The Sister (The Boss 6)

I rose on the balls of my feet and squealed around Sir’s cock as the dildo entered me. Monsieur pushed the arm slowly, until the dildo was seated as far as it could reach.

Sir pulled out of my mouth. “How is that, Sophie?”

“More,” I moaned, wriggling my hips back. The legs of the machine scraped the floor as Monsieur scooted it closer and readjusted the arm. This time, the toy just barely bumped my cervix. “There, Monsieur. Oh, yes, there.”

With my part of the proceedings seemingly over, Sir shoved back into my mouth and picked up where he’d left off. “The controls are quite simple. And Sophie remembers her signal?”

I opened and closed my hand three times.

“Then, shall we proceed?” he asked.

The machine chugged to a sluggish start, dragging the dildo lazily back and forth. I groaned in frustration at the initial slowness.

“Shall I turn it up?” Monsieur asked, and before I could answer, the machine’s speed kicked up higher.

“When should we let her come?” Sir asked, still thrusting into my mouth.

“Whenever the machine makes her come, I suppose,” Monsieur replied. “And you? Will you come in her mouth, her cunt, or her ass?”

“Oh, I think I’d rather pull out and come across her pretty face,” Sir said.

“Also a good choice.” Monsieur laughed softly. He walked one hand down my spine, to the very top of the cleft between my cheeks. “I think…her ass for me tonight.”

I moaned loudly around Sir’s cock.

“Well, let’s make sure her cunt is well tended, first,” Sir said with a dark laugh.

Penetrative orgasms had always been hit or miss for me. Until I’d met Neil, I’d thought it was a symptom that I was broken. But I’d also never been with a machine before; the simple fact of the matter was, no human could fuck as hard and fast, which was apparently enough to stimulate my clit from the inside. The rapid stroking of my G-spot helped, too, and if I hadn’t been so firmly strapped down, I wouldn’t have been able to hold still enough to keep me safe. Monsieur turned the dial up faster, and I was lost. My feet cramped, my knees locked, and my chained hands clawed. I only had enough presence of mind to stop myself from opening and closing them; I certainly didn’t want to stop. And I definitely didn’t want to clench my teeth, with Sir fucking my face. That wouldn’t be pleasant for either of us. All I could do was will myself totally limp in my bonds, until the relentless pounding finally brought me over the edge.

But the machine never stopped.

“There’s a very nice wand vibrator in the sideboard there,” Sir said, his voice a bit strained. He would come soon, I was certain.

Monsieur stepped away, and I heard the drawer open. When he returned, he reached beneath me to press the wide head of the wand directly on my clit. The combination of sensations was too much. Everything numbed, giving my overloaded nerves some relief for the moment. Sir drove harder into my throat then pulled swiftly out. Hot, heavy droplets landed across my cheek, nose, and mouth; at least some of it hit the blindfold.

Not being able to see or wipe my face heightened the helplessness I already felt. I knew what I would look like, shackled, my skirt hiked above my waist, cum smeared over my face. It was so dirty, so depraved, and it was all for them. All for Sir and Monsieur, only for them.

The flesh I’d thought numb to sensation woke suddenly. A violent climax seized my body, stretching on and on. My limbs trembled, my mouth hung open as I gasped for air, cum dripping from my chin. I tried to squirm away from the vibrator, but I couldn’t move, both from the shackles holding me and for my own safety as the machine pounded on.

“Please, no more,” I begged, tasting the cum on my lips. “I can’t come, again.”

A slap stung my face. “You will,” Sir warned.

“Perhaps I should be merciful,” Monsieur mused. “Do you want to come, again?”

“No, Monsieur! No!” I sobbed, clutching the bench so tightly I was sure my nails would tear the leather cover.

He clucked his tongue in admonishment. “If only you had said please.”

“Please!” I screamed as another orgasm built deep in my pelvis. But there was no escape. Monsieur held me completely at his will, rolling the vibrator back and forth, cranking the speed of the thrusting arm high and higher until my moans and pleas were lost in the high, frantic whine of the machinery. I don’t know how long they tormented me, but I came, again, and again, my thighs wet and sticky, my throat raw from screaming for mercy, begging them to stop.

But I never said “red”.

The vibrator switched off, and the machine slowed to a halt. Sweat trickled through my hair, down the back of my neck. I was totally spent, and we were far from finished.