Duke’s hands move over me, teasing, stroking, pinching my nipples just hard enough to make me whimper.
“Our little stalker,” he purrs in my ear. “You were better at it than we thought. You’re the whole package, aren’t you? Hot and smart and tough. Just right for all three of us. And all three of us get to have our fun before we’re done with you.”
His hands move over me slowly, until they’re warm from my skin. His breath is hot against the back of my neck, and I find my body responding even in this horrific situation. Some sick, instinctive part of me wants him near, wants the warm familiarity of a body instead of the cold darkness of the swamp and his brother’s ruthlessness. Duke is the one with a conscience. He held me at the river. He pulled me away from the car bomb and held me tight, steadying me. How can I reach him?
His body is flush against mine, his fingers gentle on my skin, his cock hard and hot. “Is your pussy wet for me, Cherry Pie?” he whispers in my ear, his hand dipping between my legs, stroking gently. “I know you’ve wanted this since the day we met. I see how you check me out when my brother’s not looking. You want this, and now you can finally admit it.”
His fingers explore deeper, stroking my clit. A shiver passes through me, and heat pulses in my core. His hands move to my ass, and he spreads my cheeks, pushing his hips forward so his cock lays between them. His fingers dig into my flesh, and the base of his cock pulses against my knotted hole.
I shake my head, crying for him to stop through the gag.
He chuckles. “You don’t want my cock in this tight little ass?” he teases. “I wonder why. It’s like fucking a virgin every time, and I didn’t get to fuck you when you were a virgin. You were already a dirty little slut when we met, weren’t you? Spreading your legs for old men in parking lots. How much did he pay you, whore?”
I shake my head harder, choking on the gag. Tears threaten, but I force them back, even when the pain of holding them goes straight to my throat, and a strangled sound comes unbidden.
“You don’t want that?” Duke asks.
I shake my head and force out a sound behind the gag.
“So, you want me to fuck your pussy?” he asks.
I nod frantically, and he laughs. “I knew she wanted me.”
I want to feel anger, rage, humiliation, but I can’t. There’s only fear.
“Stop playing with her and punish her,” Royal growls. “She doesn’t deserve to cum.”
I’d almost forgotten he was here. At last, real tears burn my eyes, shame and pain plunging a knife into my heart. He’s here. Watching. Giving me to his brothers. Sharing me with them against my will, like a toy that belonged to him, and now he’s passing it on. His broken doll, his used plaything. He’s sanctioning this, maybe ordering it. The punishment for betrayal.
“Aww, but it’s my one chance to play,” Duke says to him, sliding a finger inside me. “And you know how I like games.”
Baron snickers behind him, and my body tightens with terror again. They’re all psychotic, worse than snakes, worse than anything I imagined. They’re not my friends, not my protectors. They’ll watch Duke claim me, knowing he loves the game, the attention. They’re all loving it except me. They all want this. They want me to hurt, to scream, to shatter. And they know how to make it happen.
Still holding my hip, Duke moves his hand, and suddenly, an intense vibration buzzes along his cock as he positions the head at the broken entrance Baron used. The relief that he’s not hurting me more than he has to combined with the vibration and the heat of his bare cock against my swollen flesh sends an involuntary throb through me. “Fuck yeah,” Duke moans. “I love a dripping wet pussy, all messy with blood and cum. I wanna eat that cherry pie after I fuck it.”
Horror ripples through me, but I don’t let out a sound as his thick, long cock slides into me. “Oh, god,” he breathes against my neck. “Let me feel you cum, you dirty whore. You like old wrinkly cocks inside your tight little cunt, don’t you? You’ll spread your legs for anyone. There’s no shame in liking a little humiliation.”
I push away his words, focusing instead on the familiar murmur of his voice, like a blanket soothing me. It’s just Duke. Amidst all the horror of the night, this one thing is sure: He’s not hurting me. As his cock glides into me over and over, the vibration of the ring builds the tension inside me, coiling it tighter and tighter. I won’t cum, but I won’t make it worse, either. When he tells me to relax, I let my legs go limp, so my weight rests on his hips with every thrust. Maybe he’s the one who will save me. I know Royal won’t. Baron was even more sadistic than I expected.
But Duke’s different. He’s always rude and drunk and obnoxious, and he talks so much that if you don’t pay attention, you might miss that he never says anything at all. I thought Baron with his analytical exterior and quiet observation was hard to know, but it’s Duke I know least of all. With the tenacity of a dying pit bull, I cling to the hope that somewhere under all the brash and bravado, he has a conscience. Maybe he goes along but doesn’t want to.
I suddenly come back to myself with sharp clarity. This is Duke, yes, but he’s not going to help me any more than the others. Just because he’s not torturing me, he’s still fucking me like it’s as a spectator sport. Duke, who I helped to the car when he was drunk, who held me at the river and kept me warm, is now taking turns with me while I’m tied up in a swamp. He watched his brother gag me and fuck me dry, and he did nothing but laugh and cheer him on and offer him a drink.
And Royal. My heart crumbles at the very thought of him watching this, ordering it like an execution. Royal, who fought so hard to push me away, who I was finally getting to let me in even the littlest bit. Royal did this.
My mind seethes with anger suddenly, but my body responds in a different way. Duke’s hips crush mine to the tree, pinning me like a spread, helpless butterfly, one hand still reaching around to stroke my clit with sure, skillful fingers. His cock throbs inside, bottoming out, as the ring massages my sensitive flesh, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. “Cum for me like you do for him,” he whispers against my ear, his lips tracing the column of my neck. “Let me feel you like he does. Pretend I’m him if it gets you there, baby. I want to feel you cum so bad. I’ll be right there with you.”
I try to hold back, but when he slides his fingers slowly in a circle around my clit and his mouth caresses my ear, it’s too much. My toes curl, shivery tingles running all the way up my legs and curling between them like a kitten. Heat sweeps up my neck and blooms in my cheeks. My hands curl into helpless fists and my lips fall open in wordless fury. My nipples jut painfully against the rough bark of the tree, and my thighs quake as he strains inside me.
I won’t give him the satisfaction. I won’t.
And then, all at once, my sheath begins fluttering helplessly around his cock, and a strangled cry lodges in my throat. It’s not a big climax, but a forced, bitter one that only reaches my body, not my heart. But he feels it, and his body responds. His heat rushes into me, filling me as his cock jerks inside me again and again, spilling with his cum. For a minute afterwards, neither of us move. I can hear water dripping in the swamp, a soft sound of ripples when someone moves, the cars on the highway past the fields. I can feel his warm arms around me, a false sense of protection after what he did. Spasms run through his body, and little pulses flutter inside me, but I can’t tell if it’s him or me.
For a minute, I forgot what this was. For a minute, it was just my body giving me the only thing it could, one moment where I didn’t have to endure the pain of reality. And then he steps away, and the air hits my sweating skin, and shame like nothing I’ve ever felt seizes me, so hard I lose my breath, and I think, in that moment, a bit of my mind. A sob chokes in my throat, but I can’t scream.
What is wrong with me? Did I really want that?
“I did it,” Duke crows. “The slut totally came! Now she can never say she didn’t want it.”