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I want the toy inside me. For some reason in the time I was apart from them, when I masturbated, I stayed on the outside. I couldn't bring myself to change the way I touched myself alone. I couldn't admit they'd changed me and what my body craves forever. Now Ineedto come that way. I need Seven to shove the toy inside me. Or his fingers. Or his cock. Anything. But he only presses the vibrator harder against my clit until I come, bucking against it and his hand.
“The wax is on the warmer. It's ready when you are,” Declan says.
“In a minute. I'm not done here yet. We need to retrain her ass. It's been weeks. Unless she was putting things inside her own ass in our absence,” he says, amusement threading his voice. “Wereyou doing that, Kitten?”
“N-no, Master.”
He sighs. “Such a shame. I would have jerked off to that thought for ages.”
I take a slow, deep breath when he slides a toy heavy with lube into my ass. It feels far better than it should after such a long break. I find myself moving with it, thrusting my ass back toward him trying to get deeper penetration with the toy.
“I told you she was becoming an anal slut,” Declan says.
I flush hot at these words, but I can't stop myself from seeking more contact with the toy he's fucking me with. When he pulls it away, I say, “No... please... more.”
“Not tonight, Kitten.”
But he does grant me another orgasm, this time with his fingers, still refusing to allow me the penetration I seek.
I feel weak and shaky when Seven takes me off the St. Andrew's Cross. He carries me to the bed and arranges us so that he sits against the headboard and I'm leaning back against his chest.
“Open your legs,” he orders.
I spread my legs and Declan joins us with the wax and cloth strips. I know he can see the fear in my eyes.
“It's okay, Pretty Toy. I know what I'm doing.”
Before he starts, though, he bends down and licks between my legs. I arch off the bed into his hungry mouth. He makes me come again while Seven holds me still for him.
When Declan finally starts waxing, I'm relieved to find that he does know what he's doing. The heated wax is somehow soothing and not too hot. And he knows just the right way to rub over the cloth. He gives a nice clean rip, and though it hurts, it's only for a second. But I cry out each time; I can't help it.
Seven distracts me, stroking my breasts in a way that is somehow more soothing than erotic. “You're doing great,” he says.
When Declan is finally finished, and I’m once again smooth and bare for them, he rubs a cooling salve between my legs.
“I'm going to take her to bed,” Seven says.
I'm grateful when he picks me up and carries me up the stairs. I lay my head against his shoulder. On the main level, he takes me to the kitchen and sits me down on a bar stool. We eat some leftover pizza from the fridge. I find myself unable to believe he eats pizza.
When we get to Seven's room, he orders me to join him in the shower, but he isn't there to get either himself or me clean. And he's not there to fuck me, either. He holds my gaze while he takes my hand and wraps it around his cock.
I jerk him off in the shower.
“Fuck, yes. Just like that.”
It only takes a few minutes before he comes over my hand. He leans forward, his head resting against my shoulder in an oddly sweet moment as he struggles to gain control of his breathing again.
He shuts the shower off, dries us both, then carries me to his bed. There are blackout shades in his room, and his balcony door is solid, not glass. He pulls the shades and turns out the light before joining me.
My breath hitches in my throat alone in the dark with him just as I've been so many nights before. I'm so sore and tender from where they waxed me. Even so, I would give almost anything for him to fuck me right now, even if it hurt. I'd pay that price just to feel him inside.
My legs fall open for him automatically, and he touches me like he always does in the dark. Except this time he's more careful than normal, slower and more gentle. He uses lube to stroke me, and I come apart under his hands.
Even after I've come, I want to ask for more, but I don't. He presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Sleep, Kitten.”
TWELVE
