When the Dark Wins

Lowell reaches down and grabs me roughly by the arm and begins to drag me toward Stone, tossing me into him when we’re close enough, then walking back to the stairs to get comfortable.

He’s here for the show and we’re the players in a wicked game that we foolishly volunteered for. We fell for the ruse, and now we must do as we’re told for his pleasure.

No. For the money I was so sure that I desperately needed.

Stone’s strong hands gently grip my arms as he attempts to steady me on my knees. I can feel the warmth of his breath so close to my cheek as he leans down and whispers to me that he’ll be quick. That I shouldn’t worry or be afraid because he doesn’t want to hurt me and he’ll do his best not to.

“Ready?” he asks softly, as he pushes my hair away from my face. I look up into his beautiful, damaged face and nod.

Stone shifts his weight as he gets to his knees and gently lowers me onto my back. He lets his hands softly run down my body, exploring as much as he can but not for our pleasure. It’s for the eyes of the bastard watching ever so carefully and waiting for his proverbial monkeys to start dancing.

Stone places his lips gently on my neck and my body begins to react almost immediately. I can feel my cunt becoming swollen and damp, ready for him to do what he must to see us through this night.

His hand slides gently between my legs, prying my thighs apart, as he kisses my neck again. It’s almost as if he cares about me and I have to be careful not to get lost in another lie. He moves his body on top of mine, lowering the weight of himself on top of me, as he brings his lips to mine and kisses me with a ferocious hunger.

I don’t know how to tell them that I charge extra for kissing, but somehow I don’t feel that this is the time for that, and instead I reach for his head and grip his hair tightly in my hands. I pull him away for a moment—I want to see the want in his eyes, the need, before I decide I’ll go through this. Even now, I want to feel like I’m wanted or I’ll shut down and he’ll be fucking a damn near corpse in my place.

He’s breathing heavily now, and behind us somewhere, I can hear the sound of Lowell unzipping his pants. I close my eyes tightly before I open them again and pull his face down to mine. If Stone is playing this as a charade, he’s doing enough of a damn good job that Lowell is buying it.

I’ll have to dance to keep us alive.

“It’s okay. Fuck me,” I whisper into his mouth.

And that’s all it takes. A simple reassurance that everything will be okay and that the sun will rise tomorrow for him to slide his disfigured cock inside of me.

Stones pushes deep inside of me and my warm, wet cunt hugs his cock tightly as he begins to fuck me passionately. A loud moan escapes from my lips as I dig my fingers into his scarred back. He reaches a hand up and tears away the fabric of my shirt, exposing my breasts, beginning to suckle as he continues to fuck me.

Lowell’s breathing has changed. It’s catching in his throat as he rubs his cock, his eyes ever on us. Watching as Stone has his way with me. In one moment, I’m on my back, eyes closed and lost in the rapture of the man on top of me, in the next I’m on my hands and knees as he grips my hips and enters me from behind.

“Holy shit,” he breathes in a thick voice as my tits bounce back and forth to the vicious rhythm that Stone has set for us. Our master gets to his feet and walks quickly toward us. I can hear Stone grunt for a moment as he’s jerked back and then the sounds of his slick tongue on Lowell’s dick.

He gags him at first and Stone almost loses his grip on me, but he begins to push into my hole again once he’s been properly introduced to the devious serenade. I can feel my release coming and my fingers begin to dig into the ground, grasping nothing more than dirt and air as Stone quickens his pace.

“Fuck.”

Lowell breathes out shakily and drops down to one knee. He’s finished and it’s up to us now to bring the encore to an end. But as I see his heaving body shaking next to my hands, I begin to lose sight of what my body wants.

Stone must sense it because he reaches forward, pulls my hair back, arching me toward him, and presses his sloppy, cum soaked lips against mine. I let myself savor the last few moments of Stone fucking me, the taste of Lowell on my mouth, as he slams into me one last time, filling me with his cum.

When he lets go of my hair, I fall forward onto my hands again and attempt to catch my breath. Nothing about what I’ve just done is worth any amount of money, but it is worth my life.

Stone gently pulls himself out of me and gives me a gentle shove away as his chains slide on the floor. He’s receding back into his dark corner now, hoping that we’ve pleased our captor, and I can’t help but find myself wishing he wasn’t so eager to get rid of me.

Lowell lets out a chuckle as he finally gets to his feet and zips his pants back up. I stay where I am, cum dripping out of my exposed hole, still on all fours waiting for his next command.

But there is none.

Instead, he fixes the rag back over the window and leaves us in the darkness; his boots echoing on their way back up the stairs and the door slamming on the first night in Hell.

When I wake up the next day, I’m not sure if it’s light or dark outside. It seems that while myself and Stone slept, Lowell had come down and done some renovations to the cellar. The curtain has been replaced by some piece of heavy wood, Stone has been restricted further in his place—bracelets of steel with another set of chains looped through them adorn his wrists, and yet I’m still free to move about.

I know it won’t last for long, because that’s not the point of this. I didn’t think the point would be to fuck someone other than Lowell, so it wouldn’t surprise me if I’m in for another day or evening of mind games.

“I was wondering when you would wake up,” Stone’s groggy voice says in the darkness.

I don’t reply; not right away because after the way he shoved me when he was done fucking me, I don’t feel that he’s earned the company of my words again.

“We talked about you, you know,” he says conversationally. I stop trying to pry the wooden panel away from the window and walk toward the stairs. Would it be too much to hope that maybe the door isn’t locked? Should I even dare to attempt to find out?