Rough Exile

He slid the handle back and forth, forcing the cotton of my underwear up into my cleft. The wood was completely unyielding against my clit, which felt annoyingly enjoyable.

“An axe feels good in a man’s hands. Does it feel good between your legs, pressing against that stiff little bud I like to suck?” Ilya’s voice was like honey. “Does it feel like a big, eager cock?”

“You should rub yourself against it,” Bron said gruffly. “Show us what a slut you are for a man’s axe.”

This was…odd, but both men were wild-eyed and already hard. Well, I’d done weirder things for guys I didn’t like half as much.

I rolled my hips, and Bron’s lips parted as he took in the motion of my body.

Ilya pulled the neckline of my sloppy T-shirt off my shoulder and kissed my neck as he watched over my shoulder. He groaned in approval. “God, the way you move makes me want to rut you like an animal.”

His hands shifted from my arms to my breasts. He tried to tug the T-shirt out of the waistband of my skirt, but it briefly caught on something. Impatiently, he grasped the neckline in both hands and jerked it apart, baring my breasts. I gasped in surprise. He’d torn the fabric without effort.

They both swore.

“Where is your bra?” Ilya demanded.

“I only have one that fits, and it’s in the wash!” I had stopped moving my hips, so Bron had taken it upon himself to move the axe handle back and forth, making me a bit delirious. “It’s not my fault.”

The motion of the axe handle was frustrating—not hitting quite right—and then I started moving again, unable to resist.

I guess it was no different from giving a guy a lap dance, except in this situation there were two guys and an axe…

Okay, maybe not so much like giving a guy a lap dance.

Getting lost in the sensations, I allowed my head to fall back against Ilya’s chest and let my body take over, using the smooth piece of wood in a way the manufacturer never could have foreseen.

I was close, my hips moving faster, my legs trembling with the need to give out, when Bron pulled away the axe.

“Such a hot little slut,” he said with an amused sneer. “Is there anything you won’t fuck?”

“I don’t know. At one point I would have said you, but here we are.”

He twirled the axe in his hand, and I cringed back against Ilya. He brought the axe up and ran it along the mound of my breast, turning the blade sideways to rub the flat of the metal against my nipple. He inched the axe head over, touching the pebbled tip of my breast with the blade’s wickedly keen edge.

“Careful, Bron.” Ilya was watching, rapt. “If you slice off her nipple, it’s a long way to a hospital.”

“There’s no such thing as safe axe play,” I said. If it wasn’t an adage in the kink community, it should have been.

Bron pulled the weapon away, letting me take a full, giddy breath. “Axes are very useful tools in the right hands.” He pulled at the waistband of my skirt and set the edge against the elastic. It parted as though the fabric had been nothing more than half rotten rags. The skirt fell to pool around my feet, then something stung my thigh.

“Did you cut me?” I asked incredulously.

“A little.” He smirked, then brought the axe blade to his lips and licked the edge. My pussy clenched—why was it such an idiot sometimes? This was not hot. At all.

“How does she taste?” Ilya demanded.

“See for yourself.”

What?

Ilya got down on his knees and turned me toward him. He licked the scratch on my thigh, his tongue lingering.

What the fuck? “Let me go, you fucking cannibals!” I tried to pull away, but Ilya regained his feet and grabbed my arms again.

“Admit it—you secretly hope to be eaten.” Bron chuckled. “But only your needy little pussy.”

He brought the axe back upward, not stopping until he pressed the back of the axe’s head between my thighs. The metal was ice cold against my hot, liquid core. He rubbed it there, turning it slightly so that one of the hard edges slotted between my pussy lips where my underwear was already molded to me. I whimpered with frustrated arousal. The cold felt terrible and delicious, and I couldn’t help but use it to try to take the edge off my suffering. He pulled it away then returned it, blade side up, hovering there but not touching.

“Bron, don’t.” I stood still, my entire body prickling with terror. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t you trust me yet, Delilah?”

“Have you given me any reason to trust you?”

The corner of his mouth crept up slightly. “If you wanted a man you could trust completely, you never would have gone to that other island.”

“That’s not true.”

Maybe it was a little true, but this was too much, even for me.

Metal skimmed my inner thigh.

“So now the question is, am I going to cut your panties, or will I cut you?”

“I’d be more than happy to take my panties off for you.”

“Where would the fun be in that?”