The Dare

“Easy, angel,” Vincent said, and his hands slid over my hips and down...down between my legs. “Lucas isn't very nice, is he?”

“Lucas needs to be more careful.” Manson’s voice was a command, as was the grip he briefly had on Lucas’s arm as he circled him. Lucas growled furiously, but he eased up on his pressure at the back of my throat, moving more slowly, allowing me the time to get used to his size and the curiosity of his barbell.

I tried to keep my eyes on Manson, my lingering fear calming as he stood back to watch, a stern face in the dark. But the clowns soon claimed my attention again; Vincent’s hand slipped beneath my skirt, caressing over my clit, and I nearly convulsed from the stimulation. I whimpered, dutifully flicking my tongue over Lucas's head, savoring the taste of flesh and metal. Vincent’s fingers slid lower - and pressed inside me.

“Oh, so wet, little angel,” he murmured. He pumped his fingers into me, and when he withdrew them they were slick with my arousal. He watched the glistening strings spread between his fingers as he scissored them before he licked them clean. Then he was touching me again, rubbing my clit at a slow, firm pace, until my folded legs began to shake.

“Make him cum, Jess,” Manson said, slipping out of my sight again, circling the scene. Eager to obey, I bobbed my head to take Lucas deeper, forcing myself to accept the press of the barbell against the back of my throat. Lucas’s body grew tense, his movements harsh, my renewed enthusiasm making him moan.

“Such a good little whore,” he growled. His palm made contact with my face, a gentle sting, and I smiled as eagerly as I could with my mouth so full. He slapped me again, slapped me harder, his strength still curbed to make sure I didn’t accidentally get him with my teeth. Vincent’s stimulation over my clit had me shaking, my muscles tensing, bringing me to the edge of orgasm.

“She’s not allowed to cum,” Manson ordered, and Vincent slowed his touches until it was nothing more than a tease, and I nearly screamed in frustration. I would have screamed - if Lucas hadn’t suddenly sucked in his breath, shaking as he came, filling my mouth.

I swallowed him down, gasping, my head light as I finally had a moment to breath normally. Every nerve in my body felt as if it were on fire, sensitive to the slightest touch, and the high of my flooding hormones made everything feel surreal. My whole world was that dark room, those three laughing clowns, the taste of their sex in my mouth...and Manson, watching over it all like a demonic god.

I pulled on my cuffs for a brief moment, just to feel the metal dig into my skin, brutally unbreakable. Vincent was the only one who remained now to be pleased, and slowly, he withdrew his fingers from me and brought them to my lips.

“Be a good girl,” he urged, and I sucked his fingers obediently, savoring my own taste, salty and smooth. I sucked on his fingers like I wanted to suck his dick, and he chuckled as I did it. “Well shit. How can I resist that?”

I looked up at him with a dazed smile as he stood and leaned over me. The others watched, wordless, the sound of their panting breath harsh. There were footsteps behind me, and Manson gently kissed the top of my head.

“Am I doing good?” I said, my words stumbling and slow as I looked back him. He smiled at me, and my heart seemed to swell. There were so many small details I noticed about him now, even in the dim light - how his ears were pierced but he wasn’t wearing earrings, that there was a crookedness to his nose as if it had broken before, that there were tiny scars around his lips and cheekbones. He was handsome...almost pretty. His eyes were deep-set and dark but his features were soft, hardened only by the tension in his jaw.

“Very good, angel. So good that I have a little surprise for you.”

Excitement bloomed in me. Then there was a click, and something glinted in the firelight. Something metallic, gripped in Manson’s hand.

“You asked about this earlier,” he said, turning the knife in his hand so that every movement caught the light and glowed like the sun. “You asked if I still carried it. I do. It’s the same one, the one I scared your ex off with. It goes everywhere with me, and it’s always kept sharp.”

My breath felt cold in my chest as I watched the knife. The thrill of that danger, so close, made me want to both laugh and cry. The candle flames were reflected back in Manson’s eyes, a burning hellfire in his gaze. I realized he’d taken out his white contact, but I found him no less intimidating. I couldn’t look away, even as my heart started up a drum’s beat against my ribcage.

“This is a butterfly knife.” There was another click, a flash, and the blade disappeared - folded back into the curved handle grasped in his hand. Then just as quickly - click, flash - it was out again, spun through his fingers like magic. “They take a lot of practice to handle correctly...and a lot of cut fingers.”

The sight of the blade was mesmerizing. I felt hypnotized, unable to look away, as if I were gazing at a holy relic. His tone sobering, Manson lightly touched my face, drawing my attention back to his eyes.

"Do you want to play, angel?" he asked softly, and gave the knife a little shake. "With this?"

For a moment, I forgot to breath. I nodded eagerly. "Yes...yes please…"

"Do you trust me?" The knife flashed. My heart pounded.

"Yes," I gulped. "I trust you, Master."

The blade came closer...it kissed against my cheek and I gasped at the cold touch. It traced down, light against my skin, to nestle against the soft, tender flush just under my ear.

“I won’t hurt you, angel,” he said. “I only want to remind you who’s in charge. I only want to remind you to keep being such a good girl. So when Vincent’s finished, you can finally earn your reward. Understand?”

“Yes,” I answered quickly, resisting the urge to nod in my enthusiasm. That knife should have terrified me, it should have made me scream. But I hadn't lied: I trusted Manson, I trusted him not to hurt me - not in ways I wouldn't like.

I’d never thought I could experience so much pleasure just from words, so much ecstasy from fear. I looked up at Vincent, the knife pressed against my throat, and whimpered softly. “Please...please use me...”

Vincent entered my mouth, moving slowly, sliding his length teasingly over my tongue. When I looked up at him, and saw that clown face smiling back, I felt terror twist my gut. But the fear only increased my pleasure, and made my insides tighten with desire. Manson stood behind me, holding the knife tenderly against my skin as Vincent thrust into me.

“You’re doing so well, angel, I’m so proud." He spoke gently, his voice soothing. "You look so pretty with your mouth filled up with a cock.”

His words made me squirm excitedly. Pleasing him felt so good, knowing that he was enjoying what he saw. I had to keep almost entirely still - I didn’t want to risk a cut by moving too suddenly. Instead I did my best to stroke Vincent’s cock with my tongue as he moved in and out of my throat.

Vincent changed his pace as he wished, using my mouth like a toy, gripping my hair to steady himself. He pressed himself, deep and slow, into the back of my throat, moaning as I squeezed around him. He began to move faster, harder, gripping me tighter. Manson’s lips brushed against my neck, sending chills up my spine. He left feather-soft kisses beside the blade, praising me for my endurance, my obedience.