Page 26 of Their Cruel Love

Phoebe opens those eyes, and I remember marveling at the translucent grayness of them in the past, and she looks directly at me, and she pouts. I guess that’s an invite? I kneel on the bed and crawl to the sticky, come-covered pair then lie down facing her.

When I stroke her hair, she smiles and draws a long, deep breath. I settle in to watch her for a while and her breathing is slowing and she goes to sleep, I think?

When I frown a question at Razor—I’m thinking shower, he’s maybe thinking needles—he quietly shakes his head, mouths the wordlater.Okay. Fine.I rest my own head on the pillow and keep on watching this sleeping girl. This is strangely satisfying, deep down, near my heart.

I’m still going to stick some needles in her.

12

Phoebe

We wake during the night and shower together. It is strange sharing a shower with two men who’ve just done such filthy things to me. My ass keeps reminding me of the spanking and the water hitting my nipples makes me hiss until the sharp pain from some minor abrasion dies away. Having their hands on me, though, that is a whole new pleasure. They swirl the soap over every part of me, then pin me to the wall, laughing as they make sure it has gone everywhere. They even dry me with the thick towels. We share a glass of Bollinger, a snack, then crash on the bed again.

Brutus is still masked, though he removed it in the shower, while turned away. I’m sure I caught his reflection in the glass. I’m now ninety-nine percent certain this is Marcus. I think we’re both pretending I don’t know who he is.

Few words are exchanged. It is all touch, quiet threats and laughter, skin on skin, and a few sultry kisses.

I lie on my side reliving this as the light increases, seeping through my closed eyelids.

One man has his arm over me, weighing me down. The other man, probably Brutus, lies at my front.

“Time for round two,” he says softly. I open my eyes. Definitely Brutus. The mattress shifts.

Round two sounds ominous. I shove my elbow under me despite Razor’s arm and manage to lever myself upward. Brutus is already at my feet then Razor moves and pushes, turning me until I’m forced onto my back. With his large hands swallowing my ankles, Brutus spreads my legs. I haven’t a hope of stopping him, though I try. I twist my hips and almost kick him.

From somewhere, Razor produces the handcuffs, and he locks my hands into them then ropes them to the headboard above my head. The timber has convenient anchor points. I scowl at them both and try to kick Brutus again when he seems to relax.

He hasn’t and merely hardens his grip.

Lazily, he studies me, my heaving chest then the apex of my thighs where my pussy will be on display for him. I’m already panting from the exertion.

All grumbly, with a cold hardness in his voice, he asks, “Where do we want the little slut?”

“Oh!” I’m mortified.

Razor chuckles and puts his hand over my mouth. “I think a gag, definitely.”

“And needles. And ass-fucking.”

“Mmpf!” I kill them with my eyes, but they ignore me, while Brutus goes over to the wall cabinet, where he finds a blackball-gag with a hole through the middle—a hole too small for a dick, I’m hoping. Despite me madly tossing my head, they pin me down and buckle it on.

That I can actually resist to my little heart’s content, make themmakeme, is exhilarating. Igetthe thrill of CNC. Obeying someone, knowing they want you enough to control you, that’s a whole other rush. But it’snothinglike this.

This is my realm.

“You can still talk with that on,” Razor informs me. When I only glare, he leans down and takes my nipple in his teeth and begins to bite. The pressure slowly increases to close to agonizing. I stare, dumbfounded, shrieking through the gag.

When I blurt out a muffled, “Onkey!” He withdraws onto his knees and grins.

“There. Now you know. You want to fuck her ass, Brutus? I want her belly up. We can tie her ankles up there again, to start with, to let you have access.”

“I noticed it was a promising position.”

They get all clinical and organized while I dart my gaze about, watching, a little horrified, except now and then one of them stoops between my legs to give my swollen clit a lick or a suck, as if to remind me this is not going to be all pain, no pleasure.

At times, I have to gasp and shut my eyes, especially after they tie my ankles to the headboard, with them spread a few feet apart, and that dildo is squeezed into my pussy. An inch, two inches…more. Enthralled, I watch through the frame of my legs as Razor coaxes it inside me.

“Lucky you’re flexible,” Brutus says, from where he has set a box filled with packets of needles on the bed. The box rocks as he comes closer. Then he swabs in a cold line, going down my body, beginning with the undercurves of my breasts andending where a slim triangle of pubic hair points toward my pussy.

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