Two Tied and the Third Listens
# The Third ## Unseen The air in the hotel suite was thick, cloying with the scent of my own arousal and the leather straps binding my wrists to the cool brass headboard. I was naked, exposed, a feast laid out and denied. From the ensuit
Chapter 1
The air in the hotel suite was thick, cloying with the scent of my own arousal and the leather straps binding my wrists to the cool brass headboard. I was naked, exposed, a feast laid out and denied.
From the ensuite, I heard the whisper of fabric, the decisive click of heels on marble. Then you emerged.
My breath hitched. The plaid miniskirt was scandalously short, the sheer black blouse beneath it doing nothing to hide the lace of your bra. But it was the knowing glint in your dark eyes, the slick, gleaming dildo held casually in your hand, that truly imprisoned me.
You picked up your phone, tapped the screen, and held it to your ear. A low, familiar chuckle spilled into the room—Connor’s disarming, witty laugh.
“Mmm, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” you purred into the receiver, your gaze nailing me to the bed. “I ran into Connor at that bar off Fifth… the one with the dark corners.”
I strained against the straps.
"Things started there. We had a couple of drinks, I got tipsy, he got flirty. He kissed me, I kissed him back, and then I felt his hands. It was so naughty, being in public. But it was so hot."
Chapter 2
A slow, wicked smile spread across your full lips as you heard the strain in my voice. You walked closer, the dildo in your hand glistening under the hotel lights. “That’s all we did… at the restaurant,” you repeated, your voice a husky purr into the phone. You let the silence hang, your eyes drinking in my helpless struggle against the leather. “Connor wanted more, obviously. So we took a cab. His place was closer.”
“No,” I breathed, the word a raw scrape in my throat.
“Yes,” you whispered, your gaze locking with mine as you narrated for him, for me. “The second his door closed, his hands were on my skirt. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me so deep I could taste the whiskey on his tongue. He said I was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.” You brought the slick tip of the toy to brush against my inner thigh, making me jerk. “His cock was so hard already, pressing against me. I told him I wasn’t wearing any panties.”
The graphic detail was a brand. My hips arched off the bed, a silent, desperate plea. You watched, your own breath coming faster.
“I got on my knees for him right there in the foyer,” you continued, your voice dropping to a shameless, shared secret. “I took his big, black cock in my mouth and I sucked him until he was shaking. He tasted like salt and sin. He fucked my face, calling me his good little slut, and I loved it.”
The vulgarity, the vivid portrait, shattered my last shred of control. A broken sob escaped me. You finally put the phone down, ending the call, and climbed onto the bed, straddling my hips. The crotchless panel of your panties was soaked, your shaved pussy exposed and flushed. You positioned the dildo at your entrance.
“He came in my mouth,” you gasped, sinking down onto the thick silicone, taking it all in one smooth, brutal motion. Your head fell back. “I swallowed every drop. And now…” You began to ride me, the toy fucking you deep as you ground yourself against my trapped body. “Now I’m going to come thinking about it, thinking about his cock, while you watch. You get to see, but you don’t get to touch. You don’t get to come.”
But your command came too late. The visual, the confession, the relentless friction of your body against mine—it was an avalanche. My back bowed, a strangled shout tearing from my lungs as my climax ripped through me, an uncontrollable, violent release that left me shuddering and spent beneath you.
You moaned, your own rhythm becoming frantic and erratic. “Yes… fuck… his cock…” you chanted, your fingers digging into my chest. Your inner muscles clenched around the toy and you cried out, your body seizing as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave, milking the fake shaft until you collapsed forward onto my sweaty chest, both of us panting in the ruined silence.
After a long moment, you shifted, pulling the toy free with a soft, wet sound. You didn’t untie my wrists. Instead, you nestled your head under my chin, your breath cooling my skin. “He asked for more,” you murmured, the words a quiet, possessive hum against my throat. “I told him I’d think about it.”
Chapter 3
A slow, wicked smile spread across your full lips as you heard the strain in my voice. You walked closer, the dildo in your hand glistening under the hotel lights. “That’s all we did… at the restaurant,” you repeated, your voice a husky purr into the phone. You let the silence hang, your eyes drinking in my helpless struggle against the leather. “Connor wanted more, obviously. So we took a cab. His place was closer.”
“No,” I breathed, the word a raw scrape in my throat.
“Yes,” you whispered, your gaze locking with mine as you narrated for him, for me. “The second his door closed, his hands were on my skirt. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me so deep I could taste the whiskey on his tongue. He said I was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.” You brought the slick tip of the toy to brush against my inner thigh, making me jerk. “His cock was so hard already, pressing against me. I told him I wasn’t wearing any panties.”
The graphic detail was a brand. My hips arched off the bed, a silent, desperate plea. You watched, your own breath coming faster.
“I got on my knees for him right there in the foyer,” you continued, your voice dropping to a shameless, shared secret. “I took his big, black cock in my mouth and I sucked him until he was shaking. He tasted like salt and sin. He fucked my face, calling me his good little slut, and I loved it.”
The vulgarity, the vivid portrait, shattered my last shred of control. A broken sob escaped me. You finally put the phone down, ending the call, and climbed onto the bed, straddling my hips. The crotchless panel of your panties was soaked, your shaved pussy exposed and flushed. You positioned the dildo at your entrance.
“He came in my mouth,” you gasped, sinking down onto the thick silicone, taking it all in one smooth, brutal motion. Your head fell back. “I swallowed every drop. And now…” You began to ride me, the toy fucking you deep as you ground yourself against my trapped body. “Now I’m going to come thinking about it, thinking about his cock, while you watch. You get to see, but you don’t get to touch. You don’t get to come.”
But your command came too late. The visual, the confession, the relentless friction of your body against mine—it was an avalanche. My back bowed, a strangled shout tearing from my lungs as my climax ripped through me, an uncontrollable, violent release that left me shuddering and spent beneath you.
You moaned, your own rhythm becoming frantic and erratic. “Yes… fuck… his cock…” you chanted, your fingers digging into my chest. Your inner muscles clenched around the toy and you cried out, your body seizing as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave, milking the fake shaft until you collapsed forward onto my sweaty chest, both of us panting in the ruined silence.
After a long moment, you shifted, pulling the toy free with a soft, wet sound. You didn’t untie my wrists. Instead, you nestled your head under my chin, your breath cooling my skin. “He asked for more,” you murmured, the words a quiet, possessive hum against my throat. “I told him I’d think about it.”
Chapter 4
The silence was as heavy as the scent of our sweat. You finally untied my wrists, my skin marred by faint, angry marks. Silently, you picked up your phone again, your thumbs flying over the screen.
“Who are you texting?” I asked, my voice rough, sitting up. My arousal was a stubborn, painful throb, completely undiminished.
You ignored me, a sly smile playing on your lips as you put the phone to your ear. “Connor? Hey, it’s me,” you purred, your eyes never leaving mine. “Are you busy? I need your help with something… a little project. I’m at the Grand Hotel, suite 1107. There’s something here I want you to see.”
My blood ran cold, then scalding hot. “Connor? You’re calling Connor *here*?”
You ended the call and set the phone down. “He’s on his way. He’s always been so… curious about us. And you’ve been such a good boy, listening, watching. You deserve a front-row seat.” You walked to the hotel’s minibar, pulling out a small bottle of wine You poured it over the dildo, slicking it clean, then brought it to your lips, sucking the liquor off the tip with a slow, obscene pop. “We’re going to give him, and you, a real show. But you have a choice. One, I untie you and you sit and watch us from that chair. Two, I untie you and you hide and watch us quietly. Or three, you stay tied up and watch me fuck him while you are strapped in and helpless. So make your choice because he'll be here soon."
Chapter 5
The choice was a blade in my gut, each option a different flavor of torture. “The second one,” I choked out, the words tasting like ash. “I’ll hide. I’ll watch.”
“Good,” you said, a feral light in your eyes. You moved with frantic speed, untying my ankles, then my wrists. “The closet. Now. Don’t make a sound.”
I scrambled from the bed, my legs weak, and stumbled into the walk-in closet. You shoved my clothes aside, positioning me just behind the slatted door where I could see a sliver of the room. “Remember,” you whispered, your breath hot on my ear. “You chose this. You wanted to see.”
You closed the door, leaving me in near-darkness. I heard you move, the rustle of fabric. When I peered through the slats, I saw you had slipped off the miniskirt. You stood now in only the sheer blouse, the crotchless panties, and your heels, the dildo held loosely at your side. You poured more wine, took a long sip, and let it dribble down your chin onto your chest.
The knock at the suite door was a gunshot.
You sauntered over, opening it with a slow, deliberate pull. Connor stood there, dressed in dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt that showed off his powerful arms. His eyes widened, taking in your state of undress, the wet stain on your blouse, the toy in your hand.
“You said you needed help with a project,” he said, his disarming chuckle now thick with arousal. He stepped inside, and you closed the door, locking it.
“I do,” you purred, backing toward the bed. “I need a real cock. That toy just isn’t enough anymore.” You threw the dildo onto the sheets. “I’ve been thinking about yours all day.”
Connor didn’t need another invitation. In two strides he was on you, his mouth crushing yours in a hungry kiss. His hands groped your ass, squeezing through the lace. “Fuck, Megan,” he groaned against your lips. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” you demanded, pulling at his shirt.
From the closet, my heart hammered against my ribs. I watched, frozen, as he stripped off his shirt, his dark skin gleaming. His cock strained against his jeans, impressively thick. You pushed him onto the bed and knelt between his legs, working his belt and zipper with practiced ease.
“You like watching me strip you, don’t you?” you murmured, looking at him, but also sneaking a look at my hiding place in the closet. Your eyes found mine in the shadows. “You like seeing me be your slut.”
You took him into your mouth, deep, swallowing him to the root. Connor’s head fell back with a guttural moan. “Oh, shit… yes, just like that…”
You sucked him with a voracious intensity, your cheeks hollowing, one hand working his shaft while the other fondled his heavy balls. The wet, sloppy sounds filled the suite. “Taste so good,” you slurred, pulling off with a pop. “I love your reaction. Daddy, do you like this?”
He moaned and moved his hips, fucking your mouth, "Oh yeah pretty Momma, Daddy loves this. Suck my big black cock. You want more that to suck it though, don't you? Tell me what you want."
You climbed onto him, straddling his hips. "I want to fuck this cock. I want you to fill my Asian pussy like you own it. I want you to come in me. Fucking breed me with your cum baby!" You guided his cock to your soaked entrance, and with a low, wanton cry, you sank down, taking every thick inch in one relentless drop.
“FUCK!” Connor shouted, his hands flying to your hips, gripping hard.
You rode him with a frantic, punishing rhythm, your tits bouncing free from the sheer blouse. “Is this what you wanted?” you gasped, your gaze momentarily on the closet. “To stretch me open? To own me?”
I couldn’t speak. I could only watch, my own cock achingly hard, as you fucked him. The bed rocked, the headboard knocking the wall. Connor’s thrusts became animalistic, driving up into you.
“I’m gonna come,” he growled, his voice ragged. “Where do you want it?”
“In me,” you panted, your body beginning to tremble. “Fill me up. Tell me how it feels when you come Connor."
With a final, brutal thrust, Connor roared, his body seizing underneath you. You threw your head back, a sharp scream tearing from your throat as your own orgasm detonated, triggered by the feel of his release pumping deep inside you. Your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock as you shuddered through wave after wave of pleasure.
"Fucking tell me how it feels Connor!", you screamed. "Tell me and I'll let you fuck me again."
Chapter 6
Connor’s whole body shuddered as he emptied himself, his powerful hips jerking up into you one last time with a guttural sigh. “God… it feels like… a flood,” he rasped, his voice thick with spent pleasure. “Like my soul’s pumping straight into your hot little pussy. So tight… milking me dry.”
You collapsed onto his chest, your body still twitching with the aftershocks of your own orgasm, the wet heat of his release deep inside you a tangible, taunting truth. You nuzzled his neck, panting. “You feel so good, Connor. So fucking good.”
From the closet, I could only watch, my own need a furious, silent scream. My cock ached, trapped and neglected.
After a moment, you slid off him with a slick, wet sound. You knelt on the bed, letting his seed trickle down your inner thigh as you reached for your phone on the nightstand. You didn’t even glance at the closet.
“Hey Victor,” you breathed into the phone, your voice still husky. “Change of plans. I am, um, going to be busy for at least another hour. I had an intense workout, want to recover, then work hard on my core, so don't come over for a while." You stole a glance towards the closet, smirking my way.
Connor propped himself up on his elbows, a lazy, satiated smile on his face. “Who’s Victor?”
“My lover,” you said, winking at him. “The one that made me put you in the friend zone all those years ago. But now, I think you found the way out of that zone and we need to do some more exploring. I have a feeling my little pussy is going to be sore by the time you leave, so no sense in him coming over if he's going to want to fuck me, is there?”
"You're still with him?", Connor asked. "Why am I here?"
"We have an......understanding. And with me retiring and having fewer chances to see you, I told him I hated you in the friend zone and I wanted to see what I've missed and what you've been denied. I wanted to see if 20 years later, you still found me desirable and if I could please you. Would you rather I kept the status quo?"
"No, but what happens after tonight? After you and I see and feel what we've missed out on? What if I want more? What if you do?"
"Let's not talk about that now", you whispered. "Let's fuck again."
Chapter 7
Connor’s hands were already on your waist, pulling you back to him, his cock already hardening against your thigh. “Fucking again won’t make it easier to talk about this later,” he murmured, his lips on your shoulder, but his voice held a playful edge.
“Then don’t talk,” you whispered, twisting in his arms to face him. You ran a hand down his chest. “Just feel. I want more of you.” You leaned in, your mouth finding his in a deep, languid kiss. Your breasts pressed against him, your nipples hard through the sheer blouse.
From my prison in the closet, I watched your hand slide down, your fingers wrapping around his thickening length. “I want this right now, I don't want a conversation,” you breathed against Connor’s lips, your voice just loud enough for me to strain to hear. “I want you, and I want to make you want me.”
Connor groaned, his head falling back. “You’re a fucking demon.”
“I’m a woman who knows what she wants,” you corrected, your hand pumping him slowly. “And right now, I want you on your back. I want to ride you until I scream and you spill inside me again. I want to record every wet slap, every gasp, every fucking pulse of you filling me up so I can listen later and touch myself.”
You turned on the record function on your phone and then you pushed him down. You straddled his hips, your shaved pussy glistening, hovering just over the angry, purple head of his cock. You looked directly at the closet slats, your dark eyes gleaming with wicked victory.
“Watch him take me,” you commanded the air, your voice a low, throaty purr meant only for me. Then you sank down, taking him in one smooth, devastating slide.
“Fuck!” Connor hissed, his hands flying to your hips to anchor you.
You began to move, a slow, deep, grinding rhythm that made your breasts sway. Each upward slide was agonizingly deliberate; each downward plunge was a wet, possessive claim. The sounds were obscene—the slick, rhythmic squelch of your coupled bodies, his ragged groans, your sharp, panting cries.
“You feel so deep,” you moaned, arching your back. “So much… thicker than he is. You stretch me open… God, Connor… just like that…”
His hands tightened, fingers digging into your flesh as he met your thrusts, driving up into you. “Your pussy’s… it’s fucking perfection. Gripping me… milking me…”
The pace quickened, turning frantic. Your cries grew louder, less controlled. I was biting my own fist, my entire body a wire of denied, agonized need.
“I’m gonna come,” Connor grunted, his body tensing beneath you. “Megan… I’m gonna fucking fill you up again…”
“Yes!” you shrieked, your own climax tearing through you. Your body convulsed, your inner muscles clamping around him in violent pulses. “Now! Give it to me! All of it!”
With a roar, Connor bucked up, his release triggering yours into a second, shattering wave. You collapsed forward onto his chest as he emptied himself inside you with thick, hot spurts, both of you trembling and spent.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing. Then, you slowly pushed yourself up, a satisfied, utterly wrecked smile on your lips. You looked at the closet, your gaze soft yet unyielding.
“You probably should go now,” you said, your voice hoarse. “But maybe you'll let me suck your cock while we shower together?”
He practically dragged you to the shower.
Chapter 8
The click of the hotel door lock echoed in the sudden quiet. You stood there, the damp towel from your shared shower draped low on your hips, water droplets tracing paths down your chest. You took a slow, deliberate breath, then turned towards the closet.
The door opened. The light from the suite fell across me, curled on the floor, my clothes damp with sweat and shame.
“Look at you,” you said, your voice soft, almost pitying. You let the towel drop, standing naked and glorious before me. The scent of Connor’s skin and sex still clung to you, mixed with the clean hotel soap.
I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at the faint redness between your thighs.
“He came in my mouth in the shower,” you murmured, kneeling before me. Your fingers, smelling of him, traced my jaw. “I swallowed every drop. He said he’d never felt anything like it.” You leaned in, your lips brushing my ear. “Your turn now. You’ve been so good, watching everything. Your reward is to clean up your mess.”
You pulled me to my feet and led me to the bed, pushing me down onto my back where the sheets still smelled of them. You straddled my hips, your wet, used pussy hovering over my rigid cock. Your dark eyes held mine, no longer playful, but utterly commanding.
“This is what you are now,” you whispered, sinking down onto me in one devastating, slick glide. The heat was overwhelming, the tightness flavored with their shared climax. “You’re my toy. My audience. You come only when I’m filled with another man.”
You began to ride me, a hard, punishing rhythm. “Tell me you understand.”
“I… I understand,” I choked out.
“Say it!”
“I’m your toy!” I gasped, my hands gripping your hips as you fucked yourself on me, using me to chase your own third peak.
“Yes!” you cried out, your body clamping around me in violent, pulsing waves. “Now! Come for me! Give it to me!”
My control shattered. With a ragged shout, I emptied myself deep inside you, my release triggering another, smaller convulsion from your core. You collapsed onto my chest, both of us shuddering, soaked in sweat and spent desire.
After a long moment, you lifted your head. You kissed me, slow and deep, tasting of everything that had happened. “You’re mine,” you breathed against my lips, the statement final and absolute. “All of this… is ours.” You settled against me, your heartbeat slowing against mine, the silence now a pact.
A few nights later, like a vampire needing blood, you said, "I'm hungry. Lets go hunting for food." I knew you didn't mean a restaurant. We went to a club that had a big crowd and lots of horny guys. You told me, "You pick..Then you watch me swoop in and fuck him in the limo while you and the driver watch. "
Chapter 9
The club’s dark, pulsing heart swallowed us whole. You’d put me in a leather harness under a thin tee, your personal leash looped in your hand. Your little black dress was a weapon, cut high on the thigh and low on the chest, leaving nothing to the imagination. You leaned in, the bass shaking the floor.
“You pick,” you shouted over the music, your lips brushing my ear. “Point out the one you want to see me with. The one that makes you hottest and sickest.”
My eyes scanned the crowd, a sea of hungry faces. Then I saw him at the bar—tall, broad-shouldered in a tailored suit, with a watchful, confident air. A businessman, maybe, but his eyes were already tracing the curve of your ass. I nodded toward him.
“Him,” I said, my voice thick. “The one in the gray suit.”
Your smile was a razor’s edge. “Good boy.” You unhooked the leash, patted my cheek, and began to move. I watched, a ghost in the crowd, as you slithered through the bodies. You didn’t need an introduction. You simply leaned against the bar next to him, said something that made him laugh, and placed a hand on his forearm.
Five minutes. That’s all it took. A nod to the bouncer, a discreet handoff of cash, and you were leading him out, his large hand possessive on the small of your back. You caught my eye as you passed, your expression a silent command: *Follow.*
Outside, a sleek black limo idled at the curb, its driver a stone-faced silhouette. The suited man held the door open for you. You slid in, pulling him after you. I slipped into the front passenger seat, the partition already lowered. The driver didn’t glance at me; he’d been paid to see nothing and everything.
The door closed, sealing us in a plush, moving vault. I turned in my seat to watch.
You were already straddling his lap in the back, your dress pushed up around your waist. “I don’t normally do this,” you lied, breathless, as you unzipped his trousers.
“I can tell,” he grunted, his hands gripping your hips, his eyes glued to your tits spilling from your dress.
“Fuck me,” you demanded, guiding his thick cock to your entrance. “Right now. I need it.”
You sank down onto him with a loud, wet cry, taking him to the hilt. The limo rocked with the rhythm you set, fast and deep from the start. Your moans were not for me; they were raw, animal sounds for the stranger filling you. “God, yes… your cock is so deep… stretch me…”
He fucked up into you, his suit jacket straining. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, slapping your ass. “Who’s a greedy little slut?”
“I am!” you cried out, shameless, your head thrown back. “I’m your slut! Use me!”
I was stone, frozen in my seat, my own cock aching against my jeans. The driver’s eyes flicked to the rearview, then back to the road, his expression unreadable.
Your climax hit you suddenly, a violent, shuddering wave that made you scream. Your pussy clenched around him, milking him. “I’m coming… I’m coming on your cock!”
It triggered his. With a final, brutal thrust, he groaned, his body locking. “Take it… take my cum, you fucking whore…”
You collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, joined and slick. After a moment, you pushed yourself up, his softening cock slipping out of you with an audible, wet sound. A trickle of his release dripped down your inner thigh. You didn’t wipe it away.
You looked directly at me, your eyes glazed but triumphant. You crooked a finger.
Slowly, I climbed into the back. The stranger, sated and dazed, just watched.
“Clean it up,” you whispered to me, spreading your legs on the leather seat. “Every last drop. It’s yours.”
I obeyed, lowering my head. The taste was salty, bitter, uniquely him, mixed with your own sweet musk. It was my sacrament. My punishment. My reward.
When I finished, you pulled my face up and kissed me, sharing the flavor. “You see?” you breathed, your forehead against mine. “This is what we are. Forever.” You settled against me, your hand finding the leash still clipped to my harness, giving it a gentle, possessive tug as the city lights blurred past the tinted windows.