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He might have gotten a little spit in there to ease the way, but that doesn’t change how the sudden intrusion hurts as if I’m being split apart. My tender walls are stretched painfully, and all I can do is scream. The gag muffles my pained cry, which doesn’t make Nix slow down at all.
Then he begins in earnest, slamming himself into me while pulling back on my hips. I can’t hold back the pained grunts behind my gag. It feels like he’s tearing me apart.
“Slap her ass. I want to see your handprints on there by the time you’re finished.” Now my grunts are more like cries, but again, it doesn’t matter. It only makes James happy, makes him laugh almost gleefully. “That’s right. I love seeing that ass shake. Colt, it’s your turn.”
Oh no, not both of them. I’m already so sore from the past two days.
Sure enough, the brief relief of Nix sliding away from me is soon replaced by dread as Colt takes his place. I might as well not really be here. I’m only a hole, something to plunge into, slap a little, to fill and punish. And that’s what he’s doing, punishing me, just the way his father wants. “Yeah, give it to her.”
It isn’t only my pussy that’s hurting. My neck is already sore, and my shoulders ache from being driven into the bench. I try to raise my voice, to be heard and get somebody’s attention. “She wants to tell you how much she loves it,” James decides, and I hear him stroking himself even over the sound of a football game going on. My pain and tears are soaking into the blindfold, but I doubt he would care even if he could see them. It might even add to the experience.
“Give your brother another turn,” James orders. “Fill her up. Make that ass raw. Nix, you fuck her while Colt spanks that ass until the skin cracks open. I want to see her bleed.” He’s spent all day planning this. It’s obvious from the way he smoothly goes from one command to the next.
The two of them find a rhythm, with Colt making contact every time Nix pulls back a little. I’m openly sobbing, my body aching, my ass throbbing, and my pussy being pushed to the point of numbness. On and on it goes, with the two of them taking turns touching my body, fucking me, leaving me open and exposed to James whenever he orders it. “I want to see her pussy gape,” he grunts, and when Colt pulls back, the satisfied little groan coming from the sofa makes me sick. “Oh, yeah. Spread her lips. I want to see inside her.”
Dear god, he’s sick. And because I can’t see who’s touching me, can’t see their hands, he might as well be doing it. Striking me. Spreading my lips so he can see all of me. That thought alone has my panic and disgust reaching new heights. It’s bad enough that Colt and Nix are doing this to me, but if James touched me like this, it would be a new level of dread.
It’s a temporary reprieve, with Nix going back to it once his father tells him to. And now there’s urgency. His fingers dig into me, and he grunts every time his balls slap against my clit. At least he’s almost finished. “Come inside her,” James tells him, his own breathing fast and shallow.
It isn’t long before Nix drives himself deep and stays that way, filling me with his cum until I feel it oozing out around his dick. He pulls out with a groan and is quickly replaced by his brother. I’m so numb I hardly feel a thing. Only relief when he, too, empties himself inside me. I don’t even care about what it means or how disgusting it is. I don’t even care when I hear James coming, moaning, cursing, and panting for air until the sound eventually fades, then stops.
And here I am, dripping cum, aching from head to toe.
“It looks like we’re in for a good second half,” James announces. He’s back to sounding chipper and upbeat again. “You boys should get yourself some drinks. I’m sure you’re thirsty after all that exertion.”
Wait a second. What is happening here? Is he bluffing? He can’t possibly mean to keep me this way.
Yet the game starts up again, and I hear the three of them commenting on the quarterback and his passing rating or something like that. I have no idea. I only know I’m still restrained, still exposed, still dripping cum down the insides of my thighs, and probably onto the bench at this point. During a commercial break, I grunt, wriggling around a little. It’s the best I can do to remind them of my presence.
“You better hope our guys decide to pick up their running game a little,” James announces. “If not, I might just leave you this way all night. Bad luck. Women are always bad luck when it comes to football. I don’t even know why they let them report from the sidelines. Caving to the woke crowd, I guess.”
I have no doubt he’s serious about leaving me this way. I’ve never cared so much about the outcome of a football game before in my life.
But the team does win, and I hear the men clapping and high-fiving each other like they had anything to do with it. I wonder if they know how pathetic they sound. Then James gets up, muttering something about having emails to catch up on. The sound of him climbing the stairs is like music, and I could weep from relief.
I’m still restrained in this awkward, now painful position. Not for much longer, though. Soon, someone’s hands are on my wrists, the other pair on my ankles. Colt is gentle as he removes the blindfold, his expression unreadable while he reaches between my teeth and pulls out the gag.
I try to move but have to bite back a pained groan. I’m too stiff from being this way for hours. I flinch when Colt’s hands are suddenly on me, his fingers gently rubbing away the tension from my sore muscles. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He tucks his hands under my arms and slowly pulls me to my feet. I’m sore all over, all my limbs ache, not to mention my pussy feels painfully swollen. Every move hurts, and I can’t help but whimper with each tiny step toward the door.
Nix doesn’t bother announcing what he’s about to do. He simply drapes the throw blanket over my shoulders before picking me up. A measure between a shriek and gasp falls from my lips while my arms automatically snake around his neck. I hold Nix as he carries me upstairs with Colt trailing us. As much as I hate being in Nix’s arms, it’s a relief to be able to rest against him. My body and my brain are too tired, too overwhelmed.
Instead of putting me in bed, Nix takes me to the bathroom, where Colt runs water in the tub. It doesn’t take long to fill, and Nix is gentle as he lowers me into the scented, steamy water. It’s miraculous, loosening up my sore muscles, giving me a little bit of comfort at last.
They sit on either side of the tub, both of them washing me slowly, almost tenderly. Nix runs a soapy rag over my arms while Colt takes my legs. When the rag makes contact with my extremely sore inner thighs, he eases the pressure, barely brushing against me before gently running the rag over my pussy.
Nix gets up, returning a few moments later with a nightshirt and a couple of towels. Colt helps me stand, wrapping one of the towels around my body while Nix wrings the water from my hair with the other. They don’t say a word to each other through all of this, and neither of them speaks to me. They don’t need to. I don’t have anything to say anyway, and I doubt I would have the strength to speak even if I did know what a person says in a situation like this.
Once I’m in bed, tucked in, Colt moves for the door—but Nix doesn’t. “You coming?” Colt asks him, but Nix waves him off before turning back to me.
I’m so exhausted I can hardly keep my eyes open. “What do you want?” I whisper.
“I want to make you come.”
“No, you don’t have to do that. I’m too sore, anyway.”
“But you deserve it.” He’s already pulling back the blanket that he only just tucked around me.
