wrapped
around me from behind and held me in place, forcing me to remain in whatever it
was that stung my body.
“Shhh. Hush now,
Fuck Toy.”
Slowly, my
predicament returned to me, a gradual return to sanity. The floating sensation
was because I was in a tub, filled with hot water and something scented that at
first stung where the falls had hit, but then soothed them.
Bradford was
behind me, holding my back to his front and keeping me down in the water. When
I stopped struggling to get away, his hands moved slowly but firmly over me,
massaging over all my aching limbs. It was almost soothing, apart from the fact
that he was still a crazy man I didn’t know who’d been calling me Fuck Toy and
treating me like a sex slave all weekend. If I let myself forget that part,
though, and just focused on the way he was holding me, I felt almost loved.
That had to be
the craziest realization of my life.
But it was true.
His hands
smoothed the water over my burning flesh, massaging my intensely sore muscles
with a surety that enthralled me.
I finally
stopped fighting him, stopped squirming to get away, because somehow the
message eventually got through to my brain that what he was doing felt good and
right.
Strong fingers
kneaded the aching muscles of my inner thighs, rubbing them over and over again
and drawing my knees apart. Even while that was happening, I was vaguely aware
of Bradford’s cock hardening, growing, pressing against my ass cheeks with its
heat. I didn’t care, though. Not anymore.
That wasn’t
quite true. I cared. I wanted it. I wanted that cock deep inside me,
splitting me open, thrusting into my sore, aching, burning, raw from overuse
holes over and over and over again while all I did was come.
But he didn’t
fuck me.
He turned me
around so I was facing him, drawing my legs up over his shoulders so he had a
clear view of my pussy. Bradford’s strong, long fingers spread my sex lips
apart, rubbing every bit of my sex in such a way that was painfully soothing.
He made sure that the scented, soothing oils in the bath water covered every
blessed inch of flesh that they’d been making use of. First two fingers, then
three, then his entire fist pressed up inside my channel, coating me with the
stuff.
It felt so good
and so painful, all at once, to have his hand deep inside my. Instinctively, I
started thrusting my hips, trying to take him deeper, trying to push my
engorged clit against anything at all.
“Be still, Fuck
Toy.” As if the murderous tone of his voice wasn’t enough to stop me (which, in
that state, it might not have been…), he grabbed a fistful of my hair with his
free hand and jerked until I stilled.
I lay there, my
head pulled into a dangerously close position by the water, unable to do
anything but watch his impassive face as he went about his business. After
spending a few minutes with his hand inside my sex, he pulled it out to repeat
the process on my very sore ass.
I knew better
than to object or to squirm, because a flick of his wrist would be all it would
take for him to pull my head beneath the surface of the water and cut off my
ability to breathe, but it wasn’t easy. My breaths came faster, tears poured
down my cheeks, and I broke into a sweat as he stretched my sphincter until
he’d pressed his entire fist inside.
Despite the fact
that the oils soothed my raw flesh, I was so desperate for him to remove his
hand from my ass that when he finally did, half the muscles in my body seized
into cramps from how tense I’d been.
But then he was
done.
He picked me up,
tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Thank god he did, because
I sincerely doubted I could walk or crawl after all that I’d been through all
day.
Davis was
waiting for us in some room I hadn’t been in before with a blindfold, a bunch
of rope, and something that looked suspiciously like a metal spider with
leather straps on either side.
The two of them
set to work together. Within
around me from behind and held me in place, forcing me to remain in whatever it
was that stung my body.
“Shhh. Hush now,
Fuck Toy.”
Slowly, my
predicament returned to me, a gradual return to sanity. The floating sensation
was because I was in a tub, filled with hot water and something scented that at
first stung where the falls had hit, but then soothed them.
Bradford was
behind me, holding my back to his front and keeping me down in the water. When
I stopped struggling to get away, his hands moved slowly but firmly over me,
massaging over all my aching limbs. It was almost soothing, apart from the fact
that he was still a crazy man I didn’t know who’d been calling me Fuck Toy and
treating me like a sex slave all weekend. If I let myself forget that part,
though, and just focused on the way he was holding me, I felt almost loved.
That had to be
the craziest realization of my life.
But it was true.
His hands
smoothed the water over my burning flesh, massaging my intensely sore muscles
with a surety that enthralled me.
I finally
stopped fighting him, stopped squirming to get away, because somehow the
message eventually got through to my brain that what he was doing felt good and
right.
Strong fingers
kneaded the aching muscles of my inner thighs, rubbing them over and over again
and drawing my knees apart. Even while that was happening, I was vaguely aware
of Bradford’s cock hardening, growing, pressing against my ass cheeks with its
heat. I didn’t care, though. Not anymore.
That wasn’t
quite true. I cared. I wanted it. I wanted that cock deep inside me,
splitting me open, thrusting into my sore, aching, burning, raw from overuse
holes over and over and over again while all I did was come.
But he didn’t
fuck me.
He turned me
around so I was facing him, drawing my legs up over his shoulders so he had a
clear view of my pussy. Bradford’s strong, long fingers spread my sex lips
apart, rubbing every bit of my sex in such a way that was painfully soothing.
He made sure that the scented, soothing oils in the bath water covered every
blessed inch of flesh that they’d been making use of. First two fingers, then
three, then his entire fist pressed up inside my channel, coating me with the
stuff.
It felt so good
and so painful, all at once, to have his hand deep inside my. Instinctively, I
started thrusting my hips, trying to take him deeper, trying to push my
engorged clit against anything at all.
“Be still, Fuck
Toy.” As if the murderous tone of his voice wasn’t enough to stop me (which, in
that state, it might not have been…), he grabbed a fistful of my hair with his
free hand and jerked until I stilled.
I lay there, my
head pulled into a dangerously close position by the water, unable to do
anything but watch his impassive face as he went about his business. After
spending a few minutes with his hand inside my sex, he pulled it out to repeat
the process on my very sore ass.
I knew better
than to object or to squirm, because a flick of his wrist would be all it would
take for him to pull my head beneath the surface of the water and cut off my
ability to breathe, but it wasn’t easy. My breaths came faster, tears poured
down my cheeks, and I broke into a sweat as he stretched my sphincter until
he’d pressed his entire fist inside.
Despite the fact
that the oils soothed my raw flesh, I was so desperate for him to remove his
hand from my ass that when he finally did, half the muscles in my body seized
into cramps from how tense I’d been.
But then he was
done.
He picked me up,
tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Thank god he did, because
I sincerely doubted I could walk or crawl after all that I’d been through all
day.
Davis was
waiting for us in some room I hadn’t been in before with a blindfold, a bunch
of rope, and something that looked suspiciously like a metal spider with
leather straps on either side.
The two of them
set to work together. Within
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