A Lost Little Red Riding Hood
# Into the Woods The evening air was cool and sharp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Every crunch of dry leaves under C’s thin-soled boots felt deafening. The short, ruby-red dress barely covered his thighs, the matching cloak a
Chapter 1
The evening air was cool and sharp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Every crunch of dry leaves under C’s thin-soled boots felt deafening. The short, ruby-red dress barely covered his thighs, the matching cloak a flimsy shield against the creeping twilight. The white stockings felt absurdly delicate against his skin, a stark contrast to the rough bark of the trees he occasionally stumbled against. Riley’s final, wicked smile flashed in his mind—*“Just walk. Your wolves are waiting.”*
Every shadow seemed to shift. Every rustle in the undergrowth was a footfall. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of silk and lace.
“Ain’t this a sight.”
The voice was a slow, honeyed drawl from his left. He froze. Emerging from between two towering oaks was a woman, tall and slim as a sapling. Blonde hair, loosely escaping a messy braid, framed a face with a smile that was all teeth and promise. Her eyes, even in the fading light, held a predatory gleam.
“Look what wandered off the path, M,” the blonde purred, not taking her eyes off C.
From the opposite thicket, a second figure materialized. Shorter, muscular, with a fiery red ponytail. Tattoos snaked down her corded forearms. She planted her boots firmly, crossing her arms with a confidence that felt like a physical wall. “Sure did, N. Little Red lookin’ all lost and… tasty.”
C’s breath hitched. This was it. The script was in his head—*protest, struggle, say no*—but the raw reality of their presence, the sheer physicality of them, short-circuited his thoughts. He took a stumbling step back. “Stay away from me.”
N’s laugh was a soft, rolling thing. “Or what, darlin’? You gonna tell your grandma?” She took a step forward, and C matched it with a step back, his heel catching on a root.
M moved like liquid shadow, circling to his right, cutting off his retreat. “Seems to me,” she said, her voice a rougher, deeper drawl, “you’re dressed for a party you ain’t sure you wanna attend.” Her gaze swept over him, lingering on the stockings, the hem of the dress. “All that pretty lace, just beggin’ to be torn.”
“I’m not—I don’t consent to this!” The words burst from him, shrill in the quiet woods. They felt hollow, a required incantation. Inside, a treacherous heat was already pooling in his gut.
N was in front of him now, so close he could smell a faint hint of leather and wildflowers on her. She reached out, not touching him, but hooking a finger under the silk ribbon at his throat that held the cloak. “That so?” she murmured, her playful tone laced with steel. “Then why’s your heart beatin’ like a rabbit’s? Why’d you walk all the way out here in this… costume?”
She gave the ribbon a gentle, deliberate tug. The clasp gave way, and the red cloak slid from his shoulders, piling at his feet in a heap of scarlet. He was exposed, the chill air biting at his arms and neck.
M closed the final distance behind him. He felt the solid, warm presence of her body before her hands landed heavily on his shoulders, rooting him to the spot. “Hush now,” she whispered against his ear, her breath hot. “The talkin’s done. The walkin’s done. Time for the huntin’.”
C stiffened, a genuine tremor of fear and overwhelming arousal racing down his spine. He opened his mouth to voice another refusal, another ‘no’, but all that came out was a shaky, traitorous gasp. The electric, terrifying game had begun, and every protest was a thread in the web they were weaving tight around him.
Chapter 2
“Look at him shiver,” N cooed, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. She didn’t touch him, just let her gaze roam over his exposed body like a collector admiring a prize. “All that pretty protest just drippin’ out of him. Bet he’s soakin’ through those silly little panties right now.”
M’s hands tightened on his shoulders, her thumbs digging into the tense muscles. “Let’s find out.” Her voice was a low, rough promise against the shell of his ear.
“No!” C cried out, the word tearing from his throat as he tried to twist away. It was useless. M’s strength was immense, an immovable anchor. He felt her knee nudge his legs apart from behind, forcing his stance wider.
“You said ‘no’, darlin’,” N said, finally closing the last inch of distance. Her fingers, cool and deliberate, traced the lace trim at the hem of his short dress. “But your body’s singin’ a whole different hymn.” With a sharp, precise motion, she bunched the red silk in her fist and yanked it up to his waist.
The cold forest air hit his bare thighs and the white lace of his panties. A choked gasp escaped him. N’s playful smile never wavered as she hooked her fingers into the waistband.
“Please, stop,” he begged, his voice cracking. He bucked against M’s hold, a frantic, pathetic struggle.
M just chuckled, the sound vibrating through his back. “Beggin’ already? We ain’t even started.” She released one shoulder only to snake her arm around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides in a brutal embrace. “Hold still for inspection.”
“Such a good little actor,” N mused, her southern drawl dripping with sarcasm. She gave the lace a slow, torturous pull downward, over his hips. “All these ‘no’s and ‘stop’s. But see?” Her knuckle brushed against his stiffening cock as she exposed him fully to the twilight. “This here tells the truth. This says ‘yes, ma’am.’ This says ‘take me.’”
C squeezed his eyes shut, humiliation and raw, degrading arousal burning through him. He was completely exposed, held upright between them, every tremble on display.
“Open your eyes, baby,” N commanded softly, her voice losing none of its playful edge. “You’re gonna watch.” She knelt in the bed of leaves before him, her blonde braid falling over one shoulder. “You’re gonna watch every last bit of your precious control get eaten up.”
Chapter 3
“Go on, baby. Look,” N whispered, her breath a warm puff against his exposed skin. Her wicked smile was pure, predatory delight.
C forced his eyes open, a helpless tremor shaking him from head to toe. The sight was a brutal violation: N, on her knees in the leaf litter, her gaze locked on his arousal with a knowing, playful ownership. Her fingers were still hooked in the lace at his hips, holding him in place for her appraisal.
“See what we see?” M rumbled from behind him, her arm like an iron band around his chest. Her other hand slid down his stomach, calloused and possessive. “All this pretty, desperate flesh. Bet Riley knew exactly what she was doin’, sendin’ you out here dressed like a treat.”
“She— She didn’t mean—” C stammered, the lie dying as M’s hand closed around his cock.
“Hush,” M commanded, her voice rough with amusement. She gave him a slow, firm stroke, her grip unforgiving. “She meant *this*. She paid for *this*. For us to hear all your cute little ‘no’s and just… take.” She punctuated the word with another deliberate pull, making his hips jerk.
N leaned forward, her blonde braid brushing his thigh. “You taste that fear, darlin’?” she murmured, her lips a hair’s breadth from his heated skin. “It’s sweet. Like candy.” She didn’t kiss or lick, just hovered, letting the promise of her mouth radiate against him. “But the real flavor… that’s your want. It’s pourin’ off you. Beggin’ for my mouth.”
“I’m not— I don’t want—” he cried out, arching against M’s hold as her hand worked him with a cruel, perfect rhythm.
“Your body’s a filthy liar, then,” N chuckled, finally closing the gap. She didn’t take him in her mouth, not yet. Instead, she pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the very tip, her tongue flicking out for a fleeting, devastating taste. C bucked hard, a ragged sob torn from his throat.
“Please, stop, *please*…”
“Which ‘please’ is that, sugar?” N drawled, pulling back just to watch him strain. “The one that means ‘stop’? Or the one that really means ‘don’t you dare’?” She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming in the dusk. “Gonna have to be more specific.”
M’s hand never slowed, her strokes becoming tighter, more focused. “Think he needs convincin’, N. Think he needs to be reminded who’s runnin’ this hunt.”
“I think you’re right,” N purred. Her hands came up to grip his hips, her nails biting through the thin silk of his dress. “Time to see how deep that ‘no’ really goes.”
She finally took him into the wet heat of her mouth, swallowing him down with a practiced, leisurely greed. The sensation was an electric shock, blinding and absolute. C’s vision whited out. Every protest, every scripted refusal, evaporated into a guttural, broken moan. M held him upright as his legs threatened to give way, her own breath hot and ragged against his neck.
“That’s it,” M growled, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Let go of that pretty little lie. Just feel it.”
N worked him with slow, deep pulls, her tongue swirling, her throat humming around him. The obscene, wet sounds filled the quiet woods, a stark counterpoint to his shattered whimpers. He was unspooling between them, every nerve alight, every inch of his skin screaming with the raw, degrading pleasure of being used exactly as intended. The climb was ruthless, a steep, relentless ascent towards a peak they would decide when—or if—he reached.
Chapter 4
“Mmm, delicious,” N hummed, pulling off him with a wet, obscene pop. She kept her grip on his hips, nails biting into the silk. “But I think we need our hands free, don’t you, M? Time to make sure our Little Red doesn’t get any ideas about runnin’.”
C was still shuddering, his body screaming from the abrupt loss of her mouth. “No, wait, don’t—” he panted, the plea automatic.
“Hush that,” M growled from behind him. In one fluid, powerful motion, she wrenched his arms behind his back. His wrists crossed, and he felt the scratchy, unforgiving bite of rough hemp rope as she looped it around them. He cried out, struggling against her expert knots, but each twist only pulled the bindings tighter, securing him with brutal efficiency. “There. That’s better. Can’t have you pushin’ us away now, can we?”
N stood, brushing leaves from her knees, her wicked smile wider than ever. She stepped in close, her body a teasing press against his bound, exposed front. “Look at you,” she whispered, her southern drawl a honeyed taunt. One hand trailed down his chest, over his trembling stomach, and circled his aching cock. “All tied up and still standin’ at attention for us. Your ‘no’ is the prettiest, filthiest lie I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not a lie!” he choked out, bucking feebly into her touch even as he said it.
“Isn’t it?” She gave him a slow, deliberate stroke, her thumb smearing the wetness beading at his tip. “Your body’s beggin’, sugar. It’s screamin’ for it. And we’re gonna listen.” She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “We’re gonna take you right here, over and over, until the only word left in that pretty mouth is ‘please’. Until you’re beggin’ us for what you’re tryin’ so hard to refuse.”
M’s hands settled on his bound shoulders, her touch possessive. “He’s all yours, N. Show him what happens to liars in these woods.”
N’s playful gaze hardened with intent. “My pleasure.” She sank back to her knees, her eyes locked on his as her mouth descended on him again, swallowing him deep. This time, there was no leisurely tease. It was a relentless, greedy claim, her tongue working him with a rhythm that stole the breath from his lungs.
Helpless, wrists bound behind him, C could only stand and take it. Every suck, every hum, coiled the tension in his gut tighter, a furious spring winding toward a break he was forbidden to reach. His protests died into shattered, desperate moans that echoed through the darkening trees.
Chapter 5
N released him with a soft, wet sound, a string of saliva glistening in the twilight as she sat back on her heels. Her grin was triumphant. “See that, M? He’s about to pop, and we ain’t even got his pretty ass in the air yet.”
“I see it,” M growled, her arm still an iron bar across his chest. She gave his bound body a rough shake. “Think you can come from just a mouth, sugar? Without permission?”
“No—I won’t—” C panted, the denial a broken whisper. His entire body was a live wire, taut and humming on the edge.
“Liar,” N sang, rising to her feet. She brushed her hands on her thighs. “But we’re gonna be fair. Gonna give that desperate little cock a break.” Her playful eyes swept over him, down to his trembling thighs. “Time for the other half of the inspection.”
C’s breath hitched. “What?”
M’s chuckle was a dark, knowing thing. She shoved him forward, using the rope on his wrists as a leash. He stumbled, his bare knees hitting the soft, damp earth. Fallen leaves stuck to his skin. “On your hands and knees, Little Red. Let’s see if you’re dressed for the part back here, too.”
N knelt behind him. He felt her hands, cool and sure, on the backs of his thighs, pushing the short red dress up over his hips. The cool air kissed his exposed ass, covered only by the flimsy white lace of his panties.
“Oh, my,” N drawled, her voice dripping with mock surprise. She traced the lace with a fingernail. “Would you look at this. It’s barely there. Practically an invitation.”
“Please don’t,” C whispered into the dirt, the protest hollow even to his own ears.
“Please don’t what, darlin’?” M asked, circling to face him. She crouched down, her muscular frame blocking his view of the trees. She grabbed his chin, forcing his head up. Her eyes were hard. “Please don’t tear these silly panties off? Please don’t make you take what you’ve been dreamin’ about?” She leaned in, her breath hot on his face. “You’re gonna say ‘thank you’ before this is done.”
Behind him, he heard the distinct, terrifying sound of fabric tearing. A sharp *rip* echoed in the quiet, and then the lace was gone, a torn scrap discarded in the leaves. He was completely bare, exposed to the forest and their hungry eyes.
N’s hand came down on his ass with a sharp, stinging *crack*. The sound was loud, the bite of pain immediate and bright. He cried out, his body jolting forward.
“There’s a start,” N purred, rubbing the warm, tingling skin. “One for every ‘no’ you’ve wasted our time with.” Her hand fell again, another sharp slap that echoed his choked gasp. “Your wife paid for a show, baby. Time to perform.”
Chapter 6
M’s hand, a brand against his already stinging skin, cracked down again. The sharp slap echoed through the quiet woods, punctuated by C’s choked cry.
“Count ‘em, sugar,” N commanded from behind him, her voice a playful lilt. She punctuated each word with a rough squeeze of his ass. “How many times you told us ‘no’?”
“I… I don’t know,” C gasped, his face pressed into the leaf litter.
“Five,” M stated, landing another stinging blow. “That’s five.” The pain was bright and hot, melting instantly into a deep, throbbing warmth that spread through his pelvis. His cock, still slick from her mouth, jerked between his legs, achingly hard and ignored.
“Seems he likes his medicine,” N observed, her fingers tracing the heated skin. She leaned close, her breath ghosting over his most intimate flesh. “All this pretty, pink skin, quiverin’ for us. You wanna thank M for correctin’ you, darlin’?”
The words were a trap. His pride screamed to stay silent, but the raw, exposed need was louder. “Th-thank you,” he whispered, the humiliation a scalding wave.
“Louder,” M growled, her hand landing a sixth time, softer now, a possessive caress that stung all the same.
“Thank you!” he cried out, the words torn from him.
“Good boy,” N purred. Her touch changed, from punitive to invasive. A single, slick finger pressed against his tight, untouched entrance, not pushing in, just resting there with unbearable promise. “Now, let’s see if the rest of you is as honest.”
C shuddered, a full-body convulsion. “Please, not there…”
“Not there?” N mocked, withdrawing her finger only to spread his cheeks wide, exposing him completely to the cool air and their gaze. “Why? You save this for your wife? Or were you just hopin’ we’d claim it anyway?”
M moved in front of him again, crouching down. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head up to meet her eyes. “You’re ours right now. Every part. This tight little ass is ours. And we’re gonna take it. You’re gonna feel us for days, and every time you do, you’ll remember beggin’ for it in the dirt.”
N’s finger returned, this time with purpose. The blunt pressure was insistent, unforgiving. He clenched instinctively, a futile defense.
“Uh-uh,” N chided, her other hand coming down in a sharp smack on his opposite cheek. “Relax. Or this is gonna hurt a whole lot more.”
Tears of frustration and overwhelming arousal blurred his vision. His body betrayed him, the ring of muscle yielding under her persistent, circling pressure. With a soft, obscene pop, the tip of her finger breached him.
A ragged sob escaped his gag. It was an intrusion, a violation of the script he’d clung to, and it ignited a fire in his core that burned away every last pretense of refusal. It was full, it was stretching, it was exactly what he’d secretly craved.
“There we go,” N cooed, working her finger in deeper with a slow, cruel twist. “Oh, yeah. He’s tight as a fist. Gonna feel so good wrapped around somethin’ thicker.” She began a shallow, pumping rhythm, her finger dragging against his sensitive inner walls. The dual sensation of being filled and the lingering burn of his spanked skin fused into a single, white-hot coil of need in his gut, winding tighter with every retreating stroke.
M watched his face, her grin feral. “Look at him. Can’t even pretend he hates it anymore.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant only for him. “You’re takin’ her finger like a champion. Just wait ‘til it’s my cock.”
The explicit threat, the vivid promise, shattered his last reserve. His hips gave an involuntary jerk back, seeking more of that devastating friction. The movement drew a low, approving laugh from N.
“Atta boy,” she breathed, crooking her finger inside him, searching. “Now you’re learnin’ how to be our good little slut.”
Chapter 7
N’s chuckle was dark and rich as she finally withdrew her slick finger with a soft, wet sound. C shuddered, his body trembling from the sudden emptiness.
“Think you’re ready for the main event, darlin’?” M asked, her voice a low rumble.
Before C could even form a denial, N’s hand was in his hair, fisting the brown locks. With a firm, unyielding pressure, she shoved his face down into the damp, leafy forest floor. The taste of earth and decay filled his mouth, the cool moisture a shock against his heated skin. He grunted, struggling to turn his head, but her grip was absolute.
“Stay put,” N commanded, her tone losing its playful edge. “You watch the dirt. We’ll watch you.”
From behind him, he heard the distinct, slick sound of a bottle being opened. His heart hammered against his ribs.
“That’s it, sugar,” M’s honeyed drawl poured over him, thick and warm. He felt the cool drizzle of lube against his exposed, tender entrance, making him flinch. Then, the warm, broad pad of her thumb circled him, smearing the slickness. “You’re gonna take every inch of what we’re givin’ you.”
Her first finger pressed in, easier now, his body shamefully accustomed. But it wasn’t enough for her. He felt the pressure of a second fingertip joining the first, a burning, stretching fullness that forced a ragged gasp from his lungs.
“And you’re gonna thank us for it before we’re through,” she continued, working her fingers in a slow, scissoring motion that made his toes curl in the dirt. The stretch was immense, a deep, claiming ache that sparked directly into the root of his cock, which throbbed, neglected and dripping, beneath him.
N leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. “You hear that, little Red? That’s M gettin’ you ready for her. You gonna be a good boy and thank her for her patience?”
C tried to shake his head, but it was pinned. A broken sob was his only answer.
“Use your words,” M growled, curling her fingers inside him, striking a spot that made his entire body convulse. A punched-out moan was torn from him.
“Th-thank you,” he gasped into the leaves, the humiliation complete.
“Thank you *for what*, exactly?” N purred, her grip tightening.
“For… for getting me ready,” C choked out, the confession burning worse than the stretch.
M’s laugh was a dark promise. “Good. ‘Cause I’m just gettin’ started.”
Chapter 8
N’s hand remained a firm, unyielding weight on the back of C’s head, grinding his cheek into the cool, damp moss. The earthy scent filled his nostrils, a raw contrast to the slick, shameful heat building between his legs.
“Please,” he begged, the word muffled by the ground. “Don’t do this. I’ll… I’ll do anything else. Anything you want, just not that.”
M’s low chuckle vibrated through him, her fingers never stopping their methodical work. He felt the thick, wet slide of more lube, cold at first, then warming as she massaged it into his tight, clenching entrance. “Anything but this?” she echoed, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Sugar, this *is* what we want. This is the whole point of the party.”
Her thumb pressed firmly against him, a blunt, claiming pressure that made him whimper. “You’re so slick already, all on your own,” she observed, her voice a husky growl right beside his ear. “Your body’s beggin’ for it, even if that pretty mouth of yours is still lyin’.”
“No, it’s not, I swear!” C cried out, trying to twist away, but N’s grip was iron. “I don’t want this!”
“Time to see if this little red can handle what he’s been beggin’ for,” M growled, the promise final.
He felt the blunt, insistent pressure of something far larger than her fingers. The rounded, silicone tip of the strap-on nudged against him, a terrifying promise of the stretch to come. He clenched instinctively, a sob tearing from his throat.
“Easy now,” M soothed, her voice a dangerous parody of comfort. She rubbed the head against him, coating it in the mess of lube and his own slick arousal. “Just relax and take it. You said you’d do anything. Well, this is the anything.”
“Not this! Please, not this!” C babbled, panic cresting as the pressure intensified. He felt his body yielding, a burning, gradual surrender that betrayed every one of his screamed denials. The tip began to breach him, a slow, inexorable invasion that stole his breath.
N leaned down, her lips brushing his dirt-streaked ear. “Shhh, darlin’. Just let it happen. You know you wanna.”
He didn’t. He couldn’t. But as M pushed forward with a relentless, steady force, filling him with a deep, stretching fullness that bordered on pain, his traitorous cock gave a frantic, leaking jerk against the cold ground. A broken, shuddering moan was punched out of him, the sound one of utter defeat.
M paused, buried to the hilt inside him, letting him feel every impossible inch. “There now,” she purred, her hands gripping his hips possessively. “That’s it. All the way home. You’re takin’ it so good. Just like you were meant to.”
Chapter 9
“She’s takin’ it real sweet, ain’t she?” N’s voice was a playful purr from somewhere behind the phone’s lens.
M’s hips rolled in a slow, grinding rhythm, the harness creaking softly. She leaned over C’s prone back, her breath hot on his neck. “She is. But I think our little girl needs to present herself proper. Get up on all fours, sugar. Show N how deep you can really take it.”
The words sent a fresh bolt of humiliation through him. “No,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I can’t. Please, don’t make me—”
M stilled, then sighed, as if dealing with a petulant child. “N, be a darlin’ and free her hands.”
He felt the pressure of the cord binding his wrists loosen as N worked the knot. The instant the last strand fell away, a desperate, foolish hope flared. He shoved back against M with a frantic, scrambling lunge, trying to crawl out from under her.
His escape lasted two seconds.
A strong hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back, while another arm hooked around his waist, pulling him flush against a muscular body. They laughed, a rich, shared sound of pure amusement that burned worse than any spank.
“Oh, look at her try!” N crowed, the phone undoubtedly capturing his wild-eyed panic.
“Feisty little slut,” M grunted, effortlessly manhandling him onto his hands and knees. The sudden shift made the toy inside him press against a devastating new angle, and he gasped, his arms trembling.
N quickly secured his wrists again, this time in front of him with the same red cord, leaving him bound and perfectly positioned. M settled behind him, her hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise.
“There now,” she whispered, her southern drawl thick and filthy in his ear. “That’s how a good girl presents herself. All open and eager.” She began to move again, shallow thrusts that quickly deepened. “Look at that. Takes it so beautiful. Like you were made for this.”
“Stop filming! Please, stop!” C begged, tears of shame stinging his eyes. He tried to hide his face, but the position forced his head down, his back arched obscenely.
“And why would we do that, little girl?” N asked, circling them. “This is the best part. Your pretty, married ass in the air, gettin’ what it secretly always wanted.” The phone’s red recording light was a malevolent eye.
*Smack!*
M’s open palm connected sharply with his right cheek, a bright, shocking sting. He cried out, his body jolting forward on the thrust.
“Keep that ass up for the camera,” M ordered, her voice rough with exertion. She settled into a punishing, steady pace, each drive punching a weak, protesting moan from his lungs. *Smack!* She spanked the other side. “Look how she clenches. Beggin’ for more, even while she’s beggin’ us to stop. Ain’t that right, you desperate little slut?”
Chapter 10
The sudden, aching emptiness was a shock. M pulled out of him completely, the cold night air rushing in to replace the heat of her invasion. C sagged forward onto his bound forearms, a ragged sob of relief escaping his lips. *It’s over. Thank God, it’s over.*
His relief lasted a heartbeat.
He heard the soft, wet sound of silicone against leather, followed by N’s low chuckle. His head whipped around just in time to see her moving into position behind him, her own strap gleaming under the moonlight. M was circling to his front, her cock still slick and glistening with his own shame.
“No,” he breathed, the word barely a whisper. Then, louder, a frantic chant: “No, no, no!”
“Shhh,” M crooned, her voice dripping with false sympathy. She dropped to her knees before him, her free hand snapping forward to fist in his hair. “Trade’s not done, sweet thing. Just gettin’ interesting.” With brutal force, she yanked his head forward. “Open up.”
He clenched his jaw shut, a final, futile act of defiance.
N’s hands settled on his hips, her grip like iron. “Suit yourself,” she purred. He felt the blunt, slick press of her fingers against his used, tender entrance, circling, teasing. “But I ain’t as patient as M.” Without warning, she drove two fingers deep inside him, the stretch a sharp, burning reminder.
C cried out, his mouth flying open in a gasp of pain—and M capitalized instantly. She shoved the head of her cock past his lips, the taste of himself bitter and intimate on his tongue.
“There we go,” M sighed, tilting the phone in her other hand to capture his wide, tear-filled eyes. “Look at that. Properly serviced.”
N withdrew her fingers, leaving him empty and clenching. “My turn, darlin’,” she growled, her voice thick with anticipation. She lined herself up, the tip nudging insistently against him. “Let’s see how loud you scream when I fill you up proper.” She leaned over his back, her breath hot on his ear. “Most girls get pretty stretched out by me!”
The threat coiled in his gut, a terrifying promise. He tried to shake his head, to plead around the intrusion in his mouth, but M’s grip on his hair was unyielding. All he could manage was a desperate, muffled groan.
N pushed in.
It was different from M—thicker, a relentless, burning pressure that didn’t stop, didn’t yield. He screamed, the sound garbled by the cock fucking his mouth. His body tried to arch away, but N held him firm, sinking deeper with a low, satisfied grunt.
“Oh, she’s tight,” N moaned, beginning a slow, devastating rhythm. “Tighter’n a fist. You feel that, M? She’s fightin’ it so pretty.”
M hummed in agreement, her hips giving a shallow thrust against his face. “She’s all talk and no walk. Always was.” She adjusted the phone’s angle. “Say ‘ah’ for the camera, baby. Let your wife see how good you take it.”
Tears streamed down C’s cheeks, his world narrowed to the dual violation, the creak of harnesses, and the relentless, red eye of the camera capturing every second of his surrender.
Chapter 11
C’s body was a live wire of raw panic and sensation. He bucked violently, a wild animal thrashing against the twin poles of their bodies, but their grips were absolute. N’s hands clamped his hips like vices, her thumbs digging into the soft flesh as she drove into him with deep, punishing strokes. “Look at this little girl fight,” she grunted, the rhythm never faltering. “Got fire in her, M. Feels so good when she squirms.”
M’s cock hit the back of his throat with each of his convulsions, making him gag and sputter. She pulled back just enough for him to suck in a ragged, sobbing breath. “You want to be a good girl for the camera, don’t you?” M cooed, her voice a sharp contrast to the brutal hold she had on his head. She angled the phone down, capturing the obscene joining of N’s harness to his ravaged body. “Show Riley how pretty you look getting split open.”
“No!” C screamed the moment his mouth was free, the word torn from him. He tried to wrench his head away, but M’s fingers tightened in his hair, a scalping threat. “Stop it! I’m not—ah!”
His protest was cut off as N chose that moment to slam home particularly deep, a white-hot lance of pleasure-pain that stole his breath and his fight for a second. A broken, high-pitched moan escaped him instead.
“There’s that sweet girl noise,” N laughed, her pace becoming ruthless, a relentless piston. “Knew you had it in you.” She leaned over his arched back, her mouth close to his ear. “You’re takin’ me so good now, sweetheart. Your pretty little ass is suckin’ me right in.”
Humiliation burned hotter than the stretch. He was hard, achingly so, his own neglected cock trapped between his belly and the forest floor. Every slam from behind sent a jolt through it, a traitorous pulse of need that contradicted every screamed “no.”
M forced herself back into his mouth, not letting him hide. “Uh-uh,” she chided, her thrusts into his throat matching N’s tempo. “You don’t get to hide. The camera needs to see your eyes when you break.” She held the device steady, a merciless director. “Look at you. My pretty, fucked-out little girl.”
C’s struggles grew weaker, not from surrender, but from sheer exhaustion. The fight was being fucked out of him, replaced by a shattering, unwanted crescendo of feeling. Tears of frustration and overwhelming stimulation streamed down his face as their voices, their bodies, and the unblinking eye of the camera conspired to remake him into their whimpering, willing girl.
Chapter 12
“Look at this,” N grunted, her rhythm becoming a brutal, piston-like drive that slammed C’s body forward with each stroke. “Little girl’s still tryin’ to buck me off. Like a wild filly.” Her hands dug into the bruised flesh of his hips, holding him steady against her assault. “But she ain’t goin’ nowhere. You feel that? You’re takin’ every goddamn inch.”
C’s scream was muffled around M, a desperate, guttural sound of protest that vibrated against her. He tried to pull away, to collapse, but their combined force held him in a perfect, agonizing suspension. Tears blurred the forest floor beneath him.
M pulled back, letting him gasp. She angled the phone, its red recording light a hellish eye. “You hear that, sweet Riley?” she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Your husband’s a natural. I don’t know too many sluts who’d just take an ass-to-mouth train like this one, no questions asked. He’s a special kind of greedy.”
“I’m not!” C sobbed, the denial ripped from him. “Stop, please, I can’t—!” His plea shattered into a sharp cry as N found a devastating angle, the hard length of her strap scraping a spot inside him that sent white lightning up his spine. His cock, trapped and neglected, twitched violently against his stomach, leaking a steady, shameful stream onto the dead leaves.
“Please what?” N taunted, leaning over his sweat-slick back, her breath hot on his neck. “Please don’t make you come? ‘Cause that’s what’s happenin’, darlin’. Your tight little hole is squeezin’ me like a fist. You’re fuckin’ yourself on me.” She pistoned harder, faster, the slap of skin against the faux leather harness filling the clearing. “Gonna make a mess for us, aren’t you? Our good girl.”
The humiliation of their words collided with the terrifying, undeniable build in his core. A coil of pure, electric need wound tighter and tighter with every deep, penetrating drive. He shook his head wildly, a final, futile denial, but his hips had begun to stutter back against her, meeting her thrusts with a traitorous, shallow grind.
“There it is,” M whispered, her voice a razor of triumph. She forced herself back between his lips, not for her own pleasure, but to silence his cries, to make him taste the sweat and salt of his own degradation. “Let it go. Show the camera what a pretty little mess you are.”
To his absolute horror, C felt his body detonate. A wave of white-hot release tore through him, utterly beyond his control. His back arched violently as his cock pulsed, spilling his climax onto the ground in hot, helpless stripes. A ragged, broken moan was swallowed by M as his internal muscles clenched and fluttered around N in uncontrollable, rhythmic spasms, milking the fake cock deep inside him through the shocking, shameful waves of his surrender.
N let out a low, appreciative whistle, grinding deep as he convulsed. “Damn, girl. Soaked me right through.” She stayed buried in him, letting him ride out the last tremors against her.
M finally withdrew from his mouth, wiping his spit from her chin with a smirk. She panned the camera slowly over his wrecked, trembling form—the tear-streaked face, the sheen of sweat, the evidence of his climax smeared on his stomach and the earth. “Got it all, baby,” she murmured, her tone possessive. “Every last second of you breakin’. Riley’s gonna love her present.”
Chapter 13
“Look at this,” N grunted, her rhythm becoming a brutal, piston-like drive that slammed C’s body forward with each stroke. “Little girl’s still tryin’ to buck me off. Like a wild filly.” Her hands dug into the bruised flesh of his hips, holding him steady against her assault. “But she ain’t goin’ nowhere. You feel that? You’re takin’ every goddamn inch.”
C’s scream was muffled around M, a desperate, guttural sound of protest that vibrated against her. He tried to pull away, to collapse, but their combined force held him in a perfect, agonizing suspension. Tears blurred the forest floor beneath him.
M pulled back, letting him gasp. She angled the phone, its red recording light a hellish eye. “You hear that, sweet Riley?” she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Your husband’s a natural. I don’t know too many sluts who’d just take an ass-to-mouth train like this one, no questions asked. He’s a special kind of greedy.”
“I’m not!” C sobbed, the denial ripped from him. “Stop, please, I can’t—!” His plea shattered into a sharp cry as N found a devastating angle, the hard length of her strap scraping a spot inside him that sent white lightning up his spine. His cock, trapped and neglected, twitched violently against his stomach, leaking a steady, shameful stream onto the dead leaves.
“Please what?” N taunted, leaning over his sweat-slick back, her breath hot on his neck. “Please don’t make you come? ‘Cause that’s what’s happenin’, darlin’. Your tight little hole is squeezin’ me like a fist. You’re fuckin’ yourself on me.” She pistoned harder, faster, the slap of skin against the faux leather harness filling the clearing. “Gonna make a mess for us, aren’t you? Our good girl.”
The humiliation of their words collided with the terrifying, undeniable build in his core. A coil of pure, electric need wound tighter and tighter with every deep, penetrating drive. He shook his head wildly, a final, futile denial, but his hips had begun to stutter back against her, meeting her thrusts with a traitorous, shallow grind.
“There it is,” M whispered, her voice a razor of triumph. She forced herself back between his lips, not for her own pleasure, but to silence his cries, to make him taste the sweat and salt of his own degradation. “Let it go. Show the camera what a pretty little mess you are.”
To his absolute horror, C felt his body detonate. A wave of white-hot release tore through him, utterly beyond his control. His back arched violently as his cock pulsed, spilling his climax onto the ground in hot, helpless stripes. A ragged, broken moan was swallowed by M as his internal muscles clenched and fluttered around N in uncontrollable, rhythmic spasms, milking the fake cock deep inside him through the shocking, shameful waves of his surrender.
N let out a low, appreciative whistle, grinding deep as he convulsed. “Damn, girl. Soaked me right through.” She stayed buried in him, letting him ride out the last tremors against her.
M finally withdrew from his mouth, wiping his spit from her chin with a smirk. She panned the camera slowly over his wrecked, trembling form—the tear-streaked face, the sheen of sweat, the evidence of his climax smeared on his stomach and the earth. “Got it all, baby,” she murmured, her tone possessive. “Every last second of you breakin’. Riley’s gonna love her present.”
Suddenly, N pulled out. The sudden, empty ache made him whimper. She stepped around to his front, her boots crunching the leaves. M kept the phone trained on him, capturing his dazed, tearful gaze as it followed N’s movement.
“Well now,” N drawled, looking down at him with that wicked grin. “Ain’t no way I’m missin’ this golden opportunity.” She planted her feet wide, the harness and the slick, glistening strap still firmly attached to her hips. She gave the thick silicone a casual, proprietary stroke. “You’re an ass-to-mouth slut now, darlin’. A certified, grade-A whore. And whores clean up after themselves. Open wide.”
C recoiled, scrambling back on his elbows. “No! No, fuck you, don’t you dare—”
M’s hand was in his hair in an instant, yanking his head forward. “Ah-ah,” she tutted. “We just watched you come your brains out while gettin’ fucked in the ass. Your opinion’s a little fuckin’ cheap right now, ain’t it?” She forced his face toward the slick, pungent toy.
C twisted his head away, gagging. “Please, it’s filthy, I can’t—”
“You can, and you will,” N said, her playful tone gone, replaced with flat command. She gripped his jaw with one strong hand, her thumb digging into his cheek. “Open your goddamn mouth, or we start this whole party over from the top. Your choice.”
A sob of utter defeat hitched in his chest. With M’s relentless pull on his hair and N’s iron grip on his jaw, his resistance crumbled. His lips parted on a shuddering exhale.
“That’s it,” N crooned, pushing the broad, slick tip past his lips. The taste was sharp, musky, overwhelmingly intimate—the taste of his own violation. He gagged instantly, tears springing anew, but she didn’t stop. She fed him the length of it, his mouth stretching obscenely around the girth. “There you go. Clean it up. Use that pretty little tongue. Show me what a hell of a whore we found out here in the woods.”
M zoomed in, her voice a husky commentary for the camera. “Look at that. Takes it all the way to the base. He’s a natural-born cocksucker, ain’t he? Just swallows it right down, all that mess he made.”
C’s eyes squeezed shut as he was forced to bob his head, his tongue swiping helplessly over the silicone, the salty-bitter flavor coating his throat. Humiliation burned hotter than any arousal.
After a long, degrading minute, N pulled the strap from his mouth with a wet pop. She looked at M, both of them grinning. “What’d I tell you? A hell of a little whore.”
“The best,” M agreed. She pocketed the phone for a moment as they both moved. In a swift, coordinated motion, they each grabbed one of his limp arms, hauling him to his feet. His legs nearly buckled. M retrieved the phone, holding it up to capture his stumbling, naked form between them.
“Alright, Little Red,” N said, her voice bright with cruel excitement as she gave him a little shake. “Enough playtime in the leaves. We’re headed to Grandma’s house for round two.”
M leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. “Don’t you worry, sugar. There ain’t no grandma. Just a real secluded cabin. A place where two big bad wolves can keep making their movie with a poor little girl… for as long as we want.”
They began to march him, stumbling and exposed, deeper into the darkening woods, the camera light a tiny, relentless star leading him toward the next chapter of his nightmare.
Chapter 14
The crude grip of N’s hands on his arms didn’t loosen. She steered him toward a broad oak, its bark gnarled and rough. “Alright, sugarplum. Enough of this tattered-lace nonsense. Time to get you properly naked.”
She slammed his chest against the tree, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. With one hand pinning his shoulder, the other grabbed the shredded hem of the red dress.
“No, stop!” C cried, the bark scraping his cheek. “It’s all I have left!”
“And ain’t that the point?” N laughed, her voice rich with amusement. She yanked downward. The delicate fabric, already weakened, gave way with a final, pathetic rip. It pooled around his ankles, leaving him in only the torn white stockings, now filthy and sagging.
M was right there, the phone’s lens inches from his skin. “Look at that blush,” she narrated, her voice a low, intimate thrum in his ear. “All that pretty pink skin, shiverin’ in the cold. Every goosebump documented, darlin’.”
N hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his stockings and peeled them down his legs with deliberate slowness. He was utterly exposed, his body pressed against the ancient tree, every shameful part of him on display for the camera’s unblinking eye.
“There we go,” N purred, stepping back to admire their work. “Just a naked little thing against a tree. Perfect.”
“Please,” C whispered, tears of humiliation welling. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” M asked, circling to his front, still filming. “Don’t fuck you? Honey, your body’s beggin’ for it. Look at you.” She trailed a finger down his trembling flank. “You’re already hard again. After everything. You’re insatiable.”
N moved behind him. He heard the slick, wet sound of her applying more lube to the strap. The familiar dread and electric anticipation coiled in his gut. “Assume the position, Red. You know the one. On your hands and knees. Let’s see that greedy little ass in the air.”
Weeping openly, C slowly sank to the forest floor, the damp moss and leaves cold beneath his palms and knees. He presented himself, the ultimate surrender.
“Such a good girl,” N crooned, positioning herself. With no preamble, she pressed the broad tip against him and pushed forward in one smooth, brutal stroke.
C screamed, his back arching as he was filled completely. “Oh God! It’s too much!”
“It’s exactly enough,” N grunted, setting a deep, rhythmic pace. Each thrust rocked his entire body forward. “You take it so pretty. Look at him, M. Look how he pushes back on me.”
M crouched in front of him, the camera capturing his tear-streaked, agonized expression. “He can’t help it. It’s in his nature. Tell us, baby. Tell us what you are.”
“I’m not… anything!” he sobbed, but his hips stuttered, meeting her next drive with a shallow jerk of his own.
“Liar,” N sang, pounding into him harder. “Your body’s tellin’ the truth. Say it. Say you love it.”
He shook his head wildly, choking on his protests.
Suddenly, N pulled out. The empty ache was a shock. Before he could comprehend it, M was behind him, having quickly swapped the harness. She was not as tall, but stronger, her thrusts deeper, more punishing.
“My turn,” M growled, sheathing herself in him in one relentless push. “Who’s fuckin’ you now, slut?”
“You—!” he gasped, the wind knocked from him.
“And do you love it?” M demanded, her hands digging into his hips as she drove into him, each impact a slap of skin and leather.
Between ragged sobs, the words were torn from him, a defeated, breathless whisper. “Yes…”
“Yes, what?” N prompted, kneeling beside M’s hip, her face alight with cruel delight.
A dam broke inside him. “Yes, I love it!” he wailed, his body convulsing with a shameful tremor of pleasure as M hammered into his core. “I love being your… your little slutty Red!”
“There it is!” N crowed, clapping her hands together. “The gospel truth!”
M leaned over his back, her sweat mixing with his. “Again. Louder for the camera.”
“I love it!” he screamed into the quiet woods, his voice breaking as M’s relentless pace pushed him toward a dizzying, terrifying peak. “I’m your little slut! I’m your slutty Red!”
The admission hung in the air, fouler than any physical violation. They owned him now, completely. And as M’s thrusts became erratic and fierce, he knew the only truth left was the one his betraying body would soon scream.
Chapter 15
“You’re getting sloppy, Red,” N’s voice was a teasing murmur as she circled them, the phone held steady. “All that talk, and you’re still squirming like a pinned butterfly. I think you need a firmer reminder.”
M grunted in agreement. With a powerful shove, she forced C forward, bending him at the waist over the thick, moss-covered trunk of a fallen oak. The impact knocked a pained gasp from him. His torn red cloak, which had been tangled around his legs, was caught by the movement and now fluttered like a tattered banner around his waist, a pathetic remnant of his costume.
“Look at that,” N said, zooming in. “A perfect little offering.”
Before C could even process the new position, M was mounting him from behind. There was no gentle probe, no seeking alignment. She simply gripped his hips, positioned the broad, slick head of the strap against his used, unresisting entrance, and sank home in one rough, deep thrust.
“Oh, God!” C screamed, his fingers clawing at the damp bark. The angle was punishing, each drive hitting a spot inside him that made his vision spark.
“Shut up and listen,” M growled, her rhythm already brutal and efficient. “You’re gonna say it. For every thrust you miss, I go harder. Understood?”
He could only sob, his body rocking violently with her force.
“Say ‘thank you for fucking me,’” N commanded from her vantage point, the lens focused on his contorted face.
“N-no…” he whimpered, but M’s next thrust was so deep it lifted his toes off the ground.
“Wrong answer,” she snarled.
“Thank you!” he cried out, the words torn from him.
“The whole thing, darlin’,” N drawled. “Or this gets a whole lot less fun for you.”
M’s pace became a relentless piston, each stroke stealing his breath. Between ragged, shuddering gasps, he forced the words out, each one a nail in the coffin of his dignity. “Th-thank you… for fucking me…”
“Louder,” M demanded, pounding into him.
“Thank you for fucking me!” he wailed, his voice breaking as a surge of unbearable, shameful pleasure began to coil tightly in his gut. He was hurtling toward the edge, his protests now nothing but fuel for the fire consuming him.
N laughed, a sound of pure delight. “Again! Let your pretty wife hear how grateful you are!”
His world narrowed to the slam of her body against his, the scrape of the log, and the desperate, screaming need building in his core. He chanted the phrase like a mantra, each repetition a surrender, each “thank you” a betrayal he now wore on his tongue. The climax was a tidal wave gathering force, and he was powerless to stop it.
Chapter 16
The orgasm that wracked C’s body left him limp, a hollowed-out doll draped over the fallen log. His whispered “thank yous” died into the damp air.
N stopped recording, tucking the phone away with a satisfied smirk. “Well, I do believe he’s properly broken in now. Don’t you think, M?”
M pulled out of him with a slick, careless sound, making him shudder. She wiped her hands on his discarded stockings. “Broken in, trained, and ready for the next phase. Time to finish the walk, Red. Grandmother’s house awaits.”
They hauled him upright. His legs buckled. N caught him, her grip firm and mocking. “None of that. You can walk. Or we can drag you. Your choice.”
They marched him deeper into the woods. The euphoric haze of his forced climax evaporated, replaced by a fresh, chilling dread. “Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“Hush now,” N sang softly, her fingers digging into his bicep. “The story’s not over. You haven’t met Grandma.”
Desperation lent him a fleeting strength. He saw a gap in the trees, a slight downhill slope. With a ragged cry, he wrenched his arm free and bolted.
He made it maybe ten staggering steps before a heavy weight crashed into his back. M drove him face-first into the leaf litter, the wind knocked from his lungs. She rolled him over, her face a mask of cold fury.
“You stupid little whore,” she growled, her knee pressing into his chest. “You’re gonna pay for that. In ways you can’t even imagine.”
They didn’t let him walk after that. M hefted him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry, his torn cloak flapping against her back. He was too exhausted, too defeated, to struggle.
The cabin appeared through the pines, a dark, squat shape with a single glowing window. Inside, it was sparse and clean. A large, rough-hewn wooden table dominated the main room.
M dumped him unceremoniously onto a braided rug. “Welcome home,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
N rummaged in a canvas bag, pulling out a tangled pile of lace and silk. She tossed it at C’s feet. Panties. Dozens of pairs, in every color and style. “Costume change,” she announced. “We’re makin’ a sequel. Pick a pair. And leave that filthy cloak on. It’s part of your character now.”
C stared at the pile, humiliation burning his cheeks. “No,” he whispered.
M crouched beside him, her face inches from his. “You can choose, or I’ll choose for you. And I guarantee you won’t like my taste.”
His hands trembled as he sifted through the delicate fabrics. He selected a plain, black pair, the least provocative he could see.
“Put ‘em on,” N commanded, crossing her arms.
“I won’t,” he said, a final, feeble spark of defiance.
M’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “Put. Them. On. Or we start the sequel right now with a punishment scene. Your choice.”
Tears of shame welled in his eyes. He fumbled with the black panties, pulling them on under the watchful, amused gazes of the women. The soft fabric felt like a brand.
“Good boy,” N purred. “Now, over the table. Hands and ankles.”
“No, please, don’t do this!” he begged as they dragged him up. “Just let me go!”
They ignored him. M pressed him face-down onto the cold, smooth wood. She produced coils of rough hemp rope. He felt the bite of it around his left wrist, then his right, yanking them taut to opposite table legs. N secured his ankles with ruthless efficiency.
He was spread-eagled, bent over the centerpiece of the room, the ragged red cloak pooled around his shoulders. “Let me go!” he screamed, his voice echoing in the cabin. “Please, I’m begging you!”
N leaned over him, her breath hot on his ear. “The begging is my favorite part, darlin’. But nobody’s listenin’. The sequel’s already started.”
Chapter 17
The bright light of the phone’s screen blinded him. N leaned in close, her voice a saccharine, instructional purr directly into the microphone. “Alright, folks. We’re makin’ a sequel here, and every good sequel needs a recap. Our little Red Riding Hood is gonna tell y’all exactly what happened in the first feature.” She shifted the camera, focusing on C’s tear-streaked, pleading face. “Go on, sweetie. Start from the beginning. Tell our nice audience how your big, bad wolves found you.”
C squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away. “No.”
The crack of M’s open palm against his exposed rear was sudden and sharp, making him yelp. “Look at the camera and talk, little girl,” M growled from behind him, her voice closer now. “Or this gets a whole lot worse.”
A sob hitched in his throat. He turned back, the lens capturing every flicker of shame. “I… I was walking,” he whispered.
“Louder, slut,” N commanded, her playful tone gone. “And look right here.”
“I was walking in the woods!” he cried out, his voice breaking. “And they… they captured me.”
“Good,” N cooed. “And then what did we do?”
His body trembled against the ropes. “You… you tied me up. In the trees.”
N zoomed in on his lips. “Uh-huh. And?”
“You… you spread my legs open.” The words felt like acid on his tongue.
“That’s right, we did,” N said, a smile in her voice. “And then, darlin’? What’d we do once we had our little treat all opened up for us?”
A fresh tear rolled down his cheek. “You… you fucked me.” The vulgarity, forced from his own mouth, was its own violation.
“We fucked you hard,” N corrected, her tone conversational. “Don’t forget the details. And what else, little Red? ‘Member that special party trick? Not too many whores are willin’ to do what you did.”
He shook his head, a feeble denial. M’s gloved hand came to rest on the small of his back, a cold, threatening weight. He flinched.
“Tell ‘em,” M ordered, her voice low and direct.
He was breaking, the humiliation complete. “You… you made me… after you were in my ass… you made me put your… in my mouth.” He gagged on the memory. “Please, I didn’t want it! I never wanted any of it! Just let me go!”
“Aw, she’s beggin’ again,” N laughed, panning the camera down his bound body before returning to his face. “But the story ain’t over, is it? You’re still here. Still tied up. Still wearin’ your grandma’s gift.” She finally stopped recording, setting the phone on the table to face him. “Perfect recap. Now the audience is all caught up for the main event.”
Behind him, he heard the distinct, wet squelch of lubricant. He craned his neck, his eyes wide with dawning horror. M was towering over him, her hands now sheathed in glossy black rubber, a thick, shimmering strap-on harnessed to her hips.
“Since you remembered the first movie so well,” M said, her voice a rough promise as she smoothed more lube over the dark silicone, “let’s see if you can stay in character for the sequel.”
Chapter 18
N scooped up the phone again, the red recording light a burning eye in the dim room. “Alright, settle in, everybody. It’s showtime for the main course.” She walked around the table, framing C’s bound, trembling form. “Look at him. Already cryin’ and we haven’t even started.”
“Please,” C whimpered, turning his face into the rough fabric of the cushion. “Don’t do this.”
M’s heavy hands landed on his shoulders, pressing down with immovable force. Her voice was a low, gravelly command right by his ear. “Did you hear me ask, little girl? I said the talkin’s done.” She shoved him hard, his chest flattening against the table’s edge, his cheek mashed into the cushion.
“Widen ‘em,” M ordered, kicking his ankles apart with her boot. He tried to clench his thighs together, a last, feeble act of resistance. M just laughed, a short, harsh sound. With one hand, she gripped the back of his thigh, her fingers digging into the muscle, and yanked his leg out to the side. She repeated the motion with the other leg, spreading him brutally wide, leaving him utterly exposed to the cool cabin air and the unblinking camera.
“Look at that presentation,” N narrated, zooming in. “All prettied up and served on a platter. You ready for your gift, Red?”
C felt the broad, slickened tip of the strap-on press against him, a blunt, impossible threat. He froze, every muscle locking in terror. “No, no, no, please, M, please don’t—”
“Hush,” she growled, and began to push.
It wasn’t a thrust. It was a slow, inexorable invasion, a relentless pressure that burned and stretched him far beyond any limit. He screamed, the sound muffled and desperate into the cushion, his back arching off the table as his body tried instinctively to escape the sheer, agonizing fullness.
“Oh, that’s the money shot,” N purred, leaning in to capture the tears streaming from his screwed-shut eyes, the way his mouth was contorted in a silent scream. “Look at that face. That’s the face of a whore who knows exactly what he’s for.”
M leaned over him, her chest pressing against his sweating back, and stilled, buried to the hilt. She let him feel every unforgiving inch. “You take it so pretty when you stop fightin’,” she breathed into his ear. “All that screamin’, and your greedy little body is suckin’ me right in. You feel that?”
He couldn’t speak. He could only sob, shuddering around the massive intrusion, his hips making tiny, involuntary circles that sought friction, that sought *more*, even as his mind screamed in humiliation.
“Tell the camera how it feels, C,” N prompted, her tone sweetly malicious. “Tell our audience what your wife’s big, bad wolf is doin’ to you.”
He shook his head, a frantic denial.
M pulled back, almost out, and then sank back in with the same slow, devastating force, wrenching another broken scream from his throat. “Answer her.”
The words were torn from him, a raw confession. “It’s… it’s too much! It hurts!”
“Hurts good, don’t it?” M grunted, beginning a cruel, measured rhythm, each deep stroke punctuated by his choked-off cries. “Your body ain’t lyin’. It’s thankin’ me.”
N panned the camera down, capturing the obscene junction, the way his body was forced to accommodate her. “There it is, folks. A perfect fit. Now let’s see how long our little Red can last before he starts beggin’ for it harder.”
Chapter 19
“Describe it, baby,” N’s voice was a lilting, mocking encouragement from over his shoulder, the phone held low to capture the obscene, glistening junction. “Tell the folks at home what it feels like when she wrecks that little hole.”
M slammed into him again, a brutal, deep piston stroke that forced the air from his lungs in a sharp cry. His body convulsed, a violent tremor of pleasure-pain that radiated from his core.
“It’s… it’s too deep!” C sobbed, his voice shredded. His knuckles were white where they gripped the table’s edge, every muscle straining. “It burns… it feels like you’re tearing me apart!”
“Good,” M grunted, her rhythm relentless, each powerful thrust punctuated by the wet slap of silicone against his skin. “Now tell ‘em the other part. The part you’re tryin’ so hard to hide.”
N leaned in, zooming in on his face, capturing the tear tracks cutting through the flush on his cheeks, the way his eyes fluttered shut with each inward drive. “C’mon, sugar. Be honest for the camera. Does it feel good?”
He shook his head frantically, a fresh wave of shame washing over him as a low, involuntary moan was punched out of him. “No!”
“Liar,” M hissed, her hand snaking around his hip to grip his painfully hard cock. She gave him a rough, punishing stroke in time with her next thrust. “Your body’s beggin’. It’s drippin’. You feel how your greedy ass is suckin’ me back in every time I pull out? That ain’t a ‘no’.”
“Please,” he begged, the word dissolving into a choked gasp as she hit a spot that sent a blinding spark of electricity up his spine. “Please, stop… I can’t…”
“You can,” N corrected smoothly, moving to film his profile. “And you are. Look at you, takin’ every last inch. It ain’t every whore that can handle eleven, you know. You should be proud.” She reached out and pinched his cheek, forcing his watery gaze toward the lens. “Now say ‘thank you’.”
C trembled, utterly broken, the dual sensations of being brutally filled and roughly stroked pushing him toward a peak he was fighting with every fiber of his being. “Th-thank you,” he whimpered, the humiliation complete.
“For what, specifically?” M demanded, never breaking her pace.
“For… for fucking me,” he cried, the crude word tasting like ash in his mouth.
“Louder.”
“FOR FUCKING ME!” he screamed, his body bowing, trembling on the very knife’s edge of release as M continued to slam into him, owning him, proving with every deep, claiming stroke that his protests were nothing but the hottest part of the game.
Chapter 20
“Oh, get a real good shot, M,” N cooed, her voice dripping with mock sincerity as she placed the phone into M’s waiting hand. “Let’s see the masterpiece up close.”
M’s rhythm didn’t falter, a deep, punishing *thwack-thwack-thwack* that shook the table. She held the camera low, the lens now an unblinking eye fixed on the obscene joining of body and toy. “Look at that,” she growled, her commentary a rough, southern drawl. “See how red and swollen it’s gettin’? How it just gulps me down every time? That’s a well-used hole, folks. A grateful hole.”
“Please, no more!” C sobbed, his face pressed against the cold wood. “It’s too much! Stop!”
“You hear that, y’all?” M said, leaning into the microphone. “He’s beggin’ for mercy. Makes me wanna go twice as hard.” She drove into him with a vicious snap of her hips, pulling a shattered scream from his throat. “There you go. That’s the sound of a slut acceptin’ his purpose.”
Through his tear-blurred vision, C saw N step back from the table. His breath hitched, not from the assault, but from a new, cold terror. She was buckling the black leather straps of a second harness around her narrow hips. The silicone cock she secured there was shorter than M’s, but it was brutally thick, a menacing, veined girth that promised a different kind of ruin.
“Now, don’t you fret,” N said, catching his horrified stare. She gave the thick shaft a few confident strokes, smearing lubricant over its shining surface. “It ain’t the eleven-inch special. Call it… the nine-inch heavyweight. Built for stretchin’, not for reachin’.”
M laughed, a dark, thrilled sound. “Oh, he sees it. Look at his eyes, N. He’s already measurin’ it, wonderin’ how in hell he’s gonna take it.”
“I can’t!” C screamed, his body convulsing as M continued to piston into him. “You can’t! It won’t fit!”
“That’s what you said about this one, darlin’,” M purred, angling the camera to capture his wide, despairing eyes. “And look at you now. Drippin’. Clenchin’. Beggin’ for more even while you say no. Your body’s a liar, and we’re the truth-tellers.”
N stepped closer, running the blunt, fat head of her toy up the inside of his trembling thigh. “M’s just warmin’ you up for me, sugar. Gettin’ you nice and loose. She’s makin’ room.” She leaned down, her blonde hair brushing his shoulder, her voice a wicked whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna thank us for this. By the time we’re done, you won’t remember how to be anything but ours.”