The Bet (9 page)

“If
it isn’t food or drink, it will be something we’ll use on you—as many times as
the number of the cubby. If it is something we put on you or in you, or
anything of that nature, it will stay there until the end, unless we decide
otherwise. The game is over when every cubby hole is empty…and each of your
holes is filled with a cock.”

Christ
on a cracker. Every hole? They were seriously going to triple-team me…and that
was going to be
after
everything to do with those cubby holes. I did a
quick count in my head. There had to be close to twenty of them, or maybe even
more than that.

More
and more, I wasn’t so sure I liked the sound of this game. Still, my limbs were
trembling as I knelt there on all fours, and the walls of my sex clenched in
anticipation.

Thornton
moved over to the wall and flipped a switch, and a blinding spotlight came on
over the center of the room. “Just making sure your man doesn’t miss anything
important, slut.”

After
squinting for a moment against the sudden onslaught of light, I finally spotted
a few cameras filming me.

“Give
me a number, Fuck Toy.”

I
tried to come up with a quick strategy, but did it really matter? We were going
to go through every cubby hole before they’d let me quit.

Apparently
I was taking too long to make up my decision, though.

Bradford
marched over to me, reached down below me, and grabbed onto one of my tits,
pulling it so hard I had to stand up or else he might rip it off of me.

“A
number,” he repeated.

“Seventeen,
Master,” I said on a gasp.

Jones
crossed over to the cubbies and opened the door to number seventeen.
“Clothespins.”

Before
I knew what was happening, Thornton grabbed my arms and pinned them behind my
back, holding me still with a death grip. Jones brought the clothespins over,
and he and Bradford set to work pinching the skin of my breasts and fastening
them on me. They put eight on each breast, near the areolas.

But
then Bradford held up the last one in front of my face. “Where should we put
the last one, Fuck Toy?”

My
breathing was already labored, and my brain wasn’t all that clear, and he
wanted me to make that decision? I racked my brain, but the only thing that
came to mind was, “My stomach, Master.”

He
slapped my stomach in response. “Wrong answer, Fuck Toy.” And then his hand was
between my legs. He pulled my distended clit free from its hood and pinched the
clothespin in place on it.

It
was like that little bundle of nerves had been electrified by the thing. My
legs buckled, and I would have fallen if Thornton wasn’t holding me in place.
His hard cock pressed up against the plug in my butt, and he ground his hips
into me.

“Another
number.”

Picking
high hadn’t worked out so well, so I tried a different tactic. “Three, Master.”

Again,
Jones went to the wall of mystery boxes and brought back my prize. “A banana.
Open wide, sugar.”

With
Thornton still holding me in place with my arms locked behind my back, Jones
fed me the banana a bite at a time. As he did, Bradford toyed with the
clothespins on my breasts and my clit, jiggling them back and forth. It was
hard to concentrate on eating, but if I didn’t, there was no telling how long
it would be before I had a decent meal.

“Another
number, Fuck Toy.”

“Nine,
Master.”

Jones
brought back a candle and lighter. I sucked in a breath, wondering what they
would do with that. He lit the wick and then passed the taper over to Bradford,
who held it for a moment, letting some of the wax melt at the top.

“Put
her on her back and hold her down,” he said a minute later.

Thornton
pushed me to my knees and kept pushing until I was on my back. He held both my
wrists in one hand, stretched up above my head. Jones held my ankles in place.
And then Bradford was leaning over me, dribbling the hot wax down onto the skin
of my belly.

I
flinched at the contact and gasped, but I managed to avoid letting out a
scream. Thornton shook his head. “Stay quiet or I’ll make you stay quiet,
slut.”

The
next bit of wax poured on the inside of my upper thigh, way too close to my
pussy for comfort. A moment passed, and then it came down on the tender flesh
of my underarm.

I
whimpered with that one, and immediately Thornton’s free hand came over my
mouth, smothering my ability to cry out.

Two
more spots over my stomach. Then Bradford used his fingers to spread my pussy
lips, and I struggled to get free. There was no way I could get Thornton and
Jones to let me loose, though, and Bradford poured a long stream of the hot wax
over my aching, tender flesh.

By
this time, I couldn’t stop myself from writhing beneath them, though I didn’t
know if I was desperate for it to stop or desperate for more.

Another
stream over my belly button.

Then
he moved up higher, taking a position right over one of my breasts. I tried to
call out to stop him, but Thornton’s hand prevented anything more than a
muffled whimper.

Bradford
poured the wax directly onto my nipple, and I screamed. When he repeated the
process on the other tit, tears came to my eyes.

But
then he blew out the candle. Was that it? I’d lost count.

Jones
released my ankles, and Thornton removed his hand from my mouth.

“Give
me another number, Fuck Toy.”

After
that, I figured it might be better to get rid of the higher numbers first. The
anticipation was more than I could bear. “Twenty, Master.” My voice sounded
shaky, since I still had tears coming from my eyes.

That
cubby had a bottle of water, and my next choice, fourteen, had a grilled chicken
breast. They’d pulled me to a sitting position for those, and I was starting to
feel a bit more confident. Then I requested, “Eighteen, Master.”

“Oh,
sugar.” Jones shook his head. “You’ll wish you hadn’t picked this one so soon.”

Bradford
took great care in placing the eighteen thumbtacks just so on the floor in
front of me, with the pointy end sticking up. I tried not to think about how
they were going to put me on them…whether I would stand on them with my bare
feet, or if I would be laid down with them beneath some body part, or if I’d be
on my knees. There really wasn’t a good option, as far as I was concerned, and
thinking about it was only making me crazy.

I
didn’t have to think about it too much longer.

Bradford
moved out of the way, and then Thornton and Jones jointly lifted me. They bent
my knees beneath me, and then I knew. As they lowered me back down onto the thumbtacks,
they took great care to place them where they’d be beneath my knees and lower
legs.

I
shifted slightly, and immediately regretted it. The thumbtacks weren’t so bad
as long as I was still, but even the tiniest movement was sheer torture.

Thornton
secured my hands behind my back with handcuffs, making it impossible to use my
hands or arms to support myself.

“Give
me another number, Fuck Toy.” Bradford apparently didn’t want to give me time
to assimilate to the latest changes.

Thornton
knelt beside me. I opened my mouth to answer just as he slipped three thick
fingers inside my passage. “Nineteen, Master,” came out on a gasp.

Jones
moved to retrieve whatever was inside the cubby hole, but I couldn’t pay
attention to what it was. I focused all of my efforts on not moving at all,
which was far easier said than done considering the need I felt to press my
hips closer to Thornton’s hand.

A
paddle struck me firmly on the ass. Each blow drove me closer to Thornton’s
tormenting hand, and pressed me down harder onto the thumbtacks. On the
nineteenth, the force of it was enough that it shook the clothespin on my clit
free and I cried out as the blood rushed back into it.

Bradford
picked it up off the floor, and I thought he was going to put it straight back
where it had come from. He didn’t, but the alternative was probably worse. He
swept his hands across my breasts, sending all of the other clothespins flying
and the blood rushing painfully back where it belonged.

“Number?”

Sixteen
earned me a piece of toast, but then eleven brought eleven strikes from a
riding crop directly onto my clit. We kept working our way through the cubby
holes. I was given steamed vegetables, a few strawberries, and a piece of
string cheese, plus a sip of orange juice.

I
would have had more juice than just a little sip, but Thornton had taken to
twisting the butt plug around in my ass while he frigged my cunt, and then all
of a sudden he pulled the plug free and slammed it home again right as I was
trying to drink, and I spilled the rest of my juice.

In
between all of that, I was flogged on the breasts, caned on the bottoms of my
feet, had a spiked wheel drawn repeatedly over my breasts and abdomen, had ice
cubes held against my tits and clit, and then finally had a tingling, stinging
sort of cream rubbed all over my way-too-fucking sensitive skin. At every
point, Thornton worked on my pussy or ass, or Jones would suck and bite at my
tits, never leaving me even so much as a moment without some sort of crazy,
sexed-up need going on.

And
then we were down to the last cubby hole.

“Give
me a number, Fuck Toy.”

“One,
Master,” I said through my tears of desperation. I couldn’t tell you what I was
desperate for anymore. More pain? An orgasm? An end to it all? I didn’t know.

Jones
once again crossed the room. When he came back, he handed Bradford some sort of
device that looked like a whacked out microphone.

Bradford
hit a button, and the thing buzzed to life. “Don’t come until I tell you to.”
And then he bent to the floor and pressed it against my clit, and I nearly came
off the ground from the shock of it.

I
subconsciously tried to back away, but Thornton pushed me closer. My entire
body bowed back, trying to both escape the touch and get more of it. I was
screaming, and tears were flowing freely, and my legs writhed beneath me, and
still Bradford pressed it into me.

The
need to come was so great that my hands and feet cramped into crazy positions
and I couldn’t move them at all. “Please, Master,” I begged, no longer caring
about anything other than reaching the orgasm that had been building since I
woke up this morning.

A
few more minutes of his torture passed, and then finally, he turned it all the
way up to high. “Come, Fuck Toy.”

I
exploded like a supernova.

The
next thing I knew, I was straddling Jones on a bed, with his cock buried deep
in my cunt, rubbing against the butt plug through the thin membrane with each
thrust. My hands were still cuffed behind my back, and I could still feel a few
of the thumbtacks pressed deep into my knees and lower legs, though at least
they were on a mattress now and not a concrete floor. Thornton came over and
shoved his cock down my throat, grasping my hair to guide me exactly how he
wanted me. I’d barely swallowed him when I felt Bradford toying with the plug
in my ass, sliding it in and out a few times before removing it completely.

Almost
as soon as he did that, he climbed onto the bed behind me and buried his
massive cock in my abused ass hole. No matter how many plugs they’d had in
there, I wasn’t well-stretched enough for his invasion.

I
screamed onto Thornton’s cock, and he held my head tight against his body, my
nose pressed against his pelvis while the other two fucked me in a near-frantic
rhythm. Finally, he released me and I gasped for air.

I
barely had a full breath before he put one hand over each ear and held my head
in place while he picked up the same thrusting pace as the other two. The
mattress squeaked beneath us as the three men filled me in every way, and the
room was filled with wet, slapping sounds and grunts and moans, not to mention
my garbled screams.

Jones
reached down between us and rubbed hard on my clit, and the pain sent me over
the edge into ecstasy again, and my limbs turned to rubber, and I collapsed.