"I could kiss ye all night. There's nay chance I will ever tire of your taste, but I want to claim your arse," Ian told her. "We will fuck your there, frequently, but you are not ready yet. Dinna fash," he replied in a soothing tone when she began to squirm. "We don't want to hurt you and it is our job to get you ready. To train your arse to take our cocks."
When his fingers ran over the pink pucker, she bucked and thrashed. "No. This isn't right."
"It is right." As he spoke, Ian circled his fingers over her, slowly pressing inward. "Serving your husbands, pleasing them, is a wife's job. Ye will serve us by offering all of your holes. Your tight pussy, your delectable mouth and your snug arse. It will bring us pleasure for ye to do so and in return, we will give you the most incredible pleasure. We took your cunny and ye loved it. Ye had your first lesson in sucking cock earlier and ye came after. Now, we must ready your arse."
Her body stiffened and she groaned when one of Ian's fingers slipped past the tight ring inside her snug arse. She'd fought valiantly, but her body would offer no contest to our attentions. We would show her all the way, all the places pleasure could be found. She may be wary now, but she would soon love having us play with her arse. That thought had my cock pulsing, throbbing with the need to claim her there. But she wasn't ready and her submission to Ian would be satisfaction enough. For now. Soon, she would trust us, knowing that we would see her happy, sated and well satisfied at every turn.
"We dinna want to hurt you, lass. We're doing this for ye." Ian slowly worked his finger in and out of her arse, Emma's body slumped across his lap, her breathing erratic and loud. As he moved further and further within, she mewled, little sounds escaping the back of her throat.
"Our friend Rhys is quite skilled at carpentry, including the lathe. He handcrafts all of the dildos and butt plugs for us, ye ken? When Andrew and Robert married Ann, he made some to their specifications. Even though we hadn't met ye yet, Ian and I knew what we wanted to train our wife. Rhys made them for us and we've kept them, waiting. Waiting for just this moment. Dinna fash, I will use the smallest size plug."
I couldn't resist any longer, moving to kneel on the floor by her hip. Moving my hand beneath Ian's I slipped my fingers over her pussy lips. "She's dripping wet," I commented seeing her slick pussy lips and thighs. My words elicited another moan from her.
"Do you like this, lass?" Ian asked.
She shook her head but said nothing.
"Your body tells us otherwise, lass. Can you feel all the secret places in your arse awakening to my touch? Kane can feel how slick ye are now. Both of your men's hands are on ye, lass. Poor baby, so needy."
Carefully, Ian slowly worked his second finger in to join the first, slowly fucking her, stretching her open as I easily found her clit, hard and eager for my touch.
"No." Her breath was escaping in little pants. "I...I don't like this."
"What? That you feel pleasure in my touching you here? That Kane is watching your arse be stretched for the first time? That he's playing with your clit?"
She shifted her hips back, not realizing she wanted his fingers deeper, perhaps mine as well. When Ian filled her even further, she began to cry. Not in pain, most certainly not. We would never touch her and cause harm. This was the antithesis of her feelings. She needed to come so much that she was falling into a depth of frustration that had her overwhelming emotions escape through tears instead of release. "This is wrong!"
Using his free hand, Ian picked up the small plug Rhys had so expertly crafted, dipped it into the jar so that it was thickly coated, then gently pulled his fingers free, her body slumping into his lap. The way her body clenched down upon Ian's digits, I imagined the strangling grip her body would have on my cock. I stifled a groan as my cock swelled even further.
Before he nudged the plug up to the opening, I could see her opening wink once as it closed back up. Ian didn't offer her body the chance to do so, moving the slippery plug within in a slow, smooth stroke. She groaned and her entire muscles tensed once again, so I ran my hand up and down her leg in an attempt to soothe her.
Settled in place, the dark wooden handle could be readily seen, protruding only a small bit. She was stretched open slightly, just a start for her to begin adjusting in preparation for our cocks. Her swollen and aroused cunny lips beneath my fingers were hot and slippery. I'd set her body ablaze from putting my mouth upon her just a few minutes earlier. Although she hadn't wanted her arse played with, there was no missing how it had intensified her pleasure, her need to come. Her thighs were slick with her honey and her skin was coated in a sheen of perspiration. Moving my hand down, I flicked her clit and Emma arched her back, crying out.
She sobbed, a sound of need escaping from within that ripped at my control.
"See, baby? Only pleasure," I told her, continuing to stroke her cunny and her leg.
"You may come, lass."
I nudged her clit again when she didn't respond right away.
Sniffling, she said, "I...I don't want that thing in me. It's too big."
She was still focusing on what we were doing to her instead of how she felt.
"Not as big as either of our cocks, Emma," I reminded. We will fuck you at the same time, baby, Ian in your arse while I fill your cunny."
"How...how is that possible?" she asked, breathless.
"It's possible, lass. More than possible. It will happen," Ian said.
She groaned, probably envisioning how much more she'd be filled when we finally fucked her.
"You've done beautifully. Come now for us. Let us see. Show us you're such a good girl," Ian prompted.
"No," she sniffed. "No. I can't. Oh God."
She was so desperate, so lost. We were letting her decide if she would come, instead of commanding. It was clear she would need to be told to come, to take the decision to cede to the pleasure away from her. She wanted to submit. If Ian changed his tone, his wording ever so slightly to be less soothing and more demanding, Emma most likely would go off like a Fourth of July firecracker.