MY TWO DOMS: HOT HARD MENAGE #3 (3 page)

I’m afraid to look down
at myself, embarrassed by how obviously wet I must be. There’s no warning
before Noah thrusts two fingers into my trembling cunt, probing deep, searching
for that certain spot and going after it directly and mercilessly with his
fingertips.

“Oh, fuck,” I squeal
and waver on my feet. Matthew braces me, then pulls my bra down and resumes his
rough handling of my bare tits, twisting my pale rose nipples and making me
squeal again.

Noah relents,
finger-fucking me slowly and deeply. “Next time, your slit had better be
shaved, or I’ll shave it myself and spank it afterward. Do you understand,
Zoe?” His tone is cold, colder than I want it to be, like there’s a wall
between us that he won’t let me get past. But he also mentioned next time. I
cling to the hope in the suggestion.

“Yes, sir,” I respond.

Matthew is wearing a
smug grin again. “See, she’s going to be our good girl.” He breathes against my
ear. “But not too good, I hope.”

Then Matthew releases
me, his hand on my back pushing me toward Noah. “Help your Master relax and
undress while I collect a few things we need.”

Noah withdraws his
fingers from my cunt as Matthew disappears down the hallway toward the
bedrooms. I drop instantly to my knees, crouching before the reluctant Dominant
with my breasts bared, covered with gooseflesh, my panties still twisted around
my thighs.

I reach for the top
button on Noah’s white shirt but pause before touching it. “May I, sir?”

Again, a distressed
look passes over Noah’s brow, before he nods. I unbutton his shirt with more
confidence than I truly feel, determined to show him I want to do this and will
do it well, that I want him, that I want him to want me. Once I’ve peeled his
shirt away, it takes all the effort in me not to thrust myself against his bare
chest, not to lick and suck his light brown nipples, not to rub my cheek
against his temptingly defined abs.

It’s harder when it
comes to his khakis and the bulge straining the front of them. I force myself
to slowly unbutton and unzip them, afraid I’ll fumble or that I’ll give in to
my desire to nuzzle my cheek against his dick like the little sex-starved
submissive I am. His hands move to help me drag the top of his pants and briefs
down, gently releasing an enormously thick cock that springs out at attention,
more than ready. It’s slightly darker, slightly redder than the rest of his
tanned body, with a plump head and small slit that is slick with the suggestion
of pre-cum. My pussy throbs in want of Noah’s dick, for the delicious ache of
being stretched by it.

I look pleadingly into
his eyes, my hand creeping up his tensed thigh. Little by little, the harshness
in his face, in his smooth, taut cheeks, drains away.

When Noah reaches for
the back of my head, I’m hoping he’s going to make me suck him, even though his
cock looks impossibly big. Instead, he pulls the band holding my ponytail and
lets my dark red hair fall loose over my shoulders. His fingertips spend a
moment massaging my tight scalp.

His attentions feel
heavenly. I want this from Noah, this care and consideration, as much as I want
his rough touch and domination. I want to ask him who broke his trust and show
him I’m not her. I want behind that wall.

Matthew returns from
the bedroom, deliciously bare-chested now, with a handful of items I glimpse
out of the corner of my eye. I recognize only the black riding crop, before he
tosses the items down on the second leather couch, on the other side of the
heavy wooden coffee table.

“Up, Zoe,” he orders.
“Get on your hands and knees on the table.”

I understand now why
the table is so sturdy, with a thick, flat panel of dark wood at the bottom and
six fat, turned wooden legs supporting the top. It doesn’t creak or give at all
as I kneel on top of it. I must look incredibly whorish, with my full tits
hanging below me, spilled from my bra, and my panties pulled down below the
curve of my round, creamy ass.

Matthew stands back and
grins. “You look so fucking sexy like that, Zoe.” Which makes me thrill and
unintentionally arch my back.

He walks around in front
of me. I’m eye-level with the swelling lump in his black pants. “I’m not going
to tie you this first time, sweetheart. If you can’t handle it, I want you free
to resist.” He pauses. “To an extent, anyway. What’s your safeword?”

I’m a little embarrassed
I hadn’t already thought to pick one, not even after reading about them. I
settle for the common standby. “Red.”

“That will do,” he
says, and steps forward to cup my cheek. “I’m not going to gag you, either. I
want to hear you moaning and whimpering, and I’m going to make you talk dirty
for me.”

I nuzzle Matthew’s
hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s get
started.”

I’m sure he did that on
purpose, making an announcement like that, to unnerve me, frighten me, thrill
me. And it works. He leans over the couch, picking through items that roll and
shift on the leather cushions and clank against one another. It sounds like
metal and hollow plastic. Then he turns and puts two small silvery canisters
down on the coffee table below me. He’s holding another. I peer at the ones on
the table. They’re each a little larger than a double A battery, and maybe
about three inches long. On one end, they have a small length of chain attached
to a little metal V, tipped in black rubber and with a tiny screw off to one
side.

Matthew is bending over
me as I realize what these little canisters are. He squeezes the clamp on the
end and attaches it to one of my hardened nipples, and I yelp as it bites into
me, mercilessly squeezing the tender nib.

“Oh, now there, it’s
not so bad,” Matthew coos to me, then pulls his hand away, letting the clamp
and the canister attached to it swing from my nipple. It pulls and sways, and
sharp, tingling jolts of unfamiliar pleasure radiate from the clamped nipple
and over my soft, flushed tit.

As soon as Matthew
picks up one of the two clamps on the table, I understand where the third clamp
is going. I start to whimper under my breath, my forehead breaking out with
light beads of sweat even in the chill of the air conditioning. Matthew lets
the second clamp swing, tugging the other nipple. The clamp hangs heavily,
obscenely from my breast. But it’s also making my pussy burn with tight, aching
desire.

Matthew’s touch on my
cunt lips makes me cry out. I’m not sure if it’s the anxiety of waiting for the
third clamp to dig into my vulnerable little clit or the joy of feeling his
fingertips spreading me. Maybe both.

“Breathe through it,
Zoe,” he says, before he fastens the rubber-coated prongs onto my
over-stimulated nub.

The bite of the clamp
as it latches onto my clit is a shock. Pain isn’t the right word. It hurts, but
like pleasure taken too far. An intense ache washes over my cunt, up my mound
to tense my stomach muscles, down my thighs and between my legs to my twitching
asshole.

Then Matthew lets the
clamp on my clit swing free, to twist and rock on the fleshy knob, and it feels
like his fingers are plucking at my clit over and over.

“Oh, god. Oh, fuck!” I
keen as a brutal orgasm takes me unaware, falling over me and piercing me
through. My arms buckle, and I teeter, as pulses of terrible delight shudder
along my unsteady body and vibrate inside my convulsing snatch. Matthew is
there next to me, grabbing me by the hair to stabilize me, cutting through the
pleasure with the hint of pain. My anus is throbbing in time with my cunt walls
and my clit and my aching nipples, as all three clamps sway with my slightest
movement.

I mew and whimper as
the climax has its way with me, as I writhe and pump my hips and wiggle my ass
like an animal begging to be bred. Everything I do to relieve the unbearable
pleasure just makes it worse, setting off new blossoms of ecstasy. Eventually I
go still, no resistance left, panting through the rippling pleasure.

When my breath has
slowed from ragged gasps, and I can lock my arms again, Matthew lets go of my
hair. I hang my head.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I
rasp, almost in tears. “I didn’t mean to come without permission.”

From directly over me,
Matthew’s stern voice replies, “Now I have to punish you for that.”

“Yes, sir.” I grimace,
wondering what they must think of me, so inexperienced and disobedient already.
A moment later I feel Matthew running the leather tongue from the end of the
riding crop over my ass cheeks.

He begins tapping the
crop very lightly against my buttocks. “I was going to show you how hard I
could make you come just from a good whipping, but now I’m going to forbid you
to come. Do you understand me, Zoe? No matter what we do to you, you are not
allowed to come.”

“Yes, sir,” I say
firmly, determined to obey but already nervous from the way he chose to phrase
his instruction.
No matter what we do to
you
…

Matthew presses the
slender length of the leather-bound crop to my skin, letting the anxiety build
inside me, before he draws it back and brings it down again so fast that I hear
it cutting the air. The strike is a bolt of hot lightning against my skin,
instantly calling an angry flush to the surface of my ass. I haven’t caught my
breath from the first blow when I feel the crop pull away again. The second
blow makes me yowl.

The next time Matthew
draws the crop back, I tense, only to receive a tap instead. He keeps it up, a
constant snapping rhythm, warm and stinging and oddly relaxing. I can’t help
but fall prey to the hypnotically soothing cadence, the heat building under the
skin. My tension melts, an instant before Matthew lands the hardest blow so
far.

He keeps slapping the
thin rod down hard and fast. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Zoe.”

“Oh fuck,” I groan
under my breath. “Ouch! It stings, sir, so bad. It’s making…”

“What, Zoe? Say it.”

“It’s making my pussy
twitch. It’s making… Oh, fuck… It’s making my…my anus throb. Oh, god, it makes
me want to be fucked, sir.”

And again, so abruptly,
the blows halt. I gasp in the moment of respite I have, trying to prepare
myself for whatever Matthew has planned for me next. A second later his
fingernails lightly scratch down my reddened flesh. Only then do I realize how
sensitized my skin has become. It’s like someone tickling a bruise or a healing
burn, threatening pain, promising pleasure. I wince when I feel a hand begin to
caress the other ass cheek, and I realize Noah has risen from the couch.

“Such a gorgeous shade
of red,” he says, his tone grudging, like he doesn’t want to admit he likes the
look of my whipped ass. I arch for his touch. That hand travels up my spine, as
Noah walks around to stand in front of me. The head of his erect cock is only
an inch from my mouth, and I forget my burning ass for a moment, caught up in
the sudden need to lick my lips.

Noah tangles both his hands
in my hair and leans his pelvis forward, until his dick is brushing my open
mouth. “Let me hear you beg to suck my cock.”

“Please, sir,” I sigh.
“Let me suck your thick cock. Fuck my mouth. Fill it with cum. I will swallow
every drop, sir.”
Fuck, please
, I
keen in my head.
Let me show you how much
I want to please you
.

Noah is just starting
to slide his dick between my lips, my jaw already straining, when Matthew
reaches under me to toy with the dangling clamps on my tits and pussy. He
fusses with the canisters, and what looked like little ridged dials on the
bottom suddenly make sense, as the clamps begin to vibrate harder than any sex
toy I’ve ever encountered. The violent tremors flood my chest and my groin, and
I mew helplessly. I can’t hold a thought beyond the dire need to keep myself
from coming.

If I had any intention
of impressing Noah with my cocksucking, it’s gone. I can’t concentrate enough
to do more that keep my mouth open for his cock as he stuffs it down my throat.
The next few moments are nothing but gagging and choking and panicked, garbled
pleas. The vibration is too much. Noah’s cock is too big. The sensation is too
intense. Tears are pouring from the corners of my eyes, and my clit is
quivering and pounding, warning me of another approaching orgasm.

“Breathe through it,”
Matthew insists again, and I struggle to obey. I’m breathing fast and hard
through my nose and gulping my own saliva, working my throat around Noah’s
meaty shaft. He tastes salty, and his cock and balls, pressed to my face, smell
deeply of musk and sex.

“That’s it,” Noah
croons in a moment of praise and encouragement that I so yearn to have from
him.

Just when I think I can
get a handle on all the sensations and desires coursing through me, Matthew
brings the crop to bear again. The lashes are firm and steady, with a second
between each. Three, four, five. The heat is rising again, and I fight not to
squirm. Eight, nine, ten. I need… I need something. I need Matthew’s hands on
me, his cock in me, his mouth on my neck. I need Noah’s tongue in my mouth, his
cum in my mouth.

The next lash is harder
and faster and holds at that level. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. I only just
realize I’m counting the strokes, nudging back for them now, arching my ass.
I’m sucking Noah’s cock with more intensity, bobbing my head and swallowing in
time with the blows from the crop.