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Authors: Erika Masten
“Hold your ass open for me,
Faith,” Blake commands, and I rouse myself from staring into Garret’s dreamy
face long enough to obey. The bulbous head stabs against my asshole and makes
me jerk and yowl. Garret gathers me tighter to him as Blake presses on, sinking
deeper and deeper into my ass. Once he’s all the way in, the pain stops, all
save for a burning sensation along my stretched asshole that actually feels
good.
“Is this how you thought it
would be?” Blake hisses into my ear, sending shivers down the side of my neck
with his hot sigh. “Do you like having my cock shoved up your ass?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Mm, you are a good little
slut, and good little sluts get fucked until they scream.”
Garret doesn’t move, still
buried balls-deep in my cunt, but Blake thrusts his dick in my asshole, ramping
up the speed and force of each stroke. When I think he can’t possibly fuck my
ass any harder or faster, when I’m panting and gasping and whining, Garret
starts pumping me, too. Two huge cocks pounding away at my vulnerable, hungry
holes. Two sets of masterful hands kneading my ass and twisting my nipples. Two
sinfully sexy men growling and moaning filthy words to me, about how good my
pussy and ass feel, about what a beautiful little slut I am, about all the
things they’re going to do to me now that I belong to them.
As the pace of the fucking
mounts, as it becomes a frenzy of hard dicks ramming deep into me, all I can do
is hang on to Garret’s shoulders and watch the lust and tension passing over
his handsome face in waves. His cheeks are damp with sweat, strands of hair
sticking to his forehead and falling into his eyes.
Not to be ignored, Blake
slides his hand down to my clit and rubs it, twists it, pinches it.
“Oh, god,” I shriek, almost
sobbing with pleasure and exhaustion and emotion. “Oh, Master. Fuck. Blake!”
Then I’m coming, my clit and my pussy and my asshole all throbbing and
twitching and tensing, coursing with pulses of heat and pleasure. Distantly,
beyond the blood pounding in my head, I hear Garret and Blake groaning as my
body squeezing them tight, milking them. I scream and squirm between them, as
my climax wracks my tensed body.
Garret comes next, pumping
his hot cum deep into my pussy. I cling to him, still trembling with my own
orgasm, as the warmth spreads through me, through my hips and lower stomach.
Over and over, I think to myself,
yes! God,
yes, Garret. Fill my pussy. Give me your cum
. I hear it and only then
realize I’m saying it aloud.
“I am, baby,” he groans. “I’m
shooting my cum in your sweet pussy. Feel it, baby. I’m filling you up.”
Behind me, Blake demands my
attention by digging his fingertips into my ass, just before his hips begin
jerking. I arch to put my head on his shoulder, keening as he pumps his cum
into my ass.
Blake scrapes my earlobe with
his teeth. “You feel that?” he grates. “You like that, little slut? My cum in
your ass?”
I whimper and nod as liquid
heat pumps deep in my ass. It not what I’d expect—gruff, domineering Blake wrapping
his arms around me so tight and nuzzling his face into my neck as his hips buck
with the last ripples of his hard orgasm.
None of us move, aside from
our heaving chests as we pant for breath. Every few seconds, one of us trembles
with an aftershock of orgasmic pleasure, setting off ripples in the other two.
It seems like forever before the orgasms have had their way with us, leaving
our entwined bodies limp and slick with sweat.
Ten minutes, thirty minutes,
two hours pass, with me drifting in and out of sleep. I am still sandwiched
between Garret and Blake, even after they slip their softened cocks from my
battered body, even after their eyelids sink and their breathing slows with
heavy sleep. They never let go of me.
I finally surrender to sleep,
when I’m sure the men holding me are not a heartbreaking dream that will
disappear with first light. I rouse only slightly as Blake caresses my thigh in
the night, as Garret cuddles me and kisses my forehead. One arm around each of
them, I hold tight. I’m never letting go of them, either.
THE END
AN
EXCERPT FROM ERIKA MASTEN’S
Ian is so fast, so precise and practiced, that I’m not sure how he
does it. One moment, I’m staring into his eyes. Then I’m twisted around on my
stomach, bent forward over the arm of the couch with his hand on my back
holding me down. I gasp as I feel him pull the hem of my dress up to my waist.
He leans over me, controlling me now with his hand at the nape of my neck, and
pulls my black silk panties aside. I can feel his stiff dick, pressing through
his expensive suit pants, against my ass. A moan bursts out of me without
warning as he sinks two long fingers into my pussy.
Ian’s hot breath warms my neck and my ear. “Are you this wet from
thinking about him overpowering you, using you?”
“Ian, let me explain—”
“Valerie, be quiet and listen to me. If I ask you a question, you
will answer it with a yes or a no. If I tell you to say something, you will say
it. If I tell you to do something, you will do it. If you refuse at any time, I
will turn around and walk out that door.”
The implication—that he will
walk out
and not come back
—makes my
chest ache. The tone he is using makes my pussy ache.
“Do you understand?” he asks.
“Y-yes,” I choke out.
“Very good,” Ian says and
rewards me with a deeper thrust of his probing fingers. I whimper and can’t
help pushing back against his hand. “Shh,” he whispers soothingly against my
hair and nuzzles my ear.
My reaction to Ian is unlike
anything I’ve experienced before. The stern edge to his voice makes my stomach
tight, makes me anxious, desperate to please him. Then his tone softens with
praise, and I melt. His touch, as he holds me still by the back of my neck, is
firm and assured, but not rough. Usually, nothing short of being called a cheap
cunt and getting ass-fucked without lubricant makes me this aroused. Already I
can feel the wetness from my pussy slicking my shaved mound and my thighs. I
bite my lip at the thought of how wet Ian’s hand must be as he fingers me.
“You are so ready to be
fucked, Red,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my G-spot, then slipping away,
then teasing it again. My moan sounds more like a sob, and I’m clutching the
throw pillow underneath me in a white-knuckle grip. “So now you’ve got to make
a decision. Your date is going to be here in a few minutes. Yet here you are
bent over for me with my fingers in your pussy and my cock pressed against your
ass. Do you want me to let you up, so you can leave with him? Or do you want to
spend the rest of the night here with me making up for your poor behavior over
dinner?”
I arch, nudging and rubbing
my ass against the bulge in Ian’s pants. “I want to stay and make it up to
you,” I say in a small voice, unsure and unsteady. In truth, I’m terrified, and
excited, and desperate for his reassurance.
“You need to be sure about
that, Red. I’m going to push you hard, and you’re going to have to make all
this time I’ve spent waiting for you to grow the hell up worth it to me. Are
you ready for that?”
AN
EXCERPT FROM ERIKA MASTEN’S
At the private elevator, I jabbed the call button frantically. My
breath came in erratic pants and sighs. I leaned forward, pressing my cheek to
the cool marble of the entryway wall, my thumb holding the elevator button all
the while. Behind the heavy wooden doors to the lounge, voices rose in
laughter, then receded. A slave squealed in tormented joy. Was it the redhead?
Why was the elevator taking so damn long to get here?
The sound of a footstep on the entryway tile sent a gush of panic
through me, scattering my thoughts. I whirled around, summoning a weak smile to
my face, muttering, “Oh, excuse me, I’m not feeling very—”
The rest of my bullshit excuse for weeping in the entryway fell
mute as I faced Wolf. Though he was otherwise pristine, his face was still
flushed from coming in the redhead’s mouth. I was so jealous I wanted to slap
him. My hands contracted into tight fists at my sides, my fingernails stabbing
into the soft flesh of my palms.
I felt a tear break from my wet eyes, and goddamn it, I couldn’t
stop it. It ran down the mask. As the warm drop hit my face, Wolf surged
forward, forcing me back against the cold marble wall. I gasped, at the chilly
tiles pressed to my back and the sudden heat of his body thrust against me from
thighs to chest. He smothered my muddled cry of surprise with his lips against
mine, demanding they part for him. My hands instinctively shot up to push
feebly at his shoulders, and he pinned my wrists to the wall above me, my arms
stretched as high as I could reach. I whimpered as he leaned in harder, his
cock digging into my lower stomach. He had just come in the redhead’s mouth and
was already so hard again.
Helpless, weak with desire, I opened my lips to his kiss and whined
shamelessly as his tongue penetrated my mouth. It slid confidently, forcefully
against mine, coiling and coaxing. He tasted hot and coppery and vaguely of the
berry and spice notes in The Tower’s best wine.
When he pulled his head back, I felt like a starving woman who had
just tasted a crumb of bread. I tilted my face up, craning for more.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, not in the strict, callous tone he
had used with the redhead, nor in the coaxing voice he had used with me the
previous night. This was firm and possessive, impatient and unyielding. His
shoes pushed at the inside of my pumps until my legs were spread so far I was
almost dangling by his hold on my wrists.
Wolf shifted his grip to hold both my wrists in one hand. The other
jerked my tight skirt up to my waist, exposing me, and dove deep into my black
panties. If the last few moments hadn’t demonstrated to him that I was indeed a
submissive, his hand finding my pussy shaved betrayed me. A sigh shuddered out
of me as two of his fingers probed my creamy folds.
“Your cunt is gushing wet,” he said accusingly. The Dominant stared
boldly down into my eyes, and I felt my face and chest flush with
embarrassment, humiliation, arousal. “It turned you on watching me use that
slave.” A burst of jealousy made me want to deny it, but I pressed my lips into
a frown and bit down the urge. He bent his face forward again, his mouth
brushing mine as he said, “It could have been you on your knees for me, submitting
yourself to me. You could have let go of your fear and your pride and given
yourself to me as your Master. I’d already be inside you. I’d already have you
begging and moaning.”
Breathlessly, almost silently, I whimpered, “I know.”
“Then why?”
My tears flowed down the mask. “I want
more
. And I want someone who wants more.”
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I’m the girl-next door with an unexpectedly wicked mind (and
an addiction to sexy high heels). There’s nothing quite like the thrill of
turning forbidden desires and secret fantasies into erotic tales with literary
flare and a dirty mouth. Let me tell you a naughty story…
Erika Masten