AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I lose my breath when the needle pierces my sensitive flesh, sending a sharp, lancing pain straight to my core. The pain makes wetness flood my center so hard I nearly cum. I squeeze my eyes closed and pray he doesn’t notice.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I can think of a way you can work it off.”
His finger sinks deep inside me, and my mouth falls open in a gasp of shock as pleasure ripples through me. He slides it out and back in easily, then adds a second, his tight gloves hugging his fingers as they pump into me, gliding into my slick center. My back arches in pleasure even as my mind reels with confusion. What am I doing? I wanted a piercing, something just for me. Not to get fingered on a tattoo artist’s table.
But my body hasn’t been just for me in a long time.
So no words come out of my mouth when he turns away, coming back and working the ring into my clit. No words come when he pulls out his cock. I stare at the thick, dark shaft with a ladder of piercings all the way up the underside. He jerks it a few times, watching me with hazy, lustful eyes. I don’t move. I don’t tell him to stop when he wets his lips and then pulls a condom from a drawer. He rolls it on, watching me, giving me a chance to refuse if I’m not into it.
Not that anyone says no to him. Even I know his reputation, and I’m not from this side of town.
When I don’t protest, he leans over me, sliding an arm under my lower back and burying his face in my neck. “This one’s on the house,” he murmurs into my ear, his breath hot enough to light my body on fire.
Then he pulls me off the table and smiles down at me, his lips full and sensual and his eyes hooded with desire. He turnsme around, bending me over the table and running a gloved hand up my thigh, tugging at the inside until I plant my feet wide for him. He rubs the head of his cock against my bleeding flesh, then pushes in, sheathing his length to the hilt in one slow, deep thrust. I’m wet, but I can feel the stretch of his girth, the rungs of his piercing hitting something inside me that makes me whimper.
“Shhh,” he whispers, brushing my hair aside and leaning down to run his nose lightly up my spine. “Unless you want an audience. Those guys out there know I fuck back here. You want them to watch this pretty cheerleader pussy getting wrecked by a gangster dick?”
I bite my lip, my eyes widening as he drags his cock out and then sinks it back into me so deep it makes my back arch and my thighs weaken. I don’t say anything though. I haven’t said anything for so long I’ve forgotten how to speak. It’s been a year since I’ve said any words during sex that mattered to the other person.
“Or maybe you’d like them to join,” he purrs into my ear. “They’re gangsters too. How about it,hyna?You got a dirty gangbang fantasy under that good girl exterior?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. I’ve been shared enough times to know it’s not my thing. It’s never about the girl. She ends up being a piece of meat rotated on a spit as they shift her to different positions, the others standing around laughing and slapping hands and cheering each other on before they take their turn.
Maverick chuckles and plants a warm, lingering kiss on the back of my neck. “Then keep those pretty lips shut and take my cock in silence,” he orders, running a hand down the front of my body. His gloved fingers give my pierced clit a little squeeze, and my whole body clenches as pain rips through me, followed by overwhelming ripples of pleasure. I have to bite down so hardon my tongue I taste blood to keep the cry from tearing out of me, and I’m not even sure if it’s from how much that hurt or how much it turned me on.
This is what being the Dolces’ queen has done to me. I can’t tell pleasure from pain, silence from consent, my body from the shell I created to keep my mind safe. They all mean the same thing now, are twisted inextricably into some grotesque version of other people’s reality.
Maverick straightens from where he was leaning over me, gripping my hips and driving his thick cock into me in a maddening, sensuous rhythm that makes me want to forget the threat of his men coming to join. It makes me want to forget how good it felt for him to call me a good girl, even if he didn’t say it the way Colt did. It makes me want to turn around so I can see that picture of Colt while I cum all over Maverick’s cock.
And it makes me sick how much I want what he said to be true, how much I want someone to see me as the pretty girl-next-door type and not the kings’ whore. It makes me want to cry at how much it means to me that in his world, maybe I am. It makes me never want to leave.
“Bend over for me,” Maverick grunts out, dragging me backwards. “Show me how flexible you cheerleaders are.”
I fold forward, gripping my ankles, and he groans above me, and I can tell he’s thrown his head back because his voice echoes. I know the others can hear him, and fear grabs my limbs, freezing me in place. His hips move faster, his thrusts becoming erratic as he gets closer. I see blood running down my thighs, and my head swims, even though I know it’s just a few drops from the piercing. It’s too familiar by now. I squeeze my eyes shut so I won’t faint.
“Can you cum, pretty girl?” he asks, his skin slapping mine as his hips piston into me.
“No,” I manage. I was getting close, but I’m too scared of the others coming in now.
He grunts as he lets loose, and I feel his cock expand inside me, the piercings hitting my walls as his girth throbs thicker with each pulse. I know it would have felt amazing inside me if he was bare, if I was relaxed enough to cum too.
“Mm, that was hot,” he says, leaning over me and tugging at my hair until I straighten. He pulls out and turns away, discarding the condom into a biohazard bin. He peels off his gloves and drops them in too, pulls up his jeans and straightens himself before turning back to me. Then he hands me a tub of wet wipes and starts talking about caring for the piercing like nothing happened.
I swallow hard, cleaning myself up without meeting his eyes. Suddenly this thing I did just for me doesn’t feel like it was about me at all. It doesn’t make me feel good and powerful, rebellious or special because I have this naughty secret nestled between my thighs, something only I know.
It makes me feel like a cheap whore who just traded her body for a piercing. I don’t know why I didn’t say no. He probably would have stopped. When I said no to his friends joining, he didn’t bring them in. The fact that I could have said no and I didn’t makes me feel even dirtier than when I said no to the Dolces and they didn’t listen. I didn’t have a choice then. I had a choice today, and I didn’t make it. I just stood there like a statue while he made the choice, while he fucked me, while he came. I let him treat me exactly like they do, like I have no more agency, no more voice, than a blowup doll whose sole purpose is to be used for men’s pleasure.
After going over care instructions that I didn’t hear because I’m lost in a shame spiral, Maverick hands me a little baggie with printed instructions and a cleaning solution.
“Want to go grab some food at the diner?” he asks. “That was worth more than a piercing.”
“I’m not hungry,” I lie, not sure how to get out of here before I cry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I didn’t say yes and at least get a meal out of what just happened. He already used me. I might as well benefit, and maybe I’d feel less cheap if he spent money on me.
“Cool,” he says with a shrug. “Maybe next time.”
Of course. This is nothing to him, no big deal. He does it all the time. I just saw a girl walk out of here who obviously got the same bonus with her tattoo.
I finally drag my gaze to his, refusing to bethat girl, the one who gets all weird about sex. It’s never been a big deal to me, either—I was never allowed to let it be. “Is there a back way out of here?” I ask.
