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I haven’t seen this side of Landon before. He only doles out immediate punishment on the ice, or when he punched Coach. He is running this and I am proud.
He slaps her cheek and turns his back to her.
“Hudson. Play with your toy, our pet.” Smiling, I turn the wand on and walk toward her.
Banksy starts to fight harder against her restraints, but nothing will work. She isn’t going anywhere. Her feet are my focus. Touching the pinwheel against the bottom of her foot, I begin to roll it very slowly from her heel to her arch to her toes. Her screams echo around the room. What she is feeling right now is pain. Hot, sharp, unbearable pain tingling up her body, and igniting her senses and nerves she didn’t even know she had. Between the stimulation and pain, her body doesn’t know how to respond. This is torture for her and so much fun for me.
Then using the same line I used to go up, I slowly move the pinwheel down.
“No. Please stop. Please, Hudson.” No need to look up at her. I know tears are streaming down her face, and it brings a smile to my face.
I’m mesmerized, focused entirely on my movements.
“Should I bring Katie over, have her suck my cock while you watch instead? It wouldn’t be the first time we would have an audience.” I know it hurts her. If she is feeling half of what my brother and I are, she hates what I just said.
“Do it. Just fucking do it,” she yells, as a tiny moan escaping from between her lips. Her body and mind are so confused. But I think it’s perfect. Reacting just how I want it to.
“Landon, grab my phone. Put Katie on speaker.”
He digs in my pocket as I move to the top of her foot now, the skin is thinner here with so many tiny bones. It’s going to hurt like a rib tattoo would.
“Hey Hud, what's up?” Katie’s voice comes over the speaker.
“I need my cock sucked. Want to come by?” My focus is on Banksy and her facial expressions. Her head shakes from side to side as I move my index finger to my lips. Hush now, Banksy.
“I’m out right now, but I can swing by later.”
Thinking about it, I place the pinwheel on the top of her foot, and she struggles to work through the pain and sensations. Her mouth opens to scream, but nothing comes out, her eyes are squeezed shut as tears stream down her cheeks.
“Nah, it’s fine. Another time maybe.” I respond then Landon hangs up.
I move the wand from her toes to her shin, and small sparks do come off it. “Please stop. Please.” Banksy pleads.
“Stop being so pathetic. Take it. Accept it. Be stronger!” I shout back at her.
Landon moves back beside her, taking his hand, he shoves it down her sleep shorts and smirks. “Soaked. You are such a liar. You fucking love this.”
“Tsk, tsk, Banksy. You love this, don’t you? Don't you? Answer me!”
“Yes, no. Sort of. Shit.” She cries out.
Landon is finger fucking her. Her hips buck and grind against him. Using him to get herself off. I move the pinwheel further up her leg, closer to her aching pussy. More moans and screams echo throughout the room.
My fingers trace along her inner thigh for added stimulation, “Now be a good fucking girl for us, cum.”
“Her pussy is dripping.” Landon boasts as Banksy’s body shakes in ecstasy. Her back arches as her orgasm radiatesthrough her. The wand is still on, running havoc on her body. Her head tosses side to side, and she is panting.
As it flows through her, her body begins to calm down, relaxing against the bed. I switch the wand off, placing it off to the side. Landon brings his hand out from her shorts, his fingers glistening with her release. He holds his fingers up to me, showing me. Unable to help myself, I put them in my mouth, sucking her sweet release off each of his fingers. She is delicious. He’s shocked when I lick the last finger, but doesn’t show it.
Banksy looks exhausted from the overstimulation. Looking down her legs, a tiny line of a burn mark runs from her toes to her thigh. The wand. Fucking beautiful. I hope it stays, though I doubt it will. But knowing I put it there, that I marked her again, fills my chest with pride.
Landon begins undoing her restraints, her body still limp, not trying to fight him.
I kneel on the bed next to her, using my forefinger and thumb to pinch her hard nipple. She bites her lip, turning her head toward me as her eyes trail up my body. There’s no hate in her eyes like a part of me had hoped. Her eyes are soft, not angry, as they flutter before closing and she falls asleep.
Who is this girl?
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