain kind of roughness that has no business feeling so good. Now I’m bent forward over the armrest of the couch, braced on my forearms, and there’s nothing that could prepare me for the absolute overwhelm of sensation when I feel the blunt head of that pierced cock slide through my wetness.

“Jesus. Fuck. A little whore, dripping all over the leather. One sight of those silver bars and she spread her legs for you.” The voice before me, waiting to use my mouth again, is all gravel and sex as he strokes himself.

The sight of how slick his hand is with the mess of saliva I’ve drooled all over him… well, that leaves me struggling not to whimper.

Meanwhile, the silent stranger with a magic dick, notches himself at my entrance.

It only takes a second for him to push forward, to press against my slickness, until the head of his cock slips inside me. My pussy walls are already fluttering and clenching, simply desperate for him to drive deep. To fucking fill me up and allow me to feel what those rows of piercings arranged in a rung will feel like dragging against my inner wall.

Anything to relieve this tension threatening to burst within me.

My whimpering—pathetic noises even to my own ears—come thick and fast. I don’t intend on breaking the no-talking rule, but I can’t hold back anymore. There is a swarm of bees inside my brain droning a relentless thunder of please, please, please , and I’m rocking back against him with my hips.

Right now, I am every inch the desperate, wanton whore they’ve painted me to be. The reckless idiot who consented to this, even if I had no clue how this night might unfold.

These men could use me however they like, and I’d probably leave them a handwritten thank you note and a chocolate on their pillow.

It doesn’t make sense to my lust-addled brain how perfectly they know to play my body. How they seem to be enacting every one of my fantasies. Or maybe it’s simply the fact that I’ve always wanted this, but thought it would have to stay between me and my stash of vibrators in my top drawer.

Now, I’m living out those dreams in vivid, technicolor, writhing pleasure.