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The man made a pleased noise. “May I?”
At Fort’s grunt of assent, he toyed with my nipples some more, pinching, flicking, tugging them like they were toys. His toys. I blinked back tears, avoiding his gaze, but Milo didn’t seem to like that. He pinched harder to regain my attention. “Why won’t you look at me, lovely?”
I closed my eyes. “Because I belong to him.”
He tapped my cheek, a light slap, shocking my eyes open. His black eyes had turned frighteningly stern.
“That’s better, little submissive. You might be his, but you also belong to me, don’t you? That’s what The Gallery’s about.” He rubbed a hand over the front of his pants, calling my attention to his stiff, obvious erection. “The only reason I’m not in your pussy right now is because I wouldn’t fit with his big dick plowing your ass.”
“Don’t scare her, Milo,” Fort murmured. “Help me hurt her. She wants to come.”
“Oh, it’s like that?”
I leaned my head back into Fort’s strength, sighing as his hand tightened around my neck. A keening sound rose in my throat, a sound of relief, a sound of pleasure. Yes, I wanted to come. I’d been tortured for an hour now, riled into a tangle of stimulated submission. Milo slid a hand around my upper back, preventing me from shrinking away as he opened his teeth on my nipples, alternately sucking and biting the already-sensitive tips.
“Oww. Ohhh.” I made begging sounds, felt them vibrate against Fort’s palm as it pressed to my throat.
“Don’t touch her clit,” Fort gasped. “She has to come from having her ass fucked, or not at all.”
The man he called Milo looked in my eyes and laughed. His dark eyes danced with amusement because he knew I was so close I was about to explode. “All the best sluts learn to come from a cock up the ass. It feels better to us sadists, you know, to fuck you and hurt you at once. Some sadists only use their submissives’ assholes for that reason.”
He bent his head again, sucking my nipples hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. Fort’s hand squeezed my throat tighter to match the rising pain Milo imparted. His cock pummeled my ass, and somehow, between his forceful fucking, my bound arms, my loss of control, and Milo’s awful nipple torture, the orgasm that had been building inside me broke wide. I lost control, gasping, choking on pleasure, bouncing back against Fort’s cock as tears squeezed from my tightly shut eyes.
Both my tormentors seemed amused as I twisted in my bonds. I surged forward against Milo, wishing I could rub my clit on something to increase my orgasm’s intensity. Neither man would let me. Both of them held me as firmly as the cuffs at my wrists.
When I returned to my senses, I jerked my shoulders, trying to dislodge Milo from my nipples, trying to arrest his awful sucking, especially now that I’d come. All I wanted to do was to rest, to not be touched.
“You wish I’d stop now?” Milo spoke in a low taunt, his long hair brushing my cheek. “But your Dominant’s pleasure is what matters here, and he’s still fucking your ass. This pain I’m causing makes you squeeze on his cock in a delightful way. Listen to the sounds he makes. Do they please you?”
I shuddered, gritting my teeth. “Yes. Yes, Sir. But—”
“No buts. Whose pleasure matters, his or yours?”
“His, Sir.”
His pleasure matters. You’re the submissive, meant to serve.I felt submissive, letting Fort yank my hair and pummel my ass as Milo continued his tireless nipple torment. I could tell Milo was the type of Dominant who liked to teach lessons. I said a silent prayer of thanks that I wasn’t one of his submissives, like that girl he’d fucked on her knees earlier.
Finally, when I was about to lose my mind, Fort buried himself inside me and stayed, humping my hips, climaxing forcefully as he squeezed my neck and pussy. Milo smiled and gave my nipples one last tweak. A faint, patronizing smile, and he was strolling away, letting me recollect my senses as Fort gasped behind me.
My orgasm had exhausted me, the finale to a long, strenuous evening. Maybe he could tell I was close to finished, because he released me gently, almost tenderly from my bonds, then collected me in his arms. We stood together a long time, then he wrapped me in a blanket and walked me to a nearby couch. There was already another couple on it, another blanket-wrapped submissive whispering with her Dom. All around us, scenes were winding up. I wondered if I looked as wrecked as the other women.
“So you survived,” he said, cradling me in his lap. “I hope it was a good orgasm.”
“It was.” Even now, those were the only two words I could string together. He stroked my back, my arm, the bare expanse of my right thigh. After a few more minutes had passed, he roused me, making me sit up. “Look at me, Juliet.”
I did, and the intensity of his eyes scared me. He seemed to be searching for my thoughts, like he might find them written on my face, amidst the tear streaks and smeared makeup.
“Was The Gallery anything like you thought?” he asked, cupping my chin to hold my attention.
“No, Sir.” It wasn’t. I never could have imagined the things I’d experienced today.
His eyes probed me, studying my expression. “Did you enjoy it?”
I touched my sore breasts and shifted on my still-throbbing ass. Had I enjoyed it? I’d come like hell, that was for sure. But at what price to my body? My psyche? My emotional life? One thing I’d discovered was that other sadists scared me. I only trusted Fort. I only felt comfortable with him, but I was afraid to admit that. This wasn’t a relationship. He’d said it so many times.
“I feel great right now,” I finally answered.I feel great in your arms, in your embrace.“But during our scene, things were pretty painful.”
“Good pain or bad pain?” he pressed.
