Page 73 of Their Cruel Love

I’m overwrought, grunting into Razor’s mouth. Ourtongues tangle, and when I dare to enter his mouth, he sucks on mine. One man is inside me, while at the other end, I am inside his partner. Messy, wet, animal sex.

Razor releases my tongue, and then our kissing gets more frantic. He swallows my swearing, my shudders. There is a flurry of heavy shunting drives, with Marcus grasping my ass and a thumb slid into my ass…with my thighs straining. My groans are swept away by Razor’s mouth. Desire peaks. Almost there,almost, I clutch at cloth, at skin, and my fingers slide on sweat. Marcus grunts, stiffens, and pours himself into me.

Razor holds my hair, thumb wedged in my mouth, watching me whimper as Marcus fucks into me, again, hard, thudding my flesh.

Collapsed half on my face, I rasp in torn breaths. The last spurt of come fills me, and he pulls out and leans in to bite me—capturing a chunk of my ass in his teeth.

I wait, my lower back still bowed upward, with Razor’s palm pressing on my back. I’m released, throbbing with new pains to add to where the barbs taunt me with their tiny fangs.

Cautiously, I slide into a fully prone position, then turn onto my back.

Could I have come? Perhaps. I do not care. I am enveloped by two men, two careful men who bend the barbs aside before they sneak in closer.

Should I ask about the removal of the wire? Not yet. Instead, I run my hand through Marcus’ thick hair. In the night it looks blacker than ink but feels glorious. I could do this forever. Be theirs.

His darkened eyes watch me. He cups my wired breast, kisses my arm, my fingers.

“She is Japanese,” Razor says quietly. It takes a second ortwo, but I see that he’s answering a long-ago question about his not-wife. “Her family was not happy with her marrying me. At the last, they convinced her not to.”

“A clash of cultures?” I venture, tired but happy, but still horny.

“More a clash of kinks. They found out about my deviant proclivities.” His gesture somehow says, this, this island of craziness.

I kiss his shoulder where it presses into the bed. “If she couldn’t handle it, it was best she said no, surely?”

He nods, hair rasping on the cloth. “I’m seeing that. There was something else too. I might say it another time.” That’s cryptic, but pushing for it would be rude.

He places his hand on my thigh and inhales sharply, curses. He’s found a barb. Fingers advance, even so, until he has them resting curled, over my pussy, draping across my clit. It…swells. How could it not.

Distracted, I inhale, exhale slowly.

“Marcus, can we defuse her soon? I want to cuddle this little bitch of ours, and I find her too prickly.”

Marcus snorts and rolls off the bed, goes around to his bag to retrieve something resembling pliers. The removal of it all takes a while. He wraps it around and squashes it into a small sphere and takes it to a bin, then returns to join us, lying in front of me. Razor and I have already merged as one into a pile, with his hand arriving back where it was. Idly, he begins to toy with my clit. I’m not about to interfere.

My heart seems to stop then to thump at me harder, echoing the slow intentional massage of that nub of mine that’s pulsing back to life.

“Shall we make her come?” Razor murmurs.

I turn over and spoon against him, my rear molding against Razor’s hardening cock.

In answer Marcus slides lower and places his mouth over my breast, starts to quietly suck, his tongue swirling, and his hand seems to be below also, searching. Then someone’s fingers enter me. One is stirring my clit, the other fingers me, fingers curling high inside, stroking.

I’m arching already, squirming, making noises partway between gasps and sighs. I pull Marcus closer, my hand wrapped in his hair. It doesn’t take long for the pressure to build, swirling low, tightening, and I’m clawing at bed and men, lost in the moment—the shoving, pulling and moans, the wet sounds as fingers violate me, knuckle deep.

I’m fucked and coaxed heavenward, until I stiffen and choke, mouth wide. I’m spasming onto whoever has me stuck with his fingers, in the middle of a blinding orgasm.

I clench and shudder, thighs squeezing in, hit by a wave of smaller climaxes. My muscles tensing in their last throes, I milk their fingers as if to crush them, clutch at someone’s wrist to keep those fingers where they are.

Done. I’m so done. I subside, unseeing, gasping, and flat on my back. Somehow, I’ve rolled over. My thighs are sodden from male come and mine, and someone pushes fingers in my mouth for me to lick. They’re both dragging themselves nearer, smothering me a little.

“Am a filling in your man-flesh sandwich?” I ask weakly. Someone laughs. “I think we have enough mayonnaise now.” I paw at someone’s chest to my right—Razor’s, I see.

“I was going to go to sleep, before,” he murmurs, mouth in my hair.As if.“But you come so prettily.”

I doubt this, though I am suddenly exhausted.

His arm is within reach, and I pull it across me, beneathmy breasts, then I wriggle and snuggle a little lower with Marcus’ arm beneath my neck.

---