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“When I said I can’t ever let you go,” Manson said. “I meant it.” He kissed the top of my head, and suddenly I was blinking back tears. Being collared was sexy and unbearably erotic, but it was so much more than that, too. It was a comfort, a reassurance, a promise. It was a sign to everyone who saw it that I was protected and cared for.
But we were still in the middle of a scene. After I’d composed myself, their expressions darkened again. Manson slipped the key into his pocket, and said, “Now. Let’s teach the little angel a lesson about respecting her masters.”
They tied me to one of the basement’s thick wooden support columns. Vincent’s rope twined around my tits, squeezing them as I was secured to the column. He lifted one of my legs and tied it into place, so I was balanced on one foot.
“Poor little thing,” he said, in a mocking voice. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a bind.” He cackled at his own joke, and Lucas snorted at the pun.
“You freaks won’t get away with this,” I said. It was extremely difficult to pretend to be rude to them after they’d collared me. The weight of it on my neck made me ache to be good, to bow my head and obey.
“We’re already getting away with it,” Lucas said. It disturbed me that I couldn’t see him; he stayed just outside my peripheral vision, pacing behind me. His hand suddenly wrapped around my face, his fingers shoved into my mouth and pressed down my tongue. I gagged but he kept them there, merciless. “Watch that gag reflex, girl. You don’t want to throw up on my dick, do you?”
“You know you’d love it if she did.” Manson looked directly into my eyes as he said it, striding back into my view with Jason right behind him. The way he looked at me was challenging, mocking — like he wanted to taunt me into continuing to fight.
It worked.
“You’re a bunch of sickos!” I shouted. “Perverted freaks! You’ll never get away with this, I will telleveryonewhat you did!”
Manson and Jason looked at each other, eyes wide, expression uncertain. But when they looked back at me, all that faux uncertainty vanished.
“Sickos?” Jason said innocently, stepping closer. “Freaks? That’s not very nice, Jessica.”
“I think the lady protests too much,” Vincent said, popping up beside me like a damned jack-in-the-box. “Perhaps she’s ashamed? Perhaps a little...embarrassed...about her reaction?” He sank down until he was kneeling below me, looking at me with curious eyes as he walked his fingers up my leg. “What have we here? Is that...perhaps...a wet spot on your thong?” He stroked his finger over me and I struggled, trying and failing to jerk away from him. “Oh my, someone is a naughty girl, isn’t she? Let’s see...” He pushed my thong aside and pressed two fingers inside me. I was already so wet that he slid in easily.
“Oh, you little whore! You’re enjoying this, look at you!” Vincent swiftly stood and held up his fingers, glistening with my arousal. Then he pushed them into my mouth, far back on my tongue until I choked. “That’s right. Taste what you’ve done. I bet you’d love it if we fucked this wet pussy; you’re already dripping for us. You want to be bred so badly, don’t you? Stuffed with cum and knocked up.”
My eyes widened.
“It would serve the teasing little slut right,” Manson said. “Put our baby in her and she’d never get away from us again.”
Their words were filthy, terrifying — but outside of the roleplay, beyond the fantasy, they struck my heart instantly. My eyes darted between them, searching —hoping— for a glimpse of sincerity.
Manson paused.
“What do you think of that, angel?” he said, and I knew he was checking in, he was waiting for my go-ahead. “Would it serve you right to become our perfect little housewife, take our seed again and again until we put a baby in you?”
Rapidly, I nodded. I’d been fighting them so hard, but I didn’t want to fight anymore. I wanted to please, I wanted to submit.
His crooked grin was so damn sexy. “We’re going to fuck you then, Jess. All of us, one after the other, until you’re so full with us that you’re dripping.” He walked away suddenly, and came back with his knife. He flipped it open, the movement of his fingers shockingly fast. Carefully, he ran his tongue along the blade, opening a small cut on his tongue that swiftly welled with blood.
Then he was kissing me, tongue in my mouth. He sliced through the ropes, cutting them away until he could take me in his arms and lift me up. My legs wrapped around him, I gripped his hair with one hand and dragged the nails of my other hand down the nape of his neck.
“I want to watch them fuck you until you can’t move,” he snarled. He leaned forward suddenly, laying me down on the leather-padded table we had nearby. Vincent was right there with more rope, and he gave me a grin as he began to bind me again.
I squirmed, breathlessly pleading with them, “Wait — wait, please — no —”
Vincent paused, having nearly finished binding my wrist to my ankle. “Color?” he said softly.
“Green,” I responded, smiling quickly. “I’m just losing myself in the roleplay. I’msucha distressed damsel.”
Vincent snorted, hanging his head for a moment. “Baby, you’re going to make me break character.”
“Oh, um...” I widened my eyes again, whimpering, “I’m so sorry, sir.”
Still laughing at me, he gripped my face with one hand, squeezing my checks. “You sassy little brat. We’re going to fuck that sarcasm out of you, aren’t we?”
He finished tying me, securing my wrists to my ankles. The result was that I was lying on my back with my legs lifted and spread. My feet flexed and my toes curled, helpless to move otherwise. They all surrounded me, but it was Vincent who stood between my legs first. He pulled down the zipper on his latex pants, the tightness of which left nothing to the imagination. He cock fell forward, rigidly hard as it jutted toward me.
“Look at that pretty little hole,” he said, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth over me. “I bet you’ll be so fucking tight. Lucky me, I get you first.” He chuckled darkly. “I get to rip you open.”
