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She inhales slowly, her bra-covered breasts rising, grazing Mickey’s shoulder. “I’m yours until sunrise.”
“Is that all?” Mickey asks, tightening his hold on her hair until she whimpers.
Turning my attention away from the whore on the floor, I walk over to the wall and replace the whip with a leather flogger. My fingers tighten around the handle when she says, “I think so. I don’t know what it is you want me to say.”
The sight of her submission fans the flames within me, but it’s her reaching hand that breaks my resolve. With a sharp flick of my wrist, the flogger connects with the curve of her ass; the sound cracking through the silence. “Sit still,” I snarl, my voice dark with warning.
She cries out, a mix of pain and surprise, and I savor the sound. It’s making me fucking hard. It’s raw, it’s real—it’s music to my ears.
“What are the rules, Abby?” I coldly repeat the question.
“I-I don’t know,” she stutters.
Mickey, ever the gentle one, hushes her with a tender touch, even as he devours her mouth. His hands roam over her, claiming the flesh beneath the skimpy bra, urging her to focus on him and only him.
“Just answer the question,” Mickey rasps when he pulls back. “Tell us the rules.”
Abby takes a shuddering breath. “If I say stop, you’ll do it. You won’t… you’re not allowed to keep going.”
“Bingo,” I growl. “But tonight I’m going to do things to you that’ll make you use that word without meaning to. So pick another one.”
“I… I…” she trails off, her shoulders deflating.
“Shh,” Mickey shushes her again. Then he reclaims her mouth, his hands cupping her tits, squeezing the soft flesh until it almost falls out of the tiny cups in the bra. “Focus on me, Abby,” he rasps, and it’s not just a command—it’s a plea. Mickey needs this connection, always seeking something deeper, something more meaningful than the corporeal.
While he does his best to manipulate her into relaxing, I run the flogger across her shoulders and down her back. She shudders under the touch, but doesn’t stop kissing Mickey.
The leather flogger is an extension of my will, a silent partner in this twisted tango of flesh and desire. I watch her shudder under its caress—her skin becoming goose pimples, her breath hitching—as it traces the path down her spine. Mickey’s lips are locked with hers, their kiss deep and consuming.
“Choose a word, Abby,” I insist.
Mickey shoots me a glare when she moves back, releasing his lips.
“No,” Abby says, shaking her head. “If you can’t tell whether I really mean it when I say stop, it sounds like you shouldn’t have this power over me.”
There’s something familiar about her the moment she says that. Something in her voice, like I’ve heard it before. I’m distracted by the way my cock throbs in response to her sass. I want to make her skin burn for speaking like that to me, but knowing what my friend wants, I let them make out while I pick out a pair of nipple clamps, even choose one for her clit.
After removing my pants, I return to them. “Take off her bra,” I say to Mick, who quickly disposes of the fabric.
My eyes are immediately drawn to her beaded nipples, and I lick my lips as I move closer. Without warning, I bend down and grasp one, soaking up her cries when I put the clamp on it. She makes less noise with the second one, but the way she bites her lip tells me she’s holding back.
“What a good whore you are,” I rasp. “Spread your legs wider.”
Doing as I say, she parts her thighs as much as possible while staying on her knees. The crotchless thong perfectly shows her rosy pussy lips. “And you’re all bare,” Mickey says huskily.
Instead of touching her, he stands up and quickly slips out of his clothes. Unlike me, he doesn’t keep his boxer briefs on. I silently quirk my brow at him, but he just grins in response. Fisting his cock, he lazily gives it a few strokes before moving in front of her.
“Open your mouth,” I demand. Since we’re now standing next to each other, she won’t know which one of us said it.
Mickey slips the tip of his pierced cock into her mouth, and she obediently closes her lips around his length. As her cheeks hollow, he groans and pushes himself further into her mouth. The moans and whimpers coming from her make my own hardness throb.
Her hands come up, almost touching his thighs. I know it’s so she can steady herself, but she still doesn’t have permission to move.
With a flick of my wrist, I send the flogger across her back. Once. Twice. At the first hit, she rears back, looking around, confused. The second time, she cries out. When I land the third blow, it catches her side-boob, and she instinctively covers herself like that’s going to stop the pain.
“Remove your hands,” I growl. She whimpers. “Now.”
Straightening her back, she lets her hands fall to the side, clenching them when I hit her again for the fourth and fifth time. To my dissatisfaction, she doesn’t cry out again. Instead, she bites down on her lip, so hard a line of blood trails down her chin. Fucking beautiful.
