Page 22 of Ivy’s Poison

I begged, “Don’t let me lose her before I ever get to touch her.”

She took another step.

“Don’t fail us.”

She made it back to me.

I grabbed her wrist. “Make it look real.”

She studied my body to find one spot where an injury hadn’t been inflicted. Then, shocking the hell out of me, she started removing her pants while saying, “Get hard again.” With one glance at her bare and silky pussy, my dick obeyed. Dropping her pants onto the floor, she watched mine tighten and smiled. “Good boy.”

My chest panted as I watched her unbuckle my jeans and yank them down. “I, uh… Please don’t take my balls. I’m not talkin’ that convincing.”

Climbing onto my table, she smirked. “I already got a kid out of you. What do I need them for?”

I was just about to go into a full-on panic, but then she sat down on top of me, taking my whole dick inside with one fluid movement. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. All that I had been through in the past hours, all the suffering was worth it in that one second.

Her hips rocked with expertise. “Feeling better, Champ?” I may have groaned or grunted some sort of approval because she chuckled. “That’s good, because,” she stopped moving, “I gotta make this look real, like you said.”

Before I could comprehend her meaning, I felt a slice right above my pelvis. “Ah shit!” I tried to sit up to defend myself, but the restraints held me down. All I could do was lift my head.

The knife left my skin, and her hips started rocking again. “Easy. Feel me.”

Her core tightened around my shaft as her hip movement lulled me to the point my head laid back down. Damn, she felt so good around me like that.

Her channel loosened its hold on me when her concentration went elsewhere again. I took a deep breath, understanding what was coming. The blade made another cut. I hissed but quickly sighed as her hips begun to gyrate again. My hands ached to hold the hips and keep them moving, but all I could reach were her thighs.

She moaned. “Yes. Touch me.” Her hips slowed then stopped as I felt the cold blade again. I growled as I experienced another cut, then groaned relief as vigorous movement distracted me. This time, she almost brought me to a climax. My hips fought underneath her to take control and fuck her, but then she stopped. I squeezed her thighs as the blade sliced me.

Sweat started pooling underneath me as the pain intensified and the sex turned hardcore. Up on her knees, her pussy slammed down on me over and over. “Ivy, don’t stop. Let me come.”

“Almost done, Champ.” Her movements stopped and her blade cut.

This went on a couple more times ‘til she finally said, “Now for your prize.” Ivy got up on her feet next to my thighs then squatted, proceeding to fuck the ever-loving-shit out of me.

Never had I felt anything like it, and I roared as an orgasm possessed my whole body and soul. Ivy’s core pulsed as she, too, climaxed, sweat dripping from between her breasts.

By the time she was done with me, I was motionless. Absolutely spent beyond reason.

Ivy pulled up my pants but didn’t buckle them to avoid touching my fresh wounds. She claimed they would believe I’d suffered. I didn’t care. I was too fucking tired. I didn’t even kiss her back when her lips pressed to mine. I was in a deep sleep before she covered me with a blanket, turned off the light, and left the room.

I’m not sure if it was morning or afternoon when I woke to the door opening and four hungover bikers coming in. Not even having opened my eyes yet, one of them said, “The fuck? She covered him?” The blanket was ripped off me. After audible gasps took place, boisterous laughter filled the room. “Oh shit!” one biker exclaimed.

Another shouted while laughing, “Damn! That bitch is as nuts as her dad!”

Now highly concerned, I opened my eyes. A biker saw me and pointed to my lower stomach. “She must hate you!”

I lifted my head to see what my crazy bitch did. Ah shit! Right there, on my skin, was carved Ivy. My tired head fell back against the table. That crazy bitch claimed me.

And I was more than all right with that.

Bors

Bikers came in and out of the room, all wanting a gander at the spectacle: me. They were so amused with Ivy’s artwork, I had to internally smile, so proud she had them all fooled. No one was going to see our escape coming. But, before that time was to come, there was more torture to be had.

The president—the crueler of the twins—came into the room with a permanent scowl. He studied the addition to my skin then said, “Playtime is over.”

Ah shit.