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Hearing the stiff command, she made determined attempts to relax in the hopes that the clenched channel would give way and the pain would end. Deep inside her ass, the muscles resisted the stretch. But neither the man impaling her nor the man that forced the fake phallus into her primary door would give in.
Hannah would.
“You’ve done it before, sweet whore,” she heard the mellow tones of Jarrett Cain’s voice and felt his soothing hand on her back for comfort. With some patience and an inner determination she didn’t know she had, her body finally gave way to both intruders. They eased in deeper still, claiming territory that was no longer her own.
The fucking then began in earnest.
She felt as if she were being rocked inside some enormous fog, in a place where she could barely breathe, barely hang on and gulp for air. Pleasure died. The hard work commenced. The only saving grace was that it was just one live human seeking climax, not two. That man and his erection moved slowly to start, then picked up speed, drove deep as though there were some place new to go. Again and again his spear raped her for the satisfaction he was sure to gain, and when he finally spewed, only then could her senses ease, her muscles completely relax, and her body breathe freely again.
There was a leather-tufted fainting couch in the corner of the room where Hannah was laid afterwards and given a chance to recover. Someone offered her another shot of whiskey that went down more easily than the first.
Her dress was all askew. Her hair disheveled. Her body trying to disappear in a blanket of sleep. She was finally awakened by the rudeness of acrid smelling salts waved beneath her nose, and was pulled back into consciousness seeing two of the three men standing over her naked.
“You have your choice, Hannah,” Jarrett told her, curtly. “Take that fat piece in your cunny again or take a cock.” He held up the offending phallus for her to see.
“Not the rod! No!” she immediately announced, without fully realizing what that meant.
“You’re sure?”
“I am.” Her voice sounded firm.
Nonetheless, what came next shocked her.
Hannah was yanked from the couch and her dress stripped away. Now naked, her body brought all three men to attention as their eyes lingered long on the beautiful physical form with its gracious curves. She’d been roughed up. Her skin was blotchy, but her face was like a drifting erotic vision. Her eyes were dreamy, with hooded lids, her cheeks flushed pink, her lips parted and wet. Her chest heaved in a sumptuous way as her bosom rose and fell with such a distinguishing allure that it took some moments for the men to get on with the satisfaction of their own arousal.
Inside Hannah’s battle-weary mind there was little bewilderment or mixed emotions. She was in tune with her physical body, in wait and wanting. Her hunger was rich. Everything they’d done to her peeled away another layer of regret and hesitation. Every act separated her from the virtuous world she belonged to.
The telling shock for her was in the hunger that arose in her body as soon as her womanly home had been emptied of the fake phallus. The slender man with the longs legs lay down on his back, while his erection rose straight as an arrow from the thatch of pubic hair at its base. His eyes, his lechery, drew her in. She straddled him as she mounted his body and fell forward into his arms, while that live pulsing organ planted itself in the place that had known only one man until this day. Her body began to move in a circling motion that put the fellow in near apoplexy. His head fell back even as she held his cheeks and kissed his lips and mouth. His cry was primal and sweet to her ears. She no longer cared what voice she heard, for in her mind, all the men had become one man.
When the second naked man moved in behind her and between her legs, prying open the glistening cleft with eagerness, she almost sang for joy. Could she ever have anticipated this? Could she have ever imagined she would become a woman of such scant virtue? Could she have dreamed in her wildest fantasies the picture of her naked body satisfying two men at once? It was both revulsion and thrill that greeted these thoughts.
Both men demanded her attention as they seesawed back and forth for supremacy of her nether regions. This time, however, she knew her own sexual responses were keen. She fed herself. She cooed and purred and left them
all awestruck by the performance. She felt the surge of desire so strong that when the man in her rear suddenly erupted—likely prematurely, she began to climax herself with spasms so deep that she set off the second man’s climax moments later.
Body glistening with sweat, hair matted against her face, lips open—mewling, crying, weeping with animal satisfaction—she painted a picture of carnality few women could match. The raw scent of sex infused the air, and made the observing men rub their crotches even though they’d both had their own satisfaction within the hour. Finally, overcome by exhaustion, she fainted forward on the slender fellow beneath her. He’d slipped from her cunny minutes before, and managed to slide out from under her listless form.
“Shall we bring her around?” one asked.
“Not tonight, at least not now,” Jarrett said. “But she’ll be here a few days more. This little filly has a lot more fire in her still. And I plan to use every spark.”
Hannah was only barely conscious when the room emptied and she was left for a while by herself, too weakened to move. At first it was just the remnants of sexual bliss that filled her senses. A bit of cool air sensuously caressed her cheek. The air made her skin bristle with life and new erotic stirrings. She rubbed her thighs together, teasing her sex bud at the same time, smiling from the memory that brought to mind. She could taste the juicy pungent air, hear the virile groaning sounds of satisfied men, listen to the memories of her sweet voice coming. Her entire body spasmed again.
She heard the sounds of footsteps in the room again, but she didn’t stir. Jarrett Cain was at her side, placing a quilt over her body. Still she didn’t stir.
“Good night, Mrs. Crowe,” he said.
Mrs. Crowe, Mrs. Crowe, Mrs. Daniel Crow. Her mind added a chorus of repeating words, while the mental image of a finger pointed at her accusingly. The last thoughts in her mind before she passed out rang through her body like the tolling of a church bell.
I have betrayed my husband, betrayed my husband… have betrayed my husband… my husband. Daniel.
CHAPTER TEN
Hannah woke to the familiar sounds and smells of morning. Birds in the air outside. Bacon frying. But what was so pleasant gave way to the sour taste in her mouth, and an empty stomach. Hunger. Thirst. And something else—
Something dreadfully wrong.
She might have finally come to understood her plight without opening her eyes, but the sudden fear made her lids pop open and she immediately discovered the truth of why her wrists burned and she could barely move.
