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I know an entreaty when I hear one, and hastily, I move down his body before sliding deep onto his pole. He’s so huge that it feels as if the tip of his cock is going to pop out of my throat, and I let out a sharp shriek.
But John’s not disturbed at all. “Mmm,” he chuckles. “You’re able to take me in one stroke up your butt, hmm, sweetheart? We’ve fucked you up good, that’s for sure.”
Then, the deep drill begins. Like Arthur, he holds my hips in place so that I don’t have to do any of the work, merely pistoning up with his hips again and again in a rhythmic motion. It feels so good and I cry out, my breasts bobbling with each penetrative thrust. Then, the edge looms again and I cry out in warning.
“Go with it,” John rasps before me. “Come for me, baby.”
I burst at his command, my vision going dark and then blinding white as I’m catapulted into a galaxy of bliss. I’m careening into outer space, my asshole so thoroughly fucked by five men that I don’t remember who I am, where I am, or what I was placed on God’s green earth to do. Instead, I cartwheel again and again, my mind an explosion of fireworks as a full-body orgasm makes me buck and cry out, my pussy and asshole convulsing with ecstasy.
“Mmm!” I scream. “Oh oh oh!”
John is no better. The handsome leader of the Cannon Club roars as hot seed sprays into my body, even as he continues to fuck up into my butt, rearranging my internal organs in the process.
“Shit!” he shouts. “Fuck!”
We shout and cry, our orgasms pulsing with power and when my vision finally clears, I collapse onto the huge man’s chest.
“Oh my god,” I moan, totally wrung out. “Did that really just happen?”
John chuckles, stroking my dark tresses.
“It did, sweetheart. And look, you made my brothers come again too.”
I peel my eyes open to glance around blearily, and sure enough, Sam, Joe, Nicky, and Arthur have pulled massive orgasms out of their cocks once more. Their palms are sticky with seed, and there’s fluid smeared everywhere on their thighs, cocks, and chests.
“Look what you made us do,” Nicky rasps, blue eyes gleaming.
“Fuck, I’ve never come so hard before,” Art adds ruefully, staring at the mess on his thighs.
“But I’d say you deserve the collar after that performance,” Sam chuckles.
Then, Joe gets up, and returns with the velvet choker in his hand. I make to detangle myself from John, but the men shake their heads.
“No need to get up, baby,” the handsome captain growls. “This position is veryapropos, wouldn’t you say? You’re going to be collared while you’ve got a big dick in your ass, leaking our combined fluids.”
He’s right, I suppose, and before I know it, the velvet choker’s been fastened about my throat, the “C” logo falling delicately into the hollow at the center.
“Beautiful,” John rasps with approval.
“Absolutely perfect,” Arthur agrees.
“Ours,” the remaining three men growl in unison and that’s when the initiation begins. Or when it ends. Or maybe we’re in the middle now. I don’t know, and I don’t care because the Cannon Biker Club has delivered what I need so badly, which is satisfaction at the hands of five virile men. I don’t know where this is going to go next, but all I can say is that I’m happy right now, and my mind is at ease. This is the completion I’ve been searching for, and whatever these men want … I’ll do my best to deliver no matter the price.
CHAPTER7
Xenia
It’s been an amazing experience to live with the Cannon Biker Club. At first, I thought I’d pretty much be a slave in the basement, save for their visits to my little room for no holds-barred rounds of deep fucking. And of course, that’s happened certainly. But I haven’t been confined to my room at all. After the initial collaring ceremony, we settled in for a meal cooked by none other than Joe, and it was then that I realized that the men prepare their own food.
“Really?” I asked, perched nude on a bar stool in the common area. “You don’t have a chef?”
The bikers chuckled.
“No, we don’t. We’re not exactly legit, honey, so we don’t want someone coming into our clubhouse who doesn’t belong here. As a result, we cook, clean, and even buy our own groceries. There’s a shift schedule around here somewhere,” Sam says in a vague voice, looking around. “I know that I’m cooking next week.”
But when Joe brought the food out, I was dismayed because the sloppy joes were too sloppy. They were delicious, but the sauce lacked the tangy, smoky flavor that I crave in my burgers, and the buns were regular potato buns bought from Costco.
“You know, I could help in the kitchen if you want,” I hinted. “I’m quite good at the stove.”
