Rough Exile

“Come on, wife. Show me how much you love having my fingers in your tight little hole.”

The brutal tightness in my lower belly made a sob catch in my throat, then my body stiffened, and the pleasure crested, and I was going to scream like someone was murdering me.

“Stop.” The command was firm, cold, like a bucket of ice water thrown on two cats in heat.

Ilya pulled his fingers from me so fast it made me gasp. I squirmed against his leg, determined to finish, but Bron pulled me off his lap. Strong arms encircled my waist, leaving me no way to escape. My ruined orgasm fluttered disappointingly, and I thrashed in Bron’s arms, trying to claw my way back to Ilya.

“Please!” I begged. “I need him.”

“He needs to stop spoiling your slutty little cunt.” Bron was naked, and from the feel of him, already hard.

Ilya stood, frowning and rearranging his hard-on in his jeans. “I disciplined her and then I prepared her for your use.”

“Yes, I can see by the bulge in your jeans that you were just selflessly doing your duty.”

“It’s my duty to correct my wife when she’s not making good choices,” he said mulishly

“Don’t parrot my words back at me, boy. You were thinking about your dick.”

“And are you not thinking about yours when you correct me?”

“Ilya, please.” I stretched my arms out to him, stupidly hoping he might be frustrated enough to rescue me from Bron. “I need to come.”

“He does, too, but he’s not stupid enough to cross me to get you back, De-li-lah.”

Ugh. I wanted to slap him.

“Why do you get to decide who gets to come and when?”

“Because I’m bigger and meaner than the two of you.”

“And older. Don’t forget older,” I said.

“If you’re implying I’m not up to controlling you both, you’re mistaken.” He snorted. “I don’t think you spanked her long enough, boy. Did you use your belt?”

“Just my hand.”

“I can tell by the mouth on her.” He manhandled me over the edge of the fancy couch we’d been using while he was in the shower, knocking the wind out of me. I tried to lever myself up, but he got between my legs and was pushing into my ass before I could even catch my breath. I gritted my teeth and did what I could to assist with the angle, considering he was going in mostly dry. It burned like a son-of-a-bitch, reminding me of my first time.

“I’ll get lube.” Ilya hovered beside Bron, like quality control.

“If she wanted lube, she shouldn’t have run off. This is nicer than what she would have gotten from that predator who followed her into the trees.” He pressed his thumbs harder into what felt like the bruises Ilya had left on my ass, spreading my cheeks so he could watch himself bottom out. “Boy, take off your shirt.”

Ilya complied.

“Now undo your jeans and push them down. Show me how hard you are from watching me rail your beautiful wife. Hands behind your back so you don’t jerk off.”

Ilya grumbled something I didn’t catch, but obeyed, his cock bobbing straight out in front of him.

Hell, what I wouldn’t do for some lube. Coconut oil. Spit. I’d even settle for petroleum jelly. Freaking anything to make this less unpleasant.

All those times I’d warned Lane to lube her ass before going out on a hunt when we’d been on the Island, and here I was, unprepared again. Why hadn’t I assumed anal would be part of Bron’s plan sometime tonight? There was nothing he liked better than to use his dick to remind us who was the boss.

It must have been unpleasant for him, too, though, because when he pulled out, he spat twice before sliding back in. My insides stung, but the girth of him, and the feel of him deep inside me, was enough to make me arch back to meet him.

“Poor little whore,” he murmured. “Thought you could get Ilya to give you the orgasm you don’t deserve while I was busy.”

“Ilya likes me,” I said through my teeth. God, he was big. At least my first time had been with a guy who’d had the decency to be on the smaller side.

“Ilya would like a knothole in a fence if it smiled at him the way you do.”

His thrust jarred me, and my toes came off the ground. I tried bracing myself on my hands, but he tipped me more, giving himself better access and forcing me to lean on my elbows. Could there be a more humiliating position? Then again, if I gave the jackass time to think about it, he could probably come up with five more humiliating positions off the top of his head.

“You’re jealous because we like each other and no one likes you,” I gasped out. Probably not the brightest thing I’d said to a sadist using my ass, but I was sore, and I also had the female equivalent of blueballs.

“Have I ever given you the mistaken impression I care if people like me?” He pushed the rest of the way in, holding still with his balls pressed tight against me. “So much for teaching you a lesson. Your pussy is dripping everywhere.” He chuckled, which made me grimace at the feel of his cock jerking along with his mirth.

“Ilya made sure I was ready for you.”

“He should have lubed your ass before I got out of the shower. I wonder why he didn’t.”

Some sort of silent exchange passed between them, but it was too difficult to twist around to see their non-verbals. All I could see were a few shifts in Ilya’s expression.

He fucked me in earnest then, his use hard and jarring. It was about as enjoyable as being fucked with a sandpaper-covered crowbar. After a few minutes, he stopped and pulled out.

Oh no. Now what?