Page 10 of Bound By Mistake
Fucking hell! This is insane.
I relax as best I can as hot tears seep from the corners of my eyes to be absorbed by the fabric beneath me. Is this how abuse victims feel? Do the same thoughts go through the victims’ heads in those court cases where they’re accused of not putting up enough of a fight?
Being in this position myself, I can fully empathize with the option of not being hurt any more than necessary. I don’t know what these men are capable of, so with that in mind, I relax as much as physically possible.
However, when I feel a thick, solid finger breaching the tight ring of muscle and the accompanying burn, I almost pop up like a jack in the box… or I would have if I wasn’t being held down. Instead, it just earns me another slap to the thigh.
I take a deep breath and try to get myself together. Regardless of what’s happening here, I don’t want to break down into a blubbering mess. Becoming avictimis not something I want to manifest, so I grit my teeth and stubbornly tell myself everything is okay.
One finger becomes two and I can’t help the howl I let out as the fingers inside me scissor in an attempt to loosen me up.
“Jesus Christ, she’s tight!” Gray exclaims. “Unbelievably so.”
The snark inside me wants to point out that’s because he’s boldly going where no man, woman or toy has gone before, but apparently that’s unbelievable too, so I save my breath and concentrate on absorbing and assimilating the smarting pain.
When he finally withdraws his probing fingers, the breath whooshes out of me in a rush, but my relief is short lived as the unmistakable probe of a cold, plastic crest presses against my pucker.
I pant as it’s slowly, irrevocably inserted inside my butt, finally popping past the achingly tight ring of muscle to settle in its new home, thankful when it’s situated, and my body works to accommodate the intrusion.
Not that I get long to adjust. Seconds later, rough hands pull me back into a kneeling position, and Gray, a lusty expression on his undeniably handsome face, raises the flogger.
"Ready, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
My stomach bottoms out. The way this is playing out, it doesn’t really matter whether I am or not.
Before I can respond, he brings the flogger down across my bound breasts. The impact is sharp and stinging, sendingshockwaves of sensation through my chest. I gasp, my back arching involuntarily.
"Oh God," I whimper, tears springing to my eyes. The pain is intense, and I breathe in through my nose, and exhale in a measured puff through my mouth as I try my best to assimilate the sensation and control my response to it. That’s when I realize there's something else starting to happen too - a warmth spreading through me, a tingling that makes my nipples tighten even further. It confuses me.
Gray doesn't wait for me to recover. He strikes again, and again, alternating between my breasts. Each lash of the flogger sends the same juxtaposed jolts of pain and pleasure coursing through my body. I cry out, my voice a mix of protest and something dangerously close to need.
“I love how responsive she is," Erik murmurs appreciatively. His hand slides down to unbutton his jeans. “Those perfect tits are going to feel awesome wrapped around my cock."
Cain groans, his grip on my arm tightens, then loosens, almost like he’s kneading. I can feel the heat of him down the length of my spine and the hard evidence of his desire digging against my butt as he presses close, ensuring I can’t sway away from Gray’s well-placed blows. “We’ll get to that,” he says, his own voice strained with desire. “And all the other filthy things we’ve ever dreamed of.”
I don’t know what all those filthy things might be, but I’m beginning to get a pretty good impression of where this is inevitably heading. There just doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it since my protests are viewed as some kind of deliberate act of denials, and a flag to forge ahead.
It’s clear now this is an extreme case of mistaken identity. These men aren’t the vicious animals I first imagined. They obviously think I’m someone else. Someone who consented inadvance to everything happening here. I don’t know why, but that alone is an odd source of comfort.
The problem is, if there are any code words - or what is it they call them in kink books? I can’t remember. I’ve read enough of them, furtively rendering my fantasies to between the pages, but with everything going on, my mind is blank.
I grab hold of what I’m trying to remember and focus on it, as a way to alleviate the sensations, both physical and mental, that are bombarding me.
Safe word!
The phrase comes to me, and I feel a moment of victory that I remembered.
Until I realize how it impacts the rest of that half-formed thought… that if there are any safe words at play here, then I don’t know what they are.
I try not to let it get me down, even though, if I had a safe word, I might start thinking about using it just about now. But then, when I’m finally at the end of my tether, Gray finally throws down the flogger like he already knows, and steps forward. Just the brush of his fingers over my super-sensitized nipples makes me gasp and flinch in reaction. One that seems to spur all three men on.
Behind me, Cain palms the full, pouting globes of my breasts, which have darkened to an almost purple blush due to the way they’re bound. Never mind the flogging.
Gray drops to his knees, sucking one of the stiff peaks into his mouth, and that in itself is almost too much sensation. But then Erik simultaneously pinches and twists the other, causing me to throw my head back and scream at the sensory overload. My head is well and truly messed up. There’s pleasure and pain and it’s all mixed up together, so I no longer know whether I love it or hate it. Whether to rebel against it and make them understandtheir mistake - which, let’s be honest, hasn’t been working out for me so far - or to embrace it.
I’m already screwed - soon to be literally, if I’m reading this right.
And I’m pretty sure I am.
