Rough Exile

Ilya tapped me on the nose. “This house is very well soundproofed, so I’m not concerned. When I was small and would come to visit, I could scream and run around and jump on the bed as much as I wanted to. As long as the door was closed, no one would hear.”

“She looks pretty with her mouth stuffed full, so I’m leaving that in.” As I tried to yank out the fabric, Bron removed his belt and wrapped it around my head twice, the leather holding the fabric in place and keeping my teeth apart. As he tightened it, I tried to smack his hands away, but Ilya caught my wrists.

“So, what would you like to do with your wife on your wedding night?” Bron asked. “According to tradition, I should probably go to my room and leave the two of you alone.”

“In public, we have to say she’s my wife, but we both know she’s our wife.” Ilya’s eyes shone with an almost unholy glee. “What should we do to claim her officially as ours?”

Bron’s face went dangerously bland. I didn’t trust that expression for a moment.

“In this situation, maybe we should go for something traditional.”

“Taking turns?” Ilya asked. “Who goes first?”

“No, not that. I think we could both fit in her pussy, if we’re careful.”

“At the same time?” Ilya raised his brows, looking scandalized.

I tried to kick Bron for his suggestion, since they’d taken away any chance I had of using my words to object. He grabbed my ankle and held it casually. The feel of his big hand wrapped around my ankle shouldn’t have made me shiver, but they both had a way of making me feel small and helpless.

“I don’t think she likes that idea.”

Bron squeezed my ankle—thankfully it was my good one. “We’ll make her come, and she’ll forget her objection.”

I shook my head and struggled, but they didn’t let me go.

Were they seriously considering fucking the same hole at the same time? It wasn’t something I’d ever wanted to try, but guessed I wasn’t going to get a choice in the matter.

”Is it even possible for both of us to fuck her pussy at the same time?” Ilya asked uneasily.

If he thought he was uneasy, he should try being me.

“I’ve seen it on pornography, so it should be possible.”

Oh my god, what?

I gasped and almost choked on the fabric of my impromptu gag.

Of course, it was possible, but that didn’t mean I wanted to do it.

“If a woman can birth a baby, or take a man’s fist, she can probably fit two dicks at once,” Bron assured him.

“Won’t it hurt her?”

“We’ll go slow to start. Besides, a woman’s wedding night is supposed to hurt at least a little.” Bron wound a lock of my hair around his finger and gave it a tug. “Have you done this before?”

I shook my head in dismay. I’d always assumed if it ever came up, the men would be less well-endowed.

“A first time for all of us,” Bron said with a satisfaction I didn’t share.

Was he serious? He needed to give his head a shake.

No one had ever fisted me, either, but the idea had never held an attraction for me. There was no way I was going to cooperate, and I doubted Ilya had the self-discipline it would probably require.

The idea of the two of them sliding against each other inside of me sent prickles of heat through my body. The idea was sexy, even if the reality would be unpleasant.

With his grip on my ankle, Bron yanked me partway across the bed and tipped me backward so I was lying flat. He pushed my thighs apart even though I tried not to let him.

How were his arms stronger than my legs? It wasn’t fair that these men were so huge and could do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. I struggled, but Bron settled between my legs and Ilya grabbed my wrists, holding me down. Ilya kissed me, trying to distract me from what they were planning, but it was Bron sliding down my body to get between my thighs that made me forget everything, including my own name.

Ilya had become a finely tuned lethal oral machine—he always took my subtle hints, but also made me wait for it, meaning the ultimate orgasm he gave me would make me need to muffle my screams.

With Bron, it was all about him. He went too fast and was too intense, making me feel as though I would crawl out of my skin. My back arched up off the bed and I gasped for breath around the gag, feeling like I wasn’t getting enough air. I cried out, writhing in the trap of their hands, Ilya kissing my face, neck, and breasts, and coaching me to keep quiet. When that didn’t work, he clapped a hand over my mouth, cutting off the excess sound I couldn’t seem to hold back. By the time Bron had me teetering on the edge, I felt like somebody had run a metal rasp over my clit, and I was making horrific begging noises that would have embarrassed the hell out of me if I wasn’t so desperate to come.

Bron crawled up my body, undid the belt holding my gag in place, then fished my ruined underwear from my mouth.

I gasped, clinging to Ilya, trying to push Bron away from me with my free hand, too angry and overwhelmed to even process what I was doing.

“You didn’t like that, Queenie?”

I lashed out, raking his cheek with my nails, but he only gave me a wolfish grin. Someone stroked between my legs, then speared two fingers into me, stretching my pussy, but not giving my clit the attention it needed to get me off. I ached there, everything sore and sensitive.

“Leave me alone!” I smacked Bron’s shoulder, trying to push him away with my legs.

He groaned, kneeling between my legs while fisting his cock.

“I can’t wait anymore. I need to get my cock into your little wife.”

It occurred to me that I’d had a safeword at one point, but I couldn’t remember it. “I don’t belong to either of you. Ilya has my signature on a piece of paper I can’t even read, and what do you have? His blessing?”

“You signed a contract,” Bron reminded me. “Technically, we can do anything we like.”

“Marrying me wasn’t part of that contract.”

“No, but it wasn’t a hard limit, either. Neither was using your pussy.”

“Well, no, but the two of you will never fit into me together.” I shouldn’t let them distract me from being pissed about the wedding, but I couldn’t do anything about that now. My priority had to be dissuading them from trying this.

“Women push out babies all the time. How is this any different?”

“They don’t do that for fun!”

He picked me up.

“Lie down,” he told Ilya.