Page 98 of The Game

“Planning to disobey already, slut?” he seethes. A surge of anger flares through me, hot and brief, and I bite back.

“Try me,” I hiss. Their answering chuckles resound deep in their chests, and it takes all my courage not to cower, to stand firm with my jaw set and my heart pounding so hard it begins to rattle me.

“Open wide, naughty whore,” Jameson growls behind me. Making a slight move in order to fight him, Tristan is just as quick, fingers digging into my cheeks before he presses against the tendons of my jaw, forcing my mouth open on a whine before a round shape is fitted snugly between my teeth. Unable to close my mouth, my tongue swirls around the shape, and my breathing goes ragged, my fear mingling with my arousal as my thighs swish together. Once my gag is securely in place, someone spins me, another lifts me, and against my whimpers, they splay me on a hard, cold surface, every inch of my skin pimpled in goosebumps.

One set of hands encircles my ankles, the other my wrists, pulling my body taut to four corners. My soaked panties are shimmied down my thighs before nimble fingers set to work, tying me down. Another unclasps my bra and tosses it away, the noise of fabric softly thudding to the marble floors coming from somewhere near my right. My wrists are soon incapacitated, my nerves ratcheted up another notch. Whatever they intend to do to me, it seems they’ve been conjuring this plan for a while.

I take a deep breath through my nose, preparing to settle in for pain, for pleasure, for a catharsis only they can coax out of me.

“You’re ours tonight, Alice, until we’re satisfied,” Jameson’s voice growls near my head. My brows pinch together as I whimper, trying to pull my thighs close to find some friction for my aching bud, frustration cresting at my restraints.

“And baby…we’re starving,” Tristan hisses from between my thighs, his hot breath fanning over my cunt. My tongue pushes against the ball as I fight to say anything, to beg for their cocks or fingers or tongues, but I become even more frustrated when I cannot speak, cannot form words—only pathetic little cries as I writhe helplessly on the table. They chuckle at my demise, prowling me like wolves intent on a kill to satiate them.

Static cracks through the otherwise quiet space, electrifying the air and making my eyes widen and flutter against the silk blindfold, my fingers curling in trepidation around the ropes. What the fuck? The sound dies, along with everything else. All I can hear is my own rampant breathing, and after a few minutes, it almost seems as if they are gone.

But that sound zaps again, and this time, I scream, back arching, as a jolt is sent tingling through my nipple for a few seconds. It doesn’t hurt, this shock, but it is surprising and new, and now my heart is racing even faster. Tristan is the first to chuckle.

“Such a sensitive little slut. I love hearing her screams.”

“Do you think she wants more, brother?” Jameson teases darkly.

“I don’t give a fuck what she wants. Make her dance again.”

Before I can protest, whatever implement they are using is tapped lightly to my other nipple, the zap expected this time but still shocking as it surges through my sensitive bud. My scream turns to a garbled moan at the same moment Tristan presses the flat of his tongue to my other nipple, soothing the shock as I pant, drool beginning to slip out of the corners of my mouth and down the sides of my face.

His warm tongue and the stinging, surging electricity are gone for only a moment before Jameson rakes it over my arm. As my body adjusts, it starts to feel good—intense as hell, but somehow igniting, and before I can stop the flow of my thoughts, my pussy throbs, and I dangerously hope they use it somewhere else.

They chuckle as I dance and writhe on the table, as Jameson teases each part of my body with precision, from my arms to my breasts to my stomach, even my jittering thighs and soaked pussy lips. My moans grow, and I tug against the ropes as the ache between my legs goes untouched. Anger begins to surge through me much hotter than the small taps of electricity, to the point where I don’t even feel it. All I feel is my neediness, how wet I’ve become with every hot breath against my cunt. Tristan’s thumb teases the outer edge of my pussy for only half a second, and I moan my approval before he chuckles and takes away any hope of climax.

Sagging with a helpless cry, real tears prick my eyes, and my teeth clench against the rubbery ball firmly in my mouth.

“So used to getting your way, fucking whore. We’ll play with you until you learn you’re ours,da?” Jameson growls.

“Needy little slut. Look how wet she is. Do you think she’d come with one lick?”

Jameson chuckles as I whimper.

“Not yet. Take the ball out.” My heart thunders, but Tristan obliges, and I work my jaw briefly as it is removed. “Stick out your tongue,” Jameson demands. I know better than to disobey if I want any chance at pleasure, so I do as he’s asked immediately, their deep laughs at my eagerness irking me.

Before I can sink into my anger, my growing fury at having no control, the flat, smooth end of the zapper zings through my tongue, and I jerk my face away with a yelp. Tristan is quick to hold me in place, prying my lips apart against my garbled protests. “If you want my cock,babochka, you do as we want, understand?”

Crying, I nod as best I can against his strong grip, tentatively sticking out my tongue again. Jameson wastes no time, pressing the now-warm glass to my tongue.

“Uhhh,” I cry against the sharp tingling that courses through me, my entire body tensing on contact.

“Good girl,” Jameson praises, leaving it planted on my tongue for longer than he has anywhere else. “Do you want to come?”

He takes the sting away, and I sag but nod eagerly. They both chuckle.

“Too fucking bad, slut,” Tristan says with a light slap to my cheek. Biting back my growl of frustration, I feel them shift, and before I can protest, the tool is planted firmly over my clit, and with a loud buzzing noise, it cracks to life and flares through every little nerve ending as my shoulders arch off the table and I scream.

My reprieve is short lived, and I sag with a cry, confused as to whether or not it felt good. My pussy clenches and throbs like it never has before thanks to the electricity, and although there is a level of pain that comes with this little game of theirs, I want it back. I’ll take pain if it means pleasure as well. In little to no time, they’ve turned me into a numb, mindless fiend, aching to be filled with their cocks and overflowing with their cum. There is nothing left but to feel, no thoughts in my head of the past or future. There is only them—my gods—and me, their offering.

Shocked as the thick head of Tristan’s cock slips easily through my soaked entrance, his hiss almost makes me smile, but I moan in ecstasy instead.

“Do not move,” Jameson demands to him. Tristan sinks fully into my ready cunt, and I’m so wet I barely feel any friction. Sighing in relief at my fullness, I prepare for them to fuck me, but he doesn’t move, and I begin to realize their plan.

His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in as he keeps his cock buried to the hilt inside me, so deeply I can feel him pulsing against the entrance to my womb, the slight bite of pain a delicious reminder of what he is capable of. I sigh before it turns to a high moan when that tool flares to life over my clit again.

---