Her glare said it all, as he stared her down.
Their eyes did a silent, deadly war, until at last, hers fell. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke.
He did not reply, merely crossed his arms over his chest and watched. Her hands rose, slowly to unbutton her blouse. His guest, whom she had no idea would be there, watched avidly as her fingers fumbled over the buttons. She was nervous, clumsy, yet both men continued to watch until she finished. The two edges of the shirt parted, as her hands fell to her sides.
Her breasts swelled above the cups of her demi-bra, her cleavage centered within that gap, enticing both Doms. Her flesh was pale, her shirt the red of ripe pomegranates, a beautiful and compelling contrast.
Her Master continued to stare at her, and, obviously not happy, she shrugged the blouse off one shoulder, then the other, allowing it to cascade down her arms, pooling for a moment around her wrists, until it fluttered to the floor behind her.
He rose from the bed in one fluid motion, startling her. She watched him with wary eyes, as her Master continued to watch her. Circling her, she felt the barest whisper of a touch along the top of one shoulder, cupping one buttock, slipping over her hip, until he stood directly in front of her and traced the very edge were tit met satin. She shivered at the touch, his finger was warm and rough-a working-man’s hand.
He pressed against her, guiding her with his body, until she was turned around, the back of her legs hitting the edge of the mattress. Palm to her chest, he pushed once, hard, and she fell back. Her hair cascaded in an aura around her head, her hands fisted in the coverlet, as he straddled her.
Hooking a finger in the bra, he tugged, lifting it away from her body, then pulling it over the tops of her breasts, leaving it laying near her throat. His hand gathered her tits, pressing them together, kneading them and pinching the round nipples.
The gasp and moan came as a surprise. Until today, only her Master had touched her. Until today, His was the only cock she had seen as a submissive. Until this moment, when His guest tugged his hard shaft out of his jeans, and let it lay upon her belly.
“I’m gonna fuck this,” He said. His voice was raspy, with a bit of a Boston accent. Not the Kennedy kind, but the Southie kind. Why that even mattered, she had no idea. Her brain noticed the oddest things during these scenes. As if it had to put rational things in there to balance out all the BD and SM things she fed it.
He pressed her tits tightly together, and it was then that she realized that he was planning a titty-fuck…she’d assumed that she’d be sucking this strangers dick, but no, or at least, not now.
“Lube?” he turned his head, questioning her Master, who reached into his bag ‘o tricks and pulled out a bottle. Opening it, he crossed the room and squirted a thick stream of it into the valley between her tits.
She gasped…so cold! Fucking bastard! He grinned down at her.
“Want me to move her back some?”
In moments, she was tugged across the mattress, head hanging off the side. Her Master filled her mouth with his semi-hard cock, even as their guest began pressing her tits and fucking that deep and warm cleft.
She lost all sense of time, her entire being focused on pleasuring her Master. There was a growing need between her own legs, though she knew that wasn’t something she should worry about. There had been times when He’d not given her a single orgasm, only spankings and pinching and had her blow him.
She hated that, but it sure ramped up the hotness for her. Being a submissive slut was a curious thing at times.
He pulled out of her mouth, hard and rigid, stepping away as the Guest began to moan and spurt. Thick rivers of cum landed between her breasts, further greasing that pathway as he pressed forward, pressed deeply between those mashed orbs. His fingers clenched around her, painfully tight, as his cock shooting cum onto her throat, her chin. Still hanging head upside-down, she felt one tickling rivulet sliding up towards her nose. Shaking her head she tried to change the trajectory, but it only made it slip faster. It entered her nose, that stray bit of man-juice, and she sneezed mightily, making both men laugh.
She hadn’t been told to move, so she lay there, a bit dizzy, disoriented, listening to their voices buzz but not understanding a word. The sound of the door closing confused her, then there were hands round her ankles, tugging her back up to the bed. She blinked, and saw Master, pressing her ankles ceilingward, his big cock moving towards the juncture of her splayed open thighs.
“What is this for?”
He slapped her pussy hard, making a wet splashing sound. She was so wet that if she were standing upright, she’d have wet shoes. She hated when he made her talk dirty. It embarrassed her still.
He slapped her again, harder, making her jolt with the sharp pain.
“Don’t make me ask again, slut.”
Her voice was tiny, whisper-thin as she spoke.
“For you to fuck, Sir.”
“Louder. I want you to tell me what this wet hole is for?”
She wanted to close her eyes as her cheeks bloomed fiery red.
“For your cock to fuck, Sir.”
“You think I’m going to fuck this?”
She nodded, even as she spoke. “Yes, Sir.”
“Yes Sir, you’re going to fuck my….” she paused, taking a breath, as his compelling gaze drew the words from her resisting mouth, “cunt.”
“You’re right, slut. You are exactly right.”
Drawing her legs over his shoulders, he tugged her to the edge of the bed.
“I am definitely going to fuck this.”