Butting In (Part 1) Lucifer, Mammon, Levi
Male/AMAB MC finds an intriguing sex toy – a magical fleshlight, which is automatically connected to the body of whoever haunts their sexual fantasies. How will each brother react if MC succumbs to the temptation and uses the device?
amabMC x Lucifer, amabMC x Mammon, amabMC x Levi
3.5k words | NSFW | Porn without plot | gn!pronouns MC | AO3 link
Content Warnings: Dub-con | Anal Sex
Part 2 (Satan, Asmo)
Part 3 (Beel, Belphie)
Part 4 (Diavolo)
Lucifer
Lucifer sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He’s been sent to the House of Lords on behalf of Lord Diavolo for a brief check of their quarterly financial report. But what should’ve taken him at most two hours, stretched into several-hours torture, due to the incompetence of these noble fools. The accounting department did their best to analyze and categorize all the expenses, but Lords were so utterly incapable of providing any reasonable data in time that the finished report turned out to be an incoherent mess.
So now Lucifer is stuck in a place full of insufferable snobs, damned to do their job instead of them. At least the most excruciating part is over: he had to personally collect all the additional papers from each Lord, and now he only needs to compare the numbers. The demon has already sent all the accountants away; if they didn’t succeed the first time, it’s highly unlikely that they’ll be of any use. Lucifer prefers to work alone anyway.
The only two things that motivate him right now are a huge cup of the strongest coffee ever known to demons and potential revenge. If Lucifer manages to find any traces of financial machinations, Lord Diavolo will take this matter into his own hands. And when he’s on the case, it’s useless to hide behind the high status of a noble. The Future King deals with problems swiftly and mercilessly.
Lucifer smirks, takes a sip of coffee, and focuses on the documents in his hands. The demon occupied the office of one of the Lords after he unceremoniously kicked out the owner. The room has too many golden decorations for Lucifer’s liking, but at least the chair is comfortable enough. The soft rustle of papers and the rhythmical ticking of the clock help him concentrate and ignore intrusive thoughts about one particular human who waits for him at home… Perhaps there are actually three things that motivate Lucifer right now, but his pride will never let him admit it.
A sudden shiver runs along Lucifer’s body, making him twitch and almost spill all the coffee on the documents. The demon immediately lets go of the cup and straightens up, trying to figure out what the hell happened. But Lucifer doesn’t spot anything unusual, only the same ticking of the clock breaks the silence of an empty room.
The second shiver strikes him just as suddenly. This time it’s stronger, it pierces his mind and makes him grab the edge of the table, looking for support. Lucifer feels the ghost touches on his body, which concentrate on his backside. He unconsciously presses his hips against the seat in an attempt to hide his delicate parts from the unknown intruder. But to no avail. The unstoppable force concentrates on his most vulnerable part of the body, pressing inside and massaging the tensed walls of his entrance.
Lucifer bites his lower lip, trying to contain all the embarrassing noises deep within; a thin stream of blood runs down his chin and lands on one of the documents, staining it and coloring the white pages red. His trembling hand wipes off tiny drops of sweat from his forehead.
The Avatar of Pride is not capable of panicking, as simple as that. He has everything under control, no matter what happens. But now, for the first time in eternity, Lucifer doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and confused; the burning desire to twist the neck of whoever does this to him and the baffling temptation to submit to these new sensations are tearing him apart.
Lucifer chooses the first option, concentrating his magic on the faint traces of the curse that makes him lose control over his body. The demon frowns as he mentally untangles the magical energies and reaches the source of the disturbance.
It’s MC, it’s their life force, their magical energy. Lucifer senses the power of some kind of artifact nearby, but its magic doesn’t look dangerous. The demon sighs, letting his tensed muscles finally relax. He feels an all-consuming relief at the thought of MC being the one who’s behind this. It’s them, they are responsible for all this nonsense. Of course, who else would it be? He should’ve figured it out sooner.
A gentle pressure on his insides continues, it seems MC doesn’t use the artifact to its full potential yet, preferring to check the toy with their fingers. Lucifer leans back in his chair and spreads his long legs apart. He could fly all the way to the House of Lamentation, confiscate this suspiciously powerful artifact, and lecture them for several hours straight, but…
Lucifer’s line of thought is interrupted by a sudden sensation of some liquid inside him. The demon frowns harder as he feels his cheeks and ears burn with humiliation. He closes his eyes, not to see how his hand unzips his pants and lets out his neglected boner. He doesn’t want to accept this. Lucifer shouldn’t be so agreeable towards the fact that he is being used as a sex toy. Even if it’s MC who does that. Stroking his dick to such foul sensations feels almost like a betrayal of his Pride. He should ignore his urges and…
The touch of a much bigger object feels shocking, no matter how much Lucifer anticipated dreaded the next stage of MC’s curiosity. It feels so much hotter than their fingers; it stretches him open inch by inch without meeting any resistance from Lucifer’s body. He breathes out sharply and tries to stop his hips from trembling. What a disgrace.
Lucifer clenches his fists, stubbornly ignoring his own growing excitement. But despite his efforts, his thighs spread even wider, chasing the feeling of the hot and pulsating flesh, magically conjured to bring Lucifer pleasure. The damn artifact is too good at recreating MC’s dick, too good at imitating all the deep thrusts. The demon can bear this for only so long. He snarls, grabs his dick, and starts stocking it with hungry desperation.
A quiet moan escapes Lucifer’s lips, but he immediately shuts his mouth with his hand, trying to save at least some dignity. The quicker the pushes become, the more difficult it is to contain all the moans. As Lucifer feels MC coming inside him, he bites his hand as hard as possible to muffle the final embarrassing sound. He growls as his fangs pierce his own skin, and his dick finally releases.
It takes him some time to regain his senses. The rhythmical ticking of the clock slowly returns Lucifer to reality. The demon silently stares at the pile of documents, now partially covered not only with his blood but also his sperm. He lifts his trembling hand and snaps his fingers to set the whole pile ablaze.
…They say that after one of the offices in the House of Lords burned down, together with important documents, the whole establishment had to work overtime to restore the lost data. It’s still unknown what exactly happened; some rumors mentioned a black-winged demon flying out of the office’s window in the direction of the House of Lamentation. But the strangest event that surpassed even the fire in one of the core institutions of the Devildom was no doubt the fact that, despite the sudden calamity and overdue financial report, Lucifer was walking around with a huge, bright smile on his face.
Mammon
Mammon is in deep shit. For real this time. He breathes heavily, peeking at five demons from around the corner. He sighs with relief as they march past his hiding spot and lovingly presses a giant bag full of money to his chest.
From Mammon’s perspective, this whole situation is exclusively the fault of these stupid morons. Who the hell keeps their money in cash nowadays?! These idiots were simply begging to rob them. How could Mammon say no? He will use the money better than they ever could anyway. MC was saying something about a new phone…
Mammon quietly swears and squats behind a dumpster, merging with the shadows. One of the demons returned and is now standing uncomfortably close to his hiding spot. Mammon needs to get out of here before they find him. He should make a run for it once the path is clear.
He squats lower, firmly hugging the bag in his hands. And he almost falls on his ass once he feels some kind of movement inside this very ass. Mammon shivers from disgust at the thought that he seems to be infected by damn tapeworms. He knew that a dinner at that shady restaurant was a bad idea. But seriously, how many are there? Or is it one thick-ass worm? It sure feels like it.
Despite his struggles, Mammon does his best to keep an eye on the demon next to him. They seem to have taken a break from the chase and are now simply smoking a cigarette.
Mammon can’t wait for too long, he needs to escape now while he has this chance. It seems he has to use just a little bit of violence. This demon is relaxed and completely unaware of their surroundings; it will be easy to jump them and knock them out within seconds. Gently, of course. Mammon quietly cackles as he slowly approaches the demon, still half-squatting and holding the bag in one hand.
But just as Mammon is ready to commit yet another crime, the fucking worm starts squirming again. The demon quietly moans, then immediately slams his mouth with his hand. The loud slap almost alerts the smoking demon, but they shrug it off.
“Must’ve been the wind.” They mumble, lifting their head and glaring at the stars. The sky is so beautiful today.
Meanwhile, just several feet away from the romantic demon, Mammon is having a mental breakdown. What the hell was that? No, Mammon didn’t just moan thanks to some stupid parasites, it’s a blatant lie. He tosses the bag on the ground and tries to turn his torso backwards to check his butt. It doesn’t help in the slightest since his jeans cover everything, so Mammon can only stare at his ass with disapproval.
His whole body suddenly shivers, making him drop to his knees and close his mouth with a hand once again. He feels something sticky and moist inside. At first, this strange sensation bothered only his asshole, but now it’s spreading deeper, all the way inside…
Mammon blinks away a single tear, trying not to panic. His medical condition is certainly dire, maybe he’s even dying. No, Great Mammon won’t die from some stupid worms, or whatever this is! He’ll find a cure; he just needs to escape first. MC will have to wait for a new phone a little longer, though; it seems that all the money will be spent on Mammon’s medical bills…
A sudden pressure on his asshole sends goosebumps all over Mammon’s body. He has to cover his mouth with his second hand, falling all the way to the ground. He’s now lying on his stomach, trying to regain his senses. Mammon feels something pushing inside him. His legs tremble, losing all their strength. His brain is trying to process everything that is happening but completely gives up once the ass gets attacked by powerful thrusts. Mammon’s erection is pressed uncomfortably to the ground through his jeans. He can’t even change the position, or at least take off his pants, since his body has fully betrayed him. The violent shivers shake Mammon’s body; he spends his last energy keeping his hands close to his mouth. Otherwise, the whole neighborhood will hear his whimpers.
Mammon’s mind is completely shut down, maybe as a way of precaution. At least the poor demon can’t reflect on the whole situation and be terrified of being either hopelessly ill or cursed. He can only focus on deep thrusts that hit his prostate over and over. The only thing that bothers him right now is his dick, still trapped in his jeans. He presses his hips closer to the ground to get at least some friction.
Mammon closes his eyes, breathing heavily into his hands. He’s so close, just a little more…
He’s suddenly being filled with something so hot that it heats up his insides; his ass unconsciously starts to greedily absorb this mysterious substance. Mammon trembles violently as he finally comes all over his pants. His last vocal moans break through the shield of his hands, shattering the surrounding silence.
As Mammon slowly returns to reality, he feels that his ass is now completely fine. He also feels that he is now surrounded by five angry demons who are ready to beat the shit out of him.
…MC is caressing Mammon’s soft hair as the demon complains to them about his rotten luck. He managed to escape in the end, which was a miracle, even with his abilities to run faster than anyone in the Devildom. The demons didn’t succeed in hurting him, but they took all their money back. Mammon doesn’t care that much about the money, though, being much more concerned about the possible disease. And MC just silently pats his hair, gathering their courage to tell Mammon about that one cool thing they found… And how it can actually be responsible for all of today’s misadventures.
Leviathan
Levi is bursting with excitement as he strolls around the comic-con. The amount of merch for all his favorite shows is simply unbelievable; and all the talented cosplayers make him wish he wasn’t such a shut-in otaku. To take a photo with any of them would be like a dream come true, but he’ll reach this major milestone some other time. He already has a huge reason to be proud of himself today.
Few reasons, actually. First of all, he came to this comic-con alone. All alone! Him! That’s right, he doesn’t need to ask Beel or Satan to come with him anymore. He doesn’t need any emotional support to come to this place, full of people… scary strangers… maybe they all think that he’s gross… or he smells bad…
Levi shakes his head, using his personal method of overcoming such anxiety attacks. All he needs to do is imagine MC, who holds him by the hand and smiles brightly at him. Yeah, that’s better. They always do this when he’s about to panic. Levi can’t give up, he promised that he’d have fun on his own.
The demon sighs, wishing MC was here with him. Lucifer forbade them to leave the house after they broke something when they were fooling around with Mammon. Levi frowns: this greedy scumbag always finds a way to mess with him, and now Levi has to spend the day all alone. Mammon ruined their date, and…
No-no-no-no, it wasn’t supposed to be a date, alright?! It WASN’T! Levi just offered MC to come with him, that’s all. He didn’t actually hope… That would be just silly, right?! Right…
Levi shakes his head once again, adjusting his stockings. Heels are not so bad, but these stockings are constantly trying to fall down. Maybe his legs are too skinny for this…
Hm? Oh yeah, that’s actually the second reason why Levi should be proud of himself. When he finally decided to invite MC on a da-… to hang out, he decided to consult with the professional, namely Asmo. He gave him some strange advices, like not eating too much during the day to avoid getting too dirty down “there”. Levi didn’t know where “there” was exactly, but he didn’t have the courage to ask. Other than that, Asmo had some great ideas: he assured Levi that MC would really appreciate it if he showed them his true passion. Specifically, if Levi put on his Ruri-chan costume, with stockings and all.
This idea got him really inspired; Levi spent several days preparing the costume for the show. So when the da-… the hangout was cancelled, he couldn’t just leave the costume at home. So he quickly made a giant sign “No photos, No touching, No interactions”, and came to the comic-con dressed in his pink dress.
Levi has never been prouder of himself. Despite everything, he paid homage to his favorite character. He wishes MC could see him right now…
“Ngh…” Levi winces, almost dropping his sign to the ground. His thighs firmly press together, slightly shaking from a sudden, unknown sensation between them. The demon blushes heavily and sprints to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls.
He tosses the sign on the floor, lifts his skirt, and tries to inspect the area beneath. Levi did his best to make Ruri-chan’s costume as authentic as possible, which obviously included the right type of underwear. So now the demon carefully gropes his hips, covered with pink silk panties, in search of anything unusual.
His fingers dig into the silky fabric as he feels a strong tremble that concentrates in the area of his butt. He almost tears his underwear with his claws, trying to fight the unexpected weakness in his knees and not fall to the floor.
Levi gathers his strength, reaches the toilet lid, smashes it closed, and lands on it, breathing heavily. He would have never thought that it would be so hard to do such mundane actions, but he feels exhaustion after this little feat. He’s so confused by the riot of his own body that he doesn’t know what to think. Levi feels something slowly pushing inside, stretching him carefully. The only thing that prevents him from starting to seriously freak out is the fact that this unknown force immediately finds his weak spot.
The demon loudly screeches as something starts applying more pressure to his prostate. His dick already peeks out of the pink panties, leaving wet stains on the underwear and the skirt.
“Excuse me? Are you all right?” Someone knocks at the door of Levi’s stall, making him freeze. He squeezes his skirt in frustration as he shakily replies:
“Y-y-yes.”
That’s the best he can do, but luckily the stranger finds this reply passable and leaves him alone. Levi feels as his butt and asshole get covered in something sticky and warm, and he shivers in terror and anticipation. Wait, “anticipation”? No, Levi doesn’t enjoy this insane situation, not at all!
But self-reflection can wait. If the pushes renew, his voice will betray him again. And if this happens, the whole comic-con will hear him, and he certainly can’t let this happen! Levi needs to find something to block all the sounds ASAP. He looks around, trying to find something useful, but there aren’t many things in toilet stalls. Maybe something on him… Oh!
A genius idea graciously visits him. One of the main pieces of Ruri-chan’s clothing is, no doubt, her cute pink hat. Levi mentally apologizes to Ruri-chan for using her iconic hat in that way, takes it off, and shoves it in his mouth.
Just in time for a new stage of thrusts to start. This time they are much more intense. Levi feels how his fangs tear the soft fabric of his precious hat. But his idea mostly works: all his moans and whines are muffled, they are just quiet enough not to alert other people. He grabs his skirt, panties, his own thighs – anything other than his dick. Levi doesn’t want to do it like this. Not in the toilet stall, surrounded by strangers. Not in the Ruri-chan’s dress. Not without MC…
Levi slightly relaxes as his thoughts concentrate on MC. If he imagines that it’s them who inserts their dick inside him, he’ll manage to get through it. His brain successfully tricks itself, almost actually making him believe that it’s MC who is behind this cruel joke. If it’s them, it’s all right, Levi thinks, and allows himself to touch his neglected cock.
He strokes it desperately, focusing on his vivid fantasy of MC. His hole starts pulsating eagerly as he dives into his imagination. Whatever is on the other side must’ve felt how welcoming his hole became; the thrusts get faster and harder, almost making Levi fall from the toilet seat to the floor. He quickens the pace of his strokes to match the impatient pushes, squeezing the hat in his mouth with all his might.
He comes the moment he feels the hot release of an unknown entity inside him. Colorful circles flood his vision, leaving him completely strengthless. He tries to catch his breath, lazily thinking about the ruined costume, especially the pink panties he accidentally tore up. Now he needs to somehow clean up and hurry home, seeking refuge in MC’s arms. He’ll never go to any event without them again.
Part 2 (Satan, Asmo)
Part 3 (Beel, Belphie)
Part 4 (Diavolo)
P.S. The art doesn't belong to me, it's an official art from Shall We Date: Obey Me! (You, Me and Devil's Coast card)
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𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | dark!Ari Levinson x innocent!reader, dark!Steve Rogers x innocent!reader, dark!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dark, smut, noncon, dubcon, foursome, daddy!kink, oral, anal, physical violence, slapping, mention of alcohol and drugs, insertion of objects, spitting, toys, degradation, dumbification, spanking, very very strongly misogynistic, domesticity kink, slight petplay, bullying, Ari, Curtis and especially Steve being very mean, adultery/cheating, dacryphilia, collars, leashes, free use, sharing is caring.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Your husband Ari invites his friends Steve and Curtis for poker night. You knew they’d be sharing a few drinks together - what you don’t know is that they plan on sharing you too.
𝐀/𝐍 | This work includes MAJOR misogyny and degradation. The views of these characters do not reflect my own. Please heed warnings and don’t read if this isn’t your cup of tea. Otherwise, enjoy!
“Honey, where the hell are those drinks?” Ari’s voice is loud, booming and dripping with authority as it carries from the living room into the kitchen. Exhaling slowly a few times to steady your hand, you drop the final few ice cubes into your husband’s glass of whiskey, giving the drink a gentle stir before placing it on the tray next to the scotch and the beer.
“Sure, she’s a real looker, but she’s a bit slow.” You hear your husband explain to his friends. “I don’t worry, though, because what she lacks for in brains, she makes up for in other areas.”
“I’d definitely prefer a broad who’s dumb as bricks. I’d say it makes ‘em hotter.” One of his friends responds – you’re too focused on making sure you have their drinks exactly right to notice who it is that’s spoken.
Their laughter echoes and bounces off the walls of the living room, your husband’s the loudest of all.
Your parents had warned you against Ari Levinson. A business tycoon of his magnitude rocking up in your small town? He’d bought up all the small businesses, bulldozed down the local mall and played a hand in more than a handful of people being left unemployed – including both your parents. Your dad called him a ruthless, big city snob. Your mom called him trouble with a capital T. But you called him your husband.
Or daddy.
“She’s a bit on the younger side.” You hear another one of your husband’s friends – Steve Rogers, you think – comment, “You sure she knows what she’s doing?”
“She’ll manage.” Ari sounds smooth and unperturbed, “I’ve got her trained. And she’s well aware of what’ll happen if she messes up.”
You swallow, tray now gripped tightly in your hands as you make your way out of the kitchen.
Ari was charming and friendly when you’d first met him, and he’d swept you off your feet instantly. The naïve, small-town waitress seduced through his sugary sweet words and expensive gifts. The fact that he was so much older than you didn’t seem to matter, not when he made you feel sparks across your body and see stars behind your eyes.
You were married within three weeks of knowing him.
“I hope she does mess up.” Course, almost sadistic laugher echoes from the living room. Curtis. Ari’s other friend. “I’d love to stick around to witness the repercussions.”
You cringe at his insinuation. You know Curtis Everett is married. You also know he has a wild reputation for being a regular at both the town’s strip club and the local whorehouse. What he does for a living is unclear to you – Ari never discusses things like that with you – but he hangs around in the same circles as your husband and drives a nice car, so you assume he must have a lot of money.
“You ever used your belt on her, Levinson?” Steve asks casually. There’s a darkness to Steve Rogers that you can’t quite pinpoint. An air of mystery that no one in town seems to be able to crack – least of all you. All you know is that he’s one of Ari’s business partners, he’s divorced, and he rides a motorbike from time to time.
Your husband smirks, “Wouldn’t you like to know, you sadistic fuck.”
They know you’ve entered the living room, slowly making your way towards them whilst balancing the tray of drinks, yet they still talk about you like you’re not there. But you still feel nervous, despite none of the three men bothering to tear their gazes away from their game of poker to even spare you a glance.
Curtis is nearest to you, so you approach him first, silently holding out the tray of drinks just like Ari has taught you to do with every guest that’s come to visit in the past. And he looks up, head buzzed but facial hair dark and thick as ever. Beard not as thick as Ari’s, but still thick enough. Ocean blue eyes sparkling with intensity, he grabs his beer from the tray, taking a long swig while maintaining eye contact with you.
“That’s a pretty dress you got on, sweetheart.” Curtis leers, his gaze stuck on your cleavage peaking out past the neckline of your dress. After marrying you, Ari made sure you had a wardrobe full of cute dresses and skirts to wear just for him. All pastel and flowery and girly to match his tastes – which Curtis clearly seems to share.
You hesitate, glancing back at Ari with your lip tucked between your teeth. Curtis’ gaze is hungry and wolfish, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of you. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand, being stared at like this. As if you’re an exhibit inside a zoo enclosure, but he’s the animal circling you from the outside.
“Don’t be rude, honey. Tell him thank you.” Your husband’s order is clear and commanding.
“Th-Thank you, Mr. Everett.” Never first names, your husband had told you that his friends – like Ari himself – were not your equals.
You move on to Steve next. He’s sat on the couch, or more like spread out on the couch because he’s taking up more than half the space. Not even sparing you a single glance when you bend down so the tray is level with him, he grabs his scotch and takes a long, calculated sip. A single strand of his dirty blonde hair falls over his forehead. He’s got long hair just like Ari, but where Ari’s is darker and wilder, Steve’s dirty blonde mane is almost always perfectly styled.
“She’s shaking like a scared little kitten.” Steve comments, and he’s looking at you now. Or rather, your body – his blue eyes drinking in all your curves whilst he still has yet to acknowledge you. But sure enough – he’s right. The tray in your hands is shaking despite your many efforts to calm your own nerves. There’s just something… fearsome about the blond sat in front of you. As if one wrong move on your part and he’ll eat you alive…
Curtis grins, “I think she’s scared of you, Rogers.”
Steve is unamused, “I could give her a good reason to be scared.”
You gulp, slowly straightening up and making your way over to Ari, who’s sat on his leather armchair. Handing your husband his whiskey, you take your seat on his knee – your designated place for whenever you guys have company. Very early on in your marriage, Ari had told you that good little wives sit on their husbands’ laps because the couches and chairs were reserved for the men.
His arm encircles around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. The act of affection relaxes you, tenseness evaporating from your limbs as you settle down against your husband. In his lap you feel so tiny; he’s just so big – they all are. All three of them don’t look an inch below 6’5, and it only adds to the intimidation you feel.
Their poker game resumes, and you try to make sense of it in your head but the truth is you have no idea what’s going on. You never understood the rules of poker, and Ari had just laughed when, in the past, you’d asked him to explain the game to you. “Poker is a men’s game.” He’d said wisely, “Little girls like you just need to sit tight and look pretty, so don’t you worry your dumb little head over it.”
“My wife’s being a fucking bitch.” Curtis breaks the silence with a drawl, cigarette waving in one hand and beer bottle in the other, “Got herself these progressive friends, telling her she doesn’t have to be in the kitchen all the time. Now suddenly she wants to go out for fucking girls’ night – as if she doesn’t have four of my fucking kids to be taking care of.”
Steve snorts, not even looking up from his cards, “You scared you might run into her at the strip club?”
Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Curtis exhales and the smoke billows out past his pink lips slowly, his blue eyes looking straight at you through the grey mist. “I don’t give a shit if I do. Maybe if she knew I was getting pleasure elsewhere, she’d try harder in the bedroom. Fuckin’ bitch.”
“Divorce her. That’s what I did when my broad got too big for her boots.” The blond finally looks up from his deck of cards, his icy blue eyes – like Curtis’ – drinking you in with their intense gaze. “Now Levinson’s got the right idea. Got himself a pretty young thing who doesn’t dare to even breathe unless he tells her to.”
Ari smirks, his thick fingers tracing shapes on your bare thigh, “You got that right. My little angel knows exactly where her place is, don’t you, baby?”
Of course, you know your place. You’d been happy to grant Ari full control of your life from the moment you had met him. He was just so handsome, so sweet, so charming – with seemingly endless amounts of money and praise that he had no problem spending on you. In your naïve eyes, he seemed like a God. And he still does, so you nod.
“Yes, Ari. I know my place.”
“Ari? Is that what she calls you?” Steve’s remark is quick and biting.
Your husband sighs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is soft but his gaze hardens, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. His disapproval is evident in the look he gives you, and it makes your heart sink.
The rule is to only call Ari “daddy” when you’re inside the house. But he’s never made you do it when the two of you have company over. The thought of calling him that in front of Curtis and Steve makes your heart beat faster and heat rise to your cheeks. But the possibility of disobeying Ari makes you feel almost sick to your stomach.
“Sorry, I meant daddy. I know my place, daddy.” You correct yourself, earning a soft kiss on your lips from your husband, the simple gesture making you glow inwardly. It’s like your body is now wired to function on his approval. You try not to think about the fact that his friends are right there, because that might make you spontaneously combust with embarrassment.
“Fuckin’ newlyweds,” Curtis growls as he watches you and Ari continue to kiss. He suddenly slams his beer bottle on the coffee table, the loud thud making you jump. “Hey sweetie, get me another beer.”
No please, no thank you. But you scamper to obey anyways – you already know your night’s going to be spent going back and forth from kitchen to living room as you fetch drinks for them. You’re barely on your feet when Ari’s hand smacks your ass hard, the lewd sound echoing across the room along with the squeak of surprise that leaves your mouth.
The men laugh and you scurry out of the room quickly. “Where the hell did you find her, Levinson? She’s shyer than a fuckin’ mouse!” Curtis’ voice booms.
Inside the kitchen and away from their burning gazes, you allow yourself to exhale slowly. You may be overthinking it, but something seems off about tonight. It’s in the way that all three men are looking at you – your husband included. And the dress Ari chose for you is shorter than usual, which doesn’t help much with the staring. They’re treating you like an object, and you honestly don’t know how to feel about that.
“You think she got lost in there?” Steve’s voice is loud enough to carry through the walls and into the kitchen. You sigh, grabbing another bottle of beer from the fridge and making your way back out, being sure to tug your tiny dress down before you return.
“Here you are, Mr. Everett.” You say politely, breath hitching in your throat when his hand brushes against yours as he takes the beer from you.
“At least some women still remember their manners,” The buzzcut-haired man murmurs, “Fuckin’ feminists, ruining this world for the rest of us. You’re still good though, sweetie. Your daddy trained you well, huh?”
“Yes, Mr. Everett.” You disagree with just about everything he’s saying, but you have to keep that to yourself.
It’s hard to not be intimidated when all three men seem to have their eyes glued on you; you can feel their gazes again as you make your way back over to Ari. You’re about to sink back down on his lap when he raises a hand, the simple action making you freeze.
“Why don’t you sit by daddy’s feet for a little while, angel?”
He says it so sweetly, almost like he’s requesting you to do a small favour for him. But the edge in his tone, that unmistakable tinge of darkness dancing around his words can’t be ignored. It’s an order, cleverly disguised as a question although he has no reason to disguise it. But by his feet? On the floor?
You swallow harshly, suddenly remembering your parents’ distressed words of warning when you’d broken the news that you and Ari had eloped: “That man looks at you like you’re a piece of meat. You need to get out while you still can, he doesn’t respect you and he never will.” But you love him. You’re so in love with him that it hurts to disobey him, to upset him in any way, shape or form.
“Is she hard of hearing or something?” Steve’s deep baritone makes you jump inadvertently, not a note of sympathy in his words. “Maybe she isn’t as well trained as you say she is, Levinson. Hey sweetheart,” He clicks his teeth like he’s beckoning a dog, “Are you deaf or just plain dumb?”
Bristling at Steve’s stark meanness, you waste no more time in sinking down to your knees next to Ari’s feet, hands clasped neatly over your lap and chin jutted upwards to look at your husband. And Ari seems cool and collected as ever, taking another long gulp of his whiskey. He doesn’t even look your way, but his hand pats the top of your head – the action bringing you both embarrassment and comfort at the same time.
“To think she asked for a puppy for Christmas.” Ari says offhandedly, “I told her I didn’t have time to take care of two pets.” Again, the men laugh crudely, and you’re left feeling more than a little dejected. But Ari pushes the back of your head forward, making you rest your cheek on his thigh with his fingers raking through your hair and you relax once more.
“Speaking of dumb,” Curtis pipes up as they continue to play poker, “Ransom’s got a new bitch and she’s dumb as hell. Saw her at the club with him the other night, he had her dressed looking like a fuckin’ whore.” He smirks, “The things that girl would do for a line of crack.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” Steve scoffs.
“Things you can’t even dream of, grandpa.” Curtis slaps his knee and barks out a laugh, “How long’s it been since you got your rocks off, huh?”
The blond shrugs, “At least I’m not a walking STD.”
You want to wrinkle your nose at their conversation but you know that wouldn’t be a good idea. But the way they speak about women is so crass, so dehumanising – it’s almost scary. The only thing keeping you calm right now is Ari’s heavy, warm hand as it strokes the top of your head continuously as if you’re his pet.
“My angel does everything Ransom’s crackwhore does, except she does it for free.” Ari interjects, a satisfied smirk painted on his face.
Curtis’ eyebrow cocks up in interest, and even Steve puts his drink down.
“Yeah? Sweetie, are you a little freak in the sheets?” Curtis asks as he leans forward to toss what’s left of his cigarette into the crystal ashtray that’s on the coffee table.
You immediately look up at Ari, who is now scratching the space behind your ear in a way that really does make you feel like you’re some kind of puppy. Your husband sighs, “Answer him, angel. And don’t look at me like that again. You speak when you’re spoken to, no ifs or buts. Got it?”
“Y-Yes, daddy.” You flinch at his stern tone before turning to look at Curtis. “I… I don’t know, Mr. Everett.”
A snort sounds past Steve’s lips, “She’s a little airhead, isn’t she? Gotta find me one of those. Hey, sweetheart, you ever let your daddy spank you? Fuck you all rough, take it up the ass for him?”
Eyes wide and blood running cold, you can feel the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the blonde’s blunt questions. But the sting of Ari’s disapproval and the threat of disobeying him has you stumbling over an answer:
“Y-Yes, Mr. Rogers. Daddy has done all of that to me.” And more.
Curtis whistles lowly, “Damn, sweetie, wish I had you sitting pretty in my bedroom instead of my cunt wife.”
You let out a soft gasp, immediately waiting with baited breath for Ari to blow up. In the short time you had been together, your husband was always very possessive of you. From giving dirty looks to random men who even dared to look at you, to resorting to violence any time another man tried to talk to you.
But the rules are different for his friends, clearly, because Ari doesn’t move a muscle, coolly downing his whiskey before setting the glass on the crystal coffee table. You almost mewl sadly when his hand stops stroking your head and he stands up.
“I forgot something upstairs,” He says vaguely as he looks down at you, “Honey, can I trust you to look after and entertain my friends while I go upstairs and get it?”
Again, it’s not a question. And the idea of being alone downstairs with Curtis and Steve without the comforting and protective presence of your husband is daunting to say the least. But it’s not like you can say no. You knew the day you married Ari that the word ‘no’ was no longer in your vocabulary.
“Y-Yes, daddy.” You nod subserviently, and your husband grins almost wolfishly. And there’s something about the expression on his face, the slight smirk on his pink lips and the way his tanned skin flushes in excitement – he’s been cool as a cucumber all evening but now? It’s as if he’s got something up his sleeve, and a glance at his friends shows they share the same dark sparkle in their eyes too.
But you don’t have time to ponder over anything, because the next thing you know you’re being hauled up onto your feet, a pained yelp escaping your lips as Ari yanks you upwards with a death grip on your hair.
“You hear that, guys? She said she’d entertain you. Who wants her first?”
It’s like everything’s happening lightning quick – Ari picking you up easily, and you squealing because your dress rides up and you’re pretty sure your panties are visible for a split second before you tug it back down. But that turns out to be the least of your worries because the next thing you know, your husband has unceremoniously dumped you into Steve’s lap.
Like a ragdoll.
“Hey, hey, calm down, sweetheart.” Steve immediately wraps his arms around your waist to stop you from flailing. His words drip with condescension and faux-comfort, and it feels almost alien to be in his arms. You’ve never been held like this by a man apart from your husband, and although Steve is so similar to Ari in build and looks – he’s still not your husband.
“Ari?” You squeak, but the only response you get is the sound of all three men laughing – a sound that you’ve been hearing all night.
“Hush, little baby.” Curtis mocks, reaching out to pull your cheek as if you really are a little baby, “Me and Mr. Rogers, we can be your daddies too, you know? Your daddy said it was okay.”
Your gaze trails dejectedly after Ari, or rather Ari’s back, as you watch him leave the room. And now you’re left with two pairs of steely blue eyes that are so like your husband’s yet so different in so many ways.
“Hand her over,” Curtis demands Steve almost immediately, “God knows I need her little body against me right now. I’m harder than a fucking rock, watching this little sweetheart fetch me beers all night.” He tries to yank you by your arm, but the blonde’s grip on you only tightens, and the younger man frowns, “Give her over, Rogers. She likes me better than you, anyways. Don’t you, sweetie?”
Well, he’s certainly nicer than Steve – but you don’t particularly like either of them right now. And you’re too panicked to answer him. How could Ari leave you alone with these two? And why would he throw you on Steve’s lap as if you were expected to…
Entertain him.
“A little girl like her craves the firm hand of an older man.” Steve responds smoothly, his hand resting on your bare thigh and giving it a soft squeeze that has you practically panting. No other man apart from Ari has touched you like this, and you can feel something so hard underneath you. The blond grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Don’t you, sweetheart? You like men twice your age best, don’t you? Gets your little pussy wet knowing you’re with a man old enough to be your dad?”
Curtis snorts, leaning back and lighting another cigarette, “Clearly. She married Levinson.”
That grabs your attention, and you find yourself shaking your head, “No, me and Ari are in love!”
You’re serious with your claim, and you don’t expect the two older men to burst out laughing. Loud, booming laughter that makes you even more uncomfortable than you already are. Beneath you, you can feel Steve’s hard crotch rubbing against your bottom as he laughs, his chest snug against your back as he holds you close with one muscular arm.
“Sure, sweetie, he loves you a lot. So much, in fact, that he’s willing to share you with his friends.”
You frown at Curtis’ statement – what does he mean by share?
You find out not two seconds later when Steve’s huge hands find the zipper of your dress, fingers deft and quick in unzipping you. Gasping, you try and wiggle away again but to no avail. “Mr. Rogers! Wh-What are you doing!?”
“Stay the fuck still,” Steve orders you, “Gotta get you out of this dress. As pretty as it is, I prefer my toys naked and compliant.” The straps of the dress are pushed down your shoulders, and Curtis joins in too, pulling the fabric down your body.
Blood rushes to your face, but for some reason your protests barely make it past your lips with how feeble they seem to be. Having both older men’s hands on you, pawing at you lewdly and practically shredding your dress to pieces with their impatience to get you naked; for some reason you feel your pussy throb.
No, no you can’t! You can’t betray Ari like this! So then why do you bite back a moan when Steve finally rips your dress in two, throwing the sorry-looking flowery rags to the floor before he cups both your breasts (Ari had told you not to wear a bra tonight), squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Curtis’ rough and calloused palm immediately cups your pussy through your pale pink panties that Ari had chosen for you.
“Did you wet yourself, little girl? Or are you just excited?” He asks, grinding his palm down against your covered mound, making you gasp out loud. And you’ve always lacked willpower – Ari’s punished you enough times for it in the past – so you can’t help but buck your hips against Curtis’ hand, feeling the shame wash over you but not caring enough to stop.
“Look at her, humping against my hand already like a little slut – almost like she’s an eager little virgin or something. I guess Ari never taught her anything about self-control.” The buzzcut-haired man comments.
Steve smirks, still toying with your breasts as if he hasn’t touched a woman in years; squeezing them and pressing them together, holding you taut against him as you flail on top of him from all the mixed sensations you’re currently feeling.
“She’s all riled up from earlier. Pretty pussy’s all wet from fetching our drinks all night, or maybe it’s because she’s cheating on her husband. Hey! Stay the fuck still, you dumb fucking slut!” Steve growls suddenly, because Curtis chooses that moment to slap your panty-covered pussy hard, and your whole body convulses on top of Steve.
“Give her a drink, maybe it’ll calm her down.” Curtis nods to the glass of half-finished scotch on the coffee table, “It’s too bad Levinson didn’t want to drug her for this. Something about fucking a girl who’s half unconscious really gets me going.”
“No way. Half the fun is in the way she wails and fights back. Look at her now, conflicted and guilty because she’s feeling so good. She can’t even keep still, rutting like a little bunny in heat. Hey, sweetheart, have a sip.” Steve nudges his glass of scotch against your lips and you wrinkle your nose, eyes wide as saucers.
“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink.”
“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink,” Curtis mimics you cruelly, making his voice all high-pitched, “Sweetie, your daddy left us in charge of you, so drinking a little bit of alcohol is the least of your worries. Now open up.”
You part your lips, ready to take a timid sip except Steve has different plans – he tips the glass over your face, the burning liquid sloshing all down your front. It’s icy cold against your skin, dripping down your neck and over your chest. Curtis groans, immediately dipping his head down to lick the liquid off of you. And his rough tongue against your smooth skin has you crying out as he licks a tantalising trail between your breasts, before his mouth latches onto your nipple, suctioning hard and practically fitting your whole breast into his mouth, making a show of it and moaning lewdly the whole time.
“Dumb baby,” Steve tsk-tsks, “Look at the mess you made. Wasting all of daddy’s drink. Apologise, right now.”
You hiccup, mind slowly going empty with Curtis going to town on your tits with no sign of slowing down. And he’s still got one hand pressing between your legs, and that mixed with the feel of Steve’s hard dick poking your ass from underneath has your mind going empty at a faster rate than ever. You involuntarily buck up against Curtis’ hand again, your pussy weeping already and you know you’re embarrassingly wet, and –
SMACK.
The force of the slap across your face leaves you winded and shocked, as does the stinging pain now spreading across your cheek.
“When I tell you to apologise, you apologise.” Steve warns sternly, and Curtis finally looks up, licking his full pink lips at the site of you with your head whipped to the side.
You feel your breathing grow ragged and your lower lip wobble, the pain and embarrassment almost too much for you to handle. Salty tears well in your eyes, a natural response to the slap you’ve just received, and you sniffle softly.
Ari reappears at that moment, and your heart swells at the sight of your husband. He always makes you feel so safe, so familiar – unlike the man whose lap you’re currently splayed out over. Like a baby, you outstretch your arms towards him. “Daddy! H-He… He hit me!”
That proclamation has Curtis beside himself with laughter, “Hear that, Steve? She just tattled on you! Like a little girl running to her daddy.”
Ari crouches down till he’s level with your face, grabbing your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, “He hit you, honey?”
“Yeah!”
“Where?”
Your hand is shaky as you point to your cheek which still throbs with pain. Steve hadn’t held back with his slap, and now he sits back with you still on his lap and a smile on his face, not an ounce of regret visible in his demeanour, as if he’s admiring his handiwork.
Ari’s own hand reaches out to stroke your stinging cheek softly, and you nuzzle into his palm, welcoming his touch. Steve is horrifically mean and Curtis is crass and rude, but your daddy is the best. He knows how to treat you right, knows exactly how to make you feel better with just a simple, soft touch –
SMACK.
You can hardly believe it when Ari strikes you across the face, the blow almost as hard as Steve’s, and now you burst out crying in earnest.
“Poor baby,” Curtis coos, lighting up his third cigarette of the hour and taking a long drag before puffing the smoke directly in your face. You cough harshly, his smoke filling your lungs and adding to your discomfort, but he doesn’t seem to care; “I guess that’s what you get for being a slut and cheating on your daddy with his two best friends.”
Ari strokes the side of your face where pain still blooms from his blow, and you find yourself flinching now, scared he’s going to hit you again. His eyes locked with your own tearful ones; and you don’t even notice the collar in his hand until he waves it in front of your face. In a voice beguiling, and so falsely gentle, he speaks as if he’s talking to a toddler: “Now honey, can you read what this collar says?”
Ari has made you wear plenty of collars in the past; you have your special pink one – the one with his initials on it as well as the words “daddy’s princess.” That one’s definitely your favourite. You also have a black one that says ‘daddy’s property’ which is nice too. But this collar in Ari’s hands, this one is new. It’s jet-black leather with silver studs, and a matching silver dog-tag that dangles from the front, glistening in the light with only one word inscribed on it:
Whore
You blubber softly, cheeks still stinging with pain and now a matching sting in your heart. What exactly is happening right now? You wonder to yourself as Ari fastens the collar around your neck while Steve holds you in place with a death grip.
“I asked you something, sweet girl. Did you read what the collar says?”
“Y-Yes, daddy.” You sniffle, “Says whore.”
“It does. Because that’s what you are for tonight.” Ari chuckles softly at the bewildered look on your face, stroking your cheek once more in time with Steve who is now running his hands through your hair. “Angel, you’re new to this whole marriage and relationships thing – so I understand that you’re too dumb to know how it works. But good little wives not only offer their services to their husbands, but to their husbands’ friends too. And that’s what you’ll be doing tonight.”
You feel like he’s dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, “B-But…But…”
“No, Angel. No ‘buts,’ remember?” Ari taps your cheek lightly as if to remind you of the pain his palm is capable of inflicting. “You don’t want to be like Curtis’ wife, do you? A dumb, wild broad who believes she can think for herself? No, that’s not you. You’re good and innocent and you’ll do exactly what daddy says, won’t you? Because men don’t like women who think they have any power in this world – it turns us off more than anything else. Do you want to turn me off, baby? Do you want to disappoint me?”
“No!” You cry, and you’d have reached out to wrap your arms around Ari’s neck if it weren’t for Steve holding you close to his own chest, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “No, daddy! Never wanna disappoint you! I’ll do wh-whatever you guys want me to do.”
Steve is unforgiving when he drops you on the floor, and you wince as you land painfully on your ass. “Be a good whore then.” He says bluntly, “Hands and knees. Lick my shoe.”
It’s not the first time that night that shock courses through your veins, but three pairs of blue eyes have now locked in on you, with hungry and expectant gazes that make you believe that you are the object that they want you to be, that they undoubtedly see you as. And so you gulp and get into position, naked and kneeling before the blond, his boots scuffed and slightly dirty as you stare at them from eye level.
“She’s got a great ass.” Curtis remarks crudely, the men casually falling back into conversation whilst you will yourself to part your lips, peak your tongue out and give Steve’s shoe a tentative lick. And then another. You stifle a soft gasp when you feel Curtis’ rough hand on your bottom, patting it as if you’re an animal at an auction, “If she was mine, I’d have her naked and crawling around on all fours all the time, this peachy ass is too fuckable to hide underneath clothes.”
“It’s the first thing I noticed about her.” Ari agrees, and his hand joins Curtis’, grabbing onto your other cheek and giving it a firm squeeze, “She was working at some dingy diner… Had this tiny fuckin’ dress on – called it a ‘uniform’. Didn’t even know her back then but I got an eyeful of her little girl panties every time she bent over. Fuckin’ slut. She gave out not fifteen minutes later.”
Your cheeks burn, but you concentrate on Steve’s shoe, licking it as if your life depends on it. And despite everything, despite how inhumane and disrespectful and shameful and objectifying the act is, there’s something about kneeling in front of a powerful man like Steve, or like Ari or Curtis, that makes your pussy throb with need.
“Make the leather shine, whore.” Steve is so stark, so to-the-point with his orders; he shoves his boot in your face, rubbing it over your lips, chin and cheeks and covering your sensitive skin in a mix of your own spit and dirt. “You like that, don’t you? Like being treated with no respect like all little girls like you should be. You’re nothing more than the dirt beneath my shoe, sweetheart. Remember that.”
“Y-Yes, daddy.” You find yourself saying between licks. Being the main object of attention between these three men has you wetter and steadily growing dumber by the second.
Your panties – the last article of clothing covering your modesty – are roughly ripped off of you, the soggy fabric landing on the floor next to your face. Steve’s hands grip your hair tightly, jerking you roughly upwards till you’re level with his dick, cowering between his parted thighs. Less than a second later, he’s unzipped himself, pulling his dick out and nudging it against your lips, “Open up, whore.”
The only man whose dick you’ve sucked prior to this is Ari – and Steve is a lot less forgiving. Stuffing his length into your barely parted mouth, the blond moves you by the hair, guiding your lips up and down his fat dick, and you were already crying but fresh tears well in your eyes from the choking feeling of fullness, your nose smacking against his pelvis as he manhandles you.
“Wish she’d been a virgin up here.” Curtis mutters, completely unperturbed by the fact that you’re currently choking on Steve’s dick, and you feel a rush of cool air when he spreads your ass cheeks, “Would’ve been so much fun to break into her little asshole.”
“I couldn’t hold off on that,” Ari’s fingers are deft and confident, tracing the rim of your puckered hole like he’s done countless times before and making your entire body shiver from head to toe. “She let me fuck her ass on our second date. She’s still tight up there, though. Try and finger her, you won’t even get one in.”
Curtis spits, his saliva dripping down the crevice of your ass, pooling around your asshole where Ari works it in with his pointer finger, the thick ring of muscle practically closing up around him, barely allowing an inch of his digit in. You involuntarily wiggle, trying to move your hips backwards to meet their fingers as Curtis joins in. But while Ari is teasing, Curtis is straightforward – wasting no time in ramming his pointer finger up your ass. The pain blooms almost immediately, making you cry out around Steve’s dick.
“Ah, she’s a good little cocksucker, Ari.” Steve comments, his grip on your hair so tight it hurts, “But she can’t take my whole dick in, can she? Look at her, already crying and I’m not even halfway inside of her.” Once more, he slaps your cheek before tapping it in quick succession, “Hey, cockslut, did your daddy not teach you how to deepthroat?”
He pulls his dick out of your mouth, the loss of contact making you pout despite the fact that you were practically choking not a second ago. “S-Sorry, daddy. T-Too big, it’s too big. Mouth’s too small – oh fuck!” You lurch forward when you feel something warm and wet lapping at your puckered hole – it’s Curtis’ tongue, hungry and desperate against your tight hole, his hands roughly pushing apart your ass cheeks.
Ari’s fingers slip down to your sopping core, your wetness dripping down and staining the carpet, making it so easy for your husband’s knowing fingers to glide up and down your slit, circling your clit in a way that has you panting and grinding back into his hand, earning a slap on your wiggling bum in the process.
“Needy baby,” Ari murmurs, and you’re about to whine, beg for him to stop teasing, when your head whips to the side once more from a rush of contact. Steve’s gripping his huge dick in his hand, and it looks so hard and angry as he slaps you across the face with it. Once, twice, three times till you’re wailing like a baby.
“She’s so fucking hot when she cries.” Steve comments, rubbing his dick over your face now as if he’s a feral animal trying to mark you with his scent, pressing the bulbous tip of his cock against your lips and you can’t help but pathetically part them, mouth gaping to taste him again. But he moves on, rubbing his length and his balls over your cheeks, nose, just all over. “You like being a messy whore? Want daddy to smear your face with cum, spit and dirt, get you looking like a proper slutty whore?”
“Y-Yeah, please!” You cry softly, and Steve grins.
Ari’s two knuckles deep into your pussy by this point, his fingers so deliciously thick as he pumps in and out. He knows exactly how to curve his digits, and at what angle, making your back arch from doing the bare minimum, causing you to press your ass further into Curtis’ face and eager tongue.
“She tastes like a dream.” Curtis’ voice is muffled, hands reaching up to slap and squeeze your ass obscenely, as if the flesh is his personal stress-ball, “God, Levinson. Why didn’t you think of sharing her before? With a sweet tasting ass like hers…” It’s like he can’t help himself, his beard prickling your skin as he dips his head back down, tongue practically making out with your puckered hole.
He tries to shove another finger in, but barely manages to fit in the tip of it. “God, a sweet ass that’s also tight as fuck? No wonder you call her an angel.”
Ari smirks, “Told you. I gotta take my time loosening her up before I fuck her up there. Or you could hold her down and force yourself in. She’ll cry either way.”
You whimper needily between them. It’s crazy how they continue to talk about you as if you’re not splayed naked right there. But it turns you on beyond belief, the idea that you’re just an object to them, that they can discuss you as easily as they would discuss what’s on the morning news. It makes you want them even more, especially now that Curtis has lifted his head up, Ari’s fingers have stalled and even Steve has pushed your face back down to his boot.
The blond is busy palming his dick as he now gazes down hungrily at your exposed ass, “If we’re gonna vote on it, I say force it in. She’s just a hole at the end of the day, and she’s going to be taking more than one cock up her ass tonight regardless.”
Mewling softly, you reach out with grabby hands for one of them, as if silently begging them to keep touching you, to give you some sort of contact because all of it seems to have stopped as the three older men casually discuss your body. You can feel your slick pouring down and coating your thighs, making them sticky with your arousal but you don’t dare to touch yourself.
“P-Please, daddy, please touch me.” You don’t know who you’re addressing, but your desire overtakes your fear of the three intimidating men. Face nuzzling Steve’s calf, ass wiggling pointedly towards Curtis and hips grinding down on the carpet below you, you know shame is something you’ve left far, far behind. “Please. Need–wanna be touched!”
Ari’s fingers find your mouth, pushing past your lips and effectively shutting you up.
“I don’t know. There are certainly other ways to stretch her out.” The mischief is evident in Curtis’ eyes when he suddenly reaches for something on the coffee table. Your eyes, hazy with lust, follow his hand, breath hitching when he grabs his now empty beer bottle.
“What do you think, sweetie?” Curtis asks you, “You want daddy to stuff this bottle up your ass like you’re some kind of cheap whore performing tricks at the brothel?”
You cower as Ari gathers you into his lap, your back against his chest and his hands gripping your bare thighs, spreading them wide open for the other two men to see, pussy spread open and splayed out with wetness trickling down your thighs, glistening and embarrassingly obvious.
“She looks scared.” Steve remarks, “You scared, sweetheart?”
You quiver in your husband’s arms, nodding in response although your fearful eyes don’t leave the bottle in Curtis’ hand. The neck alone is daunting, and the rest of the bottle has an even wider girth that makes your unprepped asshole twitch in fear.
“Use your words when you’re talking to me.” The blond growls, irritation clouding over his handsome features.
“Y-Yeah, I’m scared.” You answer softly.
“But you’re gonna do it anyways, aren’t you?” Ari sings in your ear, slapping your thigh to spread your legs out even further, bending your knees and adjusting you so that your rear hole is in full view. And you’re so wet, so incredibly wet that your juices spill down to stain Ari’s jeans and the couch.
You turn to look at your husband with pleading eyes, hoping to find a semblance of pity in his handsome face, “D-Daddy, please. Please don’t make me – AH!”
Again, your face is whipped to the side with another unforgiving slap, and Ari smiles down at you so casually, as if he’s just kissed you good-morning instead of slapped you in the face. “Honey, you know better than to deny your daddies.”
That’s how you find yourself laid out on the coffee table, three pairs of eyes belonging to three very intimidating and powerful men staring down at you as if you’re a piece of meat and they’ve been starving for days.
“Stay the fuck still, whore.” Curtis barks; he’s got your legs over his shoulders to give him better access to your puckered hole, grip harsh as he tries to keep you from flailing around. Your hole’s been stretched out by his and Ari’s thick fingers and a mix of your wetness and his saliva, but it still burns as he tries to force the thicker end of the beer bottle into you.
“H-Hurts!” You mewl, blindly grabbing at anything you can – which happens to be the collar of Steve’s shirt. Ruthlessly, the blond shoves your hand off of him, instead guiding it to his erect dick which is still wet from your saliva.
“If you’re gonna grab on to something, might as well be useful about it.” His dick is so thick, and just as big as Ari’s from what you can feel. Your little hand barely wraps around it, but you can’t even focus on pleasuring him because of the violating pain of the beer bottle being stuffed up your ass.
Ari guides your other hand to wrap around his dick, which is now also out of his unzipped jeans. “C’mon baby, jack us off the way I taught you to. The way I like it.” His tone is mesmerising, it’s almost instinctive when you obey, pumping the two thick dicks in your hands, trying to focus on their veiny girth and the way they twitch against your palms, how hard they feel, how big they both are.
“Oh, fuck, daddy, it hurts!” You cry out again, legs tightening around Curtis’ shoulders as he continues to stuff the unforgiving glass bottle up your ass. The buzzcut-haired man swats your thigh warningly, dislodging the bottle from your puckered hole completely, leaving you gaping as he swirls it around your pussy, gathering your wetness on its surface before returning it to your ass.
“Cut the complaining, baby girl. Your daddy already told us you’re a slut for anal, how much you love taking cock up your ass. How is this bottle any different, huh?” Curtis kisses up your thigh, slowly staring to fuck the bottle in and out of your ass as he sucks on your sensitive skin – no doubt leaving a mark in the process.
Meanwhile, Steve guides your hand to his balls, making you fondle and squeeze them, play with them indecently while the blonde grunts lowly, “God, wish my bitch of an ex-wife was half as compliant as you. What made you decide to become such a slutty whore, huh sweetheart?”
“W-Wanted to please daddy.” You answer quickly, knowing that if you didn’t then there’d be hell to pay – and probably another slap.
Ari smirks, brushing your hair out of your face almost tenderly as you continue to jack him off, “Damn right. It’s beautiful how just a few months ago, you were a naïve little virgin, and just look what a cockslut you’ve turned into now.”
“She’s still naïve, I’d say.” Curtis pipes up, his bicep muscles tensing as he shallowly fucks you with the beer bottle, in and out and in and out so rhythmically yet you’re seeing stars created from your own pain and sick pleasure.
“Naïve? More like dumb. Don’t think I’ve met a slut with an emptier head – but that’s what makes her the perfect wife, I guess.” Steve muses.
Being the “perfect wife” leads to you splayed out on the coffee table while the three men return to their seats, leaving you panting, unsated and still with the beer bottle lodged up your ass.
“Keep your legs open, angel.” Ari commands you, picking his deck of cards back up and that’s when you realise that they plan to ignore you and continue with their poker game instead. A low whine sounds past your lips at the thought.
“Look at her, crying like a baby again. She’s used to you spoiling her, Ari. Bet she thinks we were gonna make her cum or something.” Curtis snickers, kicking his feet up on the table, dangerously close to your pussy.
“P-Please – n-not fair – wanna cum so bad!” You cry softly, wanting to touch your pussy so badly but not knowing whether or not you had the permission to do it. And you’d much rather have one of them touch you, knowing it would feel so much better.
“You’re the entertainment tonight, before anything else, whore. The entertainment doesn’t get to cum until your daddies say so.” Steve says firmly, holding his cards in one hand and pumping his dick leisurely with the other, hungry blue eyes devouring the sight of you in such a compromising position in front of him, “You’re going to stay like that while your daddies play our game, and you better fuck yourself with that bottle the whole time.”
So that’s what you do, pursing your lips in pain as you do it. Never in a million years did you imagine yourself being used as the visual entertainment for your husband and his friends; naked and splayed out while they made you fuck yourself with a beer bottle. You can feel your asshole stretch and burn at the intrusion; eyes scrunching shut from the pain that blooms. But your pussy is so wet, slick cream pooling on the coffee table underneath you in the filthiest sight imaginable.
“God, she looks hot as fuck.” Curtis is quick to comment, his boot nudging your thighs open even more so he can get a better look, “You ever think of doing porn, sweetie? You’d be a natural, just look at the way you’re putting on such a filthy show for your daddies.”
Almost instinctively, you arch your back, the bottle making obscene squelching noises as you fuck it past the tight ring of your asshole, little pants leaving your mouth as if you’re a dog in heat.
“She’s enjoying herself.” Steve clicks his tongue at the observation, barely looking up from his deck of cards.
“You’re not allowed to cum, angel. Remember that.” Ari says casually, his words making you mewl in frustration.
But it’s hard not to cum when you’re so wet, and Curtis’ boot keeps nudging against your leg, inching closer and closer to your pussy till the sole grazes against your clit and you gasp loudly, jerking forward, “AH, daddy!”
The older men all ignore you, continuing their own conversation whilst you shiver and convulse and whimper between them, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, trying your best to focus and keep your legs apart as you continue to sheath your poor, quivering asshole with the beer bottle.
But more than the beer bottle, all you can really focus on is Curtis’ boot and how he’s so obviously pressing it against your wet folds, making the leather glisten with your juices. Half panicked, you whip your head towards Ari, wondering if he sees what his friend is doing. But your husband seems determined to ignore you – almost as if you’re not even there.
“Daddy,” you cry softly, not really knowing who you’re crying for. It’s instinctive and slightly shameful when you can’t help but grind down against Curtis’ boot, your pussy squelching and needy from being treated like a whore. And the buzzcut haired man doesn’t even acknowledge you, cigarette lazily caught between his lips as he digs his boot into your wet cunt.
It doesn’t take long until you’re riding his boot, grinding down on it as if your life depends on it, panting like you’re in heat as his shoe swirls around your wetness. Your cream coating the leather, he digs into your clit, nudging at your sensitive bundle of nerves and making you moan out wantonly in pleasure.
“Ah, ah daddy–oh fuck!”
You’re squirting all over his shoe before you ever realise what’s happening, so much of your cream now pooling on the coffee table that it’s made the surface slippery. And Curtis continues to push his boot cruelly into your sensitive button, and like a thirsty whore you hump against him, riding out your high and forgetting that there’s anyone else in the room.
“Levinson, looks like your whore wife doesn’t know how to follow instructions.”
Ari leans down over your quivering form, “Honey, what did I say about not cumming?” His voice brims with disappointment and you just want to bury your face in your hands.
“ ‘m sorry,” you hiccup, “C-Couldn’t help it. Mr. Ev-Everett – He used his shoe… wouldn’t stop!”
“Look at her, tattling to her daddy again.” Curtis laughs, getting to his feet and giving your ass a hard smack that has you howling with pain, “You’re lucky I’m not gonna make you lick your mess off my shoe, you horny bitch. But I think I’ll give my wife the honour of doing that when I get home tonight.”
Your eyes are wide as saucers as Ari helps your shaky body get on your hands and knees on the coffee table. From his pocket, he pulls out a leather leash, casually hooking it to your collar and tying the other end around the leg of the table, effectively trapping you in place.
“Stay still honey, and stick your ass out nicely so I can see it,” Ari commands softly, and it’s the gentleness in his voice that scares you the most. Because you’ve broken his rule – you’ve cum without permission, and you can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen now.
It’s the deathly quiet that has your heart beating harder than ever, this ominous sense of foreboding building up as the three men surround you like a pack of depraved wolves. Hunger in their eyes and hands itching to touch your body as they close in on you slowly, and Ari strokes your hair softly – but it feels like the softness that precedes the inevitable blow…
“I told you not to cum without permission, honey.” Ari breathes in your ear, “I guess you’ll have to learn how to follow orders the hard way, won’t you?”
Your breath hitches when you hear the unmistakable sound of Steve’s belt as he unbuckles it.
Well! There we go! The truth is, I wrote this fic many, many months ago and lost inspiration to complete it - which is why it ends where it does. I would never say never to a potential part 2, but who knows! I feel like I’m in my soft dom loving era atm, so this kind of depraved stuff isn’t as easy for me to write anymore. But do tell me what you think, as I know a lot of you have been waiting for this for many months! Please reblog and comment and let me know what you think! Any thots and ideas about this fic are also totally welcome! I hope you enjoyed.
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