The Playboy's Proposition (22 page)

The only thing I really had to focus on was my own pleasure,
gently fingering my clit, building up the pressure to accomplish what my master
had obligingly asked of me.

I was building that pressure quickly. Kamun reached out and
took hold of one of my breasts. I moaned. Michael maintained his steady pace,
his fingers biting into the flesh at my waist. I rolled my fingertip around and
around my clit.

Yes, I was close. Kamun squeezed my tits. Michael fucked me.
I was there.

I came, a crashing intense orgasm that lasted and lasted,
and made me cry out loud from the intensity. A glory of pulsing.

While this was happening, things changed around me. Kamun
threw off my hand and stood up beside me, one foot on the couch, near Michael’s
leg. The next thing I knew, Michael had hold of my head and was turning my face
to the side, toward Kamun’s straining dick.

Michael ordered me to open my mouth. I opened wide, then
closed my lips around Kamun’s cock, pleased to find that he tasted clean.
Michael let go of my head, and Kamun took over. Michael returned to lifting me
up and down, driving relentlessly inside me.

I tried to grab onto both of them at once, feeling
precarious and confused, still twitching from the throes of my orgasm. Michael
would have none of it, and demanded that I clasp my hands behind my back. I
obeyed, giving my body over completely to their control.

I didn’t have the presence of mind to do much of anything
but let them have what they wanted from me. And truly, it was a powerful thing,
to be taken like this, have my body arranged however they wanted me, used like
some oversized sex toy.

I made my best effort in all things, trying to suck and lick
the way Kamun demanded, trying to tamp down my gag reflex whenever he shoved
too hard against the back of my throat.

It seemed to go on and on. Michael fucking my pussy, Kamun
fucking my mouth. And I was enthralled by it all. Already my need was building
inside of me again. Already I could have come again in an instant.

Kamun’s movement grew jerkier and faster until I knew he was
ready to come. I wanted to pull away, to avoid taking his semen in my mouth,
but he held my head tightly in place and pumped into me, faster, faster.

“I’m coming,” he said. And his body shook all over as his
orgasm hit and held. His come hit the back of my throat.

When he stopped twitching, he let go of my head and snarled,
“Swallow it, all of it.”

I looked over at Michael. Once glance into his eyes and I
knew. Michael wanted me to do what Kamun commanded.

I held Michael’s fierce gaze. And I swallowed.

It wasn’t the nicest thing I’d done that evening, but
Michael wasn’t of the same opinion. That simple act of swallowing sent him into
overdrive. He began pounding into me then, faster, his hips rising up off the
couch to collide with my pussy.

Kamun grabbed a big handful of my hair at the back of my
head, and clamped down onto one of my breasts, and using both holds as
purchase, helped Michael lift and then drive me back downward. I cried out at
the power of it. I thought I would explode, the pain of it, the way Michael
filled me, the intensity of being forced to take the rough fucking -- it all
acted on me like electric jolts to my pussy and clitoris. Smoking hot. I wanted
more, more of it, from both of them.

Michael gritted out an order for me to rub myself again, and
I did it, adding more pleasure to the mix of sensations whirling through me.
Kamun’s hand was like a vise on my poor breast, his fingers tangled in my hair
was even worse, making tears seep from the corners of my eyes. But those hard
and greedy hands of his gave a sweet, sweet pain that seemed to sink through
me, settling to my core where it blended with the pleasure of Michael fucking
me hard, and my fingertip teasing my clit.

I rode the wave, all of it, seeking the release. When I
found it, and arched my back and cried out, the ripples of pleasure flowed
through my every nerve ending, Michael came soon behind me, crying out along
with me.

Kamun let go of me and flopped down onto the couch. I
slumped forward and fell against Michael’s chest, cradling my throbbing breast
along the way.

All of three of us panted, trying to catch our breath.
Michael wrapped his arms around me and held me tight.

He held me like that for quite a while, until his breathing
was nearly back to normal. Then he picked me up off of his lap and set me down
on the sofa next to him, on the other side away from Kamun.

Michael held up his pants with one hand and went over to the
bar, returning with some damp towels. He gave one to Kamun, wiped himself off
with another, then told me to spread my legs and used a third to wipe me clean.

After putting his clothes back to rights and returning the
towels to the bar, he came back with a couple of beers and a blanket. He handed
a beer to Kamun, who grunted a thanks, then sat down on the other end of the
sofa, back in his old spot, and motioned for me to scoot down next to him.

I readily obeyed, seeking his warmth and comfort. I accepted
a few sips of his beer, grateful to have the chance to rinse the taste of Kamun
out of my mouth. Michael told me to curl up on my side, and allowed me to lay
my head in his lap. He tossed the blanket over me.

I kept my arms wrapped around my chest. I sleepily wondered
if I would have bruises on my breast and hips tomorrow.

I stretched my legs until my feet bumped up against Kamun’s
leg, and smiled a little when he wrapped his hand around my foot.

No one said anything, just rested. I knew Michael was
pleased with me by the way he stroked my shoulder and side, the way he reached
out and gently pulled my hair away from my face. The way he cared for me. His
happiness did much to lessen the throbbing in my breast.

Eventually, Michael turned off the music and turned on the
game again. The two men never commented on what they had just done. When they
did start talking again, the conversation was about the baseball game.

I closed my eyes and drifted. Thanks to all my worrying
about whether or not I would continue my relationship with Michael, I hadn’t
gotten much sleep the night before. Lying there, Michael’s hand soothing my
shoulder, Kamun’s hand stroking my instep, I knew I had made the right
decision. Michael had been right, about everything.

I sighed in contentment, enjoying the occasional sounds of
the men’s deep voices, and the steady commentary from the television. I slipped
into a doze.

Chapter 14

How long I slept, I don’t know. I was dragged out of it by
the feel of greedy hands stroking my skin. A hand on my neck, another on my
breasts, one on my calves, and another on my ass. I murmured and shivered,
wondering where my blanket had gone.

Michael’s soft voice cut through my fog. “Wake up, sleepy
lady. You don’t think we’re done with you already, do you?”

I stretched my arms and legs, surprised when my feet bumped
up against something warm and hard. Oh, that’s right. Kamun.

Both Michael and Kamun had been fondling me, had pulled off
my blanket and were looking at my body. And both were obviously aroused again.
I felt an obliging twitch between my legs.

I asked, “Is the game over?”

Michael chuckled. “Yes. What do you say we start a different
one?”

I shuddered, gave him a small smile.

Then Michael was all business, forcing me up off the couch,
hustling me down the hall into a small bathroom, waiting impatiently outside,
telling me to get on with it when he decided I was taking too long.

He told me to drink some water while I was in there, and when
I said I was hungry, all he said in reply was, “Good.”

I was still drying my hands when the door opened and Michael
told me to get moving. He took hold of the back of my neck and propelled me out
of the bathroom, and down the hall.

If there were any grogginess left in me, this forced march
quickly drove it out of me. By the time Michael guided me into his dungeon, I
was wide awake and revved up from his manhandling.

He took me over to where a large mat was placed on the
floor, then told me to kneel on an “X” that had been taped on the surface of
the vinyl. I quickly took the pose he wanted, kneeling, knees spread, back
arched, hands together at the small of my back, eyes on the floor.

He walked in front of me, and then Kamun was there as well,
standing beside him. They stood together there in silence, looking at me,
making my heart pound.

Kamun slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then slipped out of it,
tossing it onto a nearby table. Then Michael unbuttoned his shirt, too, and it
flew through the air after Kamun’s.

Oh God, my pussy was flooded in an instant. Two very
powerful men, readying themselves for whatever they had in store for me. My
heart pounded in my ears, and my breath quickened in anticipation.

And when, side by side, they walked toward me, I kept my
eyes directed down enough to obey the rules while shifting my gaze a bit higher
to admire the men as they advanced.

Michael, lean and powerful, graceful in his movements, his
stomach muscles clearly defined as he walked. And Kamun, lean also, but powerful
in a different way from Michael. There was a ropiness to his musculature, a
spareness that was no less appealing for its difference. The creepy tattoos
circling his upper arms suggested a hint of danger which sent an electric
charge through me.

For the life of me, I could not remember why I didn’t like
Kamun when I first met him. He was okay by me, now.

They stopped a few feet in front of me, Michael’s hands on
his hips, Kamun’s arms crossed over his chest.

Michael said, “Did I tell you, Kamun, that this is sort of a
graduation night for sweet Nonnie?”

Kamun grunted a no.

Michael said, “Well, then, I’ll tell you that tonight, when
she allowed us to double team her in the den ... you remember that, right? She
sucked your cock while riding mine like the sexy little slut she is.”

Kamun snorted.

Michael said, “Of course you do. Tonight, is the last night
of five nights that Nonnie agreed to share with me. Five nights to explore the
new feelings she was having. Five nights to decide if she really did thrive on pleasing
a dominant man, to see how submissive she might really be. What do you think?
You saw her at the ball. You’ve seen her in action tonight. Do you think she’s
found her way, that she’s set herself on the right course?”

Kamun said. “The way she came tonight? Unless she’s the best
actress I’ve ever seen, I’d say she enjoyed everything we did to her.”

Michael laughed. “What do you say, Sweet? Were you acting?”

I suppressed a smile, said, “No, Master.”

Michael said, “Did you enjoy everything we did to you?
Everything we made you do?”

I said, “Yes, Master.”

He said, “Then this is your graduation night, and I think
we’ll take some time to remember how far you’ve come in our five nights.”

He stepped next to me, and Kamun walked to the other side.
Michael reached down and cupped then squeezed my breast.

He said, “About a month ago, this little thing thought she
was being naughty when she showed some cleavage at Private Residence. She even
let me tweak her nipple a bit while people watched. She was terribly embarrassed.
Red faced, in fact. And look at her now.”

Kamun reached down and covered my other breast, squeezed me
firmly.

Michael continued, “Next thing you know, she was showing her
naked little self to hoards of people at the ball, and letting two horny men
like you and me squeeze her tits until she squeaks.”

And they did. Squeezed hard. I squeaked.

They laughed at me.

Then Michael said, “On your feet, sub. Over here.”

He sent me quickly over to a bench, a very odd, very
modified bench. It was similar to the one he sat me on in the private room the
night we met, in that it had a similar short armrest that was nothing more than
a bent metal bar, or you could call it a handhold, I presumed, since that was
how Michael had me make use of it.

This bench of Michael’s was shorter than that other one, and
on the end opposite the handhold, were a pair of metal bars that grew farther
apart as they rose upwards, stopping about three feet above the floor. At the
top, the bars were connected by a single, thick looking, padded tube.

I briefly wondered how Michael proposed to use this device,
but was given no clue since he simply had me stand facing the bench seat, a few
feet away, then had me bend over and take hold of the edge of the opposite side
of the seat. He warned me to keep my eyes in front, hold the pose without
moving.

He ran a hand over my ass and said, “One of the first things
we did together was discover the joys to be found in the simplest things.”

I heard a rustling behind me, couldn’t figure out what it
was.

Then Michael said, “Simple things, like the feel of a belt
on a tender ass.”

I was given no time to prepare when he landed his belt
across my buttocks. I gasped at the sting of it.

Michael laid another stripe across my ass, lower this time.
I blew out a breath to absorb the blow.

Michael said, “Here you go, friend. Give it a whirl.”

I felt what I presumed was Kamun’s hand running over my
rear, presumed because it felt different from Michael’s.

Then his hand was gone and another smack landed on my ass.
Much harder than Michael’s. I bit back a whimper. Then another blow. Crack! I
winced and flinched, gritted my teeth to bear it.

Another whack landed. I cried out a short burst of “Ah!”

Then their hands were on me, smoothing over my back and down
both of my ass cheeks, soothing away some of the sting.

Michael said, “You wouldn’t believe the difference between
now and then. So much better at taking one for her master, so much more able to
please me ...”

He dipped his fingers down over my pussy and slipped a finger
inside my folds, found the moisture I knew was in ample supply there.

He said, “And more able to please herself.”

He told me to get up, then directed me to turn around and
sit on the bench. He kicked my feet apart, telling me to spread myself as wide
as I could go. I did, half panting from the growing excitement. He had me reach
back and wrap my hands around the back edge of the bench again, which arched my
back and thrust out my breasts.

In a dire tone, Michael said, “Don’t move. And look at the
floor.”

I did everything he wanted. My only thoughts a swirl of
anticipation. A poised waiting while the two men studied me for a few moments.

Michael said, “You wouldn’t believe the fuss she put up when
I wanted her to let a friend of mine touch her tits. Something she wound up
paying dearly for. She learned her lesson, I believe.”

He moved in beside me and began squeezing my breast,
stroking my nipple to make it even harder than it already was. The he held his
hand out in front of me, fingers together, palm facing my breast ... and he
slapped the underside of my breast.

I gasped.

He slapped again, on top this time, then again on the side.

It wasn’t painful, what he was doing, though it wasn’t
exactly comfortable, either. For certain, it was hot as hell watching him smack
my breast around.

Then Kamun came up beside me. He landed a stinging slap to
my other breast. Then another, and another, once again, his blows landing more
painfully than Michael’s.

They gave me four or five more slaps each, soundly, straight
on my nipples, making me flinch and gasp over and over. Then they stopped.

My breasts were rosy red, and my nipples could not have been
harder or more sensitive. I was breathing hard, strained from the effort of not
moving, of not flinching away when the blows became more challenging to accept.

Michael patted my head, said, “Good job, Sweet. See how far
you’ve come?”

I nodded vaguely, then remembered what the hell I was doing
and quickly said, “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

He told me to get up, then took me to the end of the bench.
He positioned my thighs in front of and against the padded bar, then he had me
spread my legs until the sides of my ankles were pushed up against a pair of
cushioned short poles that Kamun somehow attached to the lengthy foot supports
of the bench.

Kamun and Michael each took a side and wrapped some black,
stiff fabric around my ankles and the cushioned vertical poles, effectively
binding my legs in place.

Michael said, “It’s just velcro holding those closed. There
to help you hold your place and balance when I do this ...”

And he stepped in front of me, one hand on my upper back,
the other in the middle of my chest, above my breasts, and he leaned me forward
toward the seat of the bench.

He said, “Reach out and take the bar, Sweet. Arms straight,
just like that. Perfect.”

I was, effectively, in a standard, bent over position, like
the one I was holding when they hit me with Michael’s belt. With my arms held
straight, my back was parallel to the seat and the floor. The padded bar
against my upper legs and hips kept me steady, took some of the weight and made
it easier to hold the pose.

Michael said, “So as I was saying, those straps on your
ankle are only secured with velcro, and won’t hold up to a lot of yanking on
your part. That means you’ll have to restrain yourself, basically, should the
going here get ... rough.”

I shivered, a ripple of nerves over my skin.

He asked, “You remember the rule, don’t you? Don’t let go of
the bar, Sweet. No matter what, don’t let go.”

I shivered again.

Michael stood in front of me, moved forward until my face
bumped his crotch. He said, “Perfect.”

Then he walked behind me and pressed his groin against my
ass. He said, “Perfect,” again.

Then he had me retain my hold on the bar while lowering
myself down onto my elbows. I knew what that slight shift would accomplish,
opening my ass up even more to his view.

He rubbed his hands over my ass and said, “That’s it.”

He said, “Nonnie has also learned, finally, who her holes
belong to. Who owns all your holes, Sweet?”

I said, breathy, “You do, Master.”

He said, “That’s right. And I can use those holes however I
want, isn’t that right?” He slid a finger inside my pussy.

I groaned loudly. “Yes, Master.”

He pumped his finger in and out of me a few times, then
said, “And I think we’ve settled, at last, that if I want, I can let others use
those holes. Isn’t that right, Sweet?”

I moaned, adoring the sensation of him sliding in and out of
me, the aching pressure building inside. Wanting more.

I was still thinking clearly enough, though, to entertain a
doubt of exactly how settled the matter was, the matter of who may and may not
use my body. But I said, “Yes, Master,” anyway. At that moment, I would have
agreed that puppy dogs were all purple and lived on the moon, if that had been
what he wanted me to say, to move him along and keep fanning the flames inside
me. This was no time to quibble over details.

Another finger pushed inside me, and I knew in an instant it
was Kamun’s finger. Oh God. Both men had a finger in my pussy. I thought I
would come right then and there from the thrum that shot through me, and I
would have, too, if anyone had even sent a whisper of a breath across my
clitoris.

Kamun said, “This one’s real wet, Weston. Very juicy.”

I heard the smile in Michael voice when he said, “Wet and
tight, that’s how I like them.”

Their fingers poked around inside me, stroked my flesh, slid
in and out of me, pulled at the sides in opposition to each other, stretching
my opening wider.

I moaned freely now, not bothering to try to contain myself.
Why should I? I was in paradise, a maddening paradise, yes, but one that should
be properly appreciated all the same. The men should be told when they were
doing something right. Encourage them to do it some more.

Michael said, “Go ahead. You take the honors. Put another
one in her.”

I groaned long and loud when Kamun began pushing another
finger inside me. He shoved it in, nestled with the other two fingers. All of
them sliding in and out of me, stretching me, pulling, and stroking.