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I expected him to pull on it, allowing the robe to fall open so that he could stare at my body, reach for it, encircle my waist and pull me closer, but not close enough that he didn't have a good view. I shook my head and chewed on my lower lip, which Scar must have liked, because I saw his cock twitch beneath his pants in the lower periphery of my vision.
"Were you bad?" he asked me, using both hands to push the robe from my shoulders, exposing my breasts. He fondled them lovingly, looking down occasionally to watch his own thumbs as they passed over my stiffening nipples. He smiled. He knew I was aroused, that the punishment ritual made me wet and hot, ready for anything he wanted to do.
I shook my head again. I sensed a little danger: Scar had a side of him, as they all did, that seemed to be just under his collected, calm surface, and I didn't know what cruelty and perversion intersected there. I had learned a lot about men and their sexual appetites on this journey, and one important thing I learned was that the line between aggression and arousal was very thin.
"You gonna be bad forme?" he growled, stepping closer to me, pulling me by the waist, which he gripped with one hand, almost enclosing the entire left side of my torso in his grip, squeezing me firmly, just to remind me of what I was dealing with.
"If you tell me to," I said, half-excited, half-afraid. I was never sure what I was doing when I said something like that. I said it partly to assure him, to show my submission tohiscommand, during his turn with me. But he knew as well as I did that ultimately, Rhys commanded me. The way he commanded them all.
This made a smile flicker at the corners of his mouth. I could see that many a "bad" idea was racing through his thoughts, filling his sizable cock with blood, coursing into his muscles and making them tense with sexual energy.
"I want to fuck you in the ass," he said, sending a cool chill through me. He stepped close to me, his eyes devouring me. "I've been thinking about your ass since last time, thinking about how hot it is, how tight," he growled.
I began to breathe rapidly. I didn't want him to say the next part, and yet I knew he would. "...thinking about how good it felt when I made you come, made you squeeze my cock with that sweet little ass of yours."
"Scar, please," I begged. "I can't -"
He gripped my hair furiously and put his lips very close to mine. I whimpered a little because of the hair. "Youcan. And you will. You'll do anything I tell you to, and you'll like it."
"Just please don't make me come," I begged him. I put my hands on his chest, working them under the fabric of his shirt. His many scars criss-crossed the ripped muscles of his torso, smooth bumps that made his pupils dilate when I touched them. I wondered why I liked that: why it gave me pleasure to see that I was making a man pleased when I touched him. Especially a man who could do pretty much anything he wanted to me.
Scar grabbed my wrist after a bit, his face consumed by his hunger. It was at a moment like this, when a large fist closed around my slender wrist, that I realized just how much I was at the mercy of these men - most particularly Rhys.
Scar began to push me back toward his bed, one hand on my wrist and the other moving down my torso and between my legs, fingers searching for the folds of my pussy. I knew he liked to feel me wet, liked to play with me, liked to know that I was incredibly close to coming.
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't touch me, I don't want to come, I can’t disobey Rhys."
He slid his fingers to my outer thighs, sliding them along my skin with a feathery touch. They slipped easily over me, lubricated by the wetness he had gathered from my pussy.
"Not yet," he said, grinning. He pushed me onto the bed before my calves made contact with the side, and for a terrifying moment I thought I was falling. The robe fell open as I landed on my back. I pushed myself to my elbows immediately and tried to scramble backwards and away from him. I couldn't escape him, but if I could just get myself turned around, he might not try to do what he did last time when he fucked me in the ass.
I didn't want to have to explain myself to Rhys.
I started to turn around, to lie on my belly, to tempt him into just going after me like that. But he caught my feet with both hands and twisted them in the opposite direction, so I couldn't spin around. Once he had me back on my back he spread my legs open and held them like that for a moment, as if to show me that he could.
"Scar," I begged, resorting to supplication. It sometimes worked with him, and with many of the others. Never with Tor, though.
He shook his head, his eyes on my pussy as his grip grew fiercer on my ankles. He wanted what he wanted; they all did. I could see in his eyes that it was past the point of discussion, or protest. He was going to have his way with me, and the only thing I could do now was attempt to resist going over the edge, and instead fake an orgasm for Scar, hoping it satisfied him.
To show him that I was relenting, I reached my hands above me and held on to the bars of his headboard, where he sometimes liked to tie my hands up so that I couldn't escape him. He smiled, pushing my ankles up, positioning them close to my ears, tipping my ass up from the bed a little. He liked me to hold my own ankles for him, spreading my knees wide a little, splaying myself open so that he could fuck my ass while playing with my clit.
Scar also liked to watch my face when he pushed his fat cock inside of me; sometimes he stared at me while he slid in slowly, watching my features as I tried to hide the grimace that Iwantedto wear.
While Rhys had the largest cock of all the men, Scar was a close second, and his was the thickest.
I grasped my ankles obediently and spread my legs open, without him having to demand it. I issued a final plea, weakly: "Please, please don't make me come, I'll do whatever you want..."
But I could see he wasn't going to be swayed by any of that, even before he growled, "Thatiswhat I want."
He tugged on the butt plug, and it scratched a little inside of me before it got moving, the smooth, hard inches of it sliding from inside me, leaving me empty and wanting, before the tip escaped and Scar tossed it aside, staring at the gape of my ass in fascination.
I jerked when he put his pointer finger into my pussy folds and drew some of the juices down to my ass. They were already slowly rolling down from my pussy, filling the spasming hole, making it slick and ready for Scar. He traced the lines of my rim, and I moved my hips subconsciously, mewling at the sweet ache he was probing.
He stopped abruptly, standing up to peel away his clothes in a hurry. I stayed as I was, because I knew that was what he wanted, and maybe if I showed him I would give him anything he wanted, willingly, he would take pity on me and not try to make me come.
His cock was already hard. It pointed straight in front of him, bobbing a little with the pulse of his desires. He climbed onto the edge of the bed on his knees and directed it to the center of my legs, stroking himself lazily.
"I wish they wouldn't stretch you out every day," he mused, aligning his cock with my ass. The thickness of his crown made his statement seem crazy. When he placed the eye against me, my pulsing sphincter closed around the very tip of him, sucking at his flesh, but he was much thicker than the stretch the plug had afforded me. Which was rapidly shrinking, anyway.
