“Are you ready for part two, sweetheart?” he asked.
I loved that nickname as much as I loved pretty kitty, and I loved it a lot.
“So ready, Sir,” I replied.
They responded by kissing me, one on my lips, the other on the back of my neck, so I melted again and remembered that we hadn’t finished playing. They maneuvered my legs and upper body, caressing them the same way they had the first time they positioned me. I felt the restraints on my arms and legs being reapplied, then their lips wrapped around my nipples, licking, sucking, and the sharp sting of one of them biting as I raised my hips.
My cock was the one neglected part of my body, but that was okay, because I knew they’d get there and I’d love it when they did. This time, they didn’t start with soft and fluffy; I no longer needed it. I needed the sting I got from what felt like a flogger but smaller, stiffer, harder, but flexible too. Plastic, my brain suggested uncertainly. Later I’d ask what it was. What all the implements were because I loved every last one of them and…
“Oh gods,” the sting was sharp, focused on my upper thighs.
“Is that too much, sweetheart?” Master Wylde asked.
“No, Sir. I’m all green. So green.”
“And a beautiful green you are,” Master Thorin said. “Wish you could see how hard I am for you both. When I fuck him later, it’s going to be where you can watch and see how much he likes having me inside of him, but only after we’ve fucked you until you won’t want to move from that table.”
“Please. Yes, please, Sirs, please,” I moaned, eager to see that sight.
The sting on my thighs was accompanied by the crack of something harder, only I didn’t feel any pain accompany it, just the sting radiating outward from where the plastic struck. I heard Master Wylde groan and felt more stinging and knew without needing to see what was taking place. Master Thorin was striking him with something much harder than Master Wylde was using on me, and the sounds he made just amplified my pleasure. Knowing we were sharing the moment, feeling some of the same things. That floaty feeling hit like a freight train as a stinging sensation caught me right on the nipple, and I whimpered and shuddered, so close to coming undone that I tried to rock my hips and beg with my body, but we were just getting started again.
I melted against the leather as sting after sting hit my upper thighs, then my nipple again, alternating while I squirmed, nothing but moans spilling from between my lips as I writhed.
Someone's hands gripped my hips, tugging upward until I lifted them and held them there as my shorts were finally peeled down while someone released the Velcro around one ankle so my shorts could come off, almost completely. They left them around one ankle, which might have been funny if the soft hadn’t returned, wrapping around my cock, stroking without providing enough friction to let me come.
That was just cruel. Evil. Hot as fucking hell, as it made me moan and try to buck, chasing a sensation that went on and on, without ever being quite enough to get me off. A loud crack echoed in my ears even after it was over, but all I got was soft, and someone’s lips wrapped around my nipple, sucking away the remnants of the earlier sting.
I felt Master Wylde’s hiss, his tongue laving over my nipple before that crack came and he hissed again, but he never stopped stroking me, teasing with whatever soft implement he’d wrapped around my cock. It went on so long all I could think about was coming, like it was my sole focus in life.
Warm, wet lips kissed down the center of my chest, my nipple pebbling more than I ever thought possible when Master Wylde’s lips left it, each kiss accompanied by a loud, hard crack that sent a shudder through both of our bodies. Then his lips replaced the softness around the head of my cock, and I bucked, mewling, chasing more sensations as he sucked. I was all wound up, and it was still too gentle, too light, too soft.
“Waaa,” I cried when those lips left me and I realized that there was still more teasing left in store for me.
Fluff again. On my thighs this time, the barest touch, but it burned and sent another flood of need through my body. If they brought back the cold, I’d die. I’d combust, well probably not combust, because the cold would burn out the fire and oh god, oh god, oh god, wax. They were back with the wax. Pouring it over my nipples at the same time too.
I’d forgotten the wax and the low-melt candles. Now it dribbled over the juncture of my hip and thighs in a long, slow pour that started to harden right away. Like the strips I’d wound from my knees to the middle of my calves when I’d been in my fox costume, the wax crisscrossed them, drying, coating, giving me a bit of tight pressure before the soft strikes of the implement returned, right over the wax, changing what I felt so there wasjust more pressure over the skin they covered, and pinpricks of stinging where they touched skin.
I felt the Velcro release again and almost screamed no, no, no, until I was yanked to the end of the table, firm hands gripping my ankles, as someone’s fingertip circled my hole with cool lube that urged me to press against it and open up for them. Cruel fingers circled the base of my cock, lightly squeezing as the blunt head of a fat cock breached me and withdrew.
Master Thorin then, fucking me first, teasingly fucking me, his groans drowning out the faint Dungeon sounds around me. It felt so good to be filled and so awful not to be able to come with the hand acting as a cock cage, even when I loved them and wanted one but hadn’t gotten around to choosing one for myself. I whined and rocked into every short, teasing thrust.
I felt him come without the deep fullness I’d craved, that hand still squeezing the base of my cock as he withdrew. I got everything I wanted when Master Wylde slid inside of me, the torturous hand around my cock retreating as Master Wylde’s hands settled onto my hips, pulling me into each thrust. He had to have been the meanie then, but I didn’t care anymore, because I was right on the edge, and he must have been too, because it was short, fast, and perfect to fly apart with him inside of me, thick and spilling into the condom, pulsing as I rode out the most perfect orgasm in the universe while the world disintegrated around me.
Nothing had ever felt better.
Chapter Twelve
Thorin
Payne hadn’t slept in his bed since he’d arrived. Every night he fell asleep between me and Wylde, and every morning he somehow managed to slip out from between us, shower, and have breakfast on the table by the time we dragged our asses out of bed. By the time we showered and reached the table, he was in full costume, and we knew what was in store for us for the day.
The problem was that the days kept ticking by faster until we were waking up four days away from the end of his official stay, and we still hadn’t solidified things between us. We’d danced around it as we played, slipping into roles and characters, like the one he’d presented us with this morning, which was “The Movie Critic and His Muses”.
That was us; we were the muses, and as such, he’d wanted us to dress comfortably as we relaxed and engaged in one of our favorite pastimes: watching cheesy movies and picking apart all the impossible, improbable, and downright ridiculous things that take place over the course of the movie.
We still weren’t sure exactly what his vision was yet, just that we’d been encouraged to share our true feelings about the movies, no matter how brutal or crude they might be. He wasgoing to draw us as he envisioned us in those moments and promised to show us when he was done.
His one other request was that he’d be the one to pick the movies, which left a whirlwind of questions spinning through my head, like if he’d picked ones he’d seen before, ones that were maybe his favorites, or just to see what we felt and thought about them? If so, then I hoped it didn’t hurt his feelings when we didn’t hold back, because Wylde and I could be a bit hypocritical when it came to films.