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Wetness slipped from her like a fountain. She wanted to come, but it was nothing like when she made herself orgasm. This was indescribably chaotic, and the pleasure seemed borne from pain, making the feeling so addictive, so wild and violent at the same time.
She whimpered as they dragged her wetness to her ass. Scorching hot blood flooded her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them. She just wanted to bask in their touch and climax. So close.
She double gasped when the coolness of the butt plug stroked between her folds.
So close.
Then it all ended.
Her dazed whimpering became a full-fledged cry of indignation when the butt plug surged into her asshole. Before she reacted, Leonid removed it and it was Roman wetting her asshole with her own juices. They took turns. Leonid would insert the plug a little deeper each time and then Roman would feed her hole the liquid arousal from her pussy.
She banged her hands on the table in an awkward manner. She squirmed and tried to escape them. She cried and tried words, but the only sounds that fell from her lips were incoherent murmurings of shock, awe, and utter embarrassment that she was letting them touch herthere.
She roared as Leonid slipped itpast the barrier of her resistance. The stretch and burn so incredible, tears dripped from her eyes.
Leonid reached over and unbuckled his belt which had been holding her restrained to the table. Free of it, he lifted her to her feet. He spun her around and she found herself facing Damien who at the sight of her rose from his chair. His jaw rippled. Her gaze fell onto his hands, which were first clenched into fists before he flexed his fingers then slipped them into his trouser pockets. She took that as a rejection.
Standing on either side of her, Leonid held the plug inside her ass and Roman twisted his hand around her hair. Damien didn’t take his eyes off her.
“Still think we’re prudes?” Roman asked huskily, vigorously rubbing at her clit now while Leonid twirled the butt plug around in her ass. She was going to die or splinter apart. But nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.
They deserted her. They released her and left her standing there all alone. Her humiliation returned in quick and fast degrees. She scrambled for her skirt, not caring that it was still adorned with a selection of sex toys.
“Next time we won’t be so gentle,” Roman warned as they filed out of her apartment.
The instant she was alone, the real Ansley King came out of hiding and that was the commencement of her mini-meltdown moment.
What had just happened to her?
She glanced around her apartment wondering if she had imagined everything to the point where she had inserted a butt plug into her own ass. No, they had been here. They had done that to her.
Hyperventilating, Ansley tried pacing around her apartment with her dildo skirt still shielding her nakedness but walking proved impossible. She was forced to take care of her situation and experienced her embarrassment tenfold all over again.
Once she was cleaned up, wearing soft pajamas, she promised she would never talk about it to anyone. She also quickly buried all thoughts running around her head of them touching her, almost making her come. Of Damien, who didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with her.
Chapter Ten
They had spanked her.
The shock of the event hadn’t worn off yet even though almost a full day had passed.
She wavered between complete denial and overwhelming astonishment. She had never been spanked in her life before. Ever. She hadn’t even come close to receiving one before, not at home or at school. She also had never been touched like that. But again the instant she started thinking about them touching her, she thought of the butt plug then quickly changed the subject in her head.
But now at the fully grown age of twenty-four, three Russian men, had flipped her over, exposed her ass, and soundly and utterly painfully repeatedly brought down on her flesh their palms in an attempt to teach her a lesson.
The lesson was that she had better stop with her antics. Cupid’s Toys was going down, and nothing she did was going to make them change their mind.
Heat flooded her face anew as she relived in vivid detail her body’s reaction to them.Horrified, she slapped her hands over her face and screamed into her palms.
She had been so embarrassingly wet she had wanted to die.
They had reduced her to a flimsy, sobbing hot mess, then left her humiliated and furious on the floor in the middle of her lounge after they left.
For a full ten minutes, all she thought about was herself, her ignominy, her indignation, and she forgot about the core reason for her fight against them which was about Marjorie’s sex shop.That hadn’t changed.
Was she going to wallow in self-pity because they gave her a little spanking? And that other thing they did to her? Okay, she had seen the size of their hands so maybe alittle spankingdidn’t quite apply. And that other thing, hadn’t she vowed to act like it never happened?Right.
But back to the point of self-pity. If she stayed in bed too embarrassed to face the world—yes, it felt as if the whole world knew that after she had staged her protest they had bent her over and punished her ass for her insolence—they would have won. And that was something she couldn’t allow.
