Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
My moans were constant now, loud and uninhibited.
“I’m gonna fill this greedy hole,” The Black Mask snarled, his control fraying. He had a finger on my clit and rubbed me with measured, controlled motions until I saw stars. His thrusts lost all rhythm, becoming a wild, frantic pounding. “Gonna pump my fucking cum so deep inside you, you’ll be feeling it slipping out of you all fucking day.”
His words, his gigantic cock shoved in me, and the way he rubbed my clit tipped me over the edge. My orgasm erupted without warning, a convulsive, shattering wave that locked my body in a rigid arch. My cunt clamped down on his dick with a violent, milking pressure, and my moan was pure, unfiltered ecstasy.
The Stag and The Skull grunted loudly, and then they were coming, shooting thick, white jets of cum over my face, neck, and breasts. The Black Mask growled and slammed into me in one final, bottoming-out thrust. I felt the hot, sudden flood of his release jetting inside me, his shaft pulsing in time with his orgasm.
The Black Mask held himself there, buried to the hilt, balls emptying inside of me, as my body continued to shudder around his penetration. I was hypersensitive and overwhelmed.
The warmth of his cum inside me was a shocking, intimate presence. But he didn’t pull out. He stayed there, his cock still semi-hard, plugging me full of his semen. The Skull and The Stag gave two shakes to their cocks, making sure every drop landed on my overheated skin and in my greedy mouth.
The room settled into a thick, weighted quiet, the kind that felt alive against my skin. Heat still hung in the air, clinging to the walls, to the sheets, to me.
The Stag and The Skull had finally eased back but only just, still hovering close enough that when they reached out, their hands drifted over my skin in slow, proprietary strokes, tracing the mess they’d made of me.
The Black Mask hadn’t moved at all. His weight held me to the mattress, his breath still coming out fast and hard. Every subtle shift of his body echoed inside mine, a reminder of just how deeply he was still rooted in my pussy.
No one spoke. Words would’ve broken whatever this was… this strange, charged stillness that felt more intimate than anything we’d done before.
The Stag’s thumb swept across my cheek, smearing the warmth of the cum The Skull left on my lips and chin. His motion was deliberate, almost a reverent glide. His gaze stayed fixed on me, dark and unreadable.
Beside him, The Skull traced the line of my collarbone down to my breast with a slow, clinical touch, rubbing The Stag’s seed into my skin.
Snow pressed against the windows, the promise of more torrential weather on the horizon. The cabin felt suspended in its own little world carved out of heat, erotic depravity, and silence.
I let my eyes fall closed for a moment, feeling their hands and the warmth of their bodies surrounding me. The way the air itself seemed to hum around us, and everything else faded until all I concentrated on was the cold, another impending storm, and the reality waiting beyond these four walls.
For now… this was all that existed. Their breath. Their presence. And the aftermath of too much desire, pleasure, and the unknown…
And the terrifying truth that I didn’t want them to leave.
9
Iwoke to heat and weight and the low, constant hum of the cabin settling. I lay there and stared at the ceiling for long seconds. I could hear the weather howling outside and knew without looking that the steady fall of snow was on the other side of the glass.
For a few disorienting seconds, there was no cabin, no storm, no context. It was just the throb in my muscles, the soreness between my thighs, and the smell of smoke and sweat and sex clinging to the air like a second skin.
I rolled onto my back. Then, the ceiling swam into focus. Dark wooden beams. A faint water stain shaped like an inkblot near the corner. And the weight of the blanket pressing me down into the mattress.
The night before and this morning hit in jagged fragments. Hands, masks, dominant orders that sounded like threats, and the burn of garland at my throat. I could hear my voice breaking on sounds I couldn’t name.
My body pulsed and ached at the memory, a slow, traitorous echo.
There was a pressure along my sides, hot and solid. An arm lay across my waist, palm heavy against my stomach, fingers spread like an anchor. Another warmth pressed against my feet. They were unmoving as I was caged in.
They all breathed in even intervals. I could pick them out now. One slow and even near my forehead. One deeper, rough against my neck. One was faintly snoring somewhere near my feet.